#SHE NAGS EIVOR CONSTANTLY

[alkibiadessuperfan]

RANDVI IS SO SASSY I LOVE HER SO MUCH HELP

[ninjahiccups]

The Songbird of Asgard

Chapter 9: Letting Go

AO3 Link Masterlist Word Count: 16.2k Warnings: None

--------------------------------------------------------------------------Eivor and Heimdall's final journey to find the relic pieces has come, and both are wondering how things will change from here. The make a promise, one that pushing the boundaries of their friendship more than ever. (Things be happening!!!)

I'm so sorry this took so long to get out, I've been struggling with some mental health issues lately. Hopefully the length will make up for the time it took :)

Eivor's legs felt like they were chained to the earth as she advanced. Another trip to Odin's study, a mere two weeks since her most recent one with Thor. Given that she was only called to meet with Odin personally for one reason, it was no secret that she would be sent to retrieve the last relic shard.

The last journey she would have with Heimdall.

He seemed to feel that weight as well, judging by his more solemn demeanor when he found her at the library. Their greeting went as it usually did, full of sarcasm and taking off on tangents about her selection of books, but as soon as he mentioned Odin's summons he grew more serious. Eivor did as well, reluctantly claiming she would leave her books in her cabin before meeting him there. Her mood brightened slightly when he insisted that he accompany her, wanting to make sure that they "would not keep All-Father waiting for long." Which was ironic, considering they seemed to move much slower, elongating their trek.

That detour had come to an end, and they both were dragging their feet down the steps in the back of the Great Lodge to reach Odin's study. Once in front of its doors, they paused, neither speaking a word. Heimdall took a deep breath, dismissing the knot in his gut that constantly reminded him how much he would miss this. These little adventures outside the realm, where he and Eivor could speak freely, take advantage of the distance from prying eyes that marveled at their friendship, all these times when they would find a game to play just to make things interesting. Once a nuisance, but now an activity he would give many things to have more and more of. His duty, however, prevented him from doing anything of the sort, forcing his stiff limbs to move to the study doors and grasp the handle. Briefly, he stilled, a smirk rising at the urge he felt obligated to accept. He pulled the door open, stepping aside as it swung out, sweeping an arm across his torso and bending deeply at the waist in a dramatic bow, nonverbally inviting her to enter first. Eivor's preoccupied mind cleared and he felt her get just a little flustered at his gesture, sarcastically muttering, "How polite," as she passed, making him chuckle in response before shutting the door behind him. 

If Odin caught Heimdall's polite behavior he didn't acknowledge it, simply standing from his seat while his two employees approached him. "Welcome back, you two," Odin greets warmly, contrasting his more icy demeanor from the last time Eivor saw him. A part of her wondered what had changed but she chose to dismiss it. It wasn't far-fetched that the king of gods was just having a stressful day.

"This is going to be the last piece of the relic. Once we get it, I'll have everything I need to keep the realms safe should Ragnarok come knocking, all thanks to your hard work," Odin paused, nodding to Eivor, "but mostly your talents."

For a brief second Eivor was appreciative of the comment, until a nagging and familiar sensation in the back of her mind took it as an indication that her "talents" were all she was good for, and without this very niche responsibility she would lose all value. From her peripheral vision she caught Heimdall glancing at her, no doubt catching wind of her fear. With his attention she was able to remember the things he had taught her throughout their time together and break away from that terror. And she trusted him, trusted that he wouldn't help anyone make her a tool. "I'm happy to help you keep everyone safe, All-Father." Heimdall seemed to give a nearly imperceptible nod at her perseverance.

"And that's what makes you two some of the finest among Asgardians," the Aesir king complimented. "This one will be much easier than the rest. There's not much going on in Midgard right now, nothing that you two can't handle anyway." He opened a drawer and retrieved one of the pieces, giving it to Eivor with a smile. With a wish for good luck he sent them off, the ravens clearing only when the remaining pair stood halfway up a mountain, at the end of a rickety wooden bridge that stretched across a gap in the rocks. 

For a minute they simply stood there, taking in the crisp spring air and the mild breeze brushing across the greenery and trees lining the dirt path they were on. With a sigh, Heimdall finally broke the silence. "How far are we?" Too generic to make it sound like he was hoping the answer would be far from them.

Eivor sluggishly held out the relic shard and cast her magic, one last time. Her gaze followed it as it stretched across the bridge, winding down the path and through an abandoned village, then stopping at an overgrown road across one more gap. Watching the trail cease so soon made her feel like a cart of ore had been thrown on her shoulders, sapping whatever energy she had. "It's close," was all she could manage with a neutral tone.

She had no idea that Heimdall was cursing to himself, just as let down by their final escapade ending so soon. If only that moron Thor had removed himself and let him go with Eivor to Helheim instead. "Whenever you're ready." His voice was much softer than he intended.

There was no sense in this last opportunity being squandered by grief, so Eivor squared her shoulders and started down the sorry excuse for a bridge, bringing back the lighthearted nature they always adapted. "Is this the part where you criticize Midgard for being so boring? It doesn't look like we'll get a lot of excitement around here…except for this bridge," she added when one of the boards gave an aching creak in response to her weight. 

Just as she reached the final steps, Heimdall smirked. "You might be surprised," he said mischievously, waiting until the last second to seize her arm. Eivor yelped as she was wrenched back, just as a flaming draugr burst from behind the trees and flew past her with a burning hot ax. Heimdall had no problem throwing a ball of bifrost at it and knocking off the cliff's edge.

Eivor broke free of his grasp with a glare, not at all pleased with the self-satisfied smirk he gave her. "A warning would have been nice!"

"Behind you." 

Before she could process it Heimdall hurled more bifrost, knocking a much heftier draugr backwards until it fell face first into the ground. With a pompous chuckle, Heimdall stepped around Eivor to face the draugr as it got back on its feet. "It seems warnings aren't enough. Don't worry, I'll handle all the hard work, as usual." The draugr, now much angrier than it already was, charged at Heimdall, who reached for Hofud's hilt. As his fingers grasped the leather grip he felt the loss of Eivor’s mind, leaving him unable to predict that she would transform into a golden ghost of a valkyrie and fling feathers through the draugr, slicing it into bits before Heimdall could even move.

He turned around, giving his most incredulous expression for stealing the limelight. She giggled, "Don't hog all the entertainment. Without these draugr we'd be out of here in minutes."

Heimdall ignored the implication that she wanted to drag this time out, unprepared to defend himself if she pointed out that he had no objection to it. Instead he puffed up his chest and replied, "Just watching can be entertaining, especially if you have such a skilled performer putting on a show."

Eivor rolled her eyes, but her laugh gave away how little it bothered her. "Not even a world class performer can make it interesting if I can do just as well myself. Which I can, if you've forgotten."

That was something he knew, and he felt himself smiling at how capable she was. She had managed to impress him so many times, so much that he enjoyed witnessing the extent of her strength. Even so, the images of what could have happened to her in Helheim while the drunken son of Odin did a terrible job of aiding her was still floating around in his mind, and he felt a primal need to prevent that from happening. Though that was far from the explanation he was willing to give, settling for, "Perhaps. But I'm still better."

"Foresight is cheating."

"Oh, so I'm cheating, am I?"

"Yes!"

With a harrumph he insisted, "I'm certain I could still do better than you without it."

Eivor grinned and crossed her arms. "Is that a challenge?"

Heimdall raised a brow, curious. She had something in mind.

"We seemed to have more fun last time we added a competition into the mix. Why don't we have another?" she proposed, her hands going to her hips. "And this will be a good exercise for you, too."

"Exercise?"

"No foresight."

Heimdall felt his stomach grow heavy, loathing the idea of not being fully aware of his surroundings.

"At least to the best of your ability," she clarified. "Think of it as practicing filtering the sensations your foresight picks up. Whoever takes out the most draugr wins." Heimdall's mouth opened with a very specific protest, one that Eivor saw coming. "The foresight rule goes for me too. This is a fair fight on both ends."

It took him a moment to consider, ultimately deciding there was nothing in Midgard that could possibly do her any harm before he could put a stop to it. "And what's the wager this time?"

Eivor shrugged. "Does there have to be? Can't we just do this for fun?"

She was expecting him to claim that a reward was due when (not if) he wins, surprised when he merely shrugged. "Very well, then. But I do hope you're ready to lose."

When Eivor looked at him expectantly Heimdall closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on just her, and the feeling of her in front of him. In moments the amplified birdsong and lingering draugr in the abandoned village nearby slowly faded. He opened them, watching her closely and examining her rosy lips, the freckles across her nose, and the shifting shades of green in her eyes until he was certain the silence was remaining.

It took seconds for his foresight to scream that danger was approaching, but the delay that he was unaccustomed to gave Eivor the time to forge a barrier behind him, the draugr bumping into it at full force and losing its balance before tumbling over the cliff. Heimdall met her fiery eyes, highlighted by her smirk. "Then let the games begin." He couldn't even find it in himself to be annoyed, grinning at how feisty she was.

