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Chapter Text

Hearthstone Alderman; Introspective 

Hearthstone thought of life as a series of give and take. The more you had, the more you could lose. He remembered learning that over and over again, a lesson engraved in his mind every time his eyes caught sight of that blue pelt. 

To him, these rules were the truths of life. Some people never had to abide by them, some sought to break them, but others fell perfectly in line with them. Hearth was someone who couldn’t look at the world and see anything other than numbers. Values. Expenses and paychecks. He remembered looking in his bedroom mirror, trying not to catch glimpses of the red lists in the reflection, repeating sentences to himself over and over again like a mantra.

“ Everything you have is for someone else. Nothing that belongs to you is yours. Everything you do with your life is for one purpose and one purpose only: to pay off a debt.”

Hearthstone was not an impulsive person. He tried to keep to a schedule, planning out every move he made in advance, keeping himself on track to pay off his debt by the time he died. If he made dinner every day, if he dusted the shelves weekly, if he did all the dishes, washed the bathrooms and did all the shopping, he would make enough gold to pay for eating the food he made every day, for sleeping under a roof, and for his clothes. If he talked with the board, kept his thoughts to himself, and tried his best to uphold the family name, he would make maybe three gold per day, give or take depending on the events of that day. He’d already counted how many coins he’d need to completely cover the fur, around six thousand or so; it would only take him five and a half years to pay it all off. Or, sixty-five months. Or, two-hundred and eighty-six weeks. Two-thousand and seven days.

It was day three-thousand, two-hundred, and eighty-seven. It felt like his father had a new deduction to force on him every month, and it kept changing his diligently kept schedule. New red whiteboards seemed to be nailed to his walls every week, sporting a fresh new set of rules to memorize and follow. It had been nine years since this system was imposed on him. Or, three and a half years since he was supposed to have paid it all off. (Apparently keeping such a rigid and laborious schedule at the age of 8 caused him to have a lot of accidents that cost him more gold than they gained him.) 

Hearthstone was not an impulsive person. He hadn’t meant to run away; really, he hadn’t. He was just practicing rune magic in a rare hour of free time that he’d bought himself. He had been in his room scribbling notes in a coiled book about his progress when it had happened. In one hand, he’d been holding a pencil, scrawling down lines about Ehwaz, the rune of transportation, and in the other he was holding the rune itself. He’d just finished a sentence about the possibility of summoning horses when he’d felt footsteps in the hallway.

“Inge, ” he’d thought initially. Nobody else ever came to this side of the house. But then he’d thought about it for a moment and came to the rapid conclusion that Inge’s footsteps were never heavy enough for him to be able to feel them through the floorboards. “ Father!” He’d thought, much more panicked than before. Figuring his hour of free time was up, he began to quickly put away his studies, a flurry of movement and shoving books on shelves, wishing he was anywhere but here. A second later, the door slammed open with a force that probably cracked the frame, and the sudden vibration was enough to scare him into dropping the things he was carrying; his pencil, which bounced against the ground harmlessly, and the rune of transportation. 

Ehwaz glowed brightly against the floorboards for a moment, long enough that Hearth could see exactly what kind of expression his father was wearing (and mourn the loss of what was likely to be hundreds of his collected gold.) He had half a mind to grab the loose bag of runes from the table and shove them into his pocket before Ehwaz disappeared and he was teleported, well, anywhere but there.  

Hearthstone dreamed of dragons. Dragons who spoke in tongues, towering scales, figures casting him in eternal shadow. Dragons who sneered at him about death and riches, voices as putrid and screechy as grinding metals. Hearth didn’t know what words sounded like, and these dragons had no lips to read. They just sounded angry. Anguished. Resentful. Every growl they emitted was a spiteful noise, all aimed towards him like it was his fault for just existing. They spoke to themselves, in whispers and mutters, twisted sounds that Hearth couldn’t make any sense of. He felt a pain in his heart, searing, burning him from the inside out, and right before he woke, he saw him. 

“ Andiron! ” He signed as he woke, his version of a waking scream. His breathing tore through him in shallow gasps, and he fought hard not to black out again immediately. “ What happened? ” He asked himself, glancing around. His eyes refused to work properly, and he was blinded by a yellow light. He felt better than he had in ages, a direct effect of so much sunlight in a single sitting. Still, his muscles felt weak. Usually, he was kept inside where the sun’s rays couldn’t fully reach him. Slowly, he began to remember studying runes and dropping Ehwaz. Even without sight, his hand scrambled around to find his bag of runes, and he relaxed when he felt the outline of the pouch in his coat pocket. He took a moment to breathe before he blinked another couple of times, trying to get his eyes adjusted to the sun so he could take a proper look around where he landed. He started to panic when that didn’t work. In a haze, he reached out in front of him, finding that he’d made contact with something solid. 

“ I’m…touching sunlight? ” He thought dazedly, hands caressing the smooth material. He bit his lip and pushed, feeling rather like he was stuck in a coffin. “A coffin made of sunlight, ” he thought. To his surprise, the ceiling gave away, moving on light-coloured hinges, and he opened the top to find that he was in a rather normal looking apartment. 

“ Oh, ” he thought with disappointment. He sat up and looked around. It was a fairly standard looking room, except for the fact that all the ceilings were a lot lower than Hearth was used to. Even though the lights were on, it also seemed unusually dark, darker than anywhere Hearth had ever been. He didn’t know it could get so dark in Alfheim. 

And that was probably why he didn’t notice the dwarf until he was right in front of him. He flinched backwards, nearly hitting his head on the edge of the coffin? Tanning bed? Whatever it was. His hands flew up to protect his face as if he’d have any kind of fighting chance with how weak he felt. The dwarf raised his own two hands placatingly as if he was approaching a cornered animal. Hearth’s eyes flicked to his lips as soon as he started speaking.

“Whoah,” said the dwarf, “I’m not gonna hurt you.” Hearth had no reason to believe a stranger, but as his brain started to reboot properly, gears turning in his head, the more reason he had to believe the stranger. He retracted his hands to speak.

“ Where am I? ” He asked. The dwarf stared at him cluelessly. For the first time in his life, Hearth wished he had that stupid whiteboard. Instead of trying to use ASL, he pointed to his ears and made a little crossing motion with his finger tips. The other’s eyes widened slightly in understanding.

“You’re deaf?” he said. Hearthstone nodded. The dwarf cringed. “Sorry, that was a rude question.” He looked around the room, eyes falling on a half-crumpled piece of paper and a half-sharpened pencil. He scrambled for it, picking it up and handing it to Hearth. It had little sketches of different pieces of clothes in the corners, some of them scratched out and others practically outlined in different revisions and notes.

“What’s your name?” He asked, “I’m Blitzen, but just Blitz is fine.” The elf took the paper and ignored how similar it was to the whiteboard, scribbling down Hearthstone. Just Hearth is fine. Blitzen took the paper back and read it over, mouth formulating the words as he read.

“Hearth,” said the dwarf, “what are you doing in Nidavellir?” Hearth recoiled. 

“ Nidavellir?! ” He signed in shock before remembering that Blitz didn’t know ASL. He snatched the paper back, silently apologizing for how sudden it was, and starting writing furiously. I’m not in Alfheim anymore? Blitzen chuckled.

“I’d be toast if we were in Alfheim,” he said. Hearth tilted his head. Blitz gestured to himself. “Dwarf,” he said as an explanation, “sunlight. Turns me to stone.” Hearth nodded, trying not to let on how freaked out he was. This little blip was going to set him back months, if not years. He could imagine the new red whiteboard already: Disappearing without a trace: -1000. Day spent away from home without permission: -1000. Being an idiot: -1000. 

“So…” Blitzen trailed off. “How did you end up in Nidavellir?” Hearthstone held up his bag of runes. The dwarf’s face lit up. “You know rune magic?!” He asked, delighted. Hearth nodded slightly, shaking his hand in the universal gesture for “ish.” “That’s so cool!” Blitz crowded forward a bit, trying to get a better look at the rune bag. He seemed to remember himself halfway through the motion, and he backed away, clearing his throat in embarrassment. “Sorry,” he apologized, “nobody knows rune magic anymore, so I’ve never seen runestones before.” Hearth just smiled at him, scribbling on the piece of paper. I can tell you more about them, if you’d like.  

Chapter Text

In the months after waking up in Blitzen’s home, Hearth had learned a lot: everything from how the dwarf saved his life (another life debt he’d have to pay off), to his affinity for fashion. Everything he owned was meticulously organized by colour and style. Hearth never knew how he managed to find anything in his massive closet, but Blitz always found exactly what he was looking for the second he started looking for it. He’d even managed to get Hearth to wear clothing that he deemed “more fashionable.” Hearth thought he looked ridiculous, but it made the dwarf happy so he didn’t mind so much. 

Blitzen had also taken to learning ASL, paying rapt attention to each and every lesson Hearthstone gave him. He frequently practiced, testing his limits by trying to have full conversations with the elf only in sign language. It was warming to meet someone willing to put in the effort for him, and Hearth wasn’t exactly sure how it made him feel. (He was just glad he didn’t have to use paper anymore.) He wouldn’t let Hearth clean the house or make dinner, always fussing about how he was the host and it was his job. He wouldn’t let Hearth pay for his own clothes or contribute to the grocery costs either. He’d also noticed a surplus of books about Alfheim, rune magic, and sign language laying around the house. Sometimes, he’d see the bookmarks carefully placed between the pages move as Blitz read through them. He ignored how warm that made him feel.

All in all, he figured that he owed Blitzen around ten thousand gold. But, another thing he’d learned from being here, was that normal people didn’t exactly run around owing each other things. So, he didn’t mention it to the dwarf and kept track of his debt himself. He’d keep track of deductions and additions in his head, mentally calculating exactly how long it would take to clear this life debt before he could return to the first one. He’d slowly incorporated himself into Blitz’s nightly routine, helping him wash and dry the dishes, and making dinner whenever Blitz was out and couldn’t do it himself. The dwarf always protested whenever he did, but Hearth ignored him by simply not looking at him. It was all strangely domestic. This was the kind of life Hearth never imagined he’d have; shared with someone else, shared with a friend , one who didn’t mind learning ASL and competed to do all the chores before Hearth could. The pieces of paper they’d been using to communicate in the first few months had long since been scrapped, and they now sat at the bottom of the recycling bin. 

He’d never had anyone take the time out of their day for him. The people he could think of who had ever put in that much effort for him were Andiron and Inge, one of which he’d killed and the other, enslaved. He’d used the board to talk to everyone else, even his father who he knew knew ASL and pretended he didn’t. When he didn’t have it, he was expected not to speak. He would fade into the background, a shadow, and everyone would look past him. But now, he had Blitzen, the dwarf from Nidavellir who put in that extra effort from the moment the elf met him. How could one person be so kind? Usually, Hearth would be skeptical of such motions, but there was something about Blitz that spoke of genuine care and tenderness, of honesty and friendship. Hearth tried not to let himself bask in the feeling; part of him couldn’t help but add another thousand to his debt, just for the dwarf even suggesting to learn ASL.

Hearthstone remembered the first time he and Blitzen made dinner together. It was a little awkward at first, both of them getting used to sharing the space, but after twenty minutes it felt like second nature. Blitz would pass the paprika without Hearth having to ask, and Hearth would find the milk beside him before it could even lift a finger. It was seamless. Thoughtless. It was lovely. Delightful, even. It was everything Hearth was so sure he would never have. (And at the end of the day, it was another hundred gold Hearth would never be able to pay back.) 

Hearth was snapped out of his thoughts by a tap on his shoulder, and he looked up to find Blitz, who had just returned from a shopping trip. Dozens of frilly-looking bags lined the front hallway, each one of them probably containing a different fashion statement. 

“ Hey, ” Blitz signed, “ I was thinking. ” He paused, clearly unsure on how to word his next sentence, and Hearth quirked an eyebrow, an amused smile coiling on his face.

“ You? ” He asked jokingly, “ thinking? Impossible. ” Blitzen either didn’t see his signs or completely ignored them, which Hearth thought was only slightly rude.

“ Do you know who Mimir is? ” The name rang a couple bells in Hearth’s head. He’d seen the name in a few of the books on Blitzen’s shelves. Mimir was an old god of wisdom, said to be wiser than Odin himself. He nodded.

“ The guy with the wisdom and the water,” he signed, confirming. Blitz snapped his fingers.

“ Yeah, that guy, ” he signed enthusiastically,“ what do you think about going out to find him?” Hearth blinked, pursing his lips.

“ Why? ” He asked. Blitzen shrugged, his energy fading significantly.

“ It’s going to sound stupid, ” he said. Hearth frowned.

“ Tell me anyway, ” he requested. Blitz sighed and nodded, relenting. 

“ Well, dwarves are usually respected for their crafts. And…I’m sure you’ve noticed that I’m not the craftiest dwarf. ” Hearth forced himself not to look at the misshapen lump of metal Blitz had brought home today. Instead, he nodded.

“ And you know that I want to open up my own shop. Blitzen’s Best. Well, uh, the other dwarves aren’t really on board with that plan. ” Hearth cringed. Blitz was putting it delicately, but the elf had seen himself how bad their mockery got. It was one thing to insult Blitz’s dream, but it was another thing entirely to bring his lineage into it. A couple of their neighbours had even tried to drag the dwarf into competitions to the death, all of which Hearth had strategically deflected. (By “strategically deflected,” he meant everything from suddenly shoving Blitz away from the other dwarves in a haste to throwing Lagaz at them and liquifying their jackets. And socks. And maybe their hair.) 

“ I want to drink from Mimir’s well of wisdom, ” signed the dwarf, “ so I can open that shop without disgracing my father’s legacy. I want to restore his honour without giving up on me. ” 

“ Not stupid, ” responded Hearth, “ inspiring. ” Blitz gave him a smile, the kind that lit fires in Hearth’s stomach. There was a sort of tension in the air, a soft kind that would bend around the blade of a knife. Comfortable, even.

“ Come with me?” Blitz asked.

Blitzen Freyason was too good for his own good. He was loyal, he was brave, he was smart, he was warm. He was everything Hearth was sure he would never have. He was too trusting. He’d only known Hearth for a couple of months, and yet here he was; a whole new language under his belt with the promise of an adventure. He was so good, and it made Hearth want to be better. He thought for a moment about what he’d want if he went with Blitz to drink from the well. “ I want to know how to pay my wergild,” he thought but didn’t say. He had a feeling Blitzen wouldn’t like that answer. 

“ I’ll go, ” he signed, “ have something to drink for as well. ” Blitzen gestured for him to keep talking.

“ Magic, ” he lied, “ I want to be better. ” Blitz scoffed.

“ But you’re already great at it,” he argued. He was clearly thinking about the last time the elf had fended off challenge-thirsty neighbours. Hearth shook his head.

“ Not enough. ” Blitzen nodded slowly.

“ Okay, ” he said, “ leave next week?” Hearth gave him a thumbs up.

Chapter Text

The trip to Mimir’s well went surprisingly, well, well. They only got attacked a couple of times, and even then Hearth was able to fend them off with his (amateur) rune magic. He’d cast Isa , the rune of ice, and it had left him only slightly exhausted. (The group of trolls he’d cast it on they’d left frozen. He hoped that wouldn’t come back to bite him later.)

“You gonna be okay?” Blitz asked him, supporting what was easily half the elf’s weight. Hearth read his lips and nodded. 

“ Just tired, ” he signed with shaking hands. He pointed at himself. “ Okay.” Blitz took his word as the truth and together they continued on, the dwarf only half-dragging the elf. They travelled in relative silence for a moment (not that Hearth noticed), before Blitz tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention and spoke again.

“Good news,” he said, pointing in front of them, “that’s Mimir’s well.” Hearthstone followed his finger, eyes landing on a small and rather inconspicuous looking waterhole. It looked like every other well he’d ever seen; made of stone bricks, chipped at the corners, with a wooden frame sitting above it, holding a small bucket. The only differences were that the water’s surface was a lot closer to the top of the structure than it usually was, and the fact that it was slightly wider. 

Hearthstone blinked at it, lifting his hands to sign.

“ Are you sure that’s it? ” He asked, tilted his head to read Blitzen’s answer. The dwarf just nodded and shuffled them forwards until they were standing at the edge of the structure. The cold stone bricks it was made of dug into his knees. Wordlessly, Blitz reached out and grabbed the crank on the side of the well, and they both watched as the wooden pail descended into the water. It didn’t take very long for it to reach the surface of the liquid, and in less than a minute they had a bucket full of knowledge-water. Hearth leaned against the walls of the wall, and Blitzen reached forward to take the bucket full of water. 

