ninjahiccups

[ninjahiccups]

How are you doing dear author? <3

Doing okay, just busy with some work related stuff, but thanks for asking!

A few people have asked about the next chapter and I ***promise*** it's on the way, just have to survive some crunching along the way 🥲

#songbird of asgard #the songbird of asgard #answered

[ninjahiccups]

The Songbird of Asgard

Chapter 18: ...And Lies

AO3 Masterlist Word Count: 12.3k Warnings: Usual GoW violence

With the path decided there are now consequences to face. The question is, will those consequences change the direction it goes?

Part two!

This will probably be the last thing I post for the year, I've got some things coming up that will keep me busy. But I promise I'll be back soon!

And if anyone has any feedback for how the main cast is written (mostly Kratos, he's difficult) then please feel free to share!

Freya managed to get Freyr quiet and calm enough to remain stable, the dwarves had fixed up Kratos and Atreus's equipment, and now all they had to do was decide how they would approach their counterattack. It was a strategy meeting that they were all planning on participating in, but only Kratos and Freya managed to stay focused with the blaring distraction that no one could get over.

“Do you have to sit so far away?”

“I've been here the entire time, you're the one who's far away.”

“Could you at least move a little closer? I'm doing this for you.”

“And is it my fault you chose to make this harder?”

The almost constant back and forth between Heimdall and Eivor that never ended in one of them throwing up their hands and cursing the other out was astonishing to their audience. How Eivor managed to be so patient, and the fact that Heimdall more than tolerated her back talk, all while they both seemed to enjoy themselves was far from what anyone expected to see. Especially from the scion, further proving everything Eivor had told them. 

Atreus was the most amused by their interactions, finding it absolutely hilarious that the most ornery being in all the realms could be ordered around by one of the nicest.

“Heimdall, please just lean over, I can't reach your sleeve,” Eivor sighed, letting the needle and thread fall down to her lap. She had managed to find a comfortable position to sew up the hole in the back of his sleeve, but he wasn't giving her much room to work with for the one on the front side.

He would continue to do so as well. “No.”

“Well if you won't take off your tunic —”

“I am not undressing a single layer in public.”

“And you won't lean over so I can reach, how am I supposed to fix it?”

“It can't be that hard.”

Eivor all but snarled, “It definitely is, and I'm not going to give up just to listen to you complain about this hole later.”

“Why would —”

“You will. I know you.” Heimdall only frowned at her. “Why won't you just lean over?” she asked while picking up the thread again and moving as close as she could in her chair without impeding the movement she needed to sew.

“Because it's uncomfortable.”

That answer turned everything around. Eivor put on an exaggerated pout and an overly sympathetic voice as she managed to get the needle through the fabric just once. “Awwww does it hurt?”

“Stop it.”

“Do I need to give you a big hug to make you feel better, Dall?”

Atreus, who was sitting at the opposite end of the kitchen table near Freyr, had to hold in a snicker at that, but the horned severed head on the table didn't try nearly as hard.

“Do not call me that here!” He growled under his breath, suddenly remembering it wasn't just Eivor listening to him. It was amazing how quickly he forgot where he was when he had her full attention.

“Oh, you don't like it?” A mischievous glint shined in those green eyes, one he didn't care for at all. “Then maybe I should call you —”

“Do NOT!!!!”

Eivor snickered to herself at his sudden interruption, loving that just the suggestion of uttering his other, more embarrassing nickname in the open sent him reeling. “Then lean over for me and I won't.”

“I said it's uncomfortable.”

Despite the threats, she made no progress on Heimdall's attitude or her sewing. She tried to get one more stitch in while stuck in her hindering position as she chastised, “Honestly, Heimdall, you are such a baby.”

That did it. “I am not a baby!” A line that triggered more laughing from Atreus, feeling like he was finally getting some revenge by witnessing this.

Barely holding in a giggle while still attempting to sew, Eivor mocked, “Yes you are, you're a big ol’ whiny baby.”

Regaining some of his cool when he heard even more laughter from the runt just a few paces away, he bluntly replied, “I'm in the perfect position to push you.”

“Awww is the big baby going to push me? Or is that too hard too?”

Just as he said, with Eivor seated at the very edge of the chair, crossed legs and and shifting most of her weight forward, Heimdall only needed to lift his other arm and give the slightest push to her shoulder for her to lose balance and teeter to one side, her hand shooting down to catch herself before she went too far. Heimdall smirked at the sudden shift in her, going from impish to irritated. While holding up her needle and pointing it at him she scolded, “If you do that again I will stab you in the face with this, you know I will. Now lean over!” Her hands waved at him wildly, tired of arguing over this.

Thankfully, Heimdall broke first, scoffing as he finally leaned his torso closer to her, straining his core a bit but dealing with it so they could move on.

“Thank you, was that so hard?” The exasperation in her voice was enough consolation to make Heimdall chuckle, startling the onlookers with his good mood despite his annoyance. In just a minute she sewed up the hole, making it look good as new. “See? It wouldn't have taken so long if you weren't fighting me the whole time.” Picking up the needle and thread, Eivor stood to return to Sindri's forge, sounding like a mother directing a child as she requested, “Now roll up your sleeve, I'm going to fix that armored shirt underneath.”

Already sick of the watchful company surrounding them, he refused, sounding every bit like said hypothetical child when he grumbled, “I don't want to have it fixed right now.”

“Well that's too bad because I'm doing it now. Roll up your sleeve.” 

Eivor turned and headed to the forge while Heimdall sighed and did as she asked, pausing when he heard uncontrolled chortles next to him, finding Atreus covering his mouth to stay quiet. “What is so funny?!”

“Oh, nothing!” Mimir howled, unable to hold it in any longer.

Atreus made the mistake of clarifying. “Y-you just do everything she says!”

It took every ounce of Heimdall's control not to ditch the truce and leap out of his chair to pummel the runt. “That's not true.”

Doing him no favors, Eivor called over her shoulder with a hint of warning, “It better be!”

Caught between looking horrible and giving Eivor reasons to make him look even worse than he could manage on his own, Heimdall glared at the boy and snarled, “Shut your mouth or I'll gut you!”

Kratos's eyes, which had been trained on Freya as they spoke near the front door, looked over at Heimdall, ready to warn him only once. Freya managed to save them both. “Atreus, would you mind getting more herbs for Freyr? Mimir should be able to help you pick the right ones.”

Trying not to cackle even louder at Eivor's final line, he only nodded and picked up Mimir, taking the long way around the table to avoid walking past Heimdall, who absolutely would have tripped him.

Eivor shook her head as she handed Sindri the thread for him to put away, already exhausted with the constant damage control. A break was offered when Freya quietly asked, “Eivor, a moment?” She joined up with the two leaders, worried by their lowered voices. “Kratos and I have been deciding how to handle the Einherjar. We believe it's best to inform our allies of what we're doing and have them remain at the camp, where it is the most secure. Based on my knowledge and previous attacks, I am certain I know which sections of the jungle the Aesir have made into strongholds, a large camp on one end of the river, and two smaller ones on the other.”

“But one of these areas is unfamiliar to Atreus and I,” Kratos added.

“Yes, and frankly it's more dangerous. The best plan to avoid being overwhelmed by reinforcements is to split up, but that would mean between the three of us, someone would have to go alone.”

Eivor nodded, still unsure of what they would ask of her. “All three of you are capable warriors, even Atreus for his age.”

“That is true…” Freya began, glancing at Kratos, “but we cannot agree on how to split up. I don't want Kratos or Atreus to go through a dangerous part of the jungle without a proper guide, so I have to take that route. Going there on my own would be risky — after all, I'm sure Odin wouldn't waste a chance to do some harm while I'm alone, and as comfortable as I am fighting, I only have two hands.”

“Maybe bring Atreus with you and send Kratos alone?” Eivor suggested, certain that they had already considered that.

“That was Kratos's solution, but I'm personally not fond of bringing Atreus to fight Einherjar among chaotic wildlife and poisonous plants, even by Vanaheim's standards. My solution was to send Atreus to the more familiar parts of the jungle alone, thinking he can handle it —”

“I do not trust sending him without aid now that we have Gjallarhorn. Odin may use him to force an exchange,” Kratos explained, showing no indication that his mind would change.

Freya didn't attempt to. “And that is a perspective I respect. The best compromise would be to bring a fourth party with us, and you are the best candidate. However…”

There it was. Eivor could see how their dilemma had gotten even bigger. “You don't want to leave Heimdall here with everyone else.”

Kratos paused, glancing at the scion as he watched them curiously. “Correct.”

“To be honest, he wouldn't want to stay here either. I'm positive he would rather go with me.”

“We had speculated as much. But if Freya will not allow Atrues to venture into the unexplored portion of the jungle, then I will have to go with her. And that would leave you to travel with Atreus.”

…and that would mean Atrues would be traveling with Heimdall. 

Quite a predicament indeed.

This was far from ideal, and Eivor could only hope the worst case scenario didn't play out, but she couldn't let Freya's found family suffer more than they already had. Counting on Heimdall wanting to go with her, Eivor wordlessly held out her hand to Kratos.

The old god recognized the motion, having experienced it twice before. He held out his left hand, letting Eivor take it and cast her teleportation spell on his shield again, the thread fading when she looked up at his aged eyes. “If he is in any danger, regardless of its source, I will call you.” Her quiet voice paused for a moment, pouring out her honesty and sincerity with eye contact. “I won't let you lose a loved one to save one of mine.” A painful vow from the beginning, but one that would be even worse if her call would be what led to Heimdall's end. She would use every tool in her arsenal to keep anyone from getting hurt. Even if Heimdall was furious with her for making him look bad.

Kratos stared at her thoughtfully for a moment. He worried for his son, but he knew the kind of power she had very well. A power that was quiet and caring, but stronger than the tide in a thunderstorm. 

A power that Faye wielded just as skillfully.

He gave her one shallow nod. “Very well.” He looked to Freya for her approval, which she gave with a nod of her own. Their path decided, Kratos made the final command. “Atreus. We are leaving.”

“And where are we going, exactly?” Heimdall bellowed, catching on right away. 

Atreus jogged over to the group, and once he was there Kratos instructed, “We will split up. I will go with Freya, you will stay with Eivor.”

While Atreus agreed to that, Heimdall stood and stomped over, appalled that he had been ignored. “Excuse me, are you forgetting about someone?”

“Heimdall,” Eivor scolded.

He cut her off, finding her far too precious to be thrown back into the front lines with a bunch of hoodlums. The point she made during their tumultuous reunion still applied to her. If she wanders around without him to convince All-Father she was worth forgiving she could be killed, and he wouldn't let that happen. “You can't go back there.” 

“I'm going, Heimdall.”

“You're not going.”

That fire he loved so much flared up enough to burn him, her disdain of his ordering her around like a servant only making her more resolute. “Look, you can stay or you can come with me. Whether you do or not, I am going.”

It was a standoff. Two stubborn individuals staring each other down, waiting for one of them to back off and give in. Heimdall could see right away that she wasn't going to listen to him, leaving him with limited options, none of which he cared for in the slightest. In just moments he sighed in defeat, glancing at Atreus and then Kratos before relenting. “Fine. But I'm going with you.” He hated that he would actively be taking part in this useless endeavor, but he wouldn't take another chance, not after he thought he'd lost her. Besides, this could be an opportunity for him to get Eivor away from these miscreants and bring her back to the safety of Asgard, and that was an outcome he liked.

“Then it is settled,” Kratos announced, not waiting for another disagreement. 

Atreus handed Mimir to his father, mumbling to him, “Do I have to?” Exploring the jungle? Why not. Exploring with Eivor? Sure. With Heimdall? He'd rather be eaten by a fanged flower.

Unfortunately for the boy who predicted an awful night, his plea had no effect. “For now,” Kratos whispered back, not berating his son for the rueful “great” he said under his breath. The God of War turned and started for the door without any further comments, his actions alone getting his entourage to follow. As the door closed behind them Brok called out, “None of ya go dyin’ out there now!”

The unspoken consensus among the group?

This was going to be a long night.

It took only minutes for them to start bickering.

What was most unfortunate was Atreus's increase in bravery after seeing Heimdall be so tame with Eivor.

“You don't even know where we're going, do you?”

“If you know so well then how about you lead?”

“I'd much rather let you display your incompetence for as long as possible.”

“That's a funny way of admitting you're lost.”

“Ha! I'd be more than happy to make sure you get lost and are never seen again.”

When Freya and Kratos went their own way, after they agreed to meet back at the realm gate once they were finished, they both gave Eivor a worried look, one that she dismissed with a confident nod to assure them they had nothing to be afraid of. Now she was thinking their roles should have been reversed. Out of anyone on this trip, she would gladly say she was the most miserable. “Boys, please. Can we get along for just five minutes?”

Atreus sighed, “Tell me about it.”

Heimdall, however, gave an answer that his two allies expected. “It's hard to see eye to eye with a snake.”

“No, seriously, both of you,” Eivor made them stop their tense walk down the jungle path to look at her, glaring at both of them in a way that would make even the mightiest crumble. “Heimdall, stop being a jerk. Atreus, enough with the attitude. Just move on. Please?”

The scion only sighed, but Atreus took a moment to think about this. Eivor was actually a little…scary when she got this serious. A part of him understood why not even Heimdall would argue with her for long. But he'd rather die than admit that. “Fine,” Atreus grumbled, leading them forward again. “But we're getting close—”

“Oh I know,” Heimdall interrupted solely to remind the boy that he knew exactly where the camps were and was simply choosing not to share, earning an impatient nudge from Eivor.

Rolling his eyes, Atreus finished, “Then at least try to be helpful so we can get to the next one fast?”

“On your right.”

“Huh?” Atreus yelped when an Einherjar leapt from the trees to strike them, having reflexes just quick enough to grab his bow and bat the soldier away, then preparing an arrow to shoot at the reinforcements coming at them fast.

Heimdall chuckled, “It seems not even my help can get you to perform, hm?”

Atreus grit his teeth at the comment, but chose to make ample use of the frustration rather than letting it fester, as his father taught him. At this point he openly welcomed an outlet for his need to punch Heimdall.

The boy didn't hesitate when the few members of the preemptive attack were down and made the short sprint into a clearing that the camp was settled into. Eivor moved to join him, stopping only when she felt Heimdall's hand on her arm. “Why not let him handle this? I'd rather not do something to make matters worse.”

Eivor felt her heart sink a little, seeing an implication that he had already decided on going back to Asgard at some point and expected her to follow. She was hurt by how loyal he was even without the spell over him, but she also couldn't say she didn't expect it. Spell or no spell, anyone would fall back on the only life they ever knew, needing more than a few hours to see just how distorted their perception was. It made her worry about how much harder it would hit him when it became apparent that the knowledge he had was far from the truth, how he would handle learning just how extreme his ignorance was. For a brief moment she could only wonder how she would tell him just how little he knew, or how to deliver the cold reality of the magic chains he'd been wearing for so long. If there weren't Einherjar and a young god fighting nearby she would have had to take a breather to dismiss the despair the thought of his devastation brought her.

Unfortunately, the truth would have to wait. 

Shelving her own feelings to pay more attention to her promise to Kratos, focusing on keeping the boy in their company safe. Tearing her arm free, Eivor found a way to get Heimdall to think just a bit deeper about his decision to sit out as she backed off to head into the fray. “That's a shame. It's been a while since we had some fun like this, but I guess I'll have that with Atreus instead.”

The playful lilt to her taunt and the smirk she gave him as she joined the jötun told him everything he needed to know. Using his jealousy and pride to get him to join in this useless charade. No, he wouldn't let it get to him.

He watched for a bit, telling himself that he was above the rebellion he was witnessing, but seeing Eivor in action, with all of her grace and beauty and skill, it reminded him of those days they spent exploring together, making bets and doing everything they could to one up the other. When was the last time they got to do that? Not since Eivor had finished looking for the artifact, actually, and that left him with more confusion than he ever noticed. If he and Eivor worked so well together and enjoyed being on a team, why wouldn't All-Father let them do it more often? Why force him to do things with people he hated? Did he never earn a single task he could do with the one person he liked?

He had earned that at least, and that was something he wouldn't deny.

It was a question he pushed aside, setting it with all the other strange ideas that had crossed his mind since this mess began. That also helped him decide that he, in fact, was owed some excitement with the one person he cared about, even if the runt was there to dampen the experience, and that was something he would have. 

Besides, they were just Einherjar. It's not like they wouldn't come back. He'd thrown them around for decades now, it was surely something that could be forgiven.

Eventually he did join in, casually slicing through the Einherjar until he caught up with Eivor, who raised an eyebrow at him and looked too pleased for his liking. All he could say was, “I don't want to hear it.”

His focus was on remaining close to Eivor, ensuring none of the stupid brutes got close enough to her, but she made it increasingly difficult as she kept following Atreus, who bounded and hopped across the field, having no reservations and no fear of the hardened warriors, knocking them over left and right, barely needing any support from either of the capable gods near him. It caught Heimdall's eye, seeing that Atreus was more skilled than he had assumed in Asgard, but quickly brushed it off. He sincerely thought the half-breed would have to be bailed out at least three times before they were done with the first camp alone. At least that was a pleasant surprise.

Eivor caught his glances, not wasting the perfect opportunity to poke at him. “Heimdall, are you…” a pause while she momentarily took Gna's shroud and shoved an Einherjar with a huge hammer away like he was wearing paper rather than heavy armor, “dare I say, impressed with Atreus?”

Heimdall scoffed while he sidestepped and tripped another enemy that clumsily swung at him. “Oh look, he isn't dead yet. I'm sooo impressed.” 

Thick with sarcasm, but the fact that he didn't refute her claim was answer enough. “I knoooow! It's almost incredible how well people can do when you aren't being an ass to them!” She laughed at his annoyed frown as one of her barriers flew out and smashed into another captain, grinning like they were at a celebration rather than fighting amongst the mud and blood surrounding them. Heimdall found himself smiling ear to ear, having missed the sight of her so much, and relishing in her beautiful display of magic. It was welcome, it was enchanting, it was… fun. A kind of fun he wished he was allowed to have more than once. Perhaps if he weren't so busy at the moment he would have noticed the flicker of resentment the thought brought out.

Atreus had to regain his composure when he took a cautious gander at Heimdall, making sure he wasn't doing anything suspicious amongst the commotion. Seeing Heimdall smiling, and in a way that wasn't full of mockery or cruelty or ire of some kind, only containing the joy one would see in every other smile, was so foreign that he had to confirm that he wasn't hallucinating. It was strange to see the watchman enjoying himself without putting down another. It was almost like he was human.

A ball of bifröst and a shattering of golden light later, there was only one Einherjar left, and it was finished by Atreus shooting an arrow to its face as he pinned it down with a foot to the chest. “Are you okay?” Eivor asked as the boy caught his breath, forcing himself not to look at Heimdall to see if he still looked like a normal person.

Atreus checked his surroundings, remaining alert until he was certain there was no more danger and slung his bow back over his shoulder. “Yeah, I'm good. I think that's all of them.”

Of course, Heimdall had to take a jab at him for making an obvious statement. “Really? I hadn't noticed.”

“You didn't? Guess that foresight of yours isn't as good as you think it is,” Atreus shot right back, quieting whatever part of him thought Heimdall might actually be able to feel any inkling of happiness.

“Don't start,” Eivor snapped before Heimdall could even open his mouth to fight back. “Don't start again, you guys were doing so well.”

“We weren't even talking,” Atreus shrugged with disbelief.

“Exactly. You two do so much better when you just. Don't. Talk. To each other.”

“I'm okay with that, honestly,” Atreus said, ignoring the glower Heimdall threw his way. Though he had to agree. He would much prefer if the kid would be quiet. Or dead. Either worked for him. 

Just like the first round, Atreus led them through the jungle until they came across the next camp, this one taking a bit longer to track down, thanks to Heimdall's unwillingness to give him any clue as to exactly where it was. When he did manage to find it he could see that this fight wouldn't be quite as straightforward. The second camp was placed around a trio of enormous trees in the center of a clearing, the one in the center of the cluster taller than a mountain, the other two about half its size. They were surrounded by elevated rock faces, the camp structures placed in between the more reasonably sized plant life, aside from the one cliff that had a trickling waterfall flowing down into a tiny pond that was barely large enough to allow a bath. With such a major site, it took the Einherjar lookouts no time to spot them. As if it was a routine, Atreus went right to work, Eivor kept a close eye on him, and Heimdall begrudgingly let Atreus have the lead while he watched Eivor, much more concerned about her than anyone else. 

Just like that, it was over. It felt too easy.

With the area having so much cover Atreus, as his father would put it, took the necessary time to double check the area, climbing across the rocks and keeping an eye out for any trace of leftover Einherjar waiting for them to turn their backs, not trusting Heimdall when he claimed the coast was clear. As much as he hated to prove him right, Heimdall wasn't lying and he found no signs of any more adversaries. 

Eivor saw Atreus walking back to the edge of the stone, brushing past some shrub branches on his way. “Find anything?”

Atreus sneered at Heimdall for a moment, seeing his arrogant smirk. “Yeah, I think we're done.” He stepped up to the edge, preparing to jump down and regroup. “Now we just —” His sentence was cut off when sharp black talons grabbed him by the belt and yanked him backwards, making him yelp as he was thrown into the trees and practically disappeared. 

Eivor wanted to spin back to Heimdall and ask if he didn't tell Atreus something was still out there on purpose, or if he didn't see that coming either. The words would never come out, her own shocked shriek escaping her when a blue and purple bifröst chain wrapped around her and heaved her behind Heimdall. The scion turned to follow her, growling in rage that whoever was left deliberately attacked her, and because he somehow had missed two unseen attacks. He was even more appalled to find just a simple Einherjar captain, wearing completely average armor with eyes shining through the openings of his helmet, holding the other end of the bifröst chain. Heimdall couldn't keep up the fury at the sight of such a stupid and easy opponent and laughed, both in disbelief and offense. “Are you serious? You have the nerve to—”

He was cut off when a shard of bifröst shaped like a blade cloaked in sickly green magic grew between two links in the chain that were positioned over Eivor's chest. The captain hauled her closer, the blade coming far too close to her skin as she was dragged to his side to sit on the ground at his feet. It wasn't the blade or the rough treatment that made him freeze, however. It was the captain's voice that sounded as his hand shouted out a command for Heimdall to stop.

“Hold on just a minute, Heimdall!”

That voice. Spoken as if he wasn't wearing a helmet, like the armor wasn't even real.

He knew that voice. One he had obeyed every single day of his life.

“A-All-Father…?”

As confirmation a green crystal raven flew across the captain's face, its translucent body giving Heimdall a peek behind the cloak to see a much older visage with only one eye, perfectly framed by the three dark tree trunks behind him.

Heimdall felt everything in his body turn to ice. He stopped, stiff as stone that was as old as time itself, unable to even move a fraction of an inch. There he was, committing the worst crime and Aesir could ever carry out, and he had been caught red-handed. He couldn't even think straight, had no way to decide where to even begin explaining how he ended up here or how long he should beg for forgiveness.

In the end he could only remain silent and listen as the All-Father spoke to him as Eivor stared at Heimdall, praying he would look at her again so she could tell him not to listen. “You'll have to forgive the disguise,” Odin chuckled casually, as if he wasn't holding a goddess's life in his hands. “As you know, my face isn't a welcome one in these parts.” Odin paused, pacing just a few steps at a time as he lowered his hand. “I must say…I'm disappointed.”

It hurt. That word hurt Heimdall worse than any wound could, feeling his entire body grow heavier as if he was collapsing into his own chest. His throat was dry and his eyes were locked on the god he owed his life to — the one who had raised him as his own even though he had an entire realm to lead. Eivor was subtly shaking her head in hopes that the movement would get his attention, knowing exactly how to ensure Odin didn't get his way.

“After all this time, after so many years of good service, dedication, and loyalty for your people and the greater good… this is where you end up?” The sharp words stung like burning needles stabbing into every pore on his skin, singing every inch of his body and leaving him too paralyzed to put the flames out. His instinctive reaction was to look at Eivor for comfort. She was the only thing that managed to thaw out the layer of ice that had taken over his being when she mouthed a message to him over and over.

“Read him.”

An odd request given that she knew he couldn't read Odin, and even if he could he was far too ashamed of himself to look the All-Father in the eyes, unworthy of such an honor. Which made Odin's response even more odd. After Heimdall looked down at Eivor for too long, he pulled on the chain around her, bringing that ethereal dagger over her a little closer to her chest, making her silent messages stop all together. Odin knew Heimdall had no power against such a mighty being like himself, so why would he try to silence her? Heimdall couldn't say he thought about it long enough, too trapped by the sheer disdain Odin held in both his demeanor and his words.

Odin continued as if he hadn't made a vague threat to his prisoner. “You gave all of that up, for what? A pretty face?” He gestured to Eivor with an incredulous laugh, shaking his head in a way that made Heimdall's stomach tie itself into knots. “Anything you have to say?”

Many things, but none of them were willing to come out. He surprised himself with one restrained thought relating to his comment about Eivor. Referring to her as nothing more than a pretty face? To him it was an insult of the highest caliber, looking past all of the things about her that made her so much better than everyone else, traits that Odin clearly recognized considering he was the one who brought her to Asgard in the first place. As that point came to mind, he was reminded of other times when Odin said something unfavorable about Eivor, all of which he had just…ignored. But this time was different. This time he felt the anger rising and staying there like it never had before, the fear being the only thing that got him to bury it for the time being.

At his silence Odin sighed, throwing up a hand only to let it fall back down and slap his side, but it sounded and felt forced. Rehearsed. And Eivor believed it was all to emphasize what he chose to say next. A master puppeteer completely in his element for the performance. “Y'know, I thought I finally got one. I thought you were the only one I got.”

Heimdall furrowed his brow while his hands shook, terrified of what he would say. The one good servant? The one decent god? The one reliable ally? Every single one would be a devastating status to lose. 

He could only brace himself.

“I thought you were the only one of mine who turned out right.”

Not even a bug made a sound.

The entire jungle seemed to fade into a lifeless wasteland when Heimdall and Eivor took in that phrase, the latter feeling an uncontrollable rage consume her at the Aesir king's blatant manipulation. Heimdall's eyes drifted to and fro, the realization dawning on him in a way that only made him even more confused and dumbfounded, regaining control when Odin spoke again. “Yes, before you ask. That means exactly what you think it means.”

His entire body shivered. 

All-Father was… his real father?

And he never knew? Was never told?

Heimdall couldn't make sense of it. It was such a massive secret, a huge part of his identity that was kept from him, but for what? And why bring it up now, after all this time?

Eivor could put it together right away. Heimdall and his foresight were invaluable to Odin, and with something like that he wanted complete control and absolute loyalty, and he would be willing to sink to the lowest depths to get it. To him, shared blood was not enough of a guarantee. Children would always rebel, breaking away from their parent's authority and rules eventually as they grow into their own person, regardless of how close they are to their parents. And that was not the kind of relationship Odin wanted. That was too risky. But to be a savior? To be indebted to a figure that could never be pleased? That was how he would get the devotion he wanted, far more than he could get by facing the obligations of a parent. He could have fulfilled them and earned such a loyal son. But no. That was too hard. He wanted the easy way out, no matter who got hurt or what the consequences were, so long as he got what he wanted in the end.

It was sickening.

Heimdall slowly shook his head, unable to spit out any sound. He had no words. How was he supposed to respond when Odin was still the one he admired for his entire life? While he still had Eivor chained and threatened right in front of him. Two very different extremes all at once, and he somehow had to figure out how both could coexist with a life on the line and a king waiting for answers.

Again, the old Aesir waved a hand like it was nothing, chortling like it was funny to him. The dryness to it made Heimdall flinch. “I know, definitely not a good time to bring it up, but believe me, it was for your own good. Your mothers, whoo, they were something else, I tell ya. If you knew ‘em you'd be grateful you were spared.”

…”them?” 

That sentence alone brought up so many more questions. 

“But we can talk more about that later, after all this is settled, eh?” The All-Father could feel Eivor sneering at him with blazing hatred, wanting so badly to grind him into plant food, but he couldn't care less. She was basically irrelevant to him. “Now, Heimdall, you know me. I understand that we all make mistakes. I understand that even you can make mistakes. I get it, really.”

Heimdal found himself blown away by how gentle Odin was, sounding like he was consoling his servant rather than reprimanding him. All of his past errors were met with harsh criticism and cold unforgiveness with a side of higher expectations that he always felt compelled to meet, even if it would cost him his time, sanity, life, or all three. A part of him was actually relieved and grateful that he was met with such a kind confrontation. Another was still too confused to understand why the change was so sudden. This was his worst crime yet, and this was the one he hadn't been ridiculed for?

Once more he looked down at Eivor for some balance of support, finding her mouthing the phrase even more urgently.

“READ HIM.”

Odin didn't miss her second attempt, ripping the chain back even harder and making the blade graze her chest, the cold magic left behind that coated the burning skin like lava.

“So I'll cut you a deal.”

Heimdall's eyes were watching the tiny gash on Eivor, his instincts, for the first time in his life, speaking up to say that  the wound wasn't an accident. It was deliberate. A message. 

Don't look at her, don't listen to her, or else. 

For her safety, he looked back at Odin, listening carefully and praying his instincts were mistaken.

“You know I don't make these kinds of agreements with just anybody, but in return for all the good you've done for Asgard I can make an exception.” Odin raised his hands, lifting the chain just a little as he opened his free hand as if he was releasing something. “I'll let all this go. All of it, gone. Like it never happened. You can come back home, go back to your duties, get the life you had back, and no one will ever know about this blunder.”

Heimdall heard that statement and felt the temptation of his words, especially when Odin reminded him that all of this was a giant mistake. Put all this behind him, save his position, his status, and his reputation? How could he refuse such an outstanding gift? But he felt it again. His instincts, yelling at him to keep a discreet eye on Eivor. He glanced down at her, briefly to keep her from being cut again, only looking in her eyes for short moments to see what she wanted to say without her having to move a muscle. 

It was the same message.

“Read him.”

“This one, on the other hand,” Odin said, words growing more stern as he jostled the chain in his hand, the ghostly whooshing sound of them making his spine tremble, “won't be coming back. But…I'll let her go, scott free. I'll pretend she didn't cause this whole kerfuffle.”

Heimdall shook his head, trying to look stunned to avoid drawing attention but glancing at Eivor halfway through as a means to give her an answer. “I can't,” the action said silently.

“You can.”

What made her think that?

“On one condition.”

Heimdall winced at the commanding tone Odin adopted, watching as his hand reached out to him, palm up. He spoke only one word. 

“Gjallarhorn.”

A single phrase that made his entire being nearly shrivel up into dust on the spot. To give up Gjallarhorn was to give up his title, his destiny, his symbol of achievement and prestige. To lose that meant he had lost everything.

Except Eivor.

Which was the only reason he was willing to do it. A possibility that the blue eyes witnessing the exchange were afraid of. And waiting for.

“Don't give me that look, I promise it's not because of you,” Odin reassured, though Heimdall doubted the sincerity before he could help it. “With everything that's happened and all the people who want it  I just think it's best to keep it locked up somewhere until it's time to use it. And hope it ends up staying there forever.” His voice grew lighter and softer, more comforting than commanding. “And that's it. Do that and you can come home. You'll be welcome with open arms. And Eivor can live. That's a lot better than letting her be on the run, right? That's a lot more than she'll get if she's caught by noble Aesir, like the Valkyries, don't you think?”

Yes, it was. If he had to choose between being with Eivor or her being alive, he would, despite how miserable it would be, he would rather not wait for her to die. It was far from an outcome he wanted but was the best he could get. Did he even have another option?

He couldn't see one.

And he would rather live without Eivor and his titles than put her through more pain than he already had.

That stung, the thought of everything he'd done to her. Far more than anything Odin's disapproval did to him.

Perhaps All-Father was right…He had already seen so many times that he didn't deserve her. Maybe he should give her up to make her happy. And safe. Maybe All-Father's wisdom was guiding him, like it always did. Maybe it would be better this way…

“You're smart enough to know the right choice,” Odin added, making himself very sweet and kind as he used one last comment to drive it home. “You really are, son.”

Unfortunately, it worked. Heimdall was leaning more towards returning to his captor rather than running away from him.

Eivor's teeth grinded together, her jaw cramping from the amount of pressure they applied. He knew exactly what he was doing. Saving all of the confessions and endearments until it would serve him the most, using it all to mask that he was only serving himself. She really had never been more disgusted. 

She wouldn't let him get away with it. Even if it cost her life.

Slowly, mind still in shambles from Odin's final word ringing in his head, Heimdall reached behind him to take Gjallarhorn off of his belt. To give Odin what he asked for, as he always did. Going back to who he used to be before her. Letting it all go for the sake of comfortable familiarity.

But it just…it just wasn't fair.

As childish as it sounded, he was adamant about that. His entire life selflessly spent in service, never asking for anything in return, and this was all All-Father could do for him? 

And All-Father would ask him to go back to that service knowing it would destroy him? Then what was even the point of taking him back?

It didn't feel right. Something just wasn't right.

His eyes went to Eivor again, wanting so badly to hear her speak and make this nightmare end, only finding one phrase in her mind.

“Trust me.”

Trust her. 

He did trust her, always and forever. She never made him wonder. 

But, after all this, Odin had given him reason to doubt.

With that, it was much easier to choose who to listen to.

Swallowing the lump in his throat and slowing his shaky arm as it brought Gjallarhorn around to his front, ears ringing and eyes hazy, Heimdall finally looked up at Odin, straight into those disguised eyes. 

It was shocking enough to feel anything, but he did. Normally whenever he looked Odin in the eyes he would see nothing, a blank slate of nonexistence, as if his foresight couldn't see anything at all. This time there was something there, but not a mind. A wall, blocking him, very much like the barrier he felt when he first met Eivor, forbidding him from seeing what was inside. But he had to get through. He wanted to see if everything Odin had revealed was true despite how horrifying it was to breach such a sacred place. As Gjallarhorn gradually floated into Odin's view and he took his time reaching forward, he took a closer look at this wall blocking his sight. He had spent years chipping away at Eivor's, her wall one of stone and metal that he had yet to crack. Odin's was much weaker by comparison, like old wood fencing ready to fall apart in the wind, and it was almost too easy to push over. Then there it was.

He could see into the mind of the untouchable All-Father.

And the ice in his veins only thickened at what he found.

Every word was true. Heimdall could see that Odin's confession was nothing but the truth. 

Odin was his father.

But he didn't see that truth from fondness, pride, or even resentment.

He found it through his disgust. 

Disgust for his own kin. Disgust that his once dependable son had been just as unreliable as his others, forcing him to take matters into his own hands. Disgust that made him hungry for punishment.

Heimdall could also see that. The punishment he was hiding.

Odin had no intention of keeping his word.

As soon as Gjallarhorn was in his hands, he would yank on the bifröst chain and plunge that magic knife into Eivor's chest to kill her, forcing Heimdall to watch as the life left her.

He was lying.

He lied.

Just like everyone else.

All-Father—

No, Odin was as fake and selfish as everyone else.

And he had… worshiped him.

Just like that so many lies had come to light all at once, from the ones Eivor had begged him to see for years to the ones he had thought of since he reunited with her, they were all just proof.

Proof that he had been used.

Pure rage. Pure hatred for the ignominy he would forever face for never seeing what others could so easily. The fury melted all the fearful ice in him while his hand stopped in front of him, fingers gripping Gjallarhorn like he wanted to shatter it, teeth bared in a deadly snarl and brow morphing to match the intense emotion in him as he growled out his first words since Odin revealed himself.

“You're lying!”

Despite her precarious position, Eivor smiled, wishing Heimdall was in a headspace to see how proud she was of him. Proud that he was finally reclaiming his freedom.

Odin nearly gasped, taken aback and stunned by the fact that Heimdall was able to break through the precautionary magic in seconds, meeting the rebellion he had done everything he could to prevent — and he was far from pleased. Dropping any respect and decorum, Odin's extended hand curled back as he barked, “You had your chance!” and he gripped the chain harder, ready to pull with all his might.

Heimdall nearly dropped Gjallarhorn and left it abandoned as he shouted, “No!” and raced for Eivor, but even he wasn't fast enough to stop such a simple motion.

But the blue eyes watching had anticipated as much, and they were prepared.

A red wolf sprung from behind the enormous trees and charged right at the disguised Aesir's arm, biting through the fake armor and into the arm holding the bifröst chain. Odin screeched, but in his attempt to shake the wolf off he still pulled on the chain, and Eivor cried out when the blade struck her before it disappeared from Odin's grasp.

Heimdall felt his body fail to function at the sound, only shaken out of the state when he saw Eivor crawl away from Odin, still alive. Odin managed to shake the wolf off, flinging it across the clearing and into one of the stone walls, making the wolf fade and forcing Atreus to take back his true form with a grunt. Eivor didn't hesitate to act, standing just long enough to shuffle away and reach an arm towards one of the huge trees, using her new skills from Freya's lesson to make a gold copy of one of them and send it plummeting straight down to Odin, the All-Father having to summon his ravens to escape the collision in time. Once he was gone and the tree exploded into glittering gold dust, Eivor collapsed. Heimdall raced to her, thinking that she had to be alright if she could still manage such incredible magic, turning her onto her back to see what her other hand was clutching. 

His heart nearly stopped when he saw the blood.

And he could have sworn it did when he saw the wound oozing bifröst and an awful shade of green light. 

His entire world — or what was left of it — fell apart when he heard her wheeze and gasp, her breathing strained like she was being strangled. “Eivor? Eivor!” He cried, looking down at her and panicking when all she could do was rasp in return. He immediately went to dispel the bifröst seeping from her wound, recoiling when the insufferable burning licked at his fingers and made them retreat. Unlike any other bifröst, this seemed to be beyond his influence.

He was powerless to help.

Atreus ran over to them to try to heal her himself, and Heimdall let him, but he had the same reaction as Heimdall and groaned at the icy sting on his hands. Before either of them could get a word out, there was shouting coming from all around. More Einherjar were coming out of the trees. 

Heimdall was still stuck in place, recoiling at Eivor's raspy breathing and wet, uncontrollable coughing, despising how useless he was when she could have been dying in his arms. It was left to Atreus to be the leader. Drawing his bow, he demanded, “Pick her up and run, I'll hold them off!”

The former scion stared at him, the very idea of fleeing beyond his comprehension. He was an Aesir, he would never —

Then again, how would he know what he was?

The Einherjar were approaching fast. “Just go! Go!” Atrues urged, summoning a pack of spectral wolves to help him fend off the encroaching enemies. Heimdall sucked up his ego and picked Eivor up, being as careful as he could be while running at full speed. 

Utter chaos. He ducked under branches, dodged poison from flowers, leapt over swords and tripped Einherjar at almost every step, using all of his foresight and reflexes to keep them from stopping him. He knew they would go for her if he was caught, and he would not let them touch her.

He would not give up the only thing he had left.

The gut wrenching thought was shoved aside when the red wolf appeared, tackling an Einherjar to the ground and trampling over them to catch up with Heimdall, transforming back to himself to instruct, “Down here,” while leading them through the forest and shooting enemies that tried to stop them. They came to the river, where there was a large stone in the middle to help them cross, but just before they could jump to it a ball of fire landed right on it, setting all the plants that made a home on top of it ablaze. Atreus turned around to see the Einherjar not far behind, and back at the flaming bridge they couldn't cross, trying to come up with any way to get to the other side that was faster than swimming. A clever idea came to him, one that Heimdall would detest but he didn't care if he got yelled at. “You're fast enough to run across something that's moving, right?”

Heimdall ripped his eyes away from Eivor to scoff at the Wolf. “Of course. Why?” Atreus didn't give him an answer, but he sensed what he was going to do and was appalled by the plan. “Are you kidding me?”

Atreus refused to answer again, shooting an arrow through the flames and into the thick trunk of a tree across the river, the flame hooked on its purple magic once it reached its target. He then drew another arrow and infused it with more sigil magic before hitting the same spot. The flame on the first arrow violently flared up and destroyed the base of the tree, knocking it into the river and sending it rushing down the water towards them. “Hurry!” Atreus said, shooting more arrows at the Einherjar just paces away from them. Heimdall sighed at how unbelievable the idea was, slowing down time at the perfect moment to sprint across the tree as it flowed past and make it to the other side, leaving Atreus alone.

The jötun proved to be resourceful again, using his bow to shoot a line high into another tree and swing across the river, the jump so rushed that he slipped and nearly fell into the water when he landed. Now that they made it across and the only way for anyone to follow them was in flames, the persistent Einherjar shouted at them and headed upstream, looking for another way to get to them.

With imminent danger away for a moment, Heimdall couldn't hold in his irritation. “Are you insane?!”

Atreus, to Heimdall's annoyance, only shrugged and replied, “Have you seen my father?”

Eivor let out a thick cough that left her wheezing and gasping even more, drawing Heimdall's attention and rekindling his hopeless desire to do something. Atreus leaned in and took a closer look at the wound, seeing that the magic oozing from it had only grown into a darker green. “That…doesn't look good.” He instantly regretted the words, waiting for Heimdall to chew him out for stating the obvious, but he received nothing. In fact, Heimdall didn't even seem to hear him. He just stared at Eivor, short of breath and pain evident on his face.

Atreus had never seen him so…scared. Really, he had never seen Heimdall show so much of any emotion at all. 

He had to help. Rivalry or not, Heimdall needed help.

“This way, we can take her to Freyr's camp,” Atreus suggested, already starting towards their destination.

A terrible idea, Heimdall told himself, but he didn't have much of a choice. He would take anything to save her. It thankfully wasn't far from them, and in minutes Atreus pushed open the gates to the camp and called out for help. “Guys! Are you here?!”

Hildisvíni was the first to reply, the two elves and Lúnda emerging with him. “Atreus?” All of them stiffened when they saw who was behind him, drawing their weapons and pointing them directly at the Aesir that had cost them their safety and their friends.

The Wolf held up his hands and frantically waved at them, “Wait wait wait! It's okay!” He stepped aside, showing them what Heimdall was carrying. “Eivor's hurt!”

The crowd paused, looking at each other cautiously. Hildisvíni eventually made a decision, waving his bow down towards the fire and saying, “Put her down here.” Atreus mumbled his gratitude while Heimdall rushed to put Eivor down, resting her back on one of the logs by the fire. Hildisvíni slowly put his bow down as he looked at Eivor, finding the sight recognizable. “More Aesir were here?” he asked, kneeling down to examine the magical wound, listening carefully to her strained breathing.

“You know it?”

“I haven't seen it since the war…” Hildisvíni trailed off, magic emanating from his hands while he reached out to her, retracting his hand with a hiss when he felt the same pain Atreus and Heimdall experienced. “But this is different. Corrupted, somehow.”

Heimdall didn't care for his long explanations and stories. “Can you fix it?!”

“I'm not sure.”

Atreus listened to the jungle for just a second before asking, “Could Freya fix it?”

“I'm sure she would have a solution.”

Standing up and listening to nature for a few more moments, Atreus was already backing away when he said, “The animals are quiet around where Father and Freya were, so they have to be done. I'm gonna go get them!” Before anyone could stop him, he was off, shifting into a wolf to move as fast as he could.

Hildisvíni didn't sit around, getting up and making use of the team he had. “Gather our medicine, make sure Freya will have everything she needs.” 

The group made themselves busy, leaving Heimdall to stare at Eivor on his own, taking in her shallow and aching breaths, how pale she was, feeling the loathing for his own uselessness settling in. Kneeling down next to her, taking her hand in his own and using his other to brush the sweat soaked hair from her forehead was not enough for him, not enough to make him think he was doing what she needed from him. It was agonizing to just watch and listen to her struggle, his only alternative to marinate in the lies, the shock, the fear, the cold reality he had been doused in. To just sit there, doing absolutely nothing as the only thing that hadn't abandoned him or lied to him slipping away right in front of him while he watched, practically blind and deaf with no way of making any of it stop…

He'd paraded his superiority around his entire life. He had sworn none could surpass him, none could outdo him. But now?

He'd never felt more worthless.

“H-Hei—!” She tried to call out for him, her choking snapping him out of the searing pain. “Eivor? Please, tell me what to do, anything!”

It wasn't a plea he uttered quietly, and all the onlookers stopped and observed in awe, trying to figure out if this was the same watchman that had attacked them just days ago. 

In a way, he wasn't.

He paid them no mind, his undivided attention on his one and only Songbird while she sputtered and coughed in his arms. “I…it…” another wet heavy cough that was strong enough to make her shake. “H-hurts…”

Never had he wished to be harmed, only boasting that he never could be, but now he wished could be in her stead. To see her so weak that she could hardly express her pain tore him apart from the inside out. 

Then it got worse. There was a commotion in the background, one just loud enough for the entire camp to catch, but he heard it clearly. It sounded like a fight, one that came from the direction Freya and Kratos were supposed to be.

He nearly crumbled at the hopelessness. If they were stalled long enough and didn't make it back in time he would lose everything. If he lost everything he ever loved and cared for in a matter of hours, then what reason would he even have to live? 

Heimdall shook his head and clenched his jaw as he watched tears fall down Eivor's cheeks, his will to watch this happen slipping farther and farther down into the earth with every moment. He couldn't stand looking at her and did the only thing he could, pulling her in close and resting his cheek on her head, hoping at least this was enough to keep her conscious. “I know, just…just hold on. Please.” 

Just sitting there, his skin burning with every wheeze he heard and cringing at every cough that tore through her, one phrase came to his mind from earlier that night.

“So that my last moments are with you.”

Eivor's alternative to having him at her side. All he could think about was how much he wanted that too, how much he would give to have her until his last moments and make her smile the last thing he ever saw. Now, with the very opposite happening, the despair was swallowing him as he envisioned Freya getting there too late, Eivor lost to him while he did nothing, left completely alone with nothing and no one to his name. 

He couldn't. He just couldn't do it.

So he said it again. Something he said only once, years ago, but was never forgotten by either of them.

“Please don't leave me.”

He couldn't find it in himself to care at all about his home or himself. He could only beg internally. 

Just not her. Anything but her.

The caw of a bird soared over the camp, a falcon hovering above the ground near Lúnda's shop until the magic around it flared up into smoke and revealed Freya, who Heimdall was glad to see for the first time since they met. “Where is she?” she asked Hildisvíni, not quite seeing Heimdall and Eivor behind the fire. The advisor pointed them out and explained what he found, the Vanir queen gasping, “By the gods…Get me a mixture of Shaman's Wicker and Lilac Feather immediately.” Freya dashed to her patient and kneeled down at Eivor's other side. “What ha—” She froze, concern fading and outrage taking over as she saw the magic emanating from the wound. She snapped at Heimdall, “Odin was here?! That bastard has the nerve to show his face —” Freya took a deep breath, quieting her wrath as Heimdall only nodded.

Hildisvíni returned with a bowl of powder that glowed a subtle lavender color. “What has he done with this spell?”

Freya bitterly spat, “Proven that I should never have taught him anything about my magic.” She dipped her fingers in the powder to coat her skin, then raised her hands over the gash and directed the purple powder into the ghastly magic.

“And where are Kratos and Atreus? Do they need help?”

“Getting rid of the Einherjar, they shouldn't be long.”

“Can you help her?” Heimdall asked impatiently, the dust not having enough of an immediate effect to make him feel any better.

“I can,” Freya replied, though her brow gave away the amount of thinking she had to do to accomplish her goal. “But we will need something stronger.” Pointing to each individual as she spoke, Freya gave orders to every person she had available. “Hildisvíni, gather Lamb's Cress from our supply. Lúnda, harvest whatever Albino Thistle we have. Byggvir, Beyla, get a handful of the Thornnuts from the tree outside of camp.” In a gentler tone, she turned to the only person who hadn't moved. “Heimdall, see those vines with the large leaves next to Lúnda's shop? Bring me three of them, no wider than your palm.”

He couldn't find it in himself to be irritated by being bossed around, instead getting up and doing as she asked right away. Another action that drew attention that he didn't bother to address. With shaky hands he inspected the leaves by the shop, picking three suitable ones as quickly as he could while his mind was moving too fast for him to comprehend, then turning to head back to Freya. There was an old spear with a freshly polished head resting against the shop wall, giving him a split second to see his reflection in the corner of his eye.

Blue?

Why did he see blue?

Unable to contain the curiosity, he leaned in a bit closer to the shiny metal. He could see it much clearer now. The blue was mixed in with the violets in his eyes. In fact they weren't just pink now, there were more swirling colors than he'd ever seen. 

They were different.

He was different.

How much worse could the night get?

That wasn't important right now. Heimdall hurried back to Freya, handing her the leaves before reclaiming his seat next to Eivor, squirming as her wheezing entered his ears again. With a few more ingredients mixed into her bowl of powder, Freya dipped her hands in again, the magic flowing from her fingers an orange color this time, and thankfully getting Eivor to breathe just a little deeper than she could before. Feeling her weakly rest her head on his chest while she closed her eyes was almost too much for him. 

“He was interrupted mid strike?” Freya asked Heimdall, who didn't even acknowledge her, too busy trying to keep himself from breaking down in front of everyone. “Well, whatever you did, it saved her life.” 

Now he looked up. 

“Had it been just an inch more to the right it would have struck her heart; a fatal wound. She's very lucky to have at most a punctured lung.”

Freya thought nothing of his thoughtful look as he stared down at Eivor again, but on the inside Heimdall's soul was only shattering more.

That runt…saved her. 

While he was too gobsmacked to act quickly enough to do it himself, the half-bre— 

Atreus saved her life.

Before a voice in the back of his mind could convince him to be grateful the Wolf himself returned with his father in tow, the boy reaching Freya and looking at what she was doing closely. “Can you help her?”

The queen nodded, but looked at Heimdall as she said, “Yes. But it will not be easy.” She let the lights drifting from her hands disappear, satisfied with the amount of magic giving her room to make her extraction possible. Leaning in a little to address Eivor, who needed whatever strength she had left to look up, did her best to listen as Freya gave her a very serious run down. “Eivor, I'm going to dispel the curse now, but I have to warn you. It will hurt. A lot. Are you ready?”

Eivor gave a weak nod, not having the energy to tell her to just get on with it and make this unbearable pain stop.

With a grim expression, Freya sat back again, making Heimdall's eyes widen when she chillingly said, “Kratos, hold her down. Don't let her move.” While the silent god kneeled behind Eivor and took hold of her shoulders, Freya continued, “Atreus, stay right here and watch carefully, I'm going to have you help me so we can do this as fast as possible. Heimdall…” 

The lull in her instructions brought another overwhelming wave of shame. He was still completely useless, he thought, but was completely unaware that Freya was only thrown off by just how scared the watchman looked.

“Keep her comfortable,” Freya finally said, her face softening as she added in a much more soothing whisper, “She will be fine.”

If she wouldn't be alright he would tell Kratos to finish what they started hours ago.

Concentrating on the gruesome magic in Eivor’s chest, Freya reached towards it, her fingertips just beyond the green miasma before she uttered an ancient word, pulling her hands back on the second syllable.

It was then that Heimdall regretted every single thing he'd ever done that led up to this exact moment. 

Eivor screamed, the pain of the cursed magic being wrenched from her body feeling like her entire rib cage was being pulled out with flaming ice, wanting so badly to lurch forward and curl up into a ball to keep all of the horrible sensations away, but Kratos easily held her in place. The hand that Heimdall wasn't holding flew out to swat Freya's away, but Kratos managed to catch her just in time, leaving her with no choice but to wail and sob with half her face buried in Heimdall's tunic.

All while the scion just watched.

The sound of her shrieks destroyed him. His stomach turned to ashes, his heart became the heaviest and coldest metal that crushed his organs, his lungs shrunk and dried out while he listened to her cry in anguish, the sight of her constant stream of awful tears making him wish he could rip his own eyes out to save himself from the sight.

And just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, Freya told Atreus to join her, both of them speaking the ancient phrase again while they pulled back even more, making Eivor's bawling even louder until her voice began to crack and give out. Heimdall wanted nothing more than to expel his soul from his being to make the scene just end.

It was just too much.

He never, ever, ever, wanted to see her like this again.

Never.

After what felt like a millennium, Freya gave one last brutal tug on the magic, rising to her feet and stumbling as the ugly curse remained between her hands. It burned her skin and bit at her palms, the goddess having to grind her teeth to stay in control of it. The magic wrestled with her, wriggling around in an attempt to escape and return to the host it had made a home in, but Freya's skills were too great. Grunting at the exertion, Freya let her own magic invade the curse until it began to shake violently, the Valkyrie queen ending the parasite by ripping her hands apart, her magic forcing it into the open air and eating away at it until it dissipated into nothingness. She had to take a moment to slow her breathing and shake out her hands after putting such strenuous pressure in herself.

Heimdall only looked at Eivor while the spectacle happened right next to him, his eyes not leaving her since her shouts came to a sudden halt and her body went limp. Her breathing was shallow, blood was still gradually leaking from the leftover gash, she was barely moving. The only thing he could tell himself as he eagerly waited for her to open her eyes was that they were too late.

“E-Eivor?” He breathlessly mumbled to her, the slight wheeze that was still present killing him even more. 

Consciousness was lost for just a moment, but Eivor was strong enough to bounce back in spite of the exhaustion, grounding herself with the feeling of Heimdall's hand on hers until her hearing cleared up and the darkness clouding her mind faded. Very slowly, she started to regain her grip on reality, the sounds of the rustling leaves of the jungle, the warm air from the fire near her, the dull ache that was still deeply burrowed into her chest, everything was there to remind her that she was not only alive, but well enough to come out of the dark hole she'd been buried in and fight back against the monsters that put her there.

She was still too tired to speak or open her eyes yet, but she found the motivation in the tiny, desperate whisper she heard. 

“Songbird, please…”

Heimdall used her nickname in public, in plain view of the entire camp. It told her just how mortified he was, how much he wanted her to show him that she was alright. Given how horrible this night had been for him, she had to get back up faster than her mind was letting her. She couldn't let him suffer like this. Her voice barely a rasp, tired and weak, she murmured to him, “I'm…okay.” Then, using all of the energy she had, she cracked her eyes open. Those beautiful true bifröst eyes were the first thing she saw, so filled with worry but finding relief when they met hers. “I'm okay,” she repeated, watching as he exhaled sharply, letting out all the tension that had plagued him. 

Freya knelt down by Eivor again, looking intently at her wound. “Do you feel cold anywhere? A burning sensation?” Eivor shook her head, making Freya relax. “Good. Then the spell is gone. I'm afraid the rest of the healing process is just time and rest, but I'll give you some herbs to speed it up. Once you feel well enough we can take you back to Sindri's. Do you just want something to dull the pain…or would you rather have what Freyr took?”

“No, thank you,” Eivor answered, unable to keep a hint of a smile off her face.

“Wise choice,” Freya agreed with a chuckle, happy to see that the young goddess still had her spirit. She stood and told Atreus and Kratos to give her and Heimdall space, leaving the two alone while Freya prepared the medicine she promised.

Eivor didn't say another word, only resting her head against Heimdall while he stared at her, looking past her as he was lost in thought. 

It just didn't make any sense. Nothing made any sense.

All these people hated him, and he hated them. But when he needed help, they all rallied to do something that he couldn't. When he was useless to them, they still let him stay close. They should have shunned him, thrown him out and told him he wasn't going to be anywhere near them while they treated their friend. Yet they did the opposite, putting their differences aside for the time being, treating him like he wasn't more than happy to kill them just hours ago. To say that they showed mercy didn't feel right. No, not mercy, it was…compassion. Showing kindness when they shouldn't just because they could. Until now, he firmly believed the only person capable of such a selfless act was Eivor. 

She'd always said he was wrong, that there were people out there who did care about others. He never believed her. He never thought it was true.

But if it wasn't true, then none of this should have happened. Eivor should have died in his arms due to his negligence, or at the very least he should have been abandoned and left to wonder if she would survive. 

So there could be no denying it. He was wrong.

Was that really so surprising?

Clearly he had always been wrong.

He held Eivor tighter, pulling her in close enough to bury his nose in her hair. 

He didn't even know who he was anymore.

#songbird of asgard #heimdall #god of war #heimdall x reader #heimdall gow #gow heimdall #heimdall x oc #the songbird of asgard #god of war heimdall #gow ragnarok #god of war ragnarok

[ninjahiccups]

The Songbird of Asgard

Chapter 17: Truth...

AO3 Masterlist Word Count: 16.1k Warnings: Some angst, usual GoW violence

The time has come. What will he choose?

Two chapters today because this one turned out way too long... lmao

There had been so many occasions when Heimdall would begrudgingly wish he had listened to Eivor.

Usually for small things. She'd told him not to voice his disdain for Magni and Modi's destructive habits during their training, claiming it would only give them an incentive to do it more often just for the satisfaction of making him angry. He ignored that advice, and just as Eivor had warned, the brothers made a point to train close to his cabin and "accidentally" break a hole through the wall. He'd earned an "I told you so" for that one. One day he was asked to make preparations for transporting materials to Asgard from Svartalfheim, and Eivor insisted he give the dwarves incremental instructions instead of one very long list of goods to gather and sort, explaining that such an overwhelming task would inevitably lead to mistakes that he would have to personally correct later. Another suggestion he brushed off, believing the dwarves would be the ones responsible for any missing materials. Just as she said, when an entire barrel of ore was missing from Odin's requests, he lectured Heimdall for his lack of awareness as opposed to the dwarves' incompetence, and held him responsible. He had to go through the trouble of going back to Svartalfheim and double checking every single item leaving with him before he could finally get it all over with. Of course, Eivor was more than happy to gloat.

Still, he wouldn't admit to being wrong. Maybe he hadn't picked the ideal choice, but never would he say he made a mistake. 

But standing there, exhausted, beaten, pinned to a wall with a spear in his arm, he did not at all deny it.

He really, really wished he listened to Eivor.

Not only was she right that the foreign god had found a way to circumvent his foresight, he was now defeated and about to die in the most shameful way possible. 

And that wasn't even acknowledging the regret he already felt before this fight.

His eyes were clenched shut as he panted, the pain in his arm hurting far worse than all of the wounds he only vaguely acknowledged, mind too busy wandering while he waited for his trip to Valhalla. It was such an embarrassment, especially when he was in top form for this encounter. Sure, he was still mourning his love, but it was that mourning that made him fight his hardest, use every trick he had, taunt his enemy and berate them until they lost focus and gave him an easy win. Yet even when he had everything he needed to win, he still failed.

He couldn't even find it in himself to be angry, or wonder how disappointed All-Father would be. The only thing on his mind was her. How he couldn't avenge her, how her death could be traced back to him, how he had even soiled her memory during the fight by claiming he'd forgotten the last time he'd been struck. He even had to pause in the middle of that bluff, remembering the day in Muspelheim when Eivor proved to be his match, hating himself for speaking as if he'd forgotten about her even if it was intended to be nothing more than a boastful insult.

Eivor's loss was his fault. Her death was a result of his negligence and inability to keep his promise to her. He wallowed in remorse for days only to lose the most important fight of his life. Asgard would be in jeopardy because he couldn't kill a single rabid dog, and all he could do was wait until his dishonorable death came to let the indignity sink into his soul.

There wasn't a part of him that believed Eivor hadn't died without putting up a fight first. At least that meant he could find her in Valhalla and apologize for being a complete fool who couldn't appreciate her enough.

The God Killer's presence retreated, turning away from him.

Heimdall's gaze flew up as soon as he felt it, finding the foreign god staring to his right, spear in hand, motionless. "Wait…" The beast's mind had been mostly blank since his arrival, so much so that he wondered if the man had any brain at all. "What is going on in that empty head?" He despised the way his voice cracked, but that was far from the most disgraceful aspect of this moment. No, his own display of weakness couldn't compare to the absolute blasphemy this waste of life was committing. "Oh no no no no no…you are going to spare me out of pity!" He laughed in disbelief, his very being utterly insulted that this trash was inflicting the worst possible dishonor an Aesir could ever face. 

But his pride as an Aesir was secondary. What really pissed him off was that the old god was mocking him, forcing him to live with both the loss of his Songbird and the compunction of being unable to avenge her. He had the gall to make him suffer longer than he already has, to drag his name through the mud and force him to live with eternal despair. "That's not how this works. You don't get to do that. Not after what you did!" Heimdall spat, growling even louder when the god only gave him a brief glance. "Not after what you STOLE from me!" All the physical pain was incomparable to the crippling sorrow that leaked into his furious voice.

Yet the foreign god only peeked at him again, but this time long enough for Heimdall to catch his confusion.

"You don't even know!" Heimdal chuckled bitterly. One of the brightest and purest souls in the realms was snuffed out by this devil's hand and he didn't even notice. "You have no idea… you're too much of a monster to know what you've done." He took immense satisfaction in seeing the flash of emotion in the foreign god that indicated that he struck a nerve.

The oaf didn't linger, much to his disappointment, merely delivering a stoic, "Let it go and you may live."

Let it go.

Let it go?!

This degenerate took away his pride, his prestige, his reputation, his honor, and his love, and he was supposed to just let it go?! Just to live with the agony?!

This man was truly, profoundly stupid. A complete halfwit, a blundering fool if he believed he could get away with his crimes. Did he think he could just stop being the bloodthirsty beast whenever he felt like? Heimdall’s teeth were grinding together so hard that there may have been sparks in his mouth, the fierce scowl morphing his entire visage with rage. What would make this monster think he could do this to him?!

Unless…

"Is this about the little runt?" The anger melted as he saw the old god finally turn toward him, a look of warning in his eyes. That was when Heimdall realized he could take advantage of this moron's misstep, make him pay by exacting the same loss he had suffered from. 

This monster took Eivor from him. It was only fair that Heimdall took his useless son in return.

"Oh, now I am definitely going to gut him!" Heimdall reached up to the blade pinning his arm to the wall, too engrossed in his rage to see the foreign god lift his spear, ready to take his arm clean off. 

"STOP!"

The world froze.

That voice.

He knew that voice anywhere.

The spear was just a hair's breadth from the ground, the plea stopping the motion just in time. Heimdall swore his mind was playing tricks on him until the foreign god looked over his shoulder. He did the same, leaning a little to his right to see a ghost that took his breath away.

"E-Eivor…?" His voice faltered and fluctuated with disbelief, all the tension in him lost along with whatever will he had to fight. 

This wasn't real. This couldn't be real.

Those beautiful green eyes that he missed so much flickered between him and his enemy before she panted, "Kratos, back off." She paused, collecting herself after hearing how harshly she addressed the man who had her lover's life in his hands. "Please."

Kratos stared Heimdall down for a second longer, like he was reminding him of how lucky he was to still have all his limbs, before he stepped back and walked away, leaving his back turned to the scion. 

This was all a dream. He was dead and this was some sick joke the Valkyries were playing on him while his spirit was flying to the afterlife. There was no way she was alive and familiar with the foreign god.

As Kratos put distance between himself and Heimdall, Eivor hurried to him, all while Heimdall was wondering when the illusion would fade away this time. "Oh, gods, Heimdall," she sobbed, her heart aching at the sight of him battered and bruised, reaching up to caress the bloody gash on his cheek. With that touch Heimdall felt his heart stutter and his breath hitch, unable to resist leaning into her warm skin. 

This was real. She was real. 

Heimdall's left hand flew up to take hers, breathing unevenly as the confirmation that this really was her overwhelmed his senses. With her this close he could see that she was dirty and disheveled, like she had rushed over to him — like she knew he would be there. "What is this?" he whispered to her, at a complete loss. Alive, privy to his location, and in some kind of partnership with the enemy that was said to have killed her? It wasn't possible.

She sputtered out, "I know what this looks like, but —"

"We were told you were dead!"

Eivor's other hand went to his chest, barely able to keep herself from embracing him. "I promise I can explain all of this, I just —"

"That he killed you!" Heimdall added, nodding towards Kratos with pure hatred, voice hoarse and raw.

With those words Eivor's focus wavered. Of course Odin would lie through his teeth to convince Heimdall to do exactly what he wants, regardless of how dangerous and life-threatening it was. What else would he do to Heimdall before he was finished with him? She withdrew her hands and snapped, "And the fact that I'm here means Odin lied to you, doesn't it? What does that tell you about him?!"

As elated as Heimdall was to see her alive, he was immediately irritated that the reunion had already been soiled by conflict. All he wanted was to pull her close and tell her how much he missed her and loved her, and this was the first thing she said to him? Through grinding teeth he muttered, "This is not the time for this discussion!"

She shocked him once again by shedding all of her worry and care for a very stern command. "No, Heimdall, this is the right time for it, and this time you are going to listen to me!"

After getting over the sudden shift in her demeanor, his knee-jerk reaction was offense at the coarse and cold demand, his pride immediately stepping in to defend itself. But then her words sank deeper into his mind, reminding him of his greatest mistake.

The days he had spent without her were the most…miserable days of his life. He still believed it was his unwillingness to truly listen to her that led to her supposed death, and by continuing to brush her off he was only creating the possibility that she would end up seriously hurt. He'd already felt the pain and consequences of that guilt, and he was not at all ready to feel it again, especially if he could confirm her demise with his own eyes. He had to listen this time. He couldn't let her get hurt.

Even so, something in him was screaming for him not to, that nothing she had to say was anything worth his consideration. It was so adamant to label her as false. Why, exactly, he wasn't sure, and the internal conflict was creating an intense physical pain that forced him to squeeze his eyes shut and turn away, trying to make it stop.

“Heimdall, look at me.” Her quiet whimper was as torturous as the developing migraine. He took a deep breath to steel himself before looking at her again, sincerely trying to listen to everything she wanted to say. 

Eivor also had to calm herself, so many words trying to break free that they were about to burst and leave her too tongue tied to get through to him. Most of them were not even related to the point she needed to make. Those words wanted to be spoken to preceed the rejection the pessimistic side of her was so ready for, to just skip straight to the backup plan with the expectation that he truly was beyond her help. She had to choose to at least try, to have faith in him. She owed him so much more than that.

“You know I would never lie to you. I would never lie to you, or manipulate you, or intentionally hurt you in any way. I would never do that to you,” she began, pausing to see if he would have any arguments to. Relieved to find none in him as he patiently listened, her voice grew a bit steadier as a spark of hope ignited her determination. “So believe me when I tell you that Odin is lying to you. I don't know how you can't see it, but I know he is. He doesn't care about you, or anything you've done for him or Asgard, all he cares about is how he can use you, and he will not hesitate to throw your life away if he has a reason to do it.” A moment was taken to regain her senses before the emotion made her voice tremble, the possibility feeling too fresh after narrowly preventing it. “He's already taken so much from you, and he's only going to keep taking until you have nothing left. It's only a matter of time before he sends you to your death.”

With every odious word the pounding in Heimdall's head intensified, the piece of him denouncing her shrieking louder and louder by the moment. He was trying to listen in spite of how ridiculous it was, he really was, but all he felt was increasing contempt and denial no matter how hard he fought it. To ward that distrust off he looked into her eyes, trying to read the honesty from her, but the headache was somehow… suppressing his sight, making it impossible to see what was truth and what could be fiction. To be so uncertain was an experience that was beyond him — that he was too good for, and it only served to make him snap at her. “I am not a god who can be killed!” He shouted, witnessing the exasperation it brought to Eivor.

The goddess couldn't bear to hear his excuse after he almost let himself die as she predicted. Granted, Odin likely didn't ask Heimdall to confront Kratos since killing him would cost his partnership with Atreus, but it still would have been a death the Raven God ignored. The only loss he would lament would be that of Gjallarhorn, not the man who honorably carried it for most of his life. Frustrated by Heimdall's stubbornness, she hardened her gaze as she lectured, “That's exactly what you said when I told you not to come to Vanaheim, and look at you now!” Her hand flew towards him to emphasize his position and the dirt and blood coating his person, a stark contrast to the man he usually presented himself as. She witnessed Heimdall's lip curl up into a snarl at the reminder, signaling her to step back and use patience instead of force, just like she always had. “Heimdall,” she said in a way that calmed his subcutaneous anger enough for her to continue, “if you don't walk away, you will die. For nothing. And Odin won't let anyone remember you.” That point was one he hated, the very suggestion that he would be just a name lost to time was enough to make him seethe. The idea that it was the All-Father himself that would make that happen was more than enough to make the pain in his mind burn hotter. Until he felt Eivor's hands on his chest, gently and soothingly comforting him as she whispered, “You don't deserve that. You deserve so much more than he's willing to let you have.”

Heimdall shook his head, torn between the sincere love from Eivor and the sharp stings keeping his loyalty and debts to Odin in the front of his mind. Every stab he felt whenever he began to give in to Eivor's cries just hurt so much, every ounce of his being condemning the thought of betrayal. He was better than all the other lowlives who were willing to sink to that level.

But was his pride worth more than his Songbird?

Yet another pulse of torment spread through his head, reeling his consciousness back in enough to make him want to do whatever it took to make it stop. He couldn't give a reply, too focused on fighting the pain by squeezing his eyes shut and looking away.

When Eivor lost his eyes she felt her heart sink. She was losing him. Not knowing if she even had Heimdall's attention anymore sucked all of the hope in her, leaving her with nothing to do but implore one more time, “I know how hard it is for you to believe it, but I'm doing this because I care about you. I'm trying to save you.” One hand raised from his chest to caress his jaw, feeling disappointment when it failed to get him to look back at her. “Please, my love. Forget about him. Do more for yourself than he's ever done for you.”

She regretted her choice of words, seeing his jaw tighten in fury once more. The fact that he could still find a reason to doubt her after she was so tender and so loving felt like a sign — a sign that Atreus was right.

There was no other choice then. 

“Heimdall, please, you have to…” Still nothing. As much as she didn't want to do this, her last resort was the only option she had left. “You have to… or —”

He couldn't help the explosion of rage and impatience. The spear was still pinning his arm to the wall, his head was pounding, and every sound he heard only made the anger and pain worse. He threw his gaze back to her while he cruelly snarled, “Or WHAT?”

Were it not for the insanity pouring into his skull he would have reacted to her sudden gasp and the way she jumped back, like she was afraid of him. She remained silent long enough for him to register the loss of her touch and build up a yearning to have it back, not acting on it solely because his mind wouldn't allow it. Eivor schooled her expression into one of neutrality before she spoke again.

“Or kill me.”

In that split second all the agony and dismay dissolved, his face immediately relaxing into one of shock and confusion. In his peripheral vision he could see Kratos look over his shoulder, surprise emanating from him. Too dazed to say any more, all Heimdall could choke out was, “What?”

Eivor closed her eyes for a moment, ensuring that her emotions were hidden from Heimdall's foresight before opening them again. This was already going to be hard enough on him as it is, she didn't need to make it worse by showing him how much it hurt. Her voice was airy and trembling as she slowly said, “If you won't let me help you, I'm going to ask you to kill me.”

Heimdall shook his head, the horror apparent on his features. “Wha— Why would—”

“Look at where we are, my love,” Eivor said calmly, the suffering still showing through despite her best efforts. “I ran away from Asgard. I've allied with Odin's most daring enemies. And now I'm trying to take you from him. I've betrayed him…in every way.” She gave a rancorous smile as she shook her head, “He's not going to let me live. Unless I have a reason to keep fighting…my life is forfeit at this point.”

To hear her regard her own life with so little value made his chest feel like it was caving in. “No…” He didn't even have the words to counter the sentiment. Where did he even begin? She was too special to be tossed away over nothing, too pure to take her light away from the wretched and filthy world it cleaned, too bright for the realms to lose her and inevitably fade into darkness. She couldn't just give up.

Sweetly, affectionately, she explained, “I knew my choices would come to this…but you are worth the risk. If you don't believe me — if I can only wait for the end — then I don't want to die by Aesir magic, or by Thor's hammer, or alone in a cell. I want it to be by your hand…” she swallowed thickly, already holding back tears of anguish as her voice weakened and shook, “so that my last moments are with you.”

Every inch of Heimdall's skin crawled and he felt his stomach churn like it was trying to crush itself. He felt his expression melt into one of terror. All the air drifted from his lungs like they had given up on functioning, like they decided there was no need for air if it kept him alive long enough to hear that. He wanted to just hold her and command her to regain that fire in her that he loved so much, to shed this melancholy that ripped his heart from his chest and made his insides fill with ice so frigid and hefty that it pulled him into the earth.

Eivor's quivering breath kept her from letting a wail escape, intent on finishing her final thought. “I just…I want you to know that no matter what you choose…it won't change how I feel about you.” This time she grinned fondly, showing all the love she felt with one simple gesture. “I'll still love you all the same. In this life…” Then that tiny smile fell. “And the next.”

Gods, he couldn't take it anymore. It was impossible to decide if the continuous pounding in his mind or the stake through his soul was more crippling. 

“I made my choice. So now…” Eivor folded her hands in front of her, showing no intention of interfering with his actions. “I'll let you make yours.”

Her head fell and she looked at the ground between them, certain that she would weep if she watched him. Heimdall's breath heaved while he stared at her, dumbfounded and at a loss for how they ended up where they were. And to have to choose…

With the cyclone of emotions swirling inside, the only one he knew how to release was anger. His teeth grinded together while he glared at her. 

“‘My choice?’” He said quietly before giving a dry chuckle. It was laughable, the idea that this was a choice? What should he do? Cut off his right arm or his left? Stab himself through the forehead or the eye? No matter what he picked it would be the demise of everything he valued and cherished. To call such a dilemma a choice…

It was all so…ludicrous.

He tried to hold in the frustration, wanting to articulare just how nonsensical this “decision” was…but that damned spear was still too bothersome for him to actually focus. Taking his anger out on that, his left arm flew over to the spear and grabbed it as he growled, “You call that a choice?!” His last word was exaggerated by yanking the spear out of his arm, finally letting him take a step away from the stone behind him and fully express how ridiculous this “choice” was.

An argument he never made. As he wrenched the spear free from his limb Eivor flinched and retreated just a bit, her eyes squeezing tighter. But most importantly, her mind closed up completely. The one thing she would do when she didn't want him to know just how upset she was.

She…really thought he would hurt her?

“Brother…” 

Heimdall's eyes flew to Kratos, who had his back to the pair. Mimir wanted to do something before it was too late, but Kratos had learned from his feud with Freya. It was not his place to decide the fate of another if they had already chosen their own path, and he would not make that mistake again. Although a part of him still wanted to ensure Eivor would be safe, he ignored it, simply unclasping Mimir from his belt and holding the head in front of him, neither of them able to see what would happen.

With no sign of an intention to interrupt, Heimdall dismissed them and watched Eivor, wondering how on earth she would think he would stab her so quickly. As his eyes traveled back to her, he caught a glimpse of the spear, looking back at it when he realized how…taut his grip was. His arm was flexed, spear tip pointed directly at her, and all of his muscles waiting for his signal to deliver one fatal blow. He had to, the pins in his brain reasoned. “She's a traitor, she needs to die,” it whispered. It made everything in him scream to get rid of her, treat her like the heathen she was.

But this wasn't just any traitor, said his soul when it finally had the strength to chime in. This was Eivor. His one source of true happiness and peace. All the joy and calm and love in the world encased in one beautiful goddess with an even more gorgeous voice and a perfect soul that made him grateful to be alive.

With this internal debate he could now fully understand why she asked him to pick one path, seeing that she was, once again, right. He couldn't have both. But he wanted both. Somehow, he wanted both choices to coexist in one reality, like a naive child that thought they could have it all. So now he had to choose: his love, or his loyalty?

Eivor or Odin?

Which one could he live without?

How was he supposed to decide?

Looking down at her, arm shaking with tension as it prepared to strike her with the spear, all he could see was memories of her. Of what it was like without her.

The few measly days he lived with the belief that she was dead were… dreadful. He barely made it through, and he only did because he had vengeance to pull him forward. How in the nine realms was he supposed to press forward through that loss not only knowing she was gone, but that her blood was on his hands? He couldn't. There was no way. He would never forgive himself.

He had a life of his own. As the Scion of the Aesir his duty could be the one thing that kept him focused.

Then again…

Throughout the entire time she was gone his duty meant nothing. He merely proceeded with his daily tasks because it was expected of him. It was…who he was. And he was afraid to lose that identity.

Afraid of failing Odin.

Yes, that was it. Without her he was afraid. His worth would be measured solely by his abilities, and Eivor was the only one who treasured him for himself. He wasn't expected to be anything, and in that there was…freedom. After living a lifetime of believing those expectations and responsibilities were all he needed, he found something that felt like so much more.

With her he took far more pride in what he did, even if it was the most annoying, ridiculous, menial task he had to take care of. It was an inconvenience that didn't bother him because he had Eivor to take all of the irritation away. She gave him so much energy and motivation, so much more enthusiasm for life, whether he was on the job or reading a book at home. When he lost her, he had to return to the grind of working day and night just because that was his purpose.

Could he really go back to that?

That soundless voice in his mind howled at him, saying, “Yes, yes! Of course you do! That's what you're born to do!” and all it did was bring a heavier weight to the idea of that cumbersome life he used to have. It was a life he had because it was the life he was given. Eivor was the life he chose.

He loved Asgard and wanted to protect it with his life. He wanted to be the watchman.

But he wanted to be Eivor's too.

The conflict was just going around in circles, and he knew it. Heimdall snarled as he inhaled sharply, shifting the spear in his hand to keep his arm from acting on its own accord.

Every part of him stilled.

Just that little motion with the weapon made Eivor wince again, this time biting her lip as a few tears escaped.

She did think he would hurt her. She really believed that he would kill her without a word and was prepared for it. As if he'd never loved her.

His blood ran cold. 

She thought he would kill her right away, like he didn't love her. If she believed that then…

“ I will ensure you know just how much I love you. I promise.”

His promise.

He broke his promise.

No. He didn't break his promise.

He never kept it in the first place.

Just like everyone else.

Yet here she was. Despite not knowing if he truly loved her she was still willing to risk everything for him, even wanting to spend every second she had left on this earth with him. Because everything she did was for him. It wasn't about her.

It was never about her.

Because he never made it about her. 

That had to stop.

“Give her what she wants then. Kill her. Better that than to watch her die later.”

That voice had a point. They were doomed if they went against the All-Father. All he would do is delay her death.

“What other choice do you have…?”

His eyes softened as he watched another tear fall down her cheeks. He wasn't going to let her cry anymore.

This would be the last time he failed her.

His grip on the spear tightened, breath trembling as he mumbled out, “Asgard…is the only thing I have ever lived for.”

Eivor cowered away just a little more, tears now falling freely. Watching her heart break solidified his decision to end her pain.

The spear quaked in his hand.

One deep breath to prepare himself.

“But the realms would mean nothing if you weren't in them.”

The silence was deafening as Eivor's shoulders loosened and her eyes cracked open. They widened when the golden spear clattered against the ground between them.

Her eyes rocketed up to him, mouth hanging open in hopeful astonishment, finding him gazing at her softly. His brow was still furrowed to fight off the war that had begun raging in his head, but his glowing eyes held only love and regret.

He chose Eivor.

All the emotions burst out of her as she threw her arms around his neck with unhindered sobs, the tears that had built up spewing down her cheeks. Heimdall slung his left arm around her waist, his injured one bending at the elbow to place his palm on her side and he buried his chin into the crown of her head, every agonizing needle that pricked his skull ignored in favor of relishing in the embrace he had lived without for too long. He didn't even pick up on Kratos turning around to see the result, Mimir mumbling to himself in awe, “Would ya look at tha’...”

Eivor didn't care how pitiful and hoarse her shouts into his shoulder sounded as she cried, “I'm so sorry!” between mournful gasps. “I didn't want to do this! I didn't want to do this to you!” Heimdall only held her tighter, inspiring amazement from the timid onlookers when he started rocking her gently, as if to say she had no reason to apologize. “I didn't want any of this! I-I'm so sorry!” 

Heimdall merely held her, trying to sift through the thoughts he needed to say while battling the raucous dispute from within, taking only a few more moments to consider before he decided to go with his gut, as he had on so many other momentous steps in their relationship. He gently pushed her away by her waist, just far enough that he could look her in the eyes, left hand reaching up to her cheek and wiping tears away as they fell in abundant streams. It was such a debilitating sight, this level of suffering from her, so much that he almost lost every word in his extensive vocabulary. Quietly, gingerly, he said, “You thought I would kill you without a second thought.” Her eyes flew down for a moment in sadness, but his thumb wiping more tears away made her look back at him. “That means I haven't kept my promise.” He leaned in just a little closer and whispered, “I'm going to fix that.”

No spoken language could describe the breathtaking smile she gave him, nor the feeling of warmth in him that sprung forth when she gazed directly into his eyes and thought “I will too.” Heimdall could only beam back at her.

Until someone in the background conspicuously gushed, “D'awwww!” from the sidelines, making Heimdall finally tear his eyes away and sneer at the two men he would rather forget.

“I can hear you!” He snarled, wanting to do nothing more than mount the old goat's withering head on a spike for ruining the moment. Too incensed, he didn't catch Eivor shaking her head at him adoringly.

“OH uh, don't mind us! Just passin’ through!” Mimir fumbled, more as an apology to Eivor than Heimdall.

Kratos was unphased, putting Mimir back on his belt as he faced the pair completely with a stern, “That is enough.” Cautiously, he approached from across the clearing. Heimdall felt the alarm bells warning him of the vicious danger approaching, automatically stepping in front of Eivor and holding out his good arm to shield her, only relaxing a little when she put a hand on his shoulder to tell him Kratos meant no harm. Standing before the god he could have killed and the goddess who saved him, the old god first addressed Eivor. “You are unharmed?”

“For the most part,” she shrugged, knowing she looked like a complete mess after traipsing through a jungle.

She was met with a silent nod before Kratos looked to Heimdall, the latter's glare intensifying. “And you will not betray her?”

A simple question, but one that made Heimdall want to throw sense to the wind and douse the brute in as much explosive Bifröst as he could for suggesting he would ever tell Eivor a bald-faced lie. Despite that, his mind was still coercing him, telling him to make a plan to double cross Eivor for her treason. He resisted, able to just barely maintain a calm demeanor as he announced, “...I'm not going back.” The outrage from that internal power forced him to hold back a wince.

Kratos only nodded again, indifferent on the outside, but Heimdall could sense that he was satisfied with the outcome. “Then we have a temporary truce.”

Temporary. It was a word Heimdall agreed with.

An explosion boomed across the air from the distance. Another signal flare to tell the rescue team that they had to withdraw.

Eivor knew this as well, easing the pressure among the group by saying, “You should go. They need you.” 

“What will you do?”

She braced herself for the tantrum she predicted. “Heimdall needs some patching up —”

Like clockwork, Heimdall protested, “I do not need—”

“Is there somewhere we can wait for you?” she interrupted, ignoring the now annoyed watchman.

Kratos briefly paused. “The dwarves have a shop along the river, next to a travel gate.”

Perfect. The dwarves would surely have whatever supplies she needed. “Then go. We'll be there.” Eivor pulled on Heimdall's arm while he stared Kratos down, and the old god did the same to him, like a mutual warning to one another. The Aesir gave in to the second tug, Eivor taking his hand in hers to lead him away from the clearing and towards the river, in the opposite direction Kratos went after he was certain Heimdall would not do anything unexpected.

Mimir didn't wait to share his thoughts while Kratos brushed past the leaves and vines along the narrow path to the temple that was near the signal's location. “I can't believe it. She actually did it! And more importantly, Heimdall actually cares about someone! Ha! I never thought I'd see the day.” He received no comment in return, allowing his thoughts to wander. With a sigh his tone became more thoughtful and reminiscent. “It truly is amazing, innit, Brother? The way one person can take you at your worst and just…turn everything around?”

