A/N: Almost to the "wedding." Almost!
Beta love: fluffpanda
Chapter 8: This is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
"I have a baby basilisk," sung Friðr.
"And he's green and black today!" answered George.
"He has his own cool sunglasses—"
"And he wears them every day!"
Hermione raised a brow as the twins took it upon themselves to sing themselves around the cottage in their excitement over the upcoming "wedding."
Loki kept trying to soothe her nerves, telling her that the wedding was still a long ways off. Ásgarðian weddings apparently took years to plan, and his mother had volunteered to do the majority of the work. Mix in the growing guest list of people, beings, creatures, gods, and aliens that were going to be invited, Hermione's mind was stuck in a state of perpetual panic to make up for all the years she had never had to worry about a wedding for herself in any regard.
She had helped Ginny a little with her wedding before Molly took the reins and drove off anyone who dared get in her way, so Ginny had thrown up her hands and let her, and Hermione had secretly, gratefully said a prayer of thanks to whatever gods were watching over her at the time.
When Hermione had taken a look at the long list of tasks Frigga was looking over for the wedding, her eyes practically rolled back into her head. It was far, far worse than anything the Malfoys could have come up with when Draco married Astoria. To be fair, however, Draco wasn't trying to create a guest list of entities that spanned universes either, not that the mental image of Draco trying to not offend a few hundred pantheons and a few hundred more species didn't amuse her greatly.
One species, apparently, despised colour, so the entire area had to be enchanted to appear in dull greys for them. Another species believed that no wedding was proper unless everything was dayglow orange, so it had to be enchanted to appear that way for them. Another required a large saltwater swimming area, another needed freshwater, a few species needed an area akin to the vacuum of space, and the list went and on.
Much to Hermione's relief, Frigga seemed to have it all in hand and even seemed quite excited over it. Hermione was harder to convince that excited was the right word to describe how she should be feeling. If anything, it was amusing to watch Odin stay out of the way of his wife's fussing, seemingly acknowledging that his wife was on a mission and he had no say whatsoever in it. All-Father? Yes. All-Mother he was not. Whether there was such a title, Hermione wasn't sure, but if there was one, Frigga was definitely the one most likely to wear it.
The twins, however, were excited at the opportunity to meet so many new people, and unlike their parents, fully wished to meet, greet, and hug everyone. It was probably for the best in Hermione's mind because she didn't really consider herself the budding socialite. The twins could charm the warts off a toad, and Hermione blamed Loki's silver tongue and a few thousand years of practice as reasons for her twin sons proclivity to charm and mischief.. naming them after Fred and George probably didn't help either.
Friðr and George, however, were loving sons, and they, much like their namesakes, always knew how to make dire situations more tolerable and bring a smile to the faces of those they cared about. Their tight bond to each other reminded her so much of the Weasley twins, and their loyalty to their family was even more the reminder. Not even to their eleventh year, they were highly intelligent, sensitive to magic, highly skilled in feats of distraction, and more than prepared for life at Hogwarts. They were so ready for Hogwarts that Hermione considered sending an anonymous letter to the Headmaster to warn them of what to expect— almost. A part of her secretly wanted to shapeshift an owl and watch the mischief they had tried and failed to pull on their parents work on the poor students and faculty of Hogwarts.
Fenrisúlfr dutifully guarded them like his own pups, and the feline-canine creatures actually kept them in line far more effectively than any babysitter she could have hired. Perhaps it was the fact the creatures had been around too long to have the wool pulled over their eyes by someone less than a decade old, but it wasn't that the twins didn't try. One of the first lessons they learned involving the shadowy creatures that flanked their parents at all times was that they couldn't trap them, mislead them, or bribe them to look the other way.
As if sensing her thinking of them, a few of the feline-canine creatures materialised around her, rubbing their wispy bodies against her with a soft purring growl. Black, tar-like drool dripped from their jaws and seemed to evaporate before hitting the ground. The moment they touched her, she felt shiver of pleasure and completeness and knew that they felt the same. It was no wonder to her that the creatures would do anything to keep such a bond, and it made her wonder what previous God would have cast them aside like second-hand tools. As much as she had once championed the House-elf rights even when the elves themselves basically told her they lived to serve, she had never truly believed it. She believed them brainwashed or victims of centuries-old Wizarding Stockholm Syndrome, but these creatures truly lived to serve. They hungered for it, craved to be useful, and experienced a sort of keening pain at the very thought of being abandoned.
