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coffeehighallthetime-blog · 8 months

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I am kind, not Complacent chpt 1,{next}

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Word count: 4.9 k

Multi chapter

Heimdall gow x fém! Reader

hi all, this is a Heimdall x reader fic that I was inspired to write thanks to the very kind and talented @engardeitsme I want to thank you for reading my draft and encouraging me to share this with people.

synopsis: You are a little goddess of peace, alone for so long, fearing interacting with the outside world may just make things worse. odin hears of your existence and finds that you may be of use to him, but what will happen when he finds out that peace to you means freedom and fighting for what's right? what will he do as you, just a child, turn his allies against him? turn his son against him?

the reader will be a child for a few chapters, mute at times (spoilers) and the first few chapters will also be a back story before the events of Ragnorok, but we will get there as it is based on the game's plot! aka: Don't worry, there will be some adult pining as well, maybe smut??( idk what I'm doing) and you will see Atreus and Mimir, and Kratos and the rest of our found family.

please enjoy and let me know if you like this and want more because my plan is to write a pretty long story with multiple chapters and I enjoy positive enforcement :..)

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“Excuse me?” a timid voice whispered from the large wooden chest being hoisted between two winged warriors. The moonlight of Vaneheim shone through the keyhole, and YN could only guess the direction they were headed from her memory of the woods. She knocked on the inside of the box on the side of one of her captors. “E-excuse me?” she mumbled a bit louder, “ Um, where are we going? You shouldn’t take me too close to people. And I-it’s starting to feel a bit cramped in here-” A slam came from her left, cutting her off with a start and she held her breath.

“Shut your mouth, Serpent Tongue.” A voice of the Valkerie on her left boomed. YN sighed through her nose and sat silently, her little fingers squeezing into fists and resting on her thighs as she curled up tighter into the cramped chest. Her heart shuttered the farther they got away from her camp, and she could only hope that wherever she was going, she would be able to talk her way out of it and go back to solitude. It was best that way.

Suddenly, the marching of the two Valkeries stopped, and the rushing sound of wind and the screeching of ravens rang in YN’s ears.

The chest rattled, and sweeping darkness fluttered over the moon’s light streaming through the keyhole. YN shut her eyes tightly, covering her ears as the screeching and wings got louder and louder until suddenly there was silence. Not eery, or deafening, but somehow suddenly calm and warm. YN slowly uncovered her ears, willing her eyes to open even slightly. A warm stream of candlelight and the sweet smell of juniper berries and oak came from the keyhole. She slowly rolled onto her knees and peeked out to see where she had been taken. The room was vast and stacked from floor to ceiling with books. Scrolls lay sprawled across a large wooden desk, and she could hear a fire crackling to the left. The screeching of a chair’s legs against the wood floor took her attention, and as she tried to peek at who it was, she gasped; the chest being dropped about a foot onto the floor.

“All-father,” the Valkyries stood rigidly at attention, “We have captured the girl, as requested.” The bottom half of a blue robe, embroidered in intricate golden threads and beading was all YN could see come into view and she swallowed thickly as he stood only a few feet from where she was.

“Wha- she’s in there? The poor thing must be terrified, let her out at once!” He commanded, knocking on the top of the chest, “ I’m so sorry, dear child!” Odin apologized as the Valkyrie on the right unlocked the chest and both Valkyries lifted the top open. Inside, YN winced at the sudden flood of light and hid her face in her hands. Odin crouched down gently, resting his hands on the edge of the box. He waited patiently for the little girl to raise her head, peeking slightly at the man who just smiled down at her. “ I’m so sorry, child. I sent my valkyries because I knew they could be trusted with bringing you here unharmed, but I suppose I forgot to explain that you were to be treated as a guest,” he glared at one, “and not a suspect.” he glared at the other. They stayed unmoving, staring straight ahead. He sighed and turned his attention back to the little girl in the chest. “ You are here now, though, and you are safe now.” He said finally, reaching out a hand for her to grab. She stared at him for a moment and down at his hand, before slowly grabbing it and allowing him to help her from the chest.

“Thank you…” she whispered finally as she got her footing on the wood floor. She still couldn’t look away from their hands as she spoke again. “Am I… in trouble? I apologize if I’ve done anything to upset you.” she froze at the sudden booming laughter of the man in front of her.

