The dress had been discovered. Heimdall was finding it hard not to be worried. He hid from Sigyn whenever together but the rest of the time he was in constant awareness. Any other way and they would be caught; something he wouldn’t put her through, not after this being his fault, his sin, his responsibility. And he loved this girl, this wisp of a woman who had come from virtually nowhere and found her place in his life against his better judgment.
So he hid, he planned, he did his best to keep his ears open in case he was needed somewhere before war broke out. Because he didn’t war, he just wanted her, selfish or not. In his mind, they could be happy like this, working odd jobs here and there, never important, never more than normal people. If only they allowed it. They being, of course, her father and everyone from that blasted region.
“You are all done, sir.”
Heimdall rose from the chair he had been sitting for the past hour, accepting the mirror the man gave him with the faintest hesitation. His hair had always been a light brown, a touch lighter, almost blond in the right light. Now it was black, longer than he had ever used. It was a silly little thing to do, probably useless. It was a precaution though. And of many silly little things his protection would be woven until the day he could come out and speak his name, say she was his and he was hers and none should speak against it. Until then, he’d hide and pretend.