The fact they had been abandoned once made them even more fanatical about reading her and Loki's every movement, mood, and need. They basked in their contentment, touch, and praise with the fervour of a cat in a sun-beam. She found she could no more deny them their desire than they could disobey her. At last, countless centuries later, Hermione Granger admitted that some creatures truly did live to serve. She was still on the fence about the House-elves, though.
Hermione was at least glad that the twins didn't take after her stubborn learning habits when it came to potty training. There were only so many points Severus could have docked from her for being an utter failure as a parent.
'I heard that,' Severus cawed into her mind.
Hermione chuckled, rubbing the raven under his chin and over his back, massaging his wings in just the way he adored being fussed over. Severus Snape the wizard may have had the fifty kilometer personal space rule, but Severus the raven was perfectly content to love up the attention. He rarely left her side, and often Severus would snuggle up between Loki and Hermione as they slept, nestled in their combined and intertwined hair.
"We really should come up with something to call these guys that is pronounceable without sounding like I've got a dragon stuck in my throat," Hermione mused, her hand sliding across one of the larger canine-felines that never went far from her side.
The twins had come up with all sorts of silly names to call them, and they called them something different every month. The shadow creatures showed no particular inclination to any of the names, and Hermione and Loki had speculated that in the time of their creation, they had no names but had instead a sense of identity which was their name. Names were a flash of insight, personality, or a trait mixed in with a visual or sound. It wasn't something you could easily translate into a traditional sense of a name. It was more.
On the list of names the twins had used ranged from shadowgats, Barghests (after the spirit dogs of England,) shadowlings, foglets, föregångare (which she blamed on their finding a book of interesting words,) pernoctis (again sneaking her Latin books out of library,) grimalkins, fenines, and all manner of names in between. One time they just made an odd barking sound as a name, and the next week it was a meow. Hermione supposed she could just let them perpetually make things up until it grew tiresome, but she honestly didn't believe her sons would ever grow tired of it. They couldn't, as much as they tried, say the creature's ancient growling name. They had spent hours one night pestering Loki to say the name over and over to no avail. Nothing they did could wrap their vocal chords around the strange snarling, growling, whisper that was their name. Both Friðr and George had complained bitterly that it wasn't fair that Hermione and Loki could say it and they couldn't. Loki had pointed out that life was hardly fair, and they could petition him to change his mind when they had lived as long as he had.
"But, father," Friðr had whined. "You'll always be older than us."
Loki's answering grin had been smug as well as proud that his sons already knew that there were some things they would likely never equal against their father, as much as they might try. They would continue to try, Hermione knew, doing honour to their namesakes with every breath.
Part of Hermione wondered if Molly had her hands full when the original twins were born. Molly never struck her as being one who couldn't handle her children, even children as frustrating and loveable as Fred and George. Considering she had Charlie, Bill, and Percy before them, the twins must have turned the house arse over tit as Sirius had been known to say. He had also been brained by Molly's frying pan shortly after saying "such things in front of the children." It was a miracle the man hadn't been brain-damaged.
'He was, believe me,' Severus quipped into her mind, causing Hermione to snort. She responded as always by cuddling the raven mercilessly, making him rawk and squirm in her arms before admitted defeat and cuddling under her chin.
A few of the shadow-creatures materialised and rubbed up against her, moving through her in a way that seemed far more intimate than a normal hug, yet part of her knew it was their way of reassuring themselves of their bond as well as reinforcing it. They did it to both she and Loki as often as they came and went. They did it the twins
"What am I going to call you, hrm?" she asked the larger of the group. He yawned toothily and took to grasping her hand in his mouth— a habit learned from their compatriot, Fenrisúlfr.
He placed his head over her belly and stared at her face, wiggling against her when she stopped petting his ears. She had the sense of identity from him which made up his sense of name. "You are Waghya," Hermione said softly, "named after one whose loyalty to Shivaji is legend, even when the story changes and shifts around the moral."
Waghya stared at her, wisps of smoke-like vapour flicked around his body.
The story of Waghya reminded Hermione of another dog known for his undying loyalty. Hachiko, the Akita who waited faithfully for his master to return to the train station every evening, kept his vigil long after his master's death. Hachi was the Japanese word for eight, which was considered lucky. Turn eight on its side and it became infinite. Hermione smiled. Perfect.
"Hachi it is then," Hermione mused.
'You named an entire ancient, primordial race of creatures eight?' Severus asked.
"Yes," Hermione snorted. "Have something to complain?"
The raven next to her head preened her hair by her ear. 'Oh, nothing.'
Hermione snickered, rubbing the raven under his chin. He puffed out his feathers in a sign of pleasure, making himself look like a puffball.
