#[don't hit him in the feels TOO hard jfc] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ninjahiccups · 1 year ago

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The Songbird of Asgard

Chapter 16: Trust

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Stop."

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

Oh no…

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

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

It was over. She could do nothing for Heimdall.

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

"Quiet."

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

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

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

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

Nothing hit her shield. But there was snarling.

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

And the foreign god…saved her?

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

Then that sunk in.

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

This god was ready to kill Heimdall.

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

"I do not wish to harm you."

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

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

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

She should have known.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Interesting…so how—"

"Father?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What of Heimdall?" the pale god boomed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Eivor."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, sure, that's okay."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I do not."

"Why else would you make that spear?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No, a…romantic partner."

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

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

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

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

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

"So you finally noticed," she replied sarcastically.

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

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

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

"Talk to him."

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

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

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

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

"It might not."

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

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

No one would approve of it anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Very well."

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

"You may join us."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You know Sindri?"

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

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

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

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

"Nice to see you too, Sindri!"

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

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

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

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

"No, she wants the opposite."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She had to mentally prepare for her backup plan.

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, that's what he said."

The elder god grumbled, "An exaggeration."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Revenge at last.

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

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

Home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was gone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he could make her killer pay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Morning, my dearest love,

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

Forever yours,

-Heimdall

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

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

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

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

Wait. He'd never seen that before.

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

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

To dream of golden locks entwisted, stormy

Of violet eyes glistening as I weep

Was this…? This was about him.

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

You flee from my dream come the morning

Your scent, berries tart, lilacs sweet

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

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

I know not if fate would have us live as one

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

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

wolf

The hope I will follow into the storm

To find your heart, its passion displaced

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

But what did it mean?

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

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

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

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

Who was "the wolf?"

"Hey, Ratatoskr isn't here."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, all at once, his mind went elsewhere.

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

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

Alive.

"Brother?"

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

Rest. He needed rest.

The doors closed, his voice barely a whisper.

"It is nothing."

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

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

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

"Just the lyre and flute is all."

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

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

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

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

"He would understand."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is it really wise not to have a defined plan?"

"I know him well enough to think on my feet."

Tyr looked away briefly to pour himself a bowl of stew, hiding the clench of his jaw. "I see…well, I may not be able to advise you before you head out, but I have something that may help. If your spell is based on Odin's ravens, there would be a delay between activation and the teleportation, yes?"

"Well, a slight delay, but yes…" Eivor grew confused as he approached Kratos.

"Kratos, if you don't mind?" Tyr cast his own magic on the shield once the Greek god held up his arm, an orange glow passing between his hand and the metal. "A little bit of Giants' magic to improve it."

Atreus's face lit up and he leaned in to take a closer look, though Mimir beat him to the question. "Giant magic? What exactly is it?" Unfortunately, due to his position on the table he couldn't see Tyr's trick well enough to identify it.

"It's not exactly a spell, but it's magic that acts as an amplifier to it. Instead of there being a delay after it's used, Eivor should be taken to Kratos almost immediately. Of course, it'll make the transportation a bit more jarring, but I believe the few more precious moments could make a difference."

Eivor, noticing that both Mimir and Atreus seemed puzzled by Tyr's information, realized that she was not the only one who had never heard of such magic. She supposed that was a good thing. If this amplifier was so potent that the Giants only trusted Tyr with it, it may be very useful. If it helped, she would take it. "Thank you, Tyr."

The peaceful god gave a shallow bow. "Of course, I'm happy to assist."

Atreus looked between his father and Eivor, equally nervous and restless, though his eyes seemed to linger on the latter for a bit longer, like he had something to say. A thought he chose to keep to himself for now. "So…are we ready to go?"

While Mimir was strapped back in place, Eivor's instruments were fastened to her back, and weapons were looked over by the dwarves one last time, Tyr stared into the stew as he stirred it again, a smile on his face.

"Be careful out there!" Sindri called out worriedly, waving goodbye to his old friend.

Eivor smiled back, reassuring, "I'll be back!" despite the very real chance that today could be her last day among the living. The thought sent a shiver down her spine as the worst case scenario played in her mind, forcing her to find some kind of distraction as they approached the realm travel door. "So, what are you planning to do in Vanaheim?"

Kratos allowed his son to fill her in while he opened the portal to the World Tree's branches. "Freya went there to help her brother fight against Asgard. We were going to help."

"Freya is a friend of yours?!" Containing the excitement was beyond her abilities, never even thinking that she could speak to a master of magic before such a pivotal moment.

Mimir chuckled, almost nervously, as they walked across the branches, heading for the next portal that would take them to Vanaheim. "Ehhh, well, she is now. We had a rough go of it for a while, but that's a buried hatchet now."

That's right…Odin's stories surrounding Kratos may have been exaggerated but he was still the one who killed Baldur, and no mother could forgive that so easily. More questions came to mind but they were all swept away when she entered the Vanir's realm, amazed by the beauty of the jungle and all the life hidden behind the flowering trees and massive leaves. Odin had never permitted her to go to Vanaheim, though why he was so against it was a mystery to her. Denying her the joy of exploring a new realm was likely reason enough for him, making it especially unfortunate that there was no time to take advantage of her freedom, and even more so that their destination was a short jaunt away. It was a single boat ride — Atreus kindly letting her sit across from Kraros while he stood behind her — and a quick leap across a few gaps to get to Freyr's camp, one that was much smaller and shabbier than she would have expected. And empty, which took Kratos and Atreus off guard as well.

Then a puff of smoke, and an apparent acquaintance of her traveling partners appeared, leaving her slightly confused until the man, Hildisvíni, addressed her, appearing suspicious of an unknown face. "I see you've brought a friend. And you are?"

"This is Eivor. She's here to help us in case we run into Heimdall," Atreus added, hoping it would make Hildisvíni relax.

It worked, the Vanir's shoulders loosening with relief. "Well, we certainly need it. Ever since Heimdall led Freyr's kidnapping that ended in Byggvir's injury, we have to use every pair of hands that are willing to help. Disposing of him is a necessity at this point."

A ball of thorns dropped into Eivor's gut, reminding her that there were few sympathizers to her cause, that the one person she wanted to save was the one everyone wanted to get rid of. She could only hope that they wouldn't ask exactly how she planned to help, or that she could come up with an excuse that would hide her intention to do anything but kill Heimdall.

Luckily she had time to do just that. With Kratos and Atreus searching for Sköll and Hati she doubted they would encounter Heimdall before they returned to camp, allowing her to volunteer to stay behind and help with the rescue effort, and tend to Byggvir. The group was in agreement, Kratos assuring that he would summon her if Heimdall did cross their path. Once they left Eivor examined Byggvir, surprised to find that he was a light elf, and even more surprised when the rest of Freyr's crew returned from scouting and learned his wife was a dark elf. She had to admit, it was refreshing to hear that a pair of elves felt the same way about Alfheim's war as she did.

In the time Kratos and Atreus were searching for the Celestial Wolves, Eivor became familiar with the crew. Beyla was curt, but appreciated anyone that helped her husband, Birgir was quiet, but friendly, and Hildisvíni welcomed her as an ally despite her sudden appearance. Really, the only member that caught her off guard was Lúnda with her rather… "direct" compliments, but every single one was happy to have her on their side.

It was a shame that it left her incapable of telling them exactly who Heimdall was to her, making her feel almost…deceptive.

All she could do was hope they wouldn't hate him more if things went completely wrong.

All of those worries were forgotten when a bird's call echoed above the camp, Hildisvíni stepping into open space as the falcon glided down to the ground. Eivor felt her breath hitch when the bird transformed into a woman, who spoke to Hildisvíni with certainty and authority. That, combined with the magical shape-shifting, practically confirmed that this was the one ally she had yet to meet: Freya herself. Lúnda chuckled when Eivor became still as stone, pausing in the middle of gathering medicinal herbs that they were setting aside for after Freyr's rescue. The dwarf took Eivor's basket of herbs and put it down on her workbench as she teased, "Don't worry, ol' Freya won't bite! Ain't no reason to be so starstruck."

Eivor's gaze dashed between Lúnda and Freya, unsure of how to even approach the goddess she had wanted to meet for so long. "R-really? There's no way I could just walk up and—" She stopped, along with everyone else in Vanaheim, when the sky shifted into an eclipse, then the extended daylight finally faded to the first night since the Celestial Wolves' disappearance. Freya smiled up at the sky and guessed, "That's them?"

Hildisvíni laughed openly, glad to finally have a step in the right direction. "They certainly work fast!"

Freya and Hildisvíni continued further into the camp, making Eivor tense up more as the Vanir queen took the lead once again. "Kratos certainly makes things happen. All the more reason for us to finish our preparations as soon as possible. The Einherjar won't…" she drifted off for a moment, making eye contact with Eivor, "be far behind," she finished before taking on a friendlier, but cautious tone. "Who is this?"

"Oh! Um," Eivor stammered, unsure if she should bow or curtsey or greet the queen of the Vanir in some excessively respectful manner. "My name is Eivor, and I apologize, I-I don't mean to intrude, Your Majesty."

Hildisvíni lended her a hand, holding back a smile. "Kratos and Atreus brought her with them, and she's here to help us with Heimdall."

"Is that so?" Freya seemed suspicious, and understandably so, getting Eivor to explain, "Yes, I know Heimdall’s abilities well enough to help counter them." Not a truthful explanation, but it would suffice.

With Freya still wary, Hildisvíni emphasized her innocence by informing, "She's an Aesir who has defected to our side."

She's an Aesir. The phrase made her stomach lurch, hating how it made her sound like she was a willing participant in Odin's atrocities. "Though I would really rather not be referred to as an Aesir."

Before Hildisvíni could apologize, Freya pointed out, "Especially with those tattoos. They're Vanir, much like mine." She held out an arm to present her own markings, the circular patterns similar to the ones on Eivor's arms, even resembling the carvings on her father's bone flute.

Knowing this would lead to a long story, Eivor kept it short and sweet. "My parents were an Aesir and a Vanir."

Freya seemed to relax, finding truth in her claim. "I do remember hearing a story like that. An Aesir goddess and a Vanir god who fled Odin's wrath, never to be seen again. Do you remember that, Hildisvíni?"

"I do, although I never knew if it was actually true."

People who knew of her parents and had a moment to talk about them. A first in Eivor’s life. "Did you know them?" She blurted out, unable to shroud the hope springing into her heart.

The frown Freya gave her was answer enough. "I do not, unfortunately. Although the identity of these gods has never been revealed, making it possible that I did know one of them, but I can't say who they were. It could be a number of people."

Containing the disappointment as much as possible, Eivor all but sighed, "I see…"

Feeling the hurt in Eivor's heart, Freya sought to comfort her in the only way she could. "But I can still tell you about Vanir culture and tradition. I'm sure you never heard about that side of your heritage in Asgard."

An offer Eivor eagerly accepted, Freya allowing her to ask as many questions as she wished as the elder goddess guided her through sorting the rest of the herbs and assembling the signal flares that would be used during the rescue. She spoke of Vanir harvests, their symbiotic relationship with nature and the beasts that inhabited the jungles, shared stories of her and Freyr flourishing in the peaceful Vanir lifestyle with a fond look in her eyes. After that, more recent events were expounded upon, mostly related to Baldur. The queen wanted to know about Eivor's relationship with her son and was grateful that she befriended the senseless god and remained a positive presence until his untimely death. With that in the air, Freya also cleared up the lies Odin had told surrounding Baldur's death, revealing her role in his curse and her willingness to die for him, only to be stopped by Kratos. The anger and lack of forgiveness was apparent when she recounted the events, but the goddess had a sound enough mind to recognize her vengeance should be directed at the common thread between every tragedy that had afflicted the realms.

In time, Eivor even shared more about herself, confided in Freya about her time with the elves, her regrets while "serving" Odin — a regret she herself could relate to — and the Vanir goddess was able to counter her every insecurity with warm reassurance and care. The biased stories about Freya that circulated Gladsheim had all been so far from the queen before her, not at all doing the kind yet strong goddess any justice. It had been only hours and Freya was already feeling like the mother she never had. And that would lead to Eivor's secret being revealed.

The pair was picking leaves and flowers from the trees surrounding the camp and placing them in baskets when Lúnda chimed in after overhearing Eivor vaguely mention her magic. "Y'know Freya, this little lady is just itchin' to hear about your fancy tricks. You're almost like a celebrity for 'er!"

Her face growing red as Lúnda guffawed mischievously, Eivor stuttered, "Lúnda! Freya, that's really and exaggeration, I, uh, I don't mean —"

Freya laughed sweetly, having no issue with her curiosity. "It's alright, Eivor. I'd be happy to teach you things that can help with your magic. It's the least I can do after you've helped us on such short notice."

"Well…" Where did she even begin? It was the first time she could ever have an expert explain magic to her, answer direct questions instead of finding only somewhat related answers from books. "I guess I could start by asking how you're able to control so many types of magic. I've only been able to do new things with practice and experimentation, and even then it takes a long while to truly master it."

She was met with a wise smile. "It's simple, actually. I don't."

"...huh?"

Directing her attention to the vast branches and roots intertwined together in the rocks above them, her hand raised while magic flowed from her fingers. "What so many fail to understand is that magic is the very foundation of all the realms. It is a natural force, and like any other it cannot be controlled, only…shepherded." She called the roots forward, extending and twisting them into beautiful shapes as Eivor watched with wonder. "It is not a matter of give and take, it is a compromise. Think of it as an exchange. You stimulate the magic in the environment, and in return it temporarily follows your lead. Once you withdraw from the interaction," the magic faded, and the roots slowly and gracefully receded back to their natural state, "the product withdraws its compliance, falling back into its natural form, unharmed and unchanged. It is a power to be respected and understood rather than bent to one's will. That is the basis for any magic, regardless of its source, and one that is commonly ignored." Eivor nodded eagerly, taking in every world as if they were her lifeline and wishing she had her songbook to take notes. It did make sense. In desperate times when she needed to improvise in the moment she often could figure something out and use it in an instant, but when she thought extensively about what she wanted to do it would be much more difficult to carry out, evidenced by the years she spent crafting spells to keep Odin's eyes and ears off of her. She was trying to force the magic instead of understanding how to make it work. "Here, you try it."

Eivor hesitated for a moment, her hand hanging in the air as she wondered if she could follow Freya's masterful lead. With an encouraging smile from the elder goddess, Eivor reached up, feeling the magic dwelling within the roots and letting it mingle with her own, successfully making the roots grow and extend towards her.

"Well done," Freya congratulated, proud. "You're a natural."

The roots curled back into the stone as Eivor had an idea. "I'm just wondering…I can copy magic that I'm familiar with and use it in my own form."

Freya's brows shot up. "Really? The same principle applies, however it would benefit you to master external sources of magic as well. Relying on magic from oneself is much more exhausting, even for the gods."

"I know you're definitely right about that from experience. But it just makes me think…" Eivor reached up one more time, this time focusing on the presence of the magic within the roots, memorizing the natural composition and feeling. Her eyes closed, she took a deep breath, and when she drew her hand back the roots stayed in place. In their stillness roots of gold flowed from them, like a ghost leaving a body, twirling with her fingers before fading into gold dust. Freya did not exaggerate in the slightest, the nature of magic was much more powerful than the form it could take.

"Remarkable…" Freya gasped, amazed by just how unique Eivor's skills were. She grinned, already feeling much more confident about her brother's rescue than she already was. "You have such unique skills. I'm glad we have you on our side when we eventually have to take care of Heimdall."

Heart sinking and hand falling back to her side, Eivor's face lost all excitement as she was reminded of the circumstances, how hard it would be for anyone to believe Heimdall was worth saving. She understood why that was the general consensus, but it still broke her heart and left her unsure if she could get to him before something happened to him. Freya caught her change of demeanor right away, concern rising as she set everything aside to address her. "What's wrong?" Eivor couldn't look at her, and the queen knew she was hiding something. One look at the pain etched on Eivor's face told her enough. "You don't intend to do that, do you?"

Eivor's face scrunched up in sadness as she finally relented, giving away her secret to people who might reject it immediately. "I…I will help, but not by hurting him."

Freya was in shock as Eivor looked down. There was no way her assumptions could be accurate, not when it was Heimdall they were talking about. "He…means something to you, doesn't he?" Her voice was soft, trying to convey her care and display no judgment.

