Chapter Text
No matter how hard he tried to drown the memory in mead, Thor still remembered how Heimdall had been before.
His littlest (at the time) brother had been a ray of sunshine, filling the Great Lodge with laughter, ever curious and eager to learn about anything that caught his interest. Which was everything, back then.
He was always underfoot, following either Thor himself or Tyr around like a babbling little shadow, watching them do the most menial of things with awefilled eyes, exploding into commentary and questions the second you paid attention to him.
He’d been so infuriatingly, adorably warm down to his core.
“Thor! Is it true that no one can lift your hammer but you? Are you the strongest of all gods?!”
Thor looked down at the squirt standing fearlessly in front of him, so ‘sure’ he wouldn’t be hurt, even though Thor could break him without even trying.
He should get the little runt to keep his distance, stop bothering him finally.
Instead, he had heard himself say “Want to try, Heim?”
The magic-filled eyes widened in shock and glee. “Yes!” He surged forward when Thor took Mjolnir from his belt, holding it out hilt-first, and then pushed Heimdall back when the little idiot would have dropped the weapon on his feet the moment Thor let go.
“Arms out. Don’t want to get known as Heimdall the Flat-footed, do you?”
Heimdall only giggled, shaking his head. He grinned up at Thor, a wide, gap-toothed smile that Thor felt like a sunrise in his chest, and reached out - tipping forward the second Thor let go and Mjolnir hit the ground.
“So heavy!” He exclaimed, but wasn’t daunted, starting to try and tug the hammer off the ground. The thing was almost as big as him, he’d never manage.
Still, he tried.
And tried.
And tried, until he was red-faced, cheeks puffed out with his effort, before he finally gave up, pouting.
“To the surprise of no one, it’s too heavy for you.”
“I’ll get bigger and try again!” he puffed his chest out proudly, still panting for breath.
Thor snorted, taking Mjolnir back and reaching out to ruffle those tousled, golden locks.
“Sure, squirt. Sure.”
Once All-Father married the Vanir queen, Freya, Heimdall started following her as well, splitting his time between his brothers and step-mother, and Thor didn’t miss him at all. At least he knew Freya wouldn’t hurt his little brother - she was too soft-hearted for that.
And then Tyr betrayed them.
Heimdall had refused to leave Tyr’s now empty room for days, curled up in his bed and crying his eyes out, not eating at all.
Thor didn’t know what he should do. He wasn’t good at soft things, and Freya was preoccupied with her flesh and blood son these days. Mimir, as always, was no help either.
Every time he tried to calm Heimdall down, his little brother would look at him with tearstained eyes and ask when Tyr would come back, and Thor didn’t have an answer for that, so he’d leave.
Looking back on it almost made him nauseous now; the relief he’d felt when finally All-Father noticed and brought the still crying Heimdall into his study to comfort him, and they didn’t emerge for a full day. Finally there were no more tears. All-Father would fix this.
Now, he knew that that had been the day Thor had let his little brother die because he was too broken to comfort a crying child.
Because the brother that had emerged from the study, straight-backed, clear-faced, and cold-eyed, had not been his little Heim any longer.
—
When Sif told him the news - Heimdall was dead, slain by the little half-giant’s father - Thor had felt nothing at first.
There was a curious emptiness; a feeling of should have killed him when I had the chance slowly rose, but that too, felt hollow at first. Heimdall had been his brother in name only, ever since -
It was his wife’s grieving, sorrowful face that brought the rage.
Because she had never known the Heimdall from before the betrayal, but she had listened when Thor told her about the little brother he’d lost, the little brother he’d loved, and it was this brother that she wanted vengeance for.
Because she knew Thor had now lost his little Heim twice, and with that any chance to see him again and ask his forgiveness.
The rage rose slowly, uncharacteristically so; it was a cold thing, unlike his usual burning bouts of anger, and it didn’t have an end to it.
Thor had once been the oldest of four. Now he was the only one left. Because of the giants.
Because of this little abomination playing fetch for All-Father.
