peiskos-and-apricity

[peiskos-and-apricity]

Old Soul of Mine ~ [PT 1] So Close

Freyr x Reader

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Your feet fled swiftly across the moss-covered lands, strange trees and plants blurring past your vision as you created distance from you and the last tinge of familiarity you had left. Your heart raced not only because of your quick movements, but the dangers you were sure lurked around every corner. Hidden in shadows and waiting for you to stop, even for a moment. You had no direction besides forward, driven away mostly by the thought of any Aesir catching sight of you. For a brief moment you wondered if any would even recognize you; if your covered features were of any significance to any of them anymore. Yet you knew that you couldn't risk it. It wouldn't take long for the All-father to notice your absence and it would take practically no time at all before your likeness became imprinted into the minds of any Einherjar that tread these lands on a mad chase to find you. So you run for as long as your feet will take you, ignoring the blaring pain of the unending sprint. Your lungs burned, void of air, your legs seized, tired and torn. Even when your limit comes you push yourself further. All you wanted was to get away, get away, get away.

You finally collapse at the bank of a river, the running water doing little to hide your sharp breaths. You wheeze and gasp for air like you hadn't breathed a day in your life, coughing at the painful stinging in your lungs. For a while there is only this pain, only the burning. But then something happens. You collect enough of yourself to notice the feeling of grass touching lightly against your skin, of the short breeze that gently shakes the trees. And the sound. The light rustle of leaves and strange cacophony of all types of unknown creatures carried softly on the wind. Through heavy breaths you allow your hand to push into the ground, the warm dirt overwhelming your senses as it gives under the pressure. A sound leaves you, some strange broken version of a laugh as tears reach your eyes. You look up and see the water gently flowing, the beams of light reflecting in a way no painting or description could ever truly convey the feeling of. The air smells of Earth, the sun shines in its permanent brilliance, and you break under it all. Your heavy breathing devolves to a choked sound, tears flowing freely, moisture trapped behind sealed metal. You don't even allow yourself the dignity to stand and instead crawl towards the water, it's almost otherworldly sound drawing you in without a hope to resist. Soon you lay on the edge of a small hill, the stream continuing on just a hand's reach below. Your eyes lock onto something far from recognizable.

Your hair flowed long, falling as gently as water wishing to return to its home. What little you could see of your face aged in ways you'd never truly known the extent of. Your eyes catch only the slightest light in the water and it feels as if something else entirely is staring back at you. A stranger. You think you must be dreaming again, you had to be, of course you were. None of this could be real, not now, not ever. You would blink soon and it would be over, you were sure of it. Yet all the same the emotions swelled, the thoughts of who it was that stared back at you swirling unendingly. You dare to finally move, your hand reaching for the water-

Your body freezes at the sound of movement, reality crashing down on you so swiftly you might as well have tossed yourself in the water. You sit up immediately, turning to look behind you, heart somehow hammering harder against your chest. The sight that lies before you has each of your worst fears coming to life. A man loomed high above you, cold eyes looking down from his suddenly still position. His face is adorned in a heavy beard that falls into two braids with his head wrapped in cloth. He is built like the trees that surround him; tall and sturdy. Neither one of you move, the sounds of life dying at the sudden danger. The glint of a heavy sword shines hilted on his back. There is no friendliness to his gaze. In fact his gaze only judges, dark eyes held down on you, a dangerous look that tells you his intentions clearly.

In a split second you try to throw yourself into the water, screaming when his heavy grip snatches you back. He starts speaking, you think, but you don't hear the words in your panic. There's a blur of motion as you attempt to break away, your blood pumping so loudly it's practically all you hear. You manage to spring loose for just a moment when you bite into his hand, but you fall to the ground in the process, knocking the wind out of you for long enough that he can grab you again. When you're finally able to gain air back in your lungs it's far too late as he already has you over his shoulder. You try to scream again, but your eyes catch with a sword that freezes the very blood in your veins. And suddenly you do not doubt who holds you now.

A Traveler

“No” You whisper with all the devastation the realization brings you.

“No no NO NO NO! LET ME GO!” You plead, though you already know it's no use. Your father had already sent people after you, and you knew all too well that the travelers followed the path of your father's words almost as loyally as Heimdall himself, despite not knowing as such. Still, you couldn't bear the thought of having freedom ripped from your hands just as quickly as you'd gotten it. You didn't want to go into that dark hole again, you wouldn't. The man was silent as he began walking, the weight of it all barreling down onto you. You kicked and fought and screamed, tearing up whatever you could get your hands on, biting away at clothes and skin like a wild animal. But you were far weaker than you used to be, a pathetic imitation of a god. Though to your credit he was having quite a hard time holding you.

“Quiet! And stop moving!” He yelled at you, but that only spurred you on further, trying anything to escape your inevitable fate. You hear another voice yelling, now more than sure that you weren't making it out of this. But you struggle anyway because what is there left to do? Resign yourself back to a place you had tasted the blissful absence of? To give in now, so close to the start? Fueled by a terrified rage you scream your lungs out, wondering if maybe your broken voice could reach to the unknown and drag you to somewhere far from here. That if you were just loud enough, just desperate enough, that something might show pity.

You feel two hands take the side of your face in a sudden aggressive movement, your eyes meeting with a pure stranger. Long brown hair, covered in scars, a snarl on his face. But what you got caught on most were his eyes. Deep brown, pools of unknown that confuse you into a moment of silence. A strange comfort held in even the distain they show. Familiar, like you've seen them before. But then he whispers a word from his scarred lips, your body becoming suddenly heavy. You try with all the willpower you have left to fight it, but the abrupt weight placed upon your soul is heavier than any exhaustion you've ever known. It isn't long before your eyelids droop, your vision blurred until you can't bear to keep your eyes open any longer.

