The Fire Bringers: An I Bring the Fire Short Story (IBF Part 6.5) by C. Gockel

The Fire Bringers
     
    Bohdi is enveloped in darkness. It is warm, soft, quiet …
    “Other Dad.”
    Someone grumbles; it’s probably him. His fingers close around his duvet, and he pulls it higher over his head.
    “Other Dad.”
    He rolls over, his nose butting up against upholstered softness. Ah, yes, the couch.
    Wait — why is he sleeping on the couch? He doesn’t remember fighting with Amy.
    “Other Dad, is that Henry on the floor?”
    Bohdi bolts upright. The television set is on. Eisa, Amy and Loki’s daughter, is filling the screen. Except for strawberry blonde hair, and a leaner, whip-like frame, she is the spitting image of Amy — but she’s a little flashier. Today she’s sporting a complicated up-do from the Court of King Utgard of Jotunheim. Over her shoulders he sees the telltale ice windows of Utgard’s palace fortress. Whatever universe she’s in, she’s probably not working for Odin if she’s with Utgard. Further, she looks to be about 26 — although it has been over three centuries since the fall of Odin, and she’s closer to 355. That means whatever universe she’s calling from, Amy is still around. Also, she’s calling him “Other Dad,” which means they’ve talked before and she knows he is Chaos's destructive half in this universe. Yawning, he falls back against the cushions. That was way too much deductive reasoning first thing in the morning. “Yes,” he says, finally responding to Eisa’s question. “That is Henry.”
    “Mmmmm …” she says, eyes dropping to the floor between the television set and the couch. Bohdi looks down on the carpet. Henry, not Steve’s dad, but Steve and Sigyn’s son, is passed out there under a knitted afghan, sleeping off the aftereffects of a healthy night on the town. Sadly, Bohdi isn’t “suffering” from such indulgences this time. He has things to do today that didn’t allow him to be hung over. He glances at the clock underneath the television set. He blinks. It’s midmorning. His “things to do” should have awoken him by now.
    Eisa sighs, pulling Bohdi back into the moment. “He’s so gorgeous, even when he’s sleeping.” Bohdi would argue with her, but Henry has been on so many most eligible bachelor lists his attractiveness pretty much is a verifiable fact. He is the new era’s golden boy, literally. The genes for light hair and eyes among Asgardians are dominant, whereas among humans the genes for dark eyes and hair are dominant. In Henry, the warring genes have come to a compromise and settled on dark gold. His whole body is that color, even his eyes. He looks a lot like the statues of Baldur the Beautiful in the old palace museum. And it’s not just his coloring — he has chiseled features and curly hair — and the guy actually likes working out, so he’s fit, to boot. He is also infuriatingly nice, and very shy about his looks, so it’s hard to hate him for being so handsome.
    Eisa sighs again, this time with added drama. “If only he wasn’t in another universe …” Her face pinches. “Other Dad, did you get him drunk?”
    Bristling at her accusatory tone, Bohdi rubs the stitches in his neck. “Of course I did. He’s joining the fleet tomorrow and running off for twelve years in deep space. As his uncle, it was my sacred duty to get him soused.”
    Eisa’s lips purse. “Oh, I bet Sigyn and Steve will be angry.”
    “The drinking or the joining the fleet part?” Bohdi asks.
    “Both.”
    Bohdi winces. “What did they expect?” Sigyn and Steve, mindful that spoiling had corrupted Baldur, went the opposite route when raising Henry. They hoped being strict would make him an upright citizen and a statesman for the new age. They succeeded — p artially. Henry is not spoiled, vain, or power hungry, but he also wants nothing to do with statesmanship. After receiving his Magical Medical Doctorate, he’s running away to the fleet, to be his own person and to get away from the shadows cast by his mother, father,