A hush fell over the crowd gathered at the Ulfhednars' arena as Fenris began to shift into his true form, folded over on himself, screaming in pain. Transforming between wolf and dog was nearly instantaneous, and caused no pain at all, because the forms were so similar. It had hurt quite a bit when Fenris had first transformed into his human body from one of his larger wolf forms, because the shifting bones and musculature had to migrate to different locations than where they normally were. The pack of werewolves he'd been with when he transformed assured him that pain during the wolf-to-human/human-to-wolf transformation was normal, and to be expected.

This pain, however, was far beyond what Fenris had experienced during his first transformation. He was shifting into his "final form," as Dipper would have called it. It was his largest form—the one he had been stuck in the entire time he'd been chained up and left to rot by the Aesir, due to the enchanted nature of the chain they'd used. Transforming from his relatively small human body into the body of the "World Eater" was bound to hurt, he knew. He just hadn't expected the pain to be so intense that it took his breath away and caused his vision to go dark, as it was doing. His human bones creaked and groaned as they grew rapidly, changing shape and position. As his skeleton expanded and his skin stretched and grew, so did the large gash on his ribs—it felt like a fiery sword was slicing him open and rummaging around in his insides. He'd never tried to transform while badly injured before. Apparently the injuries got bigger as he did.

After what felt like forever, but was less than a minute, Fenrisulfr, the Great Wolf, stood as tall as the cavern ceiling of Ulfahellan. He had to carefully step over the crowd around the arena, as he took up almost the entire length of the cavern as well. He was panting in pain, but he swallowed, and tried to ignore it so he could address Odin's wolf warriors.

I hope this is enough evidence that I am who I say I am, he said, on open broadcast to everyone in the cavern. I have come to you to plea for your aid in a matter of grave importance. I know you all are pledged to Odin's service, and I respect that. What I am asking of you is actually mutually beneficial for both me and Odin. Now— He cut himself off, hearing confused murmuring coming from below him.

"UH, FEN, BUDDY, GREAT SPEECH AND ALL, BUT I DON'T THINK THEY CAN HEAR YOU," Dipper shouted up at his giant friend. "WANT ME TO TRANSLATE?"

Fenrir sighed. I forgot that the Ulfhednar are former mortals. Don't bother. I'm going to shift back to human. See if you can't conjure me a first aid kit, or something? Signe got me good.

Before Dipper had a chance to reply, the World Eater began rapidly shrinking and returning to his human form. It was still painful, but the shrinking was definitely not as bad as the growing. Finally, Fenris was once again human, still on all fours on the arena floor. He stood up slowly and winced. His body was one giant ache, accentuated with the sharp, stabbing pain in his ribs. He had to take shallow breaths, due to his collapsed lung.

Signe still stood in front of him. She looked him up and down with raised eyebrows, then whistled.

Fenris frowned. "What—" he began, but a small scuffle distracted him. He turned to see Dipper pushing past the Ulfhednar in front of him so he could climb into the arena. He rushed toward Fenris, and a bundle of fabric appeared in his outstretched arms.

"Don't worry, I'll get you that med kit in just a sec. First, you should probably put some clothes on."

Fenris looked down at himself. He was, indeed, very naked. "Oh for fuck's sake," he muttered, grabbing the proffered clothing and beginning to dress.

"No need to be so modest, Lord Fenrir," Signe said, holding her hands out wide to show her state of undress. "We don't care about your bits and pieces. Even if they are of...godly proportions." She winked at him and ran her tongue over her lips suggestively, which was more terrifying than arousing, as her mouth was covered in blood, her tongue still bleeding sluggishly from her sword-licking wound.

Fenris pretended he didn't hear that last bit, but he turned a magnificent shade of red, regardless. He buttoned the pants Dipper had provided him, but kept the shirt off so he could bandage his ribs with the first aid supplies Dipper handed him.

While Fenris chose to ignore it, Dipper took exception to Signe's overtly sexual comment about his sister's boyfriend's bits and pieces.

"Hey, cool your jets, lady. Fen's a minor." Then he paused and cocked his head to the side. "Except that he's also thousands of years old...but being constantly reborn...shit. Fen, how old are you?"