“Okay,” he said, “here goes nothing.” He held the pail up to his mouth, prepared to drink it, when a booming voice tore out of the well, startling him into nearly dropping the prize. It was so loud that Hearth could feel the vibrations of the air. Hearth’s gaze quickly snapped to the surface of the water just in time to catch the appearance of a massive severed head. He had surprisingly smooth skin and wisps of red hair. His blue eyes were half-lidded as if he’d just woken up from a long nap.

“Blitzen Freyason!” Addressed the voice, “and Hearthstone Alderman!” Thankfully, reading his lips was easy. Unfortunately, that didn’t make him any less terrifying. Blitzen dropped the bucket completely, his now-empty hands reaching out and grabbing the elf’s “pop-of-colour” candy-cane scarf, dragging him away from the well. The water of knowledge sploshed uselessly on the ground. 

“How rude!” Said the giant floating head, “that was premium spring water! Wasted, just like that!” Hearth had a hard time reading his lips from this angle, but he figured the God of Wisdom hadn’t just complained about cow flutes. Blitzen’s hand moved from his scarf to his sleeve. 

A moment of silence passed in the clearing as all three parties processed what just happened.

“Are you Mimir?” Asked Blitz. The head did its best version of a nod, which looked more like it was doing the twist, or maybe a particularly boozy version of a shimmy.

“And you are the son of Freya,” said the head, “here for some wisdom, yes?” The dwarf nodded. “And the deaf elf, Hearthstone, I suppose you’re also here for a drink.” Blitz nodded, a little unsure, and seemed to realize that Hearth couldn’t really read the god’s lips from here. Thankfully, he started translating. 

“Well, what are you waiting for, boyos?” Asked the head, “Come take a sip.” Blitz had a little bit of trouble translating ‘boyos,’ but Hearth understood him well enough. 

“ You want to approach the floating head who’s still mad about me spilling all his water everywhere?” The dwarf signed rapidly. Hearth shrugged.

“ Hasn’t killed us yet, ” he said, “ also called us B-O-Y-O-S. Endearment. Could be a good sign. ” Blitz pursed his lips, and Hearth sighed. “ He could still kill us from his spot there in the well. Come on. ” He grabbed Blitzen’s sleeve and dragged him back up to the edge of the well. Mimir’s expression had turned slightly less sleepy, blue eyes peering at them as the elf picked the dropped pail back up and placed it back on the pulley mechanism. 

“No need for all that,” said Mimir, “just dunk it in here.” Hearth paused at that, wondering if this was some sort of weird test, before following the god’s orders and abandoning the pulley system all together. He filled the bucket half full and passed it to Blitzen.

“ You first, ” he signed. The dwarf took it with a look of barely concealed disgust. Hearth agreed with that expression; the purity of the water was far more questionable when there was a severed head floating in it. 

“Hey, Mimir?” Blitzen called, “I’ll be in your service for a sentence of your choosing after I drink this, right?” The head in the water nodded, which still looked like a demented version of the monster mash.

“Correct, son of Freya,” he said, “your sentence depends on your ask.” Blitz nodded and made a brave face, lifting the bucket to his mouth and taking a gulp. Hearth tensed like he was waiting for the world to spontaneously combust. It didn’t, so that was kind of neat. 

And then the world trembled and suddenly it wasn’t kind of neat. It was the opposite of neat. It was dirty. The ground shook with tremors, and Hearth nearly lost his balance, immediately moving to cling onto the structure of Mimir’s well and hoping the god wouldn’t take offence to that. Beside him, Blitzen didn’t seem any different from how he was two seconds ago, aside from the fact that he’d been violently thrown off his feet and had spilled the rest of the water. Again. 

“ BLITZEN FREYASON, ” boomed Mimir’s voice, much louder this time, so loud that Hearth could almost hear it (which was a weird sensation by the way.) “ STOP SPILLING MY WATER. ” At first, the elf thought that was all the head was going to say, and that he was about to witness his only friend’s not-so-glorious death. Then, Mimir seemed to move on from the whole water spilling thing.

“ IS THIS WHAT YOU WISH FOR? ” Asked the god. Trying to read his lips was like trying to watch a hockey game with a laggy camera. All his movements were either over or under exaggerated, so most of the words Hearth tried to make sense of were muddled and illegible. Blitzen didn’t answer verbally, but the elf assumed there was some sort of mind reading going on because Mimir said one last booming “VERY WELL,” before all the trembling abruptly stopped. Hearth stopped clinging to the side of the well and dashed to Blitzen’s side. The dwarf groaned and rubbed his head.

“M’okay, buddy,” he said, “just have a headache.” Hearth checked him over for injuries anyway, not caring when Blitz started swatting him away. With help, Blitz rose to his feet and turned back towards the well. “Well?” He asked, which Hearth tried not to find hilarious, “how many years of servitude do I owe you?” In the water, Mimir looked pensive, as if he was contemplating something.

“Not yet, Freyason,” he said, “it’s the elf’s turn.” Hearth pursed his lips and bent down to pick up the pail again. This time, he only got enough water in it for one or two sips, knowing that he was going to end up dropping it anyway. He stared down into the clear liquid, thinking about gold coins and blue carpets. After another moment of hesitation, he finally lifted the wood to his lips and took a gulp. 

Almost immediately, things got dirty again. Or, well, that is to say, the opposite of neat. The ground rumbled and Hearth could have sworn that the Earth cracked a bit, and clouds overhead began to darken and swirl like an impending storm. 

“ HEARTHSTONE ALDERMAN, ” boomed the voice, and Hearth was surprised to find that he could actually hear it this time. Not with his ears, but it was being spoken directly into his mind. He had no idea why he knew what the words sounded like or why they even made sense to him, but here he was, understanding it. 

“ THANK YOU FOR NOT SPILLING MY WATER, ” said the god. 

“ No problem, ” he thought, both because his hands were cramping painfully and because somehow he knew Mimir was reading his mind. 

“ WHAT IS IT YOU WANT TO KNOW? ” Hearth paused.

“ I want to know how to pay off my wergild, ” he thought. “ My wergild and my debt to Blitzen. ” Mimir made a deep rumbling sound like a laugh.

“DO YOU REALLY WISH FOR THAT?” He asked, humorous. Hearthstone paused again.

“ Yes, ” he assured, “ why do you ask? ” The god made another low chuckling noise.

“YOUR SOUL SINGS A DIFFERENT TUNE,” he said, “YOU WISH FOR HEARING. YOU WISH FOR SPEECH. YOU WISH FOR MAGIC. YET YOU CAN NOT HAVE ALL THREE.” 

“ How do you know what I want? ” Hearth asked, “ I want to pay off my wergild. That’s why I came here in the first place. ” This time, Mimir’s laugh sounded condescending, which Hearth found kind of hurtful.

“YOU LIE TO YOURSELF MOST EFFECTIVELY, BOYO. YOU CAME HERE BECAUSE OF FREYASON. YOU CAME HERE BECAUSE YOUR SOUL SINGS FOR YOURSELF FOR THE FIRST TIME IN YEARS. SO WHAT WILL IT BE, HEARTHSTONE? HEARING AND SPEECH OR THE MAGIC OF RUNES?” And Hearthstone was speechless. Had he not come here for Andiron and his Father? Had he not come here to complete his life of transactions, his give and take, his cost of living? Had he truly come here for nothing but the out-of-reach? The sounds of morning birds, the chance to speak in a fixed voice, and the elation of magic? Heath took in a deep breath, which was kind of hard to do.

“ Magic, ” he said with finality, with certainty, with all the grace of a dead man walking, “ I want to learn rune magic. ” Mimir’s laughter turned light and airy, warm and tuneful.

“IS THIS WHAT YOU WISH FOR?” He asked as a courtesy. Hearthstone nodded, carving his silence in stone.

“VERY WELL.” And then the world stopped. Hearth blinked his sight back, finding Blitz hovering over him like a bee. Upon seeing his opened eyes, the dwarf lit up. 

“You okay?? ” He asked frantically. Hearthstone gave him a small nod and a smaller smile. He pointed at himself.

“ Dizzy, ” he signed, “ but okay. ” Blitz helped him stand on shaky legs, both of them facing the well where Mimir’s face sat smug on the surface. 

“Well,” said Mimir, “you two will make fantastic servants.” Hearth blinked at him. Blitzen hid a scowl with a grin.

“About that,” he said, “how long will we be serving for?” The god tilted his head in thought, which was more like a full-body lean to him. “Well, in the past, wants like these were around a hundred years for the dwarf and three-thousand for the elf…” the god trailed off. 

“Three-thousand?!” Blitzen echoed, more outraged by Hearth’s sentence than his own, “that’s insane! Elves don’t even live to be three-thousand!” Mimir made a loud shushing sound and Blitz immediately shut up.

“I said in the past, boyo. But you two seem like a special case,” Hearth didn’t know if he should take offence to that or not, “so I’ll let you off the metaphorical and literal hook. You two will serve me together for three years.” Blitzen blinked.

“Three years each?” He asked, “that’s not so bad!” Mimir scoffed.

“Three years total,” he said clearly, “no more and no less.” Hearth grinned.

“ Thank you, C-A-P-O,” he signed. Mimir preened.

“Capo, huh?” He repeated, “I like that. You keep that. You two call me that, alright?” The pair nodded. “Now I’m off to play some Pachinko I was promised by some other associates of mine. You’ll know if I need you.” And on that ominous note, he sunk back down into the well, disappearing. 

Chapter Text

They were on year two of three when Mimir gave them their most important mission. He’d given them that look , the one that said “mess this up and I’ll be playing you instead of Pachinko,” and then sent them on their way. Hearthstone, clutching his bag of runes and his candy-cane scarf, along with his best friend Blitzen, with his fancy clothes and his dreams, were going to be homeless. Hearth didn’t mind so much, but Blitz certainly did. 

“God, what I wouldn’t do for a splash of colour,” he muttered. Hearth gave him a small smile, his version of laughter, and subconsciously slid a hand into his scarf. Blitzen glared at him.

“You better not be bragging about your fashion sense right now,” he said, “I gave you that scarf.” This time, Hearth did actually laugh. He had no idea what his laugh sounded like and he always figured that it was an ugly sound, but Blitz seemed to like it well enough. Hearth calmed down and glanced towards the sky.

“ Sun’s coming, ” he signed, “ my turn. ” Blitz nodded, fastening his anti-sun gear to his head just in case. 

“I’ll be in Nidavellir if you need me,” he said, “I need a shower. And to reacquaint myself with my closet.” Hearth nodded. 

“ Say hi to the kitchen for me, ” he signed. The dwarf gave him a half-serious salute.

Over the last few months, they’d been looking after a kid named Magnus Chase. He was fifteen and already living on the streets, thriving off of falafel, spite, and the occasional spare dollar from the passerby. Two years ago, Hearth wouldn't have seen anything special about the kid, but two years in the service of the wisest Norse god had given him some insight. Now, he could recognize a demi-god on sight. Why this particular one was so special, he’d likely never know, but it wasn’t his job to know. It was his job to protect. When monsters and other street kids started showing up, one of the two of them had to be there to watch over him. Blitz had even managed to forge some brass knuckles without having a meltdown or defaulting the waterfowl, and Hearth had even gotten to freeze a fire giant with Isa. All of this went unknown to Magnus, who still thought that they were just his street buddies. 

Magnus Chase was also the fourth person after Blitzen who had taken the time to learn sign language for him. He didn’t even need any convincing or coaxing; one day he’d decided that Hearth and Blitz weren’t likely to stab him in the back and steal all his stuff, and he’d sat down and asked to learn ASL. The pair had been more than happy to teach him, both of them helping him practice both when all three of them were together and when it was just Magnus and Blitz or just Magnus and Hearth. The kid was a surprisingly fast learner, focused and learning to perform the movements as precisely as he possibly could. Now, months later, he was pretty much fluent. 

Midgard was very different from Alheim and Nidavellir. While Alfheim was always bright and Nidavellir always dark, Midgard had both. Because of that, Blitz and Hearth often watched over Magnus in shifts; Hearth taking the day shift and Blitz taking the night. It was a system that worked out pretty well for the job, but not so well for their friendship. While nothing in the world could possibly tear apart their bond, the whole night and day shift thing was keeping them apart. Sure, they had time to themselves every once and a while, but Magnus’s safety was far more important than whatever small-talk conversation they would inevitably end up in. Plus, this was the last year of their service to Mimir; after it passed, they would be free to talk about the weather all they wanted. 

For now, all they had to do was watch over Magnus Chase and keep him alive.

Interlude: Dreams of Gold

Takes place between Chapters 3 and 4.

Hearthstone dreamed of cemeteries, and a lonely grave. It was embellished, polished stone and elegant flower wreaths, but it was lonely all the same. Nobody visited out of their own free will, only servants paid from beyond the tomb. On it was inscribed a name Hearthstone barely heard anymore. Sluggishly, he blinked. The words were illegible, but he knew who the tombstone belonged to. His thoughts were muddled in his head, and he was unable to conjure up a single word of apology to the man beneath the marbled stone. 

Hearthstone dreamed of panic. Soul-crushing despair, echoing in his heart. Grief, the kind he hadn’t felt since he was eight. Agony bloomed in his stomach, dangerous and thorny roses that scraped painfully up his throat. The grip of a ghostly hand against his neck squeezed. The spirits of the dead screamed, pointing at him, their faces twisted in fury and hatred. Hearth couldn’t hear the words they spoke. He felt their pain, their anguish, their anger, yet heard none of their voices.

Hearthstone woke to Blitzen shaking his shoulders, worry lining his face. The elf nodded at the unspoken question; this wasn’t the first time the dwarf had had to wake him up from a nightmare. 

“ Okay, ” he signed, pointing at himself, “ bad dream. ” Blitz frowned.

“They’re getting more frequent,” he said, “that’s not good.” Hearth gave him a look. Blitz bit his lip. “Maybe it would help if you talked to someone about them?” They both knew what he really meant. “ Talk to me about it, ” he was asking. Hearth contemplated that for a moment before heaving a sigh. The nightmares were only getting worse, so there was no harm in talking to Blitzen. 

He talked for the worse part of an hour. He told him about how being deaf affected his childhood, how his father hated him and his mother ignored him. He told him all about Andiron, how much he loved him, how he learned ASL just to speak to him. He told him about Inge and the fact she was his only friend despite being a slave. He talked about the well and the monster, the encounter that ended in the death of his darling brother. He talked about how much worse it got, about the lists and the gold, about the wergild and all three-thousand, two-hundred and eighty-seven days. Blitzen listened, gentle and comforting, never interrupting. Hearth told him about the cemetery and the marbled stone grave, adorned in fancy flowers. He talked about the ghosts, screaming, angry, and chanting. He told him about his dreams of dragons, words he couldn’t make sense of, anguish and agony. It was a long night, but a needed one.

It was also the night he swore to the gods: He would never return to the Alderman mansion ever again.

“ WERGILD,” the spirits had screamed, “BROKEN OATH!” 

It sounded vaguely like a prophecy, one conjured from his worst nightmares,

Dreams of gold.

Hearthstone heard none of it, safe in his dwarf’s warm and welcoming embrace.

He would never forget the way Blitzen had looked him in the eyes and the sincerity of his words.

“Don’t think like that, please,” said Blitz, “you don’t owe me anything.”

When Surt the fire giant appeared on the bridge, Hearth was pretty sure they were going to die. All three of them, burnt to a crisp and flung into the bottom of the Charles River. Or, Magnus was going to die and then Mimir would kill Hearth and Blitzen. Either way, Hearth was pretty sure they were going to die. And, well, if their lives were about to end, who cares if they raided a nearby toy store and ran up the bridge towards their doom? They looked absolutely ridiculous, but it’s not like anybody was going to see it happen. (Famous last words.) Well, besides Surt and Magnus. And Magnus’s annoying uncle Rudolph or whatever his name was. 

Hearthstone wasn’t used to a bow and arrow, but he was an elf, so he figured he wouldn’t be too bad at it. After hitting Surt right between the eyes on the first shot, he actually felt pretty confident about it. It was a shame that the arrow was a pink Valentine’s day heart that squeaked when it hit things. Still, he resisted the urge to pump his fist in victory. He nocked another arrow just as Blitzen ran in front of him with his MAKE WAY FOR DUCKLINGS sign. Hearth let the projectile fly, and felt his confidence rise a little when it hit Surt in the chest. He pointedly ignored Magnus’s awe-struck face and prepared to fire another arrow. In the meantime, Blitzen hit Surt with the sign hard enough that a metallic clang sounded out. Also, he broke the sign. Hearth’s next arrow hit Magnus instead of Surt, which would have been embarrassing if he hadn’t pretended that he didn’t see where the projectile ended up. 

