Mabel sat at the kitchen table in the Mystery Shack, a steaming mug of hot cocoa rapidly cooling in front of her. Wendy and Dipper sat across from her, exchanging worried looks. Dipper had seen his sister upset before, but she was usually melodramatic about it, retreating into "Sweater Town," or crying loudly. Basically, Mabel wore her emotions on her sleeve.

Dipper had never seen her like this, however. Her skin was pale, tinged with gray. Her hair hung limply around her face, her lips were pinched together in a thin line, and her eyes looked dull and lifeless. The spark of mischief that normally burned behind them was gone. This girl was a husk of Mabel Pines.

"So Cernunnos didn't even give you a chance to say goodbye?" asked Dipper, picking up a thread of their earlier conversation. "He just grabbed Fenris and blipped off?"

Mabel didn't look up. She simply nodded her head.

"Maybe they'll be back soon," suggested Wendy, trying to sound cheerful. "It can't take too long to blip to Helheim and ask about Arden, right? I bet he'll be back before you know it!"

Mabel didn't respond to Wendy. She hadn't told them about Fenris's plan to protect her by leaving the Mundane entirely. It hurt too much to say the words out loud. She was fairly certain that he wouldn't be back.

"I know it's still early, but I was injured and all, so I'm tired," said Mabel finally, without making eye contact with her brother or Wendy. "I'm going to bed now."

Dipper elbowed Wendy, and she stood up from her chair at the same time as Mabel. "How about we have a sleepover, Mabel?" she said, sounding too peppy to be convincing.

Mabel finally looked up and locked eyes with Wendy. "No, thank you," she said quietly. "I'm not in the mood for company right now."

Mabel turned her back on Dipper and Wendy, and slowly made her way out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her bedroom. They heard her door open, then shut with a decisive click.

/

Dipper and Wendy strode through the twilit woods at a leisurely pace. They held hands, their fingers intertwined tightly.

"I know she's upset about losing Arden, and that Fenris was yanked away so suddenly, but I have never seen Mabel this..." Dipper wracked his brain to find the right word. "This dejected. It's like she's just completely given up. She wasn't even crying. She's a crier, Wendy. I'd actually feel less unsettled about her if she ran up to her room sobbing uncontrollably. I know how to handle that Mabel. I have no idea how to help her now."

Wendy squeezed his fingers. "I don't know, dude. I know that you want to make everything better for her as quick as possible, being her brother and all—but she's dealing with a lot of heavy shit right now. She probably needs time to process everything."

Dipper sighed. "You're probably right. I just hate seeing her like this. Do you think maybe it would help if we got your mom to talk to her? Beithe and Arden used to be really close, right?"

Wendy nodded. "Yeah. That's a good idea. I'll ask my mom tonight."

The couple continued through the woods in amicable silence. Twilight fell into dusk, and soon they were engulfed in darkness.

Wendy felt a tug at her hand, and realized that Dipper had stopped walking. She dropped his hand and turned back to his shadowed silhouette.

"What's up, Dip?"

Dipper was silent for a moment, and then let out a shaky breath. "I just… I'm really overwhelmed, I guess. Like—is anything ever going to be okay again? Is being a god ever going to feel normal? One day I'll look at Mabel and realize she's a woman, not a girl anymore. And she'll keep aging. And she'll die. And I'll be apart from her forever after." His throat closed around the words, and tears began to slip down his cheeks.

Wendy reached out and touched his face, wiping his tears away with her thumb.

"I'm sorry, Dipper," she said softly. "Maybe we can convince an elder god to make her a goddess? I mean, you're technically an elder god, so you could even do it, right?"

Dipper sniffed and shook his head. He stepped toward Wendy and wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm not nearly ready to do that big of a working," he said. "I can't even make myself look human yet. Besides, to become a goddess, she'd have to consent. She hasn't seemed too keen on becoming immortal."

"Well, we'll have to find a god willing to turn her, and then convince her to accept," said Wendy pragmatically, rubbing his back. "Everything will be okay, Dipper. I promise."

Dipper nestled his face into the crook of Wendy's neck, and whispered "Don't make promises you can't keep."

Wendy inhaled sharply. Whether he meant to or not, Dipper's warm breath on her neck was sending waves of pleasure down her spine. She bit her lip, and closed her eyes, reaching up to run her fingers through Dipper's tangle of curls.