He’d buried his sons, because of him. He’d have to bury his little brother, because of him.
Thor felt the lightning crackling in his bones, heating his blood, dancing over his skin.
He took a step towards Loki.
He had a blood feud to carry out.
—
After the end, when Odin was finally dead and his family - what remained - was safe, Thor had braced himself for what he had to do. He was King of Asgard now, if in name only. He was not meant to rule; Sif would be the one burdened with the responsibility.
But he was still King, and it meant clearing the rooms Odin had claimed as his was his duty.
He’d left most of the writings alone for now, descending deeper into the caverns beneath the Great Lodge, shaking the feeling of trespassing off. Odin’s shadow loomed over them still, even now that he was dead.
He had not expected to find Hofud.
His brother’s sword lay carelessly, forgotten, on a table off to the side, discarded just as coldly as Odin had its bearer. It lay next to a crude metal cage, the bars too thick to easily see if it held anything inside.
Thor ran a hand over the sheathed blade, clenching his fist as another memory of Heim flashed before his eyes, his wide, delighted eyes when Thor had given him his first wooden training sword, carefully crafted and decorated like any blade of legend.
He pushed the image away, turning physically so he didn’t have to look at the sword any longer, and his gaze fell on a heavy wooden door.
One that had not been there before.
It must have been hidden under a glamour, which expired with Odin’s death, and it filled Thor with trepidation. Odin had never bothered to hide anything from him - believing him too stupid and too much under his control to warrant secrecy from.
The fact that there had been something he had still hidden from him couldn’t mean anything good.
He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before approaching, pushing it open easily enough. No lock. Whatever was in here, Odin had been keen to keep hidden, but hadn’t cared enough to protect it beyond the glamour.
Thor didn’t like that he had absolutely no inclination what it could be.
The room behind the door was small, rough hewn, carved out of the stone with less care than the rest of the cavern had been. There were thick roots snaking along the ground, leading towards a tree rooted into the very stone itself.
And his little brother hung limply from that tree, held by roots and branches twisted around his body, feet not touching the ground. His right arm was missing from shortly down the shoulder, crudely torn off, the wound burnt black.
His head hung forward , obscured by his loose hair; he didn’t even shift at the sounds of Thor entering the room.
For a long moment Thor thought he was dead, but that made no sense. Odin wouldn’t keep a corpse around. That’d serve no purpose.
He reached out carefully, not allowing himself to hesitate, and tilted his brother’s head up by the chin. The hair parted, showing Heimdall’s pale face. His eyes remained closed, but there was dried blood on his cheeks, running down like tear tracks from the corners of his eyes. More blood stained his lips and chin; his nose had been bleeding at some point in the past, and some must have trickled out of his mouth as well.
“H-how…may I serve, All-Father?” the voice cracked, hoarse and painful sounding, and Thor exhaled noisily.
Heimdall’s eyes opened slowly, the normally bright magenta darkened to a more purplish-blue hue - the way little Heim’s had been.
“Bro- …Thor?”
“Heim.” Thor rasped, unable to look away from the pain in his little brother’s eyes.
“Why…has All-Father…send you? Does he…need my eyes?”
“He’s dead.”
There was a momentary pause.
“Do…you need my eyes?”
“No!”
“Oh. I have no use then…”
“What- how…”
“All-Father is powerful…and merciful. He…allowed me to…still serve. The only way I can…”
“He’s dead, Heim.”
There was no understanding in his little brother’s eyes.
“I’ll get you out of here.”
“I…am loyal…I…want to be useful.”
Thor closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He felt the thunder thrum in his bones. In this moment, had Odin still been alive, no amount of fear could have held him back from killing the old monster.
He swallowed the lightning down and cupped the side of Heim’s neck in one hand. Had his little brother always been this small?
For all his faults, Heimdall had always carried himself with such confidence that he never seemed to be looking up at anyone - except Odin, of course.
Now, he tried to flinch away from the touch and hold still at the same time, swallowing painfully.
“He’s dead, and I’m getting you out of here, Heim.”
“...I’m loyal. I want to be…useful.”