The severed head was referring to Sigrun, of course, but Kratos imagined another as the sentiment passed through his mind. That's when it occurred to him that, perhaps, he and Heimdall had more in common than either of them noticed.

While looking down at the ledge he approached, watching his son wave up at him with the eyes of his mother, Kratos could only absently whisper to his friend.

“Yes…”

Freyr's rescue was a success, though not without casualties and damage to morale. Despite Freya's worries she left her brother's crew to regroup in their camp while she treated Freyr's injuries at Sindri's home. Everyone was present in the realm between realms, all faces displaying the relief of a mission completed.

Except for one.

“So, uh, Father?” Atreus's voice was the first to break the calm silence over the group as he sat in front of the fireplace. Freya looked over her shoulder from her room, where she was mixing more herbs for Freyr, the dwarves looked up from their work at their forge, Tyr took his worried gaze away from the injured Vanir god, and Kratos set Mimir down on the table by his son, allowing the head to participate in the huddle. The boy swallowed nervously when all eyes were on him. “I…I can't help but notice that we're missing someone.”

The room grew heavy. Freya went back to her herbs, already certain that their newest friend was already gone. Tyr's eyes met the floor and his hands folded in front of him, as if paying respect to the goddess that had been lost. 

“Did…did Heimdall…?”

Those bright blue eyes filled with sadness made Kratos's stomach drop, the sight never failing to unnerve him even at his best, but the sensation didn't linger. He knew it would be gone with just a few words. 

“She was successful.”

Every soul was brightened by the declaration. Freya spun on her heels, nearly spilling the mixture of herbs in her hand while her smile of disbelief grew. The dwarves exhaled their worry and Atreus noticabley straightened his posture with glee when he exclaimed, “Really?!” 

All were thrilled. 

Except for one.

One who almost gave himself away. Tyr stepped forward with a terse, “What?!” Catching himself, he composed himself before attempting to speak further. “That…that's —”

Mimir's ecstatic chuckles cut him off. “I know! I wouldn't have believed it either if I hadn't seen it myself!”

“That's…incredible,” Freya gasped as she walked over to Freyr with more medicine, unable to fight off a hint of remorse for having so little faith in Eivor’s judgment. “It seems we underestimated Heimdall.”

“And Eivor,” Tyr corrected, grumbling too much to appear pleased with such an outcome.

Atreus was too impatient to let anyone notice. “Where are they now?”

“Eivor is tending to Heimdall's wounds at the dwarves’ shop in the River Delta. I requested they remain there until Freyr's rescue was complete,” Kratos answered.

The only person who didn't seem to acknowledge the main point of Kratos's statement was Freyr, who could only just barely manage slurring, “Ehhhh, it wasn't a rescue, it just woulda been borin’ if I busted myself out, yannow?” Freya shot him an annoyed glower that only a sibling could give as she sat down next to him.

“You just sendin’ folks to my shop?” Brok gruffly complained. “What, you think it's just some shitty shack you can point vagrants to as ya please?”

Kratos, not at all bothered, replied with just one frank word. “Yes.”

Knowing the God of War well enough to predict his lack of response, Brok didn't protest further, harrumphing, “Gotta respect the honesty, at least.”

There was one detail that bothered Atreus, one that Tyr was hoping wouldn't be brought up. “You actually fought Heimdall? Why didn't you call Eivor?”

“We tried,” Mimir answered. “Her spell didn't work when we used it.”

“It didn't work? But that's the same one we used around Thor.”

“Aye…” Mimir paused, his tone growing curious. “The only difference is that Tyr used his own tricks on this one.”

A bit too quickly, Tyr explained, “It would seem that the Giants’ magic was incompatible with hers. I will have to apologize next time I see her.”

Much to his well-hidden irritation, Freya was also nonplussed. “Incompatible? I've never heard of such a phenomenon between magic…though I suppose Eivor's is unique enough for it to be possible.”

Tyr was already preparing a more thorough excuse to dismiss the topic completely, but Kratos brushed it off, believing there were more important matters to discuss while everyone was present. “That is irrelevant for the time being. First we must decide what to do now that Heimdall has chosen to forsake Odin.” He missed Tyr's brow twitching slightly at the statement.

Atreus pitched a suggestion without hesitation. “We could bring them here.”

Sindri, from the background, was already growing weary of yet another house guest. “Here? Do we…well, I guess if it's for Eivor it's…acceptable.” 

With the obstacle preventing Atreus's idea from being torn down, Tyr made his own attempt to silence it. “If I may intervene, I would advise that we do not allow Heimdall to stay here with us.”

“Why not?”

Tyr calmly clarified to the young god and all of his allies, “We are forgetting that Heimdall is Odin's left hand, and his knowledge and abilities are not something that he will relinquish easily. Once his search for Heimdall is unsuccessful he will no doubt think outside the box to find him — or rather, outside the realms.”

A potential compromise to their safe haven was a risk Kratos acknowledged, however Freya countered with, “That may be possible, but what is certain is that we will at the very least have Gjallarhorn here with us, and that in itself is an advantage.”

“All the more reason for Odin to stop at nothing to find Heimdall.”

There was a substantial amount of confidence in his argument until Mimir also chose to stand against him. “I see your point, Brother, but I have to disagree. We both know how Odin is with treason. Not even Heimdall will be forgiven, and if all Odin plans to do is get rid of him and reclaim Gjallarhorn, then he'll watch and wait for an opportunity to present itself rather than waste resources tracking him down.”

Another rebuttal crossed Tyr's mind, but he was pushed to wait as Atreus chose to offer his own insight. “What about that thing I saw Odin do with the Einherjar. Would that change what he does?”

“Thing?” Freya inquired.

“Atreus saw Odin giving a ‘sense of self’ to new Einherjar, and I personally believe he's also adding some kind of side effect that makes them unconditionally loyal to him. The lad noticed their eyes are similar to Heimdall's, which makes it likely that he could be under the same spell. It would make sense, considering a man with foresight should be able to sniff out Odin's true nature eventually.”

The conversation was wading into dangerous territory, where Tyr was not willing to allow further deliberation. “That's not possible. Odin may be powerful, but there's no way he could have that kind of control over another god.”

“Don't assume so much, Tyr,” Freya ridiculed stubbornly, her own spite leaking into her voice. “I spent a lifetime chained to a single realm with no means of escape. He has ways.”

“Even so,” Mimir continued, “if Heimdall really is under such a spell he'd only be more of a dead man than he would be without one. If a loyalty curse couldn't keep him on a leash then Odin has no reason to let him live.”

A very valid argument. So valid that Tyr was not able to offer a logical counterpoint, making his jaw clench in agitation.

“Then what do you recommend?” Kratos asked, assessing all the information before him.

“Honestly, this is a delicate situation one way or another, but I'd day we're better off allowing Heimdall to come here. Eivor has proven she can handle him, and I doubt he would leave her behind to go running back to Odin after all this.”

“And if Heimdall plans on harming Atreus, as the Norns predicted?” Tyr was grasping at straws at this point, hoping one if them was sturdy enough to sway the crowd in his favor.

It was not meant to be, Kratos's trust in Eivor too stable after her effort to protect Atreus. “Eivor has vowed not to put her wants above anyone here. She has kept her word, even when it put her life at risk. Should Heimdall threaten anyone, I am certain she will not allow it.”

“Aaaand he's definitely not going to make a move in a room full of gods,” Mimir added. “Not even he stands a chance against all of us, and he would know as much after his fight with Kratos. The man may be more arrogant than an eagle living amongst turkeys but he's not stupid.”

There was a lull in the debate as Kratos summarized all his options, finding every perspective from each of his trusted accomplices to be valuable. Although, he had yet to ask for the counsel of one in the room, and that was a habit he was working hard to break. Turning to his son, Kratos softly asked, “What do you think?”

Atreus was surprised for a moment, but the welcome shift in his father's attitude shook him out of it. He paused for just a few heartbeats, wanting to be totally sure of his answer. “Heimdall did say he would defy Odin if he thought Eivor was in danger, and he's done that. There's no real reason for him to change his mind now, and even if he did, he would listen to Eivor when she talks him out of it. I think it's safe enough to let him stay here. We'll have to keep an eye on him for sure, but as long as we're alert I think we'll be okay.”

Kratos nodded, taking a second to feel the pride in his son's well executed and thoughtful response. With there being a nearly unanimous decision, the course of action was set. “Very well. I will inform them.”

Fists clenching in spite of the dejected tone he made use of, Tyr murmured, “Then please excuse me. It would seem I need time to rethink my outdated counsel.”

Mimir and Atreus called out to him to offer comfort, but their pleas went ignored. Freya, on the other hand, could only smirk at the misfortune that was inevitably coming Odin's way. “Things have taken quite the turn in our favor. It looks like Odin letting Heimdall grow close to Eivor could be one of his greatest mistakes.”

The door to Sindri's broom closet opened, Tyr's shining eyes casting light into the shadows as the raven inside greeted its fuming master. “So it would seem…”

Muninn cocked his head, awaiting the order to open the pathway to Asgard.

Calm waters left behind little sound for the jungle to take in. Animals were quiet, resting after the night of chaos and commotion left them scurrying for safety. The stars filling the dark sky lent the land some of their beauty by shedding their light down on it, illuminating the trees and decorating the river with delicate reflections of white sparkles. A perfect night. A picture of serenity. 

Yet Heimdall could only hear deafening crashing in his head.

Every bit of his sanity was teetering on the line between control and absolute anarchy, the conflict never ceasing to keep him tense and on edge, as if he would be attacked at any second. He knew he was safe. He knew Eivor would never do anything to harm him, but it seemed his mind didn't understand. “Turn around and slice her to bits”, it said. “Take everything you've learned and return to Asgard,” it ordered. “Return to where you belong,” it screeched. 

But why couldn't he silence it? 

He'd accepted that Eivor was telling the truth, that she was truly trying to help. She was worth the risk of punishment or banishment or whatever came out of this horrible night. More than anything else, he was absolutely adamant that he would never kill her as she asked him to do, whether it be directly or indirectly. Still, that side that was loyal to the Aesir was relentless. It didn't accept that Odin had fooled him, or that he had ever threatened or tortured Eivor, nor did it think this decision was anything but the dumbest moment of his entire life. It kept telling him to get rid of her over and over again, and every refusal lit his forehead on fire and dried his eyes into shriveled raisins, his chest heaving with pain and his stomach lurching with nausea. Every impulse to turn around and stab his Songbird made his heart ache and his soul drown in guilt, leaving his integrity wondering just how much his promises meant. An ever constant flipping between one or the other, unable to land on a middle ground.

So far all he could do to reason with both entities was tell himself that he would only stay near her until there was a chance to take her back to the sanctity of Gladsheim, where All-Father would reward him for remaining true to his cause by forgiving Eivor.

But it didn't work any more. He knew it wasn't true.

Was he really so stupid that he couldn't see what was the right thing to do?

“Let me try again.”

Her sweet voice soothed him enough to bring him back from the brink of insanity and focus in the present. Eivor had cleaned the blood from his tunic and his face, but the scratch on his cheek continued to bleed. A sign of how weakened he was. The reminder burned him badly enough to make him scowl, though he schooled himself into neutrality as Eivor came back to his front side, clean cloth in hand.  With Heimdall sitting on the table in front of the shop, facing the river, Eivor was able to stand before him and comfortably lean down enough to gently wipe his face, her loose hair sweeping across her temple, catching his eye. They had been waiting at the dwarves’ shop for some time now and yet she was still dirty, stripes of mud across her cheeks and her hair disheveled. It was another brutal display of her selflessness, worrying about him well before she even considered cleaning herself up. A bitter reminder that he had yet to even attempt to put her first.

“It's stopped bleeding…but there's still a mark.” Eivor took the cloth away and straightened, running her thumb along the scratch, knowing he wouldn't like what she revealed. “It'll leave a scar.”

As predicted, he sneered at the ground. Great. An eternal symbol of his worst days. 

Eivor didn't give him time to fester, instead returning to the shop behind him and taking one last look at the sewing materials she could find before finally giving up. Trying to lighten the mood, Eivor joked, “I guess you won't see that my sewing lessons weren't a waste of time.” She came around to his side of the table and sat on his right, her deposited instrument cases just behind her, glancing at his arm to make sure no more blood had seeped from the tear in his sleeve. “I can't find any thread that matches your tunic.” Donning a smile, she lightheartedly teased, “I could use a different color, but I know you'll complain if I do.”

A roll of his eyes, a scoff, even a cranky denial would have been better than the stark silence he gave in return, not even looking up from the ground. It was a sight that filled Eivor with dread. Not only did she detest seeing her normally confident and eccentric lover so deflated, it was also an indicator that believing Atreus's theory had been incorrect was misguided. He could very well be thinking about discarding his promise and taking her up on her offer.

“You've been quiet…” she pointed out carefully, still receiving no sign that he had heard her. Swallowing her fears, Eivor remained true to her plan. This was his decision now, not hers. “Heimdall, if…if you're having second thoughts…” Shining violet eyes flew to her, finding only her profile as she stared into the river, too afraid to speak directly to him. “I won't think any less of you if —”

“No.”

The painful sincerity and tender hand on her shoulder drew her eyes to his. They were just as bright in appearance but so much more dull in spirit. Broken, beaten, confused, and framed by a furrowed brow marred by agony and a frown depicting a torn conscience. It was a difficult sight for her to take in, one that made her heart bleed for all the trauma she had put him through on that night. “No,” Heimdall repeated, retracting his hand when he felt another wave of excruciating pain assault his skull. “I'm not going to hurt you,” was his quiet conclusion as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, hiding the clench in his jaw. His final remark summoned the worst pain so far, and keeping it inside was almost impossible by now.

Eivor scooted just a little closer, until they were shoulder to shoulder, cooing, “Tell me what you're thinking then.” Still nothing, and that only added to her worry. “I know this is a lot to take in so…let me help you.”

Heimdall could only grind his teeth with frustration. He didn't want to confess. He couldn't. It would be an admission of his fall from grace if he did. 

When Eivor's hand rested on his back, the touch alone enough to pull him back, he chose to confide in her.

“It doesn't make any sense.”

“What?”

Heimdall breathed deeply, ignoring the voice in him telling him to shut his mouth. “Everything you said.”

The sting of rejection was just inches away from Eivor's soul, but she wanted to give him a chance rather than assume the worst from him. She already had once that night, and it hurt him too deeply for her to forgive herself. “You don't believe me?”

“I do.” His fingers curled into his palm, fury aimed at himself.

“Is that wrong?”

“No, but…”

Eivor couldn't see what didn't make sense until she once again reconsidered Atreus's theory. “And you don't believe Odin?”

Now Heimdall was boiling, growling through clenched teeth, “I believe both of you…but that's—” He cut himself off, thinking of nothing but how idiotic he was for not being able to figure out what was true or false when all the information was right there. It should be so simple! He was obviously intelligent enough to immediately see when something was amiss, but on this matter he was just blind, deaf, and dumb. And he hated that.

Next to him, Eivor was much more forgiving. She knew exactly why he couldn't make sense of any of it. His inability to understand reality only confirmed her worst fears — and made her feel more powerless than she'd ever been before. After all this effort, all this time spent together, this could very well end with Heimdall killing her anyway regardless of whether he wanted to or not. Then all he would be left with is grief that he couldn't ignore but also wanted to dismiss. 

It was despicable what Odin did to him.

It hurt so much to watch knowing that there was no means to comfort him. Even if she told him about Atreus's hypothesis, he wouldn't have the capacity to believe it if it was true. No explanation she could offer would be substantial enough to solve the confusion he couldn't escape, and nothing she could say would make it stop. Her heart wept at the pain he was in, and the fact that it was pain he was oblivious to.

With nothing else to do, Eivor fell back on her tried and true methods. Gradually, careful not to startle him, she reached across him to put a hand on his cheek, her touch making his eyes open and the lines on his brow relax just a tiny bit. A little pressure was applied to pull him closer, a request he fulfilled by sitting up straight and facing her, violet irises still sour and angry. She raised her other hand to place it on his opposite cheek and leaned closer, a motion that he mirrored until they were just inches apart, Heimdall finding some solace in her verdant gaze. 

A deep inhale to prepare her voice, then Eivor began to sing his favorite tune.

The effect was instantaneous. Heimdall's eyes closed again and he melted into her, his forehead resting on hers while he let some of his weight fall on her, greedily taking in her support. It had been far too long since he heard her sing, since she made him feel truly at peace. Though he was disappointed to find that irritating voice still poking around at the back of his mind, too powerful for him to take just a few minutes to recover from such an awful night.

Eivor's hands slid along his face and past his ears, feeling the golden cuff she gifted him so long ago, when things were so much simpler. Her fingers didn't stop until they were carding through his hair, mollifying him so much that he totally ignored everything that wasn't her voice or her presence. Though it may have helped him, Eivor was still at a loss. Singing may subdue him, but it wouldn't free him. It wouldn't give back the autonomy that every other being had. It couldn't take away all the frustration and unending confusion. That damned spell, whatever it may be, couldn't be dissolved by treating the symptoms. If only she could —

Maybe she can.

She slowed her tempo a little, hoping he wouldn't notice that she seemed to be stalling. Her fingertips dug just a little deeper into his scalp, which Heimdall didn't mind in the slightest. Remembering Freya's advice — that her magic knew its bounds better than she did — she let it whisper into him just enough to search for a trace of magic, just like she would if she was tracking down the source of a stave or making use of a trail left in a spell's wake. Reaching just a little deeper, having barely any hope that she would ever find anything, she gently reached into his being and tried to uncover something.

And she did.

In an instant she had to partially close off her mind in case Heimdall picked up on her mixture of shock and excitement. A source! A binding spell! Complicated and unlike anything she had ever seen or studied, but as customized as it was, all binding spells had the same basic principles. Undoing them was no different. 

Every binding spell needed an anchor of some sort — a location, an object related to the subject, a tie to a different type of magic or material. There was something in Heimdall that Odin used to get this spell to take root. If the Einherjar also had the same spell cast on them, then the base had to be the one thing the scion and the undead had in common.

Bifröst.

She reached the chorus even with her slowed notes, meaning she had only so much time until there would normally be a long pause between verses. Heimdall couldn't disrupt her, not with how deep-seated this spell was. The music slowed a little more, adding in more vibrato and variation to make it sound like she was trying to give more flare and beauty to each note. Gold lights flowing from her hands, she desperately prayed Heimdall wouldn't be able to feel her sifting through the deepest reaches of his being. He didn't seem to, and she was able to let her magic sink in deeper and deeper, little trails of gold encircling this cluster of energy buried inside. Like obedient vines, gold wisps merged into threads that encircled this casing of magic and tied around it tightly, determined to pull it out of place.

With the chorus started, she hid her efforts behind her music. She needed some physical movement to help the magic unwind this spell from the bifröst within, creating that motion with her fingers. With every few slow words, her fingers curled inward, as if she was petting his locks in a comforting manner, then stretching them out and placing them back down, repeating with the rhythm she manufactured. 

The only problem was how stubborn this magic was. Expected, considering Odin wouldn't treat such a serious spell with carelessness. It proved to be infuriating in just moments, her magic snatching and tearing at the source to get it to move, but it refused to budge even by the smallest margin. Her heart began to sink when it seemed like she didn't have the skill to take the spell away.

No. There had to be a way. No spell was infallible, not even Odin's. What would Freya do…?

“It is a natural force, and like any other it cannot be controlled, only…shepherded.”

That's it. 

Once again, Freya's expertise proved to be invaluable. Forcing it wouldn't work, but directing it somewhere else might.

Finding motivation once more, her voice grew stronger as her fingers gently brushed along Heimdall's scalp again, this time coaxing the spell with her own magic. With one motion it began to listen, on the second it shifted a tiny bit, and on the third it loosened. It started to relinquish its form to her golden lights and separated, the energy gliding along her magic and out towards her hands.

Just a couple more lines in the chorus. With one she made a more dramatic stretch of her fingers, pretending to be taking her petting slowly, feeling the new, cold magic seeping into her hands. She ran her nails along his hair one more time, deceptively inviting whatever magic remained to join the rest of its kin in the outside world. The last few words spilled from her lips as her fingers splayed out again, her gold dust fluttering away and dispersing into the air. While her hands went back to playing with his hair she cracked an eye open to peek at the reflections on the river, seeing a gold dust carrying streaks of bright pink and a sickly green that matched Odin's ravens into the air and abandoning it to disappear into the night.

Eivor wasn't even sure if it worked, Heimdall not moving an inch as he breathed in the new silence, ruminating on the essence of her music. The anticipation was unfathomable, and to fight it off she juggled the one question that had popped into her mind: if Heimdall's eye color came from the curse, what would they look like without it?

She could just barely hold in a gasp when she got an answer.

When his eyes opened…they were extraordinary. Beautiful shades of blues, pinks, and violets swirling and shifting in gorgeous patterns around his pupils, retaining that unique shine that always set them apart. They resembled traditional bifröst much more, but with this glow and life to it that could never be replicated. She never thought his eyes could get any more stunning, but now they were. Because they were his. 

The moment Heimdall could see her again he already felt an unshakable sense of peace. No confusion, no voice telling him to do unspeakable atrocities, no weight on his shoulders commanding him to disregard everything he cared about and return to his post. She took all of that away, lifted that weight with nothing but a few quiet minutes, gentle touches, and a sweet, alluring voice. He could think clearly for the first time in days, and though his distaste for his current predicament was still in the back of his mind he could only see those green eyes, linger in the echoes of her singing. 

Looking down at her, feeling all of the love she put into every single moment with him, he knew he made the right choice.

A torrent of emotions washed over him all at once, and everything he'd been wanting to say since he last saw her spilled from him. “I thought I'd never see you again…” He couldn't even be angry with the way his tone trembled and gave away his weakness, too busy pouring out everything he'd been holding onto so tightly. “I thought…I thought I'd made a horrible mistake. That I had made the worst mistake. I chased you away, I ignored you. I put all of my needs first, unjustly put the rest of the world above you…” He had to pause, realizing for the first time since he'd chosen her that he truly meant it when he said she was worth more to him than anything else. More than himself, his home, his duty, his skills and foresight, even…All-Father. 

Yes…he really did. For years he'd thought as much but this felt like the first time he really believed it.

“You didn't know,” Eivor whispered, trying to comfort him while holding back the despair bubbling into her throat, torn apart by how sorry he was even though it was beyond his control. 

Shame pushed his revelation aside. “I should have. I should have seen it.”

“You can't be so hard on yourself, Heimdall.”

“Yes, I can. Because I'm a fool.”

Eivor couldn't help but see a parallel to their first real fight years ago, where he insisted he was worthless to her because of his mistakes. Which meant she had the perfect counter to his stubborn guilt. “And it's okay to be a fool sometimes. You're allowed to be a fool. You don't always have to be the best or better than someone else to be you…” Her hand caressed his cheek as she gazed into those radiant, true bifröst eyes. “...to be the wonderful man I fell in love with.”

Heimdall's eyes shot downward for a split second as he felt another sense of foreign familiarity. It was a concept he had heard before, one she tried to teach him several times now. This time, it seemed to finally sink in. He seemed to finally…accept it.

By the gods, how had he gone so long with this nonsense when the answer to all of his woes had been right next to him for years?

Unsettled by his silence and dazed eyes, she pinned on a phrase that would make her point obvious. “It's not your fault.”

It was. He truly felt all of her misery was his fault, but of course she would never acknowledge it. 

At least not out loud.

Eivor's worry only increased when Heimdall pulled away, leaning back with a sorrowful, yet hardened look on his face. Dreading the devastating truth he would have to revisit, he turned slightly to reach behind him and take something that was tucked into his belt. She blanched at the very familiar sight and mumbled, “My songbook…”

Heimdall held it in both hands, staring down at the leather cover for a moment before he flipped it over and opened it to the last page, making Eivor's stomach drop. The scion sat in silent thought for a moment before saying, “You were hiding this from me. Hiding all the pain you were in.” Eivor said nothing and looked away, unable to bear the devastation in his message. She wouldn't return the favor when she felt Heimdall's eyes on her. Sighing, he closed the book without another word, holding it out for her to take back, which she did reluctantly. As soon as she had a firm grip on the book Heimdall released his and quickly took her extended hand, getting her to finally look at him. He took the book once more and set it down on her lap, allowing him to take her hand in both of his and gaze at her both sadly and amorously. Amidst the misery in his fresh bifröst eyes, Eivor could see something else. Something brighter, almost…hopeful. His voice the quietest she had ever heard it, he made a new promise to her that he now had the ability to keep. 

“I may not have been the cause of your pain, but I did nothing to stop it…and that makes me complicit.” His hands squeezed hers even tighter. “For that I am so sorry. I will never hurt you like this again.”

A rare, sincere apology followed by a verbal expression of the lengths of his devotion. It brought her back to the first time Eivor had heard him apologize, when he promised to always show that he truly cared about her. Back then it was enough to elevate her into the clouds, but this time she flew straight to the moon. Odin had whittled his humanity into a mere puppet — an unforgivable act that he would pay dearly for. Yet despite the horrible truth that he had lived his life suspended on invisible strings, left unable to do anything that was not approved of by the puppet master, he was still here with her. Even when the most powerful god in the realms had his will in the palm of his hand, Heimdall's heart still won. And that meant he had grown so much since they met.

Eivor brought her other hand over his, smiling so wide that it hurt her cheeks as she replied in a way that mirrored the past. “I believe you. And I forgive you.”

He knew why she responded with those exact words, evidenced by the first real, wholesome, genuine smile she had seen since the day before she fled Asgard. That same uneven smirk with a dash of love that he saved just for her. She'd missed it immensely, her chest lighting up with warmth when he followed her example with a shake of his head. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

His smirk grew into a toothy grin that Eivor mirrored affectionately, both of them laughing at the other for no apparent reason. No words needed to be spoken when Heimdall began to lean in, Eivor meeting him halfway in a deep kiss. Their hands released each other, leaving the book on Eivor's lap while Heimdall took hold of her cheeks and Eivor resting her fingers on his shoulders, one hand slowly drifting backward to play with the loose hair framing his neck. For those long, heavenly moments there was no chaos in the jungle, no danger in the form of scouting Einherjar, no ravens watching over them, no friends that could drop by at any moment. It was just the two golden gods, sitting among the still waters and the singing cicadas with nothing but each other on their minds. A moment they yearned for and desperately hoped they could share after such a lost separation.

Neither knew how long they had been there, lengthening their connection to make up for all the time they lost, Heimdall finally withdrew just enough to rest his forehead on her again, feeling the urge to say one thing he should have said a thousand times by now. “I missed you, Songbird. So much.”

The adoration in that phrase almost drove Eivor to jump on him and never let go. Her control managed to keep her sitting, only smiling as she returned the sentiment with her own charm added to it. “I missed you too, Dollface.” She couldn't hold back a giggle when he chuckled and shook his head at her, hardly even trying to pretend he hated her silly pet name. Whatever restraint she had wavered just lost enough to make her dive into his chest and burrow into his neck, and right away he responded by taking her in his arms and basking in the presence that finally gave him a sense of peace. A perfect moment, one of the many he'd had with her over the years, and one that made him want infinitely more for the rest of his days.

Such perfection, however, could only last so long when they were out in the open. While Heimdall kept his chin on Eivor's head his changed eyes opened and flickered across the water, his foresight picking up on something approaching. Einherjar, he guessed, who were probably looking for Freyr or his crew. The alarm bells soon died down, signaling that the intruders were not heading in their direction. They could have continued the serene moment, but it only served as a reminder that they were far from out of the building flood they had waded into that night. He took one more deep breath to enjoy this, taking in her scent and warmth just a bit longer until he sighed, bringing up the subject they couldn't avoid. “I still don't trust them.”

Eivor backed away and sat up, looking straight into his eyes as she asked, “Do you trust me?” Without hesitation, Heimdall nodded wordlessly. “Then trust my decision to work with them. None of them wanted to help you, but they still gave me a chance to get to you first.” When Heimdall looked away with doubt, Eivor cupped his cheek and directed him back to her before gently declaring, “They aren't just barbarians who want to fight everything. They understand that this is far more complicated than anyone wants it to be.”

Still not convinced, Heimdall grumbled, “And why should we expect them not to wait until the perfect moment to get rid of us? Especially…”

He didn't need to finish for Eivor to know who he was referring to. “I know Kratos is…stoic, and…blunt, and seems unapproachable, but he's reasonable. He won't act with hostility if you don't. You just have to try to find a compromise.”

The scion rolled his eyes, acting like he would have actually attempted to make peace without a problem. Before he could offer another gripe his head turned slightly, forewarned of the magic approaching behind Eivor. “Speak of the God Killer…” As soon as he said it the stones of the realm portal began to stir and rise up to frame the door between realms. Heimdall and Eivor exchanged one last loving smile, then they both stood, prepared for what could be a difficult encounter. Heimdall merely glared daggers at the door as they waited while Eivor gathered her instruments and secured them to her belt, taking her place on Heimdall's left as they waited. In a few moments the blue bifröst door opened and the pale god stepped through, the darkness of the night contrasting with his ghostly skin in a way that made him look even more intimidating than usual. Heimdall acted instinctively, taking a step forward and putting his arm in front of Eivor to shield her from the enemy, but he stopped when he felt her hand on his shoulder. His eyes went back to her as she let one hand rest on his bicep and lowered the one closest to him to take his hand in hers, getting him to fully relax and regard Kratos with caution rather than mistrust. 

Kratos stopped a few paces in front of them, quiet until Eivor asked, “How did it go?”

Always brief with his words, the only detail he gave was, “Freya is treating her brother. And you are well?”

Heimdall had to hide a sneer, catching right away that Kratos was asking if he'd done anything to her. “I'm fine. We both are.”

The God of War nodded, then directed his stone gaze to Heimdall, pausing for a moment to consider the petulant god he had spared. “And your decision still stands?”

Again, Heimdall was more than irritated at the implications behind his questions. “No, I simply waited here to experience your excellent conversational skills.” Eivor elbowed him in the side at his thick sarcasm, not needing to speak for him to know exactly how much she disapproved of the attitude.

Kratos didn't seem to notice, or at the very least he didn't care. “You will not go back on your word?”

This time Heimdall didn't bother being upset with his assumptions, jumping straight to the matter that was more important to him. He harshly and defiantly spat, “I am not leaving her alone with you again.”

It was an insult, a reminder that Heimdall saw Kratos as a vile monster, yet when he looked into the Greek god's eyes he found a single thought in that empty head.

Respect. 

And it was a respect that was slightly reflected in his expression. For just a second Kratos regarded Heimdall with a hint of admiration for his protective instinct, a drive that he also kept close. Just as quickly as it came, the glint in his eye faded and he continued on without a hitch. “Very well. We have agreed to let you come back to our home with us…on one condition.”

Heimdall already despised being “invited” to the enemy's stronghold as a “friend,” but he kept his mouth shut. Eivor asked him to trust her, and she had yet to give him a reason to doubt, but he still rolled his eyes and drawled, “Oh, I wonder what it could be…”

It was incredibly obvious to Heimdall, yet he still tensed when Kratos took one step closer and held up a commanding hand as he sternly laid down the law. “No harm will come to Atreus.”

Ah. There it was. Heimdall scoffed, “So that's his name,” thoroughly vexed that it had been revealed to him before he found out for himself.

“You knew?” Eivor asked.

“I knew it wasn't Loki…but I never picked up the name he was hiding.” During their first fight in front of the Great Lodge, Heimdall made it known that he knew the twerp was lying, but he clearly didn't get the hint.

Kratos ignored the tangent, remaining just as severe. “That condition is not negotiable. Should you show any sign of aggression,” his voice dropped to a low, menacing rumble, “I will not hesitate.”

Heimdall felt a disgusting chill run down his spine and his traitorous eyes flickered down to the cursed gold ring on Kratos's hand, the pain of that spear impaling his arm already coming back to him. The only thing that kept him from lashing out was Eivor's fingers squeezing his hand, already aware of how serious he had to take that threat. Getting over the effect of such a brainless statement, Heimdall regained his confidence and rolled his eyes with a sigh, reluctance apparent. “Fine. I won't hurt the half-breed.”

Kratos subtly showed he didn't appreciate the term, but it was Eivor who wouldn't stand for it. She cleared her throat, glaring at him expectantly.

“I won't hurt the runt,” Heimdall corrected.

Again, not good enough. She lifted the hand on his upper arm and slapped him sharply.

“I won't hurt your son,” Heimdall forced out, nearly snarling at Kratos as if he was the one reprimanding him. The older god only nodded, accepting his answer and turning around to return to the realm portal, listening to the bickering behind him. “What?!” Heimdall hissed.

Eivor criticized, “He has a name! Two, in fact! You couldn't use one of them?” Heimdall only replied with an annoyed sigh, not wanting to inspire Eivor's wrath in front of another.

Their jaunt through the Realm Between Realms was a quick one, and Heimdall spent it boring holes into Kratos's back, having yet to accept that the foreign god could be trusted in the slightest. The only thing that could pull his attention away was the sight if the building the portal took them to, styled in a way he recognized immediately. “Dwarven. Lovely,” he grumbled.

Setting aside her admiration for his accurate knowledge of architecture, Eivor made sure to stamp out his sass as much as she could before they went inside. “Sindri is an old friend of mine. Behave.”

He would do what he could, making no promises when it came to the Huldra brothers. “When am I not well behaved?”

“That's a joke, right?”

Heimdall only sighed yet again, his spirits sinking lower and lower with every step. This was just so…humiliating. The Watchman of the Gods, defeated and scarred, being escorted into enemy territory on the condition that he refrain from punishing them for challenging All-Father and Asgard. It was a testament to how far he'd fallen from his mighty perch among the Aesir, and it was a dreadful reality.

Then he felt Eivor's hand squeeze his again, as if she knew how uncomfortable he was. She probably did without having to look at him. 

It was a reminder. Eivor had been so dedicated to him that she put her life on the line to ensure he lived, shoving all of her effort into his well being. He needed to do the same. He would stomach the humiliation for her, put her needs and desires first. This wasn't about him, and he was going to make it about her. Even if it stained his pride beyond repair.

Besides, playing nice gave him time to think of how to set things right. He would find a way to get her back to Asgard and back into All-Father's good graces with a simple plea from his loyal servant, then everything would be fine. There was no way this ridiculous charade would go on for long. 

There was something new stirring in him though. Doubt, he realized. After all, with Eivor still alive then it had to be true that All-Father lied to him…

No, there was a mistake. All-Father wouldn't lie to him.

His ponderings were dismissed when the trio stepped inside, Eivor letting go of his arm so that he could maintain his detached and aloof image. The first voice to spring up was Sindri's from his forge, excited to see that Eivor was alright. “You're back!” His enthusiasm waned at the sight of yet another new visitor. “And…with a friend.”

“Well stuff my ass with hot coals and call me Surtr, she actually did it!” Brok exclaimed, earning a glower from Heimdall. With no fear whatsoever, he added, “Who knew the watchman was such a sucker.”

Heimdall retaliated, “I'd be happy to destroy your forge again, dwarf.”

Eivor didn't get a chance to ask exactly when he had done so in the past before Brok gave his own comeback. “Joke's on you, this ain't my forge.”

“Please don't!” Sindri begged, revealing exactly what Brok meant.

Already feeling the look Eivor was giving him as a warning, Heimdall ignored them, muttering, “Huldras…” under his breath as he rolled his eyes. This was already turning out to be worse than he expected.

Kratos stepped away to speak to the dwarves, though he only gave Heimdall space to examine his behavior when a threat was not standing right next to him. Freya was the first to give him a sample on her way to deliver more herbs to her bumbling brother resting on the chaise near the kitchen. She paused in front of the pair, her expression as neutral as she could manage. “Heimdall.”

“Frigg,” Heimdall answered just as coldly.

“Freya.”

“Sure.”

The goddess gave one last glare as Eivor offered an apologetic look in exchange. Once Freya moved there was no obstruction between Heimdall and Atreus, who leaned on the dining table next to Mimir, the latter giving a greeting that almost sounded like gloating. “Look who's back! Seems ya did a good job patchin’ ol’ Heimdall up, lass.”

Heimdall paid him no mind, sneering at Atreus so intensely that the boy started to fidget with discomfort, grateful for his father's very attentive surveillance. Then he took a longer look at the scion and his eyes, thinking that they were “different.” A thought Heimdall could see.

…was he really so stupid that he never noticed Heimdall had glowing eyes? Of course they were different.

Finally fed up with the endless snarling, Atreus chose to speak up, attempting to sound as friendly as possible but only coming across as confused. “Uh…hi?”

The watchman made his point by nearly growling, “Atreus,” clearly displeased that he had caught the youngster in yet another lie.

“Well, yeah. I mean, Loki works too…I guess.”

The blue dwarf across the room came to Atreus's rescue by calling out while approaching the broom closet on the opposite side of the entrance. “You really got beef with a kid, O Dainty Scion? What a joke…’ He successfully got Heimdall's full attention, the Aesir turning away from Atreus and stepping closer to the dwarves, Eivor sighing at the sight of yet another unnecessarily heated confrontation that took place less than five minutes after they arrived. “Hey Tyr! Get out here, we have a guest!” Brok's banging on the closet door was what made Heimdall snap.

“Enough of your stupid noise you troglodyte —”

“The fuck you call me?!”

“I don't care about Tyr, nor do I even remotely want to be introduced to everything hiding in this filthy house!”

Even Kratos glanced at Sindri when he dramatically gasped and dropped pieces of metal armor with a loud clang! He planted his hands on his hips, tone proving just how offended he was by the insult while also missing its figurative nature. “You take that back! This place is spotless and I won't tolerate such slander in my own home!”

Of course, Heimdall would not take such an order and continued to bicker with the dwarves in the pettiest manner, so much so that even the careful and suspicious Kratos lost interest in monitoring them as closely. Eivor sighed again, using two fingers to rub her temple and wondering how she ever thought this wouldn't be so much more difficult than she expected. Hearing more mumbling from Freyr, she grew concerned for him and approached Freya, who was sitting on a stool beside the chaise and gathering empty cups that were once filled with potent herbs. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You've already done enough, all he needs now is rest.” Freya stood to clean the cups and refill them with more medicine, placing a hand on Eivor's shoulder on her way to her supplies, shouting, “Now stop talking, Yngvi!” as Freyr continued to slur some nonsense about kelpies and mermaids.

Eivor was almost worried by how delusional he seemed and looked back to Mimir and Atreus to ask, “Is he doing this because —”

“Herbs,” they answered simultaneously.

Excellent. If it was from his injuries that was one thing that could wind down once he healed, but if his treatment was the cause, then this would become even more hectic when Heimdall inevitably tired of it.

A prediction that quickly proved to be correct. The new voice made Freyr sit up and take a closer look at his surroundings, not hiding just how interested he was in the new goddess. “Wait a sec, who's ’is?” As soon as he uttered the words as suavely as he could manage in his state, Heimdall's head immediately swiveled to the Vanir god, the dwarves forgotten as his blood burned and he marched straight for his Songbird, Kratos following until he reached Atreus and Mimir to watch the scene unfold. Freyr was only a couple paces from Eivor, who couldn't hold back an unimpressed roll of her eyes and crossing her arms despite the state he was in, fully prepared to shut down his attempts on her own. “Well, helloooooo there —”

Before Freyr could get any closer a rough hand slammed into his chest. “Hello,” Heimdall mocked openly with a sinister smile, pushing his enemy back while Eivor groaned at how overprotective he was.

Freyr, just barely able to catch himself as he stumbled, one arm holding the side that was still slightly sore while he clumsily gestured towards his former captor with the other. “Who invited ‘im?!”

“Says the moron who is out of his mind with just a few blades of grass.” 

Eivor was already putting a hand on Heimdall's arm while Freya yelled, “Yngvi, sit down!”

Freyr attempted to shove Heimdall back but was so far off the mark that he didn't even need foresight to know he didn't need to move an inch to avoid it. He gave it another go by rotating his arm like he was preparing to throw a punch, almost incoherently threatening, “Y'know, I still owe ya f'r Van'heim. I r’lly oughta —” 

“Yngvi!” Freya dropped the herbs she was mixing to force her twin to back down.

“Enough!”

The room fell silent at Kratos's powerful roar, gaining everyone's attention and keeping it with his authoritative demeanor. Now with the room calm, he quietly instructed, “Our actions in Vanaheim will have consequences. We must plan our next move while there is still time.”

Very smug with his arms crossed and a smirk painted on his face, Heimdall remarked, “Well, there won't be consequences because there already are consequences.”

Kratos eyed him carefully, irritating Heimdall once again by having a mind so clear that it almost didn't feel natural. “Explain.”

Putting the blunt and unappreciated demand aside, Heimdall complied. “The Einherjar have been ordered to get rid of Freyr's cohorts. They're busy hunting them down right now, I'd say.”

Freya, who had finally managed to get Freyr to sit back down and continue sipping his medicine, shot up and gasped, “What?! And you're only revealing this now?!”

“Well, no one asked until now, did they?”

Eivor nearly facepalmed. He really wasn't doing himself any favors.

All Freya did was snarl, but an inebriated Freyr had no problem expressing his thoughts. “Dick.”

“What else do you know?” Kratos said, still in complete control.

“Many things,” Heimdall boasted proudly.

“Heimdall.”

Eivor's warning did the trick, a fact that made Atreus smirk to himself at how easily she could get Heimdall to cooperate. “Including that this is also a lower priority task. If the forces already present are depleted, they're ordered to cut their losses and move on.”

“Then we can help,” Atreus concluded. 

Mimir, however, was more suspicious. “And why exactly are you giving all this away so easily?”

In a split second Heimdall's thoughts raced, the question throwing him off. He could never recall a time when he had spoken about his orders so freely, always keeping everything All-Father told him close to his chest. Even if the information was mostly inconsequential, what made it so easy now? It was a question he would never reveal to a crowd of enemies, shrugging nonchalantly to hide his dilemma. “That ‘army’ is more of a nuisance than a real threat. Letting them go makes no notable difference, really.” An answer that everyone believed, but he could already see Eivor's thoughtful eyes indicating that she knew there was more to it than that.

Kratos left no room for further argument, grunting, “Then we prepare. Atreus, bring your bow. It was damaged, yes?”

The boy followed his father as he returned to Sindri. “Coming! It's just a scratch though.”

“Didn't I just polish it for you?!” Sindri cried.

“I didn't mean to scratch it!”

Freya watched Heimdall carefully and noted the softness of the look Eivor gave him, reminding her of the tender stories she shared before the rescue. That, paired with the new color to Heimdall's eyes, cooled her sizzling hatred just enough to remember that he wouldn't be there if there wasn't truth to everything Eivor said, therefore giving her enough reason to put out the fires that had long since started burning bridges. Taking one step closer to the scion, Freya calmly said, “Thank you.”

It was still flat and lacking her usual level of sincerity, but it made Heimdall raise an eyebrow nonetheless. It was not what he expected, no sarcasm or anger. She was…genuine. And he couldn't make sense of that, not when he wasn't speaking to Eivor. “For what, exactly?”

“Helping…even if it is in a terrible way.” He didn't respond, still dumbfounded by Freya's willingness to look past his delivery and appreciate the message. 

These people were…stranger than he anticipated.

Eivor sensed his confusion, taking hold of his arm and gently asking, “Take a seat, I'll get supplies to fix your clothes,” before she headed to Sindri for sewing materials. Atreus let out a snicker, finding Heimdall's immediate obedience funny, only stopping when his father expressed his disapproval with a frown.

Heimdall had pulled out a chair but had not yet sat down when Brok spoke up again, grumbling, “What's that old codger doin’? He's still hunkerin’ down in his hidey hole instead of spitting out his ‘bites of wisdom.’” Once again he banged on the closet door and barked, “Tyr, get out here!”

Heimdall, thinking nothing of it, revealed the one thing he had yet to mention since Brok's first attempt. “There's no one in there.”

So casual, but it made the air in the room freeze. All eyes slowly went to Heimdall, a feeling of unease taking over the atmosphere.

Brok, not too bothered, grumpily argued, “Look here ya stiff, I saw him go in there, and I ain't seen him come out.”

“And you trust your sight more than mine?” No counterpoint was made, and the entire house grew colder with fear as Heimdall insisted, “He isn't there.”

Silence.

When the tension became unbearable, Sindri nervously chuckled, “I-I'm sure it's nothing! Maybe he, uh, went out for a walk. Lord Tyr does admire the World Tree, after all.”

Atreus sounded just as spooked as everyone else. “But I talked to Ratatoskr while Father was gone. He said everyone was here, and he would know…”

Another bout of stillness, nothing but questions absorbing the room until Brok waved a hand at the door to the closet and made his way back to the forge. “Feh, whatever.”

Eivor, sewing supplies in hand, returned to Heimdall and found him staring at the closet, like he was trying to see through the wall. It tied a knot in her gut. “Are you sure?” She questioned quietly.

Heimdall, perplexed at the vaguely recognizable presence he could sense, didn't have a complete answer. “There's something in there. But it's not a god.”

Eivor felt her heart drop as she asked Heimdall to sit down again, wondering if bringing him here could unveil a much darker secret that was right under all of their noses.

She shook it off. She'd been sneaking around Odin for years, she was just letting her usual mistrust get to her.

At least she hoped.

Eivor was not the only one considering what might be hiding in their haven, but they had to settle their doubt with one question: who did they trust more, Tyr or Heimdall?

Unfortunately, everyone except Eivor would not choose Heimdall.

#songbird of asgard #heimdall #god of war #heimdall x reader #heimdall gow #gow heimdall #heimdall x oc #god of war heimdall #the songbird of asgard #gow ragnarok #god of war ragnarok

[ninjahiccups]

The Songbird of Asgard

Chapter 16: Trust

AO3 Masterlist Word Count: 23.4k (jfc I'm sorry) Warnings: Some angst

The foreign god makes his appearance, but all is not as expected. In fact, dealing with him seems to be much easier than it will be to deal with Heimdall.

This ended up being the longest chapter yet...I just couldn't find a better place to end this sequence sooooooo. I also skipped through some parts of the game that I had to put in but aren't really relevant, but we'll go more in depth with scenes that are :)

(Song used here is "The Wolven Storm - Priscilla's Storm" from The Witcher 3, because I thought it fit too perfectly with this story after I heard it.)

Another dead end. The disappointment left Eivor sighing as she looked out to the calm waters of the wetlands, listening to the leaves of the large tree rustling next to her. It was only a hunch that made her choose to go to Svartalfheim instead of directly to Vanaheim, but thus far her decision had only proven to be unwise. For all she knew Heimdall could be fighting the foreign god — or worse, dead — and she would be too far to do anything about it. One poor prediction may have made all of her efforts fruitless.

As if she didn't feel bad enough already, her blasted tattoo was acting up again — the same one that led to her spending the night with Heimdall for the first time years ago. Ever since she left it had been pulling her somewhere, this time much stronger than ever before, making her wince and clutch the mark as it stabbed at her once more. The feeling of helplessness and the borderline painful nagging from her chest was beating her down too hard for her to bear.

Still, she was too set on her goal to give up. With a few calm breaths to restore her motivation, Eivor turned away from the water, reaching up to pull her hood back up.

"Stop."

An embarrassing yelp escaped her and she jumped at the new voice, her hands flying to her chest to calm her erratic heart. Once the shock passed she could finally focus on the figure who had come up behind her. Tall, pale…

Oh no…

The white skin, the red tattoo, the practiced precision in his posture as he stood at the ready, the gold spear in his hands pointed directly at her. It could only be him.

No. No, no, no, she wasn't supposed to find him first. She was supposed to find Loki, have the boy vouch for her and make his father listen, but now…he heard her asking for information about his son. And he clearly wasn't happy about it.

It was over. She could do nothing for Heimdall.

Eivor's voice trembled and her hands shook as she stammered, "P-please, I-I don't mean Loki any harm. I-I just wanted to…to talk to him! I —"

"Quiet."

This monster wouldn't even give her a chance to explain. From the looks of it he was already done with her, his eyes seeming to look past her, like he was prepared to mow her down and move on to his next victim. Just like that, she would be killed in cold blood, and Heimdall would never know the truth. Despite the firm, commanding tone the foreign god used she couldn't contain her fear as he lifted the spear higher. "I'll leave him alone, I swear, I won't ask for him again. Just, p-please, don't—"

Those gold eyes flickered to hers, making her freeze. But it was strange. He looked almost…sad.

She couldn't ponder it for long. The spear was shifted into one hand to be thrown, ready to soar through her heart. Panic forced her to beg, "W-wait, please! Don't —"

The spear flew from his hand. She shrieked in horror and instinctively put out her hands to summon a gold barrier, but her rational mind doubted it would be enough against this beast. The weapon would ultimately pierce through and impale her, her life would end, all of the suffering under Odin's control would be for nought…

Nothing hit her shield. But there was snarling.

Eivor looked over her right shoulder, eyes widening at the sight. A Grim, claws oozing with poison and reaching for her, was pinned to the tree with the spear, feet off the ground like it had been mid jump. She'd thought the rustling she heard in the leaves earlier was the wind or an animal, but it would seem she was wrong.

And the foreign god…saved her?

Just as that fact became clear, the spear handle disappeared, leaving only the head. From the corner of her eye she saw the foreign god moving, prompting her to watch as his spear returned to him, a new head in place. He slammed the base of the handle on the ground, which puzzled Eivor until the Grim beside her exploded. Another shout left her as she ducked away from the blood, her hands moving to her torso like she was trying to hide as much of herself as she could. In moments, the Grim was silent. Dead. 

Then that sunk in.

The foreign god had a spear with a detachable head, and it took only a simple action to make it detonate. A perfect weapon to use against him. 

This god was ready to kill Heimdall.

She let her barrier fade but her hands remained close to her heart, blood still curdling, shaky breath racing, and body frozen in place while the terror still showed on her face, even as the spear disappeared from the god's hand. His opposite hand raised just a bit, and the simple action made Eivor flinch. He noticed, hand pausing before beginning to rise again, slower this time. He reached out to her, speaking much softer than he appeared to be capable of.

"I do not wish to harm you."

Eivor stared, the phrase not making sense to her. She looked into those eyes, closely this time, and what she found was far from what she expected. 

Weary wisdom. Calm. An ancient sorrow and deep regret.

Based on his short display of skills and the gods he had killed so far, this foreign god was clearly willing to do awful things. But his eyes told her he didn't want to be.

She should have known.

Eivor's shoulders relaxed and her breathing became steadier, hands lowering to gesticulate with guilt. "I'm sorry. I've heard all the stories about you, but I should have known that Odin's tales were…" At the mention of his reputation she caught that sorrow in his eyes elevating to self loathing — A deep hatred for what he was. It disappeared as soon as it showed up, covered with a stoic countenance, but it told her what she needed to know. She couldn't help but feel bad for this man, who seemed to be so full of pain, yet did nothing to prevent others from fearing him. As if he had given up long ago. "...exaggerated," she finished, folding her hands in front of her to display her trust. "I'm sorry."

It was unclear if her apology was appreciated, the god moving straight to the point without hesitation. "You are from Asgard."

"By blood, and not by choice." She caught the quizzical look in his gaze before he could question her, explaining, "I'm of Aesir and Vanir heritage, though I'm not from Asgard. Odin brought me there for my magic."

A nearly imperceptible nod. "And you seek my son."

No judgment or hostility, a simple statement. It was almost mind boggling how inaccurate the rumors about him were, completely contradicting the controlled and reasonable man before her. "Yes, just to speak to him…although, my goal was to get to you through him."

Again, it was hard to tell what he was feeling based on such an indifferent expression. Neither party was able to move on, a voice chiming in from nowhere to say, "I certainly appreciate a bit of mystery as the next severed head, but do you mind, Brother?"

Without a word the god reached behind him and presented what Eivor thought was a sack. Until she saw it had a beard. And horns. And eyes. Eivor recoiled slightly at the abrupt reveal, but she very quickly remembered Baldur mentioning that he visited someone fitting this description shortly before his death. "You must be Mimir."

"Aye," the horned head grinned, happy to be recognized. "Smartest man in all the realms, at your service, m'lady. I couldn't help but overhear what you said about your parents, but as far as I know nothing came from that," he said, making Eivor's ears perk up. He knew something about her family, but it was unfortunately not the time to ask. "And you weren't around during my tenure, so you must be young for a goddess or very new to Asgard."

Eivor giggled, finding it almost silly that the smartest man alive would come to such an obvious conclusion. "Probably both."

"Interesting…so how—"

"Father?"

The familiar voice rang from behind rocks across the small island, one that immediately got everyone's attention. From an archway in the stone Loki jumped into view, gagging at the goo on his skin as he shook Wretches off of his arms, the disgust clear in his motions. As he regained his composure he called out, "Did you find any more — hey!" The boy smiled as soon as he saw Eivor, who looked equally as excited to see him unharmed. "What are you doing here?" 

While Loki jogged over to the group, stopping between Eivor and his father, she revealed, "Looking for you, actually."

His blue eyes grew curious, but he couldn't inquire before his father asked, "You know her?"

As if Loki just realized how tense this meeting could have been, he looked between the two with his hands held out to his father in a reassuring manner. "Oh, yeah. She's a friend." 

The emphasis on the final word suggested the importance of it, something Mimir didn't miss. "An unwilling servant among Odin's ranks? How would you manage to get all the way out here then?"

"Not now," the foreign god cut off, uninterested for the time being. "First tell us why you are here."

Eivor was ready to give a vague explanation that would be just enough to get them moving somewhere safe, but Loki beat her to it. "I think I already know…You're here because of Heimdall, aren't you?"

Sadness overtook Eivor even as she smiled at the boy. "As intelligent as ever, I see."

"What of Heimdall?" the pale god boomed.

Eivor, now getting nervous about how long she had been exposed to Odin's observant eyes, quickly and quietly explained, "I understand that there's a lot of questions, and I promise to answer all of them, but…not here. I'm only invisible to Odin's ravens until I'm near others. Can we take this somewhere else? Please?"

The two elders appeared more pensive, but Loki was more willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. "There's a realm gate just around the corner. We could go there. Right, Father?"

Loki's influence was strong, exemplified by his father's prompt agreement. "Fine." That was all he said, clipping Mimir back onto his belt and heading to the edge of the island without a word. 

Eivor gave a quiet "thank you" as they began walking, glad and very surprised that everything seemed to be going well.

Of course, she hadn't gotten to the worst part yet.

"So, you have a name, lass?" Mimir asked, seeming to ignore the pale god's curt nature.

"Eivor."

"Eivor. That's a lovely name! Well, you know the lad, and you know of me, so that just leaves the big grump here, who is Kratos."

Kratos didn't acknowledge the jab from his bodiless friend, not voicing approval or annoyance in any way. "You found no realm tears, Atreus?"

For a moment Eivor was very confused, wondering if there was a second severed head somewhere until Loki replied, "No, I think Svartalfheim is clear."

Wait a moment. "Your name isn't Loki?"

The boy blanched, scratching his head nervously. "Oh, uh, not really. But kinda? It's a long story."

Atreus. An odd name, but Eivor liked the sound of it. It felt brave, kind, much like the child it belonged to. "In that case, would you mind if I used your real name? I think that one suits you."

"Yeah, sure, that's okay."

"Y'hear that, Brother? She likes the name you picked!" Mimir became mischievous, his tone displaying his desire to mess with the old god. "That earn any points with you?"

Kratos offered almost no reply as they stopped in front of the pile of stones that would rise up to be a realm portal, only a noncommittal grunt sounding from him.

Mimir chuckled, jubilantly declaring, "I'd say that's a yes!"

With the portal opened, Kratos stepped inside, giving no one a chance to respond. Atreus looked at Eivor, as if telling her she had no reason to be worried once she was in an enclosed space with Odin's most daring enemies. With that trust, Eivor walked through, the boy close behind.

She was once again on the branches of the Yggdrasil, only this time with company. It became hard to stay calm when Kratos turned around after the portal disappeared behind them, looming over her with expectation.

"You say you are here for Heimdall. Why do you seek us?" His voice was harsh and unforgiving, but he showed a hint of his humanity by taking Mimir off of his belt again, allowing his friend to join the conversation.

This was a man who didn't beat around the bush. So Eivor didn't either. "Heimdall is being sent to Vanaheim, where I'm certain you will go very soon. You intend to kill him, don't you?"

"I do not."

"Why else would you make that spear?"

Mimir hesitated to intrude. "Ehhh, I guess you can say it was a…preventative measure."

Kratos added, "I will only do what I must."

Eivor grew solemn, the pain evident in her eyes. "Then you will kill him. When you find him he won't give you another choice. His pride won't let him," she muttered, holding back a sigh. 

Atreus didn't seem convinced, piping up with, "But would the spear really make a difference? He can see everything coming."

"And we weren't even sure if the spear would work," Mimir supplemented. "We were hopin' it would at least overwhelm him enough to give us a chance."

"It would. In fact, it's the perfect weapon to use against him." Eivor saw that all three of them were confused, stepping closer to the edge of the branches to stare into a purple skies as she explained, "You say his foresight sees all, and everyone would agree with you, but what they fail to realize is he can only see things coming when they're from a source with intentions — something that can think. If the threat is an inanimate object, like a falling rock or flying mud, he won't catch it. In the case of your spear, he may see that you intend to detonate the heads you leave behind, but he won't know exactly when they will explode. They're out of your direct control, so there is no intention coming from the explosion that he can sense. Of course, his reflexes are still good enough to dodge some of them but eventually…" her eyes fell, heart dropping as she finished, "he will falter."

Kratos merely nodded, appearing indifferent to the information. Mimir's brow was furrowed, looking flabbergasted at her knowledge. "You seem to know him rather well. How is that?"

This was destined to come to light, and yet Eivor still wasn't entirely sure how to say it. "Well, he's my…" she hesitated, searching for a proper word to describe their relationship. Something that would capture the depth without exaggerating their formal status. "...my partner." Sure, that was close enough.

But not clear enough for Mimir, it seemed. "Like a uhh…business partner?"

"No, a…romantic partner."

"BAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HOO HOO HEEHEEHAHA HA HA HAHAHAHAHAHA HAA!"

Three pairs of eyes landed on the guffawing severed head. Atreus's were occasionally flickering over to Eivor apologetically while the goddess crossed her arms, unamused. Kratos matched her glare with his own look of disapproval, giving the head a slight shake as he sternly growled, "That is enough."

"HAHAHAHA, HOOOO HOH, I'm s-sorreehee hee, Bro-brothaha HA HA HA HAAA! That-that's just so hooh HO HA HAHA!"

Atreus, feeling how awkward the moment was growing, also tried to get the head to notice that no one else was laughing. "Uh…Mimir?"

"OH HAHA, haaah ha, s-sorry, sorry," Mimir panted, having to catch his breath between words. "That's a good one! Hahaha! Haha…ha…" The Smartest Man Alive finally saw Eivor's impatient frown, realizing that no joke had been told. His demeanor instantly changed to one of exasperation. "Oh bloody bollocks, you're serious?!"

"So you finally noticed," she replied sarcastically.

Mimir sputtered for a moment, unable to find the words to express how gobsmacked he was. "Look, you'll have to pardon my blunt language here, but how in Elli's wrinkly old saggy buttocks does a fine lass like you end up with an absolute arse wipe like him?!"

Despite the recent annoyance Eivor couldn't hold back a snicker, finding his to be the funniest version of that question she had ever heard. "I've been asked that many times. I hated him too, at first, but that's a long story."

"And irrelevant," Kratos interjected, glancing at Mimir to indicate that this was a topic they could discuss at another time. Looking back to Eivor, he asked, "What is it you intend to do?"

"Talk to him."

A brief silence, then Atreus voiced the collective disbelief. "That's it?"

"Yes." The crowd was not convinced, prompting her to persuade, "I've been trying to tell him about Odin's true intentions for years, but every time I get close the All-Father gets in the way. I'm hoping that once Heimdall is far from Asgard I can finally make a breakthrough." The eyes on her were still hesitant. Gesturing to Atreus, she asked for his support. "He listens to me, you've seen it yourself. If you can just let me come with you to Vanaheim until you encounter him I can try to get through to him."

Atreus, unfortunately, couldn't back her up, only able to reply with, "Yeah, he does listen to you, but…"

Mimir shared the skepticism, gently voicing his disbelief like he was trying to comfort her. "I'm sorry, lass, but I don't think that will work."

"It might not."

Her frank acceptance caught Mimir off guard. "He might even harm you once he learns that you ran away willingly."

The time had come. She was finally forced to lie. "Maybe. But he would never seriously hurt me." Judging by the look Mimir gave her, he pitied her unfounded faith. But that was fine, they didn't need to know about her backup plan. 

No one would approve of it anyway.

This time Atreus was appalled. "And you would just let him?" Eivor nodded, leaving the boy desperate for a better solution. "Why don't you just tell us what to do and hide somewhere, away from Odin?"

Eivor shook her head, looking out to the starry violet sky around the World Tree, eyes distant. "There's nothing you can do. Even if you convince him for now, you'll end up in Asgard at some point, and nothing gets there without going through Heimdall first. It will happen. And if I just hide, save myself knowing that I didn't even try…No. No, I can't do that to him."

Atreus couldn't take her careless shrug, but had no way to counter her decision. "But…"

Mimir, who was just as dissatisfied with the reality Eivor painted for them, said, "And you really think it's worth a try? You really think you can…'fix' him?"

Eivor paused thoughtfully. So many people had asked that of her — to "fix" Heimdall, make him into something he was not. But they never saw what she did. They never knew that he was just as dynamic and complex as anyone else, just as human as every other person alive. He wasn't a heartless and uncaring two dimensional monster in need of taming. He needed patience. Kindness. Time to learn that there were people worth trusting. Holding back her melancholy, voice quiet but steady, she showed how strong her resolve was. "I want him to know that he doesn't need Odin to be whole." Taking a deep breath, she put her case to rest here. This would either buy their support or leave her with no options.

"I don't want to fix him. I want him to know that he isn't broken."

The phrase was heavy, the air between them growing more solid than stone as Atreus and Mimir lamented Eivor's few remaining choices. Only Kratos held no doubt, his mind going someplace else while he looked at Eivor silently, eyes growing hazy as he saw someone else in her place — someone taller, with red hair and eyes that matched his son's. A person that was far more similar to Eivor than he initially realized.

"Very well."

The intensity broke, everyone looking at Kratos as Mimir asked, "Brother?"

"You may join us."

Finally. The first shred of hope Eivor had seen in ages.

"Just like that?" Atreus questioned, shocked that his father gave in so easily, seeming to ignore any inconvenience and risks that would be involved.

"Yes," was all Kratos said, not giving any reasoning behind his quick decision. In this case, he wouldn't have explained himself even if they asked him to.

It took all of Eivor’s willpower not to jump with joy and throw a hug at the old god, which he definitely would not have cared for in the slightest. Words could not express how grateful she was, so glad that all the stories Odin spread about this foreign god were as far from the truth as they were. "Thank you! I-I can't even tell you how thankful I am, Kratos. Thank you."

"Well," Mimir chimed in, feeling more cheery with Eivor's elevated mood. "I guess it's settled then!"

Kratos, unsurprisingly, only answered with a short nod and a hum, placing Mimir back on his belt while heading for the open portal that would take them home.

As they made the short trip, Eivor spoke up one last time. "Just one more thing; I think we shouldn't tell anyone else that all I'm going to do is talk to Heimdall. Odin is going to be listening to anything I'm doing, and I'd prefer he didn't try to get in the way again."

"Sure, that's fine," Atreus agreed, knowing his father would likely not give an answer.

The group stepped through the portal, revealing the elegant home built on the World Tree's branches that Eivor couldn't help but marvel at. It also looked familiar…it matched the style of —

"Do you think Sindri will mind that we brought someone else home?" Atreus wondered.

"Sindri lives here?" Eivor exclaimed, eyes lighting up.

"You know Sindri?"

"I do. I met him while I lived in Alfheim, when he needed help finding some materials that the elves were hoarding…He said something about having to do it because his brother was banned from the realm?"

Mimir chuckled, "Well that story certainly checks out."

Kratos confidently pushed the door open without hesitation, calmly entering without preamble. Atreus, on the other hand, rushed inside, calling out, "Hey Sindri! We brought a friend!"

Eivor smiled with anticipation as she entered, briefly taking a look around the beautiful dwarven home while she heard Sindri unenthusiastically respond, "Oh, uh…you did? Well, I guess I can find space…somewhere. Out of curiosity, not reluctance of course, why did—" Then she heard a dramatic gasp, making her turn her attention to the forge to the left of the entrance. "Lady Eivor!"

"Nice to see you too, Sindri!"

The blue dwarf, who she presumed was Sindri's supposedly troublesome brother, harrumphed, "Who now?" while her old friend scurried around the table and greeted her.

"I can't believe it, it's been so long!" Sindri marveled, stopping just in front of her. Eivor knew not to attempt to touch him, which seemed to make Kratos release some tension she hadn't yet noticed he was holding, like he was waiting for some indication that she was lying. "What in the nine realms has brought you here? Last I heard you were taken to Asgard!"

Kratos did not stick around for the introduction, instead accepting Brok's invitation to "get somethin' productive done while everyone else was bein' touchy-feely." Atreus, contrastingly equally pleased that Eivor was welcome, gave away a bit more than she wanted. "She's here to help us with Heimdall."

"Wait, you're trying to kill him?!"

"No, she wants the opposite."

Sindri, now blatantly lost and stunned, looked back at Eivor with a quiet, "Oh…" Hands waving around as he tried to find the words, he sat in silence for a moment until he managed a bemused, "...why?"

Eivor caught Atreus giving her a sheepish look when he noticed her unease, but she waved both of them off. "Something for later."

Trying to change the subject, Atreus questioned, "So it's okay if she stays here? Before you sounded a little —"

"Of course it is! We might be a little crowded now but I'll always welcome Eivor! I've been meaning to make another chaise anyway."

The goddess smiled shyly, already feeling like these people were bending over backwards for her despite her intention to protect someone they all hated. "Oh, don't go through that kind of trouble for me, I don't need much."

As Sindri assured her that she was no trouble, Kratos returned to the crowd, asking his son, "Are you ready to continue?"

Eivor caught his question, realizing that Kratos didn't plan on going straight to Vanaheim. "You're going to look for more Hel tears?"

"According to Hræsvealgr, there are two more we must find. We have yet to check Midgard," Kratos answered, confirming her speculation.

With an understanding nod, Eivor proposed, "Then I'll wait here until you are ready to head for Vanaheim, just to make sure I don't get in your way." Her excuse was truthful, believing Kratos and Atreus together would be more than enough skill to handle the tears without needing her support, but it was also to cover up her own need for time. There was no telling how her next encounter with her beloved would go and many things to consider before the time came.

She had to mentally prepare for her backup plan.

Kratos merely grunted, signaling Atreus to follow him out as Sindri excitedly introduced Eivor to Brok and demanded that he be polite to her, which sparked an argument between them. Mimir ignored the typical banter as the doors closed behind them, sighing, "Well…it was nice knowing Eivor."

Atreus scolded, "Don't say that! I don't think Heimdall would hurt her even if she did betray Odin."

The severed head was not in agreement. "I know you want to see the best in people, lad, but Heimdall is simply not capable of defying Odin's orders, and he will absolutely tell Heimdall to kill her. It's a lost cause."

Kratos remained neutral, but listened closely as his son explained, "I thought so too, but when I was in Asgard he threatened me after I met Eivor. He said he would come after me if I spoke to her again, no matter what Odin says."

"Those were his exact words?" the head asked with a hint of shock.

"Yeah, that's what he said."

The elder god grumbled, "An exaggeration."

"Maybe not, Brother," Mimir disagreed. "Heimdall always touts about how honest he is, even if it's in terrible ways. He wouldn't say something like that, especially where Odin is concerned, unless he meant it." He paused, considering his own words. "Perhaps she does have a chance."

"I hope so…" Atreus said. "Father, what do you think?"

As Kratos activated the realm travel gate he couldn't offer an answer, knowing there was no way to predict the actions of a god he'd never met. "We will see soon enough."

Despite his failure to show optimism, something in him was sincerely rooting for her success.

The doors to Odin's study opened, allowing Heimdall to enter. Odin waved for Heimdall to approach his desk, not commenting on the disheveled state of the usually spotless scion. His boots were stained with dirt, clothes wrinkled and discolored in some places, the metal portions of his armor cloudy and unpolished. Even his hair was unkempt, and his beard was growing beyond the subtle shade across his cheeks.

It had been three days since he learned of Eivor’s fate. Three very long days that stretched on for what felt like ages. Emotion had left him, as had any other sensation, causing an agonizing numbness that was devoid of any passion. He'd done the bare minimum of his duties, containing no motivation to take pride in any extra effort he could provide, thinking there was no point to protecting the realm so diligently when it was missing one very crucial piece of its beauty. It was a fresh trait that he couldn't conceal despite his meager efforts, finding pity in every single mind he crossed since he fell into his grief. With pity being the last thing he wanted, he felt the urge to kill anyone he caught directing it towards him, but then would immediately resign to his sorrowful fatigue that left him with no energy to exact punishment upon them. The deluge of sadness made him want to find Eivor and make her take away all of his troubles. Then he would remember that he couldn't, increasing his pain ten fold and giving everyone else even more reason to look down on him. In the end he ignored his distrust for every single one of them and blocked everything he could read out, believing ignorance to be more bearable.

Heimdall looked and felt not at all like the guardian he needed to be, but that was not relevant to the All-Father. "I'm assuming nothing is out of place in Asgard?"

Heimdall, though quieter than normal, confirmed, "Yes, All-Father." 

Odin nodded without looking up from his work. "Good. Then make any final preparations you need to travel. You'll be going to Vanaheim tomorrow."

It had been days since he felt something, but with those words entering his ears a spark of determination and purpose made him smile. It was time. Finally, it was time.

Revenge at last.

"Of course, All-Father. I will be ready for your call," he replied, sounding much more like himself than he ever had. Odin barely acknowledged his reply and sent him off, the scion heading out with a burst of energy. The monster that clipped his Songbird's wings wouldn't see him at his weakest — it would know exactly who it had crossed with its endless bloodlust. He had to look sharp, strong, as powerful as the noble god he was to show the monstrosity how inferior he was to the Herald of Ragnarok.

As he made it to the stairs leading up to the Lodge's main level he slowed, remembering what he had to do to accomplish that. He needed to bathe, shave, change, polish his gear…and to do that he would have to go…

Home.

Or what used to feel like home. He was ashamed to admit it, but he hadn't been there since he lost her, not ready to face the memories that would undoubtedly cripple him within moments. It had been days since he bathed, since he slept, since he remained anywhere that wasn't completely isolated, spending most of his time atop the high wall that no one would ever disturb. But now he had no choice. And that realization dragged him back down into his despair. 

Just as he was opening the doors to the Lodge he heard his name, too lost in thought to pinpoint who it was, and frankly in no mood to care. Yet he stopped, looking over his shoulder to find Sif, halfway through reaching out to touch him before catching herself. He offered no greeting, no response, not even a glare. All he did was wait, eyes empty, waiting for her to go away. The goddess gawked at him for a moment, still blown away by just how much he'd changed since her good friend passed. His insults had been sparse and half-hearted, things that usually agitated him went ignored, even bumping into him failed to provoke any sort of response beyond a weak sneer. He simply wasn't himself at all, wallowing in the grief and hardly interacting with anyone outside of the hollow stares he gave when it was required of him. She had seen how his mood had plummeted and hoped that, because she was also very close to Eivor, that they could potentially calm each other's sense of loss, she herself feeling dazed since she failed to help her friend through her anxiety. Every time she stopped Heimdall to suggest as much he ignored her, like she didn't even exist, but now that she had his minimal attention she couldn't believe she was speaking to the right person. "I just…I wanted to see how you were." She expected a snarl, a growl, an offended bark, for him to curse her for even saying something so unwelcome. But nothing. She received absolutely nothing. She wasn't even sure if he heard her. "I know that…it hasn't really been easy since —"

No. He didn't want her to say it. He couldn't take it. His eyes left her as he dejectedly refused her gesture. "I don't have time for this," was all he said, and with no heart behind it. Sif was left behind, just watching him go with amazement. And regret. For the first time, after all these years, she finally believed that Heimdall truly did love Eivor. It was unfortunate that it took her so long that the one thing they could have bonded over was gone.

Heimdall soon stood at the door to his cabin, merely watching the motionless door and still not ready to face the demons inside. The only reason he didn't spend an eternity there was the bystanders that would surely notice his pathetic state if he stayed for too long, and everyone had seen too much of that already. His hand raised to push the door open, stopping when he noticed it was shaking like he was freezing in the depths of Helheim, proving how disturbing the endeavor truly was. Angrily rejecting the cowardly desire to leave that fueled his jitters, he shoved his hand into the door and pushed it open, stomping in without giving himself time to think about it.

As soon as the door closed behind him he froze in place, taking it all in. It was precisely how he left it, and the acknowledgement of that fact displayed his unconscious hope that it had been disturbed, giving any indication that she had been there. His eyes scanned the room, taking in how astronomically different it was without her. It felt empty. Dead, like he just walked into the aftermath of a massacre. The plants around the room had begun to wilt, having been neglected since their caretaker disappeared. He could picture it so clearly, Eivor humming as she tended to each of the numerous plants in the alcove by their bed, the recollection so vivid that it felt real. His jaw clenched, closing his eyes tight and tilting his head to his right as he willed the illusion away. When he opened them again the bookshelf against the right wall came into view. He saw her again, crossing her arms and giving him the most adorable pout while she reprimanded him for putting her things on the top shelf, where he knew she couldn't reach it. He had done that so many times, just waiting for her to ask him to get it down, wanting to feel the satisfaction from the little things she needed him for. It made him smile in spite of how much it hurt to think about. His gaze wandered to his reading chair in the corner, specifically to the pot of white flowers on the table next to it. There she was again, singing while she watered the delicate petals, his smile falling when she vanished and the flowered morphed back into their dehydrated selves.

He jumped and tensed when he heard it. Her voice, singing one of his favorite songs in the other room. In a trance, he turned back to the doorway to their bedroom, slowly taking one step after another until he was in the doorway and found Eivor folding clothes on their bed, unaware that he had come in. This was more than familiar — it was a distinct memory he cherished. Just as he remembered, she heard him and looked over her shoulder, grinning as she sang. The melody still drifted through the air as she reached a hand out to him, asking him to come closer. He took one step forward. Then two. His arm lifted against his will, wanting so badly to carry out the past by taking her hand and pulling her close, resting his forehead on hers while she sang against his lips and placed her hands on his jaw. His fingers were mere inches from hers, trembling, cold. And when he felt how cold they were he was reminded that there was no warmth coming from her, that there was no one there to radiate that glorious heat. His eyes clamped shut and he took a deep breath, gradually opening them again. 

She was gone. 

Heimdall growled and his hands flew to his face as he turned his back to the bed, the reality too much to tolerate. He just breathed, eyes behind his fingers, trying to block out the insurmountable avalanche of sorrow and grief and regret with all of his might. 

Then he felt something comforting sliding over his sides, softly making their way to his front. It was so heavenly, so lovely, and it felt so real. It had to be her. It had to be.

His head lifted but he didn't look down, too afraid of knowing if he was wrong. Looking straight ahead, his shaking hands went downward, hovering just above the arms that wrapped around his middle. With a bout of courage he pulled his hands in, the temptation of her skin too potent to fight off. 

They fell onto his torso, and all he felt was the fabric of his tunic.

His lips pulled back into a snarl as his shoulders heaved with labored breaths, fists clenching and teeth grinding from the awful depression within him until he could no longer hold it back. A guttural screech rang out as he spun around and kicked the bed so hard that it hit the opposite wall, cracking the wood and splintering the bed frame before it slid just a few inches short of its original spot. Heimdall panted as he stared into nothingness, his anger dying down and muscles relaxing, lashing out making not even the slightest difference. His soul still ached, his heart was still heavy, the room still felt icy and lifeless. All of the rage faded into the hopeless anguish that he'd been walking circles around for days. As it all simmered he felt his vision blur, water clouding his sight.

That gave him pause. When was the last time this had happened? He had forsaken teary eyes long ago, in the earliest days of his youth, yet here he was, in so much misery from her loss that the childish reaction was creeping back into his psyche. 

No. He refused to cry. Using the last of his strength, Heimdall approached the damaged bed and sat on the edge — what was once Eivor's side, to be exact — and put his head in his hands, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. 

This was all just a representation of how powerless he was. There was nothing he could do to bring her back. None of his abilities or skills or his foresight could do anything to turn back time and save her. He had no way to fend off the waves of debilitating torment. 

But he could make her killer pay.

He took a deep breath. It was too hard to linger. He needed to prepare to leave for Vanaheim as quickly as possible, to do right by his Songbird by avenging her. With that bit of redemption, even if it was scant at best, he could move forward, get rid of every trace of her and pretend that she never existed to ward off the trauma.

With a heavy sigh, he dropped his hands and looked down at the floor. Could he really just forget her? Did he really want to forsake the happiest moments of his life? Completely leave behind the one person he would give anything to have back? Could he live with the grief if he did keep her in his heart and mind? 

He'd been drowning in his emotions for too long. He had to clean up and leave before he lost his sanity.

Just as he prepared to get up and shut out the suffering, something caught his eye. The corner of a box, once nestled under the bed. It wasn't one he recognized and was by no means important enough to look at, but his curiosity got the better of him. He reached down and pulled the box out, mechanically lifting the lid. Eivor's songbook sat at the top, a fact that puzzled him. She always kept it in the same place by her nightstand, unafraid of him finding it and unashamed of what was inside. Why was it hidden? 

He carefully took it out of the box, holding it off to the side to examine the contents beneath it. A huge pile of little squares of parchment…each one with his handwriting on it.

Stomach churning, he knew what they were right away. The songbook was set down as he took out one of the notes, reading through the first he picked up.

Morning, my dearest love,

A raven pulled me away earlier than usual today. My sincerest apologies, I do wish I was there to greet you. I'll be looking for you until I can kiss you good morning. Don't keep me waiting too long.

Forever yours,

-Heimdall

He didn't even remember this one, and judging by the smudged runes it was quite old. The next one he picked out was his latest, throat drying out as he read it. Then he read another. And another. And even more, until he was certain that she really had really kept all of them. Every. Single. One.

To him they were nothing but small means of communication, but to her they were the world, treasures to be admired and preserved. She loved these little things more than any grand gesture he had ever carried out. That was all she ever needed, more than she ever wanted. These tokens were enough because they came from him, and that was all she could ask for.

The bile bubbled in his throat, stomach revolting at the despair engulfing his being. He couldn't look at any more, putting the box down before he lost all will to fulfill Odin's orders and rid himself of this wretched place for the time being. Instead of heeding that logic, he subjected himself to further torture by retrieving the songbook, flipping through the pages and recalling every tune, recognizing her unique method of transcribing her music. Songs with nonsense lyrics, all written out in gibberish. The piece that described her feelings of isolation and hopelessness while servicing the elves, the very one she sang to him in Gulltoppr’s pen so many years ago. Bars full of symbols to represent musical notes, some with no lyrics accompanying them. All of the unfinished pieces she didn't like enough to complete or sacrificed to satisfy budding inspiration. He could hear every sound like she was performing right next to him.

His heart sank when he reached a blank page towards the end of the book. There was no more to look through, and no more would be added. Defeated, he let the final pages glide across his thumb and let the back cover fold over.

Wait. He'd never seen that before.

He opened it again, finding a song written on the last page. He didn't know this was here even though he had seen the book time and time again.

Glancing over the notes, he recognized the melody. A song she only hummed and occasionally played, but no lyrics were ever assigned to it. She said she never wrote any, but this page begged to differ. Still running low on strength, Heimdall skimmed through the lines, thinking nothing of the meaning or story behind these words. Until he saw the end of the chorus.

To dream of golden locks entwisted, stormy

Of violet eyes glistening as I weep

Was this…? This was about him.

He reread the chorus, internally reciting it with the melody he remembered, finding only more proof of his theory.

You flee from my dream come the morning

Your scent, berries tart, lilacs sweet

Yes, this was about him, recounting that he would leave her every morning, bearing a pain that this song embodied. A pain he left her to bear alone.

Why did she never tell him? What was hurting so much that she would write this? Searching for answers to questions that couldn't be answered, he read the third and final verse, but it brought no closure. It even made everything worse.

I know not if fate would have us live as one

Or if by love's blind chance we've been bound.

She expected this to happen. She predicted that, one day, they would lose each other, and was waiting for that day to come. Waiting for years, it seemed, considering how faded the writing was. What was bothering her for so long? He returned to the first verse, looking back on the lyrics he skimmed over and found nothing that helped, but the second verse was the next hint.

     wolf

The hope I will follow into the storm

To find your heart, its passion displaced

The second line was obvious, referring to all the insane things she accused All-Father of doing, as well as her disapproval of his supposed compliance. The first line was what caught his attention. The word "hope" was crossed out and replaced with "wolf." What was significant was how dark that line and new word were, like they were written recently. That, combined with the book being hidden for the first time since they began sharing his cabin, made him believe that it could only have been added days prior to her disappearance. 

But what did it mean?

It felt like a message, a clue of some sort. She was trying to tell him something from beyond this life, trying to recreate the events surrounding her demise. But if she was trying to tell him something, why was she hiding this from him? What was he missing?

All of the confusion and gloom had piled up, his mind too ravaged by his past blindness to continue wondering what it could all mean. He closed the book and nearly tossed it away, catching himself just before he did, gingerly holding it in both hands, thumbs caressing the leather cover. With this being all he had left of her beautiful voice, he had to keep it close. He wouldn't go anywhere without a piece of her now. 

A decision he immediately started second guessing. The book's presence only kept those swirling questions alive.

What was she trying to say? Why did she leave this clue and then hide it from him? Why did she even leave in the first place? Why did she replace that one word? What did any of it mean?

Who was "the wolf?"

"Hey, Ratatoskr isn't here."

Atreus's comment was met with a hum from Mimir's place on Kratos's belt as they crossed the courtyard in front of Sindri's home. "Maybe he's busy tending to the branches? S'pose we'll have to give him those Lyndwyrms later."

The boy nodded, concern rising in his voice. "Do you think everyone is getting along with Eivor, Father?"

"She is familiar with Sindri. There is no reason for her to be regarded with hostility."

His father had a point, as he always did, but it was her goals that felt like too much of a problem to be ignored. Just as they reached the front steps, Atreus elaborated, "But considering she wants to save someone everyone hates, don't you think that they would —"

When the door opened the trio was met with an explosion of howling laughter. Eivor, the dwarves, Tyr, and even the missing Ratatoskr were all sitting at the table in front of the fire, giggling at the story Eivor had finished telling. Atreus jogged ahead of his father and over to the crowd, smiling from the situation being much better than he expected. "What's going on here?"

As the chuckling died down Brok slammed a hand on the table. "Why donchya bring more people like her around? She's the only one o' ya's who's any fun!" 

Sindri, for once, was on the same page as his brother. "You said it! Oh! Uh, no offense to, uh, you, Lord Tyr."

"No offense taken at all. I actually agree with you, Eivor is certainly a welcome addition to our team." He nodded kindly at the goddess as she thanked him. Ratatoskr climbed down from the back of a chair and onto the table to address Eivor directly, an action that made Sindri gag. "Indeed. I am normally wary of gods meandering around my tree, but this is one of the rare and very welcome exceptions."