It was time. Not just time to tell the truth, but to let out the despair that she'd been holding in for years. "He means everything to me."

Shaking her head, Freya pitied the blonde, fully aware that her words would be hurtful no matter how gently they were delivered. "Eivor, I know this is not something you want to hear and that it sounds very…harsh, but I can't imagine he would ever return your affections."

Laughter was almost Eivor's response. Bitter laughter, but an expression of how ridiculous the idea was nonetheless. "He does, actually. And he has for some time."

"How do you know?"

A pained smile came to Eivor, reminiscing about a much simpler time. "Well, I've lived with him for almost a decade now."

"Really…?" Freya's face gave away how unbelievable the concept was to her. "I can't see him ever agreeing to something like that…how did that come about? Was he asked to do it?"

"It was his idea, actually. He invited me to stay with him."

Freya shook her head again, at a loss for words and unsure of where to even begin voicing her disapproval. "Are…have you ever considered that this might be a temporary arrangement to him?"

Smile taking on some of the fondness for these memories, she replied, "I did, at one point. But when he found out he changed right away, and I haven't doubted him since." That promise he made her was always in the back of her mind, lighting the way down this dark path that held a misty fork near an undetermined end. He was always devoted to her and her happiness, never shying away from her needs even if they would be totally absurd. That level of love and dedication would be what she gave him in return.

The joy behind her words did little to convince Freya, who still appeared uneasy. "Have you — forgive me, this will sound hurtful as well, but I'm asking with your best interest in mind. Are you sure that his desires are aligned with yours? That he wants the same things you do?"

A question she had heard before, one that had given her enough experience to know her confidence would not sway anyone without some form of proof. This time, however, she had proof in the form of a tale.

"Odin always punished me for stepping out of line." The statement caught Freya off balance, seeming very irrelevant in this context, but she listened anyway. "He often asked Thor to do something that would be a problem for me, knowing his son wouldn't defy him. On one of those occasions Thor 'accidentally' redirected Seiðr magic to me that left me ill. Thanks to Odin's 'inability' to fully cure its effects right away, I was bedridden for several days, barely well enough to move. When Heimdall heard he dismissed every servant that was treating me."

"He didn't want servants constantly around his home?" Freya asked with disdain.

Eivor shook her head with misty eyes and shocked Freya more with every second as she continued, "No… he said nothing they could do was good enough. That he would take care of me himself. And that was exactly what he did. He answered my every call and catered to my every whim with his own hands, and when he was working around Asgard he would come back and check up on me regularly. At least…once per hour, actually.

"I play music, and I sing. That was one of the things that brought us closer…he enjoyed my music," Eivor said, feeling the weight of her lyre and flute cases grow heavier with thoughts of the scion. "Over the years I asked him…hundreds of times to let me teach him how to sing, make it something we could do together. He always refused, of course, saying that he 'had no use for it.' But on one of those nights that he was caring for me, after already spending so much time on my treatment…" She had to hold back tears, that night playing out before her in perfect detail. When he came home he woke her up and started removing her clothes, which she protested at first. He promised her he wasn't doing what she was thinking, then carried her into the washroom and stepped into the warm bath, setting her on his lap while she leaned against him. He held her close while she just relaxed, breathing in the warm air and letting it relax her tired and sore body. A cloth was gently rubbed across her skin, he carefully washed her hair, making sure she "didn't smell like she'd slept all day." After he was satisfied with his handiwork, he picked her up and dried her off, then retrieved one of his tunics that he never let her wear to bed no matter how many times she asked, claiming the material was too fine to be used often. But on that night she was worth more than that soft tunic. Sleep was overtaking her before he even took her to bed, where he laid on his back and let her rest on his chest, his heartbeat lulling her into rest. And then…

"He sang to me." Eivor couldn't keep her voice from shaking as she recalled his voice, performing his favorite song out of nowhere. Her fatigue faded for a minute after he started, the surprise nearly knocking the wind out of her, tears falling as she fell asleep in his arms, already feeling so much better. "I didn't ask him to, I didn't even think about it, he just did it on his own…because he knew it would make me happy."

Freya could only nod, her story sounding more far fetched than such a simple memory ever should, yet she couldn't discount its validity. The one tear that escaped Eivor’s control was too real to accuse her of fabricating any part of it.

Voice tiny and weak, Eivor looked up at Freya, desperate for her to believe everything — for anyone to see why she wanted to save him. "Odin makes people do terrible things, and won't let them notice until it's too late. You would know this better than anyone." Freya's eyes fell for a second, unable to refute Eivor's very valid point. "Heimdall has good in him…it's just been buried. Living in Asgard, where everyone will do anything to impress Odin, even if it means harming each other, it's made him think everyone is only out for themselves. He can be good, but he has no reason to be. And every time — every single time I come close to giving him a reason, Odin pulls him back. Keep him distrustful, detached…dependent."

As Eivor's eyes went to the stone, lost in thought, Freya felt she understood Eivor's explanation more than she wanted to. Odin had done the very same to her during their marriage, convincing her that she didn't need her brother, that she only needed him just to keep her under his thumb. With that knowledge she couldn't deny that it was a very real possibility that Heimdall faced the same fate, and likely for as long as he could remember. It was…odd to connect with Heimdall in such a way, but not even this empathy could earn her full understanding.

"I hope you're right. For your sake." Freya led Eivor away from the vines, bringing her to the table near Lúnda's shop to set the gathered herbs down. With the topic being so sensitive, she found it best to take it in another direction. "What I don't understand is why Odin would let this happen in the first place. Heimdall is his most devout servant, and dividing his loyalty would not be in his benefit."

"That's exactly what I thought," Eivor nearly exclaimed, satisfied that someone else finally saw it too. "He was fine with it at first, even seemed to encourage it sometimes. Then one day he just…turned."

Extremely suspicious, especially for Odin. Freya was certain of that. "Did anything significant happen around that time?"

Eivor thought back to that period, remembering Odin's betrayal like it was yesterday. "It happened soon after I began living with Heimdall."

Freya paused, needing only a minute to put the pieces together. "I see…Then I have an idea that may explain his behavior." Eivor gave Freya her full attention, hopeful that everything would make sense after pondering it for so many years.

"If there's anything I know about my 'dear' ex-husband," Freya began, spitting out the phrase like it singed her tongue, "it's that everything he does is driven by fear — fear he seeks to eliminate through control. You have very unique skills, ones that could be used against him, which is why he would take you under his wing, but you and I both know that your allegiance wouldn't have lasted forever, and Odin knew that too. That frightened him." Eivor could only nod, finding it unbelievable that the powerful All-Father would be afraid of a single goddess tucked away in the temples around Alfheim. It only served to highlight his chronic paranoia. "He wasn't willing to let you get away from him if it would risk losing control over your magic. If you wouldn't stay in Asgard for him, he would have to find something else to keep you tethered to him. Something you would never give up."

The blonde goddess's face fell as the very logical line of reasoning was tied together, now seeing that she was trapped in a cage for far longer than she ever knew. "He used Heimdall as my shackles."

Freya nodded solemnly. "Exactly. Your loyalty would falter, but Heimdall's is unshakable. Once Odin was certain you were bound to him, he showed you his true self to make you believe Heimdall was in danger, knowing you wouldn't leave him to save yourself."

Eyes closed and shaking her head, Eivor admonished, "And I played right into his hands." How could she have been so blind for so long? If only she had maintained some of her initial suspicion she may have seen Odin's ploy from the beginning.

Then again, if she didn't she may have never grown close to Heimdall. Was being right worth more than him? No, not at all. Not to her.

Freya put a hand on her shoulder, her own pain evident. "We all do at some point. But we will not be fooled again."

So many had been misled by the Raven God, allowing him to inflict far too much harm to far too many people over far too many lifetimes. Yet Freya, who was one of those victims, was still standing on her own legs, sturdy enough to move past those mistakes and take back what was stolen from her. Seeing Freya's tenacity gave her hope that she may do the same for herself and Heimdall, fueling her own determination to fight back. Eivor nodded with a steely, reinforced gaze, and Freya returned the gesture with one of her own. Just like with Sif, she had found a sister fighting against the crimes that destroyed their families.

The uplifting conclusion was perfectly timed. Kratos and Atreus re-entered the camp as if on cue, approaching the goddesses to report their success. Freya greeted Kratos, giving him a run down of their rescue plan, an explanation that Eivor tried to learn as well. Atreus prevented that by tapping on her elbow and whispering, "Hey, uh, can I ask you something?"

Eivor caught the hint of distress on his face and tuned out everything else to listen. "What's wrong?"

He took a deep breath and pursed his lips, wondering how to approach the subject. "Well, I wanted to say this earlier, but I talked to Mimir about something while Father and I were exploring."

"Okay, and?"

Another pause, the boy looking almost sad. "Um, about Heimdall…I think that —"

The crack of thunder and the explosion of lightning in the distance shattered the calm over the camp, all eyes swiveling to the source of the unrest in the night sky.

"Was that…?" Hildisvíni began.

Freya replied, "It can only be one."

"Thor." Kratos glared at the sky, remembering his recent battle with the God of Thunder too well to tolerate another.

"But Heimdall is here, and we're already at a disadvantage. Why would Odin send him?" Mimir questioned, just as lost as everyone else.

Everyone except Eivor. Mimir was right, Thor had absolutely no reason to be there. And every time he was sent somewhere for seemingly no reason was when he had one purpose — intimidation. She doubted this time was any different. "He's here for me."

"You said Odin uses Thor to punish you. Do you really think he would do so even now?" Freya asked, watching the sky carefully.

"If he wanted something done without any questions asked, yes. Thor is the only one who will accept it silently." Not even his family would know what would happen here, even if his wife was a dear friend of hers.

Freya would not stand for this nonsense. "We can't let him interfere, we'll never get Freyr out if we have to deal with two of the Aesir."

"Then we send him back to Asgard," Kratos said, deep and gravelly voice deadly.

"Agreed. You held your own against him, didn't you? Not even he will have an easy fight with both of us present."

Eivor stepped forward after Freya insinuated that she and Kratos would go alone. "This time I'm going with you."

The hardened stare of a warrior fled from Freya as her caring heart shone through. "Are you certain? You are his target."

"He wouldn't be here if it weren't for me. It's my responsibility to deal with it."

Her decision was stubborn enough for neither god to protest further. Atreus took his eyes away from the flashes of lightning from the distance, ready to take on the threat at hand. "Then let's go!"

"You will stay here." His father's stern command elicited a response that any teenager would give.

"Why not?! I can help!"

"I know you can, son," Kratos said, growing gentler with the boy. "But I will not have you threatened by him again."

"Actually…" Mimir chimed in, causing Freya to sigh in annoyance. "That might not be a great plan, Brother. Heimdall is still out there and the Einherjar must be anticipating an attack now that we freed the wolves. The lad would be a big target if he's left alone, even with Freyr's crew here with him."

Kratos considered his options carefully, looking down at his restless son and trying to have faith in the strength and wise courage he had built in such a short time. "Then you will come with us." He addressed Eivor next, "Your magic. You can create staves for protection?"

Eivor already knew where he was going. "I'll stay close to him. I won't let anyone hurt Atreus."

Though still reluctant, Kratos accepted her answer. "Then we go."

Mimir managed to earn more resentment from Freya when he joked, "For what it's worth, I would still like all of you even if you get charred by lightning." All the Vanir queen did was scoff.

The four gods and their bodiless friend headed straight for the source of the thunder, flashes of lightning still striking the jungle as they traveled. Thor wasn't too far, near cliffs that led down into the valley the wildlife used for migration, and he made no effort to be discreet. Claps of thunder were nearly constant, lightning struck at the trees and blew up ruins scattered across the area, destroying anything caught in the blast. Freya could only mutter her concern for the environment as they avoided the carnage, making their way closer to the eye of the storm.

They made their way to the edge of the cliffs bordering the valley where Kratos and Freya witnessed the Great Migration shortly after killing Niðhogg, finding an entire section of the precipice chiseled out into a deep and miles wide crack with its lowest point surrounded by jagged rock faces that crackled with lightning. They found Thor it seemed, but he had burrowed so far into the mountain that he couldn't be seen from their view. "At this rate he's going to level the entire valley!" Freya growled, growing too impatient with their progress. "I'm going ahead, you —"

Out of nowhere an Einherjar leapt from the trees and barreled at Kratos, crashing into his shield with a staggering clang! Another lunged for Freya, keeping her occupied while a third erupted from the trees and also charged at Kratos, sword poised for an attack. Atreus was faster, an arrow landing in the warrior's leg and slowing it down enough for him to land another directly on the face, just in time for his father to throw the Einherjar ramming into his shield in his son's direction. The boy needed no instruction as the Einherjar stumbled to him, landing a perfectly timed kick to the Einherjar's chest that hurled him onto a thick tree trunk, knocking him out cold. More came from the trees all at once, but Eivor was quick enough to summon a barrier in their way that they all barreled into, falling back in confusion. "Eh, mayhaps this was a trap?" Mimir guessed nervously, another pillar of lightning zapping the cliffs next to them and sending charged stone down the rock face.

The queen of Vanaheim held three Einherjar in place with her powerful roots, her sword flying across the row to slice each of their heads off in one swoop. "They're going to need a better one," was Freya's fearless answer, both swords drawn and at the ready.

That seemed to be true. Eivor watched as closely as she could while staying close to Atreus, though he didn't seem to need her help either. It was a rare opportunity that she got to watch such impressive fighters closely enough to commit their skills to memory, and ones that could serve her well very soon. Kratos in particular was a marvel; a perfect balance between precise moves with his weapons and brutal hand-to-hand techniques, marking his experience and prowess in combat. He was certainly as good with his bare hands as he was with any other weapon. Terrifying, if she was honest, but probably one of the most useful combat styles for her to take in while she could.

When the Einherjar were cleared, another bolt of lightning struck right next to them, the ground giving away and sending them all tumbling to a ledge further down the cliff. A short fall, but the collapsing stone made it more disorienting than the distance could. Before he was on his feet Kratos immediately called out, "Atreus?"

The young god sprung up, dusting himself off. "I'm good!" Eivor stood and watched Freya approach the nearby ledge, glaring down at the sight below her. Soon they joined her in peering over and witnessed Thor, standing in the enormous crack in the cliff, casually throwing Mjölnir into the stone on the opposite side of his crevice. He had flattened so much of the cliff that there was a wide clearing of broken branches and fried leaves crunching underneath his boots.

"He's just causing a spectacle," Mimir pointed out, prompting Freya to roll her eyes at the obvious comment.

"Yes, I never would have guessed." Freya added sarcastically. "He's luring us out."

Before Mimir could come to his own defense Eivor corrected them. "Not all of us." The guilt was creeping into her voice, the destruction of the land weighing heavily on her already.

Freya surprised her by meeting her remark without hesitation. "We will not let him get to you," giving Eivor a determined look before returning her gaze to the edge. Once again, Freya was feeling like the parent she never knew. "But we must act now."

Just like his Vanir ally, Kratos was just as hesitant for all four of them to confront Thor at once — namely, a certain young man. He turned to Atreus and Eivor and commanded, "This is where you turn back."

Atreus did not hold in his frustration. "But Father—"

Though Kratos would prefer to keep his son as far from the God of Thunder as he could, he did have a strategic reason for his decision. "This is a formidable foe. If we fail we will need reinforcements to come to our aid."

For a moment Atreus processed his father's order, slowly realizing that he was being trusted with a very critical responsibility. It was the first time his father didn't just send him away to safety, a fact that bolstered his spirit. "We'll be ready!"

In truth, Eivor was also a bit irked at being left behind, having come along specifically to deal with a threat directed at her. But if it was between her ego and making sure Atreus didn't traverse the jungle alone, she would swallow her pride.

Another ray of lightning struck a tree on the cliff above them and sent a burning log down, but Freya was able to use roots to sweep it off to the side and away from them. Just as the flaming wood was out of the way an Einherjar attempted to jump down to them, the Vanir magic giving away their location, only to be struck down by Freya's arrow well before it reached them. "It may not be much safer to send them through the jungle on their own. Atreus especially. If Odin still needs him for his mask he's definitely waiting for an opportunity. "

The God of War huffed. Did he throw his son into a deadly battle or risk him getting surrounded and captured before reaching sanctuary? It was a conflict that did not show on his face, which remained neutral as always, but his eyes darkened with worry. Eivor knew what to do to ease the father's heart, reaching a hand out to him and Atreus. "Here."

