Heimdall’s skin had begun to burn from the ice that encased him. His muscles screamed from being stretched in the same position for so long. His eyes were turned to Midgard still, watching the battle against the Destroyer rage on. Sif and the Warriors Three had successfully sidelined Thor, which did wonders for Heimdall’s blood pressure. Still, anxiety made his stomach turn and hands shake even under the ice. The Destroyer was a formidable foe, and it seemed the Warriors were losing the fight.
Heimdall struggled against his confines. The ice was melting painfully slow. He didn’t yet have the strength to break free. If he could just get out, he could stop Loki from controlling the Destroyer, and he could save them.
As it was, he was stuck.
Back on Midgard, Sif launched herself through the air and landed with a thud on the shoulders of the Destroyer. She drove her spear through the metal beast’s face and smirked as though she’d won. Heimdall had seen that move before, and just as he suspected, the Destroyer turned its body around to face her. He strained and twisted what he could. She needed to move—
Sif scrambled away from the Destroyer, only to be knocked into a crushed car on the street. Heimdall watched her chest rise and fall and breathed a sigh of relief. The Warriors Three rushed to her side, but the Destroyer caught them in a beam of light, sending them all flying in different directions. On all fours, Sif inched her way behind a different car. Across the street, the Destroyer blew up the diner the men had ducked into. Volstagg caught the brunt of the explosion and landed on a bench a few yards away.
Heimdall’s eyes widened in horror, and his stomach fell to his feet. Thor, a very mortal Thor, charged into the fray and dropped beside Sif. He tearfully begged her to leave the fight and get to safety. Heimdall sighed as she agreed; Thor was the only person who’d ever been able to talk sense into her and now that ability of his was going to get him killed. Sif and Thor made their way to Volstagg’s side, where Hogun and Fandral were helping him stand.
“Do not worry, my friends,” Thor lied, “I have a plan.”
Sif and the others didn’t catch it, but the look of panic on Thor’s face as they turned away would be burned into Heimdall’s mind forever. He pushed himself forward now, hoping even to fall and shatter the ice on impact. It didn’t move so much as an inch. Heimdall’s heart raced. In all his years of watching, he’d born witness to countless tragedies. Most he couldn’t change. The ones he could, he did. Now, it seemed he’d be forced to stand by and watch it all unfold. Perhaps that was why Loki chose to trap rather than kill him.
Sif’s shield slipped from Thor’s grasp and clattered on the ground. There was a grim acceptance on his face as he took his first step towards the Destroyer. Heimdall’s eyes burned with frustrated tears. He couldn’t, he couldn’t, stand by and watch Thor march to his death. He strained against the ice so hard his muscles burned.
Thor was talking, now, but Heimdall could barely hear him over the sounds of his efforts. He sounded defeated, desperate. He was apologizing. Heimdall blinked back tears. After everything, Thor was apologizing. Heimdall didn’t know whether to be proud or pissed.
“Taking their lives will gain you nothing…”
No, was all Heimdall could think. All the fight left his body. Sickening as it was, he couldn’t look away.
“...so take mine, and end this.”
A single tear rolled down Heimdall’s cheek, and it froze there in the cold air of his prison. The Destroyer stilled, its fire dying in its chest. Thor’s smile was brief. Heimdall wanted to scream. Run, you big-hearted fool.
The next moment passed in slow motion. The Destroyer turned as though to leave, then swung around with its trunk-like arm and slammed into Thor’s oh-so mortal body. Heimdall could hear the cracking of Thor’s ribs so vividly he almost felt it, too. Thor soared through the air in an ungraceful arc and hit the unforgiving asphalt with a sickening thud.
Thor gasped for breath as blood filled his lungs. The mortal woman, Jane, fell to her knees at his side. Heimdall found a small comfort in knowing Thor wouldn’t pass into Valhalla alone. Jane brushed the back of her fingers against Thor’s cheek as tears spilled from both of their eyes. There was light in Thor’s eyes right up until the end, when he took one last shaky breath.
Heimdall’s body sagged into the ice. The burn of the cold was long forgotten; grief kept his core ablaze. Thor was dead. The golden prince of Asgard, but more importantly, the boy Heimdall had taught about the stars. Those wonder-filled blue eyes were now shut forever.
For one of few times in his life, Heimdall shut his eyes against the sights before him. If asked, he’d lie and say it was out of respect for the dead, but the truth was he couldn’t stand the sight of Thor’s broken body anymore. All he saw when he looked at him was the little boy that sat on his knee and begged him for stories about the distant realms. It was too much to bear.
Time dragged on like a dog with a broken leg. The ice around him melted still, soaking his skin and hair and clothes. Heimdall should’ve cared. He should have stood up straight and broken free of the ice and destroyed the Jotuns that stood guard beside him, but his heart and limbs were heavy, so he stayed.
He forced himself to look again to New Mexico and what he saw sent his helmet-clad head shooting up so hard that he saw stars mingled with Thor, alive and breathing, with Mjolnir in hand. A grin swept across his face. He chuckled so hard his chest hurt.
With renewed strength, Heimdall struggled against the ice once more. Thor would need a way home, and he’d be damned if he left him stranded again.