-

“So…wanna explain?” Freyr spoke, a bit bewildered by the strange situation set in front of him as he let go of the screaming stranger in his friend's grasp. Birgir huffed, trying to catch his breath as he set them down. He gestures to the stranger, drawing Freyr's attention to them as if it somehow was obvious.

At first glance they were already an odd sight. Adorned in high Aesir cloth but covered in all kinds of mud and grime made them all but common around these parts. No armor, no weapon, nothing. At least not visible anywhere. But what really drew the eye was the mask that covered their face. Intricate designs carved into a dark metal and held up by seemingly nothing. The sight was all around entirely out of the norm.

“Who…?” Freyr let the question hang in the air a moment, hoping that if he stared just a bit longer he might answer his own question.

“No idea, but they look Aesir” Birgir answered the question and Freyr crouched down to further observe the figure. Unmistakably Aesir, but so very far from home. They looked all but prepared for the Vanir warzone.

“They tried to run,” Birgir speaks again, the words grasping Freyr's attention immediately. An Aesir that ran? Now that was incredibly strange. Their entire ideology revolved around dying in battle, so to run from it was…well it was unlike any einherjar he had seen. Bloodthirsty, death-hungry creatures were all he'd seen in the invaders. Then again they didn't look like an einherjar either.

Almost absentmindedly he reaches for the mask that covers their face, hoping to get a better look at the stranger. He is surprised, however, when a shock runs up his arm. He pulls back almost instantly, cursing under his breath. This startles Birgir enough to get into a fighting stance, but when nothing further happens Freyr waves away his friend's worry.

“What do we do with them?” Birgir asks. A valid question, really, but not one Freyr has a solid answer for. He couldn't really explain this, and so he didn't have a direct course of action. But he didn't mind that too much. He wasn't known for his precise planning after all.

“Well they look important” he pondered for a moment, soon shrugging away the strange feeling that crept up his spine as he stared at the stranger.

“We'll take them back to camp. Maybe the others have any clue what type of Aesir this is,” is his final answer. Birgir nods and the two of them set off back to camp, stranger in tow. The walk isn't far at all and Birgir has no issues with the extra weight. They manage to make it back before the sun even begins to set. As always the others cheer at their arrival, but the extra baggage sends a sudden hush around the camp.

“Whatcha got there boss?” Lúnda is the first to speak, her curiosity dragging her out of the forge. The others crowd around just as quickly.

“An Aesir of some kind. We're not really sure though. I haven't seen anything like this” he announces, intrigue surrounding the group as they try to get a closer good look. Almost immediately Lúnda reaches for the mask.

“I wouldn't-”

“Ow! Mother’a- the fuck was that?!” Lúnda curses, shaking her arm as if that'd get rid of the feeling faster.

“Again, I don't know” he repeats himself. The two elves draw closer, both of them trying to make any sense of the stranger.

“They aren't equipped for battle…a healer, perhaps?” Beyla suggests, though it doesn't roll over well.

“They were on their own. No others in sight. Not at all wise for an unarmed medic” Birgir points out.

“Not to mention this is high Aesir garb. I've only seen clothing like this on the Aesir gods themselves” Freyr's words send a sudden silence amongst the group.

“Do you think this might be…?” Byggvir implies the question, a sudden deep realization setting in amongst the group.

“If they are, they aren't one I've ever met. And why would they have come out here on their own, unarmed?” Freyr tries to talk through the mess of contradictory information. None of it made any sense at all and it seemed as if they were only creating more questions the more they spoke about it. So much for his hope of clarity.

“Why bring them here?” Beyla asked, posture straight and tense, eyes suddenly narrowed.

“It's an Aesir close to our camp that seems to belong to no other group. Not knowing their purpose is already a threat. Plus I figured one of you might have a clue. Clearly not the case” Freyr answers her quickly, being sure to justify his discussion but not discredit her worry. After all this was a very credible threat to them all. Information is vital in war; an unknown variable is always the most dangerous.

“Perhaps it would be better to ask them? You know, when they are awake?” Byggvir suggests.

“I second that. We still have that tree here, don't we?” Lúnda head swivels as she stands, soon pointing out an old tree that holds only dark memories. A hollow trunk with heavy vines one spell away from trapping whoever they needed. Freyr grimaced at the sight, many a bad night playing through his mind. But what is one more bad memory in a sea of them? So he agrees, gesturing Birgir to the old part of camp where he settles the stranger. With a wave of Freyer's hand and a muttered word he sent the vines wrapping around the hollowed cell.

“What now?” Birgir asked. Freyr tried to ignore the haunting feeling that was beginning to grip at the edges of his mind, a bright smile hiding it away.

“It's your night, right?” Freyr asks and Birgir nods.

“Just keep an ear out, alright? I'll talk to them when they wake up” Freyr gives the order and Birgir nods again, taking on the task with a determination that Freyr could always count on. With a heavy pat on the shoulder and the night creeping in, it was time to rest. Tomorrow was sure to be eventful.

-

The first thing you feel is the deep, slow breath leaving your lungs. Each inhale of air expands your senses. You soon feel the cold beneath your skin, the smell of dirt and morning dew, and the sound of light chirping and chittering. Next comes the seething pain, the all-encompassing soreness that aches in every muscle. You try to move, managing to only pull yourself from the dirt and sit against a hard wall. Your eyes finally dared to open, fluttering awake with a weariness that begged for nothing but sleep.

Confusion floods your mind the moment you try to understand what you're looking at, the environment entirely unfamiliar. Your hands touch the walls, the coarse feeling of wood a stark contrast to the smooth stone you were used to. But the light is as dim as you remember, casting shadows more than lighting any surface. Your mouth is dry, a bitter cold creeping up your spine. When you reach out to grab a blanket in the darkness, but meet only dirt and rock. You can't comprehend what is happening, your brain entirely fogged with grogginess.