Kratos recognized the gesture and held out a hand, Atreus following suit. She took Atreus's hand, but paused at Kratos's. It was his left hand, the same one that she had already placed a transportation spell into. Interference could mean that Heimdall…

"Um, give me your other one. Just to ensure the spell stays in place." He complied, allowing Eivor to place the same spell on him again, only this time she laid the runes on Atreus's arm and weaved the golden thread to Kratos, winding it around his wrist before it disappeared. "There. If you need help Atreus will be able to reach you right away. And if we run into trouble on our way back, he can get to your side before he's hurt."

Unfortunately, Atreus caught the one flaw in her plan. "What about you?"

Honestly? It didn't matter to her at that moment. Yes, she wanted to survive for Heimdall, but she couldn't put herself first. Not after these people took a chance and trusted her word without much resistance were met with Thor in exchange. She owed them too much already. Smiling at the boy, Eivor reassured, "I can fend for myself long enough. I'll be fine."

It was not an answer he liked, but there was no time to consider an alternative. From below Thor shouted, "Come oooooon, where are ya?!!"

Freya did not take his challenge lightly. "Go. And be careful." Unlike Kratos, it was much easier to see that Freya was equally reluctant to bring Atreus any closer to Thor.

Swallowing his complaints and trusting in his father, Atreus nodded, "You too." Eivor gave Kratos one last glance, silently reinforcing her promise to keep him safe before following the boy down a narrow stone path.

Ateus called over his shoulder, "Can you climb?"

"I can do more than that." It would be a bit of a shock since she had yet to give details of the full extent of her abilities, but she could explain the sudden Valkyrie wings later.

Finding no usable footholds, Atreus led her farther down the rocky path, jumping across gaps and dropping down a few levels on the way to a wide crack that would serve as a good starting point. He was tense, and not because of the dire situation they were in.

"I wish he would let me stay," Atreus muttered, hopping down to another ledge.

Eivor understood why Freya and Kratos wanted to keep as few people around Thor as they could, but his frustration was valid as well. Trying to remain neutral, she comforted, "He's not dismissing you. He's just trusting you with something else."

"I know, but…" he paused in front of the crack, needing to get his thoughts out before they started climbing. "It still feels like an excuse."

Perhaps it was. Eivor wanted to interrupt him as he took his first step onto the wall, hoping to preface her transformation, but the bright blue flash of lighting that blinded them tore the ground from beneath them before she could. They dropped down the cliff, broken trees and boulders falling alongside them while they plummeted further and further from their starting location until they crashed into more broken rocks. A rough fall, making them both groan at the impact's effect on their bodies. Eivor found herself wishing she had practiced summoning her shroud on short notice — wings would have been perfect if she could have concentrated long enough to call upon them.

Sitting up slowly, Atreus asked, "You okay?"

"For the most part." Eivor made her way up and looked around. They had fallen a ways, and they were shrouded in fallen trees that obscured just how far the top of the chasm was, though the walls of the crack in the cliff were closer, indicating that they had fallen further into the wedge-shaped ravine. She hoped that wouldn't affect their even longer climb back to safety.

A climb that would never happen. Her blood drained from her face when Thor's voice rang from around the debris in front of them, much closer than before. "There ya are! Are you comin' out or what?"

Not only had they fallen deeper into the gorge, they had gone all the way down to the bottom, on the same level as Thor. And he saw them come down.

This was bad. She doubted Thor would do anything to hurt Atreus since Odin needed him, but the All-Father was surely watching and would not waste a chance to use the scenario to his advantage somehow. What were the chances of that actually happening? Low, but there was still a possibility, and it was one she would not subject Atreus and Kratos to.

"What do we do?" Atreus whispered, drawing his bow. He knew just as well that they were in a poor position, and a lot could happen while Kratos and Freya made their way down.

Actually…that gave her an idea. Atreus wouldn't be happy with her when he figured it out, however. Something to deal with later.

Hopefully.

Eivor turned to Atreus, serious and relentless. "Go. Thor can't know you're close and that transportation spell gives off light when it's used. Run towards the other end, about a hundred or so paces, then use the magic to get back to your father." A hundred paces. Yes, that seemed like enough to kill some time.

"What?! I'm not leaving you here alone!"

For this, Eivor took a page out of Kratos's book, though in contrast her excuse was a complete lie. "He and I made a plan this morning before you woke up. He knows what to do if something like this happens, you just need to tell him to do it. I'll buy you guys time."

He looked at her and at the debris shrouding Thor behind her, the torment of his position in plain view.

"Come on out!" Thor boomed again, though this time with less energy.

The voice of the Aesir god made Atreus give in. "Just… keep him talking or something. I'll be right back!"

Eivor certainly hoped he wouldn't.

Atreus ran off, hopping over boulders and ducking through leaves of fallen trees, leaving Eivor alone. She took a deep breath. Then another for good measure.

This…was a terrible idea.

But she wouldn't let Odin hurt anyone through her. Not anymore.

Holding her head high, Eivor went around the stone and branches blocking her sight, coming out to the clearing that the God of Thunder waited in. There was no turning back. Not after his eyes met hers.

Silence. It gave her a moment to examine the destroyed terrain, and see that, given how atrociously deep the canyon was, Kratos and Freya were much higher up than she expected. All she could do was hope she could last long enough, facing Thor with a cold gaze.

Nothing at first. And then…

"Hey, Birdie." Said the same as always, as if nothing had changed.

Birdie. The nickname he managed to slip past Heimdall. He was expecting her to reply with her usual greeting, fondly referring to him as "Big Guy," like they weren't on opposite sides of a war now. It was a seriousness that Eivor did not dismiss, steeled for the inevitable. "Thor."

He was disappointed, grimacing at her flat tone. "Come on, don't be like that…" Thor sighed, his reluctance so obvious that the raven above them landed on a nearby branch, reminding him that Odin would be expecting very specific results. Nearly groaning, he still had so much he wanted to say and had no chance to speak it. "Look…" Electric blue eyes flickered to the raven.

Eivor wanted him to speak freely, believing this may be the last time they ever could. At the same time, she couldn't convince him to do so if it meant inspiring Odin's wrath, the God of Thunder dealt with it enough without mistakes fueling it. Her barriers that kept everything out of ear's reach was not an option either, as an extended conversation that Odin could see but not hear would only convince him of treason if she came out of this alive. The only option she could think of was her spell that concealed her from both sight and sound, though she'd never used it on another person, could never get it to work.

It is a power to be respected and understood rather than bent to one's will.

Then again, she had never tried to use it in its most natural form. Freya's lesson echoing in mind, she closed her eyes for a moment, focusing on the magic she used every day with a new lens. It wasn't her power, it was an ally. She didn't control it, it was a force she needed to understand. What could it do? And how could all of its abilities work together?

She let instinct take over, breathing deeply as she raised a hand and let the gold dust flow freely from her fingers, channeling that same spell she used to escape Asgard, this time feeling its full potential and encouraging it to reveal itself. A faint gold light burst from the dust and expanded upward into a pillar, the top spreading out to create a dome around the clearing. Her eyes opened to examine the outcome, not even needing to wonder if it worked. The raven's confused cawing and gliding between branches while looking in every direction told her she had a private moment with an old friend. Even if it was a short one.

Thor noticed the raven's panic as well, not wasting any time. They both knew if this went on too long Odin would take matters into his own hands. "Look…I don't want to do this," he sighed, sorrowful while he threw up his hands in calm exasperation. "I don't have a reason to hurt you, Sif and Thrúd miss you like crazy… Why don't we just set something up, make it look like we had a fight that threw you somewhere. Then you just…hide or something."

Again, she had been asked to hide. Were the situation not so dire she would start to feel annoyed. Eivor looked away, keeping her hand raised to maintain the stave while she slowly walked around, hoping some sign of movement would convince Odin that they weren't attempting a truce during this blind spot. "You know I can't do that."

"I mean, would you rather die today? Over nothing?" When Eivor didn't answer he grew more desperate. "You're probably the only one who can hide from him, and the world is better with you in it. Just…get somewhere safe."

A flicker of magic sparked in her. From a safe distance Atreus used her spell to get back to Kratos and Freya, making it safe to end this get on with it. Resolute and unyielding, Eivor gave no impression that she would ever consider his suggestion. "You should know I'm not one to go back on my decisions."

He should. He knew very well how tough she was, even though he himself had beaten her down so many times. The first of his crimes against her being the one that always weighed the heaviest. "I'm sorry about what I said."

Eivor furrowed her brow, lost.

"Years ago. At that party we threw for you after you got that…thing All-Father wanted."

…that's right.

"Here's to bein' useful."

Words Thor drunkenly slurred long ago that made her crippling fear of being used bubble to the surface. The words that drove her to lose herself to fear and flee from her own celebration.

Words that drove her and Heimdall to finally elevate their relationship.

Of course. Knowing what she did now it was obvious. Odin specifically asked Thor to say that with the intention of driving her to the one person she had confided in — and the one person Odin could use as her chains.

It was so long ago it didn't feel real, but to Thor it must have never left his mind, his tired eyes showing more shame than ever before. It wasn't his fault. They both knew that. "That's in the past now," she dismissed, referring to that specific event and all other times Thor had to be Odin's punishing hands. "But it changes nothing."

"Guess not. But I wanted to get it out before…" A hefty sigh, one that would only come about from a lost cause. Thor knew he would have no choice here. But he had one more thing that could get her to reconsider, and he was certainly going to use it.

"He's pretty torn up, you know."

Her footsteps froze, the words stabbing her heart so deeply that she nearly lost her balance. It had been the first time she heard of Heimdall's reaction since she fled, and the details made her face scrunch up with pain.

"Hasn't been himself since. Quiet and indifferent." Thor let out a bitter chuckle. "If he looked even a little different no one would recognize him anymore."

I'm so sorry, she said to herself as if her lover could hear it. The thought of the turmoil she put him through was almost enough to make her second guess her plan, wondering if it would be better to wait things out and pray she could find him later. But there was no chance of that happening, and she knew it. She was doing this for him. Her heart had to remember that to overcome the fear.

Voice nearly quivering, Eivor made her point one last time. "I'm not changing my mind." To emphasize the finality of her choice she lowered her hand, dismissing the stave and allowing Odin's eyes to watch them once more. The raven overhead immediately set its eyes back on them, giving the God of Thunder no more time to try to save someone his family cherished dearly.

Thor lifted a hand and let it fall back against his thigh, defeated. "Well…" A lull in the showdown where neither of them moved, both wishing this wasn't the way their friendship came to an end. Then, Thor snapped his fingers, his hand opening again to receive Mjölnir as it flew into his awaiting palm. Eivor braced herself, standing tall and shoulders squared, focused and ready. "This is your last chance," he warned, "I know you're tough, but you know you can't beat me." The bloodthirsty Aesir in him was taking the spotlight, his voice growing low and deadly.

That didn't matter. She was going to fight, even if victory was impossible. "Don't you think for a second that I'll go down easily."

High above the exchange, Atreus had returned to Kratos and Freya, the two parents already asking why he had returned while Eivor confronted Thor. "Never mind that!" He panted, panic and fear settling in as he watched Eivor stand across from Thor's hammer. "Father, whatever you planned, do it now!"

"What I planned?"

The boy paled, already realizing what had happened. "Eivor said you guys made a plan…"

"We had no plan," Kratos replied. He, too, had caught on.

Eivor was facing Thor alone to protect his son.

All they could do was begin working their way down the miles of stone as Thor charged.

And gather their wits when a gold Thor charged back.

The God of Thunder swung Mjölnir at his magic doppelganger and was met with a strength comparable to his own — but not a match. He threw Eivor back and hurled his hammer at her, knowing she had no means to block such a severe blow. What Eivor did have, however, was wit. Rather than blocking she countered by sidestepping and reaching out to take the hammer by its handle as it flew by, spinning around to gain some control over it. It automatically tugged towards Thor, and combined with her mimicked strength she launched the hammer at him with deadly speed. She manages to hit him right in the gut, making him stagger back. When his balance was regained he clapped to blast a sound wave at her, one that she would be too encumbered by fighting Mjölnir's pull to dodge. Forced to let go, Eivor rolled away, allowing the hammer to fly back into Thor's hand. He slammed his weapon into the ground over and over, calling bolts of lightning to strike next to her and leave an electric patch on both of her sides, then held out his hand to channel sparks into a beam of lightning. With the crackling ground on both sides and the oncoming attack, Eivor had to switch tactics. Her disguise was shed in favor of one that could deflect even Thor's lightning, Gná's form overtaking hers and creating armored wings that parried the oncoming flash of energy. As soon as it hit her wings unfurled, a flurry of golden feathers sweeping out in an arc and piercing into Thor's chest, but he barely even acknowledged it as he sprinted across the distance. As terrifying as it was to watch the Giant Killer himself sprinting at full speed, Eivor maintained her composure and waited until he readied a punch, strafing to the side and slicing him with a wing. He grabbed it before it could strike and slammed Mjölnir into her chest. The force caused her to slide backward and stumble, giving Thor a perfect opening for one more voltaic attack. Eivor was able to steady her focus quick enough to glide out of the way, but it was at a cost. Already she felt her magic draining her stamina, and she would falter if she didn't step back and breathe soon. In that split second she chose to pull her wings in close and rapidly spin in place, shredding up Thor's side and blasting him away when she opened them on the final rotation. That was all she could manage, dispelling the mirage and nearly losing her balance as she panted.

Thor lumbered back to his feet. "C'mon, Birdie. Don't make this harder than this has to be. You know you can't keep this up forever." It was hard to tell if it was a taunt or a plea for her to reconsider his previous offer, his voice hardly conveying any emotion. A rarity for someone who enjoyed battle as much as he did.

Regardless of his intentions, the comment still made her blood boil. It sounded too much like he believed she would let something as simple as one fight be the end of years of pain — pain that she endured solely to create a better outcome with her own hands. Standing straight and eyes full of fire, she barked out, "I've been through much worse for far longer!"

A change in strategy this time. As opposed to meeting his strength with an imitation, she countered it with speed. Her new shroud was lean, quick, and one that she would have felt terrible about using against Thor if she were in a better headspace. She zipped forward and threw a punch, her fist colliding with Mjölnir's side and leaving Thor stuck staring for a moment. "Oh, that's low, especially for you!" Thor growled as he stared at the copied face of his late brother.

Not giving herself time to feel guilty for using Baldur's form in front of both Thor and Freya, Eivor sped to one side and zoomed to Thor's back, a powerful strike landing square in his back just as he was turning to block her. He fell and rolled back onto his feet while she leapt at him, hands ready to batter the god for as long as she could. She slid out of the way of a soaring Mjölnir before she dashed forward with a sharp fist ready. One hit to his chest, then two more in a blink, and a final one right to his jaw. To get her off his back, Thor recalled his hammer, commanding it to fly straight towards her on its way to its master. Eivor was able to dodge, but the advanced speed proved to be only so useful against the God of Thunder. His experience in combat made itself known, having the perfect way to take down an enemy that exploited his weaknesses. Mjölnir flew out of his hand and straight up, pausing high in the air and exploding into a ball of lightning, shooting out streams of sparks down to everything in its wake. There was no way she could dodge such sudden forces, even with Baldur's incredible power.

But there was one god who could.

Another shroud was taken, this one so familiar that it almost hurt to copy. With the rudimentary forgery of Heimdall's foresight she could instinctively feel every shock raining down nearby and slip out of the way well before it hit, at the unfortunate cost of being unable to damage Thor between dodges, the task of keeping the shroud up while using such a grueling ability already too taxing to tolerate. Thor saw how well she managed his impromptu thunderstorm and immediately knew how to retaliate. He called Mjölnir back from the airborne ball of lightning and threw it right away. Easy to dodge, and just as easy when it came again from behind her, but he correctly predicted a fatal flaw in her movement. She ducked under Mjölnir as it returned to Thor, and with her limited version of Heimdall's foresight unable to read intentions, she failed to find a sturdy position before he summoned a storm in his hand and forced a beam of sparks directly at her. The foresight acted automatically before she could jump out of the way herself, moving her in all directions like her entire body was consumed by spasms as it avoided every little spark spewing at her. The overwhelming sensations made her headache, the shroud's opacity fading in and out while she struggled to maintain it just a little longer. Her breaths grew ragged as her energy fell to a dangerously low point. The disguise did give out, the lightning coming into full contact with her and shocking every nerve she had, her legs giving out and leaving her on hands and knees, hardly able to breathe.

