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hereforreadandwrite · 5 months ago

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Chapter Seven

Masterlist

"I hope Freya is okay," Atreus said as he crossed the jungle of Vanaheim.

"She can care for herself," Kratos replied.

"We're still checking on her, though?"

"Her brother's forces are outnumbered. And there is much I owe her."

It is true that Freyr's gang was outnumbered. If Odin decided to send his troops, they would not be able to face it.

Freyr.

It is true that he can be unbearable and annoying at times, but he had always had a good heart. This idiot of a God who smoked strange herbs. You were brought out of your thoughts by noticing that the camp was empty. There was no one. You approached the fire, noticing that a pot was still on the fire and that the bowls filled with food had been left, barely started. They had left in a hurry. This was not normal. Kratos and Atreus also approached the campfire. They were just as puzzled as you were. A crack was heard, making you draw your weapons. You were back to back, carefully observing the surroundings, looking for the person or thing that was watching. Suddenly, the flames grew larger, forcing you all to step back. The flames and smoke dissipated, revealing a Vanir Archer that you knew all too well.

"(Y/N), Kratos, Atreus. A welcome reunion," the archer said, smiling at the trio and putting away his arrow. "Unexpected, but welcome."

"What are you doing here?" you asked, lowering your sword.

"Do you know him?" Atreus asked, puzzled.

"Yes. He's a friend, we're safe," you replied, looking at the archer. "You seem fine."

"You too. How long has it been? A hundred winters, my Lady?"

"Can't be… Is that who I think?" Mimir said as Kratos unhooked him from his belt so he could see the archer. "You shifty bastard! It's almost good to see you again. And for once in the shape of a man… or nearly."

"So that's how they got your head out of your ass," the archer commented, losing his friendly smile. "Maybe now you'll stop being such a half-blind, piss-drunk, oversexed liar. He was more of a pig than I ever was. Even if he calmed down a bit when lady (Y/N) came into his life."

"I do know you," Kratos said, giving the archer a stern look as he circled the campfire.

"Do you not recognize your handiwork?" he asked, revealing a scar on his side.

Realization struck Atreus as he saw the scar. That archer was none other than Hildisvíni. The boy turned to his father, asking him if he remembered the first time they had met Freya in the woods of Midgard, that man was none other than the boar they had hunted. Atreus' joy disappeared as he thought back to the moment he had shot an arrow at him. He looked at Hildisvíni, apologizing for that time. Hildisvíni contained himself from smiling at that.

"Freya's boar," Kratos commented, remaining on guard.

"Her Advisor and friend," Hildisvíni said, taking a step towards Kratos who took a defensive stance. "Counselor to the Vanir. And yes, while exiled at Midgard, was trapped in my boar form."

"No wonder you got hit by an arrow," you commented, chuckling and approaching Hildisvíni. "And only one."

"Haha. It's true that I had to run away from several," he replied, laughing a little before looking at Atreus. "And you succeeded that time."

"At my command," Kratos replied.

"No. My Arrow. My mistake," Atreus replied.

"Forgotten," Hildisvíni reassured before heading towards the camp exit with the trio. "Vanaheim needs our help more than ever. Even Mimir's. Come."

"Where is Freya? She came here to help her brother," Kratos said perplexed by the absence of Freyr and his men.

"She leads the search party for Freyr and Byggir. They've been captured by the Einherja," Hildisvíni explained.

"How'd that happen?" Mimir asked surprised.

"An ambush. Their presence has intensified since you last visit. To make matters worse, the Celestial Wolves haven't seen in days or at least I assume. Not easy, tracking time woth no moon in the sky."

You felt your heart collapse and your stomach tighten upon hearing the news. The Wolves had stopped their endless races? The moon had disappeared? A blow from Odin, you were sure. How had he managed to steal the moon? You were taken out of your thoughts when Hildisvíni took another path, probably to go find Freya while the three of you took care of going to see Skoll and Hati.

The jungle of Vanaheim was invaded by creatures who tried to stop you, without success. Once arrived in Skoll and Hati's den, Kratos, Atreus, Mimir and you noticed that the two Wolves were sleeping, pressed against each other. You knelt down in front of them. Now that the moon was absent, they were no longer going to join the sky. There was only one thing left for you to do, put the moon back in its place, much to Mimir's dismay. Kratos indicated that the neighboring village housed a warrior camp. A real fortress to hide their loot. As you followed the father and son, you couldn't help but be worried. Your premonition was happening. The boy was talking about a fresco. So it was written? Did Tyr know this was going to happen? What was your role in all this? Did you even have a role in all this?

Tyr.

Why did he leave so many questions unanswered?

You pulled yourself together when you heard Einherjars. They were guarding the entrance to the village. You focused on the battle that followed. Killing the enemies with the help of Kratos and Atreus. Once you entered the abandoned village, all three were greeted by a female Einherjar who teleported further into the village, guiding you to the abandoned fortress. Surprisingly, there were no Einherjars, nor any other enemies. The box containing the moon was placed prominently in the middle of the ruined room. It was too prominent.

"This is DEFINITELY an ambush," Atreus commented.

"Yes," Kratos replied, drawing his axe.

"They're coming," you said, getting into position.

Several Einherjar appeared, determined to stop the trio from reaching the box. These were the strongest warriors Odin had sent. He was determined to keep the moon sealed. Why? To prevent Ragnarök? To stop Hati from devouring the moon? Why?

Your questions were abruptly interrupted by the feeling of an Einherjar grabbing you from behind, his hand clamped over your mouth. You struggled, trying to free yourself from the grip of the Einherjar who was trying to forcefully pull you out of the fortress.

"Daughter!!" Mimir cried out as he saw you in a bad position.

Kratos quickly turned to you. He wasted no time. He summoned Draupnir, throwing it at the Einherjar man's head. He collapsed to the ground, dragging you down with him. Atreus rushed to your side, pushing the corpse before helping you sit up.

"Are you okay?" Atreus asked worriedly as you coughed.

"Yes…," you said between coughs, perplexed by what the enemy had just done. "I'm fine… I… I didn't expect this."

"What about me!" Mimir exclaimed in panic. "Are you sure you're okay? Nothing broken? Brother! Give him a healing stone!"

"I'm fine, Father," you said, standing up as Kratos unhooked your head from his belt so he could see you. "See? I'm fine. No need to panic."

"That bastard Einherjar tried to kidnap you. Of course I'm panicking!" Mimir exclaimed.

"Why did he do that?" Atreus asked in puzzlement.

"If one tried that, others will try to kidnap you too," Kratos said sternly, hooking Mimir back onto his belt. "Why? Do you know something we don't?"

"What would I know? I don't know any more than all of you. But… if Odin got wind that I came out of hiding…"

"Shit!" Mimir exclaimed. "That old fogey. He can't leave you alone. Forgive me, (Y/N)… it's my fault. Uh… I completely failed in my role as a father and protector. I'm so sorry…"

"What's this story?" Kratos asked, looking at you sternly.

"It's… complicated… and besides, we don't have time to discuss this. The moon is our priority," you said, looking towards the box containing the moon.

"She's right," Atreus said. "We have to hurry."

"This story isn't over," Kratos said, looking at you sternly.

You nodded slightly before picking up your sword. That old fogey Odin. He was still as obsessed with you as ever. You couldn't remember a day when Odin hadn't sent his stupid ravens to spy on you or him, who was trying to coax you. You felt a shiver of disgust run through you and your stomach twist.

"Ready to put the moon back where it belongs?" Atreus asked, making you come out of your thoughts and heading towards the box. "Okay, yeah. That's a weird thing to say…"

You shook your head, patting your cheeks. You had to stay focused. You took a deep breath before following Kratos and Atreus to the box containing the moon. But, before either of you could retrieve the box, the Einherjar warrior appeared, grabbing the box before teleporting away. Atreus quickly started to pursue the warrior, forcing you and Kratos to do the same. But the three of you had run into a second ambush. You couldn't help but curse as you fought the Einherjars. Some of the warriors focused more on you. No matter how much magic and techniques you used, there were three of them against you. Atreus and Kratos came to your aid, helping you eliminate the last enemies.

"She's gona again! Hurry, we gotta get accross!" Atreus shouted as he saw the warrior flee.

The chase was long and exhausting. But in the end, after sending all the enemies back to Helheim or Valhalla, you finally managed to retrieve the box containing the moon.

"It's cold," Atreus said as he took the box. "Is this…? It's from Helheim. Heimdall must've Grabbed this while I freed Garm. I was there. But… I… I didn't know."

"Heimdall is deceitful, you couldn't have done anything if you had known about Odin's plans," you replied to Atreus.

"And now you fight to undo the damage. Your guilt is misplaced," Kratos reassured as he placed his hand on his son's shoulder.

"Yeah… no, you're right," the teenager replied.

"We can return to the den through here. They will pursue. You two, keep your guard up."

Now that the moon was in your hands, the three of you headed back to Sköll and Hati's den to give them the moon back. But despite this good news, you still had butterflies in your stomach. And Atreus, it wasn't any better.

"But what if, by doing all this… what is we're Walking straight into Ragnarök?" he asked nervously. "Isn't there any way to avoir fate? Your fate? What if we can't stop you from-"

"Would you turn upur back on the wolves? On this realm?" Kratos asked as he arrived at the wolves' den. "Remember our agreement."

You looked at the father and son perplexed. What were they talking about? Although, their motivation to avoid Ragnarök was none of your business. Even you didn't want Ragnarök to happen.

Sköll and Hati were still sleeping against each other. Atreus looked at you and Kratos before taking the box out of its pouch, placing it on the ground, in front of the Celestial wolves. He drew his knife, swallowing before taking a deep breath before sticking it in the box. The moment the box was broken, the wolves woke up. Hati growled and salivated as he saw the moon come out of the box. The moon rose into the air. The sky turned red, the surroundings darkened. The moon had placed itself in front of the Sun, forming an eclipse.

Like in your dream.

Like on the fresco that Atreus and Kratos had seen.

