Disclaimer: I don't own "Ragnarok" Netflix or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: I wanted to write about what might have happened after the credits rolled at the end of season two between Saxa and Fjor. I am honestly not sure what to tag this as because Saxa and Fjor are not siblings biologically or adopted – they literally play being siblings while actually being unrelated ancient norse giants and you cannot tell me after that dance scene that they don't fuck.

Warnings: sexual content, dirty talk, incest vibes, reference to proposed threesome/foursome, canon typical violence, drama, romance, angst, norse mythology.

The Cain Instinct

She had gotten as far as the bathroom when the door slammed open. She stilled instinctively. Perched nude on the closed lid of the toilet as Fjor stalked inside. Fists balled. Eyes flashing.

It was a testament to how drained she was that she barely gave him a weary eye. She was too ruined to even pretend. All she wanted was a shower. Maybe then her palm would stop burning. The skin still ugly and raised from where she'd tried to lift the hammer. Mjolnir reborn.

It had been worth a try.

"You reek of him," Fjor growled, lip curled. Looking from her to the clothing she'd shucked by the door in clear distaste.

Her eyes flicked to the puddle of her slacks. The corner of her mouth quirking up as one of the pant legs proudly showed a thick smear of cum. She hadn't cared when Magne had come inside her. They were beyond such things. And to be honest, she had been the one who forced her ankles around his back. Keeping him there as his hips hitched and-

"Like you can talk," she returned, breathing in sparked electrics and spilled oil. Vaguely interested in what he had been doing to smell like that.

He hissed an angry sound.

It reminded her of a fussing child.

She imagined he thought it intimidating.

Some things never changed.

"You let him touch you," he snapped, disgusted. But with an edge of jealous possession that had come to dominate their relationship over the centuries.

Her smile was fake as she eased to her feet. Legs unsteady. Imagining she could feel the echo of his fingers digging into them. Magne had been a stripling, but he'd demanded his share of her. Eager after she had him first. In truth, her ability to heal had been stretched past her limit.

"You've forgotten how things were," she coaxed, voice stronger than her body felt as she reached for her bathrobe. Covering her nakedness without any sign of discomfort. Letting the wall balance her weight as she slid down to the floor. Inhaling the scent of soft linen as it nested around her in waves. "We might be enemies, but we were not always at war."

Fjor wavered, fists slowly uncurling.

"Magne found us outside their house, the hammer-"

She frowned. They couldn't have been that stupid, could they?

"And Laurits?" she demanded. If they'd killed Laurits any good she'd gained would be utterly ruined. No, it would be worse than that, Magne would-

Fjor's expression went petulant, crumpling with irritation.

"Alive," he said dismissively. "He proved to have something valuable after all. Something that might save us. Magne arrived when we were...discussing terms."

They'd beaten the shit out of him and Magne had caught them in the act.

"You're lucky you're still alive," she observed, as Fjor blew out a breath. Running his hand through his hair. She watched him for a long moment, calculating, before she patted the ground next to her. "Sit."

It was a shrewd olive branch, considering how they'd treated her. But it wasn't outside of anything they hadn't given or taken from each other before. You couldn't live with the same people for centuries and not disagree, from time to time.

He slid down the wall next to her with a groan. Shoulder to shoulder. A familiar, tired weight. She smiled, a muscle in her thigh twitching when a trickle of cum dripped from her slit.

"Is Ran alive?" she asked. Knowing the answer but wanting to encourage Fjor to tell her more without appearing to pry.

He nodded.

"We will need to order a new SUV," he remarked, indication enough of the vengeance Magne had delivered.

She huffed an amused sound. If that was the worst of it, they were lucky.

"You find this funny? He's going to kill us. All of us. One by one," Fjor grated, more a whine than anything.

It reminded her of something her father - her true father - had told her. Sooner or later the Gods would cut them down. The question of if it was deserved had never been discussed.

"We never gave him the chance to be anything other than our enemy," she answered quietly. Introspective as the last few months passed in a blur in her mind's eye.

