#i AM judging you and i feel zero sympathy for anything coming your way

[swagging-back-to]

not sorry. i extend very little sympathy and patience towards tras who are underage, and the only ones who do get said sympathy are TIFs. but again. it's MICROSCOPIC levels of sympathy.

[heimdallsram]

━━━━ masterlist. soundtrack. archive of our own. taglist.

title: perennial

pairing: heimdall x female! goddess! reader

"You were a goddess of oaths and vows. It was only fitting that Odin would bind you to his service in only the most ironic way that he knew how: marriage."

this fanfiction contains the following: domestic violence, blood, gore, choking, violent sexual content, bad BDSM etiquette, non-consensual somnophilia, blood drinking, unhealthy relationships, and much more content that may be sensitive to some readers. reader discretion is advised.

*for inquiries about the taglist, please dm me and i will add you to it.

 The cold of Midgard faded to a near comfortable warmth as Sindri and Atreus led you through the circular pathways of Yggdrasil. It was almost as if you had sat at a distance to a hearth that encompassed all sides of a room and you had the thought to unclasp your coat, but the vivid reminder of Heimdall’s earlier visit made you reconsider that decision promptly. It was not insufferable and you could actually tolerate the heat in the dress you wore, but you would be much more comfortable in just the dress, you knew.

 “So this is how you were so quick in your travels,” you marveled quietly. Lyndworms scuttled to and fro amongst the limbs, gnawing at the pale wood or at each other. Occasionally you would hear a loud screech and they would scatter, only later to reemerge and resume their play. “This is quite convenient. Moreso than a flock of ravens, to be sure. It’s nauseating.”

 Atreus was ahead of you by a few strides, quite happy to take the lead while you and Sindri lagged behind. “Isn’t it? We’ve traveled this way for so long that I couldn’t imagine any other way! Father—er—well, we do have to find the gateways first, and make sure they’re out of Odin’s range first.”

 “An inconvenience,” Sindri lamented,”but not impossible. Odin believes himself too smart to consider other alternatives.”

 You clenched your fingers tightly to your stomach. “Indeed. Where do we go from here?”

 “My home, of course! I built it in the tree to keep out of Odin’s way, but also because I can be here and there to help out Atreus or go to different shops. The one in Vanaheim, however, has been compromised, I am sad to say, my lady.”

 “Oh.” Your frown could not be hidden in time. It was a pity, yes; your childhood home was overrun by Einherjar these days. Odin had seen to that and told you as much. You didn’t think you could stomach returning there, however, not any time soon. It would bring back happier memories and you would only return depressed and even more dreadful of your future to come. “I see. I cannot say I am not sad to hear that.”

 “Hey, Lady Var?” Atreus piped up. You zeroed in on his form, closer than it had been before so he could speak to you properly. His eyes were curious and you found yourself happy to see it. It was rare children found anything other than worry or concern to line their minds with these days. “Can I ask you a question?”

 “You already have, but yes, Atreus. Ask anything you like.” Perhaps not anything, you would have to lie to  him at some point in time. “What do you wish to know?”

 Sindri was quick on the uptake. “Maybe nothing about Asgard, huh? Don’t want to bring up any bad feelings… You were crying when you arrived here, my lady.”

 You watched his grimace with a smile. “I was. But it is fine now. I do agree, however, that we should avoid talk of Asgard. I find myself tired of it.”

 “Right…” The boy nodded. “So you can see the oaths of anyone, right?”

 “Yes. I can see any agreement, deal, oath, or promise they have made at any point in their lives as long as they still keep them.” You paused, then inclined your head just so. “I also, at times, may be called to judge them if those vows are broken.”

 At your side, Sindri halted. You turned to look at him questioningly, but you gut swooped at the look on his face. He was looking at you with so much pity, so much sympathy, it made your stomach hurt. “You’re still doing that?”

 “Doing what?”

 You smiled tightly. “To judge those who break their vows, I must first determine whether they are fit to die or live.”