They got carried away, awaiting every draugr hiding in the dilapidated village to jump out at them only to be taken out by one of the two gods. Heimdall wouldn't admit it, but he still had a huge advantage, even if he had to spend some of his concentration keeping his foresight quiet. Whenever a draugr came too close the alarm bells would automatically go off and his instincts took over, but Eivor didn’t seem to mind. While he was twirling to counter every surprise attack, gracefully sweeping across the dirt roads using realm shifts to tear apart any unlucky undead creature in his path, Eivor switched between using her barriers and conjuring the staves that mimicked others as needed. She would fend off an attacker with a barrier, then shatter it violently so the shards would shred anything they landed on, then shroud herself in Gna's form to dash over to the next group just as they rushed out into the open. There was one instance where Heimdall had a two kill lead, rubbing in the third by shouting to her, "You'd better hurry up! With this one we're —" and was interrupted by her golden wings slashing right in front of him, taking out the draugr he was working on and the other that had just brought its focus to him. Golden dust faded away and revealed her own face as she gloated with a cheeky smile, "Even." Heimdall found himself laughing heartily as he leapt away from a sloppy slash from a brutish enemy, unable to remember the last time he'd had this much fun in battle. With that being such a sacred Aesir custom, he thought she had brought back something he had unwillingly lost long ago.

They were reaching the end of the village square, where the chieftain's larger cabin was the last before another gap between towering stone adorned with lush trees. Their score was still tied, though Heimdall felt it becoming much harder for him to filter his foresight and was quickly returning to old habits. Eivor took notice, though she held no ill will for it. She did choose to make fun of him for it though. That was an opportunity she would never miss. "Too tired to play fair now? That's so sad!"

Heimdall smirked while shoving a draugr off his sword. "As if you were going to win anyway. I've just been going easy on you!"

Eivor knew that wasn't necessarily true, but she took advantage of it anyway. "Oh? Well if you're going to play dirty…" A mischievous giggle escaped while she covered herself with more gold wisps, the youngest son of Odin overcoming her. With Baldur's speed she zoomed to Heimdall, cutting him off from the draugr he was aiming to stab. She knew he would step out of the way, which he did with a chuckle. "Careful there, Songbird! Wouldn't want to be on Hofud's pointy end, would you? That's the part that hurts, by the way."

His mocking made her snicker while she performed one of Baldur's favorite moves on Heimdall's former target. She sidestepped to the draugr's back and grabbed it around its jagged torso, suplexing it so hard that its head shattered, flipping over it and back onto her feet. She was now at the front doorstep of the long-dead chieftain's cabin. 

Heimdall had a plan, one more impressive move to bring the score into his favor, just as they reached the end of their contest. With his most confident smirk he turned away, pulling a hand back to drench it in bifrost, ready to hurl it towards one the last of the draugr, perfectly grouped up for an easy combo.

He froze. Something was in the cabin behind Eivor, his foresight screeching into every corner of his mind that it was coming from underground. He spun on his heel to head straight for her, but he was just barely too late, thanks to his repressed foresight. The wooden wall behind her burst into splinters and the aggressor slammed into her side, flinging her across the cabin and into the wall of another. She cried on impact, the golden human shaped barrier around her shattering into pieces. A giant tatzelwurm — one that was definitely three times the size of an average one, meaning this was likely one of the more territorial alphas — burrowed back into the ground as she hit the dirt hard in a crumpled heap. Heimdall called out her name, a call that she couldn't respond to in her state. He kept a close eye on the digging tatzelwurm's path, pinpointing exactly where it would emerge to follow up. Heimdall triggered a realm shift at the perfect time, sprinting to the monster's destination just as it emerged, his sword piercing through its skull as it leapt through the air.

It was a perfect strike that ended the tatzelwurm instantly, allowing Heimdall to quickly discard its corpse. "Eivor!" He shouted to her, sounding more desperate than he wanted to.

He kneeled once he reached her, slumped against the wooden wall with a hand on her head. At first he remained silent, stuck in place as she lifted her head. Her hair. The messy updo it had always been in had fallen, allowing her wavy white locks to drift down her shoulders. Its usual style effectively concealed how long it was, reaching about half way down her back. Despite how inappropriate it was at the time, or how much he told himself that there was nothing to see, he could only stare in awe at how beautifully it framed her face. Every fiber of his being wanted so badly to touch it, but every inch of his mind restrained that desire. It was just hair, it wasn't anything special. No, it wasn't. 

"It's okay," she muttered, looking up at him with a sheepish smile. "I'm not hurt. Getting knocked out of that spell is just…disorienting." 

Whatever lovely shock he felt was shaken off at her voice, frail and airy. Heimdall's face twisted in worry — a feeling he was still far from accustomed to. "Can you stand?" When was the last time he hadn't chastised someone for their lack of preparation for the unexpected? When was the last time he didn't care? 

Eivor gave a small nod, pushing herself onto her feet. Heimdall rose with her, his hands hovering around her as she swayed in the process. She waved him away. "I'm alright, really."

Heimdall narrowed his eyes at her. He had automatically returned to using his foresight as normal when Eivor was struck, so he knew she was trying not to be a burden by masking how unsteady she was. "Clearly you aren't, you're so dizzy that you're wobbling like a drunkard." He somehow managed to be stern and gentle all at once.

"I'll be fine in a few minutes. Let's just keep going." Eivor walked past him, much more stable than he expected. It did nothing to ease the tension Heimdall felt. He would have to watch her closely as he followed her. A commitment that was both impossible to avoid and keep, thanks to the one detail that had changed. As much as he tried to focus on her balance and the clarity of her mind, his eyes kept wandering down her back and to her hair, blowing delicately in the slight breeze. Why was it so breathtaking to him? It was just hair. Yet he was mesmerized as it complimented her movements, added grace to her every step, elegantly framed her lower back and waist. She glanced at him over her shoulder, likely because he had been quiet, and watching her hair flip in the process left one word in his mind.

Perfect.

They made their way past the chieftain's former home and to the edge of the path behind it, where wooden steps led down to an old platform. A run down gondola stood at the ready, its worn metal guardrail and chipped wooden pillars leaving much to be desired. Luckily the metal beams curving from the pillars to the mechanism that secured it to the metal chain above it was still intact. Eivor was skeptical of how sturdy the aged infrastructure was, cautiously putting weight on the first step of the wooden platform it was stationed at. It seemed stable, enough for Eivor to turn Heimdall's way and inform him of their fortune. The shifting mass disturbed the wood in a way that it rejected, a crack buckling under her heel and throwing her off balance. Heimdall acted immediately, reaching out to grab her forearm with one arm and her waist with the other. Just in time as well.

And that had an unforeseen consequence. She was close now. Very close. Her head was titled to the side a bit, her previous vertigo temporarily returning. It made her hair sway to one side, creating a curtain that brought out her visage. Her lips were slightly parted, gaze steadying after just a moment. Then it went to him and it made him suddenly aware of how he was holding her. It reminded him of the time she embraced him. How good it felt. With her this close and her face by his, he couldn't help but think about how much more he wanted.

"I'm fine now, just surprised me," she told him, a bit embarrassed. He knew. He could see that the fog over her thoughts was dissipating, just as she said it would. The sudden motion merely aggravated what was left of it. Yet he didn't move. Not a single muscle, trapped in the scenario that was playing out within his imagination. It would be so easy to lean just a little bit closer, to bring his other hand to her back and pull her closer. He never realized how much he admired those full lips, the verdant green of her gorgeous eyes…

"Heimdall?"

Reality caught back up with him. Eivor's bewildered expression told him that moment had been longer than it felt. He breathily excused it with sarcasm. "You're awfully clumsy for being fine."

Eivor glared at him, though it was playful. It was enough to convince him that she could handle herself now, his hands slowly drawing back and away from her. A shiver went down her spine as his fingers drifted over her for as long as possible, grazing every bit of her that they could. In their absence she felt much colder, like she had been in the warmest, most peaceful slumber until someone ripped the fur blankets away from her. The ghost of his touch remained, and she longed for it to return, just now realizing that her heart was racing far more than it should even after a close call. Heimdall's face was unreadable, those bright purple irises never leaving her for a second. It gave her a moment to appreciate all the little beauty marks he had on his cheeks and wonder what the light stubble on his jawline would feel like.

She cut herself off there, turning around and going down the steps much faster than she should have considering she had almost fallen through them. Thankfully there were no further incidents and Heimdall pulled the lever that activated the lift after they boarded. It lurched heavily before the ride smoothed out, functioning as if it hadn't been abandoned for years.

Heimdall was tempted to stand across from Eivor solely to watch her hair flow in the wind but he fought it. Somewhat. Standing next to her wasn't exactly a great way to fight it. In the end it made no difference, his eyes still going to her and staying there, studying her as she watched the land pass by. Even though he didn't have the best angle he couldn't help but continue watching her tresses gently flutter in the wind, fixating on it like it was the last thing he would see before death. It still stunned him, with both its beauty and its ability to sap whatever focus he had in him. He lectured himself about it. This was work, he scolded internally. He was fulfilling his duty to the All-Father, carrying out a task that requires great skill and control. It was not the time to get distracted by something as simple as flowing hair, even if it did look so soft. So divine with its sandy color, glittering in the sun like Asgard’s bifrost bridge. Elegant, a bit messy, but in a way that was appealing, a way that suited her. A one-of-a-kind woman, so kind and gentle yet fiery and wild. 

