Following Our Own Script

Chapter One

Chapter One: And I Hope When You Think of Me Years Down the Line, You Can't Find One Good Thing to Say

"Just admit we're lost."

"We aren't lost. We just haven't reached any land yet."

"And what land, exactly, is there to reach?"

Time was a dull notion to a God. Years passed without much acknowledgement. But the last three months at sea with himself, Loki, and Odin's stupid bird, Huginn, had gone on for an eternity. Maybe Heimdall really did die during his fight with Kratos. Maybe the entirety of Ragnarok was nothing but a fever dream he had before entering an eternal hell lost in the ocean with a revenant of the single person who had taken everything from him.

You don't know where we're going, either," Loki huffed. The two were laying on their backs, staring directly into the harsh sunlight. They had sent Huginn out ahead days ago in hopes of finding something, anything, that they could land on to get out of this awful boat.

"Father said he came to Midgard after his homeland flooded. Whatever is out there, it has to be across the sea."

Loki had been so eager to leave after Ragnarok. Wanting to put his sins behind him and start a journey away from his old man to find himself. Even though, as Heimdall saw it, Ragnarok started because of that exact reason. The brat still saw his actions as those of a savior. And to whom? Not Thor, not Odin, not all the Valkyries and Einherjar that lived for Asgard. His home was gone. He had failed to protect it. And after everything, he still chose to leave with the brat.

Not that he had too many great choices lined up. There was no life for him left back there. Asgard was gone. Everyone still alive wanted him dead. Heimdall owed them no redemption. Even knowing what he did not, he wouldn't change how he spent his life given the chance. He was no changed man, just a dog who'd been taken from his master.

The plan to start anew hadn't occurred to him. He'd be damned to stay and help rebuild the realms, more damned to live in them under new leadership. Loki had offered Heimdall to join him. They'd break off once they both found somewhere that seemed promising, never to see each other again. While the journey was less than appealing, it was the best option.

Oh, how he wished he could have thrown himself off Tyr's tower, head first into the sharpest thing he could find. The only thing keeping him going was the sheer refusal to give up before Loki did.

What a life he had now, being covered in seawater, baking alive by the sun. They had run out of food three days ago. For the last week, they'd been eating little in attempts to make what they had left last. Heimdall had originally mocked Loki for loading the boat so full of supplies. Even he expected to find something, anything, within a few weeks.

The worst part was, there was no way to track any progress. Everything had looked the same since they left the Nine Realms. Just a massive stretch of ocean.

"I think we're in a loop," Loki said. "Like stuck in some sort of repeating spot in the world."

"I don't think being with you could get any more cursed," Heimdall groaned. "I think, oh Chosen One, that your Father destroyed more than just his homeland. That all that's left is now weeks behind us and that we're heading straight towards nothing. What if we're floating, right now, on top of that bruit's calamity?"

Talking about Kratos in any context made the half-breed homesick. Heimdall scoffed.

"You went longer without him in Asgard. But once daddy's little boy, always his little boy. Pathetic."

At least your father is waiting for your return, Heimdall kept to himself. He thought most of his bitterness was behind him, but recently, it's all he could think about. What was keeping him from throwing Atreus overboard and drowning him, right there and then? The idea made him grin.