CHAPTER TWO: THEY BEGIN TO CRUMBLE

A/N: I feel the need to apologize for how long it took for me to get this written, proofread, and published. But the last part of this chapter wanted to go five different ways (literally; I kept them around in case none of them worked and I could fix one up). But my last year of high school has just begun, so I can't promise an even publishing schedule for the next nine months. I can only hope to do as much as I can to keep you guys hooked! So, with that said, I won't hold you any longer.

Thor knew what to expect when he descended to the roots of Yggdrasil. He expected the giant serpent to continue gnawing at the winding tendrils that kept the tree alive. What he did not expect was the tall figure standing below him, dressed in black armor just lighter than the mess of hair atop his head. He didn't turn to face him as he approached.

"You know," he began, making Thor stop carefully in his tracks. "Sometimes I wonder if he can even understand when I'm speaking to him." Fenrir turned to face his uncle, an expression of almost-annoyance on his face. "After all his time spent down here without any communication at all, it wouldn't surprise me to learn that his mind had regressed far back enough to only understand such simple tasks."

Thor didn't speak. Fenrir had taken a human shape, looking every bit like his father. He had the same lanky form and sharp cheekbones and shock of raven hair. But his eyes were feral and gold, narrowed in a scowl directed at him. Thor flexed his grip on his hammer, his actions not going unnoticed. Fenrir's eyes flicked down and back up quickly.

"Did you come here to kill him?" Fenrir asked, drawing a large serrated knife from his belt. "I've lost one brother to you conceited Gods. I refuse to let you harm another one of my siblings."

"I will not harm him." Thor said, holding up a peaceful hand, his palm facing the boy. His brow furrowed, much in the way his father's did, and his gaze once again traveled to Mjölnir.

"But you were going to." Fenrir tucked the blade back into its sheath, slowly taking steps closer to him. "If he had broken free and breathed his poisons upon the nine realms. Am I wrong, Uncle?" he asked when Thor didn't speak. His silence was his answer, and the child grinned triumphantly.

"Who are you to pretend you are better than us? Than your father? All of you are the same when it all comes down to it." Fenrir was close enough for Thor to smell him, the musk of earthy soil still clinging to his skin and hair. "The realms will die, and their people with it. You cannot stop us."

"Then at least promise me you will not release him." Thor met those wild eyes, widened in confusion. "Swear on your blood, on your life, that you will not allow Jörmungandr to reach Midgard, and I will not harm him."

Fenrir's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Thor wondered if his strict tone was mistaken for a threat. But the boy smiled a grin Thor wouldn't trust enough to put his back to.

"Very well." he agreed. "I swear on the blood of my Jötun father and mother that I will not allow my brother to leave his task of eating the World Tree." His tone made Thor nervous, almost as if he was asking which was the lesser of two evils. But the Norns were still able to revive what Jörmungandr ate, so he nodded once to the boy before him, who was raising an eyebrow at his silence.

"You have my thanks." he said to him. Fenrir scoffed, rolling his eyes sassily. They both waited a moment, hoping the other would leave, but finally Thor could not stay any longer. "I wish you to know, at least, that I never knew the details about Loki's…punishment. Um, if I may ask—"

"It was Nari." Fenrir interrupted. Thor blinked, startled. "That is what you were going to ask, wasn't it? If I wasn't the dead son, who was?" Fenrir's voice broke on the last word, but he gave no other sign of weakness, nor did he acknowledge the shake in his voice. His eyes met Thor's evenly, but something flashed in his gaze. Thor only nodded, and with a final bow he left for Earth. He couldn't stall any longer, and they would need as much time as they could to prepare for the end of the world.

