Mabel was woken up by a sharp tap on her cheek. She opened her eyes and blinked blearily, then yelped and jerked back against her pillow when her vision came into focus and she got an extreme close-up of a crow's beak.
Vale hopped up onto her stomach and croaked in a way that almost sounded insulted. He flapped his wings twice, then leaned his head down to preen his chest feathers.
"Sorry, Vale. You look lovely. I just wasn't expecting you to be my alarm clock this morning."
Vale let out a quiet caw that sounded like a chuckle. He held up a wing and looked at the tip of it, as he had done before when he was telling her it was time to leave the Gravnemeta. Mabel took the hint and groped for her cellphone on the bedside table, swiping the screen so she could see the time.
"Holy cheeses, it's after noon!" she exclaimed, sitting up abruptly. Vale squawked as she nearly sent him tumbling to the floor, and flapped across the room to land on her armor.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Mabel said, rolling her eyes. She donned her gear in record time, not even stopping to look in the mirror, before grabbing her glaive and heading out to the Gravnemeta at a trot, Vale riding on top of her head, his wings spread.
"Nice hat," Wendy called with a nod, as Mabel entered the clearing.
Mabel slowed to a stop near Wendy and sat her glaive against a tree, so she could begin stretching. Vale finally jumped up from her head, and with a flap of his wings, found a tree branch to sit on, watching her with curiosity.
"What are you still doing here?" Mabel asked. "We were supposed to have the morning shift."
Wendy chuckled. "Yeah, we were. Caer told Morrigan you needed your sleep, though. Both of them were here with me and mom all morning. Mom went home a little bit ago, but I wanted to stay and see what kind of training regimen Morrigan is going to put you on."
She stepped closer to Mabel then, a strange look on her face. "What's that on your neck?" Her green eyes narrowed and she hissed, "Mabel, you have hickies! Big ones. A lot of them. What the actual fuck?"
Mabel felt the blood drain from her face. "What?" she whispered, touching the side of her neck. "She said what happened in the dream was real, but it was still a dream!"
"Who's she? And a dream did that to you?" Wendy asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
Mabel nodded silently, her eyes wide, a hand still pressed to the side of her neck. She felt faint. If Fenris hadn't had been worried that taking things all the way might affect the real world, they might have… she could have gotten…
"Oh, gods," Mabel whispered. She turned to gaze across the clearing, to where Morrigan and the swan-shaped Caer were. "She never said..." she trailed off.
Wendy grunted in frustration and snapped her fingers under Mabel's nose. "Can you please start making sense? Who is this she you keep mentioning? Morrigan?"
At the snap, Mabel flinched and turned back to Wendy. "No. Caer Ibormeith. She's a dream goddess or something. When I fell asleep last night—this morning—whenever… she showed up in my dreams in human form. She told me that I was about to have a dream, but that what happened in the dream would be real. I didn't realize she meant… Oh, gods," she said again, her voice trembling. "Fenris showed up in my room. Said Caer had appeared to him as well. We—"
Finally having enough information to get the gist of what happened, Wendy went into protective big sister mode. "I'll kill him," she said low, cracking her knuckles. "If he got you pregnant I. Will. Fucking. Kill. Him."
Mabel shook her head vehemently. "No, no—he's the one who kept me from taking things too far! We didn't have sex, Wendy, I swear. Not that I didn't try… Oh, gods." She closed her eyes and held a palm to her face, taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly.
"Ye rang?" Morrigan said, suddenly appearing in front of her, a chipper grin on her dark red lips. Caer honked indignantly from across the clearing where the goddesses had both just been, and flapped clumsily over to join them.
"What's the matter, kid?" Morrigan asked, frowning. "Who's gone and bruised your neck all up?"
Wendy scoffed, her arms crossed over her chest. "They aren't bruises, Morrigan. They're hickies." Morrigan blinked at her blankly.