Thor's onslaught stopped, his reluctance to fatally harm her returning. "Face it, Birdie. You've got no one in there that can get you out of this."

Now Thor was the one who miscalculated. After all, there was only one god who stood a chance against him — the very same god who gave him the bloody gash on his stomach.

Giving Thor no chance to take advantage of her fatigue, she ripped herself off the ground as the shape of the foreign god of war overtook her, his hefty and practiced fist smacking Thor hard enough to send him flying. Eivor already had to pause, the act of summoning her magic already tiring her out. In the meantime, Thor stood, surprising her with a chuckle. "Nice try, but trust me, you haven't even seen the God of War he's hiding in there."

Even if she did, she doubted she could replicate it in her exhausted state. Still, she refused to surrender, choosing to run right for Thor and put the hand-to-hand skills her ally built to good use. As helpful as they were, she still wished she had a weapon.

Luckily, the youngest of her approaching comrades had noticed the common flaw in every shroud she had used thus far, proven when a frost axe flipped into view and landed in the ground between Eivor and Thor. Without a second thought, Eivor pucked up the axe and reeled it back, swinging it while shards of ice gathered on its blade. It landed in Thor's shoulder, but he recovered almost immediately. Eivor recalled the moves Kratos had used only minutes ago, tossing the axe so it spun around her before returning to her hand to force Thor to give her space, then use that freedom to completely freeze the blade and slam it down onto the ground, the ice shattering and scattering cold shrapnel and a cyclone of frigid wind around her. The onlookers were actually impressed that she could recreate Kratos's skill almost to a T.

The final attack and the amount of effort required to perform it was a final mistake, the magic draining her of whatever fortitude she had left. The axe slipped from her fingers and she fell to her knees, hyperventilating and gasping like there was no air to be found. Thor hesitated one final time, his expression morose as he prepared the blow that had to be dealt. He chose to distance himself from the task as much as possible, throwing more lightning at her and hoping it would do the trick. With the last of her resistance, Eivor's hand raised and built a barrier between them, the lightning bouncing off until Thor chose to stop. Her arm fell like it was made of metal, hardly able to remain conscious at this point. Thor took a step forward, paused with another demoralized frown, then proceeded. This was it.

I'm so sorry, Heimdall. I love you.

The Leviathan axe disappeared from her side and flew past her just as a vortex of roots descended into the cliff crevice. The living wall fell between the two gods, the axe flying into it and freezing it all into one solid block. Kratos raced into view, displaying his impressive strength by taking hold of the frozen block and ripping it free, shoving it forward until he heard Thor collide with the other side. He then pulled it back and threw it hard enough for the God of Thunder to be thrown off balance. The colossal brick of ice slid across the crevice and pushed him over the edge, him and the ice falling over and into the valley below.

A beat of silence. There was not a sound. Thor could very well have come right back and faced Kratos without a problem.

But he chose not to.

Eivor whispered a silent "thank you" before collapsing onto her side, having to painstakingly peel herself up and into a sitting position, gulping in air and feeling her aching muscles pound with rushing blood attempting to mend the internal damage. She only opened her eyes and lifted her head when she heard light footsteps rushing to her, catching Atreus kneeling down next to her with Freya close behind. "Are you okay?!" He exclaimed, looking her over to find anything he could treat with his own magic.

Eivor shook her head, causing Freya to cease her own examination while Kratos met up with them, holding a hand out until the Leviathan returned to him. "I-I'm…okay," she gasped, taking a couple breaths before adding, "Just…tired."

Atreus nodded, but his worry remained — worry, and guilt.

"I've never seen anything like that, lass," Mimir marveled from Kratos's belt. "It's no wonder Odin wanted you around him."

Kratos didn't comment on her skills. "You told Atreus we had a plan."

Eivor couldn't make eye contact with him or Atreus, knowing where the guilt Atreus held came from. Brow furrowed in sadness, he said, "You…you just said that to get me to leave."

A solemn nod. "I did."

"But why? Thor could have killed you!"

Green eyes went to his. Then Freya's, then waited on Kratos's for just a moment longer before saying to all three of them, "I won't let you lose a loved one to save mine."

The quiet that enveloped them was thicker than the ice wall Kratos effortlessly hurled off the cliff, all four of Eivor’s friends stunned by the selflessness of her actions. After years of torment, she would give up the chance to save the one she loved to prevent another from dying in the process. An act of a pure heart.

An act that none appreciated more than Kratos. The loved one she was referring to in this context was his son, and this was a sacrifice he would not forget.

"You truly are one of a kind, lass," Mimir complimented, even more amazed by her character.

"Yes. In skill and in spirit," Freya praised, smiling softly, admiring the bravery Eivor did not fail to wield.

Freya stood, ready to help Eivor up, but it was Kratos who beat her to it, reaching down to take Eivor's hand and assist her while she stood on shaky legs. She was astonished by how gentle and careful he was in spite of his size and gruff nature. Atreus, now smiling, asked, "Can you make it back okay?"

"I'll be fine…maybe just a little slow at first," Eivor laughed, lightening the lingering worry between them.

Mimir was just as kind. "Take your time, Eivor. We'll be here to help along the way," he said softly. "Well…I'll help as much as a decaying head can," he joked, making her giggle.

Now that it was clear Thor would not return and everyone was safe, Freya scanned the skies and the valley, looking for any more disturbances that could get in their way. "Rest while you can. Once we return…" she looked back at her friends, taking on the look of a competent queen and caring sister. "We have much to do."

Everything was ready. Everyone knew the plan and was raring to go. It was now time to rescue Freyr — to march on the operation Heimdall was ordered to carry out.

They were ready, but Eivor was wondering if she was.

She stared into the fire in the middle of Freyr's camp, still resting even though her exhaustion had subsided, using the last moments she had to think about what she would say to him. In all honesty, she thought the words would come to her along the way, yet she still had no idea where she would even start. An apology, probably, but after that…

"Eivor."

Kratos's voice was low and calm, yet it still startled her, too distracted by her own thoughts. He towered over her as she looked up at him from her seat, something in his demeanor feeling different than usual. "Yes?"

As usual he was stoic, giving nothing away. "Are you well?"

"Yeah, I'm alright now. Really."

"Well enough to travel?"

Eivor nodded, but a part of her wasn't so sure. Kratos and Freya were to split up from the rest of the team, and since he had the spell that could summon her, she saw no reason to insist on staying close to him. Though she volunteered to go with the rest of the group, where Freya said she would be needed, her anxiety infected her mind with horrible possibilities. What if Heimdall had already killed Freya's brother and she refused to let him live? What if he was furious with her and wouldn't listen to anything she had to say? What if Kratos didn't keep his word and call her when Heimdall was found?

The god accepted her silent answer, quiet for a few thoughtful moments. He steered the conversation into a completely different direction. "Earlier…you took great risks to protect Atreus."

Eivor winced, expecting some kind of scolding that fit the stern, strict general-like behavior he displayed almost constantly.

But he had no lecture for her. "When I encounter Heimdall, no matter when that may be, I will hold back for as long as possible."

Eivor's eyes widened, putting together the unsaid words on her own. He would make sure she had her chance, regardless of the circumstances. It was amazing that caring for his son was all it took to gain his favor, for him to be willing to sacrifice anything to help. Almost failing to contain relieved tears, Eivore breathed, "Thank you, Kratos."

He had nothing to say, merely giving a small nod before taking his leave and meeting Freya on the other side of the camp. They exchanged a few words, Freya waved to Eivor, and they were off on their side of the rescue. It was just about time for her to do the same.

"Hey, Eivor?"

Atreus, timidly approaching her after putting some distance between himself and the others. He seemed nervous, almost sad. "What's wrong?"

The boy didn't hide how troubled he was, scratching the back of his neck while he stared at the ground with a deep frown. "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Of course, I'm always happy to talk with you," she smiled, hoping it would ease his worries at least a little.

He chuckled nervously, "Uh, yeah, we'll see if you still feel that way in a second." Atreus inhaled deeply, thinking of how he would explain this without making it sound like he was criticizing her decisions. "So…I have this theory. While Father and I were exploring I asked Mimir some questions about things I saw in Asgard, like what Odin does to new Einherjar."

New Einherjar? Was there any difference between the newly recruited and the veterans? "What does he do?"

"He showed me this spell he uses on them and said it gave them a 'sense of self' or something like that. When I brought it up, Mimir speculated that Odin was using it as an excuse to make them unconditionally loyal to him with some kind of magic."

Eivor barely batted an eye to that. "I believe it. That sounds like something he would do," she grumbled bitterly, despising his obsession with control.

"Yeah, that's what I'm worried about." Eivor tilted her head, losing the path Atreus was exposing. "Have you noticed what the Einherjar's eyes look like?"

She did. In fact, she had once asked Heimdall why their eye color was so similar to his, and he explained it was related to the high concentration of bifrost in their beings. Though she did wonder how he would be so sure of that. "Yes…what about it?"

Atreus hesitated, eyes looking around like the best words were hiding in the treetops. "Well…I noticed that before Odin cast the spell, the Einherjar's eyes were dark, almost black. Then after he used it, their eyes turned bright purple, looking almost exactly like…"

Heimdall's.

He didn't need to finish the explanation. She knew exactly what this meant. If the eye coloring was due to bifrost, it would have always been present in the Einherjar. If they changed after that spell…

The reality settled in and filled her stomach with poison as her face morphed with dread.

All this time. All this time she had wondered why Heimdall never believed anything she said, always dismissed the things he knew she wasn't making up. After all these years she thought he wouldn't believe her, when the truth was that he couldn't. Even if he tried.

Gods, what other choices had been stolen from him?

Her blood began to boil and singe her insides with fury for the wretched All-Father and his monstrous ways. Just when she thought she couldn't loathe him any more he managed to outdo himself in the worst possible way and get away with it.

The anger faded as a realization overcame her. She had a backup plan that was her last resort, something she kept to herself and was praying she wouldn't have to use. But if Heimdall was incapable of listening to her of his own free will, then when she used that plan he would surely choose…

No. No, she wouldn't think that. This backup plan was made because she knew what would happen if she tried to free her lover, and that there was no chance she would live if she didn't have Heimdall with her. Thor had already demonstrated that her presence among Odin's enemies would only bring them more trouble than they already had; she couldn't seek safety among them while she thought of something else. Convincing herself that this theory was improbable and moving past it was not an option either, considering Heimdall's account was not backed up by evidence and Atreus's was, and the boy's proof was rather damning. It left her with one possibility, and that was to embark on a hopeless endeavor.

A voice in her pointed out that there was no guarantee Atreus was right. There was still hope. She had to at least try to give Heimdall a life he deserved

In just a second her common sense quieted that voice and drowned it out with the only consolation she had.

At least she would get to see him one last time.

Atreus, unsettled by her silence, shifted his weight on his feet with guilty shoulders rising like he was trying to bury his head in his neck. "I'm not trying to talk you out of anything, I just…thought that was something you should know."

"I…" What does she even say to that? "I'm glad you told me. Thank you."

"Atreus! Eivor!" Hildisvíni called while the rest of the camp headed into the jungle. "It's time to move out."

Eivor stood, feeling her legs tremble with despair that she had to suppress. "Just…" Atreus sighed, still disagreeing with her decision but not having the heart to voice it. "Just be careful with him, okay?"

It took everything she had to smile back like there was no problem. Like she didn't know how this night would go. "I will."

As if it mattered.

"Completely giving away your position. What iiiiiidiots."

The unfamiliar voice matched an equally unknown face, though Kratos could easily predict his identity once he caught Freya's arrow before it could strike him. The god smiled from atop his mount, the beast growling as he mocked. "Oh, if it isn't Queen Mistletoe herself — hilarious by the way." He tossed the arrow away with mild annoyance, abandoning it to feign interest. "Been a while."

Freya confirmed the God of War's suspicion as she greeted their new foe. "Heimdall." Said coldly, like she was attempting to hold back her disgust.

Then Heimdall's attention shifted, violet eyes shooting to Kratos. He was shocked to see hatred eclipse his arrogance. "And you…" Heimdall drawled, pointing at the tattooed god while the graðungr paced and snarled impatiently, "must be the little half-breed's father." He practically spat the word, like this was a personal matter. The change in his demeanor was masked with controlled excitement, slapping his saddle while he laughed, "Lucky day! You have a lot to answer for, sunshine."

His distaste for Kratos was palpable, and seemingly without reason.

"You too, traitor," Heimdall added for Mimir, though much lighter than the way he addressed Kratos.

As Mimir criticized Heimdall, Kratos reached a hand down to his shield to cover Eivor's runes with his hand. There was a spark, dust appearing to leak from the spell that was consumed by orange fog before it fizzled out.

Nothing happened.

Freya glanced down as she noticed the failed magic, the pair sharing a look of resignation. There was nothing they could do.

Heimdall saw the magic pathetically fading with a smirk, finding it absolutely hysterical that they had tried some silly trick that was incredibly stupid and pointless yet again.

In the back of his mind he noted that something about that spell was familiar…

A matter he could consider later, after this monster was dealt with.

From across the jungle, Eivor shielded her allies from the waves of Einherjar, keeping as many adversaries away from Beyla as she freed Freyr from his bindings as quickly as possible. The burst of energy from within made her heart stop.

She lifted her hand to witness the spell's activation, getting mentally prepared for what could be her most painful battle yet. Her blood ran cold mind froze as she saw the runes glow weakly before fading, the magic slipping away in a faint orange glow without the pathway she expected.

"No…" Eivor nearly clawed at her hand as if it would bring the spell back, somehow mend the connection between her and her one chance. "No no no! No! Why didn't it work?!" None of her magic had ever malfunctioned before, not even in the slightest. The same spell had even worked just hours ago. Why not now?!

Hildisvíni called to her as he shot arrows at the Einherjar that were no longer hindered by her barriers. "Eivor, what's wrong?"

"No, no please…" Her world was falling to pieces before her eyes, the Einherjar threatening to jump at her any second far from the most debilitating threat now. "Heimdall," she whimpered, only able to picture his cold corpse abandoned in the jungle, grasping the back of her palm like it held the solution.

Perhaps it did. With the extended physical contact she felt a single thread. Weak, and hardly existent, but it was there. It pulled her in a direction, much like her mysterious tattoo did on occasion.

There was hope.

Without a word Eivor barreled into the trees, Hildisvíni begging her not to run off alone when there were enemies everywhere. Nothing could stop her, not even the destruction of the realms. Heimdall will. Not. Die.

She hated that the jungle was far too dense to fly through with Valkyrie wings.

"I know you didn't want this, but we know how this ends," was Freya's warning. There was no telling if Eivor would make it now, and Heimdall's survival became more and more unlikely by the second. "See you soon."

A part of Kratos was relieved Freya gave in so quickly. Not only did Freyr need her more, but he was certain Eivor had some way of knowing her spell had failed. She must have been on her way, and Kratos would give her time to travel.

He owed her as much. She risked her life for his son, and in return he would ensure she had a chance to save the person she loved — even if it meant letting Heimdall get away alive.

Heimdall chuckled at Freya's ridiculous notion as Kratos solidified his decision to take a risk for Eivor. "Oh, we both know that's not true. But don't worry Frigg, I'll be coming for you and your brother as soon as I am finished here." His sentence grew lower and more acidic as he spoke, Gulltoppr stalking closer to Kratos in agreement. "Now…"

Kratos watched as his eyes fell into a vicious darkness, scowling at him with a level of abhorrence for him that he hadn't witnessed in lifetimes.

"Watcha got?"

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

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milla-frenchy · 5 months ago

Text

I'm hooked you don't understand 😭

That beginning? You're such a baaaad girl, Nikki. I wanted to believe it, but of course the part of my brain who's not in total delulu mode was like "mouahahaha, you'll never get that so easily, jackass!"

