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Atreus shuffled along the frozen trails, carefully stepping over and ducking past the serrated, icy projections that seemed to grow from every direction.
Niflheim’s wind was merciless and sharp, nipping at any exposed skin on Atreus’ body. Despite this, it was not the arctic weather that had been sending chills to run up and down the young Jötunn’s spine.
Atreus cast a wary glance over his shoulder, eyeing the source of the footsteps that caused the ground to shake beneath him.
There stood Thor, cobalt-eyes boring tirelessly into Atreus, no doubt trying to burn a hole through the back of the boy’s head.
Startled, Atreus snapped his head back to the path in front of him, though Thor’s tireless surveillance had already caught him looking.
“Fuck are you p—eeking at me for?” Thor snarled, a slight slur to his words. “Feeling sorry for the drunk bastard, eh?”
“N-No, I’m…” Atreus stammered, though the image of Thrúd’s heartbroken face suddenly flashed into his head, helping him to find the rest of his sentence. “I’m feeling more sorry for the guy’s daughter.”
“Fuck’d you say?”
Atreus could hear Thor’s colossal footfalls staggering up to him with unnerving speed, and he spun on his heels, his palms facing the God defensively as Thor stopped mere inches in front of him.
“I just meant…!” Atreus steadied his voice, and willed himself to look Thor in his eyes, bright blues meeting dull ones. “She doesn’t like seeing you that way. I don’t think… anyone does.”
Thor’s eyes narrowed, his speech still slow and garbled. “Fuck d'you know about my family?”
Atreus took a small step back, so that he would not have to crane his neck trying to keep eye contact with the half-giant. “I only know what Thrúd told me— what Thrúd and Mo—”
Just the first syllable of Modi’s name had Thor’s eyebrows shooting up under the messy strands of hair curtaining his face.
The undefinable look on the God’s face halted Atreus mid-sentence, and the boy hesitated before quickly spinning on his heel and stumbling up the icy path.
His fingers tangled clumsily as he fumbled to pull the wooden mask from his belt. He then held it up, and although the mask did not show any indication of response whatsoever, he mumbled, “Um, the mask says we shouldn't be far…”
Thor’s suffocating silence had Atreus bristling— prepared for Mjölnir to come sailing for his head at any second. He decided to check whether his fears were true or not, by once again glancing behind him at Thor. However, this caused him to miss the small, oak chest sitting in the middle of their path.
Despite the violent wind and snow, Thor had seen the chest from a mile away, but said nothing as Atreus tripped over the crate and fell to the ground with a yelp.
Atreus quickly jumped to his feet, brushing himself off before glimpsing at Thor to see if he had noticed his tumble. Thor stared back, humourlessly.
Atreus cleared his throat, quickly focusing his attention back to the chest and breaking it open with his wooden bow.
Instantly, his face brightened at the contents, which he pulled out of the chest and held up for Thor to see.
“Look!” the boy said excitedly. “A treasure map! In Niflheim?!”
Atreus pushed the chest to the side, and unfolded the sizable map, pushing his nose to it. “What kind of stuff could someone be hiding away in this realm? Must be ancient!”
“Who fucking cares?” Thor snapped, his words considerably less slurred. The bitter cold seemed to be sobering him, against his will. “I’m not here to go on a fucking trip with you.”
Atreus raised his freckled face to Thor, so that Thor could watch the excitement slowly drain from it.
He folded the map back up to its original form and pushed it into one of his pockets, before wordlessly continuing on.
The two walked for at least half an hour in complete silence.
This is better, Thor thought to himself, observing stoically as the boy (once again) paused to retrieve something from the side of the path. I don’t want to hear another thing this little fucker has to say.
Thor stared at the small boy’s slender arms and small frame, and wondered how on earth a child like that could bring ruin to his family like he had.
How could a boy like this— who had now crouched down to examine a luminescent flower— have murdered his child? His child, who trained day in and day out. His child, who was at least twice Atreus’ size at his age. His child, who was almost the spitting image of the God of Thunder himself.