Kratos now at his side, Atreus grinned at his father before asking, "So everyone's okay with it?"

"Whatchu think, pipsqueak?" Brok grunted as he stood. 

While the blue dwarf stretched, Ratatoskr sighed, sounding tired. "And with that, I'm afraid my time to socialize has come to an end. It was a delight to make your acquaintance, Eivor."

The squirrel leapt away and returned to tending to the vast branches of the World Tree, and Tyr went to the kitchen area to stir his simmering stew. "Sure is a damn shame," Brok muttered as he and Sindri made their way back to their workstation, "That's another fine woman with questionable taste in men. The second I've met!"

His grumbling went ignored as Kratos gained Eivor and Atreus's attention, the goddess's expression growing serious. "You two are finished with your errands?"

Kratos answered, "Yes, we have done everything we can for now."

"You ready to head to Vanaheim?" Atreus asked, drawing concern from Eivor.

"Right now? You just got back, you should rest first."

"Don't you want to, uh…do what we need to do?" None of them noticed, but the mention of Eivor's vague intentions caused Tyr to glance over his shoulder with interest.

Smiling kindly, Eivor replied, "I'm thankful you want to help, but there's no point in going if you aren't prepared."

"She is correct," Kraros agreed. "Rest. We will go in the morning."

Shrugging, Atreus bid goodnight to his companions, not bothering to check if his father was doing the same. Kratos didn't, and lingered by Eivor for a moment as she brought her flute box to the tabletop and opened it, stopping when Kratos finally addressed her. "You are still certain?"

A saddened breath passing through her, Eivor's fingers drifted across the beautiful flute that was just out of the god's view, remembering all of the fond memories spawning from it. "Yes."

"Are you sure, lass?" Mimir sighed, still convinced her success was unlikely.

Resolve present in her tone, Eivor left no room for argument. "At this point I have no reason not to try." Nodding at Kratos, she added, "My mind is made up. I'll be ready."

Thinking of one last method, Mimir attempted a more humorous approach. "I guess it might be worth rephrasing the question; are you sure you want to be stabbed by the Scion of the Aesir?"

Not appreciating his obtuse lack of faith, Eivor showed no mercy in return, smiling brightly with her tone light and deceptively friendly as she shot back, "As ready as you are to mysteriously end up in Tyr's stew."

Brok's raucous laughter erupted from his forge while Mimir's mouth hung open in shock, the sass completely unexpected. Even Kratos gave a short huff that was likely the closest he would ever get to chuckling. "Ah," Mimir said flatly, finally regaining his thoughts. "I see why Heimdall would like you now."

"Everyone does eventually," Eivor proudly claimed, clearly pleased with her ability to stun the realms' most intelligent figure. But in the end it was Kratos that needed her final confirmation before they could move on. "Take your time. When you're ready, I'll be waiting."

Kratos gave a shallow hum, saying nothing more before heading for his own room to get some sleep. Once inside, he faced the door and gripped both sides, pulling them inward to shut out the noise from the rest of the home. 

Then, all at once, his mind went elsewhere.

He stopped closing the doors when there was a few inches left between them, listening to the music playing from just around the corner. A flute.

It had been…eons since he heard one. His eyes glazed over, hands blending into the vision before him. He was carving the last few imperfections out of a wooden flute, an eager little girl practically bouncing in place with excitement, begging her father to let her see his gift. Her tiny hands took the flute from him, turning it around with joy while giving countless thanks, grinning as she tried to play a few notes for him. So innocent. Pure. 

Alive.

"Brother?"

The past faded away and the present took its place, reminding him of where he was in the moment. 

Rest. He needed rest.

The doors closed, his voice barely a whisper.

"It is nothing."

When the retired god of war awoke there was more music in the air once more, but this time it was the sound of strings. Kratos entered the common area and found Eivor still sitting at the table, plucking at a lyre while Tyr tended to more food behind her. With their departure drawing near, he set Mimir down on the table as he questioned Eivor one last time. "Are you prepared?"

Eivor looked up at him from her seat and nodded, setting the lyre back into its open case. "If you're rested, then yes, I am." She had to hide a wince when her tattoo decided to make itself known for the umpteenth time. The damned thing was even worse in the realm between realms, yanking her into some nebulous direction.

Kratos had no response, giving Mimir the chance to satiate his curiosity. "I've heard two instruments from you now, lass. How many do you play?"

"Just the lyre and flute is all."

"She sings too," Atreus yawned as he exited his room. 

"That's quite impressive! How'dya get started on that?"

She stopped in the middle of closing the lyre case, smiling sadly while she remembered the one instrument she left behind. "My Vanir father taught me. I actually had a lyre he made, but I couldn't bring it with me. It wasn't exactly in traveling condition." The lid closed, but Kratos's eyes lingered on the box, Eivor's story feeling all too familiar once again. 

His reply was impulsive, no forethought preceding it. In that moment he wasn't speaking as a god, or an ally, or a friend. He spoke as a father.

"He would understand."

Surprised, Eivor looked into his eyes, finding the same sorrow she found when they first met — a sadness and remorse that was unmatched in any capacity. She only wished she could offer some sort of comfort in return. "I hope you're right."

Choosing not to linger on the subject, Kratos went straight to business, Atreus heading over to Tyr in the kitchen area for something to eat. "Before we leave we must consider a detrimental possibility; we may be separated before we encounter Heimdall. You may lose your opportunity."

Eivor stood, not at all worried about the scenario. "That's actually something I considered, and I have a spell that can help. May I?"

Kratos eyed her outstretched hand for a moment before extending his left arm, allowing her to gently take it, fingers glowing gold and trailing illuminated dust as they waved over the center of his collapsed shield. A circle of runes swirled over it, spiraling together until they dispersed into sparks that rained down on his arm before disappearing, only a string of light connecting to Eivor's hand remaining. It slowly faded into the air as she explained, "This is a teleportation spell, one I made based on Odin's ravens. By placing your hand over that spot it will send magic down the line and create a temporary portal that will take me directly to you. If that's alright with you, of course."

Kratos examined the center of his shield, making out very faint runes floating over the surface. "It will do."

"That is rather remarkable, Eivor," Tyr complimented, setting the huge pot of stew on the table, Atreus holding one bowl and handing another to his father. "Though I'm not sure why you would need something so urgent. You still haven't mentioned exactly what you plan to do once you find Heimdall, or how you intend to 'help us take care of him.'"

An intentional outcome. Her temporary housemates seemed nice, but she wanted to take no risks. If any of them tried to interfere it could ruin everything, her backup plan especially. "It depends on what is going on when we find him."

"Is it really wise not to have a defined plan?"

"I know him well enough to think on my feet."

Tyr looked away briefly to pour himself a bowl of stew, hiding the clench of his jaw. "I see…well, I may not be able to advise you before you head out, but I have something that may help. If your spell is based on Odin's ravens, there would be a delay between activation and the teleportation, yes?"

"Well, a slight delay, but yes…" Eivor grew confused as he approached Kratos.

"Kratos, if you don't mind?" Tyr cast his own magic on the shield once the Greek god held up his arm, an orange glow passing between his hand and the metal. "A little bit of Giants' magic to improve it." 

Atreus's face lit up and he leaned in to take a closer look, though Mimir beat him to the question. "Giant magic? What exactly is it?" Unfortunately, due to his position on the table he couldn't see Tyr's trick well enough to identify it.

"It's not exactly a spell, but it's magic that acts as an amplifier to it. Instead of there being a delay after it's used, Eivor should be taken to Kratos almost immediately. Of course, it'll make the transportation a bit more jarring, but I believe the few more precious moments could make a difference."

Eivor, noticing that both Mimir and Atreus seemed puzzled by Tyr's information, realized that she was not the only one who had never heard of such magic. She supposed that was a good thing. If this amplifier was so potent that the Giants only trusted Tyr with it, it may be very useful. If it helped, she would take it. "Thank you, Tyr."

The peaceful god gave a shallow bow. "Of course, I'm happy to assist." 

Atreus looked between his father and Eivor, equally nervous and restless, though his eyes seemed to linger on the latter for a bit longer, like he had something to say. A thought he chose to keep to himself for now. "So…are we ready to go?"

While Mimir was strapped back in place, Eivor's instruments were fastened to her back, and weapons were looked over by the dwarves one last time, Tyr stared into the stew as he stirred it again, a smile on his face.

"Be careful out there!" Sindri called out worriedly, waving goodbye to his old friend.

Eivor smiled back, reassuring, "I'll be back!" despite the very real chance that today could be her last day among the living. The thought sent a shiver down her spine as the worst case scenario played in her mind, forcing her to find some kind of distraction as they approached the realm travel door. "So, what are you planning to do in Vanaheim?"

Kratos allowed his son to fill her in while he opened the portal to the World Tree's branches. "Freya went there to help her brother fight against Asgard. We were going to help."

"Freya is a friend of yours?!" Containing the excitement was beyond her abilities, never even thinking that she could speak to a master of magic before such a pivotal moment. 

Mimir chuckled, almost nervously, as they walked across the branches, heading for the next portal that would take them to Vanaheim. "Ehhh, well, she is now. We had a rough go of it for a while, but that's a buried hatchet now."

That's right…Odin's stories surrounding Kratos may have been exaggerated but he was still the one who killed Baldur, and no mother could forgive that so easily. More questions came to mind but they were all swept away when she entered the Vanir's realm, amazed by the beauty of the jungle and all the life hidden behind the flowering trees and massive leaves. Odin had never permitted her to go to Vanaheim, though why he was so against it was a mystery to her. Denying her the joy of exploring a new realm was likely reason enough for him, making it especially unfortunate that there was no time to take advantage of her freedom, and even more so that their destination was a short jaunt away. It was a single boat ride — Atreus kindly letting her sit across from Kraros while he stood behind her — and a quick leap across a few gaps to get to Freyr's camp, one that was much smaller and shabbier than she would have expected. And empty, which took Kratos and Atreus off guard as well.

Then a puff of smoke, and an apparent acquaintance of her traveling partners appeared, leaving her slightly confused until the man, Hildisvíni, addressed her, appearing suspicious of an unknown face. "I see you've brought a friend. And you are?"

"This is Eivor. She's here to help us in case we run into Heimdall," Atreus added, hoping it would make Hildisvíni relax.

It worked, the Vanir's shoulders loosening with relief. "Well, we certainly need it. Ever since Heimdall led Freyr's kidnapping that ended in Byggvir's injury, we have to use every pair of hands that are willing to help. Disposing of him is a necessity at this point."

A ball of thorns dropped into Eivor's gut, reminding her that there were few sympathizers to her cause, that the one person she wanted to save was the one everyone wanted to get rid of. She could only hope that they wouldn't ask exactly how she planned to help, or that she could come up with an excuse that would hide her intention to do anything but kill Heimdall. 

Luckily she had time to do just that. With Kratos and Atreus searching for Sköll and Hati she doubted they would encounter Heimdall before they returned to camp, allowing her to volunteer to stay behind and help with the rescue effort, and tend to Byggvir. The group was in agreement, Kratos assuring that he would summon her if Heimdall did cross their path. Once they left Eivor examined Byggvir, surprised to find that he was a light elf, and even more surprised when the rest of Freyr's crew returned from scouting and learned his wife was a dark elf. She had to admit, it was refreshing to hear that a pair of elves felt the same way about Alfheim's war as she did.

In the time Kratos and Atreus were searching for the Celestial Wolves, Eivor became familiar with the crew. Beyla was curt, but appreciated anyone that helped her husband, Birgir was quiet, but friendly, and Hildisvíni welcomed her as an ally despite her sudden appearance. Really, the only member that caught her off guard was Lúnda with her rather… "direct" compliments, but every single one was happy to have her on their side.

It was a shame that it left her incapable of telling them exactly who Heimdall was to her, making her feel almost…deceptive. 

All she could do was hope they wouldn't hate him more if things went completely wrong.

All of those worries were forgotten when a bird's call echoed above the camp, Hildisvíni stepping into open space as the falcon glided down to the ground. Eivor felt her breath hitch when the bird transformed into a woman, who spoke to Hildisvíni with certainty and authority. That, combined with the magical shape-shifting, practically confirmed that this was the one ally she had yet to meet: Freya herself. Lúnda chuckled when Eivor became still as stone, pausing in the middle of gathering medicinal herbs that they were setting aside for after Freyr's rescue. The dwarf took Eivor's basket of herbs and put it down on her workbench as she teased, "Don't worry, ol' Freya won't bite! Ain't no reason to be so starstruck."

Eivor's gaze dashed between Lúnda and Freya, unsure of how to even approach the goddess she had wanted to meet for so long. "R-really? There's no way I could just walk up and—" She stopped, along with everyone else in Vanaheim, when the sky shifted into an eclipse, then the extended daylight finally faded to the first night since the Celestial Wolves' disappearance. Freya smiled up at the sky and guessed, "That's them?"

Hildisvíni laughed openly, glad to finally have a step in the right direction. "They certainly work fast!"

Freya and Hildisvíni continued further into the camp, making Eivor tense up more as the Vanir queen took the lead once again. "Kratos certainly makes things happen. All the more reason for us to finish our preparations as soon as possible. The Einherjar won't…" she drifted off for a moment, making eye contact with Eivor, "be far behind," she finished before taking on a friendlier, but cautious tone. "Who is this?"

"Oh! Um," Eivor stammered, unsure if she should bow or curtsey or greet the queen of the Vanir in some excessively respectful manner. "My name is Eivor, and I apologize, I-I don't mean to intrude, Your Majesty."

Hildisvíni lended her a hand, holding back a smile. "Kratos and Atreus brought her with them, and she's here to help us with Heimdall."

"Is that so?" Freya seemed suspicious, and understandably so, getting Eivor to explain, "Yes, I know Heimdall’s abilities well enough to help counter them." Not a truthful explanation, but it would suffice.

With Freya still wary, Hildisvíni emphasized her innocence by informing, "She's an Aesir who has defected to our side."

She's an Aesir. The phrase made her stomach lurch, hating how it made her sound like she was a willing participant in Odin's atrocities. "Though I would really rather not be referred to as an Aesir."

Before Hildisvíni could apologize, Freya pointed out, "Especially with those tattoos. They're Vanir, much like mine." She held out an arm to present her own markings, the circular patterns similar to the ones on Eivor's arms, even resembling the carvings on her father's bone flute.

Knowing this would lead to a long story, Eivor kept it short and sweet. "My parents were an Aesir and a Vanir."

Freya seemed to relax, finding truth in her claim. "I do remember hearing a story like that. An Aesir goddess and a Vanir god who fled Odin's wrath, never to be seen again. Do you remember that, Hildisvíni?"

"I do, although I never knew if it was actually true."

People who knew of her parents and had a moment to talk about them. A first in Eivor’s life. "Did you know them?" She blurted out, unable to shroud the hope springing into her heart.

The frown Freya gave her was answer enough. "I do not, unfortunately. Although the identity of these gods has never been revealed, making it possible that I did know one of them, but I can't say who they were. It could be a number of people."

Containing the disappointment as much as possible, Eivor all but sighed, "I see…"

Feeling the hurt in Eivor's heart, Freya sought to comfort her in the only way she could. "But I can still tell you about Vanir culture and tradition. I'm sure you never heard about that side of your heritage in Asgard."

An offer Eivor eagerly accepted, Freya allowing her to ask as many questions as she wished as the elder goddess guided her through sorting the rest of the herbs and assembling the signal flares that would be used during the rescue. She spoke of Vanir harvests, their symbiotic relationship with nature and the beasts that inhabited the jungles, shared stories of her and Freyr flourishing in the peaceful Vanir lifestyle with a fond look in her eyes. After that, more recent events were expounded upon, mostly related to Baldur. The queen wanted to know about Eivor's relationship with her son and was grateful that she befriended the senseless god and remained a positive presence until his untimely death. With that in the air, Freya also cleared up the lies Odin had told surrounding Baldur's death, revealing her role in his curse and her willingness to die for him, only to be stopped by Kratos. The anger and lack of forgiveness was apparent when she recounted the events, but the goddess had a sound enough mind to recognize her vengeance should be directed at the common thread between every tragedy that had afflicted the realms. 

In time, Eivor even shared more about herself, confided in Freya about her time with the elves, her regrets while "serving" Odin — a regret she herself could relate to — and the Vanir goddess was able to counter her every insecurity with warm reassurance and care. The biased stories about Freya that circulated Gladsheim had all been so far from the queen before her, not at all doing the kind yet strong goddess any justice. It had been only hours and Freya was already feeling like the mother she never had. And that would lead to Eivor's secret being revealed.

The pair was picking leaves and flowers from the trees surrounding the camp and placing them in baskets when Lúnda chimed in after overhearing Eivor vaguely mention her magic. "Y'know Freya, this little lady is just itchin' to hear about your fancy tricks. You're almost like a celebrity for 'er!"

Her face growing red as Lúnda guffawed mischievously, Eivor stuttered, "Lúnda! Freya, that's really and exaggeration, I, uh, I don't mean —"

Freya laughed sweetly, having no issue with her curiosity. "It's alright, Eivor. I'd be happy to teach you things that can help with your magic. It's the least I can do after you've helped us on such short notice."

"Well…" Where did she even begin? It was the first time she could ever have an expert explain magic to her, answer direct questions instead of finding only somewhat related answers from books. "I guess I could start by asking how you're able to control so many types of magic. I've only been able to do new things with practice and experimentation, and even then it takes a long while to truly master it."

She was met with a wise smile. "It's simple, actually. I don't."

"...huh?"

Directing her attention to the vast branches and roots intertwined together in the rocks above them, her hand raised while magic flowed from her fingers. "What so many fail to understand is that magic is the very foundation of all the realms. It is a natural force, and like any other it cannot be controlled, only…shepherded." She called the roots forward, extending and twisting them into beautiful shapes as Eivor watched with wonder. "It is not a matter of give and take, it is a compromise. Think of it as an exchange. You stimulate the magic in the environment, and in return it temporarily follows your lead. Once you withdraw from the interaction," the magic faded, and the roots slowly and gracefully receded back to their natural state, "the product withdraws its compliance, falling back into its natural form, unharmed and unchanged. It is a power to be respected and understood rather than bent to one's will. That is the basis for any magic, regardless of its source, and one that is commonly ignored." Eivor nodded eagerly, taking in every world as if they were her lifeline and wishing she had her songbook to take notes. It did make sense. In desperate times when she needed to improvise in the moment she often could figure something out and use it in an instant, but when she thought extensively about what she wanted to do it would be much more difficult to carry out, evidenced by the years she spent crafting spells to keep Odin's eyes and ears off of her. She was trying to force the magic instead of understanding how to make it work. "Here, you try it."

Eivor hesitated for a moment, her hand hanging in the air as she wondered if she could follow Freya's masterful lead. With an encouraging smile from the elder goddess, Eivor reached up, feeling the magic dwelling within the roots and letting it mingle with her own, successfully making the roots grow and extend towards her. 

"Well done," Freya congratulated, proud. "You're a natural."

The roots curled back into the stone as Eivor had an idea. "I'm just wondering…I can copy magic that I'm familiar with and use it in my own form."

Freya's brows shot up. "Really? The same principle applies, however it would benefit you to master external sources of magic as well. Relying on magic from oneself is much more exhausting, even for the gods."

"I know you're definitely right about that from experience. But it just makes me think…" Eivor reached up one more time, this time focusing on the presence of the magic within the roots, memorizing the natural composition and feeling. Her eyes closed, she took a deep breath, and when she drew her hand back the roots stayed in place. In their stillness roots of gold flowed from them, like a ghost leaving a body, twirling with her fingers before fading into gold dust. Freya did not exaggerate in the slightest, the nature of magic was much more powerful than the form it could take.

"Remarkable…" Freya gasped, amazed by just how unique Eivor's skills were. She grinned, already feeling much more confident about her brother's rescue than she already was. "You have such unique skills. I'm glad we have you on our side when we eventually have to take care of Heimdall."

Heart sinking and hand falling back to her side, Eivor's face lost all excitement as she was reminded of the circumstances, how hard it would be for anyone to believe Heimdall was worth saving. She understood why that was the general consensus, but it still broke her heart and left her unsure if she could get to him before something happened to him. Freya caught her change of demeanor right away, concern rising as she set everything aside to address her. "What's wrong?" Eivor couldn't look at her, and the queen knew she was hiding something. One look at the pain etched on Eivor's face told her enough. "You don't intend to do that, do you?"

Eivor's face scrunched up in sadness as she finally relented, giving away her secret to people who might reject it immediately. "I…I will help, but not by hurting him."

Freya was in shock as Eivor looked down. There was no way her assumptions could be accurate, not when it was Heimdall they were talking about. "He…means something to you, doesn't he?" Her voice was soft, trying to convey her care and display no judgment.

It was time. Not just time to tell the truth, but to let out the despair that she'd been holding in for years. "He means everything to me."

Shaking her head, Freya pitied the blonde, fully aware that her words would be hurtful no matter how gently they were delivered. "Eivor, I know this is not something you want to hear and that it sounds very…harsh, but I can't imagine he would ever return your affections."

Laughter was almost Eivor's response. Bitter laughter, but an expression of how ridiculous the idea was nonetheless. "He does, actually. And he has for some time."

"How do you know?"

A pained smile came to Eivor, reminiscing about a much simpler time. "Well, I've lived with him for almost a decade now."

"Really…?" Freya's face gave away how unbelievable the concept was to her. "I can't see him ever agreeing to something like that…how did that come about? Was he asked to do it?"

"It was his idea, actually. He invited me to stay with him."

Freya shook her head again, at a loss for words and unsure of where to even begin voicing her disapproval. "Are…have you ever considered that this might be a temporary arrangement to him?"

Smile taking on some of the fondness for these memories, she replied, "I did, at one point. But when he found out he changed right away, and I haven't doubted him since." That promise he made her was always in the back of her mind, lighting the way down this dark path that held a misty fork near an undetermined end. He was always devoted to her and her happiness, never shying away from her needs even if they would be totally absurd. That level of love and dedication would be what she gave him in return.

The joy behind her words did little to convince Freya, who still appeared uneasy. "Have you — forgive me, this will sound hurtful as well, but I'm asking with your best interest in mind. Are you sure that his desires are aligned with yours? That he wants the same things you do?"

A question she had heard before, one that had given her enough experience to know her confidence would not sway anyone without some form of proof. This time, however, she had proof in the form of a tale.

"Odin always punished me for stepping out of line." The statement caught Freya off balance, seeming very irrelevant in this context, but she listened anyway. "He often asked Thor to do something that would be a problem for me, knowing his son wouldn't defy him. On one of those occasions Thor 'accidentally' redirected Seiðr magic to me that left me ill. Thanks to Odin's 'inability' to fully cure its effects right away, I was bedridden for several days, barely well enough to move. When Heimdall heard he dismissed every servant that was treating me."

"He didn't want servants constantly around his home?" Freya asked with disdain.

Eivor shook her head with misty eyes and shocked Freya more with every second as she continued, "No… he said nothing they could do was good enough. That he would take care of me himself. And that was exactly what he did. He answered my every call and catered to my every whim with his own hands, and when he was working around Asgard he would come back and check up on me regularly. At least…once per hour, actually. 

"I play music, and I sing. That was one of the things that brought us closer…he enjoyed my music," Eivor said, feeling the weight of her lyre and flute cases grow heavier with thoughts of the scion. "Over the years I asked him…hundreds of times to let me teach him how to sing, make it something we could do together. He always refused, of course, saying that he 'had no use for it.' But on one of those nights that he was caring for me, after already spending so much time on my treatment…" She had to hold back tears, that night playing out before her in perfect detail. When he came home he woke her up and started removing her clothes, which she protested at first. He promised her he wasn't doing what she was thinking, then carried her into the washroom and stepped into the warm bath, setting her on his lap while she leaned against him. He held her close while she just relaxed, breathing in the warm air and letting it relax her tired and sore body. A cloth was gently rubbed across her skin, he carefully washed her hair, making sure she "didn't smell like she'd slept all day." After he was satisfied with his handiwork, he picked her up and dried her off, then retrieved one of his tunics that he never let her wear to bed no matter how many times she asked, claiming the material was too fine to be used often. But on that night she was worth more than that soft tunic. Sleep was overtaking her before he even took her to bed, where he laid on his back and let her rest on his chest, his heartbeat lulling her into rest. And then…

"He sang to me." Eivor couldn't keep her voice from shaking as she recalled his voice, performing his favorite song out of nowhere. Her fatigue faded for a minute after he started, the surprise nearly knocking the wind out of her, tears falling as she fell asleep in his arms, already feeling so much better. "I didn't ask him to, I didn't even think about it, he just did it on his own…because he knew it would make me happy."

Freya could only nod, her story sounding more far fetched than such a simple memory ever should, yet she couldn't discount its validity. The one tear that escaped Eivor’s control was too real to accuse her of fabricating any part of it. 

Voice tiny and weak, Eivor looked up at Freya, desperate for her to believe everything — for anyone to see why she wanted to save him. "Odin makes people do terrible things, and won't let them notice until it's too late. You would know this better than anyone." Freya's eyes fell for a second, unable to refute Eivor's very valid point. "Heimdall has good in him…it's just been buried. Living in Asgard, where everyone will do anything to impress Odin, even if it means harming each other, it's made him think everyone is only out for themselves. He can be good, but he has no reason to be. And every time — every single time I come close to giving him a reason, Odin pulls him back. Keep him distrustful, detached…dependent." 

As Eivor's eyes went to the stone, lost in thought, Freya felt she understood Eivor's explanation more than she wanted to. Odin had done the very same to her during their marriage, convincing her that she didn't need her brother, that she only needed him just to keep her under his thumb. With that knowledge she couldn't deny that it was a very real possibility that Heimdall faced the same fate, and likely for as long as he could remember. It was…odd to connect with Heimdall in such a way, but not even this empathy could earn her full understanding.

"I hope you're right. For your sake." Freya led Eivor away from the vines, bringing her to the table near Lúnda's shop to set the gathered herbs down. With the topic being so sensitive, she found it best to take it in another direction. "What I don't understand is why Odin would let this happen in the first place. Heimdall is his most devout servant, and dividing his loyalty would not be in his benefit."

"That's exactly what I thought," Eivor nearly exclaimed, satisfied that someone else finally saw it too. "He was fine with it at first, even seemed to encourage it sometimes. Then one day he just…turned."

Extremely suspicious, especially for Odin. Freya was certain of that. "Did anything significant happen around that time?"

Eivor thought back to that period, remembering Odin's betrayal like it was yesterday. "It happened soon after I began living with Heimdall."

Freya paused, needing only a minute to put the pieces together. "I see…Then I have an idea that may explain his behavior." Eivor gave Freya her full attention, hopeful that everything would make sense after pondering it for so many years.

"If there's anything I know about my 'dear' ex-husband," Freya began, spitting out the phrase like it singed her tongue, "it's that everything he does is driven by fear — fear he seeks to eliminate through control. You have very unique skills, ones that could be used against him, which is why he would take you under his wing, but you and I both know that your allegiance wouldn't have lasted forever, and Odin knew that too. That frightened him." Eivor could only nod, finding it unbelievable that the powerful All-Father would be afraid of a single goddess tucked away in the temples around Alfheim. It only served to highlight his chronic paranoia. "He wasn't willing to let you get away from him if it would risk losing control over your magic. If you wouldn't stay in Asgard for him, he would have to find something else to keep you tethered to him. Something you would never give up."

The blonde goddess's face fell as the very logical line of reasoning was tied together, now seeing that she was trapped in a cage for far longer than she ever knew. "He used Heimdall as my shackles." 

Freya nodded solemnly. "Exactly. Your loyalty would falter, but Heimdall's is unshakable. Once Odin was certain you were bound to him, he showed you his true self to make you believe Heimdall was in danger, knowing you wouldn't leave him to save yourself."

Eyes closed and shaking her head, Eivor admonished, "And I played right into his hands." How could she have been so blind for so long? If only she had maintained some of her initial suspicion she may have seen Odin's ploy from the beginning.

Then again, if she didn't she may have never grown close to Heimdall. Was being right worth more than him? No, not at all. Not to her.

Freya put a hand on her shoulder, her own pain evident. "We all do at some point. But we will not be fooled again."

So many had been misled by the Raven God, allowing him to inflict far too much harm to far too many people over far too many lifetimes. Yet Freya, who was one of those victims, was still standing on her own legs, sturdy enough to move past those mistakes and take back what was stolen from her. Seeing Freya's tenacity gave her hope that she may do the same for herself and Heimdall, fueling her own determination to fight back. Eivor nodded with a steely, reinforced gaze, and Freya returned the gesture with one of her own. Just like with Sif, she had found a sister fighting against the crimes that destroyed their families.

The uplifting conclusion was perfectly timed. Kratos and Atreus re-entered the camp as if on cue, approaching the goddesses to report their success. Freya greeted Kratos, giving him a run down of their rescue plan, an explanation that Eivor tried to learn as well. Atreus prevented that by tapping on her elbow and whispering, "Hey, uh, can I ask you something?"

Eivor caught the hint of distress on his face and tuned out everything else to listen. "What's wrong?"

He took a deep breath and pursed his lips, wondering how to approach the subject. "Well, I wanted to say this earlier, but I talked to Mimir about something while Father and I were exploring."

"Okay, and?"

Another pause, the boy looking almost sad. "Um, about Heimdall…I think that —"

The crack of thunder and the explosion of lightning in the distance shattered the calm over the camp, all eyes swiveling to the source of the unrest in the night sky.

"Was that…?" Hildisvíni began.

Freya replied, "It can only be one."

"Thor." Kratos glared at the sky, remembering his recent battle with the God of Thunder too well to tolerate another. 

"But Heimdall is here, and we're already at a disadvantage. Why would Odin send him?" Mimir questioned, just as lost as everyone else.

Everyone except Eivor. Mimir was right, Thor had absolutely no reason to be there. And every time he was sent somewhere for seemingly no reason was when he had one purpose — intimidation. She doubted this time was any different. "He's here for me."

"You said Odin uses Thor to punish you. Do you really think he would do so even now?" Freya asked, watching the sky carefully.

"If he wanted something done without any questions asked, yes. Thor is the only one who will accept it silently." Not even his family would know what would happen here, even if his wife was a dear friend of hers.

Freya would not stand for this nonsense. "We can't let him interfere, we'll never get Freyr out if we have to deal with two of the Aesir."

"Then we send him back to Asgard," Kratos said, deep and gravelly voice deadly. 

"Agreed. You held your own against him, didn't you? Not even he will have an easy fight with both of us present."

Eivor stepped forward after Freya insinuated that she and Kratos would go alone. "This time I'm going with you."

The hardened stare of a warrior fled from Freya as her caring heart shone through. "Are you certain? You are his target."

"He wouldn't be here if it weren't for me. It's my responsibility to deal with it."

Her decision was stubborn enough for neither god to protest further. Atreus took his eyes away from the flashes of lightning from the distance, ready to take on the threat at hand. "Then let's go!"

"You will stay here." His father's stern command elicited a response that any teenager would give.

"Why not?! I can help!"

"I know you can, son," Kratos said, growing gentler with the boy. "But I will not have you threatened by him again."

"Actually…" Mimir chimed in, causing Freya to sigh in annoyance. "That might not be a great plan, Brother. Heimdall is still out there and the Einherjar must be anticipating an attack now that we freed the wolves. The lad would be a big target if he's left alone, even with Freyr's crew here with him."

Kratos considered his options carefully, looking down at his restless son and trying to have faith in the strength and wise courage he had built in such a short time. "Then you will come with us." He addressed Eivor next, "Your magic. You can create staves for protection?"

Eivor already knew where he was going. "I'll stay close to him. I won't let anyone hurt Atreus."

Though still reluctant, Kratos accepted her answer. "Then we go."

Mimir managed to earn more resentment from Freya when he joked, "For what it's worth, I would still like all of you even if you get charred by lightning." All the Vanir queen did was scoff.

The four gods and their bodiless friend headed straight for the source of the thunder, flashes of lightning still striking the jungle as they traveled. Thor wasn't too far, near cliffs that led down into the valley the wildlife used for migration, and he made no effort to be discreet. Claps of thunder were nearly constant, lightning struck at the trees and blew up ruins scattered across the area, destroying anything caught in the blast. Freya could only mutter her concern for the environment as they avoided the carnage, making their way closer to the eye of the storm. 

They made their way to the edge of the cliffs bordering the valley where Kratos and Freya witnessed the Great Migration shortly after killing Niðhogg, finding an entire section of the precipice chiseled out into a deep and miles wide crack with its lowest point surrounded by jagged rock faces that crackled with lightning. They found Thor it seemed, but he had burrowed so far into the mountain that he couldn't be seen from their view. "At this rate he's going to level the entire valley!" Freya growled, growing too impatient with their progress. "I'm going ahead, you —"

Out of nowhere an Einherjar leapt from the trees and barreled at Kratos, crashing into his shield with a staggering clang! Another lunged for Freya, keeping her occupied while a third erupted from the trees and also charged at Kratos, sword poised for an attack. Atreus was faster, an arrow landing in the warrior's leg and slowing it down enough for him to land another directly on the face, just in time for his father to throw the Einherjar ramming into his shield in his son's direction. The boy needed no instruction as the Einherjar stumbled to him, landing a perfectly timed kick to the Einherjar's chest that hurled him onto a thick tree trunk, knocking him out cold. More came from the trees all at once, but Eivor was quick enough to summon a barrier in their way that they all barreled into, falling back in confusion. "Eh, mayhaps this was a trap?" Mimir guessed nervously, another pillar of lightning zapping the cliffs next to them and sending charged stone down the rock face.

The queen of Vanaheim held three Einherjar in place with her powerful roots, her sword flying across the row to slice each of their heads off in one swoop. "They're going to need a better one," was Freya's fearless answer, both swords drawn and at the ready.

That seemed to be true. Eivor watched as closely as she could while staying close to Atreus, though he didn't seem to need her help either. It was a rare opportunity that she got to watch such impressive fighters closely enough to commit their skills to memory, and ones that could serve her well very soon. Kratos in particular was a marvel; a perfect balance between precise moves with his weapons and brutal hand-to-hand techniques, marking his experience and prowess in combat. He was certainly as good with his bare hands as he was with any other weapon. Terrifying, if she was honest, but probably one of the most useful combat styles for her to take in while she could. 

When the Einherjar were cleared, another bolt of lightning struck right next to them, the ground giving away and sending them all tumbling to a ledge further down the cliff. A short fall, but the collapsing stone made it more disorienting than the distance could. Before he was on his feet Kratos immediately called out, "Atreus?"

The young god sprung up, dusting himself off. "I'm good!" Eivor stood and watched Freya approach the nearby ledge, glaring down at the sight below her. Soon they joined her in peering over and witnessed Thor, standing in the enormous crack in the cliff, casually throwing Mjölnir into the stone on the opposite side of his crevice. He had flattened so much of the cliff that there was a wide clearing of broken branches and fried leaves crunching underneath his boots. 

"He's just causing a spectacle," Mimir pointed out, prompting Freya to roll her eyes at the obvious comment. 

"Yes, I never would have guessed." Freya added sarcastically. "He's luring us out."

Before Mimir could come to his own defense Eivor corrected them. "Not all of us." The guilt was creeping into her voice, the destruction of the land weighing heavily on her already.

Freya surprised her by meeting her remark without hesitation. "We will not let him get to you," giving Eivor a determined look before returning her gaze to the edge. Once again, Freya was feeling like the parent she never knew. "But we must act now."

Just like his Vanir ally, Kratos was just as hesitant for all four of them to confront Thor at once — namely, a certain young man. He turned to Atreus and Eivor and commanded, "This is where you turn back."

Atreus did not hold in his frustration. "But Father—"

Though Kratos would prefer to keep his son as far from the God of Thunder as he could, he did have a strategic reason for his decision. "This is a formidable foe. If we fail we will need reinforcements to come to our aid."

For a moment Atreus processed his father's order, slowly realizing that he was being trusted with a very critical responsibility. It was the first time his father didn't just send him away to safety, a fact that bolstered his spirit. "We'll be ready!"

In truth, Eivor was also a bit irked at being left behind, having come along specifically to deal with a threat directed at her. But if it was between her ego and making sure Atreus didn't traverse the jungle alone, she would swallow her pride.

Another ray of lightning struck a tree on the cliff above them and sent a burning log down, but Freya was able to use roots to sweep it off to the side and away from them. Just as the flaming wood was out of the way an Einherjar attempted to jump down to them, the Vanir magic giving away their location, only to be struck down by Freya's arrow well before it reached them. "It may not be much safer to send them through the jungle on their own. Atreus especially. If Odin still needs him for his mask he's definitely waiting for an opportunity. "

The God of War huffed. Did he throw his son into a deadly battle or risk him getting surrounded and captured before reaching sanctuary? It was a conflict that did not show on his face, which remained neutral as always, but his eyes darkened with worry. Eivor knew what to do to ease the father's heart, reaching a hand out to him and Atreus. "Here."

Kratos recognized the gesture and held out a hand, Atreus following suit. She took Atreus's hand, but paused at Kratos's. It was his left hand, the same one that she had already placed a transportation spell into. Interference could mean that Heimdall…

"Um, give me your other one. Just to ensure the spell stays in place." He complied, allowing Eivor to place the same spell on him again, only this time she laid the runes on Atreus's arm and weaved the golden thread to Kratos, winding it around his wrist before it disappeared. "There. If you need help Atreus will be able to reach you right away. And if we run into trouble on our way back, he can get to your side before he's hurt."

Unfortunately, Atreus caught the one flaw in her plan. "What about you?"

Honestly? It didn't matter to her at that moment. Yes, she wanted to survive for Heimdall, but she couldn't put herself first. Not after these people took a chance and trusted her word without much resistance were met with Thor in exchange. She owed them too much already. Smiling at the boy, Eivor reassured, "I can fend for myself long enough. I'll be fine."

It was not an answer he liked, but there was no time to consider an alternative. From below Thor shouted, "Come oooooon, where are ya?!!"

Freya did not take his challenge lightly. "Go. And be careful." Unlike Kratos, it was much easier to see that Freya was equally reluctant to bring Atreus any closer to Thor.

Swallowing his complaints and trusting in his father, Atreus nodded, "You too." Eivor gave Kratos one last glance, silently reinforcing her promise to keep him safe before following the boy down a narrow stone path.

Ateus called over his shoulder, "Can you climb?"

"I can do more than that." It would be a bit of a shock since she had yet to give details of the full extent of her abilities, but she could explain the sudden Valkyrie wings later.

Finding no usable footholds, Atreus led her farther down the rocky path, jumping across gaps and dropping down a few levels on the way to a wide crack that would serve as a good starting point. He was tense, and not because of the dire situation they were in. 

"I wish he would let me stay," Atreus muttered, hopping down to another ledge.

Eivor understood why Freya and Kratos wanted to keep as few people around Thor as they could, but his frustration was valid as well. Trying to remain neutral, she comforted, "He's not dismissing you. He's just trusting you with something else."

"I know, but…" he paused in front of the crack, needing to get his thoughts out before they started climbing. "It still feels like an excuse."

Perhaps it was. Eivor wanted to interrupt him as he took his first step onto the wall, hoping to preface her transformation, but the bright blue flash of lighting that blinded them tore the ground from beneath them before she could. They dropped down the cliff, broken trees and boulders falling alongside them while they plummeted further and further from their starting location until they crashed into more broken rocks. A rough fall, making them both groan at the impact's effect on their bodies. Eivor found herself wishing she had practiced summoning her shroud on short notice — wings would have been perfect if she could have concentrated long enough to call upon them.

Sitting up slowly, Atreus asked, "You okay?"

"For the most part." Eivor made her way up and looked around. They had fallen a ways, and they were shrouded in fallen trees that obscured just how far the top of the chasm was, though the walls of the crack in the cliff were closer, indicating that they had fallen further into the wedge-shaped ravine. She hoped that wouldn't affect their even longer climb back to safety.

A climb that would never happen. Her blood drained from her face when Thor's voice rang from around the debris in front of them, much closer than before. "There ya are! Are you comin' out or what?"

Not only had they fallen deeper into the gorge, they had gone all the way down to the bottom, on the same level as Thor. And he saw them come down.

This was bad. She doubted Thor would do anything to hurt Atreus since Odin needed him, but the All-Father was surely watching and would not waste a chance to use the scenario to his advantage somehow. What were the chances of that actually happening? Low, but there was still a possibility, and it was one she would not subject Atreus and Kratos to. 

"What do we do?" Atreus whispered, drawing his bow. He knew just as well that they were in a poor position, and a lot could happen while Kratos and Freya made their way down.

Actually…that gave her an idea. Atreus wouldn't be happy with her when he figured it out, however. Something to deal with later.

Hopefully.

Eivor turned to Atreus, serious and relentless. "Go. Thor can't know you're close and that transportation spell gives off light when it's used. Run towards the other end, about a hundred or so paces, then use the magic to get back to your father." A hundred paces. Yes, that seemed like enough to kill some time.

"What?! I'm not leaving you here alone!"

For this, Eivor took a page out of Kratos's book, though in contrast her excuse was a complete lie. "He and I made a plan this morning before you woke up. He knows what to do if something like this happens, you just need to tell him to do it. I'll buy you guys time."

He looked at her and at the debris shrouding Thor behind her, the torment of his position in plain view. 

"Come on out!" Thor boomed again, though this time with less energy.

The voice of the Aesir god made Atreus give in. "Just… keep him talking or something. I'll be right back!"

Eivor certainly hoped he wouldn't.

Atreus ran off, hopping over boulders and ducking through leaves of fallen trees, leaving Eivor alone. She took a deep breath. Then another for good measure.

This…was a terrible idea.

But she wouldn't let Odin hurt anyone through her. Not anymore.

Holding her head high, Eivor went around the stone and branches blocking her sight, coming out to the clearing that the God of Thunder waited in. There was no turning back. Not after his eyes met hers.

Silence. It gave her a moment to examine the destroyed terrain, and see that, given how atrociously deep the canyon was, Kratos and Freya were much higher up than she expected. All she could do was hope she could last long enough, facing Thor with a cold gaze. 

Nothing at first. And then…

"Hey, Birdie." Said the same as always, as if nothing had changed.

Birdie. The nickname he managed to slip past Heimdall. He was expecting her to reply with her usual greeting, fondly referring to him as "Big Guy," like they weren't on opposite sides of a war now. It was a seriousness that Eivor did not dismiss, steeled for the inevitable. "Thor."

He was disappointed, grimacing at her flat tone. "Come on, don't be like that…" Thor sighed, his reluctance so obvious that the raven above them landed on a nearby branch, reminding him that Odin would be expecting very specific results. Nearly groaning, he still had so much he wanted to say and had no chance to speak it. "Look…" Electric blue eyes flickered to the raven.

Eivor wanted him to speak freely, believing this may be the last time they ever could. At the same time, she couldn't convince him to do so if it meant inspiring Odin's wrath, the God of Thunder dealt with it enough without mistakes fueling it. Her barriers that kept everything out of ear's reach was not an option either, as an extended conversation that Odin could see but not hear would only convince him of treason if she came out of this alive. The only option she could think of was her spell that concealed her from both sight and sound, though she'd never used it on another person, could never get it to work.

It is a power to be respected and understood rather than bent to one's will. 

Then again, she had never tried to use it in its most natural form. Freya's lesson echoing in mind, she closed her eyes for a moment, focusing on the magic she used every day with a new lens. It wasn't her power, it was an ally. She didn't control it, it was a force she needed to understand. What could it do? And how could all of its abilities work together? 

She let instinct take over, breathing deeply as she raised a hand and let the gold dust flow freely from her fingers, channeling that same spell she used to escape Asgard, this time feeling its full potential and encouraging it to reveal itself. A faint gold light burst from the dust and expanded upward into a pillar, the top spreading out to create a dome around the clearing. Her eyes opened to examine the outcome, not even needing to wonder if it worked. The raven's confused cawing and gliding between branches while looking in every direction told her she had a private moment with an old friend. Even if it was a short one.

Thor noticed the raven's panic as well, not wasting any time. They both knew if this went on too long Odin would take matters into his own hands. "Look…I don't want to do this," he sighed, sorrowful while he threw up his hands in calm exasperation. "I don't have a reason to hurt you, Sif and Thrúd miss you like crazy… Why don't we just set something up, make it look like we had a fight that threw you somewhere. Then you just…hide or something." 

Again, she had been asked to hide. Were the situation not so dire she would start to feel annoyed. Eivor looked away, keeping her hand raised to maintain the stave while she slowly walked around, hoping some sign of movement would convince Odin that they weren't attempting a truce during this blind spot. "You know I can't do that."

"I mean, would you rather die today? Over nothing?" When Eivor didn't answer he grew more desperate. "You're probably the only one who can hide from him, and the world is better with you in it. Just…get somewhere safe."

A flicker of magic sparked in her. From a safe distance Atreus used her spell to get back to Kratos and Freya, making it safe to end this get on with it. Resolute and unyielding, Eivor gave no impression that she would ever consider his suggestion. "You should know I'm not one to go back on my decisions."

He should. He knew very well how tough she was, even though he himself had beaten her down so many times. The first of his crimes against her being the one that always weighed the heaviest. "I'm sorry about what I said."

Eivor furrowed her brow, lost.

"Years ago. At that party we threw for you after you got that…thing All-Father wanted."

…that's right.

"Here's to bein' useful."

Words Thor drunkenly slurred long ago that made her crippling fear of being used bubble to the surface. The words that drove her to lose herself to fear and flee from her own celebration.

Words that drove her and Heimdall to finally elevate their relationship.

Of course. Knowing what she did now it was obvious. Odin specifically asked Thor to say that with the intention of driving her to the one person she had confided in — and the one person Odin could use as her chains.

It was so long ago it didn't feel real, but to Thor it must have never left his mind, his tired eyes showing more shame than ever before. It wasn't his fault. They both knew that. "That's in the past now," she dismissed, referring to that specific event and all other times Thor had to be Odin's punishing hands. "But it changes nothing."

"Guess not. But I wanted to get it out before…" A hefty sigh, one that would only come about from a lost cause. Thor knew he would have no choice here. But he had one more thing that could get her to reconsider, and he was certainly going to use it.

"He's pretty torn up, you know."

Her footsteps froze, the words stabbing her heart so deeply that she nearly lost her balance. It had been the first time she heard of Heimdall's reaction since she fled, and the details made her face scrunch up with pain.

"Hasn't been himself since. Quiet and indifferent." Thor let out a bitter chuckle. "If he looked even a little different no one would recognize him anymore."

I'm so sorry, she said to herself as if her lover could hear it. The thought of the turmoil she put him through was almost enough to make her second guess her plan, wondering if it would be better to wait things out and pray she could find him later. But there was no chance of that happening, and she knew it. She was doing this for him. Her heart had to remember that to overcome the fear.

Voice nearly quivering, Eivor made her point one last time. "I'm not changing my mind." To emphasize the finality of her choice she lowered her hand, dismissing the stave and allowing Odin's eyes to watch them once more. The raven overhead immediately set its eyes back on them, giving the God of Thunder no more time to try to save someone his family cherished dearly.

Thor lifted a hand and let it fall back against his thigh, defeated. "Well…" A lull in the showdown where neither of them moved, both wishing this wasn't the way their friendship came to an end. Then, Thor snapped his fingers, his hand opening again to receive Mjölnir as it flew into his awaiting palm. Eivor braced herself, standing tall and shoulders squared, focused and ready. "This is your last chance," he warned, "I know you're tough, but you know you can't beat me." The bloodthirsty Aesir in him was taking the spotlight, his voice growing low and deadly.

That didn't matter. She was going to fight, even if victory was impossible. "Don't you think for a second that I'll go down easily."

High above the exchange, Atreus had returned to Kratos and Freya, the two parents already asking why he had returned while Eivor confronted Thor. "Never mind that!" He panted, panic and fear settling in as he watched Eivor stand across from Thor's hammer. "Father, whatever you planned, do it now!"

"What I planned?"

The boy paled, already realizing what had happened. "Eivor said you guys made a plan…"

"We had no plan," Kratos replied. He, too, had caught on. 

Eivor was facing Thor alone to protect his son.

All they could do was begin working their way down the miles of stone as Thor charged.

And gather their wits when a gold Thor charged back.

The God of Thunder swung Mjölnir at his magic doppelganger and was met with a strength comparable to his own — but not a match. He threw Eivor back and hurled his hammer at her, knowing she had no means to block such a severe blow. What Eivor did have, however, was wit. Rather than blocking she countered by sidestepping and reaching out to take the hammer by its handle as it flew by, spinning around to gain some control over it. It automatically tugged towards Thor, and combined with her mimicked strength she launched the hammer at him with deadly speed. She manages to hit him right in the gut, making him stagger back. When his balance was regained he clapped to blast a sound wave at her, one that she would be too encumbered by fighting Mjölnir's pull to dodge. Forced to let go, Eivor rolled away, allowing the hammer to fly back into Thor's hand. He slammed his weapon into the ground over and over, calling bolts of lightning to strike next to her and leave an electric patch on both of her sides, then held out his hand to channel sparks into a beam of lightning. With the crackling ground on both sides and the oncoming attack, Eivor had to switch tactics. Her disguise was shed in favor of one that could deflect even Thor's lightning, Gná's form overtaking hers and creating armored wings that parried the oncoming flash of energy. As soon as it hit her wings unfurled, a flurry of golden feathers sweeping out in an arc and piercing into Thor's chest, but he barely even acknowledged it as he sprinted across the distance. As terrifying as it was to watch the Giant Killer himself sprinting at full speed, Eivor maintained her composure and waited until he readied a punch, strafing to the side and slicing him with a wing. He grabbed it before it could strike and slammed Mjölnir into her chest. The force caused her to slide backward and stumble, giving Thor a perfect opening for one more voltaic attack. Eivor was able to steady her focus quick enough to glide out of the way, but it was at a cost. Already she felt her magic draining her stamina, and she would falter if she didn't step back and breathe soon. In that split second she chose to pull her wings in close and rapidly spin in place, shredding up Thor's side and blasting him away when she opened them on the final rotation. That was all she could manage, dispelling the mirage and nearly losing her balance as she panted.

Thor lumbered back to his feet. "C'mon, Birdie. Don't make this harder than this has to be. You know you can't keep this up forever." It was hard to tell if it was a taunt or a plea for her to reconsider his previous offer, his voice hardly conveying any emotion. A rarity for someone who enjoyed battle as much as he did.

Regardless of his intentions, the comment still made her blood boil. It sounded too much like he believed she would let something as simple as one fight be the end of years of pain — pain that she endured solely to create a better outcome with her own hands. Standing straight and eyes full of fire, she barked out, "I've been through much worse for far longer!"

A change in strategy this time. As opposed to meeting his strength with an imitation, she countered it with speed. Her new shroud was lean, quick, and one that she would have felt terrible about using against Thor if she were in a better headspace. She zipped forward and threw a punch, her fist colliding with Mjölnir's side and leaving Thor stuck staring for a moment. "Oh, that's low, especially for you!" Thor growled as he stared at the copied face of his late brother.

Not giving herself time to feel guilty for using Baldur's form in front of both Thor and Freya, Eivor sped to one side and zoomed to Thor's back, a powerful strike landing square in his back just as he was turning to block her. He fell and rolled back onto his feet while she leapt at him, hands ready to batter the god for as long as she could. She slid out of the way of a soaring Mjölnir before she dashed forward with a sharp fist ready. One hit to his chest, then two more in a blink, and a final one right to his jaw. To get her off his back, Thor recalled his hammer, commanding it to fly straight towards her on its way to its master. Eivor was able to dodge, but the advanced speed proved to be only so useful against the God of Thunder. His experience in combat made itself known, having the perfect way to take down an enemy that exploited his weaknesses. Mjölnir flew out of his hand and straight up, pausing high in the air and exploding into a ball of lightning, shooting out streams of sparks down to everything in its wake. There was no way she could dodge such sudden forces, even with Baldur's incredible power. 

But there was one god who could.

Another shroud was taken, this one so familiar that it almost hurt to copy. With the rudimentary forgery of Heimdall's foresight she could instinctively feel every shock raining down nearby and slip out of the way well before it hit, at the unfortunate cost of being unable to damage Thor between dodges, the task of keeping the shroud up while using such a grueling ability already too taxing to tolerate. Thor saw how well she managed his impromptu thunderstorm and immediately knew how to retaliate. He called Mjölnir back from the airborne ball of lightning and threw it right away. Easy to dodge, and just as easy when it came again from behind her, but he correctly predicted a fatal flaw in her movement. She ducked under Mjölnir as it returned to Thor, and with her limited version of Heimdall's foresight unable to read intentions, she failed to find a sturdy position before he summoned a storm in his hand and forced a beam of sparks directly at her. The foresight acted automatically before she could jump out of the way herself, moving her in all directions like her entire body was consumed by spasms as it avoided every little spark spewing at her. The overwhelming sensations made her headache, the shroud's opacity fading in and out while she struggled to maintain it just a little longer. Her breaths grew ragged as her energy fell to a dangerously low point. The disguise did give out, the lightning coming into full contact with her and shocking every nerve she had, her legs giving out and leaving her on hands and knees, hardly able to breathe.

Thor's onslaught stopped, his reluctance to fatally harm her returning. "Face it, Birdie. You've got no one in there that can get you out of this."

Now Thor was the one who miscalculated. After all, there was only one god who stood a chance against him — the very same god who gave him the bloody gash on his stomach.

Giving Thor no chance to take advantage of her fatigue, she ripped herself off the ground as the shape of the foreign god of war overtook her, his hefty and practiced fist smacking Thor hard enough to send him flying. Eivor already had to pause, the act of summoning her magic already tiring her out. In the meantime, Thor stood, surprising her with a chuckle. "Nice try, but trust me, you haven't even seen the God of War he's hiding in there."

Even if she did, she doubted she could replicate it in her exhausted state. Still, she refused to surrender, choosing to run right for Thor and put the hand-to-hand skills her ally built to good use. As helpful as they were, she still wished she had a weapon.

Luckily, the youngest of her approaching comrades had noticed the common flaw in every shroud she had used thus far, proven when a frost axe flipped into view and landed in the ground between Eivor and Thor. Without a second thought, Eivor pucked up the axe and reeled it back, swinging it while shards of ice gathered on its blade. It landed in Thor's shoulder, but he recovered almost immediately. Eivor recalled the moves Kratos had used only minutes ago, tossing the axe so it spun around her before returning to her hand to force Thor to give her space, then use that freedom to completely freeze the blade and slam it down onto the ground, the ice shattering and scattering cold shrapnel and a cyclone of frigid wind around her. The onlookers were actually impressed that she could recreate Kratos's skill almost to a T.

The final attack and the amount of effort required to perform it was a final mistake, the magic draining her of whatever fortitude she had left. The axe slipped from her fingers and she fell to her knees, hyperventilating and gasping like there was no air to be found. Thor hesitated one final time, his expression morose as he prepared the blow that had to be dealt. He chose to distance himself from the task as much as possible, throwing more lightning at her and hoping it would do the trick. With the last of her resistance, Eivor's hand raised and built a barrier between them, the lightning bouncing off until Thor chose to stop. Her arm fell like it was made of metal, hardly able to remain conscious at this point. Thor took a step forward, paused with another demoralized frown, then proceeded. This was it.

I'm so sorry, Heimdall. I love you.

The Leviathan axe disappeared from her side and flew past her just as a vortex of roots descended into the cliff crevice. The living wall fell between the two gods, the axe flying into it and freezing it all into one solid block. Kratos raced into view, displaying his impressive strength by taking hold of the frozen block and ripping it free, shoving it forward until he heard Thor collide with the other side. He then pulled it back and threw it hard enough for the God of Thunder to be thrown off balance. The colossal brick of ice slid across the crevice and pushed him over the edge, him and the ice falling over and into the valley below.

A beat of silence. There was not a sound. Thor could very well have come right back and faced Kratos without a problem.

But he chose not to.

Eivor whispered a silent "thank you" before collapsing onto her side, having to painstakingly peel herself up and into a sitting position, gulping in air and feeling her aching muscles pound with rushing blood attempting to mend the internal damage. She only opened her eyes and lifted her head when she heard light footsteps rushing to her, catching Atreus kneeling down next to her with Freya close behind. "Are you okay?!" He exclaimed, looking her over to find anything he could treat with his own magic.

Eivor shook her head, causing Freya to cease her own examination while Kratos met up with them, holding a hand out until the Leviathan returned to him. "I-I'm…okay," she gasped, taking a couple breaths before adding, "Just…tired."

Atreus nodded, but his worry remained — worry, and guilt.

"I've never seen anything like that, lass," Mimir marveled from Kratos's belt. "It's no wonder Odin wanted you around him."

Kratos didn't comment on her skills. "You told Atreus we had a plan."

Eivor couldn't make eye contact with him or Atreus, knowing where the guilt Atreus held came from. Brow furrowed in sadness, he said, "You…you just said that to get me to leave."

A solemn nod. "I did."

"But why? Thor could have killed you!"

Green eyes went to his. Then Freya's, then waited on Kratos's for just a moment longer before saying to all three of them, "I won't let you lose a loved one to save mine."

The quiet that enveloped them was thicker than the ice wall Kratos effortlessly hurled off the cliff, all four of Eivor’s friends stunned by the selflessness of her actions. After years of torment, she would give up the chance to save the one she loved to prevent another from dying in the process. An act of a pure heart.

An act that none appreciated more than Kratos. The loved one she was referring to in this context was his son, and this was a sacrifice he would not forget. 

"You truly are one of a kind, lass," Mimir complimented, even more amazed by her character.

"Yes. In skill and in spirit," Freya praised, smiling softly, admiring the bravery Eivor did not fail to wield.

Freya stood, ready to help Eivor up, but it was Kratos who beat her to it, reaching down to take Eivor's hand and assist her while she stood on shaky legs. She was astonished by how gentle and careful he was in spite of his size and gruff nature. Atreus, now smiling, asked, "Can you make it back okay?"

"I'll be fine…maybe just a little slow at first," Eivor laughed, lightening the lingering worry between them.

Mimir was just as kind. "Take your time, Eivor. We'll be here to help along the way," he said softly. "Well…I'll help as much as a decaying head can," he joked, making her giggle.

Now that it was clear Thor would not return and everyone was safe, Freya scanned the skies and the valley, looking for any more disturbances that could get in their way. "Rest while you can. Once we return…" she looked back at her friends, taking on the look of a competent queen and caring sister. "We have much to do."

Everything was ready. Everyone knew the plan and was raring to go. It was now time to rescue Freyr — to march on the operation Heimdall was ordered to carry out. 

They were ready, but Eivor was wondering if she was. 

She stared into the fire in the middle of Freyr's camp, still resting even though her exhaustion had subsided, using the last moments she had to think about what she would say to him. In all honesty, she thought the words would come to her along the way, yet she still had no idea where she would even start. An apology, probably, but after that…

"Eivor."

Kratos's voice was low and calm, yet it still startled her, too distracted by her own thoughts. He towered over her as she looked up at him from her seat, something in his demeanor feeling different than usual. "Yes?"

As usual he was stoic, giving nothing away. "Are you well?"

"Yeah, I'm alright now. Really."

"Well enough to travel?"

Eivor nodded, but a part of her wasn't so sure. Kratos and Freya were to split up from the rest of the team, and since he had the spell that could summon her, she saw no reason to insist on staying close to him. Though she volunteered to go with the rest of the group, where Freya said she would be needed, her anxiety infected her mind with horrible possibilities. What if Heimdall had already killed Freya's brother and she refused to let him live? What if he was furious with her and wouldn't listen to anything she had to say? What if Kratos didn't keep his word and call her when Heimdall was found?

The god accepted her silent answer, quiet for a few thoughtful moments. He steered the conversation into a completely different direction. "Earlier…you took great risks to protect Atreus."

Eivor winced, expecting some kind of scolding that fit the stern, strict general-like behavior he displayed almost constantly. 

But he had no lecture for her. "When I encounter Heimdall, no matter when that may be, I will hold back for as long as possible."

Eivor's eyes widened, putting together the unsaid words on her own. He would make sure she had her chance, regardless of the circumstances. It was amazing that caring for his son was all it took to gain his favor, for him to be willing to sacrifice anything to help. Almost failing to contain relieved tears, Eivore breathed, "Thank you, Kratos."

He had nothing to say, merely giving a small nod before taking his leave and meeting Freya on the other side of the camp. They exchanged a few words, Freya waved to Eivor, and they were off on their side of the rescue. It was just about time for her to do the same.

"Hey, Eivor?"

Atreus, timidly approaching her after putting some distance between himself and the others. He seemed nervous, almost sad. "What's wrong?"

The boy didn't hide how troubled he was, scratching the back of his neck while he stared at the ground with a deep frown. "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Of course, I'm always happy to talk with you," she smiled, hoping it would ease his worries at least a little.

He chuckled nervously, "Uh, yeah, we'll see if you still feel that way in a second." Atreus inhaled deeply, thinking of how he would explain this without making it sound like he was criticizing her decisions. "So…I have this theory. While Father and I were exploring I asked Mimir some questions about things I saw in Asgard, like what Odin does to new Einherjar."

New Einherjar? Was there any difference between the newly recruited and the veterans? "What does he do?"

"He showed me this spell he uses on them and said it gave them a 'sense of self' or something like that. When I brought it up, Mimir speculated that Odin was using it as an excuse to make them unconditionally loyal to him with some kind of magic."

Eivor barely batted an eye to that. "I believe it. That sounds like something he would do," she grumbled bitterly, despising his obsession with control.

"Yeah, that's what I'm worried about." Eivor tilted her head, losing the path Atreus was exposing. "Have you noticed what the Einherjar's eyes look like?"

She did. In fact, she had once asked Heimdall why their eye color was so similar to his, and he explained it was related to the high concentration of bifrost in their beings. Though she did wonder how he would be so sure of that. "Yes…what about it?"

Atreus hesitated, eyes looking around like the best words were hiding in the treetops. "Well…I noticed that before Odin cast the spell, the Einherjar's eyes were dark, almost black. Then after he used it, their eyes turned bright purple, looking almost exactly like…"

Heimdall's.

He didn't need to finish the explanation. She knew exactly what this meant. If the eye coloring was due to bifrost, it would have always been present in the Einherjar. If they changed after that spell…

The reality settled in and filled her stomach with poison as her face morphed with dread. 

All this time. All this time she had wondered why Heimdall never believed anything she said, always dismissed the things he knew she wasn't making up. After all these years she thought he wouldn't believe her, when the truth was that he couldn't. Even if he tried. 

Gods, what other choices had been stolen from him?

Her blood began to boil and singe her insides with fury for the wretched All-Father and his monstrous ways. Just when she thought she couldn't loathe him any more he managed to outdo himself in the worst possible way and get away with it.

The anger faded as a realization overcame her. She had a backup plan that was her last resort, something she kept to herself and was praying she wouldn't have to use. But if Heimdall was incapable of listening to her of his own free will, then when she used that plan he would surely choose…

No. No, she wouldn't think that. This backup plan was made because she knew what would happen if she tried to free her lover, and that there was no chance she would live if she didn't have Heimdall with her. Thor had already demonstrated that her presence among Odin's enemies would only bring them more trouble than they already had; she couldn't seek safety among them while she thought of something else. Convincing herself that this theory was improbable and moving past it was not an option either, considering Heimdall's account was not backed up by evidence and Atreus's was, and the boy's proof was rather damning. It left her with one possibility, and that was to embark on a hopeless endeavor.

A voice in her pointed out that there was no guarantee Atreus was right. There was still hope. She had to at least try to give Heimdall a life he deserved

In just a second her common sense quieted that voice and drowned it out with the only consolation she had.

At least she would get to see him one last time.

Atreus, unsettled by her silence, shifted his weight on his feet with guilty shoulders rising like he was trying to bury his head in his neck. "I'm not trying to talk you out of anything, I just…thought that was something you should know."

"I…" What does she even say to that? "I'm glad you told me. Thank you."

"Atreus! Eivor!" Hildisvíni called while the rest of the camp headed into the jungle. "It's time to move out."

Eivor stood, feeling her legs tremble with despair that she had to suppress. "Just…" Atreus sighed, still disagreeing with her decision but not having the heart to voice it. "Just be careful with him, okay?"

It took everything she had to smile back like there was no problem. Like she didn't know how this night would go. "I will."

As if it mattered.

"Completely giving away your position. What iiiiiidiots."

The unfamiliar voice matched an equally unknown face, though Kratos could easily predict his identity once he caught Freya's arrow before it could strike him. The god smiled from atop his mount, the beast growling as he mocked. "Oh, if it isn't Queen Mistletoe herself — hilarious by the way." He tossed the arrow away with mild annoyance, abandoning it to feign interest. "Been a while."

Freya confirmed the God of War's suspicion as she greeted their new foe. "Heimdall." Said coldly, like she was attempting to hold back her disgust.

Then Heimdall's attention shifted, violet eyes shooting to Kratos. He was shocked to see hatred eclipse his arrogance. "And you…" Heimdall drawled,  pointing at the tattooed god while the graðungr paced and snarled impatiently, "must be the little half-breed's father." He practically spat the word, like this was a personal matter. The change in his demeanor was masked with controlled excitement, slapping his saddle while he laughed, "Lucky day! You have a lot to answer for, sunshine."

His distaste for Kratos was palpable, and seemingly without reason.

"You too, traitor," Heimdall added for Mimir, though much lighter than the way he addressed Kratos.

As Mimir criticized Heimdall, Kratos reached a hand down to his shield to cover Eivor's runes with his hand. There was a spark, dust appearing to leak from the spell that was consumed by orange fog before it fizzled out. 

Nothing happened.

Freya glanced down as she noticed the failed magic, the pair sharing a look of resignation. There was nothing they could do. 

Heimdall saw the magic pathetically fading with a smirk, finding it absolutely hysterical that they had tried some silly trick that was incredibly stupid and pointless yet again. 

In the back of his mind he noted that something about that spell was familiar…

A matter he could consider later, after this monster was dealt with.

From across the jungle, Eivor shielded her allies from the waves of Einherjar, keeping as many adversaries away from Beyla as she freed Freyr from his bindings as quickly as possible. The burst of energy from within made her heart stop. 

She lifted her hand to witness the spell's activation, getting mentally prepared for what could be her most painful battle yet. Her blood ran cold mind froze as she saw the runes glow weakly before fading, the magic slipping away in a faint orange glow without the pathway she expected.

"No…" Eivor nearly clawed at her hand as if it would bring the spell back, somehow mend the connection between her and her one chance. "No no no! No! Why didn't it work?!" None of her magic had ever malfunctioned before, not even in the slightest. The same spell had even worked just hours ago. Why not now?!

Hildisvíni called to her as he shot arrows at the Einherjar that were no longer hindered by her barriers. "Eivor, what's wrong?"

"No, no please…" Her world was falling to pieces before her eyes, the Einherjar threatening to jump at her any second far from the most debilitating threat now. "Heimdall," she whimpered, only able to picture his cold corpse abandoned in the jungle, grasping the back of her palm like it held the solution.

Perhaps it did. With the extended physical contact she felt a single thread. Weak, and hardly existent, but it was there. It pulled her in a direction, much like her mysterious tattoo did on occasion.

There was hope.

Without a word Eivor barreled into the trees, Hildisvíni begging her not to run off alone when there were enemies everywhere. Nothing could stop her, not even the destruction of the realms. Heimdall will. Not. Die.

She hated that the jungle was far too dense to fly through with Valkyrie wings.

"I know you didn't want this, but we know how this ends," was Freya's warning. There was no telling if Eivor would make it now, and Heimdall's survival became more and more unlikely by the second. "See you soon."

A part of Kratos was relieved Freya gave in so quickly. Not only did Freyr need her more, but he was certain Eivor had some way of knowing her spell had failed. She must have been on her way, and Kratos would give her time to travel. 

He owed her as much. She risked her life for his son, and in return he would ensure she had a chance to save the person she loved — even if it meant letting Heimdall get away alive.

Heimdall chuckled at Freya's ridiculous notion as Kratos solidified his decision to take a risk for Eivor. "Oh, we both know that's not true. But don't worry Frigg, I'll be coming for you and your brother as soon as I am finished here." His sentence grew lower and more acidic as he spoke, Gulltoppr stalking closer to Kratos in agreement. "Now…"

Kratos watched as his eyes fell into a vicious darkness, scowling at him with a level of abhorrence for him that he hadn't witnessed in lifetimes.

"Watcha got?"

#songbird of asgard #heimdall #god of war #heimdall x reader #heimdall gow #heimdall x oc #gow heimdall #god of war heimdall #the songbird of asgard #god of war ragnarok

[ninjahiccups]

The Songbird of Asgard

Chapter 15: Loki

AO3 Masterlist Word Count: 16.7k Warnings: Some angst

Life was never the same after Odin revealed his true face, but it did become constant in many ways. That all changes after Baldur dies, Fimbulwinter begins, and an odd Giant names Loki visits Asgard (Hey look the main cast is finally here).

Outside of the window Thrúd is sparring with a few Einherjar, her shiny new weapons glinting in the sun as she smashes the pommel of her sword into one of their chests. They were a ways from the training grounds, the young goddess knowing that would be the first place her mother would look for her when she's out without a word for too long, but none would mention any inconvenience it caused to the daughter of Thor. 

Eivor smiled and shook her head as the teenager guffawed heartily when the last Einherjar fell in the mud, victorious once again, proving her advanced skill for her age. It was still a wonder that she was this old now…it felt like just last week she was the little girl who was constantly full of energy.

It had been a full ten winters since Eivor came to Asgard, eight of those years spent living alongside Heimdall. Ten long years as his partner. Ten years of feeling like an "unofficial" wife to him.

Ten years in Odin's firm grasp.

She sighed as she resumed her task, placing the slices of bread onto the wooden plate, careful not to get any crumbs on Heimdall's desk. Her mind wandered to the years that had passed by, how things had changed yet somehow remained the same. Heimdall had kept up his clean act, never falling back on his more demanding and forceful habits from the beginning of their relationship. He still left her little notes in the mornings — although they were less frequent now that she often woke up alongside him — that she always kept, making her collection of them quite expansive now. His gifts grew more sparse, but each one was more special than the last, including a new lyre that matched the beautiful flute he gave her, made to extend the life of her father's aging lyre. He had given it to her five years into their life together, claiming the one from her parents would last longer if she had another. She remembered that day fondly…one of her most cherished memories among the treasure trove of them she had made with him.

Though there was one negative change with Heimdall, and that was their occasional spats.

Many times she tried to get through to him. Odin was still looming over them, constantly and silently reminding her with every chore he gave her that there was nothing she could do to fight back against him, no way to escape without dire consequences. So many times she tried to tell Heimdall, hoping she could finally make a point that he couldn't shoot down. Little progress had been made, and her attempts only served to make him angry and lash out at her. It had actually taken several harsh words that he regretted for him to learn how to keep in his frustration and dismiss her fears without losing his temper. As a result, however, he often avoided the topic whenever she tried to bring it up, sometimes even finding a reason to leave before he could blow up. It was the only thing they ever argued about. It had to be. Eivor refused to let Odin have his way without a fight.

And Odin took full advantage of her inability to tear Heimdall away from him. He had no issue with using "subtle" means to teach her lessons. On one occasion she had found another way to explain her view to Heimdall, seeming to make just a little bit of headway by insisting she was afraid he would be asked to give his life during Ragnarok, and that she didn't want that to be the way their relationship ended. Odin didn't appreciate the level of consideration Heimdall gave to that perspective. The next day, he sent Eivor with Thor to dispose of some rampaging Revenants in Svartalfheim, where Thor "accidentally" redirected some of their poison magic to her. It ended with her falling severely ill, and being bedridden for days. Odin insisted he didn't have magic that could completely dissolve the poison and he could only use magic that would dispel it gradually, but she knew he was lying. And she knew that he ordered Thor to do this to her, if the guilt ridden expression and increase of binge drinking was anything to go by. It did backfire in a way, thankfully. She had Heimdall's full attention until she was better.

With every reminder she was given, Eivor only had more reasons to find ways to rebel by studying and experimenting with her magic. She had come up with special spells to help shield herself and others more than she ever could. Odin's ravens could never see her when she was alone, but as soon as she came close to someone else she would be exposed. With some practice, she was able to create a stave to shield her even from all eyes. With this stave active she could be around people the birds could track without them noticing her, and it seemed that lack of acknowledgement kept her from being revealed to the ravens. That gave her some limited ability to sneak around without eyes on her, and even though the need for it was rare she continued to improve upon it. A more common variation was a stave that only shielded outsiders from the sound made within it. She had managed to have a number of late night and early morning conversations with Heimdall that way, the All-Father assuming they were sleeping during those times. It had probably saved her from a world of pain a few times. 

Heimdall had confided in her more over the years, and he had given away some of his most well guarded secrets from within that stave — ones that Odin surely would not let her hold so easily. The most important one was about his parentage. She was shocked to hear him say he had no idea who his parents were or where he came from. According to Odin, he was wandering Asgard as a young child and was eventually found and taken in by the All-Father. Other than that, not even Odin knew where he came from.

None of it was true, and Eivor knew it. To find a god with Heimdall's abilities by chance? That was far too convenient to be true. It was sickening to hear him praise Odin for taking him under his wing when he must have done something terrible to Heimdall long before his memory could record it, but she had no evidence to prove him wrong, nor did she want to irritate him by pushing him to think more about his parents. All she could give was an expression of gratitude for his trust. 

She practiced tracking spells, undoing spells, honing her skills with copying others, all in an attempt to find a chance to get Heimdall as far from Odin as possible eventually. Unfortunately, her sneaky habits had to extend to Heimdall himself as well.

Much to her sadness and shame, she got better at only partially blocking out Heimdall's foresight by keeping specific thoughts hidden, allowing her to say and think things he didn't want to hear without making him suspicious. She tried to do it as little as possible, fully aware that she was breaking her promise to always be honest with him by doing it. But it was for his own good. At least she hoped it was.

Eivor strengthened her skills, found small ways to defy Odin and repay those she would hurt by following his commands, all while she made the most out of her time with Heimdall. It was far from ideal, but she was still happy enough to stay motivated. It was like that for years. Heimdall went on like nothing was wrong, she reluctantly carried out Odin's will and used her magic as he expected, and she and Heimdall tried to put their disagreements aside to keep living together happily. 

Then Baldur died.

The foreign god. It was a phrase whispered among Asgardians, coated in fear and disgust. Odin had shared terrible tales of this god, explaining that he found a way to break Baldur's curse just to kill him in cold blood, in front of his mother as well. Eivor had never met Freya, and nothing she heard about her was positive thanks to the enormous bias the Asgardians held, but she had always wanted to meet the Vanir goddess anyway, admiring her reputation for kindness and skilled magic. To think that a gentle soul like hers had her son killed in front of her for no reason…it made her shiver.

She would take Odin's declarations with a grain of salt if it weren't for Magni and Modi. 

When Magni hadn't returned with Modi after they were sent to confront the foreign god, Sif was distraught. Thor, in his drunken state, was only angry. Eivor tried to stop Modi and heal him before he fled, but the young god was too beaten and frightened by his father to listen. The God of Thunder had sobered up by the time word got out that Modi was also slain. Three Aesir struck down by the same god for nothing but wanton cruelty.

At first Eivor believed Magni was killed in self defense, finding it fitting that Odin would order them to leave no other choice. But Modi…to kill him while he was hurt, vulnerable, and helpless was senseless, completely without reason. The fact that this foreign god was willing to kill Modi while he was injured made Odin's claims much easier to believe once Baldur had fallen. 

Only one good thing came from the situation, and that was a shift in Thor's family. To salvage what was left of her family, Sif gave up drinking of any kind and demanded Thor do the same, although the latter with much less success. That shift also gave Eivor an ally in her solitary quest. The goddess had discreetly confided in her about her distaste for Odin's lack of remorse for causing her sons' deaths and feared he would one day do the same to Thor and Thrúd. Eivor subtely shared that she had similar feelings about guarding her own loved ones against the manipulative raven god, and Sif caught on right away. The pair were already friends, but with that mutual agreement they became sisters in a war against a false god.

Even so, their tiny hints of resistance could do nothing about this foreign god or Odin's efforts to keep him out of the way. Magni and Modi were lost, Baldur was killed, and Odin was still willing to throw anything he had at this outsider to prevent him from causing more mayhem. If this foreign god was powerful and ruthless enough to single handedly destroy his own home, then he could possibly overpower Thor. And if Thor was killed, the next person on the chopping block was…

Heimdall.

The thought made her shudder and her blood freeze. No, she wouldn't let that happen. She wouldn't let Odin do that to him. 

She shook her head of the thought, instead working on lifting the fabric from beneath the wooden plate of food and tying the ends into a knot, ready for transportation. This was the most she could handle right now. Doing little things to aid and spend time with her busy watchman in the midst of Fimblewinter. 

Picking up the wrapped up plate, Eivor exited the cabin and whistled exactly how Heimdall taught her, the thumping of Gulltoppr’s paws sounding just moments after. The graðungr stopped in front of her, laying down low enough for her to comfortably mount without being told. After giving the beast a friendly pat on the neck, she took a seat on his back, both legs dangling over one side. Again, without a single command Gulltoppr stood and headed for wherever Heimdall was — a skill neither she nor Heimdall had trained him to do, he simply figured out that whenever she called Gulltoppr she wanted to be taken to his master . It made sense, considering how often she did it nowadays. Ever since Fimbulwinter began Heimdall had been even busier than ever, their time together shorter than either of them wanted.

As expected, she was taken to the wall lift, where Heimdall was definitely stationed and keeping his watchful eyes open for any intruders. Eivor hopped off Gulltoppr and gave him a few berries — something Heimdall would object to, but she believed the beast deserved it — and climbed to the lift, having to wait for it to come back down before she boarded. Perhaps today would be the day she managed to sneak up on Heimdall before he caught her. 

After the lift came down and took her back up to the top, she cursed to herself when she saw him already approaching her. Unwilling to give up, Eivor ducked behind one of the huge boulders and closed her mind. She may not have the element of surprise, but she could still jump out at him. When his footsteps came close enough she leapt out, barely making it a step into his view before his hands caught her shoulders and held her in place. He was grinning and said over her laughter, "You think you're soooooo tricky, don't you?"

Eivor wiggled out of his grasp, claiming, "I'll get you one day."

Heimdall shook his head and hummed, stepping up to her again to put a hand on her chin. "No…no I don't think that's going to happen." He leaned down to give her a kiss, his other hand coming up to cradle the side of her face. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Songbird?"

"I can't just come by to see you?"

"I certainly don't mind, but you do have something in your hands."

A casual shrug, refusing to let him revel in the fact that she brought him something. "I thought you might be hungry."

His eyebrow shot up and he lifted her head by the chin, an impish gleam in his eyes. "I suppose I am…but not for food."

Eivor couldn't help the faint blush on her cheeks. "Well…" a pause and a slight lean towards him. "I'm afraid I can't help you with that," she finished while pulling away, her tone teasing. Heimdall rolled his eyes and chuckled, smiling fondly as she set the wrapped up plate on a tall stone and undid the knot at the top. "I only found one apple when I went to the lodge. Bread and cheese will have to do." Just as she said, the fabric peeled away to reveal a few slices of bread and sliced cheese, accompanied by one bright red apple. She was grateful it was one that looked good, knowing that, according to Heimdall, an "unsightly" one would be worse than none of his favorite fruit.

A growl came from Heimdall as he stood by her side. "How could they run out of something as basic as fruit? What are they doing with their time?"

Giving him some room to start eating his lunch, Eivor sarcastically replied, "Oh, I don't know, maybe getting more? That would make sense, wouldn't it?"

"Of course it makes sense, but it would make even more sense if they did that before they ran out."

No argument could change his mind, that much Eivor knew. She didn't bother, instead giving him something else to talk about. At least that was the goal. Whether or not he would complain about something else was usually hit or miss. "So, anything new?"

As he took a moment to finish chewing, Eivor glanced behind him, catching sight of the half submerged ruins of Týr's temple in the distance. It was difficult to hold back a sigh, the destruction of the center of realm travel a perfect example of the effects of the very long Fimblewinter they were suffering from. Water levels began to rise the same day Baldur died and escalated within days. Of course, Odin made sure to direct the waters to the temple, referring to it as a "necessary sacrifice" to manage the flooding. To her it looked like an excuse to lock everyone both in and out of Asgard. 

"Not yet, though the mortals have continued being busy," Heimdall started, regaining her attention. "Their efforts are really worthless though. Their little fences and feeble barricades aren't going to save them more than I will."

"But if they did nothing you would complain that they're being lazy."

"And they would be."

"So what should they do, then?"

"Something useful."

"Such as…?"

Heimdall had to pause to think. If he didn't have a good answer he would be admitting that she had a point. With a shrug while finishing the last slice of bread, he said, "Even they can think of something."

Eivor nodded silently. Most would have thought the remark to be dismissive, but she spoke his language well enough to know he understood. She opted to mess with him instead of pressing further, slowly working her way behind him as he picked up the apple on the plate. "That must be so easy to say considering you just march along the top of a wall all day." 

Just as her hand reached out to poke him in the back with the sole purpose of annoying him, he turned around and caught her by the wrist, his other hand tossing the red apple up and down nonchalantly. "Frankly, I take offense to your 'interpretation' of my hard work."

"Frankly, you take offense to a lot of things."

"I do not."

"The first thing you did when I asked you something was complain, so…"

"And you complained about me in response. Do you really have any right to lecture me?"

Eivor giggled while he maneuvered his hand to grasp her fingers and plant a firm kiss on her knuckles. "Fair point," she relented, barely able to keep eye contact as he just smiled at her. His gaze was so intense that she had to redirect his attention before he used her embarrassment to tease her. "But you have to admit that you spend an awful lot of time just prancing across a wall."

Heimdall let out a loud scoff, sharply catching the apple one last time to emphasize his rebuttal. "Prancing?" he said with such disbelief that Eivor couldn't help but laugh. "I'll have you know that I do not —"

He stopped, entire body freezing. His eyes went over her shoulder to look out into the fields, brow furrowing. Eivor was still laughing at his ridiculous attitude, finally managing to steady her breath and ask, "What?" with the same lighthearted feeling. The carefree mood fell when his eyes didn't move, tense as stone. Eivor looked around and saw nothing out of the ordinary. "What? What's wrong?"

She waited for Heimdall to answer, completely caught off guard when he finally mumbled, "Someone's coming."

The idea was ludicrous. They were on top of the tallest wall in all the realms, and not by a small margin. She chuckled and said, "From where? The sky?"

Heimdall's frown only grew more taut. He pulled her by the hand towards the lift, not taking his watchful gaze off of the edge of the wall. "You need to leave. Now."

His urgency puzzled her as he finally looked at her and led her to the one exit she had. "What is it?"

With a theatrical sigh, Heimdall grasped her hand tighter and stood in front of her, leaning down closer as he said, "I have to find out, but not while you're here." One more firm kiss to her hand, then he smirked. "So… go away." Her giggle calmed him just enough to make him smile again, but he couldn't let her linger any longer. If someone was invading the city he refused to let them anywhere near his Songbird. Eivor finally pulled away from him with an exaggerated "fine," gathering up the empty plate and heading to the lift. Before he turned away he called out, "And don't —"

"When have I not sent it back up?" Eivor interrupted, familiar with his hatred for waiting for the lift.