You saw Sköll and Hati approach the edge of the cliff, watching the eclipse carefully. Atreus unhooked his bow and took an arrow, aiming at the moon. The boy felt doubt invade him. He lowered his arrow, watching his father panic.

"If I do this…"

"Fate only binds you if you let it," Kratos said, placing his hand on Atreus' shoulder, trying to reassure him. "Do what is necessary. Not because is written."

Atreus took a deep breath, nodding slightly. He cocked his arrow again, aiming at the moon before firing his arrow. Seeing the arrow go, Sköll wasted no time in chasing the arrow, splitting the sky. The Sun began to flee from the wolf, giving way to night. You placed your hand on the teenager's shoulder.

"Good choice, little boy," you said, patting his shoulder.

Atreus gave you a weak smile. Hati walked past the group, returning to his den for bed. Not without leaving a gift, as a thank you.

"Well… hell of a gift," you commented, observing the object Kratos picked up.

"Do you know what this is for?" Kratos asked, looking at you.

"Oh. That. It just helps you control the day," you replied, shrugging. "If you use it, you can ask Hati to chase the moon or Sköll to chase the Sun."

"Say it more casually, daughter," Mimir said with a sigh. "Well, now that we've put the moon back in its place, how about we go back to Hildisvíni?"

"Good idea," you said as you stretched before setting off towards Freyr's camp with the father and son. "Freyr still needs to be saved."

"Let's not hang around," Kratos said as he took the lead of the group.

The group made it back to Freyr's camp without too much difficulty. Once back at the camp, the three of you were greeted by Freya and Hildisvíni. The Vanir Goddess was relieved to see you again and in one piece.

"Kratos, Atreus, (Y/N). That eclipse was your doing, I take it?" she asked as she approached Kratos, holding out her hand, which the Spartan shook. "Thank you for coming. Byggir used the diversion to escape."

"What about your brother?" Atreus asked.

"We know where they're holding him now. Beyla's already prepped the explosives. If you're with me, we can leave as soon as you're ready. (Y/N), are you coming with me?" Freya asked as she looked you over.

"Yes," you said, nodding slightly.

"Daughter. I… I don't think that's a good idea," Mimir said. "Don't forget that the Einherjar are after you."

"What happened?" Freya asked as she looked you over puzzled.

"Some Einherjar tried to kidnap her," Kratos said.

"What?!" Freya exclaimed in surprise before quickly approaching you to examine you. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes," you said, removing Freya's hands from your shoulders. "Nothing more than scratches from the fights."

"It would be best if you stayed at camp, Lady (Y/N)," Hildisvíni said as she approached. "If the other Einherjar try to kidnap you in the middle of a battle, we won't be coming to help you."

"So what? I should stay away?" you asked annoyed.

"No," Freya said as she placed her hand on your shoulder. "You're going back to Sindri's house. We trust you and we know you can defend yourself, but… we can't risk you getting kidnapped while we're helping Freyr. If anything happens to you and you're taken by force to Asgard…"

You sighed, frustrated, nodding slightly. Freya sighed, taking your hands in hers, telling you that you had already helped a lot by retrieving the moon with Kratos and Atreus and that she was very grateful to you, but she didn't want to risk your safety. You nodded slightly before leaving the group to head towards the door leading to Yggdrasil. You went through the door, arriving in front of Sindri's house. You went to lie down on the bench, putting your arm over your eyes.

The moon that was stolen.

The eclipse that took place.

Your premonitory dream that happened.

The Einherjars who are determined to kidnap you.

This was all really strange.

What could Odin have in mind?

Why did he want to retrieve a strange mask?

Did he want Ragnarök to happen?

You lay on your side, your gaze lost in space. Now that your premonitory dream had taken place, what was going to happen? It seemed that Ragnarök was coming soon. Was it inevitable? What was your role in all this? Should you participate in Ragnarök? Should you stay behind? If your Tyr was still the same, what would he have told you? What would he have advised you to do? You sat down, staring at the ground. You were lost. Tyr was no longer the Tyr you had known. The boy had set off the most disastrous events, even though he seemed to realize that he had done things he shouldn't have done and was trying to make up for it by fixing his mistakes.

"Is everything okay, (Y/N)? Where are Kratos and the others?"

You looked towards the man you were thinking of: Tyr. Your husband looked at you worriedly as he sat down next to you. You straightened up, sitting down as well.

"They're busy saving Freyr. He and a Light Elf were kidnapped by Einherjars," you explained, crossing your legs in a lotus position. "Freya told me to come back here. The… the Einherjars… tried to kidnap me."

"What?! On Odin's orders?" Tyr exclaimed surprised.

"It's quite possible," you said with a sigh. "I helped Kratos and the little boy put the moon back in the sky, Sköll and Hati have resumed their hunt."

"That's… good news," Tyr said.

"You don't seem very convinced," you said, looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

"No! No, it's a good thing the Celestial Wolves have resumed their hunt. But… if Odin is trying to bring you back to Asgard… that's not good."

"Hmm. That old fogey has always been like that… When he's obsessed with something, he has to have it at all costs," you said, rubbing your hands together, looking at Tyr out of the corner of your eye. "But… you seem to know a lot about this mask he's looking for. How come?"

"Some Giants who saw it in their visions told me about it. And Odin was already obsessed with this mask for a long time," Tyr explained. "As I said, he imprisoned and tortured me for this mask."

"So why did you never tell me about this mask?"

"(Y/N)… I know Odin's obsession with you and this mask. I only wanted to protect you. To preserve you from Odin's perversion towards you. He took your wings, he deprived you of me, of your parents, of the Valkyries. Do you really blame me for wanting to protect you?"

"I blame you for not wanting to fight anymore," you said, looking at him sternly. "You just hide in your closet like a scared child. You don't fight for what you believe in anymore. I know I feel unfair. You've just been freed and you're being asked to take part in a war, but… We need you. Everyone needs you. I need you. I need the man I respect and love to come back and lead us like he always did. I need that man. That God of War who fights for what's right. I never asked you to fight for me. Fight for all these people who believe in you."

"You… believe in me? Even though I was such a coward?"

You sighed, getting up from the bench, moving a little away from him.

"I… I don't know if I can believe in you. I… I need proof of your good faith," you said before turning to him. "You can't hide in a closet anymore and hope that others will take care of the problems without you having to act. We need you, the God of War of his Nine Realms."

Tyr nodded slightly, getting up from the bench to approach you. You felt your stomach twist when he placed his hand on your cheek, his thumb caressing your cheekbone.

That unpleasant feeling again.

You swallowed hard, getting ready to speak when the door to Yggdrasil opened to reveal Freya helping a struggling Freyr walk. Seeing them, you quickly moved away from Tyr to help Freya carry her brother inside the house.

"Little Valkyrie," Freyr greeted, a smile on his lips despite the pain that was pulling at him. "I'm glad to see you again."

"Glad to see you're still alive," you said, laughing slightly. "Where are Kratos and Atreus?"

"They won't be long. They're safe," Freya said, setting Freyr down on the chair. "(Y/N), can you heal him while I prepare some herbs?"

"Okay."

Freya thanked you, going to the room containing the herbs. You tended to Freyr, lifting his top to see his injuries. Luckily, he wasn't seriously injured. You used the techniques Eir had taught you. Freyr grumbled a little, but he didn't have time to say anything before you gave him a stern look that silenced him.

"You're very lucky," you said as you put his top back on properly. "Just a cracked rib. You have a chance that a dead man would love to have."

"I've always been lucky, little Valkyrie," he said with a chuckle before holding his sore side.

"A chance that's a poise," you said as Freya came to sit next to her brother, giving him a glass filled with water mixed with several kinds of herbs.

"Here Freyr. Drink and let the herbs work."

Freyr took the glass, drinking the contents. You sighed as Freyr began to ramble and tell you how much he missed you and Freya. That the last time he saw you, you were just a little girl he carried on his shoulders to tour Vanaheim. Especially the time he took you with him, without telling your parents and the Valkyries, to take you to Alfheim to introduce you to the Elves and show you around the Kingdom. You couldn't help but smile slightly when he reminded you of this memory.

When you were six, Freyr had decided, without consulting Sigrun and Mimir, to take you with him to go to Alfheim. He had introduced you to the Dark Elves and the Light Elves. He had shown you the sanctuary and the famous light of Alfheim. That day had been one of the most fun of your life, even if you hadn't understood before why your parents had been so upset when you had returned to Asgard with a Freyr all happy to have been the nicest uncle in the Nine Realms for taking you to see Alfheim. It was that time that you had met the Dark Elf Beyla and the Light Elf Byggvir.

"Is Byggvir okay?" you asked looking towards Freya.

"Yes, he wasn't hurt and he found Beyla."

"I'm happy for them. At least Beyla found her husband…"

Freya put her hand on your shoulder, glancing at Tyr who went back into his closet.

"You still don't trust him?" Freya asked quietly.

"He… he really makes me uncomfortable," you said quietly. "My gut tells me to stay away from him."

"Did he try anything?"

"Once… but he saw that I didn't like it and he stopped. That Tyr… he's not my Tyr… I… I don't know what Odin did to him to break him, but… there's something wrong. Everything I tell him, I feel like it doesn't affect him. That man… he's not my husband."

"Husband?!" Freyr exclaimed loudly, looking at you as if a second head had just grown on your shoulder. "You… You're married?!"

"Yes."

"Who?! When?!"

"Hmm… Tyr is… Tyr is my husband, Freyr. We've been married for a long time," you answered uncomfortably.

"Tyr?!" Freyr exclaimed in surprise. "Ooooh by the Norns…"

"Try to rest, Yngvi. Let the herbs work," Freya said, placing her hand on her brother's shoulder.

"Oh, they work. Oh they, they work very well. 'Cause you make things better."

As Freyr rambled on about the herbs, Kratos and Atreus entered the house. Without a word, the Spartan walked over to the table, setting Mimir down on it before setting down the Gjallarhorn. You approached the table, looking at the object with a stern look. If Kratos was in possession of this object, it only meant one thing.

