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Chapter Text

Getting hit by the hammer felt exactly how Thrúd had imagined it:

Dull, hard, and more than capable of knocking the wind right out of her. Not that she had ever expected Mjolnir to be used against her in her life. Her dad was a drunk asshole but she knew for a fact he’d never so much as raise it in her direction. Sure the same couldn’t be said for her brothers, but in her opinion, anything they got from their dad was well deserved.

But here she was, soaring away from the battle at breakneck speeds with Mjolnir digging into her gut.

The wind rushing by her ears and her hair blowing in her eyes, she could barely make out the ensuing fight between Loki, his dad, and her Grandfather.

Her Grandfather the All-Father himself.

Odin.

Throughout her life, he’s done a lot of shitty things. Topping that list was endlessly abusing her father verbally until his rough exterior crumbled to Odin’s titanium will. But at the same time, even though he did and said some fucked up things, she had understood that he was indeed her Grandfather. And even though she was aware of his manipulative nature, she still gave him respect and obedience.

Whether that respect was given out of fear or her own freewill, she’s unsure of at the moment.

But all that respect has been thoroughly thrown out the window at the same speed that she was currently sailing away at.

Not only had this bastard just killed her father (not to mention his own son) right in front of her, but he had the balls to blame his actions on someone else.

She mentally made a note to name this the new number one most fucked up thing he’s ever done.

Thrúd didn’t have time to process her newfound resentment for the All-Father any further as she came crashing down on the crumbled earth beneath her.

As soon as her momentum ran out, she found herself spilled on the ground in an undignified heap of mangled hair and loose battle skirts. Caked and covered in dirt, she forced herself to her knees, then to her feet. Dusting herself off, she also took notice of the fissure in the ground that led to the small crater where she landed. Odin may not look all that imposing, but if one swing of the hammer from him was able to send her all the way across the battlefield and crack the ground upon impact, then Loki and his father had better be ready for the fight of their lives.

A fight that she could help with if she is quick enough.

Though she can’t make out their whole bodies from this distance, she can more than see the bright flashes of light and magic from their brawl. If I can just find a quick way across, she thought. But that task was far easier said than done.

The invasion on Asgard has left the land around her scarred and broken, creating cliffs and chasms where they hadn’t existed before. The once crystal clear air of the realm, gifting its residents with breathtaking views of untarnished and untouched beauty now choked and foggy with dust and flying chunks of earth. If she were going to make it over there and help beat her Grandfather’s ass into oblivion, she’d need a quick way to get there.

Luckily for her, the All-Father had just gifted her the very tool to make that possible.

Turning to her left, she found it lying on the ground.

Mjolnir.

Its handle angled toward her as if it wanted her to pick it up and wield it with the same ferocity and might as her father. And she was only all too happy to oblige.

She reached for the handle, but with a yelp of surprise, she lurched backwards as a body landed between her and the handle.

It was a mortal. A citizen placed in Asgard by Odin to be used as a human shield for when Ragnarok arrived.

Feeling her temper beginning to rise at the thought of the All-Father, she quickly regained composure to check on them. Kneeling down, she awkwardly reached her hands over the mortal’s body, who was currently holding his ribs in pain while backing away from her.

“Hey, are-are you ok?” Thrúd tried, but the man kept scooting himself farther away from her, his eyes widened in terror. “It’s ok, I’m not gonna hurt you.” She tried to calm him down, but his attention was at the top of the small cliff he had just plummeted from.

“Don’t let it get me, don’t let it get me!”

“Don’t let what get y-“ She was interrupted by a shrill squawk somewhere behind her.

Turning around and looking up, she found a wyvern perched at the top of the cliff. Its feathers, a striking combination of red and yellow, ruffled in agitation at having its target escape its beak. Its eyes scanning the ground beneath it for wherever its lunch had just vanished to. It didn’t take long for the winged beast to find him, since he was still cowering and begging for his life.

Instinctively, she placed herself between the wyvern and the scared mortal, challenging the creature to a staring contest of her own. It must have sensed her desire for combat, because the beast’s back arched menacingly, his hungry chirps changing to roars meant to intimidate its prey.

It didn’t work.

Breathing deeply to ward off the oncoming adrenaline, she tensed her body into a fighting stance.

Alright, she thought. Badass Valkyrie time.

The cocky wyvern made the first move. Like a cat after prey, it pounced off the edge and glided toward Thrúd, its wings spread wide. Undeterred, Thrúd leapt forward and met the beast halfway, delivering a left hook to the side of its skull.

With a squawk of surprise and pain, the wyvern crashed to the ground, stunned and shaking its head in disorientation. Thrúd landed on the ground with a roll, but shot back up to her feet and resumed her fighting stance, the thought of picking up her father’s hammer almost a distant memory. The only thing that concerned her was protecting this man who had no means of defending himself.

The sole purpose of it being that it is the exact opposite of how the All-Father operates.

The farther away she can distance herself from him, the better off she will be. Hopefully Loki and Kratos were holding their own against the bastard at the moment.

“Get yourself over to the great hall!” Thrúd yelled at the still cowering man. “Find someplace safe!”

“Safe?!” The man asked incredulously. “Have you looked around here, recently? There’s no place that’s gonna be-“

“Just shut the Hel up and get somewhere that isn’t here!”

Finally accepting her logic, the man shuffled to his feet. Still clutching his ribs, he ran as fast as he could out of sight.

Thrúd returned her attention to the wyvern, who had just regained its composure and was now attempting to intimidate her by demonstrating its ability to charge the air with electricity. The ground zapped and popped where the arcs made contact as the beast circled its way around her, trying to predict her next move.

The daughter of Thor smiled and laughed. “Nice try, asshole.” In response, her body began to glow blue, lightning circulated around her body from the waist down. “I know that trick, too.”

Instead of a squawk, the wyvern roared with all of its energy. To its credit, it was able to overpower the destruction around her until that was all she was able to hear. But she was still not impressed. Thrúd answered it with a war cry of her own and charged forward, sliding underneath its tail as it swung at her midsection in retaliation.

Still sliding, Thrúd unhooked her sword from its resting place at her hip and swung it at the wyvern’s ankle. With a shriek of pain, the beast stumbled clumsily to its side, allowing Thrúd to stand up and swing the sword up and down, slashing the wyvern across its leg and back.

The creature was whimpering now, but Thrúd wasn’t done. The image of her father fading from existence was still at the forefront of her mind, and she needed something, anything to distract her from it. This beast just unwillingly signed up to be her personal punching bag.

She caught the wyvern’s neck underneath her arm and locked it in a vice-like headlock. The creature roared in protest, jerking its head back and forth in a vain attempt to loosen her grip, but the struggle only increased it around its windpipe. In a panic, the wyvern opened its mouth and fired a volley of electric bursts. Thrúd leaned her head away from the blasts as they escaped its mouth, a few wild strands of hair beginning to stand on end.

With one twist of her body, she pointed the wyvern’s head at the cliff face. Raising her arm above its head, she summoned lightning into her arm and brought her elbow down on its skull with a massive CRACK. On impulse, the dazed creature fired another blast of electricity into the cliff, the force of which knocked Thrúd away from her former captive.

Regaining her footing, Thrúd looked at the wall and found a system of spider web cracks forming where the blast hit it, creating a large hairline fracture which traveled up to the top of the wall. It didn’t take long for a plan to form in her head.

Dropping herself down to a runner’s stance, one leg behind her with both hands on the ground on either side of her, she stared down the frenzied wyvern, still wobbling and off balance from the blow to the head.

She closed her eyes and allowed the painful memory to flash through her mind again; Thor’s arm outstretched to her, both of them helpless to do a single thing as he faded away from existence. Odin pleading with her to see his twisted reasoning as a necessity. Him picking up the hammer and using it against her.

A new fury flowed through her body as well as another wave of lightning.

She opened her eyes, let out another cry of effort and anger, and launched herself into the stunned wyvern shoulder first.

The beast squawked as it was shoved against the wall. Upon impact, the newly formed cracks began to branch outward, stemming new cracks and fissures from the blast. Knowing what was coming next, Thrúd jumped out of the way, landing clear of the wyvern, who had lost all strength and was knocked to the ground, now powerless to avoid a massive chunk of the wall break free and topple on top of it, crushing it entirely.

A few arcs of electricity were visible underneath as the residual energy of the wyvern was flushed out, then they stopped altogether.

The daughter of Thor stood victorious, shoulders slouched and panting, the adrenaline leaving her body almost as quickly as it came. The only thing that snapped her back to reality was the ground itself beginning to rumble.

It wasn’t a rumble that came from any sort of seismic activity. It was a steady beat, like footsteps. Except these footsteps were shaking the already unstable ground she was standing on and the impact of them were several seconds away from each other. And for each rumble, the ground shook harder.

Ragnarok was getting closer.

Turning on her feet, she looked over to where Loki and Kratos were battling the All-Father; the previous flashes of light of magic were nowhere to be seen, which was either very good, or very bad.

Regardless, if she wanted to get a few hits in on the old bastard with her dad’s hammer, she decided she needed to hurry up.

Tripping over her feet clumsily as another rumble shook the earth, she darted over toward the hammer and scooped it up. Under any other circumstance, she would’ve taken time to appreciate the significance of holding Mjolnir, recalling its history and the stories her father had shared of it.

But this was not the time for that.

She backed herself up to the wall behind her, psyching herself up for the leap she was about to take. Clearing her mind of all other distractions, she dashed forward, swung Mjolnir in front of her and leapt.

Thrúdhad expected to be unfamiliar with the sensation of a longer than average jump, but she was not prepared for the hammer to nearly take on a mind of its own as it dragged her off the ground and carried her forward across the broken battlefield.

In short, it was exactly what she was expecting . . . except it wasn’t at all what she was expecting.

“WHOA,” she cried out, but she could barely hear her own voice over the wind.

She dared to peek behind her and gasped at the sight.

Ragnarok was right on top of the spot where she had been just moments prior, and was still coming forward, showing no signs of slowing down. His body still only visible from the waist up as he walked, the ground beneath him offering as much resistance as if he were doing nothing else besides wading through water.

The daughter of Thor had even less time to make it to the battle than she realized.

Returning her line of sight in front of her, she drew in a sharp breath of panic as the ground began to rapidly approach.

“Shit! Shit shit shit shit SHIT!”

Impulsively, she let the hammer go and allowed gravity to retake her. Thrúd realized her mistake when she saw the hammer still soaring as she began to plummet. In a blind fit of panic, she reached her arm forward, trying to will the hammer back into her grip. But it didn’t obey.

Mjolnir flew without her until it came to rest at the top of the remains of a shattered stable, multiple feet above the ground. Thrúd, however, rolled to another ungraceful stop on the ground right in the middle of a group of marching Einherjar.

Alarmed, the group of brainwashed soldiers jumped back, weapons at the ready. Thrúd slowly rose to her knees, groaning in pain and holding her arm close to her body.

A few moments after, one of the Einherjar, one who wielded a scythe with a seven foot long staff, lowered his guard, pointed at her in alarm. “It’s her! Thrúd Thorsdottir! I saw her. She was fighting side by side with the pale god and his little shit kid!” The three remaining sets of eyes went from the soldier to the young goddess before them, still struggling to rise to her feet, disoriented from the sloppy flight and sloppier landing.

She couldn’t see it beneath their helmets, but by the looks on their faces, they might as well have been looking at oozing puss of dead plants in Vanaheim.

Thrúd finally found her footing and was able to properly process her surroundings. She was only a few hundred feet away from where she previously was when Odin sent her sailing away. Where he began to battle with Loki and Kratos though was a large gaping hole in the ground, with no way to tell how deep it was from this angle.

From the hole, she could see familiar flashes of magic. Their fight must have made its way beneath the surface and the Einherjar must have been on their way to provide backup for the outnumbered All-Father.

The depth of the hole had just become the least of her worries at the moment, though. These Einherjar, who were her allies mere hours ago due to her affiliation with Odin, didn’t appear to be on her side anymore.

Apparently, it only took a lone traitor for them to forget their mission and choose a new target.

The one with the scythe struck first. Thrúd was still dizzy and out of breath, but she could still see an attack coming from a mile away. Einherjar bastard number one swung his weapon in a downward arc, but Thrúd stepped aside, letting it dig itself into the dirt harmlessly. Gripping her sword, she swung it down on the handle and snapped it in half. Hopping sideways, she then delivered a kick to his throat, aiming her foot expertly in between the breastplate and helmet. Bastard number one clutched his windpipe desperately and collapsed to the ground.

Thrúd spun on her heel and put distance between herself and bastards numbers two, three and four, her arms wide in a gesture of momentary peace.

“Listen!” She started. “Odin is a fraud! You’re fighting and dying over and over again for a lying, manipulative asshole! He killed my dad right in front of me for saying no! The fucker killed THOR! Are you really willing to fight for somebody who would leave you to die the first chance he got?”

Enherjar weren’t known for talking much. Only when they got drunk or when they communicated with each other in battle would they say more than five words at a time. Topping it off, they were brainwashed by the All-Father as well. Thrúd knew that appealing to their better nature wouldn’t be an easy task, but the fewer people she had to fight, the quicker she’d be able to rejoin Loki in kicking her grandfather’s ass.

The undead soldiers before her exchanged glances this way and that before confirming her doubts; they in turn raised their weapons and approached her.

Letting out a breath of frustration, Thrúd raised her sword and settled back into her fighting stance . . .

Before another rumble sent them all to their knees or sprawled them out on the ground, their weapons rolling away from them and falling into newly formed chasms in the dirt.

Another massive footstep and another rumble, Thrúd didn’t need to turn around to know that Ragnarok was right behind her. Her deduction was proven correct when the remaining Einherjar bastards scrambled to their feet and ran away in all directions.

Einherjar bastard number one, however, wasn’t so lucky. Still clutching his throat, he only had time to rise to his knee before Ragnarok’s massive foot crushed him.

The daughter of Thor stumbled backwards, mere yards away from the foot of the creature sent to destroy her home. A series of cracks appeared on the ground, traveling behind her. Following the opening fissures, she watched in horror as a crack opened up beneath the rubble at the stables, and Mjolnir shifted uneasily at the top of the debris.

Wasting no time, Thrúd charged forward, summoning lightning around her in a vain attempt to get to her father’s hammer faster. Jumping over newly formed cracks and fissures, she stumbled her way over to the hammer’s resting spot . . . only to be flung head over heels into the air after Ragnarok took one more step and plunged his foot into the ground behind her.

Through her wild hair and spinning vision, she barely managed to watch as Mjolnir plunged into the cracks beneath it, disappearing into the swirl of ash and smoke Ragnarok’s presence created.

“NO!” Thrúd wailed, reaching forward in a desperate act to summon her dad’s hammer back into her grasp.

Knowing it was no longer any use, Thrúd closed her eyes and prepared to hit the ground again, but the impact never came. Instead, she could hear a manic flapping noise getting louder and louder, closing in on her until a strong set of arms scooped her out of the sky and carried her in the opposite direction of where she was sent sailing.

Daring to open her eyes, the daughter of Thor was met with a majestically large wingspan of feathers, and armored body, and an emotionless mask on the face of her savior. The strong arms of the Valkyrie were wrapped under Thrúd’s biceps, but the added weight didn’t appear to hinder their flight pattern in the slightest.

“Gunnr?!” Thrúd croaked out incredulously.

“My lady,” Gunnr replied, as formal as ever, even in the face of the end of the world.

“Quick! Turn around! The hammer, Mjolnir! It’s just-“

“I’m sorry my lady!” Gunnr interrupted her. “I’m under orders from your mother to get you back. And as you can see,” She nodded over to the massive form of Ragnarok, who had his equally massive sword hoisted overhead, its tip aimed at the hole in front of the Great Hall, “there is no time!”

Thrúd was only just able to get a quick glance around her before Ragnarok delivered the final blow; entire chunks of land cracked and splintered before falling into the abyss beneath the realm leading to Norns-know-where. Whatever buildings remained fell apart as if they were made of nothing more than toothpicks before falling over the edge themselves.

The entire sight made Thrúd’s insides turn to ice.

With one last flap of her wings, the legendary Valkyrie tucked them behind her, allowing the two of them to go into a controlled fall. She gathered Thrúd up and held her close to her body.

“Brace yourself, my lady!”

With Gunnr’s arms wrapped around her body protectively, she was unable to see Ragnarok’s sword breach the hole, or one of the realm tears that they were flying into which was left open by Loki’s pet beast.

All she was aware of was the jarringly sudden shift in temperature.

One moment the air was thick with smoke and warm, the next it was so cold that each subsequent breath irritated her lungs.

Jerking her body to the side, Gunnr held Thrúd close as she crashed into the icy ground, sliding on the slippery surface for several seconds before the Valkyrie unfurled her blade-like wings and dug them into the ice, slowing them to a stop.

Deeming the situation safe, Gunnr relaxed her body, taking deep breaths as she brought her wings back in. Slowly, the two of them made their way to their feet, and Thrúd was finally able to process what was around her again.

They were in Midgard. More specifically, on the frozen Lake of Nine.

The cold air wasted no time at biting at her exposed skin, but she couldn’t care less at the moment. She was still wrapping her head around what had happened. She didn’t get to think for very long before another set of footsteps were heard approaching them.

Turning to see who it was, Thrúd didn’t even have time to raise her arms as her mother enveloped her in an inescapable embrace. But her daughter more than welcomed her overprotective mother holding her close, having her hands grip at her hair and praising anything and everything that Thrúd was alive.

Finally stepping back, Lady Sif cupped Thrud’s face, studying it for any damage. After her search was completed, she let out a sigh of relief, her breath plainly visible in the chilled air.

“Thank you, Gunnr,” She bowed her head, reverting back to her position of authority “Your service, as always, has been exemplary.” The Valkyrie said nothing. Her only reply was a nod in return and a fist to her chest.

“Mom,” Thrúd choked out, diverting her mother’s attention back to her. Her heart sank when she saw that her daughter was clearly fighting back an onslaught of tears.

“Shh,” her mother attempted to comfort. “I know.” Upon saying these words, she could feel her demeanor about to burst as well. “I know about your father. He was so brave.”

Thrúd nodded in agreement, pushing her tears back with all her might. The urge to release her emotions vanished as another thought came to her.

“Odin! All-Father! Loki and Kratos, they- they were-“

“Odin’s dead.”

Both pairs of head looked at the Valkyrie, stunned and not quite believing what either of them had heard. When neither of them were able to find the will to speak, Gunnr continued. “He fell in battle to Kratos, Loki and the Lady Freya. The All-Father can hurt no one else ever again.”

To say that they were overjoyed would be an understatement to Thrud. The manipulative, paranoid, abusive old bastard would never do anything to her family ever again.

At least, those who remained of it.

The two of them would give anything for Thor to be with them and enjoy his release from Odin’s services, to finally be free and be with his family. But that just happened to be one of the last things that the All-Father made sure would be impossible, even after his time in the realms had expired.

Which reminded Thrúd of another issue.

“I lost it.”

Sif lifted an eyebrow.

“Lost what, love?”

“Mjolnir. I left it in Asgard.” Thrúd drooped her head, too full of shame to meet her mother’s gaze. “It was destroyed by Ragnarok. I could’ve grabbed it but-“

“The hammer survived, child.”

Once again, both sets of eyes stared at the Valkyrie.

“Mjolnir is not a weapon that can be destroyed so easily. It is waiting for you, somewhere in the nine realms. Of this, there is no doubt.”

A//N: Sooooooooooooooo God of War Ragnarok exists and it gave me an itch that traveled all the way down to my fingertips! Thrúd was a real standout character to me; she just seems like someone who could hold her own on a Kratos level adventure and able to make mistakes and learn valuable lessons from them. And from the game’s opened ending on her character . . . I’ve got my own ideas on she could be up to.

Not a lot of story in this particular chapter, but I wanted to give my own account of what may have happened to her after Odin yeeted her away. And it seemed like the most natural place to begin.

Thanks for reading and I hope you stick around on this wild ride!

Chapter Text

The sun was shining bright over the Lake of Nine. So bright, in fact, that the god of thunder found himself having to shield his eyes away from it as he continued fastening the knot he was working on.

A light breeze breathed through the trees, rustling the branches and pine needles around him in a soothing symphony of nature and serenity. Every once in a while, he could hear a splash of the occasional fish hopping out of the water, accompanied by the chirps and squawks of frustrated seagulls who missed their meal.

Another bird chirped overhead, causing Thor to let out a gasp of alarm. Looking up, he found only a sparrow, minding its own business and whistling a tune, perched on a branch above him. Thor let out a sigh of relief.

You’re not gonna go tattle on me, are ya little guy?

Directing his attention back to the matter at hand, the mighty god put the finishing touches on the knot. Nodding in approval, Thor picked up his hammer, with a rope now tied to its handle, and trundled over to shore.

He breathed in slowly and breathed out just as slow, reveling in the temporary reprieve of responsibility and stress.

Thor held up Mjolnir, the rope tied around its handle leading down to a very excitable eight-year-old girl, who was keeping pace at his side.

“Are you ready, little one?”

She responded with eager hops on her feet, her grip on the rope tightening. “I’m ready, daddy! Do it now, do it now!”

Chuckling at his daughter’s infectious enthusiasm, Thor brought Mjolnir behind him, then tossed it forward, carrying Thrúd with it across the lake while leaving a wake behind them as they flew. “WOOHOO!” The young girl’s voice echoed all around. Soon, the two of them vanished from sight, but Thor, his connection with the hammer strong, never truly lost track of them.

“Must you two insist on giving me a heart attack?” A voice chided from behind. Turning around, Thor found his wife, lady Sif, standing with a very unimpressed frown on her features.

“What?” Thor asked. “She loves it.”

“And I hate it. I’ve always hated that stunt. Even with Magni and Modi.”

As if on cue, the two half-brothers burst out from a nearby bush. Magni brandished a tree limb as thick as his arm while Modi held a cluster of branches and twigs, twisted and tied together to form a makeshift shield. They violently continued their wrestling match as if the gods weren’t even there.

Thor gestured to them as they passed. “And look how they turned out.”

Instead of humoring her husband’s remark, Sif turned her attention back to the boys, who were shouting and crying out in a mix of fury and competition.

“Boys. Boys!” She called. “Not so loud, please.”

Understanding his wife’s concern, he approached her side and cupped her shoulder with his massive hand, his fingers fiddling with the occasional loose strand of her elegant hair. “There’s no need to worry, my love,” he soothed. “The All-Father may see all, but he can’t hear all. Especially when the ravens aren’t around.”

She still didn’t seem convinced. “If he can see all, doesn’t that mean he can see us here right now?”

Thor shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. Sif, enjoy yourself. I’ve bought us a little time to spend together before he ever knows we’re gone.”

“While I appreciate the lengths you go to to be with your family,” Sif spoke over the grunts and shouts of her the boys, who have made their way to the shore and were splashing each other in ankle deep water, “I just wish it didn’t have to always be this way.”

“Soon, it won’t have to be this way. You’ll see,” Thor comforted, but Sif knew better. Odin always had a way of manipulating his son into thinking that he won’t be his tool for as long as he’ll be able to use him. She’d heard her husband say this same argument countless times before, and it broke her heart that he genuinely believed it.

No matter how many times Thor believed he found a new hiding spot for him and his family to relax, the All-Father had ways of detecting it. Sif was about to voice this concern, but she found she didn’t have to.

Odin just demonstrated it.

In a flurry of ravens, the All-Father appeared behind them, walking forward as if he were formally invited on this private outing.

“Ah, so this is your newest spot.”

Thor immediately put distance between him and his wife, which simultaneously sent a jab of hurt through Sif’s heart.

“All-Father.”

Odin didn’t even dignify his son’s greeting with a response. Instead, he walked right between them and took in the view around him. “Gotta say, I think this is my favorite spot you have picked out. But I guess it helps when the weather is this fantastic. I mean truly. Couldn’t have picked a better day to run off.”

“We didn’t run off!” Sif started. “We were sp-“

“Now, now, my dear,” Odin dismissed her outburst with nonchalant waves of his hand, turning around to face them though choosing not to look her in the eye. “Water under the bridge. I understand better than anyone the importance of spending time with your loved ones. I’m nothing if not a family man,” he gestured to himself. “Speaking of, I am going to have to borrow Thor for the rest of the day.”

Anger gripped Sif like a vice, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything else. Odin would just shut her down.

“Of course, All-Father,” Thor obeyed, walking to and dwarfing over his father. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing too big. Quite literally actually. Just a few upstarts in Svartalfheim. Figured it’s time to bring the hammer down again. Speaking of which, where- uh, where is it?”

Thor’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

Raising his arm, he snapped his fingers and summoned Mjolnir back to him. The hammer wasted no time in returning to its master. Still holding onto the rope connected to the hammer was Thrúd, who was giggling uncontrollably while swinging like a pendulum underneath.

Odin rolled his eyes. “Oh, I’m glad to see the hammer is being put to good use . . . on your unapproved days off.”

Thrúd showed no sign of noticing the presence of her grandfather. The only thing she was aware of was the thrill of the flight and the adrenaline coursing through her veins. “Daddy! I flew! I flew like a Valkyrie!”

Her father lowered her to the ground and smiled as she struggled to find her footing on the uneven forest floor. “I saw that, little one. But daddy has to go away now.”

Thrúd’s euphoric smile disappeared as she watched her father untie the rope from Mjolnir and drop it on the ground. “But you said today was gonna be our day,” the dejected child whined. “And that you would let me hold Me-owl-neer.”

Thor couldn’t help but chuckle at his daughter’s attempt of saying the name of his hammer, nor could he shake the comical image of Thrúd holding it without any form of assistance. Mjolnir standing on end could reach just under her chin after all. “I’m afraid that’ll have to wait for another day, Thrúdie. Head on back to your mother. She’s waiting for you.”

With a frown, his daughter slowly made her way back to her waiting mother, head hung low in disappointment.

“And besides,” Thor continued as he walked next to his father, “if you held my hammer, those two over there would get jealous,” he gestured over to his sons. “They wouldn’t believe how fast you could get the hang of it. I wouldn’t be though. You are the smart one after all.” His attempt at dry humor was unsuccessful, and it only resulted in enlarging his daughter’s frown.

Odin raised an eyebrow. “Smart one, huh?” Looking down to the water, his one good eye found Magni and Modi, the former holding the latter under water while laughing as he did so. The All-Father shrugged, “Well, considering her current competition, that title shouldn’t be too hard to hold on to.” He smiled and nodded to Sif. “Until next time.”

And just like that, they were gone, sequestered away in a storm of squawks and feathers. Amidst the chaos of Odin’s preferred method of transportation, Sif overheard their brief conversation.

“Oh, and on the way back, we’re going to swing by the tavern. You need a drink.”

“Yes, All-Father.”

The last of the ravens whisked the legendary duo away, leaving behind a seething wife, two oblivious half-brothers, and a very confused daughter.

After all these years, the confusion never left her. She was confused why her father never stood up to his own, when he had all the physical capabilities to do so. She was confused why Odin felt the need to belittle his son every chance he got when Thor showed nothing but obedience in the first place. But most of all, she was confused and angry with herself for never doing anything to help.

Sure she was young, but she could have at least done something, couldn’t she have?

A wave of memories came flooding back to her at once, and for every one of them, she thought of what she could have done differently to come to her dad’s defense.

But a fat lot of good thinking about what could’ve been is doing her now.

Her dad’s dead, Mjolnir is lost somewhere in the eight remaining realms, everyone who wasn’t at Ragnarok still had no clue that Thor defied Odin with his last breath and his reputation as a Giant killing machine will be all that anyone will think of about him . . .

. . . Ok, they have very good reason to feel that way since it’s true, but the knowledge that no one will know how hard he tried to be a good father at the very end squeezed at her heart.

But there wasn’t an awful lot she could do about it at the moment, not with both hands gripping a cart full of freshly washed clothes and stacks of blankets behind her as she made her way across the bridge leading to Týr’s temple. Thrúd grunted and huffed, ignoring the squeaking of the wheels as they trailed their way over the already packed in snow. In front of her was Skjoldr, who had both arms full of no less than eight stacks of blankets that were unable to fit inside the full cart.

“Ok, alright, uh, if Loki said his house was that way, then maybe it flew over . . . no, no, that wouldn’t work. But if he was downwind when his dad threw it, yeah, then either way it should’ve ended up over there somewhere.”

Thrúd was removed from her train of thought by her friend’s usual babbling.

“What are you going on about now?” She inquired, shifting her grip on the stack of blankets.

“Huh? Oh! That was all out loud, wasn’t it?

“No shit.”

“Sorry, I was just thinking about something Loki was talking about. It’s not important though. I mean, not that what he said wasn’t important, he is my friend and all that and what he says and thinks is important to me. I just meant that it’s not important now. It might be later, though. Once we get these blankets dispersed, I think I’m gonna have some spare time to go on a little search. Oh! Unless, uh, you wanted to do anything. Assuming that you’re not too busy doing, er, Valkyrie things, or training, or something like that.”

She rolled her eyes. Thrúd had lost count by now how many times she had reminded him that their new titles were the Shield Maidens. But she couldn’t find it in her to blame him; they had been known as the Valkyries for so long, it took the daughter of Thor until only recently to start calling them by their new rank.

“Sigrun and the others are still gone until the end of the week,” she grunted, pulling the cart over a bump, causing the cargo to shift slightly. “They’re still out there looking for more fallen chunks of Asgard, so no one-on-one training until then. Eir gave me a list of exercises to do though until they get back. Go ahead on your little hunt without me.”

Skjoldr did his best to nod without tipping his pile over. Peeking his head to the side of it, he found the door to the temple was still another half-bridge length to go. Sighing, he shifted his grip under the blankets and picked up his pace.

“Don’t go too fast, dumbass,” Thrúd chided. “I don’t think the survivors want a set of blankets that are soaked and covered in snow . . . again.”

The mortal boy shrugged off her concern. “You don’t slip and fall on the same patches of ice without learning a thing or two. Observe.”

Sure enough, Skjoldr stepped and lunged his way over icy spots with the same skill and memory as one who had fallen victim to them many times before. Save for a few minor slips, her friend made it to the entrance to the temple still standing and the blankets only teetering a little to one side.

“Impressive,” Thrúd nodded as she caught up with him.

Skjoldr shrugged. “Well, y’know, fool me twelve times.”

Shifting the blankets in his grip, Skjoldr managed to open the door, then held it open for Thrúd to wheel the cart inside before closing it. The two of them passed through the anteroom and crossed the light bridge, entering the realm travel room.

Inside the circular room, refugees and survivors of Ragnarok were packed nearly elbow to elbow, clustered with what remained of their friends and family all around the chamber. Artificial light hung above them next to the massive tree so as to not leave the scared populace even more frightened in the dark.

Previous concerns about them accidentally activating the table to initiate realm traveled were quickly quelled when the table was still deemed unusable due to the frozen lake, and the fact that nobody here had the means or the knowledge to do so anyway.

Nearly every head in the room turned to them as they heard the door close. Skjoldr offered them an awkward smile. “We’re back! Miss us?”

Thrúd rolled her eyes. He says the same exact thing whenever he comes back to the temple with a fresh batch of supplies, clothing or food, and each time he’s met with the same response:

A few seconds of silence before they resume their normal chatter.

This constant routine did nothing to deter the mortal boy as he set about distributing the blankets to the clusters of people who needed them the most, accepting the occasional thank yous and nods of appreciation.

Thrúd had a harder time on her end. Due to her being stronger out of the two of them, she had volunteered to wheel the cart inside, leaving her to maneuver it to its resting place in the center of the room so that its contents were equally accessible to everyone.

With a grunt, she let the handle go and dusted off her hands on her skirt before resuming her next role as content distributor. “Alright people, you know the drill,” she called out to the already growing crowd before her. “No one gets any special treatment. One pack per person.”

She stepped to the side and supervised the oncoming crowd, ensuring that nobody took more than their fair share. Most of the time she didn’t have to step in at all, which she didn’t mind. She’d rather things go as smoothly as possible before the big move to Vanaheim. It surprised her though. Her time in Asgard had exposed her to all sorts of entitlement- people getting more than their fair share of money, food, mead, anything at all due to a nearly infinite supply, it tended to go to their heads fairly quickly upon arrival.

Thrúd found on more than one occasion people sneaking up to the top of Hrimthur’s wall just to literally look down on the Midgardians and be thankful for their prestigious lifestyle until Heimdall made his way over to quickly shoo them away.

But after taking this responsibility of helping Skjoldr in between her training, she had expected more Asgardians to be more hostile in their new temporary home toward their new Midgard neighbors. Thankfully, she’s had little to no issues while watching them take stock away from the cart with replenished supplies.

At least until today.

Her eyes found one set of hands reach for a care package and tuck it under their arm, then the same set of hands nabbed two blankets from the pile.

Thrúd’s eyes widened in outrage.

Hold on, she thought to herself. Give him a chance. Maybe he’s bringing one of them to a group who can’t make it over because of some injury.

The Asgardian quickly turned and shoved members of the crowd away, making his way over to a corner of the room where no one else was residing.

Nope, he’s just an asshole.

“Hey!”

Her voice echoed around the room, but the perpetrator just kept walking.

Officially set off, she abandoned her post at the cart and stormed after him. After dodging the dwindling remainder of the crowd, she caught up with the thief and placed her hand on his shoulder, turning him around to face her.

“Need your ears cleaned, you prick? I said one per person!”

All eyes were on them now, but neither of them seemed to notice. Thrud’s glare was reserved for the thief before her. He returned her gaze, though with significantly less malice, looking annoyed with her at having disturbed his short commute back to his spot by his lonesome.

“What’s your name?” Thrúd demanded.

“Asmund.”

“You gonna give that other blanket back, Asmund? Or do I have to take it?”

The taller man shrugged, his annoyed scowl now turning to a cool indifference. “Don’t know what you’re so worked up about. Not like I took a bunch of them.”

“No, but you did take more than one. Other people are here besides you, you know!”

“What? Was it going to keep a Midgardian warm?” He said the word Midgardian as if he were referring to a disease. “They’re used to the cold already. We came from a place of damn near eternal sunshine and warmth. Unlike you, I’ve never left Asgard before Ragnarok, so I’m not as acclimated to it as you are. I need this more than they do.”

“No, what you need is a swift kick in the ass and a reality check!”

Asmund scoffed. “Oh isn’t that rich? I’m getting a lecture about reality from the daughter of Thor.” His tone turned condescending in a heartbeat, and Thrúd’s blood began to boil. “Because the daughter of Thor- the granddaughter of the All-Fuckin’-Father himself, knows exactly how real life works.” He leaned forward, his repulsive breath swimming in her face. “If you hadn’t lost it during Ragnarok, maybe then you could actually bring the hammer down.”

Thrúd didn’t even remember moving her fist. One moment, he was standing in front of her, their noses nearly touching, the next, he was on the floor no less than ten feet away from her. He was rolling on the ground, arms clutching his abdomen in agony as he struggled for breath.

Her arm, still in front of her, was smoking and she caught the faintest whiff of rain in the air. She must have summoned lightning and didn’t even realize it.

Lowering her arm, she strode over to Asmund, but stopped short.

Smoke was rising from his arms, but it wasn’t coming from him. Rolling to the side, he let go of his clothing package and small stack of blankets, letting them smolder and turn to ash. Asmund stood up and looked down at the pile with wide eyes.

“Shit!” Thrúd cursed. She dashed over and dropped to her knees and began to pat at the burning cloth, but only succeeded in hastening the process.

Asmund raised his arms and let them drop to his sides, letting out an unamused laugh. “Well that’s just great, Sparky. Now nobody gets to use them!”

Abandoning her mission to save the cloth, Thrúd rose to her feet and turned toward the Asgardian. “This wouldn’t have happened in the first place if you had only taken one fucking blanket like everyone else!”

Before the two of them could get any closer, Skjoldr placed himself between them, holding them apart with both arms outstretched.

“Whoa, whoa!” He cried out. “Let’s just calm down, kay? Take a deep breath, everyone.”

No one was heeding his advice.

“Tell your girly friend here to mind her own fucking business and then I can calm down!”

“You’re the one who took more than your share! You don’t see anyone else pulling shit like that!”

“Yeah? I guess you’d know a lot about getting more than your share, Thrúdie.” The use of her nickname that her dad gave her would have been this man’s death sentence in any other scenario, but the only thing that prevented that from happening was Skjoldr, who bravely held his ground between them.

He held his arm out farther, anticipating her next move and keeping her away. After a moment of struggling, he finally got her attention back. “Thrúd, hey, hey! I’ll handle this guy. Okay?”

She looked in his eyes and could see what he wasn’t saying out loud.

I’m on your side. We’ll talk about this later.

Taking big breaths in, Thrúd let out a huff of frustration and headed for the exit, following her friend’s advice and letting him handle the rest.

Thrúd did her best to ignore the eyes of everyone watching her leave, and the rude comments that Asmund was muttering loud enough for her to hear. She kept her eyes low to the floor and eventually, she found herself on the bridge outside the temple.

Growing impatient with her current pace, Thrúd leapt over the edge and dropped to the ice below, careful as to not slip and fall as she landed. Quickly plotting out a route in her head, she dashed across the ice and into the woods, making her way to the training grounds that Sigrun set up at the old council of Valkyries. If anything would help right now, it was pummeling training dummies.

Lightning trailed behind her and its crackling filled her ears, so it was a miracle she was able to hear the cawing of a familiar bird.

“Caw! Ca-Caw!”

Thrúd dug her feet into the dirt beneath her, catching her breath now that she had come to a full stop; she hasn’t gotten used to prolonged use of her lightning while running just yet, but this training course would help with that.

All thoughts of said course vanished from her mind as her eyes scanned the environment around her, looking for the source of the noise.

It came once more, almost annoyed in its tone.

“Caw!”

Thrúd looked up and spotted a familiar black raven perched on a tree branch.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Huginn cawed at her once more, satisfied that he finally got her attention. With a flap of his wings, he leapt to a branch closer to Thrud, but the daughter of Thor wasn’t interested in catching up with her grandfather’s pet. She resumed her march forward.

“Of all the annoying creatures that could’ve survived Ragnarok, you had to be one of them?” The raven in question titled his head to one side, then the other, chirping as he did. Thrúd shook her head and kept walking. “If you’re looking for your boss, well I’ve got some sad news. The All-Father’s dead, dipshit. Go find a new master. Or be free, or something. I don’t know, just get lost.”

Huginn didn’t give up that easily.

The determined raven flew from the branch and landed in front of the young goddess, blocking her path.

“Either you move, or I’m stepping on you, bird!”

Thrúd was about to make good on her threat until she saw what the bird was doing.

With his sharp beak, the raven was tracing an image into the freshly fallen snow with surprising accuracy. Huginn wasn’t just blocking her path, she realized.

This bird was trying to tell her something.

Done with his drawing, Huginn let out a satisfied chirp and fluttered his way up to Thrud’s shoulder. She scowled and shooed him off before he could get too comfortable.

Crouching down, Thrúd got a better look at the raven’s drawing, then nearly fell back in surprise. She tried to convince herself that she was only seeing things, that this bird was merely here to annoy her until someone (potentially her) took it upon themselves to shoot him and mount him on their wall.

But the likeness of the image, however crude, was unmistakable.

There was no confusing that trapezoidal figure decorated with carvings and markings, connected to a long handle.

Mjolnir.

Standing upright, Thrúd looked up at the raven, no longer annoyed at his presence. His head twitched to the left as it made eye contact with her.

“You know where it is.”

Instead of giving another caw, Huginn swooped down at her face, and she was suddenly lost in a flurry of black feathers.

Chapter Text

Thrúd never was a fan of traveling via the ravens. Sure it was fast and convenient, but she didn’t enjoy the aspect of not seeing where she was going until she got there.

Thankfully, the claustrophobic means of transportation between realms never lasted long. One moment she was standing in the middle of the Midgardian forest with Fimbulwinter’s cold winds biting at her skin, the next she was standing on a totally icy surface with a brand new cold wind biting at her skin.

As feather after feather faded away, her vision began to adjust to her new environment; she was standing inside what appeared to be an old pavilion with pillars now bent at unnatural angles and dagger-like ice formations sprouting out of them in all directions. Thrúd couldn’t even picture what the pillars were meant to support, as there was nothing above her head except for crystal clear skies, and mist rose to her knees.

Off in the distance, cliffsides could be found, their faces covered in layers of frost and ice. The mist reached so far down the cliffs that it blocked the bottom entirely.

It didn’t take long for Thrúd to piece together where her grandfather’s raven had taken her.

“Niflheim,” she breathed out, her breath still plainly visible.

A caw startled her once again. Turning around, she found Huginn looking down at her from a new perch atop one of the damaged ornate pillars. She couldn’t prove it, but she was fairly positive the bird was taking pleasure out of catching her off guard.

She was about to tell the bird off for sneaking up on her for a second time, but a new thought appeared.

Thrúd looked left, then right, then back at Huginn and shrugged. “Where is it?” Huginn tilted his head which in turn made Thrúd roll her eyes. “The hammer! Mjolnir! You said it was here, so where the Hel is it?”

Another aggravating caw and a few ruffled feathers later, Huginn spread his wings and flew over her head. Thrúd watched the bird as he flew across the pavilion and over a destroyed bridge that lead to what appeared to be the remains of some sort of palace, but frost and violent ice formations have claimed the palace for itself as well.

Thrúd made her way over to the destroyed bridge and looked down. She wasn’t afraid of heights, but she wasn’t necessarily a fan of the mists way down below; she’d heard rumors about what the mists of Niflheim were capable of. Thankfully, this mist around her appeared to be benign by nature.

But with the bridge out, it was too far of a jump for her to confidently make. On the other side, Thrúd could see Huginn’s glowing eyes waiting for her. She gave a dry chuckle. “No, of course not. Don’t teleport me over there or anything. Wouldn’t want you to be too helpful.”

Off on both sides, she found two more pillars, these ones standing tall and proud, but not without their ice formations and crystals decorating them.

Looking from the pillar to the gap before her, an idea formed.

Thrúd made her way to the pillar on her left and took out her mace from its place on her back. With a mighty yell, she hacked away at the pillars already failing foundation. She could feel her lungs burning from exertion while breathing in the cold air, but thankfully the pillar began to crumble faster than she anticipated.

She jumped back in surprise, watching as the pillar began to tilt forward. Frost and ice formations broke free of their frozen home and fell into the chasm beneath them. With a series of cracks and creaks, the pillar began to freefall until the top met the other side of the broken bridge.

Nodding in satisfaction and pride, the daughter of Thor leapt onto her makeshift bridge and slowly made her way forward, arms outstretched on both sides to keep herself balanced. On the other side, Huginn still sat perched, watching as she made her slow trek across. “Why didn’t you just teleport me on that side in the first place, you shit eater?”

“CAW!”

She couldn’t speak raven, but she roughly translated that response to “If you want the hammer so badly, you have to prove you’re willing to put in the work for it.” It was either that or “I thought it’d be funny.”

Before Thrúd could call out another demeaning reply at Huginn’s expense, the pillar let out a cracking noise as she passed the halfway mark. Shifting her balance, she could see the other side of the pillar begin to rise as her vision began to sink.

Her bridge was breaking in half.

Summoning lightning around her body, Thrúd found whatever remaining footing she could before launching herself forward, propelling herself across the gap that remained. She did her best to ignore the sensation of the wind getting knocked out of her as her ribs crashed into the ledge, arms sprawled out before her to hold herself up while the two halves of the pillar plummeted into the chasm, disappearing in the mist with a distant crash.

Thrúd hefted herself up and dusted her clothes off, catching her breath as she did so.

Deeming herself dusted off well enough, Thrúd looked up at Huginn with a new wave of irritation. The bird took it in stride however as he swooped off his perch and flew into the icy palace before them. The goddess shook her head in annoyance. “I swear to Freya, if you ever fly close enough for me to grab you, I’m going to eat you.”

She took no more than three steps toward her new destination when she was jarred to a halt by an alarming noise. At first, she passed it off as nothing more than the howling of the wind, but there was no wind blowing through her multicolored hair. The longer she listened to it, the more and more obvious it became.

Someone was crying. They were crying with an intensity that could be heard all across the realm she currently was exploring.

Not a cry of physical pain or anything of that sort. This was an unrelenting sobbing that could only be caused by one thing and one thing only;

Loss.

Loss of a very close loved one.

While the murder of her father opened a hole in her heart that she knew would never be filled, she had never experienced a loss large enough beforehand to leave her in this state of grief before, so she herself had never known suffering like this.

But her mother has. She knows because she could hear her mother weep with the same level of heartbreak back in Midgard when she thought no one else was around.

Thrúd had an inkling that if she was going to find Mjolnir, she was going to have to find the woman responsible for the sobbing.

She walked until she was met with the large doors of the palace, both of them busted from their hinges and leaning against each other. Thrúd reached out her hand to grip the door and pull, but pulled back in shock at how cold the door really was. After rubbing her hands together to warm them both up, Thrúd drew her sword and wedged it between the two doors.

Leaning with all her strength, the large door opened just enough for her to squeeze through. Once inside, Thrúd found herself in a large hall whose walls were decorated with cracked mirrors so frosted over that her reflection was impossible to see. Her footsteps echoed on the smooth surface as she made her way forward, and the sobbing only grew louder with each one.

As Thrúd passed by an opening in the wall that led to another hallway, Huginn stood patiently in the middle of the floor. With another caw, the raven flapped his wings and disappeared around a corner.

Thrúd huffed under her breath, turning to find the bird’s next destination. “If you weren’t so annoying, you’d make a pretty good tour guide. . . Wait, actually that’d make you the perfect candidate for one. Huh. Missed career path I guess.”

She followed Huginn across more hallways and up countless steps of the neglected palace, the sobbing and wailing growing more prominent with each step forward.

Rounding another corner, Huginn flew along the expansive hallway, finding another perch atop a forgotten desk at the other end. He ruffled his beak through his feathers patiently. Thrúd began walking down the hall to meet him, but stopped less than halfway.

A door was left ajar to her left, and the wailing was louder than it ever had been since she stepped foot in Niflheim.

Whoever was crying was right inside this room.

Looking forward, she found Huginn staring back at her, almost warning her not to go in.

“The hammer’s not in there!” She could practically hear him say, but passing by a room with someone in such pain without checking to see if she could help just felt so . . . Odin.

She cupped her hand over her mouth, as if hoping that it would prevent the room’s occupant from hearing her yell under her breath right outside.

“If it’s as close as you’re saying, Mjolnir isn’t going anywhere,” she reasoned with the raven. “I just want to see what’s wrong.”

“Caw! CAW!”

“Relax, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Thrúd pushed open the door and stepped gingerly inside.

She found herself in a bedroom. Or rather, what remained of a bedroom. Frost was present everywhere inside, covering the glass over the mirrors with such intensity it was almost impossible to tell that they were cracked underneath. Anything that was remotely designed to create warmth was caked in it as well; the purple, messy bed sheets for the massive bed built for two giants, the feathery rug on the floor, none of it suitable for practical use, at least by Thrúd’s standards.

Straight ahead was an open doorway that led out to a balcony that overlooked the frozen realm, which also held the source of the sorrowful wailing.

Standing with her back to the goddess, hunched over and leaning on the railing with her arms crossed over them and her face buried in the crook of her elbows was Sinmara.

After realizing the corrupt and selfish ways of her grandfather, Thrúd had since questioned the legitimacy of the education she had received since she was younger. Growing up, she was told countless stories about her father slaughtering all Giants, but there was no mistaking this one; a Giantess with blueish-grey skin residing in a palace covered in frost with wispy cloth-like garments adorning her figure so well it was difficult to determine what is part of her body and what is not.

Sinmara showed no signs of knowing that Thrúd had entered her bedroom, her footsteps over the crunchy surface all but drowned out by her sorrow.

Thrúd continued to walk forward, slowly and unsure of herself. She had no plan upon entering the room, but it felt so wrong to walk by without seeing what was the matter. She reached her hand forward awkwardly and struggled to find her voice, attempting to make her presence known without alarming the Giantess.

She never got the chance to find the words on her own. Huginn flapped through the door behind her and set himself atop one of the frozen wardrobes.

“CAW!” he called out angrily, still not thrilled with Thrúd for plotting her own course.

Thrúd winced, shutting her eyes and hunching her shoulders, preparing to be reprimanded for trespassing. When it didn’t come, the daughter of Thor opened one eye, then the other, and finally realized that the wailing had stopped altogether.

Sinmara stood upright now, both hands still clenching the railing before her. Ever so slowly, she turned around and found Thrúd standing in her bedroom, stunned in place. The tears running down her face had instantly frozen in place, creating white streams on her cheeks. Her hair stood up on top of her head, revealing her forehead and giving the illusion she was wearing a crown.

Several moments were spent between the two of them standing in silence, both of them looking at the other. Huginn twitched his head back and forth, growing irritated himself, waiting for one to make the first move.

“CAW!”

“Shh!” Thrúd hissed at the bird. Finally, the young goddess worked up the courage to speak. “Um, hi,” she waved lamely. Sinmara didn’t return the greeting, making Thrúd all the more uncomfortable and regretting her choice to enter the room.

But there was no turning back now. The Giantess’s attention was all hers.

“I, um, came here to find something that belonged to me. Well, not to me me, it was my dad’s, but he’s . . . he’s gone now and I am his next of kin. Well, I guess I didn’t really come here, either. I was brought here by this feathery fucker-“

“CAW!”

“-yeah, him. He seems to believe that what I’m looking for is in Niflheim. So he brought me over here to take a look. And, uh, while we were looking, I couldn’t help but notice your crying . . . actually I’m pretty sure all of Niflheim knows you’re crying,” she added under her breath, now self-conscious about her rambling. I could give Skjoldr a run for his money, holy shit.

“What I’m trying to say is that I sort of, uh, came in to see if, you know, you were OK.”

Sinmara blinked, thoroughly taking in this information as best she could. She blinked again and took a small step forward. “ . . . am I OK?” She asked as if the answer was completely obvious.

Which it was.

“Am. I. Oh. KAY?!”

A wave of frost exploded from her, forcing Thrúd to shield her eyes and plant her feet firmly to the floor to avoid sliding backwards. Sinmara marched forward, towering over Thrúd. “I have remained home for centuries, unable to even visit my beloved for a few moments due to our agreement. But now, the remains of Asgard have landed in my realm. Tell me, child, what is the only thing even remotely powerful enough to so much as scar Asgard?”

“Um . . .” Thrúd started, unprepared for her confrontation. “Ragnarok?”

“Yes,” the Giantess confirmed. “And our prophecy showed that Ragnarok could only come one way.” Thrúd has definitely heard this before in her teachings, but she wasn’t about to interrupt the grieving ruler of the realm. “The two of us were to combine and create the beast that plunges the sword into the heart of Asgard, destroying ourselves in the process. And yet,” she gestured to herself, “here I am, and there’s Asgard out there,” she pointed out the window past the balcony to a large chunk of land and brick, clearly foreign to the icy environment.

Thrúd nodded in confirmation. “There’s Asgard, yup.”

“Do you know what that means, child?”

Thrúd felt her blood begin to boil at being called child twice, but held back her venom as best as she could. “What?” she bit out.

In response, Sinmara sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head, the anger and disbelief vanishing and replaced with the same remorse and loss she was feeling mere moments before Thrúd’s arrival.

“It means he found a way. Surtr found a way to become Ragnarok without me. I don’t know how, but he did, and I’m sure that he felt as though he were sparing me the pain by not consulting me about it. But let me assure you, it did not.”

“Mhmm, I can see that.”

“All that he has left for me to do is exist without even the slightest hope of seeing him again, alone in my palace, which you have just vandalized in your search for your prize. So please allow me to satisfy your curiosity; no child, I am in fact not OK.”

If Thrúd’s patience were at all visible, it could be seen flying out the window, likely never to be seen again.

“Look lady!” Thrúd began. “I honestly don’t give two shits about who you are or what your problem is! All I’m trying to do is find Mjolnir and go back home. And for one thing, it’s not like your precious palace was in pristine condition to begin with. Secondly, I wouldn’t have had to damage your property if someone just brought me to the right spot from the start, and not led me on some half brained trip of self discovery!”

“CAW!”

“So I’m sorry I took the time to check on you, your majesty,” Thrúd bowed sarcastically. “Now how about I show myself off and you can go f-“

“Mjolnir.”

Thrúd’s crude suggestion died in her throat. She hadn’t meant to let that part slip.

“The legendary Aesir weapon responsible for slaughtering my people. In the hands of an Aesir once again,” she let the words roll off her tongue thoughtfully. “Of all the things to have survived Ragnarok, that had to be one of them.” She lay her head in the palm of her hand, pacing across the room. “If the weapon is here as you say it is, then why should I allow you, Thorsdottir, to find it?” Sharp icicles formed on the floor by her bare feet, traveling over to Thrúd and circling around her. “How am I to know you’ll wield it with the honor and integrity that your father should have and failed to?”

“You said so yourself; Ragnarok destroyed my home. Besides Asgard itself, who else was prophesied to be destroyed?”

It didn’t take Sinmara long to mull over the question.

“Odin.”

“And guess what? He’s dead. Finally. I’m not under his influence and have no one to return it to besides myself. Yeah, my dad did some shitty things with it, but it was Odin who told him to do all that. Is that a good excuse? Hel no it’s not, but you know what? My dad tried to be better. He stood up to Odin and paid for it with his life. Now wherever he is, Helheim or some other afterlife I don’t know about, if he’s in one at all, he deserves to rest knowing that Mjolnir won’t be used for senseless killing anymore.”

Sinmara pondered Thrúd’s words silently for a brief moment before finally relaxing her stance, the icicles surrounding Thrúd shrinking as she did. Apparently, her plea had convinced the Giantess that she was not a threat to her, with or without the hammer.

Turning her back to Thrúd once again, she made her way back to the balcony, gazing out to the wreckage in the not-so-distant distance. Thrúd followed her, standing beside her on the balcony. At the same time, Huginn joined them on the railing.

“If you desire the hammer, Thorsdottir, you had best hurry. My guess is that it lies over there in the wreckage, and I witnessed no less than three Einherjar soldiers approach it some time ago.”

“Three what?!” Thrúd exclaimed, leaning over the railing to get a closer look at the debris field, horrified at the prospect of having her goal snatched away from her. “And you didn’t say anything before?!”

Sinmara stood upright, looking completely disinterested in Thrúd’s predicament. “Their business over there is of no concern of mine. Yours either, young one. Unless, of course, your intents with the legendary hammer are as noble as your father’s.”

The clear insinuation was not lost on Thor’s daughter, but she had little choice but to let it slide unless she wanted to let this chance to get Mjolnir back slip through her fingers.

Rather than snap back with a retort, Thrúd hefted herself on top of the railing of the balcony, allowing the brisk wind to blow through her hair and ruffle her skirt. She turned her head so Sinmara was just in her sight. “I’ll show you.”

“CAW!”

Thrúd turned around and pointed a finger at Huginn. “Oh no you don’t! You stay here! You’re not giving me away twice in less than fifteen minutes, bird.”

The usually stubborn raven pecked at his feathers, squawking in reluctant agreement.

Satisfied, Thrúd said “I’ll be right back,” and leapt off the railing. Looking down below, Sinmara and Huginn watched as the young goddess landed with a thud that was plenty audible from where they were watching, sending up a donut shaped plume of mist and frost.

Sinmara rolled her eyes. “Yes child, because you’re clearly a master of stealth already.”

“CAW!”

Thrúd didn’t hear the snide remark. Instead, she set herself off in a speedy sprint the moment she got her footing back, heading straight for the large mass of foreign land. The closer she got, the more she could make out the clear Asgardian architecture, all of it pulverized in a massive conglomeration of brick, wood and glass. Whatever building this had used to be back home was impossible to tell since the wreckage formed a massive circle with enough space around the perimeter here and there to allow anyone dedicated enough to slip through.

Slowing her pace to not alarm the Einherjar who had entered previously, Thrúd circled around the debris field until she found one such opening. She hadn’t even squeezed herself all the way in before she could hear their voices.

“They weren’t kidding about this thing.”

“I’m surprised Thor himself was able to hold it, let alone wield it.”

“Are we talking about two different Thors? Of course he could use it!”

“That’s not important anymore. What is important is that we make sure it stays here for its new owner.”

Thrúd almost froze in between the skinny crawlspace in shock. New owner?

“Yeah? And how do we know this Grámtrist can hold it when three Einherjar can’t even make it budge?”

“You saw what he did to the others. If anyone can use it, he can. Besides, what would we do with it anyway?”

Well, you could give it back to Thor’s next of kin, asshole.

Thrúd squeezed out of the rubble and found herself inside the debris field. Shaking off the loose bits of dust and crumbled brick and ignoring the minor cuts she got from inside, she hid behind a pile of bricks, one of the several that littered this makeshift arena. These Einherjar didn’t intimidate her in the slightest, but the longer she held on to the element of surprise, the higher the chances of her getting out of here with Mjolnir.

That meant she would be forced to listen to their mindless droning a little bit longer, however.

“How much do you think it weighs?”

“How in the Hel would I know that?”

“I said think, not know.”

“Well, I know you’re a moron.”

The closer she got to her target, the more she recognized these particular soldiers as the ones who had confronted her moments before Ragnarok nearly crushed her back on Asgard, which only encouraged her on getting to Mjolnir faster.

Eventually, Thrúd found herself behind the closest debris pile. Still crouched low, she peeked her head above the pile to get a look.

There it sat.

Mjolnir lay on the ground with its handle pointing at the sky with no frost or ice clinging to its surface despite sitting in the cold since Ragnarok.

Thrúd shifted her feet in anticipation, but fought to keep her mind clear.

Alright, if I can just summon it, I can just launch myself out of here before they can even catch me . . .

Oh who am I kidding? These fuckers are dead.

Thankfully, the two Einherjar standing by had more bickering to do, so they didn’t notice Thrúd’s arm extend forward over the pile she was hiding behind, finger and thumb pinched together in preparation.

Alright dad, let’s rain Helheim on these bastards.

She snapped her fingers . . . and nothing happened.

Mjolnir didn’t so much as wobble.

Furrowing her brow in confusion, she snapped her fingers again. And again and again.

Each snap of her fingers was accompanied by a curse under her breath and an ever-growing panicked state of mind.

After one last snap, Thrúd gave up, letting her arm hang loose at her side in frustration.

Moments later, she felt something press down on her shoulder.

Turning her head to the side, she found the gloved hand of the only Einherjar bastard who wasn’t standing at attention next to her target; a large guy with a Warhammer hanging on his back.

He smiled, revealing wicked black teeth.

“My lady.”

Moments later, Thrúd found herself hurtling into the wall of the arena, letting out grunts of pain as she rolled down the hill at the opposite end of where she was spying. The two remaining Einherjar bastards stood on guard now, weapons in hand and all attention on her.

Thrúd pushed herself to her feet and took out her curved sword. The Einherjar responsible for tossing her away placed himself between her and Mjolnir, drawing out his own hammer and pointing it directly at her, spinning it in his grip. “And I suppose you’ll be wanting this lovely hammer too?”

“You suppose correctly, asshole. It belongs to me.”

The Einherjar bastard who threw her appeared to be amused by her answer. “I seem to recall you using this heirloom back in Ragnarok. Only thing was you weren’t very good at it.” He walked forward. “Are you sure your daddy would want you to use it? To tarnish its legacy like that?”

His attempt to rattle her only partially worked.

Thrúd shrugged to herself. “Oh well. I tried the quiet approach.”

Warhammer closed the distance between them and swung his hammer in an overhead arc. Thrúd dashed behind him and ignored him for the time being, focusing instead on the two soldiers closest to Mjolnir.

She slashed at the first in his stomach and kicked him into his buddy. The two of them fell to the ground in an undignified heap of limbs and clanging armor.

With Warhammer too far away to make a move and the other two sprawled on the ground, Thrúd put her sword away, leaned down, and gripped the hammer.

She raised it overhead and held it aloft. Summoning it may not have worked but holding it sure as Hel does the trick. The two soldiers she sent to the ground got up in time to see her summon lightning around her. Thrúd already possessed the ability to summon lightning around her (one of the perks of being the daughter of the god of thunder), but doing so while wielding Mjolnir itself . . . She could feel it amplifying her ability to do so with no extra effort on her end.

The three Einherjar soldiers took a few steps back, suddenly less than keen on the thought of taking on an opponent with the strength to use the hammer of legend.

“Ready to watch me tarnish his legacy, you bastard?”

Without waiting for any of them to reply, she lunged forward, swinging Mjolnir into the chest of her closest target, sending him sailing into the wall behind him. Dodging a swing from his buddy, Thrúd knocked his weapon from his hand and brought the still sparkling hammer down on his shoulder. The soldier gripped it and wailed in agony as he fell to the ground.

With bastards one and two out of the fight, that just left Warhammer, who was still standing across from her with his weapon in his grip, though his hold on it seemed much shakier than before.

For no other reason than to intimidate, Thrúd wrapped her whole self in lightning before charging forward, tackling Warhammer to the ground and riding on his breastplate as he slid on the icy surface. When he came to a stop, Thrúd gripped the head of Mjolnir with both hands, raised it overhead and with a yell she felt was worthy of a Valkyrie, she smashed it into his chest repeatedly.

With each time she pounded his armor, lightning flashed and arced and fizzled out all around, leaving an ever-familiar scent of ozone in the air.

Breastplate thoroughly dented and useless, Thrúd took in a deep breath to calm herself. Warhammer’s armor protected him from the hammer itself, but she could still hear him struggling to breathe. She was guessing his ribs were shattered in multiple spots.

Satisfied, Thrúd stood up and backed away from her victim.

Alright, Einherjar taken care of. Now, let’s get back.

Turning to face the palace, Thrúd swung her arm behind her before launching it forward, allowing the momentum to carry her through the air. Now more familiar with the sensation, she gripped the handle harder than before.

The ground shook as she took off, making it even more difficult for the first Einherjar she disposed of to find his footing than it already was due to his swimmy vision from being tossed aside like a ragdoll.

Holding his side, he looked down at his fallen comrades, still writhing from the beating they took, then to where the hammer used to reside.

“Grámtrist isn’t going to be happy about this.”

Meanwhile, it took Thrúd far less time than she thought it would take to make her way back to the palace (she made a mental note of how much power to put into her swing for the next time she chose to travel via hammer). Adjusting herself for the landing, Thrúd made sure to land feet first on the balcony, where her small audience was still waiting for her.

Sinmara stepped back in surprise and Huginn let out a “CAW” to match it.

Hoping they didn’t notice as she slightly stumbled to regain her balance, Thrúd stood upright and graced the Giantess with a smug smile.

Sinmara’s gaze traveled from the young goddess to the hammer, then back to Thrúd. “Well child, congratulations are in order I suppose.”

Thrúd gave a small salute with the hammer.

“Now only time will tell if you intend on keeping true to your word on your intentions with it.”

From the short time Thrúd has known this woman, she’s called her child numerous times, attacked her father’s legacy, nearly begin a brawl with her, and insinuated that she’d been lying about why she wants the hammer back in the first place. From where she stood, Thrúd could tell her off and feel entirely justified.

But she knew that wouldn’t exactly help smooth over her relationship with Sinmara.

Given the history that Mjolnir has with Giants, being a total smartass with another Giant might not inspire that much trust.

Instead, Thrúd simply held it at her side and let her expression soften to a genuine, thankful smile.

“Thank you for your help. Because of you, I was able to find it much faster.”

Surprised by the response, Sinmara blinked and merely nodded.

“CAW!”

“I’m not thanking you! Yes you brought me here, but she at least told me where the fucking thing was!” If ravens had the facial muscles to pout, she was sure Huginn would be doing so right now. “Just get me back to Midgard. I’ve gotta show this to Skjoldr.”

Huginn picked at his feathers one last time before flapping his wings and landing atop her shoulder.

Before he could begin to take them away in a flurry of feathers, Thrúd looked back to Sinmara. “By the way, I truly am sorry for your loss. Everyone in the nine- er, uh, eight realms have felt the impact of Ragnarok in one way or another. But . . . I hope you find peace in knowing that certain sacrifices, while hard at the time, have already begun to pay off.”

Sinmara seemed to ponder her words for a few moments before finally nodding one last time, a grateful smile crossing over her face. “Thank you, Thrúd. I will still mourn my loss, but . . . your words have brought some comfort.”

Satisfied, Thrúd nodded to the raven on her shoulder and allowed herself to be whisked away, leaving Sinmara alone on her balcony once again.

But this time, she was not flooding the realm with her sobs of anguish.

This delightful change of pace unfortunately was left unnoticed by the suffering Einherjar, who were tending their wounds to the best of their limited abilities. In a way, they felt honored; they had never gotten struck by Mjolnir until today.

But that alone had cost them dearly.

Still clutching their wounds, they froze stiff as the sounds of clinking armor grew louder.

Turning around, they each felt their breath hitch as their client walked slowly toward them. His large hulking armor giving surprisingly little resistance as he came their way.

Finally, he stood before them. His helmeted gaze looked left, then right, then back down at them.

“Where is she?”

“Th-Thrúd Thorsdottir. She . . she took the hammer. I- she, uh, I don’t know where she went.”

If any of the other two Einherjar had anything to say, it was proven irrelevant; they were dead within three swings of Grámtrist’s sword.

Chapter Text

A//N: Heyo beautiful people! I normally don’t leave author notes but I wanted to address something about this chapter. I’m taking quite a bit of liberty in the order of events that happen in the post-game sequences. In the game, Kratos tells Skjoldr that Thrúd has found Mjolnir. But here . . . well, read and find out.

And by the way, I’m very touched by the kind words, faves and follows that this story has received! If you like what you’re reading, I’d love to hear what you think! Anyway . . . *blows Gjallarhorn to commence the story*

“C’mon you beautiful piece of currency . . . HRRNNNNGGGHHHH BUUUUDDDGGGEE!”

Cold fingers and bloody fingernails gripped and clawed at the frozen chunk of stone in vain attempts of dislodging the treasure lodged in its surface. Loki had told Skjoldr of Odin’s visit to his house in Midgard before his arrival in Asgard, which had resulted in a supposedly legendary confrontation between his father and Thor.

Now that would be a sight to see! . . . From a safe distance, of course.

But the other takeaway from his friend’s story was how Kratos rejected the coin given to him by the All-Father for the damages done to his home and chucked it across the realm.

Skjoldr often saw himself as a man of opportunity. If Kratos had no use for the coin, that didn’t mean it had to go to waste.

After Thrúd stormed off to who-knows-where and the situation back at Týr’s temple had gotten mostly resolved, Skjoldr went off on a mission of his own; to find that coin. The good news was it was surprisingly easy to find because of some quick calculations based on the location of Loki’s old house.

The bad news was it was going to be very difficult to acquire after it lodged itself into the surface of this large stone in the middle of nowhere. For the past half hour, the mortal boy spent the better part of two hours trying to free it from its stone prison, but has only succeeded in gashing his knuckles and bloodying his fingertips.

“Damnit, move!”

“Need a hand?”

“Gah!”

Unprepared for the sound of Thrúd’s voice, Skjoldr’s grip slipped and he fell on his backside. Sitting up, he groaned in pain and rubbed the sore spots before chuckling ironically to himself and rising to his feet. “No thanks, I’ve got two for myself. Though I don’t know how much good they’ll be after all the abuse I just-“

His attempt at his signature dry humor died in his throat the moment his eyes landed on his friend. It was no secret that he felt something more towards the goddess and that her presence alone could leave him befuddled and speechless, but this time, he was befuddled and speechless due to what she was holding.

With a smug smile, she waved Mjolnir at him as a greeting.

Dumbly, her friend pointed at it with his jaw hanging open. “You . . . you found- er, you got, I mean . . . you found it.”

Thrúd tossed Mjolnir lightly in the air and caught it in her other hand. “I found it,” she confirmed.

“Can I hold it?”

“Do you want your arms to pop out of their sockets?”

“ . . . no.”

She snorted at the answer before strolling past him and approached the large stone. Finding the coin, Thrúd raised Mjolnir and brought it down on the rockface just above it, sending a small series of cracks down and around the protrusion. Holstering her new weapon, she gripped the coin with her thumb and finger and jiggled it out like a loose tooth before flipping it over to Skjoldr with a light ping.

“Don’t spend it all in one place.”

He held the coin toward her as if he were giving her a toast. “Let it be known that your first official act as Mjolnir’s wielder . . . wow, try saying that five times fast. Anyway, let it be known that your first generous act was helping me establish a post-Fimbulwinter currency. Assuming you didn’t stop anywhere on the way over and, like, I dunno, slew countless beasts with it?”

“Nope, the only beasts that were slew were the Einherjar bastards who were guarding this thing for some other asshole.” Skjoldr made a face. “Relax. I roughed them up. They won’t be coming back for this thing anytime soon.”

“Where did you find it, anyway?”

“Niflheim. It was in the middle of a bunch of Asgardian wreckage.”

“How did you get there?”

“CAW!”

Skjoldr covered his head with both hands as Huginn swooped over and perched himself atop the newly splintered rock. Thrúd dramatically gestured toward the raven with a roll of her eyes. “By Odin’s own method of transportation. Huginn somehow survived Ragnarok and found me on my way over to the council of the Valkyries.” The mention of her interrupted trip to the council reminded her of the reason she was heading there in the first place; to blow off steam after the incident at Týr’s temple.

Her friend must have come to the same conclusion based off how her face immediately soured.

“Hey, don’t worry about Asmund. What he said was really shitty. Anyone would have punched him after that.”

“Would you?”

“Fuck no. The guy’s huge. I wouldn’t have talked to him in the first place if you hadn’t gotten involved.”

He could tell this conversation was starting to get on her nerves. The incident still fresh in her mind, Thrúd couldn’t help but play it again over and over in her head. Yes she knew that Asmund was wrong for having took more than his share, but it was because of her inability to keep her cool that two perfectly good blankets were destroyed, leaving two innocent people without more warmth.

“Hey,” he got her attention. “You could always get back at him, y’know. All that shit he was saying about you losing the hammer? Leave it outside, stroll into the temple, snap your fingers and bing bang boom, it flies into your palm! Asmund will be all ‘whooaa Thrúd you’re so cool! I’m so sorry for all the shit I said.’ And you would go like-“

Thrúd made another face. “About that . . .”

“What?”

“Here, watch.”

Grabbing Mjolnir from her hip, Thrúd turned to face the rock from before and chucked it as hard as she could. The hammer plowed into the rock and smashed it to pieces with a deafening combination of cracks and booms. Huginn cawed in protest as his current resting spot fell from underneath him, forcing him to fly and find a new one nearby.

Unprepared for the impromptu demonstration, Skjoldr hopped backwards and covered his ears, catching himself on his feet as to not fall on his backside again.

Thrúd on the other hand looked unaffected by it. She turned to face him. “When I’m holding it, I can feel it amplify my abilities. My lightning is stronger, I can jump super fucking far if I use its momentum to carry me, I can obviously throw it really well. But-“ she held up a finger, informing him that her showcase was not yet completed.

Turning back to the hammer, which was now resting in the pile of rubble it had just created, Thrúd snapped her fingers in another genuine attempt to summon the stubborn piece of equipment.

Once again, Mjolnir didn’t so much as move in the breeze.

Skjoldr quirked an eyebrow. “Huh,” his hands dropped from his ears.

“Yeah,” she huffed as she walked over to pick it back up. “Huh.”

“So . . . you can do all this other cool stuff, but you can’t summon it back to you? Honestly that doesn’t sound so bad to me. Just, you know. Don’t misplace it. Ever.”

“Ugh, you don’t get it,” Thrúd griped. “With my dad gone along with Magni and Modi, I’m the one responsible for carrying on its and his legacy. I have to be able to do everything he could do, and then some! That’s the only way I will be able to keep him alive.”

Skjoldr approached his friend slowly. “I know you just got it back and all, but have you talked to anyone about this? What about Lady Sif?”

She waved away the recommendation. “Mom’s got enough on her plate in Vanaheim. Besides,” she shrugged, “she’s never so much as touched this thing. I doubt there’s anything that she could tell me about it.”

“What about the Valkyries? They’ve gotta know something about using it.”

Thrúd shook her head. “Doubt it. No one’s handled Mjolnir besides dad.”

Skjoldr appeared to think that statement over for a moment. After nearly a minute of tapping his finger to his chin, he asked, “When you say no one, do you mean ‘no one’ no one?”

“Ask one more stupid question, and I’ll drop this on your skull and we’ll see how many times it takes until I can summon it back.”

Skjoldr held his hands up defensively. “All I’m saying is that since no one else has used it before, then doesn’t that mean Thor had to learn how to use it by himself?”

Thrúd thought about this for a moment.

“And if he didn’t have anyone to teach him about all the cool shit this thing could do, then that has to mean he learned it all himself. And hey, if he could do it, why can’t you?”

The daughter of Thor hadn’t ever considered that angle. While she was growing up, her dad had already established himself as Mjolnir’s sole wielder and master. Yes the details behind it all were bloody, but he had the reputation nonetheless. Thrúd couldn’t even possibly picture a time when her dad had no clue how to use it.

Maybe when he was drunk off his massive ass he struggled with it a bit, but even then he still had the basics down.

But Skjoldr had just now opened Thrúd’s mind to the reality that her dad had to have some sort of trial-and-error period with it. And he was right; no one was there who had used it previously. No one told him what was the right way or wrong way to use it. If her dad could figure it out, there was no reason why she couldn’t either.

“Skjoldr.”

“Yeah?

“It may not be that often, but every once in a while, you can make a lot of sense.”

Skjoldr snorted and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah well, that’s what I keep trying to tell others.”

“To Hel with ‘others’. How about you tell me what you’re planning on doing with that coin, there.”

He held out the coin. “Oh, what, this? I’m straight up stealing it,” he said with a smile, unable to keep his face straight. “And, uh, I don’t want to alarm you or anything, but I kind of just made you an accomplice.”

“Wow, watch out Midgard, we’ve got a new Odin to worry about,” she punched his arm playfully.

Laughing off the pain (like, seriously, ow), Skjoldr regained his composure. “But honestly, I’m not sure. There’s gotta be someone around here who puts value in it still, right? And I’ve been getting this idea, too. You know that big statue of Týr on top of his temple and how it’s all busted up?” Thrúd nodded. “Well, with Odin gone, wouldn’t it be cool if that were repaired? Y’know, have it be this symbol of Odin’s influence going away for good? And honestly, why stop there? I’ve found lots of places inside the temple that could use some renovating. I could use this as payment. Right? Or is that too cheap? I’m honestly not sure how much this is worth anymore . . .”

“Slow down,” Thrúd instructed. “It’s still Fimbulwinter. There’s plenty of other shit to worry about before anything that big.”

“Yeah, yeah I guess you’re right. My first thought was to get some dwarves involved. They’re really resourceful, y’know? But from what I’ve heard, Svartalfheim is significantly warmer than Midgard. At least at the moment it is. Not that they’d be too picky about the weather, I just thought that maybe there’d be a few who aren’t too used to it. I mean, it’s cold here. Well, no shit it’s cold, but I mean . . . It’s cold, you know?”

Thrúd had stopped listening after the word ‘dwarves’.

Not out of indifference or lack of interest; she was more than used to the mortal boy’s ramblings by this point. But this time, his rambling had given her an idea.

Here she was, Mjolnir now in her possession, without a clue of what to do with it next. She almost laughed at how obvious the answer was.

What realm has gotten hit by Odin’s presence and his occupation the most? Sure Vanaheim is a strong contender, but mom and Hildisvíni are handling things there. Muspelheim or Niflheim? Barely anything or anyone there in the first place to make a heroic visit worthwhile. Helheim is just full of dead guys. Nothing to do in Alfheim. Jotunheim? Even if I had a way to get there, it might be a bit too early to bring Mjolnir there of all places. Midgard? As far as she knew, Kratos, Lady Freya, Mimir, Hel even Skjoldr have it fairly under control.

Svartalfheim though . . .

A land of oppressed workers constantly taken advantage of and living under the ever-lingering presence of the All-Father and his swift retribution for even remotely stepping out of line? A realm that’s no stranger to her father’s hammer?

That seems like a good spot to start wiping the slate clean.

Skjoldr must have noticed her attention slip elsewhere because he stopped his rambling and quirked an eyebrow at his friend, who looked like she had just had the most amazing idea dawn on her. Which it had.

“Uh . . . Thrúd? You still there?”

In lieu of a response, Thrúd holstered Mjolnir once again and quickly headed back to where she had originally come from.

“Where are you going?” Skjoldr asked, caught off guard by her sudden departure.

Thrúd got Huginn’s attention with a whistle. “Svartalfheim.”

“Svartalfheim?” Skjoldr repeated incredulously, thinking that was the response to his question. “Wa-wait. I was only, like, halfway kidding about that army of dwarves thing and having them fix up the temple. Besides, didn’t you just-“

“This isn’t about that.” Thrúd interrupted as Huginn began to fly around her, summoning his army of fellow ravens to sequester her off. “This is about setting some things right. I’ll see you later!”

Skjoldr wasn’t able to even say goodbye before she completely vanished behind the curtain of ravens, and even less time to process what had happened by the time the last one flew away. All that was left in the area was himself, a shattered rock, and a coin that he now had no clue what to do with.

“I’ll, uh, just see you soon, I guess.”

