A/N: *yawn* amg sleepy. WHYYYYY? Lots of class work, writing for class, things I can't ignore (boo). Classes come first, sorry guys!

Beta Love: The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, Flyby Commander Shepard

Castaways

Chapter 2

The best thing to hold onto in life is each other. - Audrey Hepburn

Hermione discovered the advantages of aquaculture as a way to both relax her patients as well as provide a food source for her future cravings. With a little help from magic, the algae and aquatic plants flourished along with the sea urchins gifted by the goddess. It looked like they were going to have a very healthy colony and Loki confessed that he was looking forward to not having to dive into an icy sea and dodge seawolf whales to bring Hermione her essential craving targets once pregnancy caused to lose her mind over difficult-to-find foods.

After Loki's rather unheard of personal witness of his hunt by the goddess herself, the couple celebrated long into the night by doing exactly what the goddess predicted they would while Laufey brought the news of Snorre's fate to the tribe. Håkon, as predicted, felt some guilt over not having been there to stop Snorre from trying to tamper with Loki's hunt, but after they heard what Snorre had done—hiding his great hunts as well as selfishly not sharing with his family let alone the goddess Herself—pity was not longer on the list of emotions for the late-Jötunn-now-seal Snorre. Even his mother, who had blamed herself for many of Snorre's dysfunctions, finally accepted that what Snorre had become was not her fault, nor the fault of her joining with her late mate—Snorre had simply been an unusually poor example of the Jötunn species.

Hermione yawned sleepily. Still the pull to just cuddle up with her mate and let the bonding sleep consume her was incredibly strong. Part of her wondered just how much more "bonded" the two of them could get.

Loki's arm wrapped around her and pulled her close, perhaps sensing her fatigue, and she snuggled into his embrace, relishing the feel of his marks as they fully mated to hers. He had an unnervingly good sense of when she was getting tired, and he could always manage to maneuver her back to the sleeping furs before she even realised she had been expertly manipulated.

Like—right now.

How did he DO that?

His arm snaked around her belly as he spooned against her back, pulling the thick hide over the two of them for a little extra warmth. While neither of them truly felt the cold anymore, the almost-hedonistic feel of the hides hadn't been lost on them. Both of them remembered feeling a deep-seated comfort from snuggling under a plush duvet, and a plush winter fur was a fine substitute. There was also the luxury of spider silk sheets, which had become quite the sensation in the tribe once they realised that their rainbow-coloured spider friends could create such fine things—if they asked nicely and gave them a bowl of tasty snacks.

The spiders seemed downright ecstatic about the new developments. No more being stepped on, plentiful food, places to sleep that didn't involve getting blown away in the wind, and yes, back to not being stepped on anymore. Rumour had it that wild frost-spiders were catching on that much better living was to be had in one particular Jötunn encampment—provided they submitted to a little infrared re-colouration. However, after about five clusters of pristinely white frost-spiders peered at Hermione from her pillow when she woke up, she realised that maybe that wasn't just a rumour, after all.

Loki chuckled over the fact that spider-silk pillows and sheets were better than anything he had back in Ásgarðr, and his mother would have probably suffered through a week's long diplomatic negotiation if it meant getting her hands on some. Hermione pondered sending her a care package from Jötunheimr with an obscure return address.

Hermione hummed, enjoying the touch of Loki's clever fingers as he massaged an exotic scented oil over her skin—and she silently thanked Severus for having taught her that particular recipe. He had always preferred the scent of a particular mixture of herbs to soothe his aching muscles, but Hermione had always altered it to fit her mood. Using the herbs and Jötunheimr native species, she made a mixture that soothed the mind and the the muscles—embodying the scents that calmed those that lived out on the floes.

Her eyes fluttered as his mischievous tongue found other places to occupy itself on her body, and she let out a soft groan of approval. That, of course, only encouraged her enthusiastic mate, and he then proceeded to demonstrate just how mischievous one's tongue could get when properly motivated. By the time he was actually inside her, Hermione's brain was away on holidays, and on the front of every postcard had Loki's perfectly sculpted body wearing absolutely nothing at all. As their magic flared and merged together, Loki gave out a cry of his own, the added tendril of the goddess' claim upon Hermione seemed to realised they came as a mated set, and so, too, it set all of his nerves on fire at the peak of his mate's pleasure. Hermione let out a shuddering scream of satisfaction as Loki rode the wave of his mate's ecstasy—sharing with her his own with a very male smile of satisfaction.

"I think I may love you," Hermione whispered contentedly as Loki pressed a kiss to her neck.

"Do I not please you, my mate?" Loki pouted, chewing on her skin.

"Hnnnggghhhh!" Hermione moaned. "It may be a chronic, eternal affliction."

Loki purred. "As well it should be."

Hermione's eyes shot open. "There is something I must do. Now. Will you come with me?"

Loki froze, sensing his mate's sudden change in priorities. "Of course."

Hermione's hand closed over his. "I finally realised what time it is."

Severus Snape was going to die, and he knew it. He had expected it, even, but not quite in the manner it appeared to be coming for him. A giant snake in a bubble was not quite how he imagined his death. A series of Cruciatus curses causing a heart attack, most definitely. A killing curse to the back was certainly quite plausible. But death by a magically-enhanced snake in a bubble?

He should have seen it coming, really, despite how utterly ludicrous it was. Nagini was always Voldemort's most prized asset and his favourite method of body disposal.

With Potter and his two helpers gone, he could at least die in peace with the irony that the potions master neglected to bring a bezoar or even a healing potion with him. He had told Hermione the ultimate lie. He had forced his eyes to betray nothing of the truth even as he commanded her to go off with Potter and save the world, making her believe he had a plan, but there was no plan.

She would blame herself, he knew this in his very bones. She just couldn't help herself. Stupid girl. Always blaming herself for things that simply couldn't be helped. This one, well, it might have been helped. He should have had something on him. He should have made an undetectable extendable pocket and put an emergency Nagini-kit in it. He should have known.

Should have.

Could have.

Still dying, thank you very much.

At least the Dark Lord took his snake and left him to die in peace.

Rumble.

Crack.

Crackacrack.

CRUNCH!

The entire side of the shrieking shack obliterated itself right in front of him.

"Size difference… right."

That… sounded remarkably like Hermione.

"Forget something, my love?"

"I'm—used to being smaller than everything around me."

"Mrrrr."

"Ahem! Focus! Tryggr, hold still. I need the kit out of the saddlebags."

What the hell was going on out there?

"Ok, hold still. Reducio!" There was pause. "Reducio!"

There was the hurried pattering of feet as the head of a giant sabre-toothed cat shoved its muzzle into the hole in the shack.

Holy mother of Merlin. He was going to die by being eaten by a huge prehistoric feline!

"Tryggr!"

Hermione was running towards him, only she looked like a Smurf that had been possessed by demons. A very tall Smurf possessed by demons.

That magically-enhanced snake venom must really be working overtime.

Hermione was also practically naked.

Yes. He was definitely dying of magically-enhanced snake venom.

Hermione shoved the giant feline head out of the way. "Go chew on some Death Eaters—or better. Go gnosh on the giants."

"Mrrr?"

"The brown, club-swinging ones."

"Mrr!"

The ground shook as the feline disappeared.

Severus vaguely registered the screams in the background as Hermione propped him up and uncorked a potion, sniffing it, and then putting it to his lips. "You told me to my face you had a plan, Severus Snape," Hermione hissed. "You lied to my face!"

Severus blinked blearily as a swarm of white, fluffy spiders swarmed out of her hair and crawled over him.

"He's a mess!"

"Bandage time!"

"More bandage time, yikes!"

Severus made a gurgling sound. His hallucinations were talking in a language that he clearly didn't know.

How was that even fair?

Why was Hermione talking in a strange accent?

Why was she so scantily clad? What the hell was his brain coming up with? Why was that young man dressed in only a loincloth and carrying a bloody spear?

"Job's done!"

The fluffy spiders were crawling back into Hermione's hair, and Severus was suddenly glad he couldn't move, else he'd be frantically trying to brush them all off himself.

"He's stabilised," Hermione said, Her hand touched his forehead and was as cold as ice. "We're going to have to wrap him up to protect him from the cold."

Cold? It was sodding summer.

"Severus? Can you hear me? We're going to take you somewhere that no one, and I do mean no one in the Wizarding World is ever going to think to look for you, even should they manage to find it. But I need your permission, Severus. And after what you put me through, the answer had bloody well better be yes!"

Severus coughed. "Language, Granger. And yes, you have my permission."

"I'll carry him," the blue male offered.

Why was everyone sodding BLUE?

Hermione wrapped him up in—what the hell was that? Some kind of fur? He was burning up. He did not need another layer of FUR.

Hermione let out a high whistle, and the pounding thuds of impossibly large feet got louder and louder. Two heads tried to shove themselves into the ruined side of the shack. The feline—and some other strange tusked beast from hell.

"Mrrr!"

"Bouwwwrrrr!"

"Bjørn, I'm not even going to ask how you sneaked through that portal, you big jealous menace."

"Bourrrrwrrr!"

Severus felt a blast of impossibly frozen air hit him even through the fur. What the hell!?

"Bjørn, drop it. We do not take foreign arms back home with us."

The beast whined, disappointed, spitting out a collection of snake-branded arms.

"Tryggr? Arms? Legs? Random heads?"

The giant cat spit out a large femur.

Hermione sighed. "I do hope that Harry appreciated the well-timed distraction."

"Portal is stable. We should go now," the male urged her.

"Okay, let's go. Beasts first, you mischievous furry wretches," Hermione said. "Shoo."

Bjørn and Tryggr walked into the portal. Hermione and the unknown male grasped each other's hands and plunged into the freezing cold as the portal flashed and collapsed.

"Merlin's frozen balls!" Harry exclaimed as the blast of frigid cold almost froze him to the very spot he was standing on. He hurriedly pulled on his winterised coat after he pried himself up off the ground. Somehow the portal had opened up directly above them, spitting them out into some random snowfield without so much a thank you or a good day.

Luna, who was dressed in a hastily-conjured fur-lined parka and mittens stepped out of the way as one of the unspeakables landed in the snow where she had been standing with a loud OOF. "It's very cold here. I'm glad I dressed warmly."

Harry was quiet. Ten or more very tall, blue-skinned giants were staring at them, spears pointed at them in obvious suspicion.

"Actually, Harry, they're pointing their spears at Ronald," Luna said without even a flinch.

Ronald, Harry noticed, though still securely restrained in magical irons, had attempted to bolt only to find himself at the end of some very intimidating looking spears. The spell that had allowed them to recreate Ron's initial portal and stabilise it, had taken them to what they had thought was going to be the middle of Antarctica. Yet, Harry had the sneaking suspicion that they were not, in fact, anywhere near Antarctica.

"I'd say we should wait for Amelia to introduce us, but she seems to have fallen on the leader of the group. They appear to be engaged in some sort of alien mating ritual over there in the snow. Judging by the previous sounds, I'm pretty sure it's very consensual and highly enjoyable. I might even be jealous. We might have to wait a bit, regardless."

Harry blinked. "What?"

"I wouldn't worry about it, Harry. If they wanted to kill us, we'd already be dead," Luna said with an unconcerned shrug. "Me? I'm eying this rather handsome specimen over there who seems to be giving me the eye and making rather attractive growling noises."

"Luna!"

"Yes, Harry?"

"How can you—"

"Harry, if you'd just stop getting so uptight about it, you'd notice that there is a really pretty female over there who apparently finds you quite alluring. As it is, I'm pretty sure that none of us are going to want to go home by the end of the day." Luna turned her gaze back to the male hunter that was, indeed, making growling noises at her and the look in his eyes made it clear that there was nothing even remotely threatening about it. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Harry spluttered, feeling like he was caught up in a Muggle episode of the Twilight Zone, Cinemax edition, which he had the odd misfortune of stumbling on in his godfather's leftover belongings. Apparently, while holed up with Buckbeak for months, he'd figured out how to nick cable from his Muggle neighbours, who had an international satellite hookup. While Harry really couldn't blame him for being utterly bored out of his mind, Sirius obviously had certain… preferences as to the type of content he most liked to watch. The American Cinemax and Playboy channels had apparently been great favourites of his.

Luna just walked right past the crumpled, whimpering form of Ronald Weasley and approached the redheaded hunter, whose hair seemed to be more like the colour of actual flames. The hunter tilted his head, watching her curiously. He cautiously extended his hand to her, and Luna grasped his finger, very slowly running her hand across the markings on the back of his hand. A golden radiance ran across the markings of his body, setting his markings alight. Luna staggered, and his hand scooped her up. His nostrils flared as he pressed his face into her.

Luna's breathing became laboured and she pressed her hands against his face as an icy blast of magic flared between them.

"Luna," the hunter said, voice heavy with want.

"Arneot," she breathed unsteadily.

He raised her up and she pressed her forehead to his. His golden markings flooded into her and she gave a cry as her body convulsed and grew, and grew, and—

"AHHHHHhhhhhhh!" Luna gave a cry of ecstatic release as she pressed her mouth feverishly to Arneot's, pressed both hands to his head, and dragged him down into the snow.

The other Jötunn hunters gave them a cursory glance, seemingly having seen it all before and did not move from their positions.

"Luna?" Harry called, his face turning really red.

Ronald was groaning as he fell over on the snow, and Harry ran over to check on him. Ron's skin was flushed and he was panting, practically gasping for air.

"Ron, what's wrong?"

"C—can't—c—c—" Ron stammered.

Ron's body seemed to be exuding clouds of steam, and he was sweating as though he had a raging fever.

His legs pumped—growing larger. Ron was thrashing back and forth on the snow, his clothes splitting and falling away. His hands were swelling, blood dripping from where the magi-cuffs were cutting into his wrists.

Harry quickly unlocked them, fearing that Ron's hands would end up being amputated at the wrists.

Ron gave a strange, almost-pleasured groan, and he rolled around on the snow, each rub, his body convulsed and bulged more, breaking out of his clothes—but the cold oddly didn't seem to bother him anymore. His gut was bulging out like he was a chronic drinker or heavily pregnant, and his legs were expanding and fusing together into a huge set of flippers.

"Ank! Ank! ANNNKKK!" Ron bellowed. His face was pushing out into a muzzle as whiskers sprouted out. His nose flared and darkened, and his eyes bulged as they slid to the sides of his face. His ears shrank—or rather his head expanded and his ears reformed and reshaped into rounded, furred seal ears. His ice-blue eyes were wide in a strange combination of terror and arousal. He tried to run, but he slid-tripped over his newly-formed flippers. His body however, was growing and expanding at an alarming rate. Harry stumbled backwards to avoid being slammed by Ron's wildly thrashing body.

"Annnnkkk!" Ron moaned in clear misery.