To cover up that little mishap, he ran forward and smacked Surt in the chest with his bow. It wasn’t very effective but it certainly surprised the fire giant, who squeezed his eyes shut as if he was expecting the lanky elf with the toy bow to actually hurt him. When it didn’t, a different kind of fire lit up in his eyes and Hearth quickly found himself backhanded into the pavement. Head reeling from the hit, he managed to look up just in time to see the giant kick Blitzen; which was a massive no-no in Hearthstone’s book. He was half tempted to ignore Mimir’s rules and throw Algiz , the rune of protection, between the giant and the dwarf to keep it from happening again. But then he thought about it a bit and came to the conclusion that the old god would definitely kill them if Magnus died and he’d disobeyed a direct order. Instead, he bit his tongue and checked to see where the demi-god had ended up. 

Magnus Chase was being tugged at by his annoying uncle, who looked like he was having the old man equivalent of an asthma attack. He glanced back at the fire giant at just the right time to confirm his theory; that this was, in fact, Surt, holding his infamous sword of white flames. Somewhere on the ground, Blitzen started sweating bullets. Hearth heaved a breath, which was getting difficult as the temperature kept rising, and shuffled to his feet with the help of the railing. Around him, cars started melting. The pavement was starting to look like bubbling death soup. Randolph was also starting to look like bubbling death soup, and now he was less so tugging on Magnus and more so leaning on him. 

Hearth closed his eyes for a moment, and he must have blacked out for a few seconds. When he opened them again, Blitzen and Randolph (or was it Rudolph?) were nowhere to be seen. Magnus was fighting Surt one-on-one, which would seem like a terrible idea if he wasn’t holding the sword of summer. (“ That sword can wield itself, ” Mimir had told him once, “ if the kid has the sword, he might not die. ” That hadn’t been very reassuring.) 

He staggered back up to his feet and focused through the sweltering heat, wishing more than anything that he could just cast Isa and be done with all this fire; but he couldn’t, so instead he started helping the innocent bystanders off the bridge. Most people seemed to be able-bodied enough to make it out on their own. He spotted a mother trying desperately to get her toddlers out of her stroller, and rushed forward to help. She didn’t take too kindly to randomly being approached by a stranger, but she seemed to get the memo that he was helping. With two sets of hands, it wasn’t too hard to get the kids out, and soon enough Hearth found himself with an armful of crying toddler.

He didn’t notice Magnus until he appeared right in front of him, pointing down the bridge.

“Go!” He was saying, “get the kids out of here!” Hearth frowned, shaking his head. How was he supposed to keep Magnus from dying if he was off the bridge? How am I supposed to keep Magnus safe anyway, he thought, I can’t use runes.  

“Leave now,” the blonde was saying to the woman, “my friend will help you.” The mother didn’t think twice, taking the kid she had in her arms and booking it down the road, trusting Hearth to bring her the toddler he was holding. He gave Magnus a scathing look and followed her down the pavement. 

The battle raged on behind him, and he had every intention of getting back to it as soon as he put this kid down with his mother; but by the time he’d turned around, he got an eyeful of Magnus and Surt tumbling off of the bridge in a bright ball of fire. He felt his heart drop to his stomach as the mass of flames collided with the surface of the river in one big splash. Neither being reappeared from the rapids. His knees felt weak. His eyes watered. His body began to shake. He let out little breaths of air as he cried. They felt like hiccups. He wallowed in his despair for a moment, taking in large gulps of air as he tried to steady his breathing. Blitzen, he thought, I need to see him. Hearth whirled around, spotting Blitzen with Randolph, who was currently trying to murder him. Or well, probably not trying to murder him, but it certainly looked like it. Hearthstone, tears and all, marched over to the pair, metaphorically rolling his sleeves up. When he got closer, he could actually read their lips.

“-and then you and the elf had to mess everything up!” Randolph was shouting as he threw half-hearted punches. Being an older guy, the punches weren’t really doing anything. Blitzen looked destroyed. His clothes were half melted, his hair was singed, and his face was twisted into an expression of pure agony. Hearthstone hated that look on the dwarf. He pushed himself between Randolph and Blitz, shoving the old man back. In his grief, he forgot that the old man didn’t know ASL and started to insult him in rapid-fire signs.

“ You worthless excuse for an uncle, ” he began, rage causing a faint tremble in his hands, “ how dare you lead Magnus to his death for your own selfish gain! And then you blame it on Blitzen, who chose to save your sorry hide! ” He continued for another couple of seconds, not even thinking about what he was saying. He took a shuddering breath, trying to keep his tears at bay, when a hand on his shoulder shook him out of his anger and grief-filled outburst. 

“ Hearth, ” Blitzen signed, “ it’s okay. ” He signed it like he himself didn’t believe it. He didn’t look okay. Neither of them felt okay. Hearth felt like he’d been dragged to Helheim and back, his muscles aching along with his heart. He knew Magnus might die today, but he wasn’t prepared for how hard he would feel his death. He took a stumbling step backwards, away from Randolph, and all but collapsed in Blitz’s arms. A soundless sob racked his body. The dwarf rubbed soothing motions into his back, which only made him cry more. Blitzen himself was trembling, probably trying to keep in his own grief. In front of them, Randolph was looking more and more affected as the events of the day hit him in waves.

“No,” he whispered. “No, he has to have had-” He cut himself off. Hearth could barely read his lips. Suddenly, Randolph straightened, a new expression taking over his face. “Valhalla,” he said surely, “Magnus has to have achieved Valhalla.” He turned to the dwarf and the elf, “he was holding Sumarbrander, yes?” Blitzen gave him a shaky nod. The old man’s face erupted into euphoria, the kind brought only by relief, “yes!” He cried, “Magnus has achieved Valhalla!” Hearthstone would have said he sounded crazy, but it was all too possible; a heroic death holding a weapon to save the civilians on the bridge and delay Ragnarok. He locked eyes with Blitzen.

“ World tree? ” He signed. The dwarf nodded, wiping his nose and looking a little more composed. He gave Hearth a hopeful little smile.

“ To Asgard. ” He agreed. 

Chapter Text

Mimir didn’t kill them, which was nice. Instead, he just scolded them and then gave them a new set of orders to follow, which, yayyy. (Can you tell that was sarcastic? Hearth wasn’t super excited about that. In fact, he was hoping for an easy and smooth-going retirement.) These orders included a lot of things to do with Fenris Wolf, which, nooooo . (That one was serious.) Hearth was hoping that he wouldn’t have to deal with that particular wolf. He was hoping that they wouldn’t have to go anywhere near the island where he was bound, but with Blitzen on the team it was only a matter of time. 

Randolph had been right; Magnus had achieved Valhalla. That fact single handedly kept Blitzen and Hearthstone alive, so in a way Hearth had three life debts to pay. He made the executive decision not to think about it like that, which was difficult considering that it had been engraved in his mind for the bulk of his childhood. Either way, now he was watching Magnus and Blitzen scramble up the world tree like their lives depended on it. Ratatosk was behind them, barking up a storm as he clawed his way behind them. Hearth couldn’t hear any of the horrible words he was no doubt saying, but he could see their effects in his companions. Magnus had tears in the corners of his eyes, his muscles trembling as he fought to carry himself further. Blitzen had steeled his face, but Hearth knew him well enough to see how his eyebrows pinched in every so slightly. 

Beside him, Sam was adamantly fighting her own fear-filled trembles, trying her best to keep the camouflage head-scarf level with the tree. Hearth wished he could help her, but he couldn’t think of anything that would work in such a small area. All he could do was watch as Magnus and Blitz ran further down the branches, both of them stumbling every once and a while in accordance with Ratatosk’s barking. Hearthstone could only imagine the kinds of things he was saying to them; probably going after Magnus’s mother and Blitzen’s father, tearing at every seam he could find to try and claw his way into their heads. From the looks of it, it was working; Magnus stumbled and fell, soul-crushing anguish present in his expression, and Blitz went down almost right after him. 

No, Hearth thought, energy suddenly zapping through him. He quickly reached into his pouch, uncaring of how it rustled their hiding place, digging through it for the only rune he could think of that would help: Thurisaz, the rune of encouragement and empowerment. He threw it at the pair as far as he could in his position. It smacked Blitz square in the forehead, glowing for a moment before it dissolved into the open air. A second later, Blitzen snapped out of his squirrel-fueled daze and grabbed Magnus, shouting. Hearth watched as they jumped down into the knothole. 

Interlude: “What we tell ourselves” by Blitzen Freyason

“More often than not, I dream of rope. Binding, thin as hair and as taught as the gods. I dream of greater dwarves, forging, crafting, tying knots and anchors on rocks. I dream of a wolf, standing solitary on his island, teeth gnashing. Sometimes, I even dream of my father; checking on the bonds of the beast before being killed and eaten. I wouldn’t call them nightmares. Okay, rereading that, maybe I would call them nightmares. But they don’t feel like nightmares when they happen. I’m more of an apathetic observer witnessing the tragedy of my father’s passing. That sounds kinda weird, but you can’t tell me you’ve never been in a similarly apathetic nightmare-dream. 

“I always wake up paranoid about Fenris Wolf. Something about him breaking out of his bonds and starting Ragnarok, which would be pretty bad for me and my buddy Hearthstone. I would rather not die before I open up my shop, and he still needs to perfect his magic or whatever nonsense he’s talking about. I think he’s already perfect at rune magic but who cares about my opinion anyway, right? (That wording makes me sound bitter, but the tone is fond. Sarcastic and fond. Hearth cares a lot about my opinion, I promise.) 

“Me and the crowd I hang around aren’t strangers to bad dreams. Magnus has more bad dreams than good ones and Sam regularly gets night-terrors about her impending wedding with Amir. I think she’s scared of tripping up over her vows, or her dress, or the chairs, or over open air. Whatever the case, sometimes she wakes up in a cold sweat, blushing to the base of her neck. (The first time it happened, we were all sleeping over at Magnus's place for a movie night. After that, she refused to sleep in the same room as all of us, and I’m pretty sure she got a new night-terror about all of us crowding around her like worrywarts.) 

“The nightmares that I do have often have nothing to do with the end of the world. There is no impending doom, no Ragnarok, and no wolf at the end of his rope. Instead, there’s a tavern filled with dwarves, all of them cheering for Junior. His cup is full of ale, his expression full of cheer. There’s a party happening, and everything is centered around that old dwarf and his latest craft. Then, everybody turns to the door where I’m standing, and starts whispering to each other. When I say whispering, I mean that they turn to murmur in the ear of their neighbour, but I can hear each individual word.

“‘ He’s just like his father, ’ some will say, ‘ an incompetent fool. Do you think he’ll die a fool too? ’ I, like the respectable dwarf I am, ignore all of this and take a seat beside Junior, because I’m an idiot in my dreams. Junior is the kind of guy to say even worse things directly to my face. 

‘ Blitzen, ’ he said. That’s the only part of his whole rant that I can make sense of. The rest of it is always a blur, but it always hurts. Every sound he makes sets deep anguish in my soul, stemming from the very core of my being. I can never remember the words, but I know he talks about my father. I know he insults me for my interest in fashion. I know he mocks me for my feelings. And all of it hurts. 

“That’s what Ratatosk’s barking sounded like to me. Senseless insults, all of them feeling like knives in my heart. My brain could only try to fill in the blanks with insults I’ve heard before; things about my father, things about my interests, things about my birth and my mother. None of the things I could come up with even came close to how hurtful the squirrel’s awful sounds were. 

“I probably would have died without the rune, succumbing to my own words and Ratatosk’s barking. I recognized it only after it had smacked me in the forehead; Thurisaz. The rune of encouragement. It shimmered in the air for a moment before it defended me, counteracting each of the squirrel’s comments.

‘ You are stronger than they know, ’ said the rune, words being pushed directly into his mind, ‘ and one day, everyone will see that. Your dreams are yours, and they are worth dreaming about. ’ It said a few more encouraging things that buzzed through my head in a split second, and a moment later, I found the strength to stand. Moving through the haze that the negativity and the positivity provided, I grabbed Magnus’s arm and managed to tell him to jump with me; straight through the Knothole and into Vanaheim.” 

Chapter Text

Seeing Blitzen in that dwarven bar was an enlightening experience. Hearth had never been happier to see anyone in his entire life; but one glimpse of that dwarf and he was over the moon. He even rushed forward and attempted to tackle him into a hug, which was kind of awkward since Blitz was on a stool. Hearth hadn’t cared; after the involuntary visit to Alfheim, he was elated to see his best friend again. His heart sang warmly when he felt Blitzen patting him on the back and rubbing slow circles there, soft and tender. It was comforting. Hearth breathed him in, all expensive silks and expensive perfumes.

Beside him, Samirah relayed the events of their own journey on the World Tree. From this position, he could kind of read her lips, and decided to pitch in every once and a while, still wrapped in Blitzen’s arms. He didn’t look it, but he knew the dwarf had missed him just as much.

“ A deer tried to eat us, ” he signed, cutting off Sam. Magnus balked.

“Excuse me?” He said, “a moose?” Hearth let out a little grunt that he felt in the base of his throat.

“ D-E-E-R, ” he painstakingly finger-spelled, “ same sign for both animals. ” Magnus nodded in what looked like understanding before balking again.

“Oh that’s much better,” he said sarcastically, “a deer tried to eat you.” From there, Sam continued her wondrous tale (the bulk of it was escaping from the deer), and Blitzen’s grip on him tightened a little when she mentioned their accidental tumble into Alfheim. Hearthstone appreciated the gesture, but ultimately retracted when it got too difficult to communicate while also having an armful of dwarf. 

“ Hate, ” he signed, referring to his home world. Blitz gave a nod of agreement. 

“And so here we are,” finished Sam, “so…what’s going on?” Hearth listened with rapt attention as Magnus filled them in. While he spoke about Freya, the elf got up, using the bar as a support. Then, Magnus mentioned Junior and he almost lost his balance.

“ M-A-K-I-N-G? ” He signed with one hand, the other steadying himself. He shook his head rapidly, making his displeasure known. He grit his teeth as Blitzen explained what a making was, talking about old dwarven contests.

“I am rubbish at crafting,” said Blitz, hanging his head a little. Hearth frowned.

“ Not true, ” he signed, thinking of the tanning bed. 

“Hearthstone,” started the dwarf, looking warmed by his protest but still resigned, “even if I was excellent at crafting, Junior is the most skilled dwarf alive. He’ll destroy me.” Hearth did not like such self-deprecating talk, but it wasn’t like Blitzen was lying, so he didn’t say anything. 

As it turns out, makings aren’t hard to win. All you need is for your friend to turn into a horsefly and repeatedly bite your opponent between the eyes. (This is not recommended if your opponent is also using the horsefly method) Okay, Hearthstone felt a little bad for pressuring Sam into turning into a horsefly and biting Junior. She’d made him promise not to bring it up again, and there he was, bringing it up again. (It made him feel a little better when it saved Blitzen’s life. Any quarrel with anyone was worth it so save Blitzen’s life.) At least nobody in their little group besides him knew that Sam had been the horsefly, so that granted her some solace. Well, nobody knew until Junior pointed at her split lip and bruised eye and started yelling things about the children of Loki. 

Hearthstone was an expert in running for his life. He’d done plenty of it with Blitz in the first year or so of their service to Mimir. The god hadn’t trusted them with more delicate tasks quite yet and instead decided to send them off to do all the dangerous and life-threatening things; hence all the running for their lives. Hearth was an adequate rune-user (though still an amateur) but he could only cast so many runes in a short period before he passed out and possibly never woke up again. (Fun hobby, right?) And, while Blitzen was useful in a fashion disaster (his mockery was vicious), he wasn’t very useful in combat. So if they couldn’t scrape by with one or two runes, it was time to run for their lives.

Hearth wasn’t even going to try throwing runes at an angry crowd of dwarves. As soon as Junior started pointing and yelling, his oh no, danger instincts kicked in and he was halfway down the road. Experience told him that Blitzen and the others were right behind him, rope in hand, and behind them would be the angry mob trying to kill them. He ran for what had to be at least ten minutes before he finally glanced over his shoulder and realized that there was no one there; no Blitz, no Magnus, no Sam, and no crowd of pitch-fork wielding dwarves. He blinked and slowed his run to a walk, his breaths coming out in short little puffs. Where did they go? He thought, turning around completely. The streets were barren, not a single life wandering around. Slowly, he began to walk back up the path he’d just come from, keeping his eyes peeled for signs of movement and his hand in his bag, clutching at Sowilo, the rune of the sun. Maybe petrifying any dwarf he happened to see was a bit much, but there was probably a way to bring a petrified dwarf back. Probably. If anybody knew it, it was the dwarves.