And, yeah. My jackass side was in delulu, of course

So shy. So cute. I’m fucked, so very fucked, he thinks.

I LOVE IT 😍😍😍 he's fucked, we know it, he knows it, and I just love it

(also, I love how he reassures her, it's really cute I want him 🥹)

Vulnerability is thick in your voice as you break one of his rules and murmur, “J-Joel?” “What’s wrong, baby?” His voice waivers, making you feel a little bit better. “I’m nervous.” He lowers his head towards yours, running the tip of his hooked nose down the slender bridge of yours. You close your eyes and take him all in. He’s warm and hard, yet somehow so soft. His familiar ash and leather scent is mixed with the expensive whiskey he drank earlier. “So am I, sweet girl,” he whispers into your lips before kissing you softly.

Awwwww 🥹🥹🥹 I love her too, she's so real and cute and shy 😍😍😍

As confidently as possible you say, “I want to see your face up close when..” you take a shaky inhale, “When you see my cunt for the first time, Mister Miller.” Before the last syllable has left your lips he’s across the room, lifting you off the ground by the back of your thighs. You instinctively wrap your legs around him and gasp at the sudden pressure right where you’re aching for him. “I have memorized every answer from your preferences,” he growls into your collar bone, walking you around the bed. “I have strategically planned what I’m going to teach you and then you say stuff like that and fuck. I have to fight every sick and twisted thought I have, sweet girl.” He climbs onto the bed, laying you down just how he wants you, “You have no idea what you do to me. How out of control you make me feel.”

jfc I'm gonna fucking scream it's soooooo good ❤️❤️❤️

Joel knew that tonight would either make or break him. As his name spills sweetly from your perfect pouty lips he feels it, the same tug behind his belly button that he felt with Tiffany, that his grandpa said was how he’d know when he found something special; something to hold onto.

I'm fucking speechless

“Poor baby,” he mocks, tsking at you. He kisses right above your clit and you gasp. He’s close enough to know the heat of his breath is going to have you squirming and he can’t wait to watch how beautiful you’ll look doing it. “So wet. Smells so good. Fuck, She’s right in front of me but I already miss her. You look so soft and tight. Goddamn, you’re gonna have me breakin’ all my rules, sweet girl.”

Yes, YES break them goddamn it 😍😍😍

Joel repeats and then sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I think I’m fucked, Tommy.” Tommy puts his glass down and turns to face Joel, gripping his shoulder. “Are you ending it with all your other subs for this girl?” Joel takes a long sip from his crystal highball glass. Repeating the only word he seems to know lately, “Yep.” Tommy lets out a breath, “Shit. Ya, you’re definitely fucked.” “Tiff told me to find someone who scares me. This fucking scares me, man.” Joel finishes off his whiskey, and even though there’s a drink limit, the glass is refilled before it’s even hit the table. “This is - I just - I ain’t felt like this in a long time.” Tommy smiles at Joel, “I’m happy for ya, man. And look, as long as you aren’t keepin’ her panties then it’s probably not as bad as you think.” Joel pulls that nude thong from his pocket and puts it on the bar top as he finishes off his second glass of whiskey and then waves the bartender off, silently signaling that he’s done. “Shit, so you are fucked then?” Tommy laughs.

All this Joel/Tommy part was so good, the confession omg

(did he jerk off after that???? whaaaaaaat, I had to ask 😇)

BDSMaid - Chapter 4

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: JMKink is nothing and everything that you need and want it to be. Meanwhile, you are nothing and everything that Joel imagines you to be.

WC: 13.8k

TW: Warnings are below the cut in small red, feel free to skip them if you want to avoid chapter spoilers, but there are some descriptions of reader so I would classify this as more of an original character versus a blank canvas female reader.

AN: I actually cannot believe how many of you reached out all excited about September 1st approaching. From the bottom of my cold dead heart, thank you!! The more I write this, the more I picture video game Joel, so do with that what you will haha. Thanks so @ak-vintage and @lotusbxtch for beta reading for me. Support banners and dividers by @saradika-graphics. I recently got promoted at work (yay me), but the job is now waaaaaay more work than before, so enjoy this chapter slowly because I am not sure when I will be writing chapter 5.

Series Masterlist || My Masterlist

TW: p in v, dirty talk, sub dom relationships, age gap, alcohol consumption, flirting, voyeurism, description of a threesome and other sexual acts, use of sex toys, nipple clamps, female orgasm, talks of neglectful parents during childhood and loss of a spouse. Mutual pining.

“Hnnng, fuck yes, daddy.” He’s rutting into you deeper than anyone else ever has. Long, slow strokes of his heavy cock sending you into a spiral of white hot, sparkling nirvana.

“So fuckin’ wet n’ tight. Fuck, sweet girl.” His deep voice devours you - rattling around your skull, echoing slightly as if you’re in a large, empty room.

Everything is black; darker than the onyx pits of his eyes. You’re not sure if you’re up or down, and you’re either blindfolded or have your face buried in a pillow as he fucks into you from behind. All you can feel is the pleasurable push and pull of his thick, vein lined cock slamming in and out of you. The vast darkness and the feeling of him filling you so full is overwhelming

“Please, daddy. Please. I’m so close.”

The soft mushroom head of his cock is kissing right where he taught you to crave it, and you wouldn’t be surprised if that spongy spot had ‘Property of Joel Miller’ branded on it by now. Within seconds of him pressing inside of you tonight you had completely submitted to him; surrendering to the darkness, the sensation, the exquisite pleasure. This is exactly where you were meant to be, and he’s the only one you’d want to be here with. It has never been this good, and even with your limited experience you know that it will probably never be this good with anyone else.

“Don’t stop this time. Please don’t stop this time.” You’re an aching, crying, desperate crumb of yourself; wholly at his mercy.

“No coming until I say.” His voice seems further away with every word and dread settles in your stomach as it all starts to fade.

“No! Nonono. Please no.” You feel a hot tear run down your face as the euphoria fades. You can barely feel or hear him anymore as little slits of yellow light appear. You blink once, twice. After a third long blink your bedroom comes into view.

Fuck.

This has been the start of your new three part morning routine for the last few nights, since that kiss with Joel, since filling out your preferences and signing all the waivers. Since being asked to submit test results and proof of birth control. Since Joel Miller became your Dom. Night after night you dream of him fucking you, and night after night, right as you’re about to fall over the edge, he tells you not to come until he says and you wake up.

The second part of your morning routine is a lot more cathartic and vocal - very vocal. Your newly painted cotton candy pink nails (anything to stay distracted and busy) dig into the soft cotton of your pillow as you pull it out from behind your head, pressing it to your face and screaming until your throat feels raw.

Fuck.

When all the breath is pushed from your lungs, you put your pillow back and kick off the blanket. Your bare feet drag along the worn down carpet of your bedroom to the cold and cheap linoleum of your bathroom. You pee, avoiding your clit at all costs when you clean up. You know you’re down fucking bad when even the scratchy 1-ply toilet paper is enough to make you almost crumble.

Part three of your new morning ritual is probably the part that shocks you the most. You change into leggings and a tank top, slipping a ten dollar bill and your house key into the side of your sports bra. The old springs of your mattress creak as you sit to slip on socks and your lavender colored runners, that you honestly forgot you owned until the morning after your twenty second birthday. You sneak out of your apartment, careful not to wake your roommate and jog down the stairs from your fourth floor suite to step into the cool March morning air.

Fuck.

After shaking out each leg, you start to run. There’s no technique to your form or a planned out route. You leave your phone behind, only sounds are the morning traffic and your struggling breath to keep you company. It's just you, pushing your body to forget how badly you’re throbbing between your thighs and trying to erase the feeling of him. As you turn the corner at the end of your block you can see the bright green grass and leafy trees of the park. Your calf muscles burn with every step, but it’s not enough; you can still feel him. As you reach the park your lungs start to burn; they feel like they’re filling with fluid. Your ankles protest with every strike of your feet against the concrete. Finally, just as you swear you’re about to meet your maker it happens, the sweet release you’re pushing for. Finally every trace of the ghost of Joel Miller disappears.

Your legs slow below you and you clutch your side, wandering lazily around the park. The rush of blood through your ears is nearly deafening, almost completely drowning out the chirping of the birds and the trickling of the water in the large stone fountain. You suck in quick, deep breaths, essentially doing everything and anything not to pass out. You’re free from him, if only for a little bit, as you fight against what feels like death knocking on your door.

As you walk home you grab a coffee - black with just a splash of almond milk, apologizing to the barista as you hand her the sweaty ten dollar bill that was tucked into your bra and begin mentally scheduling your day. It’s Monday, which means you don’t work today and you can focus on studying and laundry. Your LSAT retake is just a few days away, today is your last full free day, and you have to get as much studying and practicing done as possible. The dread of taking that test again has your hot coffee doing flips in your stomach. Getting some college letters would really help put you at ease. You know you applied early but it would be nice to know if you need to continue to push or if you can finally rest.

When you get back to your apartment your roommate has already left for her classes. You check your phone and your heart lurches in your chest at Joel’s name across your cracked lock screen. There’s been no contact between the two of you since Friday night. You slide open the text with shaky fingers

Good Morning, sweet girl. Are you ready to learn?

You bite your lip as you respond.

Yes, please, Mr Miller.

You stare at the text thread for a while. Although you aren’t sure if a total of three texts can be considered a thread, but you stare anyway trying to will more messages into existence. After a few minutes you give up, locking your phone and stripping your bedsheets. The trek to the laundry in the building feels like it takes forever and you rush back to check your phone. There’s no response but you do have a little red bubble on your JMK app. You excitedly tap on the app to see a new menu titled ‘Dominant Preferences’ added at the top. When you click it, everything from your Reddit wormholes is revealed.

‘Joel Miller likes to participate in bondage play, nipple play, toy play, dirty talk, oral sex (both giving and receiving), and fingering. He doesn’t like brat taming, but is willing to participate in scenes where his submissive needs to be put in her place occasionally. He never has sexual intercourse - vaginal or anal, this is a hard limit for him and his submissives need to understand that there is zero room for negotiation on this matter. He’s very open to impact play, but believes that only good girls should get spankings.’

You click off the little ‘Read and Accepted’ box at the bottom without hesitation. As if he’s waiting for you to accept, he texts you seconds after your finger has made contact with the screen.

8pm tomorrow. I’m sending a car for you. You should dress comfortably.

The same kind faced man from your birthday waits for you outside your apartment at 7:30 the next night. He opens the door, smiling gently at you as you hop in; leather and new car smell wafting around you. During the drive to the club you learn his name is Arthur, but my friends call me Cap.

“Can I ask you a question, Cap?” You ask as downtown comes into view.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do you drive all of Joel’s, umm, do you drive lots of women around for Joel?”

He chuckles knowingly from the driver's seat, glancing into the rearview mirror at you. “No ma’am. Joel is a pretty secretive man. I have driven him places when he’s alone, or I drive Tommy’s subs, but never Joels.”

You nod and look out the window. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you.

Cap rushes to open the door when he pulls up to JMKink. The club is in a different building than Joel’s office; that was in the tall building across the street. Three bright and expansive floors of that red stone faced building belonged to JM Inc. Assumingly, the home base for all the businesses he has his hands in. This building, however, is smaller amongst the tall skyscrapers of the Austin skyline. The entire building is coated in a shiny black chrome, from the steel framing to the windows, except for the golden JMK logo on the front door. You take a calming breath before heading up the steps, the blacked out glass door slides open automatically.

Your dark high heeled boots click on the black and honey flecked marble, the floor reminding you of Joel’s eyes. You wish the marble would suck you into it so you could live in that feeling you get when Joel looks at you. Where it might be seen as cold and intimidating to others, to you it feels warm and inviting, almost familiar, and that little box of feelings in the back of your mind stirs a little bit.

He told you to dress comfortably tonight, and you felt most at ease in a deep green sweater dress and knee high heeled boots. The dress just barely skims your thighs, making your legs look long and toned. You could use a tan, but it’s only March, everyone in Texas could use a tan at this point. You left your hair down in loose curls and kept your makeup minimal, as always.

There are three people in the small foyer. Two stunning women stand behind the hostesses desk in matching black dresses and collars. To the right of them stands a man who looks like he could kill you with his pinkie. He’s also dressed in all black, and stands in front of a large door. Everything here seems like it’s meant to intimidate but all you can see and feel is the safety that comes with knowing Joel Miller.

One of the women looks up at you, smiling comfortingly and asks for your name. Before you can respond, Joel's honey lined voice answers her. The sound of your name on his tongue feels like taking a breath of fresh winter air. Goosebumps break out across your skin, your own breath leaping in your throat as you spin slowly to meet his gaze. There’s no other way to around it, Joel Miller is fucking exquisite. His slightly outgrown curls are pushed back, silver reflecting off his temples and throughout his beard. Tonight he’s wearing a deep midnight blue Tom Ford suit with one jacket button done up, underneath he’s wearing a crisp white t-shirt, paired with brown dress shoes and what you assume will be a matching belt. One of his hands is tucked in the pocket of pants that literally look like they weren’t made for him, the other hangs loose at his side and you catch that gold ring again.

He doesn’t take his eyes off you as he speaks to everyone in the lobby, “You’re all to remember her name. She is my guest, my only guest, and as far as you’re all concerned she’s the most important person in this club. Understand?”

The little box of feelings lifts its lid a little. No, you say to the box, banishing it back to its dark corner.

A jumbled mess of ‘yes’ and ‘sorry’ fills the lobby but the only thing that’s clear to you is Joel as he wanders over, placing his hand on the small of your back, and leading you towards the large black door that the lethal looking man is guarding. As he pulls you into his side his voice quiets, his words a low growl meant only for you. “Hi, sweetheart.” When he sponges a soft kiss to your temple you press your lips together to stop the giggle that’s trying to burst out of you. Joel Miller makes you giddy in a way that you haven’t felt since you were much younger and saw a One Direction music video for the first time.

This afternoon, you had your easily predicted moment of panic. As with every decision you’ve ever made, you started to think that this wasn’t the right one. Maybe Tommy was the safer choice. Maybe you’ve bit off more than you can chew, or girlbossed too close to the proverbial sun. Or in kink terms, flirted too closely with the St Andews Cross. But now, being here tucked tightly against Joel's side as he guides you into your first experience with the world of kink you couldn’t feel any more sure of your decision.

You hold your breath as the shiny black marble door opens, this feels like one of those big climatic moments you see in the movies, like you know the main character's life is about to change, and a nervous excitement buzzes through your veins. As the club comes into view it’s nothing like you thought. For starters, there aren’t cages or naked people around, and at first glance it looks just like a lounge in a high end hotel or restaurant. JMKink is beautiful, breathtaking.

Light pine flooring is set in a herringbone pattern across the entire club. Directly in front of you are a few tall tables and then, situated in the middle of the space, is a large black marble bar. The bartender is surrounded by a halo of soft chiffon light that casts down from a brushed gold chandelier. The tables and bar top have tealight candles on them, making the entire thing feel sensual and soft. It’s just dimly lit enough that you can’t see beyond the bar from here. Joel guides you gently to the right. The booths that line the wall are only illuminated by the flickering candle on the table. Three of the booths are roped off, guarded by a tank of a man in a black suit. As Joel leads you towards them, you notice each of those tables have a gold plated reserved sign along with a name; Joel, Tommy and Tess.

Confusion swirls in your brain at the romantic feeling the club gives off. Part of you expected to walk into a sex dungeon or that red room that Christian took Anastasia to, but you definitely weren’t expecting this. If this place was just a bit brighter you could imagine studying here on weekends.

This isn’t a sex club, there’s no way.

As you slide into the furthest booth you’re able to see a small stage on the back wall and empty dance floor looking area on the other side of the bar. You can feel Joel’s warm gaze on you as you look around with wide eyes. Right when you’re almost convinced that you interpreted the information you found on Reddit wrong, your eyes land on the far left side of the room.

No, now that you see if from this angle, you are indeed in a kink club; a well stocked kink club based on the entire sex shop in the corner. You feel your cheeks flush and you dart your eyes towards Joel, pushing at your cuticle under the table, smiling shyly at him.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?” His voice is syrupy and warm as two drinks land on the table. Whiskey neat for him and some sort of pink martini for you.

“Nothing..I just, it’s not what I expected,” you swallow the sand that’s found its way into your throat at seeing all those sex toys just out on display in the corner and flick your eyes towards your drink.