Suddenly you hear murmured voices, shadows dancing on more shadows. You can't understand what they're saying, you don't even try to. You're too caught up in trying to figure out why everything is suddenly so strange. You hear something similar to tearing, your eyes finally looking towards where your small flecks of light came from. There stood two figures clouded in darkness, murmuring words you couldn't hear. One leaves, the other remaining a looming figure in lamp light. Slowly he brings the lamp closer to his face until it brightens all of his features.

And suddenly it's as if the world came crashing back down into you. Your mind raced with the previous day's events, the memories speeding through so quickly it left you frozen in complete and utter shock. And at the end of it all, the face that flashed like an omen was him. His scarred lip, his dark brown eyes, his calloused hands and their tight grip on your very soul. It was as if you felt it all over again, the pure exhilarating taste of freedom ripped away by one softly muttered word. Your breath grew shallow, your body pushing itself into the furthest wall from him. Through all of this he did nothing but study you, light held forward to illuminate your very being. He almost felt like an omen of death.

That is, until he spoke.

“Who are you?” The words were commanding, not a request in the slightest. However those few simple words had the opposite effect of what he was going for when your mind came to a complete halt.

He…didn't know you? As in, had no clue who you were? He didn't know? He didn't know. If you were still in the grips of the Aesir such a question would be completely irrelevant. They would have to know who you were, or at the very least they wouldn't care. But to ask such a question? To be curious enough to need such answers? To not know them already?

“You're not Aesir” The words slipped from your lips almost absentmindedly as the conclusion reached you. It seemed your words didn't reach him well.

“Don’t play coy. Tell me your name” his voice knocks you back into the reality of your situation. You sat in a dark room closed behind an impossible door. Water dripped from subtle rain, his voice echoed across the walls. It was familiar, all too familiar. Your hands start to shake, your breath trembling with it. You say nothing.

“Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be” he commands again, if a lot less intimidating than before. You finally dare to meet his eyes, but are surprised when it is not terror or dread that finds you. He looks…concerned? No, it was more likely pity. A trick, you're sure, and not the first you've ever experienced. But even a false attempt at sympathy works to calm your nerves. You aren't in true danger, at least not yet. Somehow you find the will to speak.

“That isn't as easy a question as you might think” You try to hide the shakiness in your voice, face casting down to the dirt again to avoid the scrutiny of his gaze.

“I am a thousand names, and none of them are mine. I have no clue what you might know me as, or if my existence has reached you at all. Whatever answer I give you isn't likely to bring any more clarity than another” You hope the answer is sufficient because in all honesty your name was a distant memory to you. You can imagine the word, turn it in your mind, observe it. But it's as detached from you as your face is, a long-faded memory of someone that no longer exists.

“Then give me your best answer. Whatever name you're most known by,” he asks, his words catching your attention just a bit more. It's been so long since anyone had insisted on knowing you. Granted, it seems you've been captured by an unknown group in Vanaheim, so you imagined you did look quite out of place here. In fact with the brutal war that reigned over the area, you were surprised they didn't kill you the moment they saw you. A dangerous curiosity began to bubble under your skin, one that you tried to suppress with every breath. Now was no time to wonder. You were once again a prisoner at the whims of others.

So finally your name falls off your tongue like dead weight, a meaningless mix of noise you'd once forgotten the sound of. He seems to contemplate it for a long moment, perhaps trying to remember something he never knew.

“Why are you here?” He asks next. You hesitate once more. Would it really be best to tell this stranger the truth? You can't imagine anything good coming out of him finding out who you are. You know nothing of his intentions, his motive, who he even is. You could feel the teeth of death hovering over you, waiting to bite at the wrong string of words. But yet somehow that wasn't quite as terrifying as remembering the shadow of a one-eyed man reaching out his hand, begging you to come home.

“I…” you start, voice trailing off. Whatever string of deceit you conjured in your mind never made it to your lips. You suddenly felt so incredibly helpless. What words would get you out? What lies would it take? What did he want to hear? Answers you didn't have. You had been so used to walking around the sensitivities of your father that the prospect of using your own words left you with nothing but silence. When you look up again you aren't surprised to see his scrutiny hasn't left. He stares at your every movement, from your shifting eyes down to your uneven breath. You had never felt quite as lost as under the stranger's gaze, unable to give him a lie that you could believe enough to tell.

“It isn't that hard. You're Aesir, that much I can tell. The question is why are you so close to my camp, and so far away from home,” He kneels to your eye level, your breath catching as you suddenly realize just how at his mercy you are. His eyes are biting, burning, and stare sharp daggers into you. All sense of comfort they once held disappears in an instant.

“You obviously aren't equipped to be here. So what drove you all the way out here, hm? Came to get your fair share of blood? To take more of my people's lives with your own hands?” His tone grows harsh, accusing you so thoroughly that you feel your throat tighten. You push impossibly closer to the wooden wall.

“No” you answer him quickly, afraid that your silence might drive him into a further rage.

“I didn't come to hurt anyone” you continue, thankful when his look simmers down to disdain again.

“Did you come with others? Did they abandon you?” He asks quickly after, accusations seeping into every word.

“No, I came on my own” you try to further calm him, but he doesn't seem the least bit convinced as he stands.

“Then if you didn't come to shed blood, and you truly, and stupidly might I add, came on your own, then what business do you have here!” His voice raises and you flinch at it, your eyes shutting in some childish hope that what you can't see can't hurt you.