The roots didn’t give way. Not to his lightning, not to his hands, not to Mjolnir.
He couldn’t free his little brother.
Not alone.
He’d have to leave him here.
“Heim, I…they’re not budging.”
Heimdall didn’t say anything.
“I’ll come back.”
There was no reaction.
Thor had never felt this useless, this powerless, in his life. The way Heim didn’t protest, didn’t do anything, was worse than any insults and accusations he could have thrown at Thor, and the way his little brother’s eyes just slowly closed as his head sank back down was like a knife in his heart.
Norns, he wanted to crawl into a keg of mead and forget everything he’d seen here.
He clenched his useless fists and hurried to find Sif.
—
There was no one in Asgard currently alive who was able to destroy the roots.
In Asgard.
The thought of asking an outsider, someone who had been an enemy for so long, for help, stung. But Thor knew that with Odin dead he had no choice if he didn’t want to fail his little brother again.
He let Sif contact Freya, and in turn, Kratos, but most importantly Mimir. Even though he really didn’t like admitting it, the goat head was the best chance Heim had.
They had told Thrud, because she was too bright to be fooled for long and had already grown suspicious of their long hours spent down in the cavern - at least one of them at any given time. The thought of Heimdall suffering in silence and isolation for even longer than he already had was too much to bear.
It had been almost a week after the cease fire had commenced that Thor had found the courage to explore Odin’s cavern. It was lucky, in a cruel way, that Odin must have made sure the tree that imprisoned Heimdall would also keep him alive.
Just so. Pain relief or healing had clearly not been thought necessary. He hadn’t even bothered to clean Heimdall after his fight, not even perfunctorily.
It was another casual cruelty; Heimdall had always been clean, at times almost obsessively so, even as a child. He had never told Thor why, but he’d always had a suspicion it was connected to his gifts in some way.
He shouldn’t be surprised, he knew; Odin had never seen anything besides tools in them. And still…his father’s callousness cut, even to this day.
Thrud’s first reaction had been scorn for Heimdall, and Thor couldn’t even blame her - Heimdall had been as cruel to her as he had been to everyone, sometimes more so. Thor struggled to explain why, and at first Thrud hadn’t even believed him.
But his daughter had never let any hardship turn her cruel, and seeing her kin tortured had woken a deep, protective anger in her. She’d stopped in the doorway as if rooted to the ground, her eyes going wide. Her gaze flickered to him desperately questioning what was going on, before she straightened her back and hurried the few steps forward that brought her to Heimdall.
“He- Uncle? Uncle Heimdall?”
There was no response except a low, ragged breath. Thor reached out to gently lift his little brother’s face again, and like on command, Heimdall’s eyes opened.
“...Thor? You…came back?”
“Told you I would, Heim.”
“Do you…do you need my eyes now?”
“We’re getting you out of there, uncle!” Thrud rushed out before Thor could answer. “We- we can’t yet, but we will!”
Heimdall seemed confused, as if unable to understand two voices at once.
It took him a few moments to slowly turn his gaze from Thor’s chin - had his brother ever not looked into his eyes? As a child, he held no fear, only affection, and after, and as an adult he had always met his gaze in challenge.
“..You’re…” he blinked slowly.
“I’m…Thrud, do you remember?” Her eyes glistened with tears that she immediately brushed off with her arm.
“...guppy…?”
“Yes! Yes, I’m the guppy.” She smiled bravely, reaching out to take over holding Heimdall's chin up so carefully, looking up at Thor with determination tinged with sadness.
“I’ll stay with him, dad. It’s not…we shouldn’t leave him alone down here.”
She spent more time with Heimdall as they did, now, trying to comfort him, to assure him they would get him free.
It didn’t come easy to her; to none of them. Care had always been close to being scorned for weakness, and this had formed his daughter as surely as it had Thor himself.
But still she tried, never giving up.
Thor had always been proud of his little Thrudy, but now he admired her; she was much stronger than he’d ever be.