Thrúd wasn’t able to hear his goodbye. The only things she was aware of were the countless birds surrounding her, Mjolnir at her hip and the growing adrenaline at the prospect of having a sense of direction with her self-appointed mission; to not have the realms be afraid whenever they see this hammer.

That self-appointed mission instantly got to a bad start as soon as the ravens vanished from sight.

There she was: the daughter of Thor with Mjolnir in her possession, appearing out of thin air smack dab in the center of what appeared to be a dwarven town square. A town square that was full of dwarves who appeared to be having some sort of celebration. Confetti littered the street, steins of mead and various other forms of alcohol were held in the hands of nearly every citizen she could see, and musical notes awkwardly squeaked out of their instruments as they came to a sudden halt.

Looking all around her and instantly feeling out of place, Thrúd raised a hand and attempted a smile.

“Hey.”

Screams bellowed out. Steins shattered on the ground. Dwarves ran all around. The entire square was cleared of all life, save for Thrúd and Huginn, in no less than ten seconds.

Eyes wide as saucers and embarrassed beyond her original imagined capacity, Thrúd let out a long, awkward whistle as she came to terms with what she had done.

“Well. That could have gone better.”

“RAWK! CAW!”

“Shut up. You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” She thought for a moment. “OK, I guess I did this to myself, technically. Showing up to Svartalfheim on a whim, no real direction . . . Gotta work on thinking this shit through.”

Turning down the road, Thrúd began walking down the street, searching for any dwarves who hadn’t run off too far. She couldn’t go more than five steps at a time without accidentally kicking broken glass or dropped pieces of meat. Either they dropped all of these in the panic resulting from her arrival, or these dwarves were throwing a Hel of a party.

I wonder what for? She thought to herself.

She continued down the street until she reached an intersection. Turning left, she found a quaint residential area. A tiny housing development with roofs that barely even cleared her head. Thrúd had assumed that a race of smaller people wouldn’t require large living quarters, but this was damn near adorable.

Looking the other way, she found her answer for the party.

She found herself in the center of another square, this one surrounded by kiosks and carts with a plethora of weapons and tools displayed at each. All of this was atop a small hill that led to a dock stationed at the harbor. A harbor, Thrúd added, with the most breathtakingly blue water she had ever seen.

But the biggest thing that she couldn’t help but take notice of was the enormous statue of her now-deceased grandfather in the dead center of the square. Standing tall and proud, this depiction of Odin had his scepter clutched tight in both hands to his front side with his (literally) chiseled chin pointed upward.

If Thrúd hadn’t known better, she’d figure that this grand statue was erected by a people who adored and respected their ruler. But in all likelihood, Odin more than likely forced them to make it. ‘To remind them who’s in charge,’ he might have said.

She couldn’t help but crack a smile as she walked around to get the full view of it; sloppily painted obscenities adorned his cloak, the base of the statue was littered with wasted food and stunk of alcohol and vomit. At this point, it didn’t require the Norns to tell her that the dwarves were celebrating the death of Odin and their liberation from his rule.

It also didn’t take the smartest man alive to determine that her arrival had soured their festivities due to her Aesir godly status.

Hearing a shuffle of movement behind her, Thrúd turned around, hoping to find a dwarf who was brave enough to stick around and survey the area. She was disappointed to find that it was only Huginn having found a spot on the ground that was adorned with scraps of food. Thrúd curled her lip in disgust at the sight of the raven eating already partially eaten food from the ground.

Instead, the Aesir goddess attempted a more diplomatic approach after having barged in on the festivities.

“Hello?” She called out. “Uh, sorry for scaring you. I know you weren’t expecting a visitor. But don’t worry! I’m not here to hurt any of you! Actually, I’m here to help! Now exactly what it is or who it is I’m supposed to be helping I’m not all that sure of,” she added under her breath. “But hey! Don’t stop partying on my account! Come on back out! Drink! Eat! Dance! Do whatever else it is you guys do! I’m happy the old bastard is gone too, actually!”

As she feared, her first method of persuasion was ineffective. No one came back out.

Her embarrassment gnawing at her conscience, Thrúd was mere seconds away from giving Huginn the order to take her back home to reevaluate her strategy. But before she could so much as look back to where he was snacking, another noise drifted toward her.

Coming from one of the carts selling food next to the curb, she could hear a rattling sound coming from the other side of it.

Thrúd wasted no time in walking over and peeking her head over to see what was creating the noise. She found a dwarf lying on his back behind it, dressed in a vibrantly colored tunic which was covered by an apron that was freshly decorated with an assortment of sauces and alcohol stains. Clumsily, he pushed himself backwards to get away from her, holding out his spatula in a threatening gesture.

“S-Stay away, please!” He stuttered. “We don’t want no trouble!”

Thrúd shook her head. “And I’m not here to bring it. My name is Thrúd Thorsdottir. What’s yours?” She attempted to calm him down, but only succeeded in making him panic even further.

“Thor’s daughter?! Here?! Shit,” he cursed under his breath. “You here to lay waste to the realm out of spite for the loss of your old man and grandpa, is that it?”

“What? No, no no no no no. You have it all wrong. Honestly, I’m glad he’s gone too! Odin, I mean.”

The dwarf rose unsteadily to his feet and backed himself to the wall of the closest building behind him. “Glad Odin’s gone? Ha. Sure you are. Glad to be rid of his cozy realm and his godly lapdogs to wait on ya at a moment’s notice? Yeah right.”

Sensing his growing agitation, Thrúd held her arms out in front of her in a placating gesture, but it did nothing to comfort the now panicking dwarf. Screaming, he turned around and began banging on the nearest door. “Hildé! Hildé! Open the door you damned shrew!”

“Fuck off, Bimfur! Have some decency and let her kill you! Maybe she’ll leave the rest of us alone.”

“I swear, if I survive this, I’m revoking your membership to my shop!”

Her patience thoroughly drained, Thrúd approached Bimfur, spun him around and pinned him to the wall by his shoulders. This did nothing to ease his panic, but Thrúd was beyond caring about that at this point.

“Listen! I’m not here to hurt any of you. Trust me, if that’s what I was here to do, I would’ve done it by now.” Bimfur looked down and found Mjolnir at her waist. He realized that if her intent were less than civil, the hammer would be in her hand the moment she got here.

“Then . . .” he breathed slowly, calming down. “Why are you here?”

Thrúd released her grip. “I’m here to help.”

“You’re here to . . . help,” he repeated lamely.

“Yup.”

“ . . . with what exactly?”

“Anything, really,” Thrúd stepped back and looked around the deserted square. “I don’t exactly know what to help with, but I figured that I could ask around and see who needed a hand. I’m a Shield Maiden in training and could use the experience, honestly.” Thrúd was hoping to avoid divulging any personal information, but seeing as how the dwarf before her was borderline unresponsive before, she figured a bone needed to be thrown.

Bimfur finally found the courage to step away from the wall and began approaching Thrúd, though the panic that was visible on his face was replaced with skepticism.

“So let me get this straight. Your drunk asshole da finally kicks it, you steal his hammer, and the first thing you think to do is offer some uninvited assistance?”

Anger flared inside her at the mention of her dad by someone who wasn’t there to witness what happened, but she held her tongue. Lashing out at a person she was trying to calm isn’t the best strategy when it comes to diplomacy.

“Well, I was hoping I could talk to someone, but I sort of, you know, scared everyone off as soon as I got here.”

“Sort of?!” Came the irate voice of Hildé from inside the building. After a moment of several locks being unlocked, the door swung open, revealing another portly dwarf. “And is there any reason as to why that would be, missy?” She accused, stepping out onto the curb and approaching Thrúd. “In our experience, a swarm of ravens swirling by meant the arrival of the All-Father himself. So forgive us for bein’ a little cautious. ‘Specially when we’re celebrating him passing and all. So here you come in that same fuckin’ feathery whirlwind, wielding Mjolnir of all things,” she gestured to the hammer, “and just expect us to welcome you and beg for your services?”

“Well, I could have worked on my approach, but somebody felt the need to be funny and dropped me off in the middle of your party.”

“CAW!”

Thrúd still couldn’t understand his cawing as well as Odin or her dad could, but she had a feeling that particular one roughly translated out to ‘well you said you wanted to come here! This is what you get for the short notice.’

. . . Shit, that actually is a good point. I didn’t think this through.

“I’ve got something she can do!” Came a voice from behind. Turning around, Thrúd found a few more dwarves coming out of their hiding spots as soon as they decided she wasn’t here to harm them. “She can some on over here and lick the mud off me boots!” The crude joke elicited a small wave of unsure laughter from the gathering crowd.

“Then when she’s done with you, she can come and clean out my shitter!” Another wave of laughter. This one bigger than the last. The rude requests kept coming until they were unintelligible from the roaring laughter of the now reconvened crowd of dwarves.

Embarrassment and anger fluctuated in a constant loop inside Thrúd’s gut. She had anticipated at least a little resistance, seeing as how the Aesir had never exactly treated the dwarves well in the past. But this? She’d rather fight a troll with no weapons than deal with this.

Odin was finally dead, but their fear of the Aesir was still present. Thrúd unintentionally became their punching bag by merely popping in for a visit.

Refusing to give them the satisfaction of showing how their words and laughter are affecting her, Thrúd looked around, taking advantage of her height over the dwarves to search for something, anything, that could serve as a distraction for them.

Her eyes landed on the massive statue of Odin.

Embarrassment replaced with drive, Thrúd darted towards it and hopped onto the base, landing by his cloaked feet. Turning around, Thrúd faced the mob and took out Mjolnir, holding it proudly over her head. The laughing immediately ceased. A few dwarves cowered in fright, but the majority of them waited in anticipation to see what she was going to do with the legendary hammer.

They think I’m just some Aesir bimbo, huh? Just watch.

“Hear me, assholes!” Her voice echoed. “I’m Thrúd, proud daughter of Thor! The god of thunder!” She ignored the voice from the crowd who shouted ‘we know who the fuck he is!’

“Yes the All-Father was my grandfather, but I have no love for him! No respect for him and all the terrible things he’s done! By right, this hammer is now mine. Mine to do with as I see fit. And right now, this is what I wish to do!”

Gripping the handle with both hands, Thrúd swung Mjolnir at the statue like a bat, taking out a chunk of stone with surprising ease. A gasp and some curses surged from her audience, most of them covering their ears from the loud cracking noise it produced.

But Thrúd wasn’t done.

Both hands still gripping the handle until her knuckles were white, Thrúd continued to swing the hammer at the leg of her grandfather’s statue, taking out more and more chunks of stone with each hit. Sweat began to drip down her forehead from the exertion, but fatigue was a solid alternative to the public humiliation from mere moments ago.

Too preoccupied with her impromptu demolition project, Thrúd didn’t notice the unease spreading through the crowd who were able to see what Thrúd couldn’t see. With less and less support, stress cracks began to form throughout the rest of the statue and it began to list dangerously to its side.

Sensing the danger, Huginn flew over and flapped his wings next to her face to grab her attention, cawing obnoxiously as he did so.

Thrúd merely waved her hand at the raven and swatted him away. The only thing that was able to grab her attention was the loud cracking and popping coming from the statue.

Freezing mid-swing, Thrúd looked up and watched as the statue began to tip over her.

“Shit!”

Abandoning her now-successful mission, Thrúd leapt clear of the oncoming statue and rolled to a halt at the front of the dwarven crowd. All watched in horror as the massive statue of Odin fell to the side and plunged into the closest building, sending up a plume of dust and brick and wood. Odin’s statue came to a rest on its side, cracked and broken in multiple places with the head and shoulders lodged inside some poor dwarf’s place of business.

Unsteadily, Thrúd rose to her feet, placing Mjolnir back at her hip, assessing the damage that she had just caused. At least, that’s what she was telling herself. She knew that the fact of the matter was that she couldn’t bring herself to turn around and face the dwarves.

Unluckily for her, she didn’t have to. Hildé strolled up next to her, arms crossed over her chest, eyes also on the ruins before them.

“Well what d’ya know,” she drawled. “Odin may be gone, but in the end, that don’t mean nothin’. Another Aesir will just pop out of nowhere and still cause us problems. No matter what.”

Thrúd shook her head, attempting to find the words to make this better. “I . . . I didn’t mean- all I wanted-“

“You still wanna help us?” Hildé interrupted. “Pack up your almighty pride and get the fuck outta here!”

The crowd roared their agreement.

Not giving them the chance to do anything more, Thrúd swung Mjolnir forward and let the momentum carry her away from the town at breakneck speeds. But despite her speedy getaway and the fact that the town was well behind her now, Hildé’s final words reached her ears as if she were still standing next to her.

“Odin and your da ain’t the only ones who shoulda died at Ragnarok!”

Chapter Text

Growing up in Asgard came with a surprising amount of responsibility. Thrúd was taught from a fairly young age to never show vulnerability around anyone, even her own parents (though Thor was a little more lenient on that subject than Sif was, at least when he was sober). She was Aesir. And it was her duty to act like one at all times.

That meant no sulking, no outward expressions of shame or doubt, and absolutely no displays of weakness as long as she lived in Asgard.

Well, she thought, Asgard doesn’t exist anymore.

Besides, those rules only really applied to when other people were around her. Surely no one would care if she did all of those things completely alone.

That was her current situation.

After she effectively disturbed the peace, caused a mass panic, destroyed a good chunk of public property and was publicly ridiculed, Thrúd wasn’t proud to say that she ran away like a coward. But that’s exactly what she did. No amount of pleading or convincing was going to change the minds of that mob, she knew this.

But that logic still didn’t stop the shame from washing over her like a massive tidal wave.

So here she was, sitting with her arms hugging her knees, burying her face into them with Mjolnir set not five feet away from her, its handle pointing away as it sat. With her massive leap, Thrúd fled the city and found herself in a mini archipelago, but the presence of the dwarves was still felt. With all the waterwheels and counterweights and other crazy contraptions they have created over here to utilize the natural flow of the surrounding water, it was hard to not think about how flawlessly she had offended them by her arrival.

Thrúd lost track of time once she found a good place to sulk. Whether she was sitting here for an hour or a half a day, she wasn’t entirely sure. All she was aware of were the negative thoughts swimming through her head.

Dad’s gone.

Mom’s busy.

I found Mjolnir but I have yet to do a single useful thing with it.

“CAW!”

This fucking bird won’t leave me alone.

And with dad dead, there’s no one in the realms to teach me how to use this stupid thing.

Peeking up over her knees, Thrúd found the hammer in question right where she left it. Another pang of shame came over her like a storm cloud at the prospect of not knowing how to effectively use the tool her dad could operate in his sleep.

Still, Skjoldr’s advice was fairly sound. If Thor could figure it out, why couldn’t she?

Thrúd shrugged to herself as she released her grip of one of her arms and raised it toward Mjolnir.

I’ve got all this other shit bothering me. What’s one more log on the fire?

She snapped her fingers, and nothing happened.

Oh well, what the fuck does Skjoldr know anyway? He’s never so much as lifted a normal hammer.

“Feeling alright there, lil lady?

Thrúd jumped at the new voice. First, she looked up at the rock she was leaning against and found Huginn looking down at her. Deducing that the voice didn’t come from him, Thrúd continued her brief search until she found yet another dwarf. A female dwarf with a long dress, a work apron with countless pouches, and a kind, chubby face. In her arms was a crate of who-knows-what that she was just about stack on top of another crate.

She wasn’t sure how she hadn’t noticed a blacksmith’s shop only a few yards away to her side, let alone one with someone inside.

Unsure as to whether or not there were tears in her eyes, Thrúd chose to not take the chance of letting this stranger see her like this and wiped them anyway before rising clumsily to her feet.

“Sorry, ma’am. Didn’t mean to disturb you or anything. I’ll be out of here in just a-“

“Aw, no worries there, darlin’! You ain’t disturbing nobody.” She finally set down that crate and looked back over to Thrúd. Then her eyes went noticeably wider. “Say . . .” She pointed a finger. “Is that-?”

“Yup.” Thrúd gestured to Mjolnir with an underwhelming wave of her arm. “That’s it. That’s Mjolnir.”

Not showing any signs of noticing Thrúd’s lack of enthusiasm, the dwarf left the tent she had pitched and walked over to the weapon in what seemed to be a total state of awe. “Well I’ll be,” she breathed out, walking all around the hammer, inspecting every angle she could from its dormant position. “I haven’t laid eyes on this relic in, well, I can’t remember when!”

That took Thrúd by surprise. “You’ve seen Mjolnir in person before?”

“Seen it in person?” She chuckled. “Lil lady, I’m drinkin’ buddies with the ones who made it . . . er, well, used to be anyway.” Her demeanor suddenly shifted, having gone from bubbly to somber in a millisecond.

But before Thrúd could question what was wrong, the dwarf bent down and lifted the hammer out of the sand, holding it to her face for a closer look at its intricacies. Thrúd, on the other hand, was stunned to silence. Never, ever had she seen anybody lift her dad’s hammer besides her dad himself and Odin on the rare occasion. But here was this random dwarven lady, lifting it up and twisting it this way and that with a critical eye.

“Shoot, I can’t believe how well the balance has held up! And all the details and markings not even fading a little, what with all the use your daddy has gotten out of it.” Thrúd knew what the dwarf was implying, but there was no judgement in her tone. It was purely observation.

But still, anyone other than an Aesir holding this hammer . . .

“How- how did you-“ Thrúd tried to ask, unable to find the words.

The dwarf looked over to Thrúd, then to the weapon in her hands, then let out an amused laugh. “Oh c’mon, now! Dwarves made Mjolnir! We gotta be able to hold what we’re working on, don’t we?”

“I, uh, I guess.”

“Oh but look at me! Goin’ on and on about this little trinket. Haven’t even introduced myself.” She thrusted out her stubby, gloved hand after setting the hammer down. “Lúnda.”

Thrúd took it apprehensively. “Thrúd Thorsdottir.”

“Shucks, I know who you are. Tattoos, wild red hair, Mjolnir, it wasn’t hard to figure.” Thrúd was thankful that that was the way this dwarf knew of her and not by the demonstration in town she had just run away from. “Now, uh, why’re you all the way out here?”

Shit.

Thrúd must have made a face that gave her away due to Lúnda’s quirked eyebrow. “Well,” she started, “I actually was in town first. Just right over there.”

“Oh! Right in Nidavellir. Stop by for the festivities, didja?” Thrúd wasn’t sure how to exactly answer that, but thankfully she didn’t have to. Lúnda gasped in embarrassment. “Oh shoot, I shouldn’ta gone and said it like that, seein’ as how it’s a denouncement of Odin and the Aesir and such. I’m sorry, lil lady. Didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

“No, no,” Thrúd waved her hand, shooing away the concern. “I’m glad Odin’s gone too. No, I came over here to see if there was anything I could . . . I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I found dad’s hammer after it went missing during Ragnarok, then I came straight to Svartalfheim to see if I could make a name for myself like how dad did. Except, you know, not in that way.”

“Well I mighty appreciate that.”

“Anyway, I ended up in town because somebody thought it’d be funny to throw me right in the center of a party unannounced. It . . . didn’t go well.”

“Aww, I’m sorry to hear that, darlin’. People from ‘round here are still a little shy around outsiders. ‘Specially Asgardian outsiders. Don’t take it too hard.”

Too late for that.

Frantically looking for a means to change the subject, Thrúd laid her eyes on the makeshift shop that Lúnda had just set up. “Well what about you? What are you doing out here? I’m assuming you hated Odin as much as any other dwarf. Why aren’t you at the party.”

Lúnda’s solemn expression returned. “I, uh,” she scratched the back of her neck. “Got back from a funeral for a friend. Good friend o’ mine.” She swallowed. “Not really in the partyin’ mood, y’know?”

Thrúd saw that this subject was upsetting her. “No arguments there. But still. Setting up shop around here, away from the city? I doubt you’d get very many customers out here.”

Lúnda winked at her. “You’d be surprised. I’m the first stop shop for a certain tall, pale drink o’ water and one vixen of a goddess. They make their way aaaaallllllll over the realms, usin’ weapons, breakin’ those weapons, usin’ armor I made them, breakin’ the armor I made them. I found it beneficial to set up wherever I can for customer convenience. I’ve heard tell that they make their way ‘round these parts on more than one occasion.”

While listening to the dwarf’s explanation, Thrúd looked inside the shop and found it surprisingly barren. The tent was pitched and the worktable was set up, but the tools seemed to be missing. Looking to the side, Thrúd found more crates that appeared to be filled.

“You, uh, want a hand unpacking, Lúnda?”

The dwarf let out a breath and placed a hand over her chest. “You’d help out lil ole me? Well I’d be touched! C’mere! I’ll show ya what needs the most attention.

Thankful for the distraction from her negative thoughts, Thrúd followed the plump dwarf over to the shop. “See these here boxes?” Lúnda gestured to the pile. “These go on the inside. Just bring them in and open em up and I’ll find their home.”

Thrúd nodded in understanding. Leaning forward, she picked up the first three crates available to her with ease . . . then nearly dropped them all on the sandy ground at the loud barking that came after she lifted them. Behind the pile was a dog, a very round dog with brown fur and a wrinkly face that was tied to a stake in the ground.

Lúnda laughed. “Oh Helka, you be nice now!” She lightly chastised. “Thrúd here is givin’ me a hand.” She turned her attention back to the goddess. “Don’t you worry about her. She’s mighty friendly. Though I want to keep her tied up until we get everything sorted out here.”

Remembering what happened last time she released a dog from its bindings, Thrúd was in no hurry to untie this one.

With her strength, it didn’t take long for Thrúd to transport the boxes to Lúnda’s preferred spots. After only three other trips, all the boxes were inside the tent, and after another twenty minutes, the boxes were opened and their contents appropriately dispersed. If she were honest with herself, Thrúd was hoping that her first time helping a local to the realm would be a little more adventurous and dangerous, but if helping this kind dwarf unpack her belongings was a steppingstone to making a name for herself, then she’d gladly put up with it.

The final box officially empty, Thrúd dusted off her hands before resting them on her hips. Looking around with satisfaction, she called out to the dwarf who stepped around the corner. “Hey Lúnda! Is this how you want it?”

Lúnda didn’t answer. Rather, she let out a slew of very unique curses.

“Oh slap a dreki and ride it sideways!”

At least, she thought they were curses, given her irritated tone.

“Is . . . everything OK? Did I put something where it shouldn’t be?”

Lúnda stepped back into the tent. “No, no, you’ve done nothing but help. I just realized that I don’t have enough Dwarven Steel to repay ya. Here I was, all ready to give ya a lil touch up on them fancy weapons o’ yours as thanks and I don’t have enough. Runnin’ outta Dwarven Steel in Svartalfheim, aint that just the way?”

Thrúd attempted to wave off the kind gesture. “Oh, you don’t have to do anything like that,” she laughed awkwardly, not used to this amount of forwardness coming from a single person. “I’m just happy to help.”

“And that makes me about ready to bust with joy, lil lady! But I can’t have ya helping me without some sort of compensation. But I ain’t prepared for a trip to the core, not after just setting up, at least. I wonder if I’ve got something else in here for ya . . .?”

“The core?” Thrúd raised an eyebrow.

“The apple core. Just a lil nickname we gave one of our old mining sites in the mountains over there. Nobody’s mined in there for a real long time though, on account of Odin redirecting our work elsewhere. All that time away has let all sorts of animals and creatures and what have ya make it their home. Ain’t nobody wantin’ to go back in there ‘less they really have to.”

Thrúd turned to look in the direction of the mountain that the dwarf pointed to. It was hard to make out from this distance, but she was able to see tiny entrances to shafts and a system of troughs snaking their way around the site.

Lúnda continued. “Well, seein’ as how I owe ya one and I need the steel anyway, I’ll just take that trip to-“

“I’ll do it.”

Lúnda’s eyes widened. “You’ll wha?”

“I’ll go. You said it’s full of monsters, right? What kind are we talking? Ogres? Trolls?”

Lúnda thought for a moment. “Well, it’s been a while since I’ve been there myself, so I can’t say fer certain. But . . . I’d say the occasional wretch and such would be a safe bet.”

Thrúd smiled at the answer. “Perfect. I’ll go and clear out the mines, and I’ll find some steel for you to use!”

For a moment, Lúnda looked unsure. One hand leaned down on the table while the other came up thoughtfully to her chin. “Well . . .” she trailed off, still unsure.

“C’mon, Lúnda,” the young goddess pleaded. “I’ll take out whatever’s in there and get you your materials. It’s a win-win!”

Lúnda contemplated the offer for a few moments more before she slapped the tabletop with her hand, her mind now made up. “Ah Hel. Why do I have to be such a softy?” She picked up a hammer hanging from the wall and pointed it at Thrúd. “First ya come over to my shop and help me set up, then you offer to get some supplies? Lil lady, you’re quickly climbing the ladder of my favorite gods! You find me what I need . . . and I’ll see if I can touch that bad boy up,” she said, gesturing to Mjolnir.

Walking over to one of the chests that was moved into the tent, Lúnda took out a lump of rock and held it out to Thrúd. “This here is what you’re gonna be lookin’ for. Bring me back a few handfuls of these bad boys and I’ll be able to turn them into a thing o’ beauty!”

Thrúd nodded excitedly despite not understanding how this dwarf could craft steel from slabs of rock. But if what she’s heard of dwarves is true, then she could turn that hunk of rock into steel no problem.

Unable to keep the smile off her face at the thought of finally using her skills to demonstrate her lack of respect towards her deceased grandfather, she turned on her heels and walked her way over to the shore in the direction of the apple core, Mjolnir tight in her grasp. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Just you wait.”

“CAW!”

“No you don’t!” Thrúd pointed at Huginn. “You’ll probably just teleport me in the middle of an ogre feeding frenzy or some shit like that. You wait here.”

If ravens were capable of scowling, she was positive one would be sent her way.

Behind her, she could hear Lúnda walk over. “Here, I’ll set up the gondola for ya!”

“No thanks,” Thrúd waved off the offer, picking up Mjolnir. “I’ve got my own ride.”

Taking a few steps back, Thrúd leapt forward and used the hammer to propel her toward her destination, leaving behind a charred pit of sand as well as the blacksmith and raven behind. The two of them exchanged an awkward glance.

“So . . . you must be who everyone’s been ravin’ about.”

Huginn’s head twitched.

“Sorry, bad joke. Anyway, you hungry, lil fella? You’re looking a bit,” she smiled, “peckish.”

“CAW!”

The daughter of Thor couldn’t hear their one-sided conversation. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to focus on anything anyone else had to say to her with this new sense of direction overwhelming her senses.

Lúnda had just given her exactly what she was looking for; a chance to prove herself useful and to make a new story for her dad’s hammer. She’d be damned if she were to pass that up.

Having gotten used to the sensation of soaring through the air with Mjolnir guiding her, Thrúd easily landed on the island which sported the mountain in question. Skidding to a halt on the sand and allowing the sparks to dissipate from the hammer, Thrúd looked up and got a better sense of her new surroundings.

Thrúd had always hear stories of the dwarves and their resourcefulness, but never in her wildest imagination had she ever pictured them capable of creating something at this scale. Large cranes, reaching anywhere from one to three hundred feet in the air held on to large platforms and boulders with rope as thick as her dad’s arms. Catwalks big enough only for dwarves to walk across crisscrossed amongst each other in a complex spiderweb-like system. All of this was built inside of a pit, almost like a bowl, with a large lake resting at the bottom.

Across the lake was the side of the mountain that, according to Lúnda, was home of the apple core. Now that she was closer, she was able to see more openings in it, over half of them with chutes and troughs slithering out and dumping water into the lake waiting to be used again.

Upon closer inspection, Thrúd was unable to see any outward signs of an infestation of creatures of any kind. Looks like they’re all inside, she thought.

During her brief flight over here, she had secretly hoped that Lúnda was wrong about the creatures only inhabiting the inside of the mine and that they would be crawling about the moment she landed, waiting for a hammer to smash their skulls in. Sadly, that appeared to not be the case.

Letting the hammer rest at her hip, Thrúd began to walk closer to the mining site. Soon, she found herself in the shadows of the massive cranes and amongst the abandoned piles of rocks and boulders, none of which fit the description of the kind of rock that Lúnda required. Picking one up, Thrúd tossed it up and down in her hand a few times before throwing it as hard as she could into the pit and into the water below.

She wasted no time in picking up another rock and chucking it even farther.

A smile spread across her face as she lifted another rock with one hand and Mjolnir with the other. Lobbing the rock straight up, Thrúd took the handle of the hammer in both hands and swung as the rock came back down, shattering it into countless pieces and showering her in dust and sharp pebbles.

Hey, just because Odin never let dad have any fun doesn’t mean I have to be bored on my missions.

Satiated for the moment, Thrúd put the hammer away and continued toward the mountain. Climbing stairs and ladders as she came across them, the daughter of Thor eventually found herself on what appeared to be a loading deck of some kind. Tracks led uphill and into the mountainside, no doubt leading to the mines inside.

In Asgard, Thrúd had seen the kinds of buildings that the engineers and architects were able to make along with a few useful contraptions that made daily life more convenient, but she couldn’t even begin to fathom the amount of thought and effort put into this method of transportation. There was no car waiting for her to give her a ride, but she could tell one was supposed to be waiting here to bring workers to their sites. Where it was, however, she couldn’t tell. More than likely stuck inside, not having moved since these mines were abandoned however long ago.

Stepping onto the tracks, Thrúd did her best to balance on them as she walked across them up to the mountain, avoiding the water that flowed underneath.

They must have used the water to propel the cars forward. Shit, these guys thought of everything.

As she continued the awkward ascent up into the mountain while balancing on the tracks, Thrúd checked to make sure her weapons were properly fastened, not wishing to drop them and having to jump off to find them.

Confirming their security, Thrúd marched on until she was bathed in the darkness of the mountain. The light from the outside was a passable source for a while longer, allowing Thrúd to stumble her way along the track, only occasionally slipping into the center and drenching her boots in the water.

Ignoring the unpleasant sensation seeping into her feet, Thrúd continued into the darkness until she finally found a different source of light up ahead. She tried not to let the oncoming incline dissuade her from continuing, however.

With a frustrated sigh, Thrúd hung her head low, allowing her wild hair to fall around her face and shook her head. “Shit, this sucks.”

She took back her curse when she looked back up at the top of the incline.

At the top, she found a wooden car with an opening in the back to allow dwarves inside. The very thing that could be giving her a smooth ride inside to the apple core if it wasn’t caught in the greenish-yellow growths sprouting directly underneath the tracks, effectively chocking the wheels in place.

At the very least, I can break that thing free and ride it the rest of the way.

With her second wind blowing over her, Thrúd ascended the incline until she was able to reach the loading platform on the backside of the car. Gripping it and hoisting herself inside, she took this opportunity to catch her breath while sitting on one of the provided benches.

Before she was able to get too comfortable, a noise reached her ears, causing her to perk back up.

It was a growl. Not from her hungry stomach, but from some creature that apparently shared this tunnel with her. Getting up from her seat, Thrúd walked over to the front window to take a peek.

On the other side was a decline with a wulver waiting at the bottom, feasting on the carcass of some discernable animal. After looking at the blockage underneath the car and back to the beast below her, it took no time for a smile to creep across her face as a new idea began to sprout.

Taking her curved blade out from behind her waist, Thrúd gripped the edge of her window and leapt out, dangling over the edge of the track right next to the blockage which she could now recognize as a nest of those gross floating eyeballs she encountered when she was in Helheim with Loki. The honeycomb-like openings were the perfect size for those creepy shit balls to sprout out of, but thankfully this one appeared to be abandoned.

With one hand hanging onto the car, the other gripping her sword and with both feet bracing herself on the track itself, Thrúd slashed the blade and hacked away at the nest, careful not to hit the wood surrounding it. With only a few slashes, Thrúd managed to disconnect the nest from the track and watched as it disappeared beneath her.

Flinching at the crumbling noise, Thrúd looked down at the wulver to see if it heard. Thankfully, it was too enamored with its meal to notice anything else. It also didn’t seem to notice the creaking noise that the car began to make now that they were free.

Sheathing her blade behind her, she swung herself up and fell into the window. As quickly as she could, Thrúd stepped out the back, placed one foot on the platform and the other on the track, and pushed.

With grit teeth and a massive grunt of effort, the young goddess gave the car the last push it needed to get itself moving again.

Positive the car had the momentum it needed, Thrúd scrambled back inside, made her way to the window and reveled in the sensation of her stomach rising as the car began to roll downhill for the first time in who-knows-how-long. A tiny paddlewheel protruding from the center of the floor began to rotate wildly as the water passed by underneath it, splashing water across the cab.

The wulver noticed this new development a few moments too late, however. Looking up from its meal, the beast snarled at the car barreling toward it. Legs tensed to jump clear, the car knocked the carcass off the track and crashed into the wulver moments before it could leap.

“Haha!” Thrúd cried out. “Eat that, fucker!”

What she wasn’t expecting to happen though was for it to wrap its massive arms around the car, its claws digging into the wood. Thrúd’s smile vanished. “Oh shit.”

As the minecar continued along the tracks with a nonstop clickety clack, the beast worked its way to the other side where Thrúd’s head was poking out of and slashed its claws. Jumping inside at the last moment, Thrúd pressed her back to the wall, away from the massive arm reaching inside trying to cut her open.

Taking out the blade again, Thrúd cut at the hand with uncalculated swings, some of them hitting their mark and some of them not. With a roar, the wulver poked its head inside, snapping its jaws and dripping its saliva onto the wooden floor.

Working her way to one side of its arm, Thrúd closed the gap between herself and its face, took out Mjolnir, and swung as hard as she could. Its head snapped to one side before coming back at her with another snap of its jaw. This time she brought the hammer down on top of its skull, but it still roared back at her in protest.

“Why won’t you fucking die?!”

Rearing her arm backwards for another blow, the wulver let out a cry of pain as its foot caught itself under the wheel in a vain attempt to right itself. The wheel now misaligned, there was an obnoxious scream coming from the outside as the wheels began to grind unnaturally along the track, causing the wulver to lose its grasp on the car and fall into the darkness, forcing Thrúd to crouch low to keep her balance.

The car had had enough abuse by then, however. With one lurch, it tipped onto its side and skidded to a halt along the track, rattling Thrúd inside like a coin in a can.

Thrúd groaned in pain and gripped her head, making sure she wasn’t bleeding before rising to her feet. With the car now on its side, she had to crouch even lower to stand on her feet. After placing Mjolnir back on her hip, she shuffled her way over to the window now above her and poked her head out to see where she had landed.

The car came to a stop at what appeared to be an offloading platform; a wooden deck built into the side of the track for dwarves to exit their cars and find their workstations. The deck offered a good view of the pit that it lead to, adorned with more cranes loaded with large boulders as well as a waterfall with a waterwheel at the bottom which powered some unseen contraption.

More chutes and troughs transported water this way and that, leading Thrúd to wonder why they were still operating if no one was here to supervise them, let alone use them in the first place.

As Thrúd crawled out of the window of the toppled minecar, an answer came to her.

Loki.

His adventures across the realms with his father certainly must have led them here at least once. And if there was one thing her friend excelled at, it was touching things that weren’t meant to be touched.

Not that that mattered at the moment. All that mattered was finding these stupid rocks.

Climbing down from the toppled car and onto the deck, Thrúd rubbed the sore spots on her arm from the crash as she made her way to the other side, getting a better look at what must have been the apple core.

Hands planted on her hips, she let out a long breath to settle herself back down from the crash, and to really let the size of this place soak in. She just entered the mine and this is the first room she finds? This alone would take hours to fully comb through. That’s not even mentioning the other rooms and tunnels that no doubt occupied the mountain.

Thrúd cracked her neck. “Well,” she huffed, “let’s get started.”

A loud thud behind her stopped her from leaping down to the next level.

Turning around, she found herself face to face with an ogre, just in time for the gross beast to roar right in her face with enough force to blow her hair back and making her shield her face with her hand and shut her eyes.

When the roaring stopped, Thrúd opened her eyes and let out a smile.

“Or,” her hand hovered over Mjolnir, “you can help me get some more practice in.”

Before she could grasp the handle, the ogre swung its massive arm in a wide arc that Thrúd was easily able to duck underneath. Reaching for her mace instead, she placed herself behind the ogre and struck its knee in one fluid motion. The ogre shrieked in pain and surprise before turning around to face her once again, this time bringing both fists overhead for a downward smash.

Thrúd leapt backwards, out of the path of the beast’s arms as they crashed to the ground. Placing her mace in her left hand, she reached for her blade with her right and wielded it in her preferred reverse grip. The ogre lunged forward for another attack, but Thrúd interrupted it with a smash to its face with her mace, followed up immediately with a slash across its cheek with her sword. She repeated this process two more times; swipe, slash, swipe, slash, until it backed itself up to the edge, too stunned and sliced up to make any other movements.

Satisfied with the damage she has inflicted so far, Thrúd returned both weapons to their resting places behind her waist and gripped Mjolnir’s handle. By the time the ogre shook itself out of its stunned state, Thrúd had already doused herself in lightning, feeling the hammer enhancing her already natural ability.

Swinging her arm forward, she thrusted herself at the beast with a godly “RAAAAAHHH!”

She rammed herself into the ogre’s gut, propelling the two of them over the edge of the observation deck and into the pit, plummeting at potentially breakneck speeds in an almost graceful arc.

The ground shook and cracked upon their impact. Thrúd landed on the beast’s belly next to a small, ankle deep body of water, the waterwheel being turned by the water chute not far in the distance.

Damn, if I ran a little faster, I could’ve had us land in the pond and fried this thing.

Despite the fall and the blow from the hammer, the ogre still squirmed beneath her, albeit with not as much gusto or strength as before.

Rolling off the creature’s belly, Thrúd slammed Mjolnir down on its hand, pinning it in place and shattering every bone in it in the process. Ignoring its roar of pain, Thrúd leapt to the other side, unsheathed her blade once again and thrusted it into the other arm. With two of her three weapons preventing the ogre from rising to its feet, Thrúd took out her mace and approached its head.

The ogre struggled with every ounce of its remaining strength from the waist down, but it did no good to loosen the makeshift restraints. Raising her mace overhead, Thrúd summoned another bolt of lightning to the weapon before pounding it down on its face for the final time.

After the ogre stopped moving, Thrúd let out another breath that she didn’t know she was holding. Panting heavily, Thrúd placed the mace back behind her, tore the blade out of its arm and wiped the blood off on her skirt before returning it to its sheath. She stopped herself from snapping her fingers to summon Mjolnir and picked it up instead. Spinning it in her grasp, she nodded her approval. “Nice job, big guy.” She shook her head and laughed. “Shit, I am turning into dad.”

Before she placed the hammer back at her hip, a large boulder came into her view, the same kind of rock that Lúnda had shown her earlier. Gasping in delight, Thrúd threw the hammer into the boulder with zero hesitation, taking pleasure in the site of the rock being blasted to pebbles identical to the one she destroyed in Skjoldr’s company.

Running over to her loot, she slid down on her knees next to the pile and began picking up the rocks with both hands before freezing stock still in realization.

“Shit,” she cursed. “I have no way of carrying these.”

Letting them fall to the ground, Thrúd dusted off her hands and looked left and right. Her descent to this new level gave her a now unobstructed view of the pit, revealing a massive door built into the wall.

Standing up, Thrúd pointed at the small pile of rocks. “Don’t move. I’ll be back soon enough.”

She liked to think she intimidated them into submission as she walked over to the door, eager to see what she’d find next. Sure, she was cursing herself silly for not having the foresight to bring a bag or something else with her to transport the rocks with, but she also promised Lúnda she’d clear out these mines as well as she could. Surely there’d be something along the way that would allow her to carry them with her back.

With all her weapons secured in their respective homes, Thrúd pried her fingers in between the seam of the double doors and yanked them apart . . . and was met with a towering figure in an equally imposing suit of armor.

His tinny voice spoke to her.

“Hello, my love.”

Chapter Text

To say that Thrúd was taken aback would be an understatement.

“Uh . . . hi?”

The large man in the bulky suit of armor didn’t reply. He hasn’t said anything at all for several moments after his original greeting, leaving the two of them standing there awkwardly before each other. Using the silence to her advantage, Thrúd analyzed the stranger up and down;

His most notable feature was his massive stature and equally imposing suit of armor that covered him from head to toe, leaving no part of his body exposed. His helmet made it hard to gauge where he was looking, but it was easy to tell at this moment that he was observing her just as much as she was him.

Adorned on his back was a circular shield and a massive scabbard for an equally massive sword. Across his waist was what she, at first glance, thought was some kind of loin cloth. But a closer look revealed that it was a brown knapsack that was slung around his shoulders and rested at his side. Inside of it were clacking whetstones of many different colors. Thrúd nearly asked if he had an extra one of those sacks for her to use, but wisely decided against it.

She could see herself in the reflection of his silver armor and discovered that she found herself trembling, surprised by this man’s sudden entrance and equally sudden method of saying hello.

Clearing her throat and composing herself, Thrúd found her voice. “Have, uh . . . have we met?”

The man didn’t reply. He kept staring down at her.

Finally, he took a step forward. Then another.

Clank.

Clank.

Clank.

He replied, but not to her question, and with more emotion than Thrúd expected coming from that helmet.

“After so long, I’m so glad to have found you.”

Thrúd took just as many steps backwards, keeping her distance from the mystery man. “Listen, buddy,” she started, not bothering with hiding the irritation seeping into her tone, “you’ve clearly got the wrong person and you’re standing in my way. So either you move or-“

“Excuse me, miss,” the stranger rudely interrupted, “but I’m not speaking to you.”

With a blink of surprise, Thrúd went against her better judgement and turned around in an attempt to find somebody else in this pit that she had somehow missed when fighting the ogre.

No one else was there with them.

Turning back toward the armored creep, Thrúd held her arms up in a gesture to demonstrate that he was, in fact, mistaken. “Well, I don’t see anybody else. So, either I’m going blind, or you’re hallucinating and delusional. And I’m pretty sure I’m not-“

Something about his posture made her upcoming jab die in her throat. Yes he had stopped approaching her, but something felt off. Something about his helmet and the eye contact he was making with her.

It took the young goddess a few moments more to realize what it was. He wasn’t looking at her at all.

This creep was looking at and talking to Mjolnir.

On instinct, Thrúd turned her hip away from the armored stranger, holding her arm out to keep him as distant as possible from the hammer. This had no effect on him whatsoever, it seemed, because he evidently saw her motion as an invitation to come closer.

Clank.

Clank.

Thrúd’s voice couldn’t be found. She wasn’t able to place it, but something about this guy really creeped her out. The fact that he spoke to legendary pieces of equipment as if they were separated lovers only enhanced that feeling of unease.

Her mind went into a whirlwind of scenarios and plans, all of which involved keeping Mjolnir as far away from him as possible, whoever he was.

In her frenzied state, she reminded herself of when she found the hammer back in Niflheim, and the conversation the Einherjar bastards were having amongst each other.

“. . . what is important is that we make sure it stays here for its new owner.” That one Einherjar had said. There was someone they were aware of who wanted to find this hammer, and Thrúd was damn near positive she had just found him.

“Your, erm, your name wouldn’t happen to be Grámtrist, would it?”

He kept walking forward. “I didn’t come to discuss reputation.” Grámtrist reached his gloved hand behind his head and gripped his sword’s hilt, drawing it slowly from his back. “I’m here to be reunited with my love.”

Grámtrist fully withdrew his sword, which was longer than Thrúd herself and covered in markings and letters that she didn’t recognize. The steel looked damn near unused it was so shiny, but Thrúd had the inkling that he has had experience with cutting down foes with it in the past.

Holding it in one hand, Grámtrist reached into the knapsack and pulled out one of his whetstones, a black one with more lettering that she couldn’t decipher. Holding the sword diagonally, he scraped the whetstone across the surface of it with a bone chilling cry of stone on steel that echoed throughout the mine.

After he made a full pass with it, the sword let out a live-like humming noise, and her eyes went wide in surprise as it began to glow with a colored aura, a black one like the whetstone he had just polished it with.

“And I’m afraid you’ve got it backwards,” he spoke again. “If you’re in possession of the hammer, then you’re in my way.”

Throughout the whole tense moment, Thrúd’s hand was hovering over Mjolnir, ready at any moment to grab it and crush this guy’s body inside his own suit of armor, but she stilled herself. If he wants Mjolnir this badly, then going on the offensive with it might not be the best option, especially when she has two other perfectly good weapons she can still use.

Bringing her hands behind her back, Thrúd took out her mace and sword, holding them out for the briefest moment to give him a good look at them before assuming a fighting stance, lightning and electricity traveling down her arms into the weapons for an additional intimidation factor.

The only problem was that this guy didn’t seem intimidated at the moment.

Grámtrist raised his sword overhead and slammed it down, but the weight of the weapon gave Thrúd more than enough time to sidestep away from it before it clanged against the stone. Not giving him any time to reset, Thrúd closed the distance between them and tested out the same strategy as before; swipe with the mace against his armor, and slash with her sword.

She quickly ditched this idea, as her blade wasn’t so much as scratching the surface of his breastplate. She’d sooner damage the blade than make any real progress.

Jumping back to avoid his horizontal swing, Thrúd placed her sword back in its sheath and gripped the mace with both hands.

“You know,” she panted, “I think maybe you’ve had that helmet on for too long and it’s hurting your vision, because last I checked, this hammer always belonged to my dad, dipshit,” she spat out.

Thrúd wasn’t sure what angered her more; the fact that her sword made no progress on his armor, or that her attempt to rile him up proved futile. Grámtrist remained cool as a cucumber.

“You truly have led a sheltered life if you believe that that hammer is just a hammer.”

Her eyebrow quirked in curiosity. The fuck does that mean? Thrúd quickly shook her head of any distracting thoughts and refocused on creating a new strategy.

I’ll weaken his armor with a bunch of blunt strikes, then I’ll take the sword back out as more weak spots are exposed, she planned out.

Grámtrist didn’t give her an opportunity to put that idea to practice. Using that first swing to build momentum, the near-giant spun in a constant circle with both hands gripping the sword, holding it out at arm’s length to maximize his reach.

Thrúd stepped back, and back, and farther back still. With every rotation, he didn’t seem to get dizzy in the slightest.

In the end, Thrúd was able to use that to her advantage. Overhead were the troughs transporting water stretching from one end of the pit to the other. The trough was supported by wooden beams crisscrossed with one another all the way down to their level.

With one more jump backwards, Thrúd evaded the last swing and smiled in satisfaction as the blade dug itself into the wood, jarring Grámtrist to a premature halt. Wasting no time, Thrúd charged herself full of lightning and charged shoulder-first into him with enough force to make him lose his grip on the handle and stagger backwards.

Committing to her new plan, Thrúd covered the mace in lightning once more and swung at his armored knees, keeping him from catching his balance.

In an effort to be harder to read, Thrúd never struck the same target twice. With lightning arcing all over her body, she hit every target with pinpoint accuracy, each impact creating a spark that danced off his armor.

Regaining his composure despite the onslaught, Grámtrist twisted to avoid her next strike, and in one fluid motion, he looped his arm into the straps of his shield and completed his spin, ramming the shield into her face.

Her head bounced off it like a rubber ball. The lightning died out as she stumbled to the side, close to the body of water that the waterfall had created. Her vision dazed and her ears ringing, Thrúd shook her head countless times in an effort to regain her bearings, worried that Grámtrist would take advantage of her stunned state to follow up.

From what she could see, however, her worries were unfounded as he walked over to his sword, still stuck in the trough’s support beam and yanked it out, giving her more than enough time to shake herself out of her confusion.

His blade still glowed smokey black, swirling and twisting about as he walked his way toward her once more.

Clank.

Clank.

More thoughts ran through her head.

My sword can’t scratch his armor, so I still can’t use that. The mace was working well enough, but odds are I’ll wear myself out before he even breaks a sweat, so that’s not an option anymore either. I don’t imagine punching that armor with my bare hands is a good idea either. That just leaves . . .

Every instinct and muscle in her body was yelling at her for even considering taking Mjolnir out to use against this guy. He’s made it very clear that that’s what he’s here for, it makes no sense in using it to give him a chance to get what he wants.

Thrúd did her best and came up with a new plan of action.

Well . . . fuck it.

Without so much as looking at it, Thrúd gripped the hammer’s handle with one hand and placed her mace back at her waist with the other. Grámtrist, seemingly pleased with this development, quickened his pace, eager to close the distance between them and nab Mjolnir away from her.

Like Hel she’d let that happen without a fight.

Thrúd grit her teeth and hardened her grip on the handle until her knuckles were white.

“You want this thing so bad?”

Using Mjolnir to amplify her abilities, more lightning coursed through her and along her skin in a violent dance of sparks and flashes.

“Here you go!”

Thrúd dashed forward and swung Mjolnir sideways towards Grámtrist’s midsection, but before she had so much as thought about her dash, her large adversary had already thrusted the tip of his sword towards her as well. She had no time to even quirk her eyebrow in confusion as she noticed that he wasn’t aiming his sword at her at all. He was stabbing straight at Mjolnir.

Before Thrúd could adjust her swing, the two weapons collided head on.

A large flash temporarily blinded both of them, forcing them both to shield their eyes from each other and stumble away.

Thrúd’s arms throbbed. She was strong, but after having her swing interrupted before it could be completed sent an unpleasant jolt through her wrists and traveled up both arms, causing her to drop Mjolnir to the ground.

She may not be able to see that well, but her hearing still worked. Instead of hearing only one dull thud as she dropped it, she heard another smaller noise as well, like a pebble clattering against a pile of rocks.

Rubbing her eyes free of irritation, Thrúd looked down and wished she was blind so she couldn’t see the sight beneath her.

An opening had been dug out into the hammer’s face, and small jagged pieces of rock were lying right next to it. Tiny sparks spewed out of the gash before dying out entirely, making Thrúd’s heart sink straight to her feet.

She wasn’t sure how, but this bastard had just damaged Mjolnir.

Mjolnir.

The hammer of legend.

Not even in her possession for a day and she had already found a way to damage it.

Fear and paranoia instantly took hold of her. What would her mom say if she saw this?

What about Sigrun or Freya?

What would her dad say?

With shaky hands, Thrúd gingerly picked up the hammer as if it were made of glass, careful as to not aggravate the damage any further. She inspected it. On the surface the rest of it seemed fine, but she was no blacksmith.

If she hadn’t kept Huginn from coming with her, he could teleport her back to Lúnda to see what she could do.

Deciding to mentally chastise herself for that decision later, Thrúd unsheathed her sword and used it to slice off a strip of her fur skirt. Placing the blade back in its spot behind her, she gathered up the broken pieces inside the piece of fur she cut off and tied it as tightly as she could before tucking it inside her skirt, ignoring the stabbing from the rocks jabbing at her side.

Behind her, she could hear Grámtrist’s armor creaking and clanking as he too rose from his prone position after being forced back from their collision. Thrúd still couldn’t see his face from inside his mask, but as soon as he saw the damage he had inflicted on Mjolnir, she could’ve sworn the bastard looked excited.

Slinging his sword over his shoulder, Grámtrist walked toward Thrúd. “Oh,” he breathed out. “I’ve waited so long to see that hammer even blemished. Now,” he took the massive sword’s handle in both hands, “I get to see it destroyed.”

Thrúd prided herself on her ability to be cool in most hectic situations. When your dad was the god of thunder, lots of crazy shit happened on a daily basis and it was best to just learn to live with them and roll with the oncoming punches. A skill she has mastered and used countless times and will continue to do so.

But now was not one of those times.

One thought raced through her head;

Lúnda!

Placing Mjolnir at her hip, Thrúd clambered back to her feet and ran.

Her feet immediately were soaked as soon as her boots so much as touched the ankle-deep body of water, running for the waterwheel at the base of the waterfall. The water from the falls turned the thirty foot wheel in a constant circle, which in turn rotated a rod sticking out from the center of the wheel that extended to the mine’s wall and through the other side, powering some other genius dwarven contraption.

But Thrúd had no time to marvel at their ingenuity at the moment. She reached the other side of the wheel and gripped an oncoming paddle with both hands, riding it upwards with the intent of leaping to the adjacent water chute once she reached the top.

Her plan came to a literal jarring halt. The wheel stopped spinning.

Looking down, she found Grámtrist at the bottom with both hands gripping one of the paddles. With a grunt of effort, he reached one hand up higher to the next paddle and pulled it down, going against the flow of the waterfall.

Panic threatened to take her over entirely as he pulled her down one paddle more, but Thrúd kept enough wits about her to use the rest of the wheel as a ladder instead, climbing up away from him faster than he could pull her down.

Reaching the top of the wheel, Thrúd leapt to the side and gripped the lip of the chute running past her. Bracing her foot under her, she flipped herself inside and found herself thigh-deep in an artificial river of water. The current was strong, but she found herself able to withstand it enough to not be swept away by it. Keeping her center of balance low, Thrúd gripped both sides of the chute and walked unsteadily with the current, unsure where it would take her but thankful that it would be somewhere where he wasn’t.

As she continued her slow and wet march, Thrúd didn’t see Grámtrist let go of the wheel and make his way back to dry ground. He observed as she followed the chute’s path, which took her right over the beam he had damaged with one swing of his sword.

Seeing the perfect opportunity, he took out his sword once again and hurled it like a frisbee to the damaged beam. The spinning blade pierced the wood and split through it as if nothing were there in the first place.

The chute rattled and creaked under Thrúd, forcing her to tighten her grip along the edges. Looking down, she saw the damage that Grámtrist inflicted on the stability of the chute and could feel it begin to rock and sway from the sudden loss in support.

Refusing to give in to another embarrassing wave of panic, Thrúd trudged onward and considered her limited options.

Just ahead of her, suspended on a chain by one of the dwarves’ massive cranes was a boulder, hovering just above the chute just a short distance away from her. Raising her hands from the edges, Thrúd kept her feet planted and allowed the water to push her the remaining distance until she was right underneath it. Pushing herself up to the lip of the chute, she propelled herself upward and looped her fingers around the chain moments before the chute beneath her gave way and spilled its countless gallons of contents down to the feet of a disappointed Grámtrist, who watched in frustration as his target continued to climb up the chain.

There was nothing he could do but watch as Thrúd swung herself to another nearby chute, this one elevated higher and running perpendicular to the previous one. With a splash, Thrúd threw caution to the wind and allowed the current to carry her away as fast as it could, leaving Grámtrist alone in the mine.

Water began to pool around his ankles, but he ignored it and began walking instead, intent on following the goddess who seemed keen on keeping his goal away from him.

If his previous assessment of the mountain was correct, then he knew exactly where the chute would spit her out at.

Meanwhile, what would normally have been a fun impromptu ride for Thrúd was in reality a panic fueled and painful escape route. Thrúd struggled to keep her head above the water as it tossed and rolled her about, bumping her into the sharp corners and turns as it took her.

She lost track of how many times her head submerged in the water and lost track of how long this chute has been carrying her away from her foe. But she supposed that part didn’t matter, as long as it did get her away from him.

Every so often, Thrúd reached down to her waist to make sure her improvised sack was still there. Sure enough, it was still tucked well into her skirt.

A few minutes later, she could see light in front of her. Hope blossomed in her chest at the thought of escaping from this mountain and finding Lúnda again. Her hope was once again replaced with fear as she felt the chute beneath her begin to decline, speeding up her escape. Digging her boots and palms to the bottom of the chute did nothing to slow her descent, so she came up with her own way of doing so.

Taking out her blade from behind her, Thrúd thrusted it into the wood beneath her, an action which nearly tore her arm straight from its socket. With the water now pummeling her full force, Thrúd fought with all her might to keep her grip as she looked around for an alternate means of escape.

She never got to find one before the current ripped her hand away from the handle and continued to carry her to the exit. Turning her head, her heart sank at the sight of her blade growing smaller and smaller the farther away she got from it until it vanished from sight entirely.

Before she knew it, she was in a freefall.

The chute had carried her as far as it was able before it dumped her outside the mountain along with the torrent of water that had brought her this far.

Screaming as she twirled in the air, Thrúd only had enough time to curl into a ball before splashing into the water beneath her. She fought the stinging of the water to keep her eyes open, but they may as well have been closed with how murky the water was. This must be where the wastewater flows out, she reasoned.

Kicking both legs and waving her arms in wide arcs, Thrúd began to swim toward the surface. She continued to do so for multiple strokes before coming to realize that she wasn’t getting any closer to the surface. Quite the opposite. She was sinking.

Thrúd never had been the best swimmer, but she knew the basics well enough. And from her past experiences, her motions should have brought her up to get a lungful of air by now. Something was weighing her down, and it didn’t take long to figure out what it was.

Mjolnir.

A brand new wave of panic seized her heart at the same time as the lack of air made her body spasm. The light above the water began to fade, but that also could have been her vision beginning to darken.

Before she could allow herself to succumb to the lack of air, a desperate idea came to her.

Reaching down, she took out Mjolnir, gripped the handle tightly, and swung it upward as hard as she could despite the resistance the water gave.

She knew this was a gamble. If this didn’t work, the excessive use of her last remnants of energy would cause her to black out even sooner. But thankfully, that didn’t happen.

The moment her arm completed the swing, the hammer began to pull her upwards, the surprising burst nearly ripping the handle from her fingers. Water streamed past her ears and flowed through her hair for longer than she was comfortable with, but she finally broke the surface and soared out of the body of water.

Coughing and spitting out water, Thrúd used her free hand to wipe the remaining droplets from her eyes. Finally opening them, Thrúd gasped at the sight of a small crane’s boom coming up fast, directly in her path.

Adjusting her body to avoid getting crushed, her feet clipped the top of the crane, wrenching the hammer from her grasp and sending her spiraling to the ground. Landing in a wet heap on the dirt, she looked up in time to find Mjolnir flying end over end away from her. A new sliver of anxiety worked its way into her heart at the thought of having to track down her dad’s hammer a second time, but was instead gifted the sight of it burying itself into a massive cube boulder hoisted above the ground by another equally massive crane. The impact of the hammer caused the boulder to sway back and forth before righting itself once again.

Still in the process of catching her breath, Thrúd climbed to her feet, feeling around her skirt to make sure the Mjolnir fragments were still with her. She let out a sigh of relief when she felt them right where she left them.

Looking around, Thrúd found herself in the middle of yet another abandoned mining site, filled with thin walkways, more waterwheels that powered even more contraptions and tracks on the ground leading left and right, disappearing into the gaping maws of more entrances into the mountain.

Despite the recent events, Thrúd couldn’t help but shake her head and laugh a little.

“Holy shit, isn’t there anything else these dwarves do besides build?”

A tinny voice echoed from a mine entrance to her right. “They enjoy drinking, too.”

Thrúd’s heart sank once again.

Clank.

Clank.

Clank.

She didn’t even have to turn her head to see her large, armored adversary exit the tunnel and step into the sunlight. Finally, she turned to find him standing stock still, his sword resting behind him once again.

Thrúd still had a hard time trying to follow his line of sight, but it didn’t take an engineer to put together that he was looking at her empty holster.

“Where is she?”

Thrúd shook her head, half in confusion and half in frustration. “Where’s who?”

“Embla. My love. What have you done with her?”

As subtly as she could, Thrúd looked over to the hanging boulder to see if the hammer had miraculously fallen out. It hadn’t.

Thrúd let out a nervous laugh. “Hey, if you want to get nailed that badly, there are better ways to do it than falling in love with a hammer.”

Grámtrist didn’t find her joke as funny as she did.

“And how the Hel did you make it out of there so quickly?” Thrúd asked, clearly outraged with his superior mine navigation skills.

He didn’t seem interested in filling her in on her inquiries, however. Instead, he focused on his own. “Where’s Embla? You just had her with you!”

“Look,” Thrúd started with exasperation, “if we’re going to keep doing this, you’re going to have to tell me how you fell in love with a hammer in the first place.”

Rather than humor the goddess any further, Grámtrist’s helmeted gaze went from her to the site around them until his eyes inevitably landed on his goal, dangling precariously out of the cubed boulder it had lodged itself into.

Grámtrist didn’t so much as look back in Thrúd’s direction before he began calmly walking in its direction, awkwardly clambering over paths and walkways that were way too small for even Thrúd to traverse. Honestly, the sight of this would’ve made Thrúd laugh on any other occasion, but she couldn’t find the energy to laugh anymore.

Thrúd moved with a start, intent on beating him to the hammer. Climbing up a nearby set of stairs, Thrúd rocketed herself along the awkward layout before her, making sure to stay on higher elevation than Grámtrist.

Making sure the hammer was fully in her sights, Thrúd raised her hand and snapped her fingers as she ran, hoping against hope that Mjolnir would sense her desperation and fly to her awaiting palm.

Mjolnir didn’t move.

She snapped her fingers again, and again, and again.

Thrúd cursed as she continued running, ditching the ‘summon it to my hand like dad used to do’ plan in lieu of her original one: beating Grámtrist to it.

With countless leaps and equally countless steps, Thrúd made her way closer and closer to the crane, ducking her head underneath low overhangs and swinging on the occasional rope as needed. Below, Grámtrist was making ground of his own, albeit at a much more lethargic pace. His path he had chosen had significantly less obstacles, but Thrúd was confident in her reaching the base of the crane before he did. And she did.

Coming up on a dead end, Thrúd leapt off the observation deck she had found herself on and swung off of an overhead bar, landing at the base of a ladder with a roll. Without interrupting her momentum, she exited the roll and immediately grabbed the rungs, hauling herself up the . . . very tight space of the ladderway.

At a distance, Thrúd completely forgot the fact that these cranes were constructed with only dwarves in mind, much like the footbridges and minecars from before. Thankfully, the ladderway was just wide enough to allow Thrúd access inside.

Rung after rung, Thrúd climbed higher, the stabbing pain at her waist an indicator that she had not lost the Mjolnir fragments on her bumpy excursion over.

She looked down. Somehow, the armored bastard was mere yards away from the base of the crane, but Thrúd took comfort in the realization that this enclosed ladderway was far too small for him to fit inside of. He was obviously not afraid of destroying what was in front of him if it stood between him and his goal, but there was little he could do in this case as far as Thrúd could see.

A second wind came over Thrúd. She’d reach the top of the crane, balance her way across the boom, slide down the chain, get Mjolnir back and leap away before he could so much as make another declaration of love to the legendary weapon.

Finally, she reached the top of the ladder, which brought her to a balcony with a series of levers and pulleys that seemed to control the boom’s rotation and the raising and lowering of the chain. Paying the control console no mind, Thrúd walked across the balcony, hopped over the railing, balancing on the wooden beams beneath her. With both arms outstretched, she began walking as carefully as possible across the boom.

A gust of wind blew by, causing the boom to sway in the breeze. The woodwork and frame of the crane creaked and groaned, causing Thrúd to let out a gasp of alarm as she adjusted her footing. Step by step, Thrúd made her way closer to the chain that was holding up the large cube of rock. Beneath her, she could see sunlight reflecting off the shiny surface of Grámtrist’s armor. He was at the base of the crane, next to the ladderway that Thrúd had just taken up. She didn’t even try to fight off the smug smirk working its way across her face.

The smirk vanished and her careful footsteps stopped at the sight of him unsheathing his massive sword once again.

Reaching into the sack resting at his side, he took out a red whetstone and scraped it along the length of the blade. A blood red aura replaced the black one swarming around its sharp edges.

Thrúd wasn’t sure what it was at first, but something that appeared to be a cloud of red mist began swirling around his ankles. The cloud grew larger and thicker and started to swirl around him faster as he gripped the handle of his sword with both hands, pointing the tip straight down at the ground.

The bastard was casting some kind of spell.

Raising both hands over his head, Grámtrist plunged the tip into the ground, creating a shockwave that dispersed the cloud of red mist in all directions with him at the center. The blast cracked and warped the base of the crane, blasting away weaker support beams like toothpicks.

The blast rocked the crane from the ground up, sending a shudder up its frame that nearly rocked Thrúd overboard. In a panic, Thrúd stretched out her arm and grabbed hold of the edge before she could topple back to the ground.

“Shit!” She cursed, adjusting her grip and grabbed hold with both hands, her legs swaying beneath her. Before she could begin to haul herself up, Thrúd felt her stomach rising. The creaking and cracking grew louder, and she could feel her weight begin to shift to one side. Beneath her, she could see the cube swing from the blast, but she could also see the ground getting closer.

With no support, the crane began tilting forward on a collision course with the ground and mining equipment underneath it.

Thrúd blew her hair away from her face before swinging her leg over the edge of the boom, hoisting herself over it and lied down on her backside. The angle of the boom now too extreme, she began sliding down the length of the beam. With one hand over the Mjolnir fragments at her waist, Thrúd checked their security before leaping off, preferring the freefall to joining the crane’s impact.

Once she was airborne, Thrúd used all her control to right herself as she fell. Beneath her, she could see a gargantuan mound of mined dirt. Choosing that as the best place to land, Thrúd curled into a ball and allowed herself to fall the rest of the way.

She let out a breathless “Oof!” on impact before she tumbled down the hill like a loose stone. Coming to a stop halfway down, Thrúd looked up in time to see the crane hit the ground with an ear-splitting CCCCRRRRRRRAAAAAAAASSSHHHH!

Thrúd crouched down low and covered her face and ears, shielding herself from the splintered debris flying in all directions. By the time she opened her eyes, the only thing left of the crane was an unusable heap of wood and scrap, twisted and warped beyond any hope od repair. The exact same could be said for the equipment placed in its path.

The cube that Mjolnir lodged itself into crumbled the moment it hit the ground. Jagged rocks lay strewn out everywhere, but Mjolnir was able to stick out like a sore thumb with its handle pointing up towards the sky. No damage came to it. Well, no damage besides the gash that Grámtrist managed to take out of it.

Rising unsteadily to her feet, Thrúd didn’t even bother dusting herself off before clumsily making her way down the hill, doing her best to close the distance between her and the hammer.

Because Grámtrist was now closer to it than she was.

With calm strides, the large man kicked away the rocks and pushed aside whatever pieces of the crane remained in his way. His sword glistened in his hand despite the dust cloud that was created from the impact.

Thrúd’s breath was catching in her throat at the thought of him reaching the hammer before her, but she pushed back the oncoming waves of panic as she reached the bottom of the hill and immediately dashed toward the resting weapon.

Mjolnir was resting right at Grámtrist’s feet. He sighed. “You . . . have no idea how good it is to see you again, Embla.” He kneeled, caressing the hammer’s curves with the back of his hand as if he were appreciating the beauty of someone else entirely. Mjolnir hummed in response. “My joy is only matched by my pain to see you this way. And,” he took out his black whetstone once again, scraping it along his sword, “knowing that we’ll be separated once again.”

His sword glowed its deathly black aura once again.

“But at least,” he stood, both hands were on the handle just like before, with the tip of the sword aimed straight at the hammer, “at least your suffering will end.”

A flash of lightning from the side obscured his vision.

Before he could sink his sword into the hammer, Thrúd skidded on the ground on both knees, scooping up Mjolnir as she went by. Twisting herself around, Thrúd swung the hammer to the back of his knee, buckling his leg and forcing him to kneel once again.

“AGH!” His hand hovered over where the hammer hit him, the impact too tender to touch at the moment.

Thrúd didn’t even bother doing a once over on the hammer to see if he had done anything else to it. With his back to her and in his partially subdued state, she raised the hammer and leapt away.

Turning around, there was nothing left for Grámtrist to see except for shattered rock and splintered wood. Thrúd and Mjolnir were both long gone.

Grámtrist only allowed the disappointment to last a few seconds before shoving it back down, resolve taking its place.

He’d found her once. He will sure as Hel do it again.

Chapter Text

“Alright, alright, wise guy,” Lúnda chuckled to herself, rubbing her stubby hands together before placing them behind her back once again. “How about now?”

Huginn twitched his head back and forth, always having an eye on the dwarf in front of him. After picking at his feathers under his wing, the raven pecked the ground once, twice, thrice . . . seven times total.

Lúnda swore before letting her hands hang down at her sides, seven fingers sticking up. “How the Hel do you do that?! Helka?” She turned to see the hound lying on her side, snoring and eyes closed. “You ain’t tellin’ him, are ya?”

In response, the oversized dog grunted and rolled onto her other side in the shade of Lúnda’s tent.

“Well, I know that ain’t it, then. Alright, round twenty-four,” she smiled. “You’re going down, birdie.”

Before Lúnda could so much as put her arms behind her again, the ground shook beneath her. Huginn squawked in surprise, his wings aflutter as he struggled to lift off the ground and perch himself on the tent.

Lúnda swung her arms out to keep her balance, though it didn’t stop her from stumbling backwards. She bumped against her worktable, spilling her tools onto the ground. “What the seven Hels?!” The shaking ceased almost as soon as it started. Once she was positive that she wouldn’t fall over, Lúnda sprinted to the shore of the tiny island she was setting up shop on, stopping short at what she saw.

A crater appeared in the ground, its center sparking random arcs of lightning in all directions. A wild mane of orange and red hair popped up from inside the crater, earning a gasp from the dwarf.

“Thrúd? Are y’all alright?”

The young goddess didn’t answer. Her hair poking out of her braids and her exposed shoulders and arms covered in dirt, cuts and bruises, Thrúd stumbled out of the crater with Mjolnir in hand. She didn’t seem to notice Lúnda’s presence in her currently stunned state, but her eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when they found her.

“Lúnda!” She held out the hammer.

“Thrúd, what’s goin’ on? Did you find any-“

“Mjolnir! Please!”

Confused, Lúnda looked down at the weapon being presented to her. She drew in a sharp breath, bringing both hands to her mouth in surprise. “Wha- What in the name of . . . Thrúd, what happened over there?”

Huginn fluttered over, perching himself on Thrúd’s shoulder to see what the fuss was about. He let out a chirp of curiosity before she shooed him off.

Teeth clenched and eyes shut in frustration, she reached to her waist and plucked out the makeshift bag that stored the fragments of Mjolnir and all but shoved them in the blacksmith’s face along with the hammer itself. “Just fucking fix it!”

Officially snapped out of her own reverie, Lúnda snatched the hammer and bag out of Thrúd’s grasp and marched back to her tent, tossing them both onto her table. Walking deeper into her workspace, she approached the table with a handful of tools. She reached down and set the hammer so that the damaged face was upwards. Unwrapping the bag, she placed the sharp fragments off to the side.

Thrúd’s thumb found its way to her teeth. Unable to keep still, she began to pace side to side while looking away from the table. She wanted desperately to see what progress was being made on the repairs, but she couldn’t bring herself to look. Huginn flapped his way back to her shoulder, but Thrúd made no effort to shoo him off this time.

Lúnda had already begun her process. She placed the fragments around the gash after brushing away the dust and any contaminants. She took a hammer and tapped the side of Mjolnir, causing its markings to glow blue. With careful fingers, Lúnda placed the fragments into the gash, the sharp and awkward pieces not wanting to fit naturally in their home.

Thrúd chanced a look, but quickly turned away again. She still couldn’t bear looking at the damage she caused. All she could do was put her faith in the healer working on her patient.

Once the pieces were as aligned as she could get them, Lúnda grabbed a mallet and tapped the blemish. She shielded her eyes from the bright flash of light. The moment it was gone, she took a look and let out a breath of relief. All signs of damage or blemishes were totally gone.

Setting down the mallet, Lúnda grabbed the hammer and held it up to her face, her analytical eye scanning for any other signs of damage that either she or Thrúd had missed earlier. Holding it horizontally with both hands, she closed one eye and looked down the length of the handle before holding it between her two flat palms and swiveling her hands back and forth, causing the head of Mjolnir to spin.

Satisfied, she gave the table a tap with the hammer before holding it out in front of her.

“And that should do it, lil lady!”

Before the blacksmith could so much as blink, Thrúd dashed her way over to the table and snatched it out of Lúnda’s grip. The young goddess held it in both hands in front of her face, eyes wide as saucers and mouth agape in disbelief. She spun the hammer around in all directions, searching for the gash from before but couldn’t find it.

Letting out a shaky breath, her tense shoulders finally relaxed, forcing Huginn off his mobile perch. Almost automatically, Thrúd wandered over to another boulder and placed her back against it, sliding down to a sitting position. She held Mjolnir with both hands on outstretched arms, propped up on her bent knees. Her fingers clutched the hammer almost desperately, as if the mere thought of letting it go would damage it once again.

It took several minutes for her ragged breaths to calm down. Her vision was swimmy, but she didn’t bother wiping her eyes this time. She couldn’t find herself to do anything besides wallow in her thoughts.

Let’s see, I found Mjolnir, ditched my friend without warning for my own selfish search for glory, destroyed public property and got an entire town to hate me, and fought a giant lunatic with a hard-on for this hammer who somehow managed to damage it.

All of this on day fucking one.

Gotta be some kind of record. Maybe they’ll write a song about this.

Lúnda wasn’t sure how long Thrúd needed to be alone, but the silence was beginning to make her uncomfortable. The only source of noise was Huginn’s curious chirps as he slowly crept up on her as well. Thrúd must have finally heard them approach because she shifted her sitting position to be more alert.

With her mind at ease only a small fraction, Thrúd suddenly remembered that she wasn’t alone.

Wiping her eyes and sniffing, Thrúd couldn’t bring herself to meet Lúnda’s gaze as the dwarf walked over to her side. “Thank you,” she managed. “F-for fixing this.”

Lúnda gave her an affectionate pat on her shoulder, kneeling on one knee to be at her level. “Hey now, lil lady. It’s nothing to worry about. S’what I’m here for.”

Thrúd shook her head. “It shouldn’t have happened in the first place.”

“You’d be surprised. Why, in one week alone I’ve seen Kratos’ axe-“

“No!” Thrúd snapped. “I mean this,” she held out the hammer, shaking it for emphasis, “shouldn’t have happened! Dad had this hammer for fucking ever and never so much as got a scratch on it. You said so yourself! Then here I come and somehow find the only way to damage it almost immediately after I found it.”

“Now I don’t think that’s totally-“

“And that’s not all!” Thrúd cut her off. “I lost my sword! The one-of-a-kind sword that dad got me for my training. It’s stuck in some kind of trough collecting rust for the rest of its life.” She adjusted herself and reached behind her to take out her mace. “How much longer will this last with me? Might as well throw it in the lava of Muspelheim and get it over with.”

Officially agitated, Lúnda merely shrugged before swiping the mace out of Thrúd’s hand. “Well if that’s how ya feel.” She made her way over to the water and tossed the weapon overhead, taking satisfaction in the plunk.

Thrúd’s eyes widened in alarm. “Hey!”

All negative thoughts almost completely forgotten, Thrúd shot up to her feet, dropped Mjolnir on the ground and dashed to the water. Thankfully, the water nearby was no more than waist deep and the light reflected off the mace’s shiny surface, making it easy to snatch it up and place it back in its home. Once again drenched, Thrúd stomped her way out of the water and back onto dry land, her mace placed back in its spot.

She held her arms out in disbelief. “The Hel was that for?!”

By the time she had gotten out of the water, Lúnda was back in her tent, picking up her tools that were scattered in the previous confusion. Once she got them placed in their proper homes, she leaned one elbow against the table, looking up at Thrúd with a disapproving glint in her eyes. “I’ve been smithin’ for a long while, lil lady. And I mean a loooong while. And I’ve met all kinds of people. People who’re real good at the swingin’ of swords and axes and the such. You know what they all have in common?”

Thrúd’s eyebrows were scrunched in confusion.

“They all needed a touch up or two. Every once in a while, there came a warrior who gave me their guarantee that they’d never ever ever need my assistance again . . . now that I think about it that was mostly true because they got themselves killed in horrible manners, but all the others who didn’t die always came back. And y’know why?”

“. . . for repairs?”

The blacksmith slapped a hand on the table. “Fer repairs! Ain’t nothing wrong with dingin’ a blade or two. Things happen, and they always will. Just cuz you never saw your daddy visit a blacksmith for that hammer doesn’t mean he never did. Now alright, maybe he didn’t get it all scuffed up like you managed to today. But you know what else I’ve learned in all my time smithin’?” She pointed a finger at the goddess. “There’s a first fer everything. No matter how unlikely it may seem.”

Thrúd wasn’t sure how she had done it, but Lúnda’s words had begun to calm her down.

Lúnda gestured over to the hammer, which was still on the ground where Thrúd had dropped it in her haste, Huginn pecking at it curiously.

“Sure, that there hammer has been the unfortunate cause for bloodshed, but first and foremost, that there’s a tool. And tools will always need a tune-up. And Thrúd,” Lúnda gestured back to herself, “I’d be honored if you would allow me to continue to fix it. Whenever you need.”

Thrúd was left with nothing left to do but blow a stray strand of hair out of her face and let her arms hang limply at her sides. Her mouth was open, but she struggled to get any words out. “Lúnda . . .” she started, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that shit.”

The dwarf waved her hand, shooing away the apology. “Think nothing of it, lil lady. You ain’t the first to think your weapons would be invincible, and you sure as Hel won’t be the last.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “But I’ve gotta know. What happened over there?”

She was hoping to prolong reliving the experience for a little while longer, but she couldn’t blame Lúnda’s curiosity. Even Huginn seemed interested in her answer. He stopped his pecking and approached the two of them.

Sucking in a long breath, she let it out through her teeth, giving a fake smile to the dwarf. “Well, first and foremost,” she patted her hips, “I didn’t get your rocks.”

“I don’t give three hoots of a nokken about the rocks! What happened to you?! To Mjolnir!”