"Vidar-" Fjor started hotly.

"No. Us," she affirmed, cutting him off with a violent tilt of her head. Blonde hair falling over her face. Masking the bruises.

She exhaled. Isolde had been too curious. Too nosy. She understood why, but the truth was, such pollution didn't affect them. It had been more profitable to dispose of the toxins in the glacier decades ago, than go through proper channels. The gods their kind kept encouraged greed. As long as they were honored and given their usual sacrifices, what they did to the Earth and everyone on it was their own business.

This was the consequence. And she felt- she felt like how beige looked. She didn't feel much of anything. Perhaps she was getting old.

If the old wisdom was true, it was little wonder the Gods had returned. The ones who shared the All-Father's blood. Odin. Thor. And every son and daughter of Odin's line. They had to expect them all to return now. Perhaps, like Thor, they were already here.

"The moment we stored the barrels in the cave, we started something that led here. Vidar just made the first strike. He killed the only person who gave Magne the time of day. It was inevitable," she murmured, the after-image of Magne and Isolde sitting across the cafeteria flashed between blinks.

"Then the score should have been settled with Vidar," Fjor insisted, slapping the wall to his right. "When Magne killed him, it should have-"

She shook her head.

"He doesn't understand it that way. We all must be punished. Not just for Isolde, but for the town. All the people who got sick, died. He isn't going to stop. It isn't in his nature," she took a deep breath before she said the quiet part out loud. "...And I don't blame him."

Thor's justice had always been that way.

Unstoppable and fair.

Even if you didn't like it.

And she usually didn't.

It was even more maddening now. Semantics, profits and schemes held little sway over Magne. Even when his family had nothing, he could not be bought. He would not be bought. Nor would he compromise if it came to-

"Of course you don't," Fjor spat, angry.

She smiled. But like with most things lately, it just hid her teeth.

"Neither of us are untainted," she pointed out.

He expelled a breath, a rumbling growl rolling underneath.

"What do we do?"

The fake smile felt ugly on her face as she turned to him. Knowing he could see right through it. Hoping he saw how much she wanted to bare her teeth instead.

"That depends on what we want," she hummed, eyes sliding over his wind-ruffled hair. "What do you want, Fjor? I used to know."

He didn't say anything. When he chewed at his bottom lip, he didn't have too.

"Do you really love her?" she sighed, curious, jealous and bored all at once.

Outside, thunder rolled. Echoing through the mountains. Making them still. Weary. Both wondering the same thing. That was the problem with gods; their pleasure and their wrath often looked the same. Thor had never been the exception to that rule, rather the one who'd created it. But with Magne, it wasn't as easy to tell.

"I don't know," Fjor exhaled, after a long, careful moment. Knees almost up to his chest. Reminding her that he'd always been the youngest of them. It should have made her feel something, but it didn't. It had once, when they had huddled together in the dawn after the end of everything. Bloodied and blinking as the debris of everything they'd known slowly filtered into ash and bone. Somewhere along the line she'd lost that sympathy.

"You want her," she told him, more forcefully this time. It wasn't a question.

"And what about you?" Fjor shot back, desperate to even the playing field. "He isn't Thor. He's a child. A child with the blood of a God in his veins."

She tilted her head up at the ceiling as lightning lit up the shadows. It was later than they thought. And they were not strong. Somewhere along the line they'd grown weak. Fat on their own wealth and ego. Vidar had just been the first. Time had been patient in dismantling them.

"Magne is a good person," she found herself saying. Not sure where she was going with the observation before Fjor snorted and distracted her.

"Historically humans have only been good by mistake."

She cocked her head, fixing him with a look that said it all.

"Magne isn't human," she murmured. "I'm not sure he ever was. And if he was, he isn't anymore. Thor was easier to understand. You're right, they aren't the same. Magne isn't just Thor, and that makes him dangerous. So...if you want to run away with Gry and play human, run. But if you stay, we have to deal with this."