Thor pursed his lips as he watched Atreus pocket a single petal from the flower, wishing that he had brought a cup of mead along this tortuous mission.
Sometimes, all he could see was Modi’s killer. Other times, all he could see was Modi himself.
Atreus did this often— where he would stop in his tracks to gawk at something small and insignificant, then turn to Thor with eyes alight in excitement. Thor would stare impassively at him in return, to which the boy’s face would drop and he would quickly turn back to the path indicated by the mask.
Thor’s gaze lingered at the boy’s pockets as they walked away from the flower, suddenly remembering how Modi would also stop to stare at bugs on the ground, and how Thor would kick him to get him to keep moving.
Thor clenched his teeth, remembering how he would squash the bug under his shoe and hiss, “While your brother is training and working, you’re sitting here gawping at fucking bugs?”
Modi’s little face, still beardless then, would flush as red as his hair. He would drop his head to avoid looking at his father's furious expression, though Thor could tell from the small, wet spots forming on the ground that he was hiding tears.
At this, Thor had slapped him upside his head, warning him to “Never cry in front of me again.”
And Modi had obeyed, always disappearing from his sight whenever Thor had had too much to drink, and emptied the darkest parts of his mind onto Modi.
“Fuck,” Thor growled to himself, causing Atreus to shoot a backwards glance at him. “Stop fucking thinking…”
After a beat of silence, came Atreus’ voice. “...What’re you thinking about?”
Thor gnashed his teeth together as he stared at the reason for his horrible thoughts. “Nothing.”
“Clearly, you’re thinking of something,” Atreus insisted with a light tone (which Thor perceived as mocking). “C’mon, you can tell me! I’ve been told I’m a great listen—“
“I’m thinking about my dead fucking sons,” Thor spat, with a voice so venomous that Atreus instinctively stepped out of the way, expecting a large hammer to fly past the spot he had just been in. “The ones that you and your father slaughtered.”
The sudden confrontation had Atreus’ mind reeling for something to say back. With just seconds to think, all he could manage was a stutter of, “We— we never wanted to—”
“Doesn’t matter,” Thor snapped, spit flying from his lips and freezing before it hit the ground. “Doesn’t matter what you wanted, they both died anyways. Both of them. And the murderer of my youngest is standing right in front of me.”
The winds had picked up dramatically since the two had begun their ascent, whipping clouds of snow into both of the Gods’ faces, causing Atreus’ tattooed fingers to tingle as sensation began to leave his nerves.
Despite the fact that the red of Thor’s beard was now covered in a coat of snow, he continued to growl, “If the All-Father hadn’t forced me to babysit you, you would have been—”
Though the wind had become so violent at this altitude, that the rest of Thor’s threat had been carried away by the howling of the snowstorm. In fact, when Atreus spun around, he realized that he had lost not just his words, but the God himself.
Atreus was momentarily relieved, before he remembered that he had no way to get out of Niflheim without the larger man.
“Thor?” he cried out, his voice reaching only feet from himself as he pushed against the wind and hail. “Thor!”
Just as his foot seemed to slip over a drop in the path, Atreus felt a large hand clutch at the collar of his coat, and yank him violently off his feet. Atreus’ scream was (thankfully) drowned out by the roaring winds, though sailing through the storm made the hail feel like bullets against his face. He curled into a ball, placing his arms protectively over his head, until he was finally tossed onto solid ground.
Atreus opened one eye, before slowly unfurling his sore limbs from his torso.
Thor stood at the entrance of the icy cave they were in, leaning against the curved opening with his back turned to Atreus. The God basically became the door of the cave, since his width filled the entire frame.
Atreus’ teeth chattered as he pushed his hands under his arms, hugging himself in hopes of bringing some heat back to his numb digits.