Instead of running into any of his many enemies, he found Sam and Magnus; with an astounding lack of Blitzen. He frowned immediately, and walked to them a little faster, not caring that his legs were aching from all the running earlier.

“ What the H-E-L-H-E-I-M,” he signed, “ Where is Blitzen? ” Because he had to know. Magnus pursed his lips.

“Freya snatched him,” he responded, “big golden net.” Hearth cursed. “We’ll find him,” assured the blonde, “Right now, Junior is calling up the Dwarven National Guard.” It was then that the elf noticed Magnus’s sword, which was floating. Mimir had said it wielded itself, but Hearth hadn’t known that meant that it could float.

“ Your sword is floating, ” he noted, significantly more relaxed now that he knew Blitz was safe. The runes on the sword pulsed a few different colours.

“I know that,” Magnus said, turning to the sword. “Sorry, introductions. Jack, Hearth. Hearth, Jack.” Hearth tilted his head in momentary confusion.

“ Is it talking? I don’t read sword lips, ” mainly because swords didn’t have lips. The sword must have said something back, its runes pulsing with dulcet summer-y hues. Then, Sam pointed behind them, and Hearth turned around to find a tank rolling down the road. His oh no, danger senses started going haywire. On top of the tank Junior was yelling something about horsefly poison. Hearthstone clapped, getting Magnus’s attention.

“ This way, ” he signed before taking off in a dead sprint. The other two quickly moved to follow him, the elderly dwarf behind them literally shaking the sky with the force of his artillery. He ignored every dwarf that cheered, their phones out to post ten second long videos on Dwarf-Tok or whatever the latest dwarven internet sensation was, and led them all to a chasm. Below it, a river churned rapidly. 

Hearth remembered taking this particular route with Blitzen; they had been in a similar situation, except instead of being chased by Junior and his flock of admirers, they had been chased by Brokkr, a young blacksmith who insisted that they’d stolen from him. Well, they had, under orders from Mimir, but Brokkr couldn’t prove that. To escape the feral young dwarf, they’d jumped into this chasm, hitting the river and being swept into Vanaheim, where Hearth had met Blitzen’s mother Freya for the first time. She’d been warm and welcoming, presenting him with gifts and little intricate details about Blitz’s life that had the dwarf blushing down to his neck. She hadn’t even tried to get them to fetch her a new pearl bracelet, which was nice of her. (Hearth thought she approved of him as Blitzen’s friend and therefore let him off the hook.) 

Now, he wasn’t so sure that he would end up in such a nice place. Still, he’d rather take his chances here than try and fight Junior and his massive destructive vehicle. Magnus took hold of Jack and almost immediately toppled over into the canyon, Sam clinging to his arm and Hearth barely managing to grab his other one. Quickly, the elf located and casted Pertho , turning their fate over to the gods. 

Interlude: Tie a lasso around the moon

Takes place during chapter 6: Fenris Wolf 

Thor’s snoring was so loud that Hearth could feel its vibrations through the floor, which made it difficult to catch sleep no matter how exhausted he was. Pertho was a tiring rune to cast, and he felt like the rune had hollowed out all his energy until there was none left and then threw him off a cliff. His muscles ached in places he hadn’t known they could ache and his thoughts felt like sludge in his brain. He considered casting another rune just for the sake of knocking himself out, but that could kill him, so he decided against it. Outside the tent, Sam, Blitzen, and Magnus were talking about things that probably weren't very important; from the open flap, he could read every seventh word and managed to catch something about zombies. With a grumble, Hearth turned over and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to catch at least a little bit of sleep before they had to get moving tomorrow morning. 

He only noticed that Blitzen had entered the tent when he felt the dwarf gently push him over before his overcoat was being laid across Hearth’s shoulders, effectively shutting out the cold that he hadn't even noticed was there. He made a sleepy sound of some kind, letting the other know that he was still awake. In response, Blitz’s movements got a little more forceful, especially when he shoved the elf over a little more to make room for himself. 

“ Rude, ” Hearth signed at him. He wasn’t sure if the dwarf even saw the sign in the darkness. Once Blitz was satisfied with the amount of room there was for him to sleep, he turned around and zipped the tent closed, blocking out the images of Magnus and Sam, who were both still talking by the firelight. It also cast the space into darkness, which was both comforting and slightly terrifying. To compensate, Blitz pulled out a tiny little battery-powered lamp, buzzing with orange light when he turned it on. “ Where did you get that? ” Hearth signed, except he was very tired and signed something that was more like a sloppy “ where get? ” Luckily, Bltizen was a master at interpreting sleepy-elf ASL.

“Picked it up from Vanaheim before I left,” the dwarf whispered (which only made it harder to read his lips), “it’s full of sunlight, thought you could use a recharge.” That explained why the light felt so good on his skin. Hearth made a noise that was probably a hum of thanks, curling up a little further into the overcoat that had been draped over him. It was strangely warm and smelled like metal waterfowl. Blitzen buried himself a little deeper under the blankets to hide from the small beams of light, even though they probably wouldn't have done much to him anyway. Beneath him, Thor’s snores continued to shake the ground. 

“ Got a way to fix the noise? ” He asked. Blitz shook his head.

“Sorry, no. I wish I did though, I also have to hear it.” Hearth smiled a little, feeling better already because of the sun-lamp and the company. 

“ Could cast Algiz ,” Hearth suggested, “ might block out the noise and the vibrations. ” Blitzen pursed his lips in what the elf knew was disagreement.

“You’re already exhausted,” he said, “I don’t want to tire you out any more. Plus, you’d have to cast it for the whole night.” Hearth shook his head.

“ Just once, ” he corrected, “ would last the night. ” Blitz just reached over and poked him in the chest like a second grader, their unspoken sign for ‘ shut up and stop being stupid. ’ Usually Hearth would fight with him on it for a little more, but he was pretty tired and decided to shut up and stop being stupid. 

He rolled over onto his side, attempting to snuggle a little further into the bedroll below him. Unfortunately his body didn’t really respond well to his brain, and he ended up rolling the wrong direction and half-way on top of Blitzen. This wasn’t the first time they’d slept in close proximity and Hearth was much too tired to be even the slightest bit embarrassed about his mishap. 

“ Whoops, ” he signed as an acknowledgment that he hadn’t meant to roll onto the dwarf. Blitz didn’t seem to care much either, glaring at him for show.

“You’re going to wrinkle my clothes,” he complained, “I didn’t design them with sleepy elves in mind.” Hearth snorted a puff of a laugh and poked the dwarf, suddenly becoming too tired to even raise his hands and sign. The meaning of this particular poke was clear: shut up and stop being stupid. So Blitzen, predictably, shut up and stopped being stupid. A moment later, his arm wrapped around Hearth, pulling the elf further into his side and sharing some of his warmth. They ended up in a weird sort of half hug, but it was comfortable for both of them, so neither of them moved. 

Hearthstone even blocked out Thor’s obnoxious snoring long enough to fall asleep, tucked into his dwarf’s side. 

Stanley the horse was a very nice ride; if you counted a nice ride to drop you to your death. Hearthstone wasn’t even conscious for most of it, but he did feel the sudden return of his oh no, danger instincts. He was pretty sure he was going to wake up six feet under, and it would be the fault of an eight legged horse named Stanley. 

He felt kind of loopy when he returned to consciousness, signing the first words that came to mind while leaning against Blitzen, who looked vaguely like he was regretting being born.

“ Butterfly, ” signed Hearth helpfully, “ pop.Yippee! ” Blitz didn’t say anything to that. In front of them, Magnus and Sam said a bunch of complicated things that he was too out of it to properly read. Something or other about a gorilla? Hearthstone wasn’t really sure. Soon enough they were gone anyway, something about swans, and he was left alone with the dwarf.

The first couple of minutes went by in absolute silence; Hearth was busy signing meaningless things at nobody and Blitz was busy trying not to lose his breakfast. He was paler than normal, and that made Hearth frown a little bit. He poked Blitz, and this time neither of them were sure if that meant ‘ shut up and stop being stupid, ’ or not. The dwarf turned his head to look at him, questioning.

“ Favourite, ” Hearth signed deliriously, poking Blitz in the chest again. 

“What?” Blitzen asked, squinting. Hearth pouted.

“ F-A-V-O-U-R-I-T-E, ” he finger-spelled, like that would make the message clearer.

“What’s your favourite?” The dwarf pressed, still confused. Hearth just poked him again.

“I’m your favourite?” Blitzen asked incredulously. The elf nodded enthusiastically. “Thanks buddy,” he said, “nice to know that I’m your favourite dwarf.” 

“ Person, ” Hearth corrected. “ Dragonfly. Dishwasher. Yippee! ” Blitzen smiled at his foolery. His spirits seemed to be raised, so the elf counted it as a victory. 

It took another few minutes before Hearth’s delirium wore off completely and the severity of their current situation hit him like a ton of bricks. He’d been in the middle of signing pop again when he suddenly felt like his brain exploded. He poked Blitzen again.

“Mm?” Blitz hummed, turning to him. The dwarf met his eyes and smiled, “you’re back! How are you feeling?” Hearth shook his head.

“ Terrible ,” he signed honestly, “ where did Sam and Magnus go? ” Blitzen pointed to the nearby window.

“Fighting some giants,” he said, “we should probably go help them.” Hearthstone nodded and got to his feet, already dreading the use of Blitzen’s emergency parachute. 

The ride to Fenris Wolf was melancholic. Nobody seemed to be in a good mood, which was understandable, and nobody was keen on conversation. Every once and a while their captains would point something out like tour guides, going on short spiels about its history. Hearthstone ignored all of that, instead focusing on summoning and dismissing his new staff. Sometimes it worked perfectly, landing in his hand like a well-thrown boomerang, and other times it smacked Blitzen in the head so hard he fell over. The first few times Hearth had fussed over him and clapped his hands for Magnus’s attention until the blonde trudged over and healed him. After that, Blitzen just moved to a different seat, adjusting his yellow ascot as he did. 

He’d gotten pretty good at it when they arrived on the island, summoning and dismissing the thing like it was night and day. He hadn’t hit anybody with it in a good half-hour, so he was basically an expert. The dwarves let them off at the edge of the island, their smiles grimy as they offered an on-foot tour of the place as if it was destination-vacation worthy. Once everyone except the two sailors was off the boat, they began to cackle with glee like middle schoolers pulling a prank on their least favourite teacher. 

“The ride back is a little more expensive,” said Fjalar like no one had been expecting it, “all your valuables, please. Gather them in one of your bags. Toss them to me. Otherwise, we’ll leave you here.” They all knew the dwarves were going to leave them there anyway. It wasn’t a very well-kept secret. Blitzen voiced the thought.

“Get lost,” said Magnus with very thin amounts of confidence, “we don’t need you anymore.” The brothers exchanged looks before pinning the son of Frey with an expression that read are you stupid or just insane?  

“Didn’t you hear the wolf?” Asked Fjalar slowly. Hearthstone pointed at his ears. Beside him, Blitzen stifled a laugh. Nobody else seemed to have seen his joke, which was a little disappointing. “You’re stuck on that island,” continued the scummy dwarf, “with Fenris. That’s a bad thing.” 

“Yeah we know,” Magnus said with bravado that he certainly wasn’t feeling.

“The wolf will eat you!” Fjalar cried, clearly alarmed for their mental health, “bound or not, he will eat you. At dawn the island will disappear and take you with it!” 

“Thanks for the lift,” continued Magnus, “pleasant trip back.” The two dwarves both threw up their hands at the same time, looking kind of like they were performing a failing magic trick. They started grumbling to themselves and Hearthstone officially stopped paying attention.

He turned to Blitzen.

“ These guys, ” he signed in exasperation. Blitz gave him a small grin for his efforts, which he counted as a win. In front of them, the boat’s engine revved and began to sail away at maximum speed, both dwarves trying to make it back in time to pick up some more foolish tourists. Magnus turned to the group with a twisted expression like he was trying to improv a speech in front of all his classmates. 

“Well,” he started, which was never a good starting word, “after running from an army of dwarves, facing a monster squirrel, killing three giant sisters, and butchering a pair of talking goats…how bad can Fenris Wolf be?” Hearthstone stared at him ludicrously. 

“Very bad,” said Sam and Blitz in unison. Hearth pitched in an “ awful. ” 

“Right,” said Magnus, looking like he’d lost what little confidence he’d had. He pulled his sword out of its pendant form. “Jack, you ready?” Hearth still couldn’t read sword lips, so he had no idea whether the sword had spoken or not. He did see it pulse a green-ish colour though. 

“Show of hands,” said Magnus, filling the silence, “is anybody surprised by that?” Hearthstone glanced at Blitz and Sam, who didn’t raise their hands, so he went with the crowd and didn’t raise his either. The son of Frey nodded like he’d expected his outcome. His sword pulsed an avocado green and a bright pink. 

Fenris Wolf was smaller than Hearth expected. He was thinking of this massive canine with house-sized teeth and a jaw that could devour all of the Alderman mansion in one little nibble. Instead, he got a regular sized wolf with regular sized teeth who had a regular sized bite. To say he was a little disappointed would be an understatement. It was kind of difficult to read his lips too, seeing as he was a wolf. That, and his lips were constantly pulled back in a human-like sneer. 

While Magnus was chatting with the wolf of death, Hearthstone poked around at the heather that surrounded the place. The pollen spread in the air, looking like a nightmare for those with allergies. The flowers themselves grew all over the island with the only exception being in the middle where the wolf was. The entire island buzzed with magic, and he could feel its essence pulling at him. It was a feeling he wasn’t used to, one that he desperately wanted to describe in one of his many magic-focused notebooks. He summoned his staff, pleased when it didn’t smack Blitzen upside the head, and banged it on the rocks. The pollen in the air rose and turned thinner, settling into a fine mist that settled over the clearing like one big allergy-nightmare cloud. 

“ Flowers make the prison, ” he signed to Magnus with his free hand, “ stay within. ” Fenris spoke, Hearth only catching about a quarter of the words, and began to leer at Blitzen.

The elf had no idea what he said until Blitz screamed and tried to run toward in a fit of rage. Immediately Sam and Magnus held him back, keeping him far away from the wolf’s snapping range. Hearth turned his glare to Fenris, anger simmering in his stomach. The dwarf struggled against their hold for a few moments before he calmed down, his fury turning to despair. It showed on his face; his expression fell, his eyebrows pinched, and his lip quivered ever-so-slightly. Hearth dismissed his staff and went to him, taking over the job of holding him. Instead of holding him back, Hearthstone hugged him, Blitz falling into his embrace easily. The elf rubbed soothing circles into his back, Fenris switching targets from his dwarf to Sam. 

Hearth didn’t catch any of what was said, too busy making sure Blitzen was feeling okay, but he got the sense that the wolf was antagonizing the ex-valkyrie. He traced letters into the dwarf’s back, knowing that Blitz could understand them.

“ This is his game, ” he said, “ trying to get us emotional. Trying to pick us off. Age old Loki trick. Do not let him win. ” He could feel the dwarf’s posture changing in his arms, the sadness in his gait leaking away from him. He tapped Blitzen’s shoulder in reassurance before he pulled away and refocused his attention back to the other three.

He was just in time to witness Jack trying to tug Magnus to his death. Blitz pulled the new rope, Andskoti, into his hands, growling. He looked like Hearth’s words hadn’t affected him all that much and he was back in rage mode. The elf tried not to take offence to that and failed.

“I was ready to bind this mutt,” he said, “now I think I might just strangle him.” 

“I agree,” said Samirah, “he dies.” Hearth could see that Magnus wanted to join in on the hate-parade. With the quick summoning of his staff, he cast Ansuz, the rune of communication and speech, swinging the weapon in front of the three to stop them from moving forward.

“ Look, he commanded, feeling the magic voice his thoughts, “ the bones. ” He didn’t need to say anything more, dropping the spell as soon as he was finished speaking through it. His friends all glanced at the floor, finally taking note of the skeletons that littered the ground, demigods, dwarves, elves, and even humans who had come here and been enraged by Fenris and his taunts. Eaten. There was silence in the clearing for a moment, as if each person there was collectively taking a calming breath.