“ Trouble? Of course not, sweet girl. But you are very well-spoken, may I just say!”

“Thank you, sir.”

“ You may call me All-Father.” he offered with a pat on her hand. She nodded apprehensively but responded in any case.

“Thank you, All-Father. You may call me YN,” she said instead, bowing a bit lower. Odin tutted and tucked a finder under the girl's chin, making their eyes meet.

“ Now, now. None of that.” he stood tall and with a wave of his hand, the Valkeries dismissed themselves, and YN and Odin were left alone in his study. Odin turned to walk back behind his desk and took a seat, ushering the girl to sit in front of him. She obliged, crawling onto the large chair and letting her feet dangle off the floor, barely able to see Odin over the desk. The man chuckled softly and leaned in closer, resting his elbows on a stack of scrolls. “Do you know why you’re here, YN?”

She thought for a moment before shaking her head. “No, sir. But I hope I can help in some way, so that I may return home. It is best you keep me away from others.” Odin chuckled again, pointing at her.

“That. That’s why—quite the negotiator. You are very well-spoken, YN, and you are so small. Did your family teach you such good manners?” he questioned, already knowing the answer.

“No sir, my family passed away long ago, I’ve been on my own for a bit now.”

“Hm… and how long is a bit?”

“ 3 years in the spring, sir,” she said a bit too quickly. She had been counting every day she had been alone since she could remember. She was truly just a tot when it happened. Only remembering the screams and the flame of her village burning to the ground. She remembered sobbing over her mother’s corpse and promising to never let any needless bloodshed happen again. She didn’t realize her grief was so strong it had cursed her with immortality and the responsibility to hold up her end of the bargain. And though she tried her best to learn and meditate, no one took a little girl asking them to stop fighting seriously. Godly rage in the hands of an emotional child caused more harm than good, turning entire civilizations into mindless drones. No bloodshed, but no soul either. She went into hiding soon after, thinking it better for people to fight for what they believed in, rather than being complacent.

“And you don’t look a day over 12 years.” Odin broke her out of deep thought and she only nodded.

“My… aging has slowed since my family has passed...” She spoke slowly, starting to understand the circumstances.”... you know who I am, don’t you, sir? What I am…” She simply watched as Odin stroked his beard, seeming to ponder what to say next.

“ I do…you are the young goddess of logic, strategy, protection…peace. You seek nothing but peace… And do you know who I am?” He questioned. YN paused for a moment, looking around the room before meeting his gaze once again, “ You are someone important… but I do not know beyond that, I am sorry…” Odin nodded again.

“ I am Odin, the All-Father. Kind of the Asir Gods. it is my job to protect Asgard and the rest of the 9 realms.”

“Odin…” The girl let the name linger on her tongue and realization made her go ridged. “Yes… Yes, I have heard of Odin… are we in Asgard? I thought it wasn’t allowed for people like me.”Odin laughed at this, shaking his head in amusement.

“Yes for our protection I have closed us off from the other realms. But you are a guest. You’ve been alone for a long time.” He stated.

“Yes, sir. I know nothing much outside of Vaneheim, and I have spent little time talking to people enough to understand what is happening in the realms. The easiest way to keep peace for me… is to keep space…”

“Mmh…” he hummed, hinting he wanted some elaboration. The girl nodded and continued,

“ I have found that when I speak… when I speak with people and I’m not careful… they become, uhm… empty?” she tried the word on her tongue, “they don’t act the same. Like ghosts just passing by each other. There is no war or hunger… but there is also no life…” she explained, starting to lose her train of thought. “I just don’t know what I’m doing…” she whispers finally. Odin nods and straightens himself to look down at YN.

“ I’ve been keeping my eye on you for a while, dear child. You seemed so alone, it was heartbreaking…Are you lonely?”

“Yes.” She spoke, without hesitation, not even quite realizing her own words until they rang in her ears. She stiffened in realization, but slowly relaxed into her seat, fidgeting with her hands. “Yes, I am…I don’t run into people much… and Skoll and Hati are a great company, but I miss… I miss my family…” she all but whispered at last, her lip quivering as she came to the realization this was the longest conversation she’s had in nearly 50 years. A blink of an eye in her immortal life, but long and unbearable just the same. She was, after all, only a child. Odin took a moment to listen and let the girl sit in silence before standing up slowly and walking up to her before crouching at her side.