Tony had been working on a new weapon for his suits when Pepper came down to his workshop. She quickly entered her code into the lock and opened the door. Tony admired the navy blue pencil skirt she was wearing, deciding he liked the way the sleek fabric hugged her hips a little too tightly. "Thor is back," she told him, and her strained voice snapped his mind from the gutter. He bolted from his chair, dropping his wrench from his lap. Pepper followed him out of the room and upstairs. Thor had been in mid-story, but paused as he pounded loudly up the stairs. Everyone looked disturbed. Natasha was hugging her arms, and Clint, unable to give her physical comfort without his wellbeing coming to harm, simply leaned over her from behind the couch. Steve was wringing his hands, his gaze trained on a spot in the carpet.

"What's wrong? Movie night get cancelled?" he asked, trying to get a smile from someone. Steve didn't even give him a look for his poor joke. Thor nodded, the humor flying way above his head, as usual.

"Much worse, my friend." he said in a grave voice. "Loki has set in motion something worse than his last plan for this world."

"What is worse than aliens taking over the earth?" he asked, taking a spot next to the anxious Captain on his leather couch.

"Ragnarök; the end of it."

Tony flinched, sitting up in a more business-like position. "As I was about to tell, there are foretold signs of Ragnarök's approach." Thor dropped himself into a recliner, and Tony could have sworn he heard the frame creak. "First is Fimbulvetr, the Winter of Winters. Then war will break out, even between family. The concept of morality will vanish from human perspective."

"That's kind of dark."

"Tony, please take this seriously." Steve said, and cracked his knuckles. "This isn't a bank robbery. We're talking about the Apolcalypse here."

"Okay, fine, but where does Loki fit into all of this? Because—no offense, big guy—I was never really one for magical deities no one had ever actually seen before. Religion isn't my strong point."

"It was foretold years ago that Loki and his kin would be the end of this world. After Loki's first attempt, with the Chitauri, my father realized that this was true. He…punished Loki, bound him so that he could never escape. But he is free, and it is that freedom that begins the end of the nine worlds."

"So what's going to happen?"

Thor stood once again, wringing his hands and cracking his knuckles. He wouldn't look at any of them.

"I do not know." he finally admitted. "The signs, they are all out of order. Nothing is right. I do not know what will come next. We can only wait and see, and fight it when it comes." He stood, crossing his large arms over his chest. "I will be traveling between Asgard and this world in the meantime, helping gather allies from the other realms and bringing back word on what is happening. We may be able to predict Loki's next move."

Fenrir found his father with Sleipnir. He was looking straight into the animal's eyes, stroking the side of his face, his neck. Fenrir said nothing, waiting until he was noticed. "Were you caught?" was all his father had to ask.

"Yes. Thor approached before I could do anything. He forced me to swear I would not release him."

Loki laughed, dropping his hands to his side. Sleipnir leaned over the door of his stable, sniffing at his father's hands and begging for more attention. Fenrir ran a hand through his brother's tangled mane. "It makes sense for him to worry about that before the humans." Loki turned to his son, his head inclined slightly. His hair was cut short once more, just exposing the skin on the back of his neck and curling around his earlobes. All traces of the burns were gone. "It does not matter. Jömungandr's time will come. For now, we will lie in wait. My magic must return to me, and your strength is depleted from your years of detainment." Loki embraced his son. "For now, we will spend some time together."

The realm was dark, and it smelled of rotting flesh and pain. Blood spattered the floor as Fenrir walked through the castle. Skeletons in tuxedoes offered him various beverages and foodstuffs, waived away by the one escorting him through the black halls. Outside the glass windows the souls of the dead pressed themselves against the transparent surfaces, wailing and crying. Fenrir could hear them from inside, and he felt no pity. He even laughed at one as another attempted to crawl over him, losing his balance and wrenching off the other's head as he fell. They were half rotten creatures, their bones and innards exposed as they slowly decomposed to become the bony servants of the mistress of their world.

Hel was lounging on a plush red sofa, the seat ripped in several places and allowing the stuffing to show and fall out. One man was brushing what was left of her long golden hair, another attending to the three fingernails she had claim to. The fleshed side of her face smiled and her dark eyes brightened up as he entered, bowing to his sister.

