That was the thing about Bragi. In years to come, Idun would realize that he could bottle emotions like a champion, and then sell a different feeling so well, he'd even believe himself. And then, if he decided to, he could completely blindside her. Like, for example, appearing to be completely and totally fine when, in reality, there was an emotional gauntlet set before them both and neither could truly navigate it without the other. Bragi showed no signs of that reality, so Idun was faced with that gauntlet all alone. And she didn't understand what she was feeling, not really, not consciously, so it wasn't like she was in a position to win. It was all very tragic, and ridiculous, but when he looked at her, Idun felt better than fine anyway.
Like every other laugh of his these days, Bragi's chuckle warmed her pleasantly, like the sound had the power to wrap her up like a blanket. As long as Jondi didn't come up, their time together had a way of making fires obsolete. Not that it truly mattered. Jondi always came up. Now more than ever, Idun was aware of her existence, and all the urges she'd entertained when she was in his arms were making her feel slightly guilty now that she was on the ground. Was it this easy to play a role in the betrayal of someone else? She nearly sighed. No, it wouldn't be this easy. Not with Bragi. The Road God was loyal to his Jondi, and nothing else in the worlds seemed to interest him anymore.
It was, for the sake of arguing, a very good thing to witness. Love really could happen. People really could stay happy, and loyal, and in a desperate sort of can-never-have-enough love. Idun still hated witnessing it, though. But when he laughed, everything felt better. Idun arched an eyebrow as he casually began his story, and then when it ended, sans details, with a reminder of that one time she'd claimed to be someone who she wasn't who also happened to be Bragi's father, she let out a scoffing laugh and shook her head. "How was I supposed to know Odin would be your father?" she asked, as she had a few times before when Bragi brought that story up. It had been funny, of course, but she always acted like it hadn't been. Idun really didn't know why she still refused to give him her name. When he asked, she always gave him the wrong one. "I'll keep Gunnlod off my list," she added, with a teasing smile.
And then his arm moved around her. Idun's body seemed to sigh even though she refused to let her lungs do so. He was warm. Bragi was always warm. Idun wondered if she could shrug his arm away and steal his hand as it fell. She wanted to hold his hand. But that was a stupid thing to want. His was not her hand to hold. "That's very kind of you, Bragi," she said, moving a bit closer to his side under the name of moving an arm across his back. All for the sake of comfort as they walked, naturally.
Idun knew the walk would not be a silent one. She knew they would talk, and laugh, and act like the warm, caring friends they mostly were. But as they began down the path towards the orchard Bragi was very familiar with at this point, Idun couldn't help but feel dissatisfied. He was going to leave once those trees came into view, because he had somewhere else to go, someone else to go to. And, to some extent, that was her fault. No matter the feelings that stirred when he caught her as she fell, or when he wrapped his arm around her in friendly support, Idun had refused to even give him a chance. And now someone else had.
Really, when emotions were more tumultuous than a stormy sea, a giant's net didn't seem like the worse option. But even so, Idun smiled at Bragi before the walking began. It was easy to smile when he was there. It was only once he disappeared that the walls crashed in on her and all that emotion pulled her under.