His body convulsed and expanded, monstrously towering over Harry. Harry and the Unspeakables hurriedly backed away, their wands aimed squarely at the transformed Ronald Weasley.

"Ankkkk! Annnnnk!" Ron bleated piteously.

"ANNNK! ANNNKK!" a lower, deeper bellow sounded from a bit further down the beach.

Suddenly, as if a switch had been flipped, Ron took off down the beach—towards the other seal, which seemed to be sporting some kind of glowing pink tattoo. Odd, that.

"Ron!" Harry called, looking to the Unspeakables for some sort of hint as to what to do, but they silently looked back at him, shaking their heads. Harry's eyes widened as he realised two things: Ron and the other seal were very obviously getting it on right there on the shore with Ron as a very, erm, enthusiastic participant, and Ron was—well, a Rhonda, now.

Harry rubbed his temples. "Oh Merlin, what am I going to tell Molly and Arthur?"

The Unspeakables, as usual, were silent.

Harry decided that making camp was probably a good idea. The spear-wielding giants appeared to be quite content to sit on the ridge and watch them. Judging by the sounds—Luna was clearly having the time of her life, and Amelia, well, Amelia was definitely alive and well. He tried to keep his mind off the attractive female giant that had been giving him the eye. He also tried to erase from his memory the fact that Luna turned into a giantess Luna and proceeded to engage in the "alien mating ceremony" of her own.

Harry beat his head against his hands. He most emphatically did NOT want to go back and explain all of this to Molly. Arthur he could reason with. Molly—Molly was already brassed off at him for "callously dumping Ginny by the side of the road." Just forget the fact that Ginny had actually chosen to date some Ravenclaw Quidditch star in her own year and that Ginny was even pregnant by the bloke in question—he didn't want to be around for THAT particular revelation at the House of Weasley. Thank you, but no.

As far as Harry knew, Ginny was happy an oyster in its reef, so he wasn't quite sure why Molly had gone so mental over it. Arthur, at least, had understood—even took him out for drinks. Mind you, no one told Molly that Fred was an Unspeakable, either. It seemed like everyone BUT Molly knew about that. Well, Molly and Ronald. Remus had been evacuated with Tonks to some werewolf-friendly town in the Netherlands, and they were apparently expecting (again) and had arranged for Teddy to be taken there as soon as they built their house together, literally. The only one they hadn't been able to save was Sirius, who had been taken out by Bellatrix before it could happen thanks to Harry's own stupidity, and Professor Snape.

After having seen the memories and read the letters for Dumbledore, including the ones that exonerated the man for what Dumbledore had ordered him to do under bond of oath—Harry knew exactly why Amelia had authorised the use of the time-turner to save Snape. Snape deserved to live out the remainder of his life on his terms for once.

Dumbledore had arranged one, final plan to get Snape out of danger and secret him away so people could believe he was dead, if he so chose. But it would be on his terms and his choice, and the whole plan relied on Hermione. But Ronald had gone botched that all to hell by choosing that moment to go propose to hermione, who never wanted to marry that stupid sod anyway, and then get brassed off at her for planning to save Snape instead of Fred.

Well, she couldn't very well tell him that Fred was still alive! Fred had work to do that relied on him being believed to be dead. It was easier for people to think he was George. And George—well, he was a damn good faker. He faked mourning like nobody's business. You couldn't hide Fred's actually being alive from him. They had that eerie twin bond.

After pulling out the miniature enchanted smokeless campfire that Hermione had made for them while they were camping, he ignited it with a spell and dug around in his supply pack for something to cook on it. He'd gotten better about packing things that he needed or would need. Hermione had taught him lots of things without intending to. He'd been wrong about her in a few ways, and in his heart he knew that he should have supported her more instead of letting Ron steamroll her and nag on her and blame her for things.

He hadn't realised, not until Ron's "vision" of Harry and Hermione being secret lovers, just how incredibly jealous and insecure Ron was. Harry did love Hermione, but it was a sibling sort of love. Now, Ron was a seal, and he had no idea whatsoever of to think about that. Luna was off having mad, passionate sex with a giant she hadn't even known until today. Amelia had literally fallen on the giant's leader and THEY were having mad passionate sex together too.

WHAT THE HELL WAS THIS PLACE?! The Frozen Snowland of Instant Fornification?!

Thump.

A fat seal carcass landed beside him. Harry frantically checked to see what colour the creature's fur was.

"It is not your… prisoner," the Jötunn female said in broken English. "I am Elin, daughter of Solveig, and friend to Hermione, daughter of Sigrunn, mate of Loki. She taught me your language just in case… unexpected visitors arrived."

"Hermione is here?"

Elin frowned, and Harry abruptly realised that he was being rude. "I am—Harry, son of James?"

"Do you not know your own father?"

"Not personally, no."

"He was a warrior then?"

"He died in the war, a year after I was born," Harry explained.

"The war of wizards. Magic?" Elin asked.

Harry nodded grimly.

"Hermione tells us the stories, so they will never be forgotten," Elin said. She tell us the histories of her past, that we will remember that she was once… small, like you, but fierce."

"Sounds like Hermione," Harry chuckled. "You said… daughter of Sigruhhhn? Mate of Lucky?"

Elin shook her head. "Daughter of Sigrunn. Mate of Loki."

"Thousands of years ago, when the camp was over the ice floes, many walks towards the far sea, Hermione fell out of the sky and landed on Håkon, son of Raynor. She was tiny, like a child. She pointed a stick at us, speaking words we did not understand. The cold froze her bones, and Sigrunn took her up and raised her as her own. Our king wished her to throw her back into the sea for she was tiny, weak, but Sigrunn bared her teeth and told him size was not the measure of worth. One had only to look at Snorre to know this was true. He agreed to allow her to remain, under Sigrunn's care, and she would teach Hermione how to be a proper Jötunn. It would be the only bet King Laufey ever lost—he bet that she would die before her very first winter."

Harry smiled. "That's our Hermione."

"She learned our language. All the languages of the giants of Jötunheimr," Elin said. "She learned the language of Ásgarðr, the language of the gods, and she learned the most important language of all—the language of our goddess, the Great Frost Mother. She learned our ways. She followed them, and one day, she believed in them. She became them. She went out on her first great hunt and gave her offering to the Great Frost Mother and became a true hunter for our people—fit to sit at council fires and speak as one of our own people. And she saved us all from the gaping maw of the seawolf whale, whose mighty jaws swallowed our old home mere seconds after her magic moved our village here to this place."

Elin's face was lit with pride and respect. "She is counsellor to the king. She has his ear when no other may approach, for she saved his life upon the frozen snowfields as he was laden down with grief. She is our healer. She is the hand and voice of the Great Frost Mother. She is her priestess. But when all things are said, she stands with us as a Jötunn, a healer, a sister, a mother, a friend. Just like our king, she sits with us, eats our food, hunts for our people, drinks the same water, and she has finally found a mate in one of our people, something we had wished for her, for so very long."

"That's not possible," Harry objected. "She's human. We do not live that long."

Elin tilted her head. "Do you believe that I lie to you?"

"No!" Harry said, clutching his head. "I'm saying Hermione couldn't have lived hundreds of years let alone for thousands. Humans—we just don't live that long."

Elin frowned and then seemed to realise something. "Ah, the time-sand. And the… phoenix tears. When she came to us, she said she had a golden pendant that held the sands of time and phoenix tears—some flaming bird of your world. When her former "friend" attacked her, it broke. The portal tore her pieces, but when it put her back together, it put her together with the sand and the tears. All of that changed her from what she had been before. She no longer aged. We had thought her like us, only much tinier—and not as healthy because her skin was so unnaturally pink."

Harry turned to the Unspeakables, whose glowing green-eyed blindfolds flickered like flames. "She's been here—for thousands of years?"

"It is but enough time to grow up and take on a hunter's tasks for most of us," Elin said. "Why does this make your hands tremble so?"

"It's only been a day for me—one day since she fell through that portal," Harry said quietly.

Elin frowned. "Perhaps, while thousands of years pass for us, only a day for you," she speculated. "Other Realms have different rules." She took in a deep breath. "You and your friends should eat. The cold will quickly sap the heat from your bones and kill you faster." She gestured to the seal carcass. "Come, I will butcher it for you, so you and your—companions may eat." She was silent as she pulled out an ulu and sliced the seal open quickly, skinned the seal, removed the innards, and cut the ribs into sections, and then she cut those sections into sections, and those into smaller sections fit for human handling. She unfolded a rack from her back and propped up the larger pieces to smoke and cook, and laid out the smaller pieces for Harry and the Unspeakables to take off the fire when it was cooked to their preferred level of doneness.

She had sectioned off a few choices pieces that Harry thought she was saving for herself, but she wrapped them up in the skin and tied it close in the wrapping of the hide. She placed it on a small floating iceberg and shoved it off into the ocean, bowing her head and saying something in her native language that he did not understand.

A huge dark shape moved under the water

Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnggggghh!

CLACK!

The jaws of the great seawolf whale slammed shut over the offering, iceberg and all, dragging it back down into the deep sea.

"HOLY FUCK!" Harry exclaimed, his wide eyes practically bulging from their sockets.

Elin turned to stare at him. "You do not have whales where you come from?"

"Not like THAT!" Harry blurted.

"Who takes your offerings to the gods?"

Harry's brow furrowed, unable to answer the question.

"You humans are a strange people," Elin said, "but your hearts are brave, lest you would not have stepped into the swirling vortex that lead you here. And, you are obviously of some mixture of the right elements that the Great Frost Mother would match us with you, that we might share with you the gift of our people and you to us."

Harry gave her a shrug. He noticed a piece of seal stuck in her hair, and he reached over to pluck it out. "You have, uh, a piece of meat in your hair—" he said awkwardly. Misjudging the distance due to their difference in size, his fingers brushed against her skin and Harry's eyes went very wide, his pupils dilating as his nostrils flared. Countless memories passed between them in a rush of magical heat.

Harry gasped, his eyes locked with Elin's.

"I—" Harry began to say, swallowing hard. "I really want to touch you right now."

Elin unfastened a bundle from her waist and unfurled it with a hungry look upon her face. "Then touch me," she invited him. She shrugged off her few silken and fur garments without any further ado, exposing herself in all her glory—not that her clothing had left much to the imagination in the first place.

Her markings were glowing brightly, and Harry found himself utterly compelled to touch them. He needed to touch them. He wanted to bury himself within her and clamp his teeth onto her neck—

"Merlin!" he exclaimed, trying to make sense of the rushing, driving feeling of fire and ice, that was inexorably pushing him forward.

His hands found her skin, and he couldn't remember moving. He pressed his hands into the raised runic markings and the golden magic spread into his body. He shuddered as a flood of bracing cold filled his body—but it felt—strangely fantastic. He had dreamed of having a family for as long as he could remember—and the siren call of Elin lured him in with the very sharing of their dreams. What he wanted, deep within his soul, was what she offered: absolute trust, a supportive ear, a friend, a lover, a wife. In a blink of an eye—he knew her. How she fell into the ice as a child and was almost taken by the great seawolf whale.

Hermione had saved her with her magic, flinging Elin out of the ocean and into the panicked arms of her mother. Hermione had slept for an entire week after that incident—having used every last bit of her magic just to make sure one young child survived. Elin had asked her mother how someone so very small could do such big things, and her mother had told her that miracles often come when and where they least expected them, hugged her tight, and made her swear not to go out near the shore without supervision again.

He knew Elin had sneaked out onto the ice again, wanting to catch a fish for her mother since she was feeling ill. She had thought she was alone. She had thought no one had seen her, but as she had slipped back into her parent's shelter, she realised the king had been watching her the entire time.

Her first hunt—clumsy and dangerous.

As she tried to skin the seal at the very edge of the shore, the great ice-shark had found her awareness wanting. It threw itself upon the shore, teeth ready to clamp onto her and drag her into the water. Stupid!

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

The jaws clamped around her seal!

No!

No no no no no no!

She lunged for her spear—her mother's pride and joy.

"Great Frost Mother, please guide my spear," she prayed. "Guide my spear to the heart that it may not suffer, but that I may not suffer as well."

The runes on her mother's spear glowed brightly. The shark thrashed, trying to drag the seal back into the water. Elin drew her mother's spear back and drove it into the shark with all of her might, giving a loud scream of desperation.

Her mother—so proud of her. She couldn't let her down. She couldn't!

Her father had brought home kill after kill to support them. It was time for her to take her place as a hunter of the tribe.

SSSSSsssssshhhhhrrrrrkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!

The spear drove through the shark's tough hide, but not quite deep enough. The shark snapped and writhed, jagged teeth barely missing her leg and her arm. She scrambled up the shark's sandpapery hide and used all of her weight to drive the spear in deep.

CRACK!

The spear shattered with the force of her will, and the mighty shark spasmed once and went still.

"AARRRRAHHHHHHH!" Elin screamed before collapsing next to the carcass of the great shark.

A warm hand touched her shoulder, and Elin's eyes widened as her mother embraced her. She dipped her fingers in the shark's blood, painting her daughter's face with it. "You are a hunter now, my daughter. May no one tell you otherwise," she said proudly. "You have shattered my spear in your first kill. A good omen. Give the shark unto our Great Frost Mother that may know your success this day."

"But mother, the seal was my first kill," Elin said with sadness. "The shark was just an accident."

Her mother held her face in her hands, pressing her markings together as their foreheads touched. "Nothing happens by accident on your first hunt, dear daughter. "Give back to the Mother what she has tested with you, and thank her for her blessing."

Elin hugged her mother and nodded. "But, I broke your spear!"

"Spears can be remade. It is an honour to give it unto our goddess to commemorate your first great hunt. Now, give your hard work unto Her, and take only the meat from the body."

Elin nodded. "I will."

"You make us proud, Elin," her mother said fondly.

Harry thrust the Sword of Gryffindor deep into the skull of the great basilisk, screaming as the fangs dug into his arm.

Ginny was safe.

He was dying, but it was okay. Ginny was safe. Hogwarts was safe. No more deaths like Myrtle.

A flash of red and orange in his blurred vision.

Warm drops touched his arm, and the pain eased. His vision cleared.

Fawkes stared at him with a kind of avian compassion, his head crest raising as one last tear dripped on Harry's arm.

He was going to live.

At the barest age of twelve, he had slain the basilisk, and he was going to LIVE!

Now… if he could only manage to survive to graduate.

Harry's world shrank down to one very important thing: Elin. She was the only thing that mattered. Her touch, her warmth, her mind, and her memories. There was nothing but her.

Her soft moans, the feel of her markings under his hands, the delicious feel of her tongue mating against his. He knew he had to touch everything, mate his very skin against hers, and oh, he did. Again, again, and again!