“I’m not freeing you,” said Magnus, “and I don’t need to fight you. We’ll wait for Surt. We’ll stop him.” The wolf sniffed the air and said something back, something along the lines of “ others are manipulated to fight for me.” Samirah opened her mouth to ask what he meant by that when she was interrupted by the appearance of Gunilla, who Hearth had only met once; and he hated her. Hearth took a deep breath and prepared for a battle that was probably going to put him into a coma for a month. 

Interlude: “Loss and Sacrifice” by Hearthstone

    Takes place at the end of Chapter 6.

“The idea of losing Blitzen hurt. Watching it happen hurt more. I saw Fenris Wolf slash his claws down his throat and I felt the tear in my heart. Searing pain tore through me unlike anything I’d ever felt before. It burned. My knees felt weak. All of my muscles locked. My breath caught painfully in my throat. I watched Blitz fall face-first into the ground and I felt like my world was ending. I couldn’t tell if he was breathing. I couldn’t check for blood. I couldn't even force myself to rush forward and check for signs of life; what if they weren’t there? What if I pressed my fingers to his pulse point only to find nothing? The thought terrified me. The rope he’d been holding, the ball of thread, rolled away. Fenris stood over my best friend like he was about to take a bite to make sure the job was finished. 

 “I’ve never moved faster in my life. I’ve never been more desperate in my life, never wanted anything more. My staff was in my hand in a split second, Pertho momentarily replaced with Tiwaz , and I hit the wolf across his skull with all my strength. Golden light burst forth, burning into his forehead, a mark of rage and sacrifice. Fenris sputtered and spat, but I didn’t care. All my energy leaked out of me in an instant. I didn’t care. The wolf tried to lunge at me, but he hit Tyr’s barrier, stumbling with a howl. I leaned heavily on my staff, ready to lose it, and didn’t stop moving until I was between the wolf and my best friend. I wasn’t much of a threat anymore, weak as I was, but Fenris would have to go through me if he wanted a chance at even touching Blitzen. I didn’t care that the wolf was mocking me, didn’t care that he was saying the dwarf was dead. There are some things I refuse to believe until the dust settles and the sun sets; Blitz’s death was one of them. 

“I abandoned my staff, dropping it just inside the barrier, and crawled to his side. My hands fluttered over him. I didn’t want to check his pulse. I didn’t want to check his breathing. I didn’t want to know if he was truly gone or not. I’d never been so terrified in my life. It’s a feeling I won’t ever forget, one who’s memories will haunt me until the day I die. But then he’d rolled over, and the world started turning again. I could move again. Emotions returned to me, fear subsided, but my panic intensified. My hovering hands immediately moved to check his neck, and I sighed in relief when I noticed that his once yellow ascot had turned to pure steel; a bullet-proof tie. I should have known. As soon as I’d made sure he was okay, I collapsed. My strength that had briefly returned to me left me once again, and I fell. I didn’t care. Blitzen was alive. Tiwaz had worked. Tears of relief and stress fell from my eyes. Blitzen was alive. Alive, alive, alive. I couldn’t wait to poke him in the chest like a second grader. I couldn’t wait to tell him how stupid he was. I couldn’t wait to hug him. But there was a later now, so I saved all of that for the future, and fell on top of him in the present.” 

Chapter Text

Odin had released both Hearthstone and Blitzen from their service to Mimir; which was pretty useless considering that their three years ended the next day anyway. Hearth reminded himself of what the severed head had said the day they’d drank from his well: “You two seem like a special case.” Mimir had probably predicted this outcome and adjusted their sentence accordingly. What wasn’t useless though was that ninety-minute one-on-one session with Odin and the funding for Blitzen’s Best; both of which made the elf and the dwarf equally as excited for both themselves and each other. 

The ninety-minute one-on-one with Odin was actually very helpful; even though most of it had been one of the god’s powerpoints, it was actually interesting, which was a paradox in itself. Hearth mostly worked on his stamina, pushing himself to cast at least three runes in a row before he even started to feel slightly dizzy. Odin advised keeping some sunlight with him at all times to recharge his energy so he could cast more and reduce his recovery period. It made him think of Blitzen’s sun-lamp that he’d brought for him back in Thor’s tent. He also said that food and sleep are both necessary to maintain adequate energy levels for consistent rune casting, which Hearthstone thought but didn’t say was obvious. 

Blitzen had named his shop “Blitzen’s Best,” and opened it on Newbury Street in Midgard. He was originally going to put it on a lesser known street due to all the expensive materials he wanted to buy, but a quick cast of Gebo had eliminated much of the costs. After his tutoring session and his quick reading of Rune Magic with the All-Father, Hearthstone had helped him move in; materials for sewing, mannequins, shelves, and everything from his old apartment in Nidavellir. The task was a little bit draining, teleporting that much stuff between worlds with Raido, but it was worth it to see Blitzen’s million-dollar smile. 

“Where are you going to go after all this?” Blitz had asked him one day, tidying up the store before its grand opening. Hearthstone tilted his head and put down the rune he’d been holding on a nearby table.

“ I’m not staying? ” He asked, hurt by the idea of it. Blitzen quickly shook his head, hands flying in front of him in a panic.

“Nono, that’s not what I meant,” he said frantically, “I just didn’t want to assume that you’d want to stay with me since you’re…you know. You. ” Hearthstone had no idea what that meant.

“ Unreliable? ” He guessed, pointing at himself, “ quick to flee? In debt? ” He paused, frowning, “ a bad friend? ” The dwarf balked.

“Wha- No, you silly elf, you’re perfect, I meant your status! You’ve received a personal tutoring session from the All-Father himself, you’ve been to Asgard. People all around the nine worlds know your name, you’re that famous!” Blitzen quickly started to look like he was losing his nerve and was regretting even speaking in the first place. Hearth wanted to comfort him, but had no idea what to say, not knowing that the dwarf’s point was.

“What I mean is…” he trailed off, lips twisting in a way that suggested his throat was closing up. “ Stay? ” He asked in sign. Hearthstone gave him a small grin, the knot in his stomach unravelling easily. He’d been worried for nothing.

“ Always, ” he responded, “ why did you think I moved the tanning bed upstairs? ” Blitzen’s cheeks coloured.

“I didn’t want to assume,” he mumbled, embarrassed, which made it hard to read his lips. Hearth huffed a laugh, one hand clutching at his stomach and the other steadying himself on the counter. In his peripheral vision, he saw Blitzen gazing at him with a soft expression, a small and secret smile turning the corners of his lips. Unsure if that expression was real or not, Hearthstone chalked it up to wistful thinking. 

Hearthstone spent the rest of the day teasing Blitzen, who took the taunts like a champ. (Read: Locked himself in his room for three hours and started his next clothing line in an embarrassment-fueled daze.) 

Hearthstone was trying very hard not to be mad at Blitzen and Sam. Ever since that Odin-damned death prophecy, he felt like he was going insane. He’d managed to convince Blitz to close his shop for the month and Mimir to lend them one of his safe houses, but now with Magnus and Samirah at their door it was getting harder to tell him no . It was already hard enough without the whole Thor’s hammer thing. He’d been so excited to read the dwarf’s future (and maybe a little nervous to find out if he was in it until the end), and decidedly less excited when it came out horrifying. He’d gotten Blitzen out of there as fast as he possibly could, refusing to even say a word to Magnus about where they’d gone. He felt a little bit about that one, the kid no doubt wondering where his “mom and dad” went, but Blitz’s life was worth more than hurt feelings. 

The fact that Blitzen was brushing off his possible death was more frustrating than anything Hearth had ever experienced before. He kept saying that it was “no big deal,” and that Hearth “probably read the runes wrong,” but the elf knew he didn’t. He knew because he’d reread that same prophecy over and over and over again every night, looking for anything that could cause it to mean something different. Anything different. He combed through the runes obsessively, losing hours and hours of sleep over it. Hearthstone definitely did not read the runes wrong, and Blitzen definitely shouldn’t be brushing off his death prophecy. He told him that much all the time, arguing with him at every opportunity to try and get him to see how serious this was. 

“Buddy,” Blitz had said, reaching out to hold his hands, “I know you’re worried, but I’ll be fine.” No you won’t be, Hearth had thought but literally couldn’t say since the dwarf was holding his hands. It felt really nice, but also kind of rude. Instead, he showed his displeasure with a scowl. Blitzen turned to Magnus. “Besides, as much as I love this elf,” Hearthstone’s face got a little warmer, “I’m going crazy in that safehouse. I’d rather die out here, being useful to my friends, than keep on watching TV and eating delivery pizza and waiting for Mimir’s head to pop up in the bathtub. Also, Hearthstone snores like you wouldn’t believe.” Hearthstone yanked his hands back and resisted the urge to punch his stupid dwarf.

In the end, he made Sam swear to him that Blitzen wouldn’t get hurt on this ridiculously stupid quest. Sam promised, and Hearthstone nodded, satisfied. As much as he hated to let Blitz leave the safehouse, he trusted Samirah and her axe. She was formidable in battle and a sound voice of reason; if anyone could keep Blitzen safe, it was her. Plus, he would be going with them. Him and his bag of runes would protect this dwarf with everything they had. 

Everything they had turned out to be Uruz . Hearth basically passed out after he let go of the spell, finding a home in Blitzen’s lap as he cradled his head. He was barely conscious, letting the sensation of the dwarf’s hands in his hair lull him into a safe-feeling sleep. 

Interlude: Loss and Petrification by Hearthstone

“If losing Blitzen to Fenris was scary, losing Blitzen to Loki and Magnus’s annoying uncle was horrifying. I was already running on stress and adrenaline from Blitzen’s death prophecy and the exertion Uruz had put me through; I barely had the strength to sit up from the dwarf’s hold. One second I was feeling oh-so safe in Blitzen’s hold and the next Loki and Randolph were in the room and I was forcing myself to my feet. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for Blitz; and maybe that’s why I managed to find the strength to put myself between the Skofnung sword and the dwarf. I swayed on my feet but I stayed put, finding energy in Blitzen’s continued presence behind me. Well, really, he was more beside me than behind me, but my intention was still clear. 

“Then Loki had started speaking about the stone. The stupid stone my father kept on the mantle in the living room. And then I knew. I knew what was going to happen the moment before it happened. Hours and hours of scouring through Blitzen’s future had led me to this point. Blitzen. Bloodshed. Cannot be stopped. The words echoed in my mind like a mantra. Before Ostara. Incurable. Sunrise. I panicked. Something in me knew exactly what was going to happen. I saw Randolph lunge forward with that god-forsaken sword, but I couldn’t move in time. I tried to get in front of it, tried to take the hit, but my muscles refused to work. I watched it happen in slow motion: Randolph’s expression, full of regret. The Skofnung sword piercing Blitzen’s gut. The awful smell of blood penetrating the stale underground air. Blitz’s expression, the little puff of air he let out. Magnus leaping forward, Jack in hand, cutting fingers off of his uncle’s hand. 

“I caught him when he fell, and I fell with him. I couldn’t carry his weight. I dragged him away from Loki and Randolph. I thought I’d felt this pain before, but seeing the blood was so much worse. Bloodshed. Cannot be stopped. Incurable. Sunrise. My breaths were stuttering. I couldn’t think of anything that could help, any rune that would save him. Incurable. My pain turned to rage and I lifted my head to Randolph Chase. You are a dead man walking, I thought, my rage a simmering fire that could not be put out, I will kill you. I didn’t care that it was Loki who had manipulated him into doing it. I didn’t care that he bore the mark of Loki. I didn't care that he’d lost his fingers for this. As long as I live, I will see you dead.

“I read his lips as he begged Magnus not to make me go to Alfheim, not to let me go back to my father. You stupid dwarf, I wanted to say, don’t you know I would do anything for you? I would break promise after promise, oath after oath, just to keep Blitzen safe. He was everything to me. Everything . I don’t know how I could live without him. Everything . Words could not describe the emotions I felt. The rage, the fury, the agony. The heartbreak. I wanted to tell him everything I never said, everything I kept under wraps, everything I scolded myself for feeling. I couldn’t. I just wanted to know how to fix him, how to help him, how to bring him back from his inevitable death. Incurable. Incurable. Incurable. I cursed at Loki with everything I had, tears streaming down my face. 

“The God disappeared, taking Magnus’s damned uncle with him. I turned my full focus to Blitzen, who should have had it all along. I couldn’t bear to see how pale he’d gotten, couldn’t express my anguish at seeing the expanding puddle of blood beneath him. Stupid, I yelled at myself, smacking myself in the forehead over and over, stupid, stupid, stupid. How could you do this to him? Sam’s shadow fell over us like a death toll, her face pinched in panic. She asked how it happened. Deep down, I knew it wasn’t her fault. It was my fault, all my fault, but I snapped at her anyway. It wasn’t until Blitzen’s cold hands covered my own that I stopped. His hands were so cold. Incurable. Incurable. Incurable. ‘Not your fault,’ he told me. I didn’t care. 

“Magnus was glowing so much that he looked like a mini-sun. His hands were pressed to Blitzen’s gut, trying desperately to get his healing magic to work. I hoped it would, but deep down I knew it wouldn’t. I knew what we had to do. What I had to do. Alfheim taunted me in the near future, with its bright skies and dark mansions. It would take too long to go there and back. We were already running out of time. Below me, Blitzen’s head lulled. Sam sobbed. Magnus glowed brightly. His eyes promised a miracle. 

“Watching Blitzen turn to stone broke my heart.” 

Hearthstone really didn’t want to go home. He felt like there was something physically preventing him from stepping a foot into Alfheim, some mental barrier that he hadn’t managed to get rid of yet. That same mental barrier shattered to pieces the moment Blitzen needed the Skofnung Stone. He felt small in Alfheim, like there were eyes in the walls and ears in the floor, watching and listening to his every move, waiting to report it back to his father. It helped to have Magnus by his side, but he was still dreading even looking at the Alderman mansion from afar. 

Sunspot and Wildflower had attitudes that made Hearthstone want to burn them at the stake. They’d insulted Magnus numerous times before forcing the two into the back of their cop car the moment they realized exactly who he was. You’d think the Alderman name would earn you nicer treatment, but no. Instead you were shipped off straight to your abusive dad’s front door. Whoop-de-do. Their panic upon realizing Magnus’s parentage had been funny though. 

Seeing his father for the first time in years was terrifying. He spent so long on the other side of a disapproving glare that he was pretty sure the senior Alderman would murder him as soon as he saw him. Instead, all he got was stone-cold acceptance and an order to get in the house he promised he would never return to. His father’s blatant ableism hadn’t changed, immediately criticizing him for speaking in ASL. What was funny was that his father knew ASL, but refused to allow Hearth to use it for communication. He preferred humiliation in the form of that damned whiteboard. Hearthstone refused to be complacent any longer, and when asked, did not pick up the slate. Then, his father had said the only piece of remotely useful information and he was a little more amenable to the idea.

“Fresh running water can bring back a petrified dwarf,” he said, and Hearth blocked out every other word. Fresh running water. Incurable. Hearthstone’s eyebrows knitted together. That didn’t seem very incurable. Maybe it meant that his death itself was incurable, he thought, he’s technically dead when he’s petrified, right? Heart’s not beating, he’s not breathing, no blood flowing- Hearth cut the thoughts from his head before he started crying in front of his father. His emotions ran high, and he felt like an elastic band that was one centimeter away from snapping. He tried to keep track of the conversation as it went, Magnus trying to bargain for the Skofnung Stone and Hearth’s father being a jerk about it, but it was proving to be kind of difficult. Every once and a while his eyes flicked back to Blitzen’s stony figure. Before he could be completely useless to Magnus in this, he tuned back into the conversation.

“I will not help you,” Alderman was saying, “because it would serve me no purpose.” He took a sip of his drink, his pinky raised like a posh loser. “My…” he paused like he was trying to find the right word. “ Son ….Hearthstone deserves no help from me. He left years ago without a word.” He laughed, a harsh motion that looked like it hurt his throat. “Without a word. Well, of course he did. But you take my meaning.” Hearth thought back to when he’d accidentally casted Ehwaz and teleported himself straight to Nidavellir. Best accident of my life, he thought, gave me my everything. Beside him, Magnus looked like he was about to bust out one of Blitzen’s chainmail ties, wrap it around his fist, and punch Alderman in the throat. 