Fenris paused wrapping his ribs, and glanced up at Dipper. "Uh. I don't know? I've never really thought about it. I mean, gods age way differently than humans anyway, and I don't know how many times I've been reborn. At the same time, this human body of mine isn't a glamour—you just saw how my physical body actually changes. And I didn't choose to appear as a teenager—I don't think I can control that. Also, I feel like a teenager? So… yeah. I'm an unspecified teenage-age, I guess."

Dipper nodded, his curiosity mostly satisfied, and turned back to Signe. "Like I said, Fen's a minor—and he's dating my sister. So don't go getting any ideas." He leaned forward with one hand on his hip, and waggled a sassy finger at her.

Signe crossed her arms over her chest and stared down her nose at Dipper. "Lord Fenrir has proven who he is, but who are you who to speak to the Meistari Ulfa in such a way?"

"Oh, yeah, introductions. I'm Dipper Pines, the newest trickster-slash-god of mischief from the Green Realm," he said. He bowed with a fancy flourish of his hand, conjured a handful of glitter, and tossed it at her.

Signe stepped back, waving the sparkles out of her face. The glitter that managed to hit her stuck to the blood that oozed from various wounds on her body. Dipper grinned. She was going to be finding glitter in unexpected places for weeks.

"Tricksters," she muttered. "But why are you here of all places, and accompanying Lord Fenrir? Shouldn't you be off in the Green, annoying folk over there?"

Fenrir tied off his bandage, and pulled the shirt Dipper had supplied over his head. "Actually, that's sort of got to do with why we're here." He glanced around at the arena crowd, who were loudly trying to elbow and push each other out of the way, so they could attempt to overhear Fenrir and their Meistari's conversation. "Is there somewhere a little more private we can go to talk?"

Signe nodded. She motioned to the tall, sinewy Ulfhednar who had led them to the arena. "My Fyrsti Ulfur will show you to my private quarters. I will join you once I have had my wounds tended."

Dipper and Fenris once again followed the intimidating man, but this time, with much less trepidation. He led them to a side passage off of the main cavern, and through winding stone corridors, until he stopped at an ornately carved wooden door set into the cave wall. He pushed it open and ushered the boys inside.

"Make yourselves comfortable, Lord Fenrir and... Lord Fenrir's friend," he said gruffly. "I must return to my duties." He left Dipper and Fenris alone in what was a surprisingly homey little cave, lit by wall torches and a myriad of candles scattered on low tables throughout the room.

Dipper sat on the edge of Signe's bed, and leaned back on his hands, swinging his still-human-appearing legs over the side. Fenris sank slowly down onto a large cushion on the floor. He held a hand against his ribs, wincing.

"I could really go for a dip in Sirona's healing spring right about now," he muttered.

"Is it that bad?" asked Dipper. "You said the Ulfhednar are mortals...or former mortals? Right?"

Fenris nodded. "Signe wouldn't have been able to kill me, but I'm currently operating on only one lung, and in a good bit of pain. Even non-gods are capable of giving painful and...inconveniencing wounds."

"I guess that makes sense," Dipper said, scratching the back of his head. "I'm just glad it was you who had to fight her, and not me. That Signe is… unsettling."

"And what is that supposed to mean, trickster?" Signe said from the doorway. The blood and runes had been washed off of her skin, making her nakedness even more apparent than before.

Dipper jumped, startled. He glanced up at her, then back down, his face red. "Oh, I just—"

"He means that you are a fierce and formidable warrior of great skill," Fenris said. "The Ulfhednar are legendary on the battlefield. That's why we have come here to seek your aid."

Signe sank down onto a wooden bench across from Fenris's cushion, and raised an eyebrow. "Lord Fenrir, while we respect you as the Great Wolf, you know we are Odin's warriors, pledged to his service. As the one prophesied to kill him, you can see how aiding you would be a conflict of interest for us, yes?"

Fenris leaned forward, then grunted as his wound pulled. "That's just it—as you probably know, Ragnarok has been set in motion. It'd have to be, right? Elsewise I wouldn't be able to visit you here. I'd still be chained up on that island."

Signe folded her arms over her chest and nodded. "And?"