“That's a cosmopolitan. I can get you something else if you want, sweetheart. The female staff here seems to love them.”

“No, I should have said thank you. I’m sorry.” His hand comes to meet yours as it’s picking furiously at the non-existent skin of your nail bed. He wraps his hand tightly around yours, and brings them to rest on the top of the table together.

“Take a breath, sweet girl. You’re ok.” His words wrap around you tightly, calming you. You’re ok. Your heart rate slows and you relax into the plush velvet lined booth a little bit, smiling sheepishly up at Joel. “Better?”

“Yes, thank you.” Your free hand grabs the martini glass and you bring it to your nose, it smells like cranberry and lime.

As you take a small sip Joel says, “You really don’t have to drink it, baby girl. I can get you whatever.”

The vodka burns away any sand that remains in your throat. It’s tart, and dangerously delicious. You can see yourself getting very fucked up these with your girlfriends one day soon. “No, I like it. Thank you.”

After putting the glass safely on the table, Joel lets go of your hand, wraps his arm around your waist and slides you across the seat, pressing you to his side. “Is this ok?”

JOEL

His cock twitches at the little hum you make in agreement. You lift your leg closest to him and rest it over his under the table. He squeezes your side gently, sinking into the comfort of you and grabs his whiskey. “So if this isn’t what you thought, what were you expecting?”

He loves the way you blush a little before answering him. “People just, you know, it’s a sex club, so just having sex here.”

He lowers his head to yours and whispers just for you, “There are people having sex here, sweet girl.”

He laughs to himself as your eyes narrow and you look around at the other people in the bar. “Not out here, just because you’re in a sex club doesn’t mean you have to consent to seeing or hearing people fuck. Or to be having sex yourself, really.” He loves the way you look at him with surprise at his boldness. He cocks his head towards a guarded door between the stage and booths along the wall, “But behind that door - well, people are indulging as we speak.”

He watches the small shiver of your spine, pulling back to take a sip of his whiskey, allowing you time to look around and become comfortable in your surroundings. He watches your perfect lips part, finding himself jealous of the rim of the glass as you take another sip. Great, first spoons and now glasses. As he watches your neck work to liquid down he says, “So did you leave that little pussy alone like I asked?”

Your head whips to face him, he can’t quite place your facial expression. It’s a twisted mix of fear, shyness and embarrassment, like you’re worried that someone may have heard him say pussy; but if you only knew the kinds of things happening in this club right now.

“What?” you ask shakily.

“Did you come? Or did you listen?”

“Umm…I,” he can tell that you’re flustered, and he finds you nearly irresistible like this.

“Are you nervous, sweet girl?”

He’s not sure if you realize it, but when you’re tense and he calls you by that nickname you relax a little. Your shoulders lower, the little crease in between your eyebrows softens. “No,” you say, and he’s not convinced.

Joel deepens his voice, a voice he only intends to use when you’re at the club together. Or when she’s in my bedroom. He pushes any thoughts of you outside of the confines of this space away, “Lesson number one, don’t lie to your Dom. We have to be able to trust each other.”

You look up at him through your lashes and it damn near kills him. You’re so beautiful, absolutely glowing against all the black in the room. The soft golden light bounces off of every little perfect piece of you; from the deep cupid's bow above your top lip, to the caramel highlights in your hair. He can tell by the long breath you suck in that you’re about to do that adorable thing where you ramble. “I’m nervous, but it’s an excited kind of nervous. And no, I didn’t…that thing.”

He can’t fight the smile at your shyness, “Lesson number two, If you can’t say it then you shouldn’t be here. What thing, sweet girl?”

You close your eyes and say, “Come,” and then open your eyes to look at him again.

So shy. So cute. I’m fucked, so very fucked, he thinks. He takes another pull of his whiskey if only to keep his hands and lips busy and to himself. He usually enjoys the burn but with you beside him it tastes sweeter.

As you bring your martini glass to your lips he commands, “One more time, this time look at me when you say it.”

Over your glass, sparkling eyes locked on him you mumble, “I didn’t come, Joel.”

“That reminds me. Lesson number three, as soon as we cross the threshold into my private room, you will refer to me as Mister Miller only. Out here, and anywhere else, I can be Joel, but in there,” he tilts his head towards a door on the other side of the stage, this one isn’t guarded, instead there’s a security pad that you need to have a microchip to unlock, “In there, I’m Mister Miller. Understand?”

He watches your throat again as you swallow, the palm of his hand tingles at the thought of wrapping his hand around it again. One of your eyebrows raises just a touch and he knows that cheeky little line of your lips. “Yes, Mister Miller.”

Your voice is husky as you say it and this time it’s him who has to fight the goosebumps rising on his skin and the icy shiver trailing down his spine. So perfect.

“Can I ask you a question?” You don’t make eye contact with him when you say it, like you fear he might say no and he has a feeling that whoever made you feel that you needed to make plans A through Z also told you are a burden for asking questions. Joel isn’t a violent man, but would happily ring whoever’s neck did this to you.

“Of course, sweet girl.”

You turn to face him, taking a sip of your martini before you say, “Why did you send me into your basement that day?”

Joel clears his throat, weighing how transparent he wants to be in his answer, but there’s no hiding it after what he said to you in his office last week. “I’m not always going to be nice to you here, sweet girl. I’m going to push you, I might even hurt you. Yes, it’s all consensual, but I didn’t want you thinkin’ I’m some sort of monster.”

He watches as you take a long pull of the pink liquid from your glass. You set it back on the table, the earlier tremble of your hand gone as you reply, “Thank you for being honest with me. I don’t think I could ever see you as a monster, Mister Miller. I need this.”

The devious smile you give him has his cock come to life. He doesn’t fuck his subs, but he would take you right here in this booth if he could. “Would you like a tour of the club?”

Your eyes light up, “Can I bring my drink?”

“Anywhere out here, yes. But not behind those two doors.” He takes the last drink from his whiskey and then watches as you take two big gulps to finish your Cosmopolitan. Your nose crinkles at what he assumes is the burn of the vodka.

“So fuckin’ cute,” Joel says quietly, and hopefully just to himself, as he slides out of the booth.

No, you say to the little box of feelings when you overhear his whispered words, don’t start with me right now.

You follow him as he heads towards the store in the corner. Even with the condoms, dildos, plugs, gags, whips, lube and all sorts of other things on display it’s somehow still classy and beautiful. Lots of these things you’ve never seen before, or had any desire to play with, but you’re pretty sure you’d try almost anything with Joel.

He nods at the man working the store counter and then walks you around the main area, his voice thick with passion as he speaks. “Usually on Friday and Saturday nights there's more of a nightclub feel, couples who like to swap partners can mingle with the room. This is a safe space, monogamous couples aren’t offended by the attention and everyone stays very respectful of others wishes and limits. There’s a drink limit of course, keeping things safe and consensual is my utmost priority.”

You walk slowly, crossing the middle of the currently unoccupied dance floor, “That stage is often used for workshops or shows. This is a place to learn just as much as it’s a place to enjoy sex and kink. We have a new workshop coming up next week actually.”

The two of you stop beside the guarded door - the door Joel said people were indulging behind. You can’t help but be curious about what's happening back there, but you’re also desperately horny and unsure how you might react to whatever is unfolding in the dark. The man standing in front of the door is also dressed in a black suit, this seems to be the uniform of those who work at JM Kink, he says a cordial, “Good Evening, Joel.” Then nods at you and adds, “Miss.”

You jump as Joel’s hand connects with yours, his strong fingers linking with your slender ones. He spins you to face him. His freehand cups your chin, the band of his ring cold against your pink flushed skin. He tilts your face up to meet his, seriousness etched across his face. “My sweet girl, behind that door can be a bit intense at first. You’re an adult, but you shouldn’t have to see anything you don’t want to see. So you’re in charge in there. If you want to leave, we leave. If you want to cover your eyes, do it and I’ll lead you away. On the contrary, if you see something you like and want to get closer, then get closer. If you have questions, just ask. Ok?”

You nod, and Joel leads you through what you hope is the second life changing door of the night. The air feels different on this side of the threshold, something about it makes you feel like you’ve been plugged into a low voltage socket, you’re buzzing in an exciting and dangerous way. It’s dark enough in here that you can’t see your black boots as they click quietly against the hardwood. Joel's strong hand comes around your waist, tucking you into the side of his body protectively. After taking a deep breath, the familiar ash and leather scent of Joel intoxicating and calming your senses, you look up.

You and Joel stand intertwined at one end of a long rectangular room. Across from where you stand and down to your left and right the wall is lined with large windows. On the side of the hallway where you stand are plush chairs and couches, some of which are occupied by singles or couples as they watch what’s happening beyond the windows.

You wonder if it gets easier, standing in a dark hall where you can watch people fucking. Joel is so calm, like a still glassy sea, meanwhile you are fighting against the tides. He stands almost statuesque, his thumb rubbing calming circles on your hip, while keeping you tucked safely into him. He has made it clear that you’re in charge here, so staying in the shadows as much as possible, you wander towards the first window. As if he’s another limb on your body, Joel follows you effortlessly.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you approach the first window. The room has a large bed that remains untouched. A man is tied to a chair at the end of the bed with black silk ties, and you stifle a gasp at the painful looking device he has clamped around his hard cock. You can hear his whines through the ball gag, and the moans of pleasure from the woman spread eagle on the floor in front of him as she fucks herself with a large dildo.

Joel’s soft stubble brushes against your ear as he whispers, “We won’t be doing that.”

“Looks fun for me,” you giggle and he lightly pinches your hip.

The next window has the blinds drawn, little slits of light illuminating the edges is the only sign that someone is in the room. “You can choose to let people watch or not watch, as well as how much you want those in the voyeur area to hear when you rent the rooms,” Joel explains softly as you approach the next open window.

The bed in this room is occupied by three people. A curvy woman is lying down on her back, a copper skinned man with a shaved head has his face buried in her pussy while a fully tattoed beefcake of man fucks his ass. The look of pure pleasure on all their faces has your clit twitching and aching. And when Joel lowers himself to your ear the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“We also won’t be doing that,” Joel’s voice is so light and carefree. For a second you forget that any minute now he’s going to use that deep baritone voice to boss you around while you’re completely naked.

“Again, it also looks fun for me,” you joke, and a small smile crosses your lips as you feel Joel’s body shake with silent laughter beside yours. There’s about ten windows in this room from what you can see, most are closed or dark, probably since it’s a weekday. You lead the two of you down the room to the next open window. “Can they see us?”

“Not unless you get close to the glass,” he instructs. You stop in your tracks at the next window. Despite your teasing with Joel the last two were not your thing, but this window you could easily watch for a while. A man and a woman lay on the large red silk sheeted bed while hundreds of battery operated candles flicker around them. He’s on top of her, one of her legs slung over his shoulder, the other around his waist. As you step closer you can see a sparkly, thin layer of sweat coating both their bodies as they slowly grind together, kissing passionately. You take another step closer, if they want to be seen then it shouldn’t matter if they see you. Once you’re close enough you can hear the gentle moans she’s making as he thrusts slowly in and out of her.

“Well,” you say softly, leaning into Joel’s side and looking up into his warm chocolate eyes, “That doesn’t look so bad.”

He cranes his neck and places a lingering kiss on your forehead and as your eyelids flutter closed you can no longer deny just how turned on you are. He pulls back to look at you, smiling slightly before saying, “When I first got here he had her hogtied and was paddling her.”

“Like I said,” you say while giggling softly, “That doesn’t look so bad.”

The two of you watch them for a while as they fuck languidly. This should feel wrong, watching something so personal, but the beauty of them together like this is comforting and almost inviting. Her cries grow louder and as she starts to shake he pauses his hips, fully seated inside of her while whispering and smiling down at her, pushing her sweat soaked hair off her forehead. The love behind the glass is so palpable that you feel yourself getting choked up a little.

Just as you’re about to ask Joel to take you to his room, you notice another window with about five people lined up along the glass. Curiosity gets the better of you and you lead Joel the few steps to see what’s going on. No longer feeling nervous or shy, you step right up to the glass. This time, Joel moves his body to be behind yours, pulling your back against his strong body. One of his arms wraps around your middle, the other sweeps your hair to one side and then rests gently on your shoulder.

The set up of this room is similar to the others you’ve seen: a large bed to the right, a chair to the left, and a chest of drawers to the back. There’s a woman strapped face up on the bed, wrists and ankles bound to the four posts of the frame. Her perky breasts rise and fall rapidly with her breathing. At the back of the room, a broad tanned man faces away from you, looking through a drawer for something. As your eyes travel up his back from his hard, round ass cheeks he spins to face the window. You step back into Joel as Tommy Miller’s gaze flicks to the people along the window and then to the sub he’s chosen for the night.

In your sane mind you tell yourself that you should look away. It's one thing to watch strangers but watching someone you sort of know feels like an invasion of their privacy. Plus, there’s no way Joel wants to see his brother like this. As if he can read your mind, Joel's lips brush against your neck, “I’m right here, sweet girl. Tommy likes an audience, he’s an exhibitionist, and lots of members come just to watch him.”

You glance up at Joel and he smiles softly. Your voice is just above a whisper, “Can we watch for a bit?”

“You’re in charge, sweetheart.” He patiently reminds you as you nod and look back towards the room.

The horny demon that seems to have taken over your body since catching Joel in his office has you dying to see more: more sex, more kink, more Tommy. Without consciously controlling it, your eyes travel down his tanned chest, to the hair around his belly button and then down to his fully erect cock. You can’t help but appreciate the beauty of his body, he looks like he’s carved out of stone, and that includes his cock. He’s decently long, but thick, a prominent vein running along one side of it. It’s slightly upturned and the head is smooth and glistening with precome. He looks so powerful and the small fire that’s been building in your stomach grows.

You bite at your bottom lip nervously, crossing your arms to rest on top of the one Joel has wrapped around you. Tommy walks over to the bed; grasped in one of his large hands is a black vibrator, his other holds a small glass jar housing a lit candle. He climbs onto the bed, then drizzles hot wax along the woman's thighs. Her back arches off the bed and through the speakers along the glass you hear her pained moans. Tommy watches her intently, his lips moving but you can’t hear what he’s saying. Once she’s settled back on the bed, Tommy places the vibrator on her clit.

She writhes and pulls at the velvety cuffs holding her to the bed. “Sir, oh god, I’m - I’m gonna - Sir, fuck, I’m gonna come.”

When she calls him sir you see the dark flash of obsidian across his eyes, the same look when you called him that at the poker game. Through your research, you know that doms have preferred names and your cheeks flush a little at the thought of accidentally using his with him.

Tommy pulls the vibrator away right before she falls over the edge and drizzles wax on her stomach. She cries out with more desperation this time, and then again, once she’s calm Tommy places the vibrator between her thighs. It’s suddenly hard to breathe and when you step back into Joel you feel his cock is hard against your back and a fresh wave of arousal coats the lace of your panties.

Tommy takes the vibrator away as she starts shaking and moaning, then hot wax splashes down her sternum. You feel antsy, like little pins and needles are pricking along your entire body. You squeeze your thighs together, Joel's warm breath against your neck causes you to shudder.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he hums.

“N-nothing.”

“You sure? You’re squirmin’.” His hand runs slowly down your arm, your hands moving on their own so he can wrap you in his muscle lined arms. A light kiss lands just below your ear and you bite back a moan.

The combination of not being allowed to have an orgasm, the feeling of Joel’s warm body pressed against you, and the erotic scenes you’ve witnessed tonight is almost too much. It’s also not lost on you that that could have been you in there with Tommy right now. Your clit is throbbing between your legs, and you aren’t sure if you have ever been this turned on.

Joel smiles into your skin as you watch Tommy tease his sub with the vibrator again, “Do you like what you’re seein’?”

You nod, trying to calm your breathing. It hitches as he adds, “Would you like to try that one day?”

Wax hits one of her nipples, the beads hardening along the peak of her perky, round breast. You adjust your stance to cross your legs together, squeezing hard to ease the almost painful ache at the apex of your thighs. Her and Tommy speak softly to one another, he smiles down at her, puts the candle down and then adjusts himself between her legs, spreading the lips of her puffy pussy with two fingers and putting the vibrator right where you know it would ruin you.

