For six months, the forces of Asgard fought to keep Muspelheim under control. The greatest warriors of Valhalla, gods, sorceresses, and resurrected men wielded their weapons of power against the Children of Flame.

Man-made weapons including explosives, guns, and atomic power were deployed against the Island. But the march of evil kept expanding, fighting Jotun and Midgardian alike. After much combat, the realm of destruction had prevailed, covering what had once been called Iceland.

And it would spread like a disease.

But there was still much to do. Baldur's arrival had come as a blessing. Baldur walked the earth, performing magic and miracles of healing. Through him, food was more accessible for humanity in that dire moment, while most crops failed and entire ecosystems collapsed under dropping temperatures.

Jotun hordes, now under the command of Loki himself, kept humans secure and well-fed in one hand, and devoured them like cattle in the other. The Jotun dominions turned into cruel hellholes of pain, where humans were forced to build massive palaces for the Jotun. But with the hunger and devastation outside of Aesir or Jotun realms, hungry humans often had no choice.

War among Jotun and Odin's forces continued, with Blake leading the re-conquest of L.A., raiding Jotun complexes and caves, freeing half of Loki's dwarfs, unifying the West Coast, and creating a protected state for dwarfs in Niflheim. Life was as hard as ever, with dropping temperatures that had once only been experienced in Siberia. But Blake tried to keep the people under his charge safe and, most importantly, free.

Ragnarok had only just begun.

But even in times of war, one has to keep his loved ones close.

Blake awoke, his head resting on a feather pillow. His new, longer beard made him itchy, and his hair was growing long and unruly. Brynhilde awoke by his side, white sheets over her naked body.

"Aha," she said, wiping the sleep off her eyes. "Morning, Blake."

"Morning, Bryn. Where's my good morning kiss?"

She grinned again, leaning in over his chest. Why did she look so gorgeous right after waking up? Her fiery hair was a bit messy, but it made her somehow cuter, and her sky-blue eyes were fixed on his own.

"What's the magic word?" she whispered into his ear.

Blake leaned back, placed both his arms underneath his head.

"Who was begging me last night?"

"You want it," Bryn said. "I know it."

Blake grabbed her waist and leaned in, an inch away from her lips, then leaned back.

"Got things to do today, my lovely wife, don't we?" he said, turning around and moving toward the edge of the bed.

She huffed slightly. Instead of letting him sit, she pushed his shoulders back into the bed and got on top of him, completely naked, her firm and ample chest perfectly tanned, rock hard abs, and wide, muscular thighs posing over himself.

"No, no, no, no," she said. "It's my turn today, and you've got to show some appreciation." "Right, you can feel the appreciation forming beneath you."

"Right, you see how helpless you are? No matter how much you try to play hard to get, you're in my grasp."

"Alright," Blake said, pulling his arms from beneath his pillow and stretching them.

She reached for his wrists and pressed them down, leaning forward. Why did she always smell so great? And Blake had quite a view of her entire body. Gods, why was she so perfect?

"See?" she said. "Now you're completely powerless."

"Alright, I give up," Blake said. "Give me my kiss."

She leaned forward, her supple hips curving perfectly. Those were thighs to die for, her quad muscles outlined clearly.

"Uh, uh," she leaned back, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Magic words?"

Then, Blake gently slipped away from her grasp, secured her forearm, bridged his hip, and flipped her over.

"Ah," Blake said, on top of her again. She immediately wrapped her legs around his torso.

"This is how you like it," Blake said. "Don't pretend you're not melting inside, I can feel it."

Blake slid his knee softly over her thigh, ending up mounted on her, pressing her wrists gently against the mattress, reaching in and stealing a kiss.

She smiled. Now he had another fantastic view.

"Now don't be stingy," she said, lifting herself up, slipping from his grasp, pushing him back, and kissing him passionately. Blake shut his eyes, enjoying the taste of her lips, his hand slid over her thighs, pulling her hips closer to him. Now, she was straddling him, feeling all of her skin in close proximity. The kiss grew bolder, their tongues meeting again as she inched ever closer to him.

***

A massive picture frame hung close to the mirror, a copy of the one in their living room, showing Brynhilde in her wedding gown and Blake dressed in a red tuxedo with a golden satin collar. Bryn had looked gorgeous that day, with a perfectly fitting white dress, simple except for the detail around the waist, generous cleavage, and a flower arrangement around her head. Blake had been surprised how much Bryn dug the romantic wedding photo-shoot thing. They'd actually gotten Brynhilde to smile while holding her bouquet.

Odin had appeared in disguise, walking Bryn down the aisle and standing next to Clyde, along with most of the Aesir and Vanir. Angel's old high school rock band reunited after nine years to play "White Wedding." Brynhilde, however, wanted, in her own words, some real music, so someone recommended a dramatic soprano. She cried like a baby and clapped like a maniac.

Despite the stress of the wedding preparations, Brynhilde had been satisfied and proud of her wedding.

"Now what?" Bryn said, placing a hand on his shoulders. "Protector of Mankind?"

Mjolnir rested on the corner of the room, next to his open closet, where Norse chainmail armor hung next to his collection of three-piece suits.

So many hours of studying, and he had barely ever practiced as an archaeologist.

Now, he was basically an ambassador from a foreign power, and he had needed to adapt to the corporate look.

But deep inside, he was only a warrior. Just like his dad.

"Don't tell me you're going to Muspelheim again? That fight's pointless!"

"Eh, not today, but you know what Eir says," Blake said. "This war is barely starting. Loki's preparing for something big."

"Sure, but you should pick other fronts, for now, at least."

"It's soon gonna reach the British Isles," Blake said.

"It's more fun to kill Jotun and liberate places under their control." Bryn commented.

Blake lifted a finger.