Fenris took a shallow breath and continued. "And something happened that was not included in the prophecy. Instead of breaking the chains on my own, I was set free prematurely, by a trickster from another realm—not him, though," he added, as Signe turned her head to glare at Dipper.

"Tricksters," she muttered, shaking her head. "Always meddling where they oughtn't."

"Hey, I'll have you know that the meddling the other trickster did is the reason we think we can thwart the Ragnarok prophecy," Dipper said.

Signe smiled at him like he was simple. "You cannot thwart a prophecy. It must come to pass."

Fenris shrugged. "Think what you want—but I have no plans to kill Odin. In fact, I want to help him defeat my dad."

Signe's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Do you not blame Odin for your confinement? Do you not hate him for it, and want revenge?"

"I mean, I'm not fond of the guy," Fenris said with a shrug. "It was a real dick move, what he and the other Aesir did to me. But I found someone to fight for who is more important to me than revenge, and I will do everything in my power to thwart the prophecy, so I don't die during the final battle of Ragnarok, and can get back to her."

"Ah," said Signe, smiling knowingly. "The trickster's sister. I must admit, I was taken aback at the news that the World Eater has a girlfriend. She must be quite the goddess."

Dipper laughed. "Actually, my sister is mortal. It's a really...unique situation."

Fenris's cheeks took on a pink tinge, and he looked down at his hands. "She may not be a goddess, but she is my goddess." Then he looked back up at Signe, his eyes intense. "And I will do anything to keep her safe, and to avoid death during Ragnarok, so I can be with her."

Signe was quiet for a moment as she studied his face. Finally, she said "And what does the All-Father think of this alliance with you?"

"Well, that's the thing," Fenris said, rubbing the back of his neck. "He is not yet aware of my intention to ally with him. I wanted to first reach out to the Ulfhednar, and several select Aesir who won't try to kill me on sight, to convince you all to back me when I bring the proposal to Odin. I figure having his fiercest warriors tell him they believe the sincerity of my plans will go a long way in persuading the All-Father to join forces with me against Loki and the Jotun."

Signe stared down at him, her expression unreadable. "How can we know your word is true? You're the son of a trickster, after all—not to mention being in the company of one. Tricksters are not to be trusted."

"Rude," muttered Dipper.

"Would the fact that this plan was actually Mimir's idea make it any more palatable?" Fenris asked, with a small smile. "Or maybe that Baldur, the god of innocence and purity himself, is in on it, and is trying to convince some of the other Aesir to back our plan as we speak?"

At the mere mention of Baldur's name, Signe's jaw went slightly slack, and her eyes unfocused. "He's so pretty," she murmured.

"So pretty," Dipper echoed her breathlessly. Then he frowned, and shook his head, "I mean, he's, uh, pretty swole. Swell. Yup. He's a pretty... swell fella."

Fenris looked away from Signe and Dipper, trying to hide a smile. "Yup, he sure is. So how about it, Signe? Are the endorsements of Mimir and Baldur—Odin's own son—enough to convince you that I bear no ill intentions against the All-Father?"

Signe nodded, her eyes coming back into focus. "Tell you what, Lord Fenrir. You send me a message to join you at Valaskialf before you plan to petition Odin, and as long as Baldur is there when I arrive, and you introduce us, I swear that the Ulfhednar will back you in trying to convince Odin to ally with you against your father."

Fenris grinned and nodded. "I think that can be arranged."

"Okay, then," Signe said, patting her thighs absently before standing up. "I'll have my Fyrsti Ulfur lead you to one of the surface entrances. Are you going anywhere specific? If so, he'll take you to whichever entrance is nearest your destination."

The smile that had been spread across Fenris's face instantly vanished. He knew where he was supposed to go next, but he didn't want to go there. His shallow breathing began to come faster, as he started to panic.

"Uh, Fen? You okay, buddy?" Dipper asked gently. "You look like you're about to be sick."

Fenris nodded, even though he was very not okay, and he did feel like he was about to be sick. He swallowed hard against the bile rising in his throat, and took as deep a breath as he was able. He just had to remember why he was doing all this. It was all for Mabel. She was worth everything he had gone through and more. If keeping her safe meant having to reunite with his former foster father—his betrayer—then so be it.

