In Love and War [1952] (Tag: Bragi, and OPEN to anyone who wants in)
Idun knew she was at a severe disadvantage the moment Bragi presented the guns to her. They were deceptively simple in appearance, which meant that they were incredibly intimidating to look upon, and in all her years, Idun had never seen anything quite like them. Her husband handed her one politely, a gentleman to the end, and then they were both armed with three barrels of firepower. Three! It was wickedness to an extreme, and they had decided to fight one another with them. She knew this wasn't going to end well. Idun had very limited experience with guns, and Bragi had been able to fiddle with these prototypes for an undetermined period of time before he presented them to his wife. He could've practiced! Bragi might be an expert marksman by now! They each took their guns and, to be fair, bolted in opposite directions to spread the battlefield across their entire hall. But Bragi was an expert marksman, and he was very fast. Oh, she was definitely at a severe disadvantage.
What Idun needed was a hostage.
These were rarely hard to come by in their hall. Little Terence was only four, but Idun recognized that sparkle in his eyes. He was going to be something big when he grew up. He wouldn't remember them, his imaginary friends, but Idun and Bragi would remember him. This was how it always went. Terry's parents thought he was in bed, asleep, and perhaps the boy believed he was as well, but his little trips to Asgard were real. Bragi had been bringing budding geniuses home for a very long time now. They were their children. Hundreds of writers and musicians and creative stars had come to their hall. More, perhaps. Idun had resisted at first, but looking down at Terence as he thumbed through one of Bragi's books, she once again came to the conclusion that this was right. When the boy realized she was there, he smiled brightly and stood up. Idun handed him a cup of apple juice. Unfortunately, Bragi didn't let her pass the immortality blend on to their adopted children. But juice was juice to a four-year-old, and Terry seemed to enjoy it as he sipped from his straw, even if it wouldn't grant him eternal life.
The boy would grow up, and Bragi and Idun would track his career as his stories became popular, as he created a captivating literary landscape that he would call Discworld. They would read his books. They would smile in the private way that only imaginary friends can manage. But for now, Idun heard approaching footsteps, and after readying the weapon with a quick pump, she ignored the boy's bright future to wrap an arm around his front and press the barrels against the side of his head.
Terry looked up curiously, came to the conclusion that this was yet another fun, silly game, and made a mental note about all of it. He returned to sipping his juice, otherwise undaunted.
His imaginary friends were odd.
Idun waited until Bragi rounded the corner, and then she attempted her best serious expression. Her lips were pursed and she was glaring, and she was clearly drawing inspiration from their first meeting, when he had aggravated her more than anyone ever had before, but even with such golden inspiration, Idun still ended up smirking somehow.
"No sudden moves, buster," she said. There was no explaining the slight accent she had adopted. "I'll do it. I will. I'll shoot."
Terry took a rather loud slurp of juice.
Idun bit the inside of her cheek so she wouldn't laugh.