“Well . . . I got to the mountain.”

“Right,” Lúnda urged her on.

“Went inside.”

“I’m with ya.”

“Beat the Hel out of a few monsters.”

“Atta girl.”

“Then there was . . . someone else there.”

“Someone else?”

“Yeah,” Thrúd nodded. “Guess he didn’t get the memo about that place being abandoned.”

Lúnda ignored the joke. “Who was it?”

Thrúd made a face. “I have no clue. I went to open this door and he was just . . . waiting on the other side. Like he knew I was going to be there. He-he was enormous. Maybe a little taller than Loki’s dad? Covered head to toe in armor, like I couldn’t see a single natural thing about him, not even his eyes. A . . . a gigantic sword,” she held her arms out as wide as she could to emphasize her point, though her armlength couldn’t anywhere near demonstrate how long it actually was. “He had this sack hanging on his side filled with-“

“Wait one moment there, lil lady if’n you wouldn’t mind!” Lúnda interrupted, seemingly out of breath. “You’re sayin’ he was tall, covered in armor and had a big ole sword?”

Blinking, Thrúd nodded.

“Lil lady,” Lúnda clucked her tongue, “you came face to face with a Traveler.”

“A . . . Traveler?” The dwarf nodded in response. “What’s a Traveler?”

“Oh boy, Birgir could explain this a lot better than I can, but let’s see,” she tapped her chin. “Basically, they’re a group of misguided people who were sent on a journey by Odin. They called it ‘The Way’,” she added air quotes. “They were told that if they followed it, they’d be rewarded with more than anything they could have imagined. But the whole thing was a big old hoax.”

Thrúd rolled her eyes. The All-Father? Lying? Who would have fucking thought?

“Now I’m a lil fuzzy on all these details, but turns out he was just giving them the tools they needed and hoped that these Travelers would accidentally stumble their way into Jotunheim.”

Over these past few weeks since Ragnarok, Thrúd had become familiar with her grandfather’s many obsessions and the true meaning behind them all, Jotunheim being one of them. Something didn’t add up.

“Well, this guy didn’t seem too interested in getting to the realm of the Giants.” She pointed at Mjolnir, still on the ground where she left it. “He was after Mjolnir.”

This seemed to take Lúnda by surprise. “This fella was after the hammer?” Thrúd nodded. “Well, what the Hel for? Not like he’d be able to use it.”

“No, but he didn’t want to use it. He wanted to destroy it.”

Lúnda’s eyes nearly popped out of her skull. “He’s the one who managed to take a gash outta Mjolnir?” Another nod from Thrúd. A smaller one, embarrassed and scared. “Well now . . . there’s no way Odin gave them weapons capable of doing that. Ain’t no reason to do so, anyway. I don’t even think he had the means to that, anyway, much less give that ability to someone else.”

“Well,” Thrúd shrugged as she walked over to the hammer, picking it up and dusting it off before putting it back in its place by her hip. “He found a way. And it’s efficient. But that’s not all.” She walked back over to the table, leaning forward on it to get her face closer to Lúnda’s. In turn, the dwarf braced herself for what she felt like was going to be a juicy little detail.

“He said it was his wife.” Lúnda blinked, eager to hear more. “He-he kept calling it ‘my love’. At first, I thought he was talking to me. But he kept acting like I wasn’t even there. Crazy fucker was insisting that his wife was the hammer. But if that’s what he thinks, why did he want to destroy it?”

“Maybe he doesn’t think she is the hammer . . .” Lúnda pondered out loud. “What if, he thought she was inside of it?”

“Inside?” Thrúd grabbed the hammer and held up to her face, studying it as if she’d never seen the thing in her life.

“It’s not too unheard of to put a soul into a dwarven-made weapon, lil lady. We use all sortsa materials. Hel, I once saw a blacksmith make a toothpick outta thunder and a dog’s howl!”

“How do you use thun-“

“The point is we dwarves can make just ‘bout anything out of just ‘bout anything. Now I’m not too familiar with the makings of Mjolnir there so I can’t say fer sure, but that Traveler buddy of yers must’ve thought he had a pretty solid idea. But I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about anymore. You took care of him, didn’tcha? Betcha did it with Mjolnir too!”

Thrúd’s eyes traveled left and right, her body ramrod straight and her mouth pressed in a thin line.

In return, Lúnda’s smile faded. “You didn’t take him out?”

The goddess shook her head. “I couldn’t. My usual weapons couldn’t so much as dent his armor, and by the time I got Mjolnir back from him . . . I ran.” She admitted the last part as if it caused her physical pain. “I was so-“ she cut herself off, forcing herself to clam up before spilling her guts out to the dwarf. Thrúd forced the memories back with so much force it caused a shudder to run through her body. “He was just too strong. I need more training.”

“Nah, what you need is someone to talk to! You’re plenty strong for a girl yer age and you’ll get plenty more experience swinging that hammer ‘round, believe you me. But everyone’s gotta socialize a lil! All that tension you’ve got in your shoulders there can’t be good fer you. I seem to remember seeing yer mother wanderin’ round Vanaheim. I know she’s busy as a worker bee and all but I’m sure she-“

“NO!”

Thunder clapped with a mighty BOOM above them. Her grip on the weapon tightened. Lúnda jumped back in startled surprise, her hands coming up defensively.

Seeing the fear in Lúnda’s eyes, Thrúd let out a breath to calm herself down, placing Mjolnir back on her hip. “I’m sorry, Lúnda. I just . . . can’t talk to mom right now. Please don’t ask me to do that.”

Not quite understanding, Lúnda nodded before lowering her arms, approaching the table slowly. “No worries, Thrúd,” Lúnda assured, her voice a little shaken. “I won’t force ya to do something you don’t want to.” She let out a chuckle to herself. “I mean, not like I could force you to do anything in the first place.” Her hand gestured from her own portly form to Thrúd’s muscular build. “But, one thing is for certain,” she pointed at Mjolnir. “That hammer is going to need a tune-up. With that Traveler guy out there, Mjolnir isn’t safe.”

Thrúd’s spirits were immediately lifted. “Yeah! Yes! That’s what I was hoping you’d say!” She plopped the hammer down on the table between them. “Give me your best! Oh, and don’t worry about payment. I’m good for it.”

Eyes wide, Lúnda looked from the hammer to Thrúd a few times before chuckling nervously. “Oh, uh, no, not from me.”

Those same spirits that welled up in Thrúd’s chest deflated just as fast. “What do you mean?”

Lúnda pointed to the weapon on her table. “Now, I’m talented in my craft, don’t get me wrong . . . but that there hammer is truly something special. Something that only the ones who made it know anything about.”

“But you said if I got you those rocks, you’d be able to work on it!”

“I meant maybe I could give it the ol’ spit shine with the materials you were out to find! I don’t think you know how special this hammer of your daddy’s really was. The ones who made it, well, they caught lightning in a bottle with this one! No, really, they got lightning in a bottle to work on it. But this,” she pointed to Mjolnir, “is what put them on the blacksmith’s map in general. They rightly kept to themselves ‘bout the specifics of it all. I’m sorry lil lady, but I’m not going to be any help with this one.”

Thrúd shrugged. “Well, alright. Where can I find them?”

The daughter of Thor had only known this dwarf for less than a day, but what she could gather about her character is that she is that her bright and bubbly personality is nearly impossible to bring down. So the fact that her question managed to cast a nearly tangible storm cloud over Lúnda told her that she had officially touched a nerve.

But that didn’t change the fact that Thrúd was in desperate need of answers.

“Lúnda, please,” Thrúd pleaded. “You said so yourself. Whoever these guys are, they’re the only ones who can do anything to help. I can’t explain it all right now, but this hammer has to survive! Now where are they?”

The dwarf avoided eye contact. She looked away and stepped back from the table. Thrúd figured that Lúnda must be a fucking fantastic blacksmith, seeing as how she was able to stoke the fires inside of her with less than a passing glance.

Smacking the table in frustration, Thrúd walked around the table and entered the table, ignoring the warning squawks from Huginn.

“Damnit Lúnda!” Thrúd snapped. “I need you to tell me where they are!”

She grabbed the dwarf’s shoulder, then stumbled forward a few awkward steps as Lúnda disappeared the moment she gripped her. “What the-“

“Thrúd,” Lúnda’s voice came from behind her. Twisting around, Thrúd found the dwarf had somehow gotten herself where Thrúd was previously standing; outside the tent on the other side of the table. “It’s not that easy.”

Rather than question how she did that, Thrúd made her way out of the tent, approaching Lúnda with brisk, impatient steps. Another chirp from Huginn fell on deaf ears. “Lúnda, I-“ before she could so much as invade Lúnda’s personal space, the dwarf vanished again.

Thrúd cursed under her breath, arms out in front of her, unsure what they should be doing.

“Now lil lady,” her voice came from above this time.

Whipping her head around so quickly that her hair slapped her in the face, Thrúd found Lúnda standing on top of a nearby boulder out of reach. “I’m a patient dwarf, which is sayin’ somethin’, because of our typically stubborn nature. But what you’re asking for is dang near impossible. And . . . this isn’t just some small favor I can pull some strings fer.”

“Lúnda, I don’t know what you’re talking about. But honestly . . . and I don’t want to sound like an asshole, but I don’t really care.” Lúnda looked hurt. “This hammer needs to survive. It has to. If you know something, anything at all that can help me, then please tell me.”

The dwarf held a fist to her chest, nursing an invisible wound delt by Thrúd with her indifference. All the while, Huginn was watching this turn of events unfold from the top of Lúnda’s shop.

With another fwip, the air shimmered around Lúnda, and she vanished once again. Flinching in surprise, Thrúd looked around, trying to find where she had teleported herself this time.

Footsteps were heard from behind her. Looking back around, she found Lúnda inside the tent once again, leaning against the table as if she hadn’t ever left. Thrúd approached slowly.

“The Huldra brothers,” Lúnda said. “That’s who you’re looking for.”

Thrúd nodded. “Ok, the Huldra brothers.” She found herself back at square one. “Where are they?”

Her question didn’t brighten the usually cheerful dwarf’s demeanor any. If anything, it soured even more. Lúnda looked away. “One of them, Brok, he’s dead. Odin got him.”

Thor’s daughter let out a long, calming breath. She really shouldn’t have been surprised. Odin always found a way to inconvenience everyone around him in any way he could, even back when Thrúd was devoutly on his side. But if that was the case, then why was this still such a shocker?

“Ok . . .” Thrúd racked her brain. “But you said brothers. As in more than one. What about him? Or them? Or however many there are?”

It took a moment for Lúnda to find her words. “Ah, Sindri isn’t really- er, available at the moment.”

“Sindri?” Thrúd furrowed her eyebrows. “The dwarf who was with Loki at Ragnarok?” Her eyes bulged. “He’s the one who made dad’s hammer?!”

“One of them.”

“Right, right, one of them.”

“The thing with Sindri is that he may not look it, but he’s one of the best there is in smithin’. His work on Mjolnir is only a small example of what he’s capable of. But Brok dyin’? It did somethin’ to him. He’s not the same as he was. After the funeral . . . he went off. Not sure where. No one is. He’s the only one who can help you, but I’m sorry lil lady, I don’t know where to find him.”

Thrúd deflated visibly. “I understand.”

Goddess and dwarf sat in an uncomfortable silence for a small eternity before Thrúd found the bravery to break it. “I’m sorry for snapping at you before. About my mom. We’re just . . . going through a lot since Ragnarok. We both need our space.” She paused. “And for chasing you around like that.”

“I’m sorry too, Thrúd. The wounds are still fresh. Still hard to talk about.”

“Yeah, I don’t blame you.” A thought came to her. “But what was that teleport thing? I didn’t know dwarves could do that.”

“Not all of us can,” Lúnda shook her head, her positive and bubbly attitude seemed to be returning. “Stepping into the realm between realms is a special ability. It’s also what’s going to make finding Sindri so hard for you.”

Thrúd nodded her understanding, her eyes traveling across the tabletop. Suddenly, the table became increasingly less interesting as a new thought popped into her head.

“You’re right.”

Lúnda looked up at her.

“It would be really hard for me to find someone who can step between the realms whenever he wants.” She stepped back and laid her eyes on her feathery companion. “But luckily, I know someone else whose specialty is finding things.”

“CAW!”

Chapter Text

Thrúd was getting impatient.

It’s been two whole days since she sent Huginn away on his assignment to track down Sindri, the only person in the remaining realms who can improve Mjolnir. Back in Asgard, she had memories of Odin sending the ravens away on quests to find any nugget of knowledge they could that may have benefitted him in any way. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for them to be away for a long period of time in their pursuits.

Besides, it hadn’t concerned her at that moment. What Odin was doing was his business.

It was different now that she was the one sending one away on an assignment. Especially one with her father’s legacy at stake. If there was a chance that Mjolnir could get destroyed before she could prove that it is good for more than just slaughtering innocents, then she needed Huginn to find that dwarf as soon as possible. But if what Lúnda said was true, then Sindri may not be in a very charitable mood when she meets him. However, Thrúd reasoned, he needed to be found first. One problem at a time.

Constantly fretting about the bird’s whereabouts would do nothing to get him back here with results faster. So instead of worrying about it, Thrúd threw herself into what she normally throws herself in once she begins to feel stressed or backed into a corner.

Training.

Thrúd said her goodbyes to Lúnda and thanked her for her services before having Huginn send the two of them back to Midgard. After dropping her off at the Council of the Valkyries, Thrúd sent him off on his mission. With nothing else to do, Thrúd began preparations.

Her dad had showed her how to set up training dummies for herself years ago; she trained with one at least three times a day in her room on Asgard. Collecting the supplies needed, Thrúd cut down a few nearby trees, chopped them into manageable pieces and bound them together with rope until they resembled featureless scarecrows, eighteen in all.

Now came the necessary, but grueling task of placing them where she wanted.

With Mjolnir now in her possession, getting from one place to another is now substantially easier. What better way to work on her accuracy than to place these bad boys all over the lake?

In groups of two, Thrúd placed the dummies all across the frozen lake and in the forests, memorizing where each of them was. Satisfied with their placement, Thrúd placed herself in the center of the council of Valkyries. In front of her was one of the dummies, behind her was another one; the start and finish lines.

Rolling her neck, Thrúd took satisfaction in the cracks and pops before falling into a runner’s stance, one hand on the ground, the other hovering over Mjolnir at her hip. Her eyes narrowed on the first dummy, several yards in front of her. All of the seats surrounding her remained empty, but she could feel the eyes of the council’s namesake upon her as if they were sitting there, waiting for her to show them what she’s got.

And damn it all if she was going to disappoint them.

Wrapping herself entirely with lightning, Thrúd dashed forward and took out Mjolnir, reducing the dummy to twigs. One down, seventeen to go.

Still doused in lightning, Thrúd swung the hammer upward and allowed it to pull her skyward. With this impressive view of the lake, the goddess zeroed in on the next target. Thrúd remained in the clouds for mere moments before finding herself in the middle of the woods, a small crater forming underneath her feet.

To her left was the closest dummy. Taking out her mace, Thrúd closed the distance and swung at the dummy’s head, knocking it clean off and sending it soaring through the woods. Spinning on her heel, she found the other dummy partnered with this one. Putting her mace away, Thrúd threw Mjolnir at the unsuspecting dummy. It was obliterated upon impact.

Now came the real test.

She snapped her fingers.

Nothing happened.

Cursing under her breath, Thrúd ran over to where the hammer landed and placed it back at her hip. No need for leaping out of here, she thought, not with the next targets so close.

The frozen shore was just outside the line of trees to her side. Covering herself in lightning once again, Thrúd skipped over the foliage and landed on the ice, using her speed as momentum to slide across the ice for a quarter mile before ramming her shoulder into the dummy.

Digging her feet into the ice, Thrúd slowed herself to a stop. Multiple yards in front of her was a longboat, propped up on a large boulder with half of the boat stuck in the ice. Underneath the damaged boat was another dummy. Thrúd ran forward with Mjolnir in her hand. The entirety of its head smothered in lightning, Thrúd dragged it across the ice before swiping it upwards, shooting a torrent of ice shards toward the already damaged ship.

The ice salvo pierced the rotted wood of the ship like it was made of paper, weakening the already weak body to the point where it could no longer support itself. With a satisfied grin, Thrúd watched as the top half of the boat slid off its winter home and onto the ice, crushing the dummy and sending splintered wood in all directions.

Five down.

Thrúd found herself in a comfortable pattern. She thrusts the hammer aloft, finds herself at the next location, demolishes the dummies she assigned there, and starts again. The process was sufficient enough in distracting her from the errand she sent Huginn on. It was not, however, very efficient at helping her forget about her inability to summon the hammer back to her.

Every so often, Thrúd took a gamble and threw Mjolnir at a few. With each throw and with each snap of her fingers, all she did was affirm how far behind she was of her father. But that didn’t stop her from trying.

Maybe this time-

Snap.

Nothing.

She moved onto the next location.

Alright. This time for sure.

She threw it at her target.

Snap.

No response.

She repeated this process more times than would probably be advised. Each time, despite her hopes, she came no closer to understanding how to summon the damn hammer back to her.

But if Thor could do it, then she could too.

After destroying the last of the duos, Thrúd sent herself on a course back to the council. She was soaring down towards the council with her arm outstretched, her fingers gripping the shaft of the hammer and her hair fluttering behind her. Below her, she could see the final dummy.

She had dressed this one up to partially resemble the Traveler she had encountered at Svartalfheim. Bigger than the others, bulky, and a tad sturdier. Thrúd meant to smile at the thought of crushing her adversary, but she couldn’t help the scowl that came across her face instead.

Now gripping the hammer with both hands, Thrúd brought the hammer behind her head and unleashed a mighty yell as she flung Mjolnir down at the last dummy with all her might. Mjolnir spun end over end on a collision course with Grámtrist part deux, lightning sparking behind it as it fell until it crushed the dummy with the force of a comet.

For a moment, it completely vanished in a plume of dust and debris with the occasional arc of electricity shooting out. Thrúd landed next to the dummy’s remains as the dust began to settle, revealing a heap of snapped wood with singed tips, Mjolnir directly in the center of it, its sparks dying out.

Thrúd took in a deep breath before slowly approaching the hammer, as if it was a wild animal that just tore apart its prey for sport. She stood over it with her hand stretched down toward the hammer but did not pick it up.

Rather, she closed her eyes and took three calming breaths, doing her best to drain away the adrenaline from her workout and focus on summoning the hammer to her hand. She snapped her fingers and flexed her hand wide open.

She let out a frustrated sigh when she felt a distinct lack of hammer in her palm.

Head rolling back in agitation, Thrúd ran her fingers through her hair, marching back and forth while muttering a flurry of curses on herself for not being able to summon Mjolnir when it’s ‘right fucking there’.

In midstride, Thrúd scooped up the hammer and slammed it on the ground over and over, scattering the dummy’s remains across the council floor.

“ARGH! RAUGH! FUCK! HEL!” Each curse was accentuated with a blow from the hammer. Normally she would have to squint to shield her eyes from the bright bursts of lightning coming from the hammer, but her vision was so obscured by red and rage that she didn’t need to this time.

With one final swing of the hammer, Thrúd stood up tall, panting to catch her breath.

“Wow,” came a softspoken voice from behind her. “The last time I saw a tantrum that big, you were just a toddler.”

Gasping, Thrúd turned around and found her mother standing between two of the Valkyries’ chairs, her fingers laced together at her waist, ever so regal as always.

Thrúd fought away a blush of embarrassment before placing Mjolnir back at her hip. “Hey-uh, hey mom,” she stuttered, scratching the back of her head. “What are you doing here?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing. But,” she glanced around, looking at the debris scattered across the floor. “I think I can piece it together. I don’t think the Valkyries will appreciate you making a mess of their council though.”

“Shield Maidens, mom. Not Valkyries.”

Lady Sif nodded. “That’s right. Sorry, still getting used to that.” The two of them fell into an awkward silence for some time before Sif began to walk toward her daughter. She gestured to Thrúd’s waist. “I see the rumors are true.” Thrúd looked confused. “You found your dad’s hammer.”

Thrúd’s eyes went wide in realization, her mouth in an O. “Uh, yeah. I did. Sorry, I meant to tell you. You were just so busy.” She made a face. “Wait, rumors?”

“Your visit to Svartalfheim has kind of left an impact.”

She sucked in a breath through her teeth. “You heard about that?”

Sif couldn’t help but smile, waving away her daughter’s embarrassment. “Thrúd, honey, if your dad were still here, he’d have boatloads of stories to tell you about his mistakes with it.”

Her mother didn’t know it, but the mention of Thor made Thrúd’s stomach drop. Before Sif got any closer, Thrúd looked down at the debris she had created, unable to meet her mother’s gaze. “How did you find me?”

“The same way I found your dad whenever I couldn’t find him.” Her stomach dropped again. “I followed the lightning.”

Thrúd didn’t seem impressed. “You have something you want to talk about?” She began gathering the broken logs in her arms.

Confused by her daughter’s sudden shift in mood, Sif decided to roll with it rather than press further. “There’s still work to do back in Vanaheim, but Hildisvíni and I believe we’re ready to bring the displaced Asgard citizens over to their new homes.”

“Congrats.” Thrúd was only halfway genuine with her accolades. For the past few weeks, she had heard plenty of bullshit rumors that Vanaheim was ready for the others. Each time was the same as the last: one more thing needed to be addressed, and then another, and then another. It was getting to the point where she believed they’d never get Vanaheim ready.

“Your friend is back at the temple helping with the last-minute preparations. It shouldn’t be too much longer, now.”

Thrúd kept gathering the wood in her arms. “And?”

Sif blinked. “And,” she paused, “there’s a house there. For us two.”

Thrúd stopped gathering.

“I, uh, I know that it won’t be exactly what I promised. I wanted us to be a real family again, too.” She bent down to be level with her daughter. “And even though he’s not here anymore, I think we can still-“ before she could finish her sentiment, Thrúd stood up and walked over to another pile, leaving a speechless Sif in her wake.

“Is that so?”

“. . . Yes.” Sif’s patience was running out with her moody daughter. She stood up and followed her.

Thrúd let out a breath, her woodpile growing larger. “Have fun in your house. But I’ll be pretty busy. Gotta train.”

“You can train in Vanaheim. I made sure to give you a room big enough to fit more equipment. You’ll be plenty-“

“It’s not about that.”

“Well, what is it about?”

Thrúd began to run everything through her head, doing her best to find a way to explain it all to her mom.

Hey, so there’s this guy who found a way to damage the fuck out of Mjolnir. I caught wind of this random dwarf who can help, but Odin’s over glorified messenger crow is struggling to find him. Oh, and also, the guy who can damage Mjolnir will more than likely be able to find me anywhere I go. He’s called a Traveler after all. With a name like that, they seem like they know how to get around.

Mom’s got enough on her plate, Thrúd thought. She doesn’t need to worry about Grámtrist coming after us, too.

“I’m sorry mom, but Vanaheim doesn’t have what I need. I can’t go with you just yet.”

“Vanaheim doesn’t have what you need?” Sif repeated, unable to believe what she heard. “Well, I’m sorry that our hard work didn’t meet your insurmountable expectations.”

“Mom, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do mean?”

Thrúd set her pile down. “Something’s come up. Like, really important shit that I can’t go to Vanaheim for. At least not yet.”

Most of Sif’s annoyance was drained out and replaced with motherly concern. “What is it, Thrúd? How can I help?”

Shit.

“Mom,” Thrúd began, “I don’t think this is something that you can help with.”

“How am I supposed to know that if you won’t tell me?”

Thrúd had assembled another pile of twigs in her arms. “Just please don’t worry about it. You’ve got enough to worry about.”

The goddess gestured to herself. “Thrúd, I will always make time for you. I am your mother. And I’m certain that if your father were still here, he’d-“

“If dad were still here, I wouldn’t be in this fucking mess in the first place!” She threw her pile on the ground. “If he were still here, he’d still have this stupid hammer and the only thing I’d have to worry about is what time training starts! But he’s not here and this hammer is my problem now, not yours. So just go on your field trip to Vanaheim and leave me alone!”

Sif was silent for what felt like forever to the two of them. Raising Thrúd had always been a challenge for Sif; juggling her obligations to the Aesir with her daughter’s hot temper that could rival Thor’s was never a walk in the park, and Sif was aware that she hadn’t given Thrúd the best environment to grow up in, either. Her own bout with alcoholism was a period in her life that she was not proud of, and it had sparked more than its fair share of arguments between the two of them. Amongst other things in her life.

But this seemed different. Thrúd hasn’t been this bothered by something since she was just old enough to hold her first weapon.

Unfortunately, there was no time to see if she could discover what it was.

Letting out a calming breath, Sif nodded. “Alright, Thrúd.” Her daughter blinked. “If you’re not ready to come with us, I won’t force you to. I should’ve realized a long time ago that you’re old enough to make your own decisions.”

If this were any other time, literally any other time before now, Thrúd would have loved to hear those words coming out of her mother’s mouth. But she couldn’t bring herself to feel anything else than regret at the sight of her mom’s defeated face.

“Mom, I-“

“Finish your training. Become the best Shield Maiden you can be. Do whatever it is you need to do, and whenever you’re ready, you’re welcome to stay with me.” She did her best to hide her hurt, but wasn’t confident in her ability to do so. “But for now, I have to meet up with Hildisvíni back at the temple.”

Thrúd took out Mjolnir. “Let me give you a ride.”

Her mother held her hand up. “I hated the ‘rides’ your father gave me when we first started to court. I’d rather walk.”

With that, she turned her back to her daughter and began to walk out of the council. Thrúd gathered as many broken logs as she could before following her out, not brave enough to walk beside her mother and instead settling for walking behind her all the way back to the temple.

Not a word was spoken between the two of them throughout the duration of their trip. With every step she took, she came up with another idea of how she could have handled her talk with her mother differently. Not that she’d bring it back up right now. The damage was done, and both needed a moment.

Due to the tension between them, the usually brief trip from the council to Týr’s temple felt significantly longer. Despite how much she wanted to, Thrúd couldn’t find anything to make the situation any better.

Before long, they reached the base of the elevator. Somehow, the ride up to the bridge was even more awkward than their walk over. Thankfully, the weight of the pile of wood in her arms was beginning to distract her from her guilt.

They reached the top of the bridge, exposing them to the chilled breeze. Thrúd found it fitting, considering the cold shoulders they were giving to one another. Together, they walked across the bridge after Thrúd dumped her woodpile at the base of one of the massive brasiers. About halfway across, the doors to the temple at the very end opened, releasing the flood of Asgardian refugees led by Hildisvíni.

The God from Vanaheim stopped in his tracks when he saw the mother and daughter approach. He nodded his greeting to them. “My ladies,” he gave a small, respectful bow. Sif half returned it while Thrúd offered a small wave. If he noticed the tension between the two, he didn’t show it. “The refugees are all accounted for and ready for travel. If you are ready, I’ll allow you and your daughter to lead while I follow from behind.”

Sif approached and stood next to him. “Thrúd will be remaining here. She will continue to train and will join us when she is ready.”

Thrúd’s nostrils flared at the tone her mother had. It was the kind of tone and implication what was only noticeable between a mother and daughter. Hildisvíni, while not fully understanding, nodded. “If you are ready,” he gestured to the crowd behind him, “please take the lead.”

Not even sparing Thrúd a passing glance, Lady Sif approached the crowd. Their chatter and murmuring slowly died out once they saw Sif before them. Her hands laced together in front of her once again, she addressed the refugees.

This was one of the things that Thrúd admired about her mother, crowds didn’t scare her. Granted, they never totally unnerved Thrúd either, but she’s never had to speak before anybody yet. Thrúd stepped aside and made her way over to the railing, leaning on both elbows over it.

“Asgardians,” she began. “Midgardians. Everyone. These past several months have been challenging for everyone present here. But in the midst of the destruction, and all of our deceased loved ones, one good thing has come out of this. The All-Father is no more.”

At this, a rousing cheer went up from the crowd. Sif waited for the cheerful cries to dwindle before continuing. “Though we remain shaken, we all must move forward to survive. We thank you for your patience as Hildisvíni and I made a home for you all in Vanaheim.” At this, a few murmurs of disapproval rippled their way through her audience. She held her hand up to silence them. “I understand your reticence. But please understand; this arrangement is only permanent if you wish it to be.” They seemed to calm down at this statement.

“During your time in Vanaheim, you will have provisions, food, shelter, clothes, everything needed to get your feet back on the ground. If you find this lifestyle beneficial, you are more than welcome to make it your home. If not, you will be free to find lodging elsewhere in the realms with mine and Hildisvíni’s blessings.”

Thrúd blew a strand of hair out of her face. “Hey, Thrúd,” she whispered to herself. “I’d like to offer you my blessing to continue your training without any guilt. And I’ll stop talking about your dad every five seconds.” She gasped, feigning surprise while placing her hand on her chest. “Why thank you, mother. I’m touched.”

A chuckle behind her alerted her. “Wow. That was a solid impression.”

She jumped and turned to find Skjoldr approaching, a light, amused smile on his face. He joined her at the railing. “Almost thought she had a clone of herself running around or something.” His smile fell when he saw that Thrúd wasn’t humoring his comments.

Lady Sif’s speech seemed to be winding down. “Ragnarok has affected us all, but it was not the end of us.” She gestured behind her to the bridge with a realm portal waiting on the far side. “We’ve built your new homes, now please help us build our future.”

With one last cheer, the crowd began moving forward, being led by Sif across the bridge, the number of bodies so large that the parade of refugees was still coming out of the temple once Sif reached the portal on the other side. With a wave of her arm, the pile of rocks formed an archway with the blue veil filling the inside of it, leading to Vanaheim. Lady Sif stepped aside and allowed the crowd to enter, smiling kindly at them and accepting their thanks.

Thrúd eyed Skjoldr next to her. “Aren’t you joining them?”

“Not yet.” He pointed a thumb up at the damaged statue of Týr. “Remember that project I was telling you about? Turns out a few others agreed with me.” Thrúd looked back at him with a furrowed brow. “We’re staying here in Midgard to spruce this guy up.”

“Who the Hel did you manage to wrangle up for that?”

“Mmm, about that.”

Skjoldr jerked his head over to the side. Thrúd followed his gesture and found a small crowd of people who were not part of the march toward Vanaheim, about ten of them in all. They all waited patiently for the parade to be over. Among them was-

“Asmund,” Thrúd all but hissed with enough venom to rival the World Serpent’s supply.

Her eyes narrowed to slits, she looked back at her friend who only was able to offer her an innocent shrug. “Hey, I agree with you. The guy’s an asshole. But I’ve seen what he could do back in Asgard. He’s a born craftsman. Knows his way around tools.”

“I should wrap his head around my tools.”

“And actually, he was the first onboard when I mentioned this idea. He’s the one who rallied everybody else.”

Skjoldr kept talking, but Thrúd tuned him out the moment her gaze locked with Asmund’s. The moment she saw him, her blood boiled at the memory of his selfishness in the temple a few days ago. Despite this, she did her best not to show any signs of annoyance. For a moment, his eyes glanced down and his eyebrows raised the slightest bit.

Thrúd looked down to see if she could find what he saw and discovered that he was looking at Mjolnir, surprised to see that she had found it. With a small puff of pride, Thrúd twisted her hip all the way toward him to show off the hammer. He didn’t give her the satisfaction she was looking for. Instead, he resumed chatting with the others.

“Prick.”

“And I was also thinking,” Skjoldr continued, totally oblivious to the silent confrontation between the two petty contestants. “This coin.” He held it up. “Sure it’s nice, but I’m not sure if I could ever find a use for it. You think your mom could use it where she’s going? Or maybe even just as a parting gift or some shit?”

Thrúd’s attention was yanked back to her friend the moment he brought her mother up. Her eyes went from the coin to her mom, still standing on the other side of the bridge, ushering the ongoing line inside the portal. She wasn’t totally sure, but Thrúd thought for a moment that Sif was looking at her too, almost hopeful that her daughter would join the line and go to Vanaheim with her.

“Do whatever you want with it.” She snapped, causing Skjoldr to flinch back in response.

The last of the refugees exited the temple. With Hildisvíni behind them, he did his part in guiding them to the portal. Seeing this, Skjoldr looked back at Thrúd, who was leaning against the railing once again.

“Hey, uh, I know you’re not going with them because you want to train, which is none of my business obviously,” he chuckled nervously.

“No shit,” Thrúd chided.

“Yeah. No shit. But I’m getting the impression that you want some time away from her.”

“And who the fuck told you that?”

“Nobody needed to. You don’t hide your annoyance as well as you think you do.” Thrúd let the jab slide due to how bold it was. “Listen, I didn’t know my parents very well. Least of all my mom. I can’t even begin to tell you how much shit I’d have to tell her about if I could see her again.”

“What’s your point?”

“Odds are you’re not going to see her for a bit. Are you really sure you want to go that long without clearing some shit up with her?”

Thrúd mulled over his point in silence. On one hand, she hated how her mother devoted all of her time to Vanaheim as soon as Ragnarok was over without coming to check in on Thrúd in Midgard once. But on the other hand, Thrúd hadn’t reached out to her mom either. And she may have been a little too aggressive in her approach back at the council.

Soon, Thrúd had an entire list of things she could have done differently back there.

Her guilt came back with a vengeance. She let out a sigh and dipped her head down low, her wild hair obscuring her face from Skjoldr’s view.

Sucking in a large breath to recompose herself, Thrúd stood upright and looked to the end of the bridge. The last of the refugees were approaching the portal.

“I’ll be right back.”

Thrúd stepped away from the railing and began marching toward the beginning of the bridge, prepared to make a beeline to her mom and clear the air . . .

“CAW!”

. . . only to stop dead in her tracks as a familiar call reached her ears.

Ever so slowly, Thrúd turned back around to look at where she just was. On the railing, Hugin was perched, his head twitching left and right, always having one of his eyes on her. Skjoldr jumped back in alarm, unprepared for the bird’s appearance.

Thrúd’s breath picked up exponentially. She looked back to her mom, then to Hugin until she lost track of how many times she twisted her head back and forth.

“CAW! CAW!” His call almost sounded annoyed at her lack of enthusiasm to see him.

At the far end, Sif’s eyes were clearly on her daughter, filled with hope that she’d at least come to say goodbye.

Logic and common sense told Thrúd that was the right thing to do. But paranoia and anxiety were a Hel of a duo to one’s mind.

Thrúd twisted on her heel and ran back to the raven. She didn’t see a disappointed Sif enter the portal behind Hildisvíni or the portal collapsing into a pile of unsuspecting rocks behind them.

Before she knew it, Thrúd was face to face with Hugin. She approached with such ferocity that the raven had to flutter his wings to regain his balance.

“Did you find Sindri?!”

“CAW!”

His head gestured downward to his feet. Thrúd followed his gaze and gasped in surprise when she found a scroll attached to his leg, a tag hung off it which read ‘to whom it may concern’ in spidery cursive.

Eyes wide and heart thumping loudly in her ears, Thrúd reached forward and removed the scroll from Hugin’s leg. He squawked one last time before jumping to her shoulder, as if he himself was curious as to what the scroll said. Skjoldr remained silent the whole time, waiting to see what his friend’s reaction was going to be before asking any sort of question.

With shaky hands, Thrúd unfurled the scroll and read the two words to herself.

‘FUCK OFF’

Thrúd would’ve found the note hilarious if she hadn’t just ditched her mother to read it.

She was stunned to silence. No one present was totally sure how long they all stood there without moving a single inch.

Thrúd had a million follow-up questions for Hugin but couldn’t find her voice to ask them.

Where was he?

Can you find him again?

Was he with anybody?

She could hear Skjoldr approaching from behind, cautiously looking over her shoulder to read what it had to say. He blinked when he read it. Then blinked again when he reread it to confirm that’s exactly what it said.

“Huh.” Was all he had to say.

Silence filled the air once more, at least until Lúnda appeared before her with a FWIP. Skjoldr yelped and fell back in surprise, unprepared for the dwarf’s sudden arrival.

“Thrúd!” Lúnda exclaimed. “Thank Freya I finally found you!”

The young goddess finally looked away from the note, finding Lúnda’s concerned pudgy face looking up at her.

“I know where Sindri is!” The dwarf said, not waiting for Thrúd to even acknowledge her presence.

At that, Thrúd let out a hollow laugh, crumpling up the note before chucking it over the railing, letting the wind blow it away.

“Yeah? Well, he doesn’t want to see me. But you know what? I don’t really give a fuck.” She turned her head to look at Hugin. “My little buddy here knows where he is too, and he can take me right-“

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell ya, lil lady! Hugin can’t bring you to the realm between realms!”

Chapter Text

The cold had finally gotten to Thrúd. If she was going to get the rundown on this shit show, she wanted to at least be warm for it. Together, Thrúd, Lúnda and Hugin made their way inside the large doors of the temple and into the anteroom. Taking respite from the biting cold, Thrúd made her way over to the smithing area and sat herself down on top of the worktable and rubbed her bare triceps for warmth.

Lúnda worked her way to the other side of the table almost on impulse while Hugin sat himself next to Thrúd on the table.

“Alright,” Thrúd started. “So where is he?”

“The realm between realms. His home.”

“I thought you said he wasn’t home. That he was off somewhere after his brother died?”

“Well, he was until this one here spooked him.” She gestured at Hugin, who was absentmindedly picking at his feathers. “I don’t know where he was before, but as soon as mister birdie here found him, he up and made his way back to his house.”

“But how do you know that part? What, were you there or something when he got home?”

Lúnda nodded. “Yes, as a matter of fact I was. And I wasn’t the only one who was there either.” The dwarf seemed to finally notice that this smithing location in particular was not how she had last left it.

Tools were misplaced, coal was spilled onto the floor, and the bed that she had left out for Helka to use was damn-near flattened. She shook her head in disgust as she walked back and forth, gathering what she could in her arms before laying them out on the table next to Thrúd and causing Hugin to let out a squawk of protest. “Damn Asgardians, think they own everything. Oh, uh, sorry Thrúd.”

The goddess wasn’t offended. “So, you were there?”

She nodded once again. “Yes, I was. Back in the few weeks before Ragnarok started, Brok and Sindri’s place was used as kind of a, er, ‘base of operations,’ you could say.” She put air quotes around the expression. “That’s where Kratos, Atreus, the lovely Freya and the equally lovely Freyr and everyone else swapped battle plans. But, uh, to spin a long yarn short, Odin caught wind of it. Killed Brok. Just like that.”

A wave of shame crashed over Thrúd. It may not be her fault she’s even related to the All-Father, but it made his actions feel all the more evil.

Lúnda continued. “Anyway, after the fall of Asgard, Sindri went off on his own for a while like I said. We didn’t follow him or nothin’. He needed space. So in the meanwhile,” she grunted as she shoved an anvil back into its proper home, “I was mannin’ the fort. Kratos and Freya make frequent stops over there for a quick breather. Heh, Ymir knows they need as many breaks as they can get, what with all the adventurin’ they get up to.”

“But what does this have to do with Sindri?”

With another grunt, Lúnda placed a toolbox on top of a high shelf (well, high for dwarf standards). “I’m gettin’ there. Anyway, we all did our part to take care of his home; water his plants, clean the floor, keep his tools spick and span, anything we could do. But then,” she stopped short, hands on her hips and her head shaking as she recalled the events.

“He just barged right in like he owns the place . . . Which he does, but y’all know what I mean. Started yellin’ at us to get out and leave him be. Wouldn’t let any of us get in a word edgewise.” Lúnda put the last of the tools in its place. “Was goin’ off too about some ‘damned bird following me around’.”

Thrúd smirked at Hugin. At least he’s annoying to somebody else besides just me.

“So, you guys just let him kick you out?”

Lúnda shrugged helplessly. “It’s his home. He has the right to be alone in it if he wants to. So, Kratos and Freya and Mimir went off to find a new HQ, but I had a funny feeling that this one was that lil bird in question.”

“CAW!”

“But still,” after having heard the story, Thrúd’s curiosity was slowly turning to irritation, “you didn’t need to find him, because he found you. And you know I need him. You didn’t even think to bring this up to him?” She gestured to Mjolnir resting on her hip.

“Now listen here, lil lady,” Lúnda pointed a finger, “I’m nothing but sympathetic to what you’re goring through and will do anything in my skillsets to help. But you ain’t the only one suffering here. What Sindri needs is-“

“Look, you may know him well enough to respect his boundaries, but I don’t. If Hugin can’t get me to his home, then what do you suggest?”

Lúnda crossed her arms over her chest, clearly not impressed with Thrúd’s growing attitude. “I suggest, Thrúd, that you keep training. I’m sure that if you keep at it, you’ll be as good at swingin’ that thing round as your papa was. Maybe even well enough to knock some sense into that Traveler fella ye’re going on about. ‘Sides, it’s not like I can take you to the realm between realms myself.”

“Why not?”

The dwarf shook her head. “Ain’t how it works. Don’cha think that if it were that easy, I’da done it by now?”

Thrúd was silent for a moment, her impatience paving the way for a fresh dealing of shame at herself for her rotten approach to the solution. “. . . I guess.” Thrúd swung her legs beneath her on her seat on the table, rubbing her arm self-consciously. “Sorry, Lúnda. I- I don’t mean to keep being a bitch. I just never thought I’d be in a situation like this.”

Lúnda, who Thrúd decided was way too good for any of the realms, shooed off her apology. “Think nothin’ of it, sweetheart. These are strange times for everyone. I doubt Kratos and Atreus figured they’d be doin’ half the stuff they’ve done. Like all of the kiddo’s adventures in Asgard? Hel, I’ve only known him for a short while, but-” she stopped short, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

Thrúd checked their surroundings, looking to see if Lúnda had laid eyes on something that Thrúd had yet to see. When she found nothing, she turned back to the dwarf, still frozen in shock. “What?”

The dwarf showed no signs of having heard her question. Instead, she placed a hand on her chin and began pacing thoughtfully back and forth, mumbling something inaudibly to herself. Thrúd’s impatience was returning. “What?” She asked again.

Lúnda didn’t answer. She kept pacing around in a little circle. “I couldn’t be that easy, could it? Never mind the clear breach in trust . . .”

“What is it?!” Thrúd jumped down from her spot, snapping Lúnda out of her trance.

Before she answered, Lúnda made her way to the wall of tools she had just finished reorganizing and picked up a hammer, strapping it to her belt.

“Thrúd,” she was wagging her finger as if she were onto something revolutionary, but dangerous, “I think I can help you get there after all. But if it works, you can’t breathe a word of anything I’m about to do to Sindri. I want to help you get that hammer all juiced up cuz I think you’re gonna do great things with it, but Sindri can’t know what I’m about to do. Ya hear me?”

“What? Yes! I mean, what? What is it?”

“You’ll find out soon enough. Stay right here. No movin’. Alright?”

Without giving Thrúd so much as a second to respond, Lúnda vanished into the realm between realms, leaving a shocked Thrúd and a confused Hugin behind her. Thrúd blinked a few times as if the next time she opened her eyes, the dwarf would be right there once again. But no such luck.

Thrúd held out her arms helplessly, looking left and right before dropping them down to her sides and letting a loud groan escape her lips. “Fuck!” She stormed past the worktable and paced the length of the anteroom to work off her agitation. “She could’ve at least told me what she was up to,” she grumbled.

For Ymir’s sake. The dwarf literally just left. Give her a few moments, could you?

Thrúd wasn’t proud of the yelp that came out of her.

She peeked over her shoulder to the light bridge that leads to the main chamber of Týr’s temple but found no one. She looked forward at the double doors leading outside, but no one was there either.

“Uh . . .” she trailed off. “Hello?” Nobody came forward to claim ownership of the unfamiliar voice.

In the hope of proving her sanity, Thrúd made her way back to the table where Hugin still stood. “You heard that, right?”

The raven cocked his head to the side unhelpfully, prompting a breath to be let out of Thrúd’s mouth. “Of course not.”

The voice in her head didn’t return, but a familiar noise did reach her ears instead.

However, this noise wasn’t particularly welcome.

Clank.

Clank.

Clank.

Thrúd’s blood turned to ice. The footsteps started out almost imperceptible, but they were definitely there, and they were coming from outside.

Ever so slowly, Thrúd leaned back to check the door on the other side of the anteroom. No movement, but the sound was getting progressively louder.

“No,” she dared to let out a breath. “No, not already, please.”

Against her better judgement, Thrúd walked slowly to the exit. Before she knew it, her hands were on the door, prying it open from both sides. She could feel Hugin’s disapproving glare at her back, but she needed confirmation. After she wedged the door open only enough to peek through, she got it.

“Shit.”

. . .

Even though she had gotten kicked out of the house not even an hour ago, it felt as if she hadn’t seen this place in ages. That was probably because its current occupant wanted nothing to do with her at the moment. Lúnda knew better than to take that fact personally; he didn’t want anything to do with anybody just yet.

Despite knowing this, she couldn’t help the pang of hurt welling up in her chest.

I hope you know what it is ye’re getting yerself into, lil lady.

Lúnda knew better than to appear inside the house itself, so she brought herself to its front yard, surrounded by the blueish violet hues of the realm between realms, nestled on a branch of Yggdrasil itself. The dwarven cottage before her nearly intimidated the dwarf now that Sindri was back inside, but thankfully she didn’t have to go in just yet.

Despite feeling positive that she would go unnoticed out here, Lúnda squatted down low and awkwardly walked over to the chime hanging from a branch. Once she was close enough, the dwarf hoisted herself onto the desk at Ratatoskr’s station and reached for the chime, cursing to herself when her arm wasn’t quite long enough to reach.

Don’t wanna be too loud, now. Sindri’ll get startled again. All I need is the tiniest jingle . . .

“The fuck you think you’re doing?”

“WAH!”

Lúnda regained her balance on the desk and clamped a gloved hand over her mouth in panic. Peeking to the side, she saw no sign of Sindri having noticed her outburst.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Lúnda looked down at the source of the voice and found a tiny blue squirrel whose body was transparent and shimmery. “Hush, Bitter!” Lúnda commanded as she stepped off the desk. “I’m looking for Ratatoskr.”

“Trying to get a better vantage point from up higher? Lady, you may as well use your realm stepping abilities for that because you do not have the physique for climbing.”

Ignoring the insult, Lúnda pressed the matter. “Listen, I just need Ratatoskr to do me a quick favor is all. Where is he?”

“He’s down a few levels feeding the lindwyrms. They’re especially agitated today. Fucking hilarious. But I doubt he’s going to have the time to some up and so much say ‘hi, fatty.’ They seem to have his hands full.”

Lúnda made a face. Not at the jabs at her weight (she knew better than to take anything Bitter had to say to heart), but at the prospect of a vital part of her plan missing.

Her mouth pressed in a thin line, Lúnda drummed her fingers across the tabletop in thought. “Bitter,” she said once she came up with a flimsy backup plan, “can I ask you for a favor?”

“Point you to the direction of the nearest training ground?”

“I need you to distract Sindri for me. I was gonna have Ratatoskr sneak in and grab somethin’ but looks like it’s just you n’ me.”

Bitter blew a raspberry. “Right, because I have nothing better to do at the moment.”

“You were left at the front desk by Ratatoskr, weren’cha? Looks like you got nothin’ else to do right now besides helping lil ole me out.”

“You are only one of those two things you said. Besides, why should I? No one ever does anything for me in return.”

Lúnda thought this over. “Well, I suppose that’s fair. What do ya want in return?”

Bitter gave pause, his tiny white eyes looking her up and down. “You mean besides you to brush your teeth once in a while? Hm . . .” he pondered. “Anxious has been especially aggravating recently. When that pale oaf brought back all the lindwyrms, that little brat has gotten a bigger ego. No clue how that could’ve happened. Keeps asking me to ‘practice insults’ with him. I’d never normally turn down an excuse to insult that bastard, but to do it when he’s expecting it? Takes all the fun out!”

“So, what do you want me to do about it?”

“Be his ‘insult buddy’ instead of me. I can’t take it anymore!”

Lúnda blinked. “You . . . want me to be his friend? Well shucks, I’da done that fer free anyways!”

“Really? Well-“

“Uh-uh! Too late. You owe me a favor now, too.”

Bitter threw a fit of curses and swears that was very unbecoming of somebody of his size and cuteness. “Fine. What the fuck do you want?”

Pleased at the progress, Lúnda leaned forward on the desk with both elbows, whispering as if to ensure that Sindri wouldn’t be able to hear. “I need one of them gateway keys. I don’t got any in any of my stalls.”

“And you want me to . . . grab one for you? Not sure if you’re aware of this or not, fatty, but that’s a little above my paygrade. Healing or rage stones? The occasional piece of hacksilver? Then we’d be on to something.”

“I know you can’t do it. I need you to distract Sindri fer me while I sneak in and take one for myself.”

Bitter seemed to consider this. His tiny head looked back and forth, deep in thought. After several moments of silence, Bitter said, “I’d never say no to a chance at pissing someone off. You’ve got a deal, fatso.”

Lúnda smiled. “Great! What I need you to do first is-“

“Nope.” Bitter interrupted her. “You gave me this job. That means I’m doing it my way.”

Lúnda was about to argue with him but thought against it. “Well, I guess that’s fair. What d’ya have in mind?”

“Just stay out of sight by the front door. Wait for the signal and come on in. And try not to let your thunderous footsteps give you away.”

“Alright. But what’s the signal?”

Bitter winked at her. “You’ll know it when you hear it.” With that, he flickered before vanishing entirely.

Now alone, Lúnda shrugged before slowly making her way over to the front door like the rude squirrel said to, keeping low enough to not be seen from the windows. She reached the front doors and waited in a hunched position, unsure of what she was waiting for.

Wonder that lil fella is cookin up fer me. Hope he’s right and I know it when I hear it.

Not two seconds after that thought passed through her head, an obnoxious bubbling noise came from deep in the house, probably the kitchen, she figured. The bubbling was then followed by the hiss of scalding hot water escaping a pot. Finally, a few sputtering noises erupted like tiny fireworks.

She could hear footsteps.

Bitter got Sindri’s attention.

After a few moments, the cacophony of sounds began to dwindle until all that remained was a hiss of escaping steam. She could hear a few clanking noises followed by more footsteps, these ones getting quieter. Then the slamming of a door.

I reckon that’s the signal.

Not taking any chances, the dwarf slowly pushed open one of the double doors, peeking inside.

On the opposite side of the room, where the kitchen is, a wood fire was burning with no pot above it.

Crafty fella must’ve put a few ingredients in there that don’t belong. Nice work! That’ll take Sindri a hot minute to clean out without smoking his home out.

Lúnda opened the door all the way and made a beeline for Sindri’s worktable.

. . .

It was hard to close a door with both urgency and complete silence, but Thrúd managed to pull it off. Once she was positive it was sealed shut, she backed up to look at the doors, hoping against hope that she could find some sort of locking mechanism on her side. She wasn’t even remotely surprised when she didn’t find one.

Thrúd made her way back to Hugin, who was still resting on top of the worktable. She could see her panicked facial expression in the reflection of his glossy eyes. “Grámtrist found me. You have to get me out of here!” She whispered as loudly as she could.

In response, Hugin let out another caw. Thrúd pinched his beak closed with two fingers. “Shh! Are you crazy? He’ll hear you! Now get us somewhere else, I don’t care where.”

Hugin moved his head in a motion that most other people would have mistaken for a simple twitch that birds are known for, but Thrúd could tell that he was shaking his head no.

“The fuck do you mean, no? He’s going to-“ before she could finish, she remembered Lúnda’s command to not go anywhere until she returned. If Hugin brought her someplace else, Lúnda would have a harder time finding them again. Or worse, appear right in front of Grámtrist.

Thrúd let out a shaky breath. “Ok, fine. But where else can we go?”

Hugin looked to the left. Following his gaze, Thrúd found the other set of doors across the light bridge, leading into the circular realm travel room. “Are you crazy? We’ll be trapped in there! There’s nowhere in there to-“

Clank.

Clank.

Clank.

The footsteps were getting louder. She heard something scraping against the entrance. He was only a door away.

Without thinking, Thrúd scooped the raven into her arms and dashed across the light bridge. Behind her, she could hear the other doors being forced open at the exact moment she shut hers.

The two of them were completely entombed in darkness. Thrúd could barely make out the realm crystals in their homes in their circular pattern or the table in the center, but it was still enough.

Her mind was racing almost as quickly as her heart was pumping. It would take Grámtrist less than a minute to trek across the anteroom and into the realm travel room with her. She needed a place to hide. Fast.

She ignored her first instinct to hide behind the table, assuming that that would be the first place he would check. In a room this open and spacious, that only left the crystals to provide any sort of cover. Before she could even begin to think which one would be big enough to hide her, Thrúd heard the clanking footsteps behind her.

Thrúd ran to the farther side of the room, letting go of Hugin to allow him to find his own hiding spot in the shadows before sliding behind a green crystal. She scrambled behind it and did her best to shrink in on herself, letting the crystal completely erase her from sight.

Unconsciously, she reached for her side to ensure that Mjolnir was still there and that she hadn’t misplaced it. Relief flooded her when she could feel its markings across her fingertips.

The doors opened and Grámtrist walked in, letting the doors close behind him with an echoing boom.

Clank.

Clank.

Clank.

Clank.

He stopped walking. Thrúd couldn’t see him from where she was sitting since her back was to the entrance, but she could practically visualize his intimidating stature standing frozen, scanning the room left and right for any signs of life.

“I know you’re in here.” It wasn’t a taunt. It was a statement. A fact. Thrúd nearly shivered at the tinny voice echoing through the large room.

Grámtrist waited a few moments to give Thrúd the opportunity to come out herself. When she didn’t, he continued. “I’m not exactly what people would call a ‘people person’,” he started awkwardly. “Never really wanted to get to know any too much, so I don’t know how most like to act.” Another pause. “I can tell you’re scared, though.”

It wasn’t an insult, but Thrúd couldn’t help but feel insulted anyway. She shoved her pride aside when she concluded that he was correct.

“Please let me be clear. I have no quarrel with you. I only seek out your father’s hammer. Just surrender the hammer, and we never have to see each other again.”

She still wasn’t biting. Grámtrist stayed close to the exit, much to Thrúd’s dismay.

“If this is about what happened in Svartalfheim, please know that I was only excited to see h- the hammer again. I wasn’t thinking clearly, and I never meant to get you involved. I’m begging you, please give me your father’s hammer.”

His tone seemed genuine, but Thrúd wasn’t willing to show herself. Something he had said before didn’t sit right. ‘I have no quarrel with you.’ She wasn’t with the All-Father when he was on his tours of the realms, but she knew for a fact that that was one of his favorite phrases to use on unsuspecting citizens and gods.

Grámtrist remained frustratingly near the exit like a plant. His helmeted head was scanning the room back and forth, looking for any sort of movement. Thrúd could list all of the options of how to handle the situation on one hand, and none of them guaranteed her leaving this room with Mjolnir still in one piece. She was contemplating chucking Mjolnir at his head and hope he didn’t react in time when a noise reached both of their ears.

Tap. Taptap tap.

Thrúd had to prevent herself from letting out some noise of surprise that would give her away. Looking to her side, she found Hugin hidden from Grámtrist on the opposite side of the travel table pecking at the floor.

She’d never been so happy to have that bird on her side before this very moment.

With her heart pounding in her chest, Thrúd waited eagerly for Grámtrist to take the bait. His footsteps gave the answer away.

Clank.

Clank.

Clank.

Not daring to risk being seen by peeking over the crystal and checking where he was, Thrúd did her best to gauge where he was and shift herself along the crystal to constantly keep it in between the two of them.

The closer he got, she feared it also raised the likelihood of her being spotted, but his attention was on the source of the noise. Thrúd glanced over her hiding spot.

Grámtrist was walking to the other side of the table, his eyes never once wavering from his goal. Thrúd took this opportunity to rise quietly to her feet. Staying low to the floor, Thrúd made her way to another crystal as silently as she could. She didn’t completely hide herself behind this one, instead settling for partially crouching behind it to make sure she wasn’t being followed.

From where they were positioned in the room, Grámtrist would have a clear line of sight to her new hiding spot. Taking a chance, Thrúd launched herself behind the next crystal down, desiring to be closer to the door. Scrambling to get all the way behind it, she sat frozen once more.

Grámtrist grew irritated. With his head turned, Hugin took that precise moment to cover himself with his wings, blending in with the shadows. Letting out a growl of frustration, the Traveler reached into the sack at his side and produced a white circular stone.

“Since you insist on making this complicated,” he said. Squeezing the ball, it produced a light source and lifted out of his hand until it was hovering several feet above him. “Just remember that I had the decency to let you come out yourself.”

The ball grew brighter for several seconds before it began to pulse between bright and dim, hovering over his head for a few moments more before it floated away from him.

From her hiding spot, Thrúd could see the pulsing light getting brighter and brighter as it drifted closer to her. Grámtrist began walking.

Clank.

Clank.

His footsteps grew even louder as he followed the glowing ball that gave away her hiding spot.

In one fluid motion, Thrúd shot up to her feet and snatched Mjolnir from her hip with both hands. She smacked the incoming ball away from her and back to where it came from. Grámtrist let out a cry of surprise as it broke to pieces against his helmet, the light disorienting him.

Finding her opportunity, Thrúd made a mad dash over to the exit and wrenched it open with both hands with almost primal desperation. The second the door was even remotely wide enough, Hugin flew through and cawed repeatedly. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” Thrúd shouted hastily as she closed the door behind her.

Ignoring the voice in her head that told her to stay put for Lúnda to find her, Thrúd ran across the anteroom and opened the doors to the bridge. She thought her ears were playing a prank on her, but turning back to look, she found Grámtrist completely recomposed after the light ball stunned him and hot on her tail.

Slamming the door shut, Thrúd began running down the length of the bridge with Hugin flying by her side.

“I don’t suppose you can just teleport this fucker someplace else, could you?” She panted.

“CAW!”

“Didn’t think so. Just thought I’d ask.”

Before she was even a quarter of the way across, the doors to the temple were forced open by Grámtrist. After they were closed, he took off in a sprint in pursuit, a sprint with way more speed than a large suit of armor should allow, Thrúd noted.

Now that they were outdoors, Thrúd held out Mjolnir and was about to summon lightning and enhance her own speed. But before she could so much as bring down one bolt, she crashed into a dwarf that seemed to have appeared out of thin air, sending the two of them sprawling across the floor in a tangled heap of limbs, hair and tools.

“Thrúd?!” Lúnda breathed out. “I told you to wait in that room, didn’t I? I’ve been lookin’ all over fer ya these past few min-“

“Get behind me!”

Ignoring the scolding she was receiving from the blacksmith, Thrúd rocketed up to her feet and placed herself between her and the oncoming Traveler. Using every ounce of strength gifted to her by her godly parents (but mainly the adrenaline pumping through her veins), Thrúd swung Mjolnir in continuous arcs, pummeling Grámtrist with lightning, wind and loose pebbles on the ground. It was enough to slow him down as he held his arms up to block the onslaught, but not enough to stop his progress forward entirely.

Thrúd grunted with every swing of her arm, doing her best to put more power into the next swing than her last.

“So, I take it that’s the Traveler fella you were talkin’ about?”

“Unless the next words out of your mouth is some magic fucking spell that gets us away from here, then please stop talking!” She yelled between breaths.

“Well, as a matter of fact,” Lúnda said, holding up a realm travel stone identical to the ones she’d seen Loki and Kratos use before.

Grámtrist persevered, pushing his way forward through the gale-force winds, his armored feet grinding on the floor with each step. Once he was close enough, he reached behind him and took out his sword.

“Getcher self ready, lil lady!” As Lúnda said this, Hugin let out another cry as he placed himself on Thrúd’s shoulder.

Grámtrist swung his sword downward at the same time as Lúnda threw her stone on the ground, shattering it.

“HVERGI!”

. . .

A//N: Reviews and comments make me smile! =^)

Chapter Text

One moment, Grámtrist’s massive sword was coming down on top of Thrúd despite her best efforts to ward him off. The next, her footing vanished from underneath her, sending her sprawling end over end into a very bright new environment.

Thrúd didn’t so much as have a moment to correct herself before she crashed on a solid surface on her backside, tumbling to a halt beside Lúnda who also suffered from a less-than-graceful landing.

Groaning in unison, the two women slowly rose to their feet, dusting themselves off. Thrúd heard a fluttering of wings above her followed by a small pressure on her shoulder, alerting her of Hugin’s presence. Thrúd was too distracted by her new surroundings to shoo him off.

“Where are we? What just happened?”

Lúnda took a few lumbering steps forward before turning around and spreading her arms out wide. “Lil lady, welcome to Yggdrasil! Yer one-way route to just ‘bout anywhere in the nine realms . . . er, eight realms.”

Thrúd blinked. “Wait, this is the Yggdrasil? The world tree?”

“That is correct, yes.”

“CAW!”

Ignoring the loud bird call in her ear, Thrúd did her best to soak in her surroundings. She appeared to be standing on a massive tree trunk that made a makeshift path that wound its way so far, Thrúd couldn’t see where it ended. There were other tree branches and limbs poking out here and there, but the only path she seemed to be able to follow at all was the one she was currently standing on. The entire atmosphere was tinted in a violet-blue hue that Thrúd’s eyes were still trying to adjust to.

Her feet moved on their own accord, carrying her to a tree limb that seemed to just end with a massive drop into the purple void. Thrúd did her best to keep her balance as she peeked over the ledge. She immediately lost that balance once Hugin flew off her shoulder and flapped his wings in front of her face, cawing frantically.

Thrúd let out a shriek as she fell backwards onto the limb.

“Yeah, I’m with the bird on this one. Ya’ll really don’t wanna stray from the set path. No one comes back from that.”

The goddess rose to her feet. “You understood him?”

“No,” Lúnda shook her head. “I was able to piece that one together myself. Context clues.”

Thrúd blew a loose strand of hair out of her face before she followed the dwarf along the massive trunk.

“So, what was that back there?” Thrúd asked after a few moments of traveling in silence, Hugin flying right next to them. “How’d you get us here? Where’s Grámtrist?”

“Ain’t nothin’ to be afraid of,” Lúnda said confidently. “Yer Traveler buddy may be able to make his way across the realms, but even he can’t follow ya here. Hel, not even yer feathery friend can get ya here if he wanted to.”

“CAW! CAW!”

“Only way he coulda gotten here is if he jumped through that door I kindly opened up fer us. And I don’t see him round, do you?”

Thrúd rechecked her surroundings just to be safe.

“As fer how,” Lúnda continued, “that was thanks to some dwarven ingenuity. But the catch is I could only do that one time. And I ain’t about to go triflin’ through Sindri’s personal space again fer another travel stone. So, if this don’t work, I’m afraid you’ll be outta luck. Make it count.”

Thrúd nodded in understanding. She couldn’t reasonably expect this dwarf to keep going out of her way for her sake. Using other people for her own means was yet another page from the Odin textbook that she had every intention of burning.

Her mind went back to Grámtrist. “Still, how is that guy able to travel across the realms so easily? Last I saw him was in Svartalfheim.”

“Can’t really help ya there,” Lúnda admitted. “All I can say is that Traveler’s have their own methods of gettin’ round. Maybe they’ve got realm travel stones of their own. I’m sure you can thank Odin fer that one, too.”

Thrúd rolled her eyes. Of course.

“So, uh,” Thrúd started. “How do we know when we get to . . . wherever it is we’re going?”

“Trust me,” Lúnda started with a smile as she walked. “Ya’ll will know it when ya see it.”

As if on cue, an archway of complete light manifested itself five paces in front of them, causing Thrúd to blink in surprise. Lúnda stepped to its side and gestured to it. “And there it is. Now, for the time being, I’m afraid that this is where we part ways once again.”

Thrúd got closer to the arch, fascinated by its nature. The doorway had no substance to it other than the bright white light it was made out of. After a lifetime of traveling via ravens, this was a very new concept. Out of sheer curiosity, Thrúd peeked around it to the other side and found that the branch of Yggdrasil kept going with still no end in sight.

Not totally understanding how it worked but accepting it nonetheless, Thrúd looked down at the dwarf. “Thanks again, Lúnda. I owe you big time.”

“Damn right ya do! Ya’ll can start by not mentioning this to Sindri at all.”

“Deal.”

“CAW!”

Thrúd stepped through the door with Hugin close behind her. With one step, she was no longer on a Yggdrasil branch, but rather in someone’s front yard. She was able to put together the fact that she was still within the realm between realms, however, due to the violet and blue hues that was still surrounding her.

Hugin flapped his wings and flew across the yard until he perched himself on the roof of what appeared to be a very charming cottage that was completely built around the natural foliage of the tree itself.

“So that’s Sindri’s house, huh?” She kept walking forward. She heard a crumbling noise behind her and found a similar archway, this one constructed out of rocks, tumble to the ground in a useless pile, much like the portal that she saw her mother and the others use on their trip to Vanaheim. Thrúd winced, hoping that Sindri hadn’t heard.

If the continuing silence afterward was anything to go by, he hadn’t.

Thrúd made her way toward the front door at a slow pace so she could completely take in the new space. But if she were honest with herself, she would admit she was intentionally stalling.

To the left of the house was a strangely out of place desk with a small branch of Yggdrasil standing behind it, brandishing a fancy windchime. Thrúd couldn’t feel any wind inside the realm between realms, so she was curious as to why it would be here in the first place. Aesthetics?

To the right was a fenced off area with a gate in it. On the other side of the gate, she could see a strikingly large stag that almost seemed to be made of wood. She would have mistaken it for a statue had it not been grazing on the lawn. Peeking more around the corner, she found three other stags, each of them with the same wooden appearance. What set each of them apart from the other was a swirl of colors that peeked out from the cracks in their wooden skin.

“Whoa,” Thrúd couldn’t help but breathe out. She shook her head free of the distraction and steeled herself on getting over to the door.

Before she knew it, she found herself at the door. She could feel Hugin’s glowing eyes on her, waiting for her to make her next move.

She let out a breath. “Here goes nothing.” She knocked on the door. Not too surprisingly, no one answered.

Normally, if nobody were to come to the door, she simply would have barged right in to announce her presence. But if what Lúnda had said about the dwarf had any truth to it, then that approach seemed ill-advised. She knocked again. “Hello?” She called out, leaning her ear to the door to see if she could hear any approaching footsteps. “Hello? Sindri? Er, uh, Mister Huldra? Are you there?”

She knocked a third time, but this time she couldn’t stop the annoyance from crawling under her skin. Thrúd instinctively reached for Mjolnir but thought better of it. “Listen, I made my way here to find you. So one way or another, I’m gonna find my way in!” She warned. After another sever seconds of silence, Thrúd’s mind was made up.

“Alright,” she shrugged. She rammed her shoulder into the door with enough force to break someone’s bone. Just as she thought, the door was locked. She charged against it again, and again, and again until the door gave way to her strength. The doors swung open and Thrúd stumbled her way indoors.

Just as it appeared on the outside, the entire house appeared to be built around the pre-existing tree. Bits and chunks of Yggdrasil poked itself out of the walls and made a natural ceiling above her. There was a another worktable to her left, just like the ones at Lúnda’s stations. Shelves were built into the walls around her with rolled up scrolls piling up inside.

Out of everything though, what surprised her most about this place was the mess.

From what Lúnda had told her, Lady Freya, Kratos, and even Mimir had been doing their part to keep the house as tidy as possible to prepare for when or if Sindri ever returned. Thrúd could see no signs of such housekeeping, and instead found dirty pots and pans strewn about on the floor in the cooking area, scrolls from certain shelves scattered over the living room, and dirty boot prints that did not belong to her. Thrúd slowly turned to get a full view of the mess.

“What the Hel?”

“Get out.”

The voice suddenly appeared from behind her.

Turning around with so much speed her hair whipped across her face, she found the exact same dwarf that had penetrated the wall back in Asgard along with Loki, looking even worse for wear than he did back on Ragnarok. His beard was even more disheveled, with more loose strands of hair poking out from his braids. His golden armor was speckled with even more dirt and grime. And to top it all off, his bare arms were decorated with countless cuts and bruises.

In his hands, he held a tuning fork and an iron rod which he wasted no time in striking against each other.

The resulting ringing in Thrúd’s ears was deafening. She covered both ears with her hands as tightly as she could but found the effort to be in vain as the ringing continued. Her body squirmed in a very undignified manner as it tried to correct itself from the sudden disorientation. Before she could so much as stand still, the dwarf approached and gave her a hearty shove at her midsection, pushing her out the door and rolling in the front lawn.

Her ears finally stopped ringing as Sindri slammed the doors shut once again.

“CAW! CA-CAW!”

Thrúd stumbled up to her feet. “Shut. The fuck. Up.” She pointed up at the bird on the roof with a bird of her own.

A fire ignited in the pit of her gut, Thrúd all but stormed inside the house once again, this time with minimal effort due to the damaged door. She found Sindri’s back facing her as he made his way to a staircase built into the trunk of Yggdrasil that led up to a tiny second level.

He stopped short.

“Oh yes,” He started with his back still facing her. “Just barge right back inside after I told you to leave.”

She ignored his bitter remark and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around to face her. “I am Thrúd Thorsdottir.”

“I know that.”

“Then you should know what this is.” With her free hand, she held Mjolnir up to his face.

She couldn’t tell exactly what was going on inside the dwarf’s head, but his face went through a whole list of emotions in a very short amount of time; shock, confusion, realization, then his face finally settled on anger.

Eyebrows furrowed down and nostrils flared, he directed his gaze back to the goddess. The fire from the nearby pit cast all sorts of unpleasant shadows across his features. “Get this thing out of my house.”

Thrúd shook her head. “Not until you help me.”

Sindri shoved the hammer out of his face and continued up the steps. Thrúd followed. “There’s this guy-“

“Don’t care.”

“He has a way to travel across the realms to find me.”

“Good for him.”

“He has the power to destroy Mjolnir!”

Sindri didn’t so much as falter his gait as he climbed the rest of the steps and walked into the tiny room, slamming the door shut. “And I should care, why exactly?” His voice came from the other side.

Hunching low to not hit her head on the ceiling, Thrúd kept herself level with the door. “Um, how about because you made the stupid thing? It’s legendary and has history?” She could hear shuffling on the other side of the door, but Sindri didn’t respond. “Shouldn’t blacksmiths be like, I don’t know, proud of the shit they make?”

“Most of the time, yes,” his voice came from below her. She looked down to the bottom level and found the dwarf with his arms full of shiny, sharp looking weapons that have barely seen battle, if any at all, walking over to the ajar entrance. He didn’t seem to care that the sharp edges were scratching at his skin. “But not when it comes to that one.”

Thrúd leapt from the top level and kept pace behind Sindri as they exited the house, still not used to dwarves having the ability to basically teleport. “Well, that’s ok. You don’t need to be proud of it. You just need to help me.”

Sindri let out a dry, bitter laugh. “I don’t have to do shit, young one.” He turned around to face her, the two of them next to the ledge of the platform that this house rested on. “First you send that disease infested spy out to look for me,” he gestured to Hugin who was still perched on the roof and watching them in rapt attention, “then you ignore the message I sent with him. So you decided to take it upon yourself to somehow break into the realm between realms with I’m going to assume Lúnda’s help-“

Thrúd winced.

“-trespass on my property and damage my home. And after all of that, you still have the audacity to make demands?”

For a moment, Thrúd was speechless. Before long, she found herself able to say one word. “. . . yes?”

Sindri tossed his armful of weapons over the edge, sending them tumbling for an eternity. He marched past Thrúd toward his house. “Get off my property.” He griped.

Thrúd naturally ignored his request, opting to follow him instead. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t plan this out very well. A lot of shit has happened recently, and I haven’t had the chance to work on my approach.”

“A lot of shit has happened to everybody. That doesn’t give you an excuse to make your problem someone else’s too.”

“But no one else can help me with Mjolnir like you can.”

“Oh dreki shit!” He waved her off. “All it is is some iron and stone compacted together on a stick! I’m sure someone could-“

“You made Mjolnir.” Thrúd jumped ahead of him and held the hammer out to his face while blocking the entrance to his house, all but forcing him to look at it. “You know what makes this thing tick better than anyone else, living or dead. This thing put you and your brother on the map, didn’t it?” Sindri’s face grimaced at the mention of his brother. “You have to know something, anything at all to improve it. Make it stronger somehow. Please Sindri,” she didn’t bother hiding her desperation any longer. “If this thing gets destroyed, I’ll have no way of giving my father peace.”

Relenting just enough to spare yet another glance at the hammer, Sindri let out a slow breath before he looked up at Thrúd in her eyes. “This was among the first weapons that Brok and I ever crafted,” the dwarf started. “We were young, stupid, way too eager to prove ourselves to the Aesir. Too excited for the opportunity to know exactly who we were dealing with. We got the job, we made Mjolnir. And before you knew it, the Huldra Brothers were a household name.”

Thrúd squinted her eyebrows in curiosity, unsure as to where this was going.

“Your father took that hammer and slaughtered hundreds, thousands, millions of innocent people. Just because he had the tool that made that possible. What should’ve been our proudest accomplishment in our lives was nothing more than the beginning of mass genocide! We spent a lifetime trying to rectify, making weapons for those who’d use them for selfless purposes. As you can imagine, it did very little to repair the damage that was already caused.

“So, Thrúd Thorsdottir, you break into my home and demand that I improve upon one of my biggest mistakes of my life?” Thrúd had no response to his question. The only thing she found herself capable of doing was letting her arm go slack and hang at her side in defeat, unable to meet Sindri’s cold glare anymore. With a roll of his eyes and a huff of frustration, Sindri ran a filthy hand through his already messy hair.

“Listen,” he began once again, “I still don’t know how you managed to get here- and you’d better believe I’m going to be beefing up my security after this!” He added with a finger pointed at her, “but . . . you’re here, and the damage is quite literally done. And I suppose that you did save me the trouble of finding the hammer. So, here’s what I’ll do.”

Thrúd wasn’t sure what to expect, but her hopes began to slowly rise.

“I will give you three chances to give me a good enough reason to not dismantle this hammer right here, right now.”

Her hopes took an immediate nosedive.

“What, right now, right now?” She lamely attempted to clarify.

“Ask another braindead question like that and I will take back my offer.”

Unprepared for this challenge, Thrúd did her best to wrack her brain for any argument solid enough to sway Sindri’s opinion her way. In her mind, they were perfectly logical and made total sense, but he didn’t seem to be in the most agreeable mood at the moment. She knew he was intentionally setting her up to fail, so Thrúd decided to fight fire with a little more fire.

“Well, first of all,” she gestured to Sindri before motioning toward herself, “you’d have to get it. And I may not be a badass Shield Maiden, but I think I could hold you off.”

Sindri’s unimpressed expression never once faltered. Before she could even blink, he vanished into thin air with a fwip. Thrúd blinked, opening and closing her eyes as if they were playing tricks on her. Looking left and right, she wasn’t ready for Sindri to reappear behind her and swipe the hammer from her grip, marching over to the edge without breaking stride.

“Hey!” She dove forward, tackling the dwarf and wrestling Mjolnir away from him. The two rose to their feet, panting heavily as they did so. With another fwip, Sindri vanished once again with just as much ease as before. This time, he was gone longer, leaving a paranoid Thrúd out in the open with her hand clutching Mjolnir’s shaft like a lifeline.

Once again with her back turned, a mallet flew end over end and smacked her hand, causing her to drop Mjolnir to the ground. It laid on the ground for mere moments before Sindri scooped it back up and fwiped his way over to the edge, holding Mjolnir over it.

After Thrúd finished nursing her smarting hand, she froze solid, not daring to make a move outside of holding her hands in front of her in a placating gesture, praying that Sindri wouldn’t let it go.

With a snort, Sindri tossed Mjolnir back to Thrúd. It landed at her feet with a dull thud.

“So, I can take it from you.” He held up one finger. “That’s one. What else you got?”

Thoroughly embarrassed, Thrúd picked up the hammer and dusted the dirt off, trying to find something that Sindri could possibly reason with.

“Well, think of it this way,” Thrúd began. “You said that this was one of the first weapons you made with your brother, right? What if me wielding it is a way to keep his memory alive? Wouldn’t he want me to use it for the original purpose you guys made it for?”

She had reservations about getting personal since she didn’t know Sindri or his brother, but it seemed to be worth a shot. Her reservation was warranted, however, as Sindri’s unamused stare turned to a full-on sneer. He marched his way back to Thrúd with a finger pointed up at her. Thrúd held her hands up in a non-threatening manner.

“Don’t you DARE presume to know what Brok would have wanted!” He demanded. “You don’t know the first thing about him or what he wanted. Not like you’d care anyway. All we were to the Aesir were tools that outlived our usefulness.” He took a few shuddering breaths to calm himself down before holding up two fingers. “That’s two. You’re damn lucky I’m giving you one last chance after that one. But you’re on thin ice,” he warned. “Consider your next argument very, very carefully.”

Without waiting for her to say anything, Sindri made his way back to his house, leaving Thrúd to follow him once she felt safe enough to put her hands down.

“Well, how about this?” She started hopefully as Sindri made his way over to the worktable to the left of the house’s entrance, taking out a variety of tools and laying them out. “I’m not Thor.” Sindri couldn’t hold back his guffaw. “I may be his daughter, and I know the shit he did in the past. But I think that you know that I have no intention of doing anything like what he did.”

