Chapter Text
"Y-you're getting a little hot."
Odin was hip to hip with the fiery girl, an arm draped lazily, thoughtlessly on the couch behind her.
"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"
"...You know that’s n-not what I meant."
The teens had learned to take solace in one another's presence. They had all arrived on Aedinfell nearly a season ago, desperate for a moment of pause in their tense existences. While planning was still being done on how exactly they would go about taking on TiTAN, it wasn't the main focus of anyone's time. There was a yearning in all of them for catching up on the fleeting moments of normalcy in their young lives. Everyone just wanted to feel safe, to be able to enjoy their lives without fearing for them.
Definitions of such enjoyment varied from host to host, but Odin and Ava's consisted of staying inside and sitting next to someone they trusted, being touched by someone they held dear.
Snow was falling outside, matching the red strands that would fall from their place tucked behind the small girl’s ears. She was always so quick to push them back so there was nothing between her and the book splayed open in her lap. Odin had shown her where his family's books were, in a small makeshift library consisting of four shelves tucked away in the corner of what once was a guest room.
A good portion of the books there were children's books, once read to all of the Arrow siblings by their parents. The shelves held all sorts of genres, but the most popular with the Arrows, and especially with Ava, were the collections of fables and myths. There were quite a few of them, all having different retellings of the same stories. She loved reading the same stories retold by different authors, and picking out all the little details that are unique to each.
“You can really get to know a story that way,” She would say.
“All the details that one author left out are scattered through the other versions.”
One story she could always find, and always came back to, was the story of Daedalus and Icarus. While every version was told much differently, the sadness contained in the words was never absent. Icarus always flew too close to the sun and drowned in the sea. Daedalus always grieved for his lost son. The ending never changed, no matter how many times it was written.
“I always felt awful f-for Talos,” Odin piped up, watching Ava as she examined the painting used on the page, a depiction of Daedalus cradling his cold, lifeless son, cursing his own design.
“Talos?” Ava asked, not lifting her eyes from the page.
“Daedalus’ nephew. H-he didn’t deserve to d-die like that.”
“None of the versions I’ve seen mention him.”
“E-exactly.” Odin sighed, skimming the words on the page, pointing carefully to a paragraph. “He d-died. Daedalus th-threw him off the roof in a f-fit of jealousy.” They both paused for a brief moment before he continued: “He d-didn’t mean to do it. He w-was just confused.”
Ava stared at the page, her brows slowly knitting together. “Thats… really depressing.”
“I feel worse f-for Daedalus, though,” Odin said, causing Ava to glance up at him with an inquisitive look in her eyes.
“He h-has to live with that. He didn’t mean to, but h-he still did it. He still threw Talos off th-the roof.”
He eyed the picture, sliding his finger down the page toward it. “And h-he killed Icarus, too. His own invention l-lead to Icarus’ death, and he blamed h-himself.”
The two sat there on the couch, the emptiness of the room seeming to double the heaviness in the air. Nothing broke the silence between them besides their own breathing, never quite seeming to match up.
Ava was the first to break out of this trance, quietly closing the book and setting it on the coffee table. “I think I’m done reading for now.”
Odin just nodded, settling into the couch as he let out a long, deep breath, the space between him and the girl next to him growing ever so slightly.
“I d-don’t think of you l-like that, you know.”
“Like what?”
“I d-don’t compare you to Daedalus, I m-mean. I don’t equate you to y-your wrongdoings, and I d-d-don’t pity you.”
A long pause followed.
“...Do you think I did what I did at the H.Q. on purpose?”
“What? N-no, no.”
He glanced over at her, her face tense, staring out the window at the snow.
“You’re not like Daedalus, th-that’s what I’m trying to say. I d-don’t think about what y-you did to the H.Q. when I look at you.”
She didn’t move, watching the snow fall from the dim sky and collect against the windowsill like ashes.
The two didn’t really know what lied between them.
They touched a lot, but neither of them were quite sure if that really meant anything.
It comforted them. That’s why they did it.
It wasn’t because they loved each other or anything. They just longed so badly to feel safe.
Odin used his pipe a lot more since he and Ava started keeping closer together. Pedri enjoyed lingering near Ava, so it was necessary for Odin to keep smoking to shut him out. The smell seemed to infect everything: his clothes, his bed, hell, even Ava herself was starting to smell like it. She thought it had even seeped into her dreams until she realized that Wrathia and Odin smoked the same plant. After that, she wasn’t sure if she found solace in its smell or if it drove her mad.
“Do you have to smoke every time I come in here?”