 “She kills them. Anyone who makes a promise that she observes, and later breaks, she is duty bound to decide their fate.” Sindri trudged ahead of both you and Atreus. He wasn’t looking at you, not really, as he passed, and you knew he was feeling guilty on your behalf. Much like Sif had, except hers was that she had not intervened in time; Sindri’s was pure shame that you had to take lives like you were. “It isn’t like you do it out of hatred, my lady. But it doesn’t make it any less wrong.”

 “I know.” You did not jog to keep up with the two, but you did have to quicken your pace. The leaves of Yggdrasil rustled around you gently on a non-present breeze. “It’s nothing I do not tell myself every night.”

 You waited for Atreus to ask more of his questions. They never came. He was silent, eyes darting between yourself and Sindri curiously, and his mouth would open and close as if he was trying to work up something to say and came painfully short. As you were looking at him, trying to discern how he felt about your abilities and job, you noticed a sprig of mistletoe around his neck, shaped into an arrow and looped around a leather cord.

 The words came out of your mouth unbidden. “You killed Baldur.”

 You had been one of the few who had been first to know of his death, but you had not been aware of who had killed him. They kept things like that from you and most others, with only select family members of Odin owning up to the knowledge. While it was obvious that Baldur would not return after some time had passed, none of the small folk within Asgard knew just how he had met his death, or the terms and conditions of the invulnerability he possessed. You did.

 “I didn’t… But yeah. It happened.” His eyes were wide now, looking at you in slight apprehension. “We didn’t want to, but Freya—“

 Raising a hand high, you indicated for him to stop speaking. Then, gently, you patted his shoulder, but it was  stiff movement. You weren’t used to comforting others at all. “I understand, Atreus. The depths of Baldur’s longing to feel are what earned him his death. It is not your fault that he could not see it until he was on his death bed. Queen Freya was mistaken to use such a spell on him, but she was a mother under Odin’s rule. She felt she had no other choice but to protect him.”

 The walk to Sindri’s home was filled with silence, this time more suffocating than the previous. Speaking of such heavy topics had not been the best idea, in hindsight, but the boy had looked so nervous, so pitiful, that you had to reassure him that all was well. He walked with such a burden on his shoulders that you wondered if he would be able to take all that was to come for him in the future; he held a greatness within him, if only he knew how to use it.

 “Here we are!” Sindri’s mood had lifted by the time you stepped through the white, shining door of light. “Welcome to my home, my lady.”

 It was of a craft you had never seen before. Odin’s hall was certainly grand, but it was austere and minimalist in build. This was ornate, beautifully and lovingly designed, with gold and glass windows that allowed a glimpse within. This felt like a home, not a palace, and you smiled at the thought.

  “It is beautiful, Sindri.” You were unsurprised when Atreus sped ahead of you, shoving open the doors excitedly. You could just barely make out the agitated grumble inside, belonging to that of the more grumpy half of the Huldra brothers. “I daresay I could not imagine anything better.”

 “You’ll like it more once you’re inside. Come, my lady, but… please leave your boots at the door.” His eyes were leery as he stared at the mud soaked material covering your feet. “I just cleaned.”

 You had half a mind to remind him that Atreus had waltzed in without concern, but perhaps that was something that had to be trained out of him. You stepped out of your boots as ordered and left them by the door, waiting patiently for Sindri to beckon you inside. It would be rude for you to enter and act as if you were familiar with the abode. You were not Thor, entering where you were not bidden.

  “—and she was crying, but she seemed happy to see Sindri—!”

 Atreus was busily catching Brok up to speed, it seemed, as the other blacksmith deemed you clean enough to enter his home. You stepped through the door cautiously, Sindri at your side, and watched as the boy waved his hands towards you in reference to something he was saying, but Brok had evidently stopped listening the moment his gaze drifted towards you.

  “Well I’ll be damned,” he chortled, slapping the wooden table in front of him so hard that it rattled. He was quick to scoot out from behind it and to you, bypassing Atreus entirely. “If it ain’t the fuckin’ goddess of vows ‘erself! If I wasn’t so glad to see ye I’d give ye an earful for bouncin’ off to Asgard like that!”