Giggles and laughter caused Hermione to lift her head and smile as her children chased Basil around the pool. The basilisk was leading them on a merry chase around the pool until Basil won the game by using Friðr as a sunning perch. The young basilisk curled himself up on Friðr's stomach as the boy lay on his back in the water. Despite showing no signs of being Parselmouths, the boys didn't seem to need it to communicate with the young serpent. She was fairly certain Basil was learning the Queen's English through constant exposure, which amused her.
Despite the fact that Basil's full grown size would undoubtedly be gargantuan and intimidating, he was still, at least, young and arguably portable for the moment. The time was soon coming when portable would be much harder without magical intervention. The invasive species population had been brought to its knees in Scotland in less than a year thanks to one hungry, growing, baby basilisk.
Despite their whining and pleading, Hermione sternly did not allow them to take Basil to show-and-tell during the first years of school pre-Hogwarts. The last thing she wanted was Muggles getting their first "show"of a real basilisk or, gods forbid, the Department of Regulation of Magical Creatures getting wind of it thanks to the plethora of cell-phone cameras that infested the world.
More preternatural creatures, mutants, superheroes, and villains had given up the entire anonymous identity because of the not so humble cell-phone camera. There were baby cams, nanny cams, spy-on-your-cheating-spouse cams, dash cams, spot-a-flying-superhero cams, and all sorts of hybrids in between. The date cam amused Hermione. If her parents had ever put one of those on her collar when she was going through her Second Wizarding War phase, they would probably have had a heart attack. Arguably, perhaps they should have. Maybe then they would have believed her when she told them she had Obliviated them to save their life. Privately, Hermione was glad that her formal armour obscured her from cameras, recordings, and other such annoyances as though she were the Loch Ness Monster or aliens come to earth to abduct cows. To be fair, she supposed, aliens were visiting earth quite frequently, but they weren't abducting cows.
Then again, as a parent herself, she realised that nothing ever prepared you for the ups and downs of seeing your child take their first fall or narrowly miss death for the first time. That first time was their narrowly missing getting bitten by a sleepy and utterly cranky, over-tired baby basilisk who wasn't in his right mind when the twins had thought it a great idea to just grab him and drag him off to the yard.
Ground rules had changed immediately after that. Basil slept in the parental bedroom when he wanted sleep, and even the twins knew better than to invade that particular space.
Basil was, perhaps thanks to both nature and nurture, a very pleasant serpent, and he had become quite the socialite in the family when he wasn't perched in the garden snatching sparrows out of the air. The almost envenomating her sons hadn't really been his fault, and he had managed to pull his strike just in time. Basil seemed to understand what a near miss that had been, and spend the next month refusing to uncoil from Hermione's neck lest his fangs get him into unforeseen trouble without his permission.
Hermione had insisted that the twins experience Muggle schooling for the first few years of their schooling career before they were old enough to go to Hogwarts. It was partially so they learned to be social with "normal" people and partially so they had something to balance all the magic and Ásgarðian lessons they had ingrained into their minds since they shot out of the womb. It was also partially so the twins learned proper English writing, basic grammar, legible handwriting, and enough mathematics to make Crabbe and Goyle's heads spin off back in the day. Countless horribly written essays had plagued Hermione's teaching career and Severus had a one-up story to match every horrible one she could remember. No child of hers was going to be "one of those wizards" who couldn't tell the difference between desert and dessert on parchment. Severus wasn't going to let the twins get away with lazy potioneering either. Come hell or high water, the twins would know potion basics before they even picked up a wand.
Thanks to the help of Dr Strange, his fellows, Frigga, and their parents, the twins had more than enough exposure to different kinds of magic, both with and without wands. Loki had agreed that it would be good that they learned magic the way she had back in the day to have a better respect for their roots. Hermione had rewarded him with special smile at his consideration.
Loki took to transporting the children to school every morning, and Hermione picked them up, porting to the outskirts of the nearby village and walking their children in like "normal" people. The both of them found a strange irony in how mundane and normal it seemed. Mr and Mrs Solberg even charmed the teachers during the inevitable parent-teacher conferences that plagued Muggle grade-school, though the teachers did question whether Friðr and George 'really had a wolf they called brother' back home. Loki smoothly explained that they were caretakers to an extensive wildlife preserve and that the twins believed quite a few 'animals' were their siblings.
The teachers had laughed, believing that the young measured their family in unique ways, and Hermione and Loki channeled a moment of mad eye-twinkling that would have made Albus Dumbledore proud.
