It was barely light out and the city still slept as Raf climbed the fire escape to the top of the old apartment building. Only a handful of windows spilled out light. At each one, Raf hesitated and hugged the lingering shadows for a moment. His insistence to remain hidden was only performance, not many would even care if they spotted him. Habits of avoiding the notice of mortals unless on his own terms hadn’t left him yet. 

His worn leather jacket and gloves hugged his joints with each move. The worn material reminded him of the age his body didn’t show. The stitched symbols of the triple horn on the back of one glove and the interlocking valknut on the other were faded blue but still intact. They stood the test of time that his travels put them through and were a barrier between him and the world. Doing these things the mundane way meant he could redirect what was left of his power to what mattered.

He paused at the last flight of stairs and pulled out his pocket watch. 7:25. He worried they might not come today, but if they did it would be soon.

Raf knew what it all felt like without the leather. How the rusting metal of that final ladder to the roof could stain his palms off-orange. How the wind would catch the sleeves of his shirt and chill his bare skin. How the talons would feel and pierce into his forearm as the ravens landed. The leather kept Raf from it all. A new barrier from the world he hadn’t always wanted.

The metal ladder shifted under his weight. The wind greeted him with a gust, no longer blocked by the other buildings. Raf took a moment to stand with his eyes closed, taking in the sensations of it all. His shoulders relaxed for the first time since he’d been back in the city. Tight fists relaxed at his side and loose, long hair was blown out of his face. The leather kept him from the biting cold of this height, but the wind still chilled his face. When the air was free like this, he felt the familiarity of a time before the monoliths of civilization.

A feeling in the back of his mind made him open his eyes. On the horizon, a flash of black caught Raf’s eye. He let out a sharp whistle to get Hugin’s attention. The form dived down toward him and he held out his protected arm for the raven’s arrival. Raf waited, knowing the bird would circle once or twice before heading down. The wind was strong today, good for gliding in. If Raf could have been up there with Hugin, he would have.

A deep croak carried down to Raf as Hugin swooped low. They passed right over their master’s head playfully before the bird’s talons gripped the leather for stability in their landing. Hugin ruffled their feathers slightly as they settled in. “Good to see you, Hugin.”

“And you, Hrafnáss.” The tone of Hugin’s voice matched the croak, deep and rough. 

Raf left out a half-hearted scoff. “Enough with that name, we’ve talked about this.”

“Raf.” Somehow the raven had no trouble sounding judgemental.

Despite himself, Raf couldn’t stop the smile that ghosted his features. “Thank you. It’s been too long.”

“There’s much more to observe now. More to learn and more trouble to avoid.”

Raf grabbed a handful of dried, sliced plums from his pocket. “I know. I can feel it. You do well.” As soon as the fruit was out, Hugin reached forward to grab it. Their straining neck and shifting feet that attempted to stay balanced made the man laugh. “Always so impatient. Here. Here. Watch your footing, you silly bird.”

Hugin let out a croak of protest but took the fruit. They held a slice in one claw and kept the other firmly on Raf’s arm. “Don’t move so much, then.”

Raf’s eyes wandered back to the sky as the raven snacked. “Do you think Munin will return today?” The concern in his voice wasn’t hidden. It had been centuries since Raf had attempted to keep an uncaring facade. Both ravens knew they were one of the few things he still held onto. Both could feel the power he challenged toward them for their forms to remain intelligent.

“You’ve always worried too much for Munin. They always come back. We both do,” Raf said between bites. “There’s another war in the deserts south of the homeland. Those across the great ocean are involved again.”

“There’s plenty more to learn outside of the conflict, so much of that is all the same. Tell me more.”

“The sciences continue to develop. Some even pursue it without the lure of Njǫrd and his riches. Those across the great ocean aren’t the best example of that but the youngers have much potential.”

“They have a passionate spirit for sure. What other good news do you have?”

“Love still carries on and it fights strongly against shame now. Lady Freya does well. We still see her in her falcon form occasionally.”

“She can still take that form?” Raf was surprised. His own abilities had died down as time wore on. It was enough for him to have the ravens and know that the great hall still gathered those for the final battle.

“What of you?”

“Hugin.” It was a warning, but the raven paid it no mind. They spoke freely to each other after all this time.

“You stopped using the sight over a century ago. You always meet Munin and I in Midgard. What about you, Hrafnáss?”

“I’m fine. There’s still followers out there, though the times of the Berserkers have long passed. I have no trouble staying here in Midgard knowing the halls of Valhalla still stand strong. I don’t have to tell you not to doubt my capabilities to maintain all of this. All is well, just different now than it used to be.”

Hugin tore at the fruit without a word, staring down the old god. Raf waited, knowing the raven would share their thoughts eventually. “You’d tell us if things weren’t?” There was more to the question that didn’t need to be said. Raf was known to be a fierce protector and carry the burden for others, even now this was no different. Would he be able to back down should his power fall to the point where he couldn’t survive if he continued?

Raf smiled, reaching up and petting Hugin’s back. The raven shook his wings to adjust his position but hummed at the attention. “I’m not going anywhere. Times have changed but we’re not gone. We’re just different. The Valkyrie no longer ride horseback but they still go into battle, taking those meant for the final fight. Valhalla still goes strong, training still happens through every day and feasts fill the nights. I don’t have to be there for it to carry on.”

“And Ragnarök?”

There was a moment of silence between the pair at the age-old question. The battle at the end of worlds was inevitable. A matter of when rather than if. Gods would die and not return. Asgard would fall. All things push to the end, yet time doesn’t just move in one direction. “We know how it will end, but it hasn’t happened for us yet.” Raf paused, having a slice of plum for himself now. “I’m in no rush to face it.”

Once Ragnarök was an eagerly awaited event for Raf. Now, with the violence he saw everyday on Midgard alone, he wouldn’t attempt to change it, but he won’t run headfirst for it anymore. His own end was waiting for him there. The end of those he’d known his entire existence would fall alongside him. Valkyrie who had dedicated their all to him would join and face death.

Another black flash of movement drew Raf’s attention to the sky again. Munin had come. “Told you. You worry too much,” Hugin said.

Raf smiled, at ease now that both were back with him. “You might be right.” He shifted Hugin to his shoulder as he waited for the other raven to join them.

Munin landed gracefully on his free shoulder, cocking their head. “You both think far too much without my company.” Always so straight to the point. Their steady gaze flicked between their fellow raven and the god. 

Hugin grumbled. “Not all of us are concerned so heavily with the past, Munin.”

“Don’t scoff at memories so quickly. They’re what shape your thoughts.” 

Raf sensed the old familial rivalry between the pair was only getting started. A sliced plum in both of their faces made them pause enough for a chance to speak. “And memories without thoughts are like ripples through a body of water, lost far too quickly. You both know the value of the other.”

Munin only hummed in acknowledgement as they ate while Hugin sighed. “Old Harfnáss always quick to share the wisdom.”

“It’s just Raf.” The old god and Munin spoke in sync. Hugin glared at them before the croak of a laugh broke the tension. The kindred spirits tied together through power stayed on the rooftop as the sun began to rise and the city came to life. Munin had plenty more news to share and Hugin was quick to chime in when they had more to add. Under the heat of the sun, Raf gradually took off the leather. First just the gloves and after the ravens settled on the ground nearby instead of his shoulders, the jacket followed.