—
Freya had been suspicious, not that Thor could blame her. Sif hadn’t told her the truth about their request, merely the bones of it. They had discovered something in Odin’s cavern that they asked for assistance with.
But she had agreed, and that was all that mattered.
Thor didn’t care about her suspicions, about the way she and Kratos were obviously braced for betrayal. Only Loki seemed willing to give them the benefit of the doubt, and he had seen Odin’s cave; it was easier for him to believe they genuinely had found something dangerous.
Freya had never set foot in the cavern, hadn’t even known it existed during her time in Asgard.
She stiffened when they descended the stairs to Odin’s public study, tight with nerves, but Thor didn’t care about her discomfort, either.
He would break their fragile peace in a heartbeat if that was what was needed to free Heim. That’s why Sif was the one making decisions.
Thor led them down into the cavern, ignoring the head’s comments and Loki’s nervous attempts to lower the tension in their group. Thrud waited for them impatiently, hovering in the doorway, unwilling to leave Heimdall but also tight with the need to finally do something; Loki’s eyes lit up when he saw her.
They stopped in the middle of the large room, looking around with varying degrees of shock and disdain. Thor wanted to push them forward; he understood their reaction, but they wasted time.
Thrud evidently thought the same.
“You can gawk later! This way!”
Loki tilted his head. “Was that door there before?”
He approached Thrud, who snagged his arm and dragged him further forward. Kratos immediately moved to follow, keeping his son in view.
“Okay, so what - wait, that’s - but he’s dead!”
“What’s going on, laddie?” Mimir called out curiously, and Loki peeked out of the room, eyes wide, before stepping outside fully..
“It’s Heimdall!”
Freya whirled to face Thor, her hand already reaching for her sword.
Kratos stared at his son in stunned disbelief as Mimir sputtered.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Freya hissed, then turned her face towards Kratos.
“You said you killed him!”
“I did.”
Thor’s knuckles cracked as he clenched his fist. It was that or reach for Mjolnir, and he couldn’t do that, not before they knew if their allies could help.
Sif laid a calming hand on his arm, looking up at him and he met her gaze, nodding.
She smiled as she felt his muscles relax before stepping forward.
Even though she’d just urged him to temper his anger, her own burnt cold as she looked at their guests.
“Yes, Kratos murdered Heimdall. But there was still enough life left in him for Odin to…bring him back.”
“So you want us to finish the job?” Freya snarled and despite his best intentions lightning crackled along the surface of Mjolnir and up Thor’s arm before he brought himself under control.
The display nevertheless stoked the tension, leading Freya to draw her sword as Kratos reached for his axe.
To Thor’s surprise it was Loki who spoke up next, stepping between them all, hands raised placatingly.
“Freya, wait - there’s…something’s not right. He doesn’t look good. I don’t think…” he turned towards Sif and Thor beseechingly. “You said you needed our help, right? Is it because of the…the tree? It looks like the one Mimir was trapped in.”
“What are you talking about, lad?”
Loki made a vague gesture, slowly relaxing when his father eased his stance, hands moving away from his weapon.
“He looks really hurt.”
“Nothing he doesn’t deserve.” Freya said viciously, and Thrud pushed past Loki angrily, squaring up to the Vanir goddess.
“Say that again and I’ll-”
“Thrud, that’s enough.” Sif cut in as lightning sparked across Thrud’s skin, moving forward to touch her without fear. Thrud took a deep breath, still glaring at Freya.
“It’s their fault -”
“We do not know yet if we need them.” Sif cut her short, her eyes hard as she looked at them. “We have to keep your uncle our first priority.”
“And why do you suddenly care for the little shit at all?”
Thrud would have lunged forward, grabbing for Mimir, if Sif hadn’t reacted faster.
“That is no concern of yours. All we need to know is if you can aid us, or tell us how we can help him ourselves. That’s all that’s needed of you.”
“Freya, please? He…he really looks…”
Loki’s soft heart reared its head as he looked back at the doorway before focusing on the older goddess pleadingly.
It was, Thor had to admit, remarkable. He’d been another of Heimdall’s favored targets during his brief times in Asgard.