"You want a promise I can keep?" murmured Wendy. "I love you, goat boy, and I promise that I will keep loving you until the end of time."

"I like that promise," Dipper said quietly. He placed a gentle kiss on her neck, and could feel her pulse pounding beneath his lips. Despite being upset about Mabel, Dipper's satyr libido took over, and he pushed Wendy up against a nearby tree, and pressed himself against her.

"I promise that I'll always think of your pleasure before my own," he mumbled hotly against her mouth.

"Oh yeah?" said Wendy playfully. "Prove it."

Dipper groaned and began sucking and lightly biting at Wendy's neck. His hands traced the outline of her body, stopping at her hips. He fumbled momentarily with the button and zipper on her jeans, before sliding his hand down the front of her panties.

"Wh-what are you doing?" breathed Wendy. One of her hands was above her head, clutching at the tree trunk, while the other gripped Dipper's hair tightly.

Dipper pulled away from her neck, and although Wendy couldn't see him smiling wickedly at her in the darkness, she could hear it in his voice. "I'm proving it," he said, before pressing his mouth into hers, and kissing her fiercely, cutting off her whimpers of pleasure.

Muffled moans echoed through the dark woods, finally punctuated by a shrill cry of ecstasy.

/

Although Fenris had mind-spoken with Hel many times, he'd never been down to Helheim to visit her. He followed Cernunnos silently through a cold mist, sniffing with curiosity. The sickly sweet smell of rotting things seemed to permeate the air.

Cernunnos turned his head slightly when he heard Fenris sniff. "You're not crying are you?" he asked with a sneer.

"Not at the moment," said Fenris with a shrug. Cernunnos clearly didn't like him, but Fenris couldn't give two shits about what the antlered god thought of him.

They fell back into silence, and Fenris continued to follow a few steps behind Cernunnos, who seemed to know exactly where he was going, even though the mist shrouded everything.

After an hour trudging through the opaque fog, Fenris spoke up. "Your blip wasn't very accurate, was it?"

Cernunnos shrugged, and kept walking. "Seeing as I've never been to Helheim before, it wasn't too bad."

"If you've never been here before, how do you know where you're going, then?"

"I'm homing in on the most powerful godly presence nearby," said Cernunnos, his tone snide. "What, do you not know how to do that?"

Fenris rolled his eyes, and grunted noncommittally. He actually didn't know how to do that, but he didn't want to give Cernunnos the satisfaction of that knowledge.

After several more minutes of walking, Fenris noticed light faintly shining through the shimmering white mist. Cernunnos noticed as well, and stopped walking. He turned to Fenris and gestured for the Norse god to step in front of him.

"Just in case she's in the mood to smite," explained Cernunnos. "I'm hoping the sight of her brother will stop any smiting from taking place. If not, at least you'll take the brunt of the smiting rather than me."

"Great," said Fenris. "I get to be your bodyguard." He pushed past Cernunnos, and continued walking toward the lights.

The closer they got to the lights, the more the mist seemed to dissipate. Finally Fenris was able to see the outline of a building. He narrowed his eyes as he walked toward it, a single eyebrow rising in confusion.

"That's a... cute little house," he said, mostly to himself. The small, pink cottage was surrounded by a white picket fence, and its window boxes were full of colorful, blooming flowers. Fenris turned to Cernunnos. "Hel lives here?"

Cernunnos wore a bemused smile. He held his palms up and shrugged. "Arawn told me she lived in a very human habitat, but I honestly didn't expect this."

"Huh," said Fenris, turning back toward the house. He caught a glimpse of movement through one of the windows. "I think she knows we're here."

As if on cue, the front door of the cottage flew open. Hel drew herself up to her full height, the beautiful side of her face giving the trespassers an icy glare. The decayed side of her face sagged, its expression inscrutable, if it was even making one. It simply looked grotesque. Fenris had never met Hel face to face. She had explained her appearance to him during one of their many conversations, but hearing about, and seeing it, were two drastically different experiences.

"Who are you?" Hel demanded.

"I am Cernunnos, of the Green Realm," said the Lord of the Hunt, pushing past Fenris, seemingly satisfied that there would be no immediate smiting.

"I know who you are," said Hel, with a frown. "I've been expecting you. But this one," she said, pointing a bony, decayed finger at Fenris. "I do not recognize him, yet he is very familiar."