“Would you?” Joel repeats.

“Yes, Mister Miller.” You say, your voice shaky, almost like it’s impossible to form words as you look up at him. He’s so beautiful in the shadowy light, his tanned skin almost seems to glow against the darkness.

His eyes dance around your face, his voice comes out soft and sensual, quiet enough for just you to hear, “Do you want to go play now, sweet girl?”

You bite your cheek to try to fight the smile, but as Joel’s eyes flick to your lips it’s no use. A shy smile tugs at the corners of your soft pink lips. “Are you going to let me come?”

He looks at you the same way he did when you drank the water and ate that toast. Pride. He’s proud of you for asking for what you want, and you can almost feel your insecurity and fear around asking for things starting to shrink.

The softness in his voice morphs into a growl, “If you’re a good girl.”

You spin your body towards him, determination lacing your face. “I can be your good girl, Mister Miller.”

Joel’s strong fingers link with yours and a quiet giggle passes your lips as he hauls you towards a door in the shadows close to where you two entered. Truthfully, if it wasn't for the little red light on the security pad, you wouldn’t have even known there was a door there. He waves his ring past the device and after a quiet beep sounds the light flashes green and the door clicks open. He pulls you through and as soon as Joel hears the final click of the door closing he hauls you over his shoulder. Your squeal at your world literally turning upside down with his brute strength melts into an aroused moan as his strong hands grasp the back of your bare thighs.

When Joel stops walking, you tear your eyes away from his perfectly sculpted ass, like these pants must be stuffed, there’s no way this man has a better ass than me. You glance up to see two other doors; assumingly belonging to Tommy and Tess. A familiar beep sounds in the quiet hall and your throat goes dry as he steps into his room. He takes a few long strides before sliding you down his muscle lined chest and placing you at the foot of the bed. He stays close, your breasts just barely grazing his warm body. Your gazes are locked, and even though you’ve grown comfortable with his intense need for eye contact your breathing still goes shaky and uneven.

Oh fuck, this is it.

His hand cradles your cheek, “You read and signed off on everything in the app, but I want to reiterate a few things, baby girl.”

You swallow hard, his finger now tracing down your throat and you swear you can feel every whorl of his fingertips as they trail along your soft skin.

“From now on, you belong to me and I belong to you. No one else. You are not allowed to come unless I say.”

His hand continues its road trip of your body, settling to wrap around the nape of your neck. “Y-Yes, Mister Miller.”

“I have a no sex rule. I’ll give you orgasms, I’ll fuck you with my fingers and toys, even my tongue, but not my cock. I need you to understand that my rule is nothing against you, sweetheart. Are you ok with that?”

“Yes, sir, Mister Miller,” you coo. The nervous excitement from early has returned, every bit of skin that he’s touching is almost humming, butterflies with sharp wings scrape at your stomach. You bring your hands to the lapels of his expensive blue suit, fisting the soft fabric.

“Fuuck,” he moans, “That sounds so pretty coming out of your mouth, sweet girl.”

You smile up at him. He squeezes the back of your neck gently, his other hand cradling your chin between his thumb and forefinger. The rough pad of his thumb caresses your chin. “Nothin’ tonight that will require a safeword-”

“Stegosaurus,” you say eagerly, cutting him off. It’s silly really, but that little dinosaur on top of his coffee machine is what first intrigued you about the anonymous millionaire whose home had been assigned to you to clean. It also has some sort of meaning to him, so it seemed only natural for that to be your safeword.

He smiles, laughing gently, “Not tonight, baby. If you want to stop tonight, just say so and I’ll stop. Ok?”

Your pussy flutters at the unexpected moments to come, but a gnawing anxiety starts to claw at your chest. You’re not sure what causes the shift, but suddenly you go from excited nervous to just plain nervous. Am I ready to give up control? What if he sees me naked and doesn’t like it. He said it was only me, what if he regrets that decision?

Your chest tightens, the knife-winged butterflies multiplying and traveling up your throat. Joel must sense a shift in you, he steps closer to you and softens his eyes as they dance around your face, a silent sign that he’s patiently waiting for you. If you said you wanted to go home you know he would kiss you softly and call your new friend Cap, but you don’t want that. You want this, you want whatever is about to happen; you just need to let go.

Vulnerability is thick in your voice as you break one of his rules and murmur, “J-Joel?”

“What’s wrong, baby?” His voice waivers, making you feel a little bit better.

“I’m nervous.”

He lowers his head towards yours, running the tip of his hooked nose down the slender bridge of yours. You close your eyes and take him all in. He’s warm and hard, yet somehow so soft. His familiar ash and leather scent is mixed with the expensive whiskey he drank earlier.

“So am I, sweet girl,” he whispers into your lips before kissing you softly. You melt into him, his hands moving to cup your face. His soft lips sponge against yours and everything quiets. You’re not sure how he does it, but kissing him feels like dunking your head under water, everything silences, all the nervousness dissipates. It’s just the two of you, floating in tandem in an endless void.

He’s nervous too? Because of me? I make this strong, successful, brooding man nervous? Your inner voice of anxiety starts to settle. I’m safe here.

The comfort of your thoughts is enough to have you pulling yourself into Joel more. You increase the intensity of your kiss, turning your head and parting your lips slightly. He follows suit, running his soft tongue along yours. The air in the room has morphed, it’s saturated with passion and arousal. With just one kiss he’s managed to erase all your fears and worries, your mind is silent and ready for whatever instructions he’s going to give you. When he pulls away your both panting for breath.

He turns his back to you, sliding his dark blue suit jacket down, the white t-shirt underneath clinging with perfection to the muscle and sinew that pack on top of each other along his back. He drapes his jacket over a padded bench about five feet away from you; you know from your extensive research that that’s a spanking bench. He spins to face you, slipping his gold and black ring off his hand, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he drops it in a dish on top of a low chest of drawers on his left. You can’t describe it, but the sound of the gold clashing with the ceramic dish puts you in a trance. Like a ritualistic symbol that you are his now.

His hands slip into his pockets, his voice taking on its deep dominant tone, “We are going to start now. You can stay fully clothed or you can get as undressed as you feel comfortable being. I’m serious here, sweet girl. Leave on as little or as much as you want. When you’re done, lay face up on the bed.”

Without thinking your hands fly back to the zipper on your boots, you unzip them and toe them off. You don’t break eye contact as you grab the hem of your sweater dress and pull it up and over your body. As your vision is temporarily blocked by the knitted fabric you can feel his eyes on your bare skin. You’re left in just a matching nude bra and panty set. He’s already seen your tits so you don’t hesitate to unclasp your bra and let it fall away from your body.

Joel swallows hard and licks his lips. “Beautiful,” he mumbles appreciatively and it coats your skin in warmth.

You hesitate for a moment with your thumbs hooked in the waistband of your panties. You know they’re soaked through, and you’re sure he can see that from where he’s standing. He’s so fucking good at reading you, so you’re not surprised when he says, “Only take off what you feel comfortable with, my sweet girl.”

“I do…I am…I w-want to…I just,” you fiddle with the band a bit.

“You can say it.” He nods encouragingly.

“I like having them taken off me. I - I want to see your face up close when you…when you see it for the first time.”

Joel smirks, popping his hip out to lean on the spanking bench. “See what the first time?”

“Don’t make me say it, Mister Miller.”

He clicks his tongue at you, “Mmm, but I love hearing that pretty little mouth say dirty words.” You stay silent, chewing your cheek as he continues. “Come on…say it. Say, I want to see your face up close when you see my cunt for the first time, Mister Miller.”

You feel your cheeks flush. Earlier tonight he asked you to look at him when you say it, so you roll your shoulders back and hold your head high. As confidently as possible you say, “I want to see your face up close when..” you take a shaky inhale, “When you see my cunt for the first time, Mister Miller.”

Before the last syllable has left your lips he’s across the room, lifting you off the ground by the back of your thighs. You instinctively wrap your legs around him and gasp at the sudden pressure right where you’re aching for him.

“I have memorized every answer from your preferences,” he growls into your collar bone, walking you around the bed. “I have strategically planned what I’m going to teach you and then you say stuff like that and fuck. I have to fight every sick and twisted thought I have, sweet girl.” He climbs onto the bed, laying you down just how he wants you, “You have no idea what you do to me. How out of control you make me feel.”

Joel shuffles his body down, kissing down your sternum before cupping your tits. Pushing them together and sucking one of your nipples into his hot mouth. This is exactly what you’ve been fantasizing about since that moment in his office. His tongue is warm and soft as it flicks across your hardening nipple. He lightly rolls the other one between his fingers.

“Please - oh god - please Mister Miller.” You moan needily. You try to arch into him, but his large body holds you down.

He grazes his teeth along your nipple then looks up at you, “I’m gonna take care of you. Just relax.”

You can’t take your eyes off him as he dives back in. Sucking and biting at your other nipple. You plant your feet on the mattress, hands tangling into his hair, as you try to grind your aching clit into his warm, hard stomach.

“Stay still sweetheart,” He says between suckles.

“I c-can’t. Please.”

He pinches both nipples hard, harder than you’re used to, and you whimper, freezing your hips. His voice is as deep as the obsidian in his gaze, “Stay still. I’m going to make you come. I promise. You need to trust me, relax.”

The pressure on your nipples eases and you pout before letting yourself melt back into the mattress. He smirks, a dimple carving itself in the patchy scruff of his cheek. “That’s my girl. You like your nipples being played with?”

The pad of his thumb ghosts over the tops of them, you shiver and moan, “Uh-huh.”

“Good. Then you’re going to enjoy what I have planned tonight.” He kisses your forehead and then climbs off the bed. You rise on your elbows, watching him as he pads across the room to a chest of drawers. He toes off his brown dress shoes and removes his belt before digging through a drawer. The actions were so simple, yet the domesticity of them has you fighting with your little box of feelings again.

No, you tell it silently as it inches out of the darkness. I am his sub and nothing more. The box seems to have grown a very annoying and persistent personality and it almost says, ‘but he’s nervous too’ back at you.

He turns back to face you, snapping you out of your fight with the imaginary box in your brain. The same vibrator Tommy had is clasped in one hand, his other is palm up, cupping something that he’s shaking much like a gambler does with dice.

“My sweet girl, you put a five for nipple clamps. Remind me, have you ever used them before?”

��No, Mister Miller.”

He wanders lazily back over to the bed, and if he was anyone else you’d tell him to hurry up, but you never want to rush a single moment with Joel Miller. On top of that, you need to let him take control; he said he was going to make you come if you just relax and trust him, so that’s exactly what you’re going to do. He places the vibrator on the small table beside the bed and then sits beside you, holding out his free hand to help you sit up.

He holds the clamps out to you and explains softly, “These are beginner clamps. See this little dial? I can control how tight they are.”

You watch his thick fingers along the dainty metal of the clamps, he’s so soft yet could have you crying with the snap of his fingers if he wanted. A fresh wave of arousal floods between your thighs completely ruining the panties he still hasn’t taken off your body. You nod and whisper, “Ok.”

“You control what happens here tonight. If you tell me that it hurts too much or to stop, I will.”

It’s time to show Joel just how good of a girl you can be, you look at him through your eyelash and sweetly coo, “Yes, Mister Miller.”

A deep growl rumbles in his chest, “Fuck. Lay down..now.”

You lay back, hair fanning around you. Joel stays seated on the edge of the bed beside you and lightly places the first clamp on your right nipple. It’s a light pinching pressure and it feels so good that your eyes flutter shut and you melt into the bed. He puts the next clamp on and you whimper.

“How’s that feel?” he asks, his strong hands gripping your hips, pushing you into the mattress and grounding you in the warm pleasure that floods your stiff nipples.

“S-so good Mister Miller,” you groan. You’re almost convinced this is another dream, he’s doing almost exactly what you have imagined countless times. You open your eyes to watch him, determined to visually take in every single thing he gives you.

“Good, baby. I want you to feel good. I’m gonna tighten them now, jus’ a little.” He twists the little knob. You start breathing heavily, teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure. You bring your hands to his strong, warm forearms as you suck in air.

“Too much?”

Your chest heaves at the delicious feeling flooding your tits. “No, no. More. P-Please, more. More.”

“Good girl,” he hums deeply, the words settling right behind your clit as he tightens the tiny clamps more. The warmth around your nipples spreads to your arms and down your sides. When you cry out he asks, “Pain or pleasure, sweet girl?”

At this point you aren’t sure, it definitely hurts, but it also feels good, and his deep brown eyes are looking at you the same way they always do, full of concern and care, almost like he’s assessing you.

“Both. Both, oh fuck. More, Mister Miller.” He kisses the left one gently and you arch into him, “More, more, please.”

“That’s as tight as they go, are you sure you want more?”

You keep your eyes on him, nodding fervently, “Yes. Please, yes.”

He pops them off and you gasp out in pain, heat rushes to both your nipples and it burns in white hot passion. Joel blows cool air along both of them and you can’t seem to stop your mumbling begging, “More. I need more. Please!”

“I know, baby. I got you.” He opens the drawer on the bedside table and takes out two gold plated clamps. You look down, your nipples already look sore, tinged slightly purple. “I’m so fucking proud of you already. Askin’ so nicely like the good girl I know you are. Goddamn, look at these stiff, perky, perfect little nipples. I love seeing you like this, seeing them like this. Are you wet for me? Are those flimsy lace panties soaked through?”

He places one of the new clamps and you cry out a ‘yes’.

“Ya? Just dripping and desperate for me?” He puts the other clamp on as you chant a chorus of yes’s and oh god’s.

Joel

“Please, Mister Miller,” you murmur. He doesn’t know what it is you’re asking for, and he’s sure you don’t know either. What is it about you saying those three little words that gets him so rattled? Countless subs have called him that in the past and it never made his cock swell this painfully behind his zipper.

He taps at your nipples lightly and watches your body shudder and arch off the bed. You aren’t even fully naked and he’s fighting the urge to come right there in his pants. He loves the way your body reacts, he can already tell you’re going to look stunning as you come.

“That feel good?” He asks, his voice deep and husky.

“Yes. Oh god, yes!” You haven’t taken your eyes off him and he loves how your eyelids have become hooded from the pleasure while your brows furrow with the pain.

“Does it hurt?” Your cheeks are flushed pink making the colour of your eyes pop.

“Yes,” just as he’s convincing himself to remove the clamps you moan, “Please don’t stop.”

Joel grabs the vibrator from the bedside table before sliding his body down the bed. He starts kissing at your hip bone before wrapping his teeth around the slender band of your panties. Your eyes dart down to him, this is what you asked for; to his face the first time he sees your cunt. He pulls your panties with his teeth, smiling against your soft upper thigh when you instinctively lift your hips to help him. As he shimmies down the bed his eyes stay on your face.

He gets to the end of the bed, standing with your soaked through thong still between his teeth. He relaxes his jaw, dropping the panties in his hand and bringing them to his face. “God fuckin’ damn, sweet girl. You smell so fuckin’ sweet. Imma crave that smell when you aren’t around.” He tucks your panties into the pocket of his four thousand dollar, custom made Tom Ford suit. As far as he’s concerned, that drenched thong is the most expensive and important thing he now owns.

He trails his eyes down your sternum, your legs are straight out in front of you, not parted, but he can see your puffy pink clit pushing through the soft looking outer lips. He feels himself switching into full dom mode. The room around him fades away, everything outside of you and this room doesn’t matter anymore.

“Show me,” he growls. “Spread those gorgeous legs and show me that perfect little cunt.”

He crawls up the bed, following the path you make as you bend both knees up. He feels like a starved dog who’s about to get a meal. Your feet stop, and as he hovers above you, gaze wholly fixated on your core, you relax your legs and your knees butterfly open. God he loves how eager you are, how good of a listener you can be. He licks his lips as your outer thighs finally meet the soft sheets, baring yourself for him completely. He stops breathing as your lips part, sticky with arousal. Your pussy is swollen and glistening, your needy clit puffy and pink.

A deep moan rumbles in his chest as he lowers himself to the be, his face between your legs. Once he’s close enough he can see the tight little hole he’s vowed not to fuck. “Shit, sweetheart. This is goin’ to be so much harder than I thought.”

Your cries wash over him; he’s experienced enough to know that it’s from your nipples hardening under the clamps at his words. He smirks up at you, “How are you so wet already?”