"Yeah, we—" said Fenris as he slowly stood up from his cushion, pausing to grunt and press a hand to his ribs. "We're going to see Tyr."

/

It was late afternoon, and dusk was beginning to settle over the Gravnemeta. Morrigan had been working with Mabel for hours, first to hone her aim with her "fire arms," and then to teach her close combat tactics, using Wendy to demonstrate different techniques.

"Okay, girly-os, let's try that again," Morrigan called out loudly, clapping her hands. "Ye've almost got the leverage right, Mabel. Ye're naught but a wee lass, but if you master this hip throw, your size won't be such a disadvantage when a baddie gets too close for comfort."

Mabel groaned and flopped back on the grass dramatically, nearly landing on Caer Ibormeith. The swan honked indignantly and waddled quickly out of the way. Vale's caw from up on his perch in the oak sounded very like a mocking laugh.

"Ugh, my arms are like noodles, Morrigan!" Mabel whined, flailing said limbs loosely. "And I think Wendy's probably getting tired of being thrown around, even if I'm not very good at it yet."

"Nah, I'm alright," Wendy said with a cheeky grin, from her spot leaning up against one of the standing stones. "You're doing most of the work anyway."

Mabel shot her a look. "Not helpful."

Morrigan chuckled. "Oh fine then, you're done for the night. Anyway, there's an elderly man approaching. I suppose he's here to be the guard dog now? Hope he still has his teeth."

"Who're you calling elderly, you—you millennias-old goddess?" Stan called out from halfway across the Gravnemeta. He dropped the lawn chair and weapons bag he was holding, and stalked the rest of the way over to Mabel, Wendy, and Morrigan with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Oh, he must have good hearing aids," Morrigan said, looking at Mabel with a wink.

"So this is The Morrigan, huh?" Stan also only looked at Mabel, but he was scowling. "Doesn't look like much compared to Arden."

"Oh, no, y'all leave me out of whatever weird pissing match you're trying to have," Mabel said as she stood, brushing her hands off on her greaves. "But hey, Grunkle Stan, maybe don't make an enemy of the goddess who's helping train me to, you know, not die?"

Morrigan simply laughed. "C'mon Caer, lets go someplace that doesn't smell so much like old people." Then she reached down to touch the swan's head, and they both disappeared.

Stan huffed and grumbled something to himself about uppity goth banshees, and trudged back over to his lawn chair and weapons bag, beginning to set things up for the night shift at the Gravnemeta. He glanced down at his watch and abruptly called over to Mabel and Wendy.

"You two should—Wendy, it's getting late, how 'bout you blip Mabel home and get home yourself?"

Mabel picked up her glaive, that had sat unused during this training session, and wandered over to her Grunkle. "Why are you in such a hurry to get rid of us? And where's Ford?" Vale flapped over and perched on her shoulder, letting out a small croak.

Wendy joined them and elbowed Mabel's side jovially. "Oh! I bet Stan has a secret girlfriend he's meeting out here for a hot date!"

"What is this, pick on Stanley Pines day? Was there a memo I should have gotten?"

Mabel laughed and ignored his question. "Grunkle Stan, you know there are better places for a date than the Gravnemeta. Who's the lucky lady?"

"It's not a date! It's—" Stan was cut off by a confused Wendy, who was looking over his shoulder to the treeline.

"Dad?"

"Hi, sweetie!" Manly Dan said. "I'd wave, but I've got my arms full." He nodded down to the small steamer chest he carried.

"What are you doing out here?" Wendy asked. "You're not on the guard roster."

Dan reached the group and sat the chest down with a thud, then indicated with his thumb at Stan. "This one asked me to teach him how to throw axes."

Mabel raised an eyebrow at her Grunkle. "You want to learn how to throw axes?"

Stanley held his hands out, palms up. "What can I say, I have violent tendencies. Now you two scram, okay? We've got things covered here."

"Ooookay then?" Mabel said, turning to look at Wendy. "You ready to—wait, who's out there?" she asked, craning her neck to try and see past the treeline. She swore she just heard voices in the distance.

"Who? Wh—oh, it's probably just Ford," Stan said quickly. "Now shoo. Blip off."

