See Where Your Power Leads
While Heimdall's Sight had been earned, it had not entirely been wanted. Rather, it had been accepted, as one would keep a dusty family heirloom. Out of reverence. Out of duty. Out of obedience to a sort of universal order, and acceptance as part of something grander than the individual desires. Heimdall had Seen, and it was both a Blessing and a Curse.
He had seen the rise of nations and the rule of despots. The infant's first laughs, and the elder's last, desperate pleas. The nurturing fires of the forge and the devastating embers of the long-dead kingdom. It was his duty to Watch, and so he did. He kept his eyes trained onto the galaxies, gazing upon the multitude, never blinking nor bowing down his head.
The golden prince's birth had been Seen from afar. It had been a stormy day on Asgard, a vicious night in Jotunnheim, and a radiant sun had been setting in Vanaheim. When the bundle in the Allmother's bosom had squirmed, he had averted his eyes, certain that a new age was coming to the Nine Realms. And he would be there to Watch it, guarding the Bridge as the passive gatekeeper. Never blinking or looking down.
When the Allfather came back from his conquests with yet another bundle, but this one ridden with icy blue tendrils, Heimdall had kept his distance. His task was to See, not to interfere. The all-powerful Odin surely knew better than him how to raise a child. Even an adopted frost giant. And if it was his will to hide the prince's heritage even to Loki himself...well, what could a passive watchman possibly know?
Afterwards, his gaze had not lingered in Asgard. His golden eyes swept through the Realms like the swaying of a pendulum. He witnessed the birth of innumerable stars in brooding silence, not changing his position for over a hundred years. He kept his back to the majestic palace, to his people, and to his home. The inner Asgard did not need his Watch. So he looked away.
Two centuries passed. On that particular day, the warm spring sun was sprinkling thin tendrils of light into the chamber of his Watch. Some of them landed on his golden armour, sending pleasant warmth across his skin. He had just finished scouring the unending plains of Alfheim, when a sharp weight came crashing on his lower legs. His hands jerked towards his sword, but stopped as he heard a small whimper from beneath him.
"Thor!"
The voice came from the entrance. Heimdall turned, focusing on the small figure standing on the dais. It appeared to be a small boy, with pale, fair skin and jet black hair. His emerald eyes were creased with worry, and his mouth half-opened in intimidated admiration.
For the first time in two hundred years, Heimdall looked down at his feet. Averted his gaze from the vastness of space, and took in the unsure little boy looking up at him with wide, sky blue eyes.
His lips quirked up. "Welcome, my princes."
Thor, who had bumped into him with so much vigour, now shifted uncomfortably. "Hello."
"Master Heimdall?" The first child tentatively asked. "We did not mean any harm. My brother was simply-"
"There is no need to apologise, young prince. I am not a Lord, merely a gatekeeper."
"You sure look like a Lord," Thor piped up. Heimdall looked down again, only to see the child's features lit up with genuine curiosity, with an expression so honest the watchman could not help but chuckle. At Loki's wince, however, he was quick to respond.
"Why, that is a compliment I shall cherish, my kind prince."
Thor flashed him a smile that could illuminate the eternal darkness of Svartalfheim. His cheeks brightened into a rosy pink, and he bounced on his toes, delighted at the praise.
"My name is Thor, of the house of Odinson, Prince of Asgard," he recited perfectly, and at Heimdall's bow he smiled again. "And this is my brother, Loki Odinson, also Prince of Asgard."
Loki blushed at the mention of his name in such a casual tone, and shifted at the entrance, unsure of what to do. Heimdall smiled and bowed at him, but he let him keep his distance if he so wished.
Next to him, Thor gasped. "This," he pointed dramatically at Heimdall's side, "is a big sword."
"Indeed it is, my young prince. Perhaps you would enjoy wielding it?"
Thor's barely contained squeal of excitement was as good an answer as any. And yet his face wavered shortly after as his eyes trailed back to his silent brother. Said brother was watching with interest at Thor's antics until the hesitant silence, then smiled timidly when the attention focused on him.
"Loki, come and lift the sword with me!" called out Thor, and Loki's smile could practically match the older boy's. It became obvious that he had been waiting for an excuse to join his brother and was revelling at his inclusion in the fun. He glanced questioningly at Heimdall first though. The gatekeeper nodded encouragingly and unsheathed Hofund. Loki rushed next to his brother, who beamed at him.