"Love bites," Wendy continued. She looked down at the swan at their feet. "I bet you know how they got there".
Caer Ibormeith stretched her neck out and hissed at Wendy.
"I will take that tone with you, actually, Caer," spat Wendy. "Turns out Mabel almost went and got herself impregnated in the dream you so generously bestowed upon her."
"Oh my God, Wendy, please don't say that aloud again," Mabel groaned softly. "If my grunkles hear you, I'm so dead."
Morrigan cocked her head to the side and held a finger up. "Wait a tick… Oh! Fuck sake, Caer, ye went and gave her a real dream, didn't ye?"
Caer honked indignantly.
"Well o'course I know what can happen in real dreams, but she's mortal—it's unlikely she'd fully comprehend—"
Caer's honk was less indignant, more defensive this time. Vale, apparently not wanting to be left out of the conversation, cawed loudly from his tree, and swooped down to land on Mabel's shoulder.
"It doesn't matter ye told her it were real, Caer," Morrigan continued with a sigh. "Ye should have told Mabel in no uncertain terms that what happens in these 'real' dreams of yours has a direct effect on the real world."
Caer lowered her head and honked weakly.
"Caer apologizes, Mabel," Morrigan explained with a satisfied nod. "Now, assumin' those nibbles on your neck are all this lover boy of yours left ye, I think it's high time ye started trainin' with the real Morrigan. C'mon, lass."
Mabel grabbed her glaive and followed her new mentor, Vale still riding on her shoulder, happily preening his feathers. Caer made to follow them, but Wendy stepped in front of her.
"Sorry to freak out on you like that, Caer," she said, kneeling down to the swan's level. "Mabel's like my sister, and I'm just really protective of her. Anyway, no harm, no foul, right?"
Caer nodded.
"Good," said Wendy. "Because I'd like to ask a favor of you. I'd like a real dream, as well."
/
Dipper and Fenris walked the dark and winding passages within Yggdrasil in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. Baldur had told them how to find the lair of the Ulfhednar without having to walk the surface of Asgard, and that suited Fenris just fine. He was tired of wearing the blond wig, and didn't want to have to be constantly looking over his shoulder for fear that an unfriendly Aesir would recognize him.
"So that must have been some dream," Dipper said suddenly.
"Huh—wh-what do you mean?" Fenris asked, thankful that Dipper couldn't see how red his face was due to the dim lighting in the passageways. He'd actually just been thinking about the dream. Well, to be honest, he hadn't stopped thinking about the dream since he'd had it.
"Uh, the dream that was so vivid it caused you to incinerate Baldur and Nanna's guest room? What were you doing that made you spontaneously combust like that—fighting a dragon or something?"
Fenris worried about where this conversation was going. He knew that Dipper was aware of his relationship with Mabel, but as things in their relationship progressed, he realized that the fewer details Dipper knew of it, the better. He was her brother, after all.
"Yeah, something like that," Fenris said finally. Looking to change the subject, he remembered that Dipper hadn't told him what he'd done to keep the All-Father occupied while he had conferred with Mimir. "How'd you end up distracting old One-Eye? Clearly it went okay, since you're still alive and unscathed."
"Funny story," Dipper said with a chuckle, running his fingers absently along the passageway wall. "You know how I was supposed to 'ask an audience' of Odin?"
Fenris let out a small sigh of relief. Dipper had taken the conversation-changing bait. "Yeah, I remember that part of the plan."
"Well, I kind of misunderstood what asking an audience entailed. Baldur explained it to me after. I was supposed to beg for a word with Odin, and just talk to him long enough to keep him distracted."
Fenris bit back a laugh. "Oh gods, Dipper, what did you do?"
Dipper shrugged and turned his head to grin at Fenris. "Well, I went into Odin's throne room, and begged him to be my audience. And I performed for him."
Fenris stopped walking, and leaned up against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He tried not to laugh, but was unsuccessful. "And what exactly did you perform for the leader of the entire Norse pantheon?"