"It has been a long while, sister." he greeted her, standing. She rose, her black dress draping around her emaciated figure. She stepped down from her royal perch and embraced her brother. Her bone fingers dug into his arm, and he gritted his teeth to keep himself from grunting in pain. He'd discarded his armor for more casual clothing, which mainly consisted of robes of black cotton. His knife was tucked into his boot, carefully hidden but still easily accessible.

"Indeed." she said, and pulled back to look at him. "Last I heard, you'd broken out of Utgård. How did you manage it?" She brushed a strand of hair from his face lovingly.

"I have connections," was all he had time to answer before Hel grabbed his chin in her skeleton hand and held his face up in the candlelight. Her fleshy finger touched the corner of his mouth, her skin stiff and cold.

"You have scars," she said simply, and clicked her tongue. "Painful, surely."

"Agonizing." he answered, knowing that it hadn't been a question. "I am overjoyed to be able to see you again, my sister, but a family visit is not why I have come."

Hel's half-smile vanished, replaced with a tightly pursed frown. Her teeth were clenched together, grinding as she looked at him. "I know why you are here." she told him in a grave voice. "I'll have you know that I do not approve of what you two are doing."

Fenrir was thankful of his ability to control his facial features. Otherwise he would have given his sister, the Ruler of the Damned, the nastiest glare he could muster. Instead he swallowed stiffly and kept his expression cool.

"I know you're angry with me," she continued, releasing him and making her way to a far window. Fenrir watched her a moment before following. "But when I have to watch the just a legion of the entirety of the Dead, I don't have time for piteous trials such as Father's revenge." She turned to look at him, her eyes heavy and sad. "I love you, and I love our Father just as much. But I cannot distract myself from the task I have been given."

"It was Odin who banished you to this place. Are you not angry? Do you not want a better life than doing this?"

Hel did not speak for a long time, her gaze trained on the world outside. The blood red sky was lit up with an orange sun. Some of the dead were being punished, tied to wooden stakes and burned, others being drawn, quartered, revived, and repeated. One man was tied with his hands and legs spread, two long hooks raking slowly down his back. But Fenrir could only barely hear their screams, their cries of pain for mercy and forgiveness. What he could hear was the wicked, mad laughter of the men doing the torturing.

"I can't remember a life before this anymore." she said. "I don't remember Asgard, or anything. Only this. Only pain and blood and endless despair." She turned once again to him, her cheeks wet with tears. "This is where I belong now. Surely you understand?"

Fenrir couldn't think of a proper verbal response, so instead he just nodded to her. She smiled, using an edge of her dress to blot away her tears.

"I won't disallow you use of my demons." she said, her voice surprisingly steady. She took his hand in both of hers. "If you were to open a portal, I would neither order nor stop them from passing through."

"Your compliance is much appreciated, sister."

Hel smiled and kissed his cheek. "Say hello to Daddy for me, will you?"

Weeks, months, passed by without a hint from Loki. Bruce returned from his work in Calcutta to assist Tony with the scanners when they weren't on patrol. Meanwhile, morality seemed to be on a downward incline, just as Thor had predicted. Bar fights, burglaries, and murders were on the rise. News reporters blamed drugs. Bloggers blamed cults and the government. But only S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers knew the truth. The two scientists were working as fast as they could, scanners set up to recognize the fluctuation of opening portals and magical elements. For a long time, other than the climbing rate of crime, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Then, one day, when Tony was unconscious on the couch upstairs and Steve was attempting conversation, something beeped sporadically. Dr. Banner rushed to a computer monitor, using his hands to increase the size of what looked like a virtual model of New York City. Something big was ripping a hole in the skies above.

"Go alert the others, and send Tony down." Bruce ordered, his hands flying over the keyboard. Not one to question when advanced technology was involved, Steve dashed from the room and up the stairs, his military training beginning to kick in. He shouted at Tony that Dr. Banner needed him, and with a sassy salute a half-conscious Stark leapt over the back of the couch and past him. Thor was already on his feet, clutching Mjölnir and dressed for battle. Clint leapt up from the recliner, abandoning his bag of potato chips. He attempted to mention something about Natasha, but his words were rushed and jumbled and he finally gave up and disappeared around the corner of the hallway.