Heimdall was dead.

And now that they had the Gjallarhorn in their possession, Odin was at a severe disadvantage. Asgard would no longer be able to rally the Aesir for Ragnarök.

"You really did it," you said, looking at Kratos.

"How in all the Nine Realms did you manage to kill Heimdall?" Freyr asked, a small smile on his face as he leaned on the table and glared at the Greek God of War.

"I knew ou spear would do the trick," Brok exclaimed loudly. "Well happy Ragnarök, everybody! Let's drink!"

"Is it true? Heimdall's dead? I can't Believe it," Tyr said bitterly as he walked over to the fireplace, a dark look on his face. "There's no stopping it now. Odin swore peace only so long as you spilled no more Aesir Blood."

"I refused that deal," Kratos replied.

“Yet he honored it. But now…”

“But what?” Freya asked, looking at Tyr irritated. "You and I know better than anyone that Odin's promises never last. We have the advantage now. It's time to bring him down."

"No," Kratos said firmly, attracting the attention of Freya who looked at him surprised.

“None of you understand what's coming,” Tyr said. "Odin's vengeance will be his only concern."

"Not his only concern," Atreus said, drawing everyone's attention to himself. "The Mask. Whatever knowledge it unlocks that's what Odin wants more than anything. If I go to Asgard, I can use-"

“Go back?” Kratos said sternly, turning to his son. “Go back?”

"Look… If I can finish what I started there, awaken the Mask, get answers… maybe that's our way outta this. But I've gotta go soon, before they figure out what's happened."

"Atreus… you are home," Kratos said as he approached his son. "Don't ask me to put you at risk again."

"He's at risk where he stant, Kratos," Tyr said. "We all are."

"Aything we do, r don' d, is Dangerous right now," Atreus said as he followed his father who had gone to the fireplace. "But Odin needs me. He trusts me. I'll be safe there."

Kratos, like almost everyone else in the house, wasn't really convinced. Even you weren't convinced. All of this left a bitter taste in your mouth. Atreus turned to Mimir, asking him if from a "strategic point of view" he was wrong. The head sighed, admitting that it didn't like it too much, but that it was the best thing to do. Dividing Odin's attention would buy time. Tyr continued, saying that they would also have eyes in the enemy's holy sanctuary.

"He's still a child," you thought, tapping your finger on the table. "But… if there is truly a source of infinite knowledge… Odin can't have this."

"And once Odin has what he needs form you-," Mimir said before being interrupted by Atreus.

"Then I lose my leverage. I get it. I'll be smart," he said before turning to his father. "Father. I can do this."

Kratos sighed, turning to Atreus. The God of War placed his hand on his son's shoulder, telling him not to forget their promise. Atreus smiled, placing his hand on his father's forearm, nodding slightly, telling him the same thing. After that, Atreus walked away, heading towards the door to leave Sindri's home.

You sighed, grabbing the tankard from Freyr's hand to drink its contents in one gulp. All this was giving you a headache. Sending a kid to Asgard, to Odin no less. All this was beyond you. Was it really the only solution? But if it would end Odin's reign. You sighed, running your hands over your face when you saw Tyr discreetly return to his closet. As always, since his release, he was going to lock himself in that damn closet. You sighed, placing the glass on the table before going to your makeshift room. You settled down on this uncomfortable bed, leaning your back against the wall.

Gods, you had had enough of this situation.

You just wanted to go back to isolate yourself in your house and sleep in your bed. You wanted to take a bath and relax. You were brought back to earth by Freya. The Goddess had just entered the room, closing the door behind her before coming to sit next to you. Neither of you spoke. A rather awkward silence. You looked towards the window, observing the strange mushrooms that were wandering on the branches of Yggdrasil.

"How are you feeling?" Freya asked, finally breaking the silence.

You remained silent, not knowing how to answer this question.

How were you?

It had been a long time since anyone had asked this question.

"I don't know, Vanadís…"

"I know what you feel. Even if… you feel like you're alone in the world. That no one can understand your pain. Believe me, most of the people here can understand you. I understand you," he said looking at you, taking your hands in his. "(Y/N). You're not alone anymore. We're here for you. But I just want to know one thing, when did you and Tyr get married?"

You sighed as you looked at Freya a little bit confused by her question.

"Why are you interested in this story? It's in the past."

"It must be said that Tyr had never shown any interest in marrying him. And he was only traveling before Odin captured him. And you too, you had never looked at men. You were just training with my sisters and learning everything Mimir could teach you. You even said that you saw no interest in marriage."

"It must be believed that people change with time."

"Yes, it must be believed."

You sighed, taking your hands back to run them over your face.

"We got married over a hundred winters ago. Tyr helped me… he saved me when I was at rock bottom. I… I can see that he's also at rock bottom, but… he does things he would never do in normal times. Being so terrified of Odin, letting a child go to Asgard for a chimera… And he's always hiding in that damn closet. I've tried to get in there, you know. I wanted to confront him. But the door was locked. I tried several times, but every month, at a certain precise moment, the door is locked."

"Maybe he wants to… handle things his way," Freya tried to reassure.

"I don't know. I don't recognize him at all anymore. To be honest. I feel like I have an imposter in front of me."

Freya sighed before standing up to pour water into a glass before putting herbs in it. You watched her do it when she handed you the glass of water.

"It's just like last time. It'll relax you and help you rest. These last few days have been quite stressful."

"Thanks," you said as you took the glass.

"Try to rest. We're going to need all our strength soon."

After that, Freya left the room, leaving you alone. You swirled the water in the glass before drinking it in one go. You lay down on your makeshift bed, staring at the ceiling, letting the herbs take effect. You felt your muscles relax, your heartbeat became calm and regular. You closed your eyes, letting sleep take you.

You were woken up the next day, with a bang, by Brok who pounded on your door, announcing that the little boy had returned. You got up quickly upon hearing the news. Atreus had returned? Had he succeeded? You came out of your room to see the teenager was there, that he was fine and that above all, he had the mask with him.

The mask was real.

"I got the mask back," Atreus announced, smiling and showing the mask he had in his hands.

“You’re back!” Tyr said as he finally left his closet. “Are you okay?”

"I'm fine. I just hope unlocking this thing was Worth the cost," said Atreus looking at the mask in question.

“You have it!” Tyr exclaimed when he saw the mask the boy was holding in his hands. “What did it show you?”

"I didn't get to use it. They found out about Heimdall. I had to run. But least Odin can't use it either!"

"But… if you didn't get any answers form the mask… all you've done is steal Odin's greatest treasure. Just after your father"s killed his most loyal ally."

“So much the better,” you said, approaching Atreus. “Odin stole a lot of things from us. It’s only fair. After everything he’s done to us.”

"(Y/N)), do you realize? None of us are safe. Even here,” Tyr growled.

“So we have no choice,” said Freya determined. "We find Surtr, sound Gjallarhon, and bring Odin to justice. Now."

"You'd incinerate every soul in Asgard and call it self-defense?" Tyr asked sternly.

“Does he ever suggest plans or just crap on everyone else’s?” Freyr asked, giving Tyr a perplexed look.

“The obvious plan is staring you in the face!” Tyr growled. "We don't need Odin to use this. We can slip into Asgard and do it ourselves, right Under his nose."

"What are you talking about?" you asked, shooting Tyr a murderous glare. "There's no way to get into Asgard without someone noticing."

"(Y/N)'s right," Sindri said.

"They got the nig horn, don't they," Brok replied.

"Oh, so you expect them to SNEAK into Asgard, blowing a horn that souns across all the realms?" Sindri asked, perplexed by this shaky plan.

"I expect you to bite my blue buttcheek!"

"Please. Just… think about it."

"This is ridiculous," you said under your breath. "We might as well head to the great hall and surrender to Odin. It will be exactly the same.”

“That’s enough!” Kratos said in his authoritative voice before putting Mimir on the table to take the mask. "This mask… the easy answers that it promises. I know this… shortcuts always have a price. Atreus, you have carried it. What do you think?"

Atreus sighed, taking the mask back in his hands.

“At worse, we'll have something Odin wants as leverage,” he said, looking at the mask. "At best, if it really gives us all the answers, then we can make our own path… and nobody has to die."

"Grand. Now all we need's a way to Asgard," Mimir said.

"I… I know I've been a burden to you all…," Tyr said as he stood up from his seat, drawing everyone's attention to him. "I know you've questioned why you even pulled me out of that hole. I have too. But it's clear now."

Tyr walked around the table, approaching Kratos.

"This is what I'm needed for. This is my purpose. One last time," he continued, stopping near the Spartan. "I will pick up my spear and I will lead us to Asgard."

You couldn't help but look at your husband, surprised by what he had just said. Even Freyr and Freya were surprised by his behavior. At one point, he wanted to avoid a war at all costs and now, he wanted to lead you all to Asgard and take up arms? What was wrong with him anyway? Brok snorted, clearly also irritated by the attitude of the Norwegian God of War.

"'Scuce me… but if you got a way to Asgard, where's that idea been this whole fuckin' while?" Brok asked angrily and approached Tyr

Brok wasn't wrong. If Tyr knew all this time how to enter Asgard, why had he kept it a secret?

"You… withheld Asgard?" Kratos asked between his teeth, irritated by this news.

"Why did you hide such important information?!" you exclaimed angrily.

"He would have gotten us all killed. (Y/N). I only thought about your safety. And we needed to give Loki time to find his destiny. Here it is!" Tyr explained as he took the mask. "It's all led to this."

"Bullshit," you said between your teeth and walked away.

No matter what Tyr said and no matter what he did, you couldn't believe a single word he said. You leaned against the wall, the group continuing to discuss their invasion of Asgard. You and Brok seemed to be the only ones perplexed by Tyr's behavior. When the discussion was over, Tyr walked away from the group, still holding the mask in his hand, which didn't please Brok who hurried to stop him.

