There was no comfort to be found in Asgard. Idun had friends and family, but wanted nothing any of them could provide. This was a numbness that branched out from a heart turned to stone. Her love was lost to her. What could Vidar or Philotes or Thor offer her, when the only thing she wanted was her husband? He turned to stone once. Idun remembered finding him like that. She remembered because all she had were memories. Her hall was a museum of Them, from the first letter Bragi ever wrote to her to a photo of a Vegas bride and her blurry Vegas husband. Idun always framed the blurry photographs. It was a tradition. There were exactly seven clear, perfect photos of them, and she had her favorite set close enough to glance at if she needed to remember what his face looked like. But she didn't. Idun remembered. It was the feel of him that she needed, and no photograph could offer her that.
She was surrounded by Bragi in the study. This was his place, though he wasn't here enough to use it often. It was still a nice room. The carpet in front of the fireplace was plush. It smelled like resin. She was comfortable, in a relative sense. Idun's hall was a museum of Them, but every room except this one felt like a crypt. She didn't understand why. It would've made more sense for the dead, or near-dead, to roam here. But whatever the reason, this was the only place where her heartbreak made sense.
When Odin called, his words were moving. Idun still did not move. Her husband wasn't dead. She knew that. Even though her heart was stone, it continued to beat because Bragi still lived.
For now, her mind whispered. Idun inhaled sharply through her nose, then pulled her blanket up to her chin. There was no fire built, but it didn't matter. No flames burned bright enough or hot enough to melt away a stony heart. Only Bragi could do that, and he wasn't here. If he was going to be anywhere, it would be in Boston. But Idun wasn't allowed there alone, and she didn't want anyone with her, either.
Idun would know it when Bragi died. Lying on the floor, Idun was simply waiting. She didn't know what else to do. She didn't know what actions to take. She had waited for tears, but none would come. That sank in slowly, but only built upon her numbness. If she couldn't even cry, she would just stay on the floor of Bragi's study. The comforter from their bed was wrapped around her, but it just smelled like apples. Bragi didn't sleep there often enough. All she had was the smell of resin, and their photo to look at if she needed to.
And then maybe she'd sleep. Maybe forever. Maybe that would make the numbness stop.
Thor's call came soon after Odin's, but Idun didn't respond. She was fine. She was safe. Idun didn't know why she needed to say any of those things. So she said nothing and she curled up into a tighter ball. The resin didn't smell enough like Bragi. She almost stirred when the hall door was opened, but it wasn't her husband. She knew his footsteps. Idun didn't care who else it might be. She closed her eyes tighter and willed the visitor away. But Thor found her, and she was pulled close before anything else could be processed. Thor didn't smell like resin. He didn't hold her like Bragi held her. A sigh rattled from her lungs and Idun realized she should respond to his embrace, but she remained still.
He was holding her enough for the both of them.
"His things are in Boston. His...phone, and his blanket. The one for picnics." Idun shook her head, but the movement barely registered. Her hand found Thor's arm, and he felt like fire. It was easier than admitting that she was simply cold. "I'm sorry. I should've called you. There was just...blood. I'm sorry."