Hermione was confident in that her children would not have the horrible problem with social skills that she had had her first year at Hogwarts, and she was very glad for that. It wasn't that she hadn't turned out okay in the end, but she would also prefer her children to not be fighting a war against a Dark Lord while growing up, either. Social skills seemed like a nice, obtainable goal.
Loki had confessed that the last thing he wanted was his children to have the social skills of Thor when he fell from Ásgarðr and met Jane Foster. After hearing the multiple embarrassing stories, Hermione tended to agree. Hermione had pointed out that he had, at least, met the love of his life at the time, so at least it wasn't a total failure.
"My first meeting with the great Jane Foster was unforgettable," Loki had confessed on one afternoon as the twins were trying to make a lemonade stand where all of various lemon and limeades were named after serpent venoms. They were entrepreneurially attempting to sell their wares to the passing Ásgarðians.
"Oh?" Hermione had answered, expecting, perhaps, an epic story.
"She stormed up to me and punched me in the face," Loki had replied.
Hermione's face had twisted into a grin. "You and Malfoy would have commiserated together."
"However do you mean?" Loki had asked, eyebrow lifting.
"I punched him in the face one year," Hermione had confessed.
"Did he try to subjugate an entire city?" Loki had asked, truly curious if he had been outdone by a teenage wizard.
"He was a lousy, arrogant, entitled git," Hermione had grunted a reply.
Loki's lips had pressed against her temple as he chuckled. "Did he deserve it?"
"Deserve what?"
"The punch to the face."
"Undoubtedly," Hermione had sighed.
Loki had grinned at her. "So too, had I, my Lady."
Hermione snorted as she recalled the conversation. There was a slithering sensation across her nose, and she opened her eyes to realise that Basil had retreated from playing twins to nestle in the shared space with Ouroboros and the nameless serpent from the ancient caverns. Why he had decided to use her face as a freeway, Hermione wasn't sure.
"Severus," Hermione mumbled drowsily. "How is it that I somehow ended up a snake magnet?"
The raven nestled against her head made a corvid version of a purr and yawned beakily into her ear. 'About time you saw the wisdom of the proper House,' he answered smugly.
Hermione snorted. "Even back in the day, even if had been sorted into Slytherin, had I come in speaking to snakes, I would have been branded a freak," she said sadly. She paused, realising something. "How do I—?"
'With all the things that have happened to you since Potter tried to take over the world with peace and Quidditch, you are going to quibble over how you can speak to snakes?' Severus rapped the bottom of his beak over her head a few times.
"Ow, I yield. I yield!" Hermione grabbed the raven and embraced him mercilessly, hugging the corvid and snuggling into his feathers.
Severus made a mental choking noise. 'Mercy! Abuse! Mad Witch Sorceress Goddess abuse!'
Hermione busted up with laughter and then flopped backwards against the grass. "I'm not sure how I'm going to handle a wedding."
Severus snorted, the sound making an odd sneeze coming from a raven's beak. 'Show up, say the words of choice, and eat cake.'
Hermione chuckled. 'Those are my words of wisdom, Severus?'
'With all that has happened, don't you think quibbling over a formality such as a wedding is a bit—' Severus trailed off.
"Late?" Hermione suggested.
'Anti-climactic?' Severus finished.
Hermione sighed, closing her eyes. Basil toothily chomped on her ear to get her attention, and she shifted her neck as to not pin him against the ground with her head. The other serpent from the centre of the world yawned in her opposing ear, serving as a strange living pillow for her head. "It's my first wedding, Severus," Hermione noted. "Give me a little slack for not knowing what to expect. What good is this vast accumulation of knowledge at my fingertips when I've never experienced it myself before?" Hermione tapped her head with her fingertip and sighed.
If a raven could raise an eyebrow, Severus was trying really hard to find out. "I doubt anyone born of Earth is truly ready for something as vast as what Frigga is arranging for you. In any lifetime."
Hermione grunted in agreement. "Knowing my luck, halfway during the ceremony, the next incumbent Dark Lord will rise from the wedding cake and try to subjugate the masses. There will be brawls, cake will be everywhere, mead will be overflowing, and it will all end with Thor passed out with the Warriors Three while I sit with Sif eating something unpronounceable in eight out of nine Realms."
"Don't forget me, min älskling," Loki chuckled as he appeared beside her, laying in the grass as though he had been there the entire time.
"Right," Hermione corrected. "You will be sitting atop the pile of bodies, polishing your rhetoric."
Loki's grin spread across his face. "I will be, indeed."
"Do you think your parents will be upset if I invite a few of the Goblin Nation to the wedding, Loki?" Hermione asked nervously.
"My dear," Loki said with a grunt. "You could invite the entire species of House-elves to our wedding and I'm sure mother would not mind."