“ I have been watching over you… and how deeply you care for every breathing creature around you so much that you find the strength to stay away is something deeply admirable. You are a very powerful, YN. And I think if you stayed here with me… I would be able to help you use your power to help Asgard build strong connections with all the realms, to create peace everywhere, without fear that you may be manipulating people with your words.”

YN looked up to meet Odin’s gaze and rubbed a tear welling up in her eye. The idea that she may be able to help so many people. May be able to stop needless bloodshed. And to do so without taking away people's free will. It made her heart thrum with hope for the first time in years.

“You think you can teach me?” she asked softly, rubbing under her nose. Odin smiled, resting his withered hand on her head. “Teach me to help people? To help build relationships and… and keep their souls whole?”

“With my help?” Odin asked dramatically, “ Absolutely.”

YN’s heart pumped fast in her chest and she couldn't stop herself from throwing her little arms around Odin’s neck, pressing her teary eyes into his shoulder. He stiffened, staring at the girl clinging to him, before relaxing with a chuckle and patting her back. She knew better than to trust strangers, but for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel alone.

“We will talk more soon, but now it is late. Let me show you to your room, There is a hot meal waiting for you, and we don’t want it to get cold now, do we?” He held her at arm's length by the shoulders and helped her whip her tears with the end of his robe. She could only nod as she tried to subside her gently sobbing and Odin stood tall, guiding her with a gentle hand on her head to the upstairs level of the lodge. It was mostly quiet, with gentle murmurs coming from a room here or there. The candlelight felt so calming and YN took this moment to just take in the grandness of the lodge.

“ It’s so big…” she whispered. Odin snickered and ruffled her hair.

“I suppose it is, isn’t it?” he stopped in front of a large oak door at the end of the hall with gold inlay and burnt carvings. He swung the door open to reveal and gently lit the room, Simple yes, but to YN? It was the picture of comfort. I fireplace in one corner, a large queen bed in the other piled with a stack of fine furs with a corner table. A bowl of stew steamed and being cooled by a light breeze flowing through the window. Finally, her eyes landed on two shelves, one full of books and one full of weapons.

“Weapons?” she looked at them quizzically. Odin simply nodded as he led her to her bed, pulling the small table closer so she could start eating.

“ yes. You will be taught to hone your brains, but every Asgardian god must learn to fight. It’s an unfortunate precaution. But it’s because I care so deeply for my family.” YN, swallowing a piping mouthful and staring at Odin with eyes wide as dinner plates.

“Family… me?”

Odin just smiled in return leaning town to tuck a stray hair behind the girl’s ear and kissing the top of her head.

“Get some rest, sweet girl.” With that, Odin walked to the door and bowed before taking his leave. As he shut the door and turned, he could see piercing pink eyes staring from the room across the way. “Heimdall?” he questioned, and was met by the embarrassed gasp of the little boy who had been caught red-handed. Odin sauntered over to the door and the door opened wider, revealing a young boy who looked about twelve, with a mop of golden blond hair and bright rosy sapphire eyes, freckles showing in the candlelight. The boy bowed deeply.

“I’m sorry, All father. I heard noises…different ones I mean.” He stated, not looking his father in the eyes. He seemed to wince now and then, as a barrage of noises and conversations pounded into his ears. Odin patted his head lightly and Heimdall looked up, trying not to show his nervousness. “Who is that girl?”

“A guest, Heimdall. She’ll be staying with us for a while.”

“A guest… do you think she can be trusted, All-father?” Heimdall looked nervously beyond his father’s figure, staring at the door and listening to what could be happening. There was the clinking of a spoon hitting the bottom of a bowl, the crackle of a dying fire, and a soft hum that seemed to soothe his trembling the more he focused on it. He looked back as his father chortled.

“ I suppose I’ll leave that up to you. She can be of great use to us as a mediator, and she seems eager to help if it means she can learn her powers. But only time will tell.” Heimdall nodded, wringing his hands together nervously as he spoke up again.

“ Do you think… we could be friends, All-Father?”

“Friends? My boy, I’m sorry but I can’t have you getting too distracted. It would be best if you could read her mind and be done with it. If only you were improving faster.” He tsked and Heimdall lowered his head.