"Slow down, y'damn spruce," he said as he got in Tyr's way. "I still want to hear the details on this, uh, new way to Asgard you got. Spill it!"

"It's an ancient path. We can't reach it from here," Tyr quickly replied as he tried to reach his room, but Brok quickly got back in front of him, stopping him from going any further.

"Where then?"

"Let me collect my things and I'll show you."

"Y'aint got no things! And where you going with that mask?' Brok exclaimed angrily before slapping Tyr's hand, making the mask fall further away.

"Brok-"

"That belongs to the kid, he earned it! All you done was make passable dirt-soup."

"Brok, it's okay," said Atreus, quickly putting himself between the Giant and the dwarf, seeing that the situation was getting worse.

"No it ain't. This ain't righ. All the piece ain't welding to getther true. Like, what's with him callin' you "Loki" anyway? You know that ain't his name! Hey! I'm talkin' to you!"

Tyr had moved away from Brok, turning his back on him, but the blue dwarf was determined to have answers. Everyone's attention was on Brok and Tyr, also waiting for the explanations of the Norwegian God of War. But before anyone could react, Tyr pulled out a dagger, stabbing Brok in the chest.

"DO YOU NEVER SHUT UP?!!"

Everyone watched the scene shocked by what had just happened. No one reacted because of the shock. Suddenly, Tyr's appearance changed, revealing Odin.

Sindri screamed his brother's name, rushing to him. Odin had taken advantage of Atreus' surprise to take him hostage, holding the knife to his throat while Freya, Kratos and Freyr had drawn their weapons, slowly advancing towards the Allfather.

You stood there, completely paralyzed and unable to think properly. Your ears were ringing, your heart was beating at an incredible speed, your hands were shaking.

Brok was bleeding out.

Odin was ordering Freyr to give him the mask.

Kratos was ordering Odin to free his son.

Freya was saying she was going to kill her former husband with her own hands.

Sindri was begging Freya or you to come to Brok's aid.

You could only watch all this without being able to move a single muscle in your body.

"Sorry our time together is up, dear (Y/N)," Odin said, smiling slyly at you.

You felt your stomach turn at his words.

This guy was him all along. In Alfheim, you didn't save Tyr. You had only brought Odin to this house all this time.

You had not recovered your husband.

You saw Freya with her back to Odin, rushing to Brok to try to save him. You saw Freyr throw the mask at Odin. But the mask passed over the Allfather. You heard Kratos shout something to Atreus. The teenager transformed into a wolf, biting Odin's arm which sent him flying against the wall. Kratos rushed to his son while Odin took advantage of the chaos to pick up his precious mask, opening the closet door to let out his ravens which began to circle around him.

"Too bad, son," Odin said as he looked at Atreus. "Looks like war after all."

Before he could disappear, Kratos threw Draupnir, managing to snatch the mask from his hands as Odin escaped.

You stood there completely paralyzed. You couldn't react. You just stood there, watching Brok die in Sindri's arms before Sindri disappeared with him.

All this time, you had been in Odin's company.

All the times he tried to get close to you.

All the times you felt bad in his presence.

All the times.

Odin had just made fun of you.

One more time.

He had managed to trick you.

Tags: @ladycrowsworld

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anyabathory-blog · 2 years ago

Text

Between Realms — chapter 1.

Ukraininan ver.(ao3) Word count: 9.8k.

Synopsis: The story takes place before GOW:Ragnarök and covers the events from the point of view of the Aesir. At the whim of Fate, Liv is heading to the City of the Gods. A/N: special thanks to @engardeitsme for reading all over and over again and helping me with the text ♡. I hope you will enjoy it.

Thoughts are marked in italics. Could be swearing, ass kicking and Heimdall. You're warned, yey.✨

The meeting

It had been naive of her to think that the screams in the middle of the rocks could have come from a child. Nobody went to places like that, and they were even less likely to be found. But Liv wouldn't have been able to forgive herself if she hadn't checked. Which, of course, she regretted almost immediately. She hadn't even taken a dozen steps, elbowing her way through the narrow, zigzagging passage, when she fell and landed on her back. Deep enough that she couldn't go back the way she came, but not high enough to break her spine.

The white-green patch in front of her eyes began to form outlines – white light and brown shadow and then gained depth.

The girl was lying in the middle of the cave, listening to the itching in her muscles. Under her back, moss grew like a furry carpet. It smacked with a sigh when Liv sat up, lifting her head up. There was a sudden noise in her temples, a buzzing that blinded her for a moment, but then she blinked it away and was able to look around.

A white beam of light, illuminating the damp ceiling was coming through the hole above, which must have been the passage through which she had fallen earlier. Apart from the moss that hung like a green sheet from the ceiling, the spots of sunlight and the dancing shadows, she was surrounded by silence.

The girl casually began to shake off the dirt and moss pieces when the light played between the uneven walls again. But this time it was accompanied by a damp, champing sound, more like a cuttlefish than a fussy bird that might have flown past the hole from above.

Liv narrowed her eyes, trying to make out something in the patch of light, but all she could see were rays of sunlight darting from one cave tooth to the next, failing to reveal the source of the hideous 'chomp'.

Instantly, her senses stung and she recoiled, startled by the sudden adrenaline rush and the way the gust of air ruffled her hair. She looked down at the spot where she had just been standing and noticed movement in the shadows, which then scurried away with a familiar sniffle.

Liv's calves immediately tensed and she barely squatted. Even though she couldn't see the creature, she could definitely sense the presence of it. The Instinct never let her down. Chomp, chomp, chomp.

Closer.

Closer. The ground next to her foot crumpled slightly, and something invisible started chomping in front of her face. Liv pretended not to notice, staring at the blurred halo of light on the floor as she slowly moved a little lower, reaching for her scabbard on the floor. The sound followed her accordingly.

It was close, revealed only by the breeze on her face and the sound echoing in the air. Chomp, chomp, chomp.

As her fingers caught the ribbed hilt of the sabre, a wave of goosebumps ran down her spine – the familiar tension in her body. Liv felt like a taut arrow, waiting for the moment to strike.

"What are you waiting for, Liv?" Logain's voice was quiet, hissing between the walls, seeming both near and far away, "Go on, pull out your weapon. Do what you know how to do, what you've always done. Kill again. Kill me.”

The girl twitched. Her face twitched too. But she didn't speak. Logain had been feeding the worms in the ground for a long time.

Chomp, chomp, chomp. Something wet slid down her boot, and his voice grew louder.

"Why hesitate? Have you forgotten Mercia? Have you forgotten Vesex?" The air around her face stirred again as something that felt like a wet rope began to squeeze her ankle. Chomp, chomp.

“So much dirt and meat in the armour that the sky was black with crows and the stench squeezed out the tears, remember? Do you remember how I begged you to stay out?”

She smiled slightly out of the corner of her mouth, but the tension in her body did not ease. Logain's voice grew louder, filling her head, and squeezing the skull. She could almost imagine him moving his wrist to the side, making an imaginary six, and pressing his thin lips together in an overly dramatic way, lecturing her. He loved to lecture, although he was younger. Lagain had made mistakes in his life that it was a sin not to embellish with eloquent details, telling them over a mug of mead that had barely fermented in the flask. Fermented, but still tasted better than anything.

Liv closed her eyes for a moment, letting the memories flood back into her mind as the creature kept speaking in a familiar voice.

The flames flicker, the smell of pine and ash blows away all anxiety. Here is Logain baring his teeth, white as 32 pearls, shamelessly exaggerating his achievements, here is Eilbe smiling shyly as he taps her on the shoulder. Chomp, chomp, chomp.

"Doesn't matter, now it doesn't matter..."

The girl sighed, no longer listening. It seemed to start listing names. Names, titles, their roles in her life, how they had left, how she had made sure they left before they perished.

The list went on. Chomp, chomp.

"Now."

Liv slashed from the elbow and with a whistle her sabre flew out like a bottle cork into the blurred space in front of the girl's face.

A shuddering screech ripped through the cave, finally ending the pretentious 'Logain' monologue. The blade sliced softly through the air and snapped as Liv twisted the handle, plunging it deeper. The point seemed to disappear into nowhere, but was still piercing an invisible belly.

The shapeless fetters began to wrap around the girl's waist, squeezing her in a vain attempt to throw her off, but she ignored the creature's scream and hovered steadfastly above it. As the sabre sliced into space, disappearing almost to the level of the crossguard, another sound joined the shriek, which vibrated in a dozen different tones (the creature was still trying to mimic a voice). It was the sound of soft muscles tearing. This was followed by a characteristic stench with a metallic flavour – of blood.

But the blurry blob of air in front of her was not going to give up without a fight. The creature, still screaming, pulled her forward, and she swore when she felt her boot slip on the moss. Liv pressed harder, hoping to pin the shapeless creature to the ground. She miscalculated.

For a moment, the world blurred back into a white and green stain, accompanied by a cacophony of different voices, but eventually, she found herself on her back. The moss crunched softly under her spine.

"Blood! Blood!" The creature, as torning between Logain's voice and an almost childlike falsetto, pinned the girl down harder. "So much blood! It's no use! Do you hear..." Liv struggled, blindly trying to kick the invisible creature so that it would finally shut its mouth, but she missed - it only roared louder, not relenting. Plasma began to drip into her face in thick threads of green mucus, mixing with moss and dirt.

The girl, clutching the handle with stiff fingers, kicked again, this time at the point where the mucus was coming from. She seemed to hit it - the weight above her barely shifted.

The air instantly shook with an inhuman screech, and then there was silence. Silence.

Liv froze and blinked uneasily, looking at what was pinning her down. She could see it now. Her sabre was hilted into a glassy eye that was still trying to convulsively close its heavy eyelids, and orange insides were stretching out in ribbons down to her torso. Slowly unclenching her fingers, Liv shook her shoulder and then again, carefully pushing the motionless nightmare away from her.

"Beastliness, shit, and filth" swearing softly in a couple more languages, Liv shrugged one last time and sat up, looking disgustedly at the creature and then at her clothes, which were stained with green mucus now.