The two children watched in awe at the sword which made up more than twice their height. But it did not seem to hold Thor very long, as he held his arms up expectantly. Carefully, Heimdall placed the hilt in the child's tiny, outstretched hands while making sure to keep most of the weight in his. He shifted so Thor was standing with his back pressed against the larger man's chest. With a little 'oof' ' Thor lifted his forearms, and Heimdall followed the movement. The laugh that echoed in the room was every bit as musical as the birds which sometimes kept him company in his Watch.
"Look, Loki! I'm carrying the gigantic sword!"
Heimdall started gently waving the sword, Thor's small arms following. He slowly swished it back and forth, and the child made battle sound effects with his mouth.
Heimdall prided himself in his stoicism. But he had to admit his heart melted a little in this instant.
Loki seemed content with watching Thor manipulating the sword. However, when his brother gestured to him, his eyes twinkled with childish fun. He took his place next to Heimdall, so that the tall Aesir held both of them in his arms. Briefly, he wondered when was the last time he had held anyone so close to him.
There were now three pairs of hands on Hofund. The grip was clumsy, and sometimes the occasional slip would send the balance off-track, but they managed to make it work. Two children and a watchman, pretending to be warriors.
After that, it was common for the two princes to visit his chamber. Together, they played with swords, or the children would plan some new mischief with Heimdall keeping a watchful, amused eye on their scheming. Somehow, it lifted a small weight off his shoulders. He wondered if he deserved it. He wondered if he would one day find the answer to all his musings.
Thor came back a few years after their first encounter. Alone. "Loki's in the gardens with Mother," he had said. Heimdall did not miss the glimmer of pain in his bright eyes. He did not inquire further, keeping his gaze steady. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Thor took a seat on the steps.
A few minutes of silence, and the little god was growing restless and fidgety.
"Lord Heimdall?"
"Yes, my prince?"
"Is it true you see everything?"
Despite having witnessed more than many could in three lifetimes, Heimdall would always be in awe before Thor's earnest simplicity and curiosity.
"Everything is quite a vast term, do you not think, young one?"
Thor wrinkled his nose at the evidently flowery language. After a short pause, his voice perked up again, this time unsure and wobbly.
"Can you see Mother and Loki?"
If the child's tone had not been as careful, as guarded, Heimdall would have chuckled. Of course, Thor cared more for his family's immediate well-being than the ashen lands of the Nine.
Glancing down, he found the prince's azure eyes misted over. Instantaneously and for a reason he did not yet understand, his Sight departed from its duty and looked inwardly. Towards Asgard, for what was undoubtedly the first time in two hundred years. His gaze travelled over the glowing lights of the palace, over the towering city filled with drunken laughter and songs of faraway birds. It finally landed in a serene garden, in the outskirts of town. The primroses shone with unshed dew, and Heimdall could almost feel the early spring breeze which ruffled Frigga's radiant hair.
She was sitting on a stone bench, tenderly watching Loki as he produced little wisps of green smoke from his fingertips. Said boy bounded towards his mother's arms. When she placed a wet kiss on his raven hair, he broke into a laugh, a pure, ringing sound that was amplified by its rarity.
Heimdall tore his eyes away. Thor had gone silent, head turned up in patient apprehension.
"I do see them. They are well, my Prince."
"Are they... What are they doing?"
Judging by Thor's wince, the young heir was probably expecting a rebuttal. It is dishonourable to spy upon your own blood. Be worthy of your title. The words almost rang in the quiet chamber of the Observatory.
Heimdall ignored them. "They are resting in the gardens. Young Master Loki seems to be perfecting his magic by the minute."
Thor sighed. In that instant, the child seemed so much older than his age should permit, and yet his worry was so genuine, so open. Heimdall wondered how often Thor allowed himself to appear so vulnerable.
"I... I wish I could be like Loki."
Despite being somewhat taken aback, Heimdall managed to maintain an impassive facade. He kept silent, but his open posture told Thor he was listening.
"Father... He wants me to be big and strong, just like himself. He was so happy when...this came out." With that he curled his small fingers, and sparks of blue-white electricity danced around his wrists before withering around his arms.
Heimdall had seen the ceremony. He had seen Thor's wide, mesmerised eyes and Loki's awed, passionate look. He had seen the whole crowd explode in cheers at the display of power that the two heirs possessed. He had seen Odin's pride in Thor's thunder. Had sensed the tears in Frigga's honey brown eyes as her second son wielded the magic of her people. Her magic.
"It is an astounding power indeed, my Lord."
"Everyone seems to think so." Thor's shoulders were hunched, as if what he was saying was physically painful. Once again, Heimdall wondered why he had chosen to confide in him. A child's trust had to be one of the most mysterious concepts in the universe. Nevertheless, he would rather be cast out to Helheim rather than break that trust.