The only voice he could hear was hers. The fire and ice in his very blood eased only for her. He clamped his teeth on her neck and completed the circle of magic that spread the blue across his skin, the crimson into his eyes, and the tapestry of her markings onto his skin.

Yes!

Oh, Merlin, yes!

He wanted nothing more than to be bonded to this incredible female for all time, hearing her distinctive, beautiful moans, and know they were for him and him alone. He drove into her, frantically, wanting and needing that final release that would bind them together.

Nothing else mattered.

Nothing but her and the need for her to be carrying his child.

Their child.

He could feel her readiness and pleasure building and the sweet, sweet ecstasy as he thrust himself into her over and over. This was the reason he had survived. This was the reason he ended up here.

Elin. Sweet, sweet, Elin.

No one else will I ever, ever want.

Only you.

Always you.

We shall make ourselves a family.

A family at last.

In a blinding surge of completion, he saw a vision.

"Daddy, daddy, what are you doing?"

"Carving a spear, Hjortr."

"Can I watch?"

"Of course."

"When will I be able to carve a spear?"

"When you are as old as your brother and ready to go on your first great hunt."

"Will I hunt the frost-elk?"

"Nay, Hjortr, they are too small to offer the Great Frost Mother," Harry chuckled. "Think bigger. Like you shall be."

Hjortr concentrated really hard. "Seal then?"

"That would a fine offering, my son." Harry smiled at him.

"I want to bring in a giant shark! Like no one has ever seen!" Hjortr boasted.

Harry ruffled his son's hair.

"Bloody Gryffindor," Severus muttered from the other side of the fire, his daughter Kenna in his lap.

Harry stuck his tongue out at the old Potions Master.

Thwap!

Hermione's palm smacked into the back of his head. "Concentrate on your prayers as your carve, Harry."

Harry slumped, "Yes, Priestess Healer." He made a face at her, even though his face was looking down.

Thwap!

The king stared down at him after smacking him upside the head with his hand. "Show respect for your elders."

Harry straightened up. "Yes, my king."

Kenna giggled at him as she ran off with Hjortr, carrying the fishing nets between them.

Harry looked after them fondly.

"Those two are so going to end up imprinted," Loki said idly, fixing the last knot in the fishing net and handing it to one of the other children. They grabbed it and promptly tore off after Kenna and Hjortr.

"They will not!" Severus and Harry protested together, glaring at each other over the fire.

Hermione kissed them both on the forehead. "Oh yes, they will."

Harry blearily opened his eyes, his arm pulling Elin closer to him as a sense of blissful satisfaction clung to him. He didn't remember falling asleep, but the snow had covered their bodies like a soft, fluffy blanket, and he found he didn't even feel cold anymore.

His mate.

Mmmm.

Never had he felt so content and happy. The roaring madness of needing to mark every inch of Elin's body and soul was gone. He could breathe again. He could touch her or not and feel okay, but he definitely preferred the touching. Oh, Merlin, yes.

He'd lost count of just how many times they had coupled. Sleep, couple, sleep—but the driving madness was gone at last. The need was sated.

But his bladder—

He did need to tend to that.

Tucking his mate tenderly into the furs, he realised he was in some sort of shelter. There was ample room, a cooking area around a fire, a sleeping area that was raised up off the ground. The shelter itself seemed to be constructed of a combination of ice and snow, formed into large bricks and fitted together with masterful perfection. The hides that lined the bed were thick and comfortable, and while he did not feel cold anymore, he appreciated the silk sheets and light hides to cuddle under.

The light was provided by the fire, which he noticed was the portable, smokeless fire he had packed to bring along with him. There were storage bins carved out of the ice, and to his amazement they were all full. By the door was a rack of some sort—which he realised had spears lying against it. Strange runic carvings covered the surface. One looked old and weathered as well as well loved, but in great condition. The other was pristine, but it has a lightning bolt burned into the leather grip. That one, apparently, was his.

There were other bed shelves on the other side of the shelter, lined with fur—for guests, perhaps? Harry wasn't sure. There was a hamper lying open nearby, filled with some cloth and belts. A scroll lay next to it.

Harry picked it up and unraveled it.

You were the single last person I expected to see shagging your brains out in the snow as I returned with Severus, Harry James Potter. I'm not going to complain, because Laufey is now happily mated, and I've never seen Amelia so happy in all the years I've known her. Luna is star storytelling around the campfire already, and the children can't get enough of her. And Fred—Merlin, Harry. Fred?! His brother is going to be freaking out.

By the way, the entire anonymity with the Unspeakables uniform only works when you aren't stripping it all off and doing your level best to consummate a mating bond. I could have warned you, had I known you imbeciles were going to make a portal and fall into Jotunheimr like a bunch of students attempting their first Apparition. You're lucky you didn't end up where I did when I first landed. That area is now ocean patrolled by seawolf whales that make the blue whale look like Flipper.

I took the liberty of making you a shelter for you and your mate, or rather upgrading the one she already had. That should hold you for up to four children. After that, you can make your own extensions, Harry.

Don't piss off the multi-coloured spiders. That means don't step on them or try to brain them with random pieces of cookware.

(Harry flushed and guiltily put the frying pan down as he read that.)

They will make you loincloths and wind covers as well as bandages if you need them, but you have to ask nicely and you have to give them some food. Fish works, but seal meat makes a better impression. They are getting better at understanding English, but use Jötunn if you want it done right, otherwise you may end up asking for something and getting something really embarrassing.

And be NICE, Harry. These are frost-spiders, not Acromantulas. They won't eat you, but they have a painful bite that will leave you limping for weeks. If you were human, it'd be fatal, but think of the advantages of the size difference.

The big beasts that make Fluffy look like a newborn puppy are the village guardians. Don't piss them off either. They won't attack you, but don't go around trying to scream and throw things at them. They really don't like that much. The children like to ride around on them, and the biggest ones even adults can ride, but those tend to stay around their families or chosen people. If you run across one out on the floes, they will have a distinctive glowing silk collar. I don't think I have to explain to you what will happen if you should spear someone's guardian beast.

I know you'll be freaking out a little. I know I did when I first showed up, but you do have the advantage of Elin's memories in the here and now, and I had to learn it all long before I got the memory share—and even when I did, well, let's say it was good I learned it all before hand.

Oh, if you should happen to see this symbol:

(drawn seawolf whale sigil)

On any animal out in the wastes? Do NOT kill it. It's been cursed by our resident goddess, and you do NOT want to piss her off. Just… trust me for now, Harry. I know this is all falling out your ears right now.

Now, part of you probably really wants to grab that spear and go stick something with it, but before you do, go make friends with one of the village hunters. They will know you're new and they will be happy to teach you which end to stick into the seal. I kid, but there is a method and a ritual to it. For now, etch that into your brain and don't deviate. Later, you'll realise what it all means. I'd start with Magnus, if I were you. He hunts often, usually daily to help teach his son and provide for his family. He's also patient and less likely to throw you to the whales if you should accidentally call him something horrible in Jötunn. (Stay away from Kleng, by the way. He's old and cranky and he would throw you to the seawolf whales just for looking at him wrong. He tried to throw me into the ocean once, but Sigrunn caught me and promptly kicked him between the legs. I do not recommend that method of dealing with him.)

Now, don't freak out, but I dressed you because I know you, and you'd just storm out the shelter with no clothes on, or you'd try to dress yourself in the loincloth and it'd end up being worn like a toga. It was clinical, Harry. I'm a healer here. You were unconscious anyway. Besides, after spending a year with you in a ruddy tent, I think I've more than earned a little leeway. Do be sure to thank the spiders for your comfy new loincloth. They're really talented little guys.

There's enough food and supplies in the caches to last you for three months, the standard honeymoon period wherein it's perfectly okay for one to not rush out and stab something with a spear, but by then you're expected to know how to hold a spear. Again—talk to Magnus. He's the most giant giant in the village. You really can't miss him. He's built like a tank and he's taller than everyone else. He arm wrestled a seal for his first hunt and succeeded. He's got a heart of gold, though.

By the way, everyone knows your name now. It's, um, kind of a natural occurrence considering how the typical first mating goes down. Just don't try to make excuses for it. Everyone knows. Elin has a really good pair of lungs.

All the fires in camp are entirely smokeless. Be sure to use them when you are out on the floes. There are the free Jötunn and then there are the city-dwellers. Let's just say those of us who live out here like our secrets and for our families to remain unmolested. If you see a dark shadow moving under the ice, run as fast as you can for the closest patch of solid ground, and then keep running for about a minute more. NEVER stand at the edge of the shore when the ice is thin. That's shark hunting territory. Don't stand on the thin ice, EVER. That's whale territory. The cold won't kill you, but there is a lot of stuff out there that would love to nom on your tasty blue body, Harry. Seriously, just don't do it and always be careful out there.

The rest, I leave for Magnus to teach you. It's more than I can write on this parchment.

Oh, and Jötunn are very touchy-feely people compared to what we were used to in Britain. So don't freak out, okay? They will hug you, hug your mate, touch your arm, and soothe your aches. It's just a normal, everyday thing around here. They would never, ever have eyes for another Jötunn's mate. Just like you will not ever look to someone else, they can't either. The only ones who look around are immature Jötunn who haven't imprinted, but that all ends when they find the one. Much like you know now, Harry!

Oh! And by the way, if your mate should have any strange cravings? Come visit me. I'll help you out. Now if YOU have any strange cravings, you need to go talk to Magnus. He'll help you out. Normally Laufey doesn't mind helping out the new folks, but he's got a new mate to take care of, and trust me when I tell you that he's all in when it comes to making sure that Amelia has everything she needs to adapt. I'm about the only one who can go in there without getting snarled at.

(sketch of Magnus) (sketch of Kleng) (Sketch of Laufey)

Laufey is the king, by the way, so I probably don't need to tell you anything other than that.

Congratulations, by the way, on your new marriage.

Sincerely,

Your friend,

Hermione

Hermione, Håkon, Loki, Laufey, and Magnus sat together at the base camp, watching over the new influx of hunters trying to successfully accomplish their first hunt without managing to lose their heads or any number of other necessary appendages in the process. Amelia and Luna were happily taking a lesson from Hermione on how to dress and prepare a seal, and Laufey seemed both pleased and amused that the new Jötunn females were adapting so well.

Elin waited patiently for Harry to bring something back, and Fred's mate, Gimle, was busy showing him where to stand and how to hold the spear without getting overly fatigued. Waiting for a seal to take a breath was a very long wait, more often than not.

Fred, of course, thought the entire situation was "wicked" and his love for his new mate was incredibly strong. Fred, much like Harry, had woken to a shelter built for him, and he, too, woke up with a long letter from Hermione. Magnus, amused but patient, wrangled all of the new hunters-to-be so they would succeed in becoming proper "adults."

"The DoM is not going to be happy," Amelia said as she finished with preparing Laufey's seal. "Yet, I find that I don't really seem to care."

Laufey pressed his lips to her forehead. "I can't imagine why."

"They just lost an entire rescue party," Hermione chuckled. "No big loss, right?"

Amelia snorted. "Now they think that we're lost and Severus is lost—oh, and, sadly, our prisoner is also lost."

"He's not lost," Hermione said. "He's a seal."

Amelia gave Hermione a side-long glance.

"A very pregnant seal?"

"Not helping," Amelia said, chuckling.

"Severus is alive, at least?" Hermione suggested.

"He hasn't left that shelter in weeks," Magnus observed.

"He's recovering well," Hermione muttered.

"Oh, I'm thinking he's right recovered, priestess," Magnus said with a raised brow. "Judging by the frequent screams of satisfaction coming from Eostre."

"Speaking of screams," Magnus said with an approving grin. "There she goes now."

"I think Eostre hasn't been so distractedly happy in centuries," Hermione smiled.

"Well, one thing is for certain, anything that comes from that mating will have to be better than Snorre," Laufey snorted.

"Let us be fair, my king," Håkon said. "Steinar was a good hunter. He was a dutiful father and mate."

"Tis true," Laufey agreed. "I just wish his son could have done him honour instead of disgrace."

Hermione shook her head. "The goddess Herself said not to blame yourselves for Snorre's poor choices. It does not disgrace the father that his son did not take up after him. He did all right."

"You speak true, priestess," Magnus said. "Perhaps we all need a little reminding of it."

Hermione smiled and nodded. "What ARE you going to tell the DoM, Amelia? How are you going to tell them for that matter?"

"The portal was keyed to Ronald Weasley's last spell, and that was recorded down in the DoM. We had not known at that moment that you had rescued Severus, perhaps it was all happening at around the same time. They very well may believe he was rescued as planned, now, at least." Amelia sighed. "We all have our Portkeys we can use to go back, but therein lies the rub, right? I don't wish to go back, and I'm pretty safe in saying that none of us would wish to do so when our mates are here."

Hermione was silent for a while. "The Great Frost Mother would allow me to create a portal, but it would have to be to ensure the safety of our people," she said slowly. "She would ask what you meant to do with such an opportunity."

Amelia turned her head to look out over the churning sea. "I think I would put a warning on that portal stating that no one should enter it unless they don't ever wish to come back."

Hermione chuckled. "Fair enough."

"And definitely not enter if that is true and you have a rocking personal relationship."

"Or single," the former Unspeakable Jeffries chuckled.

Hermione wagged her finger accusingly at Jeffries. "Are you complaining, Hunter Jeffries?"

"No. No, ma'am. I am most definitely not," Jeffries said with a grin.

"I should hope not," Laufey sniffed. "He's having twins."

"What?!" Jefferies exclaimed.

"Don't be shocked. Your compatriot over there is also having twins," Laufey informed him rather smugly.

Jeffries stared at former Unspeakable Carleton.

Carleton's eyes widened. "What?" she cried. "My family has always been… fertile!"

"As fertile as a Weasley?"

"Not that fertile," Carleton said with a delicate shudder.

"Twins are a very good sign for our tribe," Laufey smiled. "Long we have gone with but minimal numbers, fearing the magic of the Útgarða-Loki. But now, perhaps, we have a different future before us—one in which we are at peace with our goddess and magic."

Amelia frowned. "I think I want to know what we have on Jötunheimr, Hermione. The DoM's library and research department is vast indeed, but it is also buried under mountains of obscure and dated material. Maybe there is something there that—"

Hermione looked at Amelia when she stopped talking. "Yes?"

"Sorry, that was just old habits speaking. I actually—I don't really want the DoM to know too much about this place other than to tell them to stay away unless they feel like staying forever." Amelia snorted.

Loki had a Cheshire cat grin on his face. "Don't mind me. I have an idea."

"Does it involve exploding whales?" Hermione asked, suspicious.

"Not this time, my love."

Hermione eyed her mate. "I'm listening."