Mabel frowned. "No, I heard two voices. I think one of them is Grunkle Ford, but who's he got with him? There wasn't anyone else on the roster for tonight."

"It's just Ford, now go!" Stanley practically barked, causing Mabel to flinch away from him. Vale cawed and flapped his wings aggressively at Stan.

"What the hell?" Wendy murmured under her breath. "This is sus as fuck."

"Wendy! Watch your language, young lady," Dan said loudly. His voice carried across the clearing to the two figures emerging from the trees.

"Girls, go," Stan muttered. "You don't wanna be here for this."

"What's he doing out here?" said one of the figures as they stepped out of the shadows. "You told me you needed advice on some diseased trees at the Gravnemeta, Ford, but I see no diseased trees. I do, however, see him."

Dan turned on his heel to look the newcomers head on. "Harold," he said, venom in his voice.

"Is this why you wanted us gone?" Mabel asked Stan, quietly. "To stage some kind of intervention? You could've just said."

Stan sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Will you two go now, please? This is probably gonna get ugly."

"Aw, but I wanna watch my dad kick his ass!" Wendy whined.

Manly Dan cracked his knuckles loudly, and turned his head slightly to look at his daughter. "Wendy, take Mabel and leave. Now."

"Fine," Wendy said with a pout. "You ready, Mabes?"

Mabel nodded. Wendy reached out to touch the shoulder not occupied by Vale, and within a millisecond they were standing in the middle of Mabel's attic bedroom.

"What do you think that was all about?" Mabel asked, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

"I don't know." Wendy crossed her arms over her chest. "But you can bet your butt I'm gonna be asking my mom. I have half a mind to blip back there right now and spy from the trees—but I'm not gonna. I don't want to incur my dad's wrath. I still have to live in his house, after all."

"That's a wise decision, even though the snoop in me totally wants to blip back there with you," Mabel said with a grin. She stretched and yawned. Fenris had been right...the sleep she had gotten during her real dream with him hadn't been restful. She smiled to herself, and felt her face heat up at the memory of what they had done. "Ugh, I'm tired. I'm gonna shower and get to bed. But you better text me if you find out anything about that weird 'intervention' from your mom!"

Wendy grinned. "Obviously. 'Night, Mabel."

Vale cawed loudly.

"And goodnight to you as well, Vale," Wendy said, nodding at the bird.

Mabel yawned and flapped a hand at her. "Sweet dreams and all that."

Just before Wendy blipped away, she smiled mischievously. "That's the plan."

/

Dipper tripped for the third time in as many minutes and cursed under his breath. He was plenty used to walking with his goat legs by now, but it had been over an hour since the Fyrsti Ulfur had led them to the exit that was supposedly closest to Tyr's abode, and they were still walking. The sky was beginning to darken, and Dipper was tired. Time seemed to move funny in this realm, and he wasn't sure how long it had been since he'd slept in the hut of the former Erik the Blue. When he'd asked Fenris why they couldn't just blip into Tyr's house, Fenris had explained that surprising Tyr by popping out of thin air unexpectedly was a good way to get dead. He was apparently a 'slit-your-throat-first-ask-questions-later' kind of guy.

"So do you actually know where you're going?" Dipper called out to Fenris, ahead of him. "It's not that I think you don't, I'm just starting...to think you don't. Why does Tyr live so far away from the rest of the Aesir, anyway?"

Fenris stopped walking and turned to face Dipper. He looked paler than usual. "Yes, I know where I'm going. It didn't seem as far when I was a giant wolf. I had bigger strides." He waited for Dipper to catch up to him, then turned so they were walking side by side. "And it's my fault, actually, that he lives all the way out here," he continued quietly. "When he took over my care, none of his neighbors wanted me living near them. Of course, he always told me it was because he could tell how big I was going to get. Said we needed the space. Said he liked the solitude out here better than Asgard proper, anyway, so he didn't mind moving."

Dipper frowned. "You make it sound like he was a nice guy."

Fenris nodded, and rubbed his arm over his eyes. "He was. He raised me from a pup. I hadn't really started growing when Odin took me and my siblings from our mom. I was young enough that I don't have many memories of her. Loki—well, I didn't even know he was my dad until it was explained to me why we were being taken from our home. Tyr took me to meet up with Loki a few times when he was in Asgard, but drifting is in his nature, so I never got to know him especially well. I wasn't all that sad about it, though, because I thought of Tyr as my dad." Fenris sniffled quietly. "He called me his 'large, furry son.'"