"Yes?"

Again, Heimdall's brain was doused with water from a nearly frozen lake when she spoke. "I didn't say anything." 

She giggled. "No, but you are staring."

Heimdall shrugged. "Quite arrogant to assume as much, don't you think?" A flimsy, illogical comeback that didn't cover his tracks at all, but in the moment he, for once, had nothing witty to say in return.

"I don't know how many times I have to remind you that you have very noticeable glowing eyes." He sighed, saying nothing. Her expression softened, assuming he was still worried about her. "I feel fine now, really. I promise I won't go tumbling over the edge. Even if you say you wouldn't let it happen." 

No response to that as well. She let him be, deciding she would have to let him worry — even though she knew he would deny doing as much — until they were back in Asgard. Then he finally explained himself with just two words. "Your hair."

Eivor was bemused until she felt the strands brushing across her face. While tucking some of them behind her ear she replied, "Oh, yeah. My clip must have broken back there. I'll have to get another once we're back home." She looked back at him, finding him staring again. A smile spread on her lips. "What about it?"

Heimdall instantly looked away, pretending that he wasn't interested. "Nothing."

"Are you pointing it out because you like it?"

The watchman crossed his arms, looking like a petulant child that had been told to do his chores. "It was just an observation," he grumbled.

The gondola came to a harsh stop at the other end. With a light laugh, Eivor moved past him, briefly placing a hand on his chest. "Whatever you say."

Heimdall seized up at her touch. Never before had he felt her hands — or anyone else's — there before. It was surprisingly pleasant, far more than he ever would have anticipated. As soon as he said a word about her hair he regretted it, but now that she'd done that…he wasn't so irritated with himself anymore.

The dirt path ultimately led into the woods that stretched down the mountain and into flatter ground, but that was beyond their destination. The sparkling magic from Eivor's spell went to a well off to the side, one half of the stone brick base shattered. The goddess knelt down in the rubble, where one rock was more intricate than the others. She picked it up, confirming that it was the last portion of the relic. A bit beaten up and covered in the lime mortar used to seal the stones together, but intact. If Odin could find a way to reliably repair the delicate core of the relic then this certainly wouldn't pose a problem.

Heimdall remained behind her as she stood, raising a brow at the questionable condition of the shard. "That's it?"

"Yeah. This is it." Suddenly those words sank it, and both gods felt the effect. Quietly, sullenly, she repeated, "This is it."

Her words hung in the air, the atmosphere so much heavier than it had been. Heimdall cursed Huginn, circling above them, ready to take them away. Away from the last exploration they had. It was the first time he had ever lamented finishing a job for the All-Father. How he would miss their little games and competitions that reminded him how powerful she was underneath that soft exterior, waiting for her to do or say something that would make everything so much more exciting and lively. Here it was, coming to an end, more than likely to never happen again. They would be given separate duties that could take them away from each other, reducing the time they had in Asgard. There was so much potential for things to fall apart from here, for them to drift off into their own lives. Such a sour realization made his heart turn to steel. What was he thinking, letting himself get so attached to someone? Even if they weren't a terrible, horrific person he should have known that this wouldn't last forever. People were unreliable, always destined to go their own way no matter who or what they once had. He should have known better. It always turns out this way, for one reason or another. This time the outcome was just brought about in a different way, in a less efficient manner.

Eivor trembled underneath the gravity of the situation and Huginn figuratively breathing down their necks. She hated how this felt. Like an ending. That was the last thing she wanted. 

A bout of determination overcame her. No. This was not an end, nor would she treat it as one. She turned to him, giving him a cheeky smile as if there was no overhanging fear between them. "So, did we ever determine who won our contest?"

Heimdall blinked at her blankly for a minute. He had forgotten about that completely, more concerned with Eivor's well-being than winning. An odd behavior for him. One he wasn't willing to admit either. Instead he put on his most arrogant smirk and gave the answer she was expecting. "Well, I took out the biggest one. That obviously makes me the winner."

Eivor rolled her eyes. Obviously, he says. She didn't refute his reply, finding it more than fair that she gave him the win after he did his best to follow her rules with little opposition. "Fine. That makes us even then."

The words rang in Heimdall's mind. He caught the hidden meaning in them. An implication that their "competition" was not over. 

It hit him. 

She didn't want this to be over. She didn't want them to drift apart, to chalk their friendship up as passing recreation between business partners. He confirmed it by looking into her mind, and the feeling of her desire to keep him close set his heart ablaze.

All prior experience told him to stick with his initial disappointment, to accept that this wouldn't last instead of putting off the unavoidable results. It said none of this should have happened in the first place, that everything between them was far too temporary to be worth it. 

For once, he chose to completely ignore everything he had seen from his foresight. He didn't want to listen this time. He chose to have faith in her. She was the only person he trusted enough.

The only person he wanted enough to take the risk.

This was not the end. Not even close.

His overconfident smirk softened into a genuine smile as he agreed, "I'm certain we will find ways to shake up the score in the future."

Eivor beamed at him, incredibly happy that he wanted them to remain close, even if he wouldn't say it plainly. He didn't need to. At this point she understood him well enough to just know. "Let's go," she said, her eyes never leaving his. He gave her a nod in response, still smiling brighter than she had ever seen.

Huginn took that as his cue to swoop in and bring them back to Asgard. Reluctantly, oh so reluctantly, Heimdall withdrew his eyes and faced forward, preparing to speak with Odin. His smile didn't falter even with the loss of eye contact.

Odin was now in front of them, sitting at his desk, just as they left him. He looked up at them, knowing they were successful before saying anything. "How'd it go?" He looked between them, noting how happy they both looked. Things seemed to be falling into place. Of course, he didn't appreciate that she had gotten Heimdall to be independent from his foresight, but in the end it only gave him a reason not to be. Their little game had worked out to his advantage more than he thought possible.

Eivor placed the weathered stone on his desk. "A bit worse for wear, but in one piece."

Odin felt his spirits lift. Yes, this was perfect. "Excellent work, both of you. Now I just need to put it back together with a little bit of magic and we'll have a shield over every realm should Ragnarok come." His servants thanked him for the praise, gratitude that he ignored. "With that settled, Eivor, you can go. Hang back, Heimdall, we have a few things to discuss."

Heimdall felt Eivor's disappointment but she complied. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't hoped they could go straight to the wall together. The thought of hearing her sing after being liberated by his cynicism was far too heavenly for him to handle.

He'd be lying if he said his time with Odin didn't drag, and for a very long time at that. It took every ounce of his concentration not to tune it out in favor of his thoughts, which were constantly wandering to a certain young goddess that he planned to see very soon. When, exactly, he wasn't sure now. All-Father's list of tasks to be completed that afternoon was long and it was already getting late. Perhaps that day would be the third time he rushed through his duties.

"Now, tell me something, Heimdall." The watchman stiffened, fearful that Odin had caught his withering attention and sought to test him. "Sif had an idea that she pitched to me earlier today. She mentioned that Eivor had confided in her about some things. Apparently she's afraid of what will happen to her now that she's reassembled the relic?"

Heimdall had to hold back a grin. The description Odin gave was vague, making him prideful that Eivor had only shared the full scope of her deepest fears with him. She trusted him more than Sif, and that made his heart swell. "It's a result of serving the elves, All-Father. A lack of purpose beyond being used by others, if you will."

Odin gave a small smirk. He could always count on Heimdall to tell him everything he needed, whether he wanted to or not. "I see. So she's thinking she's not needed here now that this is done? I can see why Sif had this idea, then."

"And that is?"

"A celebration in her honor, as a way of thanking her for her hard work. What I want to know is if I should allow it. I don't want her thinking I don't need her anymore, but I hear she's not one for parties. You've spent plenty of time with her by now, do you believe she would get anything out of it?"

It was a simple question that warranted a simple answer, yet Heimdall didn't have one right away. He was torn, actually. A night where she was the center of attention, admired by all, appreciated for the wonder she was. 

And away from him. He had to admit that he hated the idea, giving up time that she normally reserved for him to spend it with everyone else, and through an activity that she was far too classy for.

But then again…he had felt the stab of fear in her before they went to Midgar. The uncertainty was still there, still eating away at her while she tried to shake off a lifetime of sorrow birthed from it. Though a party would not be an ideal setting for her, she was never one to disregard the efforts of others. She valued every little thing someone did for her — her interactions with servants displayed as much — and an entire event made to show her how valuable she was would touch her deeply. She'd be happy.

He felt his possessiveness subsiding. Yes, he wanted their time together to last, to take every single moment they could have. But more than that…he wanted her to be happy.

It was the only time he ever wanted to give up something he desired for the sake of another.

With that he relented to his thoughts. They would have plenty of time after such an event, but a night that could dismiss her doubts for good was not something he would deny her. Trying to mask his reluctance with indifference, he replied, "A rowdy party wouldn't be an ideal setting for her, but she does value the intention and thought behind the actions of others. She would surely appreciate the gesture."