"Oh, no, I couldn't," Hermione blurted. "They'd want to serve everyone, and I'd insist they enjoy themselves. They would want to serve everyone to be happy, and I'd—"
Severus clunked his beak against her head.
Loki pressed his index finger to her lips, pressing his fingertip to the notch under her nose. His shoulders quaked with silent laughter.
"I walked right into that didn't I?" Hermione let out her breath slowly.
"Mmhmm," Loki replied with a nod.
"Untold years later," Hermione breathed slowly, rubbing her space between the eyes, "and I'm still touchy about bloody House-elves."
"I blame your imprint of 'self' back when you were first being torn to pieces and remade," Loki said with a half grin.
Hermione rolled her eyes tiredly. "All my flaws."
Loki tilted his head and shook it at her, running his thumb against her cheek. "And your perfections… and the one thing that will keep many of those who attempt to decipher us guessing."
"What would that be?" Hermione asked curiously.
Loki's eyes bled into crimson as he descended upon her mouth with his. He pulled back with a soft, low growl that was so deep it vibrated against her lips. "We… evolve," he rumbled, his eyes looking deep within hers. "Chaos."
"Unto Order," Hermione answered.
"Rage," Loki whispered darkly.
"Unto Calm," she replied, tracing her index finger along the line of Loki's jaw. She gazed into his eyes with a warmth that spread over to his skin. "What am I going to do with you?" she asked softly.
"I could think of a few things," Loki commented, raising his brow suggestively.
'Marriage first, please,' Severus complained from her shoulder. Basil, in his utter cuteness, had wrapped himself around Severus in a serpent hug, resting his head over Severus'. He nodded his head decisively, his little red feather bobbing as if to punctuate.
Loki pressed his fingers to his throat, eyes widening. "Why ever for?" he gasped. His grin spread across his face. "It never stopped us before."
Hermione's face went crimson as it began to rain strangely bouncy avocados.
Loki smiled, holding out his hand to catch one of the falling avocados. "Miðgarðr should thank us, min älskling," he purred. "Look at all of the world hunger we solve just by being together."
The avocados were joined by Roma tomatoes, a smattering of garlic cloves, and an occasional lemon. Hermione was still blushing, crossing her arms in front of her body as if to shield herself from embarrassment. She lifted her head to watch the twins riding around on Fenrisúlfr as they had nets to gather the falling avocados, tomatoes, and random produce.
Loki's expression was mischievous. "Well, at least we won't be short guacamole for the reception," he said with a smug smile. "See? One less stress for mother to fret over."
Hermione repeatedly beat her head against his sternum.
Loki brushed her hair back from her face. "We are one until all the stars burn out, min älskling," he said softly. "You need not worry that once it is official that I turn the way of Zeus."
Hermione smiled somewhat sadly. "He turned himself into many different animals to charm his mortal paramours."
Loki's face darkened at the thought. "This is no marriage of obligation, beloved. It is not a fancy that will burn out when it ceases to be amusing. This is a marriage so others may know what we have already known," he said solemnly. "We are already one. We are already bound. Let the other beings of the Realms think what they will. Let them enjoy their fancies and hypocritical promises of loyalty. May they all cower in the heat and shadows of our fire."
Hermione pressed her head against his chest and smiled, feeling the bond between their magic thrum in response. It was no longer a matter of his magic or hers anymore. Their magic had known the truth long before their minds had accepted it. She had to confess to herself that Loki did have a way with words.
"Relax, min älskling," Loki purred. "It takes years to plan a wedding in Ásgarðr, and my mother will gleefully handle all of it just to keep All-Father out her hair for a few years."
"He wants nothing to do with it?" Hermione asked, eyebrow raised.
"Nay, my Lady," Loki said with a grin. "It is not because he doesn't like to meddle. He simply knows better than to mess with what Frigga wants at a time like this."
"Can they not compromise?" Hermione asked, aghast.
Loki shook his head. "The last time they 'compromised', I was married off to Sigyn against my will and Thor was cast out of Ásgarðr to learn 'humility'."
Hermione flinched. "Oh."
"It is the way of gods," Loki asked. "At least the ones of Ásgarðr."
Hermione touched her temple with her fingers. Surges of knowledge some often come and go. Insight that she didn't remember studying, but it would come to her more often now. She could run into a person on the street and know what sins they had committed, what hardships they had suffered, but also their more noble moments. She had thought that such things would make her more sympathetic to their plight, but it had done much the opposite. In knowing all that was to know about someone, she had become more impartial, less emotional, and an odd combination of compassionate and indifferent.