“I don’t have the foggiest clue what your intentions are with that hammer. That’s the whole point of this fucking conversation!”

“But come on, Sindri! Do you really think that I’d be all that eager to make the same mistakes my dad did? All that horrible shit? And, you know what? Yeah, my dad did them, but Odin is the one who told him to. Odin is the one who had my dad do all of that. He’s the reason for basically everything going to shit in the first place! And even though he’s gone, you know as well as I do that his, I don’t know, presence or some shit like that is still around! People are still afraid of him, and that’s what I’m tryin- what I’m going to fix. But I need this hammer to do it.”

Thrúd knelt on one knee, holding out Mjolnir in both hands. “Sindri, if you do me the honor of allowing me to wield Mjolnir, I swear on my life that I will wipe Odin’s entire influence from each and every realm.”

She felt this plea was a tad on the theatrical side, and she never was one for the arts, but for this being her final gambit to save the hammer, Thrúd decided that a demonstration of humility was a small price to pay.

Sindri seemed to consider her words. He remained silent for a few moments, tapping a hammer on his table in thought. During her speech, Hugin flew inside and landed on top of the ajar door, his curious eyes sweeping through the room.

After a few minutes of tense silence, Sindri pursed his lips and nodded, seemingly coming to a conclusion. “Odin’s entire influence, huh? That’s pretty rich coming from you.”

Thrúd flinched at the comment.

“Tell me, Thrúd Thorsdottir,” he all but spat her name out, “what is it you’ve done since you found that family heirloom of yours?”

For the moment, Thrúd ignored his thinly veiled insult. “I . . . freed a stuck coin for a friend of mine.”

“Hmm,” Sindri hummed, inspecting a pair of tongs as he paced back and forth. “Very generous, not at all what the All-Father or your father himself would have done.” He said this with as much sarcasm as he could possibly muster. “And then?”

“Then I . . . traveled to Svartalfheim to offer my services.”

“Svartalfheim! A frequent destination for the All-Father.” He added with a fake flare of excitement. “Anything else?”

Pissed off at the prospect of being talked down to, Thrúd stomped to a standing position. “What are you getting at?!”

Sindri leaned against the table. “Thrúd, think about it. What’s the one thing all of your ‘generous acts of kindness’ have in common?”

Thrúd blinked, having an idea of where this was leading. “The All-Father?”

“The one and only.” Sindri agreed. “You said you freed a stuck coin for a friend of yours. I’m going to assume that that was because you thought that’s the opposite of what your granddaddy would’ve done. Then you, what was it? Went over to Svartalfheim to offer services? Now correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m also going to assume that that decision was reached because that’s also the opposite of what he would have done. Am I that far off?”

Thrúd said nothing.

“If all you ever do is the opposite of what Odin or your dad would have done, then you’re thriving on their influence. You’ve had this hammer for a few days now, and by some miracle, not a single act of yours while wielding it came from one of your own original thoughts or ideas.” He leaned even farther over the table. “Odin may be dead, but you are still wrapped around his little finger. You’re just as much a slave to him as the rest of the realms are. How could you possibly hope to help the realms get rid of his influence when you can’t even shake it yourself?”

Thrúd wanted to yell back at him, disagree with him, say anything at all to show him how wrong he was. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t find anything strong enough. Regardless of how long she thought, she knew she’d never be able to prove him wrong.

Because he was absolutely right.

Ever since Thrúd found the hammer in Niflheim, she did her best to not to make the same mistakes that her family had made with it, going as far as toppling a statue of the All-Father in an act of solidarity. She hadn’t realized that in her quest to completely eradicate Odin’s presence, she hadn’t taken herself into the equation at all.

Well, she thought, that part isn’t completely true.

Growing up, she had known that either one of her brothers would inherit Mjolnir. They were older, stronger, but most importantly, they were men. The thought of her never even so much as getting to hold it had been a catalyst for a plethora of fantasies for the young goddess. All superficial, but she couldn’t help it when the weapon of your father was that legendary.

She couldn’t stop the daydreams of herself wielding the hammer to fight off monsters and saving the day, to be celebrated by the masses and be paraded on the shoulders of adoring fans across the realms. The fantasies all came to her as naturally as breathing when she was growing up.

Now that it was hers, not only was she not living up to those expectations of herself, but she was also hurting the realms in the process.

If all I think about is how to get rid of Odin . . . how long would it be until I became like him?

The mere thought made her stomach churn. Her head was light from the amount of information she had just processed in a short amount of time. She looked over at Sindri, standing behind the table and inspecting each tool he had set on it.

Thrúd was aware she couldn’t prove him wrong, but like Hel she was just going to give Mjolnir over to him.

“You asshole!”

Sindri jumped.

Lúnda and everybody else may treat him with kid gloves, but I sure as Hel don’t have to.

“You think you’re so special because one of Odin’s actions affected you personally? You think that gives you the right to just be a complete dickhead to everybody? Fuck you and fuck you for thinking so!”

In a fit of rage, Thrúd slammed the hammer into the floor, digging a small chunk out of it before storming over to the table and slamming both hands on it.

“Do you really think that you’re the only person that Odin took someone you cared about from? I’ve got news for you, that’s pretty much all he fucking did! The bastard killed my dad at Ragnarok just for saying ‘no’! And what? Now that your brother’s gone, you’re just going to throw your whole inventory into the void because they remind you of him? You pussy!” She did her best to make sure a small amount of spit was flung at him.

“And what were you even doing after Ragnarok? Because whatever it was, Lady Freya and the others took time out of their very, very busy schedules to keep it nice for when you got back. And the first thing you do when you get here is throw them out and trash the place? How fucking childish can you get?!”

Sindri avoided eye contact.

“I’m giving you an opportunity to use your skills for something genuinely worthwhile and you’re sticking your nose up at it? Fuck, if you were gonna be this useless, Odin should’ve just killed you and left Brok instead. I bet he actually had some talent.” Sindri looked as if he was going to refute that claim, but Thrúd didn’t give him the chance. “If you’re not going to help me, fine. But you’re not going to touch Mjolnir. I’ll find some other way to fix it.”

With that, Thrúd spun around, picked up Mjolnir and marched out the door, making sure to slam it as hard as she could. Hugin was startled from her viewing spot, his wings flapping in a frenzy before flying out the nearest window, leaving a stunned Sindri in their wake.

Outside the house, Thrúd had no course set. She just had to stop looking at the dwarf. Even the thought of him was making her blood boil.

She muttered out curse after curse with each step she took. Her mind was such a whirlwind, she couldn’t think of any place that she’d want Hugin to take her to. Thrúd paced back and forth in Sindri’s front yard, completely unaware of a new presence.

“Excuse me.”

Thrúd had no clue how that managed to snap her out of her rage. She turned to the kiosk at the side of the house.

“Since weapons are raining from above, I can only assume Master Sindri is back. I told him many years ago that he simply can’t toss them over Yggdrasil. It seems he’s forgotten that lesson. At any rate, here are the weapons he nearly impaled the lindwyrms with. Maybe someone of your stature could inform him of his actions?”

And now squirrels are talking to her. The one-eyed squirrel gestured to the desk in front of him where every weapon that Sindri tossed over was now sitting. How this knee-high rodent was able to carry them up, let alone find them, Thrúd had zero clue.

Ah fuck it, weirder things have happened recently.

“Believe me, he hasn’t forgotten that lesson. He just doesn’t give a shit because he’s a selfish asshole. You try talking to him yourself . . .” she trailed off.

The squirrel gave a small nod. “Ratatoskr. Caretaker of the world tree,” he introduced himself. “And I suppose that was to be expected. Ragnarok certainly took its toll on him.”

“Well, someone needs to remind him that he’s not the only one who paid a toll. Not an excuse to be a prick who wont even-“

Her sentence was cut short by the front door opening. Sindri stood in the entryway, his face still a mask of self-pity and anger, but not as intense. He gave her a stiff nod, motioning to the doorway before going back inside.

The pair blinked.

“Well, that certainly seems hopeful.”

Thrúd left Ratatoskr, heading for the door.

“And do try to remind him that Yggdrasil is not his own personal waste basket!”

Thrúd entered in time to see Sindri clearing the worktable of his tools. He put various weapons in chests and tools on hangers for several minutes before he even so much as spared her a passing glance.

“Before I even consider doing anything to that hammer,” he finally started, “you’re going to have to learn to use it properly.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve gotta be able to summon it. You know, like your dad could?”

Thrúd’s eyes widened, and, to her horror, she couldn’t hold back the embarrassed blush from creeping up on her face. “How- how did you-“

“I doubt you would have made a show out of embarrassing yourself earlier trying to take the hammer back if you could summon it.”

Fuck.

“Summoning it is one of the easiest things to do with Mjolnir. If you can’t then you’re not using it correctly yet.”

“Hey! I’ve been trying my best! All I’ve ever used was a sword and mace before this.”

Sindri made a face of mock distress. “Oh boo hoo. You found a new toy and found out you had to practice with it to improve? Gods,” he muttered under his breath before approaching Thrúd, holding his hand out to her.

Knowing what it was he wanted, Thrúd couldn’t help but hold Mjolnir protectively closer, like a mother with her child in the presence of a stranger.

Sindri rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to take it apart. I think I’ve proven that I can take it from you whenever I wanted to, anyway.”

Agreeing with Sindri’s logic, Thrúd reluctantly handed him the hammer. He set it on his table before going around the corner and walked over to a bookcase built into the tree. Without so much as looking at the shelf and instead looking right at Thrúd, the dwarf reached out and adjusted several items. This action activated a mechanism that caused the case to spin into the tree, revealing a small crawlspace inside with a hole in the floor.

Eyes wide and any trace of anger gone, Thrúd slowly approached the newly opened space. Sindri stepped aside to allow her to see it.

Thrúd put her hands on both sides and leaned down to try to see the bottom of the hole, but it was too dark. Looking up, she saw a few links of dangling chains, seemingly hanging there for no reason.

She looked back down and gulped. “So, what, are we going down there for something?”

“No.” Sindri said behind her. “You are.”

Turning quickly, she only had time to watch as Sindri smacked the tuning fork and rod together once again. The same ringing in her ears returned full force, distracting her from being able to prevent herself from being shoved into the hole.

Screaming as she fell, Thrúd let out an oof as she landed on multiple hard objects, the breath being pounded out of her on impact. After several wheezes to regain air, Thrúd pushed herself up to a sitting position to get a better look around.

She was in a dimly lit cavern. The only two things notable about it was the small sliver of light above her from where she fell, and what it was that she was currently sitting on.

A mountain of gold jewelry. Rings. Thrúd struggled to rise to her feet as the rings shifted underneath her like a shiny sand dune. She couldn’t see up above, but Sindri placed Mjolnir at the edge of the hole.

“Summon the hammer, and you’ll be able to get out.” Sindri called down to her as if it were the simplest task in all the realms.

Thrúd had a myriad of rude names to call Sindri at the moment, but she reserved them all for herself for having fallen for the same trick twice.

“And how the Hel am I supposed to do that? How long will this take?!” She called up.

“As long as it needs to, I guess.” She could tell he let out an indifferent shrug.

“What if I get hungry? You can’t just starve me down here!”

After a few moments, she could hear his feet shuffling. A few moments more, a turkey leg landed on the pile next to her.

“There you go. Anything else?”

“After a while, it’s gonna get messy down here!” Thrúd warned. “Sooner or later I’ll have to take a sh-“

A bucket landed at her feet.

Thrúd couldn’t help but let out a dry, humorless laugh with her hands on her hips. “Yup, that’s just great.” She muttered to herself.

“I’ll see you soon,” Sindri called back down. “Or not. I don’t really care anymore.”

With those words of encouragement, she could hear his footsteps fading away from her until they ceased altogether, leaving Thrúd in the cavern completely alone as the reality of the situation slowly sank in. She shook her head clear of any doubt before it could hinder her concentration.

She let out a long, slow breath.

“Alright, dad,” she prayed quietly. “Help me out here.”

The daughter of Thor raised her hand and snapped her fingers.

Chapter Text

She didn’t know it was possible to develop blisters from snapping fingers too many times in a row, but Thrúd found herself suffering from that very phenomenon. With one more snap of her fingers, Thrúd winced and sucked in air through her teeth, holding her fingers close to her chest in her other hand.

Time had lost meaning shortly after Sindri dumped her in this ring pit, and she still couldn’t figure out what one person could need with an infinite amount of rings in the first place. Every once in a while, Thrúd found herself beginning to sink into the rings, so eventually she had determined that the safer option was to find a sturdy-ish dune to sit on and stay put until she succeeded.

Even after she had sat down, rings still managed to find their way inside her boots. With another huff of frustration, she removed both boots and poured the jewelry out in a cascade of shiny gold. Giving them each a smack on the underside to ensure they were completely empty, Thrúd put them back on and allowed her spirits to deflate against her better judgement.

The only light provided were a few torches on the walls and the tiny sliver above her from where she had plummeted from. Mjolnir right at its precipice. She wasn’t afraid of the dark, but the constant lack of natural light was beginning to wear her down.

Snapping her fingers to call Mjolnir with zero successes was the only thing that rivaled the darkness for the title of ‘ultimate depression bringer’.

She had tried everything she could think of: snapping with her dominant hand before switching to her other, using different sets of fingers, accompanying said snaps with verbal communication, until she finally reverted back to using her right hand.

It was impossible to keep track of time down here, but she figured it had been about half a day. The turkey leg as long as her arm lay half eaten at her side and the bucket remained unused (thank Freya). Thrúd was no healer, but she could’ve said from the get-go that constant friction applied to the fingertips could lead to bleeding and blistering.

Blowing on her tender fingertips did little to nurse them back to health, but she had little choice but to continue her desperate excursion. It wasn’t like Sindri was going to show pity on her and bail her out. She got the feeling the dwarf genuinely did not care about a Thrúd-shaped corpse decomposing in his basement.

That left her with no other options than to keep trying.

Snap.

Nothing.

Snap!

Nope.

SNAP!

Not even a wiggle.

Letting out the billionth defeated sigh, Thrúd gathered her knees to her chest and rested her forehead on them, allowing her hair to fan down in all directions. The only solace she got out of this is that there was no one around to see her like this.

“CAW!”

In her current state, she had not heard the fluttering wings of her avion companion fly down to join her. Peeking up from her knees, she found Hugin standing in front of her, his feet clutched around two rings for balance.

Oddly enough, Thrúd welcomed his presence. Having him down here was a Hel of a lot better than going insane from lack of social interaction.

“I don’t suppose you have any advice to give on this?”

Hugin cocked his head to one side. “CAW!”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Even her soft voice provided a small echo.

“CAW! CAW! CA- aybe if you’d just focus a little more, you pitiful lump.”

Thrúd’s eyes shot open. Her head snapped upright at the sound of another voice. She whipped her head to the left and right, trying to find the source of it, but found no one else except the two of them.

“Did you hear that?”

“The only thing I hear is your paranoid rambling. When are you going to get the hammer back so we can get on our way?”

The voice had no echo. It was as if it was coming from inside her head.

Ever so slowly, Thrúd turned and looked down at Hugin. Her arms were braced at her sides. “. . . Hugin?”

The bird cocked his head to the other side. “What?”

There was no stopping the scream that came out of Thrúd’s mouth. In a fit of panic, Thrúd pushed herself backward, away from the raven. The only thing she succeeded in doing was digging herself a shallow hole for her to sink into with each motion of her arms and legs.

Hugin flapped his wings and jumped closer to her. “Wait,” the voice came again, “can you finally hear me?”

Not knowing what else to do from her half-sunken position, Thrúd nodded, leading the raven to let out a series of chirps and caws as if that were his version of laughing. “Finally! Fucking finally! Holy Odin, your head was a thick one to breach.”

Thrúd shook her head, insulted. “The Hel are you talking about?” She pulled herself out of the hole and sat back atop the dune, digging rings out of places where rings should never be placed. “If you could communicate with me this whole time, why haven’t you yet?”

Hugin blinked. “I’ve been trying!” The voice in her head insisted. “You think it was easy for me to get Odin’s attention? Or your dad’s for that matter? He was an even tougher nut to crack than you, believe it or not.” Thrúd still appeared confused. “I can’t just throw my voice to whoever I want. A bond of understanding and trust needs to be made first.” He explained as if he were breaking down how arithmetic worked to a five-year-old.

Thrúd appeared to still be attempting to put all the pieces together. “Then . . . that voice back at Týr’s temple. About waiting for Lúnda. That was you?”

“Oh, you heard that? Good. You were two seconds away from wandering off on your own. That fat dwarf would’ve never found you before Grámtrist broke your new toy. It was the best advice I could’ve given you.” He sounded very smug about it.

“Pfft, whatever. I would’ve held my own just fine if Lúnda hadn’t gotten back at the time she did.”

“See, it’s thinking like that why you need me around! You could’ve used my very sage counsel from the moment I found the hammer.” His smugness only seemed to be growing.

Thrúd did a double take. “Your sage advice?! Need I remind you that you’re the one who didn’t bring us straight to the hammer back in Niflheim? That we had to take that detour through the palace and let the Einherjar get to it first?”

“Don’t you think I would’ve thought of that?” His condescending tone returned. “I found the hammer for you in the first place and could see those soldiers getting closer to it. If I brought you right there, we would’ve spooked them even more than you managed to and the chances of you getting it would have been even less likely,” he reasoned.

“And if my memory is right, and it always is, all you had to do was follow me through that frozen wasteland and you would’ve gotten to it quicker. But nooooo. You just had to go and piss off Sinmara. Couldn’t leave well enough alone on that one.”

“Well, what about Svartalfheim, huh? You could’ve picked a better spot for us to land.”

“What do you mean ‘what about Svartalfheim’?!” He squawked with an extra pinch of sassiness. “You told me to take you to the land of the dwarves, so I took you to the dwarves! Seemed pretty fucking obvious to me! It’s not my fault that you have rotten people skills.”

“. . . they’re not that bad.” Thrúd defended lamely. “I talked to people in Asgard.”

“Oh yes,” Hugin agreed. “Your father and mother, the All-Father, Magni, Modi, and that one Midgardian boy. Quite the diverse ensemble.” She could see Hugin attempt to roll his eyes. “You know, since you spent so much time training how to use Mjolnir with your father in your youth instead of making friends, I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to summon it.”

At his last comment, Thrúd appeared aghast. “What training?!” She all but squealed. “He didn’t start training me in private until I was at least twelve. And even then, it wasn’t with Mjolnir!”

Hugin cocked his head to the side. “I’m not talking about the private lessons. I’m talking about when you were a child.” He clarified, but genuinely confused that the young goddess seemed to have no recollection of what he was saying. “You really don’t remember?”

“What’s to remember?” Thrúd asked. “I wasn’t allowed to so much as touch it back then. The most he would do was take this rope and-“ she stopped short, her eyes widened in shock. For a moment, she was no longer the young woman sitting on a massive pile of rings in a dark and dirty cavern. She was a child again back in Asgard.

More specifically, she was at the stables an hour after sunset, sitting in a wagon that her father pulled her in on their way to the stables, waiting for him to return.

Earlier in the day, her mother had sent Thrúd to go look for her father, as he’d been gone for some time and should have been back from his mission with Uncle Baldur hours ago. Not surprisingly, she had found him in the main hall, chugging mead like it was water and singing jaunty tunes of revelry and bloodshed with the Einherjar.

To keep her silence on his drinking from Lady Sif (despite Thrúd being positive she already knew), Thor had promised her that the two of them would have a father-daughter training activity. Later in the day, Thor had brought her to the empty stables after all the stableboys had returned to their quarters. A very, very large boulder was sitting on the far side of them. Thrúd’s tiny eyes went as wide as they’d go the closer they got to it, finally seeing how it dwarfed her father by a good seven feet at least and was several times wider than him.

“Wait here,” he’d said as he placed the wagon with Thrúd inside next to the rock.

The young girl found herself humming the same tune they had been drunkenly singing in the hall earlier as she waited for his return. A few minutes later, she found him approaching her once again with two lengths of rope wound around his shoulders, one substantially longer than the other.

He wrapped the longer rope around the large boulder and tied it tight before taking the other rope and tying it around Mjolnir’s shaft. With one gargantuan hand, the God of thunder plucked his daughter out of the wagon and set the hammer inside, ignoring the creaks and groans the wheels gave in protest to the weight.

“Here,” Thor said, offering the remaining rope to his daughter. Looking back, she found Thor running the length of the rope on the ground, prompting Thrúd to do the same until the two of them were standing side by side on the other end of the stables, nearly three hundred feet across.

Thor stumbled in front and drew a line in the dirt with his foot. “See this, Thrúdie?” His daughter smiled and nodded. “The first one to drag their load across it is the winner.”

Excited at the prospect of competition, the young girl bounced excitedly on her feet. “What does the winner get?”

“The winner, uuh,” Thor muttered, not having thought that far ahead. “The winner gets to tell the loser what to do.” He smiled when he saw that his half-assed answer seemed to satisfy her. She picked up her rope and set her eyes on the wagon holding her dad’s hammer.

Taking his position with the rope next to her, Thor looked down. “You ready, Thrúdie?” She nodded eagerly. “Three . . . two . . . go!”

From the corner of his eye, he saw that she had begun pulling before he even got to two. Simply laughing off the technical false-start, Thor began heaving on his own rope.

The silent air surrounding the stables dissolved into a cacophony of grunting and squeaky wagon wheels. Thrúd felt her face grow red from the effort as she pulled on her rope with all her strength, hand systematically and melodically over hand. She could see the wheels on the wagon turning ever so slowly with each pull, the hammer getting progressively bigger.

On her side, her father was putting in just as much effort as she was for his larger payload. His teeth were bare as he grit them together, pulling the heavy rock toward him with all of his might. Occasionally, one of them would pause for a breath, but not for too long in fear of the other gaining the upper hand.

Before either of them knew it, their respective goals were only halfway away from them. No more breaks were taken as the two of them put in everything they had into each yank, driving them closer. Thrúd had hoped that since the hammer were resting on wheels, she could use the momentum to keep it moving towards her. Unfortunately, due to the godly weight of the hammer pressing down on the wagon, this strategy proved to be fairly useless, resulting in her being forced to use her own energy for the whole event.

“Hrrrrgggnnnn!” She grunted. “Come on you shit head!”

“Hey!” Her father lightly chastised.

“Like you care,” she shot back, earning a belly laugh from her dad.

“You’re right. But don’t say that shit in front of your mom.”

After another five minutes of pulling, both the boulder and the wagon holding Mjolnir were a mere ten feet away from the line, the trails they had left behind them in the dirt were now plenty visible. Thrúd nearly fell on her face as she continued to pull with more effort than she had the energy to spend, but the young girl managed to stay upright.

Taking another peek at his daughter, Thor could see that she had as many beads of sweat rolling down her face as he did. With a few more pulls of their ropes, they were each one tug away from deciding a victor. Thor braced his feet and Thrúd did the same.

With one last pull and a matching grunt of effort, the two of them pulled their ropes one last time as hard as they could. The boulder came up just short of the line as Thrúd’s wagon passed halfway over it.

Thor set down his rope and bent over with his hands on his knees. Conversely, his daughter threw down her rope at her feet and began running in excited circles, elated from her ‘victory’.

“I won!” She chanted as she danced, almost tripping over the pile of rope lying behind her. With another laugh, Thor caught her before she fell, pulling her close and affectionately tussling her hair. She squealed with more laughter and swatted his massive hands away in vain.

“That you did, kiddo. And a deal’s a deal. You’re the winner, I’m the loser,” he pointed to himself and made a raspberry noise. “What do you command?”

It took her all of three seconds to come up with her wish.

“I want you to spend all day tomorrow with me!”

Of course, as Thrúd’s memory served, he had broken that promise. One night later and it was as if their fun night hadn’t even happened. All it took was one look from the All-Father and her dad left their home for another two weeks on another important mission.

As much as it pained her heart to remember that aspect of her father’s wishy washy family loyalty, she did her best not to focus on that and instead think of something else . . .

He specifically said father-daughter training activity. Could that have possibly been what he meant? As she got older, she just figured that he had said that as a joke; that if anything, he was training himself on how to be a better dad.

But what if that’s not what he meant?

Thrúd blinked, recalling other times Thor had sent her on a ride with Mjolnir while holding onto a rope, or when he allowed her to be within arm’s reach of it at all. Of course, Magni was the first choice to inherit the hammer should anything have ever happened to him, and Modi behind him. Thrúd had always just assumed that Mjolnir would be out of reach just because she was a girl. After all, he gave the boys those same rides on Mjolnir.

Unless . . .

Has dad always wanted me to take it instead of them?

Upon thinking more about the idea, it didn’t seem completely unreasonable. His temperament toward her brothers was always harsher than it ever was to her. In fact, she couldn’t recall a time where the idea of passing Mjolnir down to either one of them seemed appealing to him.

When he was with them, he was like a thunderstorm. But with her . . . he was like a small breeze, a gust of wind at her back encouraging her to be the best of anybody.

He was training her to wield Mjolnir, and all it took was a-

“Rope.”

Hugin cocked his head to the side once again. “I don’t think Sindri is in the mood to toss down a rope to you. You know, that seems like the easy option, which therefore defeats the purpose.”

“No, no, not for climbing. Dad would use a rope. With me and Mjolnir.” Thrúd stood up and paced side to side, threatening to dig her way deeper inside the ring pile. “When dad called Mjolnir to him, maybe it wasn’t just as simple as snapping his fingers. What if there was more to it? He was establishing something, a connection between the two of them and all he had to do was pull back on it to bring it to him!” She was all but shouting now.

The raven hopped across the rings to keep pace with the goddess. “And this is useful to you because?”

Thrúd looked down at the bird and smiled. “Because I’m Thrúd Thorsdottir. And I don’t need a rope.”

With that, Thrúd raised her hand above her head and pressed her thumb and fingers together once again. She snapped them and, while ignoring the stinging pain in her fingertips yet again, summoned the tiniest spark of electricity as she did so.

Her heart did a backflip when she could feel as if she pulled something toward her.

A grinding sound came from above them, causing the goddess and bird to look up. Something had just moved. The tiniest bit, but it was movement, nonetheless.

She snapped her fingers again and the same spark returned, except this time, she imagined herself pulling harder back, and she was rewarded with the feeling of Mjolnir’s shaft sailing into her awaiting palm.

Thrúd hadn’t realized her eyes were closed until she opened them to see the hammer in her grasp.

There was no stopping the excited whoops and hollers from the young woman. She swung the hammer this way and that, leapt up and down and kicked piles of rings into the air. Hugin let out a CAW of annoyance as he did his best to avoid them. Still in a fit of laughter, Thrúd fell backwards and proceeded to make an angel shaped outline in the rings with her arms and legs. Her very own set of wings.

Hugin flapped his way over to the elated goddess. “So. Figured it out?”

Thrúd barely even noticed the sarcasm dripping from his beak. “Lightning! It was fucking lightning! That’s the connection from me to Mjolnir! How could I have not seen it before?!” She laughed again, placing her free palm against her forehead.

“I’m glad you’re happy and all, despite how much it sickens me to see it,” he squawked, “but need I remind you that we’re still trapped down here?”

At that, Thrúd sat up and held Mjolnir in front of Hugin.

“Not for long we’re not.”

Chapter Text

67 times.

That’s how many times Thrúd has gotten her feet off the bejeweled ground only to meet it once again an undignified crash.

With her recent success in finally able to summon the hammer to her, Thrúd figured that the next logical step would then be the opposite. She’d seen her father do it numerous times before: toss the hammer, snap his fingers, bring himself over to the hammer’s new location. This technique also appeared to be the only way she’d be able to get out.

In the short amount of time that she had known Sindri, the word she’d come to find that described him the best would be ‘asshole’. But if she had another choice, it would be ‘unreasonable’. He was, however, correct about one thing; she needed to practice, and that’s exactly what she did.

It had started off simply enough. Thrúd left Mjolnir at one end of the room and walked to the other, doing her best to keep her balance on the uneven surface (seriously, who needs this many rings?!). Once she was on the other side, she closed her eyes and focused before snapping her fingers. Suddenly, she wasn’t where she was standing. She was on the other side with Mjolnir in her hands.

Thrúd had done this a few more times, each time she left a trail behind her in the rings as she zipped by in a flurry of electricity, like a wake left in water. Once she was satisfied with her progress, Thrúd decided that it was time to leave.

Placing herself in the middle of the room, she gazed up at the entrance, gripping Mjolnir’s shaft. She looked over at Hugin, whose feathers were ruffled in anticipation. “Here goes something.” Thrúd said.

With that, she tossed the hammer straight above her and let it soar to the opening. When she felt the timing was right, she snapped her fingers . . . and felt the hammer come back down to her with so much force, she dug herself into a crater. She crawled out to find Hugin letting out a series of amused caws and chirps.

She ignored him and tried again, but only managed to lift herself from the ground only a few feet before she tumbled back down. So after that, she tried again.

And again.

And again after that.

67 times she tried. 67 times she attempted to escape this cavern, and just as many times she found herself back at the bottom. Some tries she made it to the lip of the doorway above her, others she couldn’t so much as lift her feet.

After the fiftieth try, she took a break and sat herself next to the raven. Hugin had stopped his laughing some time ago, no longer seeing the humor in the situation and was now visibly cringing in embarrassment.

“Are you sure you can’t just teleport me out?” Thrúd panted.

“Not a chance, princess,” the raven snapped. “I can only take us away from this place. Once we’re out, we can’t get back. This is all on you.”

Thrúd nodded. “Thanks, asshole.”

“Anytime, fuckface.”

With that, she got back to it. The remaining attempts managed to get her over halfway to the opening and she made mental notes as to what was working and what wasn’t, applying the changes accordingly. Other times she threw the hammer so high it hit the roof of the opening above her, sending chunks of rock and wood raining down on her.

“You destroy my home, I take that hammer apart!” Sindri had yelled down.

67 tries, 67 failures. Until she reached attempt 68.

Thrúd took a deep, calming breath, both hands gripping Mjolnir’s shaft as hard as she could. With one more breath to relieve her tension, she let go with one hand and tossed it above herself. She allowed the hammer to rocket in a perfect vertical line. With a connection between them established, she pulled back on the hammer to prevent it from smashing the ceiling again. Once she was certain it was at the proper height, she snapped her fingers and felt herself lift off the floor, sailing at would-be breakneck speeds for almost anybody else.

Faster than anyone could blink, she was hovering before the opening she had fell out of with the hammer in her grasp. She let out an elated whoop of joy moments before gravity took hold of her. Thrúd flailed her arms about and caught herself on the opening’s ledge. Using her legs to kick herself upwards, the daughter of Thor lifted herself over the ledge and laid down flat on her back with her arms and legs splayed out, regaining her energy.

Her chest heaved at the exertion of her escape. After a few moments of silence, she heard Hugin’s wings flap as he landed right next to her. Now that she could understand what he was saying, she got the feeling he was genuinely impressed, but it was hard to tell when his face is incapable of making any sort of expression.

Thrúd made no effort in standing. Instead, she let herself lay flat on the floor for a few minutes longer before the sound of boots walking on the shiny floor reached her. Turning her head to the other side, she found Sindri, whose face was still as unimpressed as it was when he sent her down. He looked left and right as if he was trying to find something.

“You could’ve at least brought my bucket with you.”

Thrúd almost physically restrained herself from flipping him off.

Her breath finally caught, Thrúd rose to her feet and placed Mjolnir into its holder at her waist.

“Alright. I can call the hammer. Fucking happy now?”

Sindri looked surprised. “Am I happy?” He pointed to himself. “This was never about me. This was about you. You’re the one who wants to use it. Can’t do that without knowing the basics. And I don’t just mean swinging it really hard. Besides,” a ghost of a smile crept onto his face as he made his way over to the dining room, “seeing you struggle like that was pretty hilarious.”

Thrúd remained silent, but Hugin cawed and chirped, leading her to nod in agreement. “Got him, there.”

The dwarf squinted his eyebrows. “You can understand him?”

“I can now,” Thrúd shrugged. “Long story. But what now?” She asked, pointing to the hammer at her hip, joining him in the dining room.

“Now,” Sindri said, leaning on the table at the opposite side of her, “details. Tell me about this mysterious realm Traveler.”

“Well,” Thrúd began, pacing back and forth in thought. “He can travel the realms and he wants to break the hammer.”

“I fucking know that,” Sindri sighed. “I mean more about him. How he damaged Mjolnir in the first place. I need some sort of reference if I’m going to help.”

Thrúd snorted. “Well you coulda said so to begin with,” she mumbled under her breath, but still making sure it was loud enough for him to hear. “Besides, I don’t even know what to tell you. He had a big fucking sword that can cut through just about anything-“

“CAW!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting there,” she waved off whatever comment was made by the raven. “He’s also gigantic but surprisingly fast. And he has this sack with a bunch of rocks in it that he rubs on the sword. Called Mjolnir his ‘beloved’ too. That was fucking weird.”

“Rocks?” Sindri backtracked, completely ignoring her final observation. “What did they look like?”

Thrúd thought for a moment. “Um, flat, I guess? Shaped like a small rectangle. Each of them were different colors.”

Sindri nodded, scratching his beard as he did. Any annoyance he had about her being here seemingly gone and replaced with a certain academic curiosity. “Enchanted whetstones,” he deduced. “Haven’t seen too many of those as of late. And for good reason, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he huffed, “that they’re virtually useless. Sure, you can load up whatever weapon you’ve got with a flashy upgrade, but you only get one use out of it. And most everyone I’ve seen try to use one ends up hurting or killing themselves. You said this guy had a bagful of them?”

Thrúd nodded.

“Must be a particular perk for being a Traveler. Freaks of nature,” he spat under his breath. “But,” he paused in thought, “if what you’re saying is true . . . I think I might have a starting point.”

That lone comment made Thrúd’s hopes go so high up, it could have eclipsed the world tree itself. It must have shown on her face because Sindri held up a hand to halt her celebration. “This is a hunch we’re going off of, remember. If you go out there and get that thing destroyed, then that’s on you. Understand?”

On instinct, Thrúd nodded before she shook her head in confusion. “Wait, what do you mean ‘you go out there,’? Aren’t you going to fix it? Er upgrade it? Weren’t you going to do something?”

“I don’t have what you’ll need here,” he said as he abandoned the table and made his way back to his work area with Thrúd and Hugin quickly in tow. “I’ll need supplies. Ingredients.”

“Wait, hold up!” Thrúd shouted. “You mean to tell me you don’t have what you need here, already?”

Sindri’s eyebrows knotted in visible irritation. “No. I’m not a miracle worker.”

“Well,” Thrúd started again, “if you know what to do, then why didn’t you and your br-“ she wisely stopped herself before mentioning Brok again. “Why didn’t you create the hammer with those modifications in mind already?”

“Lady,” Sindri said with as much attitude as he could muster in his small body, “that hammer there is virtually indestructible by any other method of force. It can harness the natural lightning abilities of you and your father and siblings and can basically fly. Believe me, a lot of thought was already put into this weapon, so forgive me for not having every single contingency thought out, your highness.”

While not appreciating the tone, Thrúd found the logic in his words. “Alright, well, how long will it take you to get what you need? Need me to watch after the house? Or will you just wreck it again as soon as you’re back?”

“Don’t you remember what I just said? You’re getting out there to get what I need.”

Thrúd gestured to herself. “Me? Why not you? You can basically teleport wherever you want! Not to mention that you know what it is you’re looking for. It’d be so much quicker!”

“What part of ‘you’ don’t you get?” Sindri pointed at her. “This is your quest. That hammer is your responsibility now. If you want it spruced up, then you’re going to have to put in the work for it.”

The goddess blew a loose strand of hair out of her face. “Fine. Fuck it. Whatever. If it’ll help, then I’ll do it. What do you need first?”

Sindri pulled out a multitude of drawers, not taking anything out of them, but instead nodding once he saw what he was looking for, and shaking his head when he didn’t. When he was done, Sindri came back to the table. “It’s not as bad as you may think it is,” he said, almost sounding disappointed that the excursion wouldn’t be as challenging for her as he’d hoped. “I need you to get two things for me. Then after those are here, there will be one last step.”

Thrúd nodded in understanding.

“The first thing you need to get me is some sovereign coal. Kratos, Freya and,” his face scrunched up as he forced himself to say the final name, “Atreus found some Draugr holes out in the realms. After dealing with the Draugrs inside, most of them have sealed up, so you won’t get anything out of those ones. But I’m led to believe that there’s one in Vanaheim that’s still open.”

Her blood turned to ice at the name of the one realm she was hoping to avoid for as long as possible.

Sindri sensed her unease and raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Is there a problem?”

“Um,” Thrúd flexed her fingers instinctively, doing her best to ignore the chanting in her head of ‘fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!’

“Well,” she started again, are you positive that that’s the only remaining hole? Like you said, they’ve found plenty of others out there.”

“And also like I said, those are now sealed. You won’t get so much as soot from those ones. Vanaheim has the only one that I know for a fact is still open.”

“Ok, ok, that’s fair,” Thrúd conceded. “But what about the other thing you said you’ll need? Are you sure you don’t need that one first?”

“Are you sure you’re not a complete dumbass?” Sindri shot back. “Those Draugr holes don’t last long once the Draugrs inside are dealt with! If you don’t get to it as soon as possible, you may completely lose your chance. So, unless you’re alright with Mjolnir being vulnerable to your Traveler pal’s sword, you don’t really have a choice.”

Thrúd let out a breath of defeat and slumped her shoulders, her feet carrying her this way and that like a toddler throwing a tantrum after being told to pick up their mess.

“Fine. Alright. Where is it?”

“You think I know all the ins and outs over there? Kratos went off on his selfish missions and just came back with what he found. I don’t know where it is. You’re going to have to find it yourself.”

“Oh. Awesome. Because I totally know my way around a realm I’ve never been to. That won’t be a complete waste of time.”

“See that it isn’t a waste of time for either of us. And here.” He tossed her a blue rock. “Find a gateway and use that to get back here. Your bird friend can’t bring you back here otherwise. Don’t expect me to be out and about in my old shops. And one other thing.”

He tossed her an empty bag. Peeking inside, Thrúd found she couldn’t see the bottom. Reaching in, Thrúd’s arm all but vanished inside as the bag’s opening reached her shoulder. She gasped and dropped it on the floor.

“An enchanted sack. Put whatever you find in there. Easier to carry that way.”

Thrúd nodded and tied the bag’s string around a loop at her side. “Anything else?”

“If you see Kratos or his brat son, tell them they’ve completely ruined my life.”

“Yeah, I’m not saying that.” She looked down at Hugin who in turn was looking up at her, waiting for her command. “Alright Hugin. To Vanaheim I guess.”

With that, a flurry of ravens surrounded her, and she was whisked out of the realm between realms. Mere seconds after they deposited her in her new location, she could feel the humidity making her skin damp. She looked to both sides and found herself completely surrounded by dense jungle foliage, unable to even see the sky through the leaves above her.

Birds called to one another and low hanging branches swayed in the breeze. It was unlike any other place Thrúd had ever visited. She looked to Hugin, who made himself comfortable on a nearby tree branch.

“Hey now, don’t you bitch at me about this too!” He chirped. “You just said Vanaheim. Neither you or that annoying midget gave me a specific spot,” he reminded her bitterly.

Thrúd nodded. “I know, I know.” She sighed. “Well, here goes nothing.”

Chapter Text

Many tales have reached Thrúd and other inhabitants of Asgard as she grew up. While she had never been there herself, she had an idea of what it consisted of; gorgeous plants, exotic animals, and sights and sounds that words could never do justice to.

One thing she was not aware of, however, was how literally everything and anything could kill her if she wasn’t on her guard.

Thrúd hadn’t even taken five full steps in the new, humid realm, and already the petals of a plant half as big as she was shot a salvo of needles at her. Using Mjolnir to deflect them, she pressed ever deeper into the fauna, doing her best to not be deterred by the exploding bulbs that sprayed acid, more flowers that launched corrosive projectiles her way and the occasional slimy reptile that slithered by her ankles.

She kept going until she reached a clearing, taking a moment to catch her breath. “Shit,” she panted. “Is it always like this here?”

Hugin’s wings fluttered by as he kept pace with the goddess. “Here specifically, yes. Other places, not really. They have different things that want to kill you.”

“Hey, gotta have some variety to spice it up. Sure as Hel make living here interesting at least.”

Thrúd hadn’t meant to bring up the prospect of living here. But now that she had, a torrential downpour of thoughts bombarded her with gale-like force. Most of these thoughts involved her mother and the amount of pain they had caused each other. Thrúd was also grappling with the anxiety of the unlikely (but still not impossible) likelihood of the two of them running into each other, an anxiety that twisted her insides since the moment Sindri sent her here.

Most of the anxiety left her when she arrived, however. Once she saw how expansive this realm was, she could feel the odds of their premature reunion plummet. With a small sense of relief washing over her, Thrúd was since then able to come up with a plan:

Find the Draugr hole, get the coal, get out.

Not the most descriptive plan, but at least she had some semblance of direction.

That direction continued to make itself clearer as another idea popped into her head.

“You know,” she started, “there are two of us. Why don’t we split up? You could get a way better view from up high anyway.”

“And deprive myself of your company? I’d never dream of it!” Hugin said with as much sarcasm as he could muster as he landed on the stump of what appeared to have been a tree of massive proportions. “Besides, you’ve never been here before. What if you get attacked by something and you need an escape route?”

Thrúd placed a hand on her chest in semi-mock offense. “Do you really think so little of me? I think I can handle myself.” She swayed her hips so that Mjolnir was facing him for emphasis.

“Which brings me to my next question,” Hugin started again. “You finally have a handle for that thing now. Why not stretch your wings and take to the skies yourself?”

Thrúd’s eyes widened. “I only just learned how to do that! I’m soooo not ready to do anything that extravagant.”

This was a complete lie. Nothing would make her happier right now than to see what she could finally accomplish with Mjolnir finally obeying her. The thought of zipping around the sky as quick as a bolt of lightning like her dad used to was way too enticing to simply ignore.

But then there was her mother, who would more than likely see her performing her acrobatics and tricks while airborne and track her down for another guilt trip session.

Thrúd was fully aware of the inevitable conversation she was going to have with her mom and was willing to go through with it. Now wasn’t the time for it, though.

“Look,” she said, “I’m honestly touched that you’re concerned about me, but I can handle being on my own in this realm for a little while. And you heard what Sindri said. The longer we wait, the more likely we’ll miss our chance on this thing. You have to agree that splitting up makes the most sense.”

Hugin’s head twitched back and forth, visibly considering what Thrúd had said. “I’m not concerned about you, you know.”

“Pfft, you totally are.”

“We meet back here in this. Exact. Spot.” He emphasized each word with a peck of his beak on the stump he rested on. “In two hours. No more, no less. We meet here, exchange notes, and come up with a gameplan from there. You hear me?”

“It’s hard not to when your voice goes directly into my head. You really think you won’t find it within that amount of time?”

Hugin’s head twitched again, letting out a loud croak. “This place is big. Much bigger than what you’re thinking. It’s not impossible to navigate, but within the hour, you’ll be wishing I was still with you. I’ll bet my left wing on that.”

Another thought dawned on Thrúd. “Hang on, what if you were to find the hole first? Couldn’t you just bring the coal over?”

The raven looked at her as if she had just grown another head next to her original one. He held up one of his feet and clicked his talons together. “Lady, I’m bigger than your average raven, but no way can I bring one of those over here myself. That, I’m afraid, will be your job.”

“What about teleporting it over here with your . . . I don’t know, flock?”

Hugin’s head twitched again. “Sindri was right. You do ask stupid questions.”

With that, the raven flapped his wings and disappeared before he even reached the top of the tree line. “Asshole,” Thrúd muttered under her breath before starting off on her own, already thankful for the solitude.

Thrúd ran, hopped, skipped and jumped over every obstacle that came her way, whether it was a rock, a stump, or overturned tree and did so with a huge smile on her face. She hadn’t felt this free since she was a kid. With each stride, she could feel Mjolnir bumping against her side, reminding her of its presence.

The sky may be temporarily off limits, but mom won’t be able to see anything ground level . . .

Her excitement getting the best of her, Thrúd summoned the hammer to her hand and found a good opportunity to use it on. A ten-foot wall appeared before her, blocking her path forward. Smirking, Thrúd lobbed the hammer to the top of the small cliff face and snapped her fingers, zipping her way up the wall and onto the next level, scooping up the hammer and continuing her run in one fluid motion.

“Haha!”

She didn’t bother holding in her whoops and hollers of delight. She could see why her dad had constantly used Mjolnir as a legitimate mode of transportation: it was convenient and fun as Hel.

No other obstacles appeared before her, just tree after tree accompanied with the occasional rock and glowing plant that was too slow to launch a corrosive projectile at her, but that didn’t stop her from using the hammer anyway.

ZIP!

ZIP!

ZIP!

Thrúd zigzagged her way through the trees in small streaks of lightning, startling the smaller creatures from their homes and birds from their trees. She couldn’t find the energy to care too much about that, however, as she continued to throw the hammer in front of her time after time again and letting it bring her forward.

For a few minutes, she completely forgot about her mission to find an active Draugr hole and lost herself in the fun she was having. At least she was having fun until her ankle got caught on a root sticking out of the ground.

“WHOA!”

Before she could grab hold of Mjolnir, Thrúd crashed and tumbled on the jungle floor, end over end and side over side, kicking up dirt and leaves as she went. Just as she felt herself slowing down, she was still unable to prevent herself from rolling down a hill. Her momentum kicked back in and didn’t stop until she reached the bottom in a battered and bruised heap.

Thrúd rubbed her forehead and groaned as she pushed herself up to her knees, hissing in pain at the new cuts and bruises.

“Well, ain’t that a contender for entrance of the year!”

Thrúd blinked in surprise at the familiar voice.

Looking to the side, Thrúd found a very large tree that was partially hollowed out at its bottom. Inside, a makeshift shop was set up with a table, portable shelves, and a large supply of tools. Handling said tools was-

“Lúnda?”

The dwarf smiled sweetly. “Guilty as charged! You alright, there? That was a doozy of a tumble.”

Thrúd dusted herself off and rose to her feet. “Yeah, yeah, I’m alright,” she dismissed the dwarf’s concern. “I’ve had worse falls.” Raising her hand, Thrúd snapped her fingers and felt Mjolnir make its way back to her. She caught it with zero effort and put it back on her hip.

Lúnda’s eyes widened in delighted surprise. “Well, hey, hey now! Somebody’s gettin’ the hang of that there trinket!” Her eyes went down to something on the table. Thrúd wasn’t sure how she hadn’t noticed it earlier, but as she got closer to Lúnda’s new spot, she noticed it was bright purple and transparent with the air shimmering around it. “I knew she’d get it eventually.”

“Th-that you did, Miss Lúnda!” The purple blob said with what seemed to be nervous excitement. Its tiny yellow eyes looked at Thrúd. “Congratulations! Now, p-please don’t use that thing on me.”

Thrúd blinked down at the creature before looking back at Lúnda. “This grape is talking to me,” she observed. The grape in question seemed to let out an offended gasp before falling into a fit of uncontrollable shaking and self-conscious muttering.

“Nah, he’s just Anxious.”

“I can tell.”

“No, I mean that’s this lil critter’s name! Anxious, meet Thrúd. She ain’t gonna hurtcha.”

Thrúd scrunched her face. “His name is Anxious?”

The dwarf leaned an elbow on the table. “See, there’s this squirrel that takes care of Yggdrasil.”

Thrúd nodded. “We met.”

“He’s a bit busy with his duties and all that he can’t get out and see the realms. So, he sends projections of his emotions out and about to see them for him!” Lúnda’s eyes suddenly went wide as if she had just cracked a difficult code. “I should actually thank you! Cuz of you sending me to Sindri’s I was able to cut out a deal that let me get to know this lil fella, and I’ve sure enjoyed the company!”

A bark came from behind her. “Well, I appreciate it at least.”

“The dog tried to eat me.”

Lúnda let out a tiny laugh. “Why don’t ya stop by later, lil guy? Me and the lady need to do some catchin’ up.”

The astral squirrel flickered for a moment. “Oh no. I knew it. I’m a distraction to you, aren’t I? Should’ve seen it coming. This girl looks way more important than I’ll ever be.”

Lúnda set her mouth in a firm line. “Now bud, what was it we talked about?” Anxious pondered for a moment before whispering something that went unheard. “What was that?” Lúnda cupped her hand behind her ear and leaned closer to the squirrel, prompting him to raise his timid voice.

“That friends are never a distraction.”

“There ya go! Drop by anytime you feel like!”

“Okay. Bye, Miss Lúnda! And, uh, b-bye to you t-t-too. Oh dear.”

With another flicker, the purple squirrel disappeared. Lúnda shook her head in fondness. “Oh, that lil critter, I tell ya what. Got my work cut out for me there. But never mind him for now. Didja talk to Sindri?”

Thrúd let out a breath through her nose. “Yeah, I talked with him.”

Lúnda looked almost hesitant to ask her next question. “How, uh, how was he?” Her face gave away that she already knew the answer but needed to hear it from someone else.

“Bitter, distant, not thrilled to have visitors.”

Lúnda nodded, clearly expecting that as the answer.

“It took a lot of arm twisting, but he agreed to help with Mjolnir. Fuck, he almost dismantled it himself the moment he saw it. Gotta give him some credit though, he’s the reason I am able to call Mjolnir back to me now.”

“Oh?” Lúnda asked. “How’d he do that?”

“He threw me into a deep pit of countless rings and wouldn’t let me out until I learned how.”

The dwarf blinked. “Oh.”

“Seriously, what the Hel is he doing with that many rings? Who needs that many in the first place?”

“Well, what else happened?” Lúnda asked, trying to get Thrúd back on track.

“So, after I got out of there, he tells me he knows exactly what it is he needs, but I need to do his fucking grocery shopping for him. Thankfully it’s not that much, but like, he knows for a fact this would all go much faster with him just getting the materials he needs himself, but he’s making me do it anyway.”

Lúnda wagged a finger. “That’s one thing ya’ll need to understand about Dwarves. We’re a stubborn folk.”

Thrúd snorted. “Found that out back in Svartalfheim.”

“And if nothin’ else,” Lúnda continued, “I’d say that your visit was a complete success. I’ll admit I had my doubts sendin’ you his way on account of what happened and all that. Wasn’t sure he’d be willing to lend a hand. The fact he’s helping you at all is great! I dunno what you did, but ya did good. And I’d like to thank ya for keeping my confidence. I’ll tell Sindri myself when the time is right.”

The goddess cleared her throat, thinking it wise not to tell the dwarf that her tactics involved cussing him out until he saw reason, and the fact that Sindri had deduced Lúnda’s involvement all on his own.

“Well,” Lúnda kept going. “Don’t keep me in suspense, girl! What’s he got ya lookin’ for?”

“He only told me the first thing, a lump of sovereign coal. Said he’ll tell me the other thing he needs once I’m back with it.”

“Sovereign coal, eh?” Lúnda tapped her knuckles on the tabletop. “That’s gonna be hard to come by. Specially after Kratos and Freya busted their cute cabooses bringing this realm back to life. Lemme tell ya they’ve done enough work round this realm to make Hrimthur himself slack jawed!”

Thrúd felt herself teetering on the verge of a panic attack. “Wait, are you saying they already sealed up the draugr holes?”

“S’far as I know.”

Upon hearing this answer, Thrúd felt herself stumble backwards, her legs suddenly unable to support her. “Are- are you positive that there aren’t any left? There has to be one somewhere. There has to be!”

Overhead, dark clouds were just barely visible from the gaps in the leaves. They began forming and swirling around one another. A huge crack of thunder was heard, making the dwarf flinch and her dog bark in retaliation.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa there, lil lady,” Lúnda stepped out from behind the table and held her arms in front of her, trying to calm the goddess down. “Didn’t mean to startle ya. Why don’t ya just take some deep breaths with me?” Lúnda took in a deep breath through her nose and let it out through her mouth, gesturing for Thrúd to follow suit.

Reluctantly, Thrúd obliged. She breathed in and out at the same pace as Lúnda until rays of sun poked their way through the leaves once again, her composure and features now completely relaxed.

Just to be safe, Thrúd took in one more breath and let it out slowly. She hadn’t realized she had closed her eyes until she opened them back up. “Sorry.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry about,” Lunda assured. “I should have mentioned that they closed up the holes not too long ago, so you’ve still got time before they cool off permanently.”

Thrúd nodded, feeling reassured by her words.

“All that’s left is where to find em. And I’m assuming that’s why your birdy friend ain’t here?”

Thrúd nodded again. “He’s off looking for them. Better to look for them with an aerial view, right?”

“Smart girl!” Lúnda beamed before gasping, placing a gloved hand over her mouth. “And ya know what?” She removed her hand. “It’s mighty impressive that the only bit of damage you’ve taken is from that little stumble from before, but believe you me when I say that you’ll need a lil somethin’ else to protect ya out there.”

“Like what?”

In lieu of an answer, Lúnda turned around and walked back behind the table. Making her way inside the hollowed-out section of the tree, Lúnda reemerged with what appeared to be a golden arm band about half as long as Thrúd’s forearm. “Try this bad boy on,” Lúnda all but hummed.

Shrugging, Thrúd did as she was told. The golden armband fit her as if it was made for her, but was heavier than what she was expecting due to the size.

Out of curiosity, Thrúd twisted her wrist and stumbled back in surprise as a shield sprang out of it faster than she could blink. The shield was in the shape of a diamond and had ornate workings in the center of it. Despite being surprised at how heavy the armband was, Thrúd was equally surprised at how light the shield itself was.

“Had that one in stock. Kratos has one that works well for him. This’ll help with all the plant life and whatnot round here that’s tryin’ to kill ya.” She added that last bit with a smile.

With another twist of her wrist, the shield retracted back inside the armband. Thrúd gave the dwarf a smile. “Thank you. But . . . I’ve never actually used a shield before.”

“It’ll come to ya,” Lúnda reassured her. “Now, you’re gonna wanna be gettin’ on your way, I’ll bet. Can’t let those coals wait for too long.” She pointed a finger to a path at the side of the tree that went deeper into the jungle. “Now, they came on over not long before you got here with some of that coal for themselves. So I’d say your best bet is to head that way.”

Thrúd nodded and gave the dwarf a salute. “That way it is, then. Thanks again Lúnda. For everything.”

“Ah, ya’ll are gonna make me blush! Get outta here and don’t come back till you find that coal!”

Raising Mjolnir in a cheers motion, Thrúd placed it back in its spot before taking off in the direction Lúnda had pointed. Before she knew it, Thrúd was surrounded on all sides by the jungle once again.

Her smile returned. The wind rushed by her ears and her hair fanned out behind her, blocking out the sounds of the jungle effectively . . .

Now that she thought of it, the sounds were being blocked out too well.

Digging her heels into the dirt, Thrúd slowed herself to a stop and spun in a slow circle, observing the environment. When she arrived in a realm that was famous for its wildlife, Thrúd was expecting a bit more of it. She thought she was imagining things, but now that she thought back to it, Thrúd couldn’t recall hearing a single thing back at Lúnda’s shop.

Aside from the occasional bird calls, there were no other signs of life around here.

Blinking and shaking her head clear, Thrúd chalked it up to her never having visited the realm before.

It’s not like I know what’s normal around here and what isn’t. Get your head back in the game.

Before she could so much as take out Mjolnir to speed up her search, a new sound reached her ears, one she was definite that wasn’t natural to this environment.

Voices. Voices that didn’t belong to Lúnda or that purple squirrel.

Sucking in a breath of alarm, Thrúd squatted low enough to conceal herself behind a bush. Poking her arms through the bush, she parted it enough for her to see through.

On the other side, there was a small lake with water so clear, it rivaled the waters of Asgard. Above the lake were huts whose supports were submerged in the water. They were all connected to each other with a system of catwalks and bridges. From here, she was able to see people inside the huts and walking along the catwalks, greeting each other as they passed.

Even farther out on the other side of the above water settlement, there were more huts. Most of the huts seemed incomplete, as most of them had no roofs or were missing a wall or two. Thrúd wasn’t an expert craftsman, but she assumed it wasn’t storm damage. They were still being built.

A child’s playful scream caused her to shrink deeper into the bush. Once she felt safe, she poked her head back through and took a closer look. Her eyes went wide once she recognized one of the inhabitants. Then another. And then another.

In a realm this large, this vast, this full of thick jungle, Thrúd of course just had to stumble on the one spot her mom and the others had colonized.

Despite not having lived here for too long, the former refugees seemed to be adjusting fairly well as far as Thrúd was concerned. Men and women walked in every direction, carrying everything from baskets of dirty laundry, crates full of personal belongings waiting to be unpacked, or the occasional tool or two. Children were running about and playing as well, tagging each other and having make believe sword fights with whatever sticks they found on the ground.

It all just seemed so . . . normal.

And in a time when Thrúd’s life consisted of being hunted down by a sword swinging lunatic who wants to marry her hammer, hunting for lumps of coal, or being tossed into a pit with nothing but tacky jewelry at the bottom, she almost envied it.

Only almost though. She did choose this journey she was on, she reminded herself. Her mother gave her the option to-

The moment her mother so much as crossed her mind, Thrúd spotted her.

There she was, regal as ever with her hands clasped together as she walked through the masses, bowing her head in greeting to those she passed on the beach. Thrúd sank lower into the bush. She knew there was no way her mother could see her from this distance, but she decided to take no chances.

As if finding her mother wasn’t already bad enough, Thrúd discovered another problem.

The path to her right took her to the catwalk that would lead her to the settlement, with the path to her left being the one she had just arrived from.

If she wanted to continue moving forward, Thrúd concluded that she had no choice but to cut through town.

Naturally, Thrúd wasn’t a fan of this option. She replayed a hypothetical scenario in her head on a brief loop of herself strolling onto the catwalk as if she owned the place, followed by the residents alerting her mother which would then lead to another lecture about how unfair she was being in Midgard.

Well, I have my own feelings too on that matter, she thought to herself.

After shaking her head clear of those thoughts, she began coming up with ideas to avoid town.

Could I use Mjolnir and just zip around so low that they don’t see me? No. That blue streak would give me away in an instant. What if I bribed the first person I met to keep their mouth shut? Wait, with what money? Shit. Maybe I should’ve kept that coin Skjoldr found.

Fucking Hugin. If he were here, he could teleport me to the other side.

Cursing her lack of options, Thrúd steeled herself for the inevitable trek through the settlement.

Keeping low, Thrúd quietly walked the brief length of shore to the bridge that would take her to the first available hut. So far so good. No one was on this bridge yet. Still hunched low to remain as small as possible, Thrúd crossed the bridge and pressed herself against the wall of the hut next to the open doorway.

Leaning over, Thrúd peaked inside and wasn’t surprised to see that it was occupied at the moment. An Asgardian woman was humming to herself as she spread her clothes out on the bed, meticulously making certain that they were laid out flat before placing them in her wardrobe.

Thinking quickly, Thrúd ran the length of the bridge to where she had come from and snatched up a pebble from a shallow part of the lake. Making her way back to the entrance, she pressed herself up against the wall again and waited a few moments to make sure she was not spotted. Once she was positive she was in the clear, Thrúd leaned back over the entryway and tossed the pebble.

The Asgardian woman turned back in surprise at the sound of a small thud on her wall. Once her back was turned to investigate, Thrúd took her chance and tiptoed through the hut as fast and quietly as she could, only allowing herself to breathe once she was out the other side.

Internally praising herself for her small victory, Thrúd reminded herself she wasn’t clear just yet. From here, she could see at least two other huts she needed to pass until she was back in the jungle to continue her search.

Not wasting any more time, Thrúd hunched low again and continued forward, wincing at the creaking and groaning from the wood beneath her feet. As she came up to the next hut, her blood turned to ice as she saw the man inside turning quickly towards her.

Without thinking, Thrúd grabbed hold of the railing and swung herself underneath the bridge. Hanging above the water like an ape, Thrúd heard the man’s footsteps pass by above her, oblivious to her presence.

She didn’t bother to let herself feel any relief. Instead, she swung her arm to another root underneath the bridge, then she swung to another and another like a child at a playground. Her arms were almost in as much pain as her midsection was at the effort it took to hold her feet above the water to avoid making any suspicious splashing noises.

After a few moments of swinging, Thrúd allowed herself a moment to catch her breath before continuing. Her arms were still on fire, but she was used to that sensation from Valkyrie training.

More footsteps above her caused a small dust cloud to fall into her hair and sprinkle over her nose. Her eyes watered instantly, and she scrunched her nose in a futile attempt to halt the oncoming sneeze. Letting go with one arm, she covered her nose with it to muffle the sneeze as well as she could. The next moments of her swaying back and forth awkwardly lasted forever for her, but she finally deduced that she was still incognito.

With a quiet huff of determination, she raised her arm above her and prepared to keep swinging until a familiar voice stopped her.

“Milady.”

Thrúd nearly let go of the underside in shock but managed to hang on as her blood turned to ice. She looked left and right, but found no one else underneath the hut. The voice had come from above her. Thrúd recognized the commanding and formal voice almost instantly. Hildisvíni had entered the hut and addressed someone as ‘milady’ in greeting.

It didn’t take Thrúd long to put together who he was speaking to.

“Hildisvíni,” Lady Sif returned the greeting. Their voices were muffled with the floor separating them, but she could make out their voices as if she were in the room with them. “How did it go?”

Thrúd wasn’t sure what her mom was referring to, but whatever it was, the Vanir god didn’t seem keen on it.

“It was . . . alarming,” he informed her. “Every watering hole, every reservation we had set up, there are no wildlife. Granted, Kratos and Lady Freya and, urgh, Mimir,” he said the god’s name as if it was rancid tasting, “have done their part in restoring balance to the chaotic wilderness to the west, meaning they had no choice but to incapacitate the more hostile animals. That doesn’t explain the disappearance of the more local ones, however.”

Sif pondered his words. “Could there be another predator out there? Or even close by?”

“I wish I knew.” Thrúd assumed Hildisvíni shrugged. “Ragnarok was a strange time for all the realms. It makes sense that a few things are misplaced.”

“Are we,” Sif froze, as if afraid to think of what she wanted to say. “Are we in danger? Do we need to evacuate?” Both Hildisvíni and Thrúd could hear the fear creeping into her voice. Not only the fear of a hypothetical creature terrorizing the nearby animals, but rather having to deal with the headache that would come with telling a massive group of Asgardians and Midgardians to leave everything behind right when they had just gotten done unpacking.

Given the temperament of some of these refugees, Thrúd could hardly blame her.

“At the moment, I don’t believe so. But to be safe, we’ll schedule a few more patrols. Have them rotate routinely until further notice. Do you know of anyone else who would be willing to step up to this growing responsibility?”

“I’ll find some,” Sif promised. “In the meantime, a few more arguments have broken out that need quelling. And there are some children who keep wandering off. We’ll have to find a way to keep them in our sights.”

As her mother sank more and more into the current events of this new settlement, Thrúd found this as her cue to move on. She didn’t make it as far as three swings until she came to another full halt.

“I just wish Thrúd were here.”

Thrúd’s body continued swinging from the unused momentum, her feet almost splashing in the water beneath her.

When her mom went into full bureaucrat mode, there was no snapping her out of it until she was back at home or at the very least until whatever business was being discussed had been resolved. Sif never spoke of her personal life to a fellow politician so candidly. If she ever spoke of her home life at all, it had some relevance to the subject at hand.

And above all else, her mother refused to show weakness in front of anybody else other than her closest family. The fact that she had just divulged such a confession to a foreign god, a Vanir god no less, told Thrúd all she needed to know about how true that statement was.

Guilt clawed at her heart for a few moments, knowing that she could have saved her mother this pain had she just come along. But with the constant threat of Grámtrist chasing her and the time limit on Sindri’s shopping list, she knew this wish was impossible to grant.

Thrúd could hear Hildisvíni uncomfortably shuffling his feet, unsure of what to say.

“Sif,” he started. “I . . . may not be a parent, so I can never fully understand what you’re going through. But I do know that Thrúd is a capable young woman who-“

“I know what you’re going to say,” Thrúd could tell her mom had just held her hand up to silence him. “But that’s not what I’m worried about. Ever since her dad . . . since Thor . . . well, something just-“

This was another first for Thrúd. Lady Sif never stumbled over her words like this. More guilt gnawed at her insides, and she wanted nothing more than to swing herself back up and clear things up. But her mission wasn’t going to put itself on hold for her to settle a family squabble.

Thrúd kept swinging forward and could hear her mom’s voice become more and more muffled as she went. “I want her to be happy. With friends of her own and people she can rely on. But . . . I just wished that she could do that here.”

With that, the rest of their conversation was quieted by distance. Once she reached the end of the bridge, Thrúd swung herself back to the top and didn’t dare look back as she made her way into the jungle once again.

As soon as she felt it was safe, Thrúd picked up her pace until she was sprinting deeper inside. The sprint turned into a full-blown run before she knew it. She was running and panting as if she were trying to escape Ragnarok itself.

Thoroughly out of breath, Thrúd came to a halt with her hands on her knees, gasping for air. As soon as her lungs were full, Thrúd tilted her head back until it was lolling behind her and let out a pained groan, running her fingers down her face with nearly enough force to rip it off like a mask.

“Fuck!” She shouted. “Don’t you think I want to be a family?” She yelled at the air as if her mother were standing in front of her. “Don’t you think that maybe, just maybe, what I’m doing is as important to me as yours is to you? You’re the one who’s making things. So! Weird!”

As her voice rose in volume, so did her frustration. It built and built inside of her until it was released in the form of her swinging Mjolnir uncontrollably, slamming into tree trunks and snapping off twigs. She didn’t much care about the possibility of her mom hearing this. If there’s one thing she learned from her dad, it was to let it all out whenever she was able.

Her energy spent and her anger reduced to a puddle rather than the ocean it was threatening to become, she found herself back where she started; taking in large gulps of air to catch her breath with her brain rattling itself to figure out which way she should go next.

To her side, Thrúd found a wall of rock and soil stretching up beyond the trees.

Well, getting a better view is a pretty good way to start, she thought to herself.

Thrúd reached down and unhooked Mjolnir from her side but couldn’t so much as raise her arm over her head before she felt her feet get tied together and swept out from beneath her.

With an undignified oof, Thrúd found herself lying face down on the jungle floor, relieved to see that she still had Mjolnir in her grasp. She propped herself up on her elbows and peeked over her shoulder to see that her ankles had gotten lassoed together by some kind of vine. Thrúd didn’t have time to follow the vine to who or whatever the owner was before it dragged her on the ground away from the wall she was about to climb.

Before she knew it, she found herself on the most painful ride of her life. Not a single thorn, twig or stone missed their mark on her skin as she flew past them. She was being dragged with such speed, the air rushing past her almost blocked out any other noise, save for her grunts and cries of surprise as she felt new scratches decorate her arms.

What she could hear though and feel through the vibrations of the vine at her feet, was galloping. Whoever was doing this was riding on horseback. Thrúd made a mental note of that for when she was free and poised to defend herself.

She tried to raise Mjolnir and zip herself to a different spot, but her concentration was constantly broken by the sudden twists and turns and jolts the horseback rider felt the need to pepper her with. Before long, the ground vanished beneath her, and she found herself in a brief freefall and landing hard on the dirt below. Mjolnir was jarred loose from her grip and tumbled end over end away from her line of sight.

With the location of Mjolnir the least of her worries, Thrúd groaned and rubbed her sore spots in an attempt to alleviate the pains scattered across her body.

For a moment, Thrúd had no clue that her eyes were closed. When she opened them, she wished they had stayed closed for a bit longer.

Because now she was staring down the shafts of two arrows aiming directly at her face.

Chapter Text

With the amount of times Thrúd has visited a new realm ever since she retrieved her father’s hammer and had anything less than a friendly wave hello, she couldn’t find herself to even pretend to be surprised at this one.

Lying on her back with her feet bound by a whip, Thrúd finally got a good look at her captors.

Her previous theory of her kidnapper riding on horseback was at once debunked as soon as she found out that her kidnapper was a horse itself.

She was a centaur. And currently, she had a vice-like grip on the whip, her toned arms flexing in tense anticipation, ready to take Thrúd for another ride should she struggle in any way. She suspected that wasn’t her most pressing issue, since the angry centaur lady had brought her over to her some acquaintances of hers, poised and at the ready to fire their arrows from their bows.

Three of them in total. Two female, one male. The women had loose rags and foliage to cover themselves whereas the male strode about bare chested, as if he wanted to impress other animals in the realm (which maybe he did. Thrúd had zero understanding of how this realm operated).

One by one, Thrúd looked at all of them, taking in their toned muscles, large horns on their heads, and weapons of choice. After several moments of silence, Thrúd finally spoke.

“Hey.”

Not surprisingly, the centaurs didn’t respond. Rather, they began talking amongst themselves.

“Another Asgardian.”

“Is she with those others?”

“She has to be.”

“This one isn’t dressed as those other ones are, though.”

“That means nothing. She’s one of them. I saw her destroying our home with that filthy hammer of hers myself.”

Thrúd blinked. “Now hang on, I wasn’t just-“

They didn’t let her finish. The male centaur let go of his bow to reach down and hefted the goddess aggressively to her feet. Once she was standing, the whip came loose from around her ankles only to snake back around her midsection, pinning her arms to her sides. Wincing in pain, Thrúd fought against the tightening whip in order to take in full gulps of air.

“No speaking!” The whip-holder ordered. “Not unless spoken to, first.”

Thrúd let out a strained breath. “Well, you’re speaking to me now. And those guys over at the village?” She did her best to motion to the general direction of her mother’s settlement. “They mean you absolutely no harm. I know Asgardians can be assholes, but-“

“They are not who we speak of,” the male spoke again. “Warriors. Clad in their native armor. Surely you are the one who sent them.”

Thrúd didn’t even process his accusation. Her mind was racing at his previous comment.

Warriors.

Native armor.

“. . . Einherjar?” Her question came out in such a low volume, the centaurs assumed it was a pained breath. “They’re here?”

“Following your orders, no doubt,” the whip holder all but spat.

Thrúd couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Lady, the last Einherjar soldiers I ran into got a helmet full of that hammer over there. I’m no friend of theirs.”

“Lies!” The other female shouted. “You sent them here! You told them to hunt down the animals and you are no doubt part of the colonization to the north!”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Thrúd grew impatient. “If I sent them, why would-“ she struggled against the whip one last time before deciding she’s had enough of it. Wiggling her hand free, she snapped her fingers and zipped out of her confinements and over to the hammer still lying on the ground. The whip stayed coiled in the air for a moment before falling limp to the ground.

The centaur warriors jumped back in alarm and landed in separate fighting stances, bows and whip at the ready. On the other side of the potential battlefield, however, Thrúd held the hammer out before her with one hand and holding her other one out to show it was empty, doing her best to demonstrate that she was no threat.

“Listen!”

Ever so slowly, Thrúd lowered Mjolnir to the grass and stood upright again, both hands clearly visible in front of her. The centaurs remained on edge, their muscles tense and ready to attack.

“Listen,” Thrúd tried again, calmer this time. “Yes, I’m Asgardian,” she admitted. “Yes, I know the ones who are now occupying that space to the north. But I did not send the Einherjar that you’re talking about.”

Thrúd counted herself lucky her audience didn’t say anything to negate her claim again. She couldn’t promise herself she’d be able to keep cool after being called a liar again.

The centaur trio exchanged glances amongst themselves, silently conversing with one another about the legitimacy of her words. “And how can we believe you?”

Well, at least they didn’t call me a liar again. Not directly, anyway.

“I know you don’t know me, but you just have to trust me.”

“And how can we trust you?” The male asked, his aggression returning.

For a moment, Thrúd couldn’t find her voice. After all, he had a point. Thrúd had nothing to work with here. Upon seeing them raise their bows at her once again, Thrúd fought back the urge to activate her new shield. Getting too defensive could give them the wrong idea.

She could make a break for it, but decided against it after she played back the moments from not even an hour ago. Her mother’s voice rang in her ear. “I want her to be happy. With friends of her own and people she can rely on.” Lúnda’s conversation with that jittery squirrel was quick to follow.

“What was it we talked about?”

“That friends are never a distraction.”

Thrúd would be the first to admit to her piss poor track record at making friends in foreign realms. If she kept this streak up, all the remaining realms would be out to get her before she knew it.

She’d be an all-new Odin, just like Sindri said.

In front of her, Thrúd didn’t see three frightened centaurs anymore. She saw an opportunity to begin making things right.

“Well, I suppose you’re right.” She started, taking slow, small steps toward the group. “You need to know somebody to trust them at all. Names would be a good place to start, yeah?” The centaurs exchanged skeptical glances. “My name is Thrúd. Thrúd Thorsdottir.”

All three sets of eyes widened in alarm. “Thor’s daughter?” One of them asked. Thrúd couldn’t help but laugh. Mimir’s reaction was exactly the same back at Ragnarok.

“Yeah. That’s right. Thor was my dad. Now what are your names?” They remained silent. The new knowledge of her family lineage obviously rubbing them the wrong way. “With all respect,” she tried again, “if I were here to destroy your home, I would have by now. That tantrum back there? I was just stressed. Sorry about that. Really.”

The centaur who kidnapped her seemed to relax, taking note of the sincerity in Thrúd’s voice.

“Vixus.”

The other two centaurs hissed at her. “What are you doing?” The male asked, clearly outraged. “We can’t be certain of her truthfulness.”

Vixus coiled her whip and placed it on her back. “She’s correct, though. That hammer is obviously Mjolnir. We do not stand a chance against a weapon capable of slaying giants. If she were here to cause us harm, I believe she would have done it by now.” This earned an agitated grunt from her female counterpart and a dismissive eyeroll from the male.

Cautiously, Vixus clopped forward, closing the distance between them. As she got closer, Thrúd lowered her arms.

“You said the Einherjar have been poaching the wildlife?”

“That’s right.”

“Why?”

“We can’t be certain of anything yet. But we don’t believe they’re merely being hunted for sport. Or even food. But if I may, why are you here, Thrúd Thorsdottir?”

Thrúd glanced back at the hammer lying on the ground. With a snap of her fingers, it was summoned back to her waiting palm. Vixus blinked in surprise but didn’t seem threatened by the sudden motion. “A mission of my own. My family’s legacy is in danger. And I need an item from this realm to help.”

Vixus narrowed her eyes, her defenses rising. “You’ve come to steal from us?”

“No. What I need comes from something unnatural to the realms. It’s a piece of coal that you’d never realize was gone if I hadn’t told you about it.”

The centaur seemed to accept the answer. “So, you have a mission of your own and we have ours. If you are truly not the threat we believe you to be, it’s best that we go our separate ways.” With that, Vixus began to turn around and return to her group.

“Wait!” Thrúd held up her arm. Vixus peeked over her shoulder at the goddess. “What if I could help you?”

“We do not need your help, Asgardian!” Snapped the male. Vixus shushed him with a wave of her arm.

“What he means is,” began the other female, “what do you have to gain by helping us? You know what it is you seek. We have nothing to offer.”

Thrúd shook her head. “It’s not about what you do or don’t have to offer.” She smiled. “No matter how busy someone is . . . friends are never a distraction.”

The group of centaurs flinched, clearly confused.

“Right, sorry. Calling you friends is a little premature. Let’s- let’s just go. Where are they?”

Vixus motioned her head behind her. “This way.”

Despite the occasional complaint from the male centaur, Thrúd was guided by them through the woods. The wildlife may have been poached, but Thrúd found that the local fauna that was left behind was still more than capable of trying to kill them.

Not to her surprise, however, she found Vixus and her two companions were more than capable of defending themselves against them. They effortlessly dodged and blocked the occasional projectile and sidestepped the acidic puddle with ease. Thrúd took this as an invitation to defend herself from the plants as well but held herself back from throwing Mjolnir at them. She had a small hunch that her gracious hosts wouldn’t appreciate her retaliating against their home realm.

Before long, the four of them came to a large pit with a path that circled its way down to the bottom like a drill. The bottom of the pit was nearly a hundred feet down and housed ruins of some sort of small town that was being overtaken by moss and vines. Also seen at the bottom was another section of Asgard that had crashed here after Ragnarok. It was too high for her to see clearly, but Thrúd thought she could recognize bits of the bar that her dad loved to avoid responsibility at.

Thrúd also assumed that the multitude of cages and crates full of screeching and whimpering animals weren’t part of the local décor.

Hiding behind bushes while peeking out just enough to see the bottom without being spotted, Thrúd and the centaurs could see the group of four cruel Einherjar soldiers forcing wyverns, gradungrs and gulons into empty cages using bifrost tipped whips and swords. With each crack of a whip, Thrúd could see bits of bifrost fly off the whip and land on the gulon, making them whimper and back up quicker into their cages.

Thrúd growled. “Bastards.”

“You truly did not know of this?” Vixus asked, her tone more curious than outraged at the scene unfolding beneath them.

“No!” Thrúd shouted before covering her mouth, fearing that the soldiers beneath them heard her. “No,” she said more quietly. “How long have they been doing this?”

“Since the ending of Ragnarok.” The male centaur said.

“But that was weeks ago! If you knew where they are and what they’re doing, why haven’t you done anything?”

“Our first priority was to save those we could before they were taken,” the male defensively informed her.

“Wow. And such a great job you did of that,” Thrúd remarked.