Dipper stopped as well. "I performed," he said, pausing dramatically. "The Lamby-Lamby Dance."
Fenris laughed, holding a hand to his mouth. "Tell me that dance isn't as pathetic as it sounds, Dip. Tell me it's like, a war dance or something."
Dipper shook his head. "No, it is as fully pathetic, degrading, and embarrassing as it sounds. It involves me singing about lambs, while wearing a lamb costume...with a giant, pink bow."
Fenris burst into peals of genuine laughter. "Wh-what did Odin do?" he asked once he was able to breathe again.
Dipper shrugged, his lips twitching up at the corners. "He laughed, applauded, and then asked for an encore. Actually, three encores. Turns out, I've made a fan in the All-Father."
Fenris lifted an eyebrow. "Should I ask for your autograph?"
Dipper shook his head disdainfully, and held a hand to his chest. "Dingus the Amazing Goat Man doesn't give out autographs."
Fenris rolled his eyes and began walking down the darkened passage once more. "I think we're almost to Ulfahellan. You better go ahead and conjure some baggy pants and a hat, so the Ulfhednardon't think you're prey."
"Oh!" cried Dipper so suddenly and loudly that Fenris whirled around, a ball of flame blooming to life around his clenched fist.
"Whoa there, down boy," Dipper said, holding his hands up and backing up a step.
"What the fuck, Dipper?!" Fenris lowered his fist, and the flame flickered out. "You scared the shit outta me!"
"Sorry," Dipper said, somehow not sounding sorry at all. "What you said about the Ulfhednarthinking I might be prey reminded me of something awesome I wanted to tell you about when Baldur and I got back from Old One-Eye'spalace."
"Why didn't you, then?" Fenris asked, crossing his arms.
Dipper chuckled. "Oh, I don't know. I think I was distracted by you having set Baldur and Nanna's guest room on fire."
Fenris grimaced and nodded. "Right. Well, out with it, goat boy. What did you want to tell me?"
Dipper grinned. "I don't have to conjure a costume."
Before Fenris had a chance to ask him what that was supposed to mean, Dipper snapped his fingers, and he was human again. Well, appeared human, at least. No horns or fuzzy goat legs. Just a normal teenager, wearing old Norse armor.
"You finally mastered full-body glamours!" Fenris leapt forward and gave his friend a hug. "How'd you figure this out at Odin's?"
Dipper's face was red as he hugged Fenris back. "That Lamby-Lamby song and dance number I told you about? I meant to conjure the costume, but somehow I just changed my whole appearance." He inhaled deeply, and blew out the breath. "I can't wait until Wendy sees. She says she doesn't mind the goat parts, but I think she'll prefer this form."
Fenris elbowed Dipper. "Mind out of the gutter, Pines. We have a sort-of-Ragnarok to participate in before you'll be able to show Wendy the goods. Now come on. We're almost to Ulfahellan."
"You are at Ulfahellan," a deep, gruff voice spoke from the darkness ahead of them. "Explain your trespass now, or die. Painfully."
/
"First things first," Morrigan said, pacing in front of Puck's henge at the Gravnemeta, lecturing Mabel. "I like your sharp and pointy just fine, but ye need more in your arsenal than a pointed stick."
Mabel heard snickering behind her, and turned to stick her tongue out at Wendy, who was sitting in the grass, watching Mabel's lesson with interest.
"For one," Morrigan continued, "I can sense magic within part of your armor. Not defensive magic, either. Offensive. Fire, to be precise."
Mabel frowned and looked down at her arms, torso, and legs. "Arden never mentioned anything about my armor being magic."
"It weren't Arden what enchanted it," Morrigan said, approaching Mabel, and tracing her fingers along the seams of Mabel's leather gauntlets. "I sense that whoever imbued these arm guards with their magic is a powerful force of destruction."