Slowly standing up, she kicked at the rounded belly with its unmoving tentacles. It stirred but did not move or cry out. It was dead. It was quiet.

Nightmares were usual beasts in her travels, but what never stopped to amaze her was the number of varieties. Some could blind her, others spat ice, some spat flames, and some only got closer and exploded for no known reason. But the fact that this creature could turn invisible was a first for her. "They must adapt differently to each realm," Liv mentally summarised, kicking the eye-shaped monstrosity as her sabre unyieldingly twitched between the entrails and chitinized plates of the creature.

As she struggled with the blade, her face was gently touched by the soft breezes swaying through the cave's walls. Separating the weapon away from the body with a kick, Liv turned around and stood to listen.

After taking a few steps, she heard the wind whistle stronger, seeping through the cracks of the cave, as something crunched dryly under her boot. Looking down she noticed bones. The skull, the back of which was cracked open like an eggshell, was small, childlike.

***

Eventually the wind carried her out of the cave and onto the flat, sun-drenched surface. Hrimthur's Wall, the famous Asgardian wall wrapped in a collar of mist, rose up for who knew how many metres and fell down for just as many. Liv's fingers itched at the thought of how much further she had to climb. Not without disgust, she wiped the green mucus from the blade with the edge of her shirt and sighed.

The girl spent the next hour alone with her thoughts, which accompanied her all the way up the wall, along with the scraping of stones under her fingernails, the whistling of the wind, and the clinking of the sheath against her belt. She kept her eyes level with the basalt surface, not wanting to look down, sometimes throwing her head up and grabbing onto ledges, sometimes diving into crevices between grotesquely huge nails that had been embedded in the rock, sometimes pressing her body against the Wall as startled birds flew out of their nests. Once she almost slipped on a rotten apple that someone must have dropped from above(who does that?). When she reached the top, she was covered in dust and sweat.

The Wall clawed into the ground, holding a crescent-shaped lake of buildings and roads that lay beneath the clouds. Asgard had isolated itself not only from uninvited guests, but also from the permanent frost that had frozen Midgard in a deadly grip for so many years. The City of the Gods was lulled into an eternal summer, safe from worry behind high walls. But the Wall of Hrimthur was never left unguarded.

Something had pushed the girl between her shoulder blades. In a moment, the ground slipped away from under her feet, and the green valley opened its mouth wider, looking less picturesque and even lower than she had imagined. Liv gasped for air as her stomach twisted into a knot and squinted, already vividly imagining her fall. However, other than the pounding of her heart and the soft shuffling of the ground beneath her, she heard no wind whistling or bones crunching. Her feet still felt the unsteady ground, and the fabric of her shirt cut into her skin as someone behind her, holding her by the shirt's collar, sighed with pretentious exhaustion.

Liv didn't hurry to look back, seeing the toes of her boots peeking over the edge of the Wall, but she did catch a glimpse of another pair of feet.

"Well, let's skip the greetings part and save each other’s time, shall we?" The voice was male and young, but despite its hostility, it sounded somewhat ingratiating. Meanwhile, his grip on her collar tightened defiantly, bordering on strangulation. "So, who are you, what do you want, and, most importantly, how did you get here?" Even without seeing the face of the interlocutor, though rather the extortionist, she could feel the mocking smile in his voice. "Although, never mind. How about you only answer the very last question before I let go of you."

Liv made a careful movement to the side, trying to straighten up, but a voice behind her hissed softly.

"I don't recommend it." And then the weightlessness hit her again for a moment. The collar of her shirt was pulled down just below her chin "And I won't repeat myself."

Her breathing quickened, and an animalistic fear prevented her from thinking coldly and composedly, so she chose sincerity. Sincerity is a minority virtue, but it is surprisingly appropriate in most cases when you are promised to fly down.

"I want to help."

There was a pause, though it was not an empty one, full of tension and Liv's futile attempts to catch her breath. This pause was also surprisingly short, as it was interrupted by the quiet laughter of the man behind her.

"Help?" the stranger burst into another laugh. "You're barely able to help yourself, vagrant. So who do you want to help again?”

"Odin, the gods, mortals," the girl pursed her lips, barely inhaling the air, "myself.”

"Oh, I believe in the latter willingly, in the former barely, and in the first two, I don't believe at all. But okay. That's more honest than usual." The air licked Liv's cheek before she hit the ground with her back. Almost instantly, she scrambled to her feet and straightened up. Straightened up as best she could after the climb and the undeniably warm greeting.

The stranger's shimmering eyes narrowed as she looked down at him. Something told her he didn't like being shorter than her. So the two purple lights stared with a mute question, stared with a certain insolence, as Liv caught her breath, wheezing sounds escaping her throat.

"I don't recall your name on the guest list, vagrant." The man, or rather more a blond lad, looked at her with his shoulders squared.

He was in a good mood for an ordinary guard, too good even, and better dressed than any guard Liv had ever seen. His entire appearance betrayed a nobleman proud of his ancestry, from the golden cuff on his ear to the tips of his boots. This curved her lips into a faint half-smile.

But the stranger did not comment – he was probably waiting for an answer, the question of who she was hanging in the air. Taking a breath, Liv finally decided to answer:

"Of course, of course," she said, sucking in another breath, but her voice sounded a little strangled, "My name is Liv Rolandsdatter, nice to meet you." her mouth corner twitched ironically to the last part, but soon her face regained its calm expression.

The stranger nodded, letting out a small laugh, and it was hard to tell what he found more amusing – her name or the fact that she pretended not to know who he was. The horn on his gold-embroidered belt jiggled slightly as the god put his hands at his sides and spoke:

"My name is Heimdall," he paused, and before continuing, he pursed his lips in an unnatural smile "I am the Herald of Ragnarök and the Guardian of the Aesir. Now, Liv, please give me at least one reason not to throw you off the Wall."

"The gods are very friendly people, I see," she thought ironically. Surprisingly, right after that, Heimdall cackled with a familiar laugh.

"I think," as she began, something predatory glinting in those strange eyes, "that you already know the answer to that, lord Heimdall.”

Politeness is another virtue peculiar to the minority, but surprisingly appropriate when you are facing a god from whom you expect anything but pleasantness.

He tilted his head to the side and smiled, no longer hiding his golden teeth, as it turned out. It was a shitty smile, the kind that usually makes people lose their heads. Literally.

"Clever girl. What good would you be to the Allfather, the King of the Aesir? I think the Allfather has enough warriors already," his tone grew more and more unpleasant with each word, and for a moment Liv thought a bruise under his white cheekbone would have suited him well, "I doubt a frail lassie like you, vagrant Liv, would be more useful than any einherjar."

Her fingers ran lightly over the hilt of the sabre, scratching the top with her fingernail almost tenderly. The metal cooled her hand and mind soothingly. Heimdall reminded her exactly of the type of person with whom every verbal battle ends with a face in a bowl: a stew of your own blood and teeth.

"Perceptive." Liv licked her lips as her blood pulsed in her temples. "I'm from Skadi*," she said, unexpectedly, mockery evident in her voice, "I think that's enough for Odin himself to accept even a 'frail lassie' like me."

Unfortunately, of all the virtues, Liv lacked politeness the most. As well as patience.

"Skadi..." Heimdall tilted his head to the side as if he had heard the name for the first time, "Jotun, the traitor to two nations at once: her own and mine... No, no." He paused and made a careless gesture with his hand. The purple gaze measured her for a moment before the god continued, "No. You are here only for yourself.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Liv tucked her chin up, looking down at the young god.

"What a fascinating story, really. A little more guesswork about me, pompous speeches and introductions or–"

It swirled. Before she could say anything else, she fell to her knees. Her stomach twisted and she was paralyzed with throbbing pain from a hit, but she quickly recovered. A familiar impulse hit her brain, dulling the pain and fatigue, leaving only one thing behind – the desire to hurt back. Liv threw her head up, waiting for him to approach.

"Once again" He snorted through his teeth as he sat down on his toes as well. God's tone smoothly turned into an irritatingly flattering one. "Why should I allow someone like you to come into my home and meet with the Allfather?" Liv's upper lip quivered irritably as she felt a touch on her head. "Then, for example, to string your red haired head on a stick? Perhaps then this endless stream of uninvited guests will end, since the enormous Wall in front of their noses is not enough, huh?"

He had the nerve to pat her on the head in a fatherly, no, rather mistressly way, as if Liv were some kind of naughty puppy. It was annoying, drowning out the last echo of reason. Liv didn't feel pain anymore and there was an evil glint in her eyes.

Suddenly, Heimdall giggled gutturally, looking her in the eye with his purple lights. That was the last straw. With a short snarl, Liv lunged forward, intent on slamming her forehead into the smug face, but the attempt failed and her knees skidded on the stone as she lost her balance again. He was already standing away.

"Did you really want to hit me?" Heimdall said cheerfully, with an expression as if he had just heard a very funny joke.

"Yes, a bruise would make your pale face more attractive," Liv snapped, finally raising to her feet.

The way the young god's face contorted made her smile wickedly. But her pleasure did not last long, for he came toward her, quickly. Very quickly, even the sound of his footsteps seemed to come with a delay as his face was close again. But Liv still managed to free her sword from its silver-embroidered scabbard.

"Whoa, the lassie can fight," he said with a hoot as he saw the blade pointing at his impudent face, "Careful, don't cut yourself..."

Sparks sliced through the air between them, the enchanted metal of her sabre glowing white in an instant. Heimdall suppressed his surprise and easily dodged the lunge, but the subtle surprise that slipped into his eyes made Liv want to thank Skadi for the sword for the first time.

She tried to grab his collar, but before she could, the god stepped back again and unhooked the scabbard from his belt. The air seemed to become liquid as he moved, sounds disappearing for that brief moment as the step backwards became two feet, then four, then ten.

"How is he doing that?" Liv's eyebrow shot up for a moment as he voiced the same thought that had just flashed through her brain. Heimdall giggled again and made a gesture with his hand, causing the air to ripple again like an agitated sea, distorting space. “Showing off.”