"Only you do it just for the praise you receive, not because of any altruistic motivation."

"Ah, Mr. Narcissist, as if you of all people have an altruistic motivation."

"And I don't?"

"I mean, you have vengeful motivations at best, not precisely altruistic."

"Is that what they are, vengeful? I thought you used to refer to them as righteous and just."

"You like punching assholes through the heart, that's what you do."

"That sums up my job description quite nicely."

"And why are you wearing jeans again?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"I made a promise to Alruna," Blake said, putting on tight jeans, then reaching for a nondescript black t-shirt. "Remember? It's today."

Blake lifted one of the tickets next to the mirror.

"Ah," Brynhilde said, sighing. "That music, again? How can you enjoy that rumble? It's like hearing a dragon's intestine digest Jotnar bones. Besides, you owe me a concert! La Traviata is playing next week."

He let out another sigh. "Right. I... have it in my calendar. Why can't you guys just agree about music? I just want to listen to Avicii while I'm flying, thank you."

"This is real music, Blake. Can you fathom the complexities? Could be worse, you can always accompany Eir to her next Taylor show.

Brynhilde got up, staring at her own naked glory in their full-body mirror, reaching for a brush to run it across her wavy hair. Her butt was... omph, perfectly round planets in a desert valley.

Once again, she was just showing off in front of him.

"I could see your jaw literally drop," she said, hands on her hips.

Blake blinked repeatedly and shook his head slowly. "We may be married for a thousand years and it'll still drop."

She smiled mischievously.

"It's only been three months, but you've said it. I'll hold you accountable after a thousand years."

Downstairs, Eir was scrolling on her phone, a cup of coffee in her other hand.

"Morning," Blake said.

"Morning? At 3 P.M.?" Eir said, her brow furrowed. She looked as cute as ever, wearing most of her silvery hair tied up in a high ponytail. Her belly was starting to become noticeable. "Seems like someone forgot their chores for today."

"I'll do them later," Blake said, walking over to the espresso machine.

"I sometimes really miss Rowena," said Alruna from the kitchen, stepping back into the living room, a sandwich in one hand and a plate in the other. She wore a black Iron Maiden t-shirt and jean shorts that showed her generous thighs and amplified her figure."Allie, I thought I'd pick you up at the office," Blake asked.

"Nah, Ashley's taking over for today," she said with her mouth full. "Get ready, it's gonna be crowded!"

***

"Scream for me Houston!" Bruce, the lead singer shouted from the stage as thousand hands raised, forming horns and fists, and distorted power chords echoed in the dark. Lights flickered, casting an otherworldly glow over the scene, slowly revealing the mural of a massive Norse zombie holding a blooded axe behind the massive speakers.

This was no ordinary concert.

It was more than a show.

It was a pilgrimage.

Drums pounded like horses charging into battle. The crowd roared, reciting the songs they loved.

Alruna banged her head, her blonde mane moving rhythmically to the music, her hands raised to the horns, while her left held a plastic glass with foamy Budweiser, filled to the brim.

She gulped it immediately.

Asgardians had good memory, and the band had released a new album that year. She could recite every single line and did so, singing along with the classics and the latest songs. Ashley sang out loud by her side.

Blake looked at the band again as they played palm-muted power chords, and the lead singer's voice soared to unexplored heights, telling stories about old battles and legends.

The old blokes had been playing for over forty years, and a little apocalypse wouldn't stop them from touring. And they were lucky the end of the world had caught them while they were out of Jotun lands.

The crowd rushed forward, euphoric, until Blake and Alruna found themselves being pushed away from the stage by eager fans.

"Blake," Alruna said, hand gripping his biceps. "They're pushing us back!"

The perfect view of the stage looked farther than ever.

"Come here," Blake said, giving her his back and crouching slightly. He heard her giggle before she climbed over his shoulders, raising both hands to the signs of the horns.

"Yeah, rock on!" shouted Alruna. He felt always secure in between those massive thighs.

And especially when things were bad. It was always a good time to turn up the music.

But suddenly, every sound around him seemed to stop. Blake would've thought there was some sort of malfunction, were it not for the crowd also going as quiet as a fish, as if time itself had stopped on its tracks. Turning around, it seemed like someone had paused the video, mouths open mid-singing, a stage diver suspended mid-air, lead singer jumping, microphone in hand, one of the guitarists being left with half his hair in the air.

"Huh?" Alruna mumbled over Blake.

There he was, taking a shape not too dissimilar to his real form, albeit much shorter in stature. He wore a black shirt that couldn't conceal a pot-belly, a studded leather jacket, and a Hell's Angels patch.

Odin had to just get a copy of Hresvelgr's belt, and now he loved using it for dramatic effect."I find you wasting your time again, Blake Olson. Once again."

"Allfather," Blake said, just as Alruna climbed down from his shoulders and adopted a more respectful posture.

"What have you done about my human army, Olson? You're almost behind schedule."

"I've done what I could, Allfather. It's up to the logistics. But we've been fighting the Jotun almost every day."

"Blaming logistics again?" Odin said. "Haven't I made it clear that we have three years to end this war, before the entire world is swallowed by fire?"

"When do we start?" Blake blurted out. "Me and Bryn can go hasten things up."

Odin crossed his forearms.

"Bring Baldur," Odin said. "Loki's preparing for a frontal assault. He's already approaching the fire giants. He has already secured a deal. There's no stopping, and we have only two and a half years."

"I'll do it, father."

Odin moved across the crowd, lips pressed tightly against each other, as if suppressing a negative emotion. Blake could have described it as worry. But it was something else. It was inevitability. Blake knew that the old god was preparing to die.

And he had to leave his worlds in good hands.

"It's time, my son. The Wild Hunt is about to begin."