There had been other times when they'd been at odds like this. Where loyalties were tested. Where there had been close calls and fights that'd rocked Judianhiem's foundations. But they'd always come back to each other. The two of them. The four of them. They knew each other too well not to know the right thing to say. How to stretch old favors. Or use the right amount of blackmail to bring the other to heel.

So, maybe that was why she wasn't surprised when he turned to her. The tension softening as his head fell into the crux of her shoulder. Rubbing his cheek into the high of her breast. Returning to her, like he always did. Eventually.

"Right now- I want a shower," he breathed. Something warmer and pointed in his voice as he got to his feet. Extending his hand until she took it, palms fitting together as he gentled her to her feet.

They swayed together for a moment, breathing the same air. Waiting for something neither of them made the effort to give until Fjor owned the weakness of breaking first. Kissing her with soft lips. Careful and submissive until he was sure of his welcome.

She was the one to eventually pull away, nipping his lower lip sharply before she turned, dropping the robe. Taking his hand as he followed her into the shower. Neither of them feeling the chill as she cranked it to hot and faced him as the granite walls pillowed steam.

The ache in her bones were soothed as they moved under the spray. Back arching when he trailed kisses down her neck. Knowing what she liked and giving it to her for once as his cock ground blunt and heavy into the curl of her hip. Luxuriating in his familiar attentions as he reached for the soap - filling the humid air with the scent of winter heather and mint. They didn't speak again until he was soaping the undersides of her breasts, cock firm at her back-side as water cascaded down on them like spring rain.

"What was he like?" he rasped, as he eased her over to the resting bench on the side of the shower. Encouraging her leg to prop up as his cock nudged her core.

She chuckled. It was a dark, curling, honied sound that made him slide in harshly. Like she'd taunted him. Which, of course, she had.

"If you want to know, why don't you join us next time?"

His nails dug into her hips as he had her. Grip heavy and hot as he exhaled. Eyes flashing orange before he closed them. Biting at his lips instead of kissing her. As if even he wasn't' sure which part of the idea he was dissenting too.

She grinned into the spray. Liking this new game.

"We would be beautiful, the three of us," she whispered, leaning forward so that he sank deeper. Feeling more powerful than she had in months as his hips stuttered. Mouth falling open in outraged want. "We could do it right here. I could be like this, Magne using my mouth. Or maybe you wouldn't want to share him? Hmmm?"

Fjor growled, showing his true face for just a moment. She did the same, snarling. Rumbling a sound that hadn't echoed since the moment at the dance when Fjor and Laurits had surrounded her. Hands petting down her sides. Basking in her femaleness as the music pulled more out of them than they'd expected. At the time, she thought it had been Isolde's death, or how Laurits had added something new to the rhythm. But now she wondered. Because Magne had been there, at least in the beginning. Had something in their blood been able to sense his presence? An instinct they'd forgotten to heed?

Inspiration struck like the wicked thing it was when his fingers found her clit. Pressing his thumb flat and firm as she squirmed - desperate for it. Wanting to see him come apart as he snarled into the steam, thinking he'd won.

"Or shall we send for Gry? She would be such a pretty thing between the three of us. Can you see it? Would she scream for it? Do you think she'd beg? …Or would you? ...I think you'd like it if you and Magne took her together. His cock tight against yours... She's hungry for it, you know she is. She'd get everything she wanted if you shared her. Breakable little Gry... Magne would like that, I think-"

She came the same moment he slapped her across the face. Grinning at each other with sharp teeth as he groaned - then pulsed inside her.

And as he lowered her to the floor, nuzzling close, all she could think was that it wasn't a no.


A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – This story is now complete.

Reference:

- The title is a reference to the story of "Cain and Abel." Cain and Abel are the first two sons of Adam and Eve after they were expelled from the Garden of Eden in the biblical book of Genesis. According to the story, Cain killed Abel because God accepted Abel's sacrifice but rejected Cain's. With this act of jealousy, Cain became the first murderer.