Mabel's cheeks grew hot, and she had to blink away a tear or two. Fenris had somehow enchanted her gauntlets before he and Dipper left for the Norse realm.
"I wonder why he never told me?" she murmured.
"So ye know who it was, then?" Morrigan asked, a single eyebrow raised.
Mabel was lost in thought, so Wendy called out the answer for her. "My bet is the same guy who gave her all those love bites last night. Mabel's boyfriend is Fenrir."
Morrigan took a step back from Mabel and crossed her arms over her chest, her expression thoughtful as she looked her new student up and down. "I'm sorry, did your friend just say that ye're datin' the World Eater?"
Mabel met Morrigan's eyes with a glare. "So what if I am?"
Morrigan shook her head, a small smile on her lips. "It's just surprisin' is all. Ye don't look like much, but the company ye keep makes me think perhaps ye're more of a badass than ye seem."
Mabel smiled wryly. "Thanks, I think? So how am I supposed to go about using these flaming gauntlets? Just point and shoot?" She held her arms out in front of her, clenched her fists, and felt heat build up around her wrists. When the heat became too great to bear, she unclenched her fists and spread her fingers wide. Two white-hot gouts of flame shot from her hands. "Oh, that was easy," she remarked lightly, inspecting her gauntlets for any sign of scorching. There was none.
Morrigan had thrown herself down onto the ground to avoid being set on fire. "Fuck sake, girl!" she cried as she stood back up. "Ye don't point weapons at people, especially when you're not sure how to use them! That's just basic firearm safety!"
Caer honked softly behind her, and Mabel heard Wendy snicker in reply, while Morrigan rolled her eyes and tried to suppress a smile. "That weren't what I meant, but I'll give ye that one, Caer."
"Anyone care to translate?" Mabel asked, planting her hands on her hips and turning around to scowl at Caer and Wendy.
"It's basic fire arm safety," Wendy said pointing to Mabel's gauntlets. "You can shoot flames thanks to your magical destructo gauntlets. You are wielding an entirely different kind of firearm. Or should I say firearms?"
"Ugh," said Mabel, tossing her head back. "Y'all are just as bad as Dipper, I swear."
"Right," said Morrigan, clapping her hands. "So now that ye've nearly made a roast out of your teacher, let's begin working on honing your aim with the fire, so ye don't accidentally flambe an ally during battle."
Mabel nodded, her mouth a grim line. This was the kind of magic she had been hoping to learn to wield.
/
Dipper and Fenris froze in place, searching the darkness ahead of them for the owner of the gruff voice. A tall, sinewy man slowly stepped forward, his eyes gleaming red. He was completely nude, except for the pelt of a large, gray wolf that hung over his shoulders like a cape. His bare skin was filthy, covered in dried mud, which was painted over with red runes. The paint that made up the runes appeared to be dried blood. In his right hand, he clutched the haft of a wickedly sharp-looking war ax.
Dipper stepped back instinctively. In his panic, he felt his glamour flicker, and had to take a deep breath and concentrate on looking like a normal, human teen. This guy didn't seem like he'd be averse to partaking in some semi-cannibalism in the form of roasted satyr. In the back of his mind he knew that theUlfhednarweren't gods, and couldn't kill him—but that didn't mean they couldn't make him feel extreme amounts of pain. Dipper was not a fan of pain.
Fenris, apparently feeling braver than Dipper, stepped forward and looked up at the man, who stood at least a head taller than him. "I am Fenrisulfr, son of Loki and Angrboda, brother to Hel and Jormungandr. I have come to seek the aid of the Ulfhednar, to help thwart my father's plans to rig Ragnarok in his favor, and in so doing, wreak havoc on the Mundane and countless other realms."
"Hmm," the man grunted. He stepped toward Fenris and leaned over, peering closely at him with narrowed eyes.
Fenris stood his ground, and met the man's gaze, but Dipper could see his friend's fists were clenched so hard that his knuckles were white.