Odin pondered for a moment. He pretended to, at least, having expected Heimdall's answer. With a shrug he pulled a square of parchment from one of his notebooks and picked up a stick of charcoal. "Eivor certainly deserves some recognition for such a monumental accomplishment, and it's been a while since the Einherjar have blown off some steam. What the Hel, why not?" A wrinkled hand scrawled a message on the parchment. "I'll call Sif to deliver the news to her. You go on and get to those errands I described to you."

Before he could regain self control, Heimdall glanced down at the parchment to confirm his suspicions, and once he did he refused to let Sif have the honor. "Pardon my intrusion, All-Father, but there's no need to put extra effort into something so mundane. Allow me to deliver the message, since I am already here."

The old king looked at his loyal servant knowingly, his eyes shining with something sinister. "I suppose so. Just take care of those high priority errands first, you hear?"

Heimdall took the parchment from Odin after his superior held it out for him. "Of course, All-Father. When have I ever disappointed you?"

Not once so far, Odin thought as he sent him off, not missing the spring in his step. Once the door to his study was closed and he was alone with his ravens, the All-Father rested his elbows on his desk, folding his hands in front of his face, smiling. He would be nice for now. Once things were far enough along, he could play the game the way he wanted to. 

A sigh was the only sound in Eivor’s room. She sat at the table in front of the window, enjoying the fresh air while the candlelight compensated for the sun's disappearance behind the wall. She had been attempting to tune her lyre for over an hour now, but she just couldn't get it right. Her mind was too busy, too full of thoughts that continued to tap at the inside of her skull.

She shouldn't worry, she knew that, and yet she still did. It hadn't left her mind since she returned from the top of the wall, realizing Heimdall must have been too busy with whatever Odin had spoken to him about privately to meet her for their usual rendezvous. Perhaps it was his absence that brought these thoughts back so violently.

What now? That was what she kept asking herself. Monotonous tasks until Ragnarok comes? Biding her time until she was so bored that she lost her mind? Wondering what she could be doing with herself? 

No. No, she really shouldn't be thinking this way. Heimdall had told her before; the meaning of her life was hers to decide. If anything the new freedom could be beneficial, let her make whatever choices she wanted. Besides, Heimdall made it clear that he would still be there for her. If she truly had no idea what to do, he would help.

She smiled despite the persistent anxiety. She only wished he were there to remind her that she was being ridiculous. 

A knock at the door. The lyre and its poorly tuned strings were set down and Eivor went to answer it.

It was almost like he was listening for her call. There Heimdall was, leaning against the door frame with the pompous grin he always wore, and secretly disappointed that her hair was back in its usual style. Immediately her worries faded, replaced by a bright demeanor and a pounding heart. "Well, this is unexpected. Took time out of your full schedule to see me?"

Heimdall hid a wince, still unhappy that his end-of-day patrol was so much later than usual. That, however, was not something he could focus on after what he felt from her. "And it seems you've been busy as well." Eivor's brow furrowed. "Thinking too hard again."

Eivor shrunk back just a bit, guilty. "Probably." She should have known he'd find her fears even if he chased them away so quickly.

With a stern frown but a softer voice, Heimdall said, "I've already told you. Your worth is far more than your actions. You'll always have value."

Eivor looked down, grinning harder than she thought she would. It was so nice to hear. Not just because of his message, but because it was a side of him that he didn't show anyone else. "I know, I just…I guess I'm just not sure what comes next."

Heimdall hummed, then held out a square of parchment to her between two fingers. "Only good things."

Eivor eyed the parchment curiously. "What's this?"

"Proof."

She took it from him, reading through the neat, stiff runes written on it. Her eyebrows shot up and her expression morphed into one of amazement. "For…me?"

Heimdall nodded, his smile reaching his ears. "I told you."

Eivor had to take a deep breath, holding back tears of relief and joy. "I guess you did." Heimdall was expecting her to send some sarcasm his way, try to poke fun at him for not receiving the same honor. What he got was something completely different. "Will you be there?"

It caught him off guard, how hopeful her question was. She knew he would hate everything about Sif's celebration, and that he would much rather avoid it, but she wanted him to come anyway. Just so she could see him.

He wanted to give her the truth, tell her he would be far away from the rowdy gathering and somewhere much quieter than the lodge. Those words rejected his summons, telling him that he shouldn't dare say them. Not to her. He couldn't say no to her. Without the will to refuse her, and unwilling to make false promises, he answered, "I'll consider it."

No disappointment, no broken hopes. She was happy with that. It was enough for her. "Thank you."

He had no words, feeling his lungs straining and heart pumping in his ears while he struggled to find something to say. After standing up straight he quietly, oh so quietly, said it. "Goodnight, Songbird."

He swiftly left, barely giving Eivor enough time to bid him goodnight as well. When she closed the door she remained in place, back against it while she cradled the parchment close to her chest.

It could have said she was the new queen of all the realms for all she cared. Nothing written on it could match the person that delivered it to her.

The next morning passed by in a blur. Sif woke Eivor early, bringing with her a couple of servants that carried platters full of food for her to enjoy. The elder goddess said that she had a gift for Eivor, but it hadn't been made yet, and that she would soon see what that meant. She left to see to the preparations while the servants presented Eivor with the freshest fruits, warmest bread, and sweetest pastries, all of them paying no attention to her multitude of thank yous, claiming they were more than happy to prepare such an event for her. Once they left she was close to tears of joy at their kindness.

Within an hour three seamstresses came to her, including the lead seamstress that she had known since her first day in Asgard, under Sif's instruction. They were to make her a dress for the evening and needed measurements. Eivor hastily dismissed such a gift, believing that was far too much work to get done in less than a day. Nonsense, they all declared. For her they would make a thousand dresses in the same amount of time. 

Servants from far and wide visited her. The head librarian brought her a rare copy of one of her favorite books, distinguished by the gorgeous illustrations adorning the leather cover and pages. She had to track that edition down but felt it was worth the effort. One of the musicians that performed at the Black Thunder, who found out she also played instruments, gifted her a set of new lyre strings, ones of the highest quality. Even little Thrúd knocked on her door, bringing her a little wooden Valkyrie that her father helped her carve, saying that she was "as awesome as all the Valkyries." It was so adorable, and a memory she would cherish forever. The childish statue didn't compare to the finer decorations she had gotten for her cabin, but it was set on a shelf with the rest of them nonetheless.

Just when she thought it couldn't get any more overwhelming, Sif's finished gift came. The seamstresses unfolded the dress for her to see and her hands flew over her mouth in awe. It was absolutely beautiful, a deep purple that was her favorite color, bordered with gold embroidery of floral patterns along the bottom and top, which was cut straight across, similar to Sif's blue gown. It was held up by straps that were fastened with delicate brooches, crossing behind her neck and to the back of the dress. A thin leather belt with gold metal weaving along the edges was at the waist, where the excess length would drape down with the rest of the skirt. It extended to her ankles, accenting the matching leather boots with white fur lining the tops, just for a splash of contrast. The tears Eivor had done her best to contain overflowed as she chanted her gratitude over and over, the seamstresses bringing her in for friendly hugs. The hard work was worth it, and out of all the garments they had made for the gods, this was the one they were most proud of, they said once she tried it on. 

Never before had she ever felt so…wanted and loved. The interactions she cherished didn't end when she was no longer needed, she wasn't sent on her way to keep to herself until she had something else to do. All of these people cared so much that they wouldn't let her think they had forgotten about her. 

Eivor would be lying if she said she knew how many times she cried that day. As she donned her new dress she couldn't believe how pessimistic she had been, believing she would always receive the same treatment the elves gave her. Heimdall was right.

She paused on her way out the door when she thought of the scion. There was a small hand mirror on her table, and from where she stood she caught a glimpse of her reflection. Despite looking at her own image she could only see the look Heimdall gave her yesterday, while they were on the lift in Midgard. 

Without a single thought, she did it on impulse.

This was so stupid. What a terrible idea. A complete waste of his valuable time, and while most of the town was out of his way no less.

Yet there Heimdall was, staring down the crowd gathered around the Great Lodge, flinching at the noise that was unbearable even at a distance. He'd been standing on the side of the road for longer than he cared to admit, just waiting for a good time to breach the gathering. Which would never come.

He could just leave. Eivor knew he would despise this setting. There was no way she would hold his absence against him, blame him for avoiding a situation he hated even if she had given him a way to work through it. There would be no consequences whatsoever if he simply turned around and went on his merry way.

But no matter how many times he told himself as much he couldn't. Not wouldn't. Couldn't. It was like he was anchored to the lodge and someone was pulling him inside, refusing to let him leave. He just had to do it, to go in and see her for just a moment. There was no reason why, as far as he could tell. Something in him just found the thought of not taking part in a celebration dedicated to her as…deplorable. 

He just…wanted to remind her that she would not have been so successful had he not been her partner through it all. That's all. Surely.