“You, Mister Miller.”

“That right? Me playin’ with those nipples get you all turned on?”

“Uh-huh, and you said I couldn’t touch myself. I’ve been like this for days.” Your bottom lip pokes out and it absolutely ruins him, but he pushes down the overwhelming need to fix it and give you exactly what you need. No, you want to experience being a submissive, and that’s what he’s going to do.

“Please touch me. Please.”

“Mmmm, such a good girl for asking so nicely. I can’t say no when you beg like that, baby, makes me weak.” He kisses the crook of your inner thigh, he knows how much he’s teasing you right now, he watches you get wetter by the second, the beautiful folds of your pussy opening like a flower in the sun for him and flushing a deeper pink and the blood courses to your most sensitive parts.

“I need you Mister Miller,” your voice waivers as you say his name, and you blink a little harder, he knows you’re fighting back the tears and it makes his cock throb harder, the teeth of his zipper practically digging into him.

After what feels like hours, he finally brings a thick finger to tease at your entrance. You buck into him, desperate for the friction.

“Don’t make me tie you up. Stay still for me, please.” Even with the please at the end, it’s a command - deep and serious, and you don’t dare test him. Your nipples stiffen every time he speaks, and they ache under the clamps, it’s the perfect twinge of pain to heighten the bits of pleasure he’s giving you.

You press your lips in a tight line, hands grounding you as they ball the sheets, focusing on keeping still. You want to shamelessly fuck yourself with his fingers; meanwhile, he’s being slow and calculated. Joel torturously draws slow little circles along the waiting hole with just the tip of his finger. He watches as your sticky white arousal coats his fingertip, then groans as he slowly pushes his middle finger all the way inside of you. You gasp at the welcome stretch and fight like hell to stay still.

“Look at you, fuck. So warm and inviting.” He slips his finger out slowly and lets out an exasperated sigh. Your heart falls into your stomach.

“Mister Miller, no. Please, it felt so good,” you practically cry at the loss at the feeling of him finally inside of you, finally giving you a taste of what you need the most.

“I know,” he shushes, “But that’s not what I have planned, not yet at least. My sweet girl, I need ya to be loud for me. I’ve been wanting this for so long. Need to hear you. Understand?”

The distinct sound of the vibrator you forgot he had comes to life and you squirm with anticipation. “Yes, Mister Miller. I will, just please, please make me feel good.”

He reaches up, the black vibrator makes contact with your nipple and an intense pain shoots to your core before it blooms into pleasure. One of your hands leaves the sheets, fingernails digging into the forearms of the hand he has holding the vibrator and you sob out.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he groans before moving the vibrator to the other nipple, circling it around this time instead of holding it flush. “Jus’ tell me if you need me to stop.”

“Don’t, please don’t. Oh god, yes.” You know you’re screaming, you doubt anyone can hear you, but at this point you don’t care if they can. The pleasure becomes overwhelming, you slam your eyes shut and arch your back. Joel’s strong chest is warm in between your thighs, he’s so broad that he’s keeping you spread open. You grind into the soft white cotton of his t-shirt.

“Look at me. Focus, sweet girl,” you peel your eyes open to meet his gaze. Warm coffee and hazel eyes stare down at you. “Stay still, please.”

“I can’t - aah!” He presses hard on your sore nipple and it brings you back into your own body. You manage to still your hips and release your grip, leaving behind little crescent shaped indents in his muscle lined forearm.

“Good girl,” he praises and then pulls the vibrator away from your breasts. His free hand comes to your mound, he swallows hard before breaking eye contact, pulling his hand back and looking at your puffy, and completely exposed bundle of nerves. A devious uptick of the right side of the mouth sets your blood on fire before he taps lightly at your clit once with the soft head of vibrator.

You cry out in pleasure.

He taps again and you gasp out loudly.

He taps a third time and you’re almost certain that this is how you’re going to die. No man has ever teased you like this. You’re desperate to come, your body breaking out in sweat, but you never want Joel to stop. Moans and whines are pouring out of you without you even realizing it, he looks so fucking beautiful between your thighs, staring at your pussy like it’s the sunrise over the ocean, like he’s never seen anything as beautiful or fascinating and it makes your feel unstoppable. You make him look like that. Him. A man who could have anyone in the world, but here he is, looking at you like you’re his whole world.

“Let me hear you, show me how you can be a good girl,” he clicks the vibrator up and holds it tightly to your clit. The sensation is almost too much and your nipples ache under the little gold clamps.

Your body starts to shake involuntarily and your moans become longer and huskier, you’re going to come any second now. You squeeze your eyes shut and Joel pulls the vibrator away.

“No,” you gasp. “More. Please, I need more. Please.” The fear of him leaving you like this has the back of your eyes burning. Was there a time limit you weren’t aware of with the room? No, this is his private room. Right? Didn’t he say that he has a private room? And it shouldn’t matter if the club is open or closed, he’s the owner.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” You blink your eyes open, trying to focus on his face, but you’re so turned on that the edges of him seem fuzzy. “That feel good? The vibrator teasing your desperately swollen clit?”

You nod your head, “Yes, again. Please, Mister Miller.”

“Tell me what you want?”

Historically, situations like this have riddled you with insecurity. You’ve never been a talker in the bedroom and as a textbook people pleaser you never, like NEVER, ask for what you want. Yes, being here fully naked with a fully clothed Joel makes you feel safer and more understood than you have ever been. You know that if you ask for anything in this room and beyond, he’d do it.

The words leave your mouth without you even thinking about it, without second guessing or carefully planning what it is you’re going to say. “Please make me come. I’ll be so loud for you. I’ll scream and moan until I have no voice. I’ve been such a good girl and I’ll do whatever you want. Just please, please make me come.”

He raises an eyebrow at you and his voice washes over you like honey, “Good fuckin’ girl. Eyes on me and hold on.”

It happens in an instant, the vibrator flicks to the highest setting as he adjusts his body to hold you firmly against the mattress with this forearm, your hands grab onto his shoulders as he presses the soft, thick head of the sex toy right onto your clit.

You scream and squeeze at the strong muscles of his shoulders as wave after wave of pleasure courses through your system, you tense under his touch. The build of your orgasm somehow too much and not enough all at once.

“Oh god. Oh god. Yes, I’m - Mist - fuuuck.”

“I know, I’m right here.” He says darkly.

“Gonna come,” you sputter between your cries of ecstasy. You can feel that familiar tightness building.

“Relax and let go for me. Come for me, sweet girl. Let me see this beautiful little cunt twitch.”

His words send you over the edge and your orgasm rocks through you violently. You convulse with so much force that Joel grunts as he holds you down. You’re nothing but what Joel is giving you, not a single thought or insecurity, not a single worry about studying or school, you’re just what Joel has made you and it feels fucking fantastic. His dark onyx eyes swallow you whole.

The pleasure of your orgasm, mixed with the pain in your nipples is so much more than you’ve ever known, and Joel’s deep gravel filled voice praises you the whole time.

‘There’s my girl.’

‘Sooo good for me.’

‘Fuck, that’s it my sweet girl.’

‘Beautiful when you scream for me.’

It starts to become too much. Your throat is hoarse from screaming. As your nails start to dig deep into his shoulders Joel slows the vibrator down and holds it lightly to your twitching clit as the aftershocks course through you. He releases your body from his and kisses your hip bone before shutting the vibrator off completely.

He’s stills between your thighs, your hands resting on his shoulders. Joel smiles up at you sweetly and you pull at his t shirt to encourage him to crawl on top of you. He doesn’t hesitate, bringing his stong body on top of yours, resting his forearms on each side of your head.

“Do I have your consent to kiss you?” He whispers.

“Yes,” you coo. His mouth meets yours similar to how it did when you both confessed to being nervous. It’s soft and lingering as you take shaky, calming breaths through your nose. That annoying little box of feelings shivers in the corner of your mind and you mentally put a piece of packing tape over the lid.

You end this kiss this time, pushing your head into the pillow. “I’m gonna grab some cooling spray and take those clamps off now, is that okay?”

You nod and hum in agreement. Your eyelids and muscles feel heavy and sated. Joel's warm body parts from yours and a chill runs up your spine. When he releases the first clamp you whimper, the burning ache goes away as soon as he sprays it with a cooling coconut scented mist. When he removes the second one, your pussy clenches around nothing, a small but powerful orgasm waves through you as the cool droplets of the aftercare spray land on your pebbled breast.

“Did you just come?” Joel questions proudly.

Your hands cover your face as you blush harder than you have in years, “Yeah.”

Joel’s warmth encompasses you again as he climbs back on top of you, he gently pulls your hands away by your wrists. “Fuck, baby. I think I’m addicted to you.” He kisses the tip of your nose, “Such a good girl.”

You shiver underneath him and he rolls the two of you so he can wrap the blanket around you, your head rests on his chest, your body half on him and half on the soft bed. He holds you tightly, his meaty hands rubbing any place they can over the fluffy down filled cocoon he’s got you in.

A comfortable silence falls around the two of you, your breaths in sync with one another. Your eyelids flutter closed, and that little voice starts to come back, lacing you with insecurity. You don’t want to ask, but you have to. You clear your throat quietly and ask, “Are you seeing any other subs?”

“No,” he replies softly, his lips brushing the top of your head. “But I haven’t told all of them yet. The dom/sub relationship is a delicate one. I can’t exactly just message them on the app that it’s over.”

You settle deeper into him. “What else do you have planned for us?”

You can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “I’m going to show you everything you want to know.”

A fire burns in your stomach, “When?”

Joel lets out a small laugh, then tilts your chin up, pulling back a little so he can look at you. “You’re so fucking cute when you’re eager. I have to go out of town tomorrow, but we’ll make sure to find time when I’m back this weekend.”

Him leaving is a bit of a blessing in disguise for you. “I take the LSAT again on Friday, so I guess this gives me lots of study time.”

He cranes his neck to sponge his lips to yours, the scruff of his mustache tickles a little and you giggle into his kiss. “How long have you owned the club?”

“Almost five years,” he replies.

You let an impressed hum, tucking your head into the crook of his neck as the two of you fall into a comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds are your mixed breathing and his calloused hand along the blanket. You remember all the times tonight that he called you ‘my sweet girl’ and you wonder if he’s feeling the same way you are, or if he’s so used to all of this that it’s just second nature to him. The packing tape on that fucking box starts to peels as if to say ‘he was nervous too and it’s only you’.

After a while Joel breaks the silence. “Becoming a lawyer is a pretty intense process. Your family must be really proud of you.”

“Umm, well, I actually don’t really know,” you say.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Joel says lightly and you know he means it. You know he would never push you to give him something you didn’t want to, he might push your sexual limits, but never your personal ones, and for whatever reason that almost makes it easier to tell him.

You roll onto your stomach and prop yourself up on your forearms on his chest. For a second you let your eyes look around the room. You were so focused on Joel earlier that you didn’t notice the rings and hooks along the black steel bed frame; or the paddles and ropes hanging on the wall next to a ladder and St Andrews Cross. In classic Joel fashion, everything is black and softly lit. Everything but the bed sheets which are plush and white.

You take a deep breath, resting your chin on your hands, and start, “I don’t want pity for this, truthfully I’m grateful that this is my reality, but my parents had me when they were very young and they were both very selfish when I was growing up. Never abusive or anything, and not neglectful in a physical way, but emotionally I was left alone a lot. I realized early on that if I excelled in something they would show up, and for a long time that felt really fucking good. But as soon as I hit high school I realized they were showing up for themselves. They’d brag about me to other adults, but not actually congratulate me. They’d show up to honour roll ceremonies, but not with me or for me, it was so they could say I was their daughter. They didn’t help me get those grades, I did that on my own. And I’m still doing that on my own.”

Joel’s eyes soften, those two permanent lines between his eyebrows disappearing. “That explains so much, my sweet girl. I want you to know that I’m here for you.”

The tape on the box of feelings snaps as the lid flies off. Not now, you scold.

“I know, but honestly, I don’t really need anyone to take care of me. I’ve made it this far and I plan on making it the rest of the way the only way I know how.”

“Doesn’t that get lonely?” He asks.

“Doesn’t this?” you say gently, gesturing to the room.

“No,” he blinks at you a few times. “I was in my early twenties when my wife died. I needed to focus on raising Sarah, but I’m still an adult male with needs, so I found the world of BDSM and kink. It allowed me to get what I wanted, and what my partner wanted, without the attachment of a relationship.” His words are so real and honest and in just those few sentences you feel like you know Joel Miller more deeply than you know anyone else.

“My way doesn’t get lonely either,” you say with a smile, tucking your head back into his chest.

Joel

Your breathing is calm and heavy, it kills him that he’s going to have to wake you up. Usually his aftercare doesn’t involve opening up about his past like this. He’s not a monster, but he is very strict about keeping his kink life and his real life separate. Something about you though has him opening up about Tiffany and Sarah.

“Baby,” he whispers into the crown of your head, shaking you a little. “We can’t sleep here, I’m sorry.”

You blink up at him and his heart ceases at how beautiful you look all sleepy and supple. He finds himself unconsciously memorizing the little details of your face. Your lips are puffy from his kisses and you have a little mascara smudge under your eye. He thumbs the black make up away gently and says, “Let me help you get dressed and then Cap will take you home, ok?”

You nod lazily and he helps you gently roll off him. He stands and starts to gather your clothing. After a few minutes of looking around he huffs, “Where are your panties?”

A tiny giggle sounds from the cloud of white blankets, the sound shooting straight through his belly button, “Check your pockets.”

He laughs at himself, reaching into his pants pocket to pull out your lacy nude thong. He helps you sit up, “I’m keeping these, by the way.”

“Should I be expecting my panties to go missing every time?” You say jokingly as you take your bra from him and put it on.

He nods and asks, “How are you feeling?”

“Good, really good actually,” After you put your bra on he pulls your dress over your head and then kneels to help you with your boots. “I - umm - I was hoping that this would help turn my brain off for a while and it did. I feel, I don’t know. Recharged almost?”

This is exactly why he loves kink, it’s an escape from the world for him and his sub. He kisses your knee and moves to the other boot. “Good, that’s what is supposed to happen.”

He pulls you to your feet and allows you to steady yourself before pulling you in for a hug. “Thank you for tonight,” he whispers. He hopes you know that he needs this as much as you do, how much this helps him clear his mind and reground himself.

After closing the door to the town car and sending you home he goes back into the club, waving for a whiskey and joining Tommy at the bar top.

“She was pretty,” Tommy says, clinking his glass against Joel’s.

“Yep,” he swirls the amber liquid in the cup.

“New?” Tommy asks.

“Yep,” Joel repeats and then sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I think I’m fucked, Tommy.”

Tommy puts his glass down and turns to face Joel, gripping his shoulder. “Are you ending it with all your other subs for this girl?”

Joel takes a long sip from his crystal highball glass. Repeating the only word he seems to know lately, “Yep.”

Tommy lets out a breath, “Shit. Ya, you’re definitely fucked.”

“Tiff told me to find someone who scares me. This fucking scares me, man.” Joel finishes off his whiskey, and even though there’s a drink limit, the glass is refilled before it’s even hit the table. “This is - I just - I ain’t felt like this in a long time.”

Tommy smiles at Joel, “I’m happy for ya, man. And look, as long as you aren’t keepin’ her panties then it’s probably not as bad as you think.”

Joel pulls that nude thong from his pocket and puts it on the bar top as he finishes off his second glass of whiskey and then waves the bartender off, silently signaling that he’s done.

“Shit, so you are fucked then?” Tommy laughs.

“We didn’t,” Joel says defensively, brows pulling together.

“I didn’t ask if you fucked. I said you are fucked.” Tommy shakes his head at his older brother.

Joel runs a hand down his face and through his scruff. “Look, you gonna be ok this week while I’m in Paris?”

“Ya, me and Tess got it.” He claps Joel’s back roughly as he stands. “Safe travels, hey?”

Joel nods and waves over his head at his brother. He hasn’t fucked you or let you suck his cock yet and he’s already feeling all turned around. But god, the way your body twitched in response to him, the way you melt into his arms every time he kisses you. How brave and confident you were after overcoming the shyness of asking for what you want. He can’t wait to teach you more, but he’s going to have to find a way to not let whatever feelings he might be having get in the way.

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