“And besides,” Odin continued, “ She will have her own studies to focus on.” Heimdall’s shoulders drooped at the answer and he nodded, meekly. Odin sighed, pinching his temple in slight annoyance before putting on another smile and resting a hand on his Son’s shoulder. “Listen… I will introduce you two, and maybe I can have you two do some combat training here or there. This will allow you the opportunity to learn more about her; do some intel work for me, hm? But you have a very important role to fulfill, Heimdall, I can’t let you lose sight of that. Alright?” Heimdall perked up slightly and nodded.

“Yes, All-father. Thank you, All-father. I promise I won’t get distracted,” he bowed deeply and retreated behind his bedroom door. “Good night, All-Father.”

Heimdall spun from the door, his little bare feet carrying him to his bed where he tucked himself into his furs. He would learn more about the girl with the soft voice tomorrow.

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YN woke to the sound of bustling outside her door. She rubbed her eyes, listening to the heavy footfalls of leather boots and the clatter of daggers and axes dangling off belts. She took in the noise of people talking and shouting down the hall, the sound of sparing outside her window, and what sounded like staff calling out to each other while running errands. She rubbed her tired eyes, stretched her arms high above her head, and flopped deeper into the furs, opening her eyes to look at the ceiling. The more she listened, the more it made her nervous; the thought she was so close to so many people. Her lips pressed tight, she sighed through her nose to ease her nerves.

“ Just don’t try to fix anything…” She mumbled to herself. She didn’t know where she was and how long she would be here, and though Odin had been welcoming and explained that being locked in the chest was a gross misunderstanding, she couldn’t shake a feeling of unnerve hidden under the warmth she felt being in a soft bed and being fed kind words. She learned long ago to never trust first impressions, but being paranoid wouldn’t help either. She felt her body start to shiver but caught herself, frowning and smacking her cheeks lightly to knock out the nerves. “Everything will be fine.”

“Who are you talking to?”

“Ah!” she yelped and sprang up from her bed to see a maid had made herself comfortable in YN’s room. The maid paid no mind to the girl’s scream, simply walking over to the window to open it, letting a cool breeze in.

“I was wondering when you would finally wake up. Goodness, I only checked five different times this morning! The whole lodge is awake now and you are supposed to be at the training grounds in 30 minutes!” She was an older woman; round and soft with a simple dress that skated across the floor and a tattered apron covered in what looked like coffee stains and dust. She had rough brown hair with lightened streaks that showed her age. Crow's feet pulled at the corners of her eyes and she had permanent worry marks on her forehead. Despite that and her fast pace, she gave off a comforting aura that made YN feel safe. She hustled about, grabbing a shirt and a pair of trousers from a wooden cabinet, she set them on the bed and the girl's feet. “My name is Maliorn; you can call me Mal, Do not call me “maid” or I will smack you,” she warned. “Quickly now, grab these and come with me. I need to get you in the bath and dressed in 20 minutes.”

“Oh, ok, but-whoa!” The maid ushered her out of the hall and pushed her towards a grand bathroom. “W-wait I’m sorry I don’t understand can I at least-” YN yelped as she was shoved yet again.

“No time, we are far too behind for questions. Hurry, hurry, hurry!” YN felt eyes around staring at her, most likely because she was an unfamiliar face being corralled into a bath and trying and failing to get a word in. Before the maid slammed the door, YN saw bright pink eyes stare back into hers, the boy’s shoulders shaking in laughter at her. Her face flushed with embarrassment and she couldn’t do much but hide her face in her clothes. Mal huffed as YN simply froze and ushered her to the bath. “None of that now. I wouldn’t have to rush you if you had just woken up earlier. Clothes off please.”

“I didn’t know I needed to, I’ve never had a schedule before,” YN explained, pulling her nightshirt off over her head. “I’m sorry, Ma’am.”

“Just Mal, dear,” Mal stated, picking YN up from under her arms and dropping her into the bath. YN gasped, shivering and trying to crawl out before Mal pushed her back and poured a pitcher of ice-cold water onto her head, grabbing shampoo.

“It’s f-freezing!” YN whined, shaking like a leaf as Mal pulled her sopping hair from her face and scrubbed any grime from it.