Missing Weasley Leads to Missing Weasleys

Mrs Molly Weasley is offering a reward for any information leading to the recovery of her youngest son, Ronald Bilius Weasley, her husband, Arthur Septimus Weasley, or her other son, George Fabian Weasley.

"That Harry Potter dragged my precious Ronald into a portal to the Arctic Circle!" Molly yelled at baffled Ministry officials weeks earlier. "I demand that you get him back!"

Shortly after Molly Weasley was witnessed shrieking at Ministry officials, her husband, Arthur, and her son, George, also disappeared without a trace.

Rumours have it that the DoM has squirreled away some sort of strange portal to another world, but all attempts to see or gain information about this portal have been met with blank stares, shaking heads, and fervent denials.

The Traditionalist Pureblood movement sent their chosen representative, Dolores Jane Umbridge, to investigate, but we are told that Umbridge hasn't been seen since her descent into the very bowels of the Ministry, before which she proclaimed, "I WILL get to the bottom of this ridiculous charade!"

As for the Arctic Circle, Aurors were sent to search for signs of either Arthur or George Weasley and only managed to find some very baffled-looking musk oxen and a few cranky walruses.

"My king! There is a problem!" One of the royal guards shouted, panting as he tried to catch his breath.

"What? Has Loki returned? Have you pried Lady Sigyn from her chambers?" Odin grunted.

The guard looked baffled. "No, my King. There is a strange woman who appeared out of nowhere only to land in Lady Frigga's Pira fountain. Half of her face is gone and all of her toes, but she's brandishing some sort of stick and screaming at us in some strange language."

Odin closed his eyes, counting to ten backwards from fifty. "And how did this happen, exactly?"

"Some sort of swirling portal spat her out over the garden, sire."

"Is she Asgardian? Which Realm does she hail from?"

"Miðgarðr, sire," the guard replied.

Odin sighed. "Take her to a healer and then have her put in a holding cell. I want to know how she got here and why. Be sure to take her… stick away from her."

"Yes, my lord," the guard said, exiting quickly.

"Now why couldn't my son just fall out of a swirling portal and save me the trouble of hunting him down?"

The sculpted beasts in the throne room did nothing but stare blankly into the distance.

"Why didn't you ever tell me my brother was a Jötunn?" Thor demanded, pacing around the large dining room table that, for once, was not being flipped over.

"Because it shouldn't have mattered," Frigga said.

"It doesn't matter!" Thor yelled. "My brother is missing, mother! The very day before his wedding, no less, and if that doesn't reek of suspicion to you, then I'm not sure what would!"

"You do not have to yell at me, my son," Frigga chided.

"Sorry, my mother."

Frigga sighed. "His heritage was kept from him because when your father found him, he had to cut him out from his dead mother's womb. She was a victim of the war, my son. Odin picked him up and brought him home to me, but by the time they arrived at the palace, Loki had changed—his body had become like ours. Odin wished to spare him ridicule and wished to keep his true story hidden, lest the bias of the war torment him. We took him as our son, and he has been your brother ever since."

"There was no intent to hurt him?"

"No my son," Frigga assured him. "He is my son, as are you."

"Mother, I saw Lady Sigyn in the far gardens this morning. She was with Fandral, being comforted—but—"

"But what, my son?"

"I have seen lust enough to know when it is empty or emotional, my mother."

Frigga frowned. "And what did you see, my son?"

"She is not a woman grieving for her beloved," Thor insisted.

"She is an arranged marriage," Frigga sighed. "That may indeed be true, but it is not expected that she love him."

Thor shook his head.

Frigga seemed to ponder something. "I will check on her myself, my son.

Thor nodded, visibly relieved. "If something bad happened to him and emotion has him rediscover himself, I don't want him thinking that we hate him, mother."

Frigga's face creased. "Nor, I, Thor. Nor I."

Interdepartmental Memo

To: D.O.M. All Clearances

From: Acting Supervisor Alastor Moody

I'm not sure what sort of cauldron the lot of you have been sniffing, but I want you all to remember that the portal room 1C3-A is OFF LIMITS for anyone without direct business there. The rescue party for Hermione Granger has still not come back, and while the time stream seems to have taken care of Severus Snape, we can't find him in the predesignated place, which makes me think something went sodding pear-shaped. Amelia is no fool, and she took a good group of people with her to make sure things didn't go wrong.

The fact she hasn't come back makes me think that whatever sodding place Ronald Weasley sent Hermione Granger to was NOT the Arctic and it was apparently not even on EARTH, as none of us can get a trace on any of them. I'm not sure where they are, and we have experts trying to decode that ruddy lot of gibberish Ronald Weasley spewed in his memories, but even his memories can't seem to remember what he said! For all I know they were ported off to some fictional wonderland!

Now that portal was supposed to remain open as long as Ronald was there, and something must have mucked up. The portal now seems to be permanently one-way only, so if there is a way back, they are going to have to find it all on their own. We can't afford to lose any more people over it. Even better, the portal is unstable. So far it's teleported Anders and Jenkins to a tropical island paradise, Mundercoy ended up in the sulfur pits in Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming, and Umbridge—Hell if I know where that sodding toad of a woman went.

Some people claim to hear it whispering like the bloody Veil Gate and some people insist that they don't hear diddly. Some people are getting in and throwing themselves into it, yet the doors are completely locked, and I want to know how that can even be happening, people!

We need to get and keep a lid on this thing before we have to lock it up and pour cement around it.

Now get me the information I need before I throw the lot of you into it!

Hundreds of panicked seals barked and scattered across the floes. Some jumped in the water. Some jumped out of the water. Some went towards the beach, while others swam as fast as they could to get away from it. They swam in such a great number that even the ice-sharks were having trouble homing in on them.

Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnggghh!

CLACK!

The jaws of a huge sea-wolf whale crushed down upon the dizzy shark and a few seals, dragging them down into the frigid water.

Thump.

Thump-THUMP.

THUMP!

A shark, a seal, a giant jellyfish, and a large pile of ice algae landed on the rocky shore next to the campfire.

Severus walked back to the camp, his distinctive black robes still making him stand out all the more on a pristine, white frozen wasteland. As he came back into the camp, Laufey looked up and passed him a spear. "You forgot your spear."

"I didn't need a spear."

"As impressive as that was, Severus, and it was quite impressive, you need to make a traditional kill with your spear, just like the rest of us."

"You've got to be bloody kidding me."

"Your old master can turn into a seawolf whale?" Loki asked Hermione, his expression quite impressed.

"Who knew?" Hermione said with a shrug.

"It wasn't exactly a form I used more than the one time I shifted and realised I'd NEVER use it again."

"Why not? That was fabulous!" Loki cheered.

Severus narrowed his eyes. "One, I'd never seen that species of anything ever before in my life. Two, it was aquatic, and I teach in a school surrounded by pubescent children whose only interest in life is shagging each other or attempting to kill each other, either with pranks gone wrong or their own witlessness and stupidity."

Loki crossed his arms and pouted. "That's no fun. My mate is a giant-eating sabre-toothed feline. You're a giant sea-wolf whale. I feel like I need to be something extra interesting now to make up for it."

"Loki, you're a god, for cripes sake," Hermione said with no little amusement.

"Just because I'm a god, does not mean I can't—oh, mrrrr."

FOOP!

In Loki's place was a giant black-furred, red-eyed frost-sabre. He gave Hermione a long slurp.

Hermione's eyes slid to the side to regard her mate in his newfound form.

Loki wiggled his whiskers.

FOOP!

Hermione transformed, and the two frost sabres bolted off across the floes, chasing each other and generally having a ball.

Laufey just shook his head. "Kids." He poked Severus with the pointy end of his spear. "Now go hunt your seal in the proper way before it gets dark."

"I'm not a child you know, even though I haven't yet speared some aquatic mammal with a pointy stick," Severus muttered.

"You're actually far younger than most of the children in this tribe, Severus," Laufey said. "You were obviously sexually mature as humans perceive such things, but if we were to count years, you'd be but a seal pup in the springtime."

"Forty years is hardly a child on Earth," Severus replied. "I am older than those two, at the very least."

Laufey chuckled. "I'm afraid you would be incorrect there, my friend," Laufey said. "Hermione has grown up and lived with us for upwards of two thousand years. She became a hunter of this tribe long before you, my friend, were even born. As for Loki, he is—I think a thousand and a half. He was born at the end of last Asgardian-Jötunn war."

"What?" Severus said, boggled.

Laufey chuckled. "The young girl you knew landed upon Håkon over two thousand years ago, my black-clad friend. Did you think she just developed such a rapport with my people in but a matter of days?"

"I wouldn't put that past her at all," Severus said.

Laufey shook his head. "No, she has paved the way for your acceptance and those like my new mate and all the ones who came through that gate since long before this. Had she not, your welcome may not have been—so fruitful, nor as pleasurable."

Severus seemed to ponder his words. "One day, I hope to hear the full story," he said.

"You have plenty of time now, Severus," Laufey said, offering the spear again. "Just one more thing that needs to be done so we can all go home."

Severus grumbled, accepted the spear, and walked resolutely to to the less-populated area of the seal-hunting ground. "Yes, my king."

Laufey looked at the shark, seal, jellyfish, and the excessive pile of ice algae. "Kids."

With the influx of pregnant females in the tribe, Laufey decided that he needed a little help from his new daughter-in-law to help ensure the tribe had a fresh supply of oddball seafoods for the even more oddly timed cravings. Hermione's creation of the sea urchin aquariums had given him an idea to create a sort of fountain pond in the center of the village that was large enough that if one of the hunters needed to fetch some sea-urchin, fresh blue-spotted crabs, rainbow sea-snails, two-headed face-clampers (octopi), black oysters, blue-lipped clams, the ever-egg-laden ice-puffer, and the ever-flavourful green-striped eelsnake.

Laufey knew that the bounty under the ice was teeming with wonderful food, if only it could be safe to get them. The threat of the great sea-wolf whale was ever present—at least until Severus came up with a glorious idea—body guarding.

With Severus lurking in the water in his sea-wolf whale form, teams of Jötunn hunters took their nets below the ice and harvested quite a large haul of tasty things to bring back, but the fact had remained that there would be times when Severus was occupied doing other things. And while it wouldn't be too much to ask for Loki to do a little lurking in one of his forms, Loki was worried he might give birth to an eight-legged sea-wolf whale or something even crazier than Sleipnir. It was one thing to change into the form of something to be with one's mate—but his luck with changing forms into animals had always produced strange results.

So, Laufey decided to work on a fountain aquarium project, and once fully human wizards and witches were all too eager to help with the construction. Luna turned out to be an excellent sculptor, and she erected a flowing effigy of the Great Frost Mother in all her glory at the center of the fountain, making the fountain the centerpiece of the settlement. The Unspeakables, used to containing both man, beast, and all things in between, constructed unbreakable walls to contain the water. Severus "shoveled" a huge load of plants and biomass from the ocean floor onto the shore, and the village towed it back to the fountain to line the bottom with the help of the village-beasts. Loki, Hermione, Bjorn, and Tryggr ended up with whooping children on their backs even as they towed things back, and Loki tried not to look disgruntled with a lump of sea algae slumped over his head.

Amelia constructed a filtration system for the water, and Fred and George were making "aquarium" scenes in the tanks, from miniature Diagon Alleys to Hogwarts, and epic dragon-scapes, channelling all of their love and fun from Weasley Wizarding Wheezes into entertaining the village. Laufey knew that the twins really wanted to try and make it fun for their stranded father, but Arthur had chosen to go off on his own and was living in a shelter all by himself.

Unfortunately, Arthur was, truthfully, small and so set on remaining true to Molly and finding his son and doing things the way he normally would, that many societal conflicts were happening. The tribe was treating him like the old hermit on the edge of the village who was always shaking his spear at the children as they played near his shelter. Hermione was hunting for him, as Arthur was incapable of even fishing the shores without attracting whales—and not the eating kind, more the kind that ate him instead. The children tried to teach him how to fish with nets using the shallows, but the language barrier was hampering any and all communication.

He'd tried to fling a number of spells at poor Bjørn when he had arrived laden down with a load of supplies, shaved off poor Tryggr's whiskers, and traumatised the baby spiders, sending them all running back to Hermione's hair, crying in distress. He'd practically screamed like a little girl when he met the changed George a week after George had "disappeared" and he hadn't even recognised Fred, officially.

Denial was a powerful, powerful thing.

Astera, an older female that took an interest in trying to keep him alive, tried to leave him food and hides to keep his shelter and himself warm, but Arthur couldn't backpedal fast enough as he shied away from her, looking like she was the seawolf whale coming to devour him whole. Merlin help her if she tried to reach out a hand to help him—she might as well have been trying to murder him from the panicked noises Arthur made.

The fountain project had turned into a tribe-building adventure, and everyone had started to pitch in. Ornate ice pillars and intricate carved reliefs surrounded the fountain, turning it into a place of meditation and contemplation. The Jötunn craftsmen seemed very happy to have something so dedicated their trade to in a way that honoured their goddess as well as benefitted the tribe, and Laufey was not about to disagree with the sentiment.

The reliefs that decorated the pillars and the walls depicted many scenes. There were the legends of the Great Frost Mother and her most well-known teachings, but there was also pieces of history woven in. The first village's founding, the startling arrival of Hermione from a hole in the sky, Sigrunn's adoption of the foundling, Laufey's desire to cast her into the sea, Magnus' first great hunt in which he literally wrestled the seal to its death on the floes with his powerful arms alone, Sigrunn's saving of the village from the ice-plague that had come along with a new refugee from Útgarðr, and a great many more lined every wall. None, however, were so framed as the moving of the village, the cursing of Snorre by the goddess Herself, and coming of the first "wave" of humans to embrace their Jötunn mates, complete with the Chastisement of Ronald Weasley, the event that resulted in him becoming the seal-mate of Snorre.

Laufey had to smile quite a bit at the detail and thoroughness of his people's carved reliefs. He admired their passion for the stories of their history and he could see that they had left nothing out, even it was a little embarrassing for certain involved parties. "Good work, everyone," he said, clapping a few of the workers on the back. "We shall fill the waters with a wide selection of delicacies from the deepest depths of our seas, tomorrow after everyone has had a full night's rest. Be sure to take a bundle of the whale meat and blubber from the pile provided by our very own Severus—who seems to want to outdo everyone by bringing back white-finned ice whales for us instead of seals."

Chuckles went through the workers as they picked up a bundle before heading off to their mates and children.

"You're a good hunter, friend Severus," many of them said, clapping the new Jötunn on the back as they passed. "I and my family thank you for your most plentiful hunt."

As multiple Jötunn children jumped into Severus' arms and hugged him tightly, thanking him, the old Potion's Master's face grew a shade of aubergine. "Thank you, Hunter Severus!" they chimed, attacking him with hugs and thanks.