“So Hearthstone left. Is that a crime?” His eyebrows were pinched. The defence was appreciated, warming the elf’s heart

“It should be,” said his father, “in doing so, he killed his mother.” The world stopped for a moment. He dropped his goblet. He was never particularly close with his mother, even less so after Andiron’s death, but some part of him cared for her in a way he never felt towards his father. She was just as cruel as he was, if not more, but there was something about her that Hearth clung on to. A glimmer of kindness, a slimmer of regret. He would cling on to the small bits of love she would give him, and pretend like it meant that she cared. She never hit him, not like his father did, but her kindness was torture he willingly bore no matter how much it hurt. He reminded her of Andiron. He didn’t register words his father spoke. He was glad for that; he didn’t want to hear about how his mother died. 

He bent down robotically, his joints suddenly stiff as clay, and tried to pick up his cup. It took a long and humiliating three tries for him to get it right, setting it down on the table. The golden elvish drink had splashed all over his hand, yellow dropless soaking some of his sleeve. Magnus brushed a hand against his shoulder, and he suppressed the urge to flinch away. 

“ I’m here, ” he signed in reassurance. It made Hearth feel better, but his spirits had still been ultimately crushed. He stared at the wall as Magnus and his father continued to discuss bargains over the Skofnung Stone. His heart felt like lead in his chest. Wergild, the dream spirits had screamed, broken oath. He wanted to sink into the floor. 

His father left the room with flare: Throwing the rest of his goblet on the ground and yelling at Inge to clean it up, not unlike a one-year-old. 

His room was exactly as he’d left it; barren, with nothing of worth or value, no windows and a dozen classroom-sized whiteboards. Even from the doorway he could tell that all of his research on runes which he’d carefully hidden away over the years were gone; likely having been used as kindling. He was disappointed about that, but he had many more notebooks back in the apartment above Blitzen’s Best, so it wasn’t a major loss. 

There were so many whiteboards at that point that they’d started hanging them from the ceiling where there wasn't any space on the walls. They dangled into open air, creating little hallways of rules. Hearthstone regretted to say that he remembered most if not all of them. Just being in the room felt constricting. 

He walked forward and gently set Blitzen down at the foot of the bed, gaze caught on his stony face before it lifted to all the red whiteboards lining the walls and the singular green one. 

“Hearth?” Magnus questioned. His expression was horrified. Hearthstone felt shame overtake him in waves, like some terrible tide was slowly dragging him further into the sea, drowning him.

“ Rules,” he signed. Magnus made a motion with his hands that didn’t really mean anything like he was remembering how ASL even worked.

“ Your parents made those for you? ” He asked. Hearth tried not to look as ashamed as he was feeling. Blank, he thought, you are a blank slate. It was an expression he was pretty used to making.

“ Rules, ” he signed again as a response.

“But why the prices?” Asked Magnus, “it’s like a menu…” He glanced down at the fur rug, and Hearthstone felt the incoming explanation of everything he didn’t want to explain.

“Wait, the coins were your allowance? Or…your payment? Why throw them on the rug?” Hearth took a breath and raised his hands to explain when Inge stepped in from the doorway, speaking for him. He shot her a quick thanks . She smiled at him, her face a little red.

“They were playing in the woods behind the house,” she was saying, “there’s an old well…” she trailed off, making eye contact with him as if asking for permission. 

“ Andiron loved the well. He thought it granted wishes. But there was a bad spirit… ” He shivered. He didn’t want to finish the story. 

“It came out of the well and attacked Andiron in the form of… that . A large bluish creature, a mixture of bear and wolf,” Inge said, finishing it for him.

“It killed Andiron,” Magnus concluded. Hearthstone resisted the urge to burst into tears and nodded. 

“ I was playing with some stones, ” he said, “ my back was turned. I didn’t hear. I couldn’t… ” he trailed off. His eyes glazed over. 

He remembered that day clearly. He remembered the shape of the rocks he’d been messing around with, pretending they were runes. He remembered how smooth they were, vibrations and waves they made when he threw them against the trees and in the grass. He remembered turning around. He remembered Andiron’s body, bloody, in the claws of a monster. He remembered feeling panic and grief unlike any other feeling, remembered the burning in his legs as he sprinted back to the manor as fast as his eight-year-old legs could carry him, signing for someone to help. His father had responded, and it was one of the only times in Hearth’s life that his father acted like he knew ASL. 

He remembered spending the next few days outside with sharp tools, knife slipping over and over again as he tried to skin the creature without help. He had little scars on his hands and arms from the mishaps, from all the times the blades bounced off the hide and split his skin instead. He remembered his mother’s cries and the way she looked at him like he was a murderer.

“ Cover the rug,” his father had said gruffly, “ earn gold coins until not a single hair can be seen. Then you have paid. ” Eight-year-old Hearth raised his head and memorized rule after rule, determined to pay back every drop of blood that he had spilt.

Three-thousand two-hundred and eighty-seven days later, Ehwaz freed him.

Hearthstone only felt a little bit bad for blowing up Andvari’s pool, but Andvari was a bit of a jerk and he was terrible at keeping secrets, so Hearth figured it was only a matter of time before someone else came along and blew up his pool. Now, hefting a massive bag of gold with the help of Magnus’s supposedly talking sword, he thought it a necessary evil. The look on his father’s face when he entered the family mansion covered head to toe in river muck was definitely worth blowing up Andvari’s pool. 

In truth, he did feel terrible about giving his father a ring he knew was cursed; his father was a terrible man who forced him to live by horrid rules and beat his servants on the regular, but Hearth was a decent elf so he worried anyway. Alderman didn’t seem to care about the curse, greedily watching Magnus, who was holding the ring in a pinched grip like his body was forcing him to want it.

“First the Skofnung Stone,” requested Magnus, “let me see that you’re keeping your end of the bargain.” Alderman gestured to Inge.

“Bring the Skofnung Stone from its case. The security code is Greta.” Hearthstone couldn’t stop himself from flinching at the name of his mother. The Hulder ran off to do as she was told, and the three of them awkwardly stared at each other from around the rug in silence. Magnus’s gaze kept flickering between Hearth and Alderman, periodically glancing at the pile of gold like he wanted to yell yippee and jump into it. His father was just staring at the gold like he couldn’t believe Hearth had the ability to earn so much in his life. Hearth kept his gaze on his father, trying to think of ways to get him to accept the paid wergild but reject the ring. He couldn’t come up with anything. 

Inge came back with stone cradled gently in her hands, walking carefully, terrified of dropping such an important artifact. She passed it off to Alderman, who didn’t do so much as to give her a word of thanks. 

“I give this to you freely, Hearthstone, to do with as you please. Let its power be yours.” He handed the stone to Heart before turning to Magnus. The whetsong felt cold and heavy in his hands. “Now, the ring.” They both watched as the blonde bent down and placed the ring delicately over the last sprung-up hair of the rug. 

“The deal is done,” said Magnus. Alderman didn’t seem to notice, instead turning and immediately barking orders at Inge. Hearthstone took one look at him, seemingly in an even worse mood than normal, and spun around on his heel. He grabbed Blitzen by the scarf-harness in one hand, pulling his form towards the bathroom with the intent to heal. 

Interlude: “The shower becomes the center for PDA” by Magnus Chase (With additional quips by Alex Fierro)

Takes place at the end of Chapter 7: Wergild; Broken Oath

“I’m used to some pretty bromancical tension (that is not a word) but I probably should have clued into the whole ‘in love with each other’ thing when they hugged in the shower. Okay, maybe we were all a little more focused on Blitzen not dying, but still. As soon as the water cascaded over his head, his skin softened, his breathing continued, and he started bleeding all over the place. He was also still spouting nonsense about leaving him behind. Hearth pressed the Skofnung Stone against his wound and it instantly started closing up, and that was around the time Blitz realized that he wasn’t in the chamber of zombies and death traps anymore; but rather in a fancy-looking shower with an armful of elf. 

“Blitzen seemed to figure out what was happening when Hearthstone started rocking them back and forth, cradling the dwarf close to him with tears of relief. 

‘Okay buddy,’ he’d said, patting him weakly, ‘there, there.’ He looked at me, and his eyes asked me millions of questions, only half of which I could answer. 

‘ You almost died, ’ I had signed to him, which I’m pretty sure he already knew, ‘ Hearth is… ’ I struggled to find an adjective, so I just gestured to the elf in his entirety. Blitzen’s face softened, his pats on Hearth’s back turning into comforting circles. They spent another couple of minutes under the water in an A-performance hugging position, Blitz murmuring sweet nothings that Hearth couldn’t hear and me standing there like an idiot. (He stands there like an idiot for the majority of his life. Thanks Alex, that was really helpful and kind.)

“Eventually, Hearthstone shut the water off, seemingly having had enough of his unusual display of emotion. Blitz was still too weak to move, so we helped prop him up against the shower walls. Inge rushed in with towels and a shaky smile. With the door open, I could hear the sounds of spilling coins, and I got the sense that Mr Alderman had given into the urge to yell yippee and jump into the treasure trove. (I was only slightly jealous that I hadn’t been able to do it myself <- Loser.) 

“My second clue that they were embarrassingly head over heels for each other should have been when Blitzen smacked Hearth in the arm for going back to Alfheim for him. He looked properly upset that we’d gone and saved his life. 

‘You swore that you’d never come back here, and for good reason!’ He’d said. Hearthstone just shook his head.

‘ I also swore to protect you ’ he’d signed like an annoying sweet elvish Romeo, ‘ my fault you were stabbed. And Samirah’s. ’ Blitzen denied that faster than I’d ever seen anybody deny anything, and their petty bickering that followed was so couple-ish that I definitely should have sensed their romantic tension, but I’m nothing if not an idiot. (You don’t have to chime in here, Alex, I think I got myself pretty good. Nice one, Magnus.)” 

Chapter Text

Interlude: “I realize my friends are in love” by Magnus Chase (with additional quips by Alex Fierro.)

“I dream of gods. Well, usually I do. Some big-bad appears in my dreams and threatens my life, sending me on some big world-saving quest, or Odin himself appears to me to tell me that my jacket has a rip in it and it makes me look stupid. Okay, maybe that last one was a figment of my imagination because I woke up and checked and there was no rip, but my point is that godly visits in my dreams is just a normal Tuesday for me. So when I got visited by Mimir last night, it really wasn’t all that surprising. 

“‘ Son of Frey, ’ he’d said, ‘ I have a job for you. ’ That hadn’t made much sense to me considering that I wasn’t one of his many servants, so I said something really smart like ‘ wah? ’ 

‘ Drink from my well, ’ requested Mimir, ‘ and you will see why this has to be done. ’ At that point I’d properly woken up (as well as you can be awake while in a dream,) and refused.

‘Uh,’ I said eloquently, ‘no thanks, I’m good.’ The head looked pretty agitated about that, so I backpedaled. ‘It’s just that you’re very wise,’ I sucked up like a loser, ‘and I’m an idiot. It would be so easy for you to trick me into thousands of years of servitude.’ (Let it be known that that last part was written by Alex, and it didn’t go that way. I promise. He’s lying) 

“Mimir looked pretty placated by that, which I prided myself with for approximately twenty seconds before a spark in his unsettling eyes lit a nervous fire in my stomach.

‘ Why don’t you just tell me about the job? ’ I asked, ‘ with words. ’ The head contemplated that for a moment before doing the twist. ( He means nodding.) 

‘It has come to my attention that your two friends, the dwarf and the elf, are in love.’ That was earth shattering to me. I’m pretty sure my jaw dropped so far that you could see it in Helheim. This was a dream though, and reality likes to bend for that kind of thing, so my jaw did literally drop all the way to dreamscape Helheim. (He looked like an idiot. You weren’t even there!) 

“Anyway, Mimir pitched me his master plan; I helped the two of them realize their feelings and start dating, and in return I didn’t have to deal with their painfully awkward romantic tension that I was now aware of thanks to Mimir. Basically, he scammed me. 

‘ Okay, ’ I said to him, ‘ fine. I’ll help. ’ The god made a terrifying grin, elated, and then gave me the most vague set of instructions I’ve ever heard in my life (and I took orders from Odin once!): ‘ Get to it, Boyo! ’ And then he disappeared, and I woke up having no idea if I’d imagined the whole thing or not. One thing was for sure, I definitely started noticing my friends’ weird romantic tension, so it was something I had to do out of the goodness of my heart anyway. Yay. “

Alex Fierro was a bit of a curveball. As previously stated, Hearthstone was pretty good at sensing when demigods were around. Alex screamed demigod. Everything from her hair to her clothes to the way she stood told Hearth that she was a demigod. And not just any demigod either; a child of Loki. She had also achieved Valhalla, and was immediately recognized as a child of Loki by…well, basically everyone. Alex was blunt, rude, and sarcastic. She was also funny, caring, and compassionate, in her own weird little way. 

The curve ball was the fact that Magnus definitely had a crush on her. Hearth was pretty sure that Magnus had never had a crush on anyone ever; if he had, he would probably be handling it better. But, as it was, he was acting like a fool without even realizing that he was acting like a fool. Well, he probably noticed it, and just didn’t know why . Blitzen had made it abundantly clear that he shouldn’t let Magnus know that he was an idiot unless Magnus came to him for advice first; so he basically had to suffer with the knowledge of it.

It was a new form of torture to watch. Magnus would say something awkward and stupid, Alex would respond with something witty and charming, and then Magnus would turn as red as a cherry. He’d mutter something about Jack or Sam, or sometimes even Hearth himself, effectively dragging everyone else into it, and then Alex would laugh at him until his expression smoothed out into that dorky love-struck smile of his. He could even tell whenever Alex’s gender shifted between male and female, something that almost everyone else had to ask about. (Almost everyone because Sam could tell, and Blitz could tell. Sam said it was something to do with being another child of Loki. Blitz just smiled coyly.) 

They’d returned Thor’s hammer to him last Tuesday, and they’d allowed themself a brief recovery period before they all marched themselves off to fight Loki and probably all die. They’d faced some pretty nasty odds before, but Loki was on a different level. Magnus might even have called it an Avengers level threat. 

Hearthstone was still dealing with all the emotions he’d bottled up since the visit to Alfheim; things about his mother, things about Andiron, things about Inge, and even a thing or two about his father. He was pretty used to sorting his emotions into little folders within his mind and filing them away for later, even though he knew it was unhealthy. It was something he started doing as a kid; saving his emotional outbursts for when he was locked away in his room and his father couldn’t turn the corner and say “ that’s minus eight for crying. ” During the day, he’d just keep all his tears in and continue to try and cover that blue rug.

Now that his wergild had been paid, there was really only one other life debt he had to pay; the one he owed to Blitzen. Except it was so much more than a life debt at this point. Hearthstone didn’t just have to pay back the cost of being saved, he had to pay back the cost of friendship. The cost of having someone care for him, the cost of home-cooked meals and a place to stay. The cost of warm showers and receiving Blitzen’s smile almost every day. Oh yeah– and the cost of falling in love with him.

In the years since he’d run away from the Alderman mansion, he’d mostly dropped the habit of thinking of life as a buy and sell. After finding out about it, Blitz had basically smothered him in affection until Hearth’s mental it’s a tactic senses flat out stopped working. His brain no longer looked at the takeout falafel the dwarf brought him from Fadlan’s as a minus five gold thing. Life became easier, and he was able to focus more on Rune Magic and less on imaginary red whiteboards. That part of his mind had faded to the past, and every day he spent away from Alfheim was also spent distancing himself from the mental gymnastics of the buy and sell mindset.

So, you can imagine what happened when he revisited Alfheim. Every thought he’d had since had been accompanied by a little tick in the back of his head, thoughts that were entirely numbers and symbols, a total that he would never be able to match. He started picking up even more chores around the apartment to even have the slightest hope of calming down his racing mind, of proving to himself that he did not have a debt to Blitzen that he had to pay. His mind, as inconsiderate as it always was, refused to stop doing mental calculations.

Hearth thought of all the little things he could do to make it up to him. He could do the laundry (plus two), make dinners (plus three), and love him (minus infinity.) He bit his lip. Scratch that last one. Hearth didn’t love him, and refused to let himself love him. Okay, he could clean up the shop (plus two), bring him pastries (plus one), and love him (minus infinity.) His nails dug into his wrists. He would never be able to work off his life debt as long as he was in love with Blitzen. His heart fluttered in his chest whenever he walked into the room (minus eight for the butterflies), he had to fight off a blush every time Blitzen talked to him in ASL (minus six-hundred for making him learn ASL), and everytime the dwarf touched him he nearly imploded (minus 10 for whatever the Helheim that was.) 

He was trying to establish a sense of normalcy before marching off to his death and instead he was just going increasingly more insane as each day passed. He felt a little stir-crazy if he was being honest, but at the same time there was no place he’d rather be than in or above Blitzen’s Best. He was also feeling a little pathetic, but he figured that came with being horrendously and irreversibly in love with his best friend. 