Vixus gestured to the three of them. “There used to be six of us.”

Thrúd looked from the centaurs down to the bottom of the pit, then back at the centaurs. She let her eyes sink down the ground in shame, unable to meet their gaze.

“Shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry for what you guys have gone through.”

“As if you’d know what we’ve gone through, Asgardian.” The male spat out.

Vixus rose to her full height and stomped her hooves on the ground. “That’s enough, Markus!”

Thrúd didn’t even attempt to hold back her snort of amusement. “Your name is Markus?”

Her question was promptly ignored.

“What’s important now,” Vixus regained their focus, “is freeing those in captivity down there to restore our ecosystem. Ragnarok has wreaked enough havoc in our realm without these Einherjar ruining the restoration process.”

Thrúd looked back down into the pit, assessing the situation as best she could. “Well, now you’ve got something you didn’t have before to help you.”

“And what’s that? You?” Markus asked.

In response, Thrúd spread her arms as if the answer was obvious. “Yeah. I’ll head down there, fuck all the Einherjar up until they can’t feel their spines anymore, and let the animals out of the cages. Easy peasy.”

“No!” Markus demanded. His tone suggesting that he wasn’t against her help, but rather fearful of something else. “We will accept your help, Asgardian, but keep your . . . lightning abilities to yourself.”

“I’m afraid I agree with Markus,” Vixus said. “We don’t know the extent of your abilities and I’m afraid we can’t fully trust them. We don’t want any further harm to come to these animals. Please, Thrúd Thorsdottir.”

Thrúd looked at all three of the centaurs individually before letting out a nod. She figured that being in a realm that wasn’t her own also meant taking counsel from its inhabitants on matters she knew little of. Thrúd made a mental note to include that in her guidebook on making allies.

“Alright,” she agreed. “What do you have in mind then?” Vixus gestured to the pit below them.

“We haven’t been able to help the animals because the Einherjar have overpowered all of our previous attempts to free them. So, you are correct in your statement that you are our best option. But we must approach this delicately before freeing them to increase their chances of survival. Markus, Reyna and myself,” she gestured to the three of them, “will make our way down the path and remain hidden. Once we are almost at the bottom, await our signal. You will leap in and distract the soldiers. Meanwhile, we will use that opportunity to free them and use them against the soldiers. They will be unable to defend themselves amidst the confusion.”

“Alright,” Thrúd agreed. “What’s this signal I need to watch out for?”

At this, Markus smiled. “You’ll know it when you see it.”

Thrúd rolled her eyes. “Fucking hate it when they say that. Whatever. I’ll be waiting here.”

Vixus looked behind her and nodded to the other two. Together, the three of them stayed as low as centaurs could and began walking down the spiraling path to the bottom. Thrúd kept her eyes on them the whole time. They stayed as close to the pit’s wall as they could, taking cover behind the occasional bush whenever they could. Looking down, the Einherjar didn’t seem to notice their presence at all. They were still mulling about themselves and forcing more animals into cages.

What do they want with all of these things anyway?

“There you are!”

“Woah!”

Not expecting to be hearing a voice in her head so soon, Thrúd fell out of the bush and landed on her backside in alarm. Before she could get up, she felt a weight be set down on her stomach. Hugin perched himself on top of her as if that’s where he belonged.

“I should’ve known you’d blow off that two-hour curfew.”

Thrúd shooed him off her gut. He flapped his wings until he ended up on top of the bush she was previously taking cover in.

“I got sidetracked. Sorry.” She stood up and brushed off her skirts.

“Well, I’d get more pissed off at you if I hadn’t come here with some good news.”

Thrúd’s eyes widened to the size of plates. “Did you find a draugr hole?”

“Bet your ass I did. Now let’s get over there and get back to Sindri’s.”

Thrúd held her hands up. “Wait!” She ran over to the edge of the pit and looked down. The centaurs were over halfway down and still descending. They hadn’t been detected yet as far as she could tell. She looked back at the raven. “Can that wait for a few more minutes?”

Hugin shook his head violently, which Thrúd assumed was the equivalent of his jaw dropping to the ground in shock. “What?!”

“It’s hard to explain, but I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”

“Right,” Hugin’s voice said. “We’re in the middle of upgrading that hammer of yours so that it can’t get destroyed by a lunatic who is able to travel to any realm he wants whenever he wants! I found the coal just like you wanted, and now you want me to wait?” His chirps accompanying his rant were getting louder.

“Shh, shh!” Thrúd hushed him. “Look, I found some locals, and they need my help. I can’t just leave them behind when I can help them!” She tried to reason with the bird. As she spoke, Thrúd made her way over to the ledge to find where the centaurs were at. They remained unseen and were closer to the bottom.

Hugin flipped himself around on the bush and peeked over to see what she was looking at. “So, what?” He asked. “This whole operation needs to be put on hold because little Thrúdie wants to play with some ponies? Can’t I get you over there to get the coal and bring you right back? They’d never know you were gone!”

“I’d actually really like that, but the thing is I’m kind of waiting on this signal and I can’t afford to miss it. It could be coming any second now . . .”

Multiple seconds went by without so much as a gust of wind.

“Hmm, yes. Very interesting. Glad to see you’re taking this seriously. No need to worry about that time limit that Sindri gave you. That coal isn’t getting any hotter you know.”

“Hey!” Thrúd snapped, taking out her hammer and pointing it at the bird. “You’re the one who said I needed to work on my social skills! Sorry the timing couldn’t work out better, but they need my help now! And before you ask, no, I’m not doing this out of spite towards Odin or even my dad or mom.”

An arrow plunged itself at the edge of the cliff right beneath Thrúd’s feet. Looking down, she found the centaurs clustered behind a tree at the bottom of the spiraling trail, waiting for Thrúd’s diversion.

Thrúd stood at full height, spinning Mjolnir in her grip and bouncing on her feet to hype herself up.

“I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do.”

Without waiting for any other demeaning comments from the raven, Thrúd leapt over the edge and flung the hammer upward to gain more height. Looking down, Thrúd found the perfect place to land. A smile hit her lips as she came up with an idea.

They may not want lightning down there, but they didn’t say anything about up here. . .

A loud crack of thunder echoed through the pit. Dark clouds formed and spiraled around her, and lightning arced in every direction. Pleased with part one of her entrance, Thrúd allowed gravity to take her back. She landed in the middle of the pit and cracked the ground beneath her feet. Looking around, she saw that she had successfully gained the attention of the Einherjar soldiers. All of them stood in a stunned silence as they looked at her, surprised to see her standing there instead of her father.

Thrúd smiled and held her arms wide, spinning in a circle to address all of them. “Hey boys!” She yelled at them. “Nice to see you all again.”

With a swing of the hammer, Thrúd sent a gust of wind at an unstable archway to her left. The soldier standing underneath it barely had enough time to get out of the way as it crumbled to pieces. In his haste, the soldier let go of a chain he was holding, allowing a wyvern to fly out of the pit, screeching in celebration at its freedom.

“You bitch!” To her other side, Thrúd found a pale soldier who was holding the whip that was tipped with bifrost magic. He cracked the whip at her, but she got out of the way of the dripping blue goop in time.

Thrúd gripped her hammer tighter, preparing to unleash a volley of lightning at the asshole, but a whimpering behind her made her freeze.

Turning around, she found a cage full of gulon hounds, clustered together at the farthest end of the cage in fear.

Right, Thrúd thought to herself. No lightning down here.

Using her distraction to his advantage, the Einherjar wrapped his whip around the hilt and tugged Mjolnir out of her grasp. He cackled in delight as it fell to the ground. He stopped once he saw that that only made Thrúd smile as another idea came to her.

Snapping her fingers, Thrúd willed the hammer to fly in the air with the whip still attached, taking the Einherjar with it. He screamed in fear as Mjolnir spun in countless circles until he was unable to hold on any longer and flew into the wall of the pit with bone crunching force and rolled to the bottom until he was completely still.

The remaining three Einherjar rushed her all at once in retaliation. Adrenaline all but taking her over, Thrúd held her arms out to her sides again. “You want some of this?!” She yelled her go to phrase.

The moments following could only be described as pure joy to the daughter of Thor. With every swing of an axe, scythe or fist, Thrúd found every opportunity to either block, dodge, or counter with another attack. The four of them fought in a chaotic flurry of movement, making their way all around the pit, hopping over the occasional obstacle and knocking over unstable walls as they went.

As she took out her mace, Thrúd risked a look to the side and was pleased to find the centaurs advancing toward the nearest cage, bows at the ready just in case they were spotted.

Turning her attention back to the fight, Thrúd was unable to block the blunt end of a battle axe as it swung into her gut, sending her stumbling backwards until she tripped over a tavern bench and fell on her back. The brutish Einherjar laughed as he advanced and raised the axe over his head before swinging it down.

Thrúd raised her left arm in time and the shield gifted to her popped out on reflex. She directed the blade harmlessly to her side and followed through with another swing of her mace at the Einherjar’s jaw. She laughed at the pained sound he made as he stumbled to the side and rubbed his aching face.

Her shield retracted with another flick of her wrist. “Thanks, Lúnda!” She yelled out before resuming her fight.

As she continued, she kept glancing away to find her new friends destroying the locks on every cage they came across, setting loose a stream of wretches, gulons and gradungrs. Their roars of freedom caught the attention of their captors.

“What the Hel?!”

Before the brutish Einherjar could react, the grandungr barreled into him and gnawed at his arm like a chew toy. Though the large beast seemed well enough distracted, Thrúd took a few cautious steps backwards. Vixus cracked her whip with lightning speed and precision, tripping the Einherjar and ripping skin from their bodies as Markus and Reyna launched up to four arrows at once from each of their bows at a time.

Only a few arrows made contact with its targets while the others bounced off their armor or broke against the stone walls as they ran for cover.

The Einherjar who wielded a scythe yelled out. “Just hold on for a little longer! The others will be back soon!”

Thrúd blinked at this. “Others?”

Her momentary distraction cost her. Thrúd let out a yelp of pain as a set of razor-sharp teeth bit down on her leg. Looking down, she found a gulon biting her shin and attempting to knock her off balance. Thrúd backhanded the canine-like creature until it shook its head and momentarily retreated. “You’re welcome! Ungrateful mongrel.”

Looking around, Thrúd found most of the freed animals running up the spiraling path toward freedom, but a small handful of them decided to stay to enact vengeance. Unable to tell who was their savior and who was their captor, each beast went for either her, the centaurs or the Einherjar with equal fury.

Looking over to her allies, Thrúd found them successfully evading the animals’ attacks while simultaneously continuing their assault on the Einherjar. She got the feeling that they wouldn’t appreciate her striking anymore animals, even if it was in self-defense.

With no other soldiers around her, Thrúd leapt up and propped herself atop a now vacant cage. She snapped her fingers and summoned Mjolnir back to her hand though, just in case. Below her, she couldn’t help but smile as the centaurs successfully continued to press their attack against the invaders. Before she could let out a whoop of joy, the flapping of wings by her ear shook her out of her reverie.

“Just a reminder that the coal is cooling off with every second you’re here,” Hugin said as he fluttered onto her shoulder.

“Hey, relax,” Thrúd coaxed. “What was the hole like when you were there? Was it closed recently?”

Hugin twitched his head in thought. “As far as I could tell. But that doesn’t mean-“

“Then that means,” she interrupted, “that I still have some time! Look around here, we’re almost done.” She gestured her arm outward to show the bird her handiwork. “We’ll wrap up here, I’ll say my goodbyes and we’ll be on our way! Nothing to worry about.”

The cage beneath her feet rattled as the ground shook several times.

Catching her balance, Thrúd turned around to find no less than a dozen more Einherjar landing inside the pit. Each of them raised their weapon of choice and joined the fray.

“Right,” Thrúd said. “Others.”

Hugin chirped in alarm. “I think that’s our que to get the Hel out of here!”

Thrúd shook him off her shoulder. “No! Not when they still need help! I don’t care if that coal cools off before we get there! We’ll just think of something different then.”

Before they could finish their argument, Thrúd saw a salvo of bifrost-tipped arrows about to rain down on them and turn them into pin cushions. She grabbed onto Hugin with one hand, tossed Mjolnir over to the path and snapped her fingers, zipping the two of them out of harm’s way and next to Vixus. The centaur was grunting and panting heavily, but she was doing well at holding the soldiers at bay with her whip.

On instinct, Thrúd swept Mjolnir in a horizontal motion, sending a shockwave into the oncoming soldiers and knocking them backward several feet, giving them a mere moment of respite.

“It’s getting a little heavy here!” Thrúd said. “Most of the animals are safe! The four of us should get out of here while we can!”

“Wait,” Vixus grabbed Thrúd’s shoulder. “Something’s not right. This pit couldn’t possibly hold all of the animals they’ve hunted. And where did their reinforcements come from?”

“The Einherjar are just like that. They’re well organized but violent as all Hel. Obsessed with following the All-Father’s will and bringing glory to Asgard.”

“Neither of which exist anymore!” Markus yelled as he lined himself up with the two of them, launching arrows and swinging his bow at the soldiers as he came. “What are they hoping to achieve with this attack?”

“I don’t know,” Thrúd admitted. Her eyes widened once she saw a soldier being dragged away from his weapon by a grandugr and thrown against a wall. Unlike other victims of a grandugr attack, this soldier remained alive. “But maybe we can find out.”

The grandugr dug at the ground like a bull before it charged at its prey, but a streak of lightning zipped across and pulled the soldier from its path. Its momentum too strong, the beast charged into the wall head-on, causing it to collapse over him in a dusty pile of bricks.

Looking down, the stunned Einherjar soldier was shaking his head, trying to free himself from his stunned state.

When Thrúd looked up, she could clearly see the scene before her was getting more and more out of control. Wyverns swept down and electrocuted the Einherjar before snatching them up and flying away. Packs of gulon were ganging up on enemies in coordinated attacks. Both Einherjar and animals alike were closing in on her position.

“Everyone, to me!”

On command, the centaurs gathered around her.

“No time to explain! I can get us out of here, but I need you all to say you approve!”

“I approve!”

“I approve!”

“What are we agreeing to?”

“MARKUS!”

“Fine, I approve!”

The Einherjar in her grasp began to stir. “Hugin! Get them out of here!”

Throwing the hammer in the air, Thrúd snapped her fingers and pulled the two of them skyward until they were sitting at the edge of the pit. Beside them, a flurry of ravens appeared. Once they vanished, three confused centaurs were standing right next to them in battle-ready stances.

The three of them looked around once the last of the ravens disappeared, surprised to find themselves back at the top of the pit. Each of them watched as Hugin flew down and landed back on Thrúd’s shoulder.

“He needs consent from the people he’s about to transport. Wouldn’t have worked, otherwise,” Thrúd informed them. Meanwhile, the soldier she brought with her began getting his wits about once again.

Before he could make any moves, Thrúd took out her mace and put it under his chin next to his throat, pulling back so he was nearly strangled by the barbed weapon.

“Alright, asshole,” Thrúd began, “start talking. What are you guys doing here and what do you want with the animals?”

The Einherjar soldier spit out a curse in old Norse. In response, Thrúd pulled the mace tighter against his windpipe. She could feel his body was still tense, but he wasn’t making any movements that suggested he’d be fighting back.

“It’s either me you talk to, or my friends here. And they’ve got a lot to say to you. Trust me.”

Vixus cracked her whip in front of his face.

“Use . . . animals.” He strained to get the words out.

“For what?” Markus demanded instantly.

“Use animals. To- urk- destroy colony.” He reached down and took out a necklace that was clearly from Vanaheim: barbed with animal bones, rock and strung with twine. “Blame Vanir.” He struggled again.

Thrúd almost lost her grip on the mace in shock as she pieced it all together. “You’re trying to start another war between the Aesir and Vanir.”

Her captive grunted, not bothering to deny it. “Alliance is a disgrace, an abomination to the All-Father.” His hand shakily pointed down the pit. “These vermin . . . on reserve for- for wave two.”

Thrúd tightened her grip. “Where are the others?” The soldier laughed, prompting Thrúd to silence him by pulling the mace so close to his throat, the barbs that pricked against his skin drew blood. “Where are the rest of the animals?!” She yelled.

The only answer she got was more laughter.

Knowing she wasn’t going to get anything else out of him, Thrúd twisted to the side and bore his exposed chest to Markus, who wasted no time to plunge several arrows into his torso before Thrúd tossed his body over the cliff.

For a few moments, the four of them stood in silence, soaking in this new information. Meanwhile, roars from several beasts and yells ranging from frustration to victory were heard from the bottom.

Looking down, they each could see that the tide was once again turning in the Einherjar’s favor. Having regrouped, they worked as a team to either herd, weaponize, or kill the animals they had just freed.

“We have to get back down there,” Reyna spoke first. “They still need our help!”

“But there are others out there that are still in danger. They need assistance as well,” Markus pointed out.

“We can’t be everywhere at once. We can only help so many,” Vixus reasoned. For a few moments, the sound of the battle below was joined with the three centaurs coming up with ideas on their next gameplan, each getting shot down by somebody who proposed a new plan. This cycle went on until Thrúd spun around to face them.

“Shit. No wonder the other centaurs died! You take forever to make a decision!”

“Watch your tongue, Asgardian!” Reyna snapped. “Don’t forget that your kind is at stake here, too!”

Thrúd shook her head. “No, they’re not.” She said calmly. “The Einherjar are only good for one thing: fighting. They’re completely useless in every other aspect. And stupid, especially for thinking this plan would divide the alliance. My mom and Hildisvíni have been working together since the end of Ragnarok. They trust each other. They’d know the Vanir would never sabotage this.”

“But that doesn’t change the fact that your mother and the others are in danger,” Vixus pointed out. “They’re unaware of a stampede that may well be on its way right now.”

“True. But I’ve got a plan.” The centaurs came closer, ready to hear her proposition. “You three stay here and fight off these fuckers,” she gestured down the pit. “Hold them off, kill them, do whatever you have to do.”

Reyna grimaced at the plan. “They far outnumber us now. We’ll be slaughtered immediately.”

Thrúd shook her head once again, pointing to the bird on her shoulder. “Not with Hugin you won’t be.” The raven chirped curiously. “He’ll keep an eye on each of you. If you’re overwhelmed, he’ll get you out of there and take you to a different spot. The Einherjar will never be able to keep up with that.”

Hugin chirped again, not disagreeing with her plan.

“But what about you?” Vixus asked.

“I’ll go find where they’re keeping the other animals,” she said. “Stop them from destroying the settlement. I’m not sure how yet, but I’ll figure it out.” The raven on her shoulder chirped again, this time quieter and next to her ear. With an agitated look on her face, Thrúd shooed off whatever comment was made. “We’ll worry about that later!” She insisted. “This kind of takes priority.” She looked back at the three warriors before her. “Do you guys understand?”

The three of them exchanged glances, having a silent conversation between them before nodding in unison at her.

Taking that as his que, Hugin took to the air and flew in a circle around them, summoning more ravens as he did. In lieu of a farewell, Vixus said, “Good luck.” Before Thrúd could return the sentiment, they were gone, transported to the bottom of the pit and back into the fight.

Not bothering to check to see where Hugin took them, Thrúd put her mace away and took out Mjolnir. With a determined shout, Thrúd took to the skies.

Chapter Text

Ignoring the nauseous sensation in the pit of her stomach from having ascended so quickly and so high into the sky, Thrúd looked down to survey the land. She failed to hold in a gasp of surprise at the sight around and below her.

The skies were crystal clear, allowing her to see so far across the realm, she could see the curvature of its very existence. All sorts of colors coexisted in this realm’s ecosystem; brown, green, yellow, red, and lots and lots of blues.

Directly below her, she was only just able to make out the ensuing battle between her centaur partners and the Einherjar over the lives of Vanaheim’s wildlife mixed in with a flurry of black feathers from Hugin’s reluctant assistance.

Thrúd resisted the urge to plummet back down and assist them in their fight, reminding herself that the three of them were more than capable of holding off Asgard’s last remaining few soldiers, as well as remembering her own mission that she had to worry about.

Squinting to give herself more clarity, Thrúd spun herself around in a slow three hundred sixty-degree rotation. She made a whole revolution when she realized that she hadn’t dropped a single inch since she rose. Looking down at herself, Thrúd gasped in shock when she saw lightning was dancing around below her torso, covering her like a blanket but holding her aloft like a harness. She looked over to her hand and saw that Mjolnir was to thank. Electricity sparked from its head, and she could feel that that’s what was holding her up.

“Fucking cool,” she breathed out before focusing on the surface once again.

Before long, Thrúd was able to locate the settlement that the Aesir and Vanir were now residing in and thanked her lucky stars that it appeared to still be intact. From there, she expanded her vision to catch anything out of the ordinary in the surrounding area.

She found what she was looking for in the form of several more unnatural structures barely poking out of the tree line from above, at least two kilometers away from the settlement.

Waiting for no invitations, Thrúd held Mjolnir before her and used it to propel her down to the ground at ferocious speeds. As she descended, Thrúd caught sight of two other Einherjar soldiers standing in the center of a ring of cages. Urging herself to go faster, Thrúd managed to get her feet underneath her and land on one of the unsuspecting soldiers, knocking him to the ground and using her momentum to use him as a surfboard on the ground, digging him deeper into the dirt. Once she came to a stop, Thrúd ignored his cries for mercy and dropped Mjolnir on top of his face, silencing him forever.

Turning around in time to see the other soldier swinging his scythe in retaliation, Thrúd jumped back ang avoided his swing. Snapping her fingers, Mjolnir popped straight up in the air and caught the surprised brute underneath his chin. He staggered backwards in shock, unable to block the lightning infused punch to his midsection delivered by Thrúd, who took satisfaction in watching him ragdoll backwards into a cage, crumpling the bars.

Her smile vanished once she was able to get a good look at the cage and notice it was empty.

Beside it, she also noted the next cage was empty as well.

Spinning around, Thrúd’s spirits sank once she saw that every cage surrounding her was vacant.

Thrúd looked down and saw all sorts of animal tracks on the ground heading into the jungle in the direction of the settlement.

Raspy laughter came from the Einherjar she had just pummeled. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the brute rise to his knees, his balance still wobbly from the blow.

“You’re too late.”

She almost believed him until she remembered the settlement was still standing when last she saw it mere moments ago.

Summoning Mjolnir, Thrúd turned around so fast her hair whipped across her face and she threw the hammer straight into the brute’s gut, throwing him back to the same crumpled cage with such force the walls collapsed on him.

With another snap of her fingers, Mjolnir returned.

“Not yet I’m not.”

Lightning wrapped around her and she thrust Mjolnir forward, propelling her through the jungle at dangerous and reckless speeds. On any other occasion, Thrúd’s face would have an unshakable grin at the thrill of it. But this time, she felt determination flow through her veins almost as strongly as the electricity swarming around her person, allowing no more than a determined frown to come across her face.

With nothing more than a twist of her wrist to alter the direction of Mjolnir, the hammer steered her with the same efficiency as if she were riding one of the stable horses back in Asgard. Keeping her eyes low, Thrúd followed the trampled path left behind by the stampede of kidnapped animals, adjusting her course as needed.

Over the wind roaring past her ears and the flapping of her skirt and hair behind her, Thrúd let out a gasp when she began to hear the stomping of hooves and paws accompanied by the wind. Looking up, Thrúd could see the pack. Swarms of gulon and grandugr hustled on all fours, barking and howling and growling at each other as they followed the others ahead of them. Wretches propelled themselves forward with their fists like a primate.

Thrúd nearly lost hope once she saw the sheer number of animals she was flying over. Shaking her head clear of the negative thoughts, Thrúd steeled herself once again on the thought of getting them to safety.

Exactly how she would be able to do that was still unknown to her.

Until she looked up.

Right ahead, a stone bridge spanned the gap of two cliff faces.

Urging herself faster, Thrúd zipped over the heads of the stampede and rose several feet into the air until she was right over the bridge. Timing herself so that there were no animals crossing it, Thrúd crashed into the bridge with Mjolnir. The stone holding it all together cracked and split on impact until it couldn’t hold itself upright. With a nod of approval, Thrúd rose back into the air and watched as the bridge collapsed into the river below.

The animals at the tail end of the stampede came to a skidding halt, but none of them toppled over the edge.

Thrúd allowed herself a moment of respite, catching her breath and taking pride in halting part of the rampage while silently hoping that no one would need that bridge in the near future. She held out her palm at the animals who were barking at her in protest. “Stay,” she demanded before turning around to resume her chase.

That’s part of the stampede gone, she thought to herself.

She flew through the foliage once again until she caught up with the now-smaller pack. None of the animals seemed to have noticed a chunk of their herd missing, or of any disturbance having occurred behind them in general. Their most recent experience of having been imprisoned and probably beaten and tortured lead them to where they are now: angry and ready to destroy anything in their way.

At least that’s what she thought at first until she got a closer look at the front of the pack.

Leading the charge of wild animals was a snow-white grandugr with another Einherjar riding atop its back, holding his oversized mace in the air with one hand and smacking away animals who got too close to him to take a bite at with the other.

Thrúd couldn’t help but be reminded of Heimdall riding on his pet grandugr back in Asgard when the prick felt too lazy to walk himself anywhere. Anything that could even remind Thrúd remotely of him was enough to drive her insane.

Recalling the Einherhar’s confession, this one’s plan must be to ditch the grandugr at the last second and allow it to lead the charge into her mom’s settlement so they’d be able to try and blame the Vanir while feigning ignorance.

Scowling in disgust, Thrúd failed to notice that as she followed the stampede, she was lowering herself to the ground ever so slowly.

Looking up, a gulon growled at her and leapt up, snapping its jaws around her skirt and dragging her back down to the dirt and rolling end over end until she came to a painful stop. Thrúd curled into a ball on the ground to prevent more injuries than necessary as the beasts trampled above and around her.

Once the footfalls ceased, Thrúd peaked her head up to see if any were left, coming face to face with the gulon that snatched her out of the air. At the same time, the dog-like beast lunged at her as Thrúd held up Mjolnir in defense. Just in time, Thrúd shoved the shaft of the hammer across the gulon’s jaw, preventing it from falling on top of her and closing its jaws despite its rabid attempts to do so.

Thrúd struggled on the ground, doing her best to ignore its rancid breath and drool pooling on her breastplate as she mentally chastised herself for getting too distracted and allowing the stampede to get closer to their target.

With a grunt of effort, Thrúd’s grip on the shaft tightened to a white-knuckle grip as she sent a shock of electricity into the gulon’s mouth. It let out a pained yelp immediately, jumping off her and off to the side.

Taking advantage, Thrúd jumped to her feet, unfurled her shield from its bracelet form and struck Mjolnir against it. A bell-like GONG echoed through the trees and the gulon cowered back a few feet, tail between its legs and head low in submission.

“Get out of here!” Thrúd yelled.

She doubted it actually understood what she said, but the gulon took her advice regardless, disappearing into the bushes.

Twisting on her heel, Thrúd took to the air once again with a new plan formulating.

If this stampede has got to stop, then I need to get to the front.

Gripping Mjolnir tighter, Thrúd steered herself through the trees once again at speeds that would be ill-advised in any other scenario, Thrúd rocketed herself over the heads of the animals and closed the gap between her and the leader. Timing it just right, Thrúd fell from the air and landed feet first on the grandugr.

Feeling the new presence, the Einherjar captain looked over his shoulder and saw the daughter of Thor just in time for her to swing the hammer into his side, knocking him off his seat and rolling in the dirt.

“See how that feels?!” Thrúd called out in spite.

Staying low, Thrúd made her way forward and sat herself on its back the same way the rider was mere moments ago. If the grandugr detected that it had a new rider onboard, it showed no sign of knowing. The beast continued to charge forward.

As she rode, Thrúd observed the surroundings and noticed that part of the environment was starting to become more familiar to her, telling her that they were getting closer. Thrúd winced at the prospect of them reaching the settlement in mere minutes.

Come on, think! Gotta stop this thing, but how can I do that if I can’t kill him?

. . . maybe I don’t have to kill him.

Placing Mjolnir back on her hip, Thrúd gripped the beast’s antlers with both hands. Grunting with effort, Thrúd shifted her weight to the left, tilting the antlers like a seesaw. Now fully aware of Thrúd’s interference, the grandugr fought against her, trying to right its vision as its head was turning against its will.

Gritting her teeth, Thrúd held strong, continuing to hold the antlers in place and forcing the grandugr off course. To her satisfaction, she could feel her steed turning away from the path before them. Looking behind her, she grew even more elated at the sight of the rest of the stampede following them.

For the first time since beginning her pursuit, Thrúd smiled. She couldn’t help herself. Letting out a whoop of exhilaration, Thrúd took out Mjolnir and held it aloft, using her other hand to steer the beast’s antlers.

Taking another look behind her, Thrúd was delighted to see that the pack was still following their leader. But she knew this wouldn’t last forever. Sooner or later, the animals would snap at each other and break away from the stampede. While that’s ultimately what she wanted, Thrúd wanted to make sure as many beasts were accounted for as possible. She needed another plan. Fast.

She believed that her new plan came in the form of a large, abandoned stone watchtower approaching on her lefthand side, large gaps in the structure present all over it from a complete lack of maintenance after the end of the war.

Kicking her heels against the beast’s sides, Thrúd urged the beast to go faster (while also agitating it even further, prompting her to hold on tighter). As they strode, the large tower passed by on her left, allowing her to see exactly how high it was.

Oh yeah, this’ll work.

Thrúd used one hand to hold herself steady on the beast’s head as she rose to a standing position on the grandugr’s back, doing her best to maintain her balance. Peeking behind her, she saw that the animals had successfully passed the tower, completely oblivious to their course correction. Thrúd leapt off its back and flew to the back of the pack. Beneath her, she saw multiple heads look up and follow her trajectory to the other side as she landed by the tower.

A small handful of gulon and a lone frost grandugr skidded to a halt and faced her, preparing to close the distance between them. Shaking a strand of hair out of her face, Thrúd clucked her tongue. “Not today, boys.”

With as much power as she could muster, Thrúd hurled the hammer at the base of the tower. Though she was no longer holding it, she could still feel it as if she were. She felt as it powered its way through the stone and came out the other side, telling her it was time to snap her fingers and summon it back, creating two more holes in the process.

She smiled as she heard the tower creak and crack as if it were in pain. Looking up, Thrúd saw it begin to list toward her. Her smile unwavering, she calmly stepped backwards to ensure that she wasn’t in the way just as the animals decided it was a good time to charge.

Moments before they could get to her, the tower fell between them, shaking the ground and making a noise so loud it could have been mistaken for her thunder.

Officially frightened, the animals halted and charged the other way, officially free from danger.

Not knowing she was out of breath until this very moment, Thrúd bent over and placed her hands on her knees, taking in several large gulps of air. Once her lungs were full once again, she stood up tall, proud of herself for her part in restoring the wildlife.

Her moment of pride didn’t last long as she felt a large hand grip the back of her neck and hold her in the air, making her drop the hammer in the process. The Einherjar she knocked off the grandugr had caught up with her and she took note at how very unpleased he looked. Thrúd brought both hands to the large one holding her up in a vain attempt to get him to loosen his grip. He then delivered a punch to Thrúd’s gut, forcing the air she had just recovered out of her lungs and ceasing her struggles.

“You think you’ve made a difference here?” He growled. “This was only the first part of our plan! The only thing you did was delay their destruction and piss me off!”

As soon as she caught her breath, Thrúd flashed him a smug smile.

“Oh, so this plan has another phase to it?”

“That’s right!”

“Would that happen to involve the animals you trapped in a pit that me and a bunch of stalkers freed just earlier?”

Through the slits in his helmet, Thrúd could see his eyes widen in shock as he pieced together what she said. Using this momentary distraction, Thrúd snapped her fingers and willed Mjolnir to slide into the Einherjar’s feet, tripping him to the ground and making him drop Thrúd.

Landing on her feet, Thrúd swept up the hammer and raised it overhead. Before she could bring it down on top of his head, he had rolled out of the way, making her create a tiny, charred crater in the ground instead.

With surprising speed for someone his side, the Einherjar rose to his feet and took out his oversized mace. Gripping the handle and wincing in effort, he doused the mace in a shimmery yet liquidy aura. Thrúd immediately recognized the bifrost magic and took a more defensive stance.

Making the first move, Thrúd chucked Mjolnir at him, but he predicted that move and swatted it away with his mace like it was a ball. He charged forward and swung, but Thrúd rolled out of the way in time, getting herself next to the hammer. Scooping it up, she jumped out of the way as he tried to strike again.

Rearing back for another strike, the Einherjar swung, but jarred backwards in surprise as he felt it be parried by a shield that he could have sworn was not there a moment ago. This chaotic dance resumed for several minutes. One would swing a weapon, the other either blocked or dodged. Every once in a while they landed a solid blow, but it barely did a thing to deter either combatant.

Thrúd lost track of time of how long the two of them were going at it. Part of her was worried about Hugin, the centaurs and their status back in the pit. Another part of her was concerned she was wasting too much time and the coal from the draugr hole would be long since cooled off by the time she got there. But all of those feelings were nothing compared to the thrill of being in another fight with someone bigger than her . . . and someone who was not capable of destroying Mjolnir if she were to get distracted.

A growl sounded behind her.

Risking a glance back, Thrúd saw a gulon brave enough to scale the rubble of the watchtower, curious of the noise going on on the other side. Once he saw the two of them, his growling grew louder.

“Oh boy,” she breathed out. Thrúd sucked in her breath as she ducked below a wide swing of the bifrost-smothered mace, narrowly avoiding it. Before she rose back up, she reared Mjolnir behind her and swung it up in a massive uppercut so hard that it slipped out of her fingers, striking the Einherjar under the chin and carrying him high into the sky.

Thrúd blinked. “Whoops.”

The gulon barked and snarled before leaping from its spot, attempting to take a bite out of the daughter of Thor. She never gave it the chance to, however, as she snapped her fingers at the last second and zipped herself into the air until she was gripping Mjolnir once again.

Thrúd and the Einherjar continued to ascend even after she regained control of the hammer. Using his body as a ladder, Thrúd climbed her way up until she was eye level with him. She raised Mjolnir and swung it down on a path straight towards his head, but he predicted the attack and blocked her arm with his raised wrist.

“You ruined EVERYTING!”

Grabbing hold of Thrúd’s shoulders and wrist with his massive hands, the Einherjar twisted his body and threw her away from him. The force of his throw prevented Thrúd from being able to raise her arms and will Mjolnir to save her. She was at the mercy of gravity until the ground interrupted her descent.

The howling of the wind by her ear came to an abrupt halt as she felt her back crash through a brittle, wooden surface. With a heavy grunt and a less than graceful “oof,” Thrúd was surprised to find that the spot she came to rest at was on the softer side. She also could have sworn she heard someone let out a startled yelp.

Blinking away her disorientation, Thrúd shifted in her spot to discover that she had landed in a bed. Looking around, she found herself inside a hut that was in the process of being moved into. Her heart sank to the pit of her gut when she finally put together that she had landed inside the settlement that her mother had helped create.

Her heart sank even lower when she heard the voice of the woman who the yelp belonged to.

“Thrúd?!”

Looking to the side, Thrúd gave a sheepish smile and small wave to the hut’s only occupant.

“Hey, mom.”

Lady Sif blinked in surprise, holding out her arms in an unsure gesture of how to process what she was looking at. “What the Hel are-“

Before she could finish her question, the Einherjar who tossed her here hopped in through the hole that Thrúd had just created in the roof. Her mother let out another scream and held out her arms to distance herself from the intruder and herself, but he only had his eyes on Thrúd. He raised his mace overhead again, but Thrúd beat him to the literal punch as she got off the bed and closed the distance between them.

She punched his exposed body through the gaps in his armor to interrupt his attack before swinging Mjolnir into his stomach, sending him flying through the wall behind Sif and crashing into another hut.

“Sorry!” Thrúd quickly apologized. “I’ll explain later!”

“Thrúd, wait! I-“

Her mother’s request was left unheard as Thrúd leapt out of the new hole at the same moment the Einherjar tried to leap back toward her. Using Mjolnir to overpower his superior muscle, Thrúd launched the two of them back into the air, though she remained in control of them this time.

Keeping his arms away from her, Thrúd held her hammer upside down and smashed it repeatedly against his sides and shoulder, lightning coming from out the sky to accompany each strike. The two of them soared in an almost graceful arc across the sky. Beneath them, Thrúd saw the environment take a drastic change from the jungles she came to know Vanaheim as to an almost barren tundra, the greens of the trees and plants replaced by the yellows and browns of sun kissed rock and dirt.

Before long, the ground came up to meet them once again. So focused on pummeling him as they flew, Thrúd was unprepared for the landing. The two of them crashed to the hard ground hard and rolled to a stop several yards away from each other.

Groaning in discomfort, Thrúd rose shakily to her knees, dusting herself off and wincing as her fingers passed over new injuries from the impact. She didn’t know it was possible, but the sun in this realm seemed to shine even brighter in this location. As soon as she was done dusting herself, she had to raise her hand and shield her eyes from the brightness to let them adjust.

Her jaw dropped as soon as they did and she was finally able to get a good look around.

Firstly, out of any spot in this desert they could have landed, the two of them fell on a piece of land that was surrounded by a stream of water on all sides, the land being so small that barely any buildings she remembered from Asgard would be able to fit inside of it. Past them in all directions was more desert, mostly empty save for the occasional animal strolling by or dry plants that polka dotted the landscape.

Damaged structures akin to the watchtower she demolished mere minutes ago were also scattered across the land. Walls that looked ready to topple over after the slightest breeze, floors that barely had any support underneath them, foliage growing on the stone wherever they could, it was an attack on Thrúd’s senses that she wasn’t prepared to digest.

But none of those were what made the daughter of Thor speechless.

Right in front of her was a lightning bolt frozen to the ground, almost perfectly identical to the one in Midgard at the Lake of Nine. It stretched high into the sky, disappearing into the cloud it originated from that still floated above it, forever frozen above its electric counterpart. A stark contrast to the bright and sunny weather that currently surrounded them.

Thrúd spun all the way around in a slow circle, taking in the location as best she could as if she were trying to figure out how there was another frozen bolt of lightning that just randomly existed in the realms.

Though deep down, she already knew the partial truth.

For starters, her dad was obviously involved.

During his brief time in Asgard, Loki had told her stories of his and his father’s adventures, including a recent one about Thor dropping by his house that led to the two of them battling near Týr’s temple. He wasn’t aware of the details himself, but the biproduct of their fight was the lightning bolt that struck the ice and froze itself solid.

For another thing, Thrúd wasn’t stupid. She knew her dad had made his way around the realms so many times that it was pointless to try to even count them all out. It was only natural that he’d pay this realm a visit every once in a while, especially when the Aesir and Vanir were still at war.

If it were up to Thrúd, she’d simply dismiss this frozen bolt as the result of another one of Thor’s outings. It more than likely happened well before she was born, so there was no point in trying to discover its origins.

What was impossible to ignore, however, was that Mjolnir itself was reacting to it.

In the midst of their collision on this tiny island, Thrúd lost her grip on the hammer, and it tumbled out of her grasp. She found it lying on the ground near the edge not because she knew it was there, but because she could hear it.

Being able to hear the hammer wasn’t entirely new to her. With every swing that she’d taken with it (and the ones she’s witnessed her father do himself), it was always accompanied by an ethereal whirring noise, like the clang of steel on steel echoed from far away. This time was different. What those moments all had in common was that someone was wielding the weapon.

This time, it was humming all by itself.

With each hum, there was a pulse of light that emanated from the artistic carvings on its sides, lighting the air around it in a blueish-white glow that matched the same consistency as the frozen bolt of lightning they found themselves resting by.

Thrúd looked at the bolt, then back to the hammer, and back and forth a few times more after that, more and more questions flooding her brain with each passing second.

“What the Hel?”

There was no time to contemplate the scene before her though as the Einherjar began to wobble to his feet on the other side of the island. He paid the frozen bolt no heed as he raised his weapon and charged once again, screaming obnoxiously.

Thrúd took out her shield and deflected the blow again while summoning Mjolnir with her other hand, and before she knew it, the two of them were locked in another deadly dance. Seeing an opening, Thrúd swung Mjolnir into her opponent’s stomach, sending him flying backwards and crashing against the lightning bolt.

In a morbid way, Thrúd had silently hoped that making contact with it would have electrocuted him, but it was only as if he had bumped against a wall and stumbled forward before regaining his balance. Hiding her disappointment, Thrúd charged forward to continue her battle.

Before he could be caught off guard, the Einherjar charged forward and immediately went on the offensive, giving Thrúd barely any time to react. He swung his mace side to side, making it impossible for Thrúd to close the distance between the two. Leaping backward, Thrúd doused the hammer in lightning and aimed the hammer at him, launching a bolt of her own at him. Seeing it coming, the Einherjar quickly dodged it and allowed it to sail past him until it sparked harmlessly on a distant shore.

Thrúd tried again and again, but he kept dodging each one, getting closer as he did. With one swing of his mace, he disarmed Thrúd, sending Mjolnir flying into the water. Before she could snap her fingers to bring it back, he lunged forward and covered both of her hands in only one of his massive ones, squeezing so hard she could hear the bones beginning to crack in protest.

Letting out an undignified squeal of pain, Thrúd dropped to one knee as the Einherjar towered before her.

“Thrúd Thorsdottir,” he growled with a hint of disbelief to his voice, as if he couldn’t believe an Asgardian would be fighting against him. He shook his head in disgust. “If only Odin could see you wield Mjolnir in the service of these . . . vermin.” He gestured out to Vanaheim in general with his free hand. “You think you’ve made a difference here? That we’ll stop just because you and some ponies complicated things? We’ll find more fucking animals, and we’ll destroy that settlement and rebuild this realm as the new Asgard!”

He squeezed even harder, which rewarded him with another pained squeal from the teenager. “The foundation of which will be built on your corpse. We’ll kill everyone in that abomination of a camp! And as for your mother,” he smiled. “She’s still got some birthing left in her. I can feel it!”

In his other hand, he raised his mace. But before he could swing it down, a large splash was heard from the side. Before he could even look to see what it was, a dreki snapped its massive jaws around his body, wrenching him free from Thrúd’s hands. Thrúd fell back and scooted to the edge of the island in surprise and watched with wide eyes as the Einherjar was shook around like a doll in the crocodilian-like creature’s mouth.

The Einherjar screamed in protest, using his arms to pummel the beast’s mouth, but it didn’t appear to be very effective as he was dragged back into the water, silencing his screams.

Panting heavily and holding her hands close to her chest, Thrúd swallowed the lump that gathered in her throat before scrambling away from the edge of the island she was on, fearing for a moment that another creature would leap from the depths and snatch her up too.

Finding the strength to rise back to her feet, Thrúd turned and looked back up at the lightning bolt. Despite the battle she had just taken part in and the near-death experience of the dreki choosing the Einherjar as its meal instead of her, she still couldn’t shake the curiosity building inside of her about it.

She nearly fell into a rabbit hole of questions before shaking herself back to reality, reminding herself that the centaurs may need her help now that her end of the plan had been completed.

Turning on her feet, Thrúd ran and jumped over the water, snapping her fingers as she did. Ignoring the numbing pain in her hands, she caught Mjolnir as it flew back into her hand and let it carry her back into the sky.

High enough to get the bird’s eye view she needed, Thrúd regained her bearings, pinpointing where the pit was that she last left her new comrades. Considering there was only one location where arrows were flying out of and soaring into the sky, it was pretty easy to determine. The cries of battle and rage all but confirmed it.

Swinging Mjolnir in front of her, Thrúd flew over the desert and over the trees, leaving the mystery of the lightning bolt behind for another day.

Before she knew it, Thrúd was perched at the edge of the deep pit and was surprised to find that the battle had made its way up to the top. The battlefield inside the pit was in shambles: bits of cages were scattered about, clumps of dirt were dug up and cast aside, and arrows decorated the walls like acupuncture needles.

Rather, she found Vixus cracking her whip at a smaller soldier who fell to the ground in pain as he clutched the gash she had opened up on his face. Vixus wrapped her whip around his ankles and dragged him underneath her where her hooves stomped him into the ground until only his arms were visible, his hands hanging limp.

Still in battle mode, Vixus turned around and raised her whip at Thrúd. The Asgardian teen dropped her hammer and put her hands in front of her, her eyes wide in alarm.

“Whoa! Whoa! Easy there, it’s me!”

Breathing slowly to calm herself, Vixus lowered her whip. “Apologies,” she gasped out, her chest still heaving.

Thrúd shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. I made my way back to see if you guys needed more help, but . . .” she scanned the ground, finding body after body of Einherjar lying on the ground. All of them were either dismembered, decapitated, or mutilated beyond recognition. “It looks like you’ve got it under control here.”

Vixus nodded. “All the animals escaped thanks to your strategy, but a few soldiers escaped. Markus and Reyna are in the woods hunting for any of them.”

As if on que, a rustling was heard all the way on the other side of the pit. A scared Einherjar stumbled out of the jungle and into the clearing, stopping to catch his breath, currently unaware of the two sets of eyes on him from the other side of the massive hole. That changed as soon as he looked up. Letting out a shriek of surprise, he quickly turned on his heels and ran straight back into the jungle.

Vixus was about to charge until Thrúd held her arm in front of her.

“I’ve got this one,” she promised.

Lifting up her hammer, she reared it behind her head with both hands as far as she could before launching it in the air with all of her might, sending it soaring end over end high over the pit and disappearing into the trees for a few moments. Meanwhile, Thrúd leaned down and picking up a discarded scythe. After a quick inspection, she nodded in approval before handing it to her confused ally.

“Get ready.” She snapped her fingers after a few more moments.

Another surprised scream was heard. Suddenly, from the same spot where he had disappeared into the jungle, the Einherjar coward reemerged. Only this time, not of his own free will.

Pressed against his back was Mjolnir, pushing him toward the two warriors as fast as it could carry him, lightning trickling behind them. Thrúd smiled in delight when she saw his eyes wide in fear of the ride as he soared over the pit.

With a smug smile, Thrúd gave a theatrical bow, gesturing to the oncoming Einherjar. “He’s all yours.”

The Einherjar flew closer, his arms held out in front as if it would slow him down. “No, no, no, no, no, NO!”

Her grip tightening on the scythe, Vixus swung it at the exact right moment, slicing off his head in one clean swoop as Thrúd caught her hammer. Both body and head rolled on the ground, coming to rest at two separate spots.

Unable to contain the last of her adrenaline, Thrúd bounced on her toes. “WHOO!” She cheered, arms held in the air in celebration. “Glad I’m on your side!”

Unaffected by the Asgardian’s enthusiasm, Vixus calmly dropped the scythe before nodding in agreement. “As am I.” She politely bowed her head. “Thank you, Thrúd Thorsdottir. You’ve proven yourself a friend to the life and wellbeing of Vanaheim.”

Thrúd blinked before awkwardly returning the bow. Before she could give another compliment to her new friend, the sound of hooves stomping the ground interrupted her.

“Vixus!” Markus shouted as he burst out of the woods with Reyna in tow. “We found all but one of the Einherjar. We must expand our search radius to-“ Reyna tapped his shoulder to gain his attention before pointing to the headless body on the ground. Markus visibly relaxed. “Never mind.”

Thrúd let out a small chuckle. “You guys did great,” she said genuinely. “Thanks for helping me get rid of those bastards. The realms will be better off without them.”

“Agreed,” Reyna said. “And thank you for lending us the service of your, erm, pet bird. We hope he was able to help you after he left us.”

Thrúd frowned. “Left you? What do you mean?”

Vixus shared Thrúd’s confusion. “Your raven friend flew away once the battle reached the surface. We assumed he made his way back to you.”

“I haven’t seen him since I left you guys,” Thrúd said, starting to feel uneasy. “If he’s not with you, then where is he?”

As if to answer their question, a flock of ravens appeared to their side. Once they dissipated, a lone, beautiful Asgardian woman in blue garbs was left with the raven in question perched on her shoulder.

“Thrúd Thorsdottir,” Lady Sif said. “We are going to have a talk right now, young lady!”

A//N: I normally don’t do author’s notes, but I wanted to let anyone who’s still reading this lil project of mine know that I won’t be updating the next chapter for a good few weeks, possibly up to a month. I’ll have my hands full with some trips I’ve got planned for the summer.

Over these past few weeks, the notifications I’ve gotten for favorites, followers, reviews and kudos has meant the world to me! I’ll forever appreciate it if you take the time and let me know what you think! I’ll get the next chapter out as soon as I’m able!

Chapter Text

On instinct, the centaurs raised their respective weapons at the ready. Two loaded arrows were aimed at the Asgardian goddess and a whip was ready to be cracked. Thrúd quickly jumped in front of them with her arms spread out. “It’s ok! It’s alright! She’s my mom.”

Tentatively, the two bows were lowered, and the whip was coiled back to its owner’s side, accepting that the new visitor was no threat. Behind her, Thrúd noticed that the footsteps stopped. Her mom probably wasn’t expecting an audience of Vanaheim’s natives to be with her. And she was more than likely definitely not expecting them to do as she said.

Thrúd looked to Reyna. “It’s ok. She just wants to talk. Like she said.”

The young goddess was assuming that, despite her assistance in ridding the realm of the Einherjar, Reyna and the others still are not the biggest fans of the newcomers. That suspicion was all but confirmed when she noticed that Markus and Vixus were eyeing Lady Sif through narrow eyelids, waiting for her to make any sort of motion to give the impression that she was there with ulterior motives.

Reyna, however, alternated her gaze between the mother and the daughter, her expression curious and open. Finally, the centaur gave Thrúd a resolute nod.

“Come,” she told the other two who flinched in surprise at the command. “This doesn’t concern us.”

At this, Markus scoffed. “They’re on our land though. Anything that happens on our land should concern us.”

“Shut up, Markus.”

With that, the three of them disappeared into the trees, leaving Thrúd alone with the one person she wanted to stay as far away from in all the realms.

Well . . . second most. Grámtrist topped that list after she considered it for a moment. Though it was a surprisingly close call.

Taking in a deep, steadying breath, Thrúd turned around to face her mother. Her nostrils were flared, and her lips were pressed in a firm line. On her shoulder, Thrúd found Hugin. If ravens had the capacity to appear guilty, he was doing just that by avoiding her gaze as if he felt bad for selling his friend out.

And maybe he did.

She also noticed the rapid rate he was breathing at. Poor bird was probably exhausted from moving the centaurs all over the battlefield like a real-life game of chess. She hadn’t taken into consideration the amount of effort that would have been needed on such a small body.

Thrúd made a mental note to find a way to make it up to him.

But that was a problem for another day. Right now, she had to do the one thing she has been hoping to avoid since the ending of Ragnarok.

Talk to her mother about her feelings.

She raised a hand in greeting. “Hi mom,” she said lamely.

Lady Sif didn’t return the greeting. Hugin flapped his wings and flew away. He didn’t say anything inside Thrúd’s head, but she imagined he was thinking something along the lines of ‘this is your fight. I’m outta here!’

“So,” her mom began, her voice already laced with sarcasm. “how’s your training been going, Thrúd? Must not be going that great if it brought you over to Vanaheim like you said it wouldn’t.”

Thrúd winced. Guess we’re just diving right into this.

“Yeah . . .” she scratched the back of her neck. “Listen, I didn’t plan on this to happen that way.”

“I know. You made that abundantly clear when you told me you didn’t want to come with to Vanaheim.”

Thrúd blinked. “I never said that! I said that I couldn’t go with you yet because of everything that’s been going on. And that’s actually still true. It’s just, well, it turned out that I needed to come to Vanaheim for something. Then I got caught up in this whole . . .” she wasn’t sure how to explain her most recent adventure sufficiently. “Anyway, I’m sorry about the ceiling. And the wall. And that bed I landed on. When I get the chance, I’ll-“

“The wall?” Sif asked incredulously. “The ceiling? Thrúd, I don’t care about any of those things! Walls and ceilings can get fixed. We have plenty of talented woodworkers who would honestly be thankful for the work.”

“Ok,” Thrúd shrugged. “Good for them, then. Maybe when I get back, I’ll carve ‘Thrúd was here’ into the roof.”

Sif nodded, clearly unimpressed. “Oh. So, you’ll be able to squeeze in a visit inside your rigorous training regimen again? Thanks, Thrúd. I’m touched.”

It took all of Thrúd’s strength to not slap her hand on her forehead. “Mom, you’re not listening! It’s not that I don’t want to come visit! Hel, it’s not even that I don’t want to come live here with you. I do. Really, I do.” Sif’s hardened expression began to soften. “That first time I passed by the village, I couldn’t believe how well it all turned out! Of course I-“

“The first time?” Sif interrupted. “What do you mean the first time?”

Thrúd’s argument died in her throat. Her mother’s softened features promptly made way to hurt.

“You saw the village and . . . you couldn’t find the time to even stop and see me?”

Thrúd held up her hands. “Mom, it’s not like that. I was in a rush and- well, actually, I’m still in a rush. I would have loved to stop and see you, but-“

“Oh. Well, if I’m still that much of an inconvenience, then let me get out of your way.” She turned her back to her daughter and began walking to the trees. “Just let me know when you’re not too busy for your family again.”

This time, Thrúd wasn’t able to contain the irritated yell that escaped her throat. She sprinted up to her mom and jumped in front of her, blocking her path. “Enough with the guilt, mom! Everything going through your head about all of this is wrong. You just don’t understand what’s going on.”

“Then help me understand,” Sif pleaded. “If I’m not understanding something, then just tell me what you need to say.”

Thrúd hated that her mom said ‘just tell me’ as if it were the easiest thing in the world. But what she hated even more than that was the fact that she had a point. Looking back, Thrúd found countless times when she could have laid this all out to her mother and have her understand what was going on. Each time though, she found it much easier to hide behind her pride and avoid the topic altogether, leading them to this moment.

Every intent she had on clearing the air with her mother, however, vanished at the sight of her mom’s hypocrisy.

Thrúd scoffed and looked to the side to avoid Sif’s eyes. “So now you want to hear what I have to say?”

Sif looked even more offended. “Yes, Thrúd! Why wouldn’t I? How many times have I told you that you can talk to me about anything?”

“And how many times have I come up to you wanting to talk but you were too busy for me?”

Sif blinked in surprise. “Thrúd?” She couldn’t find anything else to say.

“How can you be so offended that I have been avoiding you when you have been doing the same thing since Ragnarok?”

“Avoiding you? Thrúd, I-“

“Hel, even before then! Was being a boring bureaucrat really that much easier than being my mom? You sure made it look like it.”

“Now that’s not fair, young lady!” Sif’s own fire reignited. “You know damn well that your father and I were only-“

“And stop bringing up dad, will you?! You keep bringing him up soooo casually like he wasn’t killed in cold blood by Odin.”

Sif closed her eyes as if to avoid seeing that very scene unfolding in front of her. “Don’t,” she demanded, taking in a shaky breath through her nose. “Of course I know what happened. But what does any of this have to do with why you can’t talk to me, Thrúd? Just please tell me!”

“Because you were so quick to throw yourself into this relocation job of yours that you never bothered to ask how I was!”

Any argument that Sif had lined up was immediately forgotten. Fully opening her eyes, she looked at her daughter for what felt like the first time since the aftermath of Ragnarok.

“You just had to get Ragnarok and dad off your mind so fast that you completely left me alone! Don’t you know how badly I wanted to talk to you about it? How much it hurt?”

With each word Thrúd got out, she found her composure weakening, her knees wobbling underneath her.

“I was there, mom! I was the one who saw dad stand up to Odin. I was the one who saw him get stabbed! I was the one who was right fucking there and just stood and did nothing! If I had been even a second faster, dad would still be here, and we wouldn’t have to go through this! But I was too slow and now dad’s gone because of it. So, I’m sorry if I was a little distant and afraid to open up for a while, but as soon as I was ready to, you weren’t there!”

Her mother’s eyes couldn’t meet her own. Instead, they were scanning the ground beneath them like it would tell her the correct thing to say next.

“Wasn’t I, Thrúd? Was I not there?” She was genuinely asking, Thrúd could tell. Her mom was clearly horrified at the idea of the possibility that she abandoned her child in a time of need.

At this, Thrúd’s shoulders relaxed. She couldn’t go on with the argument while knowingly giving off the wrong impression.

“No, you were, mom,” she conceded while also taking interest in the foliage beneath them. “At least, right after, you were there. Right when Gunnr brought me through that tear you were there. But you have to understand,” she looked back up. “It had just happened, mom. I was still processing what I saw, what I went through. I wasn’t ready to just let it all out. I needed time. It’s just . . . you gave me too much of it.”

Thrúd was feeling quite the opposite of dignified or brave, two of the core ideas that had been drilled into her head since birth. But she took solace in seeing that her mother was struggling to hold herself together too.

“But then, all of a sudden, you just weren’t there. At all. After Ragnarok, you threw yourself into a world that made sense to you . . . But so did I. We weren’t there for each other.” Her eyes went wide. “I never even considered what you went through. I didn’t just lose a dad.” She took a step closer. “You lost your husband.”

Thrúd felt shame pile on top of her like a stack of concrete blocks. All of the pieces began falling into place, and she had never even noticed that some of them were missing from the very beginning.

She wasn’t the only one suffering from Ragnarok.

The thought of her mom potentially losing her only remaining family had never even crossed her mind.

“Ever since you were a child,” her mom began, her composure being rebuilt little by little, “you’ve wanted to be a Valkyrie. That’s been your goal since you were able to even think. And I never had any doubt that you’d be able to make that dream a reality. You had- Hel, you still have everything it takes to become one. You’re so strong, and smart, and giving, and courageous, and Thrúd, those are to just name a few.”

Lady Sif also dared a step closer to her daughter. “You already have everything it takes to be the best Valkyrie in history. You’re so strong that I thought you already had come to peace with everything on your own. I thought I was in your way, so I stood aside. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, Thrúdie.”

Suddenly, the distance between them became nonexistent as Thrúd lurched forward and wrapped her arms around her mother, burying her face into the familiar silk. For just a short while, Thrúd allowed herself to be a small child once again, coming to her mom to make everything better after having hurt herself in some creative way, taking comfort in the usual scents of her fine clothing and perfumes. Thrúd couldn’t help but laugh once she realized that she recognized the scent of her mom’s favorite lavender scent and how odd it was to smell it in Vanaheim of all places.

“I’m sorry too, mom,” Thrúd said. “I never meant to hurt your feelings.” She pulled away so she could look her mom in the eyes again. “I would love to come live here. I want to, I really do.” Thrúd looked down at the hammer at her hip. “But I can’t yet. Mjolnir is in danger, and I have to do something.”

“What is it, Thrúd?” Lady Sif asked with her familiar ‘I’m here to help’ tone. “What’s wrong?”

Thrúd told her mother everything; how and where she found the hammer. Hugin being a pain in the ass but somehow helpful at the same time. How Lúnda has numerously gone out of her way to help and how much she had to twist Sindri’s arm. And most importantly, she told her about Grámtrist and his obsession with Mjolnir, sending her on this mission to reinforce its strength.

Lady Sif’s expression never once faltered throughout the story with her lips pursed and eyebrows slightly scrunched up as she soaked in the new information. Once Thrúd was finished, she said, “Is there anything I can do?”

“I don’t think so,” Thrúd admitted. “Not unless dad ever shared any secrets about this stupid thing with you that might be useful?”

“Honestly,” Sif started with a dry laugh, “anytime he spoke about that thing I just tuned him out.” She held out her fist in front of her, wielding an imaginary Mjolnir while deepening her voice. “My love,” she did her best impression of her late husband, earning a snort from her daughter, “the Einherjar themselves trembled before the might of Mjolnir as it slew my enemies.” She smiled. “Your father was many things, Thrúd, but a poet was not one of them.”

Thrúd giggled some more. “No shit.”

A thought passed through Sif’s mind. “And speaking of, what were the Einherjar doing? How did you get wrapped up in it?”

Thrúd gestured her arm outward in a broad stroke, referring to not just Vanaheim, but the realms in general. “Some of the remaining Einherjar are having a panic attack without a leader. The ones here banded together and came up with a harebrained scheme to start another civil war between the Vanir and Aesir by framing the Vanir with an attack.”

Lady Sif visibly staggered backward in surprise, the expression on her face almost insulted.

“They thought I would think that Hildisvíni would jeopardize all that we built after everything we’ve been through now?” She wondered as if she was just asked what color the sky was.

In response, Thrúd only offered a helpless shrug. “Hey, they may be loyal, but they never were that bright.”

Another laugh was shared between the two of them, followed by a comfortable silence. Thrúd’s fingers brushed the top of Mjolnir, reminding her of what she was meant to do.

“Like I said, mom. I really do want to come stay here with you and be that family we want to be. But for now,” she held up Mjolnir. “I’ve gotta get going. There’s something here that I need to find and Hugin knows where it is.”

Lady Sif nodded. “I understand. Just promise me you’ll be safe? And that you’ll come by when you’re ready?”

“I promise.” Another hug. “Want Hugin to bring you back?”

“If that’s alright with him. It’s a bit of a hike back to the settlement and I am not wearing the shoes needed for it right now.”

With a whistle, Thrúd called Hugin back to her. She angled out her shoulder for him to land on. “Think you can bring her back?” A few chirps and squawks were her response. “Yes, I’m sure it was just awful taking that extra two seconds to teleport her over here,” she snapped back sarcastically. “Just bring her back and meet me here when you’re done, please?”

With another squawk, Hugin took to the air.

“You two seem to get along,” Lady Sif observed.

“About as can be expected, I guess.” Thrúd said. “Love you, mom.”

Her mother nodded again. “I love you too, Thrúdie.”

With that, the swarm of ravens appeared and whisked her away as quickly as they dropped her off, leaving Thrúd alone in the forest a few moments before she was joined once again by her new friends.

Vixus, Reyna and Markus stepped into the clearing once again, approaching Thrúd. The young goddess met them halfway.

“Welp,” Thrúd began awkwardly, clasping her hands. “Unless you’ve got another insurrection you need help dealing with,” she half joked, unsure what she should be expecting anymore, “I need to get back to my business.”

In response, Vixus placed her fist upon her chest and offered a bow. “I meant what I said before. You are a friend to Vanaheim. It was with your help that our ecosystem can begin to repair itself. And I will trust your word that your mother and the others mean us no harm.”

Markus grunted his reluctant agreement.

“Trust me, they don’t. I’m just glad I could help.”

A caw overhead stole her attention skyward. Hugin was circling the clearing they stood in, growing evermore impatient to get a move on.

“Alright, alright! I’m ready.” She sighed and shook her head. “Be well, you three. I hope to see you again soon. Under better circumstances.”

Hugin allowed a wave to be exchanged between the four of them before swarming the goddess with his crew of space-defying ravens, taking her from one spot to another.

“Alright, where is this thing?” She asked the ever-shifting blotches of black birds.

“Well if someone hadn’t taken their sweet sweet time schmoozing it up with the locals, we would be there by now!”

“Easy with the sass,” Thrúd warned. “I know I owe you one for back there. Let’s just get the coal and get back to Sindri.”

On que, the birds dispersed.

At her feet was a circle of charred earth as wide as three grandugrs. At the dead center of the circle was a small pile of black coal. The air above the pile shimmered as heat escaped from their openings.

Thrúd was but a second away from proudly declaring ‘I told you so’ to the bird, but her breath caught in her throat as soon as she looked up.

She was back in the drylands from before. The same area from her battle with the Einherjar. She stood on a smaller island than the one before, and about half a mile to the south was the frozen lightning bolt from before, standing tall and stubbornly as ever.

Mjolnir pulsed at her side once again, almost drawn to the frozen piece of history before them.

Stepping forward, Thrúd bent down and scooped up several pieces of coal, tossing them inside the magic sack Sindri gave her.

Thrúd rubbed her hands together in satisfaction.

“Alright,” she said to the bird. “Let’s get back to Sindri’s.”

Chapter Text

The ravens vanished, revealing a familiar pile of gray rocks at Thrúd’s feet. Reaching into her bag, she produced the blue stone that Sindri gave her before her departure. Mimicking what she saw her mother do on her way to Vanaheim, Thrúd held it above her head, hoping something would happen.

On que, the rocks began to shift and rise from their resting spot, forming an archway with a white portal inside of it.

With Hugin secure on her shoulder, the two of them entered the portal and found themselves on the branch of Yggdrasil yet again. Thrúd peeked over the edge and shuddered.

Hugin noticed the nervous tick. “What?” He asked. “You of all people can’t be afraid of heights.”

“I’m not afraid of heights,” she defended. “But it’s a different story when I can’t see the bottom.”

“Well, don’t look down, then,” Hugin chirped. “Simple solution.”

With a roll of her eyes, Thrúd began walking. She was thankful that Lúnda was here last time to show her the ropes of it all, because if this were the first time she walked across the branches of the world tree, she would have been too overwhelmed by the ethereal nature of the realm it existed in to even move, let alone knowing which way she was supposed to go. Thrúd walked for a few moments in silence before Hugin flapped his wings and flew ahead.

As she walked, her fingers brushed the top of Mjolnir. Her gait slowed as she looked down at it, taking note of how the pulsation coming from it had died down once they left the frozen lightning bolt behind them. And just like that, the millions of questions that she had pushed down so she could focus on her battle with the Einherjar bubbled back up to the surface.

How exactly did that get there?

What was dad’s role in it? I mean, he had to have had something to do with it, right?

And why won’t Mjolnir shut up around it?

Scratch that. The more important question is how can it react to anything in the first place?

The raven twisted his head around and noticed that his travel companion wasn’t keeping up. With an annoyed chirp, he circled back and perched on a branch on the side of the path as she passed it.

“What’s the hold up? The tree will get you to where you need, but you need to actually walk to get there, you know.”

Thrúd ignored his jab. Instead, she kept her gaze on the hammer as she asked, “Do you know much about Mjolnir?”

Hugin hooped over to another branch to stay ahead of Thrúd. “Girlie, we’ve been over this. I don’t know shit about that thing. It was your dad who-“

“I know, I know,” Thrúd stopped him from ranting. “What I meant was . . . well, you could talk to dad, right?”

“On occasion,” Hugin admitted. “I normally kept my distance. His mead breath would make me fall right out of the air.”

“And out of all of those times you’ve spoken,” she continued, “has he never talked about the hammer?”

“Not nearly as much as he spoke to it himself. I mean this with absolutely no disrespect intended, but it was a little strange to see.”

Thrúd stopped in her tracks.

She recalled a few times when she herself found her dad whispering to Mjolnir when they still lived on Asgard, but chalked it up to nothing more than a warrior becoming familiar with his weapons . . . albeit in a very personable way, seeing as how close he held the hammer to his lips when he spoke to it, but who was she to judge?

But with everything else that’s happened to Thrúd these past few days, she couldn’t stop the biggest question from popping into her head, pushing its way to the surface past all the other unanswered inquiries like a Tatzelwurm popping out of a hole.

Is Grámtrist right? Is there someone inside?

One more question.

How did they get there?

Before she could ask the raven anything else about her father’s many eccentricities, another portal appeared before them, inviting her back to Sindri’s house.

“Well,” she said to herself, “if anybody knows anything about it . . .” she didn’t finish the thought as she stepped through and found herself in front of Sindri’s home yet again.

Walking like the woman on a mission she was, Thrúd entered the house and was surprised to find it slightly more tidied up than when she last left. Was it spotless? Not in the slightest. The home was still recovering from Sindri’s temper tantrum when he returned and shooed away its caretakers, but the floor was only marginally littered with weapons and loose articles of clothing as opposed to the minefield it was last time. The pile of dishes in the sink has also lessened, though she doubted the sink would be completely empty anytime soon.

Thrúd stepped farther inside, finding no sign of the dwarf.

“Hey, Sindri?” She called out but was given no answer.

The only thing she was greeted with were footsteps behind her.

Turning quickly, Thrúd caught Sindri’s hand a second before he clanged his deafening tuning fork against the rod he was holding in his other hand for the third time.

Thrúd smirked. “Nice try. Not falling for that one again.”

Sindri ripped his hand away. “If you were half the badass warrior you claim to be, you wouldn’t have fallen for it in the first place.”

Thrúd rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She lifted the enchanted bag from her hip and tossed it to him. “I got your stuff. Now what?”

The dwarf didn’t answer. Instead, he opened the bag wide enough to look inside of. Once he was done, he walked over to his worktable and tossed the bag on top of it before walking around it and starting a fire in his workspace. Once he was satisfied with the fire, he took the bag back and dumped the coals on top of the rack. He flinched in surprise and looked back at Thrúd.

“You only needed one you know.”

Thrúd only shrugged. “Just wanted to be on the safe side.”

Shaking his head in disapproval, Sindri nursed the fire some more until he found the coals beginning to glow. Standing still for a few moments longer to ensure the fire was strong enough, Sindri finally nodded. “Alright. That’ll do.”

“So now that we’ve got your campfire set up, what’s next?”

Sindri stepped out from behind the table and walked over to the front doors. “Follow me.”

The dwarf didn’t bother to wait to see if Thrúd was following him before marching out the door and disappearing outside. Thrúd exchanged a surprised glance with Hugin on her shoulder before quickly following Sindri outside. She was just in time to see him vanish yet again around the corner past the gate leading to the backyard.

Still confused, Thrúd followed him regardless. She walked alongside the house and rounded the next corner to find Sindri approaching what looked like a shed of some sort. It was a small building that looked like it would comfortably house a dwarf. That is if said dwarf was fine with only having a bed inside with no room for anything else.

Just like the house, it was partially built around the branches and limbs of the world tree itself. This observation lead Thrúd to the conclusion that even nature itself can’t thwart dwarven ingenuity.

Sindri removed a plank from the doors to unlock it and tossed it aside. He opened the doors to reveal what appeared to be a large safe.

The safe was a few feet taller than Thrúd herself and had a charred black appearance to it. The massive door in front of it was slightly ajar, revealing three shelves identical to ovens she has seen in the bakeries of Asgard. Vents lined the inside as well, and on the outside was a tube hanging limp against the side of the contraption.

Thrúd pointed at it. “And this is a . . ?”

“A kiln,” Sindri answered. “I’m going to need it now that we’ve got the coal.”

Thrúd shrugged. “Alright.”

“Bring it to the front yard.”

“Wait, what?”

In lieu of a response, Sindri began walking back around the house. As he passed Thrúd, she grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

“Hold on a second!”

To her surprise, Sindri didn’t snap back at her for grabbing him. He did, however, offer her an irritated scowl. “Is there a problem?”

Thrúd was aghast. “Fuck yes there is! That thing must weigh a ton!”

Sindri shrugged her hand off his shoulder. “Your point being?”

“How exactly am I supposed to get it over to your front yard?”

Sindri blinked, looking between the kiln and the young goddess in mock ignorance. “I thought it’d be an easy task for you,” he started, his voice rising and falling as if he were retelling an epic poem. “Moving this device from here to there should be child’s play for an Aesir goddess, let alone the daughter of Thor himself! Why, just look at it. I can already see it trembling before your might!”

Thrúd bumped his armored sternum with her fist in annoyance.

“Hey, asshole, I’m doing everything you’ve told me to do so far. I know I need your help to upgrade Mjolnir but you being all angsty and sarcastic isn’t helping either one of us!”

In response, Sindri raised his open hands in subservience. “Fair enough, fair enough,” he grumbled. “But that doesn’t change the fact that this thing needs to make its way up front.”

Looking back at the kiln, Thrúd did her best to wrap her head around how exactly she’d manage to accomplish this feat. Upon further inspection, though, she was thankful that it didn’t appear to be as daunting a task it appeared that it would be as soon as Sindri opened the doors.

Unfortunately, that small wave of optimism didn’t shrink the large device down any.

“Well, how did you manage to store this thing in the first place?”

Sindri walked back over to the shed.

“Brok and I had a dolly with reinforced framing on it. Took us forever to hoist it on top, but we managed. Took even longer for the two of us to wheel it over here.”

“Alright,” Thrúd said, looking around. “Where’s the dolly?”

“At the bottom of Yggdrasil somewhere.”

Thrúd’s shoulders slumped so quickly they nearly popped out of their sockets.

“What?! Why?”

Sindri looked back at her with his eyebrows scrunched up as if the answer were obvious. “Because it took up too much room. We saved it for a while just in case we needed to move the kiln again, but the only thing we needed it for was to contain the flames for Mjolnir’s construction. After that, all we kept doing was tripping over the damned thing. It was a unanimous decision to just get rid of it, seeing as how it was only good for transporting this one thing.”

“So, you just chucked it over the edge without any second thought?” Thrúd gestured to the edge.

“No, of course not.” Sindri waved away that notion. “We rolled it. Gravity did the rest once it reached the end of the ramp we built.”

Thrúd didn’t even bother asking about where they stored the ramp. She assumed she already knew the answer anyway.

“Can’t you just make another dolly?”

“Well sure I could. But that would take more time and resources. Are you fine bunking in the storage closet while its being constructed?” His tone made it very clear that she wasn’t welcome to wait in the house at all.

The goddess let out a grumble. “Fine.”

Not waiting for any other snippy remarks, Thrúd entered the shed and stood in front of the kiln. She outstretched her arms as wide as they’d go to see if she could wrap her fingers around the sides. Her fingertips only managed to brush the edges. Not good enough to haul this thing over.

She walked behind it and placed her palm flat against its surface. Thrúd leaned more of her weight into it, but it wouldn’t budge. Pressing her back against it, she pushed with everything she had until she felt the kiln shift forward. Slipping slightly off balance from not having anticipated the movement so quickly, Thrúd righted herself and pushed more.

Gritting her teeth with effort and grunting in exertion, Thrúd managed to shove the kiln out of the shed and into the light for the first time since the birth of Mjolnir. Looking up, she found that Hugin had abandoned his perch on her shoulder and hopped on top of the kiln itself to enjoy the ride.

“Right,” Thrúd grunted. “Because that’s helpful.”

“Hey,” the bird started, “I’m not the one blessed with god-like strength. Hel, I don’t even have hands! Besides, it’s not like I’m adding any extra weight to this. I’m a fucking bird.”

Whether or not Sindri was aware of the conversation between the two of them was a mystery to Thrúd. He did, however, kindly standby to supervise her progress with crossed arms.

“And make sure you don’t tip it over. It’s surprisingly top heavy.”

Thrúd grumbled a number of obscenities under her breath as she continued to push the kiln along the backyard, leaving fissures in the dirt with her footprints in between them. She also was very inclined to annoy Sindri by pointing out that he could also be helping her push this thing along and speed the process up.

She wisely held her tongue, knowing that that would achieve nothing but another lecture about this being ‘her journey’.

As she approached the first corner of the house, she finally said, “Hey, Sindri.”

Sindri scrunched up his eyebrows, as if he were confused at Thrúd’s attempt at small talk while performing physical labor. “What?” He half snapped, half answered.

Using her head, Thrúd gestured to the hammer at her hip. “So,” she grunted, “what exactly is this thing made out of again?”

Out of anything that she could have said to begin a conversation, Sindri was clearly not expecting that one. His head leaned back in surprise, and he blinked several times. “What does that matter to you?” His question wasn’t defensive. She could tell he was just surprised at her inquiry.

She shrugged as she continued pushing, successfully rounding the first corner. “Just wondering is all. Seems silly I’m using this thing and I barely know a thing about it.”

“Your father seemed plenty happy murdering people with it knowing barely anything about its creation,” he pointed out. Before Thrúd could say anything back, Sindri continued. “Besides, there’s nothing really to say about it. Like I said before, it’s just stone and iron compacted together-“

“On a stick, I know, I know,” Thrúd finished for him. She could feel sweat trickling down her forehead and mingling in the knots of her wild hair. She paused her progress to wipe it from her brow before resuming. “But recently,” she grunted again, “I’ve been led to understand that dwarves can get really creative with some of your crafting ingredients. Is it really only stone and iron in here?”

Sindri hesitated, considering the question, as if searching for any possible ulterior motives on Thrúd’s part. She could understand his confusion, however. She’s probing for answers that have nothing to do with her, at least from Sindri’s point of view. Before he even answered, Thrúd was already racking her brain for more ways she could phrase the question.

How is someone supposed to ask somebody else whether there’s a person trapped inside a tool that they created?

Finally, the dwarf uncrossed his arms and lifted his fingers to his chin in thought, recalling the creation of the hammer to the best of his memory.

“Well, no, it’s not only stone and iron, obviously. Water was used in certain steps of the process to avoid any overheating from the forge. Brok insisted on attempting to use, erm, pig shit as a bonding agent. We found out very quickly that it doesn’t work.” He was so deep in thought that Thrúd noticed he didn’t even react to himself bringing up his deceased brother.

By this point, Thrúd had successfully pushed the kiln halfway along the length of the side of the house. Hugin remained atop the device, observing their conversation.

Thrúd tried prodding less on the subtle side.

“How about, I don’t know, any abstract ingredients? Lúnda was talking about dwarves using barks from dogs to make things.”

“And I suppose you’d believe it too if I told you that I was able to invent a machine that separates you from your own shadow,” he said, his impatient sarcasm returning in full force. “I don’t know what it is you’re trying to get me to say, young lady. But I assure you, whatever answer it is you’re looking for is far less exciting than what you’ve built up in that head of yours.”

Thrúd’s pace slowed. She took this time to turn herself around and push with her hands instead to give her aching shoulder blades a break.

