Over the centuries, endless manners of describing love had been conjured up, used to the point of excess, and thereafter labeled cliches by the generations that followed. Some of the more elegant expressions of love had been written by her husband, actually. It was rather shocking, really, how many times 'This bud of love by summer’s ripening breath may prove a beauteous flower when next we meet' was used in a casual drinking setting, as though the line might work. Perhaps it did. Perhaps it worked unreasonably well. But never on Idun. It tickled her sense of humor, though, for the years that it remained a popular line. Even the most beautiful words could be dirtied by overuse, though, and then cliches were established.
Every silly, overused, romantic, nauseating, dripping line of sweetness was given new life whenever Bragi returned. Not even just with his return, but with the easy way he slid right back into the gentle rhythm of their lives. The way he took his sundae from the freezer, the way he hopped onto the counter. Idun began feeling the stirrings of happiness the moment he appeared, but it wasn't until he was right there, offering her a spoon of his ice cream, that Idun felt properly whole. All those cliches were new and thrilling and thrumming through her blood, and Idun was complete.
She leaned forward and wrapped her hand around Bragi's, as though she needed to stabilize the spoon as she took the mouthful he'd offered. Idun obviously didn't need to stabilize anything. She also didn't need an excuse to touch her husband, but it was a small, playful gesture that brought subtle warmth to her cheeks.
Thankfully, Bragi had a thing or two to say in the way of teasing her, and Idun found herself touching her free hand to her lips to keep from spitting ice cream all over the kitchen. She chuckled, shaking her head, and then gave his arm a playful swat when she had her ice cream swallowed and under control. At least it kept her from internalizing her deep, unwavering feelings of love until she swooned right off the counter. "Doilies? Really? You think you're terribly funny, don't you?" Of course Bragi thought he was. Back when she could teasingly call him William, he took a few stabs at writing very, very good comedies. A regular comed--
"Vidar." Idun tilted her head slightly as she tried to imagine the scenario he had just handed her. Bragi, Vidar, and Lottie. Together. A god of few words sandwiched by the two most talkative individuals Idun ever had the pleasure of forming long-lasting bonds with. Bragi's expression said it all, but the instant she repeated his brother's name, she had already come to the same conclusion. How perfect. Idun gave up on the casual indifference. She beamed at her husband. "Did they get along? Did Vidar like her? Of course he liked her, she's wonderful, did she like him? What am I even asking, of course she did, he's so charming and wonderful and Bragi, Bragi, oh. Ohhh, they have to come for dinner. The two of them!"