“Tch, well it would have been warm if you were awake when I drew it.” Mal teased with a smile, pouring another pitcher of water to wash the suds out. After a more thorough scrub down than YN would have liked, Mal pulled her out of the bath, tossing her a soft towel. “Hurry and get dressed. If you are quick you may be able to grab some bread from the great hall before I take you to the training grounds. Do NOT,” mal pointed a finger at the girls forehead “ go to the great hall alone. Find me and I will get you something to eat.” With that, Mal slipped out of the room, most likely to run off and take care of her other duties while she waited for YN to get dressed. The girl finally took the first deep breath since she woke up and pulled on her black trousers and green tunic, tying in the back around her waist to stop any bunching. She used leather straps to tighten the cloth of her shirt to her wrists, as well as her trousers around her ankles. She wrapped a final piece around her hair into a ponytail and ran off to try and find Mal.

YN ended up wandering into the great hall, The smell of fresh bread and lingonberry jam, sausage and lamb roast, porridge and honey, and even sweet almond cakes made her mouth water. She followed it to a main table, crowded by people nearly stacked on top of each other. Warriors in the morning were desperate to eat their fill before going off to train, and as a result, there were stronger warriors at the forefront hoarding food while others pushed against the table to grab at anything they could find. This caused fresh loaves, cakes, butter, and jam jars to topple off the table in a waste, causing more problems of ‘I was going to eat that!’ and ‘You owe me a new pair of boots, worm!’.

YN was able to dissect the entire situation and how it could be fixed, but shook her head. ‘No’ she thought ‘I can’t intervene on my first day. I just need to grab something and leave.’ With that, YN tried her best to squeeze between the crowds of people swarming the table to get some food. She huffed and tried again to move past the large lumbering bodies, her heart beating faster as the crowd’s shouting made her lose her bearings. She started to panic at the yelling and lack of space and gasped as she was grabbed by the hair and yanked to the side.

“Oy, I’m not done yet, vermin.” A man sneered down at her, his face caked in the oils of sausage links and jam. He spoke with his mouth full, sputtering food, and cackled as YN whipped her face from flying crumbs before turning back to his food. YN scowled, feeling something primal bubble up deep inside her. Letting her frustration get the better of her, YN took a deep breath before tugging on the leg of the einherjar who had grabbed her not a moment ago. He whipped around at her, snarling in annoyance.

“What do you want, you little rat?” the man sneered. YN blinked her big eyes and smiled up shyly at the hulk of a man.

“I’m very sorry, sir, but I’m having some trouble getting to the food table. Don’t you think it would be better if everyone simply took turns grabbing what they needed and then taking a seat?” Her voice seemed to echo and carry through the great hall like a song, and the shouting and clamoring started to quiet as people listened to her “suggestion”. The man in front of YN seemed to get clouded vision as he nodded slowly, his features relaxing as he finally swallowed his food and moved to the side so she could get to the table, others following suit, humming in agreement at the suggestion. The girl smiled and grabbed a loaf of warm bread, breaking it open and watching the steam ripple from the inside. She hummed as she slathered it with butter and jam and folded it back closed. Turning back, she bowed slightly at the crowd slowly surrounding her.

“Thank you, now I will take my leave and let someone else go. See? Isn’t that much better?” the girl asked with a smile, going to suck some jam off her thumb.

“Yes… You are right. So sorry, goddess…” She froze at the title, her thumb still in her mouth. She quickly popped it out and shook her head. ‘I did it again…’ she thought in a panic. YN swallowed thickly and waved her hands in the air.

“N-nevermind! It was a dumb idea, do what you want!” In a split second everyone seemed to regain their senses. The warrior she had spoken to blinked back his foggy haze and focused back down at her, glaring.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing? I wasn’t done eating yet, you little runt!” She gasped as he reached out his arm to snatch at her, and yelped when she was suddenly pulled by her scruff from the crowd. She was all but dragged outside and whipped around to a panicked Mal, who grabbed her face and scanned her body.