"Can you tell what it is?" he dared to ask. Thor's jaw was clenched, but he shook his head slowly.

"I have a strong feeling, Captain," was the Thunderer's reply, and he spoke no more as the rest of the team assembled, suited and ready for battle. Steve felt his stomach clench like it always did before they went on missions, but this time was different; they would be battling forces they'd never seen before. Fighting Loki had been a challenge, even though he had somewhat known what he was expecting. The guy was a God, with powers beyond human capabilities. But this one had a part to play in the Apocalypse, and somehow that was more daunting than a man with a large helmet and a glowing stick.

Thor left before them without so much as a word as to what his plan was. Steve could feel the pit of his stomach twisting with nerves, and while not unusual for when he led his team on missions, something about this one—knowing that it was a power greater than himself hellbent on destroying his home—made him question every plan, every military tactic he knew, going over them in his head and finding the many faults without finding a way to fix them. This was like nothing he'd ever thought he'd have to experience. Not even their battle against Loki almost a year and a half ago had made him this scared. He flexed his fingers on the grip of his shield and cleared his throat. His teammates moved as one to raise their eyes and look at him.

"We find Thor, and we back him up." he said as Clint and Natasha landed their small black jet on the helipad of Stark Tower. Without another word they flooded into the aircraft. As an afterthought, he added, "And be careful around this one. Remember, we assume he's on Loki's side unless he proves otherwise."

"Guillty until proven innocent?" Tony bantered. The Captain shot him a look. He couldn't tell whether or not the guarded look in the man's eyes was a true challenge, or if he was just as nervous about this as Steve but wasn't handling it like an adult. He didn't take the billionaire's bait, instead turning his attention to the pilots.

"Where did they go?"

"Times Square." Clint answered, flicking a switch on the complicated control board of the flying ship. "Apparently this guy just started stabbing people out of freaking nowhere. I think this is the first time in history that the place has been completely deserted."

Steve nodded, letting out a heavy, stiff sigh. He didn't ask anymore questions, afraid of knowing the answer. Whoever had said that ignorance was bliss wasn't too far off the mark.

Thor watched his nephew slowly descend from the large red staircase in the middle of the square. There was a cocky swagger to his step, as if he was slightly drunk. A blade was clutched in his right hand, the blade drying a dark red-violet color from the blood. There was a confident smile on his face. Bodies were lying facedown on the pavement around them, plastered by their drying life sap.

"Stop this, Fenrir," he ordered, and the boy halted, one foot on the pavement below. He inclined his head slightly to the right, an eyebrow disappearing underneath his tangled bangs.

"Or what?" he challenged. "You'll kill another one of my siblings? You'll punish someone who wasn't involved just to make me feel pain?" His smile widened as the color drained from Thor's face, his jaw clenching tight enough to make a muscle jump. "Isn't that how you Aesir handle punishment? Or is that reserved for lesser beings?"

Thor flinched as if the boy had cut him with his knife. No matter how hard he tried, not matter how far down he tamped his feelings and how many locks he put on his heart, the only person he could see standing before him was his nephew. The fighting urge was slowly draining out of him.

"I do not want to harm you," he said. "If you will give up now, if you will admit your mistakes, Fenrir, I will convince the Allfather that you do not deserve punishment."

"And then what?" he asked just as the Avenger's jet flew over their heads, the displaced air throwing their hair around wildly. "You'll send me back to Utgård? You'll have me bound with that accursed ribbon and place the sword between my teeth again?" His grip flexed on the handle of his weapon as he watched them land. No words were said, though Thor could hear them stepping off from the contraption. "Are these your warriors?" he asked loudly.

"I implore of you, cease this ridiculous scheming." he said. "I do not want to hurt you."