Meanwhile, Dipper shifted uncomfortably from "foot" to "foot," and then winced, realizing that his glamour didn't mask the sound of his hooves striking the hard wood of the tunnel floor. Fortunately, the man paid him no attention, still staring at Fenris as if trying to bore a hole through him with his eyes.
Finally, after an incredibly uncomfortable long silence, the man straightened up with a grunt, turned on his heel, and waved them forward. "Follow me."
Fenris glanced back at Dipper. "If you want to stay here you can," he began.
Dipper flapped a hand at him. "Shut it. Let's go." He really would have liked not to, but based on the grateful smile that Fenris shot him, he'd chosen the correct answer.
Dipper and Fenris followed the man more closely than they would have preferred to, but it was either that, or lose him in the darkness ahead. He turned a corner, and led them through a wooden archway engraved with runes and decorated with what appeared to be wolf teeth. Once through the archway, the tunnel somehow seamlessly transitioned from wood to stone, which quickly widened and expanded until they were in an enormous cavern. An eerie noise was echoing back from somewhere ahead to them, and as they drew closer to the source of the noise, Dipper realized it was a crowd of people howling, screaming, growling, and viciously shouting obscenities.
A circular fighting pit of sorts was set up in the main chamber of the cavern, with raised seating carved into the stone surrounding it. The seats were crowded with people dressed similarly to their guide—nude, except for a wolf pelt. In the center of the ring, two warriors faced off with each other, foaming at the mouth, biting their shields, and bludgeoning each other to a pulp with heavy, iron maces.
Their guide stopped at the entrance to the fighting pit, and stood still, his hands clasped behind his back. Dipper peered around him to watch the fight that was unfolding. The two warriors, one male, and one female, appeared to be equally matched. After a few minutes, however, the male got sloppy and failed to dodge the female's shattering blow of her mace to his lower jaw. His eyes rolled up and he collapsed in a heap. With the amount of bruising and freely bleeding wounds covering his body, his limp form on the arena floor resembled coarsely ground beef. Dipper winced and looked away, as two warriors leapt into the pit and dragged the incapacitated warrior out of the way.
After the raucous cheering from the crowd, and the female warrior's howls of victory died down, Dipper and Fenris's guide stepped down into the pit.
"Brothers and sisters," he called loudly, his deep voice booming to echo back from the far reaches of the cavern. "My congratulations to Signe, who has once again proven her mettle as our reigning Meistari Úlfa!" The crowd burst into another round of cheers and howls. Once they quieted, he continued. "I know there are many of you still awaiting your chance to oust Signe from her well-deserved place of honor, but I have here—" he reached behind him and grabbed Fenris's shirt collar, yanking him forward "—a whelp who claims to be Fenrisulfr, and he comes to us seeking assistance, knowing full-well that our skills in battle are pledged to the All-Father." The crowd burst into angry screams and peals of derisive laughter.
Dipper shifted nervously, unsure what their guide had planned. He sounded entirely too pleased with himself.
"I propose," their guide continued, "that if this whelp wants to convince us that he is who he says he is, he will fight Signe in single combat. No magic allowed," he added with a low chuckle.
Dipper turned his gaze to the champion of the Ulfhednar, and winced on Fen's behalf. She was of Amazonian proportions, at least six feet tall, and solidly built; her muscled bulk put Grenda's to shame. Copious amounts of blonde dreadlocks spilled over her shoulders, and she wore the pelt of a gigantic black wolf around her waist, the way Dipper would have wrapped a towel around his after a shower. She was barefoot, covered in dried-on red runes and blood from recent wounds. Scars appearing both old and new peppered her flesh. There was a swathe of black war paint horizontally across her face, covering her eyelids and the bridge of her nose. The look she was giving Fenris clearly expressed that if he was not who he said he was, she would be happy to kill him. To say she was intimidating would be an understatement.