Loki had said it was the way of the divine and the reason that the most successful Gods and Goddesses had "chosen" across the many worlds. Such people, seen as visionaries, artists, or shamans in their native climate, served as a conduit to the divine eye and remember what it was like to live life as someone mortal and fleeting. There were many ancient deities spanning even more ancient places and people. Far more of them existed above the Æsir and Asynjur in the way that the Ásgarðr were above Miðgarðr and the other Realms.
Hermione and Loki had taken the next step in a mutual evolution and Ascended into Godhood. Unlike those who had been plucked from mortal stock and made into gods by Gaea to represent the best that humanity had to offer, Hermione and Loki had combined their essences together and become their own power. They owed nothing to another power as the foundation of their own. Death had, in its own way, given its blessing to the evolution by the bestowal of its Mark. The difference, however, between Loki and Hermione and many of the pantheons such as the Æsir and Asynjur was that Loki and Hermione's Domain was not anchored in the Realms. Their Domains, much like their ultimate Master, Death, was outside of time and space.
None of this, however, affected Hermione. Knowing an unnerving amount of information wasn't exactly new to her in any way. Her focus, at least for the time being, was the raising of the twins to be "as normal as possible." It was not to say she denied them their magic or their heritage, but she wanted them to live their life and be true to it. She wanted them to enjoy their childhood— something she had been denied in her first, mortal life.
Her greatest gift to her children would the freedom of choice. They could choose what life they wished to live: mortal, immortal of Ásgarðr, or something of their own making. Regardless of what it was they chose, she would strive to teach them enough to make an educated decision when the time came.
Choosing the path of wizard was hardly a horrible life. If they did choose the way of Iðunn's apples then it would be an unaging life until the time when they lost it to whatever hazards could kill one of the Ásgarðr. Mortals were given the gift of choose to come back in another life, but those that partook of Inðunn's apples chose the path of perpetual youth on the condition that if and when they died, their return could only be during Ragnarök— barring, of course, certain powerful and utterly random Chaos Magick that had somehow brought Frigga back to life. There were loopholes. None of them were easily reproduced, however. Chaos Magick was, well, chaotic for a reason.
Loki brought her out of her mental musings by attaching to her neck like a suckerfish on an algae-covered boulder.
Hermione groaned softly, hooking her around his hair and pulling him closer.
'If you are going to do quality snogging,' Severus quipped from her shoulder, 'I will go take the twins to see their Uncle Thor and set them loose them up on him while I watch the fireworks from a safe distance.'
Hermione flushed as Loki's mouth covered up her verbal protest. Severus launched off of her shoulder, carrying Basil with him to protect the young basilisk's delicate sensibilities. A surge of more embarrassment rose up inside her as Severus left her and Loki alone but was quickly forgotten as Loki gave her many more unrelated things to think about.
Some time later, the radio-chatter of many ships travelling the Atlantic were alive with panicked calls as their vessels crashed into the lost continent of Atlantis from various sides.
As the twins sat with their Uncles Thor and Severus under the watchful eye of Odin, Odin's throne was suddenly beset with the cutest Smilodon kittens in history. Both twins squealed with delight as they scooped one up each and cuddled them mercilessly.
Friðr eyed George. "Do you think this means we'll have a baby brother or sister soon?" Friðr asked.
George eyed the purple Smilodon kitten nearby who was sporting a pink mohawk. "Definitely a sister, brother."
Nearby, the sound of Severus smacking his wing to his face echoed over the sound of mewling baby Smilodon kittens.
Down on Miðgarðr, one happy Fenrisúlfr was rolling in the freshly fallen snow, his tail beating against the ground in amusement. Things just kept getting better!
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Thor landed off the Bifröst in a circular part of the garden that had come to be known as Thor's Hammer by the twins. They had commented on the sound the Bifröst made when it "set him down" or "carried him away" as akin to the sound of Mjölnir being smashed into something. Thor had found it amusing, so he didn't argue the point.
He stepped out of the circle and shaded his eyes. The sun was glistening off the drifts of snow. Heimdall had said that the Sleep had taken his brother and his mate, and it seemed he was correct as usual. The entire yard wasn't buried in snow, but the house and part of the yard was, making it appear as though an avalanche had taken the property by surprise.
Thor really didn't see his brother's slumber as much of a surprise after having dealt with the rising of the lost continent of Atlantis from his brother's last coupling with his mate. If there was any doubt to his brother's Domain of both Chaos and Mischief, spending half a year trying to soothe out the territorial disputes and diplomacy of a once sunken, risen civilization had brought on uncontested measures of both chaos and mischief.