A moment and he was closer again. Closer than she expected, closer than she could see. However, it was enough for her to feel it, her Instinct, prickling her fingertips, ordered her to move away. A deep breath, a half-turn, a step, a parry, and an exhale – this dance was as clear as the last time, as years ago, as centuries before. The young god didn't even bother to pull out his sword, apparently expecting to punch her between the eyes with the golden tip of the scabbard, but it met her sabre with a loud clang. The lilac eyes looked at her now with anger as she drew back, kicking up dust, but she stood her ground.

The sound of metal hitting metal still echoed in the air as the two stared each other in the face, a pair of purple eyes and yellow-like sulphur ones. The longer Liv held back the pressure, the heavier the sword became in her hands, its silver blade sparkling with runes (perhaps that was the only reason it hadn't shattered like glass) was still trembling in her hands. Heimdall smiled and nudged her again, breaking the contact between the weapons.

"Very well, maybe you deserve to have me draw my sword..." Stretching his shoulder, the young god threw the scabbard aside. The black metal glistened in the sun with a bloodthirsty growl. Even the engraving on the ricasso had some gilding.

"Vain asshole." Liv's upper lip twitched irritably again, and the scar on it stabbed treacherously. With every word he said, she was getting angrier and angrier, losing control, which was not good. She was on her own in this situation, in the thick of it, and if Heimdall hadn't attacked first, she would have been out of here by now, but damn life had other plans for her. It always does.

"Oh, come up with something more interesting," Heimdall sighed theatrically, making an inviting gesture for her to strike. At least to try.

"Shut up."

She spat out those words, until the sword sparkled more strongly, resembling a torch rather than a blade. The "invitation" was accepted with all the passion she could muster – in two leaps she closed the distance between them and brought the blow down from above, drawing a figure eight in the air. The sabre whistled, stretching the empty space, while a kick flew into her back. Liv staggered forward on inertia, barely keeping her balance. Glancing over the edge of Hrimtur's wall for a moment, she swallowed, looking down into the gaping maw of the valley that descended through the fog. "High. Damn high."

But the Instinct stung her again, returning her mind to a state of battle and the adrenaline surged through her muscles. Liv managed to fight back with a half-turn, sinking her blade into the black metal, but felt her feet wobbling unsteadily at the edge of the wall.

These pirouettes, trying to catch the god who was slipping through her fingers like sand, were beginning to tire her out, and he could see it. Moreover, it amused him.

Heimdall was stronger, much stronger, and he could push her back again without breaking a sweat, so, cursing foully, she darted to the side, trying to get behind him and away from the edge as far as possible. The young god, of course, expected her move and counterattacked, pushing Liv aside. The blade slipped and her arm burned treacherously, aching from elbow to shoulder, as she stepped back again without making a single cut. With a jerk, the sabre drew a crescent in the air, aiming for Heimdall's wrist.

“Mmmm. No” he swung to the side, avoiding the blow again. Boredom crept into his gaze. "You've had enough of my attention for today.”

With a sigh, the god straightened up and stepped closer, without any haste or hesitation when the blade was pointed directly at his chest. Diving behind Liv's back, he yanked her by the shirt's collar, dragging the girl again like a naughty puppy. She squirmed, grabbed his leg, twisted, arched, and pushed her body forward to knock him to the ground. If Liv was happy about anything right now, it was that no one else saw how idiotic it looked. Before she could make out his expression, something quickly slipped past her eyes, and the world around her instantly turned white. It was the scabbard that finally cracked her on the forehead. “Oh, shit”.

“Bye-bye...“ Before she fainted, Liv saw the god lean down and flash his golden teeth. His voice echoed through her brain, mingling with the croaking of a raven, turning into one hideous ringing in her ears.

Then the abyss covered her, sucking in all sensations and sounds. The fatigue became unbearable.

***

When she woke up, Liv lay there for a while with her eyes closed and her muscles spreading over the surface. The place where she had been hit burned too much for a dead person, and the space around her was too soft and dry for a prisoner. So. She was alive and not in a prison. That was good.

For a moment, she was tempted to try to sleep, because the fatigue was still with her, if not for the creaking of the floorboards and the scuffling of what seemed to be a chair on the floor.

Lazily, the girl opened her eyes, tilting her head to the side. There was a pillow under her. It seemed to be taffeta. It was too refined for someone who had been slapped between the eyes, too good for a stranger. Liv squinted as the sleepy veil fell from her eyes, and then she could see where she was. And more importantly, with whom?

The stone walls were decorated with tapestries and weaponry, and the furniture was made by good craftsmen – a striking difference from the last time someone had managed to make her faint. Only back then it had not been so easy. And back then she had been lying in a room with no windows.

She couldn't help but roll her eyes as she noticed a familiar face in the shadow. Her bruised forehead throbbed even more when her gaze crossed with a purple one.

But besides Heimdall, there was another man here. He was sitting next to the bed, his elbows relaxed on the handles of the faldstool. He was an old man, carrying neither a sword nor armour, only a stick, a green hood framing his wrinkled neck, hiding a celestial-blue caftan with a golden thread underneath. He looked more friendly than Heimdall, but his blue eyes, or rather one single eye, looked at Liv with a cold, sharp insight that made it chilly. His gaze was not clouded by the weight of his years or by marasmus. His right eye socket was covered with a leather eyepatch. As the girl recovered, she sat up, and looked at the man, who was obviously Odin. He coughed and spoke:

"Good morning," his voice was quiet and hoarse, with notes of dry humour. They only intensified when the girl glanced up at the inlaid window, checking how long her "sleep" had lasted. It was late afternoon... "So. Young lady, how do you know Skadi and why were you so eager to see me that you got into a fight with my guard?"

Liv cleared her throat and shook her head slightly, still reeling from the pain, and met a familiar pair of eyes. Heimdall, leaning back against the stone wall, stared at her silently, waiting for an explanation. The purple lights flickered even more strongly in the shadows. She grimaced slightly and turned her head to Odin. "My name is Liv Rolandsdatter, Allfather. And Skadi she is..." She winced as her voice echoed through the walls of her skull, but massaging between her eyebrows, she continued, "She is my mother."

There was a pause during which Liv could see Heimdall's face go blank, for he never seemed to be at a loss for words, but now he was without comment. The old man, meanwhile, ran his finger over the carvings of the chair and answered with much more enthusiasm in his voice:

"So, she managed to keep you."

"She did?"

"Yes, yes, don't fidget, I'll do better" his fingers once again scratched the carving before resting on her forehead. This small touch enveloped her in a warmth that spread throughout her body, and in another moment, she would have probably fallen into his arms. The pain was gone.

"Thank you, I really feel better."

"You're welcome," he nodded slightly and removed his hand from her face. "To tell you the truth, I was waiting for you to show up."

"And that's why I was hit in the stomach in the first place?

"Heimdall," Odin said coldly, not even giving his son a glance, it was a short order.

The lad sighed, snorting like a cat in the dust, and stepped back from the wall. After that, he spoke dryly, without an ounce of conscience or remorse, of course:

"I'm sorry."

Yeah, that was all he could think to say after he'd hit Liv (not even just once). It was just funny, so she laughed. Shortly and cheekily. The young god twitched his eyebrows and pursed his lips, but said nothing, although she could see that there was plenty of what he wanted to let out. Perhaps even too much of it, but the presence of the Allfather made him hold back a bit, it seems.

Odin just shook his head.

"You are forgiven, prince," she sighed and turned her head to Odin, saying the last word through her teeth. Meanwhile, Heimdall's face was a mixture of confusion and irritation.

"Sjá hvat**..." The old man's lips curled in a half-smile and then he stood up, slapping his knees lightly "Well, then. Now that we have settled all the issues, it is time, Liv Skadisdatter, for you to meet the rest of your family."

Now Liv shared Heimdall's embarrassment, and their eyes were the size of Sceat coins.

"What?"

***

Liv looked into the abyss.

As she plunged into the white mist, the wooden platform under her feet shook, momentarily throwing her off balance. Stepping back from the edge, she glanced over the city that lay below them: along the grey roads that snaked between buildings, flowing down the moat, passing carved gates and coming together in a semicircle before the square where black specks of people bustled about their business; she was looking at the ribbons of canals and mill ponds, that wove around the city as veins, the fluffy clouds that rose above the sharp roofs, and the valkyries that flapped their huge wings like golden birds as they flew past the ropeway. The longer they descended, the more Asgard resembled a green lake in the palm of a rocky giant whose wrist replaced the sharp slope on one side of the half-walled city. Liv huffed at the ironic association, remembering the Aesir people's intense dislike of giants, and turned her gaze to a pair of boots with intricate patterns on the tanned leather. Heimdall had kept his eyes on her since they left Himinbjörg***, and the girl had been trying to pretend that he, the young god, did not exist. So, swaying slightly to the right again because of the unpleasant feeling of weightlessness in her legs, she turned her gaze to the Allfather.

From the side, he looked like a vulture searching for a field mouse, contemplating Asgard with his blue eye. His hooked nose, like a beak, twitched slightly with a smile as he noticed Liv watching. Something about that little emotion was uncomfortably familiar, but she didn't know what it was. Yet.

After a moment, Odin met her eyes, with the same slightly smiling expression. Now the "vulture" was looking at Liv. However, she did not shrink back, looking down, but straightened up, put her hands on her waist, and slightly clasped her sides. "It's all too simple. There are too few details."

"What did you mean by saying Skadi 'managed to keep' me?" she said on an exhale. No, that wasn't what she wanted to ask, but her curiosity overcame her. Liv had never been close to her famous mother, but also she did not believe she would ever have the opportunity to ask again.

The old man chuckled. Laughter, that's what she didn't like. It was the same as Heimdall's, only this one sounded sincere. Odin, meanwhile, leaned on a carved stick, looking at Liv with a piercing gaze.