“I’m not trying to get you to say anything,” she grunted as she pushed. “All I want is to know a bit more about Mjolnir’s history.”

“And what exactly would you gain from such information?” Sindri asked. “Would knowing every single consolatory detail improve your fighting prowess? Enhance your warrior spirit? You may not be its first owner, but you don’t need to be in order to make it your own. That axe that Kratos swings around? We didn’t make it for him. It used to belong to . . . somebody else. But he made it his own when it was given to him.”

That took Thrúd by surprise. The way he used the axe to fight, she had assumed he’d had it since he was large enough to hold it.

“Whatever strange things are going on with Mjolnir, just be patient. Anything you may be curious about will be answered if you’re willing to wait and listen.” He paused for a brief moment. “And that’s not me trying to be a cryptic, omnipotent advice-giver. That’s me literally saying ‘I don’t fucking know, so stop asking me.’”

Thrúd couldn’t help but laugh and roll her eyes. She pushed the kiln through the gate and into the front lawn. “Well, how about this? What the Hel do you have a gate here for if nothing’s inside of it?”

Sindri closed the gate behind him. “This is where we usually keep the stags of the seasons. Ratatoskr took them out to graze on branches of Yggdrasil.” He pointed by the squirrel’s table next to the house. “Over there will do nicely.”

Digging her heels into the dirt for the final leg of the ordeal, Thrúd huffed to catch her breath. “You wouldn’t wanna give me a hand for this last part, would you?”

“Not in the slightest.” He entered his home and closed the door behind him.

She couldn’t stop her head from shaking in frustration despite fully expecting that answer.

Hugin squawked in surprise and flew to a low hanging branch when he felt Thrúd begin pushing even faster. Her grunts and pants of effort were replaced with a yell of ferocity that could’ve been mistaken for a warrior prepared to face down a sworn enemy.

Lightning wrapped itself around Thrúd’s body to assist her as she gave one final push before letting go. The massive kiln teetered backwards before righting itself on the ground with a heavy thud, digging itself into the dirt.

Thrúd’s shoulders heaved with each breath. The lightning around her body cracked and fizzled away just as Sindri came back outside. While inside, he had put on a pair of gloves and retrieved a set of tongs that was half as long as he was tall. At the other end of the tongs was a piece of the coal that Thrúd had retrieved.

She could feel the heat emanating from the coal even from ten feet away. A system of web-like lines have cracked along its surface, all of which were glowing with the intensity of a miniature sun.

Sindri Paused as he watched the last of Thrúd’s lightning extinguish itself. “That was dramatic.”

She pointed a finger at the dwarf. “I’m not putting that thing back.”

“We’ll see. Now, the door?”

Taking the hint well enough, Thrúd grabbed the handle and swung the door open for him. Sindri walked forward and deposited the glowing bit of coal inside underneath the lowest shelf. Thrúd held up her arm and activated her shield to protect herself from the heat, stepping back as she did.

After dropping the coal inside, Sindri slammed the door shut and locked it in place with a lever on the side. After turning a few dials on the front, Thrúd could see the inside beginning to glow a bright orange as a fire ignited.

After the fire reached a satisfactory heat, Sindri turned another knob and kept the fire from growing any further. Once he was done, he turned and gestured to Thrúd’s shield. “Lúnda?” He guessed.

Thrúd retracted the shield. “Lúnda,” she confirmed. “Ran into her while I was in Vanaheim. She’s doing pretty well after you kicked her out.”

Sindri’s nose twitched as if a rancid odor entered his nostrils. “Last I checked, this was my house.” He turned his gaze away. “If you needed a shield, I could’ve supplied you one.”

Knowing full well that this was the incorrect response to his statement, Thrúd let out a loud belly laugh with her hands covering her abdomen.

“Sindri Huldra,” she giggled. “Are you jealous?” Thrúd couldn’t tell if it was the flickering flames from inside the kiln, but she was willing to bet that she could see him blushing from here. “That’s adorable!”

The dwarf glared at her, but Thrúd continued to chortle until they all left her system.

As soon as she caught her breath, Thrúd stood upright and said, “And besides, when I was here last, it’s not like you were in a very giving mood.”

“You showed up uninvited and damaged my property!” Sindri looked like he was going to continue, but he stopped himself from going on and closed his eyes as he took a deep breath to calm himself. “Look,” he began again, “as crazy as it sounds . . . you were right about what you said last time. And out of respect, I’ve agreed to help you on your quest. Within reason.”

He continued with his speech, but Thrúd drowned his voice early on. Any semblance of humor she had on her face vanished as she observed his.

Sindri was miserable.

His eyes were wide and vulnerable, though he more than likely didn’t realize that was the case. Underneath were multiple dark circles that she could’ve sworn weren’t there when she first arrived. His shoulders were slumped, carrying an invisible weight of some sort of responsibility that Thrúd was unaware of. His speech went on, but Thrúd came to the conclusion of what he was (and wasn’t) saying long before:

He needs to be useful again. And Thrúd was his first, and maybe his only lifeline.

“Alright,” Thrúd relented. “I get it. But you know, I still think you owe Lúnda and the others an apology.”

Sindri’s defenses went back up again. In her head, she could hear Hugin’s voice. “Way to push too far, sister.”

“An apology for invading my home and making it their own for several weeks? I don’t think so.”

“Oh, come on! They actually took care of the place! All you did was trash it out of spite.”

Sindri raised his hands, dropping the tongs. “Can we just, you know, not? This is getting us nowhere.”

Thrúd nodded in agreement.

“Then,” Sindri started, “back to business.” He pointed to the hammer. “Did your armored friend visit you on your trip to Vanaheim?”

On instinct, Thrúd covered the hammer with her hand protectively, her blood running cold at the mention of the traveler. “No,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as scared as she was.

If Sindri noticed, he didn’t show it.

“Well, that’s good then. But unfortunately, that’s not going to be the case for the next item on my list that I need you to retrieve.”

Thrúd stood stock still, not wanting to hear the next words that were going to come out of his mouth.

“The good news is that this is the only other thing I’ll need. The bad news is that Grámtrist is in possession of it.”

Chapter Text

Thrúd’s jaw dropped, hoping against hope that she misheard Sindri. Or that the dwarf had misspoke.

“S-Say that again, please?”

“I think you heard me loud and clear.”

Thrúd looked left, then right. Her eyes searched all over the room as if a preferrable alternate option was written on the outside walls of his home. Or written in the sky of this realm. When she found none, she looked back at Sindri. “Well, how do you know? You’ve never met him before, so how do you know he even has it?”

Sindri pointed a finger at her. “Your tales about him from before. You said he used whetstones to enhance his sword’s abilities.”

“That’s right.”

“I need one of them. For this to work, I can’t just use any whetstone. It needs to be enchanted.”

The thought of purposefully going out into the realms to find Grámtrist made her heart pump so fast and loudly she could’ve sworn that Sindri was able to hear it too. Since she found Mjolnir in Niflheim, she swore to improve not only her father’s public image, but the hammer’s too. She can’t do that if it’s reduced to a pile of pebbles.

Each time she’s run into the Traveler, he’s demonstrated his ability to withstand the hammer’s powers and damage it too. The only logical conclusion that she could come to was to avoid him at all costs. At least until she had gotten in enough practice and experience to fend him off herself.

However, his skill of being able to teleport himself to any realm he pleases until he finds her gives him an undeniable advantage. He could pop in whenever she wasn’t expecting it and shatter not only the hammer, but her dreams as well.

He could do anything whether she was prepared for his arrival or not.

“The other thing,” Sindri continued, “is that they aren’t anywhere else in the realms.”

“You mean he has every single enchanted whetstone in that bag of his?”

“All the ones still in existence, it seems,” he corrected.

“But how could you possibly know that?”

Sindri appeared thoughtful for a moment, as if he was thinking of the best way to put this. Or rather, put it in a way that she’d be able to understand. “A long time ago, dwarves discovered the whetstones in Svartalfheim. Don’t ask me where they were, I have no idea. I obviously wasn’t born yet, and no one recorded its location. Anyway, they found out very quickly how useful they were in crafting new weapons. And almost just as quickly, they found out how dangerous it was to use them.

“Those who weren’t careful with them got obliterated by their power after constant misuse or neglecting maintenance. Or they accidentally fell victim to the very weapons they crafted. Long story short, they were too moronic to handle the responsibility of using them.”

Thrúd wasn’t expecting a story to be told. But seeing as how she had just been pestering the dwarf for some background knowledge, she was in no position to complain. “So, what did they do with them?”

“Those remaining dwarves got together and had a meeting.”

“Oh. How exciting.”

“Hey, their lives were on the line depending on what kind of decision was reached. Unlike some people, we dwarves pride ourselves on our abilities to problem solve.”

“Is that before or after you guys get shitfaced at the local tavern?”

“Watch it,” he warned. “Anyway, they agreed that the best thing to do was to destroy them. After using one of their weapons to destroy one of them, five more dwarves were killed in the process. There was nothing left to do but scatter them across the realms to avoid anybody else getting killed.”

“How did they do that?”

To answer her question, Sindri vanished before her eyes and reappeared at her side. “Stepping through the realm between realms is an ancient technique.” He seemed smug at the idea of reminding her of this trick. “The remaining dwarves collected their share of the whetstones and hid them across the realms without telling the others where they placed them to ensure they’d stay hidden for as long as possible.”

“How did that work out?”

“Surprisingly well, all things considered. Nobody stumbled on them for a very long time. Fafnir, an old acquaintance of mine, is the first person I know of to have found one and put it in his personal collection of treasure and junk.” He huffed, his eyes trailing to the ground as if he really didn’t want to explain this next part.

“Fast forward to just a few years ago. I sent Kratos and his brat over to Fafnir’s storeroom to find a regular whetstone that I’d be able to use myself. They came back and said that there were no whetstones to be found. That was my first clue that something was wrong.”

The flames in the kiln continued to roar inside, reminding both of them of its presence. The light from them escaped the grated door and cast a wavy pattern on the ground.

“After even more journeying, they never came back with one. They never even mentioned anything identical to one. True, they were very well hidden, but with how thorough that asshole is at graverobbing and treasure hunting, especially when it will benefit himself,” he rolled his eyes, “I was becoming curious of their whereabouts. Brok was too.”

Thrúd quickly grew tired of the dwarf’s biased views of Kratos and Loki slipping into his bits of conversation, but she knew better than to challenge him on it. They’d be standing here forever if she gave him the bait.

Instead, she focused on the topic at hand.

“So, you’re saying Grámtrist learned about these whetstones and went out and found them all,” Thrúd pieced together. “But I thought you said you know other dwarves who have used them? Shouldn’t we talk with them first?”

“Those who were lucky enough to survive using one after using it put it back right where they found it without telling anybody. And the most recent case I can think of was so long ago, Mjolnir was merely a concept. Plenty of time for an obsessed Traveler to collect them and use them as he pleases.”

“Yeah, like supposedly freeing his dead wife from inside Mjolnir.” Hugin cawed unhelpfully.

“Shut it,” Thrúd snapped at the bird. Sindri ignored their bickering and walked back over to the kiln as if he were inspecting its functionality.

“Sorry to say,” he began without sounding sorry in the slightest. “But you’re going to have to get up close and personal with the one person you don’t want to.” He rubbed his unkempt beard. “Could be quite a scuffle. Maybe let him come find you in one of the primordial realms. Like Muspelheim. Nobody there to accidentally kill.”

Thrúd hadn’t considered the importance of their next meetup, but Sindri had a point. This inevitable meetup with Grámtrist could only result in a fight, and while Thrúd prided herself on her ever-growing skills in battle, she knew for a fact that her goal of preserving Mjolnir would take the forefront of her mind and cloud her judgement.

That could prove dangerous for the locals of whatever realm she happened to be in at the time, if not deadly.

After mulling it over for a moment, Thrúd nodded her agreement. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s a good idea. Haven’t been to Muspelheim yet, anyway.” Another thought popped into her head. “Oh, Sindri, would it be ok for me to leave Mjolnir here with you while I’m out?”

Sindri did his best to act like he hadn’t just heard the dumbest thing he’s ever heard. “And why in the name of Thrym would you want to do that?”

“Well,” Thrúd started, “it would keep the hammer out of his reach. And with it safe here, that’d be one less thing I have to worry about while we fight,” she reasoned.

Sindri merely shook his head. “You conceited little girl.” He ignored Thrúd’s offended facial expression. “Grámtrist isn’t hunting you. He’s hunting Mjolnir,” he explained as slowly and condescendingly as he could. “Everywhere he’s shown up, Mjolnir was there with you. I don’t know how he’s able to track it, mind you. It could have something to do with the whetstones,” he mused, “but who knows?”

Thrúd was silent from sheer embarrassment. She hadn’t even considered the possibility that he was merely searching for the hammer itself instead of her. That said, another question formed in her head.

“But my dad has never mentioned him. If he’s been after the hammer for this long, he’s had to have sought out my dad first?”

Hugin flapped over and landed on her shoulder. After a few chirps and squawks in Thrúd’s ear, Thrúd’s face became a mixture of resigned understanding and frustration.

Sindri crossed his arms. “Let me guess. He said that your dad was the more formidable target and waited until the hammer was passed down to one of his less experience children to make his move?”

The goddess winced. “You heard all that?”

“Nah,” Sindri shook his head. “Context clues. But that was also my guess.” He raised his hands in resignation as he began speaking this next part. “Now don’t get me wrong, I’m sure that you’re quite the warrior yourself with and without the use of that hammer there. But let’s face it, you’re not your dad. You don’t have his aura or presence. Your legacy is yet to be made while he solidified his with one swing at a giant’s wedding shortly after he got Mjolnir. Grámtrist more than likely bided his time and waited for the right moment to come out of hiding.”

Thrúd huffed. “I suppose that makes sense.”

As he spoke, Sindri walked inside his house and collected an armful of tools that looked as though they had been stoking a fire earlier. He ignored the soot that rubbed off on his arms and leaned them against the kiln before grabbing a table from inside as well and spreading them out on it, prepared for future use.

Once he was done, he made his way back to Thrúd. The girl was sitting cross-legged and holding Mjolnir with one hand while propping her chin on her palm in the other. The light from the fire danced around her, making it seem as though she were patiently waiting for a pastry to get done.

She twisted Mjolnir one way, then another, wanting to get a look at it from all angles like she was trying to find some hidden message within the intricate markings.

Sindri had prepared another witty remark but found he didn’t have the heart to voice it once he saw how lost the girl looked. He knew there was at least one other thing that was on her mind.

“The answer is no.”

Thrúd blinked and looked up at the dwarf, not having heard him approach.

“No what?”

“Brok and I didn’t use any soul pieces to create the hammer. That’s the answer to your question that you weren’t asking earlier.”

Looking between the hammer and the dwarf, Thrúd internally chastised herself for being so easy to read but was also thankful that she didn’t have to ask the awkward question.

“Then, why does, or, I mean, how does he-“ She stammered, trying to vocalize her next inquiry.

“Why does this Grámtrist fellow seem so convinced that there is one? Let alone the supposed one of his dear lover? I have no clue.” He didn’t sit with Thrúd, but he stood by her, feeling the warmth from the fire of the kiln. “But I do know one thing.” He pointed a finger at Mjolnir. “That hammer right there has had one Hel of a career. Thanks to its previous owner, obviously. Anything is possible when you have been on as many, for lack of a more . . . sensitive word, adventures as he has.”

“So,” she set the hammer down with the hilt facing her, “do you think that there is a soul in it now?”

“I have no clue. With or without a soul, Mjolnir is a special case altogether.”

Thrúd had more questions but bit her tongue. She felt as though she had pressed her luck on Sindri’s patience enough as it was. Though on the surface, her inquiries didn’t seem to grate his nerves or try his patience. Now that he had work to do for a customer who was depending on him, she could see his defenses slowly crumbling, exposing more of the dwarf he used to be.

Not enough to fully get over what happened to him at Ragnarok, but Thrúd felt grateful for the progress all the same.

She looked back at the hammer, resting her elbows on her knees. “How many do you need? Whetstones I mean.”

Sindri looked spooked for a moment as he considered the prospect of his home being used to house every enchanted whetstone in Grámtrist’s arsenal. “Just one. Just one will do. Wouldn’t want to accidentally blow up a portion of the world tree, would we?”

Thrúd wasn’t sure how that would be possible with just a few magic slabs of rock, but she took his word for it. She rose to her feet. “Does it matter which one?”

“It shouldn’t,” the dwarf shook his head. “A whetstone is a whetstone, enchanted or otherwise. But just to be on the safe side . . .” He tapped his chin in deep thought. “The white one should do.”

Nodding, Thrúd steeled herself for her upcoming mission.

“Alright, then.” With a snap of her fingers, Mjolnir zipped into her hand before she holstered it at her hip. “Let’s get this over with.”

Nodding at Hugin, the raven cawed and swarmed the young goddess. Before she was completely enveloped in feathers and glowing eyes, she could hear Sindri say, “And try not to get your boots too covered in ash and soot? It’s a bitch to remove from the floors.”

Thrúd didn’t even bother responding to the request. The ravens dissipated and left her in another realm. Whenever she travels to a new realm, a word immediately pops into her head that describes her first impressions of it.

The first word that she thought of was hot.

She was surrounded by falling ash and floating embers that came from a multitude of volcanoes that all but encompassed the entire realm. Thrúd found that she couldn’t turn in any direction without finding another volcano off in the distance.

Looking to her left, she saw a charming yet slow moving lavafall with a volcano in the distance. To her right, a plateau that revealed a sightly view to a few other volcanoes some kilometers away. Daring to look behind her, Thrúd wasn’t surprised in the least to discover it was a wall for yet another volcano.

The smoke emanating from their mouths blanketed the sky entirely, giving her unwelcome flashbacks to Ragnarok. Turning her head to another side, she found herself genuinely surprised to find something other than molten rock akin to the surface she was standing on or volcanoes spewing hundreds of gallons of lava per second.

An assortment of rusty and unusable swords were plunged into the ground along a shallow incline, leading to a shabby looking structure. Avoiding the swords, Thrúd made her way up a path that led her to an abandoned workshop. Tools remained scattered about atop the tables, identical to the mess that she found Sindri’s house in when she first arrived.

The workspace was spacious, clearly built with someone fairly tall in mind.

Surtr’s workshop. This is where he stayed, she deduced. This is where he spent his time away from Sinmara, toiling away and creating useless weapon after useless weapon to distract himself from the absence of the love of his life.

A mallet rested on top of an anvil, its head dented and blackened from constant use and no maintenance. The very same one used to create all these swords, no doubt.

The longer she stood there, the more she could feel a surreal weight pressing down on her. This was the home of the giant that destroyed her home. She wasn’t sure how, but this place was the birth of Ragnarok itself.

Just to be safe, Thrúd took another look around to ensure the place was truly uninhabited. Like Sindri said, what was going to come surely wouldn’t be safe for any bystanders.

After confirming that she was the only one present, Thrúd stepped out of the workshop and took out Mjolnir. Upon their arrival, Hugin placed himself atop the hilt of a sword that stuck out from the ground, eyeing Thrúd curiously as she wandered about.

Arms swaying lazily at her side with each step, Thrúd did her best to appear calm on the outside despite her heart pounding on the inside as if trying to trick herself into being calm.

Coming to the conclusion that pacing wouldn’t get Grámtrist over here any faster, Thrúd took three steadying breaths and sat down cross-legged on the ground. With her adversary not here, there was little else to do but wait.

A//N: Shorter chapter, I know. But I’m VERY excited for the next handful of chapters! Thanks to everyone who’s reading this thing!

Chapter Text

Thrúd lost track of time after the second hour of waiting. Once her legs began to feel as though they were being attacked by pins and needles, she rose to her feet and paced around to regain circulation and to nullify her boredom.

First, she left the hammer sitting on the ground, not wanting its weight to remind her of the fight that was coming. She had enough imagination and paranoia to remind her of that. Next, she traveled back up the slope and meandered through the fire giant’s workshop.

Pausing in front of a shelf, she found a large mallet sitting there covered in ash, unused for ages.

Thrúd scrunched up her eyebrows in thought as she picked it up and surveyed it from all sides. A flap of wings let her know that Hugin landed nearby.

“What, are you shopping now?” His voice asked inside of her head accompanied by a squawk. “Is your badass hammer not good enough for you anymore? That’s a relief. Now you can just give the damn thing to Grámtrist and be done with all this.”

She ignored his jab and continued to look over the tool.

“Could you do me a favor?”

“As if I haven’t done enough favors as of late?”

She ignored that remark as well. Rather than feed into his sarcasm, Thrúd found a discarded piece of cloth and laid it on the table. Going over to the end of the workshop, she found a spear with a wooden shaft propped against the table. Snapping the spear in two, she took one half of it and dipped it inside a firepit that hadn’t seen a flame in eons. It did, however, still have ash and soot sitting inside.

Once she deemed it ready, Thrúd removed the shaft and went back over to the piece of cloth. Hugin blinked in curiosity when he saw her begin to write a message on it using her makeshift quill. As soon as he read what she wrote, he understood his next mission.

Thrúd wrapped the cloth around the mallet and set it next to the raven. “Deliver this for me?” She set it on a nearby table. “I’d have you teleport me there, but I don’t want to leave Muspelheim just yet.”

That wasn’t entirely true. Thrúd would love nothing more than to leave this hot mess of a realm and let Grámtrist continue his wild goose chase for a little while longer. But she knew that wasn’t the best idea. The sooner this altercation was finished, the closer she’d get to making Mjolnir impervious to everything the realms could throw at it.

Yet, after finding the workshop of Surtr himself, she couldn’t shake the idea that planted itself inside of her head.

Hugin looked from the hammer back to Thrúd again a few times before hopping over to the mallet, pecking it a few times as if testing its magical capabilities. When he found that there were none, he looked back at Thrúd.

“Will you be fine without me for a few minutes?”

“I think I’ll manage.”

Hugin took that as his leave. Clutching the handle of the mallet in both talons, the large raven flapped his wings and lifted off, struggling with the new weight but righting himself as he flew away, disappearing into the realms.

As soon as he was gone, Thrúd walked down the slope, hovering her hand over the useless sword hilts sticking out of the ground as she passed them, and picked up Mjolnir.

Now that she thought of it, she couldn’t help but laugh at the prospect of possibly being bored at this point in time; She was staying in one spot until Grámtrist found her and attempted yet again to destroy the hammer, but the waiting period seemed to outweigh the dread of the possibility of the hammer getting destroyed beyond all repair.

She had no idea that the thought was even possible, so at that, she had nothing left to do but chuckle.

As soon as she was done, she twirled the hammer in her grasp. “Well, maybe I can throw you around for a little bit until he gets here.”

Clank.

Clank.

Clank.

Clank.

Any humor she found in her current situation was immediately lost, all but snuffed out at the familiar noise. Well, so much for that.

Thrúd returned the hammer to her hip and turned around to find the traveler she had been waiting for standing underneath the opening of a cave. His massive sword rested at his hip and his equally large shield snug on his back, Grámtrist stood stock still as if he were yet another decorative set of armor that adorned all sorts of halls back at Asgard.

She still wasn’t able to tell what he was looking at due to his helmet, but she could easily tell that his eyes were on the hammer. Conversely, her eyes went over to her own goal: the sack that was slung around his shoulder and hung at his side, housing several enchanted whetstones.

One of which she was in dire need of.

Praying that her uncertainty and mild shaking was unnoticeable, Thrúd broke the silence between them first.

“T-Took you long enough.”

As expected, he appeared unamused. “This would be over with if you had simply yielded the hammer back in Midgard. And even more so had you done the same in Svartalheim.”

His tinny voice was exactly as Thrúd remembered it; hollow but purposeful.

“Well, here’s some advice,” Thrúd suggested, her hand splayed over the hammer as if adding her own protective layer against him. “Think of a better opening line other than ‘hello, my love,’ and maybe then I’d listen to what you have to say.”

“You listening to what I have to say has no relevance to what I want. You possess the hammer. I need it.”

“You don’t need it!” Thrúd corrected incredulously. “You want to break it! And what for? To bring- what was her name, Embla back to life?”

Suddenly, Thrúd became acutely aware that his eyes were on nothing else besides her at that moment. He remained silent long enough for her blood to completely turn to ice in her veins.

“Embla is dead,” he said with finality, as if it was a statement that even the most competitive of debaters could agree on. “No magic can bring her back. Your father saw to that personally.” Thrúd hoped that he didn’t see her gasp. “The only thing that I can do for her now is set her free.”

Grámtrist appeared as if he had far more to say, but his words died before they were even muttered. His intimidating composure slumped. His shoulders sagged after a long sigh. He shook his head slowly as if he were recalling a memory that he kept with fondness. For all Thrúd knew, he was.

“We were supposed to do so much together. We were the first to wander the realms, and there is still so much left to see. To discover. Now all she’s able to discover is how quickly an oafish, drunk god can bash someone’s skull in with her new body . . . and now that honor has been passed on to you, I see. Tell me.” Clank. “Is killing relentlessly all the more satisfying?” Clank. “Has the rush intensified?” Clank.

With each rhetorical question, he approached her. Thrúd kept her distance with every step he took, but his longer legs brought him closer to her faster than she could get away.

“You’re sure doing your best to act all tough as shit when you’re the one who’s been stalking a teenaged girl these past few days. And how many people have you killed with that sword of yours, huh?” She gestured to the sword at his side. “No way you haven’t killed anybody. So, who are you to judge?”

Grámtrist stopped. If Thrúd had to guess, his face looked a bit sheepish under his helmet. “You’re correct.” His fingers traced the edge of his blade. “I’ve taken lives in my pursuit to free Embla. There’s no doubt that that has saddened her. We were so peaceful for a time, never having harmed a fly. Now I will bear that weight on my heart until the day I join her in the light of Alfheim. But for that to happen,” his resolve hardened once again, “that hammer must be destroyed.”

“Why?!” Thrúd shouted. “Why does it have to be? How do you know whoever you’re looking for is inside of it? Even if she is, isn’t there some way to-“

“Had I not already known, you would have revealed to me your Asgardian upbringing because of your ignorance,” he interrupted. With one more step forward, Grámtrist drew his sword and pointed it at Mjolnir. “Embla rests inside. And she is waiting for me to free her.”

Thrúd took out her mace and pointed back at him. “Well, she’s going to keep waiting if I have anything to say about it.”

“Like I said,” Grámtrist took out a green whetstone and scraped it across the blade, “your word isn’t relevant.”

With the glowing green sword, Grámtrist swiped at the air twice, sending a sickly green X flying toward Thrúd. Not wishing to find out what the spell would do upon impact, Thrúd dashed out of the way and immediately doused herself with lightning.

Electricity sparking and glowing around her, Thrúd ran forward before Grámtrist could throw another swing. With both hands, she targeted his joints with the mace, using the electricity as a speed boost to do so. This did little to slow down his next attack: an overhead swing that was aimed at the middle of her head. She raised her arm and summoned her shield, deflecting the sword and redirecting it to the ground.

Recovering quickly, Grámtrist gripped the hilt with both hands and swung in a horizontal arc. With no time to move out of the way, Thrúd ducked and sidestepped to avoid the strike. Swinging again, Thrúd avoided it the same way and allowed his momentum to expose his side with the sack dangling off his shoulder.

Thrúd reached out to pluck it, but Grámtrist grabbed hold of her arm and yanked her to the side. She was unable to stop herself from tripping onto the ground. She twisted around in time to raise her shield and stop his next strike from cutting her in two. The two of them struggled for a few moments, each one waiting for the other to give way.

“So, I was correct,” the traveler mused, his arms shaking as he continued to force the shield down against the stubborn young goddess. “You need the whetstones. Ironic that we each carry the other’s destiny.”

Gritting her teeth, Thrúd shakily rose to her feet and pushed the massive sword to the side. “For fuck’s sake,” she growled. “Shut the Hel up!” Keeping the shield out, she bashed it against Grámtrist’s helmet, stunning him.

Taking advantage of her brief window, Thrúd continued her flurry of attacks with her mace, disheartened but not surprised at the lack of damage it was doing to his durable armor. It was succeeding, however, at increasing her adrenaline. Lightning wrapping around her arms like sleeves, Thrúd continued her assault, not allowing Grámtrist time to load up another attack.

Just as she feared, her adrenaline rush was extinguished quickly. Thrúd could feel her lungs beginning to burn and her arms growing weary from the effort. Finally, she slowed down just enough for Grámtrist to twist around and let her mace clang harmlessly against his own shield. Disoriented from the sudden stop, Thrúd stumbled backward.

Dropping to a runner’s stance, Grámtrist pushed himself forward and thrust his sword in front of him, aiming it straight at Mjolnir on her hip with pinpoint accuracy. Thrúd parried it just in time with the mace and stepped out of the way as Grámtrist ran forward until he exhausted his momentum.

He turned around, clearly annoyed with the girl. “You can’t avoid using the hammer forever. If you want any hope at defeating me, you need it.”

Thrúd hated to admit it, but he was right. The mace wasn’t doing anything except making him angry, and despite her godly strength, she was nowhere near strong enough to put a dent in it with her lightning-reinforced fists. That only left Mjolnir as her only viable option to defend herself.

Luckily, her only goal at the moment wasn’t to defeat him, but to snag the whetstone and leave. But despite the simplicity of the task itself, Grámtrist’s surprising speed and agility made it increasingly difficult.

Doing her best to quiet her heartbeat from echoing inside her head, Thrúd slowly took out Mjolnir, holding it and her mace out with both hands, a new idea forming in her head.

As she took out the hammer, Grámtrist followed suit by fishing out a red whetstone. Without taking his eyes away from his target, he scraped it along the blade and engulfed it in a foreboding red aura that shimmered across the edges.

Gulping, Thrúd ignored the voices in her head that told her to put the hammer away and make a run for it. Instead, she took a few tentative steps closer to the traveler. As she got closer, Grámtrist tensed his arms, a serpent prepared to strike.

With only a few feet left between them, Thrúd’s panic began to rise, her composure threatening to break at any moment. But she willed herself to get a little closer with Mjolnir in plain view.

“This is all you want, right?” She coaxed but was not surprised when he didn’t answer since his response was obvious.

She kept walking forward with tentative steps as if she were a hunter approaching a deer, cautious for any sudden movements on his part. He pointed the sword at the ground by his feet, the red aura shimmering and swirling with the movement. “Put it down.”

Nodding, Thrúd said, “No problem.”

Thrúd tossed the hammer behind her like a discarded toy. Snapping her fingers, Thrúd zipped back to the hammer and caught it before it hit the ground.

“Gotta catch me, first.”

Grámtrist let his frustration out in a tinny roar, swinging his sword and releasing another arc of energy her way.

She threw the hammer again, but much closer to his side this time. With another snap of her fingers, Thrúd avoided the attack and zipped across, striking his armor with her mace as she passed. She caught Mjolnir and came to a skidding halt behind the traveler and was pleased to find that she had finally made progress.

Grámtrist stumbled backward from the impact and clutched his side where the mace struck true. The armor was scratched and dented, poking at his body inside.

There was no stopping the smug smile that crawled on Thrúd’s face. “I’ve got you now, bastard.”

She threw the hammer again. Grámtrist swung wide but was too slow. ZIP! CLANG! Thrúd whizzed through the air and struck again, this time at his shin, eliciting a yelp of surprise and pain. She came to a halt again and wasted no time in doing it again.

And again.

And again after that.

Her confidence alight, Thrúd felt no fatigue as she threw the hammer to and fro; only the euphoria of landing hits on her overwhelmed opponent. She kept her movements erratic, unpredictable and fast until her body was nearly imperceptible. All Grámtrist was able to see was a white and blue blur of electricity zipping back and forth like a rubber ball hitting invisible walls, unable to stop the onslaught.

Laughter echoed off the walls almost ethereally. It took Thrúd a few moments to realize that it was coming from her. With another zip, Thrúd aimed for the traveler’s side, prepared to snag the sack straight from his shoulder. Her laughter ceased once she realized that Grámtrist caught on to her geometric pattern and anticipated her next attack.

Swinging his arm instead of the sword, Grámtrist successfully clotheslined her on her next pass. Thrúd let out a choked yell as she flipped end over end and rolled to a stop dangerously close to the edge of the plateau they battled on.

She pushed herself to a kneeling position, groaning as she did and assessed the new scratches and any possible injuries. The good news was nothing was too hurt. The bad news was she couldn’t find her mace.

Looking to the side, Thrúd found it lying at Grámtrist’s feet. His sword at his hip, Grámtrist picked up the mace with both hands and bent it in half until it snapped in two from the stress.

Thrúd’s heart plummeted. She lost her sword battling him in Svartalfheim, now she succeeded in losing her mace. Two out of the three gifts given to her by her father extinguished and lost by the same person, and he still wanted to take more.

He threw the two halves to the ground. “No excuses now,” he growled.

Thrúd was still stunned by her tumble and from what she had just witnessed, she couldn’t will herself to rise to her feet.

This gave Grámtrist ample time to fish out another item from his sack. To Thrúd’s surprise, it wasn’t another colored whetstone. In his hand was some kind of spherical rock with glowing runes covering its face. He held it aloft until it glowed even brighter and levitated out of his grasp.

Blue clouds of magic swirled around his body as if he were in a blizzard that only targeted him. But rather than damaging him further, Thrúd cursed her luck when she found that it was beginning to repair him instead.

She could see all the scratches and blemishes in his armor fade away, the dents pushing themselves back out until the surface was as smooth as it was minutes before. All the work that Thrúd had put into even slightly damaging his armor plating amounted to nothing.

The swirling clouds ceased, and the sphere dropped back into his hand. He placed it back into his sack before facing Thrúd once again. Good as new.

“The hammer,” he demanded.

Thrúd double checked to make sure that Mjolnir was safe with her and got her answer when she curled her fists around its shaft. Lightning arced from the hammer up her arm and didn’t stop until she was engulfed in it like a new suit of armor.

She found the strength to rise to her feet and focused on the traveler before her as if no one else existed in the realms except for him. She was about to correct that.

“You want it?” She asked, pointing the hammer at him. “HERE YOU GO!”

Grámtrist had no time to react as she dashed forward, scorching the already scorched ground beneath her, and thrust the hammer forward to take her off her feet and soar into his gut. The collision carried them both to the volcanic wall. Thrúd aimed upward and pushed him not only into the wall, but upwards as well.

Her screams were the only other thing she was able to hear other than the screeching of his metal armor scraping along the wall, his large body making an effective umbrella for the loose chunks of rock they knocked loose on their ascent. Occasionally, she could make out his grunts of discomfort from his many collisions with the protruding rocks on the way up. This only satisfied her lust for payback a little.

Before they knew it, they ran out of wall but continued to rise over the mountaintops, the screeching metal replaced with the whooshing of air.

Thrúd all but clawed her way up along Grámtrist’s body until she was face level with him. As soon as she was, she flipped her grip on Mjolnir so she was holding it upside down and smashed it in Grámtrist’s face as many times as she could. With each strike, his head was knocked backwards, and electricity arced off every time.

With Mjolnir now being used offensively rather than a method of thrust, Thrúd felt the two of them begin to plummet. The sensation of falling didn’t hinder Thrúd’s strikes any; she intended on continuing until they hit the ground.

After one last strike, Grámtrist shook his head to regain his bearings. Seeing her arm coming down one last time, he raised his arm and blocked her strike. With his other arm, he wiggled it between the two of them and grabbed onto her throat. Letting out a choked gasp, Thrúd could do nothing as Grámtrist twisted his body and threw her off him.

Her body flailed in the air in a feeble attempt to grab back on, but she wasn’t able to before she entered a freefall. Gripping the hammer, Thrúd planned to thrust it upward to slow her descent, but she collided with a mountain peak before she could do so.

Spinning out of control, Thrúd let out another pained cry as she hit the side of another mountain, jarring Mjolnir out of her grasp. Thrúd gasped in pain again as she landed hard on an outcropping rock from the side of a volcano. Shaking off the sudden stop as quickly as she could, Thrúd sloppily rose to her feet and searched for the hammer.

She found it lying on its side on the ground fifty feet below her.

Her relief lasted only moments when she saw Grámtrist plummeting down towards it, his sword pointed to the ground as if he planned on splitting the entire realm in two.

Thrúd snapped her fingers and summoned Mjolnir back to her mere moments before his sword plunged into the ground several feet, landing in a kneeling position with all the control of a skilled warrior. Grámtrist rose to his feet and removed his sword from the charred ground, looking up to where he saw the hammer disappear to and found Thrúd, aiming it at him yet again.

It crackled with electricity before Thrúd sent a lightning strike his way. He jumped out of the way just in time, though the impact of the bolt made him stumble. She aimed back at him and fired again, and Grámtrist moved out of the way.

This dance continued five more times before he grabbed a yellow whetstone from his side. Timing it perfectly, Grámtrist jumped out of the way of her next blast, scraped the whetstone across his blade, and swung it in one fluid motion.

A yellow arc sailed straight for Thrúd, forcing her to abandon her perch and leap off its side, sliding down the rest of the mountain as it crashed onto the rock she was just standing on, shattering it to pieces.

Thrúd rolled to a stop at the bottom and got to her feet in time to parry another strike with her shield. Successfully knocking it aside, she was, however, knocked backward into the wall again. She raised her shield and prevented the sword from striking her midsection, though Grámtrist pushed with all of his might and held the sword in place, forcing Thrúd to grit her teeth and moan in pain as she was pushed into the jagged wall behind her.

“Why do you insist on this?!” He asked, finally yelling. “You think this matter concerns you, but it doesn’t! I told you before that hammer isn’t merely a hammer. It doesn’t even belong to you! Let me free my Embla and I’ll leave you alone. Don’t make me have to kill you, please!”

His tone was desperate. Thrúd couldn’t help but believe that he meant it when he said he doesn’t want to kill her. What she couldn’t believe though was the small voice in the back of her mind that was trying to convince her to take his offer.

The moment Mjolnir is destroyed, this would all be over. She’d never have to deal with Sindri’s bitterness again. She could master a different weapon. Best of all, odds were that she’d never see Grámtrist again and he would go bother somebody else.

Every other part of Thrúd’s being, however, knew that that was some serious bullshit.

She used her other arm to brace her shield so she had both of them holding Grámtrist back. With a cry of effort, she pushed forward, leaning her body away from the wall. Grámtrist took a step back to keep his balance as she resisted.

With a snarl, Thrúd looked into the slit of his helmet and into his eyes. “You had your chance.” She forced him backwards again. “You’ve had your chance for hundreds of years to face my dad and destroy Mjolnir yourself! But you were too chicken shit to try!” She took another step, letting go of the shield with her other hand to grab Mjolnir, holding it at the ready. “And here’s where you’re wrong,” she continued. “The hammer is mine. If you want to break it, you’re going to have to kill me.”

Rearing back as far as she could, Thrúd delivered an uppercut to Grámtrist’s chin with the hammer, letting go at the last second to let it carry him several hundred feet in the air. Snapping her fingers, she summoned it back to her, allowing the traveler’s ascent to slow until he began to fall.

Moments before he hit the ground, Thrúd threw the hammer straight into his armored chest, sending him flying over the edge of the mountain like an electrified comet. Thrúd took off in a sprint and leapt over the edge, allowing gravity to take her. Arms spread wide as if she were welcoming the rapidly approaching ground, Thrúd guided herself to follow Grámtrist and Mjolnir. Thrúd caught up with them in a literal snap, standing atop his flailing body as they all fell.

The ground met them as violently as Thrúd expected, but she stayed on top of his armor as he slid to a stop as soon as his momentum disappeared. Grámtrist let out a pained moan, momentarily unable to so much as lift his head off the ground.

Stepping off his chest, Thrúd reached down and dug her hand inside the burlap bag on his side, pulling out multiple whetstones until she found one decorated with white runes. She held it up to her face, inspecting it with the same thoroughness one would inspect a diamond to ensure its authenticity. Satisfied, she clutched it tighter and relaxed her arms at her sides, looking down at her adversary.

With a shrug, she said, “Anything else you want to try?” She held the whetstone out so he could see it. “Next time you see me, Mjolnir’s not gonna break as easily. Got any other tricks up your sleeves?”

She couldn’t help it. A boast seemed earned on her part after everything he had put her through. Thrúd couldn’t just leave and not say anything.

Although now she sorely wish that she had.

Through more labored breaths, Grámtrist whispered out, “Always.”

Without Thrúd noticing, he dug his hand into the bag as well, pulling out another sphere. Holding it up, he crushed it in his grasp. The resulting flash blinded Thrúd for several moments. She covered her eyes with both hands, causing her to drop both the whetstone and hammer, giving Grámtrist ample time to rise to his feet and fish out another sphere.

The swirling magic returned. As soon as the spots ceased dancing in her vision, she was pushed backward by an invisible concussive force once his healing spell was completed. Rolling to a stop, Thrúd immediately snapped her fingers to summon Mjolnir, not wanting to risk its destruction amidst her confusion.

Struggling to lift herself to her feet, Grámtrist saved her the trouble by grabbing the back of her neck and pushing her face into the ground. “Stupid girl,” he said. “You should have left with the whetstone when you had the chance.”

In light of recent events, Thrúd was forced to agree.

Slamming her face into the ground again, Grámtrist grabbed the waistline of her skirts with his other hand and twirled Thrúd around like a log before letting go, sending her flying away from him. Thrúd struggled to hang onto Mjolnir, fighting against the opposing forces that tried to yank it from her grip.

She came to a stop much sooner than she thought she would. Her side cracked against a material she wasn’t expecting to feel in this environment. Falling to the ground after the impact, Thrúd looked up to see a giant metal sword jutting out of the ground just like the smaller ones back at Sutr’s workshop. The biggest difference between those and the one that she crashed against was clearly its size. It looked as if Ymir himself was the only one able to use it.

The other difference lay in the decorations. This one was immaculately crafted and molded at the hilt with crests of gold and mesmerizing patterns adorning it as well.

Apparently, the last giant to have used this wasn’t satisfied with it anymore, as they felt the need to plunge it into the ground so far, Thrúd was almost head-level with the hilt. She stared at her reflection in the circular center where the hilt met the blade for a moment before twisting around to see Grámtrist walking towards her again.

Fury injected into her bloodstream, Thrúd pressed her hand against the blade to steady herself as she rose to her feet, not wishing to be easy prey for him. She switched her hands over and over as she stood up taller until her fingertips brushed against the clear black surface.

A low hum rumbled around them.

Grámtrist stopped dead in his tracks.

Thrúd looked back at the sword. She leapt back in alarm as it sank lower into the ground until it was completely encapsulated underneath. With the sword out of the way, Thrúd was able to get a better look at their new space:

It was a plateau identical to all the others they’d come across during their battle, but the biggest difference with the others were the three caves inside the walls surrounding them.

Footsteps were heard coming out of the farthest left one.

Risking a look back to Grámtrist, she analyzed his body language. If she were to guess, she didn’t think he was expecting any visitors either.

The footsteps grew louder, now accompanied by an other-wordly snarl.

A lone dragr emerged from the cave’s depths, appearing just as lost and confused as the other two occupants of the mountain.

Thrúd couldn’t help but chuckle silently. One dragr? This shouldn’t be that bad. Where did he come from?

Behind her, Grámtrist let out a surprised yell. Twisting around with her hammer raised, Thrúd watched as a Tatzelwurm burst out of the ground at his feet and wrapped its serpentine body around his ankles. He yelled in protest as he fell to the ground, allowing the Tatzelwurm to hop onto his armor, hopelessly clawing at it and drooling acid as it went.

Another laugh. Thanks, little guy.

Any other desires to laugh quickly left her system as more footsteps were heard, this set far bigger and louder than the previous set.

Out of the middle tunnel erupted two ogres, both of them roaring in rage. The far left and right tunnels spewed out more and more dragr, and the flow of them didn’t appear to be slowing soon.

Thrúd twirled Mjolnir in her grip, prepared for more fighting.

Without checking to see the status of the traveler, Thrúd charged over to the first set of dragr, splitting them in half with one swing of the hammer each. Leaping into the air with Mjolnir aloft, she caught the chin of one of the ogres, making it stumble in surprise.

Rolling between its legs, she came out the other side face to face with a Hel walker, a wooden shield at the ready. His shield did little against Mjolnir as it exploded into splinters, the Hel walker flying against the wall and poofing away in a cloud of blue smoke.

An assortment of baddies poured out of the caves with little regard to the skirmish that the two of them were having moments prior. Without looking back, she could tell that Grámtrist got back to his feet and was fending off his own set of undead adversaries, if the clanking of metal and screams were any indication.

After dealing with another set of Hel walkers, Thrúd began to feel the weariness setting in. “What the Hel is this? Where are they all coming from?”

Grámtrist caught his breath after slicing three dragr in half with one swing. “Stupid girl! You activated Surtr’s trials!”

Thrúd put a hand on her chest. “Me?! You’re the one who threw me at the fucking- whoa!” One of the ogres swung wide, forcing her to duck and weave to the other side. Quickly, it turned and roared in her face, clearly not pleased at having missed its target.

In response, Thrúd raised Mjolnir and let out a bright flash of electricity. Two giant arms raised up to its eyes in vain as black spots danced in its vision. The ogre swung again, but only succeeded in knocking three Hel walkers into a pool of lava beside it.

Allowing the ogre to do some more damage for her, Thrúd turned around and prepared to charge at Grámtrist and attempt to steal his bag while he was distracted. She didn’t get a chance to even start running as three more dragr approached her, their weapons raised and ready to strike.

Before they could so much as throw them at her, a giant burst of fire fell from the sky and obliterated the three of them in moments. Backing up in alarm, Thrúd looked up to find a dragon decided to join in on their fun, circling around their arena and trying to decide where it would strike next. She sent the dragon a rude gesture. “Because it’s not already stressful enough down here! Thanks!”

As soon as the fire died out, Thrúd started running again, but stopped as a new plan formed in her head.

She gripped Mjolnir in anticipation, timing her next move with Grámtrist’s movements. He was still currently locked in combat with an agile wyvern. The lithe dragon proved difficult to handle as it hopped about with its wings and used its strong legs to charge, but it wasn’t enough to defeat him. Swinging his large sword, he decapitated the wyvern in a smooth strike. Its body slumped to the ground twitching before vanishing into ash.

Taking a moment of reprieve, Grámtrist stood tall and proud, catching his breath but remaining on alert.

Thrúd noticed his eyes weren’t on her and took her next move.

She threw Mjolnir high overhead and let it sail over the traveler. Thrúd kept one eye shut and followed it with her pointed finger, making sure she timed it correctly. With a snap of her fingers, Mjolnir halted its descent and soared back toward her with Grámtrist in between the two.

Thrúd successfully threaded the needle as Mjolnir slipped between Grámtrist’s side and arm, the hilt snagging onto the sack hanging from his shoulder. The material ripped from the force and its contents spilled to the ground.

Stunned, Grámtrist surveyed the mess before finding Thrúd again, hammer back in hand. She didn’t have time to shoot him a smug look as her eyes flashed across the ground looking for the item she was here to retrieve.

Finally, her eyes landed on a whetstone with white runes decorating it, the only one of the bunch mixed in the spill. Looking up, she saw Grámtrist begin to charge forward, reaching down to scoop it up. Thrúd matched his intensity with her own, running with her arm outstretched.

Neither one of them made it there first.

The ogre Thrúd encountered moments ago, still blinded from the flash, stumbled between them and kicked it to the edge of the plateau. It would have skidded over the edge had a Tatzelwurm not resurfaced in time for it to bounce off its body.

Still stumbling blindly, the ogre swept Grámtrist aside and moved on. Not desiring to waste her opportunity, Thrúd made a beeline for the whetstone.

Shrieking in protest from being hit by a white stone, the Tatzelwurm began to burrow back underground. As it did, its tail flailed and knocked the whetstone away moments before Thrúd could grab it.

Skidding across the ground once again, it didn’t stop until it hit the foot of a passing Hel walker. The undead abomination leaned down and picked it up, curious about its new possession.

Thrúd rolled her eyes at the newly presented chore. “For fuck’s sake.”

She dug her heels to the ground and redirected her run until she was mere feet away from the whetstone’s current owner. But before she could swing her hammer-

SNAP!

The dragon returned for another pass, snatching the Hel walker in his jaws and swallowing it whole before flying away as if it hadn’t just taken away Thrúd’s prize.

“OH, COME ON!”

The dragon remained indifferent to her cries, flapping its wings and soaring farther away.

Grámtrist didn’t seem to mind. Having scooped up a black whetstone, he looked at Thrúd with what appeared to be a sort of sick amusement, pleased that his adversary had lost the means to protect Mjolnir. He scraped it along his sword.

Watching the dragon fly in another circle, Thrúd gripped her hammer. “No you fucking don’t,” she growled before thrusting Mjolnir skyward, propelling her into the air moments before Grámtrist swung his sword in a wide arc. The resulting wave of magic crashed against the ground where Thrúd was standing moments before.

Thrúd left Grámtrist below her to deal with the remaining wave of enemies, only having eyes for the dragon who plucked her goal out of her grasp.

Remembering the sensation of flight from her adventure in Vanaheim, Thrúd propelled herself into the air with Mjolnir raised in front of her. The dragon had a few seconds head start, but Thrúd willed herself faster. She twisted her body accordingly to match its flight pattern until she was close enough to grab onto its tail.

The lightning around her body extinguished the moment she gripped one of its scales, gravity now doing its best to reclaim her. She placed the hammer back on her hip to use both hands to pull herself along the dragon’s back.

Her arms began to burn in protest as she pulled, her legs flailing uselessly behind her. Finally, she reached the beast’s back and was able to use her knees to crawl the next few feet. The dragon flapped its massive wings, its body spasming in protest of the uninvited hitchhiker. Thrúd kept her body low and rode out the undulations.

As soon as she felt the dragon level out, Thrúd wasted no time in rising to her feet and running forward. The dragon was doing its best to make her path as difficult as possible as it twisted its body left and right, trying to trip Thrúd on its scales. Thanks to her fast feet, Thrúd adjusted accordingly. She avoided and dodged the scales with the same ease and effort as if she were running through a forest.

Finally reaching the neck, Thrúd kept her momentum going as she jumped up and grabbed Mjolnir in both hands, grabbing it by its head and holding it upside down. “GIVE IT BACK!” She bellowed out, landing on top of its head and smashing the hammer on top of its skull.

Lightning flashed for a brief moment, leaving a smoking charred black mark on top. The dragon roared in anguish, its body dipping violently, forcing Thrúd to grab onto one of its horns. She wrapped her arms and legs around it like she was hugging a log and rode the rest of the way down.

Several futile flaps later, the dragon crashed to the ground, the force jarring Thrúd loose, sending her rolling to the side and leaving the dragon to crash into several boulders, smashing them all to pieces. Momentum spent, the dragon slid to a stop, eyes blinking as if it were in a room with the lights too bright, head shaking in confusion.

Rising to her feet, Thrúd ran to the massive jaws of the beast and forced them open, her strength amplified by the adrenaline from the ride she just took. Her heart sank for a moment when she didn’t find the body of the Hel walker that snatched the whetstone.

It had been swallowed.

“Fuck!” She screamed, slamming the mouth shut as if she were closing the hatch to a basement. The dragon still hadn’t regained its senses, squirming in a daze on the ground. Thrúd paced back and forth, scrambling for one desperate idea on how to retrieve the stone from the depths of the beast’s belly.

Thankfully, she thought of one.

Wielding Mjolnir, Thrúd smashed it on the dragon’s reptilian maw. It roared in protest with its mouth as wide as it could open, just as Thrúd wanted.

Thrúd threw Mjolnir inside the dragon’s mouth and down its throat. Its roaring ceased immediately with the hammer now obstructing its windpipe. It coughed and squirmed in vain attempts to dislodge it, but Thrúd managed to maintain control of it as Mjolnir descended deeper into the dragon’s body.

Hand outstretched to hold the connection between herself and Mjolnir, her eyes closed in concentration, Thrúd twitched her fingers this way and that, searching for any other foreign objects.

Her eyes snapped open as soon as she felt it, as if an invisible rope snapped taut. A fish caught at the end of a line.

Thrúd snapped her fingers and watched as the dragon twisted and contorted in discomfort, roaring as it felt not one, but two objects rising into its throat. Thrúd was undaunted as the dragon’s mouth was forced open and Mjolnir flew out, tangled in a mess of knots of intestines and soaked in bile. It flew into her hand and the whetstone clattered to the ground at her feet.

Squirming in pain one last time, Thrúd watched the dragon become still, the light leaving its eyes before the eyelids closed, a string of intestines and organs splayed out of its mouth like snipped strings.

Thrúd looked at Mjolnir. “Ew.” She shook off the fluids as best she could before placing it at her hip, wiping her hands off on her skirt.

Leaning down, she picked up the whetstone and held it up to examine it as if she couldn’t believe it for herself that she was now holding it.

“Gotcha.”

Her joy didn’t last long.

With a thud, another wyvern clumsily landed next to the dragon’s corpse, allowing its massive rider to depart.

As soon as his feet touched the ground, Grámtrist backhanded the wyvern, eliciting a screech of pain before it flew away. Grámtrist slowly turned around, letting Thrúd see the burlap bag that had been torn now shoddily repaired. A tight knot mended the loop, and the bag once again housed the other whetstones, all hanging against his side. His armor was splattered with different colors of blood, making him look like a walking, shiny canvas.

He aimed his (equally bloody) sword at Thrúd.

“Give it back.”

Thrúd began to walk backwards, clutching the whetstone with one hand and her other protectively hovering over Mjolnir. She gulped. “Anytime now, Hugin,” she whispered.

Seeing that she wasn’t planning on cooperating, Grámtrist took out the black whetstone yet again, scraping it along his sword and engulfing it in the same spooky aura. He swung the sword.

The wave didn’t make it halfway over to her before her vision was smothered with ravens swirling around her. Without even realizing it, Thrúd covered her face with both arms, tensing for the impact, turning the hammer away from it. Lowering them, she found herself in the middle of the swarm and let her body relax.

The swarm cleared and she found herself in Midgard, standing on the bridge of Týr’s temple. She relaxed fully when she saw that Grámtrist was nowhere to be seen. As she stood and caught her breath, processing all that had just happened mere moments ago, she noticed several things almost at the same time about Midgard.

Firstly, it didn’t carry the same chill as it had the last time she was there. There was still a cool breeze that carried over the realm, but it didn’t have the same bite as before.

Secondly, the ice underneath the bridge was visibly breaking apart, allowing water to seep between the cracks and settle on top.

Midgard was warming back up.

A flutter of wings drew her attention to the side. Hugin perched himself atop the railings. “Congratulations!” His voice sounded in her head. “You’re not dead!”

She ignored his signature sarcasm and walked closer. “You sure took your time!” She accused. “Did that errand really have to take that long?!”

“No. I was back after like three minutes. I saw everything over there. I wasn’t gonna hop in the middle of all that, that would’ve been suicide! Besides,” he motioned his beak at the whetstone, “you wouldn’t have appreciated it if I took you away before you got what you wanted.”

Seeing his point, Thrúd backed down. “Did you at least get it there alright?”

“I did. And for what it’s worth,” he paused, “I think she’ll appreciate it.”

He spoke truthfully.

In the realm of Niflheim, Sinmara still stood out on the balcony of her room, no longer filling the void with her tears of anguish. Instead, she gazed into the realm, not looking for anything in particular, but watching time pass in contentment.

Her peace was disturbed at the sound of wings fluttering on the other side of her bedroom door.

Turning in surprise, she looked to see if anybody was trying to come into her room. When nobody did, she walked inside and opened the door. Looking to both sides, she found no one on the other side. She wasn’t sure what prompted her to do so, but she looked down at her feet and found a parcel wrapped up in a dirty piece of cloth.

She picked it up and placed it on her bed, opening the cloth.

Tears swam in her vision when she saw a familiar mallet inside. She struggled to make out the words written inside the cloth through her welled up eyes.

Something to remember him by. -T.T.

Chapter Text

She wasn’t sure what prompted it, but Thrúd found herself unable to move from the bridge.

With the enchanted whetstone in her possession, she assumed she’d head straight over to Sindri’s house without further delay. While that was still the plan, she couldn’t help but reflect, holding said whetstone all the while.

Sindri had mentioned that he only needed two things to improve upon Mjolnir: the coal from a dragr hole and the white enchanted whetstone. Though both errands had their share of hitches and obstacles, Thrúd had managed to obtain both, ensuring the safety of her father’s signature weapon.

At least, that was the case on paper. She still had to bring the ingredient over to his house, but she was unable to stop herself from being swept up in a wave of pride.

Almost selfishly, Thrúd recounted the events in her head that led her to where she was; standing up to Grámtrist, assisting the centaurs and other wildlife of Vanaheim, reconnecting with her mother emotionally, sending Sinmara a memento of her lover, and all while doing her damndest to make sure that the hammer survives to secure her dad’s legacy.

She knew that pride was an arrogant way to appreciate her deeds, but when she came from a family who mostly took pride in making other people’s lives as miserable as possible to simply improve their own, it felt like something better to be proud of.

Who would have thought the best way to separate myself from the All-Father would be to just be nice to people?

Suck it, Odin.

Squeezing the whetstone one last time, as if to prove once and for all that it was truly real, Thrúd relaxed her arms and let out a long breath. That was when she realized her surroundings were filled with more than just the natural sounds of Midgard. Both goddess and raven turned their heads to the direction of the sound of clanking tools and manly grunts.

Týr’s temple was abuzz with activity, even more so than when she last left. The statue of Týr was almost entirely gone, only his shins down to his feet that stood on the roof of his temple remained. Scaffolding surrounded it with workers walking in every direction along the planks, most of them carrying either tools, wood, or scrapped pieces of the statue. A pile was formed at the end of the bridge for all the busted up pieces of the original statue. The pile grew as the workers threw their share of the statue’s remnants on top of it.

Thrúd also couldn’t help but notice that the number of Skjoldr’s helpers had grown exponentially. Having only begun this project with a handful of people who wished to stay behind to lend a hand and honor the god of war’s legacy, Thrúd now estimated that at least eighty people were volunteering their efforts.

Hypnotized by the teamwork, Thrúd looked up and down, doing her best to find her friend in the fray. She found him at the bottom, looking over a set of blueprints with a dwarf and two other humans. From the other side of the bridge, she could see his lips moving and his audience nodding in agreement.

A chuckle escaped her lips, and she shook her head, impressed by the progress the mortal boy had made and the leadership status he had made for himself. “Not bad, Skjoldr,” she said with her hands on her hips.

She wasn’t sure when she started moving again, but before she knew it, she was on the other side of the bridge, wanting to view the progress up close. Thrúd had almost forgotten the whetstone in her hand with every step closer.

Once she was close enough, Skjoldr lifted his head and spotted her, a goofy smile spreading over his face. “Thrúd!” He shouted, surprising his team. “Sorry, sorry,” he apologized to them with outstretched arms, making sure he hadn’t startled them too badly. “Erm, yeah, just, uh, go ahead and try to get the nails down here as soon as you can, yeah?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Awesome, thank you!”

He abandoned his spot and ran over to Thrúd, arms wide in disbelief. “Look who’s back! Welcome to the first taste of post-Fimbulwinter in Midgard.”

Thrúd raised her arms in a half shrug. “Look who’s back,” she echoed before gesturing to the worksite behind him. “And look at this. I don’t remember all of these people here last time.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Skjoldr said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Turns out my idea to update Týr’s temple was a popular one. Word spread and, well,” he held out his arms, gesturing to the army of volunteers, a sheepish smile on his face. “Everyone’s been fantastic to work with. Týr should be completely reassembled by the end of the month if things go according to plan.”

Thrúd motioned to the pile of dull metal at her side. “That’s good. I doubt he’d be able to keep the peace if he isn’t in one piece himself.”

“No shit,” Skjoldr repeated. Looking down, his eyes caught sight of Thrúd’s hand. “And what about you, miss adventurer? Looks like you found another treasure,” he said, pointing to the whetstone that Thrúd had forgotten she was holding. “What are you gonna do with it? Got any plans for upgrading your stuff?”

In response, Thrúd gave a small nod. “Yeah. Guess you could say that.”

“Well,” Skjoldr continued as he walked back to the table littered with blueprints, “if you need a hand with anything like that, one of my new friends here should be able to touch up whatever you want.”

Before Thrúd could inquire who his new friend was, a familiar, cheerful voice piped up from the side.

“Well, hey there, lil lady!”

Without needing to turn and see who the voice belonged to, Thrúd did so anyway and found Lúnda hobbling over with two armfuls of tools and equipment stashed underneath her armpits.

Thrúd waved a greeting back. “Hey there, Lúnda.”

“I see ya’ll survived Vanaheim! That’s good to see.” She dropped off her haul on the table. “Didja get what you needed?”

Thrúd nodded, gripping the whetstone. “Among other things.” She waved her hand in a vague arc. “How’d you get roped into all of this then?”

Lúnda shook her head like she was dismissing a playful jab. “I didn’t get roped into nothin’, darlin’! Soon as I caught wind of what Skjoldr here had planned, I was pleased as punch to lend a helpin’ hand er two! And heck, I clearly wasn’t the only one to feel that way!” She said with her arms spread, referring to the abundance of helpers at the temple.

“Ain’t surprising, neither,” she continued. “After Ragnarok, people are just chompin at the bits to help improve the realms anyway they can. Just like you, lil Thrudie patootie!” Thrúd flinched at the nickname, for one part at how close it was to her father’s own nickname for her, and another part at the improvised addition to it. Thrúd found herself rubbing the backside of her skirt self-consciously.

“Word of yer adventures traveled ‘round Vanaheim shortly after you left,” the dwarf continued.

Thrúd blinked in surprise. “Really?”

Lúnda shrugged. “Now, it’s true that the majority of Vanaheim’s population ain’t able to speak none, but as long as people live anywhere, gossip will always spread quicker than a wildfire.” She pointed at the young goddess. “What you did was mighty kind, helpin’ them animals.”

During her speech, Skjoldr rested his hands on his hips and nodded along, clearly impressed by Thrúd’s exploits. “Doesn’t surprise me, Lúnda,” Skjoldr added. “Give someone deserving a weapon as strong as Mjolnir without the All-Father breathing down their neck, they can do some amazing shit with it.”

For the first time in a very long time, Thrúd began to feel uncomfortable beneath the weight of all their praise. Normally, she found herself longing to bask in people’s appreciation and adoration as if it were sunlight itself. But now that she was facing it in full force, she really wanted to find some shade.

Having come to the conclusion that her crusade was for the benefit of the realms instead of garnering fame and immortality, their praise suddenly felt unwelcome. She tried to find the words to express this but found herself floundering to do so as she stammered over her syllables.

Luckily, Lúnda seemed to notice.

“Aw, look at her. All shy. Sorry, lil lady. Didn’t mean to embarrass ya none.”

Thankful that Lúnda caught on, Thrúd sighed in relief, waving away the dwarf’s concern.

“I’m not embarrassed,” she half-lied. “I was just thinking that I should let you guys get back to it. I’ve, uh, held you back long enough.”

“Oh! Not at all, Thrúd,” Skjoldr insisted. “I’m the one who approached you, after all. I’m sure you’ve got other things to worry about; like bringing that whetstone over to Sindri.”

Squinting her eyebrows in curiosity, Lúnda saw the whetstone in question and gasped.

“Well, I’ll be!” She breathed out with a hand over her chest. “Where did you find an enchanted whetstone? Thought they all up and vanished.”

Thrúd held out the whetstone for her to get a better look. Taking advantage of the gesture, Lúnda closed the gap between them and peered at it from as many angles as she could manage.

“That asshole who damaged Mjolnir that first time. I told Sindri about him and he theorized that the traveler found them and collected them in order to destroy it. Guess he was right.”

Satisfied, Lúnda stepped back, shaking her head in both disbelief and respect.

“Ah, that Sindri. Usin’ that noodle of his even when it ain’t on straight after Ragnarok.” She looked back at Thrúd. “Am I correct in assumin’ that Sindri’s got plans for this here magical doodad?”

Thrúd nodded. “Yup.”

“Well, tell him to be careful with it, will ya? I know he ain’t no delicate flower what needs protectin’, especially since he’s the one who brought the final smackdown on ol’ Odin himself. But that there could be dangerous if he ain’t careful.”

Thrúd nodded again. “Don’t worry, he’s fully aware of what-“ she stopped midsentence. She blinked several times as Lúnda’s words finally caught up with her. “What did you say?”

“Just pass on the message to be careful with-“

“No, no, no,” Thrúd shook her head. “The other thing. The thing about Sindri and Odin?”

Lúnda looked puzzled. “That he destroyed the orb that Atreus done trapped Odin’s soul inside of?”

Thrúd blinked. “Sindri is the one who killed Odin?!”

Skjoldr and Lúnda both stepped back in surprise of her outburst. A few workers milling in the general area turned their heads for a moment to see what the commotion was about before quickly losing interest and resuming their duties.

“He didn’t mention that?” Lúnda asked.

“NO!” Thrúd shouted again as her mind raced in futile efforts to even begin to attempt what had transpired during Ragnarok after Odin tossed her halfway across the realm.

After several moments of pacing to shake off her surprise, Skjoldr cleared his throat, diverting her attention back to the present.

“Not to sound ungrateful for how things turned out, but,” he lightly shrugged, “does it really matter who did it so long as Odin’s dead?”

“He’s got a point,” Lúnda agreed. “’Sides, if it makes you feel any better, he didn’t tell me neither. I heard it from Kratos. Sindri was pretty tight-lipped after, er, you know.”

The more a fuss Thrúd made at this new bit of information for her, the sillier she felt. They were right. It made no difference who finished the job so long as it was done. She was just struggling with the fact that of all people, it was Sindri who pulled it off. Yes, Kratos, Loki and Freya battled him into submission, but now knowing that Sindri came in to finish the job put the dwarf into a whole new light.

Sindri: the dwarf who co-created Mjolnir.

Sindri: the dwarf who got the best of her several times upon their meeting.

And now, he was Sindri: the dwarf who extinguished the life of the All-Father.

The more she thought of it, the more she began to wonder how much she should be careful around him.

And as she considered these new nuggets of knowledge, she had one last question about him.

“What was he doing after Ragnarok?”

She meant to ask that in her own head. But apparently, it was verbalized because Lúnda offered her a helpless shrug in response.

“I ain’t any help on that one, lil lady,” she admitted. “While it ain’t my business, I can’t exactly say that I was never curious ‘bout it myself.”

Stunned by the unexpected answer, Thrúd shook herself out of her reverie and looked away from her friends. Her eyes landed on the pile of rocks that would lead her back to Sindri’s house at the other end of the bridge they stood on.

“I’ve kept you two long enough,” she said suddenly. “I need him to put this thing to good use.”

The human and dwarf nodded in understanding.

“Good luck, Thrúd.” Skjoldr waved. “Hope to see you again, soon.” He wished he could’ve given her a more lengthy goodbye, but he sensed that she was itching to get a move on and honored that wish with a brief statement.

Lúnda on the other hand wasn’t quite done.

“Do me a favor when you see him, will you?” Lúnda didn’t give Thrúd the chance to say that she’d do this favor before continuing. “Tell him I miss him? I know he’s got a whirlwind of garbage goin’ on in that clever head of his, what with Brok and all. But . . .” she trailed off, unsure of how to phrase her desire to see her friend again.

Thrúd looked back at the dwarf. “I’ll tell him,” she promised. “But I don’t know if he’ll listen.”

“That’s all you can do, lil lady. Thank you.”

She swiped a pair of tongs from Skjoldr’s table and walked over to the worksite to contribute however she could. Skjoldr offered one last farewell nod before rolling up the blueprints and following Lúnda.

Letting out a slow breath, Thrúd took one last look at the project before turning around and making her way across the bridge. She summoned the gate and stepped inside. Before long, Thrúd and Hugin found themselves on the front lawn of Sindri’s house once again.

The kiln she had dragged across his property remained lit in his yard, its flames casting dancing shadows on the ground. As she approached, Sindri exited his house holding a folded bench under one arm. He extended the legs and set it on the ground adjacent to the kiln before looking up to find Thrúd had returned.

“Ah. You’re back.”

“Don’t sound so excited to see me or anything.”

“Oh, I am excited,” he assured, though his tone suggested the opposite. “With this visit, this should be the last time you have to bother me.”

Thrúd rolled her eyes. “Whatever, dude. You know you like enjoy tinkering with Mjolnir again.” She called out to call his bluff, but he neither confirmed nor denied before entering his house once again. He reemerged with another set of tools and laid them out on the bench.

He walked up to Thrúd. “Did you get the whetstone from that friend of yours?”

She tossed him the item in question. He caught it and inspected it for a few moments to verify its authenticity. Satisfied, he tossed it a short height in the air and caught it as if it were a coin before walking over to the kiln.

With an un-gloved hand, he tapped a display needle on its face. Over on the side of the device was a lever that he pulled, opening an unseen valve inside and willing the flames brighter and hotter. “It will be ready in a few minutes. Might as well get comfortable. But not terribly so,” he warned. “I may need your help with part of the process.”

Hugin chirped in surprise, looking at Thrúd from his perch atop the house.

“You sure about that?” Thrúd asked. “I’m no blacksmith.”

“You can use your hands and do as you’re told though, yeah?”

“. . . I guess.”

“Congratulations. You’re overqualified for what I need. Just sit tight, this will be hot enough soon.”

Thrud quirked an eyebrow. “I thought the whole point of you firing this thing up last time I was here was so that it’d be ready once I got back?” She wondered.

“This thing hasn’t been used in ages. Not even the coal from the dragr hole that you brought with you can heat it up to what it needs to be in that short amount of time. It will get there, don’t you worry. And besides, it’s not like you’re going to be finished with your chores after this. So, there’s no use rushing things.”

Thrúd was about to sit down but stopped at his last sentence.

“What do you mean?”

He monitored the fire as he spoke, not even looking in her general direction. “I mean that you’ve still got some homework to do after this if you want Mjolnir to fully accept these upgrades.”

Outrage filled Thrúd’s system. “Are you shitting me?!” Sparks flew out of her swinging fists. “You said this is the last thing that needs to be done!”

“No,” he said calmly. “I said that this should be the last time that you need to bother me. Big difference.” He turned around to look at her. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. It’s nothing hard.”

“You lied to me! How do I know that this ‘one last thing’ really is the last thing?”

“You would know for sure once you stop throwing a hissy fit and let me tell you for starters,” he said with no small hint of agitation in his voice. “Besides, it’s not as if you magically wouldn’t have to do this if I never brought it up.”

“Maybe not, but it still would’ve been nice to know.”

“And do what? You can’t do these steps out of order. Instead of complaining about it, just trust that I am doing right by you, would you? I haven’t told you anything that you didn’t need to know and haven’t had you retrieve anything I didn’t need.”

Thrúd crossed her arms. “Fine. Whatever. What else will I need to do?”

Before the dwarf could answer, the fire in the kiln grew brighter. The needle on the display Sindri had just checked adjusted itself accordingly.

“I’ll tell you in a second. For right now,” he held out his hand. “The hammer, please.”

Thrúd handed him Mjolnir and watched as he made his way over to one of the worktables he had set up. He set Mjolnir on top of it and the whetstone next to it before grabbing a small knife from the bench. He scraped the blade of the knife along the whetstone in the similar fashion that Grámtrist did to enchant his sword. The blade glowed white in response.

“If that thing is as powerful as your story made it seem, shouldn’t you, I don’t know, wear gloves or something?” Thrúd wondered aloud.

“You mean like how you handled it with gloves on the way over here?”

Thrúd examined her gloveless hands. “Good point.”

With a roll of his eyes, Sindri resumed his work. He held up the hammer and examined its intricate markings and lines, noting the lack of them on both faces of the hammer.

Setting the hammer down with one of the faces facing upward, Sindri produced a mallet and held the tip of the now-enchanted knife over it. As lightly and delicately as he could, Sindri tapped the handle of the knife and engraved more markings on it like a chisel. As he tapped away, the knife would lose its magical oomph every so often, prompting him to scrape it along the whetstone again before resuming his work.

He did so to both sides. It was a time-consuming process, but Thrúd didn’t question his methods.

With one last tap, Sindri set down both the mallet and knife to hold up Mjolnir, ensuring he marked it correctly. He blew into the new lines, blowing out the shavings and crumbs his chiseling produced. The markings glowed with a barely noticeable white light, almost as if the new magic that was introduced to it was trying to escape.

Sindri set down the hammer and put on a set of leather gloves that reached all the way to his elbows. He lifted the hammer by its handle and brought it over to the kiln. Sindri opened the main door and squinted as the heat was released. Thrúd held her arms up to shield herself from the heat as well.

With one gloved hand, he reached inside and pulled out a shelf. He set Mjolnir down on its side so that both faces were exposed to the heat before sliding it back inside and shutting the door behind it.

The dwarf dusted off his hands but didn’t take off the gloves just yet. He didn’t say a word as he looked into the flames.

“So, what? You’re just cooking it?” Thrúd couldn’t help but ask.

Sindri sighed. “If that’s what will help you wrap your head around the process, then yes. I’m cooking your hammer. Now, you see that lever that I was using before?” He pointed over to the side of the device. After Thrúd nodded, he continued. “On my mark, give it a flip.”

Thrúd made her way over to the lever, by which time Sindri had occupied himself turning dials and flipping switches as if he had completely forgotten Thrúd was present. Gripping it in preparation, Thrúd tensed her muscles to be able to flip it at the moment Sindri gave her the word.

After fiddling with more knobs, Sindri stood back and watched the fire through the grated door; an artist watching his magnum opus come to life before him.

“So, what is it you’re waiting for?” Thrúd didn’t even finish asking the question before Sindri held a gloved hand up to silence her.

“No conversation, please,” he requested not unkindly. “The timing of this needs to be exact. I can’t focus on this and you at once.”

Normally, Thrúd would have snapped back at the prospect of being talked back and down to. But considering the importance of this procedure and the impact it could have on her father’s legacy, she found it best not to argue.

The fire grew brighter. Then brighter. Then even brighter still. Thrúd squinted in confusion, wondering how only a kiln-full of flame could produce that much light, even with the aid of some mystical coal.

She blinked in surprise when she realized it wasn’t only the flames generating the light.

A white glow was emanating from the hammer. A small, almost pathetic pulse that grew into a constant shine that rivaled one thousand lit candles in a single room as it reacted to the heat. Sindri reached up and nonchalantly slid down a set of goggles Thrúd hadn’t realized he was wearing.

Sindri raised his hand slowly in Thrúd’s direction to keep her attention, though she was only barely able to see it through the light.

“Some goggles for myself would’ve been nice,” Thrúd groused.

Without looking at her, Sindri said, “Then don’t look at my hand, just listen for my signal.”

“Then what the fuck is the point of your arm motion for?!”

“Shut the fuck up and just listen!”

With an annoyed grunt, Thrúd did as she was told. She squinted even more as the light shone brighter and brighter still. It felt strange to her to be the partial cause of this unnatural light-related phenomenon in a realm that seemed to generate its own light from an unseen source. She could only wonder what the lindwyrms were thinking as they saw beams of light radiating off Yggdrasil’s branches.

“Almost there!” Sindri shouted despite not needing to. The required precise timing that drew his focus was raising his adrenaline, exciting him to see what the results would yield. “Ready . . .” he trailed off, raising his arm higher before swinging it downward. “Now!”

Thrúd flipped the lever as hard as she could.

Almost immediately, the light began to dissipate. The beams of light escaping from the grates shrank and receded back inside the kiln until the only source of light was the fire inside the device. A few moments later, the flames died out as Sindri twisted more knobs.

No longer able to contain her curiosity, Thrúd abandoned her post at the lever and walked next to Sindri. The dwarf shooed the curious goddess behind him as he gripped the door’s handle and opened it up. Excess heat rushed out and kissed their cheeks as it rose into the air. Once it was safe enough to open her eyes again, Thrúd did so and gawked at the sight.

The light that seemed to be trapped inside of the hammer after Sindri carved the new markings on it was finally free. White light shone from each elegantly curved line with an image so thick, Thrúd almost thought she could reach out and touch it.

Sindri reached a gloved hand inside and gripped the handle. He held it for a brief moment and twirled it in his hand, allowing the glowing patterns to shine on the nearby walls and surfaces before setting it on the table.

Raising his goggles, he grabbed a ball peen hammer from his bench and tapped Mjolnir. In response, Mjolnir glowed brighter for a millisecond before the shining light crept back to the hammer. No longer did the light protrude from the weapon, but the decorative lines still glowed as if electricity was constantly moving inside of it.

Sindri set the ball peen hammer down and removed his gloves. Without looking at Thrúd, he said, “Don’t touch it for about five minutes.”

Thrúd shook her head. “No worries there.”

As Sindri walked away to sort his tools and bring them back inside, Thrúd leaned against the table with both hands, looking at Mjolnir with the same longing as a child who was told to wait before digging into a cake.

Deeming it safe enough to approach, Hugin flapped his wings and flew over to the table. He scanned the hammer with his curious eyes, hopping around the table to get a better look at it. Satisfied, he looked up at Thrúd.

“So, he did it, huh?” His voice appeared in her head.

“Uh huh,” Thrúd said with her jaw hung open. She didn’t even realize her hand was reaching for the searing hot handle before Hugin pecked at it in warning. Flinching back, Thrúd held her hand and rubbed the sore spot. “Thanks. Got a little excited.”