Laufey chuckled, smiling. It was good to see his people smiling with food being plentiful. The goddess was truly smiling down on them.

A loud crash came from the shelter of the guest, Arthur Weasley, and Laufey saw the man knocking the bowl of food that Astera had brought him as he practically fled from her.

Laufey sighed loudly. Something had to be done soon before the human killed himself accidentally and Astera ended up mourning his loss.

"Severus."

"Yes, my king?"

"I have a task for you."

Astera sat with Hermione at the edge of the fountain, revelling at the filled waters.

"It's hard to believe this was empty just yesterday," Astera said.

Hermione smiled. "Our goddess rewards us for ingenuity as well as such things that help us help ourselves without harming the natural cycle."

Astera nodded. "I am glad to see such miracles more often than when our previous king was in charge."

Hermione shook her head and sighed. "The old king was a person who always put his selfish desires ahead of the needs of his people. While I am not pleased with how he became king, I am not unhappy that he is."

"Hermione?"

"Hrm?"

"Why does he try so hard not to adjust to us?" Astera asked a little timidly. "He even throws food at me."

"I believe he fears what you represent, Astera," Hermione said. "You are everything he wants, but that is a frightening thing for one such as he, who has sired seven children with the wife of another world."

"He is married?" Astera gasped. "How is this even possible? I mean, I see Fred and George, but I thought—I do not feel or sense a marriage bond with him! I would NEVER—"

"Peace, Astera," Hermione soothed. "Humans often feel that marriage is their only option when a child is on the way outside of wedlock. And.. mating often happens with humans without a mating bond. That is—"

Hermione sighed. "I found on during holidays, when I was listening to the adults talk around the fire. I was practicing my Animagus form, which was a Eurasian lynx then. Much smaller. Stealthier… not so difficult to hide than a massive frost-sabre or a bloody Jötunheimr beast! Sirius was chiding Arthur for not being able to control his libido, and that every time he thought about separating, he'd seal his fate with another child. In magical Britain, the place we came from, it is expected for a male to do the honourable thing and marry a female he impregnated, but that does not always mean a lasting love."

"They mated, but they had no true bond?" Astera asked.

"I think, they desperately wanted it to be there, and they put on a good face for their children. Arthur was quite a dutiful father. He took care of them the best he could, but Molly always wanted more for her family. More money, more prestige, more time together. Arthur worked very hard but was rarely home, and that took a toll on them," Hermione said with a sad smile. "My parents were not magical. There was no magic binding them, but I never once doubted their love for each other. They were both hard workers, and they understood that about each other. But sometimes, no matter how well you might work together to make things work, there is no fire. Attraction, lust, perhaps, but not the same drive that causes our males to obsess over proving themselves worthy of her, the one and only female for him."

"Human life sounds so very confusing," Astera said with a frown.

"Arthur is desperately trying to hold on to his honour, thinking that he must cling desperately to his old life, even though, deep down inside, he knows it was a lie, that he and Molly only had a sham of a marriage. I know it is was a lie. He knows it was a lie, but—live a lie long enough and you start to believe it, or worse you think it is the best thing, maybe the only thing, you will ever get."

"So, he has," Astera searched for the right word, "cabbage?"

"Baggage," Hermione corrected her English. "Yes."

"I've waiting a really long time," Astera sighed. " Finally the right one falls down from the sky, and he has cabbage."

Hermione laughed despite herself, not even wanting to correct her. Now and forevermore, Arthur Weasley had cabbage.

"As I recall, my love, you called me a cabbage once," Loki purred, leaning down to kiss her.

"I was mispronouncing the Asgardian words!" Hermione protested.

"Mmmhmmm," Loki began a slow gnaw of her neck. "Mispronounce them again, my love."

"Hnnggggh!" Hermione gasped.

"Close enough," Loki purred, pouncing on her and pressing her into a seal skin he had conjured out of nowhere.

Hermione murred, arching up into him.

"You know," Loki breathed into her ear. "We could always make things interesting by teaching you how to shapeshift."

Hermione eyes slid to the side as she pondered the possibilities. "More than just being an Animagus?"

"Why be so limited?" Loki pouted, sticking out his lower lip. "You could be a goddess."

Hermione smiled mischievously. "How about starting with a pair of seawolf whales?"

Loki's answering grin spread from ear-to-ear. "Mmmmmm, lessons begin right after I finish making you scream my name."

Hermione gasped. "We're in a shrine for the Great Frost Mother!"

Loki smiled, "I'm sure she'll heartily approve of the show, especially considering that she wants us to help bring in the next generation of Jötunn." He descended upon her with a heated kiss, and Hermione promptly lost every single coherent thought she might have had before that point.

Astera left an offering at the feet of the Great Frost Mother's statue as she sent up a whispered prayer that Arthur would soon see reason and then silently slipped away, leaving the goddess' priestess and her mate to christen the grounds with offerings of their undeniable passion.

"Sit. Down. Now," Severus commanded as he pushed his way into Arthur's shelter.

Arthur, who hadn't exactly been immune to Severus' intimidating nature back when he was only human, definitely found himself struggling not to obey the almost thirty-five foot Jötunn—and failing miserably. He sat on one of the smaller chairs that Hermione had crafted for him as Severus took a seat on the edge of one of the ice-beds, taking up an expanse of empty space made for a full-sized Jötunn with a little more thanks to his robes—if anyone was incapable of being recognised in this place, it was Severus Snape.

Snape looked around, eyes narrowing, seeing a distinctive lack of spider caretakers—who normally made themselves as busy as house-elves to keep the shelters clean and weave fabrics for the Jötunn village.

"You need to sit down and think about what your heart is trying to browbeat into your head before you manage to send one of the kindest, most compassionate women in this village out to the wastes in tears," Severus said. "You've managed to drive every frost-spider in Jötunheimr away from your shelter, burn the whiskers off poor Tryggr, and singe Bjørn badly enough that he'd rather relieve himself directly outside of your shelter than bring you food and supplies for Hermione, and Bjørn does NOT disobey Hermione. Ever. The children think you are one rude son of a bitch because you throw food that Astera has made for you—and she is one of the very best cooks—out into the snows. You've managed, and I have no idea how, made your reputation even worse than mine was at Hogwarts in far less time, and our King wants to know why the fuck you are refusing every single bit of hospitality given to you when you can't even hunt for yourself without getting an ice-shark trying to make you an appetizer."

Arthur scrunched up his face and slumped. "Molly sent me here to find Ronald. George told me it wasn't a good idea to go plunging into—well, even sneaking in to see it—George warned me that it was dangerous. He knew Fred was over here and he desperately wanted to go in, but he knew if they hadn't come back, there was probably a really good reason."

Arthur groaned. "I pushed him aside in order to get by him. It was my fault that he ended here! And now he's—he's—he'd never going to be able to go back!"

Severus raised a brow. "What makes you think he even wants to?"

"Of course he wants to! It's his home! His mother is worried sick about him for sure!" Arthur insisted.

"So?" Severus said bluntly. "Do not make the mistake of assuming that your sons share your weeping sense of guilt. Did they not come here attempting to introduce you to their new mates? Did you somehow miss them entertaining the children out in the village and making plans for the future?"

"Sons?"

"Merlin's desiccated bollocks, Arthur," Severus snarled. "Do you not recognise your own sons?"

"I—it can't be," Arthur stammered, shaking his head in vehement denial.

"Let me tell you a story, Arthur," Severus said, his voice taking on the deeper, clipped tone he often used to chastise students for being complete dunderheads. "This is one you would have already known, had you bothered to get to know these people instead of adamantly clinging to your farce of a happy life back with Molly."

"About two thousand years ago, a young human witch fell out of the skies into Jötunheimr, this place, Arthur. Stop squirming, that sticking charm isn't going to let you go until I permit it," Severus scoffed. "Are you listening now?"

Arthur fidgeted. "Yes."

"When this witch fell here, she landed in the heart of these people's village, back when it was at the foot of a great glacier, and she was very afraid. She was adopted by the healer here, trained to take care of their people, and after hundreds of years, truly became one of the people in her heart. She has suffered through loss, the murder of her mother, heartbreak, and the threat of her adopted people swallowed by the sea. She learned the language, the people, the culture—and most of all she learned to hold their goddess in her heart. That witch, Arthur, was Hermione Granger—thrown into a swirling portal by none other than your brat of a son, Ronald Weasley. Why? Because she said no to his proposal."

Arthur looked as if he was going to say something, and Severus silenced him with a look.

"Now, when the Unspeakables came here to rescue Hermione, not realising she had been thrown back in time some few thousand years earlier to Jötunheimr, they found something they had not expected. Their mates—someone so compatible to them that the barrier of species was undone. By the time Hermione and her mate came back from rescuing me, as was the original plan, she came home to see the entire rescue party had been rescued by their Jötunn mates—just not quite what she had been expecting."

"Now, before I release your arse from that chair, Arthur, I'm giving you a gift, one which you had best appreciate considering Hermione did not have to give them for any reason, least of all you, but she she cares about her people, and for some sodding reason, she still cares about you."

Severus plunked down a bowl onto a pedestal and set a "small" vial of memories down. "This is the history of these people as seen by Hermione Granger, Arthur. All two thousand years broken down into key moments so you will actually not expire before you see them all. When you reach the end, the seal on your rear to this chair will release."

Severus plunked down a platter of food. "Astera made you food, and I hope by the time you go through these memories you will have the balls to go out there and thank her for it." The scowling potions master tugged his robes around himself habitually. "For your sake, I hope you manage to go through them all without resisting lest you soil yourself while stuck to this chair."

Severus swept the shelter, pausing only to close the door to keep the frigid wind from freezing Arthur in more ways than was healthy.

"Fred, George," Hermione said, pulling them in closer by the ear. "Did you two just happen to relieve your father of his loincloth and made it so he had to trek across the entire village to the shrine to retrieve it, wearing nothing but his bedsheet?"

"Granger, who would do such a terrible thing?" the twins feigned total innocence, albeit rather unsuccessfully.

"Maybe a pair of someones who left glowing icons shaped like a pair of trousers leading directly to the shrine," Hermione said with an almost-haughty lift of her brow.

The twins gasped together. "Granger, how could you even think of blaming us for tormenting our poor, previously guilt-ridden father?"

"You have a long way to go to pull the frost-spiders over her eyes," Loki said. "Not that I didn't appreciate the show."

Hermione conked both twins' heads together. "I know you two. I've known for a very, very long time."

"It was great though, wasn't it?" Fred said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"It was spectacular," George said with a grin.

"Hey, Severus," the twins said.

Snape looked up from where he was carving runes into a spear. "Hn?"

"Thanks," they said together.

"He wouldn't listen to us," Fred said.

"He wouldn't even take in that Fred was Fred," George said.

Fred sighed. "We've known mum and dad haven't been really together for years. Their not fessing is what drove Percy away. Well, Charlie first, then Percy found out. They figured if mum and dad couldn't stop lying to each other, what kept them from lying about more important things."

"Now Fred and I," George said. "We've always known, and Bill knows too, but we've just been hoping they would finally pull their heads out of their arses and come clean, yeah?"

Hermione clucked her tongue. "I'm sure on paper, their reasoning looked pretty sound. If they had told you and it had gotten out to someone like Rita Skeeter, I can only imagine what stress your father would've been put under if people were to find out that his union with your mother didn't even result in a magical bond."

Fred and George frowned, considering Hermione's point.

"Yeah, everyone knows Skeeter would have made it look like far worse than it was. We kids, we knew both mum and dad loved us, and we knew they at least liked each other enough that they kept having more of us." Fred looked toward the shrine and closed his eyes.

"Mum always wanted a girl," George said. "If there was one thing she really wanted in life it was a girl child. I'm not saying she didn't love us, but you could tell she wanted a child that she could really understand."

"I'm thinking Mum didn't really believe she had a complete family until Gin-Gin came along, and she pretty much stopped smothering Ron the moment Ginny was born. Maybe Ron thought Ginny stole something from him. I don't know, but he was always Icky Ronnikins."

"I thought you called him Ickle Ronniekins," Hermione chuckled.

"We did," Fred and George said together.

"Until we caught him masturbating in the closet over the Cannon's calendar," George added, turning a strange shade of blue-green.

"Oh—ugh—stop!" Hermione waved her hands frantically in denial. "I could have gone my entire life without ever having known that."

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and groaned. "Just, don't prank your father too much until we know Astera is pregnant. He's still very new to everything, and he probably won't even realise he has some new instincts until he accidentally almost kills someone while rushing to get back to his mate. Magnus is watching over him, but he's trying not to get to close until we can get one of the larger females to keep watch over him. Unfortunately, none of the others even want to be near him thanks to his—problems earlier."

Fred and George weren't quite listening to her, as they were trying to surreptitiously bind Loki's feet together so he'd trip when he walked.

Hermione sniffed. "Oi! You two listening?"

"Sure, Granger," they replied. "Don't prank dad for a while, got it. We heard you."

A grinning Loki leaned over to whisper something in Hermione's ear.

"Already?" Hermione stood up. "Sorry, boys, I have to go. Have to attend to a small family dispute. Do try not blow anything up."

Fred and George wore very their best halos as Hermione looped her arm around Loki's and drifted off into the snow. The twins stood up, frowning as Loki did not trip and fall as they had hoped. They turned and walked off in search of more trouble to stir up when they both tripped and fell flat on their faces into the fully stocked "snacking" fountain. As they both pulled their heads up to stare suspiciously at the other, each found that they had a rather large two-headed octopus clamped firmly onto their face.

"How the—" Fred spluttered.

George struggled to pry the tentacles off of his face to little avail.

Severus, having watched the entire episode as he carved his spear, fully enjoyed the moment, a crack of a smile spreading across his typically stern face.

Meanwhile, as Loki escorted his lady wife to her next appointment, his lips curved into a devilish smile. "Amateurs."

A Jötunn child hopped up into Severus' lap. "Hi, Severus! Can I watch?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "As long as you keep your hands to yourself."

"I will," the child said, snuggling happily against his chest.

Severus sighed and continued his work, trying to ignore the strange sense of peace as the child's body pressed against his in contentment to watch anything and everything that he did.

"Hey! Who filled up this ruddy fountain!" George blurted as he spat out a mouthful of seawater.

Silence was his only answer, save for the twinkle in the eyes of the statue of the Great Frost Mother.

Elsewhere in the village, Hermione paused, her face twisting into a smug smile. "Amateurs."

The twins, unable to prank their father until his mate was well and truly pregnant—both twins lamenting that in being intimately familiar with Weasley genetics, she was already pregnant with a litter—decided that they needed to make sure this so-called 'God of Mischief' named Loki realised that they were the king pranksters, by gum, and they were going to prove it!

