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After Ragnarok, Atreus had left on his own. Things were going relatively well. Finding the marbles was not impossible thanks to his visions, but it was strenuous. He travelled far beyond what he and his father saw in their journeys together. Oftentimes, he found himself cursing the sandstorms and navigating maze-like cave systems. Once he even ate poisonous plants and spent the next two days vomiting. But, thankfully, he was keeping track of these inedible plants in a new log book and was slowly but surely developing a discerning eye.
Regardless of the problems he faced, Atreus really did find journeying like that freeing. The Realms were all beautiful in their own way and where he could, he tried to undo the harm Odin had caused. Sure, sometimes it got lonely being in the middle of nowhere. Atreus had gone a full two weeks without talking to a single person once out in the far reaches of Alfheim only to realise he misinterpreted his visions. The empty-handed journey back was made all the more depressing with sand flying up his nose and into his eyes. Giant visions weren’t the most reliable, he learned. To avoid getting too disheartened or asocial, he made it a point to visit people often. Skjoldr out in Midgard, Father and Freya and Mimir in Sindri’s House every month or so, Thrud out in the realms, and Angrboda here in Jotunheim.
“I’m not eating that.”
Atreus frowned. “But it’s safe and it tastes good!”
Angrboda looked down at him like he grew a tail which he actually might have, all things considered. “Sorry for not trusting the guy who keeps throwing up because he keeps eating random plants.”
Okay, maybe it happened a few more times than he’d like to admit, but these plants really were safe! Atreus had eaten these religiously when he was in the more remote regions of Vanaheim and had eventually perfected the ultimate recipe for them. Angrboda continued climbing up the tree she was hanging off of before hopping between the branches towards her treehouse. Atreus scrambled after her on the ground with a sack full of cyan plants in his arms. She was fast, but Atreus finally knew this route well enough to keep up. All the time he spent coming back to Ironwood because he was delirious from toxins and needed somewhere safe to sleep or simply because he wanted to say hi was finally paying off.
His brisk jog came to a stop at the end of the rock path. The path continued just in front of him, but from a higher point separated by a rather deep pit. He couldn’t just jump across. Usually, this was where Atreus would fire an arrow with a rope attached and grapple across, but he usually didn’t have his hands full. The sack was also too heavy to hold in one hand. He may have gone a little overboard in his excitement to share this recipe with Angrboda.
“Stuck?”
Angrboda doubled back, still in the trees. She had one hand holding onto the trunk and the other shielding her eyes from the sun as she peered down at Atreus. Atreus gave her what he hoped to be an easy smile. “Nope. Not at all.”
“Then how’re you getting across?”
“I’m… not really sure.”
Angrboda held her free hand out in the direction of the disjointed path. She spoke a spell, one Atreus didn’t know in form but understood in essence to mean ‘connect.’ Some of the locs that were usually parted to frame her face swept forward, the gold in them catching the light, making the deep brown of her skin and the pine green of her dress glow softly. Before Atreus could stare too long, Angrboda met his eyes once again and smiled cheekily. “What would you do without me?”
Atreus snapped his head back in the direction of the path mostly to hide his awestruck face, but also because there was now a ramp made of rock connecting the two ledges. The connecting segment was indistinguishable from the natural rocks. “You could do that this whole time?”
“Yeah?”
His voice bordered on whiny as he asked, “Why didn’t you do it before?”
Angrboda shrugged. “You used to get across without my help. Guess eating poison does things to the brain.”
“ Hey !”
Angrboda had the audacity to giggle. “Meet you back at the treehouse,” she said with a wave before continuing her path in the trees. Atreus resumed on his path on the rocks by virtue of the new ramp, a heat high in his cheeks that he wasn’t sure if he should attribute to physical exertion, embarrassment, or awe.
That last one was happening a lot around Angrboda these days for various reasons. It was insane to Atreus that someone as skilled and confident as her could have been so unsure about her future when they first met. Angrboda was incredible- and this was high praise considering Atreus knew many people who were very talented- and she was still so kind and funny. Her magic, her painting, the way she takes care of so many different animals and even Fenrir now, her knowledge, her advice- Atreus really did admire her. If only he stopped making a fool out of himself every time she was around.
By the time Atreus reached the treehouse, Angrboda was petting Jalla. “Took you long enough,” she said without even looking at him.
Atreus was finally able to put the heavy sack down. He rotated his wrists and stretched his arms above his head, the ache burning a little more intensely as he did so, but ultimately feeling better as he approached Angrboda and joined her in petting Jalla.
The yak continued eating some feed, unbothered by Atreus now that he had come around enough for her to get used to his presence. Jalla’s hair was soft through his fingers, because why wouldn’t it be? Angrboda took excellent care of all the animals around here. They sat in silence for a while, Angrboda absorbed in her thoughts and Atreus listening to the thoughts of the yak. She really didn’t seem to care- singularly focused on eating and a bit happy that Angrboda was here. He was saddened to learn that Jalla was indifferent to his presence at best.