“I was running!” You finally answer in your panic, breath quick and senses heightened. You listened for something, any sort of sudden movement. But all you heard was heavy breath and your beating heart.

“From what?” he speaks into the silence. You tuck your head in your hands, your head spinning and your adrenaline pumping like you might die any second. You give no answer, already knowing you've said far too much. So close to freedom, so close. And now you're here again, begging that you might be spared to see another day of darkness and bitter cold.

“From what” he asks again, through gritted teeth and poorly hidden anger. But still you can't find the words. You had already told him too much, already given away your position. Any more and he might truly know who you are- what you are. So silence is the only answer you can give.

You hardly hear his footsteps as he walks away.

|Next Chapter|

[peiskos-and-apricity]

"Did anyone ever give anything back?"

Tw: blood and sadness

[peiskos-and-apricity]

I'm winding up before throwing a brick of depression at you guys. I hope you all are ready

[peiskos-and-apricity]

I'm aware it's been a while since the Old Soul of Mine's prologue came out, and that is purely because I'm busy re-drafting every scene ten times because I simply can't seem to find the tone and write Freyr correctly. However a new part should be coming out super soon! So as a peace offering I give you a small taste of what's to come. This is a few chapters down the line but I figured I might as well give you guys something a big juicer to snack on. Enjoy ;)

"He was never meant to do such things, never meant to experience such strife, never meant to lead. He was a poet in a past life, a traveler, a diplomat at most. But now? Oh how he wondered what Freya would say about what he had become. Perhaps she'd finally be impressed by him, perhaps she'd say for once that he used his blood sweat and tears instead of riding on his luck alone, perhaps this is what she wanted from him all along.

But then again maybe she wouldn't. Maybe she wouldn't even recognize him anymore, maybe she'd see him and wonder where he'd gone. Maybe he would never be her brother again. Maybe he deserved it. . ."

[peiskos-and-apricity]

"What gets bigger the more gets taken away?" (Santa Monica, give me my uncle back)

[peiskos-and-apricity]

Soooo what if.. potentially I host a Sindri themed art challenge later this year??? Working title is Sindri September. Still drafting prompts for it though.

Thoughts?

[peiskos-and-apricity]

for the fanfic ask: 24, 30, 31, 43.

Ayyyye, my fellow Sindri simp ;⁠)

24. What are some of your favourite tropes?

I love myself a good hurt/comfort. I'll eat it up every time. That and found family. If it has found family in it there is an 80% chance I'll enjoy it.

30. What do you struggle with most when writing?

Editing, every time. I can write pretty quick, and outlines are easy enough, but editing is what puts me off every time. It's just hours of re-reading and finding grammar mistakes and having to re-word sections that don't make sense/don't fit. I just wanna move on with the story but instead I'm trying to figure out another word for 'quick' or 'simply' and I'm losing my damn MIND-

31. Do you listen to music while writing?

Nope! Just complete silence if I can. Sometimes if I really wanna focus/other things are too loud I'll turn on some white noise, but other than that I'd rather it be as quiet as possible. It's easier to picture that way

43. What keeps you motivated when working on a long project?

It's the sunk cost fallacy for me. Once I get so deep into a project I just can't abandon it. I might drop it for a while, a few years even, but the idea of having put so much of my time into something only to leave it incomplete always gets to me eventually. It's part of why I tend to go through bursts of spending days or weeks writing and then not even thinking about it for months. The thoughts gnaw at the edge of my brain and I simply must return to toil in my mess of wips and editing hell.

[peiskos-and-apricity]

7 & 8 and 11 & 12

7. Is there a character or ship you'd love to write for, but haven't yet?

I've really wanted to write something for Thor for a while but I've had a rough time trying to figure out how to write him/having any ideas on a story for him. I've also been working on a Heimdall one shot for a hot minute (I think I'm at around 15k words rn?) but that's not going to see the light of day for a while. Trying to find a way to make Heimdall at all likeable without erasing his character and personality is just as difficult as you think it is. Once I'm finished with it I don't think I'll ever want to write for him again.

8. Who are some of your favourite authors in your fandom?

Back when I first started getting into the fandom there was someone writing for Tyr and for the LIFE of me I can't find them. It was a few years ago and I have no idea if they still even write for the fandom, but I have scoured through my accounts and I can't find them anywhere. But their stories were absolutely beautiful. Other than that I wouldn't say I have a favorite gow author. I don't typically read anything from fandoms I write for ^-^;

11. Share a favourite comment a reader has left you.

I don't wanna @ them in case they don't want the attention but you know who you are and I love you for breaking down my story like this <3

12. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

*sigh* overwatch. It was back in 2015 or 2016 I believe and they were bad. Like, horrifically bad. I posted them on Wattpad and took them down four or five years ago. I haven't deleted them just because they are my first fics, but I definitely never want them seeing the light of day ever again.

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15 and 16 :)

15. Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chapter fics?

It really depends. All of my stories start out with the full intention of being one shots, but when an idea really grabs me I simply can't stop writing about it. I enjoy one shots for their finality and enjoy actually having something finished but multi chapter fics allow me to delve deeper and add more nuance to things. Though typically I am a one shot writer through and through. The gow fandom is actually one of the very few fandoms I've ever made multi-chapter fics in.

16. Is there a type of fic you would never write?

Fluff. I just can't do it. I need the conflict and tension of something happening and fluff fics simply do not offer that. I enjoy reading them from time to time, but they are never my favorite.

[peiskos-and-apricity]

Fanfic Author Asks

Send me some numbers

How long have you been writing fanfic?

What's your shortest fic? What's your longest?

Tell me about one of your fics you think is underrated/underappreciated.

Longest period of time it's taken you to write one fic?

How many WIP do you have?

How do you come up with ideas?

Is there a character or ship you'd love to write for, but haven't yet?