"Hello, sister," said Fenris, with an awkward wave. "I'm probably a lot less furry than you pictured me."

Hel leaned forward and peered closely at Fenris with her good eye.

"Fen? I know you've been in the Mundane realm, but I wasn't told you'd taken human form! That explains why I haven't been able to get in touch with you." Hel turned and called over her shoulder. "You said he was in puppy form!"

A familiar female voice called back from inside the cottage. "Well last time I saw him, he was in puppy form!"

"Arduinna!" cried out Cernunnos, his smarmy public persona forgotten the moment he heard his sister's voice. "Please, let her go! Allow her to rest in Annwn where she belongs!"

"I have no intention of keeping her from the rest she deserves," snapped Hel. "She sought me out. Come into my home. We have much to discuss."

/

Mabel sat on the edge of her bed, staring into space. The room steadily grew darker, because she hadn't bothered to turn on the light. She barely noticed. She had cried herself out on Sirona's shoulder earlier in the day. Now she was numb. Well, nearly. Every now and then the thought that Arden was dead, or that she may never see Fenris again resurfaced, and she felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her—she became lightheaded and struggled to breathe.

It hurt too much to think about, so Mabel tried to empty her mind. Eventually her eyelids began to grow heavy, and she lay down. She instinctively reached out to pull Fenris close to her, and her hands clutched at air.

Mabel gasped as if she had been punched, clenched her eyes tightly shut, and pressed her fist against her mouth, trying to suppress a wail. She attempted to swallow back the lump in her throat.

"I can't do this," she whispered to no one. She got off her bed and turned on the light so she could see to put her armor on. She decided that she would take her glaive out to the Gravnemeta and practice the drills that Arden had taught her. Emptying her mind didn't work, so maybe having to completely focus on something would distract her from the hollow feeling in her chest.

Mabel finished donning her armor and grabbed her glaive from the corner of her room. She padded quietly down the stairs, not wanting Soos or Melody to notice she was going out, and start asking annoying questions like: "Are you okay?"

Because no. She wasn't okay. And she didn't want to talk about it.

She trotted through the darkened woods, following the familiar path to the Gravnemeta without having to think about it. At one point she paused, because she heard what sounded like a woman crying out. However, it didn't happen again. Mabel shrugged, and continued on her way. It was probably a mountain lion. Mountain lions made weird noises at night.

When she reached the Gravnemeta, she was momentarily surprised to see her Grunkles there, sitting in lawn chairs around a small fire. In her grief over Arden and Fenris, she had forgotten that the Gravnemeta still needed to be guarded constantly, and that it was Stan and Ford's turn for the night shift.

"Oh," she said, stopping short at the edge of the clearing. "Hi."

"Hey kiddo. Whatcha doing out here?" asked Stan. His gruff voice was unusually gentle.

"Yeah, I thought Sirona said you needed to take a couple days off from guard duty," said Ford, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm fine," mumbled Mabel. "And I'm not here to guard. I just wanted to get some practice in. I don't want to get rusty."

Stan and Ford exchanged glances, but Mabel couldn't read their faces in the flickering glow of the fire.

"Okay, just take it easy, sweetie," said Stan.

Mabel nodded, and moved to an open area of the clearing. She began her practice drills, willing herself to concentrate on her technique and form, and not let her mind wander.

Stan and Ford watched her from their lawn chairs, matching expressions of concern creasing their brows.

"She's really taking Arden's death hard," observed Ford.

"I feel like we should… comfort her?" said Stan. "Only, maybe not while she's spinning around that giant pig-sticker."

"Well," said Ford, grunting as he leaned over and grabbed a Pitt Cola from the cooler between their chairs, "I never got to know Mabel quite as well as you did… but isn't she pretty free with sharing her emotions? I think if she wanted a shoulder to cry on, she'd let us know."

Stan sighed and rubbed the back of his head. "You're probably right, Poindexter. At least, I hope you're right. Mabel's a sweet kid, and she's had a rough go of it lately."

Ford nodded as he swallowed a sip of his drink. "That, she has," he agreed.

They sat in silence, and watched on as their great-niece took out her pent up emotions on invisible enemies. At some point they both accidentally nodded off.