Eventually, his stomach rumbled rather loudly. Embarrassment and hunger whirled his gut in equal parts. It was a truly awful mix. Angrboda started laughing and gave him a jab to the arm. She was unfairly pretty when she was laughing like that, eyes crinkled and smile big. “Looking at Jalla’s feed made you hungry? She won’t be happy to hear that.”
As if on cue, Jalla made a noise. Atreus didn’t need to be able to understand her thoughts to understand her dissatisfaction. “Don’t listen to her Jalla!”
Angrboda continued laughing only for her own stomach to rumble. Atreus smirked and returned the playful jab. “Look who wants to eat Jalla’s feed now.”
“Better than willingly eating poison.”
“Really?”
Angrboda nodded solemnly. “Really.”
Atreus stood up in a huff, only half joking. “Fine. I’ll make my own food, and you can have fun eating Jalla’s feed.”
He went over to the cooking pot and mindlessly began preparations. Angrboda was still over by Jalla, but her back was facing Atreus so he was slightly emboldened in staring at her full of pettiness. He was going to make his very own Best Vanir Stew (hoping Freya never heard of this self-coined title) and he was going to enjoy every last bite of it, with or without his friend.
Another thing he was improving at since he set out on his journey was cooking. Before, all he really did was help out in the kitchen should anyone ask him to, but he never made something from start to finish entirely on his own and was unfairly intimidated by the prospect of cooking. But being alone in the middle of nowhere tends to force people to cook, and as a result, Atreus was now able to produce food that was (usually) edible with little thought.
As such, his attention wandered from the pot and his eyes took in the familiar scenery. Ironwood seemed to be bathed in hues of brown and orange. Beautiful little flowers grew in the grass. Even the tall trees had tiny splotches of brightly coloured moss. It was also in a permanent state of disrepair. The wooden gates were splintered and rotting in some parts, fallen boulders blocking some paths off entirely, the water thick and murky.
Angrboda turned and caught Atreus’s eyes, the gold ornamentation on her dress and ears glittering against the earthy setting. For that contrast Jotunheim provided, Atreus was deeply grateful. “It smells… weird.”
His daze was interrupted as he grounded himself with the scent of the stew. It was almost spicy, but not quite. “You haven’t even tried it yet.”
“You’re not leaving till I try some, are you?”
Atreus smiled. “Nope.”
Angrboda sighed as she stood, smoothed her dress out, and walked over. She stood next to Atreus and peered into the pot. The stew was essentially done, a bright blue colour that didn’t exactly scream edible. Angrboda made a face.
”Don’t judge it for how it looks.”
Angrboda met his eyes, eyebrow raised. “I’ve eaten a lot of different things around here. Just said it smelled weird.”
His cheeks warmed for no apparent reason. He handled it smoothly by smiling. “Good. Here, try some.”
Atreus put the fire out and spooned some into a ladle. He blew on it and then offered it to Angrboda to taste. She looked at him incredulously for a moment, an expression Atreus couldn’t decipher, before leaning forward to drink from the ladle.
Her eyes went wide. This expression, Atreus knew well. “You like it,” he stated, unable to stop himself from grinning like an idiot. Angrboda reached to take the ladle out of Atreus’s hands, but he pulled his hand away at the last second. She frowned in exasperation. “Come on, Loki!”
“Not until you admit I was right.”
Angrboda then lunged for the ladle. Atreus, not anticipating this, was tackled to the ground, arm holding the label above his head now that he was lying flat. Angrboda snatched the ladle and towered over Atreus triumphantly for a moment before she went back to the pot and sampled more of the stew. Atreus sat up, neither complaining nor even upset as he watched Angrboda.
“See? What’d I say?”
She made a dismissive noise. Atreus smiled, a soft and small one that Angrboda couldn’t have noticed given her attention being fully focused on the stew. He eventually went over and produced the only two bowls in all of Ironwood. Atreus’s bowl was newly made unlike Angrboda’s, worn with time and use. Both were made of the same wood by Angrboda herself.
Reluctant to part with the ladle, Angrboda was the one to dish the stew into the bowls. They went to the rug that Angrboda usually slept on and sat cross legged next to each other. “You better bring me more next time you go to Vanaheim.”
“Sure, but that sack should last you a while.”
“You underestimate me,” she said, grinning while eyeing the sack with a clearly put-on ravenous glint in her eyes. Sometimes Atreus forgot that Angrboda was just as awkward as he was, although maybe that was more because she didn’t talk to many people and less because she had weird feelings towards Atreus. Regardless, Atreus found himself returning the same stupid grin as they ate the Best Vanir Stew together, chatting about everything and nothing at the same time and simply enjoying each other’s presence.