It was not often that the god of foresight was nervous.

Everything in this world that would happen, had happened or was happening at that moment was in his knowledge.

He knew it all.

And yet he was nervous even though he knew that his plan would come to succeed.

Only a dark spot clouded all of the future. It was precisely this tiny detail that upset him.

Loki, on the other hand, seemed as carefree as a boy his age could be. In fact, Heimdall could even see joy when he looked at him.

How excited he was. Like a child.

Perhaps the boy was not so much like Heimdall after all.

"My father will surely help.", Loki assured him as he stopped in front of a gate to the World Tree.

Heimdall had seen these gates before. But they could not be used.

At least the more powerful gods like himself had no need for them. He could travel between the realms with his own power.

The boy, on the other hand, was very human to a certain extent. He seemed mortal, both in his physical and mental capabilities.

It was not surprising that he resorted to time-honoured methods such as travelling across the world tree.

The thought amused Heimdall. It almost made him huff with mockery.

But he didn't have long to rejoice. The next moment he had to frown in confusion.

"Who exactly is your father?", Heimdall asked with suspicion.

That was the dark spot in the future that the god of foresight couldn't foresee. The young one's father.

Like a mystery that was not part of the future. Or possibly not even a part of these realms and therefore not a part of destiny.

Perhaps he literally was beyond fate's reach.

Uncertainly, the boy searched for an answer that would not push his ally away.

"He is...", he began, but had to think again.

"Not a warrior of fate.", a deep voice suddenly answered.

With one eyebrow raised and his arms crossed in front of his chest, Heimdall watched as the pile of stones rose into the air by magic and became a door of brilliant blue light.

Out of this light stepped a figure as tall as a giant.

For a moment, the god thought he was facing a real Jötnar.

But when he noticed the unusually pale skin with the bloody red tattoos, he knew that this was no creature from his world.

The smell of ashes danced through the air.

Pink eyes rose to eye the man who had appeared.

Silence.

Not a single thought filled the man's head. It was as if he refused to be irritated by anything. Even himself.

What a problematic thing for someone who had always relied on the gift of foresight to avoid risks and failure.

But Heimdall didn't let himself be irritated by the unknown.

"You...", he tilted his head. "What's going on in that empty head of yours?"

The stranger, a man of muscular build with a beard like a bear, let out a warning growl.

"Father.", Loki stepped between his father and the god he tried to form an alliance with. "He's with us."

Heimdall couldn't help but huff.

"I'm not.", he shrugged.

"Then who are you with?", the mistrusting voice of a woman asked.

A hint of surprise flashed across his face. Then a grin appeared. He laughed.

"Well, well, well...", Heimdall tilted his head to look past the giant. "If it isn't Queen Mistletoe herself. Long time no see. What was it like for you to betray my father? I want to learn."

With a pristine yet fierce expression in her eyes, Freya shook her head.

"You haven't changed, Heimdall.", she replied with her chin raised. As obnoxious as ever. "You are very much your father's son."

For some reason, that comment made him hiss with anger.

Gritting his teeth, he swallowed the urge to close his hands around her neck and squeeze the last shred of life from her eyes.

He needed all the support he could get.

Even if it was Freya.

By Ragnarok, his father would have chopped him into a thousand pieces if he had known who he was allying with.

"Freya, please.", Loki tried to calm the situation.

"Atreus.", the stranger said.

Heimdall frowned.

"Atreus?", he asked with one eyebrow raised. "Who is that supposed to be?"

"The boy, ya dickhead!", a grumpy voice answered as if it were a matter of fact.

Struck by confusion, the gods gaze wandered through the air.

He knew that voice. But there was no way that the owner was around.

He had been gifted with one of the worst cursed of them all. Not in all eternity would he ever be free again.

And yet.

Heimdall couldn't help but voice his suspicion.

"Mimir?", he asked as if he called for a ghost.

An annoyed sigh could be heard.

"Finally. And I thought you were supposed to know it all.", the voice mocked.

With an agreeing hum the father of the boy reached down to the back of his hip and pulled out a weirdly shaped ball.

Heimdall narrowed his eyes.

No, it wasn't a ball. It was a head.

Baffled and yet so unbelievably amused, the god couldn't help himself but let out a sound that was clearly mocking yet so close to a laugh.

"I can't believe it...", he mumbled and took a step towards the stranger without thinking. "I always wanted to cut your head off. But it seems someone was faster than me."

Annoyed, the head of Mimir, the smartest man in all of the nine realms, rolled his golden eyes.

"You're still a cunt, Heimdall.", Mimir said.

But Heimdall couldn't be irritated by such insists. He bathed in the amusement he had from seeing that old man dangling from another man's hip like a toy.

"Your insults always have been rather plain.", he said and shrugged. "But I assume you, as the smartest of all men, must see my use for your cause."

"Right.", the bearded stranger said. "Why would we trust you?"

"Careful Kratos.", Freya warned. "He's a snake in the grass. All he cares about is himself and Odin."

"Only myself.", Heimdall corrected. "Which is why I am willing to help you. Because the Allfather has something that belongs to me. Something I want back."