"What part of the giant wall screamed, come inside?" Heimdall's voice dripped with disdain, his face a mask of irritation as he tightened his grip on your arm. You dangled precariously at the top of the immense golden wall that you had somehow managed to scale, your feet barely scraping the edge in a desperate attempt to find footing. The biting cold of the wind whipped around you, but the chill of Heimdall's gaze felt far more unforgiving.

The Watchman of the Aesir stood above you, his tall frame casting an imposing shadow. His unusual purple eyes seemed to pierce through your very being, dissecting every inch of your mortal form with an intensity that made you want to squirm. There was no sympathy in those eyes—only annoyance and an underlying menace, as if he were deciding whether it would be more convenient to simply let you fall. His golden armor glimmered in the sunlight, contrasting sharply with the dark scowl on his face.

"Do you have any idea," he continued, his voice cold and dripping with condescension, "how incredibly foolish you are?" The weight of his words matched the weight of his grasp—strong, unyielding, and entirely devoid of warmth. He shook his head, a mocking smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You must be either very brave or very stupid to try and scale Asgard's wall. I’m leaning towards the latter."

He gave your arm a slight jerk, and your heart leaped into your throat as your body swung just a fraction over the edge. His expression didn't change—he was still as unamused and indifferent as ever, as if holding a person’s life in his hands was just another mundane chore.

"What exactly were you hoping to accomplish here, hmm?" he asked, his tone more curious now, though no less patronizing. He tilted his head slightly, golden hair catching the light, and narrowed his eyes as he studied you. "Did you think you could just walk into Asgard and... what? Demand an audience with Odin?" He scoffed, the sound low and derisive. "How laughable."