A/N: I tried for humor and got…this. Seriously? I should stay away from attempts at humor if this is the result.

Anyways, sorry for the delay. Enjoy.


Heimdall found his attention waning as he watched the fallen prince of Asgard craft and weave the same meticulous spells again and again. As far as he could discern, Loki was carving out a pocket of habitable land on a planet that played host to none save the fire and rock and darkness that made up its surface. To what purpose, he could not tell. All that he understood of Loki's situation was that the spells were delicate and required enormous concentration.

Again, he found himself being drawn back to Sigyn as she adjusted to life on Midgard. Time had passed since she had arrived among Thor's human friends. How much, he was not certain, but it had been enough time that she was beginning to show signs of frustration as she eased into a routine among the humans. Though her body had steadily recovered from her ordeal, he had yet to see her display any signs of the innate magic that she had been so fond of during her time amongst the Aseir. Several times, he had witnessed her make a casual gesture and seen the frustration that tensed her body. He couldn't hear what she said to the human, Anthony Stark, during those times the man witnessed such gestures, but he could gather from her animated gesticulations that she was trying to explain what she had attempted to do.

Save for the most basic of protections and healing spells, her magic was absent from her.


The sun was just starting to filter through the floor length windows as Sigyn found herself pulling dishes from the familiar cupboards yet again. Breakfast was probably her favorite meal of the day with the other Avengers as they wandered from their bedrooms, still a little sleep hazed, to pick over what she had made. Over the five days she had been with them, they had developed their own little pattern. In the mornings, Clint and Natasha would come out together, pick up the egg sandwiches she made for them, and then disappear into the living room to watch the news. Clint still regarded her with suspicion, but it was Natasha's hostile glances that had truly lost their edge. Steve would be up long before them, but he would find his way to the kitchen from the direction of the elevator-Jarvis had tried to convince her it was safe, but she still preferred the stairs and shuddered when Steve was spit out from the sliding mouth-likely having just finished with his morning workout. He was rather fond of the way that she made "French toast" and she was more than pleased to supply him with a third helping as he leaned against the counter and told her about the "modern world and all its differences" from the time he remembered. She could almost understand the wistful tone his voice took when he was reminiscing. Thor, bless him, was unintelligible until he'd consumed three cups of coffee, six poptarts, and a small mountain of eggs, toast, ham, and sausage. It reminded her a little of Asgard and made her remember days that had been less painful and almost fond in the distance of memory. Anthony was almost the same, but since she had come to be among them he had only made it to breakfast once more since the first morning. She was almost certain he ate the food she left for him in the refrigerator, but she had a sneaking suspicion that Thor had devoured the plate she had made for the scientist the day before.

They were an odd group, but they functioned together like a strange kind of family and she couldn't help but feel at least a little fond of the warriors that also served as her jailors. At the very least, she could say they had not attempted to kill her more than once since moving in. That, in her opinion, put them miles above the guards, nobles, and servants that had served Odin.

That day, however, found her mood soured and the preparing of the food a silent ordeal. Jarvis must have noted the lack of her usual humming when he asked, "Is there something amiss, Ms. Sigyn?"

She looked up at the ceiling as she set aside the food to wash her hands. Drying them, she chose her words carefully. The nightmares were not something that she had ever really spoken of, not even to Loki. "Old scars," she said noncommittally.

"Of course," Jarvis returned and said nothing more.

Silence stretched as she fell into the familiar routine of mixing the eggs and the batter for the pancakes. For once, Jarvis didn't make suggestions in the spices or the measurements of the vegetables to be added at any point during the cooking. That only made it worse as the images seeped into the waking moments.

The blackness of never ending night. The lonely howl and shuddering form of the giant wolf. A beacon of white against the darkness that drew her, always drew her.

Her heart jumped at the memory, but it wasn't the Abyss for which she had been trapped in. These were older and so much more painful. She breathed, in and out, the old pattern to control her reactions. Done with the pancake batter, she poured four circles of the mix into the pan and set the bowl aside in favor of a spatula. If her grip was tighter than usual and bent fingerprints into the metal handle, Jarvis was kind enough not to say anything. Taking another breath, she asked, "Jarvis, will you do me a favor? It's nothing to do with your Anthony."

"If it is within my capabilities, certainly," Jarvis answered after a moment.

"Can you tell me what you and your people know about the wolf, Fenrir?" she asked.

There was another of those silences she assumed meant that Jarvis was thinking the request through. Then, "Is there a particular reason that you wish this information?" and she could have laughed.

"Always, but I wish to know what knowledge you and yours have on this particular son of mine," she said, easing her fingers from the metal as she watched the cooking of the batter.

"Your son, Ms. Sigyn?" Jarvis asked with a note of incredulity coloring his tone.

The corners of her mouth twitched up in a smile and the vestiges of the nightmares eased back a little more. "He's classified as Loki's son, then?"

"Shall I reclassify him as a child of you both, then?"

"No, but Loki is not Fenrir's father. The only children I ever had with my husband were Vali and Narvi. Fenrir and Hela are my children alone. Their…sires…are of no consequence beyond the knowledge that they are…dead…and never going to be reborn in any form," she said even as pain blossomed in her heart at the mention of her children. "Changing the mentions of who was born to whom will only confuse your people. It is better to leave them as they are."

"Would you like the myths we have concerning both of your children, then?" Jarvis asked.

She looked up, startled, and tried not sound hopeful when she asked, voice cracking, "You have myths on Hel as well as Fenrir?"