After standing around for so long he finally swallowed his reluctance, stepping onto the moonlit road to the lodge. He sucked in a deep breath, momentarily closing his eyes to focus, tune out all the painful noise, the incoming touches, the raging emotions. His shoulders tensed the closer he got, his entire body clenching as he passed through the stragglers at the edge of the crowd. Gods, it was brutal, having to focus on filtering out so much while containing the murderous intent he felt towards every living thing within the vicinity. With each step he regretted not bringing Gulltoppr to barrel through and force his way into the lodge, but of course that something in him had no desire to cause trouble at Eivor's celebration either. He was beginning to loathe how tolerant he has become of that something over the past months, acknowledging that it may have escalated beyond his control at this point. 

His head was pounding and his mental strength waned as he reached the doors, hanging wide open thanks to the people keeping them apart. Giving up was so tempting. It would be so much easier to pretend he was never there in the first place, like he was far too busy to even try to stop by. Once he had (forcefully) pushed through the bottleneck and made it into the main hall he scanned the room for Eivor. A quick hello was all he would give and then he would be gone, that was it. It had to be. The effort it took to contain his foresight was becoming too strenuous to keep up, and frankly he was fed up with struggling for the night. And the rest of his life, frankly. 

Relief flooded him when he caught a glimpse of white hair between the bodies, nestled into the outskirts of the room. He should have expected as much, but he would blame his lapse in judgment on the headache he could feel emerging. Another deep breath, then he started shoving his way over to her. It was almost over.

But…

But.

Suddenly he didn't want it to be.

His eyes grew wide as dinner plates when he saw her in plain view. She was…stunning. The dress suited her well, and her favorite color was flattering on her, sure, but her hair. It was down, the wavy blonde locks freely flowing down her back, two little braids stemming from above her ears that met in the back to hold the loose strands out of her face. It was so captivating, and he was so enraptured that all the strength he needed to keep the overstimulation at bay was unnecessary. The sight of her alone silenced all his other senses, not a sound registering in his mind as he gaped at her, so lost in the beauty before him. How was he supposed to approach her, or move at all, when he could barely comprehend just how breathtaking she was? He wasn't even close enough to get a good look yet! When a drunken buffoon blocked his view of her he immediately seized their shoulder and threw them into their fellow partygoers, not at all caring who he had thrown or what they hit on their way down. Why would he when he had this to look at? Anyone who concealed even a fraction of her from him was lucky to be alive for more than a moment longer.

Sif was next to her, of course, drinking and conversing with the guest of honor as if she was an escort. It finally snapped some sense into him. The overprotective goddess would never let him have a moment with Eivor if she could do anything about it. 

Luck was on his side. Sif glanced behind her, searching for Thrúd and catching her two sons throwing her back and forth like a ball while their father guffawed obnoxiously. She rushed to lecture the men and rescue her daughter, leaving Eivor alone for a fleeting moment. Perfect.

His feet moved on their own, carrying him through the crowd, unable to hear or feel anything from it. With the way to Eivor clearing up before him it almost felt like a dream. The closer he got the more nervous he felt, somehow considering backing out to spare himself the agony. If his distaste for the cowardice of the idea didn't convince him to follow through, the sight of Eivor smiling brightly at Sif desperately trying to catch her daughter as she flew between her sons ensured he was too enticed to back out now. 

What did he even say? Just hello? No, that felt stupid, dull. Congratulate her for…something? Equally uninspired. Compliment her appearance, tell her how mesmerizing she was? Honest…but too honest for him. Never before had he thought so hard about what was coming out of his mouth. He hadn't decided when he was at her side, spitting out the first thing that landed on his tongue. "You clean up nicely." Still a compliment, even if backhanded. That was acceptable, wasn't it?

His second guessing didn't last long, blown away by the pure joy that overcame her, her smile the most beautiful it had been since they met. "You came!"

Just like that it became hard to breathe, as if the room had suddenly had all the air sucked out of it. So much happiness, even amongst a celebration dedicated to her, all because he spared a few moments to show up. He couldn't help the matching grin he gained, feeling every bit as happy as he looked. "I was in the area," was his bored reply, though unconvincing with his light expression.

Heimdall was rewarded with an adorable giggle and a roll of her eyes. "Oh, how fortunate I am that the watchman himself is kind enough to stop by." 

It was his turn to chuckle, one that made Eivor, for a lack of a better term, swoon. He was more relaxed than he had ever been outside of their secluded hideouts. Until a servant carrying a platter of steins splattered mead on the floor next to them while trying to avoid a stumbling einherjar. His foresight, for whatever reason, decided that was classified as "danger" and stung his mind, making him wince as the chatter and crashing of the lodge came back at full force. Eivor's smile fell into an apologetic one. As glad as she was that he made an effort to see her, she felt guilt creeping up as his discomfort. "I'm glad you're here, but you don't have to stay. I'm getting a bit tired of it myself."

Heimdall sucked in a deep breath. No. He wouldn't let these miscreants ruin this moment. All he needed to do was refocus, block out all the irrelevancies. Just look at her. Only think of her.

It did the trick, and the noise died down once more, though not as silent as before. He gave his most indifferent shrug and sighed, "It really is a pity, having these fools soil your night in such a way. You could always leave, go back to a certain quiet place that would be much more pleasant than the lodge." Eivor felt herself shy away as he referred to it as "her night." Like it was really something special. That, and his invitation to go somewhere with him. Alone. With no one paying attention to them…

Eivor reeled her mind back in, knowing Heimdall would pick up on the wheels turning in her brain if she thought about it for too long. She recovered quickly though, already having the perfect comeback for him. "Maybe I will…if I'm 'in the area.'"

One more laugh out of him, this time he felt compelled to look away. Half a heartbeat later his eyes flew back to her, grinning at her in a way that was, dare she say, charming. She was glad the torchlights were giving the room a warm hue because she was almost certain she blushed. At that moment, the idea of abandoning the party completely just to run off with him was far too inviting to ignore. She gladly would have, since Sif was likely drunk enough to forget that she had left early next time they saw each other, but Sif wasn't the issue tying her hands. Odin had said he wanted to share a few words, and he had yet to deliver them. After this delightfully nerve-wracking conversation, she would stay not a second longer after he did. "I'll make time for you later. I promise."

Heimdall couldn't describe what was happening to him, but it was something like nausea, a burning in his stomach that made him disoriented and…excited. He had to rip his eyes away from her for a second to calm his racing mind and heart, looking back only when he was confident he could reply without sounding breathless. And he did. Mostly. It was a bit more airy than he wanted. "Just for me?"

He never saw her answer coming. Her lips softened into a sweet smile and her eyes overflowed with, if he was not mistaken, admiration.

"I always will."

The room froze a second time, all of his senses — not just his foresight — blocking out everything that wasn't her, and the bubbling elation warming him from the inside out. Neither of them paid any mind to the servants announcing that the All-Father called for quiet. They only stared, violet stuck on green, the world fading away faster than they could ever catch up.

"Simmer down, everyone!" Odin called out. This was what finally broke their gazes, Eivor knowing that the time for them to get away was so, so close. Heimdall, too, felt reality slap him across the face, suddenly noticing that his hand had risen a few inches, intent on sweeping one of those radiant tresses behind her ear. He threw it down immediately, pretending he was merely shaking out his wrist. Not even he was prepared to face the action he almost committed.

Sif finally got her sons to release their sister and to head for their assigned seats at the table, just to the right of where the All-Father stood. She swooped in, not even noticing Heimdall as she took Eivor by the elbow and dragged her away. Eivor resisted just long enough to reach out to Heimdall and touch his arm, whispering to him, "I'll find you after." He merely nodded as he watched her disappear into the crowd, beautiful, gorgeous, flowing sandy hair fluttering gracefully behind her. 

He should just leave, go to the wall, where Eivor would surely go to find him. There was no reason to stay there. What did he want to do, escort her there? No, that's just…foolish.

Odin urged the audience to quiet down once more, hushing the room into near silence.

Well…he couldn't leave yet. He had to listen to All-Father, of course.

With the noise alleviated, Odin began his speech, just as Sif sat Eivor down in their seats, Eivor to her right and Thor drinking to her left. "Sorry to hold up the festivities, but I figured now would be the best time. You know, now that you're all just drunk enough to forget how to interrupt but not so drunk that you'll fall asleep while I speak."

A raucous laughter roared across the room, some of them sounding too forceful to be genuine.

"We may be enjoying good food and drinks, but we can't forget why we celebrate things around here. It's all for a reason, and that reason is to recognize how hard we work for the glory of Asgard. But today, we've done more than add further prestige to the realm's name. The greater good has been addressed, our protection from the dangers of this world extending far beyond the walls around us." Odin paused, sweeping a hand to Eivor. "Thanks to Eivor, we have secured a means of protecting the realms when we need to the most, allowing us to secure a brighter future. Without her, we would have had to endure the worst case scenario, unprepared to fight an inevitably terrible outcome. She has given us a great gift: the gift to fight for the future we want!" 