"Shit," Dipper whispered. Fenris had never really said much about Tyr before this. He hadn't realized how deep their bond had been. Their bond that Tyr used to his advantage to trick and betray Fenris. Dipper balled his hands into fists at his sides. Now he wanted to kick this guy's ass—but they had to make nice with him so he would help convince Odin to ally with Fenris.

"Yeah," Fenris said low.

The pair walked in silence, except for the occasional sniffle from Fenris, until they reached the summit of the hill they'd been climbing. Fenris stopped, and pointed down to the bottom of the hill.

"There it is," he said, indicating to a modest-sized stone house with a thatched roof, tucked into a little valley. It was fairly rustic—nothing at all like the great carved marble and granite villas of Asgard proper. This place actually looked homey. There was a large field fenced in next to the house where a horse grazed, and a chicken coop, stable, and several other outbuildings set behind it. On the opposite side of the house from the field was a small, spring-fed pond. White smoke was swirling lazily up from the chimney, and candlelight flickered in the windows. "Looks like he's home."

Dipper put a hand on Fenris's shoulder, and could feel how tense his friend was. "Are you sure you're ready to do this?" he asked. "Maybe we don't really need to—maybe we can convince Odin with just the Ulfhednar and Mimir and Baldur and whoever he's able to wrangle to our side. That's—that seems like enough. I think we're safe to skip Tyr, if you want."

Fenris took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. "No. I need every possible advantage I can get to convince the All-Father to ally with us. If I screw this up, Mabel will still be in danger. Well, and the whole Mundane," he added as an afterthought. "I have to at least try to convince Tyr to join our alliance."

Dipper gave Fenris's shoulder a squeeze, then dropped his hand. "Okay."

They walked down the hill, and were only about twenty feet from the door when Dipper whispered "So what's the plan?"

Fenris bit his lower lip, then shook his head and shrugged. "Wing it, I guess? I don't think I want to tell him who I am up front. Let him get a good look at me first, and if he doesn't seem to know who I am, then I'll shift to tell him. And then… I don't know. I guess it depends on how he reacts to seeing me."

Dipper nodded. "Right, winging it."

They closed the distance to the door, and Fenris had a shaky fist raised to knock, when a loud bark made him jump back. "He got a dog?" he said, sounding slightly hurt.

"What is it, Rika?" a deep voice boomed from within the house. "Something out there?" The dog continued to bark, as footsteps thumped toward the door. There was an excited scrabbling of claws on wood, and Fenris and Dipper instinctively took several steps back as the door was pulled open, and a large black creature lunged out. It seemed to home in on Fenris and ran straight at him, still barking. But when it was directly in front of him, it thumped down to a sit, panting, its tail wagging furiously.

Dipper stared at the dog incredulously, then at Fenris. He looked spooked. The dog was the spitting image of Fen's dog form. Dipper watched on with curiosity, as he had never seen Fenris interact with a regular dog before.

Fenris got down on his knees and held out a hand, presumably, Dipper thought, for the dog to sniff. Instead it put its paw in his hand and lowered its head submissively. Fenris smiled and bowed his head back at it, which must have been some kind of dog-king 'at ease' permission, because as soon as Fenris raised his head again, the dog was on him, standing on its hind legs, jumping around him excitedly, trying to lick any bit of bare skin it could find. When Fenris attempted to stand back up, the dog knocked him off balance, and he fell back laughing as it excitedly licked his face.

"Save some for Mabel, doggo," Dipper said, with a chuckle.

"Well, that's not the greeting my Rika usually gives to uninvited guests," a smooth baritone voice said from directly behind Dipper. He jumped and turned, coming face-to-chest with an extremely tall, muscular god. Manly Dan would have seemed normal-sized in comparison. Dipper craned his neck and looked up at Tyr's face. Though his pale visage was covered in old scars, Dipper was relieved to find a smile on Tyr's lips, and humor in his eyes. "Might I ask what you're doing creeping about my home in the dark?"