As each day passed, however, all of their pranks, from tampered food, trip wires, itching powder, wildly colour-changing dye, to even the jinx that turned Loki's clothes invisible, nothing seemed faze him one iota. Turning Loki's clothes invisible actually made him quite insufferable, and worse, no one in the Jötunn village even seemed to notice. Well, save for Hermione, who couldn't seem get the guy back to their cave fast enough.

They tried to trip him up into a pile of clams and oysters the hunters were preparing for their mates, and Loki just sat down with them and helped them prepare the pile. They woke up the next day with their hair down to their ankles and all of it was full of clams and oysters using their hair as a habitat. Worse, every time a female Jötunn walked by, they plucked one off a snack, thanking them for being a walking, craving-satisfying snackbar. They tried to tint Severus' robes pink, and the next day, they woke up dressed like ballerinas, complete with glittery tutus, a star-tipped wand, and intricately bound ballet shoes. They jinxed Laufey's spear to be invisible, and that night they couldn't get into their shelters due to it being blocked by—an invisible whale. Meanwhile the elders and other hunters talked and socialised around the tribal fire, seemingly oblivious to their problem. When Fred got the brilliant idea to cut his way through, a few tons of whale entrails spilled out, and their mates refused to even deal with them until they had purged themselves and their shelter of the stench.

When they tried to steal some urchins from Hermione's special tanks, they were chased out of the cave by a rampaging horde of highly detailed, animated replicas of some sort of terrifying fish with red bellies, very sharp teeth, and the intense desire to sink them into Fred and George's skin. They tied a bell on Tryggr, and that night they had to listen to the non-stop jingle as Tryggr made the most glorious love to his own newfound mate, whom he had brought back just so they could copulate repeatedly on top of their shelter. Every little movement causing the distinctive ting, ting, ta-ting of the bell, driving Fred and George stark, raving mad. When they finally burst out from the shelters to yell at Tryggr, however, their own mates admonished them for making excessive noise.

"Don't you hear that maddening tinging sound?" George yelled

"It's maddening!" Fred complained.

"No, all I hear are you two ridiculous dunderheads attempting to wake up the entire village," Severus said, dragging a whale carcass behind him. "Go be insufferable—silently—somewhere else."

The twins emerged the next day, eyes bleary and with huge dark circles under them, only to stumble upon a group of young children playing with their new friends: the "adorable" grey-backed, red-bellied chomping fish that had chased after Fred and George, only to be enthusiastically adopted by the children of the village. The children were hugging them and carrying them around together—best friends for life. Yet, the moment the mysteriously adorable yet vicious fish saw Fred and George, they tore off after them, jaws snapping at their heels—or anything fleshy they could take a chunk out of.

"Why are you sitting on top of your shelter?" Arthur asked as he walked by. He picked up one of the plush and adorable red-bellied fish, and it cooed at him. "These things are adorable," he said, affectionately rubbing one under the chin.

"Long story," Fred and George replied sourly.

Suddenly, one of the fish seemed to realise that someone had made them a convenient ramp up to the top of shelter, and they all bounced off the silken ramp to the roof.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!" the twins cried, tumbling off the shelter roof and running away, with an impressive collection of chomping, agitated red-bellied chomping fish chasing after them.

Gimle, Fred's mate, poked her head out of the shelter. "Have you seen Fred?"

"He went running for his life in that direction, chased by a pack of ravenous fish-looking creatures," Arthur said, his manner utterly deadpan as he pointed in the direction of the most distant ice floes.

Gimle blinked. "Oh, well I guess I get to choose what's for dinner," she said, picking up her spear and heading off to the wastes.

Arthur raised a brow. "Someone is going to be sleeping on the couch tonight."

Hermione leaned into Loki as he stood on the edge of the village, his spear clutched in his hand as though he anticipated trouble. "What is troubling you, love?" she asked.

Loki frowned, but he wrapped his arm around her, pressing his face into her hair. "I worry that Ásgarðr may come looking for me if I do not make an appearance," he said grimly. "It has been many moons, and it will worry mother if nothing else. Father will be more than a little irritated that I ran away from my wedding, if dear Sigyn has anything to say about it."

Hermione scowled, one hand rubbing Tryggr's ears with a massaging motion. "I do not look forward to another confrontation with Ásgarðr," Hermione said after a while. "The first one did not go well."

Loki turned to her, brushing the hair from her face. "I do not think it will end as it once did, Hermione."

"Only if Odin attempts to put a spear through your back while he tries to conquer Jötunheimr," Hermione muttered.

"Your concern for me—" Loki pressed his forehead to hers. "I have never felt such genuine emotion on my behalf, save from my lady mother, and even she always kept her emotions carefully reined in more often than she showed them."

Hermione looked out across the blowing snow. "Perhaps, we can give back something Ásgarðr has long since believed our people responsible for—rather, they believe it is our fault he is dead." Her eyes shimmered with golden flecks, like blowing sand, the Mark of the Great Frost Mother glowing upon her forehead.

Loki looked at her in disbelief. "You would release your curse upon Bör? Why?"

"At the time I met Bör, Ásgarðr had given me nothing but pain and suffering, but then Ásgarðr gave me something far more priceless. You."

Hermione's eyes locked with his. "I would give Ásgarðr back their king of old," she said calmly. "That they may know the truth of what happened at the beginning of the Ásgarðr-Jötunn war. Odin may have believed that he forced a peace, but he may not realise that he was only putting a bandage on a wound created by his own father."

Loki frowned. "After seeing Bör in your memories, Hermione, I doubt he will go back to Ásgarðr telling them what he has learnt spending decades as snow in the wind."

Hermione smiled. "Truth, my love, will find him. Trust me on that."

Dear Father,

I apologise for not writing to you and Mother sooner, but I have been recuperating from several serious abdominal wounds after being repeatedly stabbed and tossed bodily into the Bifröst. I fear that I do not remember much, save for that the Jötunn rescued me from the snow and frigid cold, and their care has been instrumental in my recovery.

I do know, before I was injured, that I was to marry Lady Sigyn, and I would ask that you bring her to me on Jötunheimr that we might be married at once. I fear I cannot return home at this moment for in thanks for their saving my life, I have dedicated myself in helping bridge the yawning chasm between Ásgarðr and Jötunheimr by helping rebuild the ancient bridge that once connected Jötunheimr to the Bifrost, for there was much I did not know of this place until it was I saw it with my own eyes.

I beg of you, please agree to meet me one week hence, where the monument of the war's beginning still stands and let us forge upon the birthplace of a war something that bridges our species together. For the sake of lasting peace, All-Father, I dutifully beseech you as your son for you to join me here for the meeting. I have discovered something of interest that may change a great many things.

Your loving son,

Loki

As the Bifröst slammed down over the frozen land, the Asgardian diplomatic party arrived, all looking quite nervous as to what they should do if it should turn out to be a trap. Jötunheimr and its people had many, many dark stories. The All-speech did not work in Jötunheimr—the quantity of Asgardians able to speak Jötunn were very small indeed. Stories were told by Asgardians to Asgardians, and so it had always been since the first Asgardian stepped foot into the frozen wastes of Jötunheimr.

The truth was, no one in Ásgarðr wanted Jötunheimr. It was an inhospitable frozen wasteland. It froze your bones faster than any other place in the Realms, and there was nothing about that was worth fighting over.

So, why had they started a war to begin with?

When Bör had died, word eventually came back to Ásgarðr and to Odin that his father had never returned from his attempt to ensure the giants would never threaten Ásgarðr. Odin began to have terrible visions of his father beseeching him to find a powerful sorcerer to save him from the eternal snows, but every dream's end had Bör turning into snow. Every winter, Odin would awaken in a cold sweat, his father having come back to haunt him in his dreams, warning him that the giants would be the end of Ásgarðr—the very end of the gods.

Odin, for the most part, had listened, making war on the Jötunn until he had beaten the supposed Jötunn king by bringing down his castle. That, however, was where he had found Loki's mother, letting out her last breath as she clutched her swollen abdomen. Torn for the life of the truly innocent, Odin cut the baby from her womb and took him home with him. And the moment Ásgarðr's temperate climate embraced the baby, his skin and eyes changed to that of an Asgardian. Odin had promptly named him Loki, the trickster, on the spot and then bade his wife Frigga to take him as their son. In that moment, Odin had defied his father's haunting demand.

Peace was ongoing yet quite tenuous, but the Jötunn retreated from the ancient gateway that had connected Jötunheimr to the Bifröst, and Odin had destroyed it so the only time Asgardians could come to Jötunheimr was from Ásgarðr itself, and the Jötunn could not threaten Ásgarðr in retaliation. No thought was given as to just why the gate had even existed in the first place or who had built it. No one thought to remember that never once in all the years before then had the Jötunn ever come knocking on Ásgarðr's walls, yet somehow the paranoia remained.

And, Odin, at least to himself, pondered that perhaps his choice to keep Loki's true parentage a secret could backfire if anyone found out, as he was not advocating the changing of his own people's long-held beliefs. No, he let them believe what they had come to believe: that the Jötunn would bring Ragnarök to Ásgarðr.

The death of the gods.

Yet, legend said that Ragnarök had happened many times before. The gods always died. The universe was always remade. That was the unending cycle. That was life. But Bör had taken the cup from his father, and Odin had taken it from his. They all struggled to end the cycle and find a way to stave off Ragnarök. They didn't want the gods to die anymore. They liked the universe just as it was. It wasn't fair that the "other" gods lived forever while they kept dying in an endless cycle. They wanted to remain safe in Ásgarðr. They wanted the Realms to remain safe from each other. Let them destroy themselves, if they so wished, but keep them apart so they could not bring war to Ásgarðr.

So Odin had discovered Idunn and her golden apples of immortality. He appointed Lady Idunn to be the Keeper of the Golden Apples, thinking he had finally discovered the key to his people's survival. He found the old writings of his great grandfather, detailing how he had influenced the people of Miðgarðr to manipulate their climate and drive the giants from their world.

But why?

The Ice Age had fallen over Miðgarðr, and frost giants had emerged supreme. They taught the humans how to hunt in the bitter snows. They taught them how to survive, and they brought with them their supposed goddess, which they taught the humans to honour. People began to travel across the snows and spread farther than ever before, and they began to forget their "true gods" in favour of this usurping goddess. Worse still, couplings began between the giants and the humans, the goddess "blessing" them by transforming the puny, weak mortals into Jötunn. And the Jötunn were breeding, spreading their faith to a non-Asgardian goddess.

So, the Asgardian king came down to Miðgarðr and stirred up the holy people, the magicals, and the hedge-wizards. He had them come together to change their world and bring an end to the age of ice.

And they had.

The ice began to retreat. The massive glaciers started to melt. The growing cap of ice and snow fell away.

The so-called goddess created Jötunheimr—a land that was inhospitable to all others who hated and feared the cold. She had subsequently transported her chosen "people" to Jötunheimr, creating a realm to join the others in its own frozen independence.

And the Asgardians believed that was the last of the Jötunn and the threat to the dissolving faith in favour of this frozen goddess. Let them rot in the snows of that frozen wasteland. Ásgarðr remained warm and beautiful.

Until Bör realised that Jötunheimr was still connected to the Bifröst.

Bör did not want those of Jötunheimr to have access to the Bifröst, no. If they did, they could travel to other realms or return to Earth's cold places and begin again what they had almost done during the Ice Age: brought about Ragnarök, the death of the gods. Bör traveled to Jötunheimr and set off to conquer the heathen people, but he hadn't not returned, save in spirit to haunt his son.

The truth had been buried under a hundred, thousand historical lies to protect the people of Ásgarðr. Long before Odin and long before Bör, the seeds for such deceit had been planted and taken root. All of this had been for one purpose alone, to prevent the death of the gods.

For they had seen it so very clearly. If the Jötunn converted Miðgarðr, their numbers would be far too great for them to be easily controlled. Their faith would be far too empowering, and that usurping goddess would become a real goddess, while they, the proud Asgardian gods, would be left behind and forgotten.

But only the high scholars knew of this from reading the ancient texts, and the scholars knew better than to voice different opinions in circles outside their own educational tier. The histories continued to be written in two languages: the victors and the truth, only the truth remains buried lest the scholars end up dead. They continued to write about it, but only in secret, burying it under countless lies and obscure philosophical blathering.

Odin frowned.

He had dismissed all of it as philosophical blathering, so much so that the truth was buried under so much possible truth and untruth that he didn't know what to think. What was he supposed to think?

New goddess rises up and steals all the faith?

Please. That couldn't be the real story.

The Asgardians had been gods since before the Realms themselves were even created. Ragnarök had come and gone. The old gods had died, yes, but—surely they had evolved by now? Surely they had grown strong enough that they need not fear Ragnarök anymore? This tremendous hatred towards the Jötunn—was it all in his head, thanks to his father?

Everyone knew, at least, where the war had begun on Jötunheimr. The area was but a massive crater the likes of which the snow and ice only made seem even more intimidating. Enormous jagged blades of ice sprouted up from the outer bowl, sheltering the inside of crater from the ravages of the ice, snow, and wind. It was in the middle of the bowl, so long ago, Odin had come across snow blowing through his father's armor and believed his father to be dead. It was shortly after leaving Jötunheimr, that Odin was first haunted by the spirit of his father, demanding bloody vengeance and a sorcerer who could bring an end his torment.

But no Asgardian sorcerer or sorceress wanted to go to Jötunheimr for fear of freezing to death before they could even get where they needed to go—that and something very… strange protected Jötunheimr. Asgardian magic was more difficult there, perhaps because the shockingly bitter cold stymied all attempts to focus and concentrate, or perhaps for some other reason. Regardless of the reason—the very land and climate of Jötunheimr seemed to rise up to protect its denizens. The cold seeped into your bones even through multiple layers of clothes. The frigid air tried to freeze your lungs whenever you breathed it in. Surviving such harsh, unforgiving conditions was a true feat of strength, and everything that did was, nay, had to be larger than life.

Odin felt a flutter in his stomach as he realised he would be seeing Loki again soon—out here in the frozen wastes he had been born into. He would most likely be—acclimatised to his native environment by now. How was this going to go over with his people? Frigga knew. Thor knew because Frigga had told him. But what of Sigyn?

Sigyn looked like she was about to vomit all over the pristine, snow-covered ground. Her face was both blue from the cold and a sickly green from what Odin could only assume was due to some sort of food-related distress or perhaps psychological stress. Some of the oldest royal guards knew about Loki's past, their families having served the royal family for generations. They just didn't speak about it, because they knew that to break confidence with the royal family was a great way to get kicked out of Ásgarðr—or worse. Yet Sigyn herself didn't know about Loki's true lineage.

Or did she?