“Th-Thanks—”
“A snowstorm.” Thor’s voice was hard, as he continued to stare out of the entrance. “It’ll pass, so we have to wait it out.”
Now, it was Atreus’ turn to stare at the back of the God’s head. The disheveled mop of bright-red hair was now held in place by sheets of ice, though a surge of electricity shot through the God, shattering all ice crystals off of him in the blink of an eye.
Atreus held his arm up to shield himself from the shower of ice that Thor had (unwittingly, or so Atreus hoped) sent his way, and quickly worked to try and get a fire started. He didn’t know what else to do, so he used his pocket knife to chip off miniscule pieces of the mask, making a small pile of pathetic wood scrapes. He then broke off a hard piece of ice from the walls around him, and tried to produce sparks of fire by striking his arm-braces. He struck his braces over and over, doing so for an excruciating minute, before Thor sighed heavily and turned, his hammer pointed at the teenager.
Atreus flinched as a surge of lightening shot at him, only to fall short and land on the sad pile of wood instead. To his surprise, a flame did manage to come to life. Atreus was immediately drawn to it, scooting closer to the magically-kept fire and breathing into his frozen hands.
Thor stepped away from the entrance, stumbling slightly as he made his way to the fire, picking a spot opposite from the boy. He let out a grunt as he sat down, his massive form causing the cave around them to tremble.
The silence between the two was as thick as blood, with Atreus keeping his eyes determinedly on the fire, not daring to look up at Thor.
Many thoughts raced through Atreus’ head. He wondered if he should say something, maybe apologize to Thor for his sons’ death, maybe thank him for accompanying him, maybe just commenting on—
But it was Thor who broke the silence first.
“What were…” Thor took in a shaky breath, watching the fire cast dancing shadows around the two demi-Gods.
“What were his last words…?”
Thor watched the way the young boy’s jaw tensed, the way the scars on his cheeks and forehead seemed much more pronounced in the dim light of the cave.
It appeared as though the memory was not pleasant for the boy to recall, and Thor watched his baby-blue eyes flit to and fro, as though he were witnessing the death right in front of him.
Atreus could feel his heartbeat quicken as he remembered the agonizing way Modi had died, and just how cruel Atreus himself had been to the broken man.
It was a terrible memory of actions spurred from a coldness of his heart that he was never aware he had, until that unfortunate moment in time.
Even now, Modi’s face was clear as day in Atreus’ memory, with his charred skin and two bruised eyes to match.
The younger Jötunn dropped his gaze to the floor, his mouth dry and his voice quiet as he recalled Modi’s final words— before Atreus had stuck his knife into the older man’s carotid artery.
In an uncertain voice, Atreus quoted Modi.
“‘That’s what I said to your… mother… before I… gave it to her.’”
A long stretch of silence passed, so long that Atreus had to raise his eyes to make sure that Thor was still in the cave with him.
“… What?”
“He was—“ Atreus cleared his throat uncomfortably, unsure of how to explain the context. “He was taunting me.”
Thor stared at Atreus for a moment longer, before making a sound that Atreus could not recognize.
It took around 30 seconds of Thor continuously making this strange sound, and his eyes crinkling from behind the mess of hair, for it to dawn on Atreus that he was laughing.
“Is something… funny…?”
“Those were his last words?” Thor heaved. “Leaving a dishonourable legacy like that… was my fault, I s’ppose.”
Atreus frowned, his disapproval obvious. “You taught him to say things like that?”
Thor combed a hand through his beard, hiding the unpleasant expression on his face. “Not soberly, no.”
Atreus huffed. “Well, those were his last words, but that wasn’t the first thing he said when he saw us…”
Thor raised his eyes, staring at the boy again, who was fiddling with the mask in his hands.
“Did he… say something about… me?”
Atreus raised his head to Thor, his eyes sharp but still empathetic. “He said you— you blamed him. Called him a coward.”