"That makes one of us." He laughed, and turned to put his back to Thor. He began to whisper magicked words, words that Thor had heard only once from Loki. It was the chant to open a portal straight from his daughter's land, and that wasn't good. The smell of the bloody bodies killed by him would attract the worst of Hel's mutated creations, given enough time. One of many quadrapedal bodies stepped through, growling and baring black teeth. Fire shone from their skulls, and smoke burst from their nostrils whenever they let out a heavy, huffy breath. "Hellhounds." he explained to the borderline-horrified humans behind Thor. "My favorite, personally." He pursed his lips and whistled, shrill and short and loud. The dogs howled and charged for the attack.

Tony had never faced any sort of demon from hell (not in the literal sense), but he was finding the molten dogs difficult to deal with. Just as he had figured out the right combination of attacks and attack power, twenty more were coming through the shimmering portal. On the otherside of the interdimensional rip in space he could see a dark, ugly world that only the word Hell could possibly describe. He tried not to look at it, tried to ignore the screams of the damned as he shot a dog in midair. The cracked, burning bodies exploded with a squealing hiss; it was akin to the sound of baking a potato too long in the microwave mixed with a deflating balloon. The hot sludge of its insides spattered onto the pavement, hissing and bubbling as the contact with the cold asphalt, and large black chunks dried on it. He looked over to see the Hulk fighting to handle the canines. Blisters had formed on his ivy skin, and he was bleeding from the wrists down, still tearing the burning animals apart and screaming in pain. His chest lurched.

"Cap!" he shouted, ducking another flying set of dripping teeth and shooting a barrage of his shoulder rockets into the animal's soft underbelly.

"I got him!" Rogers replied, and bashed in a skull with his shield just before the giant creature could grab another. "Go, help Thor!"

Tony would have loved to help Thor.

The giant Thunder God had gotten the easier part of the battle, taking on the kid. However, he seemed intent on not harming him, leading to many wild hammer swings that missed for miles and several dents in his armor from where the boy had kicked and jabbed at him—despite his thin, wiry frame, the boy seemed to possess a strength even beyond Thor's. Sparks flew as another one of the circular discs on his chest caved in, and Thor gasped in pain. He twisted his hammer and jammed the non-lethal end towards the boy's eye. He ducked just in time, instead the weapon connecting with his temple. Blood dripped down his face as he caught his fall on his hands and somersaulted to a battle crouch. His flipped his knife over in his hands to where the blade pointed down, but at that moment Tony had three huge dogs snapping towards his face and had to twist into a move that an Olympic gymnast would be envious of to avoid decapitation.

Thor took Fenrir's pause down in his crouch, studying him, to take inventory of his injuries. There were many bruises along his chest and stomach, a gash across his nose and cheekbone that had almost resulted in a lost eye (exactly like his father's, Thor found ironic), and maybe a cracked or broken rib from that last kick. He was feeling fatigued and, despite Fenrir's fierce glare, he could see the tiredness in his nephew's eyes.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he winced whenever it leaked into the open cut above his eye. His hair was tangled and wild, some of the inky black locks sticking to his face and neck. The few blows Thor had allowed to land had also dented the boy's armor, which seemed to act more as a metaphor for his true body than protection. He could only pray that those spots of caved in metal weren't serious fractures or internal rips.

"Thinking about giving up?" Fenrir gasped, and dove at him again. This time his rammed his shoulder into Thor's stomach, following with his blade. The steel sank a good three and a half inches into Thor's side before he grabbed the boy's wrist and ripped it back out. Fenrir was smart, though, and had angled it so that coming out, it did almost as much damage as going in. Thor roared in pain and instinctively threw the boy. His body sank into the concrete as he slid away. Thor reached down and tentatively touched the burning in his ribs. He could feel ribbons of ripped skin and muscle, and his hand came away dripping red.

"Thor!" Clint called from his perch atop the helicopter. "You okay?"

