The great hall of Valhalla was a cacophony of clinking horns and booming laughter, a familiar, comfortable chaos. Warriors swapped tales of glorious deaths, and the air was thick with the smell of roasting boar and spilled ale. On his high seat, Hlidskjalf, Odin All-Father sat, his single eye scanning the room, a faint smile gracing his lips beneath his silver beard. The ravens, Huginn and Muninn, were quiet on his shoulders, their heads tucked in.
The massive bronze doors swung open. Thor stomped in, Mjolnir at his hip, his face a thundercloud. And his hair… was a brilliant, unmissable cherry red.
A wave of silence hit the hall first, followed by a snort. Then a choked giggle. Then, from a table of particularly drunk einherjar, a full-bellied roar of laughter.
"By the gods!" one warrior bellowed, wiping tears from his eyes. "Thor! Did you wrestle a fire giant and lose? Or did you try to dye it in a vat of berry juice?"
