AN: Ok, I'll be honest. I found it difficult to write the last section of this chapter. It's only just the normal average for me, maybe a little less, but still, it's an update and I hope you like it!

Chapter twenty-two

I gazed around the great ice hall. After being introduced to all of the different clan leaders, the only one who had stuck in my mind was Drafilie and his son Tritan. All of the other chieftains were the same, Big, muscled and quick to anger. Drafilie was similar; it was just the amount of scars that were on his skin. As for Tritan, I hadn't talked to him since the initial introduction. Only now had I learned that they had arrived on great Ice Beasts. Their tribe was based in a place where Ice Beasts were high in population. They had all been killed off around the ice castle.

Ice Beasts, despite their name, breathed fire. It was what made them so dangerous above all of the other creatures and monsters on Jotunheim. The fact that the chieftain and the heir had managed to tame a few was a feat in its self, but from what I heard, it wasn't enough against the sheer force of the Ice Beasts and their regular raids. The chief and his son had risked much by coming here. They could return to a village burnt to ashes.

My gaze slid across the hall, all of the tables laden with food to feed all of the chieftains. It was certainly something to behold, especially seated from beside the queen. I could see everyone, and I tried to put the names to the faces, but I couldn't. I found myself searching for one above all: Tritan.

"Hello." I jumped about a meter in my seat and whirled around to face the person who was quietly chuckling beside me. It was Tritan.

"Um... Hi." I said, suddenly at a loss of what to say.

"I hope I didn't startle you," He said, a smile still across his face.

"No. No of course not," I said. I hoped I could play off the fact that my heart was still hammering in my chest. I normally sensed someone standing behind me quite quickly. I wouldn't attribute it to the fact that I was preoccupied with finding Tritan. It must have been something else.

"You are a very bad liar." He said. I smiled nervously. He was a good few feet taller than me, standing at around 10 feet tall. Nearly everyone was taller than me, my half human side becoming more of a hindrance here. To the Frost giants, height and stature is everything. I might be tall on Midgard, in my Jotun self, but here, I was pretty runty.

"Funny, seeing how my father is the god of lies." I said, hopping that he would take it light-heartedly.

Tritan shifted on his feet and sent a look around the hall. "You would do well to keep quiet about that, especially after he killed our king."

"Oh yeah... sorry." I said. My smile faded, I looked down at my hands. I traced the slight markings, little raises in my ice blue skin.

Tritan shrugged. "I never liked him that much anyway," He told me.

I chuckled, "I'm not sure that's a good thing."

"Laufey's rule was always absolute. You either did what he told you, or you would die. Rule under Farbuati is more..." Tritan trailed off, trying to find a word.

"Relaxed?" I offered.

"You could say that." He said. He cast another long look around the hall, his eyes resting on his father for a second longer than anyone else. It made me wonder if Tritan had a second agenda as to why he was coming to talk to me. "If you are finished, I would like to show you something." He said.

I looked at Farbuati. It was pretty boring at the feast, since everyone just wanted to talk to Farbuati. I had already eaten enough. Farbuati didn't look in my direction but I felt like she would want me to go, for the sake of creating stronger ties between the Jotun community. And besides, I wasn't doing much anyway.

"Sure," I shrugged, getting out of my seat. I followed Tritan out into the courtyard, where the two Ice Beasts were chained to the floor.

They took my breath away every time I saw them. They held themselves tall and proud, although Drafilie's Ice Beast was notably more scarred and battle ready than Tritan's. And with that horrible metal helmet, he couldn't do much besides look straight ahead. Tritan walked up to them without any fear, brushing a hand down the hide of his father's Ice Beast before patting the head of his own.

"We call this breed of Ice Beasts Sky Chasers." He said.

I walked closer, my earlier hesitation gone. "They're beautiful." I said, and they really were.

"My father believes that if he gains control of one of the Alpha species, he can cease the attacks on our tribe." Tritan muttered. "But I know the real reason why he wants an army of Ice Beasts."

"An army like that could win him the throne of any of the nine realms." I gasped.

"Yes; but he only has eye's on Jotunheim's, and of course, revenge on Asgard." Tritan told me, still stroking the head of his Sky Chaser, who had begun to emit a low rumble.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked. "You should go straight to Farbuati."

"I probably should, but I can't bring myself to do it. Not yet." He said. He looked down further and focused all of his attention on his Sky Chaser.

"Oh," I found myself saying. I moved my attention to Drafilie's Sky Chaser. I carefully approached him. "What do you call your Sky Chasers?"

"My Sky Chaser is called Windcutter." He said. I held my palm open to the Sky Chaser in front of me, ready to snap it back if it looked like he would go for it. "My father's is called Bonecrusher."

"Bonecrusher?" I asked. It seemed a far too violent name for the Ice Beast that was currently snuffing and huffing into my palm. He lifted his burning red eyes to mine. I saw nothing violent or threatening in those eyes. I only got the feeling of aching sadness. I slid my palm under the nose of the helmet, wanting nothing more than to take it off.