“I can see that. So, now what do we do?”

Thrúd shrugged. “I’m not sure. Evidently, I’ve still got at least one more chore to take care of for his royal majesty that he neglected to tell me about.”

“For starters,” Sindri interrupted as he gathered more tools into his arms, “I didn’t neglect to tell you. Because this procedure wasn’t done yet, there was simply no point in bringing it up. Secondly,” he continued, “the ‘chore’ you speak of is not for my sake. It’s for the hammer’s. Like I said, after this, we’re done.”

“What,” Thrúd laughed, “and give up your cherished friendship?” He shot her a look. “Sorry. Anyway, what’s left? What do I have to do now? Steal a dragon’s tooth?”

He ignored the sarcastic question. “It’s nothing difficult, so don’t worry your pretty little head about that.” He circled around the table, picking up more tools. “You have to take it to Alfheim and hold it inside the light.”

“The light of Alfheim?”

“The one and only,” he confirmed. “There’s a catch, though.”

“Of course there is.”

He ignored that as well. “You must hold it inside the light for no longer and no less than thirteen seconds. I repeat: thirteen seconds exactly,” the dwarf stressed.

Thrúd was visibly confused. “Why thirteen seconds exactly? That’s an oddly specific number.”

Sindri opened his mouth in faux shock. “Are you telling me that units of measurement when it comes to smithing needs to be,” he gulped for added effect, “precise?”

“Are you ever not a bitch?”

“Ok then. That’s fine. Put it in there for longer. See what happens. It’s not my family legacy I’m trying to protect, after all.” He turned his back to her and began carrying his tools to his house.

Thrúd let out a frustrated breath. “I’m sorry,” she called out. “I guess I’m just a little-“

“Impatient?” Sindri kindly finished for her, stopping in his tracks and turning around to face her. “I understand the frustrations of these tasks and the seemingly endless nature of it all, but need I remind you that I’ve been doing this for an exceedingly long time and know a thing or two about this? I didn’t have to help you at all, you know.”

Thrúd nodded. “I know, I know.” She sighed again. “So, what were you saying?”

“Thirteen seconds is the exact amount of time it will take for the light of Alfheim to make the effects of my work on Mjolnir permanent.”

Thrúd blinked. “Permanent?” She glanced down at the still glowing hammer. “You mean it’s not already?”

“I’m afraid not. Because of the nature of the enchanted whetstones, you can only get one use of their enchantments before having to replenish it again, as you’ve seen already on your own adventures. My process here was no different. Mjolnir is now enchanted with the whetstone’s power and it has been amplified by the flames blessed by the coal, but should you use it before putting it into the light, the enchantment will be lost.”

After hearing his explanation, Thrúd shrugged. “Well, if I use it accidentally, I can always just come back here for another touch-up, right? You still have the whetstone, you could just do it again! I know you’d love for me to pop in again for a surprise visit. Admit it, you’d miss me,” she joked, but her smile faded when she saw Sindri’s face displayed zero humor.

“I’m afraid that won’t work.” He tapped a spot on the table next to Mjolnir. “These markings I made? They’re only good for a one-time use. There’s no more room on the hammer for any more. You only have one chance to get this right, Thrúd.”

And just like that, Thrúd’s hopes dwindled a significant amount.

With the finish line in plain sight and her goal so close to being achieved, she was blind to the possibility of any other obstacle that could be thrown in her path. Her first instinct was to lash out; to criticize Sindri’s work and question why he had failed to mention this before.

She wisely suppressed those instincts and did her best to calm her nerves with a steadying breath. “So, no pressure, huh?”

“It may not be as harrowing as it sounds,” Sindri did his best to reassure her. “So long as you remain focused and don’t lose count, nothing will go wrong. Why does it have to be thirteen seconds precisely?” He shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you. All I know is that any less, and the light and magic won’t meld properly, and the enchantment will fade to oblivion. Too much, and it will set off a chain reaction inside Mjolnir itself, making it too unstable to safely use.”

“So, I either lose the enchantment or destroy the hammer altogether,” she mused over her options, eyeing the hammer as if it might move on its own. “Not big on either of those.” Thrúd let out an ironic laugh. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to do this for me?”

Thrúd didn’t even have to look at him to know his head was tilted as if to ask ‘really?’

“Kidding,” she reassured. “So . . . why?”

Sindri let a breath out of his nose. “I told you, I don’t know why it has to be thirteen seconds. That’s just the way it-“

Thrúd waved off his irritation. “No, no, not that.” He was silenced. “Why did you help me?” She finally asked. “You said so yourself. You didn’t need to.”

Suddenly, the dwarf looked conflicted. Almost as if he was questioning whether or not he should answer honestly. After a few moments of silent consideration, he finally relented. “To be honest, the stakes of my involvement were pretty low.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that I never expected you to make it this far,” he flat out said. “Everything I told you about how to improve Mjolnir’s integrity was the truth, but I never thought you’d actually survive. I mean, there you were,” he gestured broadly at her, “this daring, inexperienced young warrior with so much to prove that you were willing to throw yourself headlong into danger without a second thought if it meant you got to use your daddy’s hammer.”

He paused again. “I figured you’d die trying to get the ingredients I needed. Then you and the hammer wouldn’t be my problem anymore.”

Thrúd was stunned to silence. Anger bubbled inside her gut and threatened to erupt with the same volcanic force of Muspelheim itself. Her instincts almost kicked in again, telling her to take up Mjolnir and cave in the dwarf’s skull. Two things stopped her from doing that:

The first was the thought that Mjolnir was still more than likely blisteringly hot to the touch.

Secondly, so many other details began to fall into place with the same accuracy and clarity of a puzzle whose image was fuzzy until right now.

“You were trying to let me get Mjolnir destroyed for you,” she said. “Just like the other weapons that you created,” she continued as she remembered her first encounter with the blacksmith. The image of him nonchalantly tossing his and his brother’s weapons over the edge of his property and into the void of the realm between realms still clear in her mind’s eye.

“That’s what you’ve been doing since Ragnarok, isn’t it?” She asked. “Tracking down your old weapons so that no one could use them anymore.”

“And if you were lying dead in some realm out there with Mjolnir defenseless, Grámtrist would’ve eventually found his way to it and destroy it. One less thing to worry about.”

Every fiber of her existence was telling her to be angry; to scream and shout and throw his body over the edge with extreme prejudice. She’s not sure if she would have followed through with that idea if he hadn’t kept talking.

“But then you kept coming back.”

Thrúd blinked in surprise.

“Like an annoying dog I kept throwing a stick for to keep distracted, you kept coming back.”

“Rude.”

“You kept coming back, and each time, I saw less and less of a selfish little girl with a death wish. Suddenly, I was helping someone who was trying to help the realms again.” His eyes became glassy, he dropped the tools on the table and rested his hands on top of them. “During which time I’d go out and find more of mine and my brother’s handiwork to toss into the,” he waved at the edge noncommittally, “abyss, whatever you want to call it. Ratatoskr, however, took it upon himself to retrieve them rather than let them lie,” he added with annoyance. “So, smelting them it is.”

Thrúd still didn’t understand something. “But why?”

Sindri sucked in another breath, this one looked as if it pained him to draw in. “The Huldra name, like the case with all most dwarves, has been abused for too long by the Aesir. Any good intention that Brok and I had when we started our careers are all but forgotten in the ocean of despair created by Odin. The realms are better off without the Huldra name,” he stared intently at the edge of his home. “Permanently.”

She could see it in his eyes. He meant every word. She wasn’t sure if she was going to have to restrain him lest he take off running right now.

Not that she could do anything about it. For starters, he’s proven time and time again that he can simply maneuver himself out of her grasp by stepping between the realms. Secondly, it wasn’t her place to stand between Sindri and what he wants to do with himself.

All she could hope to do was change his mind.

After exchanging glances from Sindri to the edge of his property a few times, she casually placed her hands on her hips. “That’d be a pretty anticlimactic end for the dwarf who killed Odin.”

Sindri looked at her in surprise. Thrúd thought for a moment he would inquire how she got that information, but decided shortly after that he didn’t care. He shrugged off the comment. “That was Atreus. I simply finished the job.”

“All the same,” Thrúd said. “Instead of taking the easy way out, have you ever considered that maybe you could use your skills to, like, help people instead?”

“They don’t want my help.”

“That’s horseshit. And you know it.” She leaned her arms on the table so she was eye level with the blacksmith. “Your friends miss you. They’re worried about you and want to know you’re alright.”

Sindri made it a point to avoid her gaze. “They can keep on worrying for all I care.”

“You don’t mean that.” She leaned in closer. “You were just saying how helping me gave you some purpose again. Do you really want to throw that feeling away after you just got it back?”

“You know what they say,” he met her gaze for a brief moment. “Best to go out on a high note.”

Defeated, Thrúd let out a breath and hung her head low, conceding to the fact that Sindri didn’t want to be saved. She chewed on her lip and stood upright once again.

“Alright,” she started. “Whatever. Do what you want. Just like you, I don’t care anymore.” Reaching inside her pockets, Thrúd produced the travel stone and slammed it on the table like an empty shot glass. “I won’t bother you anymore.”

She grabbed Mjolnir’s handle and placed the still-glowing weapon at her hip. Thrúd had forgotten about the extreme temperature it was just exposed to only a short while ago, but the heat had died down enough for her to touch without being harmed.

Thrúd marched away from the table and over to the pile of rocks that forms the portal to the branches of the world tree itself. Hugin cawed and flew over to her shoulder.

“Just know this though,” Thrúd began again, desperation bubbling its way up to the surface. “There’s a project going on in Midgard. A big one. Something that will solidify the end of Odin’s reign and start a new chapter for the realms. I don’t know if it will be one full of peace or some shit like that, but I certainly hope so. They’re building the future, and they want you to be part of it.” He still refused to look her way. “They’ve got a solid team with them already, but they could still use the help of a legendary blacksmith.”

He still didn’t respond.

“Just . . .” her shoulders slumped. “Thanks for your help with Mjolnir. No matter how this turns out, I’ll never forget it.”

She couldn’t be sure, but she could have sworn she saw him nod.

With a whisper to the raven on her shoulder, Thrúd was whisked away in the usual flurry of feathers, leaving the blacksmith alone with one last choice to make.

Chapter Text

Like all the other realms before, Thrúd had heard lots of Alfheim while living in Asgard. She learned about their emphasis on art and architecture and unwillingness to share the light that resided in their own realm; a thought that seemed silly at first until she remembered that she herself came from a family who kept valuable resources to themselves.

With the constant squawking dying down, Thrúd had expected to feel the solid stone or marble floors of one of their illustrious temples under her feet but was instead greeted with the unsteady shifting of sand.

The last of the ravens vanished and she found herself inside a canyon. Nighttime had blanketed this side of the realm, but she was able to tell that the walks surrounding her were narrow, forming a natural hallway.

But above all else, she noticed a distinct lack of the light of Alfheim.

Hugin swooped in front of her face before clumsily steadying himself on the sand, a set of glowing eyes looking up at her.

Thrúd squinted in confusion. “Where are we?”

“Alfheim. Like you wanted.”

“Well, yeah,” she huffed. “But I kind of meant somewhere close to the light of Alfheim? You know, like Sindri said?” Her shoulders slumped. “I swear, if this is another prank of yours, I’m going to-“

“No pranks. Nothing of the sort.” The bird’s voice assured her. “Do you know much about the people who dwell in this realm?”

Thrúd thought for a moment. “I know that the Elves don’t get a long all that well.”

“A bigger understatement has never been said. Even by your father.” Thrúd was about to argue that comment, but she knew it to be true. “These people are at war. Have been for longer than nearly anyone can remember. Their battlegrounds are anywhere and everywhere in this place.”

“Thanks for the history lesson, but what does that have to do with anything?”

Hugin flapped his wings and propped himself on top of her shoulder. “There’s a chance that they could be fighting in the temple where the light is right now. You’d never be able to focus long enough to put the hammer inside for as long as you need to without defending yourself.”

Thrúd looked down at the hammer on her hip, still glowing from its appointment with Sindri. His instructions to her rang in her ear on how crucial it is to not use it offensively until the remainder of the process is complete.

“I’ll go scope the place out,” Hugin continued, “make sure that the coast is clear before we head over.”

The goddess blinked in surprise. “Wow. That’s actually really thoughtful of you.”

Hugin twitched his head. “Don’t sound so surprised. I’m nothing if not completely chivalrous. Even Odin himself was stunned by my-“

Before he could finish his boast, Thrúd shrugged him off her shoulder. He squawked in protest as his wings flapped to right himself in midair.

“Just get to it, would you?” Thrúd demanded, any sign of her originally gratitude all but gone. “And be quick about it.” She added with a slightly paranoid peek in both directions.

Not needing to be told who she was on alert for, Hugin did as he was told. Before she knew it, Hugin’s black-feathered body vanished into the night, his glowing eyes joining the stars. Once she was alone, Thrúd shook her head. “Fucking bird.”

“But it sure is nice to see that you two seem to make a good team!”

Thrúd nearly jumped at the unexpected voice. Turning so fast that her hair whipped around to the other side of her face, Thrúd instinctively hoisted Mjolnir over her head in a battle-ready stance, the instruction to not use it completely forgotten.

Behind her, she found a man-made platform that seemed to be half the size of the mead hall that her father frequented. Tucked behind a small rock formation was a workshop fit for a blacksmith; complete with tables, benches, and a wide assortment of tools hanging from inside the kiosk. The owner of this site waddled from one end of it to another, her hands filled with a hammer and a cluster of spikes.

Thrúd let out a breath of relief as she lowered her weapon. She stepped up onto the platform and walked over to the workstation. “We tolerate each other is all,” she corrected Lúnda. “But yeah, he does come in handy sometimes.”

Lúnda set her load down. “Nah, I don’t believe that for a moment, lil lady!” She laughed. “You like that lil birdy’s company. I can see it in yer eyes.”

Not wanting to argue the matter any further, Thrúd changed the subject. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be helping with the Týr statue in Midgard?”

“Skjoldr gave everybody the day off. We’re ahead of schedule on that thing, so he decided to treat us.” Lúnda plopped her gloved hands down on her table, shaking her head affectionately. “That kid sure is somethin’ else. I’ve got a good feelin’ about him!”

Thrúd let out an amused snort. “What I really meant was,” she gestured to the work area, “do you really need another one of these? You’ve gotta be running a monopoly on the smithing business by now.”

At this, Lúnda let out a shrug. “What can I say? My customers love convenience.” Suddenly, her one good eye fell, her face losing its usual cheerfulness. “And, uh, this station weren’t originally mine. It was Sindri’s. Feels wrong to let it just gather sand while he’s dealin’ with everything.” She cleared her throat. “Speakin’ of, how is he? Didja go see him again like you said?”

“Yeah,” Thrúd said after a beat of silence. “I did.” She turned her back to the dwarf and leaned back against the table, holding herself up with both hands on her sides. Thrúd remained silent for a few moments more, trying her best to find the words to describe how Lúnda’s friend was currently handling his loneliness. “He’s, er . . . he’s struggling.”

Lúnda’s mouth pressed itself into a firm line as she nodded in understanding.

“I told him about the project over in Midgard. Said there was room for more help if he was interested,” Thrúd added, hoping against hope that that bit of information would relieve the dwarf of some of her sorrow. She wasn’t surprised when it didn’t.

“That’s about all I coulda hoped for,” Lúnda said. “Listen,” she began, “I know you weren’t lookin’ to be all buddy buddy with Sindri when you went out to find him, but . . . thank you for at least bein’ there for him. A distraction from all this is what he needed to keep his head on straight, and I’m glad you provided it.”

“I mean, I didn’t find him so I could be there for him,” Thrúd admitted. “I just happened to need his help.”

“Being needed can do wonders for somebody who thinks they have no place to go. I don’t know what kinds of mischief you two got into at his home-“

Thrúd felt it best not to mention how she destroyed his door, how he dropped her into a pit, or how he sent her on a bunch of life-threatening missions in the hopes of getting her killed.

“-but whatever it was, I’m sure that deep down, he appreciated the company.”

At this, Thrúd let out a humorless laugh. “Don’t expect him to say that anytime soon.”

Lúnda shook her head. “He’ll say it when he’s good and ready.”

If we ever see him again at all, Thrúd couldn’t help but think to herself.

“But, anyways,” Lúnda said, changing the subject, “what brings ya out and about in the Alfheim desert, lil lady? Off on another adventure?”

Thrúd shrugged and held a hand over Mjolnir. “You could say that. I have one more thing I need to di before Mjolnir is fully ready.” Lúnda leaned against the table in rapt attention. “Sindri told me that now I have to hold it inside the light of Alfheim for thirteen seconds in order for his work to become permanent.”

“The light of Alfheim?” Lúnda repeated, leaning away in shock. For a moment, she looked ready to give Thrúd her own advice on how to handle the upcoming situation. But after reminding herself that Thrúd was in possession of her father’s hammer, her demeanor calmed itself again.

“Well, it sure is a good thing that you got that hammer with ya to fend off those Elves. They’ve been at each other’s throats in that temple over there since Ragnarok ended.”

Lúnda hadn’t expected this bit of news to deflate Thrúd’s motivation, but it did. The young goddess let out a long, almost pained breath as her shoulders slumped. “Great,” she snapped.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Lúnda said, “Well it shouldn’t be a big deal, should it? You oughta be able to make quick work over there if you use-“

“If I use the hammer for offense prematurely, Sindri’s work on it will become useless. And he was very clear about it being impossible to replicate.”

“Oh,” Lúnda acknowledged. “Well, that ain’t the best spot to be in.”

“No. It’s not,” Thrúd agreed. “But Hugin went off to the temple to see if the coast was clear. He’ll be back once they’re done killing each other over there.”

“Well, there ya go!” Lúnda chirped brightly. “I told you that you two make a good team!”

“And I told you that he has his uses. Occasionally.”

Ignoring the jab, Lúnda wondered, “So, whatcha gonna do until he comes back?”

Thrúd blinked, not having considered the idea yet.

She can’t train with Mjolnir. Any accidental motion could result in Sindri’s work disappearing forever. Exploring was also out of the question. She couldn’t run the risk of Hugin returning to find that she’d wandered off and waste more time trying to find her. Or worse yet, risk running into Grámtrist and have no way to defend herself against his attacks.

“I, uh, I guess . . .” she trailed off. “I guess I just have to stay put until he gets back.”

Lúnda nodded in understanding. “Well unfortunately, I can’t stay here for much longer to keep you company. Got other locations that my customers like to visit. But,” she walked over to her workshop and reemerged with a stool, “feel free to take this or whatever else ya think you’ll need to make yourself comfortable until he’s back. Got some spare wood in here too if you get cold and need to start a fire.”

Thrúd smiled at the dwarf’s good will and generosity. She reached over the table and grabbed the stool from her stubby arms. “Thanks, Lúnda,” she said, “but this should do just fine.”

With a salute, the dwarf vanished from sight, off to assist her other clients. Maybe Kratos or Freya, Thrúd thought.

Stool in hand, Thrúd turned around and walked back to where Hugin had dropped her off. She set the stool down and sat herself on top of it, letting out a large breath as she did. With nothing left to do, Thrúd propped her elbows on her knees and waited.

And kept waiting.

Then she waited some more.

Before long, just like her time in Muspelheim as she waited for her opponent to arrive, she lost track of time as she waited. The reminder of her adversary made her on edge. She sat upright and twisted her head in all directions, making sure that Grámtrist was nowhere near her.

She only slightly relaxed when she didn’t find him.

What made her more on edge was the lack of an annoying raven chattering in her ear.

Even more time went by and before long, Thrúd found herself getting another stool from inside Lúnda’s workshop and setting it across from her first one. A seat for Mjolnir. She set the weapon down on top of it and sit herself down on her original seat, leaning even farther forward and studying it as if she were first laying eyes on it for the very first time.

And in a way, she was.

The light emanating from the hammer still hadn’t died down despite the amount of time that had passed since Sindri’s work on it. The new markings and symbols that swirled across its faces almost made it a completely new product. Not unrecognizable, but different nonetheless.

No other person had so much as laid a finger on it since its conception who-knows-how-long ago until Sindri mere hours ago. What would her dad think of her allowing him to tinker with it? To potentially tarnish its legacy after barely any time had passed since she began to wield it herself?

She shook her head of those thoughts, doing her best to convince herself that this was the only course of action in order to reach her goal of both solidifying her father’s legacy and helping people realize he was more than a fat, drunk murderer.

For that to happen, she needed Mjolnir safe. For it to be safe, she needs to take it to the Light of Alfheim. Simple as that.

And before she could get to the Light of Alfheim, Hugin needed to return and inform her that the coast is clear; a task that more than likely didn’t need to take nearly as long as it was.

She understood that the realm was at war and that battles could sometimes take days until the ending was sighted, but something felt off about Hugin’s absence. Even if the Elves were still fighting, Hugin would have returned by now to let her know.

The urge to leave by herself grew until she fidgeted in her seat. She did her best to fight it and remain where she was, but more thoughts intruded.

What if something happened to him?

Could he really just be waiting somewhere unnoticed by the Elves until the heat dies down?

What if Grámtrist finds me in the meantime?

That last thought sealed the deal.

There was no way she was going to remain here in the open with Mjolnir more vulnerable to destruction than ever before. Thrúd formed a crudely constructed plan before she even rose to her feet:

Put Mjolnir in the Light, find Hugin, let Grámtrist find me again so I can kick his ass properly.

During her pondering session, she found that her fingers had entwined themselves and were providing a resting spot for her chin. She dropped her hands and looked at Mjolnir still sitting across from her, now more determined than ever to see her mission through to the end.

“I’ll make you proud, dad,” she said to herself before she finally rose to her feet. Thrúd lifted Mjolnir off of its stool and hoisted it high overhead, summoning a grand display of lightning and sparks around her body. “RRRRAAAAAGGH!” She screamed as loud as she could muster before allowing the power of Mjolnir to propel her sky high, leaving a singed mark in the sand below her.

Mjolnir still raised over her head, Thrúd came to a stop once she was high enough to see the majority of the Alfheim desert, just as she had in Vanaheim. Without Hugin, she had no way of knowing where exactly this Light of Alfheim was held, so she decided the best course of action was to gain as much altitude as possible to make her best educated guess.

After all, if this Light was so important that it divided the Elves to the brink of all-out war, it should be pretty easy to spot. Her theory was proven correct as she twisted her body around in the air and found an impossibly long, elegant ribbon of light coming out of the roof of an ornate temple and stretching into the stars.

Aiming Mjolnir at the roof of the temple, Thrúd soared downward at breakneck speeds until she burst through the roof, disregarding how long it took construct this ornate architecture as she did so. She found herself in a large chamber with the Light going all the way to the bottom, too deep for Thrúd to see. Circular platforms were constructed around the light at different levels with multiple walkways spiderwebbing in all directions stretching out of the donut-like platforms.

She got her feet underneath her in time to land on one knee, the lightning fizzling out a few moments after. Rising to both feet, Thrúd raised Mjolnir with both hands, prepared to risk the safety of the hammer to fend off the horde of feuding Elves.

The barren emptiness of the entire chamber only just processed inside her head before she was able to let out another war cry.

Thrúd had expected to find fancy art and architecture inside due to the realm’s reputation, but she had also expected to find the Elves tearing each other’s throats out of their bodies. If there was a battle going on, then that would at least explain Hugin’s absence.

But if he wasn’t here, then where was he?

She looked in all directions, only mildly put off by the ethereal hum of the Light of Alfheim being the only sound that she could hear. “Hugin?” She called out. “Are you here?”

This was probably the only time she was hoping to hear his annoying voice inside her head and chastise her for her lack of patience and recklessness at bringing Mjolnir into a potential battlefield while it was still vulnerable.

He would have been absolutely correct on both accounts, but Thrúd was too worried about him to care.

“Hellooooooo?” She let her voice ring out one last time before she set her eyes fully on the Light coming out of the floor she stood on. It must have been at least twenty feet in diameter and, from her point of view, infinitely tall. And maybe it was.

Shaking her head, Thrúd determined that she could marvel at it later. Despite her growing worry of Hugin’s whereabouts, she logically knew that she could look for him after she put Mjolnir inside the light. Pushing aside her worries, Thrúd walked over to the Light. Before she knew it, it she was right before it.

Being this close to it, the Light almost seemed like a tangible object. The hum got progressively louder and denser the closer she got to it, giving her the uncomfortable inclination that it was a living thing.

Thrúd resisted the urge to reach out and touch it with her bare hands. She was far from a professional on it, but she was willing to bet the results wouldn’t be ideal.

Instead, Thrúd decided that it would be best to get what she needed. Thrúd looked side to side, ensuring that she was alone. Determining that she was, she let out a long breath. “Alright,” she said to herself. “Thirteen seconds. Here we go.”

Mjolnir, still glowing on its own, was plunged into the Light.

Thrúd cried out in alarm as the Light seemingly tried to push the hammer out as if it was made of some kind of elastic. Keeping both hands firmly on the handle, Thrúd kept the hammer submerged inside and she began to count.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

A large set of hands wrapped around her wrists, holding them in place. An equally large hand held onto her shoulder, preventing her from moving at all.

Thrúd let out an alarmed shriek as she attempted to shake herself loose from the assailant, but their grip was too powerful.

“I suppose I really should thank you,” Grámtrist’s tinny voice cooed in her ear. “You have ensured that Embla’s journey to the Light will be as short as possible. Soon, she’ll finally be free.”

Chapter Text

Panic seized her with nearly the same amount of strength as the hands that held her in place. With every jolt or wiggle that she could muster, Grámtrist’s grip only tightened. Thrúd couldn’t help the small cries of pain that escaped her as she struggled on two fronts: one to release herself from the traveler’s clutches, and the other to free Mjolnir from the Light in time.

From the moment he snuck up on her, Thrúd had lost count. With her wits scrambled and fear rising, she diverted all effort, both mental and physical, into getting out of his grip before it was too late.

Of course, Grámtrist made that far easier said than done.

“Just let go, child,” he said. “This will all be over if you just let go!”

Thrúd grunted and grit her teeth in effort, digging both heels into the ground and jerking her body left and right to loosen his grip. Several things were going on in her mind right now, but she could only find herself focusing on one in particular:

Her thirteen seconds were up.

From inside the Light, she could feel Mjolnir become overwhelmed by it. The handle began to vibrate with such force, her hands themselves were becoming a blur, almost forcing her into letting go.

“Embla is almost free now! There is no use in resisting! You can let go!”

This only motivated her to tighten her grip.

From the outside, thunder was heard rolling across the skies. Flashes of lightning were visible through the hole in the ceiling she had created on her way inside. For a moment, Thrúd only thought that she had imagined those natural occurrences, mistaking them for the blood rushing by her ears. But those thoughts were put to rest once a bolt as big as the two that were forever frozen in Midgard and Vanaheim burst through the ceiling and struck the floor.

Grámtrist flinched in surprise, giving Thrúd the window she needed. Her grip now even tighter, Thrúd dug her feet into the floor and leaned back as hard as she could, going against both Grámtrist’s hold on her and the pull of the Light.

“Back . . .” she breathed out with her eyes squinted shut from the effort. “OFF!”

Another bolt of lightning struck the ground between them, jarring the traveler’s grip loose and giving Thrúd enough wiggle room to shove her shoulder into his midsection, yanking Mjolnir free in the process. Charred chunks of the ceiling rained down around them from where the lightning crashed through.

Both goddess and traveler stumbled in separate directions until they both lost their footing and fell to the ground, smoke rising from both of their bodies. Thrúd landed facedown, her head ringing from having struck her forehead against the hard floor. She did her best to ignore it as she held herself up in a prone position, looking for Mjolnir.

She found it a few feet in front of her, having clattered to the floor in her haste to free herself. Crawling over toward it to close the distance between them, Thrúd gripped the handle and held it close to her face, assessing whatever damage she could find.

To the untrained eye, it appeared fine. On a cosmetic level, there were no new blemishes or marks, save for the new ones etched in by Sindri. It still glowed perpetually, but other than that, it appeared structurally sound.

But Thrúd knew better.

Throughout her adventures with the hammer, she had gotten accustomed to its presence and mannerisms. She could feel the inside of the hammer almost as well as she could feel the inside of her own clothes, and everything about it felt wrong. From its center, she could feel constant, uneven spinning, like a gyroscope with an uneven axis.

An unseen war was going on inside the hammer, and if what Sindri had said has any truth to it, then it would soon tear it apart.

So many thoughts were going through her head the longer she looked at the weapon, and each thought was accompanied with its own emotion. Each one greeted her faster than she could process and leaving her even faster still. But one thing was at the forefront of her mind that she couldn’t possibly ignore:

I failed.

Off to her side, she saw Grámtrist struggle to his feet, using his sword as a crutch as he rose to his full height.

“This could have been avoided,” he said as if he were chastising a child. “This anger you feel, and the sense of failure that will meet you soon.”

He was right about one thing. She was angry.

“Had you given Embla to me in the mines of Svartalfheim, your journey wouldn’t have had to take place. It was foolish to get your hopes up, thinking that you could save it.” He rummaged through the sack hanging at his side and pulled out a large black lump. “And even more foolish to bring others into your journey.”

Grámtrist lazily tossed the stiff body of Hugin over to Thrúd. He hit the floor and rolled to a stop close to her side.

Her eyes widened in alarm, but she relaxed only an increment when she saw that he was breathing, albeit uneven and labored. Hugin twisted his head to look at her, though his eyes were only partially open. Any small movement aggravated an unseen injury, but it was clear that his right wing was bent unnaturally.

Thrúd looked up at Grámtrist, his sword held at his side patiently. “You hurt Hugin? Just to lure me here?” She was surprised she could get two full sentences out as she seethed in fury.

“Like I said,” Grámtrist continued, “it was foolish to involve him in the first place.”

The raven tried to squawk and speak to her, but Thrúd shook her head. “Just relax, Hugin,” she insisted, rising to her knees and gathering the bird in her arms. “I’ll . . . I’ll- er, shit, what can I do?” She muttered to herself, but it was unfortunately loud enough for Grámtrist to hear.

“You can give the hammer to me and end this chase. The bird will live, I made sure of that much.” He added as if it were a genuine act of kindness that Thrúd should be thankful for.

More thunder cracked outside the temple. For a moment, Thrúd nearly forgot that she was holding the body of her partner in crime. He let out a chirp of protest as her grip tightened in outrage. With a quick apology, Thrúd set him back down, careful not to agitate his injuries anymore than they already are.

Thrúd rose all the way to her feet and picked up the hammer. She could still sense the unsteadiness inside of it, but ignored it. Instead, she pointed it right at the traveler, lightning crackling and flashing off of it for added effect.

“If Mjolnir is truly not long for this world,” she bit out, “then I’m going to make sure that its last act is caving in your miserable fucking skull.”

“If you’re not giving up the hammer,” he raised his sword and gripped the handle with both hands, “then you’re not long for this world either.”

A louder crack of thunder rolled across the realm.

Thrúd peeked behind her, looking down at Hugin. The raven struggled, but managed to rise to his feet, shaking his head to fend off the weariness and fatigue.

“You gonna be ok?” Thrúd asked him.

“Odin put me and Munin through worse whenever he had a bad day. But having god-like healing abilities does come in handy at times like these,” he admitted.

Thrúd snorted. “I bet. Get somewhere safe, alright?”

Hugin shook his head, ignoring her command. “I helped you find that hammer,” he reminded her. “Someone’s gotta make sure you won’t get it destroyed.”

Before she could ask how he planned on doing so without getting himself caught in the crossfire, Hugin flapped his one good wing and hopped toward her. Suddenly, a black stream of magic wove its way around her body before settling around her shoulder.

Just like how he did with the All-Father, Hugin fit himself on her body in the form of swirling black tattoos, crisscrossing and melding with her preexisting ones that adorned her arm.

“Huh,” Thrúd breathed out, appreciating her new addition. “You gonna be ok there?”

“So long as you don’t get yourself killed, we’ll both be fine,” his voice echoed in her head like normal. “Now kick his ass already.”

Thrúd twirled the still uneven hammer in her grip. “Gladly.”

As the two of them spoke, Grámtrist performed his usual pre-battle ritual. He paced slowly back and forth, eyes scanning his environment and the threat that his opponent possessed. Due to Mjolnir’s compromised structural integrity and Thrúd’s mind in a whirlwind of panic and fury, he deemed the threat minimal. He only paced a few times before drawing his sword and squatting into a battle-ready stance.

What he couldn’t tell was that Thrúd had assessed the situation herself. If Grámtrist was pleased that they were all gathered around the Light, then the logical thing to do is to get them as far away from it as she could get them.

Grámtrist lunged.

Thrúd swung the hammer in an uppercut motion and let go, letting it crash into the Traveler’s midsection and carry him out of the temple by creating a new hole in the wall of the temple. A sense of Déjà vu washed over Thrúd, thinking back to how Odin did the exact same thing to her at Ragnarok.

Snapping her fingers, Thrúd zipped forward until she was outside, gripping the handle and riding its momentum across the sky. Grámtrist grunted in effort and discomfort, clutching the hammer with his free hand to try and redirect it away from him.

Around them, dark clouds had gathered. Lightning cracked and flashed around them. Thrúd wasn’t sure how much of it was the realm’s natural weather cycle, or if it was her own godly abilities altering it. Either way, she could use this.

As the two of them flew over the Alfheim desert, Thrúd climbed into a standing position on his abdomen. She summoned the hammer into her hand and threw it directly into his gut, sending him plummeting to the sandy terrain below. She could both feel the hammer’s impact in her bones and see the cloud of dust below her.

She snapped her fingers again and Mjolnir sailed back up to her hand. She flipped it upside down and held the face of it in both hands, allowing both her and the hammer’s combined weight pull her down to where Grámtrist landed, lightning crackling and sizzling around her as she plummeted down like an electric comet.

The ground grew closer and Grámtrist was in sight. He managed to roll out of the way before she could slam into him, but the resulting collision still propelled him backwards several feet.

As soon as the new could of dust settled, Thrúd found herself dead center inside a crater on one knee, panting from the exhausted effort. The sand around her was charred black, but around her yet in the enlarged blast zone were crystalized spires of sand varying between eight to twelve feet tall, all of them glowing an eerie orange-ish yellow as they cooled off from the extreme heat of the lightning. Before long, they all turned black.

Grámtrist shook away his disorientation and rose to his feet, sand falling out of several spots of his armor. With a stumble, he regained his balance and reached into his sack to fish out a whetstone. He scraped it across his blade and swung immediately, sending a red arc of magic her way. Thrúd jumped to avoid the oncoming attack, then ducked to avoid another. Most of the magic that missed her crashed into the glassy spires, making them topple over and shatter instantly.

With each swing of his sword, Grámtrist immediately scraped the whetstone across and sent another wave her way in a rhythmic pattern, each one going in a different direction, but all of them aiming at her. She ducked, bobbed and weaved her way past each magical attack, slowly making her way closer to the Traveler until she was close enough to interrupt his swing with her shield and follow up with another strike from Mjolnir.

He stumbled backward, giving her more time to strike at the now weakened chunk of armor covering his midsection. Before she could land another blow, he caught wrist with his hand and twisted his body around, using her momentum against her and flinging her across the blackened sands. Thrúd let out a grunt of pain as she crashed into one of the spires before skidding along the sandy ground to a stop.

Once she got her bearings back, Thrúd looked up to see Grámtrist holding that same blue sphere in his palm, preparing to cast the same healing spell he did in Muspelheim. The orb glowed bright blue and similarly colored magic spiraled around him.

“Oh no you don’t!” Thrúd shouted over the whirlwind of magic and thunder.

Rearing back, she threw Mjolnir at the hovering orb with pinpoint accuracy. It shattered on impact and sent out a concussive shockwave that made him stumble again.

Thrúd ran forward as fast as she could as she snapped her fingers to call Mjolnir back. It struck the back of his helmeted skull as it flew into her awaiting palm, bringing him unintentionally close enough for her to bash her shield against him. Her eyes widened in surprise and joy as she saw cracks beginning to form along his breastplate from the stress of her attacks.

Her distracted gaze cost her as Grámtrist swung his sword in a wide arc, forcing the goddess to dodge underneath. Before she could set herself up for another strike, Grámtrist was already swinging again, and again and again after that.

The two of them danced like this for a while. Every so often, his sword cut through the fragile spires like they were made of butter, shattering to pieces as they fell. A lumberjack in a field of miniature trees.

As he swung, he shouted, “Why does your family insist on interfering in my life? Is it not simpler to yield the hammer?”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to admit that you’re fucking crazy?” Thrúd shot back as she evaded his attacks. “That there’s no one inside Mjolnir and I would definitely know if there was?!” She hoped that the uncertainty she felt as she said that last part wasn’t present in her voice. “Besides, my dad-“

“Was a drunken oaf who took everything from me!” Another swing, another spire shattered. “His negligence is the reason Embla resides in that hammer. And if you cannot see that she rests inside, then you’re just as big a fool as he was!”

Thrúd was surprised that his words weren’t burrowing under her skin like they would have a few days ago. Rather, she focused on another aspect.

Grámtrist was getting sloppy. Every other time they met he was calm, collected. He had started this crusade to free somebody and needed absolute focus and determination to do so. But now that he was so close to his presumed goal, his emotions were running high. He couldn’t control them, and it is now affecting his skills in battle.

Thrúd blocked his next swing with her shield and slammed Mjolnir onto his wrist. He let out a pained howl and dropped the massive sword. Kicking it away, Thrúd grabbed onto his armor with one hand and began to pummel his weakened midsection with the hammer. Sparks flew on each hit and the stress cracks grew more prominent.

She struck the hammer against him one more time and took a small amount of satisfaction in her work as she heard him cry out in pain again. Looking up, she expected to see his eyes contorted in pain, but was surprised to find that they were filled with rage instead: not an expression one would wear after just screaming in pain.

The screaming continued. Thrúd realized the texture of it didn’t carry the same tinny quality as his voice did coming out of his helmet. It then occurred to her that the voice wasn’t coming from anywhere. Like Hugin’s voice, it sounded as if it were inside her own head.

Blinking in surprise, she looked down at Mjolnir, still pressed against Grámtrist’s armor. The cries of anguish timed themselves with the flickering of the hammer’s ethereal light coming from its markings. “What?” She asked underneath her breath.

Another distraction that cost her. Grámtrist lifted her by her throat and slammed her on the ground, dragging her across the coarse and rough sand before lifting her to her feet and wrenching Mjolnir from her grasp. The hammer fell to the ground and she was tossed away, her back hitting another spire.

As she slid to the ground, she looked up in time to see Grámtrist picking up his sword and scraping the whetstone along it. He raised the glowing red blade so the tip was hovering over the hammer’s head.

On instinct, Thrúd snapped her fingers hastily. Rather than flying into her awaiting palm, Mjolnir threw itself into Thrúd’s body. With an audible oof, the force of the collision destroyed the spire she was leaning against and she skidded to a halt in the sand several yards away.

Thrúd let out a series of coughs as she pushed the hammer off of her body. She only just looked up in time to see Grámtrist- the magic infused in his sword still unused- swing and release it in low, wide arc. Thrúd rolled to put herself between the hammer and the oncoming magic, unfurling her shield as she did so.

The shield took the brunt of the impact, making her fall backwards. Her hands scrambled at her sides in a frantic search for Mjolnir. She immediately gripped the handle once she found it.

“Your balance is wanting.” Grámtrist observed.

“And you’re a dickhead.” Thrúd also observed.

The screaming she heard almost all but forgotten by the two hits she took, Thrúd diverted her attention to Grámtrist’s hand, which was reaching inside his sack to retrieve another whetstone.

Despite having already accepted the grim reality that Mjolnir likely won’t survive this encounter- whether it be from a swing of Grámtrist’s enchanted blade or from the overwhelming power of the Light of Alfheim tearing it apart from the inside- Thrúd did know at least one thing for certain:

Those whetstones needed to go.

She restrained herself from throwing Mjolnir at it as Grámtrist fetched it from his bag, remembering Sindri’s tale of the other dwarves and their failed attempts of destroying them. A different idea formed in her head. If she couldn’t destroy them, she could at least have them lost once again.

The wind had picked up. Sand began flying in all directions. Thrúd wasn’t sure how much of it was due to the natural weather cycle of the realm or her godly influence. Either way, it was good enough to use to her advantage.

Thrúd tossed Mjolnir as hard as she could overhead, just like how she had back in Vanaheim. It sailed clear over Grámtrist and into the night sky, illuminated by the streaks of lightning that smothered it. With a snap of her fingers, Thrúd zipped forward and grabbed underneath the Traveler’s breastplate as she passed.

Just as she hoped, the strength of the hammer was able to lift them both effortlessly from the ground, sending them flying into the air. The force of the sudden liftoff wrenched the whetstone free from his grip, sending it falling below, buried underneath the sands.

In just a few moments, Thrúd’s outstretched hand gripped the handle of Mjolnir. In her other hand, Grámtrist wiggled and grunted uncomfortably, trying to pry himself loose from her grip. Lightning flashed all around them, thunder accompanying it only a few seconds after each strike.

Their momentum now carrying them forward, Thrúd positioned herself so she was straddling his body and in an easy enough spot to reach and try to extract the contents of his bag. He tried to stop her with his flailing arms, but Thrúd managed to swat them away, gripping at three whetstones and sending them hurtling to the ground, disappearing in the growing sandstorm.

“No!” He cried out, watching them vanish below them.

Reaching out, he managed to grab an armful of her hair and yanked backwards. With a yelp of pain, Thrúd found herself thrown to the side and plummeting to the sandy ground. Before she was able to aim Mjolnir and alter her course, a large tower appeared from out of the darkness far too quickly than she was able to avoid.

The tower appeared to be attached to a prison of some sort; walls rose high around the surrounding perimeter and multiple cages made a maze inside. That was all she was able to see before crashing through the roof of the tower.

With a grunt, Thrúd’s grip on the handle was jarred and the two of them fell down the hollow interior. Zigzagging from wall to wall all the way down was a spiderweb-like system of chains that she collided with, flipping her over and spinning her all about on the way down. Hanging from the chains were the remains of Elves. Whether they were light or dark Elves, Thrúd wasn’t able to tell. They have been hanging here for so long that their bodies had decomposed beyond recognition. All that remained of them were fragile husks of brittle bones and crispy wings that shattered as she rattled their chains as she fell.

She reached out and gripped a chain. The chain was yanked from one side of the wall, and she swung into the other side with bone-jarring force, still managing to hang on.

Finally having a moment to collect her thoughts, Thrúd spun around and looked for where Mjolnir had landed.

The hammer had gotten itself tangled in a nest of dangling chains, rocking back and forth ten feet above her as if a light breeze were blowing against it.

Huffing in determination and rebuilding her strength, Thrúd planted her feet against the wall and scaled it like a rock climber. Once she was high enough up to reach another chain, she leapt and gripped it, the small disturbance she created on the links were enough to send another Elf carcass to the bottom. “Sorry!” She called down to it.

Swinging back and forth, she flipped herself atop the chain as if she were now walking along a tightrope, waving her arms back and forth to regain her balance. Thrúd leapt again, gripping another chain overhead, getting closer to the hammer.

The wall beneath her feet shattered. A wave of blue energy crashed through one side and destroyed the other. Her balance officially lost, Thrúd fell and gripped the chain again, holding on for dear life as the tower rattled around her.

“Come out, Thorsdottir!” Grámtrist’s voice echoed from outside. A few moments later, another wave of magic tore through the tower, making it shake even more. “You can’t keep Embla from me any longer!”

Thrúd’s body swung back and forth in vain attempts to steady herself. She let one hand go and reached upward, snapping her fingers to call Mjolnir to her.

Mjolnir wanted to obey, but the chains held it back as if they were holding a wild animal. In her head, whimpering noises were heard. The voice sounded similar to the scream she had heard before. “Who’s there?” Thrúd hopelessly called out.

Instead of a verbal response, one more wave of magic ripped the tower in two. Thrúd felt herself pitch to the side as her half of the structure began to plummet sideways.

With another snap of her fingers, Mjolnir tore the chains from the wall and zipped to her awaiting palm. Still unceremoniously draped in chains like they were weeds, Mjolnir carried Thrúd out of the collapsing building and onto the desert floor. Grámtrist stood some fifty feet away from where she landed, sword spent of its magic in one hand but a whetstone in the other.

Thrúd rolled her eyes. “What, two falls from hundreds of feet in the air isn’t enough to take you out?” She asked, more annoyed than afraid at this point.

“Falls from great heights are nothing compared to the thought of Embla spending an eternity inside that cold stone of a weapon you use.”

As if on cue, Mjolnir rumbled in her hand, the markings glowing even brighter as it did. The Light was still tearing it apart inside. With each pulse of light, there was a whimpering sound to accompany it. Thrúd paid it no mind, dismissing it as the stone beginning to groan as it was forced apart. She began untangling the chains from it, but stopped as an idea formed.

“Don’t worry, it doesn’t have too much longer, thanks to you!”

Grámtrist swiped the stone across his blade. It glowed its blue aura. “And now I’m going to make sure of it.”

With no other word of warning, he swung wide, releasing the familiar arc of magic. Thrúd jumped over it with ease, adjusting her grip so that she was no longer holding onto the hammer’s handle, but rather the chains that now decorated it. As soon as she landed, Thrúd launched Mjolnir at him like a fishing line and grinned when she saw it anchor itself around his bulky body.

Thrúd summoned lightning around her body and watched as it traveled along each link, making its way over to the now-trapped Traveler on the other end. To her satisfaction, he began to squirm and grunt as the electricity wandered through his body, illuminating his skeleton from underneath his armor.

His hands slowly made their way to the hammer and chains that wrapped around him in an effort to unravel them, but Thrúd tightened her grip on the chain and launched him as high as the chains would allow before yanking down on them hard, bringing him back down to the sand with a bone-crunching thud.

She repeated this two more times, each time leaving a scorched mark on the sand beneath him. With another pull, she swung him overhead in a large arc, slamming him face first into the sand.

Putting as much tension on the chains as possible, Thrúd dug her feet into the sand and twisted her hips as hard as she could. Gritting her teeth, she let out a strained yell of effort as she spun him in a wide circle, electricity still incapacitating him. He slammed into boulders and rock formations with each pass, shattering them to pieces. Thrúd spun him faster, not even growing the least bit dizzy as she did.

Finally, she let go of the chain, sending him flying into the growing sandstorm. His entire visage would’ve entirely vanished inside it were it not for the electricity in him still sparking; a lantern in a storm. Thrúd still wasn’t sure how much of this storm was a natural event in the realm as opposed to it reacting to her fury.

Thrúd snapped her fingers and zipped over to his flying form again, grabbing onto Mjolnir and enjoying the ride once again. His body slammed into another rock formation, sending the two of them tumbling off course and crashing into the sand.

Grámtrist wriggled his way free of his lasso and took up his sword, cursing at Thrúd as he swung down on her. Rolling to the side, Thrúd dodged the blade as it plunged into the sand. He tried again, Thrúd rolled again.

Thrúd kept rolling until the chains wrapped their way around her body as if it were another layer to her battle armor, freeing Mjolnir of their weight.

She avoided his next swing by throwing Mjolnir to her side and snapping her fingers. Not even waiting for him to strike again, Thrúd tossed it to her side again and zipped over to it. Repeating this process repeatedly, Thrúd and Mjolnir became a whirlwind of light and electricity. Snap! Zip! Snap! Zip! Over and over again, she snapped her fingers and tossed the hammer as soon as she felt it in her hand with more speed than even she thought she was capable of.

As the Traveler struggled to rise to his feet, arcs of lightning zapped him, hindering his progress. Finally, he rose to his feet, finding himself in the center of a gaudy lightshow. Grámtrist did his best to reach into his bag but found it to be an endeavor equal to trying to walk upstream of raging rapids. Finally, his fingers closed around another whetstone. He scraped it along his blade before discarding it off to the side like a candy wrapper.

Magic of his own swirled around him as he raised his sword overhead, aiming the tip at the sandy ground under his feet. Thrúd kept up her assault. With each blast of lightning he took, she could see his armor beginning to crack and loosen, smoke rising thicker and thicker from his body after each strike.

Just a little longer . . .

An arc of lightning removed a bracer from his arm. Another took off a chunk of his shin guard. Enduring the pain, Grámtrist completed his spell and plunged the tip of his sword into the ground, sending a shockwave out in all directions.

Her rhythm now interrupted, Thrúd was launched away several yards before sliding a stop on her side, groaning in discomfort as she rolled onto her back. She squeezed her hand, making sure that she still had a hold of Mjolnir.

To her relief, she was. But to her horror, Mjolnir was peppered with several gashes and marks, electricity sparking and zapping out of them.

She blinked several times, hoping that her eyes were playing tricks on her due to the disorientation from the blast. But the damage remained. Mjolnir was on its last legs.

Thrúd took several steadying breaths to calm her nerves before planting both hands into the sand to push herself upright. Now standing at full height, Thrúd squared up to Grámtrist, who was digging his blade out of the sand.

Only one thought was going through her head: let’s make sure this bastard dies with Mjolnir if he wants it destroyed that badly.

“No!”

Thrúd shook her head. “Don’t bother trying to hold me back, Hugin. I’m finishing this.”

As Grámtrist made another lunge forward, Thrúd couldn’t hear the raven say, “Uh, that wasn’t me.”

Just as Thrúd thought, Grámtrist could sense how close the hammer was to annihilation. He lunged forward with the tip of his sword aimed directly at the hammer. Thrúd sidestepped and unraveled the chains that were adorning her body, wrapping it around his wrist.

Avoiding another swing of his sword, Thrúd rolled between his legs, letting the chains wrap around him as she went. Without letting the Traveler land another blow on her, Thrúd avoided his attacks until his arms were constricted against his body. With a yank of the chains, Thrúd brought the giant to his knees.

She leapt at him from behind, wrapping her arm around his neck to hold him in place while holding Mjolnir in front of his face. “You want this thing broken so badly? Fine.” Her arm crackled with lightning, traveling up until it reached the hammer. It pulsed light in rapid and unpredictable intervals. She could feel what was left of it coming apart as she pushed more power into it. “Let’s see what happens when the power in this thing gets unleashed on us at point blank range,” she all but growled in his ear.

Even Thrúd couldn’t believe what she was saying. Everything she had fought and worked for was about to explode but all she could think of was getting rid of her stalker once and for all. Amidst the chaos within her mind, she did have just enough wherewithal to compose one lone thought:

Sorry, dad.

To her disappointment but not at all surprised either, he offered no resistance. Grámtrist was at peace with the idea of his life coming to an end in the name of destroying the hammer. Now that the moment was here, “Finally,” was the only thing he could find himself able to say.

Mjolnir, on the other hand, had something else to say.

“Don’t kill him!”

Thrúd gasped in shock. She ceased the stream of lightning and the light of the hammer dwindled down to its usual glow. Then, she threw the hammer away from her as if she had realized she were holding a venomous creature.

Mjolnir landed in the sand with a dull thud ten yards away, sand already piling against it from the storm’s winds.

Thrúd released her chokehold on Grámtrist and stumbled backward, landing on her behind with her jaw slack. Without anyone there to hold them tight, the chains imprisoning Grámtrist slid off of him and coiled on the ground. He slowly rose to his feet, his arms giving zero indication that they’d be swinging a sword at her anytime soon.

After all, there was no point in battle since he was just proven right.

“I- I . . .” Thrúd panted. “I heard a voice.”

Grámtrist faced her. “Embla,” he provided. “I myself haven’t heard her voice since the night I lost her.” For a moment, he was lost in time, the sound of his lover’s voice erupting from the hammer in its weakened state stirring up memories and sensations he hadn’t felt in eons.

“She’s really in there . . .” Thrúd breathed out to no one in particular.

Her comment was followed up with an intelligent, “Uh huh,” from Hugin.

“Now you see,” Grámtrist started. “You see that there is no other way.” He lifted his sword and slung it atop his shoulder, the motion diverting Thrúd’s eyes to him. She noticed the full extent of the damage he took from her attacks:

His once-gleaming armor was now spotted with soot and charred marks. Several chunks of metal plating were either missing or hanging limply against his body. His breastplate was almost entirely stripped away, exposing a layer of chainmail underneath and a tunic with ancient designs under that still.

“She is in pain,” he turned to look at the hammer. Thrúd could tell he was correct. From here, she could hear the uncomfortable grunts and groans coming from the hammer. Embla. Her ‘body’ was being torn apart from the inside. “She hurts,” he continued. “And I can relieve her of this. Please. Yield the hammer to me.”

Seeing that Thrúd’s resolve had been all but siphoned out of her, his own urge to battle had dwindled as well. Gone was the crazed and spastic warrior from a few moments ago. In his place was the frustratingly calm Traveler she had bumped into in Svartalfheim several days ago.

Thrúd made no effort in rising to her feet.

Taking this as her giving him her blessing, Grámtrist turned back to the hammer and retrieved a black whetstone from his sack, scraping it along his blade.

As he walked over to the damaged weapon, Thrúd still was attempting to catch her breath from what she had just learned;

Her father’s legendary weapon has been housing an innocent soul for several lifetimes and he had no idea.

She didn’t notice that her ears were ringing, preventing the panicked squawks of Hugin from reaching her.

Looking down, she found that Hugin had removed himself from her shoulder without her noticing and was bouncing on his feet in desperate bids to gain her attention.

“Uh . . . wha?” She was able to blurt out.

“I said go get the hammer!”

At this, Thrúd let out a breath. The adrenaline had run its course through her system and hopeless depression and defeat took its place. “Why? Haven’t I kept her away from him long enough?” She asked bitterly. “You heard the voice. She’s there. She’s been there the whole time. And, you know,” she thought for a moment, watching as Grámtrist grew closer to the hammer, “I guess Mjolnir isn’t the only way to keep dad’s legacy alive. I mean, maybe I could learn to build a statue or some dumb shit like that.”

“Stop deluding yourself and listen!” Hugin snapped. “Grámtrist is going to kill her!”

Thrúd’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “What are you talking about? Why would he do that? He’s trying to free her, bird brain.”

“Yes,” the raven conceded. “But that’s not what’s going to happen!” He flapped his wings as if this would help accentuate the severity of the situation. “This is exactly what happened to Odin!”

“Well yeah, but he-“ Any thought she had in her head stopped short, crashing into a brick wall and scattering itself within her headspace.

Lúnda’s words from their conversation at Týr’s temple rang in her ears. Particularly, the part with ‘Sindri bringing the smackdown on Odin’s orb.’

Her eyes went wide as saucers.

“If he swings that sword . . .” Hugin trailed off, allowing Thrúd to fill in the blanks herself.

With all the grace of a startled deer, Thrúd did her best to scramble up to her feet, but only succeeded in twisting herself around to a prone position while kicking sand up in every direction. Hugin jumped up and assumed his tattoo form on her shoulder once again. She didn’t even bother calling out to the Traveler. Rather, Thrúd snapped her fingers to summon the damaged hammer.

Mjolnir slid between Grámtrist’s feet and darted into her hand. Grámtrist twisted around as fast as he could, his helmet tilted to the side in visible confusion. Though Thrúd couldn’t see inside his visor, she imagined that the expression on his face was a mix of betrayal and anger, neither of which promised a peaceful conclusion to their meeting.

Thrúd held Mjolnir in one hand, holding it away from Grámtrist while extending her other arm between them in a placating gesture. “Grámtrist, wait,” she pleaded.

The Traveler shook his head in disbelief. “You still wish to wield the hammer. Despite knowing that Embla suffers inside.” His voice was shaking, as if he were struggling to contain his outrage.

“It’s not like that,” Thrúd tried to reassure him, keeping her voice as level as possible. “Your plan, it’s not going to work.”

“I once thought it impossible,” he hefted up his sword with both hands, “but your cruelty surpasses the All-Father himself.”

Thrúd tried to ignore the comment. “Listen, there’s not much time left. I, uh, I know a blacksmith! He can help, but we need to get there as fast-“

“LIAR!”

He swung his blade, sending the black arc at her. At the last second, Thrúd unfurled her shield. She stumbled back a few unsteady steps from the impact, but Mjolnir was still protected.

Peeking over the shield, Thrúd only had enough time to gasp and fall backward as Grámtrist leapt through the air and plunged his sword into the sand where she had been standing.

Finding an opening, Thrúd kicked her foot out and knocked Grámtrist off balance. Thrúd rose to her feet and resisted the instinctual urge to swing the hammer, remembering the damaged state that it’s in.

“Grámtrist! Listen to me!” Thrúd pleaded as Grámtrist removed the sword from the sand. “You can’t go through with this!”

“Nothing you can say will change my mind! Embla will be freed!” He swung wide. Thrúd parried it with her shield.

“No, seriously! I believe you now! I know that Embla is inside. But you’re going to kill her if you destroy the hammer!”

“LIES!” His sword slammed into the sand in an overhead arc. Thrúd dodged well before it struck the ground. His emotions had returned in full force, making his attacks easy to read, but no less dangerous. “More empty words from an Asgardian!”

“I’m not lying! This is exactly what happened to Odin! His soul was destroyed when-“

“What happened to the All-Father was long overdue justice,” Grámtrist snarled. “We were promised voyage to the light! I will not deny her peace!”

Countless arguments escaped Thrúd’s lips in hopeless gambits to get the distraught Traveler to see reason. Not at all surprising to her, he elected to ignore them, choosing instead to go through with his mission, the ending of which was right in his grasp. As they argued, Thrúd avoided attack after attack, still holding back from striking with Mjolnir for fear of making the damage even worse.

Embla offered no help in the matter. Her cries of discomfort and pain could be plainly heard by both of them, flooding their hearts with pity for the woman.

With one other step to avoid his sword, Thrúd’s foot slipped on the uneven sandy surface. Before she could so much as stumble, Grámtrist closed the distance between them and grabbed a handful of her long hair, hoisting her feet off the ground.

Yelping in pain, she kicked and thrashed, one hand still gripping Mjolnir and the other clutching her assailant’s wrist, trying to wrench herself free.

Panic flooded her core. Not knowing what else to do, Thrúd reared her arm back, attempting to throw the hammer as far away as she could from him in a last-ditch effort to protect the helpless woman. Grámtrist used his free hand to catch her wrist, preventing her from tossing the weapon away.

Squeezing her wrist hard and yanking it upward, Thrúd let out another pained howl, dropping Mjolnir to the ground. Wrist throbbing and scalp screaming in agony, she couldn’t concentrate hard enough to so much as snap her fingers.

Grámtrist positioned himself next to the hammer, lying on its side in the sand. He raised his sword, glinting with unspent black magic during their scuffle, and pointed the tip of it at Mjolnir.

Thrúd swung like a pendulum, kicking her feet at Grámtrist’s side to no avail.

“STOP!” She cried out hoarsely. “You’re going to kill her! Think about this!”

His helmet slowly turned to look at her. “I’ve been doing nothing but think of this moment for several lifetimes. Now, her suffering will end.”

“NO!”

His sword plunged into the side of the hammer, then everything went white.

Chapter Text

The first thing he ever experienced was the sensation of two hands on his face. Before that, there was nothing: No pain or joy, no sadness or euphoria, he could barely consider himself a coherent thought before he was sprung to life.

His eyes opened, and suddenly his world of smoke and darkness was whisked away in lieu of a bright, unfamiliar environment. The first thing he saw was a man with dark, curly hair, his face mere inches away from his own.

The stranger’s eyes were closed in concentration with his head dipped down, as if he were doing his best to remember the answer to a long-forgotten riddle. With his eyes opened and air now in his lungs, the surrounding sensations suddenly grew overwhelming. He gasped in alarm, startling the stranger away from himself.

In an attempt to get away, he had found that he was already lying on his back on a sandy shore. He scooted himself backward, away from the stranger, but stopped as more thoughts flooded his brain.

Merely one moment ago, he was nothing, but now, he was capable of thought, touch, smell, sight. He drew in ragged breaths as his head whipped from one direction to the other, trying to piece together where he was.

Unfortunately, since he had only just been born mere moments ago, he had no landmasses in his memory to base any guesses off of. All he knew was that he was on a shore of some sort. He still was on his back on the sandy surface as he looked out to the horizon. Before him was an endless expanse of multicolored liquid, swirling and swelling violently in different shades of red, blue and purple.

Beach, he thought to himself.

Along the sandy beach was an assortment of sharp stones, smooth pebbles, and large pieces of wood that had more than likely washed up on the shore. Where the wood, came from, he had no worldly idea.

Before he could make any other deductions about his new environment, someone’s laughter filled the air. He saw that it was coming from the stranger who was previously clutching his face with his fingertips.

“What’d I tell you?” He asked.

It was at that moment he realized that the stranger wasn’t alone.

Two figures stood to his side, gazing at his body curiously. The two of them were draped in white robes while the other one was in blue.

The stranger turned to the two others with his arms spread as if challenging them to say something that would accurately describe how seemingly momentous this occasion was. “What’d I tell you?” He repeated, laughing even more. “I told you it could be done!” The stranger continued to sing praises of what he had accomplished, leaving his companions annoyed in the process.

He ignored them. Allowing the three of them to bicker amongst themselves, he pushed against the ground to sit himself upright. Pushing again, he found himself standing up, arms held out on both sides to keep his balance.

With the surface beneath him shifting and uneasy, he slipped and fell onto his back again.

The stranger, the one in blue who had just been celebrating some achievement, ran over to him, only just now remembering that there were four of them now and not just three.

“Oh, sorry, I’m quite sorry. I should have realized how new all this must be to you.” He gave a small chuckle. “We should know,” he said, gesturing to the others. “Vili, Ve and myself experienced the same thing not very long ago.”

He watched the man with his eyes, observed how the man spoke with his mouth.

He’s talking, he thought again. With his mouth.

Reaching a hand up to his lips, he let his suspicions rest as he confirmed that he too had a mouth. Opening it for the second time in his brief existence, he said, “Standing is hard.”

The man in blue burst into laughter yet again. Once he caught his breath, he held out his hand reassuringly. “Not to worry,” he said, still fighting a fit of giggles, “you-you’ll get used to it.”

“Alright, Odin,” one of them, Vili, he thought, called out. “You’ve had your fun. Say goodbye to your pet and let’s get going.”

The stranger, no, Odin, held his chin thoughtfully. “Pet?” He repeated, outraged almost. “Pet?” He stood up to his full height confrontationally towards his brother. Even when lying down, he could tell that Odin’s stature wasn’t nearly as intimidating as he thought it was.

“My brothers,” he began, gesturing to the body on the sand, “we have just achieved the first most- no, no, no,” he dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “The second most impressive miracle since arriving. This is life we’ve just made. Living, breathing, intelligent-“

“He literally just told us that standing is hard.”

“Were you an expert on your feet the minute after you gained consciousness?” Odin challenged Ve. When he got no response, he hummed in affirmation, his point made. “What I’m trying to say is we didn’t make a pet. We made life. Capable of choices. Action. Discovery,” he added that last part as if it were an added bonus that he hadn’t originally thought of before.

Still on the sand, the man pointed at the three of them one by one. “Odin,” he started. “Vili. Ve.”

Odin nodded excitedly. “Yes. Yes, that’s right.”

The man pointed at himself. “What am I called?”

“Yes, yes, I was just getting there.” He assured him. “Let me see now . . .” he said, scratching the whiskers on his chin thoughtfully. After a few moments of deliberation, he snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it.” He reached down and helped the man to his feet, keeping him steady until Odin was positive he wouldn’t fall over again. “Henceforth, you shall be known as Ask, named for the ashen limbs of the world tree with which you were created.”

The man, Ask, looked along the beach again, finding more pieces of driftwood along the shore. He pointed to one closest to him. “That is me?”

“No,” Odin told him. “You are you.” He touched Ask’s chest with his pointer finger. “No one else in this realm or any other will ever be you.” He gripped his shoulders firmly with both hands, his face close to his yet again. “And you have a monumental responsibility, young man. For all of this,” he gestured behind Ask, prompting him to look, “has yet to be found.”

Ask hadn’t realized it up to this point, but he had only viewed the world in front of him, not behind yet. Behind him was a foggy, intimidating void. The sands of the beach met gray, unwelcoming grass. Beyond that, not much else was visible save for the silhouettes of a few trees.

He preferred the view in front.

“I understand that this is a lot to be asking of somebody who was just created, but I believe,” he patted his shoulder comfortingly, “that you’re up to the task. You are to discover everything you can of this world as my brothers and I continue our journey. Can you do this for me?”

His tone was hopeful, fatherly, as if he were giving a peptalk to a child to complete a menial task.

Ask looked at Odin, then his two brothers, noting the cumulative difference between him and them. “By myself?”

Odin’s eyes widened. “Oh. Yes, yes, companionship. You will surely need counsel from another at the very least. Uh, let’s see.” He let go of Ask’s shoulders and looked down at the sand, scavenging for another piece of wood. “Aha! Here we are.” Gripping a piece of driftwood in both hands, he hoisted it out of the sand. Once it was fully exposed to the outside world, he let it drop to the ground, dusting his hands off in satisfaction.

The piece of wood was just a little shorter than Ask was with four branches jutting out of it from random sides. Odin waved his brothers over. “If you’ll please.” The two of them crouched down and placed both hands on the wood and closed their eyes, whispering beneath their breaths. Ask gasped and stumbled backwards, catching his footing in time before he fell again as he saw the bark from the wood begin to peel back unnaturally.

The branches shifted so that there were two on each side, the colors changed from an earthy brown to a fleshy pink and tan. Before long, another being was lying on the beach, identical to Ask yet different in every way. The hair on this one was considerably longer, and the figure to it was more delicate and fragile looking than his.

He had only been alive for a few moments, but words flashed endlessly in his head, identifying those around him with accuracy despite never having seen them before. He knew he was a man, and this new person was a woman.

Once they were done, Ve and Vili stood up and let Odin do his part. Just as he had with Ask, he gripped her head with both hands and touched his forehead to hers, whispering another word under his breath.

Unlike how Ask came into existence, she opened her eyes peacefully, as if having just woken up from a fulfilling nap. Pleased with himself yet again, Odin stood up and held out his arms to her, presenting her to Ask for the first time. “There you go,” he said with confidence. “One companion. An eternity is a mighty long time to spend by your lonesome, which is why I’m grateful for the company of these two,” he gestured to his brothers, who seemed unimpressed with his words.

“Now,” he continued, “you two behave yourselves. Don’t get into too much trouble without us. And we’ll be checking in on you from time to time. I expect great things from you, ya hear?”

Not knowing what else to say, Ask simply nodded.

“Wonderful. We’ll let you get acquainted.” Odin playfully nudged Ask’s ribs with his elbow. “Get to work populating Midgard, now,” he said with a wink. He nodded to his brothers. “Gentlemen.” With that, the three of them walked along the beach.

“Wait!” Ask shouted.

The three of them turned around, almost annoyed.

“What was the first?”

Odin furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “What?”

“You said I was the second most second miracle you’ve done. What was the first?”

Odin’s face lit with understanding before shaking his head and waving his hand noncommittally. “Nothing to be worried about. Let’s just say,” he looked up to the sky as if it would present the sentence he was trying to search for. “Let’s just say that without him around . . . you and Embla there are free to search these lands without fear.”

Offering no other explanation, the three of them continued walking until they were too small to see.

Without noticing, his companion, Embla, attempted to rise to her feet, stumbling and falling back as well. Ask ran to her side. “Are you ok?”

Her face showed no traces of pain. “Standing is hard.”

. . .

It took them some time after the two of them had found their footing to realize that neither one of them were clothed.

Having only realized that was a difference between the three brothers and them, Ask and Embla suddenly grew self-conscious of showing themselves while they were modestly covered. They used this as ample motivation to venture into the fog and discover what could be used to remedy it.

Ask had thought that Odin and his brothers could have spared time to create a set of clothes for them, but then quickly thought against it. They were busy after all, scouting the realms and supplying them with life, just as they had with them mere hours ago. Finding a means to clothe oneself seemed reasonable enough in the long run.

Before long, the two of them had covered their bare torsos with large bunches of leaves, tightening them to their bodies with vines.

Now clothed, Ask and Embla set off to fulfil their duty: discover and populate Midgard.

Traversing over the strange landscapes proved a harrowing exercise, but a thrilling experience all the same. Ask wasn’t sure he’d enjoy it nearly as much had Embla not be with him.

The two of them, he thought, became a formidable team. One discovering something, the other identifying it and naming it. Most of the time, Ask found that it was Embla who was keen on the names, whether it be of a plant, animal, body of water, she confidently named what she saw.

Ask had thought of these names too but was too slow on the draw to say them aloud before Embla beat him to the punch, a habit of hers he had come to adore and yet be irritated by at the same time.

“And this,” he began, pointing at a small rodent, who was nibbling on a piece of game it had hunted while looking up at him with large, vulnerable eyes, “is a . . . uh . . .” he trailed off mid-thought.

“A field mouse!”

Embla’s excited declaration from behind him scared the critter away, deeper into the foliage.

Ask dropped his head back in exasperation. “I was going to get that one!” He insisted.

“You say that about every new animal we come across. If you know it, just name it!” She laughed. Once her system was free of giggles, Embla continued into the forest, leaving a stunned Ask behind as she disappeared.

“Embla, wait! Remember what happened last time!” He took off after her, pushing his way past leaves and twigs and bushes.

When she was finally in view, he stumbled to a halt.

She was standing still, her form crouched low and her arm outstretched to something that he wasn’t able to see. Adjusting himself as quietly as he could, he saw that her fingers were only inches away from tapping the snout of a large brown animal with glowing blue antlers. The curious animal whiffed at her hand, its nostrils flexing with every sniff.

“A stag,” they both said at the same time.

Before long, Ask didn’t even notice the stag anymore. His eyes focused solely on his partner, admiring her profile and tenderness. He had come to appreciate this about her, how she was almost able to approach any animal due to the air of trust that she seemed to exude from her body, as long as she didn’t scare it off first with her equally excitable nature.

Ask remained silent as Embla touched the stag’s nose delicately, as if it were made of glass, letting her fingers brush along its soft fur in admiration.

A cawing noise from above them disturbed the peace, startling the stag, and sending it running into the forest. Embla let her arms droop in disappointment, clearly not yet done admiring the majestic animal. Both heads looked up to where the sound was coming from and saw a large black bird, about the length of Ask’s forearm, perched on a branch.

They’ve seen lots of birds during their time exploring Midgard and named each and every new one that they spotted, but they knew this one all too well. This raven’s eyes were glowing a bright and unnatural gold, and it peered down at them unflinchingly as if saying ‘quit lollygagging!’.

Embla rolled her eyes in response and walked back over to Ask. “Persistent, isn’t he?”

Ask tilted his head in curiosity. “Odin? Or the raven?”

“I’d accept either answer, thought I was referring to his feathery henchman there.”

“CAW!”

“You know it’s true!”

Ask held out his arms to calm his partner. “The All-Father has sent a few of his birds over a lot more frequently than he used to, that’s true,” Ask admitted. “But he did also say we have a job to do.”

“What? Explore these lands and report back to him?” Embla asked incredulously. “If he has birds spying on us, making sure we’re doing what he wants, why doesn’t he just use them to explore and leave us out of it? It doesn’t make sense.”

Ask could feel his heart beating faster, his anxiety growing. It always seemed to do that whenever Embla had anything critical to say of the person who created them. He had run out of excuses that Embla found logical and was unable to quell her nearly as well as he used to be able to.

Mainly because he had had similar thoughts, but he was also subsequently too afraid to act upon them. Questioning the decisions of the person who gave them life seemed an ample way to get them into trouble.

“I know, I know. But please just-“ A rustle in the bushes silenced his plea. The disturbance was also enough to startle their feathery babysitter from his perch and into the air, disappearing from sight.

Shortly after the rustling began, an inhuman and agonized cry of pain reached them, making them both flinch and cover their ears for a split second.

Embla, recovering the quickest between the two of them, let go of her ears and took off in the direction of the wailing. “Embla, wait!” Ask knew it was pointless to try, but he called out to her on instinct. She was lost in the foliage before his cry was finished.

Ask started after her, following the sound of her footsteps and rapid breaths. He stumbled to a stop when she reappeared before him, frozen in shock with a hand over her mouth. Following her gaze, Ask looked down to see the stag that she had just been admiring moments ago maimed and bleeding, lying on its side. No evidence suggested that it was still breathing, its chest was stock still.

Four slashes raked across its ribcage, creating a river of crimson that pooled on the ground. The glow of its antlers merely a dim blue now.

“Oh,” Embla breathed out.

Ask held her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. While keeping her close, he kept his eyes alert, looking for the creature responsible for this.

“We need to leave,” Ask whispered.

Embla was about to refute, hoping to stay and mourn longer, but another rustle was heard from the bushes.

Not wanting to wait and find out what did this, Ask grabbed Embla by her hand and pulled her along behind him in a sprint. She seemed to not have any qualms about his idea as she began running to keep up with him.

A roar followed by a low growl was heard from behind, motivating their decision to keep moving.

Ignoring the sharp sticks and rocks that cut their ankles and feet, they ran until they were met with the face of a steep cliff, a cluster of rocks lying at its bottom. Ask looked left, and then right, looking and hoping for a place to run off to, but neither option provided enough cover.

Not looking down, he didn’t notice as his foot brushed against the pile of stones. He only looked to the rocks when he heard them clicking together on their own accord, rising in the air and forming a glowing blue archway. He was about to ask Embla if this was her doing, but she answered him by looking just as stunned as he was.

The rustling in the forest drew closer, as did the heavy beat of its footsteps.

Making a unanimous decision by sharing the briefest moment of eye contact, the two of them jumped inside, deciding that this risk was worth taking.

Before either of them knew it, they were no longer in the forest of Midgard. They suddenly found themselves surrounded on all sides by an ethereal expanse of blue, standing on a complicated network of what appeared to be branches in all directions.

The branch they stood on appeared to continue in a ring, and in the center of the ring was the single biggest tree they have seen in their existence.

There was no need to name this one. They already knew what it was called.

“Yggdrasil,” they both said.

Looking down at their chests, a blue symbol neither of them recognized glowed, making the aura of the tree appear brighter as well.

Memories of Ask and Embla’s creation flooded back in Ask’s mind. He remembered Odin digging the driftwood from the sand and how he and his brothers had shaped it into the woman he loves. A technique they no doubt used to create him as well.

Before they could speculate on the tree even more, another archway appeared before them almost invitingly. The two of them stepped through, expecting to return home, but were instead greeted by a blisteringly cold breeze.

Wrapping their arms around themselves, Ask and Embla looked around and saw that nearly everything here was a frozen tundra. “S-s-s-snow,” Embla chattered out through clanking teeth.

Struggling to move while the cold bit their skin, they eventually found another pile of rocks. Just as they hoped, the rocks reacted as they had before, creating another archway and sending them to the tree, which in turn, sent them somewhere else. This realm was gifted with what the previous one lacked: warmth.

A sigh of relief escaped them both at the same time as they stepped through the portal and into the warm air. Unlike their previous destination, snow wasn’t covering every consolatory thing. Rather, it was a diverse landscape of deserts, jungles, and large bodies of water. A few hours’ worth of exploring led them to yet another portal. This portal brought them to another realm.

And the process went on.

Their assignment given to them by Odin all but forgotten, Ask and Embla traversed through the realms with exhilarated abandon, naming everything they saw and pointing to every new thing that came into their field of view.

Before long, they ended up back in Midgard, worn out from the adventure they had unwittingly set out on. Ask and Embla walked back to their hut they built by the lake and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

They could have stayed that way forever had someone not cleared their throat in an annoyed manner.

Blinking their eyes blearily awake, the two of them looked up and found a familiar man standing at their feet, arms crossed and his face unimpressed. A raven perched on his shoulder. “I see a distinct lack of a . . . populace, despite clear intimacy between you two.”

They couldn’t help but blush at Odin’s frankness. “What we do and at what pace we do it at is of no concern of yours,” Embla insisted.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, young lady. Everything in the nine realms, everything, is my business.”

Nine realms, Ask thought to himself.

Odin left their side and began walking towards the shore. “And, you see, what this ‘business’ is lacking is people to carry it out. Yes, I made you two, so I could most definitely make more, but I have no time to do so. But, more importantly, where’s the fun in that?” He paused, as if giving them a chance to answer. “Nowhere, that’s where. That’s why you two were made: to create more people and have fun while doing it.”

Neither Ask nor Embla could look each other in the eyes.

“I have given you an entire realm to explore and populate, so why would you ever feel the need to wander off, huh? Isn’t a whole realm ripe with unexplored wonders enough for you?”

Embla shook off her embarrassment and glared at the bird on Odin’s shoulder, thinking very hard how fun it would be to change its name from raven to tattletale.

“All-Father,” Ask began uneasily, “we humbly beg your forgiveness, but it was-“

Odin held his arms up, silencing the man. “Hey, hey, I get it. The urge to see new things, it’s exciting. What I don’t get is why can’t you do that here?” As he spoke, the sun shone its rays over the horizon, kissing the sands with the first burst of warmth.

Looking over to the horizon before looking back at the two of them, Odin rolled his eyes. “Look. It’s a brand new day. Let’s start with a clean slate, shall we? You two go out there, have some fun, then whenever you’re ready, you’ll come back here and uh,” he trailed off, pounding his two fists together in a crude way while make tsk noises with his mouth. “Start up that populace, eh? I’ll check in on you soon.”