Heimdal shook his head with a smirk and waited until she was on the lift before he turned his back to her and marched to the other opposite edge of the wall, apple still in hand. 

Eivor glanced over at him one last time before she was too low to see him, catching him kneeling by the edge and grabbing something. It sounded like he was…talking? 

Perhaps those Midgardians really did come up with a new way to protect themselves.

Within hours it was the talk of the town. A young man by the name of Loki, showing up unannounced, having no escort other than an observing Huginn, and reaching the city by somehow climbing up the mountainous wall with his bare hands. Rumor had it that he was a Giant, first of his kind to set foot in Asgard in lifetimes. Eivor also heard that, apparently, Heimdall did not greet this Giant warmly, going as far as fighting him until Odin swooped in and stopped them. From then on Loki was deemed an honored guest to be treated with the utmost respect and was whisked away to accompany the All-Father on his duties. 

Heimdall was irate when he returned home that night, ranting and raving about how dangerous this Loki was, how Odin shouldn't trust him, and absolutely incensed that his advice was not heeded.

It didn't take long for Eivor to put the pieces together and figure out that Odin intentionally didn't tell Heimdall about Loki's arrival and didn't simply bring Loki into Gladsheim with his ravens to make himself look so much more welcoming when compared to Heimdall. Who was doing his job. It made her blood boil at the audacity Odin had, using Heimdall's loyalty, dedication and justified hostility to make himself look better, then throw it back in his face for doing his duty. Every time she thought the All-Father couldn't get any worse, he somehow managed to do just that.

Since then Heimdall had spent most of the time he would usually set aside for her to monitor Loki, unwilling to let him wander around with total freedom. She truly didn't understand his persistence until the morning after the jötunn arrived, when she spoke to Sif. The goddess was equally furious, and explained why.

Loki was the foreign god's son.

Just thinking about it made Eivor tremble where she sat. She had taken refuge at a small fire pit surrounded by benches a short walk away from the lodge, singing and playing her lyre to herself. No matter how hard she tried to find peace, her mind kept wandering to the newcomer, whom she had yet to meet despite him occupying the city for a few days now. Every few minutes she would wonder if the foreign god would burst into the realm looking for his son, ready to tear Heimdall to pieces once they inevitably met. She couldn't wrap her head around exactly why Odin would take such a risk — aside from sheer arrogance. He must have been too sure that no one could ever enter Asgard without his permission.

Which would actually serve her. A little trick she stashed away would be much more viable if that was true.

She tried focusing on the lyrics she sang again, an old tune she learned from the mortals. It didn't seem to be the right choice, however, not interested enough in the generic chorus to keep her mind from returning to Heimdall. He was constantly so stressed out, so angry and agitated. So much so that she started to miss him.

The only thing that would finally get her racing mind to halt was the break of her barrier. Years ago, she started putting up invisible staves around her when she was alone, allowing her to feel when a raven entered the stave and informing her that she was being watched. That disturbance tore her attention from the strings and silenced her voice, ears now listening for the raven that had to be close.

Except it wasn't a raven, judging by the direction of the disruption. And the approaching footsteps.

Eivor turned in her seat, her green eyes locking onto bright blue ones a few strides down the road. Those eyes were wide, like a startled deer, soon growing apologetic as the boy they belonged to chuckled nervously. "Uh…sorry. I don't mean to bug you."

"That's alright…" Eivor trailed off. This was an unfamiliar face, and his clothing and tattoos made it clear he was an outsider. 

This had to be Loki.

…Really?

He'd been described as a young man, but to Eivor he was still a child, no older than Thrúd. His slight frame and bow contradicted the stories about his brutish father, and his kind demeanor lacked any of the danger she had expected. She may not have possessed foresight like Heimdall, but she didn't need it to know there was nothing about this boy to be wary of. He was just a child.

Which made it all the more infuriating that Odin was using him somehow.

"Ummm…" Loki stuttered, still unsure of how to proceed. "I hope it's not a bother, but I just wanted to ask you something."

His shyness made her smile. She was similar when she was a child, trying to be polite without really knowing what to say. Her suspicion faded and her shoulders relaxed, wanting to help this boy feel less intimidated by her. "It's no trouble at all. Come, take a seat."

With a bit more confidence, Loki joined her on the bench, holding a leather notebook with a yellow handprint on the cover. "That was you singing, right?"

"Yup, that was me."

Loki smiled warmly, looking far younger than his facial scars would suggest. "Wow, you're really good!"

Eivor laughed, loving the bright twinkling in his eyes. In no time, she had difficulty believing she was ever cautious of him. This was clearly a gentle soul belonging to a young boy with so much to learn. It was refreshing to meet someone like that after growing so used to the rough and tough warriors and overworked servants in Asgard. "Thank you, but I'm sure that's not why you came all the way over here."

"Oh, right." His gaze faltered, falling to the notebook for a moment while his fingers played with the leather binding. "Do you know that song well? Like what it's called and all the lyrics?"

"I do. The Midgardians outside the wall taught it to me."

Loki blinked at her in surprise. "Wait, you visit New Midgard?"

That was confirmation that he knew she was a goddess; it wouldn't be so surprising if she wasn't. This gentle heart was sensitive to magic as well. "Of course. I use my magic to make spells and staves to protect them from the wildlife that's worked up from Fimbulwinter."

"That's nice of you. I thought the Aesir always stayed in the wall."

"Most do, unfortunately."

He nodded, seeming to understand her implication that she disapproved of the Aesir's lack of involvement with outsiders. A subject change felt necessary to both of them, prompting Loki to say, "Well, this is going to sound kind of weird, but would you mind singing that song for me? And telling me what it's called?"

A strange request. Sure, asking her to sing something was fairly normal after being the Songbird of Asgard for so many years, but to talk about the song as well? That wasn't something she'd been asked before. "Is that all you wanted?"

The Giant grew sheepish, shrinking a little as his eyes drifted forward and stared off into space. "Yeah…it was a song my mother would sing when I was a kid. It's been so long since I heard it that I don't really remember it, so I wanted to write it down. Just to, you know…" He couldn't finish his explanation, but he didn't need to. This Giant — this young god, as powerful as those titles may be, was still a boy who missed his mother, and bonding with a lost parent through music was something Eivor understood too well to ignore. 

Eivor readied her lyre and gave the name of the song. "Tell me when you're ready," she instructed, loving the smile Loki wore as he eagerly flipped to a blank page and jotted the words down. Mindful of the difficulty of the song's language, she sang it a bit slower, though Loki seemed to be keeping up well enough. She sped up to its usual tempo, still seeing him effortlessly catch every word without a hitch. Once the song was over, Loki closed his notebook and grinned at the cover while running a hand across the yellow print on it. He looked back up and said, "Thanks. I'm really glad I have that memory back now."

"Of course," Eivor replied, eyeing his notebook with a bit of worry. "But are you sure you got everything? I know the language isn't as common as it once was."

"That's okay. I speak a lot of languages."

"Really?"

"Yeah, that's actually why Od— All-Father asked me to come here."

Her stomach sank. That's right, this young, innocent child was Odin's latest tool. She'd already forgotten. If his statement wasn't enough of a wake up call, the sudden disturbance in her stave was. A raven had just landed nearby to watch them. Odin was making sure she didn't say anything to Loki that would compromise his plans, whatever they may be."Because you speak a language?"

"More like I'm good at translating them. I guess you can say he has a… 'treasure map?' I'm translating it for him and looking for what it leads to."

Yet again, his story was a taste of déjà vu for her. "Is that why you're here? You want to find this object too?"

Now Loki hesitated. He didn't want to say exactly what his intentions were, making his reluctance to speak plainly understandable. And wise.

And probably the reason Heimdall wouldn't let him out of his sight.

"It's not really about the thing he's looking for."

"So what brought you here?"

"That's, uh…" He let out a sigh, sounding tired. "It's complicated. But the short answer is I'm trying to help people."

"That's very noble of you," Eivor complimented, appreciating the careful honesty. "Though I can't help but feel like this is a very dangerous way to do it. Couldn't you find a better alternative?" She knew the raven listening in would not be pleased, but she'd rather have Odin on her case than let Loki subject himself to whatever trouble his involvement may cause.

Surprisingly, Loki looked angry, maybe even exasperated. "Yeah, maybe, but…" Another sigh, this one morphing his frustration into sadness. "It's kinda hard when the people you want to protect won't protect themselves."

With that phrase Eivor felt her heart break. It was a concept she knew better than she wanted. She had spent so many years trying to prevent Heimdall from meeting his demise through his loyalty, but his awful arrogance and pride, paired with Odin's meddling, caused him to leave himself out in the open, poised to take the hit whenever it came. It hurt to watch, and it hurt even more to have no way to change it, making the most drastic measures the most reasonable. Loki was a strong child to be able to manage such a devastating trial on his own.

Although, she wondered exactly who he was trying to protect. Based on what she'd heard about the boy, the only plausible person was his father. But why would such a ruthless and powerful foe need to be protected?

Setting her theories aside, Eivor chose to shift the attention off of Loki, hoping to remove the tension from his posture. She also wanted to give him a little information and see how he would receive it. This could be what proves if he's truly an ally. "I actually did something very similar after Odin brought me to Asgard." Blue eyes widened a bit, but Loki remained silent. He caught her admission. "I traveled the realms for All-Father as well, using my magic to track down something he needed."

The boy took on an air of suspicion. He was now wondering if he could trust her, no doubt. "Did you do something good — I mean…important?" And he tried to mask his distaste for Odin's goals. There was far more going on in his mind than most would give him credit for.

With that question, Eivor was able to communicate exactly where her allegiances lie, so long as he understood her cipher. "In some ways. I have to admit that my perspective doesn't always match everyone else's. Since I'm not from Asgard I tend to view things…differently."

Loki maintained eye contact with her, the pair communicating with their expressions. He was clever enough to understand the message. She was not a willing participant in Odin's plans, and that made her a reliable friend.

That was something Atreus would remember.

Knowing the raven was still watching, Eivor directed Loki's attention back to the original point, acting like there was nothing covert within the conversation. "I didn't do any of it alone, though. I had a partner in my search. Heimdall."

Loki grimaced so violently that it made her laugh. "Ugh, sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. It all worked out better than expected in the end."

Her smile was saying more than she was, making Loki curious. He wanted to ask her to tell him more, but Huginn landed on a bench next to him, squawking impatiently. "I guess that's for me."

As the Giant stood and stashed his notebook away, Eivor grew apprehensive. "Off to another realm?"

"Maybe? I think All-Father just wants another progress report."

Loki turned to Huginn, ready to leave. The idea of just letting him go, having no idea where Odin would send him or what would happen when he got there didn't sit well with Eivor. She raised a hand to stop him and said, "Before you go…" The curious look on his face showed his youth once again. He looked so young and fragile, so much like she was when she was trying to find her place among the elves. It was hard to remember that this innocence was being used against him, and that this could be the last time she saw him. "In case you do leave the realm, and it is Ragnarok, I just wanted to say…" How does she phrase this without it being too obvious? "The safest place is at All-Father's side, and leaving it can expose you to more danger than you can see. Be careful while outside of Asgard."

No response was given at first, the young god just staring at her in thought. In a few moments he gave her a nod and a sincere, "I'll keep that in mind."

Loki could hear the words that were spoken. Odin would be watching him, closely and carefully, whenever he was not under his direct control. It was a warning — he was not safe even if he did have an alliance with the All-Father. Given her background, he believed she would know that better than anyone. 

Huginn cawed again, forcing them to end their quiet exchange. Trying to look as casual as possible, Loki said, "Thanks for the song and the advice, um…" 

His embarrassed look told her exactly what was wrong. With a chuckle, she introduced herself. "Eivor."

"Eivor. Thanks for the help!" Loki waved at her with a sweet smile. That was the last she saw of him before the ravens engulfed him and swept him away.

A part of her was still worried for the boy, but another was starting to trust his capabilities. He was clearly intelligent, alert, self-sufficient, and far more aware than most his age would be. There was something in him that was prepared for the future. In that regard, he was so much like the Giants, worthy of his people's reputation.

Well, his mother's people. She desperately hoped he wasn't like his father.

"What did he want?"

There he is. Eivor was beginning to wonder what was taking so long. Eivor stood from her seat, carrying her lyre over to a very agitated Heimdall. His arms were crossed as he glared towards the Lodge, knowing Loki was inside. "He was interested in the song I was playing. That's all."

His head whipped around to look at her, throwing his hands down to release some of the pent up hatred in him. "You shouldn't talk to him. He's a classic wolf in sheep's clothing. Dangerous."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes. He was so dramatic with his wolf analogy. "And how is that?"

The boredom in her tone only set him off more. "Don't underestimate him like everyone else. That half-breed is a catastrophe waiting to happen!"

Eivor wasn't sure where to even start with that statement. She was probably one of the few who didn't underestimate Loki, any catastrophe he may cause would likely hurt Odin the most, which wasn't a bad thing, and the term "half-breed" was hardly acceptable considering Eivor herself was also technically a half-breed with her Aesir and Vanir heritage. All three of those points were subjects she would rather not breach, instead choosing to at least attempt to calm him down. "Heimdall, he hasn't done anything —"

"Yet."

"But even if he did, you know I can handle myself."

"I know that," he growled, glower returning to the lodge. "But I don't want you to. Not because of this little liar and manipulator."

The irony.

"He's not really on our side," he added, making Eivor roll her eyes again.

"Does he have to be?"

A bold statement to make at the time, and one that pointed them in a direction that Heimdall could clearly see. He sighed, "We're not talking about that right now." The last thing he needed was to start their argument about the ridiculous accusations surrounding Odin.

"Heimdall," Eivor said softly, hoping to regain his attention. His eyes remained on the lodge, still burning holes into the walls. Eivor stepped up to him and put a hand on his shoulder, finally getting him to look back at her. "He's a child. Are you saying you're this scared of a child?"

"I am not afraid!" He countered immediately. "And of course I can handle him…but my hands are tied." He went back to staring at the lodge, the loss of eye contact draining Eivor of what patience she had left. 

"Have you considered why that is?"

There it was again. Heimdall still had no interest in the matter. Speaking through gritted teeth, he bit back, "We are not. Having. This. Discussion."

They never do, not long enough for her to ever make him understand. If Odin didn't get in the way, he always shut her down eventually, and it never stopped hurting. Eyes downcast, Eivor shrugged, defeated. "Well, you've trusted All-Father unconditionally for this long, haven't you? So stop being so paranoid and…keep doing that." As she walked past him her hand squeezed his upper arm. A silent expression of love when she didn't have the energy to speak it. 

Those final words made Heimdall lose interest in the lodge, looking over his shoulder to watch her go. His stomach was churning at the sadness in her voice.

Over the years he had figured out that she learned how to keep specific things out of his foresight, how to hide parts of her from him. If he hadn't had so much practice with learning about her reactions and emotions with his other senses he wouldn't have realized just how hurt she was by his relentless denial. He had attempted to force his way through her defenses, trying to see what she was too afraid to tell him. Unlike her, he hadn't made nearly as much progress as he wanted, only able to get a basic read on her secret emotions, but no specific thoughts to help him understand what was going through her mind when they had their disputes. Yet he still carried on with them, somehow never finding a way to sit down and ask her why this was causing her such distress, as if something in him wouldn't allow it. 

This time was no different. He knew she was upset, could see it with his eyes, hear it with his ears, and feel it with his heart, but no matter how often he disappointed her with his denial he just couldn't stop doing it. 

The guilt started to creep in. Once again she was sacrificing herself for his sake, while he just watched, dumb and blind to how hurtful his lack of reciprocation was. 

He would make it up to her. Somehow.

But first…

"I just don't get what his deal is."

Thrúd stopped whacking the training dummy that was almost reduced to splinters scattered across the mud to look at Loki, offering nothing more than a shrug. "No one does, Heimdall is just an ass. Ignore him."

Loki groaned. As much as he tried to focus on his own goals, Heimdall showed up about every five minutes to annoy the life out of him. "There's gotta be some way to get him to back off. I mean, no one can be that irritable all the time."

Another shrug from Thrúd as she placed her weapons back in their sheaths. "You would think. But unless the Songbird is around he's not going to change."

A beat of silence. "...Heimdall likes birds?"

Embarrassment filled Loki as Thrúd chortled. "Probably not, knowing him. You mean you haven't met Eivor?"

"I did yesterday…but what does she have to do with it?"

The explanation was something Loki wouldn't have believed if it wasn't coming from a source he trusted. "She's his girlfriend."

Loki nearly lost his balance from the shock, face scrunching up in exaggerated disbelief. "He has a girlfriend?!"

Thrúd, despite knowing this already, looked just as bemused. "I know, right? Go figure."

For a moment Loki said nothing, unable to process this information, and finally realizing what Eivor meant when she said her partnership with Heimdall had "worked out." "But she's so nice!"

"Well, she can get sassy sometimes, but yeah, she is."

"And he's not!"

"Yeah."

With the news sinking in, Loki began to feel bad for Eivor, presuming that she was just as unhappy with Heimdall as everyone else. "Is he a jerk to her, too?"

Thrúd smirked, always entertained by the thought of Heimdall's behavior around Eivor. "No, he's much nicer to her. Which is why you should be her friend. She gets him to leave lots of people alone when he's on a rampage."

"I'll definitely have to try that…" Loki mumbled, though he wasn't sure if he should do anything that might put him in Heimdall's way more than he already was.

"Don't worry, she'll hear you out. She's usually at — oh, crap!"  Thrúd jumped behind another training dummy at the edge of the field at the sight of her mother speaking with the passing Valkyries. Loki stepped in front of her to lean against it, hiding his friend as much as he could with his smaller stature. "I gotta go, she'll kill me if she sees me here."

Loki stayed in place until Sif turned her back, then urged, "She's not looking! Go!"

Thrúd whispered, "I owe you," before dashing into an alley between two buildings, most likely heading towards the place her mother expected her to be. Loki remained there for a few more minutes in an effort to avoid rousing suspicion, then started for the lodge to get back to work on Odin's mask hunt.

He was in the same alley Thrúd ran down when his arm was grabbed and he was hurled into the wall, hitting his head against the wood with a grunt. The punch he tried to throw in self defense was batted away, and the laugh that accompanied it told him exactly who was assaulting him.

"Are you still trying to make friends? How cute," Heimdall tsked, shaking his head. "Your efforts are futile. Nobody here wants to deal with rabid mongrels." His voice dropped to a low, venomous growl. 

Stay calm. Control your anger. Harness it. His father's words were the only thing keeping Loki from lashing out. "Seriously, what do you want?"

When Loki tried to step away from the wall he was slammed back into it, Heimdall's hand pushing his shoulder into the wood so forcefully that it creaked under the pressure. "You, runt, are going to do exactly what I say."

"Why would—"

"Never, ever speak to her again." Heimdall was spitting acid at the boy, his sneer deep and eyes burning with hatred. 

If it weren't for Thrúd, he wouldn't know what Heimdall was talking about. But it didn't seem like a good idea to admit to…whatever Heimdall assumed he did. "Who are you—"

Interrupting once again, Heimdall smirked cruelly and laughed, "Oh ho ho, don't play dumb with me. You may be a wolf who can convince everyone you're a sheep, but I will always be the hunter that shoots you down." Loki matched Heimdall's glare, but his boiling anger was nothing compared to the eruption of fury in Heimdall's glowing gaze. Heimdall leaned so close that their faces were inches apart, baring his teeth as he rapidly grumbled, "You will never go near her again. If you do, I don't care what All-Father says, I will rip your legs off and make you watch as I skin you alive, feed your flesh to the dragons and let them use your bones as toothpicks. Then I'll track down your worthless soul and tear that to pieces until you cease to exist. Do I make myself clear?!"

Loki nodded, but was too caught up on one detail to answer. 

"I don't care what All-Father says…"

That was another thing Atreus would remember.

"Good," Heimdall said to Loki in a mocking tone. Just as quickly as his voice changed he ripped Loki from the wall and threw him into the street, making him bump into a few servants that were passing by. "Now run along like a good little mutt." 

It took all of Loki's self control not to retaliate and simply walk away. 

That one line still bothered him. There was significance to that. But exactly how much would be hard to judge if he couldn't get near Eivor again.

The library was as quiet as it could be, Eivor being the only guest within its walls. She had been taking sewing lessons from one of Sif's seamstresses, and her teacher informed her that new books were brought into the city recently. Both reading and learning things from friends were one of the few pastimes that could get her mind off of her everlasting predicament, and something new was exactly what she needed to keep those methods working efficiently. She hoped it would still work, each day becoming harder to stomach as they passed by.

With a few books in hand, Eivor came out of one aisle to be on her way, nearly walking headfirst into another person. They both recoiled, but Eivor's smile returned right away when she recognized who she had run into. "Oh, hi Loki!" She could see his eyes widen and nervously dart around the room like he was looking for something.

"Oh, uh, hi Eivor," he murmured, taking a couple steps away. "I uh, didn't know you were here."

It didn't take a genius to know what had changed since the last time she saw Loki. "This is actually one of my favorite places in the city. Can I help you find something to read?"

Loki took another step back, head swiveling around in his shoulders. "Well, um, I'm kinda busy and —"

He was cut off by her giggle and a shake of her head. "Heimdall said something to you, didn't he?"

The Giant deflated, his anxiety leaving when he didn't have to come up with an excuse to leave. "Kinda…yeah."

Eivor rolled her eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry. Being obnoxiously paranoid about people around me is one of his favorite hobbies, unfortunately."

Her joke pulled a laugh from Loki, who was calmer, but still looking out for a certain someone. "It's not your fault. I just don't want to make him mad — well, even more mad by being here."

This was one of those times when Heimdall's protective nature became more of an annoyance than a sweet gesture. Next time she saw him she would put his devoted obedience to work. "No, don't worry about that. You can talk to me whenever you like. Don't listen to him."

It was not a convincing argument, evident by the reluctant expression Loki wore and his continued search for Heimdall. Donning her most gentle voice, Eivor added, "I mean it. I won't let anyone hurt you." 

Just like their first meeting, Loki understood that there was more to her words than face value would suggest. Despite the looming threat of Heimdall's wrath, he felt much safer with Eivor as a friend. "Okay…if you say so."

She was going to give one last bit of reassurance when someone outside the front window caught her eye. "Speak of the watchman…" Loki turned around to see Heimdall outside, stopping to scold a servant about…something. Eivor leaned down to him to whisper, "There's a side door that way," her finger pointing to one side of the library. "Go on. I'll talk to him, I promise."

Loki didn't wait another second and fled the library. He only hoped Heimdall didn't hear or see him as he ran away. 

He also hoped that Eivor would fulfill her promise. In truth, he didn't believe she ever could, given how much Heimdall hated him. Yet in the following days, Heimdall spoke to him less and less. The scion still loitered nearby, but his antagonizing slowed dramatically, becoming sparse. It was clear that Heimdall really did listen to Eivor.

Eivor was not one of Odin's sympathizers and was trying to help him. Heimdall listened to Eivor, and based on the comment he threw into the middle of his last warning, her word meant as much to him as Odin's.

Atreus would remember all of that. And hoped to put it to good use.

She had to hand it to Heimdall; he technically wasn't wrong when he said Loki would be trouble. Eivor was reading peacefully when Heimdall burst in, red faced with rage and scowling menacingly, with the sole intention of ranting to someone he trusted. He was so vexed that Eivor could hardly even understand what he was talking about. It was a slew of declarations that he knew this would happen from the beginning, grumbling about no one believing his judgment when it mattered most, and how stupid and incompetent Loki was. Then something about Helheim and a wolf, but those were thrown in so haphazardly that she couldn't make sense of them. When he had finally let it all out and was calm enough to let her speak, she asked him to explain exactly what was wrong, but was temporarily denied. With his sanity restored, the watchman was intent on scoping out the realm to ensure it was safe, regardless of how insistent Odin was that there would be no problems for them. 

Sif would ultimately provide the details she needed. Apparently Loki and Thrúd were sent to Helheim to retrieve whatever it was Odin was hunting for, where the young pair released Garm. Eivor didn’t need much more of an explanation after that, and she understood why Heimdall was away for as long as he was. She was certain she could seal up some of the Hound of Hel's realm tears if she were allowed to leave, but that was something Odin would never allow. Not for her. Not since she started giving dwarves means to hide from Odin's prying eyes whenever she was sent there to use her magic on their war machines. After the All-Father figured that out, she never left the realm without heavy supervision, only letting her leave when it was absolutely necessary. And it would seem the safety of the other realms was not considered necessary. All she could do was wish that the friends she made in Svartalfheim would fare well during the disaster.

Within a day Heimdall was satisfied that there was no sign of Garm's destruction in Asgard, and news that the wolf was somehow subdued spread around town. It was never confirmed, but some claimed the foreign god managed to do something to it. Which was possible, given how enraged he might have been once his son returned home with a path of destruction in his wake. 

Eivor looked down at her lyre as she sat in the alcove, the setting sun informing her that Heimdall would be home soon. Loki had meant well, she didn't need to be there when Garm was released to know it. But she kept thinking about Magni and Modi, how terrified they were of their father's wrath. Imagining Loki in the same position with his father… she just wished that the foreign god was more forgiving than the God of Thunder.

Heimdall returned right after night fell. A little later than usual, which tipped Eivor off. Something was different about that night, a mere two days after Loki left. The dread boiling in her gut didn't make her feel any better, making her cut off her usual welcome and cut to the chase. "You're back later than usual. Is it time to revoke your reputation for punctuality?"

Her lover rolled his eyes with a light scoff and he removed  Hofuð from his belt and placed it on its stand. "Very funny. I had to meet All-Father once I was finished for the day."

"For what?"

"A short briefing. All-Father is sending me on a little trip tomorrow."

A task outside of Asgard…assigned to Heimdall. That didn't make sense, not when he had Valkyries, Thor, and Einherjar to travel wherever they needed to go. "The scion is leaving his post? I don't think we'll survive," she sighed sarcastically, masking the elevating unease in her.

While unbuckling his waist armor he fixed her with a smug smirk. "If no one here can last a day without me then they deserve that fate. But you…" he paused, heavy armor in hand as he made his way to the wardrobe in the washroom. Pointing at her like a parent lecturing their child, he said, "At least attempt to survive without me." He caught her rolling her eyes, as unimpressed as expected, as he went into the washroom to change. 

While he was out of sight Evior closed her book and looked down, wondering why things felt so wrong. When she heard him close the wardrobe doors and knew he would be out momentarily, she called out, "So where are you going? And for what reason will I be missing you?"

As her second question was spoken Heimdall entered their bedroom again, allowing Eivor to see him grin at her phrasing. He stopped in front of the vanity mirror, ready to unwind his braids. "Well, I don't have the details yet, the exact plan is still in the works. But I do know that it's in Vanaheim."

"Vanaheim…?" Eivor whispered as the blood drained from her face. Sif had been listening to any news about the foreign god's whereabouts, determined to keep any of her loved ones far from wherever he was for their own safety. According to her, he had spent the most time in two realms: Svartalfheim and Vanaheim.

And based on the most recent Information Sif had, he was expecting to go to the latter very, very soon.

Odin was sending Heimdall right to him.

Eivor's skin shriveled with goosebumps while her spine shook, her blood running cold and her soul crying in despair. 

Please, please let this be the one time he listens.

Shooting up to her feet she quickly made her way to Heimdall, who had stopped poking at his hair as soon as he felt her demeanor change. "No, Heimdall you can't go!"

Turning away from the mirror to face her, she could see he had absolutely no idea why she was so concerned. Of course he was too arrogant to see the imminent danger. "Why not?"

If her voice wasn't raspy with grief already she would have screamed at how clueless he was. "Don't act like you don't know. He's supposed to be there. The foreign god!

Heimdall looked away, smirking. "That's right. And where he is, the runt will probably be with him. I might be able to finally beat him to a pulp."

Again, his lack of awareness left her in shambles. "No, Heimdall, stop it! You've heard what he's done!"

"Yes, and?"

The hope that he would listen was gone. Eivor's voice trembled and grew desperate, the full extent of her fear on full display. "If he finds you he'll kill you! You'll never come back alive!"

A pompous chuckle and a wave of a dismissive hand. "Darling, he can't touch me, and you know it. He can't kill me. And if he's even a little smarter than his son then he'll know that I can't be killed."

"That's what everyone said about Baldur, and he —!"

"Baldur," he hissed, disgusted that he was being compared to that insane dunce of a god, "was killed because of a broken spell. There is no spell to make me vulnerable."

Eivor threw up her hands in exasperation, voice raising without a care about ravens listening. "That's not what I mean, Heimdall. If something is impossible, he finds a way to make it possible. He'll find a way to kill you too!"

Heimdall wasn’t sure if he was more irritated by her lack of faith in him or saddened by her panic. He settled on trying to console by softly cooing, "Songbird, you're not thinking rationally."

All he did was increase her fear by proving he was still missing the point. In that moment her terror made her so…angry. So offended that Odin would send Heimdall into such a dangerous situation knowing that the foreign god was capable of killing even Heimdall, and was ready to shrug his shoulders and move on if he did. So infuriated that he cared so little for someone as special as Heimdall. 

So outraged at herself for not finding a way to save him in time.

Emotions taking control, she blurted out, "And you're blind!" The comforting expression Heimdall wore faltered as she continued, "Odin is ready to throw you away without a second thought and you're letting him! You won't think for yourself enough to realize that he doesn't care!"

"I am far too valuable for anyone to throw away!" He bellowed. The idea that Odin didn't care about his most loyal servant…it somehow set him off more than the implication that he was too stupid to see the truth. Of course All-Father would care. He wouldn't send him somewhere if he thought he was incapable of handling it. Whatever reaction had arisen from her suggestion took full control, his snarling much more vicious than he had ever been to her. "And I question how much you truly care about me if you think so little of me, think that I'm too idiotic to make my own decisions!"

His fury stole whatever hope she had left. Eivor wilted and lifted a hand to put over her face as it tilted downward, but Heimdall ripped it away as he continued, "You keep insisting that I'm this fool! That I'm no better than some common moron who can't even tie his own shoes without breaking a wrist! Am I really such an embarrassment to you? Am I really just some imbecile in your eyes?!" Frustrated by her lack of response and her gaze still on the floor, he leaned in until he was inches from her forehead to scream, "You can't support me when it's inconvenient?! You have to denounce All-Father or any other scapegoat when you don't get what you want?!" A furious breath. "You can't look at me when I'm asking why I'm a fool to you?!"

Faith in him was never the problem. Getting her way was never the problem. It wasn't about her wants, it was about him. His safety. His happiness. The life that would be taken away if she didn't stop him. Yet when she begged and pleaded with him to realize that was all she cared about he still didn't hear her. Wasn't willing to hear her. 

She broke. Inside and out. Her tiny, ragged, agony stricken voice whimpered to the floor.

"I don't want you to die…"

The admission gave Heimdall pause, his anger melting immediately as he stood straight again. Then Eivor let out a heart wrenching wail, her head falling into her hands as she sobbed with every bit of her soul. Her cries made Heimdall take half a step back, so caught off guard by the sound. He had never heard her cry like that before. She had wept a few times, but in a more controlled, composed manner that he could manage. But this…seeing her like this tore his heart out and burned it to ashes. 

He'd just lost his temper, let his bladed tongue take the lead. Antagonized her until that bright fire in her was nothing more than dark cinders left in the dust. 

He did this to her. Because she was scared of losing him.

The sound of her despair was too much to bear any longer. He took her in his arms and pulled her close, resting his chin on her head as she gripped his shirt and cried into his chest, saying "please don't go" between sobs. It didn't matter that she was holding him so tight that she was wrinkling his clothing, or that her tears were soaking his tunic. Nothing mattered more than her tears — making her tears go away. Forever, if he could.

Eivor was too distraught to keep track of how long she cried, just standing there and letting the years of pain unravel piece by piece. She didn't think that Heimdall had enough patience in him to wait so long, not even for someone he loved. Yet he stood there, holding her while she let it all out, even gently rocking her side to side sometimes, doing whatever little thing he could do to say that he didn't want her to feel this way. 

In truth, she didn't care about the things he said, or that he got so angry so quickly. She knew he didn't mean it, knew how sorry he was by his immediate response. The only thing fueling her tears was the image of the man she loved more than anything lying dead in the jungle, alone and forgotten by everyone he dedicated his entire life to protecting, tossed out like he was trash that no one wanted. Many people would say that he was, but she knew differently. She knew he could be so much more to people if he let himself be, and she hadn't gotten him to do that yet. And if he didn't heed her warnings she never would. That hurt more than a knife through her chest, more than all the decades spent hating her contribution to the elve's war, more than every punishment Odin had discreetly exacted on her for her disobedience. Heimdall could be so much happier if she had the time and freedom to encourage him, teach him to see beyond what his foresight gave away and trust people just a little more. He could be a free man instead of a willing slave. But with each sob she let out, that goal felt more like a quixotic dream than the reality she had wanted.

In time, her throat was too hoarse to keep wailing and her body ran out of energy to process the hopelessness, though her tears continued to silently flow even as her whimpers grew sparse. For a moment Heimdall wasn’t sure how to proceed, reverting back to the early days of their relationship when he couldn't get any words out. When he heard one sharp cry spill out, as if she would start up all over again, he acted without thought. Carefully, he stepped back far enough to look at her, but her eyes were still on the floor. A hand took her face and tilted it up as his thumb wiped away a tear rolling down her cheek. Lowering his voice to a soft whisper, gazing into her puffy green eyes, he whispered, "I know you're scared. And I know that…" 

It was so hard to say it. To say that he knew it wasn't about her. It was never about her. 

He chose to skip that statement. "But I have no intention of dying anytime soon."

Eivor had to quickly seal up part of her mind. She didn't want him to know that he was saying the wrong things.

"I will come back. And I'll see you again. On that, you have my word." He saw that it did little to reassure her, and the only solution he had was…

"I'll return, alive and well. You'll be safe here, Ragnarok will come and go, when that's over everything will settle down…" Eivor's head dropped again, having no hope that anything he said would come true. It only served as a reminder of what would be lost due to the carelessness and cruelty of two awful gods. Heimdall used his other hand to take her chin and lift it up higher, ensuring she was looking in his eyes. If none of that made her feel better, then he would say the one thing that had popped into his mind a few times but never spoke of. Smiling, he added, "And then I'll marry you."

In spite of the few tears falling down her face, Eivor smiled back. It was an unspoken fact that there was no need to legitimize their relationship, that any further steps were just a formality. Even so, hearing Heimdall voice a desire for marriage, and knowing he was the first to bring it up, made her heart warm up the freezing cold that had consumed her. 

Still, that voice in her head reminded her that his proposals and predictions wouldn't make a difference. He would still be sent to his death, waltzing into it like he was invincible until his last moments, when he'd realize he was wrong. And that she was right about everything.

She couldn't bear that idea. To think that his last breaths could be spent in such anguish…

No. That wasn't going to happen. Heimdall will not die. There had to be a way.

And there was. A plan popped into her mind. It was rudimentary and vague, and depended entirely on one person, but it was something.

Hiding all of that from Heimdall, Eivor tried to act like she was at least a little better by giving a teary grin. "Don't I get a say in that decision?" she asked rather convincingly. 

Heimdall smirked, leaning down slowly until he was close enough to kiss her. "No," he said while shaking his head, making her chuckle. He was so relieved to hear her laugh that he hugged her again, kissing the top of her head over and over again.

He never left her side that night, letting her make the most of what time they had before he had to leave. Eivor's only request was that, if she didn't do so on her own, he wake her before he left to say goodbye. And he did, giving her a tender kiss before looking into her eyes and saying, "I'll see you when I get back, right?"

For the first time in their shared lives, Eivor blatantly broke her promise. When he promised to ensure she knew he loved her, she swore to always be honest with him. 

Yet on that day, she lied to him. "Yes."

He knew she was hiding something, she could tell by the look on his face. For a moment he tried to chip away at that partial barrier with little success, only uncovering hints of her worry and sadness. The only thing he could do was hope that they weren't as deep as he feared.

With one more kiss, the watchman left Eivor alone in their cabin. After another long, miserable cry, she spent the day traveling around Gladsheim to speak with all the people she cared for, doing her best not to make it sound like goodbyes. At nightfall, she came back to her cabin.

It was time to leave.

After hours of considering her "plan" she could still hardly consider it a good idea. But time had run out, and she refused to do nothing or waste too much time fruitlessly thinking of something else. Stiffly, almost mindlessly, Eivor wandered to the alcove and opened one of the drawers next to Gjallarhorn's secret compartment, where her instruments were kept. Her eyes scanned the contents, reminiscing. There was the leather bag with the shards of her father's shattered bone flute, something she could never get rid of even after admitting that there was no reason to keep it. The old wooden lyre, with all its splinters and nicks, was there as well, resting on top of the wooden boxes that held the lyre and flute Heimdall gave her.

Gingerly, she removed the old lyre and set it down, picking up the two wooden cases and putting them on the floor. Her intention was to take her flute with her, only spending a moment to open the box to take a look at the gorgeous object and remember the wonderful night that Heimdall gave it to her. With the sight of it so fresh to her eyes, Eivor couldn't help but open the larger box as well, revealing her newest lyre. It matched the flute, with a curved body shaped a bit like an hourglass, and made of a wood that was almost white. She had no clue what kind of wood it was, and where it had come from was a mystery, but other craftsmen had informed her that it was very rare, and finding a source that was as white as this lyre was almost impossible. The base was a rounded rectangle that tapered slighter, the arms framing the hole containing the strings curving outward to widen at the top, where the pegs were attached. That top piece was carved into a concave surface, winding into a scroll shape above the pegs. The arms beside the strings were lined with gold strips on the corners, and between them were circular golden patterns matching the floral decorations on her flute. Underneath those forms was a thin sheet of labradorite, its highlights only shades of purple, and served as a pleasant contrast to the shiny metal and light wood. The gold weavings overflowed into the body and condensed into vines, colorful painted feathers branching off from them and flowing with the curve of the body, growing smaller and more sparse until they disappeared. As a final touch, the base had one more flowing pattern of gold vines and flowers just underneath the strings, the labradorite under it tying it to the rest of the lyre perfectly. It was so beautiful, absolutely stunning in every way. And the best part was that Heimdall had no reason to give it to her. He had it made just because he wanted to. "Why would you have a flute that doesn't match your lyre?" was one of his many excuses. Eivor knew better. He just wanted to give her something special. 

Music had been her anchor throughout her life. It had helped her smile brighter when she was already happy and carried her through the days that made her want to give up. To only have one of her beloved instruments…no, she had to have both. She needed to.

Her gaze fell to her father's lyre. It was old and battered, but the only memento she had from her parents, other than her tattoos and the earring she gave Heimdall. This lyre was so special, a piece of herself and her history. If she left Asgard she would likely never come back for it. 

Then she looked to Heimdall's lyre again, resting in its case, quietly awaiting her decision. Bringing a flute and a lyre was already a stretch. Bringing both lyres would be a burden. Which one did she take on what could be her last journey? Which one did she leave behind forever? Her father's, or Heimdall's?

It was a painful choice, but one she was certain about. Bidding a silent farewell, Eivor returned her father's lyre to the drawer. She was doing this for Heimdall, but if she were to fail she wanted as much of him with her when her time came.

Lifting up both cases by their leather straps, she took a moment to consider how she would carry them. After retrieving one of her belts from their wardrobe she managed to tie the lyre case to it, then fasten the flute to the lyre's strap. She had to wrap the belt around her waist twice to keep them  from sagging, but it would do. 

What belongings she couldn't leave behind now with her, she stood there, just staring into space in the middle of the room. Was she really going to do this? Just leave without a word? Heimdall would be so worried if he found out…

With a sigh she sat down on their bed, next to her nightstand. She had to leave something for him to find if he came back, some kind of hint to tell him that she was alright. Her hand instantly reached down to the space between the nightstand and the bed, taking the thin book stored there. It was her songbook. The place she chronicled all the lyrics for every song she wrote over the years. There was one in particular that was special — one that only she knew about. 

Flipping to the last page, there was nothing written on it, the parchment appearing pristine and untouched. Only Eivor could dispel the magic creating that illusion, a hand waving across the page and dismissing the spell with a cloud of golden sparkles drifting away. The lyrics of her secret ballad were there, containing all of the hurt and heartbreak she felt after years of lamenting Heimdall's fate. She never sang this to anyone, not even Heimdall. The most she had done was play it and maybe hum along, but she could never reveal the meaning behind this song. 

In that moment one of the lines stood out to her. The first in the second verse.

The hope I will follow into the storm.

She had no clue that she was predicting the future with that line, chasing what meager lifeline she had amidst the supposed end of the realms, all for one person. 

Then a thought occurred to her. If she replaced that word…

She picked up the charcoal she left between the pages, crossing out one word and replacing it with another. It was a hint. A hint that Heimdall might get if he saw it. 

Slowly, the book drifted to the top of the nightstand, waiting for him to potentially find, but just a hair's breadth from the surface, she stopped. Was this wise? Would it only make things worse? If he had no idea where she went he would be worried, but if he knew she left willingly, thinking she had abandoned him…

He would only be in more pain, she thought as she shook her head. No, it would be better if he didn't know.

Defeated, Eivor closed the book and leaned down to put it away, but she paused, remembering her other secret that was in plain sight. The book was set down before she reached under the bed. A box, one that was unassuming but contained some of her most precious memories. She opened it, revealing hundreds of little squares of paper, all adorned by handwriting that she could never mistake. Every time Heimdall left her a note before he left in the mornings she kept it and stashed it away in this box. It wasn't a conscious decision, she just loved every single one so much that she decided to keep it, and eventually her collection grew. Of course, Heimdall didn't know this box existed. He would have hated knowing these were around for someone to find.

One by one, she flipped through the stacks upon stacks of notes, her smile betraying the tears that blurred her vision and dripped onto her lap. They were all so loving, so sincere, so full of memories of the best times in her life. By pure chance, she came across one that she couldn't take her eyes off of.

Good morning, my love.

I thought it best to let you sleep in. You were the one who was so adamant about getting enough rest, after all.

I look forward to seeing you.

-H.

It was the very first note he had ever written, the first sign that he would keep his promise to always show how much he loved her. This was where he chose to be better for her…where everything changed. Her heart was torn to shreds and tears fell freely as she pulled the note to her chest, as if hugging it would make everything better, turn back the clock to the days when she had plenty of time with Heimdall. She missed those days more than anything.

She couldn't leave this note. All of them were special, but this one was…irreplaceable. 

Eivor turned around to open the lyre case behind her, slipping the note inside. As for the rest, they went back in the box, and for good measure she put her songbook in there as well to keep it out of anyone's sight, not bothering to replace the spell shrouding the last page. She slid it back under the bed, just a few inches away from the opening. That somehow gave her a sense of finality that motivated her to stop reminiscing and do what she needs to do. She stood, picking up the cloak she had taken from the wardrobe when she went looking for a belt. It was long enough to reach the ground and broad enough to completely engulf her form, and its large hood would easily hide her face. The color was a sky blue, just a little lighter than Sif's usual dress, but it was otherwise plain. Enough not to draw too much attention along her search.

It was surreal to walk to the door and know this would be the last time she saw her home. The home she had with Heimdall. Shutting the thought out, Eivor focused on a spell she had spent years practicing, raising her hands and slowly waving them around her while subtle gold dust surrounded her, fading when she was done. It was a stave that would move with her, the very one that would hide her from anyone's eyes or ears. Even Odin's. Testing it in the past was a nearly impossible task, but she was certain it worked.

Her shaky hand grabbed the door handle. Her heart weighing more than every mountain in the realms combined, she looked around the cabin one last time, images of happy memories playing before her dejected eyes. Then she was gone.

It was too late at night for anyone to be wandering around town, but she didn't need any bystanders to confirm her spell was in place. The wyverns nestled on perches above, standing ready for Ragnarok, didn't even glance her way when she passed, and they were trained to always be watchful. Despite the security of her stave, Eivor still found herself looking over her shoulder and keeping an eye out for ravens spying on her as she made her way to the wall's lift, where her one escape was hidden.

Getting the lift to the top without drawing attention would be impossible considering the only person who used it was out of the realm and she was invisible to any curious ravens, forcing her to act quickly once she reached the top. She immediately stood at the edge of the rainbow bridge, where it would have served as the path into battle during Ragnarok had Odin not sealed it along with every other path into Asgard. 

This was where Odin's arrogance and confidence in his all-knowing reputation would scorn him. Almost three winters ago, Odin ordered her to come to the bridge, where he presented the reconstructed artifact she and Heimdall had hunted down shortly after she came to Asgard. He commanded her to amplify the magic used to seal the realms as he activated it, using the pathway on the bridge as the beginning of a complicated web of locks and scattered keys that kept the realms out of reach. She did as she asked…and a little more. With her own unique magic that not even the All-Father could detect without paying close attention — the same magic he wanted so badly that he brought her to Asgard — she made one tiny flaw in the web. A backdoor that could only be opened by her magic, just in case. It was a backdoor she didn't think she would ever use. Until today.

She knew she could only do this once, and quickly. As soon as it was revealed Odin would find it and destroy it. There was no time to lose. Eyes closed, raising her hands and holding them out in front her with palms facing the plains, she concentrated, unraveling the binds around the exit just enough to let her magic through. She felt the locks jiggle and loosen, and when her eyes opened there was a doorway shaped portal that would take her to Svartalfheim; the most recent place her target had been spotted, according to the information Sif gave her earlier that day.

One step onto the bridge. Then two. Long awaited escape was within arm's reach, but she stopped, head hanging low. Her gaze shifted to one side, knowing she would see that one spot from here. The place she and Heimdall always stayed when they spent time together on the wall. Where their friendship developed into affection, where they had their first kiss, where they expressed their love, where they watched the stars on countless nights…

Holding back tears, Eivor whispered, "Heimdall…" His name was enough to tear her heart out already. "I love you…and I'm sorry." 

Without a second thought, Eivor dashed through the portal, moments before a flurry of ravens deposited a scornful old god in its wake. 

He was too late. She was gone.

Off to find Loki.

Why did the Einherjar have to be such idiots?

Heimdall groaned at the headache that irritated him as he made his way through the shadowy sunset. After being consumed with worry about Eivor, Heimdall requested that he return to Asgard once preparations for the ambush on Freyr's pathetic "army" were complete, claiming that he wanted to continue his duties until Odin gave the word. It was the night after he left, but that wasn't as soon as he planned, thanks to the Einherjar being a bunch of clumsy morons no matter how loudly he barked at them. Or how many of them were eaten by Gulltoppr. 

Finally, after longer than he wanted, he returned, going straight to his cabin to find Eivor and tell her he was alright, to put her fears at ease.

He entered his home, closed the door behind him.

Nothing.

Eivor was usually home by this hour, yet she hadn't greeted him as she always did. Taking one puzzled step inside, Heimdall examined the alcove, finding that she wasn't there. His foresight told him the rest. She wasn't home. Which was…strange.

Something felt…off.

Surely it was nothing. Eivor was upset. Her instruments were missing. She must have taken them somewhere to get some peace and quiet.

Although, it was very strange that she brought both instruments with her. She never did that…

So he checked the wall. And the library. And the empty Lodge. And even the isolated fire pit they stayed at before Heimdall introduced her to the wall, which they hadn't visited in ages. Still no sign of Eivor, and he was out of ideas. 

Impatience growing, he stormed down to Thor and Sif's chambers, knowing the fat drunk was still at the bar and there was nothing keeping him from answers. His knock was harsh and rude, eliciting a reply right away. Without any greeting or introduction, Heimdall asked in an accusatory tone, "Where's Eivor?"

He would have been annoyed by her delayed response were it not for the genuine worry his foresight picked up. "You don't know?"

"Don't know what?" he growled.

"I thought you would know where she went. I haven't seen her since…last night."

Last night? Almost a full twenty-four hours since Eivor's closest friend last saw her.

Something was wrong.

With Sif useless, Heimdall scoured the city for any servant, minor god, tradesman, Valkyrie, or Einherjar he could find, every person she had ever spoken to, even if only once. No one, not a single soul, had seen her.

She had to be somewhere. It wasn't like she could leave the realm.

He looked everywhere. Every corner of the city, every inch of the wall, behind every door and every alley he could find. He went to every place they had ever been. That one little waterfall they went to once, where she sang to him against the sound of the rushing water while he did everything he could not to fall asleep in her lap. The base of the wall, where they spoke in front of Týr's temple early on in their search for Odin's artifact. The banks of the calming rivers outside of New Midgard that had the little white flowers Eivor liked. A part of the plains where they watched deer travel across the horizon every once in a while. He even went back home several times to make sure he hadn't missed her on her way there. Everywhere he could think of. Nothing.

Panic. Heimdall could say without a doubt that he was beginning to panic. He became frantic as he searched and searched the same places over and over again, thinking she would somehow be under a stone he left unturned. Hoping she was behind a building he hadn't checked. Singing near a fire pit that he forgot. Still nothing. 

His search began at dusk and by dawn he was still scrambling around the realm, fully aware that it was time for his usual patrol. But he ignored that. He couldn't do anything until he knew she was safe.

Where was she?

Then a blessing. Huginn cawed at him as he tore through the tiny paths of New Midgard again, ignoring the terrified mortals as he stalked about like a wounded beast. Of course All-Father would have the answers. Eivor was fine. All-Father would tell him everything was alright.

The bird scooped him up and left him in Odin's study, where the scion gave a rushed bow and readied to speak. The All-Father gave him no chance. "You've been busy, eh?"

Heimdall had to consciously control his shaking voice, his ragged breathing. "Yes, All-Father. It seems Eivor is missing."

Odin simply nodded. That was it? He was just going to sit behind his desk and leave him wondering? 

Then, without warning, Odin casually said, "You don't need to look. I know where she went."

Relief flooded Heimdall like a dam that had burst. 

"She left Asgard."

That flood froze over, colder than Thamur's icy breath. "But…that's impossible."

Odin sneered down at his desk and seethed, "It should have been. It appears that she used her magic to keep a hidden escape right under my nose." His anger was taken out on the book he was handling, slamming it closed.

Heimdall barely noticed, blurting out, "Where?!"

He had to regain his composure when Odin fixed him with a disappointed stare. After a moment, he said, "Well, I don't know why she left, but it appears that she was looking for something. And she found…something else."

"What?" Heimdall's voice was barely contained, sounding breathless despite his efforts.

Eyes dark, stare cold, demeanor stiff, Odin replied. "The Godkiller."

No.

No, that couldn't be right. That couldn't be true.

Odin gave him no time to recover from his paling skin and icy veins, bluntly stating, "And the Godkiller did what he does best."

She…she's…gone?

The words rang in his head over and over. Air was sucked out of his lungs, his stomach churned until he wanted to vomit, his vision swayed so violently that he could hardly keep his balance. His mouth opened to take in deep breaths but he clamped it shut again, jaw clenching as he tried to hide his despair from Odin. But no matter how hard he tried to regain his senses all he felt was…

Pain.

"Now, I realize this is a difficult time," Odin began. Heimdall had to raise his disoriented eyes slowly, Odin's voice distorted and echoing, not fully registering in his mind. "But this…'event' only reminds us that time is not on our side. I'm going to need you to perform your usual duties, even if —"

"No," Heimdall interrupted sharply, his voice cracking. He could hear how stern Odin was, and he couldn't give him a reason to doubt him. "Of course…I will take care of it."

He couldn't disappoint someone again so soon.

"Good," Odin praised almost cheerfully, carelessly waving a hand as he suggested, "Then you should go on your patrol. Clear your head and get focused, alright?"

Heimdall wondered if that was really all Odin had to say. The most wonderful woman in all the realms was…And he just skipped over it? The insolence and disrespect forged a rage in him, but somehow it was quenched before it could be voiced.

There were no words to offer, only a shallow bow before Heimdall left the room, his feet dragging like he was a draugr trudging through waist deep snow.

The Lodge didn't exist. All the servants were fake, Sif's concerned call was a hoax, Asgard itself just wasn't real. The only thing in Heimdall's mind was her.

Her voice. Her laugh. Her sharp wit and clever mind that always managed to get the better of him. All the memories of her singing to him.

She'd never sing to him again.

The evenings they spent in bed, just passing time together. The few occasions when she would take his head and rest it on her chest, singing to him after a long day. The numerous nights when she would curl into his side while he read to her simply because she asked him to. 

He could never read to her again.

Standing at the top of the wall with her, watching her eyes sparkle under the stars. Just talking, jumping from subject to subject without a care in the world, enjoying life like they had an eternity together. 

He would never see her again.

The fog still consumed him as he mindlessly made it to the lift, too trapped in the void to notice the quizzical looks everyone gave him as he passed, wondering why the ever alert watchman was so sluggish. Even the usually pleasant ride up to the wall was rife with the vortex's power, only showing him visions of Eivor standing next to him, hair flowing in the breeze…

By definition, he had begun his patrol, but the World Serpent could have been gnawing at the wall and he wouldn't have noticed. Reality still hadn't set in as he trembled his way across the stone, barely moving an inch at a time until he stood in one spot, where the surroundings reminded him of far too much at once.

She's gone.

It hit him all at once when that fact brought him back to the cold, hard present, realizing he stopped in their favorite spot on the wall. His knees nearly buckled, his spine splintered, his hands were like leaves billowing in a storm. His entire body was wracked with nothing but pain and sorrow. 

Anger.

With so much bubbling inside all at once, he had no clue how to let it out. Not without Eivor there to help him. The only reaction he could default to was pure fury. His hands clenched into tight fists, his deep frown morphed into a scowl, every muscle in his body tensed. When he couldn't take the building energy anymore his fist slammed into the rock next to him with a ferocious roar, burrowing halfway through the thick stone and sending the fragments flying in all directions at such great speeds that they damaged the surrounding stone on impact. He stayed there. Fingers buried in the stone as he felt his fingers bleeding, glaring holes into the rock with clenched teeth. 

Only questions plagued him, each one making him even more taut and elevate his fury. What was she thinking? What did she think she could possibly do by running off on her own? Why would she think of doing something so stupid?

Then one question changed everything. The rage melted his glower into a mournful frown, the mask of sorrow draining him of all the life he had in him.

Why didn't he listen to her?

He knew how scared she was. And he knew how independent and rebellious she could be. Why did he just assume she would suddenly wait at home like a boring little housewife and not take things into her own hands? Do something herself to…protect him? He should have known. It was a trait he adored, after all. He should have known that dismissing her was a grave mistake. Every time he had done it in the past had led to horrid consequences, and yet he didn't learn? Not even after all this time? He still…

The word that came to him reduced him to a limp mass, his forehead resting on the rock as his entire body gave up on him.

He still failed.

He failed her. Failed to protect her. Failed to even try to take care of her. He didn't even attempt to ask All-Father to send Thor or someone else to Vanaheim in his place just to ease her pain, did nothing but…expect her to deal with it. Like a coward, running away from difficult scenarios. In his cowardice he failed her. Failed her by leaving her with her fears. Failed her by losing himself to his duties.

Failed to prove that he loved her as much as he did. Failed to ensure she knew he cared.

He broke his promise.

He couldn't take it anymore, panting quickening as all the pain became too much until…

He screamed. Wailing into the stone, his voice booming across the plains with his grief. It was all he could do to find at least a modicum of relief.

But it still didn't work.

She was still gone. He lost her. His one and only Songbird — the bearer of all his joy — was taken from him.

By that…monster.

The uneven breaths grew more labored, the despair in his eyes giving way to a deadly thirst for vengeance.

He would find that vile monster. He would pay for what he did to her.

His fury didn't last. Not after he had to force himself not to think about what torture Eivor may have been through.

But even through that pain, he swore to his love that her killer would not go unpunished.

"Y'hear that, Brother?"

"I do."

The old god stayed close to the tawny stones along Svartalfheim's rivers. He was just outside of Niðavellir, searching for any remaining realm tears leftover from his son's mistakes. They had briefly split up, and during their separation he and his bodiless companion heard voices. The burly god kept his back close to the stone, peering around it to find three figures. Two dwarves and a woman with light blonde hair in a blue cloak, leaning down to look at the dwarves.

"Is that all you need to get across?"

"Oh yes, this is plenty," one of the dwarves, a male, answered, patting his wife's hand in comfort. "With your protection we can get back to our home and children safely."

"I'm so worried," the other dwarf sighed. "These Grim are so dangerous in the mining areas, but the Ae— no one is able to fend them off for us." She caught her mistake just in time to avoid Asgard's wrath. 

The woman seemed to be frowning, but with most of her back facing the foreign god he couldn't be sure. "I wish I could help you with that, but I'm afraid this is all I can do for now."

The male dwarf reassured, "Don't be sorry, My Lady, what you do for us is always enough. More than we ever get from anyone else."

At the god's hip, his companion said, "My Lady?"

"What of it?"

"That's a title the dwarves reserve for the Aesir."

Aesir. Amber colored eyes narrowed at the woman. She was a goddess.

The wife added, "We're always grateful for what you do. I just wish we could repay you for your kindness."

A short chuckle from the goddess. "I don't need any thanks from you…but if you don't mind, could I ask you something before you go?"

"Of course!" Both of the dwarves answered simultaneously.

"I'm looking for a boy. About this tall, bright blue eyes. His name is Loki."

That name was enough to earn the old god's distrust.

"She's lookin' for the lad?" Came the voice at his side.

"Quiet," he grunted.

Both of the dwarves exchanged clueless looks and shook their heads. "Never heard of him. There were a couple of outsiders in the city, but that was a while ago now."

A sigh from the goddess. "Alright." She was disappointed. When the dwarves tried to apologize she stopped them, "It's alright, I just wanted to ask. Now go, the spell will keep you hidden long enough to get home." From her extending hand came a flurry of golden lights, seeming to join more that appeared around the dwarves as she used her magic. "And with this it should give you time to rest along the way."

The female dwarf praised with teary eyes, "Thank you so much. You're truly a gift!"

The dwarves ran off along the rocky islands, heading for the city. Only the goddess remained, now standing straight and sighing at the calm river.

"Well? What now?" said the severed head.

For a moment the ghost was silent. This Aesir was after his son. That alone was a reason to be ready for the worst. Yet she didn't seem dangerous, especially after the dwarves' obvious liking for her. Nor did he have any desire to needlessly confront an enemy before they became one. 

From the goddess's direction he heard a sound. 

He chose to take a chance.

The Greek God of War stepped out from behind the rock, Draupnir in his grasp.

#heimdall #songbird of asgard #god of war #heimdall x reader #heimdall gow #gow heimdall #heimdall x oc #god of war heimdall #the songbird of asgard

[ninjahiccups]

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL!!!!!!!!! I LOVE IT!!!!!!!!

You definitely did Eivor justice, and you even made her dress her favorite color! UGH I just love everything about this! You did an amazing job!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ Thank you so much for making it! :DDDD

No idea if I did this justice or not but a little something for @ninjahiccups. (Because The Songbird of Asgard totally hasn't been eating away at my brain. Really hope I did Eivor justice 😶).

Assets are from the Daz Store, Renderosity, and Artstation.

Do not repost without my permission.

#daz3dart #dazart #a cabin in midgard #gow heimdall #oc #eivor #render #gow ragnarok #art #god of war #songbird of asgard #amazing work!!!

[ninjahiccups]

Fun fact: you posted this on my birthday...and this is definitely a great gift to make it better! Thank you so much, it means a lot coming from another great writer ^_^ Much love ❤️

The Songbird of Asgard

Chapter 14: Interlude: Chained

AO3 Masterlist Word Count: 4.9k Warnings: Implied adult content, but nothing explicit or described. Odin being an asshole (but we're expecting that).

This one is more of a bridge between this arc and the next, so it's a little shorter. But these last three chapters are coming in quick succession sooooooooo ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The blissful night had met its end, nothing more than the heated air and moonlight leftover from the heartfelt exchange between them. There were only two bodies in Heimdall's bed, facing each other and holding one another close enough that they may as well have been one being. Eivor was giving him time to sit in silence, aware that he didn't have any way to express the well of emotions bubbling in him. But she could see that he was at peace, hands lazily wandering over her waist and through her hair, occasionally planting a firm kiss on the top of her head. She had no idea exactly what he was thinking, settling into the silence while he figured out how to proceed.

With that inability to guess what he was thinking, she had no clue that he was considering how…unfortunate things would be after such a night. Their current routines no longer felt sufficient. To know that he would leave in the morning, unsure if she would return to her cabin for some time or if she would be waiting for him here, to realize that there was still so much separation between their lives…it was an unspeakable pain stabbing at his gut. A pain that fueled an impulse decision. 

No warning or introduction offered, Heimdall blurted out softly, "I want this every night."

Eivor could only laugh. "That sounds exhausting."

"Not that."

He was so serious, enough to gain Eivor's full attention. She followed his lead and he scooted back from her, stopping just far enough that he could see her face. His smile, so soft and loving, made her stomach flip and her heart nearly stopped. It was such a sweet expression, one he had displayed on occasion, but never this intensely. 

"This," he began, meeting her puzzled gaze. "To have you in my arms every night, and know I'll see you as soon as I wake up every morning. To breathe the same air as you, to know that you'll be here enough for me to devote every free moment to you. That's what I want. You."

It was difficult to keep eye contact as he spoke. She knew what he was saying. He wanted to be certain that their nightly arrangements were no longer "arrangements." He wanted this to be their lives. Doing her best to hold back the kiss she wanted to throw at him, she played coy, pressing him to come out and say it in a way he hadn't been able to. Eyes drawing down briefly, she looked back up at him with a teasing grin. "Are…you asking me to live with you? Is that it?"

Heimdall felt a smirk coming on. She wanted to tease, did she? Well, he certainly knew of a method he'd used twice before that would serve as a perfect counter. Shifting back just a hair, he plastered on a dramatically apologetic look and withdrew his hands. "Oh, yes, of course." Eivor barely let out a hum in confusion before he lifted up to rest on his elbow, looking down at her and holding up his hands like he was attempting to calm her. "Pardon me, how could I forget that you like to do these things formally. Please excuse my negligence."

She knew exactly where this was going. Sighing with exasperation and brow furrowing in annoyance, Eivor also rose to one elbow as she pleaded, "No, Heimdall, not this again."

"Now, now, I'm only tending to your needs with this." He had to hold back a chuckle when she rolled her eyes and exhaled her frustration. Clearing his throat with his knuckles pressed against his lips for added effect, he bellowed, "I, Heimdall, the Scion of the Aesir, Watchman of the Gods, Keeper of Gjallarhorn, and Herald of Ragnarok," said with extra emphasis and lifting his head theatrically, "do hereby humbly request —"

With two fingers on her temple, Eivor grumbled, "There's nothing humble about this."

"Don't interrupt, love, it's rude." His chastising elicited a scoff that melted into a giggle as she looked away and shook her head. Regaining the same exaggerated tone, he continued, "Do hereby humbly request that you…" A brief pause while his face softened and his voice died down to a loving whisper. "Eivor…"

The way he said her name with so much love and wonder made her look up again, her irritated grin melting into a warm smile. His hands reached out and took both of hers between his, eyes never leaving her. "Goddess of gold, beauty incarnate, bearer of my heart, and my beloved Songbird of Asgard…remain here, so that we may live as true lovers do." He gently brushed stray locks behind her ear, pausing between each phrase like they were too holy to force out all at once, "Stay. With me. Forever."

Eivor couldn't keep looking at him, not with the depths of love he displayed in his eyes as he beamed fondly at her. How was she supposed to keep herself calm when everything he said brought her heart to its knees? Even if it didn't, the fact that he said it so freely, not bothering to disguise it and pretend he was so uncaring and nonchalant…he just came out and said it. No funny language morphing it into something else. That was something he wouldn't have been able to do months ago, and she was so proud of him for growing this much.

Nerves making him impatient, Heimdall added smugly, "Was that good enough for you?"

It was hard for her to reply, her eyes already tearing up at the loving words. She tried to take a hand away to rub her eyes but he wouldn't let her go, still waiting for her answer. Looking down, she murmured, "You already know what I'll say."

"Maybe…but this was all just to satisfy your need for formality. It's only polite that you follow suit."

Her grin widened so much that her cheeks hurt. He wanted to hear her say it. He just couldn't admit it. And that was very, very cute to her. As much as she wanted to remain genuine, she chose to play along with his game. Straightening her back and painting on a true yet overly saccharine smile, she responded with the same tone he used, finding amusement in his eyes as she spoke. "I, Eivor, have heard the watchman's humble and not at all melodramatic request, and I am prepared to offer an answer. And that answer is…" Just like him she couldn't keep up the act, growing sincere while she leaned in closer. "Yes. I'll be here. At your side. Always."

She reveled in seeing his smile grow with each word before he dove in, meeting her in a passionate kiss, one that bore so much love that it was a wildfire compared to the candlelit night they just had together. He dragged her back down to the bed, his arms refusing to do anything but circle her waist and hold her so close that there was no space between them. 

Just like that, everything was perfect. Despite this being an agreement to share a home Eivor couldn't help but compare this to marriage vows — a promise to keep their love and joy alive unto eternity, solely because it made them both happy.

There was no way things could sour after this.

Not until after the eavesdropping raven gave its report, at least.

The next day Heimdall had servants sent over to move Eivor's things into his cabin, an order that would absolutely stir up gossip considering how unorthodox it was for a couple that wasn't married. Of course, none of them would say any of it to her, fearful of Heimdall's judgment should he catch wind of their opinions. Truly, Eivor really couldn't care less about this being the talk of the town. Her focus was instead on making a home they would both be happy with, most of her day spent arranging her decorations to blend with his, organizing their shared spaces, daydreaming about always being so close to the god she never knew she would grow to love so much. It paid off, most of the cabin set up by the time Heimdall returned from his duties, finding her standing in the doorway to his — their bedroom, a hand on her chin as she examined the shelves around the alcove. Unable to hold back a grin, he stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, glancing around at her handiwork. Eivor really didn't have too many things to add, yet she managed to incorporate them in a way that made them feel like they had always been there. She finally spoke up while gesturing to the shelves. "What do you think, too crowded?"

He offered a hum before kissing the top of her head. "Would you really change anything if I had complaints?"

"Only if I thought those complaints would keep coming back to annoy me."

All he could do was chuckle. He didn't have it in him to taunt her back when he was as happy as he was. When he leaned down to kiss her cheek she met him halfway, locking lips with all the joy the day had brought them.

That joy remained. For three weeks they settled into their new arrangements, feeling like things were so different even though only so much had changed. It was a time of peace and love, Heimdall being in such a good mood for so long that others were amazed at how…nonviolent he could be when he was irritated. Everything was so idyllic that it didn't seem real sometimes.

Eivor soon learned that, despite how things seemed, they weren't.

Just shy of a month after moving in with Heimdall she received word that Odin wanted to see her. An occasional event, but normal. No alarm bells rang, although the raven keeping a close eye on her as she made her way to the lodge felt more unsettling than usual. Then she knocked on the study door, entering once invited inside. 

The All-Father stood by one of his bookshelves, about halfway between his desk and the door. As casual and warm as usual, Odin greeted, "Good to see you, Eivor. Anything new?"

She edged closer to him, trying to get a look at the books he had lying about. He never really let anyone get a decent look at his collection. "No, although I'm certain you would know if there was."

The All-Father gave her a low laugh, seeming to inflate with the compliment. "Wise words, my dear. And that's actually why I wanted to speak with you." No reply could be given as he wandered to the front of his desk, placing a few books down on it before turning back to her. She couldn't find any connection between his all-seeing nature and her. Not yet. "How's it been with Heimdall?"

"Wonderfully, in all honesty." Pause. "Is that what you want to speak about? Are you still concerned that I'm distracting him?"

Something twisted in Odin, she could see it even though his eyes remained on the books on his desk. His warm, friendly smile morphed into a more cynical one. "Observant and cunning, as always."

Slowly, almost lazily, he made his way around to the other side of his desk as Eivor stepped closer to it. "I understand your concern, All-Father, I do. But I assure you I want Heimdall to fulfill his duties as much as you do. He enjoys them, and I don't want to—"

"Oh I know, I know. It's not about the details anymore. Now we're looking at the bigger picture." He sat down, folding his hands in front of him. 

Eivor shook her head, completely bemused. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand."

"Which is why I'm going to say it clearly this time." 

This time? Meaning his first warning was merely a prelude to this?

Sitting straight in his chair, looking every bit like the king he was, Odin stated firmly and clearly, with a draconian tone, "First and foremost, Heimdall works for me. That's who. He. Is."

His hand shot up to silence her when she reached out in rage, having no fear of correcting the All-Father himself. Heimdall dedicated his life to Asgard, but he was so much more, and not even Odin could degrade him in such a way. Nonetheless, she obeyed him, keeping her arm suspended as he rested his elbows on the table, folding his hands in front of his chin. 

Voice chilling, colder than the depths of Hel itself, he said one more thing. 

"And I will do whatever is necessary to keep it that way."

Every molecule in the air froze, the sinister aura piercing down to her bones. Eivor's hand pulled back to curl into her chest as the horror draped over her expression, her breath and blood running cold.

He was threatening her.

For what? Loving Heimdall?

No, because Heimdall loved her. 

If he was so against it, then why did he allow it? He even encouraged it at times. But now he was warning her that he would throw her away if she overstepped too much? That he would leave Heimdall alone and distressed yet still expect him to behave like a perfect servant? It was a cruelty that was beyond her comprehension.

It was then she remembered all the stories. All the tales of Odin's lies and tricks, the murder and obsessions. Now she knew that the gentle, at times bumbling old god he had shown everyone was not real. That Odin was the sham, and this was the real All-Father. He had fooled everyone in the realm, even Heimdall. And herself. She was now trapped in the web he had spun around everyone in the realms. He would destroy anyone as soon as it gave him an advantage.

Including Heimdall. Someday. He would take away everything that made Heimdall happy, trick him into keeping up his work regardless of his misery. Until Odin betrayed him.

If he hadn't already.

And that thought made her soul shake in panic.

The evil smile Odin wore could scare fire into fizzling out. "You're smart, you get the message."

Yes, she did.

Heimdall was his, and no one else's.

Robotically, head spinning from the violent turn things took, Eivor nodded. Every ounce of courage was drained, all rebellion in her evaporated. She couldn't maintain her bravery in the face of such a monster.

"Good. We have an understanding then." His smile returned to that deceivingly warm charm, making her shiver. He waved his hand uncaringly, but his voice was commanding. Demeaning. Evil. "Dismissed."

Eivor couldn't take another breath in that room, fleeing as soon as he allowed her to. 

There was only one loose end that the All-Father couldn't tie up. But Heimdall would unwittingly take care of it himself.

Smirking, Odin released Huginn from his tattoos, the bird landing on the perch on his desk. "In about an hour, bring Heimdall here. I'm sure he would want to hear about this and go check on his little 'Songbird."

The raven only squawked in compliance.

Eivor paced through their cabin, testing out barriers and staves and spells. She had to have something that could shield more than just her from Odin's gaze. Something to keep his nose out of her and Heimdall's lives long enough for her to warn her lover and find a way out of Asgard. It was just something she had never even tried before. Why would she? Until now there was no reason to figure out how to completely shut out the All-Father himself.

She scoffed in frustration as her latest attempt failed to produce any meaningful results, the distress making her hyperventilate and plaster her hands over her face. What was she supposed to do?

The sound of the door opening barely registered on her mind. It was midday. Heimdall wouldn't be back until the evening. The blood drained from her face as she pictured Odin sauntering in to punish her for already trying to find a way to escape him. Dread and fear subsided only after she heard her name in a welcomed voice. 

Heimdall entered their room, and the sight was so relieving that Eivor ran to him and embraced him without a word. He chuckled, though it sounded strained, worried. "A little raven told me something was wrong."

Green eyes shot open. Odin told Heimdall himself. Either this was a test, or he wanted her to think she had some semblance of control only to rip it away. Whatever it was, the bastard was already two steps ahead.

She pushed away from Heimdall, gathering her breath and whispering, "We need to leave."

"Leave?" The watchman smirked and glanced around the room, making no effort to be discreet. "Are you trying to hide something from me?"

"Heimdall, I'm serious," she hissed, his smirk fading immediately. "We need to leave Asgard."

Brow furrowed and still speaking at full volume, he replied, "Why on earth would we do that?"

Seeing that Heimdall wouldn't get the very obvious idea that she was trying to be quiet, she dropped the secrecy. "It's dangerous here."

"It certainly is not. All-Father would —"

"Heimdall, listen to me!" He did as she asked, looking totally confounded at her worry. "All-Father spoke to me in his study. He told me he would hurt me if I got much closer to you."

Still having no idea what she was saying, he replied with a quiet, "What?"

"He doesn't see you as an advisor, he thinks you are his puppet. And he's ready to harm you and anyone else to get what he wants. We can't stay here!"

"That's not true."

His rejection was so blunt that he may as well have slapped her. He truly wouldn't even consider it? There had to be some clues he had seen that would add up with her story. "What do you mean? You've never read a single thing from him that makes you see that?"

"I've never been able to read All-Father. His power is beyond my own."

So matter-of-fact. Which meant it had always been this way. Odin must have some sort of magic guarding him from Heimdall's foresight and fed him excuses to disguise it. The roots Odin planted into Heimdall were far more vast than she could have known, and the old monarch knew it. "Well, fine, you don't need to read him, just me. Look at me and you'll see that I'm not lying. I never lie to you!"

That she did not, and he could see it. He did as she asked and dove into her mind, seeing thoughts and images that supported her every word. Yet somehow…they didn't make sense. It was like they were blurred before he could fully analyze them, pages ripped in half before he even saw them. She was telling the truth, but the truth didn't feel…possible. "You're mistaken," he said sternly and mechanically.

He felt the despair was over her. "What? No, Heimdall, you can see it!"

He could, but he couldn't. The more he tried to look, or even just believe her blindly, the more his head started to pound, giving the same pain he felt when he was overstimulated. His fingers pressed into his brow as he looked away, jaw clenching tighter and tighter as Eivor continued, "I'm not trying to trick you or hurt anybody, I'm trying to get you to see the truth that I missed before it's too late. We're not safe here. We never have been."

Losing patience, Heimdall glared at her and bit back, "Everyone is safe here, I make sure of that."

"You think you are, but you can't!" She cried desperately.

With that pounding headache he couldn't keep it together, rage erupting. "Oh really?! Have I not saved you from incompetence many times by now?"

"That's not the point!"

"Then what is?! That suddenly All-Father is this diabolical fiend that is out to destroy everyone?"

"It's not sudden, it's always been that way. We just can't see it!"

The anger only boiled hotter at the suggestion that he was so foolish that he missed something that obvious. "Ha! Well then, if we pretend that's true, then what exactly are you trying to accomplish by assuming I'll believe this slander?"

His denial stole all rationale from Eivor, her admission becoming more of an argument. "He will hurt you, maybe even kill you—" Heimdall scoffed at that. "I'm trying to protect you!"

Teeth bared and growling, he snapped, "I don't need protecting! Protecting is what I was born to do!"

Everything in him rejected all of it as she pleaded with him to listen, until her insistence tipped him over the edge.

"Why can't you trust me? I'm trying to help you, I'm—"

He snapped. "I don't need your help! I will never need help!" Eivor took a step away as he threw his hand down and lashed out. "I didn't bring you here to 'help' me, so shut up and drop it!"

A sigh to release the tension. Only then did he hear the ringing of his own words. And what they would mean to Eivor. When he finally stopped seeing red he found her cowering, staring at him with wide eyes filled with hurt, tears welling up as he felt her terrified disbelief. Right away he regretted every word, opening his mouth to correct them. But he couldn't, not after she looked away and closed her mind to him, not wanting him to feel the pain he had just inflicted. The sudden silence surrounding her was more painful than the headache that had just disappeared without a trace. Saying nothing, Eivor bit her lip to keep it from trembling and prepared to leave, Heimdall's hand catching her arm the only thing stopping her. "Wait," he begged, not even caring that he was.

Never before had he seen her act so cold, not even looking at him. "Why should I?"

"I didn't mean it."

"Oh, really?" She spat bitterly. "You swear you only say what you mean until it's inconvenient for you? Like everyone else?"

In her case she was referring to the individuals who had used her in the past, but to him it was literal. Yes, he had yet again stooped to the common swine's level and proved she was better than him. But he would fix it right away this time.

He tried to pull her closer but she wouldn't budge, forcing him to step to her front. Eivor felt his fingers gently caress her chin, the warm touch easily guiding her gaze upward in spite of herself. Her mind was still closed as he mumbled sincerely, "A lapse in judgment." When she didn't seem to accept that, he fell back on the last resort. 

"I'm sorry."

The second time she had ever heard Heimdall apologize. He only used that phrase when he knew he had made a serious error, and the fact that he recognized his outrage as a mistake calmed Eivor. Even though the hurt remained she leaned into his hand, letting him feel her mind again. 

"I see that you're scared…" He wasn't even sure what to say. Everything she implied was so ludicrous, yet he couldn't just dismiss it either. Not when it was her saying all of this. While he was trying to find the words, Eivor hoped that maybe, just maybe, he believed her now. 

It was not to be.

"...but there's nothing to be afraid of. You're safe here. I'll keep you safe."

Before she could stop, she replied sadly, "But who is keeping you safe?"

Heimdall smiled softly, holding her face with both hands as he boasted, "I'll take care of that too." It wasn't enough for her, he could tell by her eyes leaving his in disappointment. "This is all just a…a misunderstanding. I'll speak with All-Father, clear all of this up. Everything will be fine."

With no strength left to argue, Eivor took her face away and nodded. There was still so much hurt that Heimdall could feel — hurt that he had caused. Hurt that could drive her away. Without a thought he took her in his arms and pulled her to his chest, praying she would feel his repentance. Her arms dangling at her sides, not moving to hug him in return, showed that she didn't. After such a glorious month of spending his life with her, he'd crossed a line. There was no way he would go back to living alone, to going through life without her. He'd made a terrible mistake.

One that fueled the instantaneous words he couldn't keep from escaping.

"Please don't leave me."

His voice was so small, like a little boy who was looking for his lost mother. So terrified that he wouldn't have her anymore. The sadness undid her resentment right away, body relaxing and arms raising to wrap around his neck and pull his nose into her shoulder. Forgiveness came easily. He was angry. Of course he said something he didn't mean. As much as he claimed perfection, he was, in fact, flawed. To forget that just because he was upset wasn't fair to him, and Eivor knew that. He still loved her, still wanted her, and she was willing to give him the kindness and understanding he was not yet capable of possessing himself.

Still, all the silence did was allow reality to set in.

He didn't believe her.

It was heartbreaking to confirm. This man who could witness truth and detect falsehood at a glance refused to take the facts she gave him over his loyalty to a false god. He didn't take a moment to consider with his own mind instead of his blinded foresight about what she had to say, or how fearful she was. After all this time. Granted, it was a blink compared to a god's lifespan, but it felt like so much longer to them. Like centuries.

As depressing as it was, she couldn't find it in herself to blame him. His entire life has been spent serving Odin. The All-Father and Asgard were the center of his world, and forgetting everything one has ever known couldn't be done in a single moment. However, Odin wouldn't allow her to gradually convince him to see the truth either. If Heimdall didn't believe her now, he never would. 

Still, she couldn't stay there. She couldn't serve another power that she didn't agree with just because it was the life she had been given. That was something she had sworn to leave behind, a decision that Heimdall had helped her make. Remaining in Asgard, assisting a vile god committing horrible crimes, was a path she would not accept. But if she didn't…Odin made it perfectly clear that he had no reservations of making her disappear like so many others.

She had to leave. To run away. Her magic had hid her from Odin before. If she played her cards right, she could slip away and stay out of his ravens' sight.

Then she heard it again.

Please don't leave me.

That option became inconceivable as those words echoed in her mind. Hearing how broken Heimdall sounded, how devastated he was by the mere thought of her leaving…she couldn't hurt him like that. He would never trust anyone, never feel his emotions freely or enjoy life for himself ever again. That wasn't what she wanted for him. She couldn't hurt him just to save herself. She couldn't do that to him. Especially when that hurt would only drive him closer to the mastermind.

Then what? That left her trapped, under Odin's thumb all while she knew he saw Heimdall was nothing more than a mindless minion to him until it came time to Odin to dispose of him.

No matter how long she remained, her eventual demise by the All-Father's hand was inevitable. If she stayed, her life was just as forfeit as Heimdall's happiness would be if she ran away. 

So what did she want more? Her life, or Heimdall's well-being?

It took only a second to decide. Her arms gripped him tighter, resolve strong. 

One day Odin would get rid of her. Knowing Odin, that was something she couldn't stop now. Even if she tried and had some success, he would find a way. If she were to die one way or the other, she wanted the time she had left to be spent supporting Heimdall, tying herself to his invisible chains to make him feel as free as possible. She wouldn't leave him to suffer alone. She would be with him. Until she couldn't anymore.

"I won't," she whispered, feeling him nestle into her further. "I'll always be here."

That was her silent oath. It sealed her fate, but it was a fate she would accept for him.

Huginn flew away, ready to send in the final report on this master. There was no need to monitor them as carefully now. Everything had gone exactly as planned. 

And Odin didn't care to listen to Eivor after Heimdall left, sitting down against a wall and sobbing. Lamenting how unfair it was that Heimdall gave so much and would get nothing in return.

Her only hope was that one day fate would be tested.

And tested it would be.

-------------------

If you aren't sure what Odin's plan is, it'll be explained a little more later, dw bb

[ninjahiccups]

The Songbird of Asgard

Chapter 14: Interlude: Chained

AO3 Masterlist Word Count: 4.9k Warnings: Implied adult content, but nothing explicit or described. Odin being an asshole (but we're expecting that).

This one is more of a bridge between this arc and the next, so it's a little shorter. But these last three chapters are coming in quick succession sooooooooo ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The blissful night had met its end, nothing more than the heated air and moonlight leftover from the heartfelt exchange between them. There were only two bodies in Heimdall's bed, facing each other and holding one another close enough that they may as well have been one being. Eivor was giving him time to sit in silence, aware that he didn't have any way to express the well of emotions bubbling in him. But she could see that he was at peace, hands lazily wandering over her waist and through her hair, occasionally planting a firm kiss on the top of her head. She had no idea exactly what he was thinking, settling into the silence while he figured out how to proceed.

With that inability to guess what he was thinking, she had no clue that he was considering how…unfortunate things would be after such a night. Their current routines no longer felt sufficient. To know that he would leave in the morning, unsure if she would return to her cabin for some time or if she would be waiting for him here, to realize that there was still so much separation between their lives…it was an unspeakable pain stabbing at his gut. A pain that fueled an impulse decision. 

No warning or introduction offered, Heimdall blurted out softly, "I want this every night."

Eivor could only laugh. "That sounds exhausting."

"Not that."

He was so serious, enough to gain Eivor's full attention. She followed his lead and he scooted back from her, stopping just far enough that he could see her face. His smile, so soft and loving, made her stomach flip and her heart nearly stopped. It was such a sweet expression, one he had displayed on occasion, but never this intensely. 

"This," he began, meeting her puzzled gaze. "To have you in my arms every night, and know I'll see you as soon as I wake up every morning. To breathe the same air as you, to know that you'll be here enough for me to devote every free moment to you. That's what I want. You."

It was difficult to keep eye contact as he spoke. She knew what he was saying. He wanted to be certain that their nightly arrangements were no longer "arrangements." He wanted this to be their lives. Doing her best to hold back the kiss she wanted to throw at him, she played coy, pressing him to come out and say it in a way he hadn't been able to. Eyes drawing down briefly, she looked back up at him with a teasing grin. "Are…you asking me to live with you? Is that it?"

