Through Fire and Water (Tag: Vidar)
Leaving the mixer had been a step. A step away from madness. A step onto a very dark, lonely road. Idun knew that Tyr had approached her at the party. He had done what he could to quiet her worries. Phobetor had offered his assistance. But words were worthless. Without the god of words, what good could they possibly do? Someone needed to act. Someone needed to do something. Idun could take as many steps down this road as possible, but it wasn't enough to walk. She needed to do more. She needed to figure out who could possibly want to harm her husband. Getting up from the sand, starting to feel again, had been monumental in the moment, but now they seemed like trivial, childish accomplishments. So what if she no longer needed to hallucinate in order to remember to breathe and eat and brush her hair. None of that was getting her any closer to her husband.
The more evident that became, the more fire filled her heart.
Idun wasn't a goddess built for anger. She didn't want to be angry. But there was no alternative that she could see, and it wasn't exactly as though she was searching desperately to begin with. It was better than nothing. Anger was fuel, it would burn beneath her and keep her from growing content with reassuring words that weren't backed with action. She didn't want to hear another of Bragi's family promising that they would find him. Idun would be impressed when they actually found him, and not a moment sooner.
Waiting wasn't helpful, of course. She wasn't about to stay idle. Not with fire in her heart and a desperate emptiness on one side of her bed. She wasn't wearing Bragi's shirts anymore, even though she still wanted to. After leaving the island, Idun came to Asgard and tried to get Bragi's phone to work. The screen was cracked, and what she was able to read wasn't helpful. Nobody had sent him a text that plainly stated:
Hello. I wish to crack you over the head with a candlestick, deposit a generous amount of your blood on your floor, and then take you to my wicked lair. I will be keeping you at this location: (address follows). If you would kindly remain at your Boston home until I arrive, that would be greatly appreciated.
Giving up on the phone, Idun also gave up on his shirts. She had to stand up straight and stop mourning. Her husband wasn't dead. This much she was certain of. If Bragi was dead, Idun would know. She'd feel it. They were far too together, far too in love, far too much of that married couple for Bragi to go off and die without her somehow knowing, deep in her bones. He was alive. Nobody had left a pretty little trail of clues for her to easily follow, but at least Idun knew Bragi was somewhere on this road she was walking alone. He was somewhere. Somewhere outside of Odin's sight. Somewhere distant. All Idun needed to do was puzzle out where, and then she'd get close enough, and then she'd hear him calling out. He'd be calling out, obviously. Bragi was smart. He wouldn't just twiddle his thumbs and wait for rescue in silence.
She gave up on the phone and the shirts, and ended up in a hardware store. Idun would need supplies. She didn't know where she was going, but she'd need supplies. The cashier gave her a very strange look when she set down a length of rope, duct tape, a Snickers bar, and a very large ax, but she didn't feel inclined to explain herself. A bit more wandering followed, which Idun would label Directionally-Challenged Contemplation.
And then she decided on frost giants.
Idun bundled herself up in the entryway of her hall, prepared to battle the cold as well as anything standing between her and her husband. It was a very good thing she bought the ax.