 Your laugh was lighter than it had been in years. “I missed you, too, Brok. It has been… a very long time, indeed. Though, the last I heard, you and Sindri had parted ways. Am I to assume the past is the past?”

 “Indeed!” Sindri agreed heartily. “It was all thanks to Atreus, really.”

 Over Brok’s head, you met Atreus’ gaze with a thankful smile. “It seems I have a lot to thank you for, Atreus.”

 “Oh, no!” He waved his hands in a gesture of ‘no’. It was amusing the way he edged away towards a room, keen on giving you space. “It was nothing! Uh, I’ll give you all some space, okay?”

 You waited until the door was firmly shut to laugh at him. “He’s a funny kid, no?”

 “Don’t worry ‘bout Atreus, my lady.” Brok shook his head and headed back to the work table. He propped open a chest and withdrew a box carved from pale wood, something similar to the wood of Yggdrasil but not quite the same. “Had this waitin’ for a few centuries for ye. It ain’t my best but it’ll do its job, eh?”

 Approaching the table, you took the box carefully into your hands. It was smooth and polished and you chuckled at the chicken scratch handwriting on the top that had your name depicted in runes. But you could feel the runic power emnating from inside, and when you opened it, you were surprised to see not a weapon or anything of the like, but a bracelet. You laid the box down and took the bracelet out of its velvet confines, peering at it with raised eyebrows.

  “That there is elven steel,” Sindri provided helpfully. He pointed out the runes etched more delicately into the side, explaining,”We imbued it with protection runes from the realms. It was hard to get the different essences, especially since Brok is banned from Alfheim, but we managed to get them all and put them into this bracelet. If you trigger the failsafe inside it, it will produce enough power to create an explosion and teleport you here. Brok figured if you were going to Asgard, you would need a way out, but… you left before he could give it to you,” he finished sourly.

 You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks and clasped the bracelet around your wrist as a distraction. “I apologize for that. Odin was not… well. Patient, I suppose. I was lucky he did not snatch me up when he was in disguise. But I will put it to good use, I promise. Thank you both.”

 “Speakin’ of, what the hel’re you doin’ in Midgard anyways? I thought the bastard kept you penned up in Asgard like a prized pig these days.”

 At the reminder of why you were there, the smile slowly faded from your lips. Sindri, surprisingly, touched the top of your fur covered shoulder and patted it lightly. Your fingers tightened over the bracelet and popped threateningly.    “That bad, huh?” Brok stared at you with a frown on his face. “Ain’t seen you go ashen like that since you were a kid.”

  You stared at the fire in the forge contemplatively. Twisting the bracelet around your arm, you tried to think of a way to break it to them gently—but you were coming up blank. Taking a deep breath and praying this was the right decision, you unpinned the clasp of your coat and let it flop open unceremoniously. Sindri, from his position at your side, couldn’t see the ring of bruises around your throat, but Brok’s strangled choke indicated enough for him to turn you around himself.

 “Who did this?” was his quiet whisper as you rapidly pulled the clasp back together.

 “Heimdall.” You tightened your arms and curled them around your chest defensively. “I am to be married to him this evening. He… did not take it well when Odin escalated his plans to have us marry. I didn’t think—well, I didn’t think, did I? This wasn’t a possibility, I had reassured myself, but my disrespect was too much for him.”

 “Fuck.” Brok rubbed his face tiredly. “You really put yer foot in it, didn’t ye?”

 You closed your eyes. “More than you know.”

 After a moment, you explained the situation—your lying to Odin about your abilities, the judgements, the incident with Heimdall, Sif’s sympathy, all of it—to the two while you had the nerve and the chance. You couldn’t talk to anyone in Asgard about any of this, but Brok and Sindri listened to you as you spoke. They moved you to the table, offered you food and drink as you struggled through the process of speaking of your trauma, and when you had finally finished talking and eating, they were silent, considering.

  “I’m a fool,” you sighed. “I thought I was smarter than him and look where it got me.”