Odin looked over to the girl resting on his bed, her arms crossed and her head turned toward him, a certain scowl on her face. “I th-thought you liked the smell.”
“Is that why you’ve been smoking it so much?” Ava asked, a certain sting in her voice.
“If I s-say yes, will you stop whining a-about it?” Odin replied, closing the drawer that he had just been putting laundry in, moving himself to sit on the edge of the bed.
“Probably not,” She said, sitting up to look at him, still busy chewing at his pipe. He was still taking hits from it as they spoke, much to her chagrin.
“It smells like Wrathia. She smokes it too,” Ava complained, crawling over to sit next to him, trying to abstain from breathing too much to keep the smoke out of her nose.
Odin let out a quick huff, resting his pipe on his knee. “Sh-she’s just gotta ruin everything, huh?” He joked, making Ava smile.
“When you s-see her next, tell her it’s my thing, a-and she needs to stop,” Odin continued, grinning as he took another puff. “T-tell her there can only b-be one.”
“Will do.” Ava promised, playfully saluting him before falling on her back, the muffled sound of her body hitting the mattress seemingly echoing through the room. Odin laid back as well, nearly touching noses with the girl next to him. The two stared at each other for a moment before Odin rose up, planting his feet on the floor and walking across his room, dumping the contents of his pipe into the trash can. He turned back toward the girl on his bed, who had propped herself up a few inches to watch him.
“I n-nn-need your help today.”
“Huh?” Ava sat up, placing her hands in her lap. “For what?”
“I w-went out a few days ago and f-fo-found some kind of… shed, I th-think. But it’s entirely f-f-frozen shut, so I th-thought—”
“So you thought I could burn it open for you?” There was a certain sting in her voice.
“I-I mean,” He paused, scratching his head. “I wouldn’t describe it as b- burning, just… thawing. Like a f-frozen piece of meat.”
Ava’s not amused with that answer. “So I’m just a... defroster now?”
“Ava, c-c-come on ,” He said, a twinge of desperation in his voice. “W-we just need to know what's in th-there. It c-c-could be nothing, or it could be… F-food, or equipment, or m-medical supplies…” He sighed, moving to sit with her on the bed, hands folded on his lap. “...Those are all th-things we could r-really use right now.”
Despite Ava's stubbornness, she couldn't find it in her to deny not only Odin but his family and all his people access to those necessities. Her arms were tightly folded over the drawer on her chest, a constant reminder of her sacrifice of autonomy over her own life. This wasn’t her decision to make. Odin had a duty to protect and care for his people. She wasn’t about to try and come between that.
“...Fine. But I’m not doing it for you.” She stood up, facing away from the boy on her bed as she looks around her room for a coat.
Odin sighed in relief, happy that she agreed to it at all.
The icy wastes were much more forgiving that day than they had been in the past.
Odin and Ava trudged on, both bundled to their noses in layers upon layers of wool garments. Ava wasn’t really sure that she even needed to wear so much to keep warm, as her body produced more than enough heat, but she did it anyway. It made her feel more like she belonged out there on a mission with Odin, and besides, the layers felt like a never ending hug.
Odin squinted against the freezing wind, trying to retrace the steps he had taken the other day to wind up at the abandoned building. It was difficult to find things on his planet since the only landmarks were snow and trees, though the white landscape helped anything worth finding to stand out. It was a trade-off, but not one Odin welcomed all that much.
They made their trek east for what felt like hours, and when Ava thought her legs couldn't take anymore, Odin stopped and pointed. “L-look, there it is.”
Ava squinted in the direction he gestured to, and there wasn’t really all that much to behold. She could only sort of make out a form down the hill below them, but if she had seen it first, she would have just thought it to be an above-average sized boulder. They descended the hill, slowly approaching it. Even with less distance between them and the building, it didn't make it seem much bigger.
“ This is what we hiked all the way out here for?” Ava whined, annoyed that this is all that Odin had needed her for.
“The g-g-greatest treasures come in th-the smallest packages, Ava.”
She huffed, crossing her arms. “I don’t even think that applies to this situation.”
He tuned out her complaining, gripping the door and pulling as hard as he can, hoping that maybe with the warmer day the ice would be weaker, and they wouldn’t have to thaw it out to get inside. Of course, they weren’t so lucky. The door was just as stuck as it had been when he first found it.
“You didn’t even need me here for this. You totally could have just shot out the windows.” Ava continued, still irritated about the situation. “I could still be in bed right now.”
“I d-d-don’t like to risk breaking stuff in th-there.” Odin pressed his face up against the window, unable to see what treasures the walls might hold. For his sake, he hoped there’s something of worth inside. He knows that if they didn't find anything, Ava would never let him hear the end of it. “The s-sooner you stop complaining, the sooner w-w-we can be done out here.”