Who are some of your favourite authors in your fandom?

Do you ever look at your stats on AO3?

What makes a fic 'successful' in your opinion?

Share a favourite comment a reader has left you.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

How many works have you published?

What's the average word count of all of your published fics?

Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chapter fics?

Is there a type of fic you would never write?

What is your most written pairing?

What's your most used additional tag?

Have you ever participated in any type of fandom challenge?

Has anyone written a fic to gift to you?

What year did you join your chosen fanfic posting platform? (AO3, tumblr, wattpad, etc.)

Do you reply to comments?

Do you leave comments when reading other people's fics?

What are some of your favourite tropes?

Have you written any AUs?

Do you have use a beta reader before publishing?

Does anyone you know in real life know you write fanfiction?

Have you ever made friends with people through your writing?

What's your most popular fic?

What do you struggle with most when writing?

Do you listen to music while writing?

What's a fic you'd love to write, but probably never will?

Do you ever read your own fics once they've been posted?

Are there any common themes you like to explore in your writing?

What's your fic with the saddest ending?

What's your fic with the happiest ending?

Do you have any older fics you would consider rewriting?

Are there any popular tropes/themes you'd never write?

What category do you mostly write for: M/F, M/M, F/F, Other/Multi?

Have you ever written a fic about an OC?

Have you ever written a reader insert fic?

How do you get over writer's block?

What keeps you motivated when working on a long project?

How often do you write?

Wild Card: Ask me something else

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Sorry Sindri.

A brief unnecessary continuation of this.

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hey guys have you ever heard of THE CHARACTER. i’m thinking about THE CHARACTER. honestly can’t even get shit done because i’m thinking about THE CHARACTER. i’m listening to a song and imagining THE CHARACTER. all i know and love is THE CHARACTER

[peiskos-and-apricity]

Just woke up to a comment saying I'm taking too long on my updates so they're gonna go ahead and feed them into AI since I "clearly have no interest in finishing them anytime soon" 🙃

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a writing competition i was going to participate in again this year has announced that they now allow AI generated content to be submitted

their reasoning being that "we couldn't ban it even if we wanted to, every writer already uses it anyway"

"Every writer"?

come on

[peiskos-and-apricity]

worlds slowest fanfic author tries really really hard

[peiskos-and-apricity]

Fated to Fall ~ Sindri x GN Reader [Pt 11]

Tw: none

Chapter Selection

Previous Chapter

-

In every direction you looked, it all shined with the most iridescent shade. Blinding, unstable, a blurred mess of light. You think you might have been running, but your world held so little direction now that you might as well be falling into infinite gold. Every sound is so unbearably loud that it somehow loops back around to silence. You are lost in this shining maze, unable to decipher up from down, let alone left from right. You just want to get away, to find any peace from the light. Anywhere else please, anywhere else. You want to scream but nothing comes. Then you drop-

You shoot up instantly, breath quick and eyes scanning to take in your immediate surroundings. It takes a moment of utter confusion and adrenaline before you manage to blink yourself back into reality. With a deep breath you rub your groggy eyes, allowing your heart to slow from that horrid dream your mind seemed to repeat over and over.

“‘bout time you woke up!” you are startled by the presence of a voice, your head quickly swiveling around before landing on none other than Brok. The only answer you give is a half-hearted groan of annoyance, still too groggy to give him much else. You hear him snicker anyway as he places down a myriad of tools. The sudden clank of metal makes you jump a little, managing to barely hide a wince at the loud sounds. It was a rare day indeed that you had hoped for quiet.

“How long was I asleep for?” You ask, a long yawn escaping not a moment after.

“Long enough” he answered vaguely, your irritation growing by the second. You let it leave you with a sigh, your eyes glancing at the tools that lay haphazardly on you. Carefully you pick them up from their places on both your lap and the floor, though you do have to look a bit longer than you'd like to find the small piece of wood you had been carving.

“Did you sleep well?” A voice calls, your entire body startled away from the unfamiliar sound. In one swift movement you look towards the voice, the unlikely face of Tyr meeting your eyes.

“Oh! my apologies. I didn't mean to frighten you” he speaks again, your nerves taking another long moment to calm before you're able to speak.

“It's fine” you answer, your voice still scratchy with sleep. You begin to put your tools away, though your mind becomes quickly distracted when you fully process Tyr's presence.

“Wait” you pause, turning back to him.

“You have returned already?” There is genuine surprise in your tone. It was a rare day that the boy and his father didn't end up losing themselves on some type of adventure when set loose upon the world. You had imagined they'd be gone for quite some time.

How long did you sleep for?

“Only me. They had their own things to attend to and I…” his voice trails, a look taking over his face that you can't quite place.

“had my own things to attend to” he finishes. You give him a side-ways look but when his eyes avert you figure it best not to ask.

“Well, that makes sense. It was far too quiet in here for Atreus to be hanging around” you make the snide remark with more teeth than you had expected, though you could easily blame that on the irritation your dreams brought you. Still, you didn't miss the way Tyr's attention peaked.

“Yes, the boy is quite a lot” he agrees and you just can't help but wonder what possible impression Atreus could have made to get such well-placed words from another war god. You snicker at just the idea of it.

“May I ask something of you?” Tyr inquires. You wonder if he is leaning closer to you on purpose, or if perhaps you might just be imagining it in your groggy state. Either way it unsettles you just a bit.

“If you need” you reply as you stand and stretch away your stiff muscles.

“I have been gone for some time from these lands and I have much to catch up on. I was wondering if you would be open to filling me in on what you know happened in my absence?” he makes the request and it gives you a second of pause. You eye him for a moment, unsure why he would ask you of all people.