It had been a long two weeks, Pepper decided, but well worth the strain of dealing with fat, spoiled adults used to getting their way. The Arc Reactor project was progressing well and was making slow, steady progress towards convincing other companies to switch from electricity to Arc power. Hammer had been the easiest and, despite the history the man had of attempting to pirate Tony's technology, he had signed an agreement explicitly detailing what he could and could not do with the technology they had sold him. Failure to comply would result in a lawsuit and at least ten years more in jail for him.

She was in a fairly good mood when Happy dropped her in front of the Tower, so she was surprised when Jarvis greeted her with, "Welcome home, Ms. Potts. You may wish to avoid the thirty-sixth floor until this evening due to the activity of the other occupants."

"Other occupants?" she asked sharply.

"Have you not received any of the notices that were sent to you over the last week?" Jarvis inquired.

"Weekly maintenance would not explain why there are other occupants," she said, entering the lift and pressing the button for the thirty-sixth floor.

"I strongly advise against that, Ms. Potts," Jarvis said and the light for the button flicked off. "Reports were sent the moment that each occupant was moved in. It was a necessary security measure when-"

"Has Tony blown anything up, gotten drunk and hit on another ambassador's wife, or caused an international incident?" she sighed, resisting the urge to bury her face in her hands. Really, could she not leave her fiancé alone for two weeks without worrying about him being overly eccentric? Jarvis was silent for so long that she began to list off the things that Tony could have done that would have been worse than an international incident…again.

"The Avengers, save Dr. Banner, have moved into the Tower as part of a security measure to determine the threat level of the Asgardian, Sigyn," Jarvis said carefully. "Thus far she has proven to be cooperative to the rules lain out for her and unthreatening in her actions and intentions towards the other occupants of the Tower."

An intergalactic nightmare, then. She categorized that under the New, must determine consequences of later list right before she asked, "And why can I not go to the top floor?"

"Because your presence has not been announced and I am uncertain of what her reaction to you would be," Jarvis said. "Currently, the body language she is exhibiting suggests that she would react adversely to any change in the routine that has been established over this last week. I have also alerted the other Avengers that it would be wise to be cautious around her."

Pepper was quiet for a moment as she absorbed it all. "Relate to me everything that you understand about this woman, Jarvis. Start with how she came to be here."


Sigyn stared at the windows that had been so recently installed. Their installation had been fascinating and the questions they had elicited from her had been enough to amuse even the hardiest construction worker, but those memories were far from her mind in that moment. In her hands she held a tablet that she absently ran a thumb over time and again. Behind her, the preparations for breakfast had been abandoned with the pancakes half burned on one side before Jarvis switched the stove off and the egg mix slowly separating into milk and yolk again.

She sat at the table and continued to stare out the windows to gaze upon the recovering city. The sunlight caught and reflected off the glass panes of buildings that strived to surpass Stark Tower in height and never quite reached that goal. Her eyes glanced over the tapered edges that smoothed into windows and roofs, but she didn't see them…not really.

Her mind took her back to the nightmares that had woven their way through her dreams the previous night. The darkness and distorted shapes, sensations, and gnawing hunger. The flick of a tail not quite hers and the knowledge that something was missing, out of place, where he could no longer find it. Real, but not.

There was a sound behind her, the scuff of a boot against the tiling and the edges of her lips curved up slightly. Clint. It had to be. She knew him to be a silent walker, the soles of his feet barely seeming to touch the ground. Even his Natasha was hard pressed to match his silence. That he was making his movements known meant that he was treading carefully around her for all her change in routine.

She didn't turn to him, didn't need to see him to know that he was standing near the hallway where he would encounter the least threats and quite possibly have his Natasha at his back. He was an assassin with a mark he was uncertain of, but-and her thoughts fractured again-maybe he was the only one within the Tower that would understand. Thor, for all his power with lightning, had never been held within the thrall of a spell. Clint had not only been held but had also been taken over by the magic of another.

"The first cardinal rule of magic is that what has been done can never be undone," she said softly.

There was the slightest pause between the ending of her words and the beginning of his. "Makes sense," he said gruffly. "Kinda like writing in that sense. Once the ink meets paper, it can only fade."

Sigyn looked down at the tablet in her hands and smiled bitterly. Reflected on the screen was an old drawing of a giant, white wolf whose form was slightly hunched and whose eyes seemed to glint with madness. She ran a thumb over the muzzle of the wolf and tried not to shiver at the sense-memory of what the actual fur had felt like beneath her hands. "A form taken is a form given, but with it is also given the mind of the creature. Few can resist the instincts of a new body, whatever the species."

Her gaze found his then and she felt her throat tighten when she saw only comprehension. He looked away first and cleared his throat before saying, "Stark wanted to know if you were going to start destroying the room and asked that you at least inform him what you were going to break so he could put in an order for replacement items. Thor and Steve wanted you to know that while they appreciate you making them breakfast, they don't mind getting their own food. Nat…and I…just wanted to add that…the coffee maker is off limits for tantrums."

He forced out the last of the words so quickly she almost didn't understand him. Her lips twitched into the semblance of a real smile as she chuckled weakly. "Never fear, Hawk, the coffee maker shall remain in its sacred station free of all destruction," she said and he snorted. She cleared the picture from the screen and set the tablet aside. "Would you be so kind as to let the others know that breakfast will be a little delayed?"

When he had retreated, she took a whisk and the egg mix in hand. While she stirred the mixture back into some semblance of a batter, she asked, "Jarvis?"

"Here, as always, Ms. Sigyn," he said in a voice that was too smooth.

"I apologize if my behavior disturbed you and I thank you for bringing your friends to full battle readiness. If, in the future, I exhibit signs of aggression against your creator or those you protect, act in the knowledge that I am likely an enemy at that point and hold nothing back," she said.

There was another if his pauses before he said, "Of course, Ms. Sigyn."