Ava knew he’s right, but she would never admit it to his face. Trudging over, she sighed, flicking her fingers a couple times before they produced a flame, so tiny, but also so bright. It’s all she felt comfortable controlling at the time. She guided her hand around the edges of the door while she pondered, eventually bringing it to the lock, fully encased in ice. She waited patiently as it melted away, running down the sides of the door, and when she decided that it had been long enough, she tugged on the door, letting out a resounding crack as the rest of the ice around the doorframe gives in.
“Hah! Look at that!” Ava said, her face lighting up, happy her idea actually seemed to work. How she felt about her powers and her lack of control over them was no secret, but the little flame she could conjure between her fingers always gave her hope for the future, that maybe, just maybe, her powers would give her the ability to do more than just destroy things.
Odin was relieved to see her mood turn around. He may have needed her for this little mission, but he also didn’t want her to suffer because of it. Also, the incessant whining was getting annoying.
Ava stepped to the side as Odin pressed his boot into the door just next to the handle, leaning into it as the rusted lock gives way and allowed them entry into the building. Light filtered in from the doorway, creating a small path that the two followed inside, doing their best to inspect the dark innards of the room they were in. With the help of Ava’s flame, Odin peered into the sections of the room that had been swallowed in darkness. Everything was where it would be expected to be. There were books on shelves, save for one laying face-down on a table in the far corner, next to a cup of some dark, frozen liquid. There were drapes on the windows, opened to reveal that most of the structure had been buried under a thick sheet of snow. It was fully furnished, with cabinets, dressers, trunks, as well as some doors, all containing what Odin could only pray to be useful items. It was a perfectly preserved moment in time, buried under the ice like a time capsule.
Ava followed Odin around, lighting his way as he starts opening things, rummaging through stale food and other useless items, hoping to come across something that would make this trip worth their time. As he did so, Ava busied herself by scanning everything around them. Something about the way things looked gave her chills. Nothing seemed out of place, and that’s what terrified her the most. Had animals not come through here looking for food? How long had this place been abandoned for it to be in the condition it was?
Had it actually been abandoned at all?
“...Odin?”
He hummed in reply, listening but not looking away from the cabinet he was ravaging.
“You don’t think anyone could still be living here, right?”
“W-w-what?” He turned to look at her, face lit eerily from below. “I mean, n-no, probably not.”
Odin didn’t seem all that worried, though that didn’t help to ease Ava’s nerves. He continued downward, pulling out drawers and scouring through them. “L-look, there’s not a lot of people besides us s-st-still alive here. It gets harsher th-the further away you go, so… The chances of s-someone surviving out here w-without us knowing is slim to n-n-none.”
He then pulled something out of the drawer and thrusted it in Ava’s direction, startling her and causing the flame in her hands to go out, but she’s quick to bring it back, looking down at what Odin was holding.
“...A candle?”
“Y-yeah, here,” He dipped the wick into her hands, watching it curl and darken as it caught flame. “Now we b-both have some light. You don’t have to stand over m-me anymore.”
Ava hadn’t realized that’s what she had been doing. In all reality, she was just scared, and didn’t want to leave his side. “I’m fine staying right here, I think.”
“Y-you don’t want to go look around?”
“...What if there’s something wild in here and it attacks me?”
Odin looked over at her, thinking she was joking but only seeing her wide, serious eyes.
“...Ava, you are one of th-the most powerful beings in the universe. On the off ch-chance that such a thing happens, I’m sure you can h-handle it.”
She looked down at her hands, gently holding the warm ball of fire. Odin was right. She needed to stop seeing herself as the weak girl she used to be. That was gone now. Now she could stand up and protect herself, even if the idea scared her.
Ava lingered near him a little bit longer, looking around at the rest of the interior. She was so curious what was behind those doors. Taking a few steps and a deep breath, she opened one, peeking inside, greeted by a big, fuzzy mass, swaying lightly side to side. After a momentary heart attack, Ava identifies the threat as a rack of fur coats. She slid them around on the rack, taking a long look at each of them. They were moth-eaten and crudely hewn, definitely not of the quality of the coats the Arrow’s had laying around. There were some boots at the bottom, but they were in about the same state. And, with that, she had successfully explored her first piece of the building with zero casualties. Her anxiety eased and she moves on to the next door.
She was much more interested in this one. It hung ajar, with a heavy coat hanging limp on a hook mounted to the door. She pressed her hand against it, watching it swing wide open with a squeal that seemed deafening in the silence.