For a long moment, Freya looked as if she would wipe his plea away like an annoying fly, but then she sighed, her shoulders slumping some.
“I’ll take a look. Mimir should as well.”
“Aye, in the interest of peace and all that. Let’s go, then.” They took a single step before Thrud stopped them, her back straight and her arms folded resolutely.
“You have to be quiet, and don’t make any sudden movements. He- uncle’s…easily overwhelmed.”
Freya lifted an eyebrow, sharing a glance with Kratos. There was surprise there, and something almost a little like concern. Kratos looked, surprisingly, more affected than Freya did. That was…curious; if thor had any capacity to care about anything but their usefulness right now, he might have tried to get to the bottom of this.
They followed Thrud, and Loki beside her, to the doorway, where Thrud glared at them one last time before pushing inside. She’d lit several lanterns, carefully placed to illuminate the room gently without blinding Heim, so their allies saw him clearly the moment they stepped inside.
Freya stopped short, as she took him in, her hand coming up to cover the soft sound of shock falling from her lips.
Kratos stepped beside her, Mimir’s head held aloft, and froze as well. Mimir spat out a soft curse.
“What the-”
Thrud pushed past them with an impatient noise, blocking Heimdall from view as she crouched a little to speak softly to him. There was a stirring, another slow, painful sounding breath, and she stepped to the side just enough so he could see the room’s occupants, her hands achingly gentle as they helped him keep his head lifted.
He swallowed roughly. “All-Father…will be angry.”
“No, he’s dead, d'you remember, uncle? He’s gone.”
“Then…why…”
“Mom asked them here to help free you. I told you, right? We’d find a way.”
“They…won’t help. Not…not me.”
“They will. I’ll make them.”
She looked over her shoulder to glare at them.
The look seemed to spur Freya into action as she approached slowly, her eyes trailing over Heimdall’s broken body and the tree holding him prisoner.
“Heimdall.” she spoke softly, a hand reaching out under the watchful gaze of Thrud to push a fraying, dirty braid away from his temple. Her fingertips brushed his skin just so, gently glowing, and she inhaled sharply. “Would you like for me to send you to sleep? You do not have to…suffer through this.”
Heimdall’s eyes trailed to her, confusion evident in his expression.
“I cannot sleep…All-Father…might need my eyes…He forbade it.”
Freya swallowed her anger, her fingers twitching just once before she gentled her expression by force of will.
“He will not find out.”
“...promise?”
She bit the inside of her cheek, hard, but nodded.
“I swear.”
Heimdall relaxed minutely, nodding weakly. His gaze drifted to the floor. “I…don’t remember how to fall asleep.”
“Just close your eyes.” Freya said softly, her voice gentling further. She waited until Heimdall obliged to draw the palm of her hand over his forehead, resting it there as if to shade his eyes on a bright sunlit day.
Heimdall froze under her touch in palpable fear before he managed to settle, then slowly relaxed until he hung limp in the tree’s embrace, Thrud letting his head sink down carefully. Freya exhaled as she lifted her hand away, a heavy frown on her face.
“This is…Odin died too easy.”
She looked over her shoulder, turning to the rest of them.
“Mimir, is this the same kind of tree you were held by?”
Without needing to be told, Kratos moved forward to bring Mimir closer. Thrud twitched as if she wanted to step between him and her uncle, but Loki put a calming hand on her shoulder and she settled, though she didn’t stop glaring.
Kratos stopped next to Freya, holding Mimir up so he could see. The fae cursed under his breath at the sight.
“That old fucker…makes me want to bring him back just so you can kill him again, brother.”
“Yes.”
Kratos face was impassive, but his eyes roamed over the body of his former enemy with something unreadable behind them before he turned to Freya.
“These roots look like the one that held your curse.” She looked at him sharply, then frowned, turning to the tree itself. She exhaled slowly, nodding.
“You’re…right. This is corrupted Vanir magic, but…there’s more to it.”
“Can different magics be blended into one?”