Heimdall felt a smirk coming on. She wanted to tease, did she? Well, he certainly knew of a method he'd used twice before that would serve as a perfect counter. Shifting back just a hair, he plastered on a dramatically apologetic look and withdrew his hands. "Oh, yes, of course." Eivor barely let out a hum in confusion before he lifted up to rest on his elbow, looking down at her and holding up his hands like he was attempting to calm her. "Pardon me, how could I forget that you like to do these things formally. Please excuse my negligence."

She knew exactly where this was going. Sighing with exasperation and brow furrowing in annoyance, Eivor also rose to one elbow as she pleaded, "No, Heimdall, not this again."

"Now, now, I'm only tending to your needs with this." He had to hold back a chuckle when she rolled her eyes and exhaled her frustration. Clearing his throat with his knuckles pressed against his lips for added effect, he bellowed, "I, Heimdall, the Scion of the Aesir, Watchman of the Gods, Keeper of Gjallarhorn, and Herald of Ragnarok," said with extra emphasis and lifting his head theatrically, "do hereby humbly request —"

With two fingers on her temple, Eivor grumbled, "There's nothing humble about this."

"Don't interrupt, love, it's rude." His chastising elicited a scoff that melted into a giggle as she looked away and shook her head. Regaining the same exaggerated tone, he continued, "Do hereby humbly request that you…" A brief pause while his face softened and his voice died down to a loving whisper. "Eivor…"

The way he said her name with so much love and wonder made her look up again, her irritated grin melting into a warm smile. His hands reached out and took both of hers between his, eyes never leaving her. "Goddess of gold, beauty incarnate, bearer of my heart, and my beloved Songbird of Asgard…remain here, so that we may live as true lovers do." He gently brushed stray locks behind her ear, pausing between each phrase like they were too holy to force out all at once, "Stay. With me. Forever."

Eivor couldn't keep looking at him, not with the depths of love he displayed in his eyes as he beamed fondly at her. How was she supposed to keep herself calm when everything he said brought her heart to its knees? Even if it didn't, the fact that he said it so freely, not bothering to disguise it and pretend he was so uncaring and nonchalant…he just came out and said it. No funny language morphing it into something else. That was something he wouldn't have been able to do months ago, and she was so proud of him for growing this much.

Nerves making him impatient, Heimdall added smugly, "Was that good enough for you?"

It was hard for her to reply, her eyes already tearing up at the loving words. She tried to take a hand away to rub her eyes but he wouldn't let her go, still waiting for her answer. Looking down, she murmured, "You already know what I'll say."

"Maybe…but this was all just to satisfy your need for formality. It's only polite that you follow suit."

Her grin widened so much that her cheeks hurt. He wanted to hear her say it. He just couldn't admit it. And that was very, very cute to her. As much as she wanted to remain genuine, she chose to play along with his game. Straightening her back and painting on a true yet overly saccharine smile, she responded with the same tone he used, finding amusement in his eyes as she spoke. "I, Eivor, have heard the watchman's humble and not at all melodramatic request, and I am prepared to offer an answer. And that answer is…" Just like him she couldn't keep up the act, growing sincere while she leaned in closer. "Yes. I'll be here. At your side. Always."

She reveled in seeing his smile grow with each word before he dove in, meeting her in a passionate kiss, one that bore so much love that it was a wildfire compared to the candlelit night they just had together. He dragged her back down to the bed, his arms refusing to do anything but circle her waist and hold her so close that there was no space between them. 

Just like that, everything was perfect. Despite this being an agreement to share a home Eivor couldn't help but compare this to marriage vows — a promise to keep their love and joy alive unto eternity, solely because it made them both happy.

There was no way things could sour after this.

Not until after the eavesdropping raven gave its report, at least.

The next day Heimdall had servants sent over to move Eivor's things into his cabin, an order that would absolutely stir up gossip considering how unorthodox it was for a couple that wasn't married. Of course, none of them would say any of it to her, fearful of Heimdall's judgment should he catch wind of their opinions. Truly, Eivor really couldn't care less about this being the talk of the town. Her focus was instead on making a home they would both be happy with, most of her day spent arranging her decorations to blend with his, organizing their shared spaces, daydreaming about always being so close to the god she never knew she would grow to love so much. It paid off, most of the cabin set up by the time Heimdall returned from his duties, finding her standing in the doorway to his — their bedroom, a hand on her chin as she examined the shelves around the alcove. Unable to hold back a grin, he stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, glancing around at her handiwork. Eivor really didn't have too many things to add, yet she managed to incorporate them in a way that made them feel like they had always been there. She finally spoke up while gesturing to the shelves. "What do you think, too crowded?"

He offered a hum before kissing the top of her head. "Would you really change anything if I had complaints?"

"Only if I thought those complaints would keep coming back to annoy me."

All he could do was chuckle. He didn't have it in him to taunt her back when he was as happy as he was. When he leaned down to kiss her cheek she met him halfway, locking lips with all the joy the day had brought them.

That joy remained. For three weeks they settled into their new arrangements, feeling like things were so different even though only so much had changed. It was a time of peace and love, Heimdall being in such a good mood for so long that others were amazed at how…nonviolent he could be when he was irritated. Everything was so idyllic that it didn't seem real sometimes.

Eivor soon learned that, despite how things seemed, they weren't.

Just shy of a month after moving in with Heimdall she received word that Odin wanted to see her. An occasional event, but normal. No alarm bells rang, although the raven keeping a close eye on her as she made her way to the lodge felt more unsettling than usual. Then she knocked on the study door, entering once invited inside. 

The All-Father stood by one of his bookshelves, about halfway between his desk and the door. As casual and warm as usual, Odin greeted, "Good to see you, Eivor. Anything new?"

She edged closer to him, trying to get a look at the books he had lying about. He never really let anyone get a decent look at his collection. "No, although I'm certain you would know if there was."

The All-Father gave her a low laugh, seeming to inflate with the compliment. "Wise words, my dear. And that's actually why I wanted to speak with you." No reply could be given as he wandered to the front of his desk, placing a few books down on it before turning back to her. She couldn't find any connection between his all-seeing nature and her. Not yet. "How's it been with Heimdall?"

"Wonderfully, in all honesty." Pause. "Is that what you want to speak about? Are you still concerned that I'm distracting him?"

Something twisted in Odin, she could see it even though his eyes remained on the books on his desk. His warm, friendly smile morphed into a more cynical one. "Observant and cunning, as always."

Slowly, almost lazily, he made his way around to the other side of his desk as Eivor stepped closer to it. "I understand your concern, All-Father, I do. But I assure you I want Heimdall to fulfill his duties as much as you do. He enjoys them, and I don't want to—"

"Oh I know, I know. It's not about the details anymore. Now we're looking at the bigger picture." He sat down, folding his hands in front of him. 

Eivor shook her head, completely bemused. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand."

"Which is why I'm going to say it clearly this time." 

This time? Meaning his first warning was merely a prelude to this?

Sitting straight in his chair, looking every bit like the king he was, Odin stated firmly and clearly, with a draconian tone, "First and foremost, Heimdall works for me. That's who. He. Is."

His hand shot up to silence her when she reached out in rage, having no fear of correcting the All-Father himself. Heimdall dedicated his life to Asgard, but he was so much more, and not even Odin could degrade him in such a way. Nonetheless, she obeyed him, keeping her arm suspended as he rested his elbows on the table, folding his hands in front of his chin. 

Voice chilling, colder than the depths of Hel itself, he said one more thing. 

"And I will do whatever is necessary to keep it that way."

Every molecule in the air froze, the sinister aura piercing down to her bones. Eivor's hand pulled back to curl into her chest as the horror draped over her expression, her breath and blood running cold.

He was threatening her.

For what? Loving Heimdall?

No, because Heimdall loved her. 

If he was so against it, then why did he allow it? He even encouraged it at times. But now he was warning her that he would throw her away if she overstepped too much? That he would leave Heimdall alone and distressed yet still expect him to behave like a perfect servant? It was a cruelty that was beyond her comprehension.

It was then she remembered all the stories. All the tales of Odin's lies and tricks, the murder and obsessions. Now she knew that the gentle, at times bumbling old god he had shown everyone was not real. That Odin was the sham, and this was the real All-Father. He had fooled everyone in the realm, even Heimdall. And herself. She was now trapped in the web he had spun around everyone in the realms. He would destroy anyone as soon as it gave him an advantage.

Including Heimdall. Someday. He would take away everything that made Heimdall happy, trick him into keeping up his work regardless of his misery. Until Odin betrayed him.

If he hadn't already.

And that thought made her soul shake in panic.

The evil smile Odin wore could scare fire into fizzling out. "You're smart, you get the message."

Yes, she did.

Heimdall was his, and no one else's.

Robotically, head spinning from the violent turn things took, Eivor nodded. Every ounce of courage was drained, all rebellion in her evaporated. She couldn't maintain her bravery in the face of such a monster.

"Good. We have an understanding then." His smile returned to that deceivingly warm charm, making her shiver. He waved his hand uncaringly, but his voice was commanding. Demeaning. Evil. "Dismissed."

Eivor couldn't take another breath in that room, fleeing as soon as he allowed her to. 

There was only one loose end that the All-Father couldn't tie up. But Heimdall would unwittingly take care of it himself.

Smirking, Odin released Huginn from his tattoos, the bird landing on the perch on his desk. "In about an hour, bring Heimdall here. I'm sure he would want to hear about this and go check on his little 'Songbird."

The raven only squawked in compliance.

Eivor paced through their cabin, testing out barriers and staves and spells. She had to have something that could shield more than just her from Odin's gaze. Something to keep his nose out of her and Heimdall's lives long enough for her to warn her lover and find a way out of Asgard. It was just something she had never even tried before. Why would she? Until now there was no reason to figure out how to completely shut out the All-Father himself.

She scoffed in frustration as her latest attempt failed to produce any meaningful results, the distress making her hyperventilate and plaster her hands over her face. What was she supposed to do?

The sound of the door opening barely registered on her mind. It was midday. Heimdall wouldn't be back until the evening. The blood drained from her face as she pictured Odin sauntering in to punish her for already trying to find a way to escape him. Dread and fear subsided only after she heard her name in a welcomed voice. 

Heimdall entered their room, and the sight was so relieving that Eivor ran to him and embraced him without a word. He chuckled, though it sounded strained, worried. "A little raven told me something was wrong."

Green eyes shot open. Odin told Heimdall himself. Either this was a test, or he wanted her to think she had some semblance of control only to rip it away. Whatever it was, the bastard was already two steps ahead.

She pushed away from Heimdall, gathering her breath and whispering, "We need to leave."

"Leave?" The watchman smirked and glanced around the room, making no effort to be discreet. "Are you trying to hide something from me?"

"Heimdall, I'm serious," she hissed, his smirk fading immediately. "We need to leave Asgard."

Brow furrowed and still speaking at full volume, he replied, "Why on earth would we do that?"

Seeing that Heimdall wouldn't get the very obvious idea that she was trying to be quiet, she dropped the secrecy. "It's dangerous here."

"It certainly is not. All-Father would —"

"Heimdall, listen to me!" He did as she asked, looking totally confounded at her worry. "All-Father spoke to me in his study. He told me he would hurt me if I got much closer to you."

Still having no idea what she was saying, he replied with a quiet, "What?"

"He doesn't see you as an advisor, he thinks you are his puppet. And he's ready to harm you and anyone else to get what he wants. We can't stay here!"

"That's not true."

His rejection was so blunt that he may as well have slapped her. He truly wouldn't even consider it? There had to be some clues he had seen that would add up with her story. "What do you mean? You've never read a single thing from him that makes you see that?"

"I've never been able to read All-Father. His power is beyond my own."

So matter-of-fact. Which meant it had always been this way. Odin must have some sort of magic guarding him from Heimdall's foresight and fed him excuses to disguise it. The roots Odin planted into Heimdall were far more vast than she could have known, and the old monarch knew it. "Well, fine, you don't need to read him, just me. Look at me and you'll see that I'm not lying. I never lie to you!"

That she did not, and he could see it. He did as she asked and dove into her mind, seeing thoughts and images that supported her every word. Yet somehow…they didn't make sense. It was like they were blurred before he could fully analyze them, pages ripped in half before he even saw them. She was telling the truth, but the truth didn't feel…possible. "You're mistaken," he said sternly and mechanically.

He felt the despair was over her. "What? No, Heimdall, you can see it!"

He could, but he couldn't. The more he tried to look, or even just believe her blindly, the more his head started to pound, giving the same pain he felt when he was overstimulated. His fingers pressed into his brow as he looked away, jaw clenching tighter and tighter as Eivor continued, "I'm not trying to trick you or hurt anybody, I'm trying to get you to see the truth that I missed before it's too late. We're not safe here. We never have been."

Losing patience, Heimdall glared at her and bit back, "Everyone is safe here, I make sure of that."

"You think you are, but you can't!" She cried desperately.

With that pounding headache he couldn't keep it together, rage erupting. "Oh really?! Have I not saved you from incompetence many times by now?"

"That's not the point!"

"Then what is?! That suddenly All-Father is this diabolical fiend that is out to destroy everyone?"

"It's not sudden, it's always been that way. We just can't see it!"

The anger only boiled hotter at the suggestion that he was so foolish that he missed something that obvious. "Ha! Well then, if we pretend that's true, then what exactly are you trying to accomplish by assuming I'll believe this slander?"

His denial stole all rationale from Eivor, her admission becoming more of an argument. "He will hurt you, maybe even kill you—" Heimdall scoffed at that. "I'm trying to protect you!"

Teeth bared and growling, he snapped, "I don't need protecting! Protecting is what I was born to do!"

Everything in him rejected all of it as she pleaded with him to listen, until her insistence tipped him over the edge.

"Why can't you trust me? I'm trying to help you, I'm—"

He snapped. "I don't need your help! I will never need help!" Eivor took a step away as he threw his hand down and lashed out. "I didn't bring you here to 'help' me, so shut up and drop it!"

A sigh to release the tension. Only then did he hear the ringing of his own words. And what they would mean to Eivor. When he finally stopped seeing red he found her cowering, staring at him with wide eyes filled with hurt, tears welling up as he felt her terrified disbelief. Right away he regretted every word, opening his mouth to correct them. But he couldn't, not after she looked away and closed her mind to him, not wanting him to feel the pain he had just inflicted. The sudden silence surrounding her was more painful than the headache that had just disappeared without a trace. Saying nothing, Eivor bit her lip to keep it from trembling and prepared to leave, Heimdall's hand catching her arm the only thing stopping her. "Wait," he begged, not even caring that he was.

Never before had he seen her act so cold, not even looking at him. "Why should I?"

"I didn't mean it."

"Oh, really?" She spat bitterly. "You swear you only say what you mean until it's inconvenient for you? Like everyone else?"

In her case she was referring to the individuals who had used her in the past, but to him it was literal. Yes, he had yet again stooped to the common swine's level and proved she was better than him. But he would fix it right away this time.

He tried to pull her closer but she wouldn't budge, forcing him to step to her front. Eivor felt his fingers gently caress her chin, the warm touch easily guiding her gaze upward in spite of herself. Her mind was still closed as he mumbled sincerely, "A lapse in judgment." When she didn't seem to accept that, he fell back on the last resort. 

"I'm sorry."

The second time she had ever heard Heimdall apologize. He only used that phrase when he knew he had made a serious error, and the fact that he recognized his outrage as a mistake calmed Eivor. Even though the hurt remained she leaned into his hand, letting him feel her mind again. 

"I see that you're scared…" He wasn't even sure what to say. Everything she implied was so ludicrous, yet he couldn't just dismiss it either. Not when it was her saying all of this. While he was trying to find the words, Eivor hoped that maybe, just maybe, he believed her now. 

It was not to be.

"...but there's nothing to be afraid of. You're safe here. I'll keep you safe."

Before she could stop, she replied sadly, "But who is keeping you safe?"

Heimdall smiled softly, holding her face with both hands as he boasted, "I'll take care of that too." It wasn't enough for her, he could tell by her eyes leaving his in disappointment. "This is all just a…a misunderstanding. I'll speak with All-Father, clear all of this up. Everything will be fine."

With no strength left to argue, Eivor took her face away and nodded. There was still so much hurt that Heimdall could feel — hurt that he had caused. Hurt that could drive her away. Without a thought he took her in his arms and pulled her to his chest, praying she would feel his repentance. Her arms dangling at her sides, not moving to hug him in return, showed that she didn't. After such a glorious month of spending his life with her, he'd crossed a line. There was no way he would go back to living alone, to going through life without her. He'd made a terrible mistake.

One that fueled the instantaneous words he couldn't keep from escaping.

"Please don't leave me."

His voice was so small, like a little boy who was looking for his lost mother. So terrified that he wouldn't have her anymore. The sadness undid her resentment right away, body relaxing and arms raising to wrap around his neck and pull his nose into her shoulder. Forgiveness came easily. He was angry. Of course he said something he didn't mean. As much as he claimed perfection, he was, in fact, flawed. To forget that just because he was upset wasn't fair to him, and Eivor knew that. He still loved her, still wanted her, and she was willing to give him the kindness and understanding he was not yet capable of possessing himself.

Still, all the silence did was allow reality to set in.

He didn't believe her.

It was heartbreaking to confirm. This man who could witness truth and detect falsehood at a glance refused to take the facts she gave him over his loyalty to a false god. He didn't take a moment to consider with his own mind instead of his blinded foresight about what she had to say, or how fearful she was. After all this time. Granted, it was a blink compared to a god's lifespan, but it felt like so much longer to them. Like centuries.

As depressing as it was, she couldn't find it in herself to blame him. His entire life has been spent serving Odin. The All-Father and Asgard were the center of his world, and forgetting everything one has ever known couldn't be done in a single moment. However, Odin wouldn't allow her to gradually convince him to see the truth either. If Heimdall didn't believe her now, he never would. 

Still, she couldn't stay there. She couldn't serve another power that she didn't agree with just because it was the life she had been given. That was something she had sworn to leave behind, a decision that Heimdall had helped her make. Remaining in Asgard, assisting a vile god committing horrible crimes, was a path she would not accept. But if she didn't…Odin made it perfectly clear that he had no reservations of making her disappear like so many others.

She had to leave. To run away. Her magic had hid her from Odin before. If she played her cards right, she could slip away and stay out of his ravens' sight.

Then she heard it again.

Please don't leave me.

That option became inconceivable as those words echoed in her mind. Hearing how broken Heimdall sounded, how devastated he was by the mere thought of her leaving…she couldn't hurt him like that. He would never trust anyone, never feel his emotions freely or enjoy life for himself ever again. That wasn't what she wanted for him. She couldn't hurt him just to save herself. She couldn't do that to him. Especially when that hurt would only drive him closer to the mastermind.

Then what? That left her trapped, under Odin's thumb all while she knew he saw Heimdall was nothing more than a mindless minion to him until it came time to Odin to dispose of him.

No matter how long she remained, her eventual demise by the All-Father's hand was inevitable. If she stayed, her life was just as forfeit as Heimdall's happiness would be if she ran away. 

So what did she want more? Her life, or Heimdall's well-being?

It took only a second to decide. Her arms gripped him tighter, resolve strong. 

One day Odin would get rid of her. Knowing Odin, that was something she couldn't stop now. Even if she tried and had some success, he would find a way. If she were to die one way or the other, she wanted the time she had left to be spent supporting Heimdall, tying herself to his invisible chains to make him feel as free as possible. She wouldn't leave him to suffer alone. She would be with him. Until she couldn't anymore.

"I won't," she whispered, feeling him nestle into her further. "I'll always be here."

That was her silent oath. It sealed her fate, but it was a fate she would accept for him.

Huginn flew away, ready to send in the final report on this master. There was no need to monitor them as carefully now. Everything had gone exactly as planned. 

And Odin didn't care to listen to Eivor after Heimdall left, sitting down against a wall and sobbing. Lamenting how unfair it was that Heimdall gave so much and would get nothing in return.

Her only hope was that one day fate would be tested.

And tested it would be.

-------------------

If you aren't sure what Odin's plan is, it'll be explained a little more later, dw bb

#heimdall #songbird of asgard #god of war #heimdall x reader #heimdall x oc #heimdall gow #god of war heimdall #gow heimdall #the songbird of asgard

[ninjahiccups]

The Songbird of Asgard

Chapter 13: Ignite (18+, Minors DNI!!)

AO3 Masterlist Word Count: 8k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, do NOT read if you are under 18 or don't want to see it. You won't miss anything important if you skip.

I still can't believe I wrote this or that I'm posting it...I've never done anything like this before, so I hope it's okay XD

The door had barely slammed behind them before Heimdall scooped Eivor up and sat her on top of his desk, the wooden box containing her flute set off to the side to let her fingers card through his hair. He settled between her thighs, their lips locked together in a furious battle between tongues and teeth, breathes mingling into shared gasps and sighs. There wasn't a single care for the fallen books and crumpled papers as his hands reached up her legs to shove them off. It became increasingly difficult to toe off his boots with Eivor's fingertips drifting down his chest and to the belt holding up his waist armor, grabbing hold of the buckle to free him of it. Only a few seconds went by but it felt like an eternity as he waited for her to be done.

As soon as the heavy gear was gone he dove down to her neck, licking and sucking on the soft skin below her jaw while her head tilted to give him room. His hungry digits crawled up her waist to drag his thumbs along the sides of her breasts, careasing the fabric as if he was feeling her skin. The high pitched tone to her sigh sent him reeling so far that his hands suddenly dropped to rip away the decorative belt around her waist, tossing it aside before he paused, breathing against her neck for a moment. He was so ready, he wanted this to happen now. At the same time, a part of him recognized just how special this moment was. One breath to calm himself, another to gather his wits. Then he slowly brought his head back up, kissing and nipping at exposed skin on his way until he reached her open lips. One hand drifted behind her head to gingerly feel the soft hair draping down, its heavenly texture making him pull her close and lean in to kiss her deeply. He was so close that Eivor could feel the lump pressing against her lower belly, making her gasp. 

Time still felt like it was moving far too slow to be bearable. Eivor pawed at his long tunic to pull the excess fabric high enough that she could wrap her legs around his hips with minimal interference between them. Her need was spilling over from her mind and into his sight, his spine tingling at the plethora of emotions, not entirely sure where his began and hers ended. He couldn't dally any longer, gripping her by the backside and lifting her up effortlessly, smiling at the giggle she breathed into his mouth. Eivor's hands started to work on his braids as he carried her to his bed, getting the largest one unwound and the other ones intertwined with it becoming loose when he slowly set her down on the furs. She only stopped when her back was on the soft sheets, where she had enough stability and space to grab his tunic and lift it up. Heimdall threw it off once it was over his head, only a little annoyed that it got caught on his bracers.

He took just a moment to watch her, take in the sight before him. Light blonde hair strewn across the pillows, the bright halo perfectly framing her red face and swollen lips, those verdent eyes hazy and unfocused as she panted. She was absolutely stunning, divine, unmatched in every way. A beauty of no renown, and a heart she wanted only him to have. It was in this moment he was reminded of that night after they spent weeks separated, holding her while he realized just how much better she was than even him, how nothing in this world could compare to her. She deserved only the best, and he would spend his entire life being the best for her. Including this very night. He would make sure she would never forget this. 

A new plan placed, Heimdall slowly leaned down to give her a much sweeter, more chaste kiss, slowing down just long enough to make her squirm. Her hands scratched at his thick undershirt, wishing it was his skin instead of armor. It did nothing to weaken his resolve as he gradually lowered his head a little at a time. One after another he peppered quick kisses down her neck, past her pulse and her throat, pausing at her partially exposed collarbone to bite at the delicate skin. His hands scraped up her torso, fingertips barely brushing over her bosom before spreading out to grip the edges of her dress. Just a second was spent waiting for her to object, and once he received none he painstakingly peeled it down her shoulders, his lips following it with nips at the free flesh that he'd never seen before. The collar was about halfway down her breasts, halting as he lifted back up to kiss her lips again, smirking at the impatient whine she gave him. It was intoxicating enough to make him take his time. Unable to bear his torture, Eivor shakily brought a hand to one of his bracers, fumbling with the straps in a hopeless effort to remove them without looking. It took mere moments for her to send her other hand to it, plucking at any loose leather that might be the strap, but with no success. Frustrated, she ripped her lips away to direct her gaze to it with a curse, briefly glaring at Heimdall as he chuckled at her. 

"It's really not that difficult." Finally the strap was wrenched free and his bracer slid off of his wrist, allowing her to toss it off the side of the bed. "Careful now, you'll scratch my favorite bracers," he taunted, lowering to bite her ear as her hands went to the remaining bracer.

"I'll get you new ones," she rasped while working in the other, having much more luck this time.

"And what if I don't want new ones?"

Out of principle Eivor hurled the second bracer across the room, not caring what it hit or where it landed, then seized the collar of his shirt to whisper in his ear, "Do you want your bracers, or this?"

In a roguish, almost cruel tone Heimdall hummed in thought, hands brushing over the covered portion of her chest idly. "I might need a minute to think about it…"

Rather than voicing her objection, Eivor opted to slide her hands over his neck and to his scalp, scratching through the tousled braids until he growled and reclaimed her mouth with his own. Were she not distracted, Eivor would have rubbed the victory in his face.

Heimdall hardly noticed, relishing in the feel of her sifting through his hair, his fingertips caressing veiled skin that he needed to feel, all while she gave the perfect amount of playful attitude. He thought he was prepared for this, but once again he failed to properly measure her charms, her every touch and sharp remark sending heat to both his core and his heart. She was so tempting, so much sweeter than the few lowlives he'd foolishly laid with in his ignorant youth. At this point he was growing tired of his own stalling, but still wanted to tease her a little more before giving in. For just a second he withdrew only to kiss her again, this time more tame, loving. Eivor responded in kind, smiling into his kiss while her hands released his hair and rested on the back of his neck. Subtly, his hands wrapped around her collar, pausing to fool her into thinking he would take it slow. After a quick read on her to ensure she was too lost to pay attention, his grip tightened and he swiftly yanked it down to the base of her ribcage. Eivor turned away to squeal at the abrupt rush of cold air and harsh swoosh of fabric, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth as she laughed, the action so on par with their usual antics that she completely forgot what they were doing. She wondered if she ruined the moment when she only heard a single sharp exhale from him, looking back up to apologize while her giggles died down.

An impatient stare, an annoyed look, maybe even a scoff was what she expected. Instead she was met with an expression she had never seen before. Heimdall's mouth was slightly ajar, wide eyes were trained on her torso, scanning her form like he had to memorize the placement of every pore. What was most baffling was the gleam in his eye, making him look like a starving predator catching sight of prey. Ravenous.

The word proved to fit. He only managed to sweep a palm over one breast before he needed more, diving down to take one in his mouth. Little gasps and whimpers egged him on, his other hand tending to the opposite side. They may not have been as large as other goddesses', but they were just enough to comfortably hold. A perfect fit for him, just like everything else about her. 

It felt like years. His tongue circled the supple skin and fingers pinched until she wailed, and all Eivor could do was wait for him to get his fill. She needed more, but her choices were limited in this position. Reaching back as far as she could, her hands grabbed his leather shirt and pulled it towards his shoulders, tugging it high enough that her hands could tuck underneath it and run along his back, letting her nails drift over his spine. One particular lick made her squirm, causing her to lose herself enough to dig her nails deep into his skin and pull downward to bring him closer. A scolding was what she predicted, thinking he wouldn't appreciate the scratching. To her surprise — and delight — he actually seemed to like it, so much that he gave a low growl and dug his teeth into her breast. If it weren't for the intense pleasure she felt she would have told herself to remember that. 

With his fondling growing hungrier, Eivor's impatience multiplied. Her legs lifted high enough to wrap around him and press her heels into his lower back, silently asking him to put pressure on places he hadn't touched. He caught on immediately, fighting against her and refusing to give her what she needed while grinning into her skin. She knew what he wanted her to do, that smug grin told her exactly what it would take to get him to finally move on. Perhaps another time she would choose to resist more, but for now she gave in without a second thought. "Heimdall, please…" 

The Songbird's voice had always been heavenly, but those words had been the most saccharine music the watchman had ever heard. As he smiled wolfishly he felt his lower belly ignite into an inferno, demanding to be set free so it could burn everything in its path. Yet he resisted despite the tightness in his pants that was beginning to throb. He gave one last kiss between her breasts and a squeeze to the tender skin, looking up to tease, "So eager. Do you really want this to be over so soon?"

Eivor brought her hands to his front and ran them up his chest, over his neck and into his hair, untying what was left of his braids and petting his golden locks. He practically purred for her. "Don't act like you aren't just…" she pulled him down while leaning up, swiping her tongue over his parted lips. "As." Her mouth moved farther up to nip at his jaw. "Eager," she finished, emphasizing it with a whisper in his ear. Feeling him shiver in her grasp was far too rewarding to resist a giggle, especially after she pulled away to take another good look at him. He would surely be embarrassed and irked by his tangled hair and his reddened visage. 

Heimdall ignored her taunt in favor of finding revenge. His hands slipped back down to the dress collar bunched around her torso, leaning down to bite and suck at her neck. "Oh, I am." His hands slowly worked the dress downward, his upper body following as he left a trail of kisses from her neck. "But I've been waiting for this for a very…" a kiss to her sternum, feeling her breasts brushing against both sides of his face. "Very…" His breathing stuttered when he dipped lower, another kiss landing on her ribs. One more went to her navel, and he felt his body tingle when she gasped. "Long time. And if we're going to do this," a pause while he slid backwards to bring her dress to her hips, allowing her hands to take hold of his last shirt and pull it off as he backed away, "we're going to do it right." He couldn't help but grin as he saw her tremble, though he didn't attempt to read her mind. If he did he would have seen how amused she was, something in the back of her mind finding it humorous that he was a perfectionist even in this context. 

Motivated by the sight of her parted lips and hazy eyes, he returned to her torso, inching down with kiss after kiss across her stomach. Even with the gasps of pleasure, he still felt the need to stop while her dress was almost past her hips. Rushing her had gotten him nowhere in the past, and the last thing he wanted was to take too much and leave her frightened. Or unsatisfied. Both would be a huge blow that he refused to accept. But the check in was over before it began when Eivor groaned, "Don't stop." The tone in her whine made his groin sting with blazing fire, one so hot and excruciating that he had to take a breath to remain in control. With that clarity he paid close attention to his foresight — a grueling task given how difficult it was to concentrate — to look for any trace of hesitation in her, any lingering doubt that could leave her hurt when everything was done. That burning only grew hotter when he found only desire. 

Feeling his palms sweat and his chest heave, Heimdall chose to make the reveal more interesting. His eyes closed as he dived back down to kiss her lower belly, pulling the dress and the leggings she wore underneath onto her legs while he veered off to sprinkle kisses onto her right hip, flowing down to her thigh. Eivor found it almost painful, knowing she was totally bare while his lips dragged down her thigh, one kiss at a time, inch by inch, letting her feel every touch and puff of air from his nose. If he went any slower she might have kicked her dress off herself — even if it would make her look desperate enough for him to use it to his advantage — but he finally made decent progress when he rose to his knees, lifting her right leg out of her dress and pressing one bite after another onto her knee as he slid the other out of its confines. His trek down her leg didn't stop until he reached her ankle, where he gnawed at the protruding bone before opening his eyes.

Until this point Eivor was confident. She knew that she wanted this, that she wanted him to have it. But in this moment, she felt some anxiety return. It was his stare. Those piercing purple eyes were wide, raking up and down her body like he had just found the most exquisite treasure in all the realms. They paused between her legs several times, and each one made her stomach flop with embarrassment. He looked almost feral, like he could eat her alive. An idea that was further supported by the slow bobbing of his Adam's apple as he swallowed thickly. Nothing, not even the first beads of sweat dripping down his chest and abs, was enough to distract her from the sudden blanket of shyness that had fallen over her. 

Green eyes were ripped away as one hand covered her mouth, the motion finally snapping Heimdall out of his stupor. Sensing her awkwardness, a devilish smile formed as he laughed evilly, setting her leg down while he chuckled, "Oh, now you want to be coy, do you?"

"You're just staring!" The hand on her mouth slammed back down to her side in joyful exasperation.

Another chuckle as he lifted her left leg and kissed her other ankle, working his way up her shin while he mumbled, "Of course…Why wouldn't I take in the first sight of pure perfection?"

Eivor's heart nearly leapt out of her chest. She thought this would be all heat and fire, a total cyclone of overwhelming passion. Yet he managed to make it warm and welcoming, like sitting in front of a fire after trudging through a snowstorm. So full of love and tenderness, giving her all of his affection in ways that left her speechless. It almost made her shed a tear, forcing herself to find a distraction. Given their constant state of playfulness, it wasn't hard to find one. "Aren't you the one who always says you're 'perfect?'" She shivered as he mouthed at her knee, setting her leg down to lean into her thigh. "And you've certainly looked in a mirror. So haven't you seen perfection already?"

A glance up at her made her shy away from her mockery, the intensity in them stealing all thought from her. "I would have agreed with you…" One more bite to her mid thigh before he picked up speed. "Until now." 

Once more she was floored by how sweet he was in such a carnal moment, but the glowing in her heart didn't last after he hooked one arm underneath her thigh, then the other as he put one more kiss on the junction between her hip and leg. She knew exactly what he ventured to do and felt the insecurity worming in at the thought of him being face first in her most private affairs. While he bit at her thigh until it bruised she attempted to raise a hand to cover herself, but barely an inch off the sheets his arm reached over to hold it down, intertwining his fingers through hers. After that she offered no protest, knowing she had nothing to fear, that her self-consciousness didn't match what he felt for her at that moment. She surrendered, letting her head fall back on the pillows.

Heimdall took one last glance at her before he could wait no longer, the scent of her flower just inches from him driving him mad. He planned to go in slowly, ease her into it. He planned on being gentle at first to make sure it wasn't overwhelming. All of that changed when he finally released his tongue and swiped it across her core, the taste of her and the breathy, surprised moan that escaped her destroying whatever restraint he had. He jumped in headfirst, licking and sucking at her hidden bud like it was his only source of sustenance, the sweet nectar so enticing that his hands dug into her thighs while she mewled for him. She took back the hand she held to wind it into his hair, both sets of digits curling into his tresses and gripping them so tight that it hurt, but in the most scrumptious way. A growl escaped him against his will, the fingernails scraping across his scalp proving to be more intoxicating than he could withstand. So much that his teeth even made an appearance, grazing her in a way that made her hips jolt into his mouth. 

So breathtaking, yet somehow not enough. Her flavor was too delicious to have just a hint of. No, he needed to gorge on it, to drink it like it was a mead that promised eternal youth and fortune. Before he could reconsider he slid down just a little lower. 

Eivor would have been bashful about where he was headed were she not so lost in the sensations racing through her bones, every lick of his skilled tongue making her legs tense, his throaty hums inspiring her to let out more of her own. It was so much, but it was so good, somehow the perfect physical equivalent to everything he made her feel emotionally. She wasn't prepared when she felt his tongue poke inside. A sharp gasp fell into a sharp moan, making Heimdall's hips thrust into the sheets before he could stop them. She completely lost herself, no longer trying not to rip his hair out or leave his scalp unscathed. He was so far out of her reach and she had to hold something, or she might just lose her sanity without having him to ground her. 

Watching her unravel made him want to see more. He didn't just want her to enjoy this, or not regret doing it. No, he wanted her to feel it in every part of her being, to writhe in pleasure while he reveled in her lovely sounds. As slyly as possible, he worked his way back up to her pearl and applied ample pressure to keep her attention while one hand snaked back from around her thigh. His middle finger wandered over to her center, then gently found the spot he had just devoured. She jumped, but pulled him in closer by the hair, too trapped in lust to be nervous. Without a sign of opposition, he slipped it within her, thrilled to find no resistance from within. Her body was already prepared for the best part.

It was a strange sensation, like an invasion that was too exciting to oppose. Her head fell deeper into the pillows and her feet dug into the bed, trying to force more friction than Heimdall was willing to give. The tentative pokes were already overpowering her, but she had no clue that he intended to do so much more. In time, after she seemed to adjust and her breathing began to even out, he curled his finger into the spongy tissue inside, all while his tongue worked diligently higher up. Once quiet sighs and groans sprung into unabashed cries. Her hands pushed Heimdall into her hips, she felt her legs shake, one of them shifting over to press her heel into his back. Some of her fingers reached further down to scratch at his neck, needing to feel his skin on hers before the limited contact was too much to withstand. Heimdall groaned at her nails tearing at him, wasting no time with adding a second digit to join the first. His lover's back arched and shoved his nose into her, making his lower body shutter in jealousy, lamenting that it had been ignored for so long. But he had to hold it together just a little longer. Eivor's body was tense and constantly gyrating, her head thrashed back and forth, all ten of her nails went into his shoulders and left red trails across them as her voice began to crack and tremble, all while he continuously glanced up at her, waiting for just the right moment. And enjoying the erotic display.

All the pressure was building within, growing so volatile that she felt like she would burst any moment, her squeals getting higher in pitch by the second. Then, just as quickly as he had built up his momentum, Heimdall slowed, his fingers stilling and withdrawing from her while he placed one last kiss on her, panting and struggling to lift up onto wobbly arms. The burn in his pants was painful, sick of the torture of its confines.

Eivor needed a few moments to catch her breath, giving Heimdall enough time to meander back up her torso, biting here and there at a leisurely pace. When he was finally at her neck she mumbled, "You're the worst," though the unsteady breathing took away any bite her complaint would have had. 

The watchman smirked into her neck, biting more bruises on her skin as he gave in to the bait. "Perhaps you should watch your mouth," a brief moment of silence as he gave one particularly persistent bite, "I could just deny you now."

An airy giggle left Eivor, who pulled his head up so she could make eye contact while calling him on his bluff. "You would never," she said while her eyes flitted downward. 

Her intent was to suggest that he was not in a position to walk away, to prove he was just as unhinged as she was. He took it another direction, a gentle smiling blooming on his features while he agreed, "No. Not to you." He ducked down to kiss her, and she readily reciprocated, her desire for him growing with every little expression of love that he snuck in to blindside her. Though it was only a quick exchange, Eivor broke away while his hands wandered up her thighs and caressed her waist. He was such a loving man when he chose to be, and seeing that in him only made her want him more. Before she could beg him to get on with it, he spoke first, explaining himself in the most scandalous way he could as he whispered into her ear, her hands gripping his shoulder blades, "There will be plenty of nights where I will make you cum over and over again." And just when she thought it couldn't get any filthier, he added, "But tonight…I want this to be an orgasm you'll never forget."

That was the last straw. She couldn't wait any longer. Swallowing her pride, she feverishly begged, "Please take your pants off."

Another chuckle as he slid away, wearing a wicked, toothy grin. "Now how could I say no to such an innocent request?"

"Heimdall."

The warning was enough for him to stop teasing and comply, returning to his knees while looking incredibly smug. Too overtaken by anticipation, Eivor pushed herself onto her elbows as she watched Heimdall undo the leather tie at the hem of his pants, not missing the subtle fumble that slowed him down. Just the sight of him between her legs, almost completely naked, was more than enough to make her impatient, but she had no words to protest, eyes glued to the prominent bulge with a small dark patch over it. She would have made fun of him for failing to totally conceal how badly he wanted the same thing she did had he not hooked his thumbs over the waistband and shoved them down without preamble. 

Her eyes went straight to his member, standing at the ready and looking painfully stiff. A knot formed in her stomach as she inspected it, noticing that it was…bigger than she expected. It wasn't a compliment per se, more of a product of inexperience. As much anxiety as she felt at the thought of where it would wind up, she couldn't keep the curiosity at bay. Heimdall ceased his movements when she sat up, immediately noting that her face was now dangerously close to him. How tempting it was to try to urge her to return the favor he had granted her, but he bit his tongue. This was about her. He wouldn't ask her to service him like he had with previous partners. They were not worthy of his effort, but her — his Songbird — she deserved to be worshiped. 

His resolve did little in the end. Eivor felt her insides grow hotter at the proximity, a daring part of her wanting to know what it felt like. She lifted her hand slowly, too focused to see that Heimdall had held his breath after he realized what she was going to do. Her delicate fingers rested on the shaft and he had to suppress a hiss. It was such a simple touch but it was so hot, lighting sparks across his body as he watched her drag her fingertips from tip to base and back. The goddess closed her hand around it, this time catching the tension in his torso at the gesture. Payback began to feel so satisfying as she let her hand push and pull at the skin, seeing every twitch and jolt in Heimdall's body as he refused to let his arousal show, ever trying to appear steady and in aloof. Never wanting to reveal just how quickly she could make him fall apart. On one stroke her thumb's knuckle clipped the underside of the head and drew a small grunt from Heimdall. Her attention was drawn to the tip, where she found a slight wetness at the slit that gave her a better idea. But he didn't need to know what it was.

Panic rose up in Heimdall when he felt the presence of her mind withdraw, fearing that she was hiding her reservations before he could find them. He looked down to stop her and halt the entire process just in time to see her dive in and wrap her luscious red lips over his cock. He wheezed and threw his head back, absolutely sure that he wouldn't be able to hold back if he watched. If he wasn't momentarily incapacitated he would have enacted some sort of revenge for the amused hum she voiced around him.

In all honesty she was clumsy, and her movements were a bit too jerky, yet it was somehow so much more pleasing than any other experience he'd had. His mind and body were at war, mind commanding his hand to reach out and stop her so he could bring the focus back to her, but his body wanted to take her cheek and guide her into a better tempo. The battle ended in some kind of draw, his hand brushing her hair back and keeping it out of her face, merely holding her head without giving any direction. His ego did its damndest to stay silent and stoic, but with each lick of her tongue down the shaft a grunt or two weaseled their way out. It painted a whole new picture for Eivor, who now understood why Heimdall was so adamant about driving her insane with his touches and kisses. To hear him groan and feel his hand shake, to know that he was falling to pieces from her touch…it was a high that couldn't be matched by any herb or mead that was made to dull to mind. And to know that this was Heimdall — Scion of the Aesir, the god who couldn't be touched, a man so proud and powerful that anyone in his presence feared him — who was trembling and using every ounce of his willpower not to whine from her touches. With one determined lick her tongue lapped at the slit at the tip of his member, and this was the most he could handle. Heimdall let out a (very unfortunate) moan and threw his hands onto her shoulders, pushing her just enough to take himself out of her mouth. 

Eivor panted, looking up at Heimdall to see his reaction. Her chest swelled with pride at his clenched eyes and open mouth inhaling as much air as he could take. Just a few breaths later his dilated pupils met hers and a smirk broke out on his face. "I'll teach you all about that another time." She couldn't keep in another eager giggle, eyes drifting down to take a good look at his thighs, their defined muscles leaving her famished again. 

Neither of them could hold on much longer, Heimdall knew that. Gently, he pressed on her shoulders to get her to lie down, viciously kissing her as he struggled to kick off his pants. He couldn't care less where they landed for once, too busy taking position between Eivor's legs. She gasped into his mouth when she felt his cock poking at her lower belly. 

Cautious, Heimdall reigned in his need and toned down their kiss, attempting to communicate that love was the only thing driving him to go this far with her. He sensed no fear, but he couldn't shake the obligation to ask. "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

No hesitation. Somehow it still didn't feel like enough. "Are you sure?"

Eivor pushed his shoulders away so she could look at him, smiling in a way that calmed his very soul. "Heimdall, I want you," she said breathlessly before pulling him back in to add, "I love you."

That was all he could take. He couldn't wait any more. 

One of his hands left her waist and rested his forehead on hers, leaving Eivor wondering what he was doing until she felt him prodding at her opening. Her entire body shivered when Heimdall whispered, "Tell me if you need to stop." His tone left no room for argument, and informed her that he would be watching for any indication that she wasn't pleased. Unable to form any words, she simply nodded, closing her eyes and waiting for it to happen. Heimdall took one more moment to find any signs of disapproval, his stomach churning in suspense when he found none. Carefully, keeping her comfort at the forefront of his mind, he began to slide in.

It was a strange feeling for Eivor. A bit odd and uncomfortable, but not in a way that was upsetting. Even with that conscious realization she still couldn't stop the wave of pleasure flowing through her, her head thrown back and forcing Heimdall to keep his nose in her shoulder. He moved at a snail's pace, slowly crawling in one little bit at a time. The pace was so slow it was agonizing, yet at the same time she wasn't sure if she could take much more. All of her trust went to him, believing he would treat her well.

As much as he wanted to, every part of him struggled to keep that goal. He couldn't hold on to the groan that escaped him as soon as the head was in, his teeth clenching and grinding together to keep his voice in check. Every single molecule in his being cried out for more, for him to skip the introduction and relish in the sweet sanctity of her body by unleashing the feral beast growing within. He had to command his mind to work overtime to prevent that from happening. When he was finally sheathed to the hilt he let out another groan into her shoulder. Muscles were taut, breath heavy, and he felt disoriented from the pulses of pure ecstacy blasting through him. Again, he thought he was prepared. He thought he knew what this would be like, but gods — this was something else entirely. So much more inebriating and hypnotizing than ever before, like the desire stirring in his core was possessing him, and ordering that it receive these sensations rapidly and indefinitely. By the time he had let out a few strained breaths he felt his legs shaking from the sheer need for movement that he had to keep in line. Eivor surprised him, speaking up before he felt he gave her enough time to adjust. "H-Heimdall please…"

Another needy moan snuck through his teeth, even though he hated it. But he gave her what she wanted, slowly withdrawing, moving at the same speed as his entrance. Eivor winced and whined, the retreat pulling at her insides, but somehow still maintaining that divine feeling darting through her bones. Once as far back as he could be, he only paused for a breath before heading back in, the raw groan in Eivor’s ear bringing a tremble that engulfed her wits. Heimdall filled her again, pulled out once more, and continued, pleasantly shocked to feel her relax after the first couple thrusts. The sharp sighs melted into sinful moans that wiped his mind clean, her hands on his shoulders moved under his arms and onto his back to feel more of him, his name spilling from her lips with every movement. It made the torturously slow motions painful, every single muscle about to snap with tension. Then she gave him a blessing. The word "more" accompanied his name on the next mewl, and he was more than happy to give her what she wanted.

Now his movements were fluid, drawing in and out without any breaks between, yet still controlled and far more meek than he wanted. It took three more thrusts before he broke and a deep growl fell from his lips, his cock twitching when he felt her squeeze him at the sound. Just when he started reminding himself that this was for her as much as it was for him, her legs made their way around his hips and her heels pressed into his lower back, her body arching when she begged, "Dall, please, please, faster."

That nearly did him in, took away any control he had. But Heimdall managed to keep a hold of himself, with the exception of the ragged groan he let out. Shifting his weight for easier movement, his speed increased to a smooth pace, immediately hearing the difference in Eivor’s moans and biting his lip to keep in his own reactions. It was then that Heimdall realized that he was much worse off than he thought, his stomach already tightening and his jaw twitching as he felt the pressure building too fast for his liking. After only a handful of moments at their new pace he couldn't take the restraint any longer, quickening until he felt nails digging into his back. He hated the effect it had on him, having to close his eyes while hooking his arms under hers to pull her closer, desperate to have any sensation distract him from the inevitable.

Whatever discomfort Eivor felt had long passed, gradually melting into a misty heat engulfing every inch of her body. No matter how much he gave her it still felt like she needed more, like the mounting electricity would never meet expectations. It became so much harder to endure when Heimdall held her closer, all the grunts and groans he tried to hold back just loud enough to drive her mad. It was far too enticing to know he was losing his wits to pleasure alongside her. She wanted him to let go more, to enjoy this to the fullest. Gasping for air, she couldn't keep her nails from drawing down his back as she loudly pleaded, "Hei — gods, please! Harder! I need you harder, please!"

Heimdall felt something in him break. It acknowledged that she wanted this to be as wild as he did and didn't hesitate to indulge them in it. His thrusts became shallower but more forceful as he picked up speed, her squeals mixing with the light slapping of skin and the creaking of the bed beneath them. It was all too much for him to keep holding back, the groans and hisses tumbling out of him loud enough to be heard without straining. Eivor's toes curled and her hands constantly scraping up and down his back, no doubt leaving marks that perfectly portrayed the euphoria coursing through her veins. She was almost at the precipice but the climax just wouldn't budge, barely out of reach and taunting her by making the fire in her core burn hotter and hotter. 

Every snap of his hips made her moan, the heat was burning them alive, and they both needed to feel the other reach the end. As ashamed as Heimdall was to admit it, he didn't think he would be able to last until after she was finished, which was an outcome he could not allow. In a last ditch effort to satisfy her first, one of his hands reached down to just above the place they were connected, rubbing calloused fingers over the sensitive bud. 

Everything blurred into a sparkling glow when Eivor felt it all come to a head, powerless to keep her voice from raising and shrieking at the incredible rupture dampening everything that wasn't Heimdall. From head to toe her body tingled with every jolt shooting from her core and through her blood, making her legs shake and her fingers go numb. For the moment nothing existed except her and Heimdall, and the warmth she felt deep within her when he released his own roar.

Once again, Heimdall thought he knew what was coming, but Eivor did what she does best — making everything he'd ever experienced so much better than he thought possible. His hips became erratic when he felt her squeezing and constricting him in the most wonderful ways, his own choked moans joining hers when he stilled while deep inside, the sparks in the air catching his skin and forcing his muscles to contract without warning. This was a climax like he had never felt, and in the back of his mind he wondered if this was how they were always supposed to feel and he lacked enough interest for it to manifest it until now, or if Eivor was, as usual, the reason everything gave him more life than ever. 

Both of them remained for several heated breaths, still tense and panting while their bodies acclimated to the stationary postures after such a long bout of motion. In time they relaxed, muscles gradually unlocking and releasing the magma that had singed their skin, leaving them both burned and trembling. Much sooner than he wanted, Heimdall had to pull away from her to gracelessly collapse onto his back next to her, lest he rest all his weight on her. All they could manage was breathing while they struggled to regain full consciousness. 

Their breaths evened out into subdued sighs, leaving them both to consider what they had just experienced, if everything they ever knew about it was totally wrong compared to what it could be between them. Heimdall was still processing it when Eivor decided she loathed the short distance between them, slowly rolling onto her side to curl into him. He felt her shuffling and responded without thinking, simply lifting his arm to let her head rest on it while she cuddled into his side. It took mere seconds for him to believe that this gesture was not enough, his skin begging for the cool relief of her touch. He heeded its cries, rolling onto his side to face her and wrap his other arm over her shoulder to bury his hand into her hair while the one under her bent upward to hold her waist. Her hands were buried into his chest, the subtle caressing of her fingers making him shiver. Neither of them had any words to offer, still bathing in the afterglow of each other's presence. It was then, as Heimdall kept telling himself how incredible this was, that he felt himself smiling.

In the past this would be where it ended. The smell would make his nose crinkle, he'd have whoever was involved clean him up, order them to change the sheets they had soiled, complain that they weren't welcome to stay before he shooed them out of his sight, and that was it. It was over and done, just like that, and at that point he would wonder if it was even worth the time and effort. But this…this…

This wasn't something he wanted to end. It was the same scenario, but this time he would stay just like this for an eternity if he could, the sated aftermath somehow so much more divine than the act itself. Everything from the smells to the sweaty sheets, the hot breaths and humid air, was somehow so different with her — so beautiful with her. There was no filth or annoyances following, only the pure bliss of holding her like time was irrelevant, keeping her in his arms and exposing the serenity he felt to her without a care. There was no desire to make her leave, to call it done and consider it a potential waste. No, every single thing about this was flawless, almost dreamlike. It was all so gorgeous that he wondered if this was even real, if all of this — if she was just a lovely dream. But then she would sigh into his chest, nuzzle into him as he patted her damp hair lovingly, and he would be reminded that it was very real, and a life that he was living. Everything was so perfect when he had her. It was a moment that no other would be able to create. No other could give him this. Only her. Always her.

How easy it would have been to take a second to read her and learn how she felt, but he refused to cheat himself of this wonderful moment by taking the simple and fast way through it. "So…any thoughts?"

A tiny chuckle left her while she shook her head and panted. "Sort of? I…I can't really think straight yet."

Heimdall rolled his eyes. "I'm not looking for a monologue, darling. Did you enjoy yourself?" He smirked when he felt her cower into his chest, embarrassed by his phrasing.

"I just…I can't describe it. But…" His eyes snapped open. Doubt? "I'm feeling something that makes me think we maybe shouldn't have done this."

Pure despair plagued him as he tried to pull away and look at her, to find out exactly what went wrong, what he did that didn't make her completely happy, but she cut him off. Her laugh calmed him as she clarified, "I, um, I don't mean that in a second-guessing sort of way. It's uh…literal, actually." She prayed that he would understand that she was referring to the questionable fluid dripping down the back of her thigh and avoid spelling it out for him.

After a short pause to consider he, thankfully, understood, laughing heartily as he hugged her tighter. "That's nothing to be concerned about. There's plenty of remedies around the city. With so many drunkards around there has to be."

She joined him, but her laugh was more shy and reserved. "Oh, okay then."

"So aside from that?"

A moment of silence passed. Eivor couldn't put it into words, couldn't reel in all of the emotions enough to express them verbally. Then she suddenly spit it out. "I'm happy this was with you."

Heimdall body stiffened, eyes wide.

"I wouldn't want this with anyone else."

It was so much harder for him to breathe. She had mirrored exactly what he thought just moments ago; that nothing about this, absolutely nothing at all, would have mattered if it were someone else. He wanted this with only her. And she felt the same about him. It wasn't about the act or the fleeting tryst, it was the love behind it. To know that…

Words no longer sufficed. The most he could manage was to squeeze his eyes shut and hold her like she would fly away if he didn't. It was too much to contain. Nothing he could ever do would be able to match the heavenly glow in his heart. 

"I love you, Eivor," was all he could say, breathlessly and shakily.

"And I love you, Heimdall."

"I absolutely adore you, my darling Songbird."

She couldn't offer much of a response, his grip on her too tight to breathe, but it didn't bother her. She knew his language. He was overjoyed, and that was more than she could ever hope for.

The cabin air was so still and tranquil. Had it been unknown to all of Gladsheim no one would have guessed it was Heimdall's cabin. It just didn't fit him anymore.

Gjallarhorn forgotten, tossed onto the floor by the doorway like it was an old pair of shoes, sword abandoned with it, and armor scattered across the room like sand in the wind, he was no longer the scion or the watchman. Nor was he a god. He was just a man. A man who was deeply and hopelessly in love. And he had not a single complaint about it.

#songbird of asgard #heimdall #god of war #heimdall x reader #heimdall gow #heimdall x oc #god of war heimdall #gow heimdall #the songbird of asgard

[ninjahiccups]

Hi 👋

I can't send this via my side blog but ummmm I make uh 3D characters in daz studio and was wondering if it would be ok if I made one of Eivor? 👉👈

Of course you can! I'm so honored you want to make something with her! There is a picture I photoshopped of her a while ago if you want to reference that, but you can feel free to be creative :) Thank you so much!

And that goes for other requests like this too. If you want to make some kind of content based on my story, go for it! <3

#songbird of asgard #gow heimdall #answered #heimdall #god of war

[ninjahiccups]

The Songbird of Asgard

Chapter 12: Effort

AO3 Masterlist Word Count: 12.2k Warnings: Suggested adult themes, but nothing explicit; language

Okay, I know it's been a while, but it's because I'm releasing three chapters at once! I'll be posting the chapters with a day between them on tumblr to avoid spamming, but they'll all be up on AO3 if you can't wait :)

And I'm terrible at saying it, but thank you to everyone who leaves notes and comments on this. I read all of them, but I never know what to say. I appreciate every single one, and the fact that people are enjoying this. Thank you so much! <3

When Eivor awoke she thought he truly had duped her.

Heimdall had returned to his cabin very late last night, as he predicted. Even so he immediately set his attention on her, to make up for the time they lost as promised. They were up speaking about all manner of things for hours, Heimdall being noticeably more tame than he ever had, pausing and hesitating so often that Eivor had to resort to completing actions as a means to give consent. Even a simple reach for her hand made him stutter long enough for her to close the distance for him. He wanted to spend the entire night with her, he said, but Eivor insisted they sleep. Neither of them had gotten good rest in a while thanks to their separation, and he had just spent a stressful day catching up on his duties. Even gods needed rest after so much exhaustion.

The morning came. Heimdall had promised things would be different, and yet Eivor found herself alone when she opened her eyes. Her hand went to the abandoned space next to her, feeling how cold it was. He'd left a long while ago.

Despair. Then she sat up, hugging her knees. A deep breath, a sigh. She couldn't jump to conclusions already, to give up before they even got started. Doubt, however, was still difficult to dismiss, pulling her lips into a frown so severe that her cheeks hurt, all while a longing look was cast to his side of the bed. That was when she caught sight of something on Heimdall's neat pillow next to her, placed perfectly and deliberately in the center of the surface. Puzzled, she reached down and realized it was a square of parchment, adorned with neat, eloquent handwriting that she immediately recognized.

Good morning, my love.

I thought it best to let you sleep in. You were the one who was so adamant about getting enough rest, after all.

I look forward to seeing you.

-H.

A hand covered her mouth as joyful tears dripped down her cheeks, feeling her chest tighten in pleasant shock. Of course he wouldn't have the guts to sign his full name, she thought to herself. She threw the sheets off to stow this card away somewhere special, never wanting to let such a beautiful and, frankly, in-character message be lost and forgotten. She stopped mid stride when a notepad on Heimdall's nightstand caught her eye. Never had it been placed there before, making her curious. Upon flipping the top page over she found several other cards hidden underneath, all of them containing half completed messages. Some of them were torn in half, others having every rune furiously crossed out, serving as evidence of his frustration. 

Not only did he want her to know he had thought about her, he even took the time to craft the right words to do so.

Eivor shook her head. How long had he stood there, wondering how to leave without making her feel forgotten? How long had he stared at her, thinking about what he could say before settling on a combination of sincerity and their mutual sarcasm? How many times had he kissed her cheek and tucked her loose hair behind her ear even though she wouldn't feel it? 

What a serious but silly man he was.

It wasn't perfect, but he was trying. And that was enough.

So many disapproved of their reunion, Sif especially, even if the elder goddess did resign to Eivor's decision quickly. What none of the naysayers saw was that Hemdall really did try, maybe even too hard at times. On some occasions it was even surprising to see just how determined he was to keep his word. 

Some aspects were more subtle. When they ran into each other during the day he was less eager, but still just as attentive. Instead of dragging Eivor away to satisfy whatever itch he needed her to scratch, he would simply approach her and speak to her like they used to, maybe give her a light kiss on the cheek if no one was looking — something he had never done before. There was so much more he wanted to do, she could see it in his face, the clench of his controlled jaw, yet he still wore his usual smirk and initiated the same taunts they always exchanged. It felt so much like the early days, when just time together was all they needed to be content.

Even so, Heimdall was far too dedicated to perfection to feel like that was enough. No, he couldn't just revert to the past; he had to build upon it. What else could he do to be better?

Gifts, he decided. And a bit too heavy handed at that. 

He was rather blatant about it, sometimes practicing it daily. Jewelry, like earrings that matched the cuff she gave him, gold bangles and bracelets decorated by jewels, far too many things for her to ever wear at once. Still, he felt compelled to give her anything that he found pretty. When she told him she had nowhere to put any of these trinkets, he responded by finding her a jewelry box — which had given her a good laugh. Heimdall pivoted to clothing sometimes, maybe even a few plants for her to keep in his cabin. He would have given her books if she still didn't have so many of his to read.

Eivor was pleased to find that he didn't rely solely on the materialistic, forming a habit of giving some sign that he thought of her before leaving in the morning. A few times it was one of his aforementioned gifts, other times a piece of fruit or sweet bread, which felt special considering he had to return from the lodge before starting his work. More often than not it was another note, not unlike his first. He had no idea that she kept every single one, loving them so much that she almost regretted getting better at waking up early enough to see him off a few times a week.

Communication in general was an area he sought to improve. When she did little things around his cabin that she'd always done, such as dusting, making his bed, things of the like, he actually said something about it. Not criticism, but praise. Well, it was vaguely kind, but for Heimdall that was close enough. It was something as discreet as "my collection appears quite lustrous, it seems," or "an organized wardrobe, one of my favorite things to see." No direct thanks or compliments, merely acknowledgement. And that was already a leap from his nitpicky nagging. Of course, he still did have some complaints here and there, but an amount that was normal for him. He was still Heimdall, after all.

Though these adjustments would have been enough to start, his most astounding shift was in the actions he displayed during those romantic moments that no other saw. Gone were the impatient nips, the aggressive kisses, the groping and teasing. No more waiting for her to warn him that he was pushing beyond her comfort zone or asking him to pull back. In fact, Eivor even felt that he might have toned his physical affection down a bit too much. He began being so gentle, rarely doing more than holding her hand or placing small kisses on her lips, barely even touching her at times, like he was afraid she would break if he applied more than an ounce of pressure. It took about a week of missing his usual passion before she realized that he wasn't playing it far too safe, but was allowing her to control how far he went. Heimdall would invite her in, informing her with these subtle touches that he wanted her in his arms, then wait for her to decide just how much she wanted to give. They were in the lodge on the day she figured it out. All the servants had left to do their other chores, giving Heimdall a moment to reach for her and brush a hand across her cheek, smiling softly while he just looked at her. Eivor's eyes widened when she noticed that he was waiting, then threw her arms around him in joy.

What Eivor was not aware of was exactly how difficult it all was. Heimdall was a master of never showing an iota of weakness. As such he never revealed just how awful and demanding it was to mediate the struggle between his desire and his heart every single waking moment he spent with her. Standing before her in the lodge, he felt his hand twitch, meaning to move upward and seize her by the waist to pull her in for a deep kiss. Then he'd pause, clenching his fist before gathering his wits. He was in control. He was better than his impulses. And to prove that he would relax his hand, merely sweeping it over her cheek while swallowing the mounting impatience within. For her, he would wait.

Despite the level of control he managed to maintain, it got painful at times. Standing next to her at the top of the wall, he wanted so badly to reach over and put his hand across her back and hold her waist, but he would always stop. Sure, he could have just used his foresight to see how she felt, but that wasn't enough. Not anymore. He didn't want to squander every one of their sweet, secure moments by letting in all the sensations he could feel from all directions. If he brought her any discomfort, he would see it with his own eyes. He could get by without his foresight. If anyone could, it was him, and he owed her that effort.

In time, however, that required effort seemed to fade, surprisingly. He almost…enjoyed the work that he put towards their relationship, liked letting her control the pace and come to him rather than taking everything he wanted. To know that she would want him just as often as he wanted her gave a level of fulfillment that he didn't even know of. But now that he did he wasn't sure how long he could hold back his delight. Eivor's hand dragging his to her waist, reminding him that she had no problem with his touch, feeling her snuggle close to him while he was trying to decide how much was too much, listening to her say that she wanted him next to her — it was all so sublime yet made him so much more aware of the building need he was reigning in constantly. How was he supposed to be mindful of what she wanted if his thoughts were consumed by the ocean of want churning within? Where did he channel that energy?

One day he found the answer. 

Heimdall returned home a little early, solely because he wanted to see her, waltzing into his bedroom to find Eivor sitting in the alcove. The waning sunlight highlighted her form so beautifully, accentuated every tuft of her styled hair, every gentle curve of her limbs as they grasped the book she read. In the moment all he could do was stare, idly leaning on the archway with a dreamy smile replacing all the fatigue and annoyance that had accumulated throughout the day. That urge to rush over and claim her returned, but he silenced it. Somehow this image before him was far more tempting.

Then she finally looked up, grinning at him. "Yes?"

For a second his mind was blank. Then he opened his mouth to say at least a greeting, but it was shut again, no words ever getting through. All he could manage was shaking his head. He needed to do something, had to release this love somehow. 

"You know, you're welcome to join me. This is your home."

Heimdall chuckled, rolling his eyes before taking her suggestion. Slowly, measuring every movement and monitoring every reaction he could see, he reached the alcove. With her seated in the middle and her back to one side, legs hanging over the edge, he chose to take the place behind her. Carefully, like he was handling the fabric of the realms, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his chest. Eivor sighed, leaning back into him. It was so lovely.

That's when he realized how familiar this was. He remembered. He used to do this often, just sit there and feel the peace her presence brought him, never looking for any more than that simple moment. After abstaining from it for so long he had forgotten how enjoyable it was. How happy he was with something so small. He missed this.

Acting on distant muscle memory, he reached up and released her hair from the clip, burying his nose into her radiant locks and taking in her scent, her aura, all the emotion that had him frolicking in the clouds. He wasn't looking for any outlet for all this feeling. He just ruminated in it.

That was it. That's what he was missing. He was so convinced that there was no way everything he felt could be contained, that every emotion required some sort of outlet, that he failed to recognize that he once expressed his love just like this — before he knew it was love. There was no reason to escalate it, no need to convert all of this passion into touches. This could make him just as happy as any physical action would. This made him feel just as loved, and let him release his love.

How had he forgotten the times when this was enough? How had he forgotten that this would always be enough?

For a few weeks he had been so distant, so on edge and alert, when all he had to do was feel. Just feel, and let go, and there would be nothing more he had to do to express the emotions bursting from him, no need to wonder if he was doing too much. It was that simple.

All this effort he had been investing wasn't effort at all. He just didn't know that it wasn't — no, he didn't know that such a small amount of effort could be so rewarding. 

No more. No more overcompensating, no more making this so hard. All he had to do was love, and that was it.

Eivor had no idea that he changed that evening, thinking nothing of the heartfelt "I love you" he whispered in that moment. She would only learn after it began to manifest.

The gifts mostly stopped. Now that he didn't feel compelled to give something at certain intervals, nothing felt worthy of a token for his Songbird. No jewelry was lustrous enough, no clothing fine enough, no plant fragrant enough. Instead of impulse he relied on memory and attention — two things he excelled at. Any little scrap of information that could be tucked away for later was scarfed down and stored for the perfect opportunity. 

The first was a book. Heimdall brought up the book she had just finished reading from his collection, asking for her thoughts. When she explained that it reminded her of a story she missed, he inquired further. Apparently she had lost a novel some time ago while in Alfheim, a rare copy that was one of the few left from an elven author. She expressed how much she missed it. He was determined to find it.

It took over a week of sleuthing and demanding answers from anyone with knowledge on the author and their work in both Asgard and Alfheim, but finally he found it. 

Unlike all his previous gifts, he felt…giddy. He was excited for her to have this, so ecstatic to see her glee. He presented the book to her, her bright eyes lighting up and gasping as soon as she recognized it. Eivor squealed and hopped in place, exclaiming just how incredible of a gift it was, saying that no one had ever done something so nice for her. Her arms flew around his neck as she jumped at him with enough height that he had to catch her before she dragged them both to the ground, chuckling as he gently set her back on the floor. The words of gratitude engulfed him, giggled and danced across his heart. There was no urge to take any more. He reveled in her happiness, could feel it even without his second sight, and that sensation was so much more potent by comparison. That was enough. That embrace was all he needed to feel whole and satisfied.

The second instance came when her flimsy wooden hair clip broke. Unsurprising, since it was only intended to be a temporary replacement after her first one broke months ago, during their final search for Odin's relic. Once the metal spring snapped Eivor sighed, lamenting that she had yet to pick out a new one. Heimdal nearly slapped himself for not thinking to do so himself sooner. He truly was an absolute moron before his recent revelation. 

Nothing in Gladsheim's market was good enough, nothing fit Eivor's taste or her beauty. Heimdall could almost picture the perfect accessory, but it was just barely out of his mind's grasp. So he had one custom made. Then that one wasn't satisfactory, prompting him to condemn it and demand another. And another. And three more until the jeweler, exhausted and quite terrified after so many missteps, finally produced something that made him say to himself, Yes, that's the one. Silver, which was a contrast to his usual preference for gold, but this shade would bring out the color of her hair. The swirling patterns forming the body were elegant and organic, feeling almost Vanir in nature, but still unique enough to match her. Purple gems, small and tasteful, were sprinkled across, and when seen from a short distance they formed the shape of a bird. She would adore this, he knew it.

He chose a different approach this time. Like he had been doing for some time, he left the clip in a box on his pillow when he left that morning, his heart nearly stopping when she stirred as he was heading out the door. Thankfully she was too drowsy to notice that anything was amiss, accepting his kiss before dozing off again. 

This presented an entirely new level of excitement. He kept his eyes open, waiting for her to appear and see the elation in her expression when she found him. He was practically bouncing on his feet all morning as he waited. Outside of Gulltoppr’s pen, just as he was about to mount his beast, was when Heimdall was nearly tackled, his foresight being the only thing keeping him from being launched into the dirt. Eivor was nearly swinging from him as she hugged him, exclaiming frantically, "Thank you, thank you! I love it, thank you!"

Heimdall, after regaining his composure, laughed while he pulled her into him. "I'm assuming it's to your liking? I honestly can't tell."

Eivor backed away to lightly scold, "Yes, Heimdall, I came all this way just to tell you I hate it." Unable to say more, she grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him down into an open mouthed kiss. It was enough of a spectacle that when she hugged him again he had to glare at the bystanders to get them to cease their staring. Eivor none the wiser, he pointed out, "Well, if you did like it wouldn't you be wearing it?" 

Referring to her loose hair, Eivor backed away and replied, "I wanted you to do it."

It was impossible to repress the grin from blooming on Heimdall's face as she handed him the accessory and turned around. Sending one last glower to the few onlookers who were too daft to get the first warning, he gathered up her hair into the loose bun she always wore, pinching it into place with the new clip. "Hmmm…it seems your suitor has excellent taste," he teased.

Eivor only shook her head and buried herself in his torso again. She mumbled into his shoulder, "You're so sweet…"

Caught in the moment, still enjoying the feeling of love for what it was, he replied without hesitation. And he replied in a way that he, up until this point, would have to coach himself into spitting out.

"Anything for my Songbird."

It took all of Eivor’s self control not to kiss him again.

It began to feel like a dream that had overtaken their waking lives. Heimdall had returned to his tactile ways, though this time he was rather subdued. He resumed touching her whenever he could, discarding the diffidence and distance that he resorted to, but his hands remained in innocent places. No longer did he wonder when it was too much because he didn't feel the need to be so intense. All of that passion was poured into every caress of her hand, every kiss on her hair. He didn't push for more because anything was enough, and with every simple touch being enough he could put all of his attention into it. He even surprised himself when he was standing next to her at the top of the wall. Out of nowhere he took her hand and lifted it to his lips, planting a firm kiss on her knuckles. It was just as satisfying as taking the skin of her neck between his teeth or feeling her hips in his hands. Actually…it was more satisfying. Eivor could sense it too, the unabashed love spreading from him and staining her heart in the best way. These changes that came between such meaningful gifts made the bigger, more extravagant expressions so much more.

Communication habits were edited further. His disguised praise evolved. From, "The bed looks especially comfortable tonight," to, "I see you've been taking good care of me," all the way to, "You're making this cabin into a wonderful home" while hugging her from behind and kissing her shoulder. Sure, those words weren't direct, still shrouded by that "language" Eivor always hounded him about, but they were clear enough that there was no second guessing her value. 

Those notes that he left in the mornings, once so stiff and formal, transformed into tiny love letters, appearing almost every morning.

Good morning, Songbird,

I'll be out of the realm today, so you'll have to manage without me until tonight. Do try to survive.

-H.

The next week:

My beloved,

It seems you were up too late reading again. Not to worry, I still kissed you goodbye with all the love in my heart. Free of charge, for you.

I love you.

-H

Until they all were:

Morning, my dearest love,

A raven pulled me away earlier than usual today. My sincerest apologies, I do wish I was there to greet you. I'll be looking for you until I can kiss you good morning. Don't keep me waiting too long.

Forever yours,

-Heimdall

Despite how regular they were becoming, each and every one meant the world to Eivor, and they all went to her growing collection of stored notes. She wasn't sure exactly how he would feel about such "incriminating" letters floating around, keeping them tucked away and out of sight. It was her secret stash that she would go through when he had to be away for longer than usual.

Such a dramatic change. Just like that, it felt as magical as it did the night they shared their first kiss, just as fresh and pure. It felt like falling in love over and over again. And all Heimdall had to do was feel this love instead of exploding with it, putting in just the tiniest bit of work to make that possible. Hel, it didn't even feel like work because he wanted to do it, just like he wanted to protect Asgard for Odin. Keeping his promise to her was just as natural as keeping his promise to protect the realm. He took pride in what he did for Eivor, was more than happy to provide her with anything she could ever want to be happy. And she was eager to repay him with songs and kisses and all the time he wanted to spend with her. 

Neither of them had ever felt so in love. So full of life.

After a few months of this, the irony revealed itself. Their roles switched; the one who was content becoming the one who wanted more.

With that, the next phase of Odin's plan could begin. 

The door to the All-Father's study swung open slowly, meekly. Even though Odin responded to the knock by inviting Eivor in, she was still cautious, mindful that she was entering a sacred space. "You needed to see me, All-Father?"

Odin was browsing one of the bookshelves in the back of the room, taking one thick volume from the shelf before returning to his desk. "Yes, just for a moment. Don't worry, this will be quick and painless." He busied himself with organizing the documents on his desk, tucking some papers under others before looking up at her. "So, how have things been lately? The Einherjar giving you any trouble? Or the armory?"

With Eivor's unique magic Odin had given her duties relating to enhancing weapons and putting protective spells over Einherjar before they trained to prevent severe injury. To say the least, it was rather boring and mundane. That couldn't be the reason she was summoned. "No trouble at all, not yet. Unless…I'm doing something wrong?"

Odin chuckled, sitting at his desk with his hands folded together. "No, I have no complaints, just wanted to ask." He paused, something in his gaze becoming calculating. "Though, there is something I've noticed. You and Heimdall are…pretty close now, aren't you?"

Eivor felt the blush creep up her neck and to her face. Odin was always so warm and charming, it was easy to forget that he really did live up to his reputation of being all-knowing. "Oh, um, well…yes, I suppose you could say that."

"And you two are happy, yes?"

"We are."

The light mood fell when Odin grew serious, looking almost cold. The All-Father leaned against the backrest in a way that felt imposing as he replied, "I can certainly see that." Eivor flinched as a shiver ran down her spine, but she couldn't pin down exactly what made her so fearful. These were simple questions, nothing too probing or judgmental, no sign of anger or disappointment. It was just…the air about him. His very aura suddenly felt unsettling. 

Before Eivor could inquire about this shift, Odin seemed to lift their spirits without a hitch, like nothing ever happened. "There isn't exactly a problem per se, I just want to point out that Heimdall has been distracted at times. Considering he is the protector of the realm and Gladsheim's first line of defense, that's not something I can ignore for too long."

A blink. Then two. "I'm not sure what you're trying to say."

One more laugh. "Nothing much. I just want you to know that Heimdall is very important around here, and although you two are happy, I still need him first."

Oh. Odin just…wanted to make sure she wasn't taking Heimdall away from his work? Well, that made her feel foolish. Had Odin ever given her a reason to think he wasn't going to be fair and reasonable? No, she was just overreacting. "I'm sorry! I didn't realize that we were having such an impact on the realm."

"No need to apologize, there's been no major disruptions for some time, I'm just communicating before there's a real problem. You can calm down, my dear." The goddess sighed in relief, thoughts preventing her from formulating a response. Odin didn't ask for one, continuing on, "That's all I needed, you really aren't in any trouble. So if you don't need anything from me you're free to go."

Since she had nothing more to say, Eivor merely bid him farewell with a bow. 

Odin sat there, thinking. No suspicion. Perfect. Everything was progressing as he expected.

Outside of the office, Eivor attempted to decipher the cause of such a meeting. She and Heimdall hadn't been doing anything more than usual as of late, making this friendly reminder seem a bit too out of the blue to make sense. Then again…it had been established just how observant Odin was. He may have noticed that certain…feelings were changing with her. Perhaps his summons was justified in that regard.

Heimdall had kept up all the sweet gestures and patience he developed. The notes, the gentle touches, the thoughtful words and gifts, it was like he had finally met his full potential in terms of romance. After experiencing it for some time, she found that she began to understand where he was coming from before their disagreement…

It started one night some time ago, when the weather was a bit warmer than usual throughout the day and night. Eivor was reading in Heimdall's bed, finishing the last few pages of a book while Heimdall was changing in his washroom. She heard his footsteps just as she closed the book, holding it out as she asked without looking his way, "Could you be a dear and put this away, Dall?" 

The watchman scoffed while snatching the book. "Why of course, m'lady. I do look like a lowly servant, don't I?"

A smirk appeared and a retort was rising until he walked past her, leaving her awestruck. Due to the heat Heimdall had decided to forego a shirt for the night, which was rare. The last time she had seen his bare torso she'd had a typical reaction, but this time…something was different. Her eyes raked over his form as he wandered over to the alcove to place the book back where it belonged. The subtle dips and bumps across his back, the cute moles and freckles adorning his skin, the strength and confidence in his posture, the lean muscles in his arm as it rose and flexed — wait, flexed? 

"I can practically feel you staring," Heimdall teased, looking far too pleased with himself as he tightened his arm a bit more, sliding the book in place as he did so.

Eivor finally ripped her eyes away and crossed her arms like a sulking child. "You don't have to show off."

All she got in return was a chuckle as he blew out the candles, climbing over the bed to plant a sweet kiss on her temple. "There's no need to hide it, darling." Of course he would relish in the attention.

She had to close her eyes before she was settled in to make sure she wouldn't ogle at his chest while she curled into it. Then they woke up the next morning, and she was surprised to find that she had stirred just moments after Heimdall. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to her, taking a minute to stretch. Bare skin and freckles was the first thing Eivor saw and it nearly made her groan. That same excitement, the same…temptation to touch him bubbled up again. He was right there, so close, and still unkempt and drowsy. A state only she had seen him in. The slight turning of his head indicated he knew she was awake. Shaking off a yawn, Eivor scooted closer to him, reaching out to put a hand on his tricep. "Morning," she rasped, stuck on the forms across his shoulder. She wasn't sure if he was paying enough attention to know how she was feeling.

"You're up early. What an accomplishment."

As usual, he had to ruin the moment with sarcasm that made her roll her eyes. "And you're not dressed yet. Look at how slow you are."

Heimdall looked over his shoulder at her, smirking. "I have a feeling you don't really care."

Shrug. "Maybe not…" Her self control seemed to wane as she sat up and shifted closer. She stayed right behind him, both hands gently landing on his back, making him sigh. His eyelids fell while her fingers moved along his back, heartbeat quickening despite how calm he felt. Then she sidled up even closer, her hands wrapping around to feel his front, chest and cheek against his back. Slim fingers slid across his pecs, her breath blowing onto his spine. It made him tense and clench the furs in his fists, jaw tightening as that very familiar aching need rose in him. How he wanted to return the favor, kiss along her neck and drag his hands down —

One of her nails grazed across his ribcage as she pulled one hand towards his side, taking them both off guard when he let out a small grunt in response.

He had to stop himself. One hand flew from bed to take her hers and hold it in place. Eivor winced at how tightly he gripped her fingers, unaware that he was holding back his own daydreaming. It was far too overwhelming, this desire washing over him, for him to read her and see what she wanted during this exchange. The wiser choice, as far as he could see at the time, was to withdraw rather than take his chances guessing. Carefully, Heimdall raised her hand to his lips as he shakily mumbled, "I'm afraid now isn't a good time." A tender kiss was placed on her wrist. Then he lost himself for just a second, leaning in to let his teeth gnaw at the thin flesh. His clouded mind failed to pick up on the mounting anticipation coming from Eivor. This was the only time she didn't want him to slow down. With his control back, he added, "I do have matters to attend to."

As much as Eivor wanted to shout that she couldn't care less for his duties at the time, she relented, her forehead resting against his back. Unsure of whether it was to distract Heimdall or herself, Eivor pouted, "You don't actually like me, do you?"

Heimdall sighed in annoyance. But revenge would come after he slowly turned to meet her gaze, leaning in to kiss her sweetly before pulling away with a snarky smile. "No, I don't."

Eivor yanked herself away to roll back onto her side with a grumble, facing the opposite way. "You can go now," she harrumphed, not at all liking the mocking laughter she received. Then Heimdall circled around to reach the washroom, his hand landing on her bent knee as he passed, just to satisfy that suppressed need while he still could. It made her smile. 

She thought it would be a one time thing. Proof of the opposite came as the heat wave continued, the same feelings arising with each night Heimdall slept underdressed. It was this tension, this impatience — restlessness, even — that she hadn't experienced before. But she wanted more.

With that longing for Heimdall's more passionate side Eivor let little bits of it back into their relationship. On one occasion, Eivor was sent to Svartalfheim, tasked with using her magic to reinforce metals that would be forged into weapons for the Einherjar — a job she hated, feeling like the dwarves were afraid of everything and everyone, but she tried to show them kindness in any way she could. It was a larger job than she expected, carrying on late into the night. So late that, much to their mutual disappointment, Eivor would not be back until after Heimdall usually retired. She opted to stay in her own cabin so he could sleep. He was always so easy to wake up.

Both she and Heimdall failed to realize what kind of effect it would have after spending almost every night together for ages. The scion remained in bed for hours, tossing and turning until he gave up and resorted to glaring at the roof. Eventually he couldn't take it anymore, not after he was certain Eivor had returned. Without a second thought or grabbing any of his gear — including Gjallarhorn — Heimdall marched out of his home and whistled for Gulltoppr, taking the beast to Eivor's residence and letting himself in. As expected, he found her asleep in her own bed. Quietly, and far more relieved than he ever wanted to admit, Heimdall slipped in behind her, immediately thrusting his nose into her hair and wrapping an arm around her waist. He couldn't remember the last time he fell asleep so fast. So fast that he didn't even stay awake long enough to catch Eivor stirring and turning her head to see him, smiling once she caught a glimpse of his visage.

Her bed was so much smaller than his, and they were reminded of it in the morning. For once, Eivor woke up before Heimdall. Amused, she carefully rolled over to face him, finding his eyes open by the time she was settled. "Miss me?" She asked cheekily, sweeping a finger across his jawline.

"Don't push it."

Eivor giggled, finding it so funny that he was too embarrassed to even consider addressing it. Feeling like she had the upper hand, and flooded with love after such a sweet display of yearning, she moved even closer to him, voice dropping low. "Well, if I can't push that, then…" To Heimdall's shock, he felt her leg rise and settle over his hips. The exact same position she was once too uneasy to withstand. "How about this?"

The impish smirk and teasing gleam in her eyes made him tremble, hiding it behind a chuckle. "Well, that—" A break in his statement when her hand took his and placed it on her thigh. Licking his dry lips, he managed to mumble, "I have no objections." A laugh and a kiss was his reward, as well as several minutes of staying just like that, enjoying the moment. It was impossible for Eivor not to snicker when he realized he had nothing to wear or even Gjallarhorn with him, graciously taking Gulltoppr to retrieve them for him. The watchman would never be seen underprepared, after all.

