In all the time that Idun had known Bragi, she had never seen contemplation written across his face in quite that manner. It wasn't music. It wasn't poetry. The lovely wheels in his mind were turning, but not in a pattern of creation. Idun had seen him stare up into a leafy canopy of apple tree branches and she could almost hear the poetry as it came together in his head. His eyes drank in a sight that was already naturally beautiful, but then his thoughts turned that beauty into magic.
But that wasn't what was happening here. Idun had never seen this look before. As he looked into the lifeless frost, there was no melody to capture, no elegance to articulate. It birthed a deep, deep sadness that got cozy beneath Idun's ribs, but there was nothing she could do about that feeling. Bragi was only in this terrible place because of her. She carefully eased out another breath against his neck, and smiled in the hope that it would fuel the fires in both their hearts. They needed to keep going. They couldn't stop.
There was a more striking warmth to her smile once Bragi replied. His words took away the haunted look in his eyes, and Idun could ignore the sorrow burrowing into her chest. "Oh, I fear you may be right," she replied, sighing playfully. "Heimdall never did learn to work a crowd like you do." It was such a silly thing to hold onto, but Idun gripped this excuse to carry on with an iron grasp. Heimdall couldn't be the one to tell their tale. Bragi was the god of poetry. He deserved the honor. He'd turn this terrible series of events into something so tragically beautiful, every listener would long to live it themselves. They wouldn't care about the terrible cold, or the horrifying shades. The only thing they'd care about was the romance, the husband willing to let go of his life just to remain at his wife's side. Just thinking of the tragic beauty Bragi could shape their story into was choking Idun up with emotion, but she shook all that off to laugh instead.
"A withering glare?" she asked. Idun couldn't help but look at Bragi and realize how very, very much she loved him. "I'll try to teach you. And I'll try not to worry you, no matter what you say." They continued to walk, and Idun tried to demonstrate the finer points of a successful withering glare. It helped to fill the journey, even if Bragi's features were far too sweet to truly handle such a passionate display of disdain.
Idun couldn't say how long this went on. She didn't want to know. The next time she cautioned a glance away from Bragi, she was surprised at what she saw. She had avoided looking away for fear of seeing another shade. The last thing she wanted was to fall again. But instead of a shade, Idun spied hope.
"I think...I think we're going the right way," she whispered.