“Wouldn't you rather ask Mimir?” You question him, eyes narrowing just a little as you do. Were they not good friends? But he only smiles and gives a dismissive wave of his hand.

“He is far too busy with the boy and his father” he counters, almost as if your response was a bit foolish. You try to ignore the bad taste it leaves in your mouth.

“Besides, I have no idea when they will return and there is nothing but time until then” he pushes, though the point is a valid one. Unless the dwarves gave you something to do, you didn't have much else to occupy your time either.

“Fine, if you insist. Though I must warn you that what I know of the last hundred or so winters is secondhand at best. I was focused far more on other things until recently” you warn him, perhaps holding out the hope that it might dissuade him in the slightest. It backfires when you see another flicker of interest enter his eyes.

“That isn't a problem at all. It is quite rare to hear first-hand stories of these things anyway. Come, you can tell me while I cook” his smile is wide as he begins to make his long strides over to the cauldron, his hand waving for you to follow. You shrug, accepting your fate as you follow him.

-

Sindri was sure, no, absolutely positive that if he had to stay in these frozen mountains for much longer he might just throw himself into the first fire he sees. It is lucky for him then that he had managed to find and cut away some more oak for the table. He had what he needed and was more than ready to leave this frozen wasteland behind for as long as he possibly could. Stepping between realms he began to finally feel warmth hit his skin again, his body shivering at the sheer difference in temperature.

When the dull purple path laid itself out in front of him he wasted no time shaking away the snow that had stuck to him before he began the short walk home. Despite the feeling of ice that seemed to creep its way down to his bones, he was grateful he went on this little expedition. His mind was much more clear than it was before, the frustrations of his life ironically melting in the cold wasteland. It was mere moments later that the beautiful (and might he say absolutely immaculately designed) home came into view. Entering the wide doors his ears perk at the sound of conversation. He steps further in, surprised to find you sitting beside Tyr with conversation flowing between the two of you. He quickly tucks himself into his shop so as not to disturb the both of you.

“So what is it you know of the giants?” Tyr asks, his voice bubbling with curiosity. There is a short but quite noticeable pause before you speak.

“That they are dead” you speak almost entirely deadpan. Sindri quickly notices that he has most definitely walked in on something and he can't help but listen in.

“Dead…how?” Tyr's voice is almost a whisper, his shock evident.

“Who else but the Aesir” bitterness bled into your tone down to the way your teeth bared as you spoke.

“I was of the assumption that at least some had survived, but Jötunheim is nothing more than a graveyard now. My mother survived for a while, but as it stands me and Atreus are the last of the known giants. And Thor, of course. Though I don't believe he counts” you explain yourself dutifully through your anger. Sindri couldn't help but be given pause at the new information.

“You're a giant?” Tyr asks the question Sindri keeps himself from interrupting with. The silence that follows is loud and as it draws on there is an almost never-ending growing dread. Sindri dared to peek out only to see your eyes locked deeply with Tyr’s.

“Tell no one of that” Your words are a biting warning. The worn god raises his hands in surrender.

“Not a word from me, I promise you” he swears. You nod, turning back to the work in your hands.

“I think I'm finished speaking, for now,” your voice cuts through, sharp and heavy in the suddenly tense space. Tyr nods.

“Of course” he turns back to the food he is preparing. Not wanting to look conspicuous Sindri quickly turns into the workshop and gets back to working on his table. He is surprised when a while later you show back up, body leaning on the currently unused workbench.

“You've returned” you call out to him. He's a little surprised by this, his eyes flickering to you for a moment before quickly turning back.

“Yes! And with just about everything I need to finish this” he answers you, expecting that you'd grow bored and walk away. Yet when you stay standing, eyes watching him in a way he couldn't ignore, he decides the silence is better filled.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks, back turned to you. It takes a moment longer than it should have before you answer.

“Well enough” you sigh your words.

“Do you know where Brok ran off to?” You ask before he can question your strange response. He is honestly relieved by the question though as he assumes you must simply be looking for his brother.

“He’s taking a nap upstairs” he answers quickly, almost sure that you'll leave now with the information you were clearly searching for. He's then agonized when silence returns again, your eyes still staring and warming his plated armor.

“...Did you need something?” He finally dares to ask as he turns towards you.

“No,” you answer plainly at first, only serving to confuse him further.

“Just curious about your process” You finish your thought, his breath catching as you did. Excitement bubbled like lava under his skin at the thought.

“I'm not bothering you, am I? I can leave if-”

“No!” He answers quickly.

“No! No, please stay! I'd love to show you” he lets his glee show, hands held in front of him as if to keep you in place.

There is a way you look at him at that moment, face soft and smile amused, your eyes gleaming with something, something, something. He can't place it, he can't name it. There is just something. His stomach twists at it, almost in rejection of it. But despite the way just your stare has sent his mind spiraling he still manages to muster up a smile back. He could not have imagined your eyes could grow warmer yet, nor the way it made his hands just a bit unsteady. He is completely baffled by the strangeness of it. Only when he manages to shake away enough of this strange feeling is he able to turn back to the project with enthusiasm. Yet the longer he worked, the more he felt your eyes dig into him, a constant pressure on his back as he wondered how much of what your eyes sought was his work and how much of it was him.

“You are far more delicate than Brok is” you speak up, his throat suddenly tightening at the sentence. Ah, so you were studying him. He couldn't quite tell how he felt about that.

“You've watched him work?” he somehow manages the words, still trying his best not to pay any attention to you.

“On occasion” you answer, not a care in the world in the way you spoke. There is a moment of pause when he moves on to the final part of the project. He picks up his tools before taking a slow turn towards you. Not a word passes the air as he debates whether or not he should even ask. The longer he waits the more interested your stare grows. Feeling his chest tighten he finally speaks.

