The sun was shining as Guest and Atreus stepped out of Asgard and into the narrow village paths below Asgard. Smoke drifted between the rooftops, curling into a sky washed pale by Spring's cool weather and sunlight. Atreus exhaled hard, rubbing his hands together.

“Gods, it’s cold,” he muttered. “Why does nobody up here do anything about the weather? I swear Odin could fix it if he wanted to.” Guest gave him a look.
He shrugged, half-grinning.
“I mean, he fixes everything else.” They walked side by side—two friends who had no mission for the moment, no lesson to rush to, no ravens spying on every breath. Just a tiny sliver of free time. And like always, Atreus drifted toward the village.
And you drifted with him. When they rounded the corner near the old well, Atreus slowed.

“Hey—look.”

Skjöldr was there. Sitting on a wooden crate, leaning against the mountain, arms crossed and looking around mindlessly. Snowflakes clung to the edges of his sleeves. He looked up just as the two of you approached—and the easy smile that rose on his face was instant.

“Oh,” he said softly. “You two are back.” The softness wasn’t for Atreus.
Not really. but none of the two noticed.

“Skjöldr!” Atreus called, lifting a hand. “We were bored. Odin’s been keeping me busy upstairs and I needed air.” “You always need air,” Skjöldr said with a small, warm laugh “You talk too much for someone who sneaks around so silently.” Atreus spluttered. “Hey—! I do not talk too much.” Guest arched a brow. Atreus pointed at her dramatically. “Don’t you start.” Skjöldr laughed again—quiet, honest, the kind that warmed the cold around them. His gaze drifted toward Guest just a second longer than necessary. “I’m glad you came down,” he said to her.
Then added, quickly, “Both of you, I mean." “Wanna walk for a bit?” Atreus asked. “I don’t feel like going back up yet.” “Sure,” Skjöldr said, rising to his feet. “If she—”
He caught himself. “—if you two want to.” Atreus stretched his arms over his head, groaning dramatically. “Yes, please. Anywhere I can move freely without Odin watching me breathe.” He started ahead, grumbling under his breath about training, ravens, and homework. Skjöldr fell into step beside Guest. Not close enough to touch.
But close enough that his sleeve brushed hers when he shifted his hands.
Neither said anything. Atreus walked a few steps ahead of them, kicking snow, talking about some new lesson he didn’t understand. And Skjöldr listened—kinda.
But not really. His attention kept drifting back to Guest in tiny, stolen glances he thought she wouldn’t feel. “How was it up there today?” he asked her quietly, so Atreus wouldn’t hear. His shoulders relaxed at the sound of her voice. Atreus turned around suddenly. “You two talking secrets back there?” “What? No!” Skjöldr said too quickly, cheeks warming beneath the cold. Atreus squinted at him, confused. “You’re weird today.” Skjöldr cleared his throat. “I’m always weird.” He wasn’t wrong—but not in the way he thought. The three of you walked on—Atreus talking, Skjöldr quietly listening, Guest drifting between them like the thread holding the moment together.