In time she began to miss his rougher kisses, his teeth on her bottom lip and hands drifting down her waist. It became so unbearable that she was the one to track him down to let it all out, asking him for a moment in private to do just that. He obliged, and was even surprised when she would swipe her tongue across his lip, smirking as he drew her closer. That urge to yank her closer and practically devour her came back with a vengeance, this time much more demanding now that it was given and not taken. It was astonishing, actually, how much harder it was to keep those desires to himself when he knew she was willing to give him what he wanted, to know that she wanted it too. Unfortunately it was him that had to end these moments, hoping to avoid rushing her into things she wasn't ready for, much to both of their frustration. That didn't prevent him from counting down the minutes to their next meeting, however. And even when it was abundantly clear that Heimdall was trying to step away before he went too far, he always took a moment to give a heartfelt goodbye before letting her go. He'd taken to the habit of taking her hand and kissing her knuckles with a charming smile before that familiar smirk returned.

With so much more confidence Eivor became more bold, more comfortable with taking charge of what she wanted. Creativity struck her, thoughts wandering to things she wanted to do that he hadn't done — or in this case, couldn't. 

It was a lazy evening, the sun still letting in some light while Eivor hummed and played her lyre at Heimdall's desk and the watchman sat in the chair in the corner, reading. He was smiling, relaxed, clearly listening while he read, yet Eivor still felt like he wasn't paying enough attention to her. The lyre was set on the table, careful not to disturb the neatly organized papers on it, and Eivor stood, crossing her arms playfully. "You really are just sitting all the way over there, hm? It's almost like you're ignoring me."

Without looking up, Heimdall replied snobbishly, "I am fond of this spot."

Eivor let out a hum, allowing impulse to take control as she stepped over to him and pushed the hand holding the book to the side. He looked up, then his eyes widened as she sat across his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck with a sneaky grin and a sultry look in her gaze. Without thinking Heimdall put one hand on her knee as she taunted, "How do you like it now?"

Throat dry, spine tingling, palms sweating, Heimdall swallowed the thick lump in his throat. "Well…this chair is made for only one."

The goddess threw her head to the side with an exasperated sigh before turning back to him and laughing, "I hate you."

She got no response other than a chuckle before they leaned in for a deep kiss. They pulled each other closer, hands drifting to and caressing whatever they could reach. The book slipped from Heimdall's fingers, abandoned on the floor like an egg falling from a nest — precious, but left behind in favor of what was left. He wasn't able to hold himself back, so pleased and delighted by this newfound teasing in her. It was a wonder he was even surprised. Fiery, sassy, and daring, of course she would find a new way to drive him mad. The thought did…things to him. Things he couldn't keep behind bars. Especially when her mouth found his jawline and tugged on the skin with her teeth. He was powerless to object, his hands wandering from knee to hip and from the loose strands of hair to her lower back before he could stop himself. And once he started it was too delicious to stop.

As always, there was a point that Eivor wasn't willing to breach, still uncertain. She pulled away, leaving them both panting with their foreheads pressed together. In no time she pulled him in to rest her cheek on top of his head, bringing his nose into her neck while she started to sing. Just like that, all the tension melted, even though it was the good kind, and Heimdall felt himself give in to the intimacy he had grown to adore so much. So much happiness, and he didn't even know he could have it this way until she gave him another chance. 

Then the subject suddenly changed, as if they weren't in what some would consider a "compromising" position. What Heimdall loved about that moment was how seamless it was, how it was so comfortable that she thought nothing of it anymore. "Dall? Do you think you could sing to me now?"

If he wasn't so relaxed he would have groaned and rolled his eyes. This wasn't the first time she had asked, and he was certain it wouldn't be last, regardless of his answer. "I still choose to leave that to you."

Eivor pulled back, giving him her most convincing pout and whining, "Why not? You might be good at it."

"Oh, I'm sure I would be." The arrogance of his reply ruined her exaggerated pout and turned it into an annoyed frown. "But it's not at all a good use of my time."

"Are you saying that my singing is a waste of time then?"

"It isn't for you, but for me it's frivolous."

An eye roll was her response. "You don't always have to do something useful or productive. You could just do it for fun. I'll teach you!"

"The answer is still no." Despite the stern tone he felt himself smiling warmly.

She finally gave up the fight, sighing as she lowered her cheek onto his head again. "I'll change your mind someday."

In most situations he would have insisted that she never would. This time he was too lost in thought, feeling her comfort, her enjoyment of the moment, her willingness to stay like this. It was confirmation. He was no longer causing her stress by doing something so intimate, giving her no reason to second guess his intent. These tender times had become as natural as holding hands, and she wanted to have more of them with him. And that, contrary to what he would have said months ago, felt better than any touch or kiss he could ever have.

Gods, he loved her so. And she was equally enamored with him.

So much passionate affection boils over eventually, and it did once Heimdall's magnum opus of gifts came to be.

It came from unpredictable circumstances. On an average day Eivor chose to play her flute in the lodge, only the occasional servant passing by at that time of day. She was trapped in the melodies, the brief audiences lost to her as all her focus went to the sweet tune. Only one thing managed to catch her attention, and that was the lumbering thumps coming from the lower level of the lodge.

Green eyes opened as Thor made his way into the main room, looking as glum as he always does after he speaks with Odin. The giant stopped just in front of her, seeming slightly less inebriated than usual. "Hey, Birdie."

"Hey, Big Guy. Need something?"

"Nah, there's just somethin' I gotta ask," Thor slurred, crossing his arms. His seriousness made Eivor retrieve her thin leather bag from the tabletop and place the flute back inside, pulling on the string to seal it before setting it on the bench beside her. There was a brief pause, then Thor harshly spat out, making no attempt to hide his suspicions, "How's he been treatin' ya?" Eivor almost laughed. Sif must have vented to him many times now if even he felt compelled to take a moment to check on her.

Eivor stood, her neck hurting from looking up at Thor. "He's doing quite well, actually. I have no complaints, honestly."

The giant god harrumphed. "Well, if that changes, you know who to ask for." 

"And you'd do something about it even if you can't hit Heimdall?"

"My boys will find a way." The new voice belonged to Sif, who made her way into the room with Magni at her side, the young god's lip bloodied. He and Modi must have been going at it again. "I doubt even he can take all of my brutes at once."

Eivor couldn't hold back a chuckle this time. "And do these 'brutes' appreciate your nickname for them? Thor, Magni?"

The god of thunder only grunted while Magni defended,"I won't say in front of my mother," making the two goddesses laugh. So focused on the conversation, they all failed to notice the figure coming from the stairs, sneaking over to the group. 

A warcry rang from behind the Aesir, Modi sprinting from the stairway to tackle his brother. Thor seized Eivor wrist and pulled her away as Magni stepped aside and tripped his brother, the younger god slipping and slamming into the table. She saw his backside land directly on the leather bag she left on the bench. Before Thor could even open his mouth to scold his sons Eivor gasped, "My flute!"

Modi, dazed from the blow, had little reaction. "Huh?"

"Modi, up! Move!" Sif ordered, scaring her son into full consciousness. 

"The fuck are you two doing?" Thor barked as Eivor hurried to the bag. 

"Me? I didn't do nothin'," Magni protested. 

Despite the small bit of hope Eivor held, she knew her flute was destroyed as soon as she picked up the bag, hearing the bone shards rustling inside. "No…"

"It's just a flute," Sif consoled softly. "It's replaceable."

"It was my father's…"

Sif's bright blue eyes landed on the young pair. "This is what happens when you two act so carelessly!"

Such an insult did nothing to intimidate the young gods compared to the fury in their father's voice as he growled, "You fucking idiots! Can't you do anything with some finesse?" The irony of such a statement coming from a drunk wasn't lost on anyone, but it couldn't be noted before he added, "Do I need to beat the sense into you two again?!"

Sif was just as menacing, even as she went to her friend's side and put an arm around her shoulders. The fear from Thor's sons was so palpable that Eivor had to look up at them, needing no time to deduce just how terrified they were of the very real threats from their own parents. "No," she intervened, setting her grief aside to minimize their punishment. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have left something so valuable and fragile lying around."

"I disagree," Sif added stubbornly.

"Really, it wasn't their fault. It's okay."

The devastation was still present in her voice in spite of her efforts to hide it. With a sigh and a vow to lecture her sons later, Sif pulled Eivor towards the door as she shot Thor a demanding look. "There must be a tradesman in the market who can repair it. Let's see what they say."

Once the two were away, Thor glared at his two sons, only faltering when Huginn flew in with an exaggerated squawk, ordering him to take care of their business. The god of thunder growled, "I'd beat your asses when I get back…" he stepped to the raven, soon swept up by black feathers, "but I know Heimdall will do worse." 

With their father gone, Magni slapped the back of his brother's head, knowing that was exactly what was going to happen.

Eivor knew it as well. Which was why, after it was made clear that her flute could not be repaired, she decided she would not tell Heimdall, maybe even find a replacement before he notices and come up with a cover story.

And that worked. For a week, until Thor stormed up to Heimdall in a drunken rage asking why the watchman hadn't beaten his sons yet. Eivor didn’t even want to know what the pair looked like after she heard about Heimdall's revenge.

Once the Sons of Thunder were thoroughly thrashed, Heimdall wasted no time seeking to undo the damage — without telling Eivor, knowing she wouldn't ask him to try to match the value of her father's flute. Which he was certainly going to do anyway.

He recalled a specific artisan in Gladsheim, well known for his mastery of crafting all manner of tools, from weapons to decorations to jewelry, and instruments were included in his repertoire. If his memory served (which it always did), even some of his own spare gauntlets and belts had been made by this craftsman, and if Heimdall found his work adequate enough to accept, then it could potentially be enough for Eivor. When the scion tracked down the shop and went inside, he heard rummaging from behind the workbench, clearing his throat impatiently when he was not immediately welcomed. An old man with round glasses shot up, clapping his hands together to brush dust off of his gloves as he gave a crotchety, "Heh? Who's that now?" The older man, who was apparently half dwarf, barely came to Heimdall's shoulder, but he had no issue matching the god's disrespectful sneer. His dark stubble was sprinkled with gray spots and his nearly bald head matched, synergizing with the wrinkles around his eyes to sell his age and experience. The lack of decorum also gave away how long ago he had abandoned formality. "Are you really gonna walk into my shop with a look like that?"

It was so tempting to teach him a lesson, but Heimdall refrained. Mostly. "Are you really going to give me a reason to stab you?"

"Look here, whenever a god walks into my shop — All-Father's orders or not — they don't just wander in. They come here for my work, so we both know you ain't doin' nothin' to me."

Heimdall had to hold back a sigh. This felt too much like dealing with one of the Huldra brothers for his taste. "Kerr, was it? If you're somehow capable of living up to your reputation then you can make quality instruments."

Kerr placed his hands on his bench and fixed Heimdall with a cynical look. "Yeah, yeah. Truth be told, they're one of my favorite kinds of jobs. What are ya in the market for?"

"A flute."

"Ah, for your goddess girlfriend, I bet."

"That's not your place to say, mutt." Heimdall could feel the smugness coming from Kerr after his snappy retort. 

"Ohhhh, mutt, he calls me. Well, if you live up to your reputation, you're gonna be picky. So if you want a top notch flute, you better drop the attitude."

Admittedly it was rather impressive that Kerr was so unaffected by his insults or his demeanor, even if it was exceptionally annoying and inconvenient.

"I'm assumin' you want it to be pretty. You got a design in mind?"

Heimdall rolled his eyes. "Isn't that your job?"

"I gotta have a starting point, ya know. You have an idea for color, motif, material?"

"Still your job."

Nearly slamming his hands down on the table, Kerr proposed harshly, "Alright then, watchman, how bout this; you're a mind reader. How about I think something, you tell me how it is?"

"That might be the most decently intelligent thing you've said yet." 

For far longer than Kerr anticipated, it became a long string of silence followed by disapproval.

"No, that's hideous."

"Horrendous. Try again. With effort this time"

"What a sorry excuse of an artisan you are."

Kerr proved to have surprisingly thick skin, not even blinking when Heimdall would shut down one image after another. This method was intended to be the fastest way to work with Heimdall, yet an hour later he was still unimpressed and losing patience.

Then they had a breakthrough.

The design Kerr had in mind made Heimdall pause. It felt right. Delicate, yet striking, and integrating designs that were similar to the Vanir engravings on Eivor's lost flute. 

"...It's an improvement."

Kerr slapped his knee with a guffaw and shouted, "Now we're gettin' somewhere!"

Minute changes from then on. Altering the color, the engraving placement, precious stones accents …it was so close. But not right just yet.

Heimdall sighed in frustration after a vague flaw just wouldn't disappear. "Do you truly have no unique materials? What good are your ideas if they aren't feasible?" With an obvious groan, Kerr dug out a metal box full of shards of metal, stones, glass, all manner of shiny baubles to add. Yet none of them felt right. "Still nothing. That can't be all you have."

Kerr grumbled something under his breath that Heimdall didn't care enough to listen to. Then something caught his eye as Kerr rested a hand on the table while he reached underneath to dig through more samples. He had a jewel of some sort at the back of his gloves, used to fasten them closely to his arm. "What's that?"

"Huh? What now?"

"That," Heimdall growled, pointing to the clip in question.

"Oh, this? This here's labradorite."

"Labradorite…I've never heard of it," Heimdall commented while Kerr searched for something in a drawer. He honestly would have thought the craftsman was making it up if he couldn't see the truth so easily.

"It's a rare material. That's why." Two palm sized pebbles were placed on the tabletop, the stones mostly dark grey other than where the light shined on it, revealing streaks of blue and green on one and purple and gold on the other. "It's from Alfheim, a crystal in between regular, crummy stone and Twilight Stone. Y'see, Twilight Stones form when the Light of Alfheim binds to stone and crystallizes. Labradorite has the same process, but with limited exposure to the Light, making the colors more muted and varied and having less shine."

Heimdall picked up one of the smooth rocks and turned it, admiring the waves of color flashing across the surface, not unlike the lights in the sky that are seen in winter. There was just one detail that left him on the fence. "The color is inconsistent in these. Can they contain only one color?"

"Depends on —"

"Purple." 

"Yeah, they can come in purple varieties, just harder to find."

A brief pause as Heimdall inspected the stone. It was so much like Eivor. So humble and smooth on the outside, but with a beauty and light that could only be seen from within. The place of origin was fitting as well. A lovely jewel hidden among the filthy sands, just like her. If there was a hint of this instead of those strips of gold…

"This will do. But only in purple."

Kerr shrugged. "Sure. It'll be costly."

"Do you think I care?"

"Nope, but I wasn't thinkin' about you. The elves aren't fond of giving it up. It takes some time to negotiate and get it over to Asgard."

Not ideal, but better than settling for subpar. "How long?"

“Well, it usually takes about a month to reach an agreement.”

Nevermind.

“I’m not waiting that long. That’s unreasonable,” Heimdall lectured, irritated that his goal was just barely out of reach.

Kerr threw up his hands and chuckled, “Well, waddaya want me to do? Unless you go there and get it yourself, that's what you’re gonna get.”

“Consider it done.”

“Wha'?”

Heimdall turned on his heel and was on his way to Alfheim before Kerr could process that he was gone. True to his word, he returned with a good handful of the stones he needed, demanding that he receive the highest quality product in a timely manner. 

In the end he wished he had given a strict deadline. After a few days he was already tingling with anticipation. About a week later he was told the flute was ready, along with a matching case for it. To his shock, Heimdall had no complaints, no minor blemishes he wanted fixed. It was perfect. Perfect enough for Eivor.

That perfection ended up weighing on him, like he couldn't hand something so special over at any time. It had to be the perfect moment. The perfect moment for the perfect gift for the perfect person. Anything less was unacceptable to him.

Another week had gone by when the opportunity came. Eivor came to his cabin in the evening, agitated and exhausted. She went straight to Heimdall's place on the bed as he was reading and plopped down next to him, half laying on top of him with her face in his shoulder and arm over his stomach. "I'm not a pillow."

"Shut up," came her muffled groan.

Chuckling, Heimdall put the book down and placed a hand on the back of her head, taking the clip out of her hair to free it. "Care to talk about your day with the Einherjar?"

Tilting her head to look at him, Eivor whined, "You don't have to rub it in."

"It's merely a question. So touchy." Eivor ignored him, prompting him to press, "So, what'll it take to end your sour mood?"

Eivor's face lit up, making his heart skip a beat. "Will you come with me up to the wall?"

"At this hour?"

"Please? We don't go there as often anymore. I miss looking at the stars with you."

Heimdall's gut tied itself in a knot, and not because he agreed with her. Instinct told him that this was the time. Giving her a dramatic sigh and dragging his hand to his face, he whistled for Gulltoppr to wait outside the front door.

"Thank you, Dollface!" Said with an exaggerated sweetness to match his feigned reluctance.

She squealed when leaned down and kissed her ear. "Go on, I'll join you in a moment." Eivor, now full of energy, leapt up and headed for the door, flowing hair drifting behind her and cooing at Gulltoppr as she went outside. Heimdall, on the other hand, dashed to his wardrobe, opening a drawer that he asked Eivor to avoid and finding the gift he was so eager to give stashed inside. A part of him hesitated. Was this the right time? Did he wait? Would he ruin it if this wasn't the perfect moment?

He cut himself off when he heard Eivor call for him. Without taking more time to second guess, he tucked the long wooden box into the back of his belt. Eivor was too absorbed in the lovely ride on Gulltoppr to notice how tense Heimdall had gotten, nor did she when she leaned against him on their way up the lift. He only began to relax when they were at the top. Eivor wrapped her hands around his upper arms and rested her head against his shoulder, letting him lead her to wherever he chose to take them. It wasn’t a conscious choice at all, not a single thought making him do it, but he ended up stopping in one very particular spot. A spot that had never felt the same since that night.

It only took a few minutes for Eivor to bring it up. “So…any reason you stopped here?”

“Not particularly.”

Eivor rolled her eyes at the bored reply, harboring no doubt that he was pretending not to notice. “Really?” A pause while he shrugged, then she leaned closer to his face. “Not at all because it’s been almost two winters since we kissed here? Hm?”

Heimdall wasn’t fond of the mischief in her tone, and he had no intention of letting her get away with it. “Why would I bother with remembering that?”

“Hmm…you’re right. You did make it pretty forgettable, didn’t you?”

All he could do was smile. He could do nothing to stop her from turning it around on him, ever true to that sharp tongue that he adored. Never had she disappointed him with a mundane reply, a half-hearted joke, or polite agreement just to earn his favor. Always so genuine, so pure, so engaging. So flawless.

The subject was dropped immediately. “I have something for you,” he whispered, unable to contain himself any longer. 

Taken aback by such an unexpected reaction, Eivor released him with a furrowed brow, letting him reach back and retrieve the long wooden box from his belt. “What is this, Dall?”

“A good way to find out is to open it.” Another eye roll from her. “Go on,” he urged gently, his impatience overflowing.

It was so rare to see Heimdall this excited, it almost made her nervous as she unclasped the metal clips and lifted the lid. At the sight she gasped, frozen in place. “Oh, Heimdall…” was all she could force out, staring too intently at the absolutely gorgeous flute nestled into the cushioned interior. The body was white, smooth and polished like it was made of fine marble. Near the mouth piece the gold weaving patterns of vines and leaves trickled into elaborate circular formations that wrapped around to the back, reappearing at the bottom holes and dwindling into a single line. The tapering gold line was complemented by feathers painted in beautiful colors that gradually grew more sparse as they reached the base. Two bands adorned it, one at the top between the mouthpiece and the other under the last hole, the gold patterns overlapping them. Those bands were lined with more gold, and within those borders was a break in the light tones with nearly black stones, ones that she recognized as labradorite. A rare variety of them as well, the gleaming colors almost exclusively shades of violet. There was no way the elves would have given them up so soon, so how he got it was beyond her. It was without a doubt the most beautiful instrument — one of the most beautiful things — that she’d ever seen. And Heimdall was giving it to her solely because she was down a flute. Her hands floated above the box, hesitant to even touch something so incredible, as if it would be tarnished by her fingers. 

Heimdall lifted the box a little higher and teased, “It’s not just for show.”

Eivor shook her head at his smirk, gingerly picking up the fine flute as carefully as possible. After turning it around to admire the patterns in their entirety she lifted it to her mouth, playing a portion of one of her favorite songs, totally enveloped in the richness of the sound it made. Not only was it gorgeous, it was also a quality instrument, much better than the old bone flute that she had. 

With that thought Eivor lowered the flute, a part of her still missing the memento she had from her father, though she tried not to look disappointed. Heimdall must have been paying close attention to every part of her and sensed that longing. “I see it doesn’t hold the same value,” he began, giving her a look to stop her when she tried to reassure him that she loved it, “but I hope it at least comes close.”

Tears were welling up in Eivor’s eyes, feeling every bit of emotion and dedication in his voice. This was no small matter to him. He put so much thought into this, went to any length to ensure it was one of the finest things she would ever own. All because he cared about her and couldn't live without her music. Heart swelling so much that it felt like it would burst, Eivor calmly placed the flute back into the box and closed the lid, slowly taking it from his hands and putting it on the boulder next to them as Heimdall watched, bemused. He felt it before he could stop it, only able to catch her as she flew at him and gave him a deep kiss with her arms around his neck, leaving him a warm, bubbly mess on the inside and a clumsy recipient on the outside. 

It was so much. 

Heimdall was such a prick, and pompous, and rude, and somehow shortsighted despite his abilities, but none of that outweighed this side of him. The one that would have gone to the ends of the earth to make her happy, that would put thought and energy into making her feel secure, loved, and wanted. The one that encouraged her to be herself, and in turn listened to her when she wanted him to grow beside her. It was still baffling how a man that she despised so vehemently upon their meeting managed to not only care this much, but also change his ways to prove it. He was so much more than she ever expected him to be, and was eternally grateful that he was willing to show her that. That he wanted to be hers just as much as she wanted to be his.

She wanted so much of him. His touches along her waist, the softness of his lips on hers, the love radiating from his very being. Somehow, for the first time, this wasn't enough.

More. She needed more to satisfy this hunger for him, to express all of the love that she had in her. To feel him closer, take all of his warmth, feel every bit of him, everything. Her mouth seemed to act beyond her control as it attempted to acquiesce the growing need within, her teeth clamping down on his bottom lip, making him gasp. He returned the gesture by securing his hands on her hips and gripping them like his life depended on it. He was holding back, she knew he was. But not this time. She didn’t want him to hold back anymore. Her hands wound into the hair at the base of his cranium, tangling into the knots and loose strands to give them a tug. His reaction was instant, his tongue darting out to taste her as his self control slowly faltered. The rigorous response knocked the wind out of him, the intensity of her tongue against his sending electricity through his veins and setting him on fire from the inside out. Momentarily he pulled back, trying to collect himself before he pushed her too far, his mind too muddled to get a clear read on her current state. That was exactly why she was able to release her frustration by pushing him until his back hit the huge brick behind him, allowing her to press her body flush against him before her mouth locked on to his once more. The tiny grunt he let out was embarrassing.

“Is this familiar too?” She asked against his lips.

This time he wouldn’t try to deny it. Yes, they had done this before. Only on the night of their first kiss he was the one pushing her against the wall. Now he was on the receiving end, and it was divine.

Still, he was hesitant. He made a promise, and he was a man of his word — even if it meant giving up one of the most euphoric sensations he had ever felt. He turned his head to the side to catch his breath, his spine tingling when Eivor’s mouth went straight to his jaw and kissed along it, tongue occasionally giving his stubble a lick. Eyes glued shut, Heimdall forced himself to calm down, already feeling the effects of the heated exchange. It was then that Eivor lost patience with him and demanded, “Look at me.” He did as she asked, panting as she did nothing but stare into his eyes. She wanted him to see for himself what she had to say. After a moment of recentering, he was able to take a stable look into her thoughts. 

I want you.

His eyes were wider than dinner plates and his breathing stopped as he heard it, staring at her for several more moments to be absolutely certain his foresight wasn’t playing tricks on him. The first word in his mind was "finally," feeling all of his desires that had been suppressed march back to the forefront at the warhorn calling them to battle. Then he felt anger, hating how he was so eager to give in to the very thing that almost chased her away. He wouldn’t make the same mistake. Never again. Barely able to catch his breath, he managed to get out, “I…I didn’t do any of this to…” He couldn’t finish, hating the suggestion that this was all for his own gain, like he would break his word as soon as he got something out of her.

All the worry faded when she smiled warmly at him. As irritating as it was that he was holding back right when she wanted him the most, her heart recognized the sweet gesture. He wanted this so badly, it was clear as day and had been for a very, very long time. Yet when the opportunity was right in front of him, when it would be so easy to get it in the heat of the moment, he was still more concerned about her. He would only do this if she would have no regrets. “I know,” she breathed, still staring deeply into those glowing eyes to ensure he would know she was being truthful. "But that's why I want it."

Heimdall, ecstatic but wary, still gave her another moment to cool off and think before confirming, “Are you sure?”

Having little patience left, Eivor yanked him down by his neck to bring their noses together. “You tell me,” she dared.

There it was. Her desire, wanton need, all wrapped up in a box of certainty and confidence. She was ready. And the realization that the lust he had felt for her was now equally matched boiled his blood in the most delicious way. She wanted him, fully and completely. The feeling of being loved so deeply, being wanted…

“Well,” he exhaled, tucking her long hair behind her ear. But of course, he couldn't give away just how enthusiastic he was. Grinning devilishly, he teased, “I wonder what you would do if I decided to change my mind now.”

“You better not,” Eivor growled with a matching smile, slowly leaning up to kiss him again.

This was it. Finally, he wouldn’t try to keep himself at bay. Eivor was so overwhelmed by the insane desire that her hand wandered to his front and tucked underneath his tunic and under armor, needing to feel his skin right away. She almost snapped at him when he seized her hand, stopping her and pulling away, until he whispered, “Not here.” 

She got the message, nodding as his breath became even more strained. He pushed off the wall and tried to drag her back to the lift, stopping only because she grabbed her new flute from the stone before they dashed off.

The raven watched, intrigued. 

This was more heated than expected…but still compliant.

---------------------------

As a fair warning, next chapter will be NSFW. It'll have no critical events that you need to know, so if that's not your thing you can totally skip it :)

#songbird of asgard #heimdall #god of war #heimdall x reader #heimdall gow #heimdall x oc #god of war heimdall #gow heimdall #the songbird of asgard

[ninjahiccups]

internet censorship bill about to pass congress:

ao3 is facing a ddos attack from an overseas right-wing anonymous group because it contains "degeneracy and disgusting things like LGBT and NSFW".

they're not the only right-wing group that is attacking fanfiction sites because of queer & nsfw content. the Heritage foundation, the US right wing think tank that writes laws for republicans, wrote an article about how "big tech turns kids trans" in which they're advocating for the Kid's Online Safety Act to pass because it will give state attorney generals power to sue websites for "potentially harmful content towards minors". in this article they point out websites like wattpad, tumblr, tiktok, twitter as sites that GOP attorney generals can and will target for censorship if this bill passes. all places where fandom, that's mostly queer, hangs out.

if you think this bill has no chance of passing because of all the red flags it poses, think again. it currently has 38 cosponsors in the senate, and is being pushed by the democrats as a "protecting the children!!" type bill.

there are left-aligned orgs in congress rn lobbying for this bill to pass. july is extremely decisive, because if KOSA goes through to markup it'll be bundled with the Earn It act, Restrict, and all the other bad internet bills and passed as a package, completely censoring the internet forever.

if you want to learn more about the bill, go here. also sign the open letter against it here

it's ESSENTIAL that you call your members of congress, specifically Maria Cantwell (you can call from out of state) and tell them DO NOT PASS KOSA. this site here connects you to your members of congress and gives you a short simple script to read off of! super easy and doesn't take much out of your day! please do this now!!

#fuck this

[ninjahiccups]

The Songbird of Asgard

Chapter 11: Promise

AO3 Masterlist Word Count: 22.6k (I'm sorry) Warnings:Pushing personal boundaries that some might find uncomfortable, mentions of adult themes but nothing explicit.

Sooooo this one ended up extremely long. I couldn't find a good place to split this one up so it's all just going up at once.

This was a tough one to write, and on top of that I've kinda been dealing with the whole "when it rains it pours" kinda problem lately, as well as a lot of imposter syndrome surrounding this fic. But we're surviving :')

A very important chapter, and we're close to catching up with the game!

Peace. Serenity. Bliss. Those were the words he would use to describe the moment.

Heimdall's eyes were still closed after he awoke, too comfortable to get up and ready for the day. Eivor's form, still nestled next to him with her head on his shoulder, was so warm and inviting, tempting him to put off his morning routine as long as he possibly could just so he could enjoy this. In the end he couldn't, too attentive to the birds singing outside the windows indicating that it was already too late. With a nearly unbeatable reluctance his eyes slowly slid open, blinking at the light trickling in from the cracks between the window covers. For a moment he just remained still and sighed, bathing in the warmth next to him, focusing on the love he felt.

He tensed. There it was again. That word. Which meant it was undeniable. He couldn't even try to play it off any longer if it was one of the first things he thought of after waking up. Tilting his head towards her, he studied her tranquil features, still lost to sleep and half buried in his shoulder. A tiny chuckle escaped him, shaking his head for no reason in particular. Maybe out of sheer disbelief that this very moment was real and not a dream. He wished it was, still trying to drown out the annoying nagging in his mind that was growing more intrusive by the second. With one last look at Eivor's resting face, his head turned to face the window, wanting to judge how much longer he could procrastinate his return to duty. 

A groan almost left him. Judging by the color and amount of sunlight sneaking in he could tell it was already far too late to waste any more time. His eyes went back to Eivor, feeling his brow furrow once he realized he had to somehow move without disturbing her. Carefully, he tried to slide away from her, intending to rest her head on his pillow in the process, wincing at the slight soreness in the arm that had been under her all night. As gentle as he was, he couldn't stop her from stirring and moving a hand up to rub her eyes. With the battle lost, he stilled, giving her a moment to either go back to sleep or to rouse completely. She did the latter, lovely eyelashes fluttering open, revealing groggy green eyes that struggled to clear up. After a few breaths she smiled. "You're still here," she muttered, voice rough from sleep.

Heimdall smirked, wondering how he could still find her so attractive when she was hardly conscious, hair messy and barely aware that the collar of the tunic she borrowed had bunched around her neck in an unkempt fashion.

Because I love her, his mind spat out. 

He ignored it. "Not for much longer, I'm afraid," he croaked, tone just as husky as hers. "And you're proving to be an inconvenience."

"An inconvenience?" She chuckled, eyes narrowing accusingly. "Did you forget that you're the one who asked me to be here?"

Heimdall managed to pull his arm out from under her now that she could assist, choosing to rest on his elbow and look down at her as he replied, "But I didn't ask you to overstay your welcome."

"And I didn't ask you to be such a prick."

He rolled his eyes, too lost in thought to fight back. There it was again. That four letter word sitting in the back of his mind, leaping to the forefront when it wanted to be spoken. He wanted to say it, to just put it out there and get it over with so he could be free of the anticipation. It was his heart that forbade him from doing it, shouting that such a cowardly approach was beneath him. The urge to express that word in some way still egged him on, pushing him until he burst. Donning a devilish grin, Heimdall laid down on his side, facing Eivor as one arm reached across her and yanked her close enough for his lips to land on hers, his tongue lazily stretching out to taste her, the sudden intensity making her gasp. He hadn't pulled a move like this since their first kiss, leaving her wondering what had gotten into him all of a sudden. That question was left unanswered, her mind too focused on reciprocating the action. When he pulled away they were both panting, Heimdall's eyes never leaving her as she caught her breath. Then, with an arrogant smirk, he asked, "Am I still a prick after that?"

She wore the most impish grin he'd ever seen. "Yes."

He really should have seen it coming.

"Very well then," he harrumphed, scooting away to stand. 

"No, come on, I was kidding!" Eivor pleaded, though her laughter caused those pleas to fall on uncaring ears.

"You've lost your chance, Songbird," he mocked, standing up and heading for his wardrobe in the washroom.

Eivor sat up, eyes following him as he walked around the bed. "Can you at least let me help you with your hair?"

He stopped. "How?"

"By fixing it? It's a mess."

Heimdall scowled at her, having caught a glimpse of the tousled braids as he passed by the vanity. "Yes, that tends to happen after one sleeps," he grumbled, continuing his trip into the other room.

"So let me help!" She called to him.

"I don't need help. I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself."

"You might not need it, but you can want it!"

"I can also deny it." His voice was muffled this time, changing into his armor as he argued.

Eivor, now growing desperate, whined, "Yes, but what if I want to help?"

The watchman guffawed from the other room, emerging as he buckled his waist armor into place. "Oh, is that what this is about?"

His goddess companion grew sheepish. Yes, she really wanted to see Heimdall with his hair down, but she also liked the idea of knowing what it felt like. "And?"

"And I do not trust you."

"With your hair?"

"You don't know how to do it."

Eivor scoffed as she slung her legs over the side of the bed. "I have eyes, Heimdall, and your hairstyle isn't that hard to figure out."

His only rebuttal was, "The answer, believe it or not, is still no," as he approached the vanity on the other side of the room.

Did he have to be this stubborn about something as mundane as his hair?

…of course he did. This was Heimdall.

A new strategy then: bargaining. "Will you at least let me try? Just once?"

"No."

"Just one time, and if I don't get it right I'll never ask again!"

Heimdall finally turned around to face her after retrieving Gjallarhorn, arms crossed as he watched her pleading pout. 

He didn't care. That look didn't do anything to him. It wasn't working.

It was working.

Sighing dramatically, he threw up his hands and surrendered. "Fine. Just once!" He added when she shot up and hurried over, as giddy as a child with a new toy. It took all his willpower not to chuckle at her as he pulled a stool from under the vanity and sat down, Eivor taking her place behind him. "But don't take your time. You have already made me late." Eivor rolled her eyes, not dignifying such a complaint with a response.

Heimdall had planned on micromanaging, wanting to find a reason to take over and do it himself as soon as possible. His reasons for doing so, however, gradually vanished. She didn't yank on his braids, instead gently unwinding them one at a time. Once she picked up the comb on the tabletop she worked on getting the knots out, making sure she wasn't pulling too hard. Then her fingertips ran through the golden strands while she seemingly just admired them, almost playing with them. Her eyes flickered between Heimdall and his reflection, memorizing how stunning he looked in such a relaxed state. His hair was longer in the front, reaching just past his chin, the uneven part separating his locks in a way that framed his face nicely. He may have said not to waste time, but Eivor wanted to make this last as long as he would tolerate, loving how smooth his hair was, how handsome he was when he wasn't completely cleaned up, how vulnerable he was allowing himself to be for her. It occurred to her that she was probably the only person who had touched his hair in a very long time, and that this was a privilege he gave no other. Such a happy thought pulled at her heartstrings, subconsciously humming as the emotions made her mind drift just a bit. 

It took a great deal of concentration for Heimdall to keep sitting up straight with his head held high enough for her to work. Her touch had always been so sweet and relaxing, but her tender hands carding through his hair was on an entirely different level. Adding her beautiful humming into the mix was a recipe for disaster, feeling his eyes closing and what little tension that was left in his shoulders fading. 

Gods, it was almost torture, having to sit still when every bit of him wanted to pull her down and kiss every inch of her face. Yet again, for the umpteenth time that morning, that one word danced around his brain, searching for a way out. He wanted to let it out. It would be so easy so just stop her, turn around in his seat and bury his face into her stomach, kissing it while he muttered that one word to her. He wanted to so badly but every time he tried to force himself to move he suddenly felt like he had boulders strapped to him. That frustration made his mind consider possible alternatives, ones that felt much more surmountable. He could just stand up, take her in his arms and kiss her fiercely. Lips nipping at her neck, listening closely to her pleased sighs and little giggles. Showing it was so much more reasonable, so much easier than trying to put such immense passion into words. All he had to do was turn around and he would have that satisfying feeling he got when he kissed her so intimately minutes ago. The feeling that set him on fire and left him hungry for more of her. His hands twitched with that same desire to act, to let out this restrained love that he knew was boiling underneath, begging to be set free so she could feel it with him. So he could make her feel it. The same things she made him feel. It would be so glorious, so life changing, if he could just prove to her that the four letter word occupying his every thought was more than just a word now.

"You're really enjoying this, hmm?" 

Heimdall pretended he hadn't been thinking about her the entire time, sounding bored when he responded. "It's not terrible."

A wicked snicker. "Oh, you don't need to pretend, Dall, I know you're having a good time."

If his eyes weren't closed he would have rolled them. "And what, pray tell, makes you assume as much?"

Silence at first. He felt the warmth of her breath next to his ear as she whispered, "I've undone and redone your hair three times now."

…what?

Bifrosted eyes flung open, observing his reflection. Eivor was leaning down so her face was next to his, one hand holding one of the small braids by his ear between her fingers, releasing it and one of the larger braids on the other side of his head to let them unfurl on their own as she grinned mischievously. His posture had slumped and his head had drifted down farther than he remembered. When she laughed his widened eyes became a half-hearted glare. "I told you I was already late!" He scolded, his body still recovering from the euphoria her touch and his imagination had caused.

Eivor waved off his anger without a care, taking hold of the hair she had undone. "If you were really that late you would have noticed!" His huff only made her laugh again. He was sure to keep his eyes open this time.

In just minutes she was finished, resting her hands on his shoulders as he turned his head to critique her handiwork. "What do you think?" She asked, already seeing he had few complaints.

And he did. She did much better than he expected. Of course, he couldn't see the back, but that was the easiest part and he doubted she would mess it up. Eagerness built up in his gut at her excellent skills. Since she had them she could do this again sometime. He banished the thought for now, already too far gone in his thoughts to provoke them any further. "It's adequate," he drawled, careful not to display his enthusiasm.

"Which means I am free to ask if I can do it again!" Eivor kissed his cheek and stepped away, giving him space to stand. "Give me a second to change and I'll follow you out."

Heimdall froze, thoughts racing. For some reason it hadn't occurred to him that she would leave. She wouldn't be here when he returned, and that was…disappointing.

"You really don't have to rush," he blurted out before he could think about it. Eivor stopped her advance towards the washroom, eyebrow raised curiously, asking for clarification. "I wouldn't mind if you stayed…so long as you don't make a mess." That last portion had to be tacked on to save his dignity.

Eivor smiled lovingly, slowly making her way over to him. "You'd let me stay here alone?" Heimdall only shrugged, words failing him. "Well…that's nice of you." Her arms went around his neck, pulling him in just a little closer. He had no witty comeback, no jokes to hide how much he wanted to see her here again. All he could think of was that four letter word.

Does he say it out loud?

"What?" She asked innocently.

Say it, his heart ushered. His mouth opened, suddenly so dry, but no sound would emerge, no words could make their way up from his lungs. He wanted to tell her. But how does someone even do that? They just say it? No preamble, no explanation, just the word? No, that didn't feel right. Then again, he had no idea what would feel right. The only thing that felt right was leaning down to her lips and kissing them, gently but passionately, hoping to express everything he couldn't get out verbally. When he pulled back he opened his mouth again. 

Say it!

"Don't make me regret it," was what came out.

Eivor knew that wasn't what he wanted to say. He could tell by the look on her face. As always, she didn't push him, didn't pry, simply let him have the time he needed to get a handle on the thunderstorm brewing in his head. She pulled him back down a little, eyes boring directly into his. "We'll see about that."

When he left he glanced over his shoulder at her one more time, that one word still banging at his insides. The rampage went unheard, and he left for the day. 

He was nearly devastated when he found Eivor wandering around with Sif, wishing she would still be there for him when he returned. Then he didn't find her at the wall at the end of the day, making her absence feel even worse.

Until he went home, finding evidence of someone else there. He walked into his bedroom and found her, wearing another one of his tunics and sitting on the alcove and reading by candlelight, the moonlight from the open window framing her beautifully as she smiled at him.

The wall was only a temporary respite now. They still went there every day, but come day's end they almost always arranged to spend the night in one of their cabins (usually Heimdall's), only separating for a night if one of them wouldn't be around until late, and each one of those instances was lonely for both of them. After a couple weeks Eivor started leaving some of her things at Heimdall's cabin, and he kept a few sets of clothes with her. Books were passed between the homes, mornings were so much harder to get started, resulting in Heimdall being a bit late just about every day for the next month. And all of it was incredible. The only real downside to the arrangement was that Heimdall woke up earlier than Eivor, often having to leave her alone before she awoke, or at most giving a quick farewell while she was half asleep.

But that four letter word remained unspoken.

Eivor had no idea, only noticing the steep change in Heimdall's mannerisms. His tendency to be handsy increased and grew in intensity, often escalating rather abruptly. It would start with him just staring like he was lost in thought, then he'd swoop in and kiss and touch her like they hadn't seen each other in years. Every morning he would pull her as close as he possibly could, kissing and biting at her like he was starving and she his first meal, hoping to feel every inch of skin she had. He caught her off guard one morning when they were laying side by side, facing each other, and his hand wandered down to palm at her thigh until he lifted it up and forward to drape it over his hips. She blushed incessantly and could barely even look at him while he snickered, teasing her for being so embarrassed until she asked him to let her go and stop touching her in such a way. He complied, but he would always do it again at some point, maybe even hours later. Sometimes when they were sitting together he'd reach around to take hold of her backside, making her squeal and scoot away. Again, she had to ask him to stop. She actually had to do it more and more often, but she supposed she couldn't blame him. If they had started spending nights together it would make sense that they started doing these things, right? Her lack of experience made it hard to tell, but she trusted Heimdall enough not to take it so seriously.

Little did she know that all of these cases were preceded by Heimdall's struggle to get that four letter word out. It popped into his head almost constantly, and when it did he had not the faintest clue as to how he was supposed to get it out. That word held such weight, far more than most people thought, and his heart refused to let him use it lightly. There was almost no strategy, no approach. He would just think it, pause to consider how to free it, and when he inevitably failed, let out that frustration by proving he felt that way. 

There were times he did try to find a method of getting it out. He'd try saying it in passing, just sliding it into their goodbyes or in the short moments they had out in public like it was nothing. All attempts failed, obviously, with him covering up the word at the last second or just ditching any effort all together. When that clearly wouldn't work, he tried doing the opposite by making a big deal out of it. He would sit down next to her, think of everything he wanted to get out, everything he could say to preface that special word. Then the time would come when he'd ask for her attention, ready to let all that planning out. It would just disappear. Every word, thought, and action that he'd poured into that upcoming moment would be gone and he'd be left with absolutely nothing. This was arguably the worst idea to ever cross his mind because he would then be stuck in this seemingly dramatic moment with nothing to follow up, having to scramble to disguise the blunder with something, anything, that would function as a plausible excuse.

Although he had failed so many times — the mounting frustration often coming out in physical touches and passionate kisses that always felt so abrupt to her — there was a single instance when he had come so close.

Sif was planning a celebration for Thrúd's age, this winter marking the child's sixth. An uncommon practice, but considering Thrúd's mother had enough power to make it happen it was far from impossible to arrange. Eivor was invited to the feast, and by that point the city had caught wind that she was a musician, despite her best efforts to keep that to herself and Heimdall. The older goddess requested Eivor sing something for her daughter. She refused at first, saying she wasn't fit for it, but in a short time the crowd cheered her on, encouraging her to do it. With the peer pressure making her too nervous to turn them down overpowering the fear of performing, she ultimately gave in. A few lyres and lutes accompanied her with a jolly tune at first, but then the gathering slowly quieted, every pair of ears focusing entirely on Eivor's silky voice. It was a bar song, not at all like the songs she sang for herself, but her voice changed the feeling so much that the once rowdy crowd eased into silence. Instead of building them up and adding to their excitement, her calming voice triggered peace between them. 

She was met with a round of impressed applause, but all she cared about was that it was over. At least she thought it was.

In no time she was getting requests left and right, everyone wanting to hear her sing again. Eivor was far too shy, shrinking away whenever it was brought up. Just once, they would say. Just for the few people here, they reasoned. After some time, she caved, agreeing to one performance outside the Great Lodge. But on one secret condition.

Heimdall had to be there. That wasn't something she communicated to her newfound fans, only to the man in question. She may have been incredibly anxious about making her music public, but a part of her also wanted to stop hiding it, feel free to sing and play wherever she liked without fear of being discovered. With that goal, Heimdall couldn't refuse. Even if he did hate the idea of everyone else listening in while he enjoyed her singing.

Despite the nausea inducing performance anxiety, it went well. The people gathered around her in a circle were surprisingly well behaved, even Thor and his sons in their drunken states were quiet while she performed. None of her pieces had been the ones she usually sang, but what a liberating experience it was anyway, being able to do what she loved without having to sneak around. She still preferred to sing and play for herself, but being able to expand the places she could play was a bigger relief than she thought. Now she could sit down and enjoy her own music anywhere, not being bothered if a passerby heard a few bars as they went about their business. It was a luxury she had never known until now.

Heimdall had been on the outskirts of the gathering, and once she was finished she ran to him and leapt into his arms, laughing and wonderfully happy. At that moment he stood there, letting her step back so he could see her ecstatic face and listen to her babble on about how nerve wracking it was. With no warning whatsoever, that word came up again, leaving him blind and deaf to anything but that one thought. 

He could feel it pushing through his lungs, working up his throat. Then stopping. Since he hadn't said anything at all, Eivor grinned up at him and asked, "Well? What do you think?"

What did he think? That little word was the most prominent thing, and the one that insisted on staying buried deep inside. Other than that? He was proud. Proud that she chose to stop hiding something so wonderful and embrace who she was, let that fire in her burn hotter than ever without shame. He would miss the fact that he was the only one that could hear her, but the privilege that he was the first would never fade, nor would the readiness to hear her more often, even if at a distance. She was growing, and he was so fortunate to be the only one who knew just how much. She was special. So, so special.

"Heimdall?"

"I just…" Go on. Say it. It was right there, on the tip of his tongue. He could hear the phrase echoing in his head…

"...want you to save your best pieces for me."

On the outside he was happy, relaxed, but inside he was fuming, raging and ripping himself to shreds for chickening out yet again, when the moment felt right. But he just couldn't do it. So he did what he always did, veering in for another loving kiss that made her body tingle. He almost objected when she retreated, not finished expressing his resentment for his cowardice, only stopping when she smiled up at him and said, "I'll only sing your favorites to you." And just like that, he already felt so much better.

Eivor kept her word too. After she started singing in less secluded places she would hear onlookers ask for something that they had heard her sing in passing once, doing their best to describe it. She always recognized the piece, but played dumb, acting like she didn't know what they meant and apologizing for being unable to fulfill their request. On the rare occasion that Heimdall was around to witness it he couldn't stop grinning. That night he continued to push their physical touches even further, having to be reminded to pull back once again.

From then on she was known as the Songbird of Asgard, inspired by the nickname some inhabitants had overheard Heimdall use. Of course, he hated that. So much so that if he ever caught someone using it he would punish them right away. That nickname was his, and only his. It was part of his whole possessive schtick. Thanks to that, others refrained from speaking it (at least when he was within earshot), but the title remained in the air. He begrudgingly accepted variations, most notably Thor's use of the nickname "Birdy," to which Eivor would respond with "Big Guy."

After another month, almost four since their first kiss, everything seemed to boil over all at once.

On top of the wall once again, the sunset painted the land orange and red while the calming air carried peace and content. Heimdall had managed to get through his work early that day and went straight to Eivor, something in him so bubbly and restless. He couldn't figure out why, other than maybe that four letter word was filling his entire being by this point. They sat at their favorite spot with Eivor's purple blanket cushioning the ground as she sang to him, stopping every now and again so they could talk. Somehow the topic strayed to his proclivity for gold, which was something she loved to hound him about every once in a while just so she could call him "eccentric" with the sole intention of annoying him. Then it drifted to a genuine question. "Now that I think about it, I've never seen you wear any jewelry. And that seems strange, given how flashy you are."

He ignored her little poke at the end. "It's impractical. Why wear it when it will get ruined?"

"Maybe rings and necklaces, but earrings wouldn't."

"I have no interest in getting anything pierced."

Sandy eyebrows raised as she smirked. "Awww, are you afraid of getting your ears pricked?"

"I never said that!"

Eivor giggled, both hands raising to reach for her right ear. "Mine isn't a piercing. Here, try it on."

Heimdall attempted to protest, but his complaints had no effect. He stilled at her request as she reached over and put the pair of golden ear cuffs on his right ear, leaning back once they were in place. She grinned, and there was a hint of admiration in her eyes that he was not opposed to. "Yeah, it looks good on you!"

He reached up to feel the cuff, fingers grazing over the X shaped designs. "It contains symbols of Asgard." 

"It does," Eivor paused, looking solemn. "It was my mother's."

The sadness she displayed made his stomach churn, deciding to return her earring to banish the discomfort as soon as possible, but she stopped him by holding up a hand, giving him a soft smile. "Keep it."

A few blinks was all he managed at first. "Why? It's important to you."

"That's why I want you to have it." 

Again, he couldn't think of anything to say. All he could do was feel the warmth spreading from his soul to every corner of his body. His Songbird didn't mind, merely staring back at him with all the patience in the world. There was still a hint of melancholy behind those shining irises, driving him to take a peek into her mind to ensure there were no second thoughts, ready to refuse her sweet gift if any were present.

Perfect timing. He didn't pick up any doubts, but he did see a phrase in her mind, and the intention to speak it.

A phrase containing that sacred word.

Eivor's mouth opened, ready to speak the one thing he had been trying to get out for months. Just like that, with no hesitation. Yet he was somehow unable to do the same. He felt the shame rise up, like he had failed her somehow. And failure was something he would not accept. Not at all, and especially not for her.

"Heimdall, I —"

"Wait," he interrupted, tearing his eyes away with his brow furrowed in frustration. She did as he asked with confusion until she remembered that he had just been looking into her eyes. The blood drained from her face as she realized he had heard her, thinking the sudden confession was too much for him to handle without any sort of introduction. Guilt creeped in. "I — I didn't mean to —"

"Hold on," he interjected once more, sighing at his own incompetence. He had to do this now. He couldn't stop her and then not take the plunge, lest he give her the wrong idea. And that was worse than preserving his pride. A deep breath, then he looked back at her, but now she was the one who couldn't keep eye contact, her embarrassment and regret palpable. What was he supposed to do at this point? Comfort her? Pretend he didn't actually hear it and was just teasing her somehow? Just come out and say it like it's nothing? Fury became abundant as he scrambled for a solution, his lack of experience with this type of expression becoming his greatest foe. How had he managed to do this sometimes? At random he would spit out something without even considering it.

Wait.

That was it.

Don't think. Just feel.

Intense unease consumed him at the idea. He hated spontaneity, much preferring planning and ample consideration before leaping into something. But he had to try. He couldn’t squander another chance. If he did he would never suck it up and say it. 

His hands raised, shaking slightly, to reach out and take hers. 

It was almost impossible for him to look up into her eyes, and it took him several minutes to finally do so. She was bemused, completely unsure of what he was feeling, but more than that she was afraid she had taken things much faster than he wanted. 

That fear, that doubt that he brought upon her, was what fueled his words.

"Eivor, I…you…" It took all of his willpower not to growl in frustration, instead looking away momentarily so he could think. Well, not think, actually. "You are…" he paused again, examining the beautiful shades of green in her irises, counting all the little freckles across her nose, following the locks that were free from her bun, all while remembering the stunning soul that lived beneath it all. He became lost. So lost in that wonderful soul. "...the greatest thing that has ever happened to me."

Her breath ceased in shock, listening closely while he continued. "I…I can't describe how much I value these moments, how much happier I've been since we became close. And I—" Once again, he had to stop, all words disappearing from his mind and his heart scrambled to reclaim them. He looked down at their hands, certain that he wouldn't be able to say much more with her face distracting him. "I truly believe you are different. That there is not another like you in existence. And now that I have you…" A deep breath. He couldn't keep being a coward for this part, staring directly into those lovely eyes. "I can't imagine a day without you anymore." He smiled at the tears forming in her eyes, not out of sadistic malice like he would with any other, but from the joy of seeing her so elated. 

That was it. He couldn't hold back anymore. He squeezed her hands, smiling softly as her tears began to drip down her cheeks.

"My dearest Songbird… I love you deeply."

There. Finally. There it was. It was out, and he cursed himself for not having the guts to do it sooner because it felt so much better. It felt so good to see her react by lowering her gaze, grinning ear to ear and radiating the same love he had just expressed to her. But this was Heimdall and Eivor, and nothing could be said or done without some sarcasm thrown in at some point. Eivor shook her head before looking back up, voice a delicate whisper. "You just couldn't bear to let me say it first, could you?"

Heimdall smirked, one hand finding her cheek to wipe away a rapturous tear. "Why would I? I'd much prefer not to have you hold that over me for an eternity."

Her giggle made his stomach flip with excitement. After a few sniffles she leapt at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her head into his chest. "You're such a jerk," she nearly sobbed, making him chuckle. 

Despite the fact that he already knew, and saw it coming from realms away, it still made his heart soar when he heard it.

"But even so, I love you too."

Was this what it was like? To find someone that you'd never want to give up?

He could finally see why everyone fantasized about it. Never before had he felt so…complete.

The momentum continued to carry them along. Not in the sense that they made any major changes, but Eivor could see how much their mutual confessions "inspired" him. She actually found it extremely sweet that he was so much more enthusiastic with their relationship, having no more desire to hold anything back. Heimdall was perfectly comfortable with expressing all the love he held inside without any regard for its effect on his precious image.

It was really surprising how fast he seemed to decide that he no longer wanted to wait until they were completely alone to reveal his softer side. Audiences were still unwelcome, that much she doubted would ever change, but he was more than happy to drag her to same corner away from others to smother her with kisses and caresses, too impatient to wait the long hours between their rare goodbyes in the morning and their reunions in the evenings. The very first occasion happened when she was walking down the street after wishing Sif well on an errand she had to take care of outside of Asgard. Her wrist was snatched and she was dragged into the alley between two buildings. Heimdall had been lucky that she realized it was him before she used her magic to throw him off of her, and she told him as much. All he did was laugh, dipping his head down to catch her lips and run his hands down to her waist. She wanted to object, believing it would be incredibly embarrassing if they were found like this in broad daylight, but he wouldn't give her a chance to truly care. He was probably keeping his foresight peeled for any unwanted onlookers anyway. Or at least she hoped he was, knowing he had continued his habit of focusing on anything but his foresight during these precious moments.

It started to feel like they were living together, more than it already did. Eivor began to frequent Heimdall's cabin even when he wasn't there, so much so that she started doing little things to take care of what was quickly becoming a shared space. With so many mechanical things about, Eivor began moving plants into his home, tending to them as needed and ensuring they didn't create the "mess" that Heimdall was so concerned about. Despite her not asking permission he allowed it, even teasing her about her "Vanir side" showing. She started cleaning. Dusting shelves and polishing the fine pieces of art Heimdall kept around the rooms, washing and folding laundry, pretty much anything that the servants would do. It wasn't something she consciously decided to do, she just grew tired of how brutal Heimdall was to the poor servants who had to meet his perfect standards, choosing to do it herself to spare them the pain. Besides, he was always easier on her. If she didn't do something exactly as he expected he was more forgiving, even willing to let go completely and let her move things and take whatever approach she wanted to get the chores done. He still nagged, of course, but after a bit she began to enjoy it, feeling like she was taking care of her own home rather than his. 

More often than not they spent the night together, but with Eivor welcome in his home whenever she pleased they stayed there, her own cabin practically abandoned at this point. With that, however, she had a bit of a hard time adjusting to Heimdall's tight schedule. She was usually unable to wake up as early as he did and found him gone when she finally got up. It was disappointing, but it did make the mornings where she did manage to catch him feel all the more special. 

His abode became the center of their mutual activity, the wall becoming less and less worn by their footsteps and only occasionally seeing them together. Heimdall couldn't say he minded, mostly because that meant he could listen to her sing indoors, away from any distraction and background noise that drowned out her beautiful tunes. It was in these moments he would make her feel so special, using pet names she only heard when they were alone. My love, darling, dearest Songbird, just the sweetest phrases to make her swoon.

All of it was so wonderful. Although at times she felt a bit…unsure.

Heimdall had grown more bold since he expressed his love, wanting to reinforce his words by smothering her with his affections. Kissing, hugging, touching, he did all of it whenever she was within reach. But now he ramped up the intensity. When they laid in bed at night, just relaxing before going to sleep, he always grabbed one leg and hoisted it over his hips, holding her thigh in place and making fun of her for being so embarrassed and squirming in his grasp. His kisses grew hungrier, teeth and tongue used more often than not and his lips dropping as far as her collarbone sometimes. She was certain he would keep going if she let him, but it made her so nervous that she always stopped him. Hands often wandered to her hips, maybe her thighs or lower back, making her tense. Her warnings and discomfort were always heeded, though it took more than one for him to finally withdraw. He pushed her limits, trying to see how far he could go, and when he would hit a wall he would pull back a tiny bit and become so intent on kissing and biting every inch of her face and neck until she was laughing, like he was trying to make up for pushing her boundaries. She was so unsteady when he showed this side, when he made it obvious that he had begun to want her in new ways. But she trusted him, and he made her so giggly and giddy that she barely even remembered he had done anything to make her uncomfortable. Heimdall was just very passionate, very hands-on and expressive.

That was how she saw it.

Another day, another list of tasks to complete.

Sif flipped through the stack of parchment in her hands as she made her way through Gladsheim, focusing on the order she needed to present these messages to the mortals. One section of the stack was to go to the chieftain of New Midgard, another was detailing new regulations and rules that Odin laid out for them, a third asked for them to provide regular reports of the surrounding beasts so any trouble they may cause could be chopped off as soon as possible... She sometimes wondered if Odin had nothing better to do than to come up with new orders or procedures for someone to listen to. A sigh left her as she sifted through the organized lists, debating on which one she should tackle with them first to avoid overwhelming them.

A voice caught her attention. She stopped, hearing the familiar tone a little ways off the beaten path. Sif wondered what Eivor would be doing hidden away in some alley and curiously pursued the sound, tucking the documents under her arm as she approached. As she got closer she made out a few words. 

Please. Don't. Stop.

Alarm bells rang in her mind, her legs carrying her faster along the narrow path until she found a wider opening where the corners of four buildings stopped a few feet away from each other. Then she made out a lower sound. Chuckling, if she wasn't mistaken. And if Eivor was there then that must have been Heimdall. The words her friend was speaking though…There was only one possibility she could think of that would make Eivor say such things. A scenario that was inexcusable.

Sif nearly began stomping her way over with fury marring her expression but she suddenly stopped, thrown off by the laughter. Bewildered, the goddess slowed down and quieted her steps as she reached the corner, peeking around it. Indeed it was Heimdall and Eivor, the latter having her back against a wall with Heimdall looming over her, his head buried in her neck and hands wandering between her ribcage and hips. He was teasing her, so much that she could barely speak between her snickering. Eivor begged Heimdall to step back, hands sometimes pushing on his shoulders in an effort to find space to breathe but he was relentless. Her fingers clasped at his when they wandered a little too low, stopping them from traveling any farther. So this wasn't what Sif had anticipated.

But it was very close to it. Too close.

She ducked behind the corner, knowing Heimdall would need only a second to pick up on an intruder. He must have looked in her direction just after she hid, the laughter and pleas dying down into heavy breaths. Then he mumbled something to her about privacy, followed by their noisy activity fading away.

It was disturbing to Sif. Ever since her young friend had promised herself to Heimdall she had disapproved, rarely voicing her opinion since Eivor was a grown woman who could make her own decisions. Or mistakes. But this?

This was going down a path. One she couldn't ignore.

It was a beautiful morning, full of birdsong and sunshine, a gentle breeze cooling the lukewarm air. Eivor only wished she could have enjoyed its beginning with Heimdall, but he was once again out well before she had awoken. She had to work on getting up earlier if she ever wanted to take advantage of an opportunity like this in the future. Sif, on the other hand, was readily available and invited her to brunch at the lodge. A strange event, the lodge normally being emptier at that time, but Eivor wouldn't complain about a quiet conversation with her friend. 

Everything was normal. They sat across from each other, snacking on fresh fruit while discussing recent events and chatting about little things like the weather or what some of the Aesir had been doing around the realms. Nothing was amiss. Not yet.

Then Sif sprung the question on her. "So, how are things with Heimdall?"

Eivor had to take a moment to gather her wits. The elder goddess had voiced her distaste for their relationship in the past that led to a heated debate between them. As a result it was a topic they avoided, preferring to agree to disagree rather than tarnishing their close friendship. "Fine," she began, tone betraying how beguiled she was, "same as always, really…Why?"

"Oh, I just…wanted to —"

A hefty sigh. "What's wrong, Sif?"

Sif dropped the pleasant facade and became much more serious. "I know you don't like my…perspective of you and Heimdall, but I'm worried."

"About?"

"I caught you two as I was passing through town the other day and it sounded like he…" a pause, attempting to find a gentle way to put it before giving up and bluntly adding, "hurting you in some way."

So that was why Heimdall had gotten so grumpy out of the blue a few days ago. That revelation was far from her interests, however, feeling a boiling anger stirring at the suggestion. Eivor reigned that in, trying to understand that Sif was only trying to help. "I can see why you would believe as much, but he wasn't doing anything like that."

"Even though you asked him to stop whatever he was doing?"

"It's not as serious as it sounds. It's just playful."

A suspicious furrow of Sif's brows shifted the mood substantially. "Is that so? Are you sure that's all it is?"

Of course. Eivor even prided herself for bringing out this boyish side of the fussy god, and it was clear that he was equally as happy with that. Why wouldn't she be sure? "What are you trying to say?" Asked with no ire, only confusion.

The elder goddess hesitated, looking away for a moment while she tried to gather an argument that wouldn't sound so hostile. A nearly impossible task, given how potentially severe her accusations were. "It seems to me like he's trying to make you do something. And I'm afraid that maybe you two…don't want the same things for each other."

Eivor blinked blankly, not following the assumption. Why would Sif think such a thing if she hadn't actually seen her with Heimdall for more than a few minutes at a time? She wouldn't know if they would want to share a living space (which they do), if they had any plans for the future (which they didn't), or even what they planned to do the next day. In terms of wanting to find happiness in the other, there was no subject for them to disagree upon. 

"Eivor," Sif interrupted sternly when she received no answer. "I don't mean in a metaphorical sense. I mean it literally."

Another moment of fog passed before the clarity arrived. And for the first time since she befriended Sif, Eivor was absolutely furious at her. Now equally as terse, she scolded, "Sif, I know you don't like Heimdall or what I do with him, but that is way too far! You don't see him like I do. He would never do that!"

"I doubt it."

"That's not funny!"

"And I'm not joking." The cool and collected counter clashed against Eivor's heated and rash attack, powerful and unmoving. "He's had a long, long history of getting rid of things that he's bored with. That habit has extended to people as well."

Eivor launched out of her seat, her hands slamming onto the table with a thump! "That's not true! You just refuse to see this for what it is. He loves me, I know it!" 

A childish outburst fueled by anger, having no real thought or logic behind the defense. That was a weakness that Sif did not ignore. "I don't mean to sound condescending, but that's rather naive of you given that you've known him for a single year of his entire life." Eivor had enough maturity to see that Sif did have a point, making her take a deep breath and sit down. She wouldn't convince Sif that she was overreacting by shouting at her. "Not only that," Sif continued, "these things can be done with the intent to manipulate. It may not always be true."

As hard as Eivor tried to stay calm, she found herself fighting to keep her voice down, impulsively blurting out, "But it is! When he heard me think about how I felt he gave me an entire speech just to say it first, and he said the most —"

"You mean he only said he loves you after he knew that's what you wanted?"

The sudden and shocked interruption gave Eivor pause. Growing less certain, Eivor looked away and muttered, "Okay, I know how that looks…but it's not like that."

Sif was growing exasperated, letting out a short sigh as she urged, "Eivor, look beyond the words. What does he give you? Or do for you? Anything? Is he proactive, or are you always waiting on him? Does he listen when you tell him not to do something?"

Eivor could see Sif's point, but she couldn't find it in herself to seriously consider it. Heimdall wasn't used to these things, had no idea what to do or say and floundered when he put any of his emotions (that weren't annoyance or disgust) into words. She gave him the benefit of the doubt and let him take things at his own pace. But there was a chance that, because he expressed so little with words, that she placed too much value on the times he succeeded, letting that one moment overshadow any other that may have been far from ideal. But was that wrong? There was no reason to have so much doubt, to have such high expectations. She had no qualms with letting him approach their relationship in a way he felt comfortable. He didn't need to do anything for her. 

He didn't, right? 

Feeling like the walls were beginning to close in, her green eyes went to the table while she murmured, "He doesn't have to give me anything."

"Which is dangerous," Sif reprimanded immediately, making Eivor look up at her again. "If only one of you is putting in effort then you're following a path into dependence — a kind of dependence that could be used to his advantage. And if he gets everything he wants from you so easily, what reason does he have to treat you well?"

Silence. Still air. All Eivor felt was the rising uncertainty that Sif's perspective inspired.

Eivor's defenses had worn thin, unable to combat the wise argument Sif put forward. Even more terrifying was the acceptance that was growing within. Sif delivered a final remark, serving as the last nail in the coffin.

"How easy would it be for him to get something from you even if you don't want to give it?"

Heimdall wouldn't do something like that. He wouldn't. He hated when people used others for their own gain, treating them like pawns. If he did do something like that then he would be a complete hypocrite. Then again, there were signs that indicated that wasn't too far fetched. Like how he thought servants were subhuman, hated arrogance, and loathed pretentious scholars even though he himself was all three of those things. So hypocrisy was not out of the realm of possibility.

Even after acknowledging that, Eivor still couldn't bring herself to fault him for it. So she took Heimdall out of the equation, examining the behaviors without them being associated with an individual. If she had heard that one of her servant friends had found a partner that acted in such a manner she would find said partner and "encourage" them to do better. If Thrúd, after she had grown up a bit, allowed someone to do that she would be furious, reminding the hypothetical young woman that she deserved better. 

So why was she excusing it?

Without any rebuttal at the ready, Eivor kept her eyes down, thoughts racing through her head as she stared at the polished wood. "He's…he's not like that. He's not," she whispered, but whether it was aimed at Sif or herself was something she didn't know.

Sif, feeling like she had hit a wall in the intervention that only Eivor could break down, sighed, "I know this isn't easy to hear or accept. All I ask is that you consider it. For your own good." 

The goddess in blue stood, giving Eivor a stare that was full of warning. "Just so you know…Thor and I are married, and he knows I would do anything for him and our family. But when I ask the god of thunder himself to stop, he stops." She lingered just a moment longer to let that sink in before making an exit, leaving Eivor alone with her thoughts.

The clouds of fear were clogging Eivor's mind. She thought of all the wonderful times that led her to take a chance and embrace her love for Heimdall. The nights he walked her home from the wall, going out of his way to stay nearby when she was upset, spending all of his free time seeking her out just to talk, how vulnerable he allowed himself to be. Even now the memories made her smile. That smile was short lived, washed away by how distant those memories were. Yes, Heimdall had done those things at first, but now that they had an established relationship he seemed to just…quit. He prioritized working more, didn't really acknowledge when he was pushing her too far, seemed to ask for so much when he originally didn't want anything from her. Did that mean anything? Were all those things really an ill omen? It was hard to dismiss it outright. After all, she allowed him to see into her mind whenever he wanted, but she had no idea what happened within his. All those times he stayed silent, eyes searching hers, only to say something incredibly sweet might not have been what she thought. Maybe instead of trying to find the right words, he was thinking about what he could do to make her swoon, to fall for him harder. He could be giving up nothing to be with her, merely making it look like he was putting in extra effort earlier to get her hooked and dropped the act once she was caught. When she thought about it, she could really only count his sacrifices on one hand, and most of them had some benefit for him in exchange. Sharing his home more than hers was a perfect example. 

These changes between them…were they normal? Is her inexperience making her too tolerant? Too blind to see that she was being played.

Her hands trembled and her breath grew strained. Was she doing it again?

Was she letting herself be used again?

No. No, no, no, no! She wasn't! She was past that! Heimdall loved her, and that's all there was to it. He just…wasn't as "traditional" as most. He did care. This was real. It was.

She would prove it.

This would be easy, she told herself. Just ask him to do a few things, be more assertive, and he would respect her. Then that would be it. Sif would inevitably be wrong and these ridiculous worries would be put to rest permanently. 

Eivor began with simple requests. As soon as he was too handsy for her comfort she stood her ground. In this instance he was standing behind her, hugging her into his back with his hands going down to her hips. "Heimdall, can you stop?"

"Stop what?"

"That. Touching there."

She was met with a chuckle, his nose burrowing into her shoulder. "Oh, excuse me, Songbird. Is this better?" Eivor squealed as he palmed her backside just to catch her off guard. Her attempt to step away was blocked as one of his arms wrapped around her waist. "Heimdall, please!" She giggled, already forgetting that she was supposed to be vigilant. He openly laughed at her and placed his hands back on her hips, his lips nipping at her neck. For a moment she felt at ease again, until the feeling of doubt returned. He hadn't heeded her request. Just like Sif warned.

That was a fluke, she told herself. It was shaken off and tossed away so she could try again. This time they were in bed, just lounging before turning in for the night. As always, Eivor was cuddling into his chest, simply enjoying the feeling of his arms around her. Then he did the one thing that still made her shrink away: taking her thigh and draping it over his hips. She felt herself cower into him, quietly asking, "Heimdall, can you not?"

She could practically feel him smirking as he snickered, "Is this not comfortable?"

His tone did little to reassure her. "No, actually." He didn't move. She tugged her leg back a bit and said, "Heimdall, please?"

He took that as her teasing him, pulling her back even closer than before. "Tsk, tsk, you aren't getting away that easily, my love."

There it was again. She told him to stop and he refused to take it seriously. Eivor tried to have patience, remembering that these things were still unfamiliar for both of them. All she had to do was be clear, leave no room for mistakes or misinterpretation, and surely he would listen. "Heimdall, I'm serious. Please?"

"Hmm, let me think about it…"

Still no reasonable reply. The stab of worry in her leapt out and she pushed him away just enough to look at him and retracted her leg. "Heimdall. Stop." 

The rigidity of her warning threw him off, though he didn't think to take a look inside her mind and see what she was thinking. There was enough trust between them that he believed she would be abundantly clear when she was truly upset with him. So he took the fearful emotions she felt as a product of the moment, not him. Still, he wasn't sure how to respond, and that brought guilt to the forefront of Eivor’s mind. She tucked her head into his chest again and mumbled, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so harsh," immediately forgiving him. Heimdall said nothing, merely smirking and holding her tight while feeling himself sigh in relief, glad she had gotten over it so quickly. Even Eivor was happy that the animosity seemed to end. 

Then he grabbed her leg again. And did the exact same thing she had just asked him not to do, less than half an hour after she asked him. 

It was beginning to make her feel sick.

But Heimdall was a very physical partner. He communicated with touch and actions rather than words. It would make sense that it would be more difficult to understand boundaries that contradicted his love language, and she was just expecting him to adjust much too fast. Eivor tried a new approach. One thing he did that bothered her was leaving in the mornings without a word, like she didn't even spend the night with him. That was the next issue she sought to rectify, looking him right in his gorgeous eyes one night after the candles were blown out and saying, "I always miss you in the mornings."

A dreamy smile overcame him, planting a kiss on her forehead. "As do I, Songbird."

"Then can you say goodbye to me in the morning?"

"We'll see if you're up in time." Sarcasm, which she was more than used to and usually would have accepted. The inklings of doubt, however, left her a touch uneasy as she fell asleep.

And she was right to feel that way. The next morning she woke up alone with no sign of Heimdall.

She tried again. More specific this time, just to make sure there was no way he wouldn't understand exactly what she was asking. On the night of that attempt she was lying on her side while he was on his back, her head resting on his shoulder while her index finger traced random patterns across his tunic. "Dall?"

"Hm?"

"I still want to say goodbye to you in the mornings. It's really disappointing when I can't see until hours later."

Again, he laughed at her problem. "Perhaps you should wake up sooner, darling."

That didn't mean anything. Joking about it didn't mean he didn't care. Her eyes went up to his, glittering with hope. "Then help me do that. Can you wake me up before you go, just for a quick goodbye?"

Heimdall smiled, feeling his heart ignite. "I'll be sure to kiss you goodbye."

Reassured, Eivor drifted off to sleep peacefully, her doubt fading.

Then the next morning came. Heimdall was gone, having broken his word. Eivor couldn't hold back a few terrified tears, having no idea that Heimdall simply didn't want to disturb her if she wasn't well rested, or that he did, in fact, kiss her goodbye as he promised.

The difference in intentions didn't matter. The crippling anxiety that Sif could have been right had begun to occupy her thoughts every day, so much that it was difficult to make sure he wouldn't be able to pick up on her more frequent, smaller scale experiments. She found that he still acted normal most of the time, granting her small whims and allowing her to distract him from being a total jerk to anyone who wasn't her, which was a little consolation at the least. With that confirmed, she wanted to see how his requests compared to hers.

She had taken over cleaning and maintaining his cabin, that much had been established. Every now and again she would "forget" to do something, miss a spot when she dusted, make a tiny mistake here and there. And Heimdall was irked every time.

It made sense, even to her tilted mindset. Heimdall was not the most laid back man, preferring routine and expecting things to be done a certain way. If she dismissed all of his servants and then didn't perform the tasks she claimed to take over then he would be understandably annoyed. But his expectations began to feel too high when she would purposely avoid scrubbing one section thoroughly and he didn't hesitate to bring it up, or when she had put one of his books back in the wrong place and he had to hold back his disdain for her "negligence." So she did as he commanded, offering no complaints even though all he did was come home at the end of the day. He would return, expecting the tasks she had taken over to be fulfilled, like he always had before she started spending so much time with him. The only difference for him was that he didn't have to lecture servants every night. She began to feel like a housewife with no children. Almost like a prisoner of sorts.

No, don't think like that. That's a terrible view to have. 

Yet it was starting to feel true as she tried to be more independent, like she had been before they were together. Staying around her cottage more often, spending time with others and going out on her own. An old habit Heimdall didn't appreciate, always giving her an irritating frown when she finally came back to him, as if she had rejected him completely. Had she been in a different place maybe she would have found that touching, noted that he did feel rejected without realizing it and wasn't handling it well, but now that the seeds of doubt and fear had been planted she found it so off putting. Demanding and draconian. Which, to be honest, was the way he was, and she knew that. Had she just been excusing that until now? Had all these little things that she found cute actually been controlling and she was just too naive to see it?

That hope she once had was fading with each passing day she spent trying to prove Sif wrong. She gave him clear signs that she disapproved of what he did, yet he kept doing it, taking every warning and every boundary like a joke. Of course she knew he had kept up his habit of ignoring his foresight around her, making it unlikely that he realized the root of her change in behavior, but overtime she ignored that completely. She didn't want him to take the easy way out, like he might have when he said he loved her for the first time. No, she wanted him to listen.

The frustration came to a head one afternoon. Heimdall had wrapped up his work a little early, wanting to spend more time with Eivor since she had seemed…tense, for the lack of a better term. Once he was back at his cabin he found that she wasn't there. An outcome that aggravated him to no end considering how hard he worked to get to her sooner. Though after a couple hours the anger faded into disappointment, almost ready to set out and find her himself when she finally returned. He wanted to reprimand her for disappearing on him but he pushed that aside in favor of taking her in his arms and kissing her deeply. Oh, how he missed her, feeling his desire for her touch escalating to an unbearable degree. His lips kissed her harshly, then nibbled on her neck while his hands pulled her as close as possible, wanting the sensation of her against him to—

"Heimdall!" Eivor shouted, unaware that Heimdall was too enveloped in his need to hear her calling him until her outburst. She planted her hands firmly against his chest and pushed him away, already so fed up with him ignoring everything that she tried to bring to light. "Stop it! How many times do I need to ask you?!"

Fire was met with fire, both of their exasperation with the other meeting in a blazing inferno. "Stop? After I spent so long waiting for you to come back? Do you want me to just pretend you aren't here?!"

"I want you to greet me in a way that isn't so…" Eivor couldn't find a word that fit, a part of her still forgiving him for his flaws and finding reasons to think he meant no harm.

Heimdall's fury was too powerful for him to recognize that forgiveness he could see inside, instead snapping back, "Loving? Tender? Oh, how awful of me to do something like that!"

What once would have given Eivor a touch of guilt only spurred her on. "Don't make yourself the victim, I —"

"Victim?!" It was merely an expression in this context, but the word still sent his pride into a frenzy. "I am never a victim! And if you're going to demonize me for doing absolutely nothing wrong, then I have no business wasting my time with you!" Not another word was uttered as he stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Eivor was left standing there, tears welling up at how quickly he dismissed her and cast her aside. It hurt so much to hear him call her a waste of his time, like she was a toy he could throw away when he got bored. Which was exactly what Sif said he would do. 

That should have been it. She should have left his cabin and spent the night alone in her own home. But when she reached the door and grabbed the handle she paused, still chained by the last sparks of hope that she was overreacting. During that quiet moment she really thought about it. Heimdall could have thrown her out. This was his home after all, yet he didn't. He didn't ask her to leave, he chose to remove himself and was probably blowing off steam somewhere. That meant he didn't want to get rid of her, nor did he want to take his anger out on her. And that had to count for something, right?

Against her better judgment, she stayed at his cabin, falling asleep before he returned. When she awoke from a horrible nightmare of her wandering alone in complete darkness, she found him next to her, holding her in his sleep, like their little spat had never happened. He wasn't angry enough to send her away, or even stay far away from her on the spacious bed. 

So he had to really care, didn't he?

Despite that question lingering, one thing happened that would change it all. The final straw, one decorative medal on an armored dragon that made it too heavy to fly. 

Eivor was folding laundry in the washroom of his cabin, their recent argument never mentioned after the fact. Heimdall was reading, listening to her hum from a distance. In time he got bored, wanted to hear her sing more clearly, the melodious sound too pleasant to ignore. He approached the doorway and leaned against the frame, commenting, "This kind of work really is beneath you, if I'm to be honest."

She rolled her eyes, chuckling at his ego while she set down one of his carefully crafted tunics. "I could always leave the mess here if you feel that way."

"Hilarious," he replied dryly, shaking his head. It was then that she stepped over to his wardrobe to put a few tunics away, walking past the open window into the shining moonlight that illuminated the white fabric of the shirt she had borrowed from him, her body beneath it casting a shadow of her figure. That caught his attention. It revealed that she wasn't wearing anything underneath that shirt, probably because she was in the process of sorting out of the clothing she would usually wear under it. He didn't address it verbally, simply standing there as she continued to work innocently. His mind wandered. Much farther than it ever had before, images of her beauty overcoming every thought in his head until he couldn't hold it in anymore. He wandered over to her, standing behind her while she stacked the last articles of clothing on his bathtub, her usual linen, knee length pants being the lone outlier off to the side. Her humming ceased when he wrapped his arms around her waist, lips pecking at her neck and cheeks with an urgency that was far more ardent than usual. Eivor grinned, feeling comforted by his sweet kisses. "Can I help you?" She joked casually.

Heimdall smirked as his kisses became bites, hands running along her torso. "Perhaps…" he muttered. One of his hands raised high up, his thumb coming to rub the bottom of her breast, making her jump. 

"Um, Heimdall, that's um…" she stuttered, never having felt anyone touch there before. "W-what are you doing?"

A throaty chuckle sounded, sending shivers down her spine. "Admiring you, Songbird." Before she could reply she felt his other hand grab a handful of the tunic she wore and lift it up, his fingers grazing the bare skin of her thigh, dangerously close to her bare backside. "How could I not?" He added, emphasizing the sentiment with a fierce bite. 

His adventurous hand on her leg made her realize that he knew what she was — or rather, wasn't — wearing. If there was any doubt that he knew, it was erased when he pulled her closer, his hips pushing against her enough that she could feel a lump against her lower back. She may have been wet behind the ears when it came to men, but she wasn't ignorant. With that nervous discomfort rising, she made an attempt to reach him one more time. "H-Heimdall, please…I can't handle this." Her voice was shaky, so small and frail.

Yet he laughed. He laughed and teased as he pressed against her even harder, "Aww, are you embarrassed, love?" 

That fear came back. The fear that he used information only she was supposed to know as an invitation to advance on her, just like Sif thought he had already done. And she couldn't take it.

Eivor felt herself break, immediately hopping away and facing him with outstretched hands, like she was trying to defend herself. "Heimdall, please!" 

Heimdall was frozen in place, hands still hovering in the air while he studied her. He was absolutely stunned, not understanding why she had such a strong reaction. Sure, he was quite forward with his intentions, but he had never pushed her far enough to make her afraid.

That was when he tried to read her, to find out exactly what had created this pattern he'd been seeing as of late. And he found her mind blank. For the first time in over a year, she was blocking his foresight. Blocking him from seeing her true thoughts and feelings.

A hard fact to swallow. Hard enough that he couldn't form a coherent thought, and that gave Eivor enough confidence to lower her hands and calm down a bit. Without any clue as to why she didn't trust him with her thoughts, or any idea how to rectify this unease between them, Heimdall lowered his hands, pursing his lips as he said, "Right, I… I'll give you space, then." His jaw was clenched as he stepped out, the subtle anger of being shut out getting to him. It was a gesture that Eivor, unfortunately, didn't miss. He returned to the bedroom, listening carefully, waiting for Eivor to do or say anything. She didn't. She gave no indication of how she felt. 

They exchanged no more words as they prepared to sleep, Heimdall climbing into bed after blowing out the candles. Eivor, for once, had her back to him and said over her shoulder, "Can you…still give me space? Please?"

No answer was given. He was too flabbergasted to form one. Initially he did as she asked, but as the minutes in the darkness dragged in he grew to hate the distance more and more. It felt so wrong, to be so far when he knew she was upset. So he moved closer. Then she scooted away. He tried again, and so did she. This time at the edge of the bed with nowhere left to go, Heimdall moved over until he was right behind her, closing the distance that she asked him to maintain.

Such a simple request. Yet he couldn't do it. He wouldn't do it.

Despite that, she still felt some level of comfort in his embrace, like he was trying to apologize. So she opted to give him one last chance. "Will you say goodbye to me in the morning?"

"Yes," he agreed immediately. It was enough to get her to relax and fall asleep.

The morning came. Heimdall awoke before her, as always. His eyes gazed at her for a long time, wondering if he should wake her. Ultimately he chose to let her rest, not wanting to agitate her further by robbing her of quality sleep. He would speak with her as soon as he knew she was out and about. A decision made with pure intentions, but one that was a grave error. When Eivor awoke, finding no sign of Heimdall, tears welled in her eyes and cascaded down her cheeks. She cried in anguish, curling up in a ball like a scared child. Never had she felt so hurt.

So used.

It seemed like Sif was right. He wanted her when she was convenient and refused her when she wasn't. Treating her like everyone else did.

The first thing she did was find Sif, the elder quietly keeping track of Eivor’s growing distress over time. Once Eivor was face to face with her, she asked, "Are you planning on going to New Midgard today?"

A blonde brow raised curiously. "For a bit. After that I have to head to Svartalfheim to oversee some changes with the dwarves."

Perfect. Tone fragile and so, so tiny, Eivor squeaked, "Can I go with you?"

No explanation was needed. "Of course you can."

They were gone all day, Sif dragging out their stay as long as possible. That night Eivor didn't return to Heimdall. She slept in her cabin. Alone.

She offered to help Sif the next day. And the next. Heimdall was around her less and less. Sif knew how he would react after just a few days of this, she prepared for it by sending Eivor to their shared errands early so she wouldn't have to face an enraged Heimdall, demanding that Sif not take her away so much. But the goddess was like a wall, cold and unforgiving, refusing to let the watchman show his spite to her crushed friend. 