The crowd bellowed and cheered, ecstatic that they could fulfill their Asgardian dreams of fighting to the glorious end. Odin took a mug from the full table, lifting it high as he bellowed, "Thank you to Eivor, and all other Asgardians who make sacrifices for the good of all! Thank you for your service, and here's to many more years of it!"

An eruption of shouts overtook the room, but Eivor only clapped mindlessly. 

Thank you for your service.

Service.

She…really was just doing the bidding of someone pursuing their own goals, wasn't she?

Eivor shook her head a bit too violently to seem natural as she smiled and joined in the enthusiasm. She made this choice, and this was the path she wanted to walk. As Heimdall had said, she was finding her own meaning, not just—

Thor, just two seats down from her, looked at her warily before he slurred out, "Yeah…here's to being useful."

Heimdall, from across the room, felt rage threaten to boil over into another round of murderous intent at the god of thunder's careless words. The mounting shrieks and banging of wood and metal together didn't bother him nearly as much as that sentence. And the look on Eivor's face.

The world dimmed as the words washed over Eivor, casting more doubt that she thought she had set aside. She should have known it wouldn't be so easy. She should have known that…none of this was true. No, she wasn't making a choice, she was just thinking she was, still being pushed around like a willing pawn. This was all just a ruse to blind her. She was still just…

A tool.

No. No…

Eivor hated the thoughts taking over, repeating Heimdall's reassurances over and over in her mind, but they just wouldn't die. She needed to leave, find somewhere she could think clearly. Sif was far too distracted with chugging another barrel of mead with her husband and sons, allowing Eivor to stand and back away from the table, slowly, sluggishly moving as if she was the one that was drunk. 

The noise was too much. There were too many words, too much happening for her to get a hold of her fears. She began to grow desperate as she attempted to push through the crowd, mostly unsuccessful thanks to all the einherjar that barely noticed her and were not so easily moved against their will. A hole between them enabled her to make some progress, then a little more when the celebrators behind them were more forgiving. Then something crashed behind her, bringing a new round of excitement to the cacophony of agonizing sounds that riled everyone up so much more. She wanted so badly to just force them out of the way. But she didn't have the strength. Or the heart.

When she backed up to get out of the way of two einherjar crashing together solely for the fun of it, a hand grabbed her forearm. Terror engulfed her, thinking it was someone asking her why on earth she was leaving in such a hurry. Her head swiveled back, afraid of who she would find.

Heimdall. 

Relief flooded her, but the fear returned after she saw the clench in his jaw, golden teeth undoubtedly grinding together in his mouth. He was furious, and she believed he was angry that she had fallen back into this melancholy so easily.

Then she saw his eyes. They totally contradicted the tension and fury in his expression. Instead they were soft, gentle. Understanding.

While she was too busy staring, wondering what was going on in his head, his hand slid down to grasp hers, gingerly taking hold of her fingers and towing her along as he guided her through the crowd. She did not resist.

Their progress was significantly faster with Heimdall leading. Anyone coherent enough to recognize him stepped aside without hesitation, and he had no problem forcing anyone who didn't out of the way. One of the benefits to befriending a total jerk, she thought, making her lips twitch up for just a second. 

He had swooped in seconds ago and all the doubt was already feeling far away.

In time they made it out of the lodge and into the courtyard, not stopping until they were far enough down the street that the noise wasn't as deafening. It was a relief for both of them. Without letting go of her hand Heimdall whistled, loud and clear, the sound followed by the unmistakable thumping of Gulltoppr’s heavy trot. The beast turned a corner and came into view down the road, making his way over to his master as Heimdall lectured with disgust, "You should never pay Thor's words any mind. Just because he's too much of a drunken moron to understand what's really being said doesn't mean you have to believe him." Gulltoppr reached them, turning ninety degrees so that he was perfectly positioned for Heimdall to mount him when he was ready. The watchman signaled the beast to lie down, which he obeyed without question, as he continued, "What's important is that you made your choice for your own reasons. Don't let a blundering fool like him take that from you." While stern and commanding as he spoke, he confounded her with his actions. It seemed he was too worked up to think about what he was doing. Despite the fact that he was fuming, his hands gently gripped her waist, lifting her off her feet so effortlessly that her eyes widened at the abrupt movement. She gaped at him as he set her down on top of Gulltoppr in a side saddle position. He was still grumbling about Thor's stupidity but she was too stunned to process any of it,  focused on him climbing on behind her and taking the reins. With him straddling the saddle and Eivor sitting across it, she was practically sitting in his lap. She blushed profusely at the realization.

Heimdall had finally cooled down enough to command Gulltoppr to move. The sudden lurch made Eivor slide a bit closer to him and grip his tunic with one hand for stability. It was only then that Heimdall noticed his mistake, his entire body stiffening at the feeling of her entire side against him, her knees draping over one of his. He even felt her hair tickle his neck, sending shivers down his spine. In a matter of moments all the desire to tear everyone other than Eivor to shreds gave way to nerves.

The initial novelty soon passed for both of them, but it was faster for Eivor. It was so comforting, his form shrouding her from the rest of the world and warming her with his heat. His words had begun to settle in too, helping her clear her mind of the crippling anxiety that had captured her. He was right, as he'd always been about the subject. And frankly, she was beginning to tire of the constant second guessing. It was so much easier to just lean in a little closer, to let him help her banish the fear rather than lock it away within her fragile heart. After all, it certainly seemed like he wanted to do so of his own volition, which was…very sweet.

The tension that had taken hold of her was driven away completely when she gave in to her need for closeness, scooting back just a little more so she could wrap the arm that was against him around his torso and settle a palm on his back. The other landed on his other side and she let herself bury her cheek into his chest and close her eyes, bathing in his welcoming presence. Heimdall felt his muscles lock up when her hands caressed him, having to stop his mouth from snapping open and demanding to know what she was doing. Though it was out of shock, not because he was against it. It was when he felt her nestle into him that any apprehension, both from the disastrous party at the lodge and the surprising change in mood, was lost to the wind blowing past them. With one hand still on the reins, subconsciously pulling on them slightly to make Gulltoppr walk slower, his other retreated to take hold of her hand on his side, wrapping his fingers around it and giving it a squeeze. Why? He didn't know. Nor did he understand why his body moved on its own. He wanted so badly to kiss the top of her head, stopping himself just as he craned his neck to do so. It sounded right, sounded so wonderful, but he couldn't. No, what they were doing was already too much, wasn't it?

He didn't have an answer to that, and even if he did it would have been pointless. He may have refrained from kissing her hair, but he still rested his chin on it, taking in a deep breath to inhale the scent of her locks. It was so sweet. Intoxicating even, like his wits were so far gone that whatever reservations he held were drained away. Yet he didn't fight it. How could he when he was completely aware of how much she enjoyed it? She was so happy with his reciprocation, and his foresight informing him of it made his heart race faster than he ever thought it could.

Her ear, still against his chest, picked up on his erratic heart, and it made her smile. Heimdall always wanted to look like he was ten steps ahead, ready for anything, and completely in control. This was proof that he wasn't, this closeness had just as much of an effect on him as it did her. And she loved that. It was incredibly uplifting to know it.

He enjoyed this too.

He had to. He wouldn't allow it if he didn't. Eivor held him tighter, glad that he was not in a position to read her exact thoughts, otherwise he would surely see that she was so delighted that he was willing to show her how he felt. And that she didn't want this to end. 

But all things do, eventually, just like their ride did once Gulltoppr came to a stop. Eivor didn't even notice, far too absorbed in the safety of Heimdall's embrace. He had to release the reins and bring his hand to her shoulder, feeling her skin while his other hand stroked the back of her palm with his thumb. "Songbird…" he whispered. Eivor opened her eyes and saw the lift up the wall, knowing exactly what that meant. Even if the idea was pleasing, she was still reluctant to let go, too greedy for his comfort. With a sense of terrible loss, her hands gradually withdrew, Heimdall trembling as her fingers dragged across his sides. He disguised it by promptly dismounting, giving Gulltoppr the hand signal that ordered him to lie down once more. Then Heimdall reached up and took Eivor by the waist again, carefully carrying her down to stand in front of him. Eivor found it funny. She never considered this about him, but given his mannerisms it was something he was clearly capable of; he was a gentleman when he wanted to be.

He paused this time, mostly tipped off by the grateful smile she wore, making him realize exactly what he was doing. His hands were swiftly removed and his eyes left hers, quickly walking around Gulltoppr to get to the lift. Eivor thought his urgent need for distance was cute, he could feel it, and it annoyed him to no end. 

But that was forgotten as soon as they both boarded and the lift took off. Eivor's hair was flowing freely in the breeze, just like it had in Midgard the day before. He was just as awestruck. She allowed him to be this time.

Nothing was said until they reached the top, automatically heading for the spot they always claimed when they spent time on the wall. After the silent walk there, Heimdall finally came up with some way to justify his actions. Without compromising his confidence. "I'm certain this is a much more suitable display of appreciation than what you had to endure earlier."