Hearthstone had pulled another all nighter rereading Odin’s book and practicing casting various runes, and Blitzen had stayed up designing and sewing together a whole new line of fashionable battle-wear; so neither of them were up for cooking. Instead, Blitz had placed an order of falafel from Fadlan’s and Hearth was on his way to pick it up.

It was when Amir finally handed him his bag of deep-fried vegetables that he realized something. Oh Norns, he thought, I’m just like Magnus “pathetically in love with my best friend” Chase. He must have zoned out because Amir tapped him gently on the shoulder.

“ You okay? ” He signed in shaky and barely understandable ASL. (He was in his first month of learning the language, so communication was a little difficult between them. Hearthstone had tried to tell him that he could read his lips and he didn’t need to speak in sign, but Amir had protested and said that it was better for his language development. It was touching.) Hearth pursed his lips, nodding.

“ Realized something, ” he signed back, pointing at himself, “ okay. ” Amir blinked at him in a way that meant he didn’t understand anything Hearth just said. The elf abandoned ASL entirely and just nodded, taking the bag of food from the man and signing his thanks slowly so the other could understand it.

“ No problem, ” Amir responded in slightly-more-confident ASL. 

Hearthstone took his bag of delicious smelling food and his embarrassing realization and left with nothing more than a wave.

Interlude: “I’m in love with my elf” by Blitzen Freyason.

Takes place during Chapter 8: Best Friends with Benefits (the benefit was friendship)

“My mother is the goddess of love. Sometimes, I think that my devotion to fashion is because of that, or that my good looks come from that. Other times I shake that thought out of my head and remind myself that my passions are my own. Still, I think I fall a little bit in love with every man I meet; which is why I wasn’t surprised when tall, perfect, and silly fell into my life and I fell in love with him too. Hard and fast. Like, literally, he fell into my life. I was watering my garden, which was dying because of the lack of sunlight in Nidavellir, and grumbling after every dwarf who walked by and laughed at me for it. (‘ Flowers, Blitzen?’ One of my neighbours had said, chuckling, ‘how romantic.’) Above me, a rune had shimmered; I didn’t recognize the rune yet, but I would soon know that it was Ehwaz. I glanced up at it, because naturally, that’s what you do when little sparkles start falling on your flowers, and out came the love of my life.

“He was a little sick-looking at first, really just a few hours away from dying completely, and I’m still kind of surprised to this day that I didn’t build a bunch of waterfowl instead of a fully-functional sun tanning bed. (I did spend the first thirty or so minutes hammering away at something that got discarded the moment I noticed it forming a beak.) My crafting skills are basically nonexistent so it was a wonder that I could even get that far. After the bed was completed and the elf was soaking in the sun rays, I went back to my flower beds. As he had fallen on top of me, a solid patch of them were completely crushed under the combined weights of a fashionable dwarf and a lanky rune-wielding elf. That day, I gave up on flowers completely and decided to throw in the towel in favour of looking after my newly acquired elf.

“My intrigue first peaked when he woke up and I found out that he was deaf. I hadn’t met many disabled people in Nidavellir and I hardly went out to other worlds; and even then, it was mainly just my obligatory trips to Vanaheim to see my mother, Freya. Sure, there was my neurodivergent cousin and the dwarf a couple streets down who had lost his leg in a crafting incident, but I’d never met anyone who communicated only in sign language. I feel a little bad about it, but I was fascinated by the concept. Anyway, the deaf elf spoke to me over paper, where I learned that he’d come from Alfheim (predictably) and had no idea that he was even in Nidavellir. I, like the respectable gentleman I am, mentally decided to shelter this elf for as long as he required. 

“The thing that sold me on him was the bag of runes. I hadn’t noticed them earlier because of all the panic I’d been in trying to keep the elf alive, but now that I’d seen them, there was no turning back. Nobody ever seems to give Rune Magic a try anymore, something about deeply wounded individuals with hollow souls, so meeting someone who could connect with the nine worlds so thoroughly was exhilarating. I wasn’t surprised when I noticed the fast beat of my heart and the way my cheeks seemed to pink every time he looked at me; I just merely sighed and thought ‘Blitzen Freyason, in love again. ’ 

“See, usually my little crushes on the various men I see only last a day or so. There’s always something about a person that I find attractive; aesthetically or otherwise. Even Junior has his good sides, and even though I’ve never looked at that particular dwarf with anything other than disdain, I have to admit that his passion and skills are admirable. I’d never say that to his face though. Don’t tell him I said that, he’d never let me forget it. Anyway, I fall hard, I fall fast, and it’s like that for a fleeting little moment before my heart decides to calm itself and move on. I think it’s a son-of-the-goddess-of-love thing but it could also just be a me thing. I could meet someone new and handsome and so very fine and fall in love a little bit, and fall out of it the next day. It doesn't really matter how long I know a person. I could see Mr Handsome and So Very Fine every day for the rest of my life and never recatch feelings; so it was kind of a surprise when I kept waking up in love with the silly elf who lived in my spare bedroom. I always thought to myself ‘ I’m in love today, but I won’t be tomorrow, ’ and then went to sleep and woken up still head over heels. 

“Sometimes, the sun catches his hair at just the right angle, and I lose my breath. All my thoughts melt away from me until all I can think about is him and how gorgeous he looks. How graceful he is, how kind and amazing he is. Sometimes, he smiles, and just the corners of his lips lift up just the slightest bit and it’s the warmest thing I’ve ever seen. I don’t care that his face barely makes an expression, his eyes hold so much emotion that I just want to drown in them. He’s filled with so much love and passion and heart that it makes me speechless. It hurts me to look at him and see perfection, because I know that he doesn't see it. He doesn’t know how wonderful he is, and it’s the most tragic thing. 

“That’s what I mean when I say that Hearthstone is the love of my life. I even stopped falling for people; it was like meeting Hearth had ruined everyone else for me. Nobody else looked like him. Nobody else walked like him. Nobody else had his stupid candy-cane scarf. Nobody else had eyes like he did. Nobody else smiled like he did. Nobody else was so kind and attentive and so self-sacrificial. There was nobody in all of the nine worlds who was like him, studying Rune Magic so intensely and giving free ASL lessons and hours and hours of his time to make sure I was comfortable. There’s nobody else in the nine worlds who’s as perfect for me as he is. So yeah, I’m in love with my elf, and I’m sure that nobody’s surprised. (Mom even gave her seal of approval; but I’m pretty sure Hearth thought she was just being nice.)

“Now, being in love like I am isn’t all frolicking in fairy fields holding hands and singing ‘la-da-dee.’ Yes, it’s thrilling and enthralling and oh, so sweet, but it’s also anger. It’s anger and hatred and a sense of protectiveness I didn’t even know I could feel. Being in love is compromise and communication, bickering with one another until we come to an agreement that both of us are satisfied with. Of course, when I say that love is anger and love is hatred, I’m not referring to hating Hearth or even being angry at him. I’m referring to being angry for him, hating people for him, wanting to throw yourself in front of every person who wants to hurt him. 

“The anger comes and goes. Hearthstone has nightmares like you wouldn’t believe, which all sound like individual trips to Helheim. I mean, I don’t ever say that to his face, but I’m sure you get the picture. He’s always so worried about his wergild, as if not paying it off is going to single handedly cause Ragnarok. Sure, some bad things may or may not happen as a consequence (I don’t really know how wergilds work) but it’s not the end of the world. Probably. Anyway, my point is, I’m not angry at him. I could never be, but I am mad at his more-than-deadbeat dad. I’m usually not one to get fussy over things that happen to other people (probably because I’m not used to having other people to get mad about), but Alderman makes my blood boil. I’ve never wanted to punch someone more than that elf. He hurt my elf, and that doesn’t fly with me.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him. He’s the best part of me. He’s everything; my sun, my moon, my stars, my heart , the love of my life. I want to come home to him every day of my life. I want to eat his cooking and talk about mundane things with him. I want to run my fingers through his hair and tell him all about my day. I want to teach him to sew, I want to come up with personalized name signs for everybody in our friend group. I want to laugh with him. I want to take his hands in mine and hold them until he loves himself as much as I love him. He’s it for me. I think it’s time I told him that.” 

The day started at The Thinking Cup. Hearthstone had arranged to meet up with Magnus to talk about the various pathetic feelings they had for their best friends. As mortifying as the ensuing conversation was going to be, Hearth knew that they would both feel better about it if they had someone to rant to. (Minus thirty for dragging Magnus into it.) No, stop that, Hearth thought, scolding himself, Magnus is my friend too. 

So here he was, on the outdoor seating, sipping at a mocha and waiting for his summer-y friend. Supposedly Alex, Sam, and Blitzen were all in Valhalla together to talk about the upcoming plans to sail to their deaths; Hearthstone had declined to come, feigning a magic induced exhaustion. Because he suffered from it often enough, he’d been able to fake it with perfect accuracy. Magnus just hadn’t gone because he’d had training with Percy Jackson this morning; and those sessions regularly left him sore and wishing he never existed. 

Hearthstone’s attention was snapped to the arrival of said blonde when he sat down in the other free chair. Magnus frowned.

“ Ordered without me? ” He signed, feigning hurt. Hearth shrugged.

“ Was tired, ” he said, gesturing to his mocha, “ caffeine. ” Magnus did something with his lips that could be classified as a pout.

“ Did you order something for me? ” He asked. Hearth nodded.

“ Should be coming soon. Told her to bring it out when you arrived. ” Magnus and his little group of friends were regulars at The Thinking Cup, so, naturally, most of the employees knew his name and what he looked like, and also his usual order. (What can he say, Magnus had a lot of his early-life crises here.) 

As promised, a blonde girl with a name tag that read “ Agatha ” came out and put Magnus’s hot chocolate in front of him, along with a flaky chocolate-filled pastry. 

“Thanks,” said the son of Frey, his mouth already filled by croissant. Hearthstone signed his gratitude. The employees here didn’t speak ASL but they’d been around Hearth enough to recognize a thank you. Agatha nodded and turned around, going back inside to serve the other customers. Magnus glanced back at Hearth.

“What did you want to talk about?” He asked aloud since his hands were busy holding French baked goods. His lips were a little hard to read because he was talking while he was chewing (gross, Magnus), but Hearthstone understood him well enough.

“ Problem we both have, ” he answered, “ has to do with Alex and Blitzen. ” Magnus tilted his head in confusion, raising his hot chocolate to his lips.

“ Explain, ” he signed with his free hand. Hearth pursed his lips.

“ You’re in love with Alex Fierro, ” he said, dropping Alex’s last name for dramatic effect. Magnus choked on his hot chocolate.

It took a minute for Magnus to clear all the liquid from his airways, but when he managed it, all he did was croak out a what? Hearth nodded, his expression saying something like ‘ yes, Magnus, I know it’s hard. ’ 

“I am. Not in love with Alex,” said the son of Frey, “definitely not.” Hearthstone raised an eyebrow. 

“ You aren’t? ” He asked, incredulously.. Magnus frantically shook his head. His face was beetroot red. “ M-H-M, ” he finger-spelled because he wasn’t sure if actually humming his skepticism would get his point across. 

“You have the wrong idea,” said the blonde, “Alex is just a friend, I promise!” Hearth didn’t say anything to that, instead just raising one singular solitary eyebrow. Magnus took one look at his expression and concluded that the elf wasn’t budging on this. He deflated like a sad birthday balloon. “Okay, maybe I like her a little bit,” he relented, “but I’m not in love with her.”

“ Last week she gave you a pat on the shoulder and you literally tripped on air and fell face-flat on the ground. ” Magnus pursed his lips.

“Okay, so maybe I like her-”

“ And then she laughed at you so hard that she accidentally shapeshifted into an alligator and you got so amazed that you momentarily forgot to be embarrassed and instead stared at her-”

“Okay, so maybe I like her a lot-”

“ And then she held her hand out to you to help you up and you took it, looking at her like she hung the stars in the sky and was the only reason you still lived and breathed. She made fun of you again and you made fun of her back, and then her expression softened and you stared at each other mutually while the sun set in the background-”

“ Thor’s sake, Hearth, why do you remember all this? Okay, fine, I’m in love with Alex. Happy?” The elf smiled like the cat who got the cream. 

“Oh, hey, wait a minute,” said Magnus suddenly, “you said it was a problem we both shared about Alex and Blitzen.” Hearth’s cat-who-got-the-cream smile dropped in a millisecond. Magnus slammed his half-empty cup down on the table and pointed at him, accusatory. “You’re in love with Blitzen!” Hearth stared at the table and nodded slowly. “And you already know? I thought you were just going to pine in oblivious misery for the rest of your life.” 

“ Rude, ” Hearth signed at him, “ and untrue. I’ve always known. ” Magnus tilted his head.

“Mimir said you didn’t.” Hearth’s eye twitched.

“ C-A-P-O told you? ” He asked, a little murderous. Magnus nodded.

“Yeah, he said you guys were in love with each other and I should do something about it to let you know.” 

“ Mimir is very wise, ” signed Hearth, “ but he is not right about everything. ” Magnus’s face cooled down a little. Now he only looked like a tomato.

“Oh, he said, “alright. So, what do we do about it?” Hearthstone shrugged.

“ Talk about it, ” he suggested, “ useful outlet.” Magnus looked pained.

“You want to talk about our feelings? What is this, kindergarten?” There was a moment of silence in which Magnus raised the cup to his lips and took a sip. The sip slowly turned into a gulp until he was guzzling down the entire drink in one swig. 

“She’s amazing,” he said, slamming the empty cup down, “every time she looks at me my heart tries out for the cardio olympics and fails out of the flips section and scores last place and when I see her I slip on nothing and fall over and I feel like I’m dying and-”

Hearthstone may have made a slight mistake. He listened to Magnus rant about Alex for half an hour. Half an hour. He talked about all things boring and all things mundane, from the way she walked to her pottery to her bravery. He talked about how amazing she was for persevering through her struggles with gender presentation and all about her fighting style. Hearth learned more about Alex Fierro than he ever wanted to know.

“ Magnus ,” he signed, “ as great as this little sharing session has been, I have places to be.” Magnus’s mouth snapped shut with a click, his face mortified. He checked the time.

“Oh,” he said, “it’s noon already.” Hearthstone nodded like he was Captain Obvious. 

They parted with a promise to meet up at the same time next week for a similar conversation. Before he left The Thinking Cup, Hearth grabbed another couple of pastries for Blitzen (plus three), and the dwarf’s favourite coffee (plus one). It was a short walk back to Blitzen’s Best, and he found the door already propped open when he arrived. He stepped inside and immediately caught sight of the dwarf himself, who gave him a small and enthusiastic wave.

“ Hi,” greeted Hearth with one hand, the other busy holding coffee and pastries, “ how were Sam and Alex? ” Blitz smiled.

“They’re doing pretty good,” he responded, “feeling a little hectic about…well, everything.” Hearth shrugged, a what-can-you-do motion. He gestured to the treats he was holding. 

“ Brought you something from Thinking Cup, ” he said, “ caffeine boost. ” The dwarf quickly made his way down to the storefront, making grabby hands for the coffee. Hearth rolled his eyes, fond, and let him take it. 

“ Saviour, ” Blitz signed with one hand as he took a sip, “ thank you. ” Hearthstone passed him a pastry. “ And dark chocolate raspberry danishes?” He said aloud, “what did I do to deserve you?” He took a bite, his face melting into ecstasy. Hearth smiled at him, looking around the store. A few of the clothing items that had been there this morning were gone.

“ Good day? ” He asked. Blitzen nodded.

“Yeah, a group of elves came in earlier and had a little shopping spree,” he said, swallowing his bite of danish, “nice kids.” Hearth made a sound that was probably a hum. He didn’t mention his meeting with Magnus.

“ Can I do anything to help? ” Asked Hearth, looking around the shop. Blitzen nodded.

“If you could man the register for a few hours, that would be nice,” he said, “I have a few errands to run.” Hearthstone nodded his agreement, walking further into the store and settling behind the counter. He took a second to re-familiarize himself with the layout. Blitzen followed him, setting down the last two baked goods.

“You can keep these two,” he said. Hearth raised his hands to protest, but Blitz interrupted him. “Thanks for helping out” He leaned forward and gave Hearth a pat on the shoulder, “and thanks again for the coffee.” The elf barely had time to sign a quick you’re welcome before the dwarf was already turning around and sauntering out the front door of the shop. He’s in a rush, he thought. His thoughts were interrupted when a customer walked in, and he shelved the rest of his thoughts and feelings towards Blitzen for later.