Eventually, Stan let out a snore so loud that he woke himself up. He turned to see Ford sitting with his head sagging onto his shoulder, a strand of drool dripping from his open mouth. He kicked Ford in the shin. Ford awoke with a start, and jumped out of his chair, quickly pulling a large caliber pistol from inside of his trench coat.

"Who's attacking?" he hissed.

"No one, dingus," muttered Stan. "We both fell asleep, it's almost dawn, and Mabel's still over there swingin' around that pig-sticker. How's she still going?"

"I have no idea," said Ford, sounding simultaneously impressed and worried, as he tucked the gun back into his coat.

Stan stood stiffly, and shuffled toward Mabel. He stopped well out of range of her glaive.

"Uh, Mabel?" he called out hesitantly.

Hearing her name seemed to snap Mabel out of a trance. She whirled around to face Stan. She was tomato red, and completely covered in a slimy sheen of sweat, strands of her long hair sticking to her face. She blinked, as if confused to see her Grunkle standing before her. Then she wobbled on her feet.

"Talk later, Grunkle Stan," she said, her speech slightly slurred. "I'm tired."

As the first hint of dawn began to lighten the sky, Mabel sank to the ground, completely physically exhausted, and curled up to sleep on the dewy grass, clutching her glaive like a teddy bear.

/

Fenris followed Cernunnos through the door of the cottage, shutting it behind him. His vision was immediately obscured by a mass of coal black hair, as Hel pulled him into a tight hug.

"It is so good to finally see you and put a face to your voice. Well, your mind-voice, that is," amended Hel as she released him and stepped back to give her brother a proper look.

Fenris grinned. "And it's nice to put half a face to your voice," he said with a chuckle.

Hel rolled her good eye. "You always were a smart-ass. I'm glad at least that hasn't changed." She glanced across the room to where Cernunnos and a very transparent Arden were talking quietly. "So that's Cernunnos? He's the one who killed your friend Dipper, right?"

Fenris nodded. "I'm definitely not fond of the guy. But now our father went and kidnapped and murdered his sister. I kinda feel sorry for him...and I don't like it. Thanks a lot, dad," he said, saying father and dad like they were dirty words.

Hel sighed. "Yeah. About that." She placed a hand on his shoulder and steered him toward Cernunnos and the late Arden. "You should probably sit down."

Fenris bit his lower lip, and sat down on Hel's overstuffed sofa. She sat next to him, while Cernunnos and Arden sat in armchairs set at a ninety degree angle to the sofa. The group was quiet for several moments, because everyone was waiting for someone else to start the conversation.

Fenris finally spoke up. "Uh, so why are you here, Arden?" He paused. "I mean, besides being dead. Why did you come to Hel?"

Arden smiled wryly. "Tactful, as always. I came here because your daddy is insane, and he's playing with fire by releasing ancient demons to fight for him. Before he killed me, he told me his plans. They involve you."

Fenris leaned back into the sofa cushions, and folded his hands over his stomach. "Let me guess—he wants me to destroy the world?"

Hel chuckled darkly. "I wish it was that simple. He wants you to destroy all the worlds."

Cernunnos frowned. "But the Ragnarok cycle is supposed to be strictly within the Norse realm!"

Fenris raised an eyebrow at the Lord of the Hunt. "Um, Ragnarok cycle? Ragnarok is a one time deal. You know, the end of the world and whatnot?"

Cernunnos smirked. "Hel, you should probably be the one to tell him."

Fenris turned to his sister, his eyes narrowed. "Tell me what?"

The good side of Hel's face burned crimson. "You have to understand, I haven't kept this from you out of malice—I've had to keep it from everyone."

Fenris glared at her without speaking, waiting for her to continue.

"Ragnarok has happened before," Hel said. "Many, many times before. The prophecies about it aren't so much prophecies, as stories."

Fenris cocked his head to the side. "Yeah, you'd think I'd remember something like that."

Hel shook her head. "You wouldn't. All the gods killed during Ragnarok are born into the new cycle with no memory of the previous one. Those of us who survive have kept the cycle a secret from our brethren ever since the disaster of the very first Ragnarok."

"Our brethren," murmured Fenris. He glanced to Cernunnos. "But gods from other realms are aware that our apocalypse is cyclical?"