Eivor chuckled, following him to the huge brick at the edge of the wall to rest her arms on its surface while watching the open plains below, illuminated by the moonlight. "It's the thought that counts to me." A moment of consideration. "I took that far too seriously. I'm sorry I—"

"Don't apologize," Heimdall barked, taken aback by his own frustration. He kept his eyes down on the plains, not sure what he might say if he looked at her. "You did nothing wrong, it was that oaf that should be apologizing to you for his idiotic remarks."

Eivor only nodded, smiling quietly to herself. The wind blew, stirring her hair once more. Heimdall's eyes followed the movement, failing to control his gaze yet again.

"You really like it?"

Heimdall blinked at her. "What?"

"My hair."

Nothing.

She expected as much. "So you do."

Heimdall, hating how easily she could pick him apart without even trying, growled back, "I never said as much."

"But you didn't deny it."

He sighed, now sneering into the distance.

Eivor hesitated before she sheepishly muttered, "I figured you wouldn't."

After a moment of replaying those words in his mind Heimdall understood her hidden meaning. That she had styled her hair that way for him. He finally turned his head to look at her, finding her smiling patiently at him. Just as it had always been, he saw nothing in her that gave away an ulterior motive, nothing to imply that she was trying to get anything from him.

Actually…no, he was mistaken. But in a way he never had been before. She did want something from him, and she did style her hair that way to get it. What she wanted was nothing materialistic, nothing for her own gain.

She did it just to please him. 

Because she wanted his attention.

That patient, kind, beautiful gaze she gave him was too much for him, his throat drying and his heart pounding so fast that it felt like he had just sprinted across the realm for days. His hands balled up into fists, his body froze up at his reaction.

He had to back off.

Heimdall pushed off of the stone and turned away, feeling a tiny sting of sadness from Eivor. "You're wise to heed my opinions, I'll give you that," he dismissed, dragging his feet to another large stone with a surface flat enough to sit on. He did just that, resting his elbows on his knees and looking away from Eivor, towards the Great Lodge in the distance.

Eivor shook her head. It was adorable, really. A man who was so sure of himself, so confident in his every word and deed, had to flee when flattered. It was also frustrating, seeing him run away because he couldn't grapple with his emotions. She had seen him do it for so long, but after he had been so, so sweet and caring for her she hated the idea that he would stop. All because he was too proud to think he could be anything but the stuck up, strict, and unforgiving watchman he had made himself out to be. 

She approached him slowly, "Heimdall?" When he merely hummed in response, eyes still avoiding her, she sat down next to him, space so limited that their sides were touching from shoulder to knee. "Will you answer me honestly if I ask you something?"

Purple eyes met hers, looking both baffled and offended. "And when exactly have I given you a reason to think I wouldn't?" he said snobbishly.

Eivor rolled her eyes, taking that as a yes. After a deep breath, banishing the annoyance brought about by his tone, she gently asked, "Why did you take me here?"

Heimdall just stared, brows furrowed. His eyes darted to the side for a brief second before returning to hers. "We arranged to come here." So matter-of-fact.

A part of her became timid, wondering if this was a poor approach. "Yes, but you could have met me here, like we always do. You didn't have to see me. You didn't have to stay at the party after Sif dragged me away. You didn't have to bring me here yourself, you know I would have come anyway. And I doubt All-Father would have asked you to deliver the news to me yesterday considering how busy you were, yet you were the one who did it." 

Now Heimdall couldn't bear to look at her. She had cornered him in a place he was not at all willing to stand. He was caught having no explanation, no reason for his behavior and he hated it. He hated that the only thing he could say to that was…he just wanted to. But he never would. That was not who he was. He was the Herald of Ragnarok, aware of every lie told and every trick played, not once falling to false promises, never missing the cruelty of man. He wasn't supposed to…care. He wasn't. He wasn't so weak, so foolish, like everyone else. He was so much better than that.

He swallowed the whirlwind billowing within to remind her as much, braving a look at her face. 

He wished he could take it back, getting lost in the patience and…affection he found in them. His tongue was too heavy to let him speak, his lungs too constricted to breathe. Any rational thought he had was gone, so he did what he always does. His eyes looked into her mind, desperately trying to find something, anything, that could give him some kind of out. Instead he only heard one thought that made it so much worse.

Gods, he's handsome.

That was it. That was all she thought when he looked back at her, and somehow it was more debilitating than any injury ever could be. 

He couldn't take it. He couldn't take it.

Without warning he shot up, heading back to the giant brick they started at. "It was more convenient to wait," he choked out, feeling his defenses crumble around him. It only became harder to maintain them when he felt the disappointment coming from her.

Perhaps that was for the best. If she was upset then this conversation would end, and that would be it. He wouldn't let himself get this carried away again. He would go back to keeping this…"friendship" exactly what it was, no more—

"Heimdall."

He didn't hear her stand and approach him, too lost in the infinite calculations going on in his mind. Her coo was so soft, almost as much as the light touch of her hand on his shoulder, drawing his eyes to it right away. Which inevitably brought them back to Eivor. That same fondness and leniency was still there, no less abundant than it had been. She put a little bit of pressure on his arm, pushing him to face her completely, both of their sides against the stone brick. 

Not even Heimdall could have foreseen what she had to say. How she would handle a topic that had become so volatile. Her smile, so tender and caring, perfectly matched her tone.

"Heimdall…it's okay to feel."

She had his attention, taking him so off guard that he had to listen.

"I know you, how you want to be seen, and how important that is to you. I understand. It's all for your duty to protect Asgard, and that's okay. But when you're here, with me…" she smiled even wider, eyes so loving as she put a hand to her chest. "It's just me. And there's nothing you need to worry about with me."

Heimdall just listened, dumbfounded. She had read him better than he had ever read anyone, getting to the heart of his hesitation with just a few words to confirm her suspicions. 

The worst part? 

This conversation wasn't about her. 

It wasn't about her distaste for his priority to present himself as the responsible Watchman of the Gods, or her need to hear what she wanted from him. No, it was about him. His discomfort with the situation, his inability to balance his duty and the need to be close to her, his habit of being a habitual coward around her instead of just saying what he means like he would with everyone else. It was always about him.

It was never about herself.

While the air in his lungs grew more sparse she continued, "I mean, think about it, Heimdall. I've dragged you through ashes, ruined your clothes, watched you lose a bet at the last minute because of a silly mistake…" She waited for him to protest, to present the irritation he always felt when she brought those things up. They were absent. He was too engrossed in what she had to say. His willingness to listen to her, and the adoration that was gradually filling his expression gave her the words she needed to close her argument. Eivor licked her dry lips, catching Heimdall's eyes flickering down to observe the motion. In a soft whisper, she said, "But despite all that…I'm still here. Like I've always been."

Again. There it was again. It was still about him. Eivor had yet to make this about her wants or needs, it was still about him. She wanted him to be absolutely certain that she would not turn out to be like everyone else, so shallow and unforgiving when they realized the person they were speaking to was not what they wanted. That she still cared about him no matter where he stood, both in the hierarchy among the gods and with himself. It felt…he couldn't even describe how it made him feel.

Heimdall was still without the words to reply. Eivor ended with, "You don't have to show your emotions to everyone, not even to me if you don't want to. But I won't think any less of you if you do. Never." With that, she wasn't sure what else to add, having said everything she needed to. It was nerve-wracking, watching Heimdall just gawk at her with no idea of what he was thinking. Truly, Heimdall wasn't sure what to say either. The only thing he could comprehend was how desperately he needed to hold her the same way he did when he brought her to the wall for the first time.

He took in a shaky breath, still too shocked by her sincerity and the sheer elation he felt because of it. There was so much running through his head, but none of it made it down to his mouth. His lungs still stiff, heart panicking, hands quivering at his sides. He took an approach she would recognize, knowing she would understand why he did so. She always understood. He could always trust her.

A wilted smirk appeared on his lips as he mumbled back, "That's…awfully presumptuous of you."

The air around him was overloaded with joyous electricity when she laughed. "I prefer to call it 'deductive reasoning.'"

Heimdall chuckled, half-hearted smirk melting into a loving smile. "I think you might be getting a bit…" he couldn't stop leaning in closer to her, nor did he try this time. "Overconfident."

Eivor's breath quickened, biting her lip when she felt his face come just a little closer to hers, unable to keep herself from glancing at his lips. "I think…" The favor was returned, Eivor moving a little closer to him, having to look up a bit more to keep eye contact. "You should shut up," she joked, grinning at the feeling of his breath across her face as he huffed out a laugh. 

"Oh really?"

"Yeah…"

He'd had enough. This was too much, yes, but Heimdall didn't care anymore. He knew what he wanted, and he knew that she wanted it too. He was done fighting with himself. "Well then," he said breathily, eyes boring into hers with all the passion and intensity that made him who he was. He raised a hand —intentionally — and swept a stray hair from her cheek. He adored that she leaned into his touch. "Why don't you make me?"

The implication was clear. Eivor could barely rasp out, "Gladly," before the distance was closed. 