From what it looked like, it was a small, simple bedroom. There was a bed, a dresser, a mirror, a chair next to the window, all the furniture one might expect in a simple bedroom. It seemed a little barren compared to what Ava had become used to in the Arrow household, but since this place seemed less like a home, and more like some sort of outpost, it was to be expected. Ava found herself wandering inside, looking through it just how she had observed Odin do so in the other room. She was rather quick and methodical about it, opening a drawer, rooting through it for anything that caught her eye, and when she inevitably found nothing but useless and broken items, she shut the drawer and moved on to the next one below it. Ava was making much quicker work of it all than Odin, which reflected how shallow of a job she was actually doing, but it didn’t matter much to her. She was getting cold and bored of not finding anything, so the quicker they could get out of here, the better.
Even though Ava was a bit bored with the repetitive task she was stuck with, it still felt nice to be useful. Everything had come to a grinding halt in regards to her and Odin's pacts, and she couldn’t help but feel lazy, or useless, or some other negative emotion derived from her inaction. This task, however meaningless it might have felt, gave her a sense of purpose.
This feeling of purpose climaxed as she made her way around the room, opening and closing cabinets and drawers, just as Odin had asked her to. She looked up to realize there were no more unsearched drawers in the room. As she turns to leave and re-join Odin, the bed, or moreso what is in it, caught her attention, making her stop dead in her tracks.
“...Odin?”
She heard his rummaging in the other room stop for a moment.
“Y-yeah?”
“Can you… come in here for a second?”
He hummed in reply, the thuds of his thick winter boots making their way toward the bedroom, stopping in the doorway. “What d-did you find?”
Ava didn't say anything, just staring onward at the bed. As Odin’s eyes followed hers, he’s greeted with a sight that he had begged fate not to show them today. The glassy eyes and rubbery, pale skin bored a hole into Odin’s mind, leaving him frozen in the doorway until he realizes Ava is having to bear witness to this as well, to which he dashed forward, pulling the covers up over the dessicated figure. It’s as if he was trying to hide some sort of dark, disgusting secret from the girl standing next to him.
They stood there in shocked silence, both staring intently at the space where the body is, as if it was staring right back at them.
Odin was the first to speak. “I d-didn’t— I didn’t think th-this would— I sh-sh-should have warned you,” He said, running a hand through his ragged hair, unable to look up at her. “I should have t-told you this kind of thing… It h-h-happens sometimes.”
Another deadly silence falls over the room. Odin’s hands fell from his face to his pockets, balled into fists as he tried to ride out the tension. He felt like an idiot. This wasn’t supposed to happen this time. Not on Ava’s first trip.
“It’s okay.” Ava squeaked, seeing the worry in his face. “I’m not… blaming you for this.” There’s a pause, as the words caught in her throat, trying to figure out what she wants to say. “...What do we do with them?”
“...W-What?”
“What do we do with the body?” The last words are hushed, as if their discovery was meant to be kept secret from someone just out of earshot.
“I… W-we don’t do anything, Ava. We leave it w-where it is.”
Ava didn't seem satisfied with that answer. “Shouldn’t we bury them or something?”
“We don’t even nn-know who that is.” His expression was cold, yet bitter.
“Does it matter?”
Odin took a deep breath, letting the air escape slowly, quietly from his nose. “L-let’s go, Ava. There’s nothing left for us h-here.”
Ava wanted to do something, anything for this person they found, if not only to ease the ache that the mere concept of death brought her. Odin had a point, though. They didn’t know anything about this person, aside from their belongings they had just rummaged through and their home, their tomb they had just torn apart.
Besides, they both knew that this person they found, nestled beneath their sheets, having slipped blissfully from consciousness to never wake again, passed in a way that the two of them would never have the privilege of experiencing, nor did they deserve it. Galactic criminals don’t get to die peacefully in their own beds, surrounded by all their worldly belongings.
So, the two left, Ava watching a few strides away as Odin packed snow against the door, a futile effort to undo what they had done.
The walk back was quiet. After all, there was nothing to discuss.
They made it through the gates just as the snowfall began to thicken, slowly piling against the front door as Odin shut it behind them. The entry was silent, all the others in the house hidden away, leaving the two of them trapped together with their own thoughts.
“Th-th-thanks for… coming with, and all,” Odin stammers, desperate for a break from the quiet. “I’m-m- I mean, It’s o-okay that we didn’t bring anything back. It h-happens.”
Ava glances back at him, but he doesn’t face her, instead, taking his time checking and rechecking the locks on the door. By the time Odin turns around to hang his jacket up, he was left to face the quiet alone.