"I am fine, my friend!" he called back with a casual wave of his bloody hand. The gesture didn't help the color in his friend's cheeks. If anything, he turned an even paler shade before his attention was grabbed away by a dog prowling for a weakness in their aircraft. Fenrir was getting to his feet, shaking his head. A thick cloud of grey dust fell from his hair, and still clung to it, turning it a rather pale shade of almost a bluish-grey. There was a cut along his cheek, clotted with more dust. His features were twisted into a glower of pure rage. His lips were curled back, revealing black gums. Behind him the Metal Man made a grunt somewhere between intrigue and disgust. Thor lowered his hammer, holding his hand out to his nephew as he climbed out of the knee-deep channel his body had carved into the street. "Enough, Fenrir. Let us end this fight. If you surrender to us now, I promise that I will not allow you punishment."

"And then what?" he snarled, and spat in his direction. "Send me back to Utgård to be bound below the earth? Will you place a sword in my mouth again?!" he shouted. Thor had seen them, the thin strips of shiny, puckered pink along the corners of his mouth, causing his lips to part jus a teeny bit wider than they naturally should. It made his chest ache. "I'll tell you exactly what will happen if I do." Fenrir sheathed his blade, and with each word stepped closer to Thor. "You'll present me as a deserter to your father, he'll order some ungodly punishment—ha ha, get it?—and you will stand there, saying nothing, not fighting for my freedom or anything else I deserve as an existent being in this world. You will renege on every promise you have just made to me, and you will not feel guilty about it."

Thor could feel the eyes of his friends on his back, burning metaphorical holes into the cape and armor on his back. He tried to ignore them. "I have been cowardly in the presence of my father's anger. I admit this. But you're family—"

"Shut your traitor mouth! I do not claim any relation to your kind, and I never will. If you say so again, I will kill you."

Behind him the air displaced itself, sucking inward until a portal ripped open behind him. Thor could only see a swirling blackness within.

"It seems your analysis is over." Fenrir's voice was suddenly calm, no trace of the anger left behind. He even smiled. "I must go now. Rest assured, you pitiful creatures, we will meet again."

On that final note he stepped through the portal, disappearing.

The door to Hell disappeared, taking with it what was left of the demon dogs. Bruce, once again shrunk down to human size, was wearing a new set of clothes that were stained with blood from his bleeding hands. Steve was busy wrapping gauze around the injured man's hands and muttering to himself. The jet was in the air, flying back to Stark's Tower. No one had spoken to the God since the armored boy called Fenrir had disappeared. Silently he'd lowered his hand and retreated back into the small plane. They'd found him sitting in one of the passenger chairs, his elbows braced on his knees and his large hands clasped together. His long hair hid his face from them, and he didn't move, didn't speak. Not even Tony, who held his helmet propped against his hip, had said anything. Not much seemed to truly disturb the God, but the past few weeks had been almost too much for him.

"No one's going to say it?" he finally asked. Steve shot him a warning look from underneath his eyelashes as he pinned the makeshift bandages together. "I can't be the only one wondering what just happened."

Natasha turned from her seat in the copilot's chair and shot him a warning glance. Bruce swallowed and stayed silent.

"I knew this was coming." Thor said. He finally looked up, though he would not meet the eyes of his friends. "I knew Fenrir was working with Loki, but I did not expect an attack. Not this soon. We have no allies yet."

"Really?" Tony asked, turning to face him. "And in the meantime, your batshit-crazy brother has freaking Satan on his side?"

"Not Satan." Thor said. His hands fisted at the adjective Tony had used to describe Loki. "Hel. His daughter."

"Fenrir mentioned that you were also family." Bruce added quietly. "Is he also one of Loki's children?"

Thor did look at him for that, giving him a long, undecipherable glance. "Yes. His oldest son."

"There are a few things you should explain." Steve sat next to Thor and clapped a hand on his shoulder. He flinched as if the man had struck him. "We can't go into another battle like this and get taken by surprise so violently like this."

Thor nodded slowly. "Perhaps we should wait until we land." he said. "There is much to tell, and so little time to do it."