"Oh, you know how it is, a scandal, a couple dozen broken plates and faces..." the god hummed, still smiling and seeing that Liv did not share his humour, "You were not supposed to happen. Njord and, frankly, me too, insisted that Skadi get rid of you."

The girl tilted her head slightly to the side and nodded silently, hinting for him to continue. The Allfather sighed, and the stick, or something in it, hissed quietly.

"She obviously didn't," he slapped his stomach lightly, "She walked around with her belly protruding as if to mock everyone. Until she disappeared, so that none of my ravens or her husband could find her, and when she came back, she pretended nothing had happened."

"Of course she did. She just got rid of a burden and then 'suddenly' remembered her responsibilities as a goddess."

"So that's how it is... My mother is not only a traitor to the nations but also unfaithful in her marriage and full of arrogance that even touches the gods." Liv slightly curled her lips in an ironic smile. She heard nothing new in this. Almost. "However, you haven't answered my question, lord, and you still haven't explained why you're letting me into your home so easily."

Liv could see out of the corner of her eye that Heimdall was shifting impatiently from foot to foot, apparently wanting to add something of his own, but he remained silent. She couldn't help but glare at him, although she quickly turned her head back to Odin, who was still smiling.

"Women are so inquisitive..."

"Yes, I am a woman, but please don't take me for an idiot," the girl crossed her arms over her chest, "The raven on the standard. It was you, wasn't it? Otherwise, I wouldn't have been allowed to cross the threshold, let alone be ‘gallantly’ stabbed between the eyes with a scabbard. You were watching…”

Suddenly, the platform stopped, and Liv swayed slightly on the inertia and whispered a curse under her breath. But in the meantime, the weightlessness in her legs had passed, flowing down her feet into the solid ground, so she breathed out a sigh of relief. Odin stepped forward without delay, leaving Liv to contemplate Heimdall's frown for a moment. The girl was not too impressed by this sight and instead looked around.

On the sides were green fields fenced with thin levadas, where distant figures could be seen, some still digging in the ground, and others with sticks chasing chickens, geese, turkeys, and horned stock – all this action crowded in front of the carved gate that led into the city. Light shone in the cracks of the houses, their sharp roofs peeking out beyond the wall, and the long shadows of the Hrimthur's wall were cut by the slowly setting orange sun. Liv could hardly deny that the evening in Asgard, even if she hadn't yet stepped outside the walls, was somewhat mesmerising, and the lights outside the gates were at least alluring. But she still had questions. A whole lot of questions.

Meanwhile, Heimdall tore his glittering eyes away from her and followed the Allfather, who was already waiting for them at the closed gate. Liv shrugged with her shoulder and in a couple of steps passed the distance separating her from Odin and his son. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a golden-green blur, steadily growing larger, jumping through the levadas and pushing people around. Soon enough, the "spot" took shape and a name.

"Gulltoppr!" At first, Liv did not realise that it was Heimdall's sonorous voice, but her attention quickly shifted to the snow-white grappling gradungr, which had passed the wooden fence in two quick leaps and, kicking up a cloud of dust, began to caress its owner's arm like a normal cat. A cat the size of a barn and with a head framed by a pair of curved horns. The girl had heard of gradungs before, but this was the first time she had seen this creature in person.

A dwarf shopkeeper she knew had once told her about these creatures, that they lived mainly in Vanaheim and, according to his description, had four horns, not two, and three heads – a lion's, a goat's, and a dragon's. But she could not remember which one he thought was "the thinkin’ ass one". Liv had been sceptical of such a colourful description even then, but now she saw with her own eyes that the words were a clear exaggeration from the mouth of a drunk. Also, the dwarf had been telling her about the time he was in a gang with six other dwarves and a lady with white skin like bone and lips the colour of hawthorn, but Liv hadn't been listening any further. By that point, she had seemed to be drunk too.

But she still found the proportions of the so-called Gulltoppr most amusing, and even more so their relation to Heimdall. For someone who showed so much audacity, the god was undersized, and compared to his riding "kitten" he seemed tiny and clumsy.

As soon as the thought crossed Liv's mind, she felt a purple gaze slide over the young god's shoulder and bore into her forehead. The white gradungr also turned its triangular head and shook its horns like a goat that was about to charge. For a moment, the girl really thought it was going to do so, so her calves tensed slightly. But she was wrong.

The animal quickly went back to nuzzling at the god's side, puffing loudly with its big velvet nose, while Heimdall pulled the gold-embroidered reins from the saddle's bow.

"No, you will walk, Heimdall." Odin, standing at the gate, tapped his stick lightly. Something metallic hissed in it again. "It must be a blade."

The young god whispered softly, Liv did not know what, and lightly patted Gulltoppr on the side, pushing him away. The "cat" responded with a dissatisfied grunt and flicked its pink tongue against Heimdall's cheek (the god jerked at this), but pulled away.

Liv let out a small laugh through her nostrils and shook her head, deliberately looking past Heimdall and his mount as if fascinated by a clay jug that stood alone on a wooden levada. Out of the corner of her eye, though, she was still looking at the gradungr and his yellow and white fur, which he was licking diligently, cat-like.

Odin spoke first:

"Yes, I have been watching you, and yes, I have been waiting for you, Skadisdatter. But I do not take you for an idiot or a fool. At most, I think you're lost and that I can show you the Way."

Liv crossed her arms over her chest.

"The way?" Liv arched an eyebrow and shook her head slightly, "My name is Liv Rolandsdatter. Not Skadisdatter, please."

The Allfather smiled slightly out of the corner of his eye, which was wrapped by wrinkles like a spider's web.

"Yes. But a mortal named Roland is insignificant and uninteresting, unlike your mother."

"So is it all a matter of blood? Or is it simply the Asgardian benevolence?"

"Partly both."

"Then please don't pretend that you're doing me a favour, that you need me for some reason and therefore have the right to ask questions, lord."

"Hmm. Right. The only difference is that we both need each other, Skadisdatter," the gate slowly opened in front of them, its metal hinges groaning, "and I am still doing you a favour by letting you into my kingdom."

Asgard was flooded with evening light, which reddened and glistened on the sharp roofs, the purple shadows gave the city a certain charm. All cities looked charming at this time, despite the number of vermin and rats that might inhabit them, but Asgard was obviously different. And it wasn't even that it was a city of gods, heroes, and generally those whose bright faces and shining armour the skalds were so fond of singing about – Asgard was clean. As Liv walked down the street, she didn't see a single puddle or piece of trash, which is so common in large settlements, especially those surrounded by walls. Even the Anglo-Saxons, who were so fond of accusing the Danes of being untidy, could have envied the absence of mud and sewage stains. Although, perhaps, they would have been most upset by the fact that the theory of the "All-Powerful One God" turned out to be false.

But like all cities at this time, Asgard was falling asleep, and the closer the evening shadows approached the cobblestone streets, the more lethargic its inhabitants became. People in brightly coloured clothes embroidered with golden thread (apparently the Aesir were very fond of this material), slowly walked the streets, tired from the early rising, the lunch and dinner fuss and ready for evening rest, but all of them were certainly interested in one person. The person who obviously does not belong here is Liv. Some tried to tactfully hide their interest, glancing as if in passing, some suddenly looked around like a goat that had mistakenly bumped into a fortress wall with its horns, some leaned over the balcony, excessively straightening the laundry that was hanging down, some even seemed to have choked on the contents of a mug. The more gawking Asgardians Liv counted, the more she was convinced of her guess - guests were at least rare, at most a curiosity. Especially in such high-profile company as the Allfather and Heimdall.

However, Liv was cold to the extra attention, and in fact, she was somewhat annoyed by it, which would make it harder for her to escape if the opportunity came up.

"She would have loved and hated this city, like so many other things," she thought. Liv hummed, lightly twirling her braid with a black strand woven into it as they walked down the street under the watchful eye of the locals: Odin tapping his heels and wooden stick on the cobblestones, the girl following him, stealing glances and reading the golden lettering on the bracketed signs, Heimdall was the last to go, but she could hear him steadily following her step by step.

The last time someone had kept up with Liv's pace like that, this someone had tried to steal the pouch that was attached to her scabbard belt, so almost instinctively she smoothed the strap with the edge of her hand, but she never found the small goatskin pouch. Liv whispered a curse, figuring that she'd lost it before they'd even reached the city and that it must have been left lying on the Wall somewhere.

"Damn it to Hell. There's no going back now." she thought, and when she heard a soft laugh under a breath, looked around. Ignoring Heimdall was harder than she had expected.

“So you can really read minds?" She let out, again, asking questions that hardly made sense, but to think that even her thoughts were not completely hers now was at least uncomfortable, at most disgustingly disturbing.

"So you really are Skadi's daughter?" Heimdall answered quietly, but that didn't lessen the irony in his voice. It seemed that Odin, who had been cutting through the street with a surprisingly brisk pace, accompanied by the tapping of his stick and the hissing of the blade hidden in it, had distanced himself from them enough for the young god to regain his talkativeness and insolence.

However, she was interested.

"Yes, hers." She twisted a smile that made the scar on her upper lip prickle again, "Do you think the Allfather would lie?

"I think you would lie if you had to."

“How apt," Liv agreed with feigned ease, "but you, the 'god of foresight', seem to be able to sense lies, so your question is meaningless.”

Heimdall huffed, still only a step behind her.

"Then it seems you're wasting your time asking me, too, when you know I can 'sense a lie'.”

“I know this only from the stories of mortals, and they are known to exaggerate the virtues of others and their own.”

“What else have mortals told you about us? I'm very curious to hear.”

“They also told me that you are wise and terse, Heimdall.”

His pace seems to have slowed slightly.

"How quickly we moved on to exchanging compliments," the god sighed theatrically, "I'm impressed, truly. And then you wonder why you get hit in the forehead.”

“What I'm not surprised about is that every conversation with you ends in this way, annoyingly often, if not always.”

“Something tells me you're speaking from a rich experience.”

Liv flinched when she heard the voice a little closer than she had expected and thought of pushing Heimdall away while turning, but her hand only touched the air when the god had already moved away. For a few moments, she stood in the middle of the square, silently measuring the Aesir with her eyes, trying to understand how he did it.