Interlude: “Things we can’t control; fluidity of a label” by Alex Fierro.

Takes place at the beginning of Chapter 8: Best Friends with Benefits (the benefit was friendship)

“So there’s the thing: Magnus Chase is in love with me. It’s obvious. He’s really not that subtle about it. At first I thought he was just apprehensive about my gender identity but no; he’s head over heels. Usually I don’t really care about the guys and girls who manage to find something to like in me; eventually they get over it, and I move on. Magnus though? That’s a dork I wouldn’t mind dating. That’s a dork I actually kind of like. First of all, he’s really kind. He might not be the smartest, but he’s summer-y. Warm. He’s gentle, like sunbeams in spring. And he’s funny. Really, really funny. Sometimes, I don’t think he’s even trying to be; he just is. He does something, anything, and it makes me want to smile. Grin like a schoolgirl. Sometimes he does stupid things just to make me laugh; and those are the times I feel my heart start beating like a jackrabbit. I can’t even bring myself to care. Maybe I love Magnus Chase back; but these are the kinds of things I don’t like to dwell on.

“I’ve always assumed I was fully aromantic; I’ve never really had a crush on anyone before. Sure, I got little bursts of platonic attraction (I think Blitzen called them squishes? The term sounds kind of stupid, but so do crushes so I can’t really say anything), but never anything even remotely romantic. I just thought that my life would never have romance in it, and I was okay with that. Not everybody has someone out there, and I didn’t really care that I couldn’t feel that way towards other people. It was just another fact about me that I’d accepted. (My dad did not accept it. He kept telling me that I was broken. He would always insult me for being fluid, and then double down on it by calling me inhuman. Unloving. Unlovable. You get the point.)

“Imagine my surprise when I hear this absolute loser try to tell a knock-knock joke and it makes me feel butterflies in my stomach like demonic dragonflies. What the Helheim? I thought. So, I did what I always did when I had an LGBTQ+ related problem: sought out Blitzen. I already know a lot about what it means to be queer, mostly because I am queer, but there are some things about myself that I just can’t put words to. Sure, I don’t need labels, but having that option there helps me understand my feelings better. I can place myself on my own little spectrum between two identities and rest easy knowing that I’m not constricted by either label. 

“Blitzen gave me a soft smile that reminded me of what dads are supposed to look like, and explained to me that aromanticism and asexuality was a spectrum. (Which I already knew, but it was comforting to hear it coming from him.) He told me that only I would be able to make the distinction between a squish and a crush, and it was something that I had to decide for myself. We spent the night talking about feelings (which, ew, but it was also kind of nice), and in the morning I found myself a new term to think about: greyromantic. 

“With this new discovery under my belt, I went to speak to Magnus, who was his usual dorky idiotic self, and got used to being a pathetic loser with a crush on my best friend. (There are quite a few of those around. I’m just saying, the dwarf and the elf are awfully close, aren’t they?)”

On their second meeting at The Thinking Cup, they’d decided to take turns ranting about their respective issues. Since Magnus derailed last week, they figured that it was Hearth’s turn today.

“ It’s just that he’s amazing, ” he signed, “ and I’m me. ” Magnus tilted his head.

“What does that mean?” He asked, “you’re amazing too, you know.” Hearth shook his head.

“ Compared to B-L-I-T-Z-E-N? Nothing. ” Magnus snorted a laugh.

“Okay, but anyone compared to Blitz is nothing. Have you seen the guy? I once watched him take down a zombie all by himself with just his chainmail tie. How many people do you know who can do that?” Probably lots, Hearth thought. 

“ He’s… ” Hearth had officially run out of adjectives to use. Magnus seemed to have noticed and smiled coyly.

“So, when are you going to do something about your massive crush on him?” Hearthstone shook his head.

“ Never, ” he signed, “ suffer in silence for the rest of my life. ” Magnus frowned.

“Uh,” he said, “no. You can’t give me a pep talk about asking out Alex and then chicken out on your own love life. I’m not asking her out until you agree to do the same with Blitz before we have to sail off to our deaths.” He reached his hand across the table, snaking it between the various empty bags of pastries that they’d ordered during their time here. Hearthstone shook his head again.

“ Not happening, ” he said, “ don’t want to ruin our friendship. ” Magnus pouted.

“C’mon man,” he complained, “my love life is also at stake here.” Hearth huffed.

“ You don’t want to ask her out anyway, ” he said, “ you turn into a nervous wreck every time you try. I’m pretty sure it’s single handedly given you an anxiety disorder. ” Magnus just shook his extended hand a little bit like he was making sure Hearth knew it was still there.

“I promise,” he said, “that I will ask her out if you agree to do the same.” Hearth raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I swear! To the gods!” Magnus added for extra incentive. Above them, a crack of lightning ripped through the sky.

“ Terrible thing to swear about, ” Hearth signed, reaching forward and taking Magnus’s hand.

“And yet you’re still shaking on it.” 

Hearth might be a little bit too fond of this kid. 

Chapter Text

Impending doom was coming up soon. It was circled on their calendar in red sharpie like it was something to be excited about. To the death and all that, right? Blitzen was shuffling around the shop, preparing to close it for the next couple of months, and Hearthstone was filled with dread. Even though all his panicking and his stupid debt tallying, he didn’t actually want to die before he said something to Blitz about his feelings. It was terrifying. There was a tugging in his heart that was screaming at him to just say something, but there was a shout in his brain that told him it was a terrible idea. I don’t want to lose everything, he thought. 

Everything was a lot of pin on one person. Blitzen didn’t deserve to be stuck as Hearth’s everything. Blitzen was so good and kind and passionate. Blitz came from broken glass, reforged stronger, melded into beauty and grace and all things brilliant. He was a genius. He was reassuring, comforting, the best person Hearth could ever ask for. Blitz came from broken glass, and Hearth came from poison. Hearth came from venom, from the blackened roots of burnt deadly nightshade, and he was still poison. Everything he touched crumbled to dust, every oath and promise he made shattered, every off-tune song his soul sang he couldn’t ever put into words. Blitzen was the sun, nourishing, warm, gentle and soothing, and Hearth wasn’t even good enough to be the moon. Hearthstone was an empty cup, filled with hollow rune magic and negative numbers of gold coins. How could he ever deserve to love someone like Blitzen? (Every second he spent with butterflies, every moment spent with the stars, every hour he spent gazing; each little bit of time was worth thousands of golden coins. Hearthstone would gladly give his life for one hour more.) 

There had been a recent increase in monstrous activity lately, and they were all pretty sure it had something to do with Loki. Magnus and TJ were finishing up the last little details about their trip to the ship of nails, and the rest of them were spending their time horrendously on edge. Blitzen had even closed the shop early, not wanting to bring unwanted attention to his enterprise. Sam spent almost every waking hour training in Valhalla with the rest of Floor Nineteen, Magnus excluded since he was still trying to figure out the secrets of seafaring with his cousin Annabeth Chase and her boyfriend Percy Jackson. Hearthstone himself was fairly busy defending Blitzen’s Best from the unwanted attention it was receiving despite being closed. 

He just finished throwing Isa at another group of trolls when a sudden dizzy spell had almost caused him to fall. He dismissed his staff immediately, not bothering to catch himself when his knees buckled. Magic-induced exhaustion didn’t reduce him to a delirious mess anymore; instead, they just left him tired and achy. He felt a tap on his shoulder and looked over to see that it was just Blitzen.

“You okay?” Asked the dwarf. Hearth nodded, a little bit dazed.

“ Okay, ” he signed. “ Might want to get rid of the frozen trolls on the patio. ” Blitz glanced up and grimaced.

“I’ll give Sam a call,” he said, “but that can wait. Can you stand?” Hearth shook his head without even trying. That had been his fourth rune of the day and he was pretty sure standing was going to kill him. Hearth slotted his eyes shut, figuring that Blitzen would call Sam before he dealt with the exhausted elf on the floor of his shop. Instead, he felt a brush of fabric against his hair and flicked open his eyes to find that Blitz had sat down on the floor with him. 

“ Rest, ” signed the dwarf, gently grabbing Hearth’s shoulders and leading his body towards the ground. The elf let himself go, soon finding his head pillowed in Blitz’s lap. He held him gently, cradling his face. Hearth tried not to think about gold coins. (Minus four for whatever this is.)

“Stop that,” said the dwarf. Hearth’s gaze went from Blitzen’s lips to his eyes.

“ Stop what? ” He asked. Blitz sighed.

“Thinking in give and take,” he said, “buy and sell. I know that look in your eye, buddy. You don’t owe me anything.” Would you think that if you knew how much I love you? Thought Hearth idly. He pursed his lips. He must have looked doubting.

“Hearthstone, I’m serious,” affirmed Blitzen. “You don’t owe me a thing. Whatever you think you do you’ve already paid off ten times over.” Hearth remained silent. Blitz sighed and gave him a smile that he’d come to know meant idiot.

“You bring me pastries when I’m sad,” Blitz said, “that’s gotta be at least a hundred, huh? You don’t smile often, but when you do, it makes my day. That’s worth what, five hundred? And don’t get me started on all the work you do around the shop.” 

“ Your scale is all wrong, ” complained Hearth, “ most of that is worth four gold at the max. ” Blitzen huffed.

“Okay, what about all the times you’ve saved my life? Fenris wolf, the Skofnung Sword, the dozens of times after and in between those two points where you’ve had to liquify dwarven jackets? How much is my life worth?”

“ Everything, ” Hearthstone signed without thinking. His cheeks coloured. Blitz grinned. 

“Good,” he said, “then consider your debt paid dozens of times over.” Hearth closed his eyes, content to just bask in whatever the Helheim was happening. There were a couple moments of silence and calm before Blitzen tapped the top of his head softly. Hearth cracked an eye open.

“You love me,” said the dwarf, single handedly stopping time, “that’s worth something.” Hearth’s eyes widened. Stone cold panic ripped its way out of his chest.

“ What?” He signed with shaking hands. 

“You heard me,” Blitzen said. “That’s worth something.” The dwarf had obviously latched onto the wrong part of his sentence. His breath left him in a huff, his brain scrambling to think of explanations and excuses. Oh Gods, Hearth thought, oh Gods. 

“ How did you-" His fingers cramped. "Why didn’t you–" The words died on his hands. "Please don't go. ” Hearth could feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Death was circled in red sharpie on their calendar, and Hearth would welcome it with open arms if this is what ended the most important friendship of his life. 

“Go?” Blitz echoed, “buddy, why would I go?” Look at me, Hearth thought, what about me is worth staying for? He didn’t say that, instead looking past Blitzen’s worried face and at the ceiling. Why would he still want me? I’m an empty cup. I have nothing more to give. Blitzen waved a hand in front of his eyes, effectively catching his attention again.

“Hearthstone,” he said, “why would I go?”

“ Why would you stay?” He asked back. Blitzen placed a gentle hand in Hearth’s hair, gently tugging on the strands and weaving his fingers through it. It was surprisingly effective in calming the elf’d nerves. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Asked the dwarf, “you’re my everything.” It felt surreal. Everything he’d been worrying about for the past years of his life was melting away with every word Blitzen spoke. His trembles subsided. The world hadn’t ended yet, but he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sooner or later, this was going to take a terrible turn. 

“ But I love you ,” Hearth said, like it was a reason to leave instead of a reason to stay, “ how can you be okay with that? ” Blitz gave him a warm smile, and it felt like looking at the sun. 

“Silly elf,” said Blitzen, “what if it’s because I love you too?” Hearth blinked. What? His hands started shaking again. 

“ What? ” He signed through the trembles. Blitz leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. His lips mouthed the words again. 

“ I love you. ” Hearthstone tried not to burst into tears. Blitzen leaned back and detangled his hands from the elf’s hair.

“ I love you, ” he signed. His hands fell to Hearth’s cheeks, caressing them gently as if he was the most valuable treasure. Blitzen tapped morse code across his cheek bone. 

“.. ._.. _.” I love you. Hearth wanted to close his eyes and bask in this warmth forever, but he had to know that this was real. 

“I love you too,” said the dwarf, “why can’t you believe that?” 

Look at me, thought Hearthstone, I come from poison, I am poison. I’ll ruin you. I break all my promises, I hurt everybody I love, I’ll never stop thinking in gold coins, I am a negative number, an empty cup, hollowed out and-

“Stop that,” said Blitzen. 

“ Stop what? ” Asked Hearth. His ASL was barely legible.

“Thinking like that.” Thinking like what? Hearth wanted to ask. “For a moment, stop thinking like that. Be here, with me, in this moment. For me?” Hearthstone took a deep breath. He couldn’t let go of all his doubts and insecurities, but the first step was always the hardest to take. 

“ Okay, ” he agreed. 

They sat in silence for the rest of the day, until the Midgardian sun set behind the mountains and the moon came to chase away the clouds. Neither of them remembered to call Sam about the frozen trolls on their porch. 

Chapter Text

“I noticed the changes immediately. It’s part of my job as a Valkyrie to be observant, even more so now that Loki was free. I watched the movements of everyone around me, careful to take in account every twitch of their fingers and every word they spoke. Was that just Magnus being stupid, or was that Loki pretending to be Magnus being stupid? (Magnus saw Alex smile and nearly choked on his falafel, which ruled out that theory.) 

“I notice a lot of things, even before I get to know people. Upon meeting Magnus, I knew that he was important. I knew he was a healer. I knew he prioritized others over himself, knew that he was sarcastic and hardened from years on the streets. I knew he would do anything to save his friends, and I knew that his loyalty was never ending. When I met Blitzen and Hearthstone, I knew that they were close. Best friends, or something more. I knew that they were everything to each other, and it made them as strong as it made them weak. They were a packaged deal, and it was obvious that the health of the other went far before the end of the world. Alex Fierro was a little harder to get a read on, but I knew that self expression was a big thing for him. Alex was someone who took his destiny and his powers into his own hands and forged a pathway with them that was his and his alone. He put himself onto spectrums that only made sense to him, sliding the dials up and down in accordance with his mood and the day and the circumstances. A wild card. 

“It wasn’t hard to notice when ‘slowly drifting together’ became ‘impossible to drift apart.’ I don't think I’d ever had a closer group of friends. There was a family there, one made of misfits and rejects, one full of weirdos and nerds, a family of five empty cups who filled each other with love and a sense of home. I am an empty cup, I’ve been hollowed out by duty and stress and the pain of who my father is, and yet I feel more alive with them than I have in years. They fill me with emotions I can’t place, until I spill over the edges of my goblet and achieve happiness I’ve never before felt. For the first time, I belong somewhere. For the first time, I have people who know every part of my life instead of just the bits and pieces I have to pick and choose. I’m grateful for them. I’m grateful for this life I have, the one I get to share with all the people who mean so much to me.

“I noticed when Magnus and Alex fell in love. Of course I did. How could I not? I’m used to Magnus acting a little odd every once and a while, but when he started acting like more of a buffoon than usual, I knew something was up. Alex is my sibling; sometimes I feel like I know him better than I know myself. I knew that expression on his face whenever he looked at Magnus. I’ve seen it on myself through Valkyrie vision before, whenever I’m unlucky enough to be caught talking to Amir before picking up a new soul for Valhalla. It’s that expression of warmth, the one proceeds the butterflies and comes after all the blushing. Except, Alex doesn’t really blush; which is okay, because Magnus does enough of it for the both of them.

“For all my observations, It took me an embarrassingly long amount of time to realize that Blitzen and Hearthstone weren’t dating. In my defence, I’ve watched them bicker and squabble more than Mallory and Halfborn, and they’ve traded more than a dozen loving looks between them. I always thought it was kind of sweet how they would stare at each other when they thought nobody was looking. Imagine my surprise when I realized that they weren't dating, or married, but just hopelessly pining after each other. I was shocked, but it also made a frightening amount of sense. It wasn’t any of my business, so I stayed out of it, but it was slightly annoying to see them dance around each other. Sometimes I just wanted to shake them by the shoulders and tell them to get a grip.

“Of course I noticed when everyone got it together. I knew when something finally happened. I noticed when Magnus took Alex’s hand for the first time. It wouldn’t be the last time. I noticed when Blitzen gave Hearth his softest smile and Hearth saw it and returned it. These people were so important to me. I would do anything for them, and they would do anything for me. I remember taking Amir’s hand in mine and squeezing it tight. ‘ This is my family, ’ I’d told him, ‘ and it’s yours now too. ’ 

“We are a family of six empty cups. No one will ever take that away from us.” 

The End of Cost of Living. 

I hope you enjoyed reading it :D