Cernunnos smirked at him. "Yes, we are. After your lot nearly destroyed the Mundane during the first Ragnarok, some of us from other realms met with the Norse survivors to ensure that the next time it happened, the damage would be minimized, and only affect your own realm."

Fenris looked at his hands. He had unintentionally curled them into tight fists. He stretched his fingers out, and looked up at Hel.

"So everyone really does have a reason to fear me, then," he said. It was a statement, not a question.

Hel sighed, and reached out to pat her brother's hand. "You have never been bad, Fen. Not in any of the cycles before, nor now. But you are a force of destruction. Even gods fear destruction."

"Well, now that I know about the cycle, I just won't participate this time," said Fenris, defiantly.

"It's not quite that simple," said Arden. The look of loathing she normally saved for Fenris was replaced with something akin to pity. "Once set in motion, the cycle of Ragnarok cannot be stopped. And Puck, as Bacon, in freeing you from your bonds, either unwittingly or not, has set this cycle of Ragnarok in motion."

Fenris shook his head. "No. I don't want to destroy the world!" The bile rose in his throat. Destroying the world would mean destroying Mabel.

"Well, you won't actually be destroying the Mundane," said Cernunnos. "I mentioned that after the Mundane was thrown into chaos by the first Ragnarok, gods from other realms met with your survivors—the Midgard you now destroy along with your realm isn't the Mundane. The first time it was, but after that, a pocket realm was created to be your Midgard. The humans who live there do not know they aren't really in the Mundane. They also do not know that they are effectively immortal. They are reborn into the pocket Migard after every Ragnarok, just as the Norse gods are reborn—with no memory of their previous lives."

Fenris glanced at Hel. "Okay, so dad is crazy and wants to destroy everything… and he wants me to help him. I won't help him. In fact, I'm kind of in the mood to kill him, after everything he's done. Especially now that he's targeting Mabel. But I'm also not going to destroy the pocket Midgard and the rest of the Norse realm to complete this cycle of Ragnarok. The prophecy says I die. I don't want to die."

Arden let out a soft cough. "Well, that's also kind of why I'm here. I came to explain to Hel that Ragnarok must happen, and soon."

Cernunnos crossed his arms. "Why must it happen, sister? It doesn't effect us. If Loki is the problem, perhaps some of the gods of Asgard will assist us in capturing him and re-binding him."

Arden sighed. She stood and began to pace in front of the sofa. "Because the Mundane—the actual Mundane is at risk, and the Gravenemeta, doubly so. The almost-apocalypse that Mabel and her friends refer to as "Weirdmageddon" that happened in the Mundane last year is what caused the realms to shift, making the Gravnemeta the nexus point where the realms meet, rather then the Green Realm, where it is supposed to be. Only an equally cataclysmic event can shift the realms back into their proper places. Until that happens, creatures from any realm can easily access the mundane."

Arden paused and made eye contact with Fenris. "Unless Ragnarok shifts the realms, Mabel will be in constant danger, whether or not Loki is bound, or even dead. I know you care for her a great deal, Fenris. I may not particularly like you, but I can see that she does. If you want her to ever be safe again, Ragnarok must happen."

Fenris stood, his eyes wildly darting to and fro between the other three gods in the room. "No—but in Ragnarok, I die! And—and you said if I die I'll be reborn without my memories! I won't remember any of the friends I've made—I won't remember Mabel!"

Arden walked forward and placed a hand on Fenris's shoulder. "I know it is difficult. Mabel is very special. But would you rather she constantly be in harm's way? Because if the realms don't shift, she will be."

Fenris looked at his feet and shook his head, tears pricking at his eyelids. He loved Mabel. He'd sacrifice anything for her. Even himself, and his memories of their time together.

Hel cleared her throat. "Actually, seeing as this Ragnarok cycle is already highly irregular due to Puck's meddling, perhaps we can change the events a bit, while still causing the realms to shift. What if, Fenris, you had someone with you to watch your back—to try and keep you alive through Ragnarok?"

Fenris bit his lip. "I'll take any help you can give me, Hel. Anything to ensure Mabel's safety, while still being able to remember her, and hopefully be with her again."

Hel smiled. "Very good. It just so happens that someone owes me a favor, and promised they would do anything I asked. I am going to call in that favor now. Dipper Pines will venture with you into the Norse realm, and will be tasked with keeping you alive through the end of Ragnarok."