Involuntarily, Liv smoothed the coloured shawl around her waist again, that was hiding a part of her belt and often her leather purse, but her palm gently passed over her thigh, never coming across the mound of coins. It was such an involuntary movement that she didn't realise at first what it looked like from the side when she was staring the god straight in the eye. Her face barely seemed to flush as Heimdall gave her perhaps the most arrogant smile he could muster. She was wrong.

A moment later, his lips curled even more as he moved his shoulder slightly, bringing his right hand behind his back. Liv clutched the hilt of her sabre, waiting, but the god seemed to hold out his palm to her without noticing. And something in it, too.

"I don't need to read minds to know who you are, Skadisdatter" he flashed his teeth and gave his wrist a slight flick, drawing the girl's attention to the leather pouch in his hand.

"I think this is yours. Take it before I change my mind because your fidgeting is getting on my nerves."

Liv nodded slowly in gratitude and took the pouch in her hand, her fingers lightly touching the rough palm. She pressed her lips together, shook her head and said something like "thank you" as she exhaled, but the god was no longer listening. He walked on, joining Odin, who was leaning on a stick, waiting for them in front of a house with a sloping roof. It differed from the other buildings only in its more elaborate carvings and its location on a steep slope, the only part of the city not surrounded by a high wall and still bathed in the setting sun, its red disc now barely peeking over the wall.

Her fingers seemed to feel the distinctive obverse and her fingernail pecked at the sharp edge of the coin, so she fastened the pouch to her belt under her shawl and followed. As soon as she stepped closer, her foot slammed into a puddle with a cold smack. "No mud, eh?" Or perhaps she didn't want to notice it at first, as often happens. "Even a puddle that glistens with gold, reflecting the sky, is still a puddle."

Liv slid her muddy boot on the cobblestones and levelled herself with the Allfather and Heimdall. Odin almost solemnly, somewhat theatrically, it seems to run in the family to be somewhat theatrical, spreaded his arms:

"Welcome to the Great Lodge, Skadisdatter."

***

The room smelled of dust. Many tomes and scrolls, yellowed and worn, were crammed together in batteries on the shelves, some were leaning against the carved columns, green with old copper on their rods, among the candles with long strands of wax extending from them. Some tomes, which must have been worth a fortune, were scattered haphazardly or sometimes stacked in pyramids according to size and covered with cobweb patterns - the names of only a few of them were known to Liv, and even fewer were written in languages she was familiar with. The cabinet was not lacking in other curiosities, however, such as a wind chime from faraway Asia, a large Persian amphora made of green earthenware and covered with small runes whose meaning could only be guessed at, or a silk standard with a unicorn and a naked woman sitting on it, which Liv assumed had been woven somewhere in Northumbria. There was no shortage of weapons, as there had been in Himinbjörg, but they were given much less space and therefore less attention, although the An Creite shield with its white and red colours caught Liv's eye immediately. She wanted to pick it up, to trace her finger around the splinters at the centre, which could have been struck by a buzdugan, but despite herself, she did not. She quickly turned her gaze to Odin, who had already sat down in a high chair with carved arms. He caught her eye and tilted his head to the side:

“Do you like it?”

Liv moved her shoulder, feigning indifference, but they both knew it was a lie. Heimdall, who leaned back against the wall again, seemingly finding some comfort in the shadows, just huffed. "So just stand there and pretend you're part of the interior."

"An impressive collection." the girl nodded, but her eyes darted around again, taking in the new relics that had been collected from all nine realms, "To put it modestly."

The Allfather answered with a short laugh, leaning against the surface of the oak table, which was also covered with books.

Eventually, she came over and crouched down beside the white and red shield. Liv could feel Heimdall's cold, weighing gaze, which slightly curled his lips, and Odin's somewhat sharp one, which remained unchanged in his facial expression, while she kept talking.

"Every time you see one of these, you involuntarily start thinking about the former owners." Her finger touched the cracks in the shield, immediately getting smeared with a thick layer of dust. "No, it's not a buzdugan. Perhaps it was struck from above and was of superhuman strength. But the one who held it stood up, while the shield was simply crumpled from the core. If it wasn't a buzdigan, then it must have been a hammer?" The girl thought as she measured the old shield in her hands. "You involuntarily start thinking, did they give up their belongings willingly, or were they asked for them very politely? Does it even happen that the gods ask?"

Mortals talked a lot about the gods, whether Greenlanders, Danes, or Swedes – everyone had their own interpretation and vision of the powers, achievements, and, of course, the Aesir's lineage, but never, in any of legends and interpretations, was the Allfather inherent in restraint. The blood of the Aesir was hot, and the blood of the Odinsons was hotter than heated iron.

“Let us be prudent, Skadisdatter.”

“So let us be prudent, Allfather. Unless prudence is not talking about art or half-heartedly making hints," Liv straightened up, the light from the candles flickered as if from a breeze that had slipped through the door behind her (which she believed to be tightly closed). "What do you want from me?"

Odin did not pause, he answered suddenly, and his words surprised her no less, embarrassing her for a moment:

"You are much alike Skadi. A striking resemblance indeed," the wrinkles at the corners of his mouth deepened into a half-smile, "She too came to me for help at first. Even when she was unable to set conditions or ask questions, she was still defiant, and then when she received an offer from my son Baldur*, she refused. I wonder where the similarities end.” The Allfather tilted his head expectantly to one side.

"Probably on the lack of interest in morganatic marriages* and the need for help."

The old god laughed briefly and shook his head.

"No, I'm not proposing any marriage to you. I'm just saying that out of respect for your mother, I don't want to turn our relationship into a boring exchange of favours."

"For some reason, our conversations always turn to my mother. But I'm listening."

"I'm asking you to be my factotum."

It took Liv a few seconds to recall the word, which was spoken in exactly the same tone as when an accountant lends you money.

"In human terms, 'run errands for you' ".

Heimdall snorted indignantly, but Odin stopped him with a wave of his hand. This was enough to silence the young man.

"I would have been more economical with snarky responses, but I am happy to answer your questions and remarks, Skadisdatter.”

"That's the thing, you're not answering them, you're dodging them." Liv crossed her arms over her chest, but then her fingers reached for a small braid where a strand of hair was weaved. She started rubbing it gently, twisting it around her finger, "Besides, how did you know I was coming?

"The children of the gods always come. Sooner or later."

“I wonder why? Does your generosity with golden apples and magic rings* have something to do with it?”

"Partly." Odin intertwined his fingers, each one sparkling with a golden ring. He wasn't smiling, but his blue eye still twinkled with amusement. "Whether out of a realisation that they do not belong among mortals or after they have flirted with their power, because their wounds heal faster and their hands can bend swords at unusual angles, they end up at best, dying in their sleep with a knife in their throat, cut by yesterday's allies or being pierced by arrows like a hedgehog with needles, dying a nasty and slow death. Unless, of course, their own blood kills them before they reach adulthood," the corner of Liv's mouth twitched slightly as the image of dirty, sticky with sweat sheets came to mind. Her nostrils tickled with the ephemeral echoes of verbena and incense. She hadn't known back then that her sickness was neither a jinx nor a god’s trail – Liv was simply unlucky enough to be another mistake between a mortal and a goddess. But the memory quickly faded and lost its colour as Odin continued, lightly twirling the ring on his index finger. If the girl hadn't been trying so hard to hide her slight trembling, she might have noticed a certain smugness in the Allfather's tone. "Sometimes demigods are characterised by sacrifice, heroism, and occasionally death in their beds without the burdensome knowledge of their origins. However, no matter what the whim of Fate, they end up here. Alive or dead.”

“Very well. Then, in the end, what kind of demi-god am I?”

“One of those who realise that strength alone is not enough before their naïvety and impulsiveness become their undoing. Skadi offered herself to balance the relationship between gods and giants, but she did so on her own terms.”

Liv pressed her lips together, knowing full well that she was hardly in a position to make any conditions. She ran her finger over the pouch, but Odin silently put something on the table. And without a word, he pushed it forward. The perfect edge, the distinctive features of the hook-nosed profile, and the smooth surface of the Asgardian coin was surprisingly similar to the one she had recently fingered in her leather bag. Heimdall tilted his head slightly to side, curling his lips in that same cocky smile – "Of course, he's managed to replace it. After all, he takes me for an idiot."

"The magic of giants is always fascinating, although it probably makes even less sense than the magic of dwarves. I assume, like the sword, it was a gift from Skadi, right?"

"Yes." Liv lied. But quickly. Too quickly.

Odin smiled slightly, pretending to believe it, and Heimdall's face twitched slightly as if he had just been bitten between the eyebrows. The Allfather spun the ring around his finger once more and pushed the coin aside with a sigh, it quickly disappeared among the papers and books on his table.

"I am only concerned that someone else might be able to slip into my kingdom like a thief through a crack in the door, Skadisdatter.”

"No thief is ever expected, no thief is ever welcomed with open arms into one's home, and even less often is a thief ever hired."

Odin leaned back into the chair easily and intertwined his fingers across his chest, a smile still playing on the old god's lips.

"And almost always, thieves lie. You claimed to want to help me when you first came, and now you're lying to my face. What do you really want, Skadisdatter? Do you want me to trust a liar?"

Liv blinked uneasily and answered with a little bit of a shudder. She tried to be more sincere this time.

"I'm sick of watching Midgard snow for years in a row, covered in frost, as people are dying and I'm sick of my inaction and powerlessness. I want to help stop it, if possible."

"However, this is not a self-interest, but an altruistic one. That's why I don't believe in it." The Allfather glanced slightly at the young god, who hadn't revealed his presence with anything but angry snorts before.

A purple gaze flickered from under the lad's furrowed brow, and he stood frozen for a few moments, looking at Liv, who in turn stood still as well. Then he rolled his eyes and nodded.

“She believes in it. Wants to believe.”

*End of the chapter* whew

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