It had taken every bit of smooth talking and his influence as one of the few Gods the Atlantian people remembered positively to keep Atlantis from making war on other countries due to their "exploitation of the sea's bounty" and "pollution of Gaea's living waters." Why Thor? Thor was one of the few gods that actively took an interest in Miðgarðian affairs and was known by various nations as being "actively benevolent." Loki, despite his silver tongue, was not a God known for his helpfulness, and Thor knew better than to ask him to 'behave.' The end result of the entire mess was frantic scrambling by various nations to literally clean up their acts involving the ocean before Atlantis took their rage out on the planet and sunk the other continents in their fury.
Arguably, the oceans hadn't been healthier in Ages, and the endangered sea turtles were making a comeback, but Thor had to wonder if there would have been an easier method to accomplish that which didn't involve a newly arisen Lost Continent threatening to blow your "archaic excuse for a civilization" off the planet.
Having solved that particular disaster waiting to happen, Thor was glad that the humans had chosen proper ambassadors and were now communicating with Atlantis instead of plotting ways to sink it back into the ocean. It left him free to iron out problems in the other Realms and take a little time to check in on his nephews.
The first thing Thor noticed was that the yard was quiet, and for a house typically occupied with children, it was not a comforting realisation. Silence may be golden, but it usually meant trouble.
He scanned the yard visually for signs of life, but nothing, save the small garden birds, seemed to be gracing the yard with their activity. He decided to check the kitchen table for a letter. Lady Hermione had always been good about leaving notes when the children were off staying at school friend's houses and the like. She mentioned something about "adjusting the wards for him" and "making sure the doors knew him" but Thor really had no clue what she meant by that. Magic was never his forté. That had always been Loki's shared passion with his mother.
Thor came to the front door and closed his eyes. He traced his name in runes on the door, and there was a flush of warmth and the door opened. Sighing with relief, he walked in. It wasn't so long ago that the twins had told him he had to trace the entire phrase "Thor and Lady Sif sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G," thanks to the two aggravatingly young mischief makers. He'd ended up breaking down the door with Mjölnir and part of the wall to get in keep the twins from setting the cottage on fire and owing Lady Hermione and his brother a new door and wall.
They had made him fix the wall, doorframe, and set the new door all before dinner. Lady Hermione had, after that, keyed him personally to the wards with his own energy pattern or some sort of thing that made much more sense when he was drunk. He found himself exceedingly happy that the door opened for him without some sort of embarrassing passphrase.
He remained so for about ten seconds before the sensation of being squeezed to death overcame him and all he could see was the sliding of many dark scales in front of his face. All he could think of was it was a little early for his confrontation with Jörmungandr during Ragnarök as his arms were pinned against him, and his head smashed into the previously abused, rebuilt, and re-abused doorframe.
If he was lucky, Jörmungandr would kill him before swallowing him. He really didn't want to live it down that he'd been taken out by a snake.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Thor awoke with a groan, his hand going to his head just before he frantically grasped for Mjölnir. The magical hammer was still attached to his belt, his bones were not, as he expected, crushed into pieces, and as far as he could tell he had not be bitten by a giant Miðgarðr serpent with a grudge.
Jörmungandr and Thor hadn't separated on the best of terms. Thor had watched as his father had cast the then baby serpent into the seas around Miðgarðr. Jörmungandr, much like Tyr and Fenrisúlfr, were fated to have at each other during Ragnarök. There had been a time when the serpent had been a trusting sort, much like Fenrisúlfr. It had not lasted. Odin's determination to stave off Ragnarök had only made so many things worse. Fenrisúlfr trusted no Æsir after their betrayal, and Jörmungandr's hatred of Thor was met only by his OCD of encircling Miðgarðr.
Why did Jörmungandr hate Thor so spitefully? Thor had been the one to bring the drowsy serpent to his father. Thor had not know, then, what Odin planned for Jörmungandr, and at the time, the two were at peace. Odin had bound the serpent with his power and cast him off Ásgarðr into the seas below. Jörmungandr had hated Thor ever since. There were times when Thor flew too close over the Miðgarðr sea, and the serpent's giant coils would writhe out of the water as if to seek him and drag him under.
Thor found himself half submerged in the water of the family pool. He was soaking wet, and his skin was wrinkled as though he had been sitting in a tub for too long. Twin giggles came from nearby, and Thor looked up to see Friðr and George sliding down the body of a giant snake into the pool. They used the giant serpent's body as a slide; water trickled down the snake's scales and glistened in the sun with iridescent hues.