"Yes, well my father is very traditional like that." Tritan said. He looked at me and Bonecrusher. I was stroking him under the chin. A rumble of cat-like purrs emitted from his throat. "You seem very comfortable around Ice Beasts."

I shrugged. "I have two dragons at home."

"Would you like to take a ride with me?" Tritan asked, gesturing to Windcutter.

I walked to the side of Bonecrusher, my hand trailing down his large shoulder blade. "How about a race?" I asked and hauled myself to the top of Bonecrusher. I seated myself between his two shoulder blades, crouching low with one hand on one of the large spines that trailed down his back.

"No!" Tritan burst, aghast that I was readying his chieftains Sky Chaser to fly. "You can't! My father –"

I cut him off. "I'm pretty sure your father won't kill me. He'll never know!" I shouted and rushed Bonecrusher into the sky, savouring the feel of wind rushing past my face and my stomach dropping to my toes.

I whooped with excitement. Bonecrusher's wings already splayed in the X formation. I stood up and leaned into the wind, arms spread out wide, embracing the sky.

Deadpool POV

For the record, totally and completely honestly with a huge pile of money on top, Deadpool didn't mind having to be patient. Patience was great. Patience generally meant that something great was gonna happen later. Deadpool always did stuff while he was being patient, so he was never really doing nothing.

... That was unless Deadpool was doing nothing. That was when patience became a waiting game, and that was the one game Deadpool could not play. It was something Deadpool hated. He hated it with a passion and that usually ended up with him killing someone. Waiting was like a cancer, growing inside of everyone that has to endure it, killing them slowly from the inside. Cancer was something Deadpool knew well. And right know, so was waiting.

Patience was just fine, but Deadpool #$&$*# hated waiting.

It had been three days. Three days of waiting. Three days of nothing.

Of course the Avengers couldn't wait to get up to Canada as quickly as they possibly could. It had taken all of one sentence to get them up there. It had taken Deadpool two days to find the freaking Avengers and one more to get back up to Canada. Add three on top of that and what do you get? Five days. Five freaking days.

So far it had been two days of planning and scheming for the Avengers. The third day was waiting for all of them. Waiting for what? No one really knew. Apparently Ink put out some kind of big energy signature whenever she did anything. Using the Iron Man armour it was pretty easy to track, except there was no energy signature. Wolverine tried tracking her scent, but after five days of relentless Canadian winter, the tracks were long gone. It didn't stop him from going out every day, as the scent got less and less, to try and find some trace of Ink. At least it gave Logan something to do.

They were left with nothing. Less than nothing even. It annoyed the hell out of Deadpool.

He should be out there, doing something, finding Ink. Making sure she didn't have to stay in the hands of those monsters anymore then she had to. It was stupid. The Avengers planned but they weren't doing anything. He didn't care about the plan. Deadpool could just go in by himself and slaughter them all. He'd done it before. He'd do it again.

To say Deadpool was restless was an understatement.

When pacing the living room wasn't enough, he extended the pacing from the front door through the hallway to the bedrooms. When that wasn't enough, Deadpool would go outside, pace around the entire cabin and then back in. He did this about every ten minutes. Sometime he would cut down a tree or two. There were less and less trees surrounding the cabin.

During this time, Natasha Romanoff, the freaking Black Widow and Ink's mom would just sit and watch. Deadpool didn't know if she was always like this or whether it was just the current run of events that would have Natasha sit there and listen to whatever plans that were apparently being made.

Deadpool was talking to himself, sitting in the chair that Ink usually sat in, the one closest to the fire and closest to the tiny window looking out to the snow covered forest. He pretended to ignore the rest of the people in the cabin as he tried to run through any quick fixes he could make. Italics had suggested taking a look at the old Weapon Plus station, but it was quickly shot down by Bold who quickly disagreed that anything would be left there. Deadpool still wanted to check and if anything was there... he'd blow it sky high.

Natasha was sitting in the chair opposite him, the second chair that Ink usually sat it. Normally it had wool and the yarn Ink used to knit all over it, but it had been moved to her room. It had unnerved Deadpool when he realised just how much Ink had dominated the little cabin. There were traces of her everywhere. The desperate attempt to fix the roof, which was starting to break, the only half full fridge, full of the things she liked to eat and the treats she got for both of them, and the baskets of wool. Most of them had been put into her bedroom, but a few still littered the area. Natasha held a hat in her hand that Ink had made, but hadn't sold. And, if Deadpool remembered correctly, it was one she often wore when going out. Natasha had managed to snag it from one of the baskets when she thought no one was looking, but everyone saw.

Captain America and Iron Man were going over their various plans, with Bruce Banner sitting quietly nearby. He wouldn't be out in the thick of it unless it was worse then they realised. Thor was raiding the fridge, again. Hawkeye had gone out for some reason that Deadpool couldn't be bothered to remember and Wolverine was still out scanning the woods and checking that there was nothing around to attack for miles.

Deadpool huffed. If he waited here any longer he was going to kill somebody.