He was sure that Frigga had her doubts. Odin could tell by the way his lady wife watched Sigyn like a hawk. They said that Heimdall saw everything—but Odin knew that wasn't entirely true. There were some things Heimdall could not see, just as Odin could not see the future clearly. Frigga may not have the sort of sight as Heimdall, but she too missed very little.

And Thor—Thor was watching Sigyn as though he expected her to mutate into some sort of flesh-eating giant troll at a moment's notice. It wasn't really like Thor to look at a lady with the same look he used to evaluate someone or something he was prepared to take Mjölnir to.

Odin frowned. Sigyn was indeed the last known person to have seen Loki prior to his abrupt disappearance. Supposedly. Sigyn had claimed that Loki had gone with her out on one of the boats, but he had started teasing her by trying to rock the boat and tip her into the water. She had, according to her, hopped off to shore and walked back to the gardens using the island bridges. The boat had been found where she claimed it and Loki had had been— but then Loki had disappeared.

Loki, who was, hands down, the best swimmer in all of Ásgarðr—

Odin scowled. Soon, they would know.

As they walked into the intimidating crater, Odin realised that it had changed very little since the finding of Bör's empty armour. In his dreams, this place, too, had haunted him just like the ghost of his father. The jagged ice barrier around the crater gave him an unnerving sense of claustrophobia, their points looking more like spear tips than random ice projections. The snow blew around the bowl, never leaving thanks to the wall of ice, and he swore the snow itself was somehow alive after watching how it seemed to try and escape with no avail.

"All-Father Odin," Laufey said from a frozen seat. "Long it has been since you came here, beating a young king whose mate was crushed to death under a great many tons of ice, rock, and snow. Does the peace still taste as sweet?"

"I am not here to break the treaty," Odin stated evenly.

"No, I suppose you are not," Laufey agreed. He gestured with his head, and Loki stepped out from behind Laufey's seat, standing barely high enough to reach the Jötunn's knees. "I believe you may have lost something. We found him— bleeding and broken in the snows. Our healer-priestess did bind his wounds and tend to him for a great many moons, and we have learned many things about what Ásgarðr believes of us, as well as what we have believed of Ásgarðr."

Loki stepped out to approach Odin. "All-Father," Loki said with a bow. "Have you brought Lady Sigyn? I do so much wish to complete our marriage. It is my wish that I remain here to restore the sites tragically destroyed by the war, All-Father, and ensure a lasting peace between our peoples. I would have my wife at my side—a symbol of our mutual love—that we be a shining example that a true understanding is possible between our very different peoples."

"I thank you, King Laufey, for providing succor for my injured son," Odin said formally. "My son, what happened that caused you to fall injured and land here in Jötunheimr?"

"Alas, my father, I do not remember anything save for enjoying a most wonderful afternoon with my beloved Sigyn. The next thing I knew, I was waking up here, delirious and grievously wounded. I did most shamefully accost the healer thinking her the cause of my condition, and I have been paying penance for my shameful behaviour since."

"Loki has shown himself to be quite gracious in helping us repair the rift between our peoples, All-Father Odin— something I did not believe possible," Laufey said. "I would have him wedded here, in front of your party and my people, that peace may be sealed evermore."

"I see no problem with his, King Laufey," Odin said with a nod. He gestured his head, and the guards parted, exposing a pale, shivering Sigyn.

Loki held out his arm, palm up. "Sigyn, my love, let us now be wed. We shall forever drive the cold from your body with our most joyous union."

"No, no, no, no," Sigyn sputtered, shivering violently. "You're dead!"

Loki patted himself down then quirked an eyebrow at the visibly distraught Sigyn. "I assure you, my love, I am very much alive. You have Priestess Healer Hermione to thank for my recovery." He gestured to the tall, attractive Jötunn female standing next to Laufey's seat. Her wild mane of hair was held in check by long, elegant warbraids, wrapped together with strands of fine, shimmering silk. She, much like Laufey, left very little to the imagination, her clothing covering very little of her body in the freezing wind, save for a thick fur wrapped snugly around her waist. The Jötunn, most of whom wore far less, eyed the Asgardian party with varying degrees of suspicion, perhaps wondering why they were so overdressed.

Loki held out his hand, his face eager and welcoming. "Let us be wed, my love. Surely fate had smiled upon us to mend my injuries so that I might be with you." He closed the distance and reached out to brush her cheek with his hand. He lowered his head to give her a kiss.

"NO! I will NOT be mated with some blue FREAK!" Sigyn spat, stumbling back from him in revulsion and horror. "Do not TOUCH me!"

Thor, Frigga, and Odin immediately turned to stare holes into Sigyn.

Odin, realising there was only one possible way that Sigyn could have known Loki was Jötunn was by having eavesdropped on his conversation with his wife regarding Loki's heritage. Frigga had protested that arranging a marriage for Loki was a bad idea. Neither he nor Sigyn knew of his heritage, and if the baby came out looking like a typical Jötunn infant, there would be— questions and drama, to put it mildly. Thor, however, was not being forced into marriage, and if anyone should have an arranged marriage, Thor should be the one, as the future king. The people would be talking. Why was he forcing Loki to marry and not the eldest and most eligible son?

Odin's reasons, while seemingly sensible enough at the time, at least in his own mind, had started to crumble with the disappearance of his youngest son under rather suspicious circumstances. At first, he thought that perhaps Loki did not wish to marry for any reason and had gone off one of his many trips to the hidden places to brood over it, but when he didn't return or send word, he started to doubt it was a simple matter of brooding. Even Heimdall himself could no longer see him, and that was definitely not a normal state of affairs.

"Lady Sigyn," Odin said in a dangerously quiet tone of voice. "What is the meaning of this accusation?"

"You already know, All-Father," Sigyn shrieked hysterically. "You've been trying to get me to marry a filthy, heathen Jötunn! Bind myself to one of THEM!"

The gathering of Jötunn gripped their spears tightly, their crimson eyes glowing in the blowing snow.

"Lady Sigyn!" Odin roared. "You are a goddess and of Ásgarðr. Regardless of whether your accusations are true, Loki is my son and a prince of Ásgarðr. You have been arranged for marriage by both Iwaldi and Freya by their mutual consent and desire!"

"I refuse to marry a lie! Had my parents known he was a blue freak, they would never have agreed! I was and am betrothed to Theoric! Long before my parents agreed to your little charade!"

Many eyes turned to face Theoric, one of Odin's own Crimson Hawks.

The Crimson Hawk swallowed hard. "Tis true that I proposed to Lady Sigyn before her betrothal to Prince Loki, All-Father," he said, "but I believed it to be moot the moment she became engaged to the prince."

"I agreed!" Sigyn protested. "He was my true betrothed!"

"Yet you said nothing of this until now, Lady Sigyn," Frigga said darkly. "Not even one mention of your lament until now. Why is that?"

"Theoric," Odin snapped. "At any time after her engagement to my son, did she meet with you for any reason?"

Theoric shook his head adamantly. "No, All-Father. She ignored me in all ways."

Sigyn twitched under Frigga's scrutiny. "He is not even your son!"

Frigga scowled. "Loki is my son. Did I not raise him? Did I not tend his wounds when he was injured? Teach him the ways of magic? Pick him up when he fell? Soothe his nightmares? Praise his accomplishments?"

"How could you! How could you betray your own people!" Sigyn yelled.

The ice barrier around them shimmered to life as the image of Sigyn standing with Loki on the lake boat came to live in a blazing swirl of colour and sound.

"I heard you parents talking, PRINCE Loki. You're not even truly their son! You're NOT one of us!"

"Sigyn, what in Helheim are you talking about—?"

"I will never marry you. I will not bind myself to some blue, red-eyed freak!"

Sigyn viciously thrust her dagger into Loki again and again. Loki grabbed his abdomen, his face completely twisted in shock and disbelief. She plunged it deep one last time and then kicked him overboard into the swirling whirlpool. Sigyn's face disappeared in a swirl of choking water as Loki was pulled deep into the vortex, his lifeblood staining the water red.

"That is a lie!" Sigyn yelled. "You made all of this up!"

"Magnus," Laufey called out. "Bring me what you found with him when you carried him in from the snows."

A huge wall of a Jötunn walked forward carrying a bundle wrapped in sealskin. His eyes flicked to the repeating memory projected on the ice wall and back to Sigyn. He slowly offered it to Odin. Odin's personal guard rushed up, taking the bundle for him.

Magnus narrowed his eyes at the Crimson Hawks but turned and walked back to the other Jötunn.

The guard unwrapped the skin from the bundle and exposed an ornate dagger, emblazoned with the crests of Sigyn's family. The dagger was heavily stained with dried blood.

"You're setting me up!" Sigyn protested.

"I recognise that dagger, father," Thor said grimly. "Many times has she trained with us using her family blade. She said it was the only weapon suitable for her hands. She would use no other."

"This is just a Jötunn trick! You know our magic does not work here!" Sigyn yelled.

Frigga passed her hand over the dagger. "This is of Asgardian make. There is no magic within it to dispel."

Sigyn seemed to realised that her excuses were falling on deaf ears, but the sight of Loki with his hand out seemed to feed the fuel of her inner desperation. She flung the guards around her away with her surprise rage, and made a run for it into the depths of the swirling snow.

The guards moved to apprehend her, but Odin held out his hand. "No. Leave her Jötunheimr. If she is truly a goddess, she will survive and make her way back to Ásgarðr, where I will deal with her. If not, let this land test her mettle and find her unworthy. If this does not displease you, King Laufey?"

Laufey's crimson eyes seemed to glow, but he stomped his spear on the ground to express his approval. "Let the Great Frost Mother test and judge her by her own rules," he said grimly. "But now there is no marriage to broker the peace between us. Would one of yours be willing to live their life with us and be the bridge to Ásgarðr. Would one of yours would marry one of us to cement our peace? Which one of your people remain unbetrothed that would be willing to bind their lives to ours as an example to both our peoples that peace is more than just a treaty forged in force."

Nervous murmurs ran through the Asgardians.

Loki stepped up. "I will do this. I have learned many new things in a very short time, but I would rather stay here and bring peace between our peoples than let some other who has not learned the truth, do so blindly."

"This is no small thing, prince of Ásgarðr," Laufey said sternly. "This is no mere whim you can take back in a week or a year after you get bored or tired of the snows. Take a mate here, and it will forever change you, and there will be no going back to what once was."

"Father!" Thor hissed, pushing his way to Odin. "Are you just going to let him—?"

"Have you a better idea, my son?" Odin asked him, meeting his elder son's eyes. "Would you wish yourself to be mated in his place?"

Thor swallowed hard and stepped back.

Loki, who had his back to Thor, just smiled as he looked up at Laufey. "I fully understand what you ask and what I have agreed to."

"As you wish, little prince," Laufey said. "Which of you find this small Asgardian to be worthy of mind and heart, that you would wish to take him as a mate? Are there any of you not mated who can hold a spear without falling upon it?"

"After having witnessed a many matings, my king," Magnus said. "I can attest that the number of eligible females has declined quite drastically of late. The few who are, either hunt upon the floes or are back in the village."

Laufey scowled. "No one, then? No one who would broker this peace between our peoples? Do I need to remind you what is at stake?"

The priestess healer sighed softly and stepped up. "I would test this young Asgardian's mettle to see if he can please me," she said, her eyes raking over Loki appraisingly. "In the time that has passed, I have come to see that he has much fight and cunning, but I would know if his other staminas meet expectation."

The Jötunn gathered chuckled and snickered together.

"Quiet!" Laufey bellowed. "Priestess Healer, you do know what this will mean if the bond is proven true?"

"Aye, my king," she replied. "But if he is good enough to form a bond, then I will certainly trust the Great Frost Mother's divine judgement."

"May our Great Frost Mother make her final judgement," Laufey intoned, gesturing with his hand to the area directly in front of him.

Hermione unwrapped the warm sealskin from her waist and placed it down on the snow. She knelt down and gently extended her fingers to Loki. Loki walked up after squaring his shoulders, and placed his hands on her the back of her hands, touching the raised runic markings on her very blue skin.

Golden energy lit up her markings and flowed into Loki, and he gave a low groan as the markings spread onto him. His body doubled over, and a pulse of energy poured out from him as his body grew to accommodate his mate. His hands gripped her head and he lowered his mouth to hers in a heated kiss and articles of clothing dropped to the ground as a river of blue took over every inch of his body as red filled his eyes in a startling shade of crimson rubies. Loki ran his hands over every inch of her body before he claimed her in front of the startled Asgardian witnesses while the Jötunn all exchanged knowing smiles.

Laufey watched Odin very carefully but moved not an inch.

The Asgardians began to fidget uncomfortably as their prince unhesitatingly stripped off his clothing and proceeded to get down to business, seemingly working very intensely to get the loudest and most expressive reaction out of the Jötunn priestess. Loki's body had become entirely deep cobalt blue, his markings glowing brightly with a strange, almost prismatic glow of power in junction with her own. Thor tried desperately to look away from the sight of his younger brother having what seemed to be the best sex of his life, but he ended up looking at Sif, and the pair soon found themselves staring at each other with a hungry look in their eyes, their nostrils flaring and breath coming in increasingly short, needy gasps. Then they both stubbornly turned away, crossing their arms in front of themselves in a determined resolve to ignore the other.

After many uncomfortable minutes (at least for the Asgardians) Hermione let out a ecstatic shriek, signifying her "acceptance" of Loki's "proposal to become her mate" as a vivid lightshow of electromagnetic glory burst out from between them in a flare of colour and low hum like the thrum of a choir.

The figure of a great Jötunn female formed in the light, solidifying into a dark blue giantess with long white hair, who was wearing an intricate crown formed of ice. She stepped out of the colourful swirling light show, he bare feet setting down on the ice. Her eyes blazed in crimson fire as the markings on her body shifted and moved like the constellations.

"Let none break the peace that has been forged between your worlds this day, Kings Laufey and Odin," the goddess said, her eyes moving from one to the other. "For as surely as the frozen winds whip across the ice and snow of Jötunheimr, those who set out to break it shall be devoured by the great seawolf whale. But I will not be wholly blind to the ways of violence. Should violence come and prove to be unavoidable, I would not demand the innocent to stand and take a spear to the back."

The Jötunn all bowed their heads in respect as the goddess pulled a warm, fluffy fur over her priestess and her 'newfound' mate.

"In celebration of this momentous consummation of peace, I will give you back something that started that terrible war, oh so long ago," the goddess said, waving her hand. The snow began to swirl in front of them, forming into a humanoid form. "He, who cast the first spear into one of my most faithful healer's back and into the chest of the old king. I give you the one who brought about the start of the war: Bör, son of Buri, that you may decide, King Odin, which fate he truly deserves."

The goddess stepped back into the swirling light and disappeared.

The swirling snow spun about more and more frantically, and with a crunching sound like a footfall in the new-fallen snow, an entirely naked and unarmoured Bör Burison stood naked and exposed in the freezing cold of Jötunheimr.