“My goodness, are you alright?!” Mal sighed as the girl nodded and then put on a scowl. “I thought I told you to come find me. The great hall is no place for you to be going alone, they’re all animals in there. ESPECIALLY in the mornings! The bunch of heathens.” Mal scolded YN until she noticed the girl's shy form looking meakly down at her bread. She sighed and patted her head before putting a hand on her back and leading her towards the training ground. “Now now, no use crying over spilled milk. I’m glad you got something to eat, you’ll need it. Hurry and wolf that down while you can.” YN nodded and took a bite of her breakfast, humming at the soft texture of the bread and sweet jam. She looked towards the training grounds and focused on a small boy, about her age. His golden hair shimmered in the morning sun as he moved swiftly against his opponent, a large lumbering man with fiery red hair. The boy turned, feeling YN’s eyes on him, scowled as he met her gaze. The girl frowned in return. ‘What’s his problem?’ she thought, suddenly feeling anxious at having to interact with someone who held such obvious disdain on his face.

Heimdall clicked his tongue as he focused more on her, trying to hear her thoughts, but couldn’t focus when they were so far apart. He didn’t pay enough attention to dodge a blow to the back of the head from the man he was sparing.

“Ow!” he exclaimed, glaring up at his brother, “ Hey, I wasn’t ready!” he snapped. The young man rolled his eyes, tossing his hammer lazily in his hand. He was nearly seven feet tall and still growing. His hair was tied back in two braids and a bun, and the scruff of his beard was just long enough for a single short braid.

“Pay attention, brat. I have more important things to do than teach you how to swing a sword around. The least you could do is pay attention,” he looked down at Heimdall and smirked, “and stop making it so obvious you’re trying to read minds. It’s pathetic.” Heimdall gritted his teeth.

“I’m already more useful than you, Thor. All you’re good for is throwing your weight around!” he snapped back. Thor stopped tossing his hammer and instead harshly held it under his brother’s chin, making him strain to look up at him.

“Better than being a sniveling little monster who can’t even use his gifts without sobbing like a baby. Should I tell All-Father about a few nights back? When you wept for hours because “it was just too loud to sleep~” Thor made a mocking whimper as he impersonated Heimdall and his last episode. Heimdall shivered at the mention of the All-Father and what he would do if he found out Heimdall had been crying from the voices in his head again. Thor continued, “At least I do what I was made for. I can fight, and you can barely do that.”

“Yes, I can!”

“Oh yeah?” Thor looked over at the girl coming closer to the training ground. Odin had already told him he was going to be given another brat to babysit and was dreading it until now. He smirked as he looked back down at Heimdall. “That little runt has probably never fought in her life. I bet you can’t even beat her.” Heimdall looked back towards the girl and then up at his brother.

“Is that a wager?” he smirked. Thor snorted.

“Sure. if you can best her, I’ll tell Father you’ve been improving much faster these past few days. If you can’t beat her, then…” Thor strokes his beard as he ponders a punishment then shrugs, “I’ll tell the All-Father about your most recent tantrum.” Heimdall’s eyes widened and he shook his head.

“You can’t be serious!”Thor simply stood straight and crossed his arms.

“I mean, if you don’t think you can do it-”

“Of course, I can!” the boy snapped, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Thor snickered and held out his hand.

“It's a bet then.” Heimdall scowled and put his little hand in his brother's. He wasn’t going to lose to some little girl from who knows where. He was an Aseir prince. And no one would know about the things that keep him up at night. Not even the All-Father.

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#fiction #heimdall x reader #heimdall gow #gow ragnorak #gow odin #god of war x reader #fem!reader #gow x you #heimdall x you #i don't know what else to tag #@engardeitsme #i think thats it #let me know if i'm missing one #mute!reader #child!reader #child!Heimdall #I am kind not complacent #dance with me like the sun and moon

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anyabathory-blog · 6 months

Text

Between Realms — chapter 1.

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

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

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

The meeting

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Closer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The list went on. Chomp, chomp.

"Now."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I want to help."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Shut up."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So, she managed to keep you."

"She did?"

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

"Thank you, I really feel better."

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

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

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

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

"I'm sorry."

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

Odin just shook his head.

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

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

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

"What?"

***

Liv looked into the abyss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Women are so inquisitive..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Odin spoke first:

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

Liv crossed her arms over her chest.

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

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

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

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

"Partly both."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

However, she was interested.

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

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

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

Heimdall huffed, still only a step behind her.

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

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

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

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

His pace seems to have slowed slightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Welcome to the Great Lodge, Skadisdatter."

***

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

“Do you like it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let us be prudent, Skadisdatter.”

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

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

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

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

The old god laughed briefly and shook his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She believes in it. Wants to believe.”

*End of the chapter* whew

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