As if you were trapped in a burning house, you let your eyes wander through the great lodge.

Unknown faces wherever you looked.

It was not often that you joined the other gods at the long tables to eat and drink. Their laughter lightened your chest.

For a moment, it felt like everything was back to the way it used to be.

You remembered your first celebration after Tyr appointed you his apprentice. The allfather himself had hosted a feast in your name.

There had been much laughter, the mead had flowed in streams, and never before or since had you ever felt as full in the stomach as you did that night.

That night you had met Thor for the very first time.

You frowned.

Why did you remember it now?

The god of thunder had been a handsome young man, hot-headed and with a fighting spirit you had admired.

The centuries had taken their toll on him.

But you had not become younger either. And just as Thor had changed over time, so had you. Maybe not only for the better.

And still.

You couldn't help but smile as the image of an almost childlike Thor crossed your mind's eye.

He had been an adorable young man, cute even, with loads of charm and a hand for finding the right words for everything.

He had been sentimental. A man to marry.

You bit your tongue. The pain made you snap out of the past.

Perhaps it was because your master's prophecy was intimately intertwined with destiny and your past with Thor.

No matter how much you loathed it, no matter how much you didn't want it, Thor was the key to its fulfilment.

And even if this parallel to Odin's prophecy was a better alternative, you would not admit defeat without an objection. You would do what was necessary to ensure a future.

But not under the conditions Tyr had foreseen. You would rather be eaten by Hel.

A suppressed growl caught in your throat.

Hastily you reached for your mug of mead and took a few sips. The sweet foam ran down your throat like honey.

You were not a big drinker but after all the efforts of the last years you had the desire to drink yourself into unconsciousness.

All around you it began to get loud.

Your gaze briefly wandered upwards.

There had to be another fight somewhere. The Allfather did not tolerate unrest in his palace. And yet every now and then there was an idiot who thought it would be amusing to get into a fight with a god.

You just shrugged your shoulders.

As an apprentice of the God of War himself, only the very few were stupid enough to try to take you on.

Tyr had been known for his patience, but even he had had limits. He had taught you little about fatal combat techniques. You could fight with a sword or a spear but you would not have called yourself a master.

But he had taught other things instead, fighting with your bare hands for example. If you wanted to, you would have been able to break someone's neck without getting a scratch yourself.

A macabre idea when you thought about it, that Tyr had preferred a long and rough fist fight to a quick blade in the neck.

"Tyr was strange.", a voice suddenly sounded behind you.

Startled, you flinched.

And the next moment you thought of a song that could play endlessly in your head.

Heimdall frowned behind your back. His lip twitched.

"You are just as strange as he is.", he growled and leaned past your shoulder into your field of vision.

Cocky, he grinned.

You knew why he looked at you like this. He was up to something.

Taking a deep breath, you watched him out of the corner of your eye for a moment and then took a big gulp of your mead.

"What do you want, weasel?", you asked impassively.

Offended, he pulled a face.

"Weasel?!", he asked through clenched teeth.

You nodded.

"You may look quite cute, but as soon as someone tries to grab you you wriggle out of the problems you caused yourself.", you gave him a sarcastic smirk. "And if one gets too close, you bite. Little bastard."

With a smile Heimdall raised his hands as if accepting a compliment.

"Well, I know I'm cute.", his eyes roamed over your face as if trying to decipher your muddled thoughts for the thousandth time. "As Tyr's apprentice, I'd even give you a chance. We could make a good team. You as the fighter and me as the brains."

A snort made your nose tingle.

One of his eyebrows raised in an irritated way.

"You're cute, weasel.", you giggle. "But I prefer men."

Your expression darkened. Ignoring him, you turned back to your meal.

For a moment Heimdall frowned.

The confusion was written all over his face. He wanted to object, to argue why you were wrong and he was the manliest man you would ever have.

But the volume of your thoughts made it impossible for him to use his big mouth as he usually did.

It gave you satisfaction to know that the great Heimdall, ass of all gods, did not know what to do with you.

"So...", you took another big gulp of mead. "What do you want?"

The answer needed a bit before it left his mouth. Perhaps he had forgotten.

More likely he tried to find a counter argument. But he failed.

A growl of frustration left his lips.

It made you huff with amusement.

How childish Heimdall could be. Out of all the Odinsons he was the one with the shortest temper and the most vanity.

It was so easy to stroke his ego the wrong way.

"You've been awfully quite for the past few years.", he said with his teeth clenched.

Without looking at him, you shrugged.

"I grieved.", you said drily.

"Who?"

"My master."

He let out a snort.

"That peace loving hippy disappeared ages ago.", Heimdall leaned into your field of vision again. "No one can grief that long."

"Baldur died too."

"What the hell do you care about my maniac of a brother?"

"I liked his dragon."

He let out a hiss.

"Enough.", Heimdall placed a hand on your shoulder. "The Allfather wants to speak to you."

You rolled your eyes.

"What an honour..."