Without waiting for a goodbye from them, a flurry of ravens appeared out of nowhere and created a whirlwind around Odin. In another moment, they were gone, the All-Father with them.

Both Ask and Embla rose to their feet, uncomfortable at the prospect of having the All-Father watch their every move.

But one exchange of glances between them gave them both the comfort they needed afterward.

. . .

Svartalfheim. Jotunheim. Midgard. Helheim. Alfheim. Muspelheim. Niflheim. As the two of them ventured through the realms in search of a way to free themselves of the All-Father’s control and watchful eye, they discovered the names of each of them.

Out of all the realms visited, Embla found that her favorite was Vanaheim.

Ask watched in adoration as Embla would waltz through the jungles and plains, taking in the rays of the sun and soaking in the warm, humid air. Every once in a while, she waved to a new animal friend which the two of them would then name shortly after it scampered away.

The only realm they had yet to visit was Asgard.

Odin made sure that entry to the realm of the gods was as difficult to access as possible. Even with Ask and Embla’s connection to Yggdrasil, they found themselves unable to so much as peek into the realm. Not that they truly wanted to in the first place. In a gambit to free themselves of the All-Father’s control, heading to his home turf seemed counter-productive.

Many trips to each realm was made every day, and almost every day was met with some form of disappointment. No matter where they were, they agreed that it was best to head back home to Midgard by late evening to be there long enough to convince Odin’s spy that they had been diligently exploring Midgard while he was on his routine check-up flights.

During their explorations, it was hard to keep their morale high in the face of so many failures. Midgard offered little to no solutions, seeing as how that is essentially the prison they are attempting to escape from.

They had been hopeful upon entering Svartalfheim. The inherit ingenuity and resourcefulness of the Dwarves seemed promising enough to yield results. Disappointment crashed upon them hard when they found that when they weren’t drinking themselves into oblivion, the Dwarves were notoriously difficult to work with.

The primordial realms of Muspelheim and Niflheim had little to offer, and their sole occupants seemed to only have eyes for each other. Something that Embla and Ask could relate to.

Alfheim had little to no helpful qualities, seeing as how the two dominant peoples were at constant odds with one another.

Jotunheim, however, offered promise.

If Vanaheim was Embla’s favorite, then Jotunheim was Ask’s. He appreciated the similarly warm climate as well as the breathtaking views that were virtually waiting for them around every corner.

What made them hopeful were their interactions with the realm’s natives: the Jotnar. Giants.

It was quick for them to realize that they shared just about the same amount of love and admiration for the All-Father as the two of them, though their reasons were far more personal. Ask recalled how Odin danced around his question about the god’s ‘first miracle’ upon his awakening. Dread and disgust pooled in his stomach when they told him of the death of Ymir.

Judging by the look of Embla’s face, she shared his feelings.

The Jotnar were very generous with their knowledge of magic, gifting them all they wanted to know with every visit they paid them. Ask and Embla lost track of time as they traveled back and forth between Midgard and Jotunheim, experiencing the changes both realms went through over the natural course of time. Midgard became extensively more populated, and Jotunheim’s magical prowess grew as well.

Finally, Ask and Embla discovered a spell they hoped would complete the puzzle they’ve been assembling for countless centuries. A way to finally hide from Odin and his oppressive influence.

The Jotnar, grateful for their company and kindness throughout their visits, gifted them with a blessing as they left the realm:

“May your souls shine together in harmony in the Light of Alfheim.”

Another added with good humor, “But not too soon!”

Ask and Embla walked along the branches of Yggdrasil, hands tightly entwined with one another. With her free hand, Embla held a notepad to her face, mumbling under her breath as they walked.

“Nervous, Love?” Ask asked, snapping her out of her reverie.

In partial response, she gave his hand a squeeze. “Not at all,” Embla reassured him. “I’ve just been thinking.”

“About?”

“Where we’re going to be staying now. We can’t hide from Odin in Midgard. We’re going to need a new home.”

Similar thoughts had crossed Ask’s mind as well. He was going to offer his two cents before stopping himself, a knowing smile growing on his face.

“As if you don’t already have one picked out.”

Embla laughed, closing her notepad and slipping it into her belt. “Am I really that obvious?”

“No. I just know you that well.” Ask squeezed her hand back. “Besides, I think Vanaheim is a gorgeous place too.”

“And I have the perfect place picked out.”

The two of them entered the portal before them and crossed into Vanaheim. A grassy plain greeted their bare feet as the familiar rays of the sun kissed their skin. A stream flowed lazily by not far from where they stood, offering a refreshing drink to the wildlife.

As night fell, the two of them sat beside a fire, the light of the flames illuminating both of their faces in flickering dances. Embla read and reread her notes, making sure the materials before her were correctly measured out.

“Love,” Ask said comfortingly with a hint of exasperation, “you’ve quadruple checked. I think you’d notice if you were missing anything.”

Embla sighed, nodding in agreement. “You’re right. You’re right, I’m just-“

“Nervous?”

She nodded in confirmation.

Ask reached out and gripped her fingers. “If this doesn’t work, we’ll try something else. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll try another until we get it right. We will escape from Odin and discover everything that these realms have to offer.”

Embla smiled gratefully, nodding again. Breathing slowly to steady her nerves, she gathered the materials the Jotnar gave them and placed them in a pot before her, mashing them together with her fist until they formed a powdery substance.

Placing the pot on a spatula, she held it out over the flames, taking delight and reassurance at the glow it offered.

Taking another breath, Embla said, “Rítoo.”

A ring of golden smoke fanned out from the fire, engulfing the two of them in its essence. They both gasped in alarm, taking in copious amounts of smoke inside their lungs. Ask and Embla’s bodies recoiled and spasmed as they fell into a fit of coughs, pounding on their chests and clutching their throats in desperation.

Finally, the coughing fits subsided long enough to allow them to refresh their parched throats from the nearby stream. Once they both finished releasing the residual smoke from their lungs, they assessed themselves, looking at one another curiously.

“Did . . . did it work?” Ask inquired.

Embla patted herself all over, trying to feel if anything was different. “I’m not sure. I think the only way to truly see is to just . . . wait, I guess?”

And wait they did.

The first several weeks were spent in a cautious state of optimism, both of them keeping an eye out for Odin or his pet flying tattletale. Those weeks turned to months. Those months turned to years. Those years turned to decades. Before long, they both came to the same conclusion:

Odin couldn’t find them.

By the time they had reached this conclusion, their previous campsite used for the ritual had turned into their first home away from home. Natives of the realm joined them having also taken an interest in the peaceful location. Before long, it had become a bustling community of friends, families and neighbors.

Their guard officially dropped, Ask and Embla fell into routine with this community, joining them for fun singalongs at the local tavern, exchanging gifts for their holidays, grieving with one another after the loss of one of their own, it was a peace they had only hoped they’d ever feel.

The idea came to Ask in the middle of the day to pay a long overdue visit to Jotunheim and properly thank them for their assistance. Embla was only too happy to agree with his sentiment.

Once they arrived in the realm, any excitement they previously felt turned to dust.

Dead. All of them.

Everywhere they looked, they found the fallen form of one of their previous friends, scorch marks and blunt trauma evident on their bodies.

The two of them left immediately, holding each other as they did, unable to look anymore.

Arriving back at their home in Vanaheim, the two of them secluded themselves for several weeks from the rest of town, processing what they had seen. While accepting the fact that they may never recover fully from it, they both took comfort in each other’s steadfast company and companionship, knowing they’d be there for each other whenever needed.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough to keep the gods at bay forever.

. . .

That evening started out the same as almost every other evening in Vanaheim:

The sun was beginning to set, just touching the horizon. Peddlers and vendors from local shops began to close down for the day, each of them nodding in acknowledgement to one another and wishing safe travels home.

Embla decided to turn in early for the day. Drawing all the curtains closed, the only source of light in the room came from the soothing hum of four fireflies that were hanging in a jar in the corner of their room. Now in her nightgown, Embla stretched her arms, yawned, and put herself to bed. Before long, the sun set further down, though it only felt as though she had just lost consciousness.

This was a fact she didn’t particularly appreciate as she was jostled awake by Ask.

“Embla! Embla, my love. We must leave. Now!”

Embla grumbled and shook his hand off of her shoulder. “Ask, darling, today was very trying. Could we-“

“It’s the Aesir. They’re here!”

Any rebuttal she may have had died in her throat upon hearing that. She sat up ramrod straight in bed, eyes locked with Ask and hoping against hope that he was joking. It was clear by his face that he most certainly wasn’t.

“Odin?”

Ask shook his head. “No. Just Thor. I guess he’s been at the tavern for almost the whole day. He may not know we’re here, but we have to leave. Now!” He more than likely didn’t need to whisper, but doing so made the reality of them being found by the All-Father seem less likely.

Without any other arguments, Embla rose from bed and followed Ask to the front door. Neither one of them had to say what their destination was. They both knew that they were headed for the Yggdrasil gate at the end of town. They only hoped that they could avoid Thor long enough to reach it.

Their hopes were crushed the moment they stepped outside.

At the end of the street to their right, the gargantuan, staggering form of Thor stumbled along unsteadily. His face was beet red and he was singing some drinking song loud enough to rouse the neighbors. Everyone in the immediate vicinity had similar ideas as them. They watched as they all evacuated their homes and made a break for it in all directions. Everyone was crouched low, as if that would decrease their chances of being spotted by the god of thunder.

To be honest, that was probably unnecessary. He didn’t seem to be sober enough to find his own fat belly with both hands. Still, that was a risk no one wished to take.

Thor stumbled along the street, still singing jovially with Mjolnir swinging in his grasp, almost as if it was leading the way for him.

Ask closed the door so that they could still see outside just a crack. He leaned into Embla’s ear. “When he gets far enough down the street, you and I will cross over,” he instructed. “We can stay behind him and find a way-“

“Who’s that?”

Ask blinked. “What?”

“Who’s that?” She pointed outside.

Ask followed her finger and blinked at what he saw.

At the other end of the street stood a tall woman, probably coming up to Thor’s chest. She wore a modest tan tunic and had a fair complexion. But what the two of them noticed most about her was her firey red hair that went down to the small of her back.

On her back hung an ax, its blade glinting in the last remnants of sunlight. It was engraved with markings and patterns too small to see from this far away.

She stood stock still, hands clenched into fists at her sides and a glower on her face. Her eyes were only on Thor.

The god of thunder continued his drunken escapades, inching his way closer to the woman. Finally, she began walking towards him. Then she sprinted. Then she ran to close the distance between them until she was close enough to grab his free arm with both hands. Spinning in a circle, the mystery woman flung Thor into a nearby house as if he weighed nothing at all.

Now wielding her ax, the woman jumped into the house in pursuit.

Too stunned to move, Ask and Embla stood slack jawed. From inside their house, they could hear the muffled sounds of a skirmish escalating between them.

Ask shook his head finally. “Whoever she is, she’s keeping Thor busy. Let’s go!”

Embla found no reason to argue this burst of fortune either. The two of them exited their home and made a break for it down the street, the opposite way of where the two combatants vanished.

Hand in hand, Ask and Embla were already almost out of breath as they ran as fast as their feet could carry them along the dirt road. They stumbled to a halt as the wall of a house to their right exploded, spitting out the mystery woman. She rolled to a halt on her stomach on the road before them, her ax nowhere to be found.

From the hole in the house, booming laughter could be heard. “BWAHAHAHAAAGH!” Thor bellowed, still very drunk. “I love a woman who can fight back!”

The woman rolled out of the way just as Thor leapt from the hole and slammed Mjolnir onto the ground. With alarming speed, she rose to her feet and pinned him with another glare, this one filled with an extra dosage of disgust and hate. Whoever this woman was, it was clear she had no love for the Aesir. Let alone the one right in front of her.

She held out her hand, and seconds after that the ax flew from the hole and into her awaiting hand, knocking Thor’s skull as it passed.

Now dazed, the woman began swinging her ax relentlessly, slicing at Thor with every swing. The more she made contact, the brighter the blade glowed a cool hue of blue. Embla and Ask were nearly hypnotized by the phenomenon until Embla snapped out of it and tugged on his arm.

“This way!”

The two of them cut between two homes and emerged on another street, this one leading to a dead end. Ask pointed to the nearby hall. “We can cut through there,” he said, still out of breath.

They entered the hall and quickly made their way to the other side where another door awaited them. Before they could reach it, thunder boomed outside with enough force to be felt in their chests. Thor crashed through the ceiling and landed before them, electricity sparking all around him. Whatever wounds the woman had given him had been sealed thanks to his godlike healing, though he still writhed on the ground. This was more than likely due to the alcohol still in his system, they thought.

Ask held Embla behind him as the woman came from the same hole in the roof, ax poised high and ready to embed it into his gut once again. Before she could, Thor expertly raised his large hand and caught the handle, stopping it from slicing into him.

Thor laughed again. “Despite how much you despise me, I hope you realize how much fun I’m having!”

The woman sneered. “Is that what you said to Hrugnir?” She pressed harder into her attack, but Thor remained unphased.

In one motion, he ripped the ax from her grasp, got up to his feet and slammed the butt of her weapon into her forehead. She yelped in pain and gripped her now throbbing head, turning away from him for a moment.

That moment was all Thor needed. Wrapping his massive arm around her, he spun in a circle and flung her out the exit before leaping out to follow, both weapons still in hand.

The force of his exit caused the building to rattle. Ask and Embla held each other steady as debris and columns fell in front of them, blocking their way out. They both turned around and ran back out the way they came before the whole building toppled to the ground.

Panting furiously with their hands on their knees, both of them made sure the other was ok before breaking out into another sprint, working their way out of the dead end street and onto the next one. Though they couldn’t be seen, their battle could still be heard as they continued to evacuate, passing by frightened children with their parents as they fled as well.

Everyone in the assembled crowd flinched and cowered down as another crack of thunder echoed through the plains. Thor flew through the air again and landed on a nearby roof, sending an avalanche of debris down below. His adversary soon found her way onto the roof next to him, swinging her ax down.

Instead of gripping the handle, Thor parried her swing with Mjolnir as he climbed back to his feet. They both swung their weapons at one another with frightening speed and bloodlust, clanking them together as if they were swords. “How about Thamur?! Did you have fun killing him too?” She cried out.

Thor laughed as they continued their rooftop battle. “Lady, if there was a Giant involved, it’s safe to assume that I enjoyed it immensely!”

“RAUGH!”

The woman pressed her attacks, overwhelming the god of thunder with her speed until he was forced to leap across the street and land on a neighboring roof.

With one hand, Thor aimed Mjolnir at the woman and sent a bolt of lightning her way. She leapt in time to avoid the strike, allowing the rooftop to take the blow for her. The building erupted into flames and sent flaming charred bits of wood everywhere, blocking the crowd’s way forward.

Landing on another roof, the woman wasted no time in setting herself into a solid stance and gripped the ax with both hands, holding it straight out in front of her with the blade pointed directly at Thor across the way. The ax glowed bright blue again before a solid beam of blue and white exploded from the blade, hitting Thor with laser-like precision.

The onslaught continued, preventing Thor from countering the attack. His body began to pale and his movements slowed, as if affected by the cold beam.

Summoning a bolt of lightning, he interrupted the icy beam and threw Mjolnir across the street. It crashed into the roof beneath her feet, sending her plummeting inside.

The fire from the building began to spread. Soon, several nearby buildings were ablaze, motivating the crowd to find another way out. Ask tried to drag Embla along with the crowd. “Come on! Follow them!”

“No, Ask!” She insisted. “There are too many people. It will take too long! Follow me!”

She tore her hand free from his grip and ran the opposite direction of the panicked citizens. “Embla!” Ask shouted before following her. “Embla, wait for me!”

Without them noticing, Thor flew overhead and landed inside the building the woman vanished inside of. Moments later, Thor leapt from the same hole and used lightning to keep himself airborne, twisting left and right in search of his foe.

In a blur of lightning, Thor flew over the town, zapping lightning intermittently at buildings in vain attempts to flush her out. “Come out come out wherever you are,” he called out in a singsong tone, though annoyance was working its way into his system.

He flew around the town several times, sending lightning down at the ground more randomly than before, forcing Embla and Ask to dance around where it struck.

Embla paused before the entrance to another alley. “This way!” She waved with her arm. “We can get there in time if we-“

“Look out!”

Ask reached her in time to push her out of the way as Thor landed on the ground where she was standing and bounced to a halt, now blocking the escape route Embla had found.

As Thor was flying overhead, he failed to see the ax flying his way. It embedded itself deep into his shoulder, forcing a cry of pain and shock from his lungs as he began to lose altitude. Once he had landed, the woman appeared from behind, shoving her way past Ask and Embla as if they weren’t even there.
The woman held her hand out, calling the ax back to her yet again. With lightning fast speed, the woman holstered her weapon and used both hands to heft the god of thunder back to his feet. Without so much as touching the ax’s handle, it rose from its resting place and began to spin in a circle so quickly, it appeared to be merely a blurry blue circle.

Said circle began revolving around the four of them, trapping them inside a cage of cool winds and slicing blades. Ask pulled Embla tightly to him, turning his back to where the blade was spinning, his face buried in the crown of her head.

As the ax continued its frenzied revolutions, it struck Thor. Each passing glance in a different spot, making it impossible to block. He swung his hammer blindly in hopes of striking it out of the air but was never able to make contact.

Closing the short distance between the two of them, the woman began to pepper Thor’s belly with a barrage of punches, each blow earning a breathy grunt from him in return. Each impact on his body made it sound like somebody was tenderizing meat with their bare fists, which, in a way, was what was happening.

Rearing her arm all the way behind her, the red-haired woman punched Thor’s gut with enough force to knock him backwards, off balance. On her command, the ax swooped low and swept his feet out from under him, sending him airborne for a few brief moments before she raised her leg over her head with alarming flexibility and slammed her heel into his stomach. He landed on the ground so hard he cracked the earth beneath him.

The woman called the ax back to her, still all but oblivious to the literal captive audience behind her. Her eyes were only on Thor, and her vision was red with hate. Ask and Embla dared not move, their eyes covered with each other’s bodies.

Raising her ax above her head, the woman swung it down, aiming for the top of Thor’s skull. His wits somewhat about him after that brief reprieve, Thor found enough time to lift Mjolnir and block her swing with its face.

Using his free hand, Thor pushed himself back to his feet, once again towering over the woman as he enforced his weight into the hammer. The woman showed no signs of intimidation as she pushed right back. Their feet locked in forward stances, they began to dig into the ground from all the energy they’re forcing into their attacks.

The air around where the two weapons were connected began to ripple. Lightning crackled and popped around them and the air turned cool in their lungs. Any trace of joy and enthusiasm that Thor was expressing before was now replaced with complete annoyance and rage, his face twisted in anger and frustration.

The two of them yelled at the top of their lungs, pressing impossibly harder into their attacks.

Embla raised her head from Ask’s chest. “That’s it! If we can make it back to the hall, we can cut through-“

She wasn’t so much as able to breathe out her next word as the world exploded around them.

A massive bolt of lightning came from the sky and touched where the two weapons were fighting for supremacy. The moment the bolt hit the ground, it sent a shockwave across the plains so massive, it extinguished the inferno that had built in town, only for every single building in its wake to be completely obliterated afterward.

Both Ask and Embla were flung backwards like ragdolls. The world around them was sent into a whirlwind as Ask tumbled on the ground. Mercifully, he finally came to a stop.

Moments later, Embla landed with a thud right next to him.

There was an obnoxious ringing in his ears that almost prevented him from raising his head. Fighting the dull ache in his head, Ask was able to barely lift it off the ground and view the destruction around him through squinting eyes.

Had he not lived here for a large portion of his life, Ask could never have even been able to tell that there was once a town here at all. Every building had been reduced to nothing but splinters, most of the debris having blown away in the blast. The grass and dirt were charred and damaged, whatever was left of the grass pressed down to the ground, lifeless.

Bodies lay about. Everywhere.

Everywhere Ask turned his head, he could see the body of somebody he had only just said goodnight to a few short hours ago either poking through debris or lying out in the open, their bodies contorted unnaturally.

A bright light made him close his eyes momentarily. Holding out his hand in front of him, he was able to allow his eyes to adjust enough to let him see the plains’ newest addition:

A lightning bolt. Frozen. Reaching down from the sky until it touched the ground, several little fingers and branch-like extensions protruding from the main body. The lightning bolt served as the epicenter for the destruction, as everything surrounding it was either destroyed or blown away entirely, at least as far as he could tell.

Ask blinked several times, willing the ringing in his ears to stop. As he blindly reached out in front of him, his hand swept over Embla’s hair. He let out a breath of relief that he didn’t have to travel far to find her amidst the destruction.

“E-Embla,” he coughed out through aching ribs. He called her name again when he got no response.

He inched his way closer, expending what little energy he had left. “Embla. Please get up. We have to hurry if-“

He stopped short when he brushed her hair away from her face.

Embla lay on her side, lifeless. Her eyes remained open but couldn’t look at anything. She was on her side, her arm extended out to him as if trying to reach him. A deep gash was cut in her ribs, allowing a crimson river to flow out and pool on the ground underneath her.

Lying beside her was Thor’s hammer Mjolnir, its handle pointing at the sky. It must have gotten blown out of his grasp and landed beside them.

Ask’s voice was shaky, panicked but unable to fully release itself. “Oh,” he breathed out. “Oh no, please.”

Naturally, nobody heard him.

He was unable to form any thoughts at the moment, let alone any words. All he could do at the moment was wrap his mind around one thing and one thing only:

The only good thing that the All-Father has ever done was give life to Embla. True, it was only a ploy and manipulative strategy to gain his loyalty, but he was still able to spend his entire life with this wonderful woman.

At least, his entire life up to this point.

Going against his instincts, he shook her body lightly, hoping against hope that that would jumpstart her somehow. He flinched away from her when he saw movement in her face.

A light began to shine behind her lips. With wide eyes, he watched as four impossibly small whisps of light floated out of her mouth and spiraled around each other, bobbing up and down almost playfully. Without having to be told, Ask somehow realized that those were the pieces of her soul on their way to find the Light of Alfheim, just as the Giants said they would.

He fought against the urge to reach out and grab them, knowing that it would accomplish nothing. All he could do was watch as they drifted away and hope that they’d be able to find some semblance of peace . . .

Any hopes for that were dashed less than a second later.

Mjolnir began to twitch and move on its own. Ask watched in silent horror as it floated in the air and soared back to the lightning bolt, scooping up Embla’s soul fragments as it passed.

Following the hammer’s trajectory, Ask saw a meaty hand pop up from underneath a pile debris to catch it. Thor clumsily clambered his way out of the pile and wobbly gained his footing. He stood tall, catching his breath and leaning his head all the way back, groaning as his body began to feel the aftermath of his battle now that the adrenaline had worn off.

With both hands on his back, he leaned and popped several vertebrae loud enough to be mistaken for distant thunder. He then stood tall and proud, a small smile on his face as he let out a slow exhale, taking pride in his victory by forfeit since his opponent was nowhere to be seen. Whispering something under his breath, Thor held Mjolnir above his head and allowed it to lift him in the air and fly him away. His sparking lightning disappeared moments later in the sky.

All of this happened in a blur to Ask. None of it was processed fast enough to allow him to so much as raise his voice to stop the god of thunder. Not that there would have been anything he could do to stop him in the first place.

He remained lying there for several more minutes, too stunned to move or speak. Moments later, more debris shuffled and shifted as the warrior maiden clawed her way out of her pile of destruction. Unlike Thor, who popped out calm and collected, satisfied with the battle, she clearly was not finished.

She brandished her ax above her head with both hands and roared in anger, stumbling her way forward until she stopped next to the frozen lightning bolt. Her hair was completely disheveled, making her hair look like an out-of-control inferno.

The woman looked left and right, trying to find her foe. Once she deduced that he had fled, she slammed the ax on the ground and cried out in frustration, huffing and panting once her lungs were spent. A few minutes of fuming later, she suddenly stopped and observed the lightning bolt, looking at it as if she hadn’t noticed it there when she emerged.

Her eyes traced down the length of it from top to bottom. Once she reached the bottom, she looked out to the town and gasped. In her fury and anger at having been denied a chance to continue their battle, she clearly hadn’t even realized the damage she had caused.

She dropped to her knees, hands over her mouth, eyes wide and watery. Ask could hear her from where he lay. “No . . . no, I- I didn’t mean to-“ She rambled, not comprehending the level of destruction she had just been the cause of.

Ask watched as she took her ax and ran off, disappearing into the night.

After she left, his thoughts caught up with him. Nobody was around to hear his cry of anguish.

He took care of her body shortly after.

Though her soul had just been unfairly denied peace, doomed to an eternity of observing Thor’s bloodthirsty actions firsthand, her body didn’t have to be resigned to a cold fate.

He placed her body on a raft, wrapped in blankets until she resembled a cocoon. Setting a lit torch inside the raft, he set it off on the nearby stream, watching heartbroken as the flames caught on, devouring her body and the vessel as it floated calmly away.

Afterwards, he knew of nothing else to do other than to return home. He lost track of time of how long he sat on his bed. Days. Months. Years. It didn’t matter in the long run. Without Embla, there was no point in venturing out into the realms.

A creak in the ceiling drew his attention upward.

He looked up in time to see the hook installed in the ceiling meant to suspend the jar of fireflies gave out and allowed the jar to plummet, shattering to pieces on the ground. The fireflies, miraculously alive after all this time, seized their chance at freedom and flew away, no longer trapped in their glass prison.

Unsure how or when exactly it started, Ask’s mind became a whirlwind of ideas. For the first time since he could remember, hope bubbled in his chest.

He rose from his bed, eyes wide in discovery.

Embla is trapped. Mjolnir is the prison.

Mjolnir must be destroyed to buy her freedom.

But how?

Certain that he’d find zero answers here, he set off into the realms, one destination in mind.

He reached the caves back home in Midgard, finding a familiar suit of armor that he and Embla stumbled upon lifetimes ago.

The Travelers.

If their misguided missions assigned by Odin were good for one thing, it was tracking down tools and finding good uses for them.

Before long, he undressed the corpse and put the armor on his person, ready to set out into the realms and find his answer.

I don’t know how long this will take Embla, but I swear to you that you’ll be free soon. No matter what it takes.

Chapter Text

The images flooding Thrúd’s mind vanished almost as quickly as they arrived, each scene feeling as if she had lived them herself.

At the moment, sight and sound were the only things she was able to process. After Grámtrist fatally stabbed his sword through Mjolnir, everything around them exploded in a white flash, forcing him to release his grip on her and sending them flying away from each other.

She was lying face down in the sand but was too stunned to feel even a single grain. The brightness had lessened, but only enough to allow her to squint if she wanted to see anything. A constant scream echoed through the desert, making Thrúd’s shoulders hunch, disturbed by the sound.

Somehow finding the strength to raise her head more than a few inches off the ground, Thrúd looked up and found Mjolnir, still intact but only barely so. It was hovering five feet in the air on its own, vibrating and humming on its own volition. Cracks were present on Mjolnir’s body, allowing light to seep out of it, just like it did in Sindri’s kiln.

Lightning arced from it randomly, either striking the ground in an explosion of sand or harmlessly in the sky. Besides the light spilling through the cracks (which were growing bigger as it vibrated uncontrollably), it also seemed to be glowing on its own, creating a halo of light around it, making the hammer completely standout amidst the still-present sandstorm.

But the screaming was still audible above the ensuing chaos. Thrúd wished the sound was at least slightly absorbed by the storm, but if anything, it overpowered it. She wouldn’t be surprised if all of the Elves in Alfheim could hear it like Sinmara’s wailing in Niflheim.

There was only one difference between the two: Sinmara was crying out due to heartbreak. This was a scream of complete suffering and agony, and Thrúd now knew who was behind it.

Embla was in horrible pain, her soul suffering as her home wrenched itself apart from the inside until the hammer blasted itself to oblivion.

Thrúd would be damned if she was going to sit by and just let that happen.

Hardening her resolve, Thrúd pushed herself to her feet. Her balance faltered as she felt herself pushed back from the invisible energy that Mjolnir was releasing. She leaned into it as if she were fighting the strong current of a river, one hand out in front of her to block the blinding light and the other shielding her eyes to avoid sand being blown into them.

Each step taken was a trial. She had risen to her feet a whole minute ago but only managed five steps, barely closing the gap between her and the hammer. If she were honest with herself, Thrúd had no clue what to do once she was close enough to Mjolnir. She was no blacksmith, and even if she were, she had no tools handy to help repair it.

All she knew was that she had to get to it. Fast.

She trudged on, fighting the gale-force winds of the sandstorm as well as the concussive pulses Mjolnir released. The cracks along its face grew, allowing the pieces they carved out to stretch farther apart from each other like a small tunic that was popping at the seams as it stretched.

Thrúd grunted as she fought her way forward, frustrated with the amount of sand she found caught between her teeth despite her best efforts to keep her lips sealed. Every so often, lightning struck at her feet, either splashing more sand in her face or dispersing it into the storm.

One stray bolt zapped at her feet, shifting the sand underneath her. Losing her balance, Thrúd overcorrected and felt herself pushed back. Her feet swept out from underneath, she was blown backwards several tens of yards before sliding to a stop. She immediately rose to her knees and pounded the ground in frustration, cursing as she did.

As soon as she let her curses out of her system, Embla’s wails of pain reminded her that someone was suffering more than she was at the moment. With that in mind, Thrúd dusted herself off, rose to her feet and tried again.

She didn’t so much as make it halfway there before another stray gust of wind blew her backwards again. Her hair was even more disheveled than when she started, the onslaught of sand and wind kept her eyes barely open at all, and the cracks on Mjolnir were visibly larger, allowing more light to pour out of it.

She was running out of time. Fast.

After yet another setback where she was blown away and rolled on the ground, Thrúd flinched as a large hand gripped her shoulder and lifted her to her feet. Peeking behind her, she saw Grámtrist, propping her up with both hands, helping her keep balance.

He looked like a complete wreck.

His once shiny and durable armor was all but gone, revealing his surprisingly frail frame underneath. What little was left of his armor was scorched and dented beyond use. Where his breastplate used to be was only now a modest tunic, its colors and pattern faded. His helmet was gone, revealing a face that she recognized from the visions that Mjolnir showed her, but only just barely.

Were she able to rewind time, she could see how this was the same handsome explorer that Odin created to populate Midgard, but it was hard to tell that that’s who he used to be now. His features were lifeless and gray, accentuated by sunken eye sockets and hollow cheeks.

Like Thrúd, he was forced to keep his eyes squinting too. But even through half-shut eyelids, Thrúd could see the sadness they hid.

Thrúd blinked several times, only now fully comprehending who was standing behind her. “Gr-“ She stopped herself, shaking her head. “Ask?”

Ask blinked in surprise. He looked over at the hammer before looking down at Thrúd. “The Light spoke to you too.” It wasn’t a question.

“What do you mean spoke to . . . wait,” she said, raising her voice enough to be heard over the wind. “What did it show you?”

He looked pensive for a moment, wondering how to best describe it.

“The truth,” he said plainly.

Before Thrúd could request elaboration, Embla’s screams grew louder. Ask’s expression saddened even more. He closed his eyes and turned away, unable to look at the hammer for the moment. “There’s only one hope for her now.”

Thrúd looked behind her as he drew his sword, which miraculously looked undamaged. More than likely due to the enchantment on it taking the brunt of the explosion.

Her eyes widened in shock. “No! There has to be something else we can do!” She insisted. “We can find a way to save her without-“

“You must kill me.” He interrupted, effectively stunning her to silence.

Rather than explain his reasoning, he reached down and produced another whetstone. Another white one. He scraped it along his blade, engulfing it in a familiar ethereal glow. Tossing the whetstone behind him, he handed the blade to Thrúd. She held onto the handle with both hands and allowed the massive blade to fall to the ground.

“Wait, I don’t get it.” She started. “What will you-“

“There’s no time to explain. But please, do as I ask,” he pleaded. “I’ll go ahead of you and get close to her. I’ll do everything I can to buy us time.” He found the strength to look back at Mjolnir. The hammer that housed his wife for countless lifetimes. Since that day in Vanaheim, he had dreamed of seeing it destroyed and letting Embla go free. But now that it was here, all he could think of was how half of his entire existence felt misspent.

He squeezed Thrúd’s shoulders. “Thank you,” he said. “For protecting Embla. I know you didn’t do it for her. But she’d be dead now if it weren’t for you.”

Without waiting for any sort of reply, he let go of her and walked ahead. Due to his larger stature, he was able to endure the winds, though not without effort. He assumed a similar stance to hers: hands in front to shield his face and leaning his body forward to fight against it. Thrúd was almost envious of how much quicker he made it to Mjolnir compared to her, but she knew better than to think too much of it at the moment.

Before long, he reached the hammer. He positioned himself behind it so his frontside was facing Thrúd. Raising both arms, he wrapped them around Mjolnir, pulling the fractured pieces together. Even from this far away, Thrúd could see the amount of effort it was taking him to keep his hold on it.

Having no other alternative in mind, Thrúd followed suit with Ask’s instructions and began trudging her way forward yet again.

Hoisting the blade over her shoulder with one arm, Thrúd once again held out her other to block the sand. She was thankful for Ask’s contribution, as his embrace blocked out a good portion of the Light, eliminating one other obstacle.

Using the additional weight to her advantage, Thrúd found keeping herself grounded far easier than before, but walking with the giant sword was still physically taxing. The closer she got to her destination, the more she could see Ask’s struggle. Lightning was striking him point blank all over his body and the wind threatened to tear his arms out of his sockets, but he persevered.

“Hurry!” He pleaded. “I can’t hold it much longer!”

Thrúd obliged as best as she could, leaning farther into the winds and willing her feet to move faster.

The closer she got to the hammer, the more she felt the familiar pounding of the wind coming from it pushing her backwards. Before it could hinder her progress any more than it already has, Thrúd stabbed the blade into the sandy surface, anchoring herself in place.

Using this moment to regain her balance, Thrúd pulled herself closer and gripped the handle tighter. She raised it out of the sand and stabbed it into the sand ahead of her again before pulling herself farther forward still. She repeated this process as fast as she could, doing her best not to loosen her grip on the handle despite the blisters she could already feel forming.

Lightning escaped from his clutches on the hammer, striking the ground near her. Without her wielding its power, there was no telling what the lightning would do to her if it struck.

Rather than find out, Thrúd swung the sword in front of her, pointing the tip straight at Mjolnir.

Another arc of lightning escaped, but it guided itself to the enchanted blade, striking it rather than its user. The electricity arced and sparked its way down the blade until it engulfed Thrúd, making its way down to her legs. More lightning sparked out of the hammer despite Ask’s stubborn intervention, but Thrúd was thankful for it as each bolt hit the blade, gifting her with strength and resolve the closer she got to it.

For his part, Ask was doing everything he could. He hugged his wife tight, heartbroken by the sounds of her screams but hopeful that it would be over soon. The effort of his trial kept his eyes closed, but once he saw the image before him, there was no way he could look away.

The girl he had been hounding for the past several days inched her way forward, his sword in hand. With each arc of lightning that reached her, she took it and wore it as if it were a suit of armor. His arms almost let go of Mjolnir as he looked at her in awe.

Before long, tendrils of lightning protruded from her back, forming together and taking shape abstractly. He wasn’t sure if she was even able to tell since her eyes were locked ahead of her, but behind her, the lightning began to look like wings of a colossal span, elegant and threatening like a falcon’s.

They moved seemingly on their own, flapping like a Valkyrie and pushing her farther forward. If she noticed those additional pushes, she showed no signs of it.

Before either of them knew it, Thrúd was right in front of him, doused in lightning and holding the sword as if it weighed nothing at all. She made eye contact with him, her eyes curious and uncertain. Hearing what wasn’t being said, he nodded. “Please,” he said loud enough for her to barely hear.

Thrúd nodded. Rearing both hands behind her, she thrusted the blade forward and plunged it into Ask’s exposed abdomen.

She was almost afraid that the pain would cause his arms to release Mjolnir, but if anything, he held it even tighter. His eyes were clamped shut and his teeth grit in a physical endeavor to endure the pain. Thrúd pressed the sword farther inside, not wanting the sword to fall out in the event of her being blown backwards.

Thankfully, that never happened. Her eyes widened in wonder and shock as the shimmering white enchantment from the blade traveled from it to Ask’s body. The shimmering made its way up his torso and wrapped around both arms, engulfing Mjolnir in a soothing glow that softened the winds that were escaping from inside of it.

Embla’s screams began to fade away, as if a medic had given her a sedative and she began to drift into unconsciousness. Thrúd’s hair settled down on her back and her skirts settled at her hips as the last of the winds vanished, the howling mercifully disappearing with it. The sands being blown about began to settle, falling all around them and settling into their new homes across the desert floor.

But what Thrúd had her eyes on the most was Mjolnir.

Its fractured pieces melded together as the white glow did its job, assisted by Ask’s never-faltering grip. The glow began to dim until the only light coming out of the hammer was the glow of the markings, pulsing at the rate of a heartbeat.

Thrúd had all but forgotten that she still had her grip on the massive sword. She was only reminded as she began to feel it being pulled away from her. Letting out an involuntary squeak of surprise, Thrúd watched as Ask’s body began to go slack, his legs giving out from underneath him and sending his body plummeting backwards and landing with a thump on the sand, his arms still wrapped around Mjolnir.

She stood frozen for a few moments as if waiting for his body to begin to move again despite knowing that wouldn’t be the case. Snapping herself out of her reverie, she willed her feet to move, walking over to his side and kneeling down to look at him.

No longer was his face contorted in pain, no more were his eyes filled with sadness and suffering. He looked like a man resting after coming home from a long journey. Reaching out, Thrúd unwound his arms from Mjolnir, revealing the repaired hammer. Thrúd let out a breath of amazement as she found not even the smallest blemish on it. Any signs of stress or damage it had taken over the course of their battle was completely gone.

Thrúd took the hammer from his chest, holding it up to inspect it from all sides. A small series of laughs escaped her lungs, unable to think of what else she could do in this event. The pulsing of Mjolnir’s light continued at the same pace, illuminating the immediate area for brief moments of time until Thrúd noticed another source of light from the side.

Just as it was in the vision that Mjolnir showed her, four tiny beads of light escaped from Ask’s lifeless lips. They floated up and down as if underwater, searching for the closest route to the Light of Alfheim.

Thrúd gasped and her eyes shot wide open in sudden understanding.

The four tiny whisps floated upward, ready to make the trek to the temple Thrúd was just at, but she expedited the journey. Holding Mjolnir up, she put the hammer in between the soul fragments and their destination, hoping that this would work.

She was delighted to see the four whisps disappear into Mjolnir without any issue.

Mjolnir grew even brighter, its pulsing replaced with a calming glow, warm and comforting like a campfire. Even from her grip on the handle, she could feel the changes inside it. She could feel the link to Yggdrasil strengthen, the stone face of the hammer bonding together even stronger than before.

But most of all, she felt a vicarious sense of joy flood throughout her system as the Giants’ words returned to her ears:

“May your souls shine together in harmony in the Light of Alfheim,” she repeated their blessing before letting out another disbelieving laugh, unsure of what to think about her being used as a pawn in a prophecy. “Those clever fuckers.”

Before long, the light inside Mjolnir began to fade until she was shrouded in the darkness of the desert. The storm had officially died down, blessing her with silence and reprieve. She wasn’t sure how long she was kneeling in the sand, but she was content enough to continue to do so for a few more peaceful hours had a thought not popped into her head right at that moment.

Rising to her feet, Thrúd placed Mjolnir back at her hip, preparing to tend to Ask’s body.

Thrúd grabbed the sword and dug it out of his abdomen with an unsavory squelching noise. Being careful to not cut herself, Thrúd laid the blade down on top of him with the handle on his chest and the tip going past his feet, folding his hands over the handle.

Stepping back to view her handiwork, Thrúd grabbed Mjolnir and held it up as if offering it a view of it.

“Not gonna win any presentation awards, but I think it’s good enough for what it is. What do you think?” In response, she could feel a slight vibration go through the hammer. Unsure of how to interpret it, she decided to take it as a sign of confirmation. She began to wonder if Embla had been communicating with her all this time as well and never noticed.

Or even if her dad noticed.

She remembered the times her dad whispered to Mjolnir, but he wasn’t aware of Embla’s soul residing inside . . . was he?

Shaking off that uncertainty, Thrúd shrugged her shoulder, summoning her tattooed passenger. Hugin appeared and fluttered his way onto Thrúd’s outstretched arm. The raven twitched his head this way and that, seeing Ask’s lifeless body.

He looked back at Thrúd. “So. He’s in there now?” The bird asked, gesturing his beak towards the hammer.

“Yup,” Thrúd confirmed.

“With his wife.” Hugin continued.

“I don’t know if they were ever fully considered husband and wife to begin with. But either way, the answer is still yes.” Thrúd let out a small snort of amusement. “I honestly wasn’t sure if that was going to work.”

Hugin was silent for a moment, his eyes locked on Mjolnir. “Think they’re getting it on right now?”

“HUGIN!”

“What?” He asked as if he hadn’t just asked something obscenely offensive one second ago. “It’s a completely reasonable question. Gotta start up making up for lost time sometime.” Thrúd shook him off her arm. He flapped his wings and lowered himself to the sandy ground. “And besides, what better place to get nailed than inside a hammer, huh?”

“You are disgusting,” Thrúd said. “And besides, I already made that joke.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did. You just weren’t there to hear it.” Thrúd shook her head, getting her thoughts back on track. “Never mind. They’re both finally happy, and that’s all that matters.”

Hugin motioned to the body behind him. “And what about this bulky thing? You’re not just planning on leaving it here, are you? That’s pretty low.”

“That’s why I called you out,” Thrúd informed him. “I need you to send a message for me, if you don’t mind.”

“I doubt whether or not I mind really matters, does it?”

“Just hear what it is first before you get all defensive about it?”

Hugin obliged and was surprised by her request.

Without another comment, Hugin set off into the night, disappearing once again on his errand, leaving Thrúd to her side of business. She just wasn’t looking forward to searching for several needles in an impossibly large haystack.

. . .

The hours blended together during her search for the scattered whetstones. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea to separate Ask from his tools. But in light of recent events, she didn’t think it the wisest to leave them outside where anybody could pick them up.

Sure, they’d more than likely be smothered by the sands of the desert and lost forever, but after witnessing several times what they’re capable of, Thrúd decided she wasn’t willing to take that chance.

So, she searched. First, she retraced her most recent steps and found the first few with little issue, returning them to Ask’s body. Then came the harder part: finding the rest that were scattered as she waited for Hugin to deliver her message.

What came after was a clumsy, frustration inducing system of digging, cursing, and only occasionally finding what she was looking for. Before long, she performed a headcount and deduced that all of them were present once again.

After bringing them all back, she allowed the fatigue to wash over her. Not only had she just been a part of the second largest battle of her life (rivaled only to the events of Ragnarok), but she had also witnessed an entire lifetime of memories in what was only a few short moments. Her body, unsure how to process it all, begged for rest.

She was only all too happy to oblige.

Dumping the whetstones into a sloppy pile next to Ask, Thrúd sunk to her knees and fell on her side. She stopped caring long ago about sand working its way into her clothes as she squirmed to allow her body to find an adequate enough position.

It seemed only ten seconds had passed after she closed her eyes that she was startled awake by the familiar fluttering of wings.

Shooting up to her feet in an instant, unconsciously summoning Mjolnir as she did, Thrúd yelled in surprise, hoping it sounded intimidating enough to whoever was disturbing her rest.

Her heart sank when she realized she had just roared in Sigrun’s face.

Thrúd’s jaw dropped in shock. Her grip on Mjolnir faltered until it dropped to the sands. She began to shake uncontrollably, though she wasn’t sure what the cause of it was. “Si-S . . . Miss Sigrun!”

She couldn’t tell behind the elegant mask and headdress, but Sigrun smiled in amusement.

Before Sigrun could say anything, Thrúd dropped down to one knee and bowed her head, her face disappearing in a curtain of red and orange. “Miss Sigrun,” she tried again. “You honor me by accepting my request.”

Sigrun failed to hold back a snort at the sight. Thrúd ignored it as best she could.

“Rise, Thrúd Thorsdottir. I can’t talk to your hair.”

Flinching at the comment, Thrúd shot back up to her feet.

The Valkyrie Queen was just as magnificent and dignified as ever. Her armor shined as if freshly polished, and her wings were regal and intimidating even when folded in. On her shoulder was Hugin, who was no doubt enjoying his view of his new boss making a fool of herself in front of one of her idols.

Snapping her fingers and gesturing to her shoulder, Thrúd silently commanded him to return. He flapped over and became a tattoo once again, giving them the privacy she wanted.

Thrúd cleared her throat. “Miss Sigrun. Thank you for arriving on such short notice. I, erm, I humbly ask for your assistance in-“ she stopped short as she gestured behind her to display Ask’s body and the whetstones and found them nowhere to be seen.

Twirling in a panicked frenzy, Thrúd searched for them breathlessly, unsure of how she could have managed to misplace them while she was sleeping.

“Don’t worry, young one,” Sigrun soothed, detecting the panic that was seizing her. “They are not missing. My sisters have retrieved them already,” she explained. “The body of the Traveler was cremated with high honors and the whetstones are safe.”

Thrúd stopped spinning, eyes wide in understanding. “Oh. Um . . . thank you. Very much.”

“No Thrúd. Thank you.”

The daughter of Thor visibly blanched. “Me? What for?” She regretted those words as soon as they left her mouth, but Sigrun showed no signs of offence.

“Tales of your exploits across the realms have reached my sisters and me. In an era of confusion and sorrow post-Ragnarok, hearing of your selflessness and heroic actions is a soothing song that deserves to be heard.”

Thrúd was lost for words. Thankfully, she didn’t have to contribute any as Sigrun continued.

“Your kindness in Niflheim has filled the realm with a peaceful atmosphere devoid of sorrow. Your heroic interference in Vanaheim has helped the ecosystem begin to right itself after the Einherjar’s brief occupation.” She paused. “Although, from what we were led to believe, your visit to Svartalfheim left much to be desired.”

Thrúd blushed profusely, looking away from the Valkyrie Queen.

“But even that lapse in judgement is nothing compared to what you have accomplished and demonstrated this evening alone.” She gestured to the empty spot where Ask once was lying. “Hugin informed Eir, Gunnr and I about your most recent trials. Not to worry,” she comforted after she saw the look of shock and betrayal that came over Thrúd’s face, “he was very clear on the details and gave you high praise.”

Thrúd looked over her shoulder at the tattoo as if it would reply or deny Sigrun’s claim. When he didn’t, she looked back at Sigrun.

“You showed mercy, kindness and understanding to an enemy who was hunting you relentlessly once you learned of his plight. You saved the soul of an innocent from someone’s harmful but well-meaning intentions. You defended the legacy of your lineage in the face of judgement and cruelty. Quite honestly, young one, I could continue, but the list is far too great.” She inhaled deeply, reaching her point. “All of these examples are virtues that a Shield Maiden strives to practice and maintain.”

At that last comment, Thrúd’s eyes grew wide.

“Thrúd Thorsdottir, would you do the realms a great service by becom-“

“YES!” Thrúd yelled. Instantly after, she clamped her hands over her mouth and reddened even more. Removing her hands, she calmed down before trying again. “I- um, I mean, yes. I accept this gracious invitation.”

Sigrun nodded. She was glad that she decided to withhold the information that she was already going to be invited to join their sisterhood even before hearing of her deeds. That knowledge alone probably would have made her faint.

“My sisters will be glad to hear this. With your hands wielding Mjolnir, there isn’t a doubt in my mind that the realms will prosper. But for now,” the giant woman closed the distance and rested her hand on Thrúd’s shoulder.

“Rest,” she said. “Consider this your first order. You’ve been through a great ordeal. That much is obvious. We will begin training in one week.” She squeezed her shoulder affectionately. “I am excited to see what else you will accomplish in your future.”

With that, Sigrun released her shoulder and walked away. She unfurled her wings and took off into the sky, kicking up sand underneath her.

Thrúd wasn’t able to put into words how she was feeling right now, though she did agree with Sigrun’s assessment: She needed to get some sleep, and sleeping on the sand wasn’t going to do at all.

Thankfully, she knows of a place with its doors wide open to her arrival. And besides, she knows of two people who would enjoy some alone time in Vanaheim.

Chapter Text

A massive set of wings skimmed over the top of the line of trees, sending a handful of leaves falling slowly to the ground. A few of them landed in Thrúd’s wild hair as she stood at the ready, waiting for her opponent to find her.

She looked to the side after she heard twigs snapping in the distance but found no one coming from that direction. Growing impatient, Thrúd began to bounce on the balls of her feet in anticipation, her knees bent in a stance ready to pounce.

“Come on, come on,” she whispered to herself. “Come on out.”

More twigs snapping from the other direction. She only had enough time to turn her head halfway around when a hand wrapped itself around her neck and whisked her off the ground, slamming her back into a nearby tree. Bark tore from the trunk and wood splintered in every direction from the impact.

Eir held Thrúd by the throat with her feet dangling in the air with one hand. In the other, a dull, absolutely harmless sword was aimed at her prey’s chest.

“Your reaction time needs some work, Thorsdottir,” she jabbed playfully with a hint of disapproval in her voice.

Thrúd snickered, despite the lack of airflow. “So do your observation skills.”

With a snap of her fingers, Mjolnir revealed itself from underneath a pile of leaves at the Shield Maiden’s feet. Her grip on Thrúd’s throat was released as the hammer slammed underneath her chin with the force of a godly uppercut, sending her flying above the trees of the Vanaheim jungle.

Thrúd dropped to her feet and summoned the hammer back. Covering herself in electricity, Thrúd held Mjolnir in front of her and let it carry her forward. That’s one down, she thought to herself.

If there was one thing that Sigrun didn’t fuck around with, Thrúd discovered that it was training exercises.

This was the fourth time in as many days Thrúd was flung into a random part of the realms and told to defend herself by any means necessary. The Shield Maidens acted as her adversaries, armed with non-lethal weaponry.

The rules were simple: land at least one blow on them with Mjolnir. If any of them struck her with their weapons, Thrúd was subject to any arduous workout regiment of the successful Maiden’s choosing. Needless to say, her arms and legs felt ready to pop off from the strenuous activities they had in mind.

She zigged and zagged through the trees, eyes both alert of incoming obstacles and any other winged idol of hers who was tasked with making her life difficult at this moment in time.

Seeing an unnatural movement ahead of her, Thrúd killed the flow of lightning and dropped to the ground. Letting her momentum bring her forward, Thrúd slid on her knees and watched as Gunnr swung her sword harmlessly in the air above her. Without missing a beat, Thrúd rose to her feet and kept running. “You used that one two days ago!” Thrúd reminded her before taking off deeper into the jungle with Mjolnir’s assistance.

Looking behind her, Thrúd found Gunnr giving chase. Despite the might of Mjolnir, a giant set of wings and lifetimes of practice with them proved to be the superior method of travel as she quickly caught up with her. Thrúd quickly turned several times in an attempt to shake the Maiden, but the idea proved ineffective as Gunnr reached one hand forward and swatted at Thrúd’s feet.

Her balance completely thrown off, Thrúd tumbled to the ground and rolled to a stop, letting go of Mjolnir somewhere along the way. She laid on her back for not even a full second before Gunnr reappeared with her sword raised high in preparation to strike.

Thrúd raised her arm and flicked her wrist, activating her shield and deflecting Gunnr’s sword harmlessly to one side. Exposed, Gunnr grunted as she took a boot to her gut, pushing her away from the Maiden-in-training. Thrúd shot up to her feet and called Mjolnir back. She swung the hammer, but Gunnr parried it away. The two of them were locked in combat for several seconds before Thrúd slammed her shield into the Shield Maiden’s chest, making her drop her weapon.

Not wasting this chance, Thrúd dropped to one knee and threw Mjolnir between Gunner’s feet. Calling it back, the hammer swept her foot out from under her and toppled her to the ground. Flapping her wings with such force it kicked up loose bits of dirt and grass underneath her, Gunnr righted herself and sliced at Thrúd with her wingtips.

Her shield held strong, but the force of the attacks pushed Thrúd backwards with each strike. Gunnr flapped her wings, flying backwards as if pulled by an invisible rope and grabbed her weapon. Now re-armed, the Shield Maiden closed the distance again and struck.

Thrúd raised her shield again and parried the blow away before slamming her hammer into Gunnr’s midsection.

Holding her aching abdomen, Gunnr looked at Thrúd. “I was pulling back on my strikes before. You need to keep yourself grounded in a more solid stance.”

Deep down, Thrúd appreciated the note. But outwardly, she couldn’t help the elation of having tagged out two Shield Maidens from showing in the form of nonchalant smugness.

“And I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you,” she continued to advise. “Your next foe will not pull her punches.”

This sobered the daughter of Thor up quickly.

Not a moment after the warning was declared, more snapping twigs and whooshes of air alerted her of the oncoming danger. Holding Mjolnir above her head, Thrúd took to the air, allowing Sigrun to pass by underneath her as she broke through the top of the forest and into the Vanaheim sky. She spared a glance down and let out an involuntary shriek as she saw Sigrun was already back on her tail.

Aiming Mjolnir down, she shot a blast of lightning at her idol, but it was easily avoided with an elegant twirl. In return, Sigrun swiped her wing across and sent a handful of razor-sharp feathers flying towards her. They were avoided in a less dignified twirl.

The two of them engaged in a game of aerial cat and mouse, lighting up the already bright sky with wayward bolts of lightning and sunlight flashing off of Sigrun’s scythe. Sigrun swung her weapon with precision and ferocity, but Thrúd avoided her attacks. Albeit only barely, but avoiding them nonetheless.

Reaching out, Sigrun gripped Thrúd’s ankle and pulled her in. Thrúd panicked and swung Mjolnir wildly, but Sigrun caught her wrist and forced her grip open, letting Mjolnir plummet. Twisting them around, the final Shield Maiden aimed Thrúd downward and slammed her into the ground. The air in her lungs were all but forced out of her on impact, but Sigrun seemed none the worse for ware as she stood tall and proudly over her, tapping the blade of her scythe harmlessly on Thrúd’s breastplate.

“And that’s game,” Sigrun felt the need to inform her.

Thrúd replied with a strained gasp, a labored attempt to refill her lungs with air.

Reaching down, Sigrun offered her hand to her. Thrúd accepted it and allowed herself to be lifted back up to her feet.

“Your speed has improved,” Sigrun noted, “but don’t sacrifice your technique for its sake.” As she gave more notes, Thrúd nodded and held out her hand, calling Mjolnir back to her from wherever it landed. After placing it at her hip, Thrúd soaked in the rest of Sigrun’s observations.

She was almost a full week into her training with the Shield Maidens and yet she still had trouble fully realizing it. It was all she could do to pay attention to what they all had to say and not be completely star-struck. Most of the time though, she was able to obtain the gist of what was told to her.

Speed good. Form bad. Improve it.

As Sigrun continued her combination of praise and notes, a flurry of black feathers transporter Lady Sif to the clearing they found themselves in. Thrúd’s mother walked over to them with a bemused smile on her face. “I thought that clap of thunder came from over here,” she said before turning her attention to Thrúd’s teacher. “I hope you’re not going too hard on her. She is her father’s daughter, but she is still my little girl,” she playfully chided not without a hint of motherly concern.

“Please, Lady Sif,” Sigrun insisted. “I couldn’t damage your daughter were I to strike her with all of Yggdrasil itself.”

While glad to be showered with praise from one of her heroes, Thrúd focused on her mother. “Did you need something, mom?”

“Your blacksmith friend Lúnda stopped by the house. She told me to tell you to drop by Midgard whenever you got a chance. Normally I would have waited to tell you this when you got home from training, but she seemed . . . excited for you to arrive sooner rather than later.”

“Oh! I wonder if she’s got those new bracers ready for me,” Thrúd pondered aloud, raising her wrists to examine her current beat up pair.

“Whatever the occasion may be, I’m sure it will still be waiting for you after your five hundred pushups,” Sigrun felt the need to add.

“After my pushups,” Thrúd confirmed. She dropped to the ground on the spot and began her assignment, huffing as she pushed.

“Well,” her mother awkwardly clasped her hands together. “I guess I’ll leave you to it. Can I expect you home for dinner tonight?”

Thrúd paused her workout to look up at her mother through her nest of messy hair dangling over her face. “Yeah! I’ll be back before dusk.”

“I’ll see you then.” She gave a polite bob of her head to Sigrun. “Thank you for all of this. Thrúd can’t stop talking about how amazing this experience has been for her.”

“Mom,” Thrúd groaned.

“Not at all, Lady Sif.” Sigrun placed her fist on her breastplate and returned the small bow. “The pleasure is mine. You raised one remarkable young warrior.”

After the exchange of pleasantries, Hugin returned Sif to her home at the settlement. After a few minutes, Hugin returned and felt the need to set himself on top of Thrúd’s back as she continued her pushups. Sigrun left moments after Lady Sif did to attend to other matters, trusting that her student would finish her exercise without supervision.

“You must think you’re really funny,” Thrúd griped, flicking a sticky strand of hair out of her face.

“I know I’m really funny,” Hugin replied snidely. “Besides, I’m helping you out by adding weight to this. I’m making you stronger. You should be thanking me.”

Thrúd paused her pushups, humming in mock thought. “Well, you are definitely fatter than the average bird.”

Hugin pecked at her back in retaliation.

“OW!” Thrúd shooed him off her. He flapped over to a nearby log and observed her workout from there. She shrugged off her annoyance and continued.

“What’s the point of pushups anyway? Aren’t you already strong enough to swing that hammer around?”

“It’s not just about strength,” Thrúd huffed out between reps. “This combined with the regiment that the other Shield Maidens assign to me is teaching control and not to rush things.”

“Not to rush things, huh?” Hugin asked. “Seems like a lesson you could have learned when you first found Mjolnir.”

Thrúd paused again. “I was just excited to use it,” she admitted. “Besides, it’s not like I’m the one who found it.”

The raven fluffed his feathers in pride. “Yeah. That was me, wasn’t it? You still haven’t thanked me for that, by the way.” He chirped semi-jokingly.

“Why?” Thrúd asked.

“For finding it, you dumbass!”

Thrúd shook her head, unperturbed by his lashing out. “No, I mean . . .” She trailed off, trying to find the best way to phrase it. “Why did you tell me where it was in the first place?” She asked, surprised this thought hadn’t crossed her mind before. “Odin’s gone. You had zero obligations. You could’ve just flown away and none of us would have wondered where you went. So, why did you help me?”

If it was possible for a raven’s face to flush with embarrassment, Hugin’s would have in a split second.

Years of servitude to Odin taught him and Munin to steel themselves to verbal and sometimes physical abuse. That also included steeling themselves to their own feelings as well. Because of this, he was never able to properly express that he wanted her to inherit the hammer since she was a young girl.

After a particularly frustrating day of being unable to please his father, Thor took a wild swing of frustration at the open air, not seeing that Hugin was in the area. His fist connected with Hugin’s comparatively miniscule body and flung him out the nearest window, damaging his wing in the process.

He spent the remainder of that day walking throughout the streets of Asgard, forced to find food elsewhere due to being unable to reach his usual feeding station. He painstakingly reached the windows of several establishments, but he was shooed away immediately by the owners who assumed he was there to spy on them.

Hours had passed and his belly demanded sustenance, but he was unsure how to obtain any without aggravating his wing. It was at that moment when a slab of meat landed right in front of him. He jumped in surprise and chirped curiously.

Looking up, he found Thor’s daughter, no older than 5, wiping the grease from the meat off on her skirt. Shortly after, she scampered off to find her mother. It was a small gesture from a small girl, but it was enough to put her in his favor to inherit the hammer instead of her two moron brothers.

It was enough to wish he could be in the servitude of someone kind for once in his life.

Not wanting to express this to her, Hugin shook his head and replied with the first rude statement he was able to conjure.

“Well, your drunk asshole of a father was just murdered right in front of you. I found it and figured, hey, why not throw the poor kid a bone?”

Thrúd scoffed and shook her head. “Whatever you say, asshole.”

Before long, she completed her workout and rose to her feet, wiping the dirt from her hands satisfactorily. “Alright. Let’s go see what Lúnda has for me.”

Hugin flew up to her shoulder. “Want me to take you there? Or are you gonna take the express way again?”

“Hey,” Thrúd held up Mjolnir and shook it in front of his face. “Having two direct descendants of Yggdrasil inhabit it has its uses. We’re taking the fun way.”

Hugin, predicting this answer, turned himself into a tattoo on her back and waited for the ride to begin.

Raising Mjolnir above her head, a loud clap of thunder summoned a funnel of lightning that fully enveloped her in a flurry of flashing lights. She bent her knees and took off skyward, leaving the realm of Vanaheim, her new home, behind her. Through the walls of the funnel that still wrapped around her like a protective membrane, she could barely make out the overlapping branches of the massive World Tree as she passed through the realm between realms.

In no time at all, the funnel spat her out and she found herself soaring headfirst into Midgard. Spinning herself around, she landed feet first on the massive bridge spanning the Lake of Nine and slid to a halt. She let out a small whoop of exhilaration, still finding the brief ride as thrilling an experience as it was when she first discovered it three days ago.

When he was certain the ride was over, Hugin materialized and flew over to the railing. “Still prefer that joyride to my method of transportation?”

“You bet your feathery ass I do. It’s scenic and even quicker.”

“Great,” the raven huffed. “I’ve already been put out of a job by a fucking hammer.”

Thrúd squinted in two parts confusion and amusement. “You’re not out of a job, you dramatic fleabag. Who else would get me all the details of what’s going on in the realms while I’m training?”

“Oh joy. At least I’m still useful for stalking people.”

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.”

“That’s beside the point.”

Before long, they approached a familiar blacksmith’s stand. At least, one of the several that she has strewn about all across the realms.

“Well gee! That’s quite the entrance, lil lady!”

Thrúd blew a strand of hair out of her face before pouting in annoyance as she noticed more strands of her already out of control hair floated in the air, bathed thoroughly in static electricity. She leaned forward and propped her elbow on the counter of Lúnda’s shop. “Still getting used to the side effects,” she replied nonchalantly.

The dwarf didn’t respond to the comment. Rather, she went about her business behind the counter as if Thrúd weren’t there at all. Thrúd frowned in confusion, waiting for the blacksmith to address the reason she wanted Thrúd to visit.

Awkwardly, the daughter of Thor cleared her throat. “So, erm, do you have those bracers finished?”

“Hm?” The portly dwarf paused her work and looked at Thrúd, just remembering that she was there. “Oh! Nah, not yet lil lady,” she said half apologetically. “Those won’t be ready for about ‘nother day or two.”

Thrúd blinked and stood upright in surprise. “Oh. That’s ok, I guess. But if they’re not ready yet, why did you call me over?”

At this, Lúnda let out a loud guffaw, as if she had just been told the funniest joke she had ever heard. “Nah, I didn’t call you over to see lil ol’ me! I figured you wanted to see her, though,” Lúnda finished ominously with an accompanied nod of her head off in a certain direction.

Following the dwarf’s gesture, Thrúd looked behind her and did her best to brace her legs and keep her from falling over.

On the other side of the bridge, previously blocked from view due to the support arches holding up the horn to call the World Serpent was a familiar trio of gods. One was tall, bald, muscular, pale, and adorned with swirling foreign tattoos. Another was merely a head hanging from the former’s belt. The third was one of the primary reasons Thrúd desired to be a Valkyrie in the first place.

Freya locked eyes with Thrúd immediately and broke into a kind smile. Kratos, Loki’s father, ceased whatever he was saying to her at the time and locked eyes with her as well. His face was still the definition of stoicism and control. Mimir was blocked from view with Kratos turned towards her, but Thrúd assumed that not much had physically changed for the world’s smartest head.

The three of them made their way across the bridge, closing the distance between them in calm, quick strides. Thrúd wished that it took them longer so she could think of something better to say besides, “Uh.” She could sense Lúnda behind the counter and the satisfaction she was currently feeling at having surprised her with this meeting.

Thrúd wasn’t sure if she wanted to strike her or thank her.

Ah Hel, the day is still young. I could do both.

If Freya noticed the greeting that lacked any basic brain functions, she didn’t show it. Rather, she kept her smile and held out her hand in greeting. “Hello, Thrúd,” she greeted softly. “We haven’t had the pleasure of meeting face to face yet. I’m glad to remedy that now.”

Thrúd wasn’t sure how many times she looked from the hand extended towards her and the goddess’s beaming face. She hoped it wasn’t too many before she finally took the hand and shook it. “Not nearly as much as me, lady Freya. Er, ma’am.”

The goddess laughed softly. “Just Freya is fine, young one.” Thrúd was almost tempted to never clean that hand for as long as she lived.

After they released each other’s hands, Thrúd struggled to find something else to say. Thankfully, Freya beat her to it. “I am glad to see you doing well after Ragnarok. And we were so glad to see that Mjolnir found its way back to you.”

“Were glad?” Thrúd repeated.

“Aye, lass!” Came a heavily accented voice from behind Kratos. Reaching behind him, Kratos plucked Mimir from his hip and held him level with Thrúd’s head. “We happened to pass through the Alfheim desert as you made a rather meaningful departure. Seemed you were off on some sort of mission.”

Thrúd pressed her lips into a thin line. “Yeah. You could definitely say that.”

“I’m glad to see you as well,” Kratos spoke in his deep, gravely voice. “I’ve wanted to thank you for looking after my son in Asgard. His decision to go there was not . . . well received by myself and the others. Knowing he had a friend in a foreign land eases my mind.”

Thrúd was surprised she had the courage to wave off the expression of gratitude with such abandon. “Oh, that was nothing. I heard he had to deal with Heimdall and immediately felt for him.”

“Sounds about right,” Mimir murmured under his breath.

“A father’s peace of mind is a difficult storm to quell,” Freya continued. “We’re all thankful for your role in not only welcoming Atreus, but your help during Ragnarok. Kratos and Sigrun have gone into detail how well you fought that day.”

“And speaking of fathers,” Mimir spoke up again, “that’s quite the heirloom you’ve had the misfortune of inheriting so soon.” If he still possessed a neck, he would have used it to nod at the hammer hanging on Thrúd’s belt.

Thrúd patted it, running her fingers along the engraved markings. “Yeah,” was all she said.

“I’ve no doubt that he’d be thrilled to see you wieldin’ it, lass,” Mimir comforted, sensing her oncoming melancholy. “But I’ve been unable to shake this minor curiosity from my mind, if you’ll forgive me prying.”

Thrúd nodded, consenting to his request.

“I’m sure I’ve no need to tell you the legacy that that hammer carries with it. I myself have recently been humbled by the pragmatic philosophy of one ex-Greek god of war on the subject of weapons and those who use them,” Kratos snorted at the mention of his title. “So, keeping all of its history in mind, what exactly is your intent with Mjolnir now that it’s in your possession?”

Had this question been asked to Thrúd two weeks ago, she’d have immediately recited a well-rehearsed speech about her kicking ass and taking names while answering to no one but herself. Had the question been asked a week ago, she would have assumed they thought that she had no chance of shaking off her father’s violent legacy and argued with them defensively while dodging the original question.

But since it was being asked to her now, she wasn’t sure how to respond.

“You know, it’s funny,” she started. “I used to think that if I were to inherit it instead of my brothers, I’d immediately become this . . . I don’t know. This paragon of strength, I guess. This- this symbol that nobody in the realms would want to ever fuck with. But the moment I found Mjolnir-“

“CAW!” Hugin made himself known on the counter.

Thrúd waved off whatever his interjection was. “The moment I found it, I just kept fucking up. Nothing I did seemed to work out the way I thought. So, then I realized that . . . I don’t know, I guess I just finally figured out that it’s not the hammer that makes me badass. It’s how I use it. Honestly, Mimir,” she said, looking the decapitated god in his glowing eyes, “all I really want to do now is just make him proud.”

“Ah,” Mimir breathed out as understanding sank in on the three of them.

After a few moments of silence, Kratos spoke up.

“In battle, moments before death, the true nature of a man is revealed,” he began, drawing all eyes towards him, Lúnda’s included. “Whether it is bravery, cowardice, even humor on rare occasions, they are always shown. In my battle with your father during Ragnarok, your father displayed fear.” Thrúd blinked in surprise. Before she could question, the foreign god continued. “Not fear on his behalf or his own wellbeing, but for the safety of his family.”

Thrúd’s eyes widened.

“Whenever he spoke, it was about you and your mother. Up to his final moments, you were always on his mind, even in the face of obliteration.” His expression softened even more. “So, you need not worry about whether or not he is proud of you. He always has been.”

The daughter of Thor was thankful that there was a sturdy structure behind her. If there wasn’t, she wouldn’t have been able to catch herself on anything as her wobbly legs gave out from underneath. What she was just told honestly shouldn’t have come as a surprise. A father’s love and pride for his daughter should never be earned. Under the correct circumstances, it is a nonconditional right. Growing up in a very competitive and toxic family, she had lost track of one crucial fact:

Dad loved me.

She vowed to never forget that for as long as she lived.

“Well said, Kratos,” Freya praised.

“Aye,” Mimir agreed. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.

Once she was positive that her voice wouldn’t come off as watery as her throat and eyes felt, she thanked him. “I’d, uh, I’d love to hear what he had to say, sometime. Whenever you’re not busy.”

Kratos nodded. “Of course.”

Mimir’s eyes widened. “Oh, you’re going to be in for quite the treat, lass! This man here is blossoming into quite the weaver of epic yarns! I’m dying to hear his rendition of the events that transpired.”

“You were there. You know how they ‘transpired’,” Kratos replied, unimpressed with Mimir’s partially sarcastic enthusiasm.

“I know, brother. But with no offense intended, you had all the narrative chops of a felled oak until only recently. To be present while your skills evolve is truly a gift!”

Kratos snorted, still unimpressed.

As they spoke, Thrúd didn’t notice Hugin attempting to gain her attention by pecking his beak on the wooden surface in an effort to alert her that someone was coming. Behind her, Thrúd heard Lúnda take in a shocked breath.

Thrúd looked around to find the dwarf looking to the side of the shop with her hand over her chest in disbelief. “What’s up, Lúnda? See a ghost?”

She didn’t answer, too stunned to speak.

Following her line of sight, Thrúd found the source of Lúnda’s surprise. Based on the silence of the group, she guessed that the others noticed as well.

Sindri stood beside the counter Thrúd was leaning against. His eyes were hollow and sunken, glazed and beaten. He looked as if he hadn’t eaten since the last time Thrúd saw him back at his house. The cuts on his arms from handling weapons with out protective equipment were healing poorly, leaving nasty scars running down the lengths of them.

One by one, he made eye contact with everyone present, as if challenging them to say something. No one rose to the challenge. Looking inside the shop, he eyed a large set of hammers hanging from the wall before looking back at Lúnda, silently asking for permission.

Picking up on the cue, Lúnda grabbed them and handed them over. Giving nothing more than a terse nod as thanks, he turned and walked back from where he came from, disappearing in the crowd of people helping with the temple’s restoration.

“Well, I’ll be,” Mimir breathed out. “You don’t suppose he’s . . .” he trailed off.

“No. Not yet,” Kratos answered. “But it is a start.”

Thrúd didn’t share the same relationship with the dwarf as the others did, so she had no way of telling what crossed their minds the moment they saw him. Sure, they shared her surprise, but what else could possibly be going through their heads at having just seen him?

While she couldn’t answer that specifically, she sure as Hel knew that she was proud of him for making the right choice.

Another familiar voice made itself heard over the din of workers, drawing all their attention. “Thrúd! Hey, Thrúd!” Turning to see, they found Skjoldr wading his way through the crowd over to them, tripping awkwardly over numerous feet and the odd tool carelessly left on the ground.

Before he reached them, Freya took that as their cue. “Gentlemen, I believe it’s time to leave young Thrúd to her business.” Kratos nodded his agreement with a grunt to accompany it, placing Mimir back at his hip. “It was a pleasure speaking to you, Thrúd,” she shook her hand again. “You’re an exceptional young woman and I’d be honored to fight by your side one day.”

“Likewise,” Thrúd said with a smile.

With that, the trio took their leave, heading down the bridge in the same direction Thrúd came from. Thrúd turned back to the dwarf behind the counter, eyes wide and mystified. “How . . ?” She trailed off.

Knowing what she was trying to ask, Lúnda kindly filled in the blanks. “They caught wind of what was goin’ on over here and wanted to see fer themselves.” She shrugged. “Thought you’d like a chance to say hello.”

“You thought correctly,” Thrúd affirmed. “Thank you.”

Lúnda nodded her head. “Any time, lil lady.”

The dwarf went back to work in her shop as Skjoldr finally made his way over to Thrúd’s side. “Hey! Glad you’re here! I was worried you’d be too busy in Vanaheim with your mom. I was going to come get you otherwise.”

Thrúd shook her head. “Nope. Mom’s got all the help she needs running things over there. The only thing I’ve been busy with is Shield Maiden training.

Her friend’s eyes grew impossibly wide. “No shit? That’s awesome! That’s been, like, your dream all your life! Well, I guess being a Valkyrie was more your dream until they recently became the Shield Maidens, but you get what I mean . . . right?”

“I get it.” Thrúd laughed. She broadly gestured to the scene before them. “Things have really come a long way here,” she prompted.

“Yeah, no shit. Everyone’s really pulled together. None of it would have been possible without them. But I actually came over to see if you wanted to join them,” he said.

Thrúd blinked in surprise. “Me?” Skjoldr nodded. Thrúd looked over at the disembodied legs then back to Skjoldr a few times in shock. “I’m not much of a builder. I’m more of a breaker.”

Skjoldr smiled in amusement. “Yeah, believe me, I know that. But I’m not talking about cutting anything or measuring or anything like that.” He pointed up at the legs. “Those aren’t fastened in just yet. I was wondering if you’d want to do the honors of hammering in the first spike with Mjolnir. You can be on your way right after.”

She wasn’t sure why, but an intense sensation of self-consciousness fluttered in her chest.

Thrúd understood what Skjoldr was trying to accomplish by undertaking this task, as he had mentioned as much on one of their prior conversations. She supported his decision and wished him well but wasn’t expecting to do anything outside of that.

She opened her mouth to politely decline his offer, not seeing it appropriate since she had not had any hand in its construction thus far, but stopped herself as another thought came up.

Mjolnir was hers. Not her father’s anymore, definitely not either Magni or Modi, or any other survivor of Ragnarok. It was hers. Hers to do with as she sees fit. Upon finding it, she learned that it wasn’t the weapon itself that would make her a badass warrior like she had hoped it would. That was up to her and no one else. And now that she was under the tutelage of Sigrun and the others, she was well on her way.

But she also found that that’s not the only thing she wants to be known as.

She wants to teach the realms that they don’t have to instinctively fear Mjolnir as soon as they see it anymore. To build and bridge peace throughout the realms in a time where they don’t have to fear the malevolent rule of the Aesir.

She wasn’t sure how, but the more she thought of it, Thrúd thought this was a good place to start.

Pursing her lips and squinting in mock thought, tapping her finger to her chin as she did so, she hummed to herself as Skjoldr awaited her answer.

“I don’t know,” she teased. “Seems a little tacky, doesn’t it?”

Skjoldr shrugged, playing along. “Well, if you don’t want to do it, I’m sure that your best friend Asmund wouldn’t mind doing it.”

“I’ll do it! I’ll do it!” She suddenly screamed, punching him on his shoulder. Skjoldr let out a series of laughs as he poorly shielded himself from her onslaught.

“Ok, ok!” He managed to breathe out. “I was only kidding anyways. Follow me.”

Thrúd ceased her abuse and did as she was told, following her friend as they cut through the crowd of people, making their way over to a ladder that would take them up. As they passed, people Skjoldr has been working with smiled a greeting and patted him on the back. He offered a smile in return as well as a quick question about their own wellbeing.

Thrúd was surprised by the variety of people who had helped with this project. She passed by dwarves, men, women, and elves alike, all of whom set aside whatever differences they may have had in the past to see this through for a better future.

Suddenly, Thrúd felt honored to be among them.

The closer they got to the ladder, the better and less self-conscious Thrúd began to feel. If she wanted to help build a better world, then inheriting a hammer seemed to be the best thing that could have happened to her. Overall, everything about it seemed right, and she couldn’t stop smiling at the thought.

Before long, they climbed up the ladder and stood atop the temple. Before her, the massive, newly refurbished legs of Týr towered over her, waiting to be assembled and inspire a new generation of travelers. Down at the feet, holes were punched in at certain points, awaiting the spikes to be driven through them.

Next to a foot was a toolbox filled with golden spikes, glittering in the sunlight. Leaning down, Skjoldr scooped one up and tossed it to Thrúd. “All yours,” he invited, gesturing down at the holes and leaning against the god of war’s shin, out of Thrúd’s way.

Thrúd nodded in appreciation and held up Mjolnir. She couldn’t help but smile at the prospect of the legendary weapon that had previously taken part in the slaughter of countless lives now being used for a seemingly menial task. But Thrúd knew of two people who currently resided inside it who would appreciate this change of pace.

After all, what good was owning a hammer if you weren’t going to use it to build something?

Crouching down, Thrúd lined up the spike with the hole, and used Mjolnir to tap it in place.