“...Would you like to help me with this part?” He asks, his voice entirely unsure. He didn't even know why he asked-

“Sure” you answer quickly, pushing away from the table to join him without a second of hesitation. He was a bit baffled at the swift answer, not expecting you to even entertain the idea. But all the same, he handed you the tools.

“Here's the basic idea” he places a scroll on the table, the paper littered with detailed sketches. He feels his hair nearly stand on end when your eyes fall intensely onto the paper, hand tracing over the designs.

“You did these?” You ask, the question setting him on edge almost immediately. It didn't help how unreadable your face had become as you studied his work. He had never felt so…exposed.

“Yes, but they're only sketches- outlines really! They need some changes to fit where we need them, of course, and I'm sure more than a few are inconsistent-”

“They're beautiful” you mutter the words mostly to yourself, though he still clearly hears them. In fact he felt as if those words had shocked his soul still; completely confusing him. Of course they were beautiful- he'd made them after all! With his renowned skill such a simple compliment should truly be commonplace. A sentence to simply wave away with a quick thanks. But there is just this way your eyes burn across the page, absorbing details as if you would carve them into skin given the chance. It is wholly unfamiliar to him, an intensity no one has ever shown to the smaller details of his work.

“Oh! Well, I'm uh- I'm glad you like them!” He sputters out, utterly befuddled by the strangeness of you. He watches as your features soften again, that small smile showing through to once more throw him off of any attempt to understand this feeling. Hoping to somehow escape it he begins to carve.

-

You don't think you've found a dwarf quite so peculiar as the one knelt beside you, covered in flaked wood and with a concentration you could only dream to have. He was particular about his craft, careful to show you the ways in which he wanted the designs to bend and curl. Always perfect shapes built into bigger and better ones. There was an art in even the way he moved; careful and precise. Despite your frustrations with some of his strategies, and you were sure he had plenty of issues with yours, you could not help but admit how intricately beautiful the finished product was. He was a true master at his craft, if a bit stuck in his ways.

“Are you finished with yours?” He asks, and it's only then you realize you were staring. You blink a few times, returning from your thoughts before you answer.

“Yeah, I'm sure they'll need your finishing touch though” you answer him, catching the way his hands pause and his concentration cracks. You are still trying to find out what exactly causes his sudden stops, but you suppose you'd remain curious for now. Before another word can be spoken the doors swing open and in come the trio.

“Ah! Glad to see you back, young one. Come help me, won't you?” Tyr beckons Atreus.

“Oh! Uh, sure” the boy agrees quickly, taking no time in running off. Sindri finished what he was doing, standing confidently from his spot. He goes to check your work as you walk to greet Kratos at the workbench.

“I heard you guys had some trouble out there. How did it go?” You ask as you lean over the bench. His eyes meet yours for only a moment before turning again.

“Well…” Mimir speaks from behind him.

“We hit a few of the ol’ bumps and snags along the way, but we did find it” he continues.

“Hm” Kratos hums in agreement as he takes the head from his hip and sets him on the bench beside you. Brok rounds the corner just as Kratos pulls out his weapons for their not so scheduled tune-up.

“And what exactly did you find?” You ask Mimir, his face twisting in pure joy.

“Tyr hasn't told you?” He asks, curiosity practically brimming in his smile.

“No. He didn't want to talk about it. It's kind of why I assumed it didn't go well” you answer and he practically glows.

“Oh you'll love this one: turns out the giants have Odin runnin’ off a false prophecy! Or at least not a full one. Ol’ one-eyed tyrant doesn't have a clue what's gonnae happen” He speaks through a delighted chuckle, one that always managed to pull at least a smile from you.

“Really?” You speak, entirely amused.

“So what's the truth then?” You raise an eyebrow as you lean in.

“It's Asgard that falls. The other realms’ll be just fine…Minus the mass death and war and carnage, of course.” His answer leaves you stunned for a long moment before, gradually, a wide smile takes over your face.

“It's always good to know that bastard is getting what's coming to him-” Brok gives a subtle shove to your arm, grabbing your attention quickly. You turn to him only to see him pointing at his brother who, for some unknowable reason, was trying to drag the new table to its place. Brok snickers a bit as you try to make sense of it, your face twisting into a mixture of concern and confusion.

“Should I help him?” You ask, eyes unable to turn from the self-imposed struggle he had caused.

“Nah, he'll figure it out” Brok struggles through a laugh as Sindri pulls just a bit too hard, loses his grip and falls backward.

“Okay, but it looks like we'll be waiting to eat until he gets that table over there” you point out. Brok's face quickly sours at your words.

“Alright, alright” Brok grumbles before rolling his eyes and waving you forward. You hesitate a moment, not entirely sure what he wanted to do. He stares expectantly before very quickly growing irritated.

“We'll go on then! I got shit to do!” He ushered you out quickly and you didn't try to fight him on it. You walk over to where Sindri had just barely pulled the thing out of the shop, his labored breath and struggled grunts giving away his frustration. Without a word you lift the other side of the table. Sindri looks up from his side, eyes wide at the sudden lack of weight. He catches onto you before you gesture him to get moving. Without another word the two of you carry over the heavy thing and place it gently in its spot, placing it right next to the old one.

“Don't you have magic that could've helped with that?” You ask from your side of the table. He lets out a deep sigh as he catches his breath.

“I'm capable of a lot of things, but that isn't one of them” he answers to which you shrug. Fair enough. Can't know everything, you suppose. It isn't long before he's grabbing a brush to wipe down the already pristine table.

“Atreus! Eat” Kratos calls sternly from behind you, causing you to jump, your skin set aflame with the sudden scare. You find your composure quickly though, taking a seat nearby and preparing yourself to eat. Atreus comes quickly after.