If Sif couldn't allow Eivor to accompany her, she found something else to do. None of it was required, merely excuses. When Heimdall tried to see her in public she would avoid him, shielding her mind so he couldn't catch up with her before he had to get back to his daily work. She would "stay busy" until late at night, remaining at her cabin to "avoid waking him up" when she would finish at an unusual hour. It didn't take him long for him to see that those excuses were, in fact, just that. He was furious.

After two days of not seeing her for more than a few moments, his frustration and the sense of betrayal got the better of him. He gave up. Just like that. No effort, no investigation. He left her to handle this on her own.

It broke Eivor's heart.

The day after he stopped pursuing her, Eivor was in Sif and Thor's room, crying her eyes out to her friend. "I just don't understand," she wailed over and over, wondering how someone who made her so happy could prove to be so selfish.

Sif hugged her every time. "No one with a good heart does."

As much as she didn't want to, Eivor had accepted it. Everyone was right. She had given Heimdall too much credit for the good she saw in him, refusing to let herself see the supposed manipulation that she was being subjected to. Just like she always did. She let herself be used, and he seemed to use her without hesitation.

There were a few nights spent alone in her room, wondering if she should go back to him. She had been so happy, felt more elevated than she ever had thanks to him. All this pain and sadness, it made her wonder if she should really throw it all away. Was her ego worth it? Could she just ignore all the wrongs she experienced, enjoy the happiness and not worry about the things that bothered her?

No. No. She wouldn't do that to herself. She spent so long trying to live for her own reasons. To stop being what everyone else wanted her to be. There was no way she would do that to herself now. She deserved better, and she had to keep telling herself that she had to be herself first.

Even if the man who taught her that was the very same one who had done this to her.

Ten days go by, never seeing or speaking a word to Heimdall. By then rumors had gotten around that their relationship had gone awry, and of course all of Gladsheim still had opinions. No one was surprised she had been hurt, neither did they try to comfort her in a straightforward manner. They offered kindness and companionship, even though none of it seemed to lift her spirits. No one dared to approach Heimdall, fearing more for their lives than ever since he had been in an absolutely explosive mood since they separated. Everyone remained quiet, hoping to cheer Eivor up when they could. All except for Odin, who was the only one to directly comment on their split, referring to it as "interesting," looking intrigued and…annoyed, maybe? It was strange.

During those ten days Eivor fell deeper and deeper into her melancholy, still wondering if there was any hope that Heimdall truly did care for her. She could settle this with him, but she was too scared to confront him and find out if her fears were true, imagining knocking on his door and meeting the wrathful god that everyone was terrified of. With so many thoughts flooding her every waking moment she lost hours of sleep, had no desire to play music or sing, kept to herself most of the time. An attempt was made to mingle with others to calm her shredded heart, but just about everyone she spoke to indirectly brought up the very subject she was trying to ignore. Asking how she was, if she was alright, mentioning that she had plenty of people who cared about her. She couldn't blame them, honestly. The despair had begun to show physically, her countenance growing paler and bags forming underneath her eyes, her usual smile now strained and forced, the upbeat and spunky aura fizzling out into nothing more than cordial mannerisms.

Then four more days passed, making it a full fortnight since she had seen or spoken to Heimdall. She was left alone most days now, not even welcoming Sif to comfort her while she struggled to come to terms with her new reality. That night she sat in her bed, thinking about nothing at all, wallowing in the pain that she was beginning to grow sick of, hating how frail this was making her.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe the desire for motivation to move on, or the sheer loneliness. Maybe it was the need for closure gnawing at her insides. After this long all she could tell herself was that she had to know. She had to either confirm the lie she had found in him or let him prove that she was wrong.

She wasn't sure which one she wanted anymore.

Tap. Tap tap. Tap.

Fingertips drummed on the open book in his lap, teeth grinding together when he realized he was still on the same page after…it had been so long he had lost track. Frustrated and impatient, Heimdall snapped the book shut with an irritated sigh, standing from his reading corner and heading to his bedroom, tossing the novel onto the vanity without a care. He plopped down on the stool in front of it, glaring at the book he had just dismissed. It was out of place. And when he glanced around he could see that several things were misplaced. His desk was disorganized, one of his boots sitting by the door was crooked, even Hofud was hanging backwards on its stand. He'd left one of his tunics on the wrong shelf in his wardrobe, a stack of books were on the alcove in front of the window, long abandoned, a pillow on the bed was tilted, the drawer that housed Gjallarhorn was slightly ajar. It agitated him to no end, feeling the compulsion to correct such atrocities but not moving a single muscle to do so. As much as he hated it he had no energy, no drive to mend the disrepair in his cabin. That desire for order was gone, replaced by something he couldn't describe. Something that felt…empty.

Another sigh before he looked up into the mirror. A lock of hair had fallen from one of the braids and was draping over his forehead. He let out a disgusted scoff as he reached up to undo them, running his fingers through golden strands until they were free, looking every bit as pitiful as he did in his night clothes, sitting alone late at night, his home unkempt. Violet eyes were torn away from his reflection, tired of looking at himself for once. One hand tucked a final stray hair behind his right ear.

Pause. His fingers met something cool and hard. 

That sinking feeling in his gut came back, harder than it had in the past two weeks, as he was reminded that it was there. Gingerly, he removed the gold cuff from his ear, bringing it down in front of him and letting it shine under the candle light as the moment she gave it to him came to mind. 

Eivor.

The name somehow soothed him and burned him at the same time. He sneered at the little trinket, but his eyes betrayed the softness within. 

It just didn't make sense. They were so happy, so in love, as cliche and melodramatic as it sounded. Yet she suddenly became so distant until she was gone. Not a single word was given, no explanation or justification. She just left. 

Boiling anger left him snarling. How dare she? After so many days and nights spent together, so many tender moments and vulnerable times and for what? For her to just break it off without an explanation? He was owed so much more than that for letting her in his life, for sharing it with her. He deserved undying loyalty for it, and anything less was insufficient. The thought made him so bitter, so incensed that he felt his arm tighten to throw the damned jewelry around until it shattered, the second smaller piece following suit. His fingers flexed, nearly bending the cuff. He wanted to destroy it. He wanted all the reminders to go away. He just wanted to focus like he once could.

He just wanted to hear her sing again.

All the tension was gone in an instant, everything in him wilting in defeat as he groaned and put a palm over his eyes. This was what had been tormenting him for weeks. He would feel so aggrieved, so spiteful that he wanted to find her and make sure she knew exactly how stupid she was, tell her that he was so foolish to think she was any different — any better — than anyone else. He told himself that all their time together was time wasted, and his precious time was worth too much for her not to pay for it. Then, just as he was about to burst, his thoughts took a hard turn, suddenly filled by her sweet voice, beautiful green eyes, that twinkling laughter. He'd feel that emptiness all over again, leading to so much vexation that he was ready to explode on anyone who so much as breathed near him. Why wouldn't he just forget her? Why was this haunting him so much? He asked those questions thousands of times already, but all he could answer them with was a tired sigh until he tried to do something to distract himself, only to fail and make him stop and think all over again. It was a vicious cycle with no end. All because he didn't know why.

What did he do?

The hand clasped over his eyes slid down his face, outraged that he was blaming himself again, as if he did anything wrong. He didn't. Surely he didn't. She would have told him if he did. Never before had her smart mouth not snapped at him when she had an issue, nor had she held onto any grudge. Yet there was something in him that was willing to go to the ends of the earth if it meant figuring out what happened.

He stared back down at the earring, his most recent thought reminding him of the first book Eivor gave him. When he read it he had been so disgusted by the main character losing herself when her husband went mad, and even laughed when she chased him through madness to get him back. Now? Now he understood. He understood why that character was so determined not to let their spouse go. 

Was this the price of falling in love?

If it was, he never wanted to feel it again. 

A knock.

Heimdall sneered at the door, wondering who in the nine realms would be bothering him at this hour. It had to be close to midnight. Maybe a servant with a message, but if it was from All-Father he would have heard a raven, and a message from anyone else was unwelcome at the time. Perhaps a drunk Einherjar who had gotten lost in their stupor. Whoever it was, he ignored the knocking and put the earring back on, not trying to convince himself to keep it off. He knew he would be unsuccessful.

Standing, he began to pace, his mind still wandering back to her. He was getting to the irate phase again. It was so infuriating that the one person he had to figure out was capable of blocking his foresight. Maybe then he would at least pick up a trace of emotion that she was feeling even if he didn't see her long enough to really look into her head. Sif hadn't been as informative as he hoped, merely thinking that Eivor didn't want to see him, and that she hated Heimdall more than ever. The latter didn't matter to him and the former didn't give him any answers. Nobody else seemed to know anything, and since Eivor had been hiding behind Sif for days it was likely that the wife of Thor was his only source of information. Which meant he had nothing. Nothing at all. Even if he hunted Eivor down and cornered her he still wouldn't be able to get past her barriers. If he had spent so much time practicing controlling his foresight, why didn't he practice clawing through those barriers? If he had done that his problems would be solved. She'd taught him he was capable of much more control than he thought and…

No. No, don't think about that. He didn't need another reminder that she had done something for him that no one ever had.

Why did it have to be her? Why was this the person he had to love? Why did he choose someone who was so difficult to —

Knock knock.

Heimdall stopped and his head spun towards the front door, baring his teeth at it. What idiot would try again?

He shook his head. They didn't matter. No one did. If it wasn't Odin then why did he care?

The interruption took him out of his thoughts long enough to bring attention to his exhaustion. One by one, he went around the room and extinguished the candles. Slowly, very slowly. He wasn't ready to sit in the dark. Every time he did he would just sit there, his ears hearing humming that wasn't there and nostrils picking up a scent that had faded days ago. He felt a touch and warmth that he missed —

No, no. He didn’t miss her. He didn't.

Yes, he did.

And this was why he didn't want to go to sleep.

Without realizing it he had stopped at the candles by his bed, stalling for as long as possible. 

Knock knock knock.

An audible snarl erupted from him. Erupting with fury, he marched to the door and yanked Hofud from its hanging hilt. What gormless, dimwitted imbecile was so stupid that —

He ripped the door open and froze, his twisted expression losing all the anger in an instant.

Eivor.

Time stopped as they stared at each other, Heimdall holding Hofud just out of sight behind the door and Eivor with her hands tucked in close to her chest, having recoiled from his violent response. Neither moved as his taut shoulders drooped, the only thing left in him confusion.

He internally slapped himself. Why was he calming down? He should be livid. He should be so furious that his sword was slicing the thin skin of her throat as a warning, commanding her to get out of his sight before he kills her. But he couldn't. That face was too overwhelming. Not because he had missed it too much — even though he did. It was so…drained. Once bright complexion was grey, almost sickly. She was obviously fatigued, the light in those verdant eyes invisible. Her hair had lost some of its healthy glow, tied back in a messy style that was more disorderly than flattering. She was in her sleeveless nightgown, nothing but a cloak over it to shield her from the cold air. It was not like he remembered. Nothing like the beautiful presence he was so fond of.

Her eyes went to the floor for just a moment as she let her arms fall to her sides. When they returned to his, he could feel her mind. She was granting him access, and he dove in like he was suffering from heat stroke and had finally found water, sifting through the thoughts so fast that he couldn't even process them all. All he could feel was one emotion. 

Fear.

Why fear? Sure, she could be afraid that he was angry, but if she had a reason to abandon him then she should feel anger or hurt, something along those lines. It didn't add up. 

Then he found the source: him.

Afraid of him? He felt his brow furrow in confusion. Why was she suddenly so afraid of him? Perhaps she realized he was at a loss because she thought of their last night together, when he ignored her warnings until she broke, then continued to disregard her requests, and even abandoned her the next morning when she specifically requested he didn't. He could see it, the doubt. Mistrust. That she wondered if he was fooling her. The accusation ignited a bomb in him. She doubted him? After all the time they spent together, after they had grown so close? After he showed her the parts of him that he trusted no one else with, poured all of his spare time and energy into her. After he let her make him feel safe and loved. Yet it took a single night for her to turn it all around. The offense must have shown on his face because she looked away, closing off her mind and cowering before him. But she didn't leave.

It was an opportunity to give her a piece of his mind and admonish her for being so shallow, but he just…couldn't. Seeing her in fear of him hurt far more than his indignation could counter. So much that it felt like his entire body was caving in on itself. That feeling alone made him think. He knew Eivor, knew she was not afraid of him, never had been, and had no problem matching his mouth if she felt it was necessary. Fearless was one word to describe her, he had said to himself ages ago, which was completely contradictory to this moment. There had to be a reason. A real reason. So he thought about it some more. That night that changed everything. He hadn't listened to her. So what? Just one time was enough?

Then again, those pleas seemed far too familiar… That's right, he'd heard them before.

All at once he replayed those phrases in his mind, analyzing the context surrounding them. Each time he pushed her. Then she pleaded with him. He would ignore her, even go as far as mocking her. Over and over again. And he…missed it? That's impossible. He wasn't called the watchman for nothing. His foresight caught everything. He couldn't possibly miss something that was happening right in front of him.

Now that he thought about it…he hadn't been reading her, had he? And all those warnings and signs of discomfort…he just saw that as part of their game, didn't he? Without reading her he barely even paid attention to her signals. Sauntered past them and didn't bother to take them into account, didn't consider that she had been telling him what was leading to their estrangement all along. By the time he had started reading her again, after she was growing distant, she was too far gone for him to get a good look into her mind. He didn't even think twice about it. And because of that he never even noticed how sour their bond was becoming.

She was right. He really did let his foresight do all the thinking, and when he let it go he was more chaotic than he realized.

Everything started to come together. The belittling, the fear, the patterns…it made sense. This entire time he just thought he was showing her how much he loved her, adored her presence, and wanted her to feel the same emotions she made him experience. He just wanted to express what words could never capture. It hadn't even occurred to him that the only way he knew how to express love wasn't the best way. And if he had a modicum of sense he would have put it together himself. He was too absorbed in his own euphoria that he hadn't even noticed he was stealing hers. He could have sworn he was doing everything right. But now…he couldn't deny it. Not even to himself.

He was wrong.

How he abhorred the word. The world was so much simpler when everything was as it should be, yet there he was tossing all the carefully crafted components far from their respective homes. He should have been so angry. He wanted to be unbelievably offended that she had made him break his constant perfection. Try as he might to find the rage, all of it seemed to have slipped through his fingers, and in its place was the understanding that she had already tried to steer him back to the correct path countless times. He had continued to antagonize her, yet she stayed, far longer than he would have. She kept trying, kept forgiving him until there was no forgiveness left, and even then she kept pushing. Weeks were spent trying to get him to see what he was doing to her. He was just too clueless to see it. He wondered which of them was the inexperienced one now as his search for anger only located guilt. Shame.

The silence made Eivor wonder what he was going to do. She peeked up, seeing that he was more pensive than before. Her mind was still closed even though her posture relaxed just a bit. Heimdall needed to see what she was thinking. He had to. His previous idea of figuring out how to get past her barriers came to mind and he immediately attempted, picking away at the unfamiliar magic until he scratched the surface. Maybe her weakened state was to blame, but it worked, and he caught the tiniest indication of her thoughts. 

He had to be mistaken, fooled by his own assumptions. This couldn't be true, not after he expected everything from her as if he hadn't believed she would be the one to do so soon after their relationship was established. How he acted like a mindless fool even though he had all the power to see every little detail he needed to find. He'd lost her trust, fully and completely, yet in spite of all that — the terror, the mistrust, the doubt, all of which were valid…she still had faith in him. Enough to see him one more time and give him a chance to prove that she was mistaken, even though she knew he might have harmed her in his anger. To make matters worse, the harm he could have inflicted was not the cause of her hesitation. Eivor wasn't frightened of him because he might have hurt her, nor was it fear of his scorn or hatred. What scared her the most was the possibility that all the happiness she felt wasn't real — that he meant everything to her and she meant nothing to him. But not even that horrible reality was enough to keep her from trying again, from giving him another chance.

Meanwhile, he gave up on her after two measly days.

Had he really been so weak? After all the happiness she gave him, all the tranquility and understanding and patience that he had once thought no being other than Odin was capable of? Had he really stooped so low? Him?

It seemed his thoughtful gaze was too much for her. She tore her eyes away, now looking just as afraid as he knew she felt. And it hurt. Not his pride or his self-esteem, but his very soul.

He could never, ever see her like this again.

Now what? He had all his answers, he recognized her reasons, realized his errors. So what did he do to suture the wound he had inflicted? She had given him the final choice. His response would determine whether everything would end that night or if they could start over, reclaim what they once had. As always words were stuck in his throat, and now that he knew how his advances were perceived he had no idea how to approach her, worried he would make the same stupid mistakes. Time felt like it was passing too quickly as he struggled, wondering how long she would stand there and wait for him to say something. Even if she walked away right now, he wasn't even sure how to stop her without making her fear him even more. She was so fragile, like fine crystal with a crack that nearly broke it into shards, far too delicate for him to handle with his bare hands. There was nothing that could be said to comfort her, not a single phrase or sentiment that he believed was sufficient for such an enormous moment. Not a thing in his head felt right. 

Like an idiotic fool, he fell back on what he knew, using every ounce of self control to ensure he was as gentle as possible. His hand, which felt just a tad shaky, slowly reached out, pausing for a breath before letting his fingertips graze across her upper arm. Eivor stiffened but made no sudden movements, turning her head to examine the contact and noticing how different this touch was. She slowly lifted her eyes to meet his. Heimdall hadn't a clue what his expression looked like, and part of him didn't want to know. His hand adjusted to grasp her elbow, waiting to see how she responded. When he received no reaction, he let it drop, very slowly, feeling her skin as he worked his way down her arm and to her wrist. Then he took a risk. His hand finally reached hers and he held it, just letting her feel him and adjust to a sensation that was only vaguely familiar now. Even that minute contact relieved so much of the stress he had been harboring for weeks, like a balm on his soul. Eivor's gaze softened. He knew she appreciated the gesture, and that gave him enough confidence to tug on her hand lightly, asking her to come inside. That tiny invitation was all he gave, awaiting her approval before doing anything more, including breathe. Her weight shifted subtly before moving towards him, allowing hope to worm its way into his being as he stepped back, gently pulling her inside.

Carefully, he leaned Hofud against the wall, not bothering to put it away properly. He was far more concerned with making sure Eivor didn't think he was luring her into her death. Once she was inside he closed the door behind her, moving much slower and far more timidly than he wanted. It gave her enough time to notice the little things that changed since the last time she was there. By a normal person's standards, the cabin was tidy. Heimdall's standard, on the other hand, was far from met. Books were scattered about, most of them appearing to be the books she gifted him ages ago, the bed sheets were wrinkled, candles were bathing in their own wax, indicating they had been lit far longer than usual. Though her own possessions that she left behind were well maintained, positioned exactly as she remembered. He must not have even considered getting rid of them, or even moving them. 

By then Heimdall had made his way to her front side. Still left with nothing to say, he tried to look into those green eyes as they watched him curiously, still slightly wary. For whatever reason he couldn't bear to maintain eye contact and looked down at her shoulder, one hand lifting to take her cloak. Just before he touched the fabric he ceased, once again wondering if he was overstepping. She had yet to open her mind to him again, and there were no distinct signals to warn him this time. Or so he thought until Eivor nodded, allowing him to come a bit closer to peel the cloak off of her. The cool air made her shiver, and somehow he couldn't stand watching it. Without a thought he tossed the cloak onto his desk, scattering the contents and burying the books and notes he had in it. Eivor was shocked, never having seen Heimdall be so careless with his organized spaces before, only coming to her senses when she felt his hands on her shoulders again. Still incapable of looking at her face, his hands slowly rubbed her arms and warmed the skin beneath his fingers, banishing the chill that made her tremble. It was so unexpected that all she could do was stare directly at him, wishing he would return the favor so she could get an idea of what he was thinking. 

She got her wish. Bifrost eyes bored into hers, so soft and gentle, saying everything that his mouth couldn't. It reminded her of all the times he would look at her that way, like she was the only person in all the realms.

Without warning her head leaned forward and rested on Heimdall's collarbone, caught between her fears and her desire to see that look until the end of time. Despite the terrible origin of the motion it brought Heimdall so much relief. It was confirmation; there was still a chance.

In a moment she retreated, still unsure. This could all just be more manipulation. As hard as she tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, Sif's words made her wonder. Heimdall retracted one hand and let the other take hers again. Neither of them were in a state to handle this. Neither of them were ready for the conversation that was going to happen. Well, he wasn't. She had been ready for weeks. So long that she got tired of waiting for him. 

Heimdall pulled her along once again. This time she followed, letting him lead her to his bed and guiding her to the side she usually slept on, having her sit on the edge as he backed away. Eivor eyed him, taking a moment to understand that he was giving her a chance to leave or protest if she wanted to. Even though her cautious side begged her to get up and put all of this in the past for good, her heart made her stay. Thankfully, thankfully, she pulled the covers back and climbed under them. Heimdall made his way over to his side, blowing out the candles once he got there. He paused as he watched Eivor pull the furs over her, waiting for any indication that she was ready to jump out if he joined her until he eventually did, feeling his chest tighten when he saw that her back was to him and she was close to the edge of the mattress. Her mind was still closed — she was still afraid, so worried that she was sinking back into old habits. Still searching for a sign that she should be there.

It was starting to burn somewhere deep within. He wanted so badly to pull her close, the need to grab her and hug her to him, desperate for closeness, almost too strong to overcome, but he refrained, laying about arm's distance from her. Even though she clearly wanted space, and he knew as much, he couldn't prevent his hand from reaching out. It paused, curling into a trembling fist due to his frustration with himself. It just felt so wrong. Not a word had been spoken. Nothing had been fixed. She was remaining distant. And he still could barely keep himself in check without the mental cues he relied on. 

Pathetic.

Even more so when his hand opened again and completed its trip. He caught himself, being mindful while giving in by letting his fingers just barely rest on her waist, far from any area that could be considered scandalous. His touch was so light that he had to consciously keep his arm raised, or else it would fall to the mattress. Eivor didn’t object. She said nothing, there was no change.

What should he do? All he could imagine was her face, how tired she looked. At that moment all he wanted was for her to sleep. To heal.

Not a thought preceded the first and only words spoken that night.

"Sleep well, my beloved Songbird."

Eivor nearly cried. It was so sweet, so caring. Born of the deepest sincerity and reminding her of the moments she missed so much. The ones she overlooked after she began searching for his flaws. 

A calm came over her, soothed by the reassurance that she may have been wrong all along. She let go, entire body relaxing. Heimdall felt her mind open, free for him to peruse as he saw fit. Never had it looked so beautiful to his second sight. He remained latched onto it until he felt her consciousness drift off. She fell asleep.

Heimdall didn't. 

In the darkness he was chained to his thoughts. Thinking back to every moment, searching through every little thing he did that brought him here. He should have known better, should have had so much more sense. Even the All-Father trusted his intuition and observation skills for tasks ranging from world changing to miniscule and monotonous. Yet he couldn't see that he was…making mistakes? How stupid had he gotten? What had he done wrong? Why? He was better than this. Too good for mistakes. 

It was then that he put it together. He was too good for mistakes when he was alert and prepared to serve. Around Eivor he let all of that go, relaxing into a daze so strong that all those skills went to waste. Without his guard up he let all of that intelligence go. He didn't care about his perfection anymore. Did that mean he didn't care about her enough to maintain it for her? To be the man he was capable of being for her? Immediately he dismissed the idea. He did care enough, otherwise he wouldn't be sitting here thinking about it for hours upon hours. If he didn't care then he would have shrugged this whole ordeal off and went back to the life he had without looking back. With his reasoning whittling down one explanation after another there was only one conclusion left. One that made him feel like he had been set on fire. 

All he did was take, and take, and take. 

Just like everyone else.

An outraged scream nearly broke free, his tongue using every bit of its strength to shove it back down into his lungs, but the yell refused to die, inching its way up until it nearly broke free. Then there was movement. Eivor began shifting, making him believe he had somehow growled without even noticing. Finally, after all that effort to keep quiet, his outburst died down when Eivor rolled over, still asleep, and nestled into his chest just like she always did. 

The well of emotions it summoned was so powerful, so crushing that he may as well be under a mountain. A heavy sigh escaped him as his arms wrapped around her, reminding himself not to squeeze her hard enough to wake her. It was the first time he had held her in weeks and now he never wanted to let go. Never did he want to miss another opportunity to do this. And to think he almost lost it. He almost lost her to…

Selfishness.

Eivor left his side because she thought he was using her. And he had. So much that he didn't even notice.

After so many decades of hating everyone and having no reason to waste his time away from solitude he finally found something so worthwhile. Remarkable, wonderful, awe-inspiring, pure, and utterly beautiful in a world of injustice and greed and filth. A fire in a snowstorm that could give him a sense of safety and calm after struggling to live in the freezing cold for eons. And as soon as he did he used it like it was a toy, looking for his own fulfillment while being too thick skulled and lazy to earn its heat. Prioritizing his own gain without considering consequences or cost, simply seeking pleasure when it was his duty to keep the flame from fizzling out. Even now, as he remained there with her in his arms, he was still stealing from her. He knew she was in a vulnerable position, needing distance from him while she considered how worthy he was of her presence, yet there he was, pulling her as close as possible, completely disregarding anything but his wanton whims. Destroying something incredible by serving only himself.

He'd become everything he despised.

Were he not holding Eivor's sleeping form he would have screamed, smashed furniture, tore down the walls around him until only splinters were left, found the nearest living being and sliced them into mincemeat before they even knew he was coming. He'd been as selfish and manipulative as all the people he reviled. In his quest for higher meaning and responsibility, serving the noble and his home, he had fallen so far and now was no better than everyone else.

And she was better than everyone else. He knew that. By that logic…

She was better than him. She wasn't lucky to have him. 

He was the one who didn't deserve her.

She was so wonderful that not even he could be the man she needed. Compared to her, he was no better than anyone else.

He'd felt volcanic rage before, all the morons across the realms saw to that. But that level of anger at himself? Never. Never had he been the idiot that pissed him off so much that he could uproot the world tree with his bare hands. Never had he felt so much shame. 

The worst part? He wasn't the one who was damaged. Eivor was. He used her like a lowlife and she paid for it. And for a long time she had no complaints. Because she never did. She never asked for anything. It was never about her.

There it was. The piercing pain he hadn't felt in a long, long time.

The sting of failure.

He failed her. He failed her and it hurt just as much as it did when he failed Odin — no, it hurt more than it did when he failed Odin. With Odin he would want to correct his mistakes, repair the destruction and prove he was capable of the role he was so graciously given. For Eivor…he would rather throw himself off the wall than risk failing her again. He wanted punishment over redemption. It was a feeling he never wanted to experience again.

He would make it up to her. She would know that he wanted her for so much more than lustful touches and entertainment. He had to. He couldn't lose her. He couldn't lose the All-Father and now he couldn't lose her either. His life would be grossly incomplete without her. Anything it took to regain her trust, he would do it.  She had to know that he would love her until the end of days. No, not love — worship. He would worship her like the goddess she was, and he a lowly mortal with no other source of hope in his miserable, short life.

The only soul he'd ever sworn his entire being to was the All-Father. That was the only person he would do anything for. 

Now he was adding Eivor to that very short list. 

This was the time. It wasn't too late. He could fix this. He could be better. And he had until morning to figure out how.

Where did he even begin? 

The sun was up. Heimdall had been imprisoned in his mind all night. Around this hour he would be up and getting ready to start his busy day, more than happy to meet Odin in his study and collect any information he needed to fulfill his duty to his best ability. Yet he couldn't move an inch. Eivor was still asleep. After failing to grant her simple wish of seeing him before he left for so many mornings he couldn't screw up again. It was too perilous, and he wasn't willing to leave her to continue his punctual habits.

So he waited. And waited. And waited some more. Until it was well into the morning. Sounds began emerging from outside the cabin as the city came to life, servants wandering about to complete their chores and Einherjar grunting and bumbling around as they decided where to train. He was very. Very. Late. Hours late. Still, he refused. Until a raven was tapping at his window he wouldn't move.

Little did he know a raven had peeked in. Seeing what Odin had hoped for, it allowed them to remain and let matters unfold.

Several hours after he was supposed to be out the door he felt Eivor's consciousness rise. Exactly what he had been waiting for, but now that it was time to put all of his planning into action he suddenly felt totally underprepared. Even if he did, he was not enough of an optimist to expect things to play out as he imagined. Regardless of his readiness, or lack thereof, Eivor was waking up, gradually, and he braced himself as she stirred. After a few minutes she gave a small yawn and opened her eyes, his foresight telling him she was disoriented by her surroundings. Then, in a moment that made his heart stop, she looked up at him, recalling how she got there. And that he wasn't close to her when she fell asleep. It was torturous to watch her come to her senses and shuffle away, retrieving the distance they began with last night. 

Without a word she moved even further. Heimdall let her go, allowing her to roll over and sluggishly sit up, like she was trying to get away without leaving. Perhaps that was a good sign. He mirrored her, sitting next to her and watching her face, feeling the dreadful internal debate she was having. Without eye contact he couldn't hear her exact thoughts, but he didn't have to. She was wondering if she was doing herself a disservice by being there, setting herself up for pain and sorrow with this potential lapse in judgment. The silence was intolerable. Robbed of his ability to hold himself together, he said it, voice wavering, which he hated. Eivor would have disagreed. She found his tone surprisingly soft as he concluded, "You doubt me."

It hurt more than she thought it would. Eivor wasn't sure what that said about her considering most would be too angry at him to care if they'd hurt him. Hel, when it came to Heimdall anyone would love to hurt him if they could. She, however, couldn't repair the stitching keeping her heart sewn together when she heard it. For once she had nothing to say to counter him, gave no answer, only smoothing a hand through her hair to brush out some of the tangles. Heimdall took that as a bad sign and blurted out, "You're afraid of me."

The devastation in his words were too potent for her to ignore, her head finally turning to look at him and witness the sheer guilt on his face. She'd never seen him look guilty in the slightest. It was a terrible thing to see from a man who was so confident and sure of himself, so horrible that she wanted to make it disappear right away. Unable to keep eye contact once more, she gave him a weak and barely noticeable upturn of her lips. "Isn't that something you want to see?"

"Not from you." So serious that she had to look back, finding more emotion present than before. "Never from you."

It was so unexpected that Eivor couldn't think of anything to say. Never had he sounded so…defeated. So sad. He abruptly tried to explain something, but exactly what was difficult to ascertain from the poor execution. "You weren't supposed to…I didn't…I wasn't…" No complete thoughts could unite, making him grumble in frustration, taking his eyes away from her as he attempted to regain everything he had planned to say to her. There was no way anyone, not even his staunchest enemies, would think he was putting on a show or fishing for a specific outcome with a display like this. He was truly, sincerely agonizing over this. He cared enough to let this ordeal get to him more than anything else could. Like a virus his guilt spread to her, her heart weeping at how ridiculous she had been. She knew Heimdall had trouble with verbal expression. He was a man who placed value in actions and intent, and when he had to adjust to something different he struggled, even though he wouldn't admit it. There was no logical reason for her to stop seeing and understanding that, yet it took a single suggestion for her to find something wrong in everything he did, even though there were plenty of times like these where it was clear that he was doing his best. Besides, simply telling him his best was lacking was more than enough to motivate him to do better. He was a perfectionist for gods' sakes. If she had just told him what was wrong she would have found out right away if he cared enough to listen, but she chose to take the longest and most harmful route. Eivor shook her head, her words raspy whispers as she began, "I should have just —"

"No!"

Seeing his hand raise to silence her coupled with his spontaneous impatience was enough to make her nearly jump off the bed. Heimdall furrowed his brow, fed up with himself as he took a deep breath to calm down. "Let me say this." Eivor only nodded, giving him time to concentrate before his dejected eyes returned to hers. "I do care about you. Very much. I wanted you to know that, to show you. And I thought I was." Pause, jaw clenching. "But I was using you. Though it wasn't my intent that's what I did. I was using you for my own wants." He laughed bitterly, "Something I suspected you would do at one point. As usual, you not only proved me wrong, but turned it all around and made me the fool." One more moment of reconsideration. "No, you exposed that I was a fool." His eyes were clenched shut as he took another shaky, unsteady breath. They opened. A gulp. One more breath, and then…

"I'm sorry."

…what?!

Heimdall…apologized? A part of Eivor wanted to ask him to repeat it just to confirm she had heard him right. Her eyes were as wide as dinner plates, sandy brows rocketing up to her hairline, jaw hanging open and the absolutely ludicrous fact that Heimdall, Watchman of the Gods, Scion of the Aesir, and definitely the most prideful, arrogant, and unapologetic man alive felt remorse. And he just kept going as she gawked at him, seeming almost frantic with his stressed frown and hastened speech. "I do love you, more than anything, and you mean so much to me. Even though I gave you every reason to abandon me, I swear on my life and my duty to Asgard that this will never happen again. I will never give you reason to doubt or believe that I would hurt you. I will ensure you know just how much I love you." A final breath. "I promise." 

He thought it would feel good to get it out. The carefully articulated plan he had formed vanished before him and he fell back on rambling instead, but he got it out. He still felt horrible. Like it wasn't enough. No words ever were for him. There had not been a single time in Heimdall's life when he felt powerless until now. It was debilitating. So much that he had to look away.

Silence. It stretched on so long that he closed his eyes again, waiting for Eivor to quietly leave and never come back, ending the life he had grown to love forever. To tell him all of that wasn't thorough or convincing enough — that it wasn't good enough. Instead he heard a gentle rustling before a warm, heavenly touch brushed past his face and a lovely palm rested on his cheek, brushing across the beard that had grown rougher than usual, gently pulling his face back to her. He obeyed, watching her closely as she looked directly into his eyes, bearing all of the love and patience that he remembered. So, so delicately, she whispered, "I believe you. And I forgive you."

I forgive you. That's it. It worked. Somehow it worked. It almost felt too easy. All he could do was stutter, "Just like that?"

A smile. A real, genuine, joyous smile. It was like he had just seen the sun after being locked in a dungeon for years. "Just like that." 

He shakes his head, this disbelief evident in the way he says, "Why?"

Her smile softens, her heart coating her sweet explanation. "I don't expect you to be perfect, Heimdall, even if you think you are." A roll of her green eyes. "You're going to make mistakes, and that's okay. That doesn't degrade your value. It doesn't make you any less than who you are." Her thumb stroked his cheekbone. "It doesn't make you any less deserving of love."

That did something to him. He didn't know what, but it felt like ten barrels of bricks had suddenly but untied from his ankles while he trudged up the highest peak in all the realms. His stomach seemed to settle, his heart beat slower, his breathing evened out. Everything felt alright. His hand reached up to hold the one on his face, leaning his cheek into her palm. 

"It wouldn't be fair either. I am also at fault here." He squeezed her hand, almost like he was refusing to accept such a statement. "I should have just told you. You would have listened to me."

"I should have seen it."

"That doesn't matter. I didn't have the right to make you jump through hoops like that." Her tone flattened a bit, indicating how much regret she held. "You trusted me enough to stop worrying and thinking so hard, to let go and just enjoy the moment with me. And I betrayed that trust. For that I am so, so sorry." Her apology shook with despair, contradicting the smile she gave him. "I'm going to make you a promise too. I won't force you to guess. You won't need to worry about 'missing' something again. From now on, I'll be completely honest and open with you. Foresight or not, you'll know where we stand. Always."

A lofty task, one Heimdall would normally dismiss as empty goals. But he could see it — not just with his foresight, but with his eyes and ears and heart, that she truly meant it. It was so liberating to feel like he didn't have to try to find the truth in someone. She just gave it to him, no questions asked, no charades, no effort to find it. Just peace. 

Even when he insisted on making everything about her, she refused. It was never about her. It was about both of them. Together. And that was a truly, positively, undeniably beautiful thing.

That was what he wanted to say. Apparently his capacity for speaking had been exceeded because he went straight back to the replies he was used to giving. "So this is the part where I forgive you too?"

Just like always, she matched his every step. "Or at least try to." 

He enjoyed the first genuine grin he had felt in weeks. When he leaned down she met him halfway, initiating a kiss that they both needed. It was chaste, but deep and passionate. Eivor's hand slid back to his neck, pausing briefly when she felt her gold cuff on his ear. Even after all this time apart he still hadn't taken it off. How was he so sweet without even realizing it?

When they pulled back Heimdall couldn't take the minute distance, hugging her as close as he could in their awkward position and resting his cheek on her head. All of her faith had been restored, but his eagerness restored it tenfold. He was just as relieved as she was. He missed her just as much as she missed him. With that the thought of going to her cabin, alone, was unacceptable. Sheepishly, she murmured into his chest, "Can…can I stay here again?"

A chuckle. "Always." A kiss on her head. "Would I have let you in if I was going to say no?"

"If you're in that kind of mood." Heimdall scoffed and shook his head, not offering any retaliation. 

Somehow Eivor just knew what he needed. She started to sing his favorite song, draining all the damage from their problems. Only one word was in his mind: finally. In the middle of her song he cut her off to mumble into her hair, "I missed you."

"I missed you too." She turned her head to kiss his neck, an action that made every nerve in him flare up with joy. This was such a perfect moment. Everything was fine, they both made mistakes that had been put behind them, and they agreed to be stronger for each other. Unfortunately, time wasn't on their side, Eivor said in the back of her mind. It was morning, and Heimdall would be on duty soon. Neither of them wanted this to end, she knew that, and so it was best to postpone their reunion for a better time. Reluctantly, he let her go as she pulled away, beaming at him. "We need to make up for lost time. I think you should go about your business so you can get done soon, then we can plan on catching up together."

She wasn't expecting Heimdall to blanch, tearing his eyes away. "Well…that's unlikely to happen tonight."

Really? Heimdall always bragged about how well he did his job, so much that even suggesting that he would finish late was peculiar. Then it hit her. The room was far too bright to be early in the morning. "Wait, how late is it?"

"Let's just say I'm surprised I haven't seen a raven yet."

Eivor was trapped between delight and shock. He really had gone this far just to speak to her, stalled everything that mattered to him to make her feel better. "It's that late? Then get up! You need to go!"

Heimdall blinked mindlessly as she shot up, throwing the furs off of them. "Right now?" He honestly thought she would want him to take his time.

Her lighthearted laugh sent pleasant tingles down his spine. "How is Asgard going to function without its watchman? Now come on!" She reached over and took his hands, pulling him onto his feet and patting him on the chest. "Go get dressed, I'll gather your things."

Again, he was stunned by her doting, though he also reveled in her devoted attention, only backing away into the washroom when she gave him a light shove and ordered, "Go!" He couldn't keep a smirk off his face as he changed, and it only grew when he was out and she took him by the hand and led him to his vanity. "I've gathered everything you need. Yes, I touched Gjallarhorn, we can discuss it later."

Chuckling, he sat down and didn't protest as she began combing through his loose hair. "Why would there be a discussion?"

"I know there's complaints about it somewhere in there," she answered, shaking her head. In minutes she was able to assemble his hair style and made him stand to take him over to his desk by the front door, handing him the items as she named them. "Okay, here's Hofud, the horn, your bracers…I think you have everything?"

Still grinning, Heimdall nodded as he fastened the bracers to his wrists. "What an impressive memory you have." Sarcasm, but there was truth to it. She had basically memorized his routine despite rarely seeing it.

Rolling her eyes, she pulled him in front of the door and backed away to give him space to open it. "Yeah, whatever. Go on, the realm needs you," she praised, leaning up to kiss his cheek. He was free to leave, and he absolutely needed to, given how late it was. But still, it felt…wrong. Like this time was crucial, and he would be wasting it if he left. He couldn’t stay either, feeling stuck between his love and his duty. Luckily Eivor sensed his hesitation, cooing, "Heimdall, it's fine. I'll be here when you get back. I promise." When he nodded she pecked him on the lips one more time and snickered, "Now go!"

He stepped back. Grabbed the handle. Pulled the door open slightly. Then he stopped, turning back to see her smiling at him. He wanted to say…something. That he loved her? That he would miss her? No, nothing felt right. So what was he trying to do? He settled on a sincere farewell, but the words just wouldn't come out, replaced by a playful, "Stay out of trouble while I'm gone, won't you?"

Her giggle was divine. "No guarantees." When he still didn't leave, she gave him the most angelic smile and added, "I love you, Dollface."

Such an awful nickname, and yet he somehow missed it so much. "And I love you, Songbird." He finally left, a spring in his step and an obvious content aura about him. 

Neither of them noticed that he walked away a changed man. 

Nor did they know that those loving promises would be broken someday.

#songbird of asgard #heimdall #god of war #heimdall x reader #heimdall gow #heimdall x oc #god of war heimdall #gow heimdall #the songbird of asgard

[ninjahiccups]

We need everyone's help right now to protect the rainforest and Indigenous People

The Amazon Rainforest is under a massive threat. I know you've heard this a million times, but this is different. There is a piece of legislation that will decimate the rights of Indigenous people of Brazil, who have been protecting the rainforest. It's unfathomably bad. It has majority support. And they're voting tomorrow. As reported here, the Bill allows "the Brazilian government to find energy resources, set up military bases, develop strategic roads, and implement commercial agriculture on protected Indigenous tribal lands, without any prior discussion with the affected peoples."

The thing you can do—and I know this sounds overly simple—is sign this petition—and tell your friends to do the same: SIGN HERE.

As reported here, the Bill allows "the Brazilian government to find energy resources, set up military bases, develop strategic roads, and implement commercial agriculture on protected Indigenous tribal lands, without any prior discussion with the affected peoples."

Again, this bill has majority support. You may be wondering, why will a petition signed by people who don't live in Brazil make any difference? Because it will give those opposing it political air cover. It will show the world is with them.

But we need a LOT of signatures.

Please do this simple act and spread the word.

[ninjahiccups]

How do y'all feel about this:

I'm debating on having some nsfw content in the Songbird of Asgard, but I also don't really want to put it in since that's probably not what the people reading it are looking for in it. I thought about putting that portion into a separate post/oneshot, but in that case I'm afraid of breaking continuity, so tell me...

#songbird of asgard #heimdall #god of war #fanfic #fanfiction #writers on tumblr

[ninjahiccups]

The Songbird of Asgard

Chapter 10: Love

AO3 Masterlist Word count: 12.1k Warnings: none

--------------------------------------------------------------------------The songbird and the watchman have taken a big step, one that all of Asgard notices. Heimdall, who was once uncertain if this change would be positive, is quickly falling victim to the benefits of letting go.

Just wanted to ask, do y'all prefer reading this stuff on here or AO3? I'm just noticing an increase in notifs from AO3 and less from here, so if we prefer AO3 I'll just link the chapter instead of posting the entire thing XD

For the first time since all this began, Heimdall hesitated to make his morning march across the wall. 

Eivor would be there, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to see her again.

They spent hours on the wall last night, gazing out at the plains, talking about everything and nothing…kissing. They remained until Eivor was too tired to do more than lean against him and close her eyes, so exhausted from being the center of attention for an entire day. Even so, she would only leave his side after he insisted he take her back to her cabin, enjoying one last leisurely ride on Gulltoppr until she kissed him goodbye. It was a night he would never forget. 

But now he wasn't so sure. 

He wasn't naive. Not physically, of course. Back in his younger days, well before he'd acquired his distaste for humanity as a whole, he'd had encounters involving both men and women, and even after he abstained from them the thoughts he found in people's minds was more than enough to keep him "informed" on the matter. Never had any of these experiences lasted more than a few hours, nor did he find any other them enjoyable enough to even remember, but he wasn't ignorant to what came from the ones that did: expectation.

Until now his bond with Eivor had been so carefree, so limitless, having no strings attached. With this more…serious change there was always a shift in expectations. Time spent, things that were said and done, they were always held to a different set of standards, and he hated that. He hated that there was the possibility that the rules he saw everyone else adopt time and time again would destroy everything. That this would be when he finds out there's a side of her he can't stand, and his instincts were right all along. Gone would be the relaxing voice that drained away all his stress, the one literature enthusiast that was worth talking to, all the promises and declarations of loyalty she made the night before, all because they took things a step farther. Was that one night worth losing it all? 

The answer eluded him as he trudged across the wall, approaching the place they always claimed faster than he was prepared for. His jaw tightened when he heard her lyre, already furious about the inevitable fallout that was destined to happen. After all this time he would be proven right once again and it would all be over. And never would he do anything like this again.

He reached their spot, stopping in his tracks as he listened and stared. Eivor was sitting on her purple blanket, singing one of his favorite songs. As hard as he tried to remain cold, ready for the worst, the sight still warmed him.

He would miss this. So much.

"You're late."

Eivor looked over her shoulder at him, her smile exactly like every other one she had given. "Something keeping you?" Her tone was teasing, and he could tell she already had a few jabs in mind. The familiar atmosphere made him smile in spite of himself. 

Before he could reconsider he sauntered over. "Well I am a busy god. You should know this."

"Yes, but you constantly brag about how easily you can handle it." She smirked as he sat down next to her. "Losing your touch?"

Heimdall chuckled. The banter, that sharp tongue of hers…it was still there. But would she accept the same from him? "I was taking my time. After all, I had every reason not to rush over."

"Rude."

"And?"

"Ignoring you now," she replied musically.

No anger, disappointment. No expectation. No change. Heimdall felt his cheeks hurting from his wide grin. "Oh, forgive me, Songbird," he gushed sarcastically. "Could I ever be granted mercy?"

A twinkling giggle was his reward. "Maybe I can just this once…'Dall."

His joy came to a screeching halt. He scrunched up his nose while he repeated with disgust, "Dall?" 

"Yes."

"Why?"

Now she was sheepish, shrugging as she explained, "Why not? I don't have a nickname for you."

"And you still don't."

"What's wrong with it? Is it because it sounds like I'm calling you a doll?"

"It is not at all suitable for one such as myself," he persisted, though he smiled and leaned a little closer to her as he did so, failing to remain stern.

"I don't think so!" She rejected, backing away just to spite him. "In fact, I think we should expand upon it. Right, Dollface?"

Heimdall recoiled and spat, "Absolutely never call me that again!"

"Why?! It makes sense!"

"How?!"

Her grin grew, but it was full of mischief. "Because you're pretty, like a doll."

"I am NOT pretty!"

Eivor rolled her eyes, laughing far too hard for his liking. "Heimdall, there are different types of handsome, and you are certainly on the pretty side of the spectrum."

Heimdall groaned dramatically, less than pleased with her logic. "Ignoring you now," he mocked, taking his eyes away from her and looking straight at the horizon.

"And?" Eivor parroted right back. She snickered when he gave a huff in response. Without any riposte to add to their war she settled into his side, leaning up to give him a quick peck on the cheek before returning to her lyre, going back to singing the song he loved. One of his hands went around her back and pulled her closer.

Things had changed indeed.

It was better now.

He'd never been so relieved to be wrong.

Their bond felt no different, with all their jokes and teasing, driving one another insane. It was all the same, only now they didn't have to walk around every trap door that would expose any hidden feelings, instead embracing them and allowing the flirting and physical affection to flourish without any worries. One day they would debate about books, as they always did, but then they'd share a few kisses after they'd agreed to disagree. On another Eivor would sing the same songs she always had, but now she would pull Heimdall in and perform right next to his ear all while he sighed and smiled. Heimdall would still read as Eivor played her flute, forming a habit of wrapping an arm around her waist and keeping her as close as he could. It was such a different dynamic, so new yet familiar enough to be comfortable. And it only seemed to get better with time.

The changes even began to apply outside of their alone time. Heimdall, Eivor quickly noticed, did not enjoy public displays, much preferring to keep the depth of their relationship private. She expected as much, and had no quarrel with it. Flaunting something so personal wasn't something she was particularly fond of either. So he surprised her when he showed just a glimpse of the Heimdall only she knew around Asgard every now and again. Eivor was spending her morning reading in the Great Lodge, the only other people around her were a few servants cleaning up and some Einherjar finishing breakfast. She was sitting with her legs crossed over the outside of the bench, the table at her back. Heimdall snuck up on her after speaking with Odin, startling her with an arrogant smirk. Then he sat next to her, which was already more affection than she expected. After just a few moments, she felt his arm sneak by, resting on the table behind her. Not direct contact, but a display of possession no less. He only stuck around for a few minutes before he was off to work, but it was a spectacle for the few bystanders regardless. 

These public displays were small, subtle. But to anyone who had known Heimdall for more than a few seconds they may as well have been a parade gallivanting across Gladsheim.

And that was the unfortunate side of this shift between them. It was something everyone noticed and could no longer deny. Of course, they all had opinions.

Some assumed it was solely superficial. They thought he had seduced her to get something he wanted, an assumption so sickening that Heimdall had to stop whoever he caught thinking it and inflict some sort of punishment for it. Others believed she seduced him, but couldn't nail down exactly why she would or how she would manage to pull one over on him. That…wasn't entirely untrue, Heimdall had to admit. If he thought his self control was running wild before then it was completely out of his grasp now, his mind almost constantly caught between his duties or Eivor.

Eivor would never say it, but that was more obvious than he realized. In fact she noticed a lot of little things about him as time went on.

The most touching was that he seemed to take her advice about his foresight much more seriously than she thought. More and more often she would sing to him, leaning into the watchman's side while he held her. He would drift off, totally lost in the sound. Her mind was open and he could sense when she did or felt something, yet when she reached up to touch his face he would tense, then relax once he realized what she did. He hadn't foreseen her approach, deciding to ignore his foresight in favor of enjoying the moment. As the days passed he did it more and more often when they were alone. Sometimes she could lean up for a spontaneous kiss and he was so preoccupied with looking at her that she caught him off guard. Other times he would be making direct eye contact, able to open her mind and dig into any thought she had, and she would think something that should have gotten a reaction. Like the time she wondered what he looked like with his hair down. Yet when she did, and flinched when she realized he could have heard her, he didn't comment, or seem to notice at all. They kept going on as if he had never read minds in his life. That level of trust, one he had never extended to any other, was so moving that she had to hold back tears. She chose not to waste it, proposing new ways to test him and increase his control over the sensations he picked up. Proposals that he, thankfully, felt no need to reject. 

Aside from the increase in trust, Eivor gradually found out what things Heimdall did in a romantic setting, some of them expected while others were completely new.

For one, he was rather possessive. When he was nearby he had no issue scaring off anyone who dared to butt in, especially if it was a man. Late one morning she had bumped into one of the apprentice blacksmiths while heading to the library. She apologized, then curiously inquired about the intricate designs on the metal clips holding up his apron. The boy was visibly nervous, stuttering while trying to explain that they were his own design. Eivor assumed he was afraid of casually conversing with a goddess and intended to comfort him. That was when Heimdall, seemingly out of nowhere, stepped in, looming over the blacksmith with a menacing grin. The mortal fled as soon as Heimdall shooed him away.

Confused, Eivor asked, "What was that for?"

Heimdall smiled at her like she was a gullible child, replying, "You didn't see the things he was thinking"

"Such as?"

"Let's just say I don't ever plan on sharing."

Oh. So it wasn't the fact that she was a goddess that made the young man nervous.

That specific situation she could excuse, but it had begun to extend to just about anyone after a while. If Heimdall was around, he wanted her attention and would make sure he had it. After a short time it started to be annoying, watching everyone constantly keep an eye out for Heimdall whenever they spoke to her. The only person who wasn't affected by it was Sif, who had no tolerance for Heimdall's antics. On multiple occasions Heimdall would try to steal Eivoe away while she was having lunch with Sif only for a verbal battleground to spawn between her loved ones. Calming them both down enough to end it was not a task for the faint of heart.

To counteract it, Eivor simply had to ignore him. When he still refused to stop, she told anyone she was conversing with that they had her "special permission" to ignore him. Which offended Heimdall greatly, especially when her companions heeded her instructions and really did pretend he wasn't there. He was too prideful to fight back and had no intention of showing how much it annoyed him, so it finally got him to either back off until she was done or take his leave. He would complain about it next time he saw her, obviously, but she always made it up to him somehow. Just about always with singing.

With that, however, Eivor realized that Heimdall unwittingly allowed her to have some semblance of control over his actions. If she asked him to get something for her, he got it. If she asked him to do something, he listened acutely and never ignored genuine requests. That, combined with how irritable he could be, gave her an idea. She couldn't get him to be a more understanding god overnight, but she could mitigate the damage until she somehow managed to do that.

Once she caught him scolding Gulltoppr’s stable boy for… something ridiculous, probably. Nonchalantly, like she hadn't been waiting for an opportunity like this, she made her move. "Heimdall?"

He shot her a tiny glare, but answered. "I'm in the middle of something, if you couldn't tell."

Oh so innocently, Eivor asked, "I think Gulltoppr deserves a treat after a long day. Do you mind grabbing them for me?" The beast's ears twitched and his head raised higher at the word.

Heimdall sighed. He'd started putting the jar of Gulltoppr’s favorite berries on the top shelf of the storage closet in his pen solely because of Eivor’s penchant for spoiling the gradungr. "I'm a bit busy. And you give him too many anyway," he grumbled, not hiding his disdain for her new habit. 

"Just one wouldn't hurt, would it?"

Heimdall held firm at first, but eventually he sighed at the pleading look she gave him and reluctantly agreed. While he was busy Eivor waved the stable boy away, signaling him to leave before Heimdall was finished. The child whispered his thanks and fled. When Heimdall inquired where the "twerp" went, she simply shrugged, claiming she hadn't been paying any attention to the boy. He wasn't pleased, but let it go, making her experiment a success. And she got to give Gulltoppr treats, so it was a productive night.

Another method she developed was cutting in and asking the servant he was lecturing to do something for her. A really useful trick, Eivor thought. 

"Is it really so difficult? These bracers are custom made, finest in the realm, and you can't even get a few grains of dust off of them? You must be the most —"

"As interesting as that is, Heimdall, I need something." Eivor would turn to the servant and say, "I'm feeling a bit thirsty. Could I bother you for some water?" The look on her face told them everything they needed to know.

The servant looked between her and Heimdall until the god finally said with a sneer, "You heard her. Maybe you can do this right."

Eivor never saw that glass of water but she made sure Heimdall didn't even notice.

However, if he was being excessively cruel she would take a much more direct approach. When a maid wrung out a wet rag as he passed her in the lodge a few drops of dirty water splashed onto his tunic. His proclivity for cleanliness sent him into a fury, immediately chewing out the maid. His insults were far too much for Eivor to ignore.

"Heimdall, honestly, are you really that upset over it? You could just as easily shut up and move on, you know."

Now that was something he never appreciated. Undermining his status in any way, but especially in front of an audience, was far from acceptable. Yet even with the undeniable anger breaking free he somehow always found a reason to comply. "I didn't have time to argue," or "this isn't worth the effort," or something along those lines. Even if it upset him he tended to get over it quickly, and he wouldn't hold it against her. Well, not for too long. She would just have to find other ways to keep him occupied until he forgot. Baldur had caught one of these moments, howling with laughter as he told her she was the only person who could boss Heimdall around and get away with it. 

Distracting Heimdall when he was being exceptionally stiff became commonplace. Suddenly there were many who were glad she was the one who won over Odin's right hand.

Some of those developments were more irritating than she could have imagined, leaving her on the brink of lashing out at him at times. In private, however, there were some changes that easily made up for them. 

The most prominent was how needy he could be. One evening she was waiting for him on the wall, engrossed in the new song she was writing. Her eyes were closed, focusing on the feeling and the rhythm from her lyre, not noticing Heimdall walk right up to her. Apparently that was enough to vex him. He reached down and plucked the lyre from her hands, setting it down and out of her reach as he teased, "I'm so glad I could get your attention, Songbird." Then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her as close as he could, nuzzling into her neck and making her giggle. He'd even go as far as to complain when she had other plans. Ever since her trips outside of Asgard ended Eivor had started accompanying Sif to check on the Midgadians behind the wall, healing anyone who was hurt and making staves to ward off wildlife. As a result she had to cut her time with Heimdall short on occasion. Without fail, as soon as she tried to excuse herself he, as she puts it, whines incessantly and constantly urges her to stay just a bit longer. She just about always ended up meeting Sif late thanks to him. It may have annoyed Sif to no end, but Eivor enjoyed knowing how much their time together meant to him.

In line with being needy, he also had a tendency to be handsy. Heimdall loved to nip at her lips and neck, his fingers wandering over her hips, maybe one of her thighs. It was simultaneously flattering and nerve-wracking. She didn't necessarily dislike the contact, but it was still something so novel that she wasn't sure how to perceive it. He never pushed her when he sensed her fear, but he never really ceased these actions completely either. Eivor couldn't say she minded too much. Physical touch did seem to be the way he preferred to express himself, and the closeness was heavenly on most days.

Given his inability to voice his feelings, his tendency to touch wasn't that surprising. With every passing day she saw how difficult it was for him to put his feelings into words, lack of practice being the culprit, she presumed. There were a number of situations that he could never handle with words. A prime example was when he asked about the new song she was playing. When Eivor explained she had thought of him while writing it he froze. The thoughts raced behind his eyes but none of them came forward, a smile and a sweet kiss arriving in their stead. He usually at least tried to find something to say, though rarely was he successful. It was cute, actually, that he was so well spoken and articulate at any other time but fumbled when his emotions pried their way out. The only times he could say something was when he did so on impulse, not a single thought preceding it.

Eivor couldn't even remember the words that lead up to it. She had made fun of him for something, as they always did to each other. As she giggled, next to him, feeling his arm tighten around her, he simply stared down at her. She asked what he was thinking, and he gave no response at first. After a moment of silence, he spits out, "Just…" A pause, his gaze softening. Then, "Admiring a wonderful sight." It was so out of nowhere, so abrupt and sincere. He even surprised himself judging by the slight widening of his eyes. How Eivor wished he would say these things freely, to see his watchman persona fail to hinder such divine moments. But he needed time, and she would wait as long as he needed if it meant she could give him intense kisses after his outbursts.

All of it was so strange, how different he was with her. There was some evidence of his fondness for her out in the open, but as far as everyone else could see Eivor had chosen the most horrific jerk in all the realms. He insulted everyone, dramatically showed off his physical and hierarchical power constantly, proving to be as pompous as he had always been. But not to Eivor. He never did any of that to her.

Well, except the pompous part. That was normal.

Despite how brutal and contemptuous he was, their private time was an outlier. "The dichotomy of Heimdall," she called it. He was so coarse, unforgiving, insensitive, condescending, and unbearable, even for her at times, yet so gentle and sweet when there were no eyes on them. He would trash talk Baldur for his insane tactics, lecture Magni and Modi for embarrassing all of Asgard just by being themselves. Then he would turn around and find her at their spot on the wall, curl up next to her as she sang. A few minutes later he took the clip out of her hair and let her locks fall freely so he could bury his nose in it, planting little kisses on each strand. So tender, passionate. He cared deeply for only a few things that he found worthy of his admiration, and knowing she was one of those rare things made Eivor overheat from the warmth it brought into her heart and soul.

"You really like my hair, don't you, Dall?" She joked, still trying to get him to embrace her alternative nickname.

"You're lovely," was all he said. One of those beautiful thoughts that just slipped out on their own.

Eivor bit her lip, powerless to contain the smile from blooming on her features. She slowly turned to look at him, gazing into his glowing violet eyes as she complimented, "And you're not too bad yourself."

Heimdall chuckles, "Oh? That's not what you've thought in the past?"

"Maybe I've changed my mind."

He rolls his eyes, scoffing at her jokes. Though he doesn't fight back, instead choosing to lean in and kiss her. He really did love it when she proved how well she could counter him, never losing that fire he found buried deep within so long ago. 

No one would ever believe it, but to Eivor it made perfect sense. He was a vehement and devoted man, giving all of himself or nothing, and that made for a very caring and attentive partner when they had time to themselves. She didn't mind that he would censor himself in public if it meant she could look forward to the side that he saved just for her.

The days stretched on like this for almost two months, each one brighter than the last.

A decline. Very subtle, but Heimdall could see it.

Not in the romance that was still in its infancy, but with Eivor. She seemed much more…withdrawn. He discreetly investigated the cause, which turned out to be far from anything he expected. Within days he realized it had nothing to do with emotions or second thoughts about him.

It started with fewer conversations. Eivor would simply listen to him speak, letting him go on and on about his responsibilities, whatever complaints he had. Instead of responding with her own thoughts or playful insults she gave only a few words, just to signal that she was present. If he ran out of things to say the air would still, neither of them offering any further topics.

After a few more days of that she failed to respond at all. A mere nod was all she could offer. Heimdall had adopted a habit of filtering his foresight when they were alone, choosing to focus on her now that he had no real reason to pry at her mind, but he'd begun taking peeks to get a better look at her again. As he expected, she struggled to pay attention to what he said, losing focus and having to remind herself to listen. 

It escalated — or should he say, deescalated — to no real conversation at all. Eivor was content to just cuddle into his side and rest her head on his shoulder, sometimes humming to him if she remembered. With each passing day she forgot more and more often.

He wasn't worried at first, thinking not much of it. But then he noticed something strange. She would sit next to him, drifting off but never falling asleep. Why, exactly, was something he couldn't figure out. On a night that he had a book to read he paused to ask, "Tired, are we?"

Eivor only hummed at first. "A bit." A smile came and she opened her eyes just a bit to shyly request, "Would you read to me?"

Heimdall blinked at her. "Read?"

"Yeah."

"I'm in the middle of this one."

"That's fine. I just want to hear your voice."

It took him a second to swallow the knot that rose in his throat, but he obliged. It was far more enjoyable and less boring than he expected, which was a pleasant outcome. That was when he noticed it. His reading seemed to lull her to sleep, but just before she would fall into slumber she would jolt, wide awake in an instant.

His guess was that she was trying to stay awake to listen to him. Which was amusing. Until he noticed it happening the next day, when he didn't have anything to read to her. Even with peaceful silence around them, her blanket softening the hard stone of the wall, something kept stirring her, and rather harshly if the alarm in her mind was anything to go by.

So that settled it. He knew exactly what was wrong.

She was exhausted. Sleep deprived. What he didn't understand was why. Eivor hadn't been busier than usual, nor had there been anything new that could be disturbing her. As a result…he was growing concerned.

When he felt her suddenly leap back into consciousness again he finally said it. "Songbird?" Again, no verbal answer. "Care to explain why you've been so sluggish as of late?" His tone was light and humorous, hoping that would get her attention.

Eivor shrugged, playing down just how right he was. "Just haven't been getting as much sleep lately."

"Obviously." He was a touch annoyed that she dodged the question. "I was expecting a more in depth explanation, if you would be so kind."

To his surprise Eivor seemed to grow solemn, pulling away from him and sitting up straight. He had to confess that a part of him was afraid he had been too callous. "There's just…something that's been keeping me up."

Heimdall's eyes went down to her hands, rising up to grip the collar of her dress, brows raised at the movement. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but a tattoo wasn't it. A deep blue symbol in the center of her chest, no larger than her fist and shaped like a withering tree with a tapering stem, located just below her collar bone and low enough that it barely dipped between her breasts. It wasn't a figure he recognized, seeming almost arbitrary in design as opposed to a standard stave or spell. "And that is?"

Eivor released her collar. "I don't really know." Her gaze went out to the night sky, distant, like she was hoping the stars held answers. "I've always had it, so I can only assume it's something my parents gave me. There's some kind of magic, a…tracking spell maybe? For a long time I felt it pulling me towards something, but after many years it gradually faded. Now it just flares up every one in a while, and it gets so persistent that it becomes invasive. So much that I can't sleep."

Heimdall hummed, not pleased in the slightest. If it were anything else there could be a solution, but this? He hated to say that it was out of his hands, and he abhorred that he was powerless. "Surely All-Father would have some way of dispelling it?"

"I'm sure he does but…I'm just afraid."

"Of?"

Her doubt and fear were clear, even without foresight to aid him. "That I might need it. That it's trying to tell me something. And if it's from my parents then…"

He had half a mind to tell her whatever it was didn't matter, his bias against one of her parents being an Asgardian traitor kicking in. That, however, was not an anger he wanted to spark, especially if she was in a state that contained less patience than usual. Without that recommendation he had nothing to give. "You said it only occurs sporadically. What makes it stop?"

A bitter chuckle. "A good night's sleep, something I only get after it's bothered me for so long that I practically pass out." She leaned back into him, adjusting her position to lay her head on his chest with her arms around his torso. "I just wait until that happens."

Still an unsatisfactory answer. He accepted her cuddling but his mind wandered. She wasn't the same when she wasn't in good health, and unlike any other he had met he would rather fix that issue than blame them for it. He knew she was worthy of that privilege, and he did miss her usual self more than he wanted to describe. "Asgard has medicine from every realm. There's surely some kind of herb or other remedy—"

"I've already tried."

Now he gave a frustrated growl. Unconsciously gripping her harder.

She laughed at him. "It's okay, Dall, really. It'll pass."

"Not fast enough," he blurted out, biting his tongue right away.

Eivor backed up, giving him a honeyed smile before taking his face into one of her hands and kissing him deeply. He let her rest against him, still unhappy. After some time he ushered Eivor to stand, claiming he "didn't enjoy being a makeshift bed." She heard "I want you to try to sleep," but of course he wouldn't come out and say that.

He always escorted her home atop Gulltoppr when they were out past nightfall, and this night was no different. She usually sat behind him, Heimdall preferring to take a less intimate arrangement when onlookers were about. Her fatigue must have inspired him, placing her on Gulltoppr in sidesaddle and mounting behind her, letting her rest against him. She thanked him with a brief kiss on the jaw before resting her eyes.

Just like that, everything began to fade, feeling nothing but Heimdall's warmth and the comfort of his embrace. Life was replaced by darkness. 

Then the heat was gone, Heimdall's presence retreating as Gulltoppr stopped. It felt like they reached her cabin in an instant. As if she had fallen asleep…

That gave her an idea. One most would consider scandalous, maybe, but she had a feeling Heimdall wouldn't object.

He gingerly helped Eivor to the ground, lingering on her doorstep. She could see he was still perturbed that he couldn't control the problem. Not yet at least.

"There has to be some way to silence this magic without losing it. I'll speak with All-Father in the morning," he declared.

Eivor hummed, the exaggerated tone giving away that she had something in mind. His eyes narrowed at her as he waited for her to reveal whatever scheme she had.

"You could…" Eivor's gaze faltered, suddenly incredibly timid. "But there is something you could do yourself."

He was bracing himself, waiting for whatever teasing she had prepared.

She couldn't keep consistent eye contact. "Maybe if I had someone to keep me comfortable…I'd be able to fall asleep." There. She said it. Her cheeks were definitely too red to ignore, even in the faint moonlight.

That deep shade of red intensified at the prideful smirk he gave her. "I'm sorry, what was that? Are you implying something here?" 

"Heimdall…"

"I'm merely trying to understand what it is you need, Songbird," he antagonized with thick sarcasm.

Eivor mustered up the energy to match his tone. "Well, I guess I'll spell it out for you since you clearly don't get it. Heimdall…" she paused again, still so embarrassed to voice it. But he wanted her to, it was written all over his face. He wanted her to say it out loud just for the satisfaction.

Damn his pride.

Heimdall only grinned harder, showing he had been reading her closely as he waited. With a defeated sigh she forced out, "Would you stay with me tonight?"

With his annoying expectations met, he took a step closer and placed his hands on her waist. "What an…unseemly request," he whispered.

Eivor rolled her eyes but still leaned in closer. "I mean to actually sleep, Heimdall. Don't get any ideas."

"Frankly I'm offended that you think so little of my intentions."

After a giggle her small voice asked once more, "So will you stay?"

Heimdall was quiet for a moment, just watching her, like he was pondering something. "I have no complaints."

Of course he wouldn't just say yes.

She let it go, suddenly too excited to wait. "Well then," she said as her hands took hold of his hands and pulled him to the door. "Come on in."

Heimdall nodded at Gulltoppr to dismiss the beast, then followed Eivor inside. Once the door was closed behind him he took a look around, noting how small her abode was. A single room, the bed pushed against the back wall, just a few feet away from the left corner, and a table in front of the window near its foot. To the right was a wardrobe against the same wall as the door, and on the one perpendicular to it were two bookshelves, shelves lined with trinkets, plants, and stories. There was a wooden trunk in the other back corner, where she kept her instruments. Or so he assumed when she gathered her flute and placed it inside. It wasn't much more than most other dwellings, barely any different than Magni and Modi's rooms. Which was something he disagreed with. She deserved much better, in his very important opinion.

"Soooo, what do you think? Too simple for you?" Eivor pressed, walking up to him and putting her hands on his chest. 

"It'll do."

A roll of her eyes, having expected an answer like that. Then they grew wide, the idea hitting her. "Oh, you should call back Gulltoppr and stop by your cabin."

"What for?"

"You can't sleep in your armor."

True. And it would be easy to call back Gulltoppr and get whatever he needed. Despite that, it was the last thing Heimdall wanted. Leaving now, even if it was just for a few minutes felt…wasteful? It was hard to describe. All he knew was he had no desire to spend a single moment elsewhere. "I'm sure I can survive for one night," he joked.

"Are you sure?" Her eyes went down, trying to remember what she could have lying around. "Maybe I have something you could wear…"

An admittedly embarrassing snort came out of Heimdall. "Oh, I doubt that."

Eivor took half a step back, putting her hands on her hips and eyeing him like she was daring him to challenge her. "And why is that?" His response was to pretend he was considering it, his eyes going to the roof while he took a deep breath. A hand rose, stopping at the top of his head with his palm parallel to the floor. Then it slowly lowered, stopping at the top of Eivor’s, his gaze going between the starting point and its current one to emphasize the drastic distance. Eivor glared up at him and slapped his hand away. "Shut up!" Heimdall laughed loudly as she stormed over to the wardrobe, opening its doors while mumbling, "I must have an oversized cloak or something…" She took a second to yawn before beginning her search, her own limbs making her feel encumbered.

Heimdall shook his head, wandering over to the table by the bed and unclipping Hofud from his belt. "A wasted effort really." His sword went down on the table, followed by Gjallarhorn. He wouldn't leave it there for long, never allowing it out of his sight even in sleep. It was always within reach, and given how lightly he slept he would always be able to keep it safe. As was his sworn duty. 

From across the room Eivor called, "I'm still going to try, because I care." 

Heimdall raised a doubtful brow. "How thoughtful."

Silence for a moment.

"After I change." She added, still staring at him.

He watched her, waiting for her to do anything. When she merely displayed annoyance he took a peek into her mind and realized what she was asking. With an exaggerated sigh he turned around, facing the closed window with his back to her.

"Thank you, Dollface." Said with a painfully fake sweetness. Combined with the accursed nickname he couldn't hold back a grumble.

She remained behind the wardrobe door as she changed, more out of bashfulness than mistrust. Once Eivor wore sleeveless nightdress, plain white and long enough to reach her ankles, she rummaged around for what few candidates she could find. As much as she didn't want to give him reason to gloat, he was definitely right. With resignation she closed the doors to the wardrobe. "Alright, maybe I don't have something for you."

"Shocking," Heimdall drawled while the sound of metal meeting wood rang. Eivor turned her head to punish his attitude, the words crashing in her throat and clogging up her lungs. The leather waist guard was removed and on the table, long white tunic next to it, boots neatly tucked underneath. Just as she turned to snap at him he slung his leather under shirt over his head, leaving him wearing nothing but his pants and revealing his bare back. Every part of her body froze at the sight, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip to prevent her jaw from dropping. Her gaze scanned every inch of his exposed skin, appreciating the subtlety of his sculpted muscles. Defined, but not bulky, built lean and strong. Up and down she looked, raking over every little form flexing as he rolled his shoulders and stretched. Memorizing every bit of him, having no idea when she would be graced with the sight again. The trance was so powerful that she failed to notice that he wasn't doing anything, just standing there. Then he looked over his shoulder, the all-knowing gleam in his eyes perfectly matching his smug grin. Eivor couldn't help but rip her eyes away and slap a hand over her mouth, letting her freshly freed hair drape over her face to hide her. The bastard felt her awe and basked in it to satisfy his insatiable ego.

Heimdall chuckled roguishly, taking his sweet time strolling over to her. Arms reached out to turn her to face him, the impish smirk ever present. "I really don't mind," he purred, voice low and tantalizing. "You are allowed to look."

Shivers dashed down her spine at the throaty note. Now that he'd had his fun his smirk died down into a sultry smile. Eivor nervously lowered her eyes from his face and down to his chest, marveling at the toned pectorals and abs, the slight bulge of his deltoids, biceps, and triceps. He looked so much thinner with all of his armor, but clearly his hard work to protect the realm paid off immensely.  She almost jumped when he lowered his head down to kiss her cheek and rumble, "And touch." With his permission her shaky hands rose, hovering over his torso briefly before softly brushing her fingertips over his skin. She could have sworn he twitched at her touch but his insistent kissing along her cheek and jawline left her too distracted to care. Daintily, carefully, her fingers explored him while he peppered open mouthed kisses across her jaw, her hands circling around to feel his obliques and back. He apparently liked it, his kisses growing into tiny bites while he sighed. The feeling was overwhelming, her hands caressing his skin as he held her waist, his heated breath blowing over her neck. It was so much, but in the best possible way, and she had no idea how to handle any of it. Does she embrace it? Slow down? Speed up? Invite him to touch her too? That one made her anxious, so much energy generated by the thought coursing through her veins that—

A yawn. One of her hands left Heimdall to cover her mouth, the excitement too much for her tired mind, it seemed. The watchman chuckled once more, pulling back and giving her a surprisingly gentle kiss on the lips. "If you're that bored then I'm not going to indulge you any further," he whispered, far too proud of himself. He sensed her sheepish defense, the need to assure him that he was completely wrong. He knew, and he didn't bother to tease her further despite the golden opportunity. "Maybe after a rest you'll be more appreciative."

Eivor rolled her eyes. What a ridiculous way to say he wanted her to get some sleep more than he wanted this moment to last. Very sweet, but always disguised. She didn't argue, letting him take her by the hand and lead her towards her bed. They only parted when they were at its side and Eivor peeled the sheets back as Heimdall went around to the other side. His iconic confidence shined through when he climbed right in, not a hint of hesitation, initially lying on his back. The few candles on her bedside table were extinguished before joining him. "You sure you're comfortable?"

Heimdall shook his head, turning onto his left side to face her. "You keep asking and maybe I'll decide I'm not."

Eivor only laughed. Then she shocked him by curling up into his chest, her hands tucked between them. He tensed, processing his extreme reaction. When he walked in he thought they would remain apart, maybe barely touching, once they had gotten acclimated. Yet she cozied up to him right away. Without any doubts. With complete trust and nothing but a desire to be next to him.

She always threw him off balance, always made him feel like there was more joy than he could ever imagine. 

One of his arms was tucked under his head, the other finding her back and pulling her closer, burrowing into her hair.

"Goodnight Dall," she mumbled, already feeling the lack of sleep catching up with her.

Heimdall smiled so wide that it hurt. "And goodnight to you, Songbird."

It took minutes for her to fall asleep, the sigil on her chest silenced. Heimdall fell asleep faster than usual as well, Gjallarhorn forgotten on the nearby table. 

He had it once. Now that he experienced it, he realized he had a problem.

The morning after he spent the night with her he was redressed and prepared for his patrol before Eivor awoke, bothering her to say goodbye before he left, and to order her to sleep as long as she needed. That should have been it. It should have been the end of that night.

But it wasn't. That night was haunting him. 

He couldn't be rid of it because now he craved it every night.

His foresight always made it more difficult for Heimdall to fall asleep, and ignoring everything it picked up as he tried to doze off was a skill all on its own. Since that night it had been even harder. Not even the filtering techniques Eivor had taught him were enough to give him the peace he needed. It only took a few days for him to nail down that it wasn't a disturbance that was keeping him up. No, this time it was an absence of disturbance. A pleasant kind. A calming presence in his arms, the distinct scent lulling him into security, the feeling of her affection and desire to have him nearby…it had been more intoxicating than he realized. For days he fought against it, but it took a mere week for him to cave.

Night had fallen when he and Eivor were riding the lift down from the top of the wall, meeting the criteria for Heimdall to escort her home. That was their routine, one he broke when they stopped next to Gulltoppr when Heimdall refrained from helping her mount the beast. He looked to be lost in thought. "Are you not ready to go?" Eivor inquired.

That pensive expression morphed into his unmistakable confident smirk, much more casual that he was moments ago. "I was thinking…" he drifted off, suddenly hesitant.

"We both know that's not what you were doing."

Heimdall sneered, "And we both know you aren't capable of listening."

"I would if you'd say something for me to listen to."

Her sass made him roll his eyes, but he resisted no further. She did have a point, after all. He clearly was beating around the bush instead of just coming out and saying it. Unfortunately he would continue to do so, just in a fashion that was subtle enough for him to accept it. "It occurred to me that it's awfully discourteous of me to make you travel all the way back to your cabin. There are other locations that would be much more convenient."

Sand colored brows raised, curious. "Oh really? Like where?"

"I can think of a few. My home, for example, is…arguably closer."

Arguably. Meaning that was not necessarily true, but that was beside the point. Eivor tilted her head with narrowed eyes, knowing exactly what he was implying. "Are you asking me to stay with you tonight?" 

Feigning surprise, Heimdal gasped and exclaimed, "What a splendid idea, Songbird! I never would have thought of it myself." The thick sarcasm was unnecessary, Eivor thought as Heimdall commanded Gulltoppr to lie down for them to mount. "Let's not waste time then, we—" his hands were at her sides, ready to hoist her up into the saddle when she cut him off.

"No, no, wait," Eivor tutted, tone playfully wicked. Heimdall did as she asked, waiting for her to explain. Her hands went to rest on his chest, making him match her smile. "You're not going to get away with doing it like that."

The god cursed to himself. He should have known. "Doing what, exactly?"

Eivor shook her head. No, he couldn't ask for something so intimate in that roundabout way. Their first night had been different, there was a reason for her to ask him to stay. This time there was no reason other than desire, and if they were going to take that kind of step in their relationship he had to be open about his feelings. He couldn't pretend he was aloof and too mighty for these things forever, and he needed to learn as much. What better way to get him to grow out of that habit than to offer a reward she knew he wanted? "You are going to ask me properly."

Heimdall blanched, jaw clenching from both his own cowardice and how easily she had seen through him. She held no judgment for anything he would say to her, he knew that and had no doubt asking for something he wanted would cause her to start. Yet no matter how many words had worked their way from his mind to his tongue his mouth refused to move. He hated all of them, how unbecoming they were, how weak they sounded. Even while looking down into Eivor's shimmering green eyes, ever patient and comforting, he couldn't bear the idea of openly admitting that he just needed her to stay with him, that he would be deeply upset if she didn't. The debate raged within his skull, weighing his options. Was it worth it? To be frank about his not-so-guilty pleasure? 

Thinking back on all the times it had been…when he brought her to the wall for the first time, their first kiss, letting her caress him and cuddle with him just a week prior…

Yes, his entire being screeched. Yes, it was worth it, his pride be damned. 

Never did he think he would say that.

Though his mind was made, he still failed to grasp the words floating around him, fluttering away and out of his grasp when he reached for them, but his recounting of their first time at the wall gave him an idea of how to approach it. He doubted she would be totally satisfied with it, but it was worth a shot. Heimdall released her, holding his hands out in feigned surrender and taking a step back. "Oh, I see. How could I forget?"

"Forget?"

"That you prefer formal invitations for these things." 

Eivor's hand went to her face as Heimdall cleared his throat, straightened his back, and lifted his chin higher, looking like the stiff he was. "Not this again…"

Sounding like he was announcing the entry of a legendary king, Heimdall proudly called out, "I, Heimdall, Watchman of the Gods—"

"Heimdall, please—"

"Hereby formally invite Lady Eivor, Asgard's one and only Songbird—"

"Just stop."

"To grace my humble home—

"Humble?!"

"With her presence on this wondrous night!" The Aesir god bowed dramatically, like an actor wrapping up a scene. Once he lifted his head he found her cringing and shaking her head, though she betrayed her disgust with her laughter. Gulltoppr, however, wasn't pleased in the slightest, if his impatient grunt was anything to go by. As he stood he couldn't help but chuckle when she groaned, "Gods, I hate you."

"We both know that's not what you're feeling," he taunted, making her laugh harder. Though he may not have done exactly what she asked, he still felt so much better for doing it, powerless against his body as it moved closer to her, his hands reclaiming their place on Eivor's waist, gaze soft and smiling sweetly. 

He silently wondered when he would learn to listen to her right away, knowing he would never regret doing so. At this rate he would want to heed her requests as much as Odin's in no time.

"Was that what you wanted?" He teased when she managed to look up at him.

"No!" She whined. With one last shake of her head, her giggles died down, voice lowering into a coo. "But I'll take it." Reaching up, she stroked his jawline with her thumb. "I'll stay with you."

Heimdall was wracked with shivers, the declaration feeling so much more significant than the context would suggest. Before he could catch himself his head turned towards her hand, planting a gentle kiss on her palm. An action that made her blush and look away from his intense glowing eyes. Without a word Heimdall took both of her hands, grinning as he helped her into the gradungr's saddle.

"Are we going to stop by my place first?" She asked as he climbed in front of her, wrapping her arms around his torso.

He glanced over his shoulder and joked, "No need. Unlike you, I do have something you can wear for the night." 

Just as his initial approach suggested, Heimdall's cabin wasn't much closer than Eivor's. She was actually surprised she had no idea he lived so close, or where he lived at all, until now. What was even more unexpected was the size of his cabin, something she noted as Heimdall shooed his mount away. Some quarters around Asgard housed several apartments within, and this must have been one of those. It didn't seem like something he would agree to, though…

When Heimdall let her inside she realized this entire cabin really was all his. Easily twice the size of her cabin, maybe even three. It was split into a few rooms, an open arch allowing passage between them. The front door was tucked into a corner, looking straight into the archways, the view of the next room cut off by the wooden wall it was carved out of. In this first room was a desk to her right, placed in front of a window with papers and books neatly organized on it. Beyond that was a wide bookshelf housing at least a hundred books, next to a comfortable looking chair and a little round table with a lantern on it. The full shelves were decorated with precious gems and stone carvings that referenced Asgardian history, book ends of weaving patterns and golden accents, antique metal insignias on wooden display stands. Paintings depicting Asgard's wetland landscapes hung from the wall bordering the next room, the hues and subtle gold tint of their wooden frames complimenting the decorations on the bookshelf next to them. Her eyes followed Heimdall as he took a few steps in and removed Hofud from his belt, directing her attention to the wooden stand that he strung the blade over. There were a few weapons already there, a small ax and another sword, but neither appeared to have been used recently. Next to that stand were a few pairs of shoes. He gestured for her to follow suit as he removed his boots and nagged, "No tracking dirt in, if you don't mind." She obliged — not before rolling her eyes — and watched him wander through the archway and into the next room. Eivor did the same, marveling at a grand bedroom. Her bed was barely wide enough for both of them to occupy, but his would have no problem accommodating another person. There was enough space for maybe three people, the ornate wooden headboard giving it a regal look that perfectly matched the soft sheets and fine furs. It was placed in the middle of the wall to her right, a bedside table on each side. There was another door in the adjacent corner leading into yet another room. From what she could see it appeared to be a washroom, which was incredibly uncommon to her knowledge. Most Asgardians used public baths, though now that she thought about it, she couldn't even imagine Heimdall would ever willingly bathe in public with anyone. The wall to her left stretched onward, a set of shelves mounted on the walls containing gauntlets, knives, straps for bow quivers and belts. All of them for show, being far too flashy to be useful and materials too expensive to be worth soiling with dirt and blood. Beyond that was a vanity against the wall with a large mirror mounted to the tabletop. Because of course he needed a huge mirror. The most impressive portion of the room was the back wall, three arching windows stretched to the roof, sitting above an alcove adorned by furs. On each side of it were shelves built into the walls, lined with even more books, these feeling more important than the others. It looked like such a cozy place to read and she was immediately jealous that she didn't have one of her own.