 Sindri opened his mouth and, brows furrowing, said,”If you’re married, that will be a vow you can’t break. Right?”

 “Yes.” The bottle of wine sitting at the end of the table was suddenly looking all to enticing. “Only death can break it, and even then, the magic lingers. Knowing Odin, he’ll make the vows something permanent. Debilitating. I have no use to him unless I have no choice but to obey.”

 “And Heimdall… Urgh. You won’t be able to escape, either.” Sindri shuddered at the thought. “But with the bracelet—“

 “I cannot leave Asgard unless Odin loosens the restrictions himself.” Another lie, but it was for their best interest. If they knew you could bypass Odin’s wards, you would be in more trouble—they would want your help, your aid, and you could not give it. You were not strong enough to be of any help to their cause, but… you knew others who could be. “I am here on borrowed time. But, I will use the bracelet if I am in danger, this I swear.” The bond shone into existence, bright and gold. “And if I die… then you have to promise to keep the next incarnation safe. She cannot fall into Odin’s hands once more.”

 “Of course,” Brok answered. “Anythin’ for ya, my lady.”

 “Are you in that much danger?” Sindri wordlessly slid the bottle of wine you had been eyeing to you. You poured yourself a generous amount into the mug they had given you. “That you could potentially… die?”

 “It is the way of things, yes.” You took a deep swallow. “As you both know, Var goddesses do not usually marry. Even more rarely do they have children. Odin expects both. I do not know the consequences of having such a vow linked to my soul; I can’t be partial to it. But he will demand it, I know this much. And… my predecessors have all died painfully young.”

 None had lived past their fifth century, and you were rapidly reaching that milestone.

  “You won’t,” Atreus piped in firmly. He had slid into the chair beside you without you noticing, and you jumped in your seat. Perhaps you should put the wine down. “We won’t let you. There has to be some way to break those vows.”

 A niggling thought made its way into your mind. You had snipped parts of a vow before; would a marriage vow be so much of a stretch? Your buzzed mind was questioning it, and you weren’t sure, but you could attempt it. “There may be a way. I’m not… sober enough to think out the logistics at the moment, though. And, unfortunately, I need to retrieve that scroll and return to Asgard soon.”

 “We won’t see you again after it’s done.” It was not a question.

  “Likely not.” Your smile was thin and contrite. “I can send messages, but they will be few and between. It is all I can do, but I will try my best to stay in contact without Odin knowing.”

 Seeing your visit, and conversation, was at an end, Sindri stood from his chair. “I will escort you out, my lady.”

 Nodding, you got to your feet and bid Brok farewell with a crouched, awkwardly positioned hug, and a pat on Atreus’ shoulder. You stumbled out the door, the booze not faring so well on your system, and you had to get Sindri to support you to the door and into Yggdrasil. However, something was pressing at your immediate thoughts, and disappointment flooded your body.

  “You brought Brok back from the dead.”

 “Yes.”

 “He has no soul?”

 “I… could not go where it needed to be found.”

 “I see.”

 “You’re disappointed in me.”

 “I understand why you did it,” you replied tiredly. “But Sindri… he should know.”

 “I know. One day. But not today.”

 He parted ways with you at the door to Midgard. He was solemn as you gave him a hug and gave him your well wishes, but your smile was squashed by the idea of going back to Asgard just to see Heimdall’s arrogant face when you returned. The wedding would just be the icing on that metaphorical cake.

 But you could not avoid it, could you?

 “Huginn,” you called, and it was not Huginn who answered your call, but Munin. And with him, standing loosely by the door to the Bifrost, was Odin, looking not at all as if he should not be present. He was dressed warmly, and wore another face, but you could tell it was him. His expressions seemed to always follow him even in disguise. “Odin.”

 When he gripped your arm tightly, you did not make a sound.

  “I will consider this a final kindness to you,” he said softly, oh so dangerously. The hairs on the back of your neck rose in warning. “But no more. Do I make myself clear?”

 Your throat ached, suddenly, as you answered. “Yes, All-Father.”

 “Good.”

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