"I'm... I'm scared," he murmured. Then flinched, as though he had not meant to say it out loud. His eyes were fixed on the ground. "Loki- he's always in control, and- and his powers are so smooth, so pretty!" The admiration, the utter love for his brother shone through every word.
But then he continued, and his voice was barely above a whisper. "Funder-" He paled at the mispronunciation. A prince of Asgard must have an impeccable language. "Thunder is scary. It- it destroys things and... and sets things on fire."
Thor gulped. He glanced back at the gatekeeper with a glint of fear. He was clearly expecting to be reprimanded for his show of weakness. Norns above, he was only a child.
"I- I don't want to destroy things, Heimdall. I want to protect them. I want to protect my family. I can't do that if I have thunder."
And even though the child logic did not completely add up, even though Heimdall could not, even for a second, picture Thor hurting his own kind, his heart shattered. Because he could imagine Thor screaming in the night as a thunderstorm shook the palace, his brother's soothing words nothing against the wails of the wind. A fear that naturally overtook every child, and yet was fated to become inherent to his very being. Of course he would be terrified.
And for a reason he could not possibly fathom, Thor had gone to him. Not to Odin, not to his friends. Not to Loki. Not even to his own, loving Mother. But to Heimdall. The Gatekeeper. The passive, taciturn, lonely Watchman, whom he had only met a few years before. He had gone to him and poured out his deepest secrets, the insecurities a centuries-old child should not possibly have to bear on his own.
A wave of protectiveness wrapped itself around his heart, wringing it and twisting it in ways he did not think possible. He looked down at Thor's trembling body.
And he forgot his Watch.
He knelt in front of him, and placed both hands on his shoulders. Thor sucked in a shaky breath.
"My Prince." His piercing eyes were focused on Thor. No Alfheim, no Svartalfheim, no Muspelheim to deviate his attention. The all-seeing Watchman saw only what stood twenty inches from his eyes.
"A power, no matter the size, is only as great as the one who wields it. You need not fear it, because it is a physical representation of who you are."
"But- but what if I'm bad? What if I become as scary as a storm?"
"My Lord, you are the most loyal, passionate and brave Aesir I have ever laid eyes upon. And your thunder will reflect that. A thunderstorm can seem harsh and scary, but it also unyielding, unwavering. It bows to no man. It will stop at nothing to achieve its goals. These qualities are those of a great warrior, but also a great friend, a loyal brother, and a worthy son. I pray you, my Prince, do not look with envy to your brother and mother. Your power is yours, and yours alone. But it is also made to complement your brother's, as his magic strengthens yours.
"You need not be afraid, little one. You shall make all of us proud. There is no one I would rather trust more to protect Asgard. To protect his family. I foresee a glorious future for both Odinsons."
Tears prickled in the corners of Thor's eyes. Heimdall dearly, dearly wished it was not the first time someone other than his mother had uttered these words.
Suddenly, he felt arms latching around his torso. Thor's weight crashed upon him, and he returned the embrace.
They both stayed like this, Thor's trembling body gradually stilling, his hiccuping breaths muffled against Heimdall's shoulder guards. The warm afternoon light greeted the scene with a soft, ethereal glow. The soothing silence of a late afternoon coated the entire city, and Heimdall breathed in slowly. The deep risings of his chest seemed to comfort Thor, who relaxed completely and went limp against him.
Their position had not changed when Thor's small voice rose up to him once more.
"Heimdall?"
"Yes, my Lord?"
"Could you be my friend?"
Heimdall swallowed around the lump that had formed inside his throat. His arms still tightly wrapped around his back, he murmured back: "It would be my pleasure to be your friend, Thor."
A tiny breath found its way to the crook of his neck.
The sun was setting in Vanaheim. The winds roared in Alfheim. An unusually light sheet of snow had covered the mountains of Jotunnheim. Outside, the Rainbow Bridge glistened and twinkled while the Golden City gloriously burned with every ray that hit its metallic buildings. But at the moment, Heimdall was busy with another sunshine.
And, he reasoned, watching the child slowly drifting to sleep in his arms, he would not have it any other way.
A/N: Shout-out to WhisperOfTheHeart0925 for giving me the confidence to post this. Your comments were so beautiful.
This will probably be part of a series, but I'll post them as different stories, so keep an eye on my profile if you want. As usual, reviews are always welcome! I swear, I will forever shower reviewers with love and affection. They're the best.