This is what Nori remembers
His father loves him. He tells him stories and teaches him things. He listens to him when he has something to say. Something that nobody else but his mother does until they leave Asgard, many years later.
Nori is a quiet child, prone to dark moods and tearful days. He is plagued by nightmares and stomach aches for reasons he does not understand. His father does not know how to handle this, something Nori realizes when he is very young. So he goes to his mother for comfort.
Nori knows that Varli has more in common with their father. They speak of magic often. Varli is continually fascinated, tackling the new challenges their father presents to him with zeal, and often mastering them with alacrity.
Nori does not care for magic. He learns enough to maintain his own glamour, and has a passing interest in applying runes and charms to physical objects. But the greater applications bore him. Varli sneers at this, and tries to push him into studying the arts as he does. But their father does not. And he listens to Nori when he speaks of his own interests, in drawing and poetry and blades.
His father is always suitably impressed, and pays close attention even though Nori knows that he does not share his interests.
It is love. It is love as sure as the way his mother sings softly and soothes him after he awakens, screaming with the nightmares. As sure as the way his grandmother brushes his hair and tells him stories. As sure as the way Aunt Valkyrie tosses him in the air and wrestles with him. As sure as the way Aunt Alfrún never says a word even though she always sees when he sneaks an extra sweet. As sure as the way his brother tries to force him to share his interests, because he cannot imagine a life without Nori by his side.
His father is terrifying and remote in a way the others aren't. Magic swirls around him like a cloud, obscuring Nori's vision. He can never get a good look at him. He is too big to see all at once, too complex for his child's mind to comprehend. His father loves them, and he loves their mother. Nori is sure of this, at least.
He is eight and his father is visiting. It is winter time, and too cold to go outside. The fire warms the living room, and his mother sits at the hearth, helping Varli with his sums. Father watches them, his eyes warm with love, though something deeper lurks in his gaze. Something Nori can never really name, no matter how many times he remembers this event or others similar.
He approaches his father, feeling nervous as he always does, though he is always received warmly. He climbs up on the settee next to him, close but not touching, examining him closely.
His father turns his attention to him, keeping silent and still. As if he knows any sudden word or movement might spook his reticent son into silence. His mother glances at them, but makes no other move to indicate that she has noticed.
Finally, Nori works up the courage to speak. "Your ring matches my mother's." He says, pointing to his father's wedding band.
"Because we are married," his father nods, holding his hand out so that Nori may examine it more closely. "When two people are wed, it is customary for them to wear matching rings."
Nori looks closely at his father's garb. "You wear much green."
His father nods again. "It is the color of growing things, of life. It pleases me."
Nori peers at a particularly elaborate belt buckle, positioned over his father's heart. "That belt buckle is a wolf," he says, daring to reach out and touch the elaborately carved piece, the lips drawn back over the fangs in a cruel snarl, an emerald glistening in the wolf's eye.
His father extends his arm and urges him into his lap. Nori sits uneasily, his father's skin is cold, colder than his own. He is not accustomed to this. His father rubs his back, and Nori eases slightly.
"Your uncle awarded that to me for valor in battle during my tour in Nornheim." His father says, his voice soft with an edge of pain.
"Is that where you were when my brother and I were born?" Nori asks, having heard tales of Nornheim before.
His father nods, and smooths his hand over his hair. "It is. A poor substitute for what I missed."
Nori looks at the belt buckle again, in the flickering shadows cast by the firelight, it appears to move. His mind is alight with visions of great battles and fierce wolves. He is both intrigued and frightened. "It pleases me very much." Though he knows "pleases" is not quite the right word for all the feelings this thing evokes in him.
His father smiles, and for the first time, Nori feels as if they understand one another. "Perhaps some day you will display great valor, and I will award it to you."
Nori nods, his resolution firm. "I will, Father. You will be proud of me."
His father smiles, and like all of his father's smiles it is not completely happy. "I already am, my son."
Nori feels a rush of happiness, and can find no more words. So they speak no more, but simply sit in silence until Nori falls asleep, his cheek against his father's shoulder, his father's arm holding him close.