"Oh, well, we're..." he turned back to see Fenris still being assaulted by dog kisses. He cleared his throat loudly. "Uh, Fe—friendo, can you stop making out with the dog? This...large fellow wants to know what we're doing here."

Tyr chuckled. "It's hard to get her to stop when she's that excited. Ri—" he began to call off the dog, but cut himself off when Fenris sat up and nodded to the dog, his smile replaced with a more stoic expression, and the dog immediately backed up a few steps from him and sat, her tail slowly wagging.

"What in Helheim?" murmured Tyr. Dipper thought he must have recognized Fenris, but Tyr continued. "She's never even behaved that well for me."

Fenris stood and walked slowly forward, Rika heeling at his feet. When he was beside Dipper, he looked up at Tyr's face. Dipper waited for a moment of recognition, but it never came. To give Tyr credit, it was fairly dark out now.

"I have never seen any dog act like that before," Tyr said. He sounded impressed. "You must have some kind of magical gift with them, no? Both of you, come inside and share a drink with me. I sense you're no threat. Besides, Rika is clearly vouching for you."

"We'd like that, thank you," Fenris said softly.

Dipper could hear a tiny quaver in his friend's voice. He reached out and squeezed Fen's arm. "You got this buddy."

Tyr turned and went back into the house, holding the door open for them. Fenris entered first, Rika following sedately behind him, with Dipper at the rear.

Tyr shut the door, and held his handless arm out toward the room. "Make yourselves comfortable. It's not grand, I know, but it's home."

"Thanks," Dipper said, taking in the one-room house. It was very cozy, with an enormous bed in the back left corner, and a comfortably appointed seating area toward the front corner. Nearly the entire far right wall of the house was taken up by a giant, whitewashed fireplace. A fire crackled merrily in it, heating up the contents of a large cast-iron cauldron. There was a table with four chairs around it in front of the fireplace, and an open cabinet full of wooden plates, tankards, and drinking horns set perpendicular to the fireplace, on the back wall.

While Tyr busied himself pouring tankards of a golden-colored liquid, Dipper took a seat at the kitchen table. Fenris still stood, slowly turning in a circle, looking all around his childhood home, unshed tears threatening to spill from his eyes. His chin quivered, and he let out a sharp sob that he attempted to disguise as a cough. Dipper wasn't fooled, and neither, apparently, was Rika. She sat and put a paw on Fenris's thigh, whining softly. Tyr was apparently oblivious.

The large god plunked three tankards down on the table and sat down with his back to the fire. He motioned with his stump for Fenris to join them. "Come, sit, drink! Share with me your dog-training secrets! Oh, and I didn't get your names, did I? I am Tyr, but I suspect you knew that since you came to my home."

"I'm Dipper Pines," Dipper said. "You've met my friend before."

"Have I?" said Tyr, sounding surprised. "Let me get a better look at you."

Fenris sat down in the chair facing Tyr and the fireplace, and Rika laid her head on his knee. He slowly looked up at his former father figure. Fen's eyes were red-rimmed and shining. When he blinked, a single tear left a wet trail down his cheek. He rubbed it away roughly.

"What's wrong? Have I offended somehow?" Tyr asked, taken aback by Fenris's woebegone appearance. "I'm sorry for not recognizing you, friend. I've never been great with faces."

Fenris took a shaky breath and blew it out. His chin quivered as he met Tyr's eyes, and choked out a single word. "Why?"

Tyr frowned and leaned over the table to peer more closely at Fenris. His expression slowly morphed from bewildered confusion to recognition—to something akin to horror.

"No," he said sharply, standing up so quickly that his chair fell back with a clatter, almost landing in the fireplace. "No, you can't be, it's not possible," he said while shaking his head, eyes never leaving Fenris's face. He held his hand to his mouth, and abruptly pushed past Dipper's chair to flee the house.

"So, that went well," Dipper muttered, not sure if he should try to comfort Fenris, or go after Tyr. "Do-do you need a hug?"

His features pinched, Fenris shook his head, and collapsed down onto the table, his head resting on his arms, shoulders shaking, as he sobbed quietly.

Down at Fen's feet, Rika threw her head back and let out a long, mournful howl.