Heimdall went to the alcove and pulled out a hidden drawer that was built into it. It was huge, more like a built-in trunk. That made it all the more odd when Heimdall opened it, revealing that it was empty. At least it seemed so until he lifted a wooden panel to reveal another, this one with a rectangular indentation carved into it. Gjallarhorn was removed from his belt and placed into that nook, perfectly sized to fit the horn. It was actually a genius hiding spot now that she thought about it. One would think such an important object would have a case or a smaller ceremonial box, but a trunk that looked far too big and drab would be the last place anyone would look. Tucking the drawer back in, Heimdall then closed the wooden shutters over the windows while Eivor turned her back on him, admiring the wall that held the archway between the two main rooms. The antlers, shields, and unconventional weapons were so well placed, balanced and leading the eye from one beautiful piece to another. Part of her wondered if Heimdall had organized the room himself, but that part was quickly silenced, concluding that he probably wouldn't like any of it if he didn't make it himself. Which meant he had excellent taste. It was almost embarrassing how much nicer his abode was, hers looking like an abandoned cave by comparison.

Eivor's smile grew when she felt his hands on her shoulders, clearly pleased that she was so impressed. "Thoughts?" He asked, as if he didn't know already.

"With how much you have in here I would have thought you were one of Odin's sons," she chuckled, leaning into his touch a little bit.

An answer he enjoyed, granting her a kiss on her cheek as he walked into the washroom next to them. "Well, I would say that I've earned such an honor." He returned just a moment later, carrying folded linen clothing under his arm. "Now, go on and pick something to wear," he invited while sweeping an arm to the washroom, as flamboyant as ever. After she crossed the doorway he called back, "Only pick something from the left half of the wardrobe." She nodded, stopping when he continued, "But nothing that is hanging from the top, those are difficult to clean." Once more, she tried to proceed before he cut her off with, "Nothing from the third drawer, or the bottom one either. And if you open the second only choose something from the right side. Oh, and keep away from any of the long tunics, I need all of those."

Eivor's face fell into one of confusion and disbelief as he rattled on. Really, she should have been prepared for him to be overly finicky about something as small as the layout of his wardrobe. She offered a slow nod and a strained, "...okay."

His response was to raise a disapproving brow. "Did you get all of that?"

A shrug. "Probably," she muttered while stepping away, not wanting to listen to all of that again. She heard him sigh in annoyance but ignored it. 

The washroom was the simplest part of his home. It was a small space, only four paces wide and five long. Closest to the doorway was his wardrobe, large enough to cultivate the complex system he described. Across from that was a window, closed for obvious reasons. Beyond that was another mirror (of course) mounted on the wall, a cabinet positioned underneath it that carried candles to light the room. At the far end was a grey stone basin, round and tall enough to come up to her waist. It was large enough to fit two people, even though she doubted he ever needed that much space. Then again, no one needed this much space and luxury for bathing, but this was Heimdall. In the back corner was a door, one that she guessed was there for servants to prepare his bath when he requested one. She couldn't picture him letting anyone waddle through his home with a bucket full of water.

A small snicker sounded through her nose, rolling her eyes again at just how much Heimdall had for himself. It was ridiculous, but in character if she was honest. Upon opening the wardrobe she found it just as systematic as Heimdall described, deciding to take one of his tunics that was folded on a shelf in plain view, since he didn't provide any instructions for it. If that bothered him then he would have to get over it eventually. 

Heimdall had changed into a plain white tunic and tan linen pants, busy with setting his armor aside while he called out, "You aren't overwhelmed in there, are you?" He smirked when he heard her scoff at him.

"Hard not to be with how picky you are." Heimdall rolled his eyes, hearing her voice grow clearer as she stepped back into the bedroom. "It's a little big, but I guess it works." When his head turned to make sure she hadn't taken something she shouldn't have, he paused, not at all ready for what he saw. Yes, he was expecting her to come out wearing something of his. What he hadn't planned on was…how much he liked it.

Eivor had chosen a tunic he hadn't worn in ages. A light blue one, so light that it was almost white, with short sleeves and a simple gold line across the bottom and end of the sleeves. On him it reached his hips, but in her it went half way down her thighs, the sleeves going just a little past her elbows, shoulders so much wider that their seams draped over her upper arms. The V shaped neckline was too big as well, dipping down just far enough for the sigil on her chest to poke out. He watched her pull on all the loose fabric, examining all the folds while her hair freely flowed about. A smile crawled across his face, eyes lingering on her hair. They did drop to her bare legs for a moment, this being the first time he'd ever seen them, though he felt every inch of her could he covered and he'd be just as enticed. Wearing something of his, making it abundantly clear where her affections lie…he loved it. Like he had conquered the deadliest battle and won the ultimate prize. 

Aside from that, she looked, as much as he detested the word, incredibly adorable, wearing something so oversized.

She released the fabric and smiled at him. "It is pretty comfortable, though. I might just steal it." When Heimdall only gave her a chuckle in return, still grinning ear to ear, she smirked, growing mischievous. "You like it?"

Violet eyes finally pulled away as she slowly approached him. "It's flattering," he replied nonchalantly, pretending that he hadn't been staring.

Eivor stopped right in front of him, hands resting on his shoulders, standing on her toes to keep her face inches from his. "Do you like it because it's flattering," she whispered, making his heart skip, "or because it's yours?"

Heimdall put on an exaggerated expression, like he was considering it before suggesting, "Why not both?"

A shake of her head was what he got. He closed his eyes and leaned down to capture her lips, eager to taste them, but she slipped away.

"Before any of that, I really want to see your 'library' over here," she explained over her shoulder, approaching the shelves. Heimdall let out a huff for being denied but allowed it, taking a seat on the bed, watching her peruse his vast collection. "Oh yes, browse at your leisure, darling," he drawled, the pet name coming out before he even noticed it. He couldn't say he cared after he saw her smile. 

It was strangely fulfilling, watching her wander around his home, wearing his clothes, knowing she would stay beside him in his bed. He began to wonder how long he could go without witnessing it again given he only lasted a week since the first time they cohabited. He smirked at her craning her neck and standing taller to see the shelves that were above her head and likely out of her reach, secretly hoping she would ask him to help her get something down. His foresight seemed to just shut up completely so he could see her excitement with his own eyes. All of it was just so…

Nice. 

That was it. Nice. It wasn't a word he used often, but now it felt fitting. 

"Compared to the rest of your cabin these books are really unorganized."

The comment snapped him out of his reverie, taking offense at the accusation. "They are organized."

"How? It's not alphabetical, or by author, or genre." 

Heimdall tsked and shook his head. "Why would I when no one else will be looking through them. They're positioned based on how much I like them, the top left being my favorites."

Eivor snorted, somehow unsurprised. "That's not organized, Dall."

"By your subpar standards."

She didn't respond, eyeing the top shelf, where his favorites were supposed to be. "So you really liked all of them, then?"

"What?"

"All five books I gave you for the bet you lost." She looked at him, seeing that he might be a little embarrassed. "They're all at the top." Heimdall shrugged, saying nothing. Eivor made his way to his spot on the edge of his bed, almost gloating with her tone. "There it is." She caught him sighing. He knew what she meant. "That language of yours. You don't want to admit it…" A pause, prompted by Heimdall giving her a rather dashing smile and gripping her waist to pull her between his spread knees. "So you don't say anything," she finished, quieter.

Brows raised, he countered, "Something you should try. You talk too much." Without warning he yanked her forward as he laid back, pulling her down to lay on his chest. He couldn't help but laugh at the cute squeal that came out of her. He kept her there, feeling her nestle into him in a way that left him breathless while her sniggers died down to content sighs. 

It was so wonderful, just sitting there, doing absolutely nothing. As long as she was there, everything was fine. So much better. So much happier. So euphoric that he wondered how it was even possible to feel this at peace when he knew there were so many vile things in the world. But now all he felt was her. Her breath on his neck, her fingers grasping his shirt. Upon taking a brief dip into her mind he could sense how at ease and delighted she was, both of their emotions mixing in his being to make him feel twice as dreamy as he already did.

All he wanted was this. Was that alright? To momentarily toss aside all his responsibilities and sworn oaths and wish that this could last forever? To feel like he would have no problem leaving everything behind if he could have her like this until the end of time? As much as his brain screamed that yes, it was incredibly irresponsible of him, his heart tore him in the opposite direction, begging him to just feel this for as long as he possibly could.

It was almost ironic. He could read minds at will and understand the intentions and emotions of others in a snap. His own, however, were becoming more and more unfamiliar. He understood them less and less ever since she agreed to be his.

"Heimdall?"

A hum, still too caught up in his thoughts to properly verbalize his acknowledgement. 

"Can we move over now? This is getting uncomfortable."

Just to spite her he held her tighter, acting like he had no intention of moving. "Really? But I'm quite comfortable."

"Heimdall."

Ah yes, the agitated tone that warned him about her impending counterattack. Sighing loudly, as if she had asked him to uproot a mountain with his bare hands, he complied, releasing her and letting her climb next to him. He was on his feet, heading to the few candles around the room. "Go on then," he groaned, still putting on a show. Eivor ignored him, far too accustomed to his antics to pay any attention to them. The candles were snuffed out, save for the one on one of the bedside tables. A fortunate circumstance for him. He had the chance to get a decent look of her cozied up in his bed, committing that to memory along with the other lovely things he'd seen that night. She chose to stay on the half of the bed closest to the washroom, preferring to sleep on her right side. Heimdall walked around to the other, lifting the sheets and climbing in. He laid on his back, readying to blow out the final candle when he caught a glimpse of her expression. She was disappointed, it seemed. He stilled, eyes asking for an explanation.

Eivor bit her lip, suddenly incapable of looking him in the eye. "You…don't always sleep shirtless?"

Another hearty chuckle from him, finding her shyness unbelievably entertaining. He leaned over and blew out the last candle. "No, I don't." Heimdall returned to his back, turning his head to look at her in the darkness, smirk ever present. "But I could make a habit of it…if it pleases you." 

Eivor squeezed her eyes shut and sighed. "You're the worst." She failed to support those words, scooting over to cuddle into his side and rest her head on his shoulder, a movement he happily agreed to. His hand rested in her waist, the other falling onto his stomach. Staring up at the ceiling, he didn't try to sleep yet. He just relaxed, taking in the feeling of Eivor at his side, her breath evening out as she drifted off. 

All he did was stare. And think. This, everything they had started doing, it was practically a different world compared to how he used to live. Alone, hating everyone, having no reason to do anything but fulfill his duties and keep to himself. Now? Now he wished he had more free time. He was in a better mood more often, letting go of the numerous annoyances he had to deal with every day. He had something to look forward to that wasn't silence. He had company that he never got tired of, that didn't ask anything of him. It was all so much. Yet he had no complaints whatsoever, save for one thing.

Was this normal?

He'd read too many minds to believe this…this ecstasy was something everyone felt all the time, with everyone they knew. It was so different, far beyond affection or admiration or attraction. But in a good way. Was this "normal" something he'd never seen before? Or was it something he just didn't understand?

His eyes closed, brow furrowing. He'd always prided himself on being intelligent and well-informed, but now there were too many things he couldn't describe, so many foreign sensations that he couldn't name. As wonderful as it was, there was a touch of frustration building up. What was he missing?

Eivor sighed in her sleep, burying her nose deeper into his neck. Heimdall's tension melted right away. She somehow managed to do wonderful things for him even in her sleep, without even trying. For a moment he threw out whatever reservations he had about his own emotions, how they compared to what he knew. Did it matter if he understood? Did he have to? The answer seemed obvious as he pulled Eivor a little closer, too fed up with his own questions to care. 

There was no reason to. He loved this. He loved her.

Violet eyes shot open. Every muscle taut. 

Was…that what this was? So soon? Didn't these things take months? Years?

His head tilted to look at her again, watching her face and reaching over to play with loose strands of hair. When he felt himself smiling he knew. He knew he had answered all his questions without even realizing it.

Yes. He did. He did love her. Much sooner than he ever thought possible — never even thinking it could come to this — but this had to be it. 

He stared up at the roof once more, taking it all in before closing his eyes.

Soon. He would tell her soon.

Even if he had no idea how.

I am severely disappointed that I have seen no one call Heimdall dollface smh

#songbird of asgard #heimdall #god of war #heimdall x reader #heimdall x oc #heimdall gow #god of war heimdall #gow heimdall #the songbird of asgard

[ninjahiccups]

The Songbird of Asgard

Chapter 9: Letting Go

AO3 Link Masterlist Word Count: 16.2k Warnings: None

--------------------------------------------------------------------------Eivor and Heimdall's final journey to find the relic pieces has come, and both are wondering how things will change from here. The make a promise, one that pushing the boundaries of their friendship more than ever. (Things be happening!!!)

I'm so sorry this took so long to get out, I've been struggling with some mental health issues lately. Hopefully the length will make up for the time it took :)

Eivor's legs felt like they were chained to the earth as she advanced. Another trip to Odin's study, a mere two weeks since her most recent one with Thor. Given that she was only called to meet with Odin personally for one reason, it was no secret that she would be sent to retrieve the last relic shard.

The last journey she would have with Heimdall.

He seemed to feel that weight as well, judging by his more solemn demeanor when he found her at the library. Their greeting went as it usually did, full of sarcasm and taking off on tangents about her selection of books, but as soon as he mentioned Odin's summons he grew more serious. Eivor did as well, reluctantly claiming she would leave her books in her cabin before meeting him there. Her mood brightened slightly when he insisted that he accompany her, wanting to make sure that they "would not keep All-Father waiting for long." Which was ironic, considering they seemed to move much slower, elongating their trek.

That detour had come to an end, and they both were dragging their feet down the steps in the back of the Great Lodge to reach Odin's study. Once in front of its doors, they paused, neither speaking a word. Heimdall took a deep breath, dismissing the knot in his gut that constantly reminded him how much he would miss this. These little adventures outside the realm, where he and Eivor could speak freely, take advantage of the distance from prying eyes that marveled at their friendship, all these times when they would find a game to play just to make things interesting. Once a nuisance, but now an activity he would give many things to have more and more of. His duty, however, prevented him from doing anything of the sort, forcing his stiff limbs to move to the study doors and grasp the handle. Briefly, he stilled, a smirk rising at the urge he felt obligated to accept. He pulled the door open, stepping aside as it swung out, sweeping an arm across his torso and bending deeply at the waist in a dramatic bow, nonverbally inviting her to enter first. Eivor's preoccupied mind cleared and he felt her get just a little flustered at his gesture, sarcastically muttering, "How polite," as she passed, making him chuckle in response before shutting the door behind him. 

If Odin caught Heimdall's polite behavior he didn't acknowledge it, simply standing from his seat while his two employees approached him. "Welcome back, you two," Odin greets warmly, contrasting his more icy demeanor from the last time Eivor saw him. A part of her wondered what had changed but she chose to dismiss it. It wasn't far-fetched that the king of gods was just having a stressful day.

"This is going to be the last piece of the relic. Once we get it, I'll have everything I need to keep the realms safe should Ragnarok come knocking, all thanks to your hard work," Odin paused, nodding to Eivor, "but mostly your talents."

For a brief second Eivor was appreciative of the comment, until a nagging and familiar sensation in the back of her mind took it as an indication that her "talents" were all she was good for, and without this very niche responsibility she would lose all value. From her peripheral vision she caught Heimdall glancing at her, no doubt catching wind of her fear. With his attention she was able to remember the things he had taught her throughout their time together and break away from that terror. And she trusted him, trusted that he wouldn't help anyone make her a tool. "I'm happy to help you keep everyone safe, All-Father." Heimdall seemed to give a nearly imperceptible nod at her perseverance.

"And that's what makes you two some of the finest among Asgardians," the Aesir king complimented. "This one will be much easier than the rest. There's not much going on in Midgard right now, nothing that you two can't handle anyway." He opened a drawer and retrieved one of the pieces, giving it to Eivor with a smile. With a wish for good luck he sent them off, the ravens clearing only when the remaining pair stood halfway up a mountain, at the end of a rickety wooden bridge that stretched across a gap in the rocks. 

For a minute they simply stood there, taking in the crisp spring air and the mild breeze brushing across the greenery and trees lining the dirt path they were on. With a sigh, Heimdall finally broke the silence. "How far are we?" Too generic to make it sound like he was hoping the answer would be far from them.

Eivor sluggishly held out the relic shard and cast her magic, one last time. Her gaze followed it as it stretched across the bridge, winding down the path and through an abandoned village, then stopping at an overgrown road across one more gap. Watching the trail cease so soon made her feel like a cart of ore had been thrown on her shoulders, sapping whatever energy she had. "It's close," was all she could manage with a neutral tone.

She had no idea that Heimdall was cursing to himself, just as let down by their final escapade ending so soon. If only that moron Thor had removed himself and let him go with Eivor to Helheim instead. "Whenever you're ready." His voice was much softer than he intended.

There was no sense in this last opportunity being squandered by grief, so Eivor squared her shoulders and started down the sorry excuse for a bridge, bringing back the lighthearted nature they always adapted. "Is this the part where you criticize Midgard for being so boring? It doesn't look like we'll get a lot of excitement around here…except for this bridge," she added when one of the boards gave an aching creak in response to her weight. 

Just as she reached the final steps, Heimdall smirked. "You might be surprised," he said mischievously, waiting until the last second to seize her arm. Eivor yelped as she was wrenched back, just as a flaming draugr burst from behind the trees and flew past her with a burning hot ax. Heimdall had no problem throwing a ball of bifrost at it and knocking off the cliff's edge.

Eivor broke free of his grasp with a glare, not at all pleased with the self-satisfied smirk he gave her. "A warning would have been nice!"

"Behind you." 

Before she could process it Heimdall hurled more bifrost, knocking a much heftier draugr backwards until it fell face first into the ground. With a pompous chuckle, Heimdall stepped around Eivor to face the draugr as it got back on its feet. "It seems warnings aren't enough. Don't worry, I'll handle all the hard work, as usual." The draugr, now much angrier than it already was, charged at Heimdall, who reached for Hofud's hilt. As his fingers grasped the leather grip he felt the loss of Eivor’s mind, leaving him unable to predict that she would transform into a golden ghost of a valkyrie and fling feathers through the draugr, slicing it into bits before Heimdall could even move.

He turned around, giving his most incredulous expression for stealing the limelight. She giggled, "Don't hog all the entertainment. Without these draugr we'd be out of here in minutes."

Heimdall ignored the implication that she wanted to drag this time out, unprepared to defend himself if she pointed out that he had no objection to it. Instead he puffed up his chest and replied, "Just watching can be entertaining, especially if you have such a skilled performer putting on a show."

Eivor rolled her eyes, but her laugh gave away how little it bothered her. "Not even a world class performer can make it interesting if I can do just as well myself. Which I can, if you've forgotten."

That was something he knew, and he felt himself smiling at how capable she was. She had managed to impress him so many times, so much that he enjoyed witnessing the extent of her strength. Even so, the images of what could have happened to her in Helheim while the drunken son of Odin did a terrible job of aiding her was still floating around in his mind, and he felt a primal need to prevent that from happening. Though that was far from the explanation he was willing to give, settling for, "Perhaps. But I'm still better."

"Foresight is cheating."

"Oh, so I'm cheating, am I?"

"Yes!"

With a harrumph he insisted, "I'm certain I could still do better than you without it."

Eivor grinned and crossed her arms. "Is that a challenge?"

Heimdall raised a brow, curious. She had something in mind.

"We seemed to have more fun last time we added a competition into the mix. Why don't we have another?" she proposed, her hands going to her hips. "And this will be a good exercise for you, too."

"Exercise?"

"No foresight."

Heimdall felt his stomach grow heavy, loathing the idea of not being fully aware of his surroundings.

"At least to the best of your ability," she clarified. "Think of it as practicing filtering the sensations your foresight picks up. Whoever takes out the most draugr wins." Heimdall's mouth opened with a very specific protest, one that Eivor saw coming. "The foresight rule goes for me too. This is a fair fight on both ends."

It took him a moment to consider, ultimately deciding there was nothing in Midgard that could possibly do her any harm before he could put a stop to it. "And what's the wager this time?"

Eivor shrugged. "Does there have to be? Can't we just do this for fun?"

She was expecting him to claim that a reward was due when (not if) he wins, surprised when he merely shrugged. "Very well, then. But I do hope you're ready to lose."

When Eivor looked at him expectantly Heimdall closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on just her, and the feeling of her in front of him. In moments the amplified birdsong and lingering draugr in the abandoned village nearby slowly faded. He opened them, watching her closely and examining her rosy lips, the freckles across her nose, and the shifting shades of green in her eyes until he was certain the silence was remaining.

It took seconds for his foresight to scream that danger was approaching, but the delay that he was unaccustomed to gave Eivor the time to forge a barrier behind him, the draugr bumping into it at full force and losing its balance before tumbling over the cliff. Heimdall met her fiery eyes, highlighted by her smirk. "Then let the games begin." He couldn't even find it in himself to be annoyed, grinning at how feisty she was.

They got carried away, awaiting every draugr hiding in the dilapidated village to jump out at them only to be taken out by one of the two gods. Heimdall wouldn't admit it, but he still had a huge advantage, even if he had to spend some of his concentration keeping his foresight quiet. Whenever a draugr came too close the alarm bells would automatically go off and his instincts took over, but Eivor didn’t seem to mind. While he was twirling to counter every surprise attack, gracefully sweeping across the dirt roads using realm shifts to tear apart any unlucky undead creature in his path, Eivor switched between using her barriers and conjuring the staves that mimicked others as needed. She would fend off an attacker with a barrier, then shatter it violently so the shards would shred anything they landed on, then shroud herself in Gna's form to dash over to the next group just as they rushed out into the open. There was one instance where Heimdall had a two kill lead, rubbing in the third by shouting to her, "You'd better hurry up! With this one we're —" and was interrupted by her golden wings slashing right in front of him, taking out the draugr he was working on and the other that had just brought its focus to him. Golden dust faded away and revealed her own face as she gloated with a cheeky smile, "Even." Heimdall found himself laughing heartily as he leapt away from a sloppy slash from a brutish enemy, unable to remember the last time he'd had this much fun in battle. With that being such a sacred Aesir custom, he thought she had brought back something he had unwillingly lost long ago.

They were reaching the end of the village square, where the chieftain's larger cabin was the last before another gap between towering stone adorned with lush trees. Their score was still tied, though Heimdall felt it becoming much harder for him to filter his foresight and was quickly returning to old habits. Eivor took notice, though she held no ill will for it. She did choose to make fun of him for it though. That was an opportunity she would never miss. "Too tired to play fair now? That's so sad!"

Heimdall smirked while shoving a draugr off his sword. "As if you were going to win anyway. I've just been going easy on you!"

Eivor knew that wasn't necessarily true, but she took advantage of it anyway. "Oh? Well if you're going to play dirty…" A mischievous giggle escaped while she covered herself with more gold wisps, the youngest son of Odin overcoming her. With Baldur's speed she zoomed to Heimdall, cutting him off from the draugr he was aiming to stab. She knew he would step out of the way, which he did with a chuckle. "Careful there, Songbird! Wouldn't want to be on Hofud's pointy end, would you? That's the part that hurts, by the way."

His mocking made her snicker while she performed one of Baldur's favorite moves on Heimdall's former target. She sidestepped to the draugr's back and grabbed it around its jagged torso, suplexing it so hard that its head shattered, flipping over it and back onto her feet. She was now at the front doorstep of the long-dead chieftain's cabin. 

Heimdall had a plan, one more impressive move to bring the score into his favor, just as they reached the end of their contest. With his most confident smirk he turned away, pulling a hand back to drench it in bifrost, ready to hurl it towards one the last of the draugr, perfectly grouped up for an easy combo.

He froze. Something was in the cabin behind Eivor, his foresight screeching into every corner of his mind that it was coming from underground. He spun on his heel to head straight for her, but he was just barely too late, thanks to his repressed foresight. The wooden wall behind her burst into splinters and the aggressor slammed into her side, flinging her across the cabin and into the wall of another. She cried on impact, the golden human shaped barrier around her shattering into pieces. A giant tatzelwurm — one that was definitely three times the size of an average one, meaning this was likely one of the more territorial alphas — burrowed back into the ground as she hit the dirt hard in a crumpled heap. Heimdall called out her name, a call that she couldn't respond to in her state. He kept a close eye on the digging tatzelwurm's path, pinpointing exactly where it would emerge to follow up. Heimdall triggered a realm shift at the perfect time, sprinting to the monster's destination just as it emerged, his sword piercing through its skull as it leapt through the air.

It was a perfect strike that ended the tatzelwurm instantly, allowing Heimdall to quickly discard its corpse. "Eivor!" He shouted to her, sounding more desperate than he wanted to.

He kneeled once he reached her, slumped against the wooden wall with a hand on her head. At first he remained silent, stuck in place as she lifted her head. Her hair. The messy updo it had always been in had fallen, allowing her wavy white locks to drift down her shoulders. Its usual style effectively concealed how long it was, reaching about half way down her back. Despite how inappropriate it was at the time, or how much he told himself that there was nothing to see, he could only stare in awe at how beautifully it framed her face. Every fiber of his being wanted so badly to touch it, but every inch of his mind restrained that desire. It was just hair, it wasn't anything special. No, it wasn't. 

"It's okay," she muttered, looking up at him with a sheepish smile. "I'm not hurt. Getting knocked out of that spell is just…disorienting." 

Whatever lovely shock he felt was shaken off at her voice, frail and airy. Heimdall's face twisted in worry — a feeling he was still far from accustomed to. "Can you stand?" When was the last time he hadn't chastised someone for their lack of preparation for the unexpected? When was the last time he didn't care? 

Eivor gave a small nod, pushing herself onto her feet. Heimdall rose with her, his hands hovering around her as she swayed in the process. She waved him away. "I'm alright, really."

Heimdall narrowed his eyes at her. He had automatically returned to using his foresight as normal when Eivor was struck, so he knew she was trying not to be a burden by masking how unsteady she was. "Clearly you aren't, you're so dizzy that you're wobbling like a drunkard." He somehow managed to be stern and gentle all at once.

"I'll be fine in a few minutes. Let's just keep going." Eivor walked past him, much more stable than he expected. It did nothing to ease the tension Heimdall felt. He would have to watch her closely as he followed her. A commitment that was both impossible to avoid and keep, thanks to the one detail that had changed. As much as he tried to focus on her balance and the clarity of her mind, his eyes kept wandering down her back and to her hair, blowing delicately in the slight breeze. Why was it so breathtaking to him? It was just hair. Yet he was mesmerized as it complimented her movements, added grace to her every step, elegantly framed her lower back and waist. She glanced at him over her shoulder, likely because he had been quiet, and watching her hair flip in the process left one word in his mind.

Perfect.

They made their way past the chieftain's former home and to the edge of the path behind it, where wooden steps led down to an old platform. A run down gondola stood at the ready, its worn metal guardrail and chipped wooden pillars leaving much to be desired. Luckily the metal beams curving from the pillars to the mechanism that secured it to the metal chain above it was still intact. Eivor was skeptical of how sturdy the aged infrastructure was, cautiously putting weight on the first step of the wooden platform it was stationed at. It seemed stable, enough for Eivor to turn Heimdall's way and inform him of their fortune. The shifting mass disturbed the wood in a way that it rejected, a crack buckling under her heel and throwing her off balance. Heimdall acted immediately, reaching out to grab her forearm with one arm and her waist with the other. Just in time as well.

And that had an unforeseen consequence. She was close now. Very close. Her head was titled to the side a bit, her previous vertigo temporarily returning. It made her hair sway to one side, creating a curtain that brought out her visage. Her lips were slightly parted, gaze steadying after just a moment. Then it went to him and it made him suddenly aware of how he was holding her. It reminded him of the time she embraced him. How good it felt. With her this close and her face by his, he couldn't help but think about how much more he wanted.

"I'm fine now, just surprised me," she told him, a bit embarrassed. He knew. He could see that the fog over her thoughts was dissipating, just as she said it would. The sudden motion merely aggravated what was left of it. Yet he didn't move. Not a single muscle, trapped in the scenario that was playing out within his imagination. It would be so easy to lean just a little bit closer, to bring his other hand to her back and pull her closer. He never realized how much he admired those full lips, the verdant green of her gorgeous eyes…

"Heimdall?"

Reality caught back up with him. Eivor's bewildered expression told him that moment had been longer than it felt. He breathily excused it with sarcasm. "You're awfully clumsy for being fine."

Eivor glared at him, though it was playful. It was enough to convince him that she could handle herself now, his hands slowly drawing back and away from her. A shiver went down her spine as his fingers drifted over her for as long as possible, grazing every bit of her that they could. In their absence she felt much colder, like she had been in the warmest, most peaceful slumber until someone ripped the fur blankets away from her. The ghost of his touch remained, and she longed for it to return, just now realizing that her heart was racing far more than it should even after a close call. Heimdall's face was unreadable, those bright purple irises never leaving her for a second. It gave her a moment to appreciate all the little beauty marks he had on his cheeks and wonder what the light stubble on his jawline would feel like.

She cut herself off there, turning around and going down the steps much faster than she should have considering she had almost fallen through them. Thankfully there were no further incidents and Heimdall pulled the lever that activated the lift after they boarded. It lurched heavily before the ride smoothed out, functioning as if it hadn't been abandoned for years.

Heimdall was tempted to stand across from Eivor solely to watch her hair flow in the wind but he fought it. Somewhat. Standing next to her wasn't exactly a great way to fight it. In the end it made no difference, his eyes still going to her and staying there, studying her as she watched the land pass by. Even though he didn't have the best angle he couldn't help but continue watching her tresses gently flutter in the wind, fixating on it like it was the last thing he would see before death. It still stunned him, with both its beauty and its ability to sap whatever focus he had in him. He lectured himself about it. This was work, he scolded internally. He was fulfilling his duty to the All-Father, carrying out a task that requires great skill and control. It was not the time to get distracted by something as simple as flowing hair, even if it did look so soft. So divine with its sandy color, glittering in the sun like Asgard’s bifrost bridge. Elegant, a bit messy, but in a way that was appealing, a way that suited her. A one-of-a-kind woman, so kind and gentle yet fiery and wild. 

"Yes?"

Again, Heimdall's brain was doused with water from a nearly frozen lake when she spoke. "I didn't say anything." 

She giggled. "No, but you are staring."

Heimdall shrugged. "Quite arrogant to assume as much, don't you think?" A flimsy, illogical comeback that didn't cover his tracks at all, but in the moment he, for once, had nothing witty to say in return.

"I don't know how many times I have to remind you that you have very noticeable glowing eyes." He sighed, saying nothing. Her expression softened, assuming he was still worried about her. "I feel fine now, really. I promise I won't go tumbling over the edge. Even if you say you wouldn't let it happen." 

No response to that as well. She let him be, deciding she would have to let him worry — even though she knew he would deny doing as much — until they were back in Asgard. Then he finally explained himself with just two words. "Your hair."

Eivor was bemused until she felt the strands brushing across her face. While tucking some of them behind her ear she replied, "Oh, yeah. My clip must have broken back there. I'll have to get another once we're back home." She looked back at him, finding him staring again. A smile spread on her lips. "What about it?"

Heimdall instantly looked away, pretending that he wasn't interested. "Nothing."

"Are you pointing it out because you like it?"

The watchman crossed his arms, looking like a petulant child that had been told to do his chores. "It was just an observation," he grumbled.

The gondola came to a harsh stop at the other end. With a light laugh, Eivor moved past him, briefly placing a hand on his chest. "Whatever you say."

Heimdall seized up at her touch. Never before had he felt her hands — or anyone else's — there before. It was surprisingly pleasant, far more than he ever would have anticipated. As soon as he said a word about her hair he regretted it, but now that she'd done that…he wasn't so irritated with himself anymore.

The dirt path ultimately led into the woods that stretched down the mountain and into flatter ground, but that was beyond their destination. The sparkling magic from Eivor's spell went to a well off to the side, one half of the stone brick base shattered. The goddess knelt down in the rubble, where one rock was more intricate than the others. She picked it up, confirming that it was the last portion of the relic. A bit beaten up and covered in the lime mortar used to seal the stones together, but intact. If Odin could find a way to reliably repair the delicate core of the relic then this certainly wouldn't pose a problem.

Heimdall remained behind her as she stood, raising a brow at the questionable condition of the shard. "That's it?"

"Yeah. This is it." Suddenly those words sank it, and both gods felt the effect. Quietly, sullenly, she repeated, "This is it."

Her words hung in the air, the atmosphere so much heavier than it had been. Heimdall cursed Huginn, circling above them, ready to take them away. Away from the last exploration they had. It was the first time he had ever lamented finishing a job for the All-Father. How he would miss their little games and competitions that reminded him how powerful she was underneath that soft exterior, waiting for her to do or say something that would make everything so much more exciting and lively. Here it was, coming to an end, more than likely to never happen again. They would be given separate duties that could take them away from each other, reducing the time they had in Asgard. There was so much potential for things to fall apart from here, for them to drift off into their own lives. Such a sour realization made his heart turn to steel. What was he thinking, letting himself get so attached to someone? Even if they weren't a terrible, horrific person he should have known that this wouldn't last forever. People were unreliable, always destined to go their own way no matter who or what they once had. He should have known better. It always turns out this way, for one reason or another. This time the outcome was just brought about in a different way, in a less efficient manner.

Eivor trembled underneath the gravity of the situation and Huginn figuratively breathing down their necks. She hated how this felt. Like an ending. That was the last thing she wanted. 

A bout of determination overcame her. No. This was not an end, nor would she treat it as one. She turned to him, giving him a cheeky smile as if there was no overhanging fear between them. "So, did we ever determine who won our contest?"

Heimdall blinked at her blankly for a minute. He had forgotten about that completely, more concerned with Eivor's well-being than winning. An odd behavior for him. One he wasn't willing to admit either. Instead he put on his most arrogant smirk and gave the answer she was expecting. "Well, I took out the biggest one. That obviously makes me the winner."

Eivor rolled her eyes. Obviously, he says. She didn't refute his reply, finding it more than fair that she gave him the win after he did his best to follow her rules with little opposition. "Fine. That makes us even then."

The words rang in Heimdall's mind. He caught the hidden meaning in them. An implication that their "competition" was not over. 

It hit him. 

She didn't want this to be over. She didn't want them to drift apart, to chalk their friendship up as passing recreation between business partners. He confirmed it by looking into her mind, and the feeling of her desire to keep him close set his heart ablaze.

All prior experience told him to stick with his initial disappointment, to accept that this wouldn't last instead of putting off the unavoidable results. It said none of this should have happened in the first place, that everything between them was far too temporary to be worth it. 

For once, he chose to completely ignore everything he had seen from his foresight. He didn't want to listen this time. He chose to have faith in her. She was the only person he trusted enough.

The only person he wanted enough to take the risk.

This was not the end. Not even close.

His overconfident smirk softened into a genuine smile as he agreed, "I'm certain we will find ways to shake up the score in the future."

Eivor beamed at him, incredibly happy that he wanted them to remain close, even if he wouldn't say it plainly. He didn't need to. At this point she understood him well enough to just know. "Let's go," she said, her eyes never leaving his. He gave her a nod in response, still smiling brighter than she had ever seen.

Huginn took that as his cue to swoop in and bring them back to Asgard. Reluctantly, oh so reluctantly, Heimdall withdrew his eyes and faced forward, preparing to speak with Odin. His smile didn't falter even with the loss of eye contact.

Odin was now in front of them, sitting at his desk, just as they left him. He looked up at them, knowing they were successful before saying anything. "How'd it go?" He looked between them, noting how happy they both looked. Things seemed to be falling into place. Of course, he didn't appreciate that she had gotten Heimdall to be independent from his foresight, but in the end it only gave him a reason not to be. Their little game had worked out to his advantage more than he thought possible.

Eivor placed the weathered stone on his desk. "A bit worse for wear, but in one piece."

Odin felt his spirits lift. Yes, this was perfect. "Excellent work, both of you. Now I just need to put it back together with a little bit of magic and we'll have a shield over every realm should Ragnarok come." His servants thanked him for the praise, gratitude that he ignored. "With that settled, Eivor, you can go. Hang back, Heimdall, we have a few things to discuss."

Heimdall felt Eivor's disappointment but she complied. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't hoped they could go straight to the wall together. The thought of hearing her sing after being liberated by his cynicism was far too heavenly for him to handle.

He'd be lying if he said his time with Odin didn't drag, and for a very long time at that. It took every ounce of his concentration not to tune it out in favor of his thoughts, which were constantly wandering to a certain young goddess that he planned to see very soon. When, exactly, he wasn't sure now. All-Father's list of tasks to be completed that afternoon was long and it was already getting late. Perhaps that day would be the third time he rushed through his duties.

"Now, tell me something, Heimdall." The watchman stiffened, fearful that Odin had caught his withering attention and sought to test him. "Sif had an idea that she pitched to me earlier today. She mentioned that Eivor had confided in her about some things. Apparently she's afraid of what will happen to her now that she's reassembled the relic?"

Heimdall had to hold back a grin. The description Odin gave was vague, making him prideful that Eivor had only shared the full scope of her deepest fears with him. She trusted him more than Sif, and that made his heart swell. "It's a result of serving the elves, All-Father. A lack of purpose beyond being used by others, if you will."

Odin gave a small smirk. He could always count on Heimdall to tell him everything he needed, whether he wanted to or not. "I see. So she's thinking she's not needed here now that this is done? I can see why Sif had this idea, then."

"And that is?"

"A celebration in her honor, as a way of thanking her for her hard work. What I want to know is if I should allow it. I don't want her thinking I don't need her anymore, but I hear she's not one for parties. You've spent plenty of time with her by now, do you believe she would get anything out of it?"

It was a simple question that warranted a simple answer, yet Heimdall didn't have one right away. He was torn, actually. A night where she was the center of attention, admired by all, appreciated for the wonder she was. 

And away from him. He had to admit that he hated the idea, giving up time that she normally reserved for him to spend it with everyone else, and through an activity that she was far too classy for.

But then again…he had felt the stab of fear in her before they went to Midgar. The uncertainty was still there, still eating away at her while she tried to shake off a lifetime of sorrow birthed from it. Though a party would not be an ideal setting for her, she was never one to disregard the efforts of others. She valued every little thing someone did for her — her interactions with servants displayed as much — and an entire event made to show her how valuable she was would touch her deeply. She'd be happy.

He felt his possessiveness subsiding. Yes, he wanted their time together to last, to take every single moment they could have. But more than that…he wanted her to be happy.

It was the only time he ever wanted to give up something he desired for the sake of another.

With that he relented to his thoughts. They would have plenty of time after such an event, but a night that could dismiss her doubts for good was not something he would deny her. Trying to mask his reluctance with indifference, he replied, "A rowdy party wouldn't be an ideal setting for her, but she does value the intention and thought behind the actions of others. She would surely appreciate the gesture."

Odin pondered for a moment. He pretended to, at least, having expected Heimdall's answer. With a shrug he pulled a square of parchment from one of his notebooks and picked up a stick of charcoal. "Eivor certainly deserves some recognition for such a monumental accomplishment, and it's been a while since the Einherjar have blown off some steam. What the Hel, why not?" A wrinkled hand scrawled a message on the parchment. "I'll call Sif to deliver the news to her. You go on and get to those errands I described to you."

Before he could regain self control, Heimdall glanced down at the parchment to confirm his suspicions, and once he did he refused to let Sif have the honor. "Pardon my intrusion, All-Father, but there's no need to put extra effort into something so mundane. Allow me to deliver the message, since I am already here."

The old king looked at his loyal servant knowingly, his eyes shining with something sinister. "I suppose so. Just take care of those high priority errands first, you hear?"

Heimdall took the parchment from Odin after his superior held it out for him. "Of course, All-Father. When have I ever disappointed you?"

Not once so far, Odin thought as he sent him off, not missing the spring in his step. Once the door to his study was closed and he was alone with his ravens, the All-Father rested his elbows on his desk, folding his hands in front of his face, smiling. He would be nice for now. Once things were far enough along, he could play the game the way he wanted to. 

A sigh was the only sound in Eivor’s room. She sat at the table in front of the window, enjoying the fresh air while the candlelight compensated for the sun's disappearance behind the wall. She had been attempting to tune her lyre for over an hour now, but she just couldn't get it right. Her mind was too busy, too full of thoughts that continued to tap at the inside of her skull.

She shouldn't worry, she knew that, and yet she still did. It hadn't left her mind since she returned from the top of the wall, realizing Heimdall must have been too busy with whatever Odin had spoken to him about privately to meet her for their usual rendezvous. Perhaps it was his absence that brought these thoughts back so violently.

What now? That was what she kept asking herself. Monotonous tasks until Ragnarok comes? Biding her time until she was so bored that she lost her mind? Wondering what she could be doing with herself? 

No. No, she really shouldn't be thinking this way. Heimdall had told her before; the meaning of her life was hers to decide. If anything the new freedom could be beneficial, let her make whatever choices she wanted. Besides, Heimdall made it clear that he would still be there for her. If she truly had no idea what to do, he would help.

She smiled despite the persistent anxiety. She only wished he were there to remind her that she was being ridiculous. 

A knock at the door. The lyre and its poorly tuned strings were set down and Eivor went to answer it.

It was almost like he was listening for her call. There Heimdall was, leaning against the door frame with the pompous grin he always wore, and secretly disappointed that her hair was back in its usual style. Immediately her worries faded, replaced by a bright demeanor and a pounding heart. "Well, this is unexpected. Took time out of your full schedule to see me?"

Heimdall hid a wince, still unhappy that his end-of-day patrol was so much later than usual. That, however, was not something he could focus on after what he felt from her. "And it seems you've been busy as well." Eivor's brow furrowed. "Thinking too hard again."

Eivor shrunk back just a bit, guilty. "Probably." She should have known he'd find her fears even if he chased them away so quickly.

With a stern frown but a softer voice, Heimdall said, "I've already told you. Your worth is far more than your actions. You'll always have value."

Eivor looked down, grinning harder than she thought she would. It was so nice to hear. Not just because of his message, but because it was a side of him that he didn't show anyone else. "I know, I just…I guess I'm just not sure what comes next."

Heimdall hummed, then held out a square of parchment to her between two fingers. "Only good things."

Eivor eyed the parchment curiously. "What's this?"

"Proof."

She took it from him, reading through the neat, stiff runes written on it. Her eyebrows shot up and her expression morphed into one of amazement. "For…me?"

Heimdall nodded, his smile reaching his ears. "I told you."

Eivor had to take a deep breath, holding back tears of relief and joy. "I guess you did." Heimdall was expecting her to send some sarcasm his way, try to poke fun at him for not receiving the same honor. What he got was something completely different. "Will you be there?"

It caught him off guard, how hopeful her question was. She knew he would hate everything about Sif's celebration, and that he would much rather avoid it, but she wanted him to come anyway. Just so she could see him.

He wanted to give her the truth, tell her he would be far away from the rowdy gathering and somewhere much quieter than the lodge. Those words rejected his summons, telling him that he shouldn't dare say them. Not to her. He couldn't say no to her. Without the will to refuse her, and unwilling to make false promises, he answered, "I'll consider it."

No disappointment, no broken hopes. She was happy with that. It was enough for her. "Thank you."

He had no words, feeling his lungs straining and heart pumping in his ears while he struggled to find something to say. After standing up straight he quietly, oh so quietly, said it. "Goodnight, Songbird."

He swiftly left, barely giving Eivor enough time to bid him goodnight as well. When she closed the door she remained in place, back against it while she cradled the parchment close to her chest.

It could have said she was the new queen of all the realms for all she cared. Nothing written on it could match the person that delivered it to her.

The next morning passed by in a blur. Sif woke Eivor early, bringing with her a couple of servants that carried platters full of food for her to enjoy. The elder goddess said that she had a gift for Eivor, but it hadn't been made yet, and that she would soon see what that meant. She left to see to the preparations while the servants presented Eivor with the freshest fruits, warmest bread, and sweetest pastries, all of them paying no attention to her multitude of thank yous, claiming they were more than happy to prepare such an event for her. Once they left she was close to tears of joy at their kindness.

Within an hour three seamstresses came to her, including the lead seamstress that she had known since her first day in Asgard, under Sif's instruction. They were to make her a dress for the evening and needed measurements. Eivor hastily dismissed such a gift, believing that was far too much work to get done in less than a day. Nonsense, they all declared. For her they would make a thousand dresses in the same amount of time. 

Servants from far and wide visited her. The head librarian brought her a rare copy of one of her favorite books, distinguished by the gorgeous illustrations adorning the leather cover and pages. She had to track that edition down but felt it was worth the effort. One of the musicians that performed at the Black Thunder, who found out she also played instruments, gifted her a set of new lyre strings, ones of the highest quality. Even little Thrúd knocked on her door, bringing her a little wooden Valkyrie that her father helped her carve, saying that she was "as awesome as all the Valkyries." It was so adorable, and a memory she would cherish forever. The childish statue didn't compare to the finer decorations she had gotten for her cabin, but it was set on a shelf with the rest of them nonetheless.

Just when she thought it couldn't get any more overwhelming, Sif's finished gift came. The seamstresses unfolded the dress for her to see and her hands flew over her mouth in awe. It was absolutely beautiful, a deep purple that was her favorite color, bordered with gold embroidery of floral patterns along the bottom and top, which was cut straight across, similar to Sif's blue gown. It was held up by straps that were fastened with delicate brooches, crossing behind her neck and to the back of the dress. A thin leather belt with gold metal weaving along the edges was at the waist, where the excess length would drape down with the rest of the skirt. It extended to her ankles, accenting the matching leather boots with white fur lining the tops, just for a splash of contrast. The tears Eivor had done her best to contain overflowed as she chanted her gratitude over and over, the seamstresses bringing her in for friendly hugs. The hard work was worth it, and out of all the garments they had made for the gods, this was the one they were most proud of, they said once she tried it on. 

Never before had she ever felt so…wanted and loved. The interactions she cherished didn't end when she was no longer needed, she wasn't sent on her way to keep to herself until she had something else to do. All of these people cared so much that they wouldn't let her think they had forgotten about her. 

Eivor would be lying if she said she knew how many times she cried that day. As she donned her new dress she couldn't believe how pessimistic she had been, believing she would always receive the same treatment the elves gave her. Heimdall was right.

She paused on her way out the door when she thought of the scion. There was a small hand mirror on her table, and from where she stood she caught a glimpse of her reflection. Despite looking at her own image she could only see the look Heimdall gave her yesterday, while they were on the lift in Midgard. 

Without a single thought, she did it on impulse.

This was so stupid. What a terrible idea. A complete waste of his valuable time, and while most of the town was out of his way no less.

Yet there Heimdall was, staring down the crowd gathered around the Great Lodge, flinching at the noise that was unbearable even at a distance. He'd been standing on the side of the road for longer than he cared to admit, just waiting for a good time to breach the gathering. Which would never come.

He could just leave. Eivor knew he would despise this setting. There was no way she would hold his absence against him, blame him for avoiding a situation he hated even if she had given him a way to work through it. There would be no consequences whatsoever if he simply turned around and went on his merry way.

But no matter how many times he told himself as much he couldn't. Not wouldn't. Couldn't. It was like he was anchored to the lodge and someone was pulling him inside, refusing to let him leave. He just had to do it, to go in and see her for just a moment. There was no reason why, as far as he could tell. Something in him just found the thought of not taking part in a celebration dedicated to her as…deplorable. 

He just…wanted to remind her that she would not have been so successful had he not been her partner through it all. That's all. Surely.

After standing around for so long he finally swallowed his reluctance, stepping onto the moonlit road to the lodge. He sucked in a deep breath, momentarily closing his eyes to focus, tune out all the painful noise, the incoming touches, the raging emotions. His shoulders tensed the closer he got, his entire body clenching as he passed through the stragglers at the edge of the crowd. Gods, it was brutal, having to focus on filtering out so much while containing the murderous intent he felt towards every living thing within the vicinity. With each step he regretted not bringing Gulltoppr to barrel through and force his way into the lodge, but of course that something in him had no desire to cause trouble at Eivor's celebration either. He was beginning to loathe how tolerant he has become of that something over the past months, acknowledging that it may have escalated beyond his control at this point. 

His head was pounding and his mental strength waned as he reached the doors, hanging wide open thanks to the people keeping them apart. Giving up was so tempting. It would be so much easier to pretend he was never there in the first place, like he was far too busy to even try to stop by. Once he had (forcefully) pushed through the bottleneck and made it into the main hall he scanned the room for Eivor. A quick hello was all he would give and then he would be gone, that was it. It had to be. The effort it took to contain his foresight was becoming too strenuous to keep up, and frankly he was fed up with struggling for the night. And the rest of his life, frankly. 

Relief flooded him when he caught a glimpse of white hair between the bodies, nestled into the outskirts of the room. He should have expected as much, but he would blame his lapse in judgment on the headache he could feel emerging. Another deep breath, then he started shoving his way over to her. It was almost over.

But…

But.

Suddenly he didn't want it to be.

His eyes grew wide as dinner plates when he saw her in plain view. She was…stunning. The dress suited her well, and her favorite color was flattering on her, sure, but her hair. It was down, the wavy blonde locks freely flowing down her back, two little braids stemming from above her ears that met in the back to hold the loose strands out of her face. It was so captivating, and he was so enraptured that all the strength he needed to keep the overstimulation at bay was unnecessary. The sight of her alone silenced all his other senses, not a sound registering in his mind as he gaped at her, so lost in the beauty before him. How was he supposed to approach her, or move at all, when he could barely comprehend just how breathtaking she was? He wasn't even close enough to get a good look yet! When a drunken buffoon blocked his view of her he immediately seized their shoulder and threw them into their fellow partygoers, not at all caring who he had thrown or what they hit on their way down. Why would he when he had this to look at? Anyone who concealed even a fraction of her from him was lucky to be alive for more than a moment longer.

Sif was next to her, of course, drinking and conversing with the guest of honor as if she was an escort. It finally snapped some sense into him. The overprotective goddess would never let him have a moment with Eivor if she could do anything about it. 

Luck was on his side. Sif glanced behind her, searching for Thrúd and catching her two sons throwing her back and forth like a ball while their father guffawed obnoxiously. She rushed to lecture the men and rescue her daughter, leaving Eivor alone for a fleeting moment. Perfect.

His feet moved on their own, carrying him through the crowd, unable to hear or feel anything from it. With the way to Eivor clearing up before him it almost felt like a dream. The closer he got the more nervous he felt, somehow considering backing out to spare himself the agony. If his distaste for the cowardice of the idea didn't convince him to follow through, the sight of Eivor smiling brightly at Sif desperately trying to catch her daughter as she flew between her sons ensured he was too enticed to back out now. 

What did he even say? Just hello? No, that felt stupid, dull. Congratulate her for…something? Equally uninspired. Compliment her appearance, tell her how mesmerizing she was? Honest…but too honest for him. Never before had he thought so hard about what was coming out of his mouth. He hadn't decided when he was at her side, spitting out the first thing that landed on his tongue. "You clean up nicely." Still a compliment, even if backhanded. That was acceptable, wasn't it?

His second guessing didn't last long, blown away by the pure joy that overcame her, her smile the most beautiful it had been since they met. "You came!"

Just like that it became hard to breathe, as if the room had suddenly had all the air sucked out of it. So much happiness, even amongst a celebration dedicated to her, all because he spared a few moments to show up. He couldn't help the matching grin he gained, feeling every bit as happy as he looked. "I was in the area," was his bored reply, though unconvincing with his light expression.

Heimdall was rewarded with an adorable giggle and a roll of her eyes. "Oh, how fortunate I am that the watchman himself is kind enough to stop by." 

It was his turn to chuckle, one that made Eivor, for a lack of a better term, swoon. He was more relaxed than he had ever been outside of their secluded hideouts. Until a servant carrying a platter of steins splattered mead on the floor next to them while trying to avoid a stumbling einherjar. His foresight, for whatever reason, decided that was classified as "danger" and stung his mind, making him wince as the chatter and crashing of the lodge came back at full force. Eivor's smile fell into an apologetic one. As glad as she was that he made an effort to see her, she felt guilt creeping up as his discomfort. "I'm glad you're here, but you don't have to stay. I'm getting a bit tired of it myself."

Heimdall sucked in a deep breath. No. He wouldn't let these miscreants ruin this moment. All he needed to do was refocus, block out all the irrelevancies. Just look at her. Only think of her.

It did the trick, and the noise died down once more, though not as silent as before. He gave his most indifferent shrug and sighed, "It really is a pity, having these fools soil your night in such a way. You could always leave, go back to a certain quiet place that would be much more pleasant than the lodge." Eivor felt herself shy away as he referred to it as "her night." Like it was really something special. That, and his invitation to go somewhere with him. Alone. With no one paying attention to them…

Eivor reeled her mind back in, knowing Heimdall would pick up on the wheels turning in her brain if she thought about it for too long. She recovered quickly though, already having the perfect comeback for him. "Maybe I will…if I'm 'in the area.'"

One more laugh out of him, this time he felt compelled to look away. Half a heartbeat later his eyes flew back to her, grinning at her in a way that was, dare she say, charming. She was glad the torchlights were giving the room a warm hue because she was almost certain she blushed. At that moment, the idea of abandoning the party completely just to run off with him was far too inviting to ignore. She gladly would have, since Sif was likely drunk enough to forget that she had left early next time they saw each other, but Sif wasn't the issue tying her hands. Odin had said he wanted to share a few words, and he had yet to deliver them. After this delightfully nerve-wracking conversation, she would stay not a second longer after he did. "I'll make time for you later. I promise."

Heimdall couldn't describe what was happening to him, but it was something like nausea, a burning in his stomach that made him disoriented and…excited. He had to rip his eyes away from her for a second to calm his racing mind and heart, looking back only when he was confident he could reply without sounding breathless. And he did. Mostly. It was a bit more airy than he wanted. "Just for me?"

He never saw her answer coming. Her lips softened into a sweet smile and her eyes overflowed with, if he was not mistaken, admiration.

"I always will."

The room froze a second time, all of his senses — not just his foresight — blocking out everything that wasn't her, and the bubbling elation warming him from the inside out. Neither of them paid any mind to the servants announcing that the All-Father called for quiet. They only stared, violet stuck on green, the world fading away faster than they could ever catch up.

"Simmer down, everyone!" Odin called out. This was what finally broke their gazes, Eivor knowing that the time for them to get away was so, so close. Heimdall, too, felt reality slap him across the face, suddenly noticing that his hand had risen a few inches, intent on sweeping one of those radiant tresses behind her ear. He threw it down immediately, pretending he was merely shaking out his wrist. Not even he was prepared to face the action he almost committed.

Sif finally got her sons to release their sister and to head for their assigned seats at the table, just to the right of where the All-Father stood. She swooped in, not even noticing Heimdall as she took Eivor by the elbow and dragged her away. Eivor resisted just long enough to reach out to Heimdall and touch his arm, whispering to him, "I'll find you after." He merely nodded as he watched her disappear into the crowd, beautiful, gorgeous, flowing sandy hair fluttering gracefully behind her. 

He should just leave, go to the wall, where Eivor would surely go to find him. There was no reason to stay there. What did he want to do, escort her there? No, that's just…foolish.

Odin urged the audience to quiet down once more, hushing the room into near silence.

Well…he couldn't leave yet. He had to listen to All-Father, of course.

With the noise alleviated, Odin began his speech, just as Sif sat Eivor down in their seats, Eivor to her right and Thor drinking to her left. "Sorry to hold up the festivities, but I figured now would be the best time. You know, now that you're all just drunk enough to forget how to interrupt but not so drunk that you'll fall asleep while I speak."

A raucous laughter roared across the room, some of them sounding too forceful to be genuine.

"We may be enjoying good food and drinks, but we can't forget why we celebrate things around here. It's all for a reason, and that reason is to recognize how hard we work for the glory of Asgard. But today, we've done more than add further prestige to the realm's name. The greater good has been addressed, our protection from the dangers of this world extending far beyond the walls around us." Odin paused, sweeping a hand to Eivor. "Thanks to Eivor, we have secured a means of protecting the realms when we need to the most, allowing us to secure a brighter future. Without her, we would have had to endure the worst case scenario, unprepared to fight an inevitably terrible outcome. She has given us a great gift: the gift to fight for the future we want!" 

The crowd bellowed and cheered, ecstatic that they could fulfill their Asgardian dreams of fighting to the glorious end. Odin took a mug from the full table, lifting it high as he bellowed, "Thank you to Eivor, and all other Asgardians who make sacrifices for the good of all! Thank you for your service, and here's to many more years of it!"

An eruption of shouts overtook the room, but Eivor only clapped mindlessly. 

Thank you for your service.

Service.

She…really was just doing the bidding of someone pursuing their own goals, wasn't she?

Eivor shook her head a bit too violently to seem natural as she smiled and joined in the enthusiasm. She made this choice, and this was the path she wanted to walk. As Heimdall had said, she was finding her own meaning, not just—

Thor, just two seats down from her, looked at her warily before he slurred out, "Yeah…here's to being useful."

Heimdall, from across the room, felt rage threaten to boil over into another round of murderous intent at the god of thunder's careless words. The mounting shrieks and banging of wood and metal together didn't bother him nearly as much as that sentence. And the look on Eivor's face.

The world dimmed as the words washed over Eivor, casting more doubt that she thought she had set aside. She should have known it wouldn't be so easy. She should have known that…none of this was true. No, she wasn't making a choice, she was just thinking she was, still being pushed around like a willing pawn. This was all just a ruse to blind her. She was still just…

A tool.

No. No…

Eivor hated the thoughts taking over, repeating Heimdall's reassurances over and over in her mind, but they just wouldn't die. She needed to leave, find somewhere she could think clearly. Sif was far too distracted with chugging another barrel of mead with her husband and sons, allowing Eivor to stand and back away from the table, slowly, sluggishly moving as if she was the one that was drunk. 

The noise was too much. There were too many words, too much happening for her to get a hold of her fears. She began to grow desperate as she attempted to push through the crowd, mostly unsuccessful thanks to all the einherjar that barely noticed her and were not so easily moved against their will. A hole between them enabled her to make some progress, then a little more when the celebrators behind them were more forgiving. Then something crashed behind her, bringing a new round of excitement to the cacophony of agonizing sounds that riled everyone up so much more. She wanted so badly to just force them out of the way. But she didn't have the strength. Or the heart.

When she backed up to get out of the way of two einherjar crashing together solely for the fun of it, a hand grabbed her forearm. Terror engulfed her, thinking it was someone asking her why on earth she was leaving in such a hurry. Her head swiveled back, afraid of who she would find.

Heimdall. 

Relief flooded her, but the fear returned after she saw the clench in his jaw, golden teeth undoubtedly grinding together in his mouth. He was furious, and she believed he was angry that she had fallen back into this melancholy so easily.

Then she saw his eyes. They totally contradicted the tension and fury in his expression. Instead they were soft, gentle. Understanding.

While she was too busy staring, wondering what was going on in his head, his hand slid down to grasp hers, gingerly taking hold of her fingers and towing her along as he guided her through the crowd. She did not resist.

Their progress was significantly faster with Heimdall leading. Anyone coherent enough to recognize him stepped aside without hesitation, and he had no problem forcing anyone who didn't out of the way. One of the benefits to befriending a total jerk, she thought, making her lips twitch up for just a second. 

He had swooped in seconds ago and all the doubt was already feeling far away.

In time they made it out of the lodge and into the courtyard, not stopping until they were far enough down the street that the noise wasn't as deafening. It was a relief for both of them. Without letting go of her hand Heimdall whistled, loud and clear, the sound followed by the unmistakable thumping of Gulltoppr’s heavy trot. The beast turned a corner and came into view down the road, making his way over to his master as Heimdall lectured with disgust, "You should never pay Thor's words any mind. Just because he's too much of a drunken moron to understand what's really being said doesn't mean you have to believe him." Gulltoppr reached them, turning ninety degrees so that he was perfectly positioned for Heimdall to mount him when he was ready. The watchman signaled the beast to lie down, which he obeyed without question, as he continued, "What's important is that you made your choice for your own reasons. Don't let a blundering fool like him take that from you." While stern and commanding as he spoke, he confounded her with his actions. It seemed he was too worked up to think about what he was doing. Despite the fact that he was fuming, his hands gently gripped her waist, lifting her off her feet so effortlessly that her eyes widened at the abrupt movement. She gaped at him as he set her down on top of Gulltoppr in a side saddle position. He was still grumbling about Thor's stupidity but she was too stunned to process any of it,  focused on him climbing on behind her and taking the reins. With him straddling the saddle and Eivor sitting across it, she was practically sitting in his lap. She blushed profusely at the realization.

Heimdall had finally cooled down enough to command Gulltoppr to move. The sudden lurch made Eivor slide a bit closer to him and grip his tunic with one hand for stability. It was only then that Heimdall noticed his mistake, his entire body stiffening at the feeling of her entire side against him, her knees draping over one of his. He even felt her hair tickle his neck, sending shivers down his spine. In a matter of moments all the desire to tear everyone other than Eivor to shreds gave way to nerves.

The initial novelty soon passed for both of them, but it was faster for Eivor. It was so comforting, his form shrouding her from the rest of the world and warming her with his heat. His words had begun to settle in too, helping her clear her mind of the crippling anxiety that had captured her. He was right, as he'd always been about the subject. And frankly, she was beginning to tire of the constant second guessing. It was so much easier to just lean in a little closer, to let him help her banish the fear rather than lock it away within her fragile heart. After all, it certainly seemed like he wanted to do so of his own volition, which was…very sweet.

The tension that had taken hold of her was driven away completely when she gave in to her need for closeness, scooting back just a little more so she could wrap the arm that was against him around his torso and settle a palm on his back. The other landed on his other side and she let herself bury her cheek into his chest and close her eyes, bathing in his welcoming presence. Heimdall felt his muscles lock up when her hands caressed him, having to stop his mouth from snapping open and demanding to know what she was doing. Though it was out of shock, not because he was against it. It was when he felt her nestle into him that any apprehension, both from the disastrous party at the lodge and the surprising change in mood, was lost to the wind blowing past them. With one hand still on the reins, subconsciously pulling on them slightly to make Gulltoppr walk slower, his other retreated to take hold of her hand on his side, wrapping his fingers around it and giving it a squeeze. Why? He didn't know. Nor did he understand why his body moved on its own. He wanted so badly to kiss the top of her head, stopping himself just as he craned his neck to do so. It sounded right, sounded so wonderful, but he couldn't. No, what they were doing was already too much, wasn't it?

He didn't have an answer to that, and even if he did it would have been pointless. He may have refrained from kissing her hair, but he still rested his chin on it, taking in a deep breath to inhale the scent of her locks. It was so sweet. Intoxicating even, like his wits were so far gone that whatever reservations he held were drained away. Yet he didn't fight it. How could he when he was completely aware of how much she enjoyed it? She was so happy with his reciprocation, and his foresight informing him of it made his heart race faster than he ever thought it could.

Her ear, still against his chest, picked up on his erratic heart, and it made her smile. Heimdall always wanted to look like he was ten steps ahead, ready for anything, and completely in control. This was proof that he wasn't, this closeness had just as much of an effect on him as it did her. And she loved that. It was incredibly uplifting to know it.

He enjoyed this too.

He had to. He wouldn't allow it if he didn't. Eivor held him tighter, glad that he was not in a position to read her exact thoughts, otherwise he would surely see that she was so delighted that he was willing to show her how he felt. And that she didn't want this to end. 

But all things do, eventually, just like their ride did once Gulltoppr came to a stop. Eivor didn't even notice, far too absorbed in the safety of Heimdall's embrace. He had to release the reins and bring his hand to her shoulder, feeling her skin while his other hand stroked the back of her palm with his thumb. "Songbird…" he whispered. Eivor opened her eyes and saw the lift up the wall, knowing exactly what that meant. Even if the idea was pleasing, she was still reluctant to let go, too greedy for his comfort. With a sense of terrible loss, her hands gradually withdrew, Heimdall trembling as her fingers dragged across his sides. He disguised it by promptly dismounting, giving Gulltoppr the hand signal that ordered him to lie down once more. Then Heimdall reached up and took Eivor by the waist again, carefully carrying her down to stand in front of him. Eivor found it funny. She never considered this about him, but given his mannerisms it was something he was clearly capable of; he was a gentleman when he wanted to be.

He paused this time, mostly tipped off by the grateful smile she wore, making him realize exactly what he was doing. His hands were swiftly removed and his eyes left hers, quickly walking around Gulltoppr to get to the lift. Eivor thought his urgent need for distance was cute, he could feel it, and it annoyed him to no end. 

But that was forgotten as soon as they both boarded and the lift took off. Eivor's hair was flowing freely in the breeze, just like it had in Midgard the day before. He was just as awestruck. She allowed him to be this time.

Nothing was said until they reached the top, automatically heading for the spot they always claimed when they spent time on the wall. After the silent walk there, Heimdall finally came up with some way to justify his actions. Without compromising his confidence. "I'm certain this is a much more suitable display of appreciation than what you had to endure earlier."

Eivor chuckled, following him to the huge brick at the edge of the wall to rest her arms on its surface while watching the open plains below, illuminated by the moonlight. "It's the thought that counts to me." A moment of consideration. "I took that far too seriously. I'm sorry I—"

"Don't apologize," Heimdall barked, taken aback by his own frustration. He kept his eyes down on the plains, not sure what he might say if he looked at her. "You did nothing wrong, it was that oaf that should be apologizing to you for his idiotic remarks."

Eivor only nodded, smiling quietly to herself. The wind blew, stirring her hair once more. Heimdall's eyes followed the movement, failing to control his gaze yet again.

"You really like it?"

Heimdall blinked at her. "What?"

"My hair."

Nothing.

She expected as much. "So you do."

Heimdall, hating how easily she could pick him apart without even trying, growled back, "I never said as much."

"But you didn't deny it."

He sighed, now sneering into the distance.

Eivor hesitated before she sheepishly muttered, "I figured you wouldn't."

After a moment of replaying those words in his mind Heimdall understood her hidden meaning. That she had styled her hair that way for him. He finally turned his head to look at her, finding her smiling patiently at him. Just as it had always been, he saw nothing in her that gave away an ulterior motive, nothing to imply that she was trying to get anything from him.

Actually…no, he was mistaken. But in a way he never had been before. She did want something from him, and she did style her hair that way to get it. What she wanted was nothing materialistic, nothing for her own gain.

She did it just to please him. 

Because she wanted his attention.

That patient, kind, beautiful gaze she gave him was too much for him, his throat drying and his heart pounding so fast that it felt like he had just sprinted across the realm for days. His hands balled up into fists, his body froze up at his reaction.

He had to back off.

Heimdall pushed off of the stone and turned away, feeling a tiny sting of sadness from Eivor. "You're wise to heed my opinions, I'll give you that," he dismissed, dragging his feet to another large stone with a surface flat enough to sit on. He did just that, resting his elbows on his knees and looking away from Eivor, towards the Great Lodge in the distance.

Eivor shook her head. It was adorable, really. A man who was so sure of himself, so confident in his every word and deed, had to flee when flattered. It was also frustrating, seeing him run away because he couldn't grapple with his emotions. She had seen him do it for so long, but after he had been so, so sweet and caring for her she hated the idea that he would stop. All because he was too proud to think he could be anything but the stuck up, strict, and unforgiving watchman he had made himself out to be. 

She approached him slowly, "Heimdall?" When he merely hummed in response, eyes still avoiding her, she sat down next to him, space so limited that their sides were touching from shoulder to knee. "Will you answer me honestly if I ask you something?"

Purple eyes met hers, looking both baffled and offended. "And when exactly have I given you a reason to think I wouldn't?" he said snobbishly.

Eivor rolled her eyes, taking that as a yes. After a deep breath, banishing the annoyance brought about by his tone, she gently asked, "Why did you take me here?"

Heimdall just stared, brows furrowed. His eyes darted to the side for a brief second before returning to hers. "We arranged to come here." So matter-of-fact.

A part of her became timid, wondering if this was a poor approach. "Yes, but you could have met me here, like we always do. You didn't have to see me. You didn't have to stay at the party after Sif dragged me away. You didn't have to bring me here yourself, you know I would have come anyway. And I doubt All-Father would have asked you to deliver the news to me yesterday considering how busy you were, yet you were the one who did it." 

Now Heimdall couldn't bear to look at her. She had cornered him in a place he was not at all willing to stand. He was caught having no explanation, no reason for his behavior and he hated it. He hated that the only thing he could say to that was…he just wanted to. But he never would. That was not who he was. He was the Herald of Ragnarok, aware of every lie told and every trick played, not once falling to false promises, never missing the cruelty of man. He wasn't supposed to…care. He wasn't. He wasn't so weak, so foolish, like everyone else. He was so much better than that.

He swallowed the whirlwind billowing within to remind her as much, braving a look at her face. 

He wished he could take it back, getting lost in the patience and…affection he found in them. His tongue was too heavy to let him speak, his lungs too constricted to breathe. Any rational thought he had was gone, so he did what he always does. His eyes looked into her mind, desperately trying to find something, anything, that could give him some kind of out. Instead he only heard one thought that made it so much worse.

Gods, he's handsome.

That was it. That was all she thought when he looked back at her, and somehow it was more debilitating than any injury ever could be. 

He couldn't take it. He couldn't take it.

Without warning he shot up, heading back to the giant brick they started at. "It was more convenient to wait," he choked out, feeling his defenses crumble around him. It only became harder to maintain them when he felt the disappointment coming from her.

Perhaps that was for the best. If she was upset then this conversation would end, and that would be it. He wouldn't let himself get this carried away again. He would go back to keeping this…"friendship" exactly what it was, no more—

"Heimdall."

He didn't hear her stand and approach him, too lost in the infinite calculations going on in his mind. Her coo was so soft, almost as much as the light touch of her hand on his shoulder, drawing his eyes to it right away. Which inevitably brought them back to Eivor. That same fondness and leniency was still there, no less abundant than it had been. She put a little bit of pressure on his arm, pushing him to face her completely, both of their sides against the stone brick. 

Not even Heimdall could have foreseen what she had to say. How she would handle a topic that had become so volatile. Her smile, so tender and caring, perfectly matched her tone.

"Heimdall…it's okay to feel."

She had his attention, taking him so off guard that he had to listen.

"I know you, how you want to be seen, and how important that is to you. I understand. It's all for your duty to protect Asgard, and that's okay. But when you're here, with me…" she smiled even wider, eyes so loving as she put a hand to her chest. "It's just me. And there's nothing you need to worry about with me."

Heimdall just listened, dumbfounded. She had read him better than he had ever read anyone, getting to the heart of his hesitation with just a few words to confirm her suspicions. 

The worst part? 

This conversation wasn't about her. 

It wasn't about her distaste for his priority to present himself as the responsible Watchman of the Gods, or her need to hear what she wanted from him. No, it was about him. His discomfort with the situation, his inability to balance his duty and the need to be close to her, his habit of being a habitual coward around her instead of just saying what he means like he would with everyone else. It was always about him.

It was never about herself.

While the air in his lungs grew more sparse she continued, "I mean, think about it, Heimdall. I've dragged you through ashes, ruined your clothes, watched you lose a bet at the last minute because of a silly mistake…" She waited for him to protest, to present the irritation he always felt when she brought those things up. They were absent. He was too engrossed in what she had to say. His willingness to listen to her, and the adoration that was gradually filling his expression gave her the words she needed to close her argument. Eivor licked her dry lips, catching Heimdall's eyes flickering down to observe the motion. In a soft whisper, she said, "But despite all that…I'm still here. Like I've always been."

Again. There it was again. It was still about him. Eivor had yet to make this about her wants or needs, it was still about him. She wanted him to be absolutely certain that she would not turn out to be like everyone else, so shallow and unforgiving when they realized the person they were speaking to was not what they wanted. That she still cared about him no matter where he stood, both in the hierarchy among the gods and with himself. It felt…he couldn't even describe how it made him feel.

Heimdall was still without the words to reply. Eivor ended with, "You don't have to show your emotions to everyone, not even to me if you don't want to. But I won't think any less of you if you do. Never." With that, she wasn't sure what else to add, having said everything she needed to. It was nerve-wracking, watching Heimdall just gawk at her with no idea of what he was thinking. Truly, Heimdall wasn't sure what to say either. The only thing he could comprehend was how desperately he needed to hold her the same way he did when he brought her to the wall for the first time.

He took in a shaky breath, still too shocked by her sincerity and the sheer elation he felt because of it. There was so much running through his head, but none of it made it down to his mouth. His lungs still stiff, heart panicking, hands quivering at his sides. He took an approach she would recognize, knowing she would understand why he did so. She always understood. He could always trust her.

A wilted smirk appeared on his lips as he mumbled back, "That's…awfully presumptuous of you."

The air around him was overloaded with joyous electricity when she laughed. "I prefer to call it 'deductive reasoning.'"

Heimdall chuckled, half-hearted smirk melting into a loving smile. "I think you might be getting a bit…" he couldn't stop leaning in closer to her, nor did he try this time. "Overconfident."

Eivor's breath quickened, biting her lip when she felt his face come just a little closer to hers, unable to keep herself from glancing at his lips. "I think…" The favor was returned, Eivor moving a little closer to him, having to look up a bit more to keep eye contact. "You should shut up," she joked, grinning at the feeling of his breath across her face as he huffed out a laugh. 

"Oh really?"

"Yeah…"

He'd had enough. This was too much, yes, but Heimdall didn't care anymore. He knew what he wanted, and he knew that she wanted it too. He was done fighting with himself. "Well then," he said breathily, eyes boring into hers with all the passion and intensity that made him who he was. He raised a hand —intentionally — and swept a stray hair from her cheek. He adored that she leaned into his touch. "Why don't you make me?"

The implication was clear. Eivor could barely rasp out, "Gladly," before the distance was closed. 

Their lips crashed together, Heimdall’s hand cupping her cheek and the one at his side flying to her waist while hers went straight to his shoulders. The landing was less than graceful, far too charged and impatient, adjusting their lips to fit more comfortably. The rest of the world faded at their chaste but powerful kiss, both of them feeling light enough to float away into the sky and twirl amongst the stars. Weeks, months of the built up of distant intimacy pouring out all at once and robbing them of any sensations that didn't come from one another. Eivor could never describe how wonderful it felt to have him so close, to feel him let everything else go and just live in the moment without a care for anything else. The pure, unbridled rapture she felt couldn't be picked up through her mind, Heimdall's foresight having short circuited at the overflowing of her every heavenly touch and breath and the knowledge that she felt just the same from him. Why on earth did he deny himself this for so long? What was he trying to do? Defend himself from anyone who would assume he had gone soft? Why would he, when he could show them exactly why he was feared and respected across the realms? Why would he refuse this divinity, refuse her, when it felt so much better to give in and worry about the rest later? He was such a misguided fool, fumbling around with his attachment to her like he had every reason not to embrace it. She was a light in this dark world, a fire in the dead of winter, and he craved every spark she ignited in him.

The air between them was already thin and difficult to inhale, forcing them to part and take deep breaths to alleviate the light-headedness. Their foreheads remained pressed together, breaths fanning between their faces. Before the idea of this closeness was too much. Now the separation was agonizing. He wanted more. He needed more.

Heimdall swooped back in to reclaim her lips, pressing deeper into her and pulling her as close as physically possible, wanting to feel every inch of her body on his. He reveled in her hands wrapping around his neck, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss in an attempt to portray the desire he felt growing within him. Eivor complied, allowing them to fall into a pattern of open mouthed kisses and taking very sparse moments to breathe. But it still wasn't enough. He tested the waters, pulling away from her just enough to let the tip of his tongue brush her bottom lip. Her response was almost immediate but it felt like an eternity, her honeyed taste building up an addiction that he couldn't escape. Shyly, but without hesitation, her tongue met his lip. He did not waste a single second. 

Their mouths latched together again, Heimdall's tongue hungrily seeking out hers and grasping every taste, every flavor she had to offer. His stomach was on fire, his skin burned, his mind was blank, overtaken with the thought and feeling of her. His desires took over and he pushed her backwards until her back hit the cold stone of the rubble behind her. The hand on her face slammed into the wall next to her head, as if it needed a break from the overstimulation. 

This was familiar, what little was left of Eivor’s mind thought. With one side next to stone and the other blocked by his arm it was just like the time he cornered her in Muspelheim, furious and fed up with her disregard for his status. She never would have thought that same situation would feel so incredibly amazing, so perfect and saccharine and euphoric. It was so much, his passion so overwhelming yet she snatched up every ounce that he gave her, his lovely touch making her dizzy. Never before had she been so pleasantly chained by raw emotion and an aching need to memorize his scent, feel his hands gripping her tighter, his lips pressing harder. It almost didn't feel real, the high of his affection and need for every part of him like a dream that she wished would be eternal. She never wanted to go back to reality again. This was all she needed: Heimdall, his breath on her cheeks, his hands on her waist, the arm on by her head coming down to wrap around her back and pull her even closer. Heimdall was so relentless, not giving her a moment to feel anything but how much he wanted every iota of her. 

Far sooner than she wanted she had to break away to breathe, gasping and panting while Heimdall's lips went to her cheek, then down to her jawline. He traveled down to her neck, feeling her nails digging deliciously into the base of his cranium is a way that sent a jolt of ecstasy through him. He couldn't contain himself.

One of his hands ventured downward, slowly, oh so slowly, trailing down to her hip before giving it a proper squeeze, relishing in the supple curves he was met with. He felt her surprise at his grasp but he was too far gone to think about it, focusing on his mouth on her neck, determined to leave marks. His lips pulled back to let his teeth nip at her skin. Eivor gasped so sweetly right in his ear, and it was so tantalizing. He took another bite, teeth more insistent on branding her as his.

Then he froze. He felt it within her. 

Fear.

Not exactly fear, more like uncertainty, or nervousness. That was when it occurred to him. 

Heimdall lifted the hand on her hip back to her waist and gave her neck a soft kiss where he had just bitten it, then pulled back to put his forehead to hers. Her eyes were misty with thoughtless pleasure, breath just as labored as his. He had to calm his racing lungs before he could get it out. "Never?" He asked with a smirk.

Eivor recoiled and looked away, smiling with embarrassment. A goddess of her age would have plenty of romantic experience by now. But for her, Heimdall was a first in many ways. She shrugged sheepishly. "Elves don't make for good partners."

A chuckle. "Is that so?" His tone was teasing but he didn't call her out for the flimsy excuse. In fact, he swelled with pride at her admission. She was untouched, never finding another to share herself with before him, not even in the most innocent ways. A prize, one that he conquered and could have all to himself. 

"Don't laugh!" She exclaimed.

Heimdall paid it no mind, pausing before making his counterpoint. "You've been in Asgard long enough. You've never been interested in anyone?"

Eivor, now much more playful, smirked at him. "Weeellll, there's only one Asgardian that's caught my eye, but he's…" she pulled him down by the back of his neck, angling her head to bring him so close that her lips brushed his as she whispered, "...difficult." She giggled with him as she placed her forehead back on his, adoring the sweet smile on his face. They sighed together, so lost in the plethora of emotions that were free after nearly bursting at the seams for too long. 

Heimdall had no idea why he chose to make this so much harder than it needed to be, why he refused to take advantage of all the time they had. It felt so much better to indulge in her attention and to give his own without a care. It felt so calm and secure. 

It was liberating, he realized.

Never had he felt so free.

He was so overcome with the sense of freedom. Freedom to let go of all the disgust and hatred he held inside and bask in her purity. A beauty and tranquility that she shared with him.

He was never one to count his blessings, knowing he could have whatever he wanted with a snap. This time he did. This time he was glad to have this. That she wanted to be his. Without any forethought — because he didn't care for it at this point — he took a hand from her waist and placed it gently on her cheek and rubbed her skin with his thumb, mumbling mindlessly, "My Songbird."

Eivor wouldn't have been surprised if she burst into flames with how warm those words made her feel. A declaration of devotion that he could finally voice, just for her. She regretted not having a nickname to parrot the sentiment. Instead she leaned into his hand, mischief leaking into her smile. "My obnoxious prick." Heimdall scoffed and shook his head, but he was still grinning back. "I say that affectionately," she added with a twinkling laugh.

Heimdall rolled his eyes, returning his hand to her waist so he could pull her into his chest. "Oh, sure," he quipped back.

She burrowed into his tunic, loving his scent in her nose, but she had to protest. It was getting uncomfortable. "I wish we could do this all night," she whispered to him.

With a growing smile he replied, "I have no complaints."

"Easy for you to say." Heimdall was thrown off, pulling back far enough to look at her and show his confusion, masking just a hint of concern. "You don't have rocks digging into your back," she chuckled, putting his worries to rest. He released her and stepped back, giving her space to move away from the unforgiving stone. Eivor lunged at him right away, closing the space he made to cling to him one more, wrapping her arms around his back and burying her cheek into his chest once more. He happily obliged her, placing his arms around her shoulders. It felt so right. Letting her get this close, allowing her to see what he felt for her. Eivor couldn't agree more, thinking it was such a privilege to earn enough of his trust to hold him like this, show him that she truly did care more than words could describe.

The moment was almost perfect. Almost. Heimdall sought to rectify that. "Sing for me," he breathed into the top of her head.

She had been waiting for him to ask, or at least give some indication that he wanted her to. He couldn't be totally comfortable with so much vulnerability all at once, after all, and she didn't expect him to be. She would, however, not let him off so easily, as always. "Maybe if you asked nicely," she teased.

Eivor was astonished at his reply. She imagined he must have been so lost in the moment, letting himself be so open that he didn't even bother thinking about snapping back. All he said was one word, spoken so quietly that she could barely hear it.

"Please."

She couldn't remember ever hearing Heimdall utter the word, not seriously. Yet here he was, so content and relaxed that it slipped out right away. It made her heart flutter, realizing he wanted to hear her sing to him so badly that he would be so sweet to her to get it. 

Slowly, she pulled back, beaming up at him, her eye contact giving him the opportunity to pick up on how pleased she was with his compliance. Honestly, he didn't even care that he did so without complaint. Not with her. Eivor took his arm and led him to the enormous brick at the edge. Heimdall rested his elbows on it as Eivor settled in beside him, her right hand reaching under his arm to take his left and lock their fingers together. The other moved across her torso to land on his bicep, her head resting on his shoulder. Her eyes closed and her voice rose up, filling the air with the most enchanting sounds Heimdall would ever hear in his life. He felt himself melt into her, bringing his free hand over to clasp hers, squeezing it tightly between both of his hands. He too closed his eyes. It was too ideal not to enjoy everything his sight — eyesight and foresight — could not capture. The rest of the sensations disappeared, the only thing he felt being her skin against his, her weight leaning on him, and the ever brilliant and gorgeous sound of her singing. It was the ideal respite. It was so wonderful. So heavenly. So…

So worth it.

Heimdal was so happy. 

Eivor had never felt so special.

The raven flew off. All-Father would be pleased.

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