Thor was quiet, and despite doing his best to clear his mind, he could not help but remember the way Modi had run out of the Mead Hall that day, clutching his broken ribs and leaving a trail of spotted blood behind him.
“And don’t bother r’turning, useless c’ward!” Thor had bellowed, tossing his fiftieth cup of mead at his son’s already battered head.
Atreus let out a shaky sigh, as though he too, could see the memories swimming through Thor’s head. “I wasn’t in my right mind.”
“Makes the two of us,” Thor said, his voice breaking slightly.
Atreus glanced at him in surprise, but politely looked away as he continued, “Father told me not to, but I didn’t listen. I…”
Atreus sighed heavily, trying not to notice the way Thor’s broad shoulders had begun to shake in his peripheral vision. “I wish I hadn’t. I wish I had… just listened to father. Modi was…”
Atreus fell quiet as he tried to find the right words. “I don’t think he sought us out for a fight, really.”
Thor’s low voice was unstable, his giant gasps of air unignorable. “Then why…?”
Atreus bit his lip, his eyebrows furrowing with remorse. “I think… he just wanted somebody to listen. Just for a moment.”
The cave was quiet for a considerable amount of time, with both Jötunns lost in their regrets. Thor continued to sob, but the fire had dimmed considerably, so all Atreus could make out was the silhouette of the God’s face buried within his hands.
“I was drinking again because of Magni’s death,” Thor rasped through tears, “but it ended up killing my remaining son, too. I wish I could see him one last time, just to say sorry.”
Atreus’ fingers curled, his nails digging into his palms. Guilt wracked his mind, and he wondered what would have happened to Modi had Atreus not let the God of Courage’s taunts reach him.
Would Modi have died alone, in that abyss? Or would he have stayed in Midgard long enough to recover?
As Atreus usually did during tough situations, he channeled his father’s words to comfort himself.
“Do not be sorry,” Atreus echoed to himself. “Be better.”
After a second, he realized that Thor had been listening as well, the man’s tear-stained face looking down at the boy.
“For your daughter,” Atreus added, when he noticed the God’s attention. “You can still make a difference for her.”
Thor took a deep breath, before standing from the pile of ashes between them.
“The storm…” Thor cleared his throat as the end of his sentence crumbled on his lips. “The storm’s just about over. Let’s get going.”
Atreus pushed himself to his feet, brushing the last bits of ice off of his clothes before hurrying past Thor, back into the valleys of Niflheim.
The two said little else as they trekked on, until Atreus stopped so suddenly in his tracks that Thor almost stepped right onto him.
Thor grunted with annoyance, but followed Atreus’ pointing finger to a strange, little creature rolling about on the ground.
“An ísbjalla!” Atreus exclaimed, sitting on his heels and glancing up at Thor eagerly. “I’ve read stories about these little guys— they usually live deep within the cores of the ice!”
The boy looked back down at the insect, extending a welcoming finger for the ísbjalla to crawl on.
Thor stared down at him, before feeling a twinge of melancholy from somewhere deep within his chest.
Then, the mountain of a man crouched down next to Atreus, arms resting on his knees.
“So why’d this— er, ísbjalla pop out now?”
“He must have been attracted by the storm!” Atreus answered giddily, watching the insect squirm itself onto his hand. “The storms usually stir things around, including food! That's what attracts these guys.”
Thor stared at the insignificant creature on Atreus’ hand, watching how gently Atreus handled the insect.
This was a boy who had not been forced to absorb the darkness of the world, a boy who had been shielded from the torment of a God’s life.
Thor then raised a hand, which casted a shadow over where Atreus had been crouched.
The boy looked up, his eyes widening just before Thor placed his massive paw on the boy’s head (though his fingers unknowingly covered Atreus’ entire face).
He tousled Atreus’ strip of fluffy hair, the strange feeling of bittersweet affection growing as he mumbled, “Not bad, Loki.”
“…Fhanks,” Atreus said back, his words muffled by Thor’s hand.