Fenris stood next to their guide, his whole body stiff. Dipper knew that Fenris could easily win the fight with his fireballs, but without them, he wondered what Fenris was planning to do.
/
Fenris clenched his fists, his mind racing. No magic. Did that include shape-shifting? Surely the Ulfhednar couldn't ignore who he truly was if he took his true form. Dipper hadn't even seen his true form, yet, even when they had attacked the dais at the Green Man's palace together. He'd appeared as a giant black wolf, about the size of a draft horse. He wondered what Dipper would think if he saw Fenris as he truly was.
He glanced at the woman he was meant to fight, and although she glared at him with pure malice, he didn't really want to hurt her. He just wanted to gain aid to go up against Loki and the giants, to ensure Mabel's safety. A surge of warmth flowed through him as he remembered the dream he and Mabel had shared. He wanted desperately to reenact it in reality.
"I am ready," the champion, Signe, growled, breaking into his thoughts. She crossed to the edge of the fighting pit, where she relinquished her mace in favor of a long sword. "I want to feel this boy's blood spray across my face as I slit his throat." As if to prove how truly crazed she was, she licked the edge of her sword, running her tongue down the length of it, leaving behind a cascade of bright red blood. She then smiled toothily at her prey, teeth stained crimson, and blood still pouring down her chin.
Fenris gulped, and looked up at the Ulfhednarwho still held him by the collar. "Do I at least get a weapon?"
The man smiled slowly, let go of Fenris's collar, and handed him the war ax he had earlier brandished at Fenris and Dipper. "For your sake, I hope you were not lying when you told me who you are." Before Fenris had a chance to respond, the man shoved him roughly forward and into the fighting pit.
Caught off guard, Fenris landed on his hands and knees, dropping the war ax in the process. He grabbed at it as he scrambled to his feet, but Signe got to it first, kicking it out of the way with a bare foot. Fenris righted himself, and immediately had to lean back at an almost ninety-degree angle to avoid getting skewered through the chest with Signe's bloody sword. He darted to the left and made a wide circle around her, so he wasn't backed right up against the side of the pit anymore.
"FEN!" He barely heard Dipper's shout over the roar of the crowd. He glanced at his friend to see him holding his hands up by the sides of his head, and sticking his tongue out, in a poor imitation of a dog or wolf.
The split second in which he was distracted by Dipper was long enough for Signe to come within striking distance of Fenris again, and he yelped loudly as he was slightly too slow to dodge a strike aimed at his head. It had only grazed him, but blood was flowing freely from a slice on his left eyebrow. Fenris danced out of reach of Signe's sword once more, wiping blood out of his eye, and searching for where the ax he'd dropped earlier had been kicked. It was directly behind Signe.
Fenris feinted left, then sprinted right, attempting to circle behind Signe so he could grab his weapon. She didn't fall for his feint, however, and swept her long sword around in a wide arc, slicing into Fenris's side as he passed her.
A white hot bolt of pain bit into the left side of Fenris's chest, and he knew instinctively that this wound was not superficial, as the slice to his eyebrow had been. Still in motion, the hit had knocked him off course, and he went tumbling into the wall of the pit. He gasped for air, and pressed his right hand against the wound to stem the bleeding. He felt a small movement of air on his hand—a tiny, misplaced exhalation that told him Signe had sliced between his ribs, and into his left lung, which was now in the process of collapsing. While Signe was not capable of killing Fenris, she was quite capable of dealing damage that would be incredibly painful, and take time to heal on its own. Fenris leaned against the wall, his chest heaving as he tried to fill his leaking lung with oxygen.
Signe crouched down as she approached Fenris, howling triumphantly before what she assumed was going to be the killing blow of the fight. Fenris let go of his wound and dropped to all fours, at which Signe cackled loudly, assuming, inaccurately, that it was because her opponent was too weak to continue fighting.
Fenris inhaled as deeply as he could, wincing in pain, and began to shift into his true form.