“It’s not easy, it requires a deep knowledge of all kinds of magic that are used in the spell, but yes. I - I’ve done it myself. Odin certainly had the knowledge to do it as well.”
“Can you break it?”
Freya looked at Thrud at the interjection, tilting her head. “I think so, yes. I will need some time, though. Any notes Odin made about this would help as well.”
“We can look for them! Right?” Loki turned to Thrud with determination, and she frowned, clearly hesitant to leave Heimdall with their allies. She turned to Sif and him for guidance. Thor looked at his wife as well. Sif tilted her head graciously after a moment. “I want your oath that you will not attempt to harm my brother in law in any way. And if you break it, I will have your wergild paid in blood.”
Before anyone could reply, Loki piped up again. “I can be the pledge. I’ll stay here until-”
As Thor had known he would - as he would have done the same if Thrud ever said something as foolishly honorable as this - Kratos immediately interrupted him with a terse “No.”
Loki turned to his father with wide, earnest eyes.
“We have to be willing to compromise if we want to have real, lasting peace.” Kratos remained unmoved. Loki tried again. “It’s not like you plan to hurt Heimdall, right?”
Kratos' gaze went to the unconscious form with a complicated look in his eyes before he shook his head as he turned back.
“I don’t.”
“Then there’s no risk! I’ve been here before, and - I mean, with Odin gone…I want to do this, father.”
Kratos stared at his son for another long moment, then actually looked at Thor. They shared a long-suffering look father to father, before he nodded wearily.
“If you think it wise.”
“Yes! Thank you, father.” He waited for Thrud to send a last, warning look towards Freya before the two of them left the small room. Freya huffed a bit before looking towards Sif.
“There are things I need to retrieve from Vanaheim for this. I take it…you do not want his survival to be common knowledge just yet? He has many enemies, they might assume he’s going to remain loyal to Odin.”
“I don’t care what people think. Heimdall’s loyalty has always been with Asgard when he had a choice.” Sif turned away before either of their allies could question the choice of words.
“I will escort you to Vanaheim. It will be faster if we travel by raven.” The look she sent him was clear; his task was keeping an eye on Kratos and Mimir.
Thor watched his wife leave with Freya before he turned to Kratos, who was still looking at Heimdall’s sleeping form.
“I did not mean to kill him, when we fought.” Thor breathed the anger out. He knew Kratos didn’t mean to taunt him, but that didn’t change the fact that this man had killed his little brother - no matter that Heimdall had been brought back.
“Yet you did.”he answered when he felt calm enough to do so.
Kratos turned to him, inclining his head.
“I offered him mercy. He became enraged. He…threatened Atreus.”
Of course he had. To both things - Heimdall’d have seen pity as an insult, and Odin’s curse would have meant he wouldn’t have been able to accept it anyway. And he’d always had a sharp tongue; as a child, before, it was innocently honest, and after...he became cruel.
“Thor…what did Sif mean by when he had a choice?” Mimir asked into the ensuing silence, sounding uncharacteristically serious.
Thor huffed. “Exactly that.” He sighed tiredly. Heimdall as a child had been intimidated by Mimir; he’d once told Thor that when he looked into the fae’s eyes his head started hurting because the thoughts were so sharp.
“Odin cursed him?” Kratos frowned, one hand slowly clenching into a fist. Thor just nodded.
“After Tyr.”
“...the lad changed shortly after that, aye. I never…questioned it. I barely saw him before that mess, always thought he didn’t like me. Should have known…I was blind.”
Blindness seemed to be somewhat of a common ailment where Odin’s machinations had been concerned for a lot of them, so Thor didn’t challenge the self recrimination. He had enough of that on his own.
“Freya will free him. And with Odin gone…he will recover.” Kratos sounded certain of that fact, though Thor had his doubts, if he was honest.
Odin had made himself the center of Heimdall’s world for so long, would he know how to live in a world where the All-Father was no more?
Norns, he hoped he’d get to find out. He had so many regrets, dug so many graves for members of his family. He didn’t think he had the strength left for one more.
tbc