"Basil!" George whined, tugging on the giant snake's head. "Move over a little so the water runs down your back all the way… that's it! Thanks, Basil!"
Thor rubbed his head as the giant snake moved over, allowing the rush of water across his back. The two boys climbed up the snake's body up to his head, and then used him as a water slide down into the pool. The snake's giant coils took up the bottom of the pool, and the rest of him lay encircling the pool like a custom snake-shaped sandbar.
Thor watched as "Basil" yawned, showing a number of dagger-like fangs, and lazily watched the two boys as they clambered over him and then slid back down his scales. Nearby, Fenrisúlfr watched the antics with a soft beat of his tail.
Something moved across his body, and Thor found himself being dragged into the water and dunked under the water. He sputtered and gasped as the coils moved over him, dunking him a few times, and then releasing him to sputter and swim to the side of the pool and pull himself free.
"Hi, Uncle!" Friðr exclaimed as he splashed down beside him.
"I take it you two had to do with my braining myself on your front door?" Thor said darkly.
Friðr smiled at him disarmingly. "We just wanted you to meet Basil!"
Thor looked at the huge serpent encircling the pool and shook his head. "Is that a… basilisk?"
"Yup!" Friðr replied happily. "He has sun-glasses to keep him from killing people."
There was a snapping sound as Basil snapped a bird out of the air and resettled.
"Have others seen him?" Thor asked.
Friðr shook his head. "Not many people. He normally stays around mum's neck when there is company. She charmed one of his scales so he can always shrink down and be more portable."
"How is it I've never seen," he said, pausing, "him before?"
"Basil is a him!" George said as he landed next to them in the water with a splash. "He's got this feather crest on his head. See it? The red feather? That's his badge of maleness."
"Badge of… maleness?"
The twins shook their heads in tandem. "He's really good at hiding in mum's hair."
Thor was still stuck on the "badge of maleness" in his head. Loki didn't seem like the type to teach his kids that sort of thing. Lady Hermione definitely wasn't. Maybe they had odd friends and equally odd expressions?
Thor shook his head. Somethings were better off not pondered long or too closely. He scratched his head idly and watched the twins continue climbing up Basil and sliding down his back. Why didn't he and Loki have giant living water slides as children? That hardly seemed fair.
A shadow slipped in and out of view, solidifying in front of him. The Hachi seemed to be evaluating him. It looked younger in build than the others. The blackness wasn't quite so solid. The shape was more gangly, reminding him more of a half-grown hunting hound from his father's prized collection.
Loki had told him that age was sort of a strange concept for a race such as the shadowy Hachi, but Thor sensed that this one was more youthful in spirit. As if to confirm his suspicion, the Hachi opened his jaws and dropped a small orange ball. The ball rolled up to his foot and stopped.
Thor picked up the ball and the Hachi dropped down onto its forelegs in a play bow. He threw the ball, sending it soaring into the air and into the distance.
The "pup" vaporized with a woof.
A few minutes later, the pup returned. The ball dropped to the ground and rolled into his boot again.
Thor chuckled, picked up the ball, and threw it again. Again, the pup vanished into thin air.
Thor continued to watch the children play, auto-piloting as he threw the ball every few minutes when the pup returned. After about an hour of it, he threw the ball into a different direction, and the pup vanished after it.
Thor frowned when he realised the pup hadn't returned after a few minutes. Maybe it got stuck in a tree?
Thor made himself comfortable in one of the pool-side reclining chairs, content to watch his nephews having fun, trying to quell the pang of sadness that his ball-fetching friend had run off.
He was just settling into a comfortable half-doze when there was a sound of wind rushing and the crushing of metal mixed with human screams.
Thor bolted out of the chair, practically flinging it into the pool as a blue Daihatsu Terios fell to the ground so hard it practically bounced. Two screaming adults were losing their heads in the front seats. A young child, perhaps four or five in human years, squealed in excitement and dropped a small orange ball.
The ball hit the ground and rolled until it came to a stop at Thor's boot.
The young Hachi materialised nearby and woofed, ready to play again.
Thor closed his eyes briefly and pointed his finger at the Hachi pup. "You are a very bad… dog...creature."
The Hachi looked at him innocently and licked his fingertips.
The two unexpected visitors continued to lose their marbles, and their child squealed, "ball!" The child reached his arms out the window, looking as though he was going to crawl out of it.
Friðr and George came running up. "Do we have guests for dinner, Uncle?" they asked excitedly. Friðr tucked the recently portable-sized basilisk into his wet hair to hide him.
Thor rubbed the area between his eyes with resignation. This was why they couldn't have nice things.