“Oh! Careful, careful!” Sindri calls after Tyr, quickly placing a cooling tray on the nearby counter before the boiling pot burns it.

“Thank you” Tyr speaks as he goes to-

You lose your attention on him when Brok goes to throw the fire poker on the table you just helped make. You catch it quickly, just before it manages to hit the surface and you send daggers to the back of his head. You look back to find Sindri staring with relief. He nods and takes the poker from your hand before placing it back where it goes.

“Enjoy! Enjoy, my friends” Tyrs voice catches your attention again.

“Yeah,” Brok grumbles and you can practically feel the disdain in his voice.

“We'll see about that” he speaks a little louder, never one to keep his feelings to himself. His eyes don't tear away from the old god and you almost can't help but snicker at his noticeable contempt.

“Here you are” Tyr returns to place a blow in front of Atreus. He either doesn't notice Brok's stare or is simply ignoring it, but either way you find it amusing.

“A meal fit for a champion-”

“Enough” Kratos speaks sternly, stopping your movements altogether.

“I said we would speak no more of that” he continues, leaving you once more in the dark. Trying to find answers you slowly turn to look at him and immediately feel that something is off. Tyr stands straighter, seeming almost startled.

“Yes, of course. Didn't mean to offend” he complies with no complaint, seeming sincere in his apology.

“Uh, I'm not offended. It's just a word” Atreus blurts out. From the way Kratos’ nose crinkles you can tell that the boy is already on a path to saying something either entirely stupid or completely warranted.

“A word that clouds your judgment” Kratos argues, tongue sharp and tone ready to argue. Atreus stands and begins to walk.

“So…you really don't think it means anything? After the journey mom sent us on? Everything we saw in Jötunheim? What was it all for?” he wonders in a circle as he laments, but it isn't long before he returns to the table, eyes locking with his father's before he finishes.

“Don't you ever think about that?” His voice almost accuses him. Despite this outright questioning, Kratos remains calmer than you would have imagined.

“Everyday” he goes so far as to answer him outright. Your food is placed in front of you, but you can only spare it a glance as you wonder where this tense conversation might lead.

“But I cannot believe her purpose was to inspire you to take foolish risks” His words are succinct and purposeful and you know he believes them with every fiber of his being. It was a point you had never disagreed with him on.

“But what if the giants are counting on me-?”

“What giants?!” the harshness in his voice cuts through, your grip tightening at the sudden noise. His words only cut deeper with the unneeded reminder. A silence lingers in the air a moment, Kratos seeming to calm in it.

“I am counting on you. To be safe. To be smart” he speaks again, your chest twisting at the sincerity in it.

“But-”

“To use the judgment of a man and not of a child” he pokes, your eyes turning to catch the way Atreus’ eyes narrow and sharpen at the words.

“But what if Loki going to Ironwood is the only way that-” Kratos' slams his hands on the table standing in an instant and causing you to back up a little. Your breath catches as the air becomes almost unbreathably heavy.

“You. Are Atreus” he makes sure the boy hears every syllable of every word.

“My son” he spits out through gritted teeth and deep gravel.

“And nothing more” his voice falls to a whisper, the sound almost a plea after such fierceness.

“Do you hear me?” he finishes, the two of them not turning from each other for even a moment. You swallow heavily as you look between them, your stomach dropping when Atreus looks nothing less than furious. He throws his bowl with a loud clunk that makes you wince.

“I'm not hungry anymore” is all he responds with before walking off. You are surprised to see your father makes no attempt to stop him.

“Forgive me, Kratos. My words were chosen carelessly-” Tyr's words are left mute at the sound of Atreus’ door slamming. Kratos doesn't move for a long moment, eyes locked on the closed door. Feeling rather suffocated by the now impossibly tense atmosphere you finally find the will to speak.

“Care to tell me what any of that was about?” Kratos turns to you, his stare nothing more now than a familiar burning flame across your skin. He holds you there, pinned under his intense gaze before he too walks off. He doesn't speak a word as he leaves, slamming his own door behind him. There is a long, seemingly unbreakable silence that follows.

“...Well that apple didn't fall far, did it?” Mimir breaks the quiet but it does little to help you. You turn to see that Sindri has already left as well. At this rate you aren't even sure you're that hungry anymore.

“Do any of you know what that was about?” You ask the three of them. Brok shrugs as he once more slides Sindri's bowl over to himself.

“Beats me” is all he said before digging into his second portion, even with his minor disgust towards it. You turn to Tyr who just about looks as guilty as anyone could possibly look.

“Part of the prophecy had to do with a champion bringing the realms together. We believed it was me at first, but given my current state of affairs that isn't going to happen. Unfortunately the boy seems to have taken that to mean he was the most reasonable second option” he explains, the pieces of the scene now falling into place. As it did you couldn't help the incredulous look you sent his way.

“And you believed stoking that belief would be a good idea?” You ask, his eyes turning from you as he did.

“It wasn't my intention” he made his flimsy attempt at a defense and you could only cradle your head at the excuse. You let out a heavy sigh, unsure of what you'd be able to do about the ever-increasing tension being built.

“I’m sure it wasn't” you mumble before standing from your seat.

“I think I'm just going to excuse myself for the night” you speak up before beginning to walk away.

“Aye! Wait! Don't leave me with this bobble-headed bastard! Take me with yeh!” Mimir calls after you, desperation in his voice. You hear Brok chuckle quietly to himself and that alone is enough for you to double back and grab him.

“Never let me have no fuckin’ fun!” you hear Brok speak through a mouthful of food, but you pay him no mind as you make your way out the back door.

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@emmbny

[peiskos-and-apricity]

“Open your heart.”