Their lips crashed together, Heimdall’s hand cupping her cheek and the one at his side flying to her waist while hers went straight to his shoulders. The landing was less than graceful, far too charged and impatient, adjusting their lips to fit more comfortably. The rest of the world faded at their chaste but powerful kiss, both of them feeling light enough to float away into the sky and twirl amongst the stars. Weeks, months of the built up of distant intimacy pouring out all at once and robbing them of any sensations that didn't come from one another. Eivor could never describe how wonderful it felt to have him so close, to feel him let everything else go and just live in the moment without a care for anything else. The pure, unbridled rapture she felt couldn't be picked up through her mind, Heimdall's foresight having short circuited at the overflowing of her every heavenly touch and breath and the knowledge that she felt just the same from him. Why on earth did he deny himself this for so long? What was he trying to do? Defend himself from anyone who would assume he had gone soft? Why would he, when he could show them exactly why he was feared and respected across the realms? Why would he refuse this divinity, refuse her, when it felt so much better to give in and worry about the rest later? He was such a misguided fool, fumbling around with his attachment to her like he had every reason not to embrace it. She was a light in this dark world, a fire in the dead of winter, and he craved every spark she ignited in him.

The air between them was already thin and difficult to inhale, forcing them to part and take deep breaths to alleviate the light-headedness. Their foreheads remained pressed together, breaths fanning between their faces. Before the idea of this closeness was too much. Now the separation was agonizing. He wanted more. He needed more.

Heimdall swooped back in to reclaim her lips, pressing deeper into her and pulling her as close as physically possible, wanting to feel every inch of her body on his. He reveled in her hands wrapping around his neck, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss in an attempt to portray the desire he felt growing within him. Eivor complied, allowing them to fall into a pattern of open mouthed kisses and taking very sparse moments to breathe. But it still wasn't enough. He tested the waters, pulling away from her just enough to let the tip of his tongue brush her bottom lip. Her response was almost immediate but it felt like an eternity, her honeyed taste building up an addiction that he couldn't escape. Shyly, but without hesitation, her tongue met his lip. He did not waste a single second. 

Their mouths latched together again, Heimdall's tongue hungrily seeking out hers and grasping every taste, every flavor she had to offer. His stomach was on fire, his skin burned, his mind was blank, overtaken with the thought and feeling of her. His desires took over and he pushed her backwards until her back hit the cold stone of the rubble behind her. The hand on her face slammed into the wall next to her head, as if it needed a break from the overstimulation. 

This was familiar, what little was left of Eivor’s mind thought. With one side next to stone and the other blocked by his arm it was just like the time he cornered her in Muspelheim, furious and fed up with her disregard for his status. She never would have thought that same situation would feel so incredibly amazing, so perfect and saccharine and euphoric. It was so much, his passion so overwhelming yet she snatched up every ounce that he gave her, his lovely touch making her dizzy. Never before had she been so pleasantly chained by raw emotion and an aching need to memorize his scent, feel his hands gripping her tighter, his lips pressing harder. It almost didn't feel real, the high of his affection and need for every part of him like a dream that she wished would be eternal. She never wanted to go back to reality again. This was all she needed: Heimdall, his breath on her cheeks, his hands on her waist, the arm on by her head coming down to wrap around her back and pull her even closer. Heimdall was so relentless, not giving her a moment to feel anything but how much he wanted every iota of her. 

Far sooner than she wanted she had to break away to breathe, gasping and panting while Heimdall's lips went to her cheek, then down to her jawline. He traveled down to her neck, feeling her nails digging deliciously into the base of his cranium is a way that sent a jolt of ecstasy through him. He couldn't contain himself.

One of his hands ventured downward, slowly, oh so slowly, trailing down to her hip before giving it a proper squeeze, relishing in the supple curves he was met with. He felt her surprise at his grasp but he was too far gone to think about it, focusing on his mouth on her neck, determined to leave marks. His lips pulled back to let his teeth nip at her skin. Eivor gasped so sweetly right in his ear, and it was so tantalizing. He took another bite, teeth more insistent on branding her as his.

Then he froze. He felt it within her. 

Fear.

Not exactly fear, more like uncertainty, or nervousness. That was when it occurred to him. 

Heimdall lifted the hand on her hip back to her waist and gave her neck a soft kiss where he had just bitten it, then pulled back to put his forehead to hers. Her eyes were misty with thoughtless pleasure, breath just as labored as his. He had to calm his racing lungs before he could get it out. "Never?" He asked with a smirk.

Eivor recoiled and looked away, smiling with embarrassment. A goddess of her age would have plenty of romantic experience by now. But for her, Heimdall was a first in many ways. She shrugged sheepishly. "Elves don't make for good partners."

A chuckle. "Is that so?" His tone was teasing but he didn't call her out for the flimsy excuse. In fact, he swelled with pride at her admission. She was untouched, never finding another to share herself with before him, not even in the most innocent ways. A prize, one that he conquered and could have all to himself. 

"Don't laugh!" She exclaimed.

Heimdall paid it no mind, pausing before making his counterpoint. "You've been in Asgard long enough. You've never been interested in anyone?"

Eivor, now much more playful, smirked at him. "Weeellll, there's only one Asgardian that's caught my eye, but he's…" she pulled him down by the back of his neck, angling her head to bring him so close that her lips brushed his as she whispered, "...difficult." She giggled with him as she placed her forehead back on his, adoring the sweet smile on his face. They sighed together, so lost in the plethora of emotions that were free after nearly bursting at the seams for too long. 

Heimdall had no idea why he chose to make this so much harder than it needed to be, why he refused to take advantage of all the time they had. It felt so much better to indulge in her attention and to give his own without a care. It felt so calm and secure. 

It was liberating, he realized.

Never had he felt so free.

He was so overcome with the sense of freedom. Freedom to let go of all the disgust and hatred he held inside and bask in her purity. A beauty and tranquility that she shared with him.

He was never one to count his blessings, knowing he could have whatever he wanted with a snap. This time he did. This time he was glad to have this. That she wanted to be his. Without any forethought — because he didn't care for it at this point — he took a hand from her waist and placed it gently on her cheek and rubbed her skin with his thumb, mumbling mindlessly, "My Songbird."

Eivor wouldn't have been surprised if she burst into flames with how warm those words made her feel. A declaration of devotion that he could finally voice, just for her. She regretted not having a nickname to parrot the sentiment. Instead she leaned into his hand, mischief leaking into her smile. "My obnoxious prick." Heimdall scoffed and shook his head, but he was still grinning back. "I say that affectionately," she added with a twinkling laugh.

Heimdall rolled his eyes, returning his hand to her waist so he could pull her into his chest. "Oh, sure," he quipped back.

She burrowed into his tunic, loving his scent in her nose, but she had to protest. It was getting uncomfortable. "I wish we could do this all night," she whispered to him.

With a growing smile he replied, "I have no complaints."

"Easy for you to say." Heimdall was thrown off, pulling back far enough to look at her and show his confusion, masking just a hint of concern. "You don't have rocks digging into your back," she chuckled, putting his worries to rest. He released her and stepped back, giving her space to move away from the unforgiving stone. Eivor lunged at him right away, closing the space he made to cling to him one more, wrapping her arms around his back and burying her cheek into his chest once more. He happily obliged her, placing his arms around her shoulders. It felt so right. Letting her get this close, allowing her to see what he felt for her. Eivor couldn't agree more, thinking it was such a privilege to earn enough of his trust to hold him like this, show him that she truly did care more than words could describe.

The moment was almost perfect. Almost. Heimdall sought to rectify that. "Sing for me," he breathed into the top of her head.

She had been waiting for him to ask, or at least give some indication that he wanted her to. He couldn't be totally comfortable with so much vulnerability all at once, after all, and she didn't expect him to be. She would, however, not let him off so easily, as always. "Maybe if you asked nicely," she teased.

Eivor was astonished at his reply. She imagined he must have been so lost in the moment, letting himself be so open that he didn't even bother thinking about snapping back. All he said was one word, spoken so quietly that she could barely hear it.

"Please."

She couldn't remember ever hearing Heimdall utter the word, not seriously. Yet here he was, so content and relaxed that it slipped out right away. It made her heart flutter, realizing he wanted to hear her sing to him so badly that he would be so sweet to her to get it. 

Slowly, she pulled back, beaming up at him, her eye contact giving him the opportunity to pick up on how pleased she was with his compliance. Honestly, he didn't even care that he did so without complaint. Not with her. Eivor took his arm and led him to the enormous brick at the edge. Heimdall rested his elbows on it as Eivor settled in beside him, her right hand reaching under his arm to take his left and lock their fingers together. The other moved across her torso to land on his bicep, her head resting on his shoulder. Her eyes closed and her voice rose up, filling the air with the most enchanting sounds Heimdall would ever hear in his life. He felt himself melt into her, bringing his free hand over to clasp hers, squeezing it tightly between both of his hands. He too closed his eyes. It was too ideal not to enjoy everything his sight — eyesight and foresight — could not capture. The rest of the sensations disappeared, the only thing he felt being her skin against his, her weight leaning on him, and the ever brilliant and gorgeous sound of her singing. It was the ideal respite. It was so wonderful. So heavenly. So…

So worth it.

Heimdal was so happy. 

Eivor had never felt so special.

The raven flew off. All-Father would be pleased.