Thor's eyes widened almost comically, and many of the Asgardians frantically turned away, whatever arousal they may have experienced while watching Loki with his "new" mate was utterly dashed by the sight of Bör Burison, standing in his starkers amidst the blinding snow.

Odin hissed at Thor, "Give him your cloak! Somebody give him some damned clothes!"

"But, my king, we have no spare clothes!"

A tall, male Jötunn dressed in a long drape of black robes, curled his lip in an utterly disdainful look, waving his hand as if to dismiss someone from his presence. Clothes swirled around Bör, layering him with arctic rabbit fur underthings, elk skin leathers, sealskin boots, and an obnoxiously long red and gold scarf. Then, as if to accent the awkwardness, he added bright-furred mittens that made him look like he had pom-poms on his hands.

Odin's face twisted in conflict, somewhere between frank horror and nigh-sadistic glee. "Father," Odin intoned formally.

"What?" Bör blurted, feeling his body's strange new coverings. He whirled to face Laufey, who was still sitting on his throne of ice. "You! Bow to the king of Ásgarðr!" He spun, holding out his hand. "Give me your spear, guard!"

"I cannot, King... er…" the guard stammered, conflicted on what to call a previous king that was thought to be dead but suddenly wasn't.

"No," Odin enunciated quite clearly. "We will not lift any weapons against Jötunheimr after my son has made the ultimate sacrifice to ensure peace between our people."

Loki took in a deep breath and pushed himself up off the ground. The thick, fluffy fur that had covered them conveniently covered their laps. Loki's dark cobalt skin glistened with golden markings, still resonating with powerful magic. His smug smile looked quite satisfied indeed.

"My grandson is a vile, filthy, heathen Jotunn?!" Bör roared.

Loki looked down, examining himself critically. "Oh, please. I did bathe. Besides, I rather like the colour, and the sex was most excellent, grandfather. I'm quite certain she will be having your great grandchildren. Have you met my new wife?"

Bör's face grew red with anger and unmistakable rage. "I did not carve our people's superiority over the Realms so you could fornicate with these blue heathens and become one of them in the name of peace!"

Odin's face darkened and he narrowed his remaining eye. "I have been haunted by you for nigh over a thousand and more years, father. In every one you begged me to find you a sorcerer who could free you from your torment and bring justice to your death—but you were not dead. You blamed the Jötunn for your fall, and I find myself wondering if you started that bloody war."

"Ridiculous!" Bör growled.

"Perhaps my turning my back upon you will remind you of what you are truly capable of, King Bör," Hermione said coolly. She stood up, sans any sort of clothes. She very casually pulled on her gossamer garments as the spiders pulled her hair back into a silken series of long braids.

"You!" Bör turned abruptly, recognising the voice. "Where are you, you giant-loving wench!"

Hermione's lips curved up slightly. "Well, I must admit that I do love giants," she said serenely. "They have such huge— hearts."

The male Jötunn all radiated very smug smiles.

Bör, who kept searching his approximate level in vain, hunting for a human-sized Hermione, seemed quite oblivious to the fact that the source of the voice he recognised happened to be far, far above him, by something upwards of twenty-odd feet.

"Father, it is time to come back to Ásgarðr," Odin stated firmly.

"No, not until that little wench pays for what she did to me!" Bör bellowed.

"Father, there is peace between our people! Would you throw that all away for some old grudge?" Odin yelled back. "It has been over a thousand years, nay two, since you were lost. Do you not wish to know your people again? Your grandsons?"

"And get to know your giant-loving whelps? I will never acknowledge any kin who would lie with with a blue-skinned harlot," Bör sneered.

"You know nothing of Jötunn life, if you think Jötunn females are even capable of being what you say," Loki growled darkly.

"Says the whelp who lies down with one here on the snow like some common animal," Bör accused, spitting on the ground in disgust.

"You will leave my brother and his mate out of this weighted debate," Thor snarled. "He cared enough for his people to blaze a path towards peace, even when his betrothed proved incapable of handling the task."

"Then you are no better," Bör said with an ugly scowl.

"Now you see here," Odin bit out, his face pulling into a scowl. "I did not hang from the Yggdrasil to gain knowledge to share with all the Realms in order to breed ignorance, and there was always one thing I could never understand. If the Jötunn were intelligent enough to take and use the runes— as well as have their own long before I came to this place, then how were they truly ignorant heathens? How could a race with such knowledge willingly embrace a role that would bring about Ragnarök?"

"You can see it as clear as day— right there upon their skin," Odin said, his remaining eye gazing upon the gathered Jötunn. "Only now have I realised this— now that I have seen it on the skin of my youngest son and his mate, there upon each and every one of them. They carry the tapestry of their history upon themselves, while we rely on words said in the aftermath of war, written on parchments buried under tomes, shoveled under a hundred, thousand scrolls. And I have read it, father. In my lifetime search for a cure for you. So many stories— such as how we drove the Jötunn from Miðgarðr, not because they murdered and killed the people, no, but because they brought the world of the Great Frost Mother and bred with their people. It scared your father, and your father's father. It scared them so much so that they whispered the secrets of magic to the people of Miðgarðr and gave them a way to alter their climate by working together in the guise that the warmer climate would greatly benefit their people. But it wasn't really about that, was it father? It was about warming their world enough to drive the Jötunn out. So the Jötunn left Miðgarðr, carried by their goddess, to a Realm of her own making. This frightened you even more, because She created an entire Realm and set it inside the very branches of the Yggdrasil: an ideal place for her chosen people."

"You know nothing of why it had to be done!" Bör argued hotly.

Odin pulled off his eye patch, rubbing the scar where his missing eye was. "Your ancestors believed the Jötunn to be suitably dealt with, until one day, you, father, stumbled across the frozen wastes of Jötunheimr and realised the ancient adversary was still alive. You sought to convince them that those of Ásgarðr were gods for a reason. You tried to broker a peace by beating them soundly— only they would not bow. They turned their backs upon you, and you droves a spear into their healer and king."

Bör stared at Odin, utterly gobsmacked. "How would you even know? You weren't even there!"

"I can see it— written upon the skin of these people, father," Odin said, his eyes scanning the glowing runes that only now he could actually see, let alone read. "I think… I believe that the Great Frost Mother has gifted me with the knowledge to read for myself the truth."

"You would trust their so-called goddess?"Bör scoffed. "WE are the gods! They should bow down to US!"

"Long has it been since I first hung on the Yggdrasil, sacrificing my eye for knowledge, or drank from the Well of Mímir. Longer still has it been since I wandered Miðgarðr to spread the ways of healing, sing of the glory of death, admonished with tales of divine justice, breathed the beauty of poetry into the hearts of men, whipped them into a frenzy, and taught them the art of battle and sorcery. Sorcery I have chosen to leave in the most capable hands of my lady wife, casting it aside as no better than the weapons we imbue with it. Poetry I gave to our philosophers, and knowledge I began to keep for myself, bidding Geri and Freki, Huginn and Muninn to constantly run and fly across all of Miðgarðr to bring word to me of what was going on there. Yet I have not even once stepped foot there for a great many human centuries."

"Yet, none of them ever told you what really mattered," Bör sneered.

"Isn't the staving off of Ragnarök the very reason that you, your father, and his father before him did do all the things we have done to that end? In our desperation to save our people, we drove ourselves utterly mad as we searched desperately for the key, that it might point us in the direction of that which we might blame for stoking the fires of our own destruction. And, maybe, just maybe, I can believe you, father. Up until my own actions killed a mother, her unborn child still within her broken body. And suddenly, I remembered poetry and knowledge and my own wife, laden with child not so long before." Odin's face darkened. "No, father. I will not stand and watch you break this hard-won peace between Ásgarðr and Jötunheimr. Útgarðr may be the chosen seat of this frozen wasteland, but Laufey is the king and the beating heart of his people, and he is out here, with them, not inside the walls of a great city cut off from the very lands that saved them. He could have chosen to just let my son die, but he did not, and for that I can only be thankful that he had far more compassion in his heart than I did on the day I brought an entire palace to the ground."

"You were fighting a WAR!" Bör yelled.

"Not my war," Odin corrected him. "Your war. Your father's war. Your grandfather's war. No, if I am going to fight a war, now, it will be for my own reasons. Not yours. Not my ancestor's reasons. It will be because I see it as a necessary evil, not because someone told me it was the right thing to do. And I'm telling you, father, that the time for war is done. Come home to Ásgarðr, and learn what you have missed after a millennium trapped in the snows."

For a moment, it seemed as though Bör was affected by Odin's words, but the expression that had briefly softened his ire seemed to shift back into a cold rage far too quickly. He suddenly lunged towards one of the guards, but just as he did so, a huge dark shape arose, soaring so fast and so close to the underside of the ice they had gathered upon that it was more than a little obvious.

"To the high ground!" Laufey shouted immediately, standing hurriedly and moving away. "Follow us, Asgardians, or you will be naught but food!"

All the Jötunn swiftly fled the area, not even bothering to look back— all save for Loki and Hermione, who extended their arms to the much smaller members of the Asgardian party.

"Come, we will take you with us, hurry!" Loki yelled. "Hold on to us!"

The guards all grasped onto Hermione's arm as she pulled them close to herself and her other hand reached out to seek Loki's. His hand slammed into hers, and her magic flared at once.

CRACK!

Hermione's side-along Apparate took them all away.

"COWARDS!" Bör jeered. "Actually believing a Jötunn warning of some supposed danger that lies beneath! They will slay you the instant your back is turned!"

Crack.

Crackle.

Crack! CRACK!

Hnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnggggghh!

The great seawolf whale burst through the ice, sending shards of broken ice in all directions in a spray of water. The very cold of Jötunheimr froze the water in mid-splash, and the whale breached itself up high into the air, its broad tail slamming into even more ice and throwing it out like shrapnel.

Its enormous maw opened, exposing the yawning Abyss within.

CLACK!

Mighty jaws smashed together, taking all that was upon the ice and dragging it back below.

KaSPLOOOSH!

The body of the whale had destroyed the meeting site completely, sending all the ice and broken shards floating out into the now-exposed sea. As the tip of the whale's flukes disappeared into the frigid water, nothing was left but broken ice and churning water.

If Bör Burison had somehow survived, no one remained around to witness it.

"My son," Frigga said, patting his hand. "When do I get my new grandbabies?"

Loki's eyes widened. "Why mother, whatever do you mean?"

Frigga gave him the eye. "I am your mother, Loki, and I know you. I am also not stupid or oblivious to the ties of magic. Others may choose to believe whatever makes them happy, but what would make me happy is knowing when I will get to meet my grandbabies."

Loki scratched the space in front of his ear. The rest of the diplomatic party was off enjoying the hospitality of the tribe. The magical Jötunn had crafted the first hotel of its kind to provide warm, comfortable lodgings for their Asgardian guests. Luna had taken charge of the decorating duties, having thoroughly interrogated Loki on what Asgardians thought constituted "comfortable lodgings."

Save for the outside of the structure, which looked exactly like the natural spiky ice formation of the glacier, the interior had become akin to the very inside of the Ásgarðr royal palace, complete with private chambers, a luxurious common room, private baths, and inner gardens that had been carefully magicked in with climate control and holding bubbles. Save for a school of not-so-in-need-of-water plush Pira that all piled on top of Frigga's lap and purred at her, begging for pets.

The doors and inner chambers were huge, far more so than typical Asgardian rooms so it could suitably accommodate the Jötunn as well, but for the most part, most of the furnishings from the polished floors, carpets, and sculptures seemed to have been taken from Ásgarðr itself— only having been crafted in ice and snow. The temperature on the inside however, was balmy for the Jötunn, yet quite comfortable for the Asgardians, akin to a cool, spring day. The food was Jötunheimr's best, but Astera had worked her culinary magic upon it to make it appeal to the more "refined" Asgardian palate.

Pan-seared seal steaks with steamed blue-spotted ice crab, breaded calamari, and seaweed salad became quick favourites. Frigga earned herself access to Hermione's secret stash of tasty sea urchins and other deep sea delights, and the she was permitted to take her pick from the bubble gardens in the shrine to the Great Frost Mother. Frigga, ever sensitive to the private domain of another goddess, placed an offering of her own at the feet of the the sacred statue: a small (although large for her) seal, killed with her very own dagger and a prayer that the peace between their peoples would prove to be an eternal thing.

The village seemed to relax after word of Frigga's hunt and offering to the Great Frost Mother made the rounds. The Asgardians were allowed to do what they wished, provided they did not bring violence, and none of them were about to after they had just seen, or rather heard, the roar of the great seawolf whale smashing the site where the war had begun.

Laufey and Odin sat together around the fire and spoke of the future, and many believed that such a thing would surely never come to pass. Oddly, the two fathers-in-law seemed to realise that the other was not nearly as bad as they had originally believed, and Amelia and Frigga were getting on more than just cordially. The guards seemed to have very little to do, and they were allowed, for once, to relax and enjoy themselves— and Sif and Thor promptly seized advantage of that allowance to engage in some very private activities behind closed doors that had been carefully layered with a number of suitable charms to prevent any more embarrassing heckling— well, save for a large gathering of plush Pira that had piled up against the door and were putting their "ears" against it.

When Frigga found them all piled on the door, her reaction was pretty much as expected.

"My son, why is the hotel infested with adorable stuffed Pira?"

"Why do you ask me this?" Loki answered with a charming pout.

"Because Thor cannot conjure or animate things that are both adorable and dangerous at the same time."

"Psh," Loki scoffed.

A clutter of equally adorable spiders skittered by, carrying a tray of assorted snacks.

Frigga looked at Loki.

"Those creatures were not my fault," Loki insisted, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Extremely dangerous yet obnoxiously adorable? Who else then?" Frigga commented with no little amusement.

"You could always blame your wife," Hermione said as she walked by, a mischievous grin on her face.

"Don't you dare blame this on your wife, Loki!" Frigga huffed.

Loki made a face that seemed to be caught between "But—" and "Well, now what?".

A fluffy spider on Loki's shoulder waved a leg. "Actually, we invited ourselves after Hermione saved us. She's the best!"

"Yup!" another spider said.

"Way back when, she saved us from floating out to sea."

"We were smaller then, still spiderlings!"

"We liked to ride along with mummy."

"Mummy has new spiderlings now, though!"

"They all hang out in Hermione's hair with Mum."

"We should fetch the drinks."

"Good idea."

"Bye, bye Frigga goddess mum," they said, springing off Loki's shoulder and riding a silk strand down to the floor before scurrying off down the hall.

Frigga stared at Loki.

"See, I told you they weren't my fault," Loki said with a cheeky grin.

A/N: Loki always gets the blame even when it isn't his fault.