Mischief Managed Chapter 4: Fatherhood, a Harry Potter + Thor Crossover fanfic

A/N: I blame— the Venomous Tentacula Seedlings.

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

Chapter 4

Fatherhood

A king, realizing his incompetence, can either delegate or abdicate his duties. A father can do neither. If only sons could see the paradox, they would understand the dilemma. - Marlene Dietrich

The tall reaching branches of the Yggdrasil stretched just as far up as they did below, and even Odin himself did not know the extent of them all. He had sacrificed his own eye for greater knowledge, oh so long ago, in order to discover the power of runes. These he shared to any and all denizens of the Nine Realms, and many believed that his thirst for understanding the weave and the mysteries of life were matched only by his most unstoppable will.

But what only some knew was that Odin's will was driven by his need to protect his people from the coming of Ragnarök. He strove to know the ins and outs of the Nine Realms to stave off the doom of the mightiest gods— the destruction of the cosmos itself. Odin did not wish for the obliteration of his people any more than he sought the demise of any of the Nine Realms' many peoples. He, like his father Bor, strove to both protect his people and the lives of all those of the Realms, but it was a precarious balance between protecting his people and protecting the Realms. Bor had fallen, turned to snow by powerful sorcerer as he had been chasing after a fleeing giant. Even to this day, Odin swore he could hear his father's voice whispering on the winds every time it snowed, and it was for that reason Odin had harboured a deep, secret loathing of the ice and snow.

The ice and snow whispered to him of his father's lost dreams and Odin's own failures. It mocked him for having one son he could never quite connect with and another son who was altogether too much like Odin himself. While Bor and his wife, Bestla, had chosen to invest themselves in the creation of the universe, Odin could only dream within the domain of what had already been created. He had sacrificed his own eye to gain the knowledge of runes— always striving to learn more, do more, be more than his father before him.

So, when he had caught the young sorceress daring to defy the betrothal of his youngest son to the future bride Odin had chosen for him, Lady Sigyn, he had lost all sense of decorum and banished her from Ásgarðr with the same unthinking, fiery rage that his father had unleashed upon him when he had learned that Odin wished to make his name on Miðgarðr as a god.

He had arranged for his son's marriage in order to keep him safe— and to ensure a lasting peace between the Jötunn and Asgardians. In his heart, he had truly believed that if Loki never found out about his heritage, he would also be freed of the stigma that would come along with it. Lady Idonia had jeopardised that. He had caught them in the midst of—

Loki had been, unbeknownst to him, only following his Jötunn instincts in the act of claiming his chosen mate in seeming defiance of Odin's own arrangements. Loki had carefully hidden his new lover away from him, and it had only been Sigyn's woeful lament that there was someone else stealing all hope of winning Loki's regard away from her that had tipped him off into investigating further.

He hadn't meant to lose his temper as he had, but lose it he had indeed.

And every day since that day, Loki's psyche became more and more troubled. His usual stability and reliability became reckless anger and violence. His tricks had become increasingly malicious in nature. His disdain was legion, and his jealousy of his brother's attention from Odin became something raw and chafing. Loki became the very thing Odin had been trying so desperately to prevent: destructive and vengeful. And irony of ironies: Loki didn't even remember why. Even without his memory, Loki had raged wildly, steadily devolved, and turned into the very epitome of an angry, maladjusted son.

Frigga, poor Frigga, had been beside herself in grief. Her formerly loving, gentle, sensitive son had become anything but. Odin had cast him down to Miðgarðr in the hope it would temper his rage into something manageable, even while in his heart he had put together what he had done in the exact moment Loki had gone mental.

He should have taken the young sorceress under his care and nurtured that love his son had had for her. He should have taken the wise and kingly route and made his decision officially— but his father had instilled within him a need to make a decision and stick with it no matter what, and Odin had inadvertently done precisely that.

And now, both of his sons did tread on Miðgarðr, learning the lessons that Odin himself hadn't quite figured out, despite his advanced years. They both had vanished, seemingly into thin air. Yet, he knew that Mjolnir was with them, either one or both of them. The hammer had judged Thor worthy, yet Thor had not chosen to return to Ásgarðr. Frigga had disappeared— taking her sojourns to Miðgarðr with such frequency that Odin knew she had been with her sons. Nothing else would have called to her so strongly. He had said nothing, privately knowing it that wasn't solely for his sons' benefit that Frigga had chosen to do what she did. Frigga had become an unfortunate casualty of the drama ever since the day Odin had first cast Lady Idonia from Ásgarðr— no, since the day he had brought Loki home to her. Just as he had brought home Thor. Two sons of different mothers.

His Frigga had loved them still and raised them as if she had borne them both herself.

He knew there was nothing he could do to stop Frigga when she really, really wanted something, but the truth was that he didn't want to stop her. Had he but listened to her from the start, he would have tried harder to connect with his two sons and treat them equally. For a god who eagerly sought out knowledge from any and all sources, he was sadly lacking when it came to the nurturing of his own family. The ways of war seemed so much more clear-cut in comparison.

As Odin approached the very base of the Yggdrasil, he mentally prepared to humble himself. Urd, Verdandi, and Skuld lived within the Well of Urd— the mainspring of Destiny. He dismounted Sleipnir, giving the eight-legged horse a comforting pat, and realised that his favourite horse wouldn't have been with him in the first place had it not been for Loki luring off the giant's prize stallion during the construction of Ásgarðr's fortifications.

Thanks to Sleipnir, Odin could ride across the branches of the Yggdrasil and visit any Realm contained within the Yggdrasil's branches. That was a gift that even Thor could not match, despite his coupling with the Elder Goddess Gaea in an effort to create a son who could possibly eclipse him.

Odin had brokered a deal with a giant smith, who said he could build the great protective wall around Ásgarðr in but three seasons, but the price was exceedingly high. He wanted the hand of the goddess Freya as his mate as well as the sun and moon. Loki had bargained it down to one season, stating that the giant could only have help from his horse, and the gods had agreed that this made the task seemingly more impossible and thus better. They would get their new wall, and Freya would not be forced to marry a giant.

Alas, Svadilfari, the giant's stallion, was no ordinary horse. The giant had not only almost completed the walls in record time, but they risked losing both Freya and their sun and moon— threatening to plunge the Realm into eternal darkness. The gods had all turned on Loki, blaming him for misleading them. Loki had then sworn that he would prevent their wall from being completed "on time" and he had done exactly that. By turning himself into a mare and luring Svadilfari away.

Freya and the sun and moon had been saved— and Loki had given birth to Sleipnir. It had not been among the gods' most honourable of victories.

And the giant that had done nothing but bargain for proper payment and perform his task in good faith, but had only been rewarded for his work with a swift hammer to the head. Gods they might be, but the Æsir were perfectly capable of vast and glorious deeds and even more vast and inglorious failures.

As Odin approached the three Norns, he realised he was again staring down at the bottom of his barrel, scraping it for even the slightest hint of the future he was helplessly blind to. So frantic had been his struggle to avoid the perils of the future, that he had muddied the waters of his own fate. He could no more see his future than that of his people.

"All-Father," Verdandi greeted him, a lock of pure silver shimmering alongside the auburn hair which dangled down across her eyes. She and her sisters were tending a hundred thousand individual threads of shimmering lives as assiduously as the spiders tended their webs.

"Odin Borson," Urd cried, her youthful face holding oddly wizened eyes that did not match.

"Wanderer," Skuld whispered, her long fingers brushing lightly against the threads despite her turning to look up at him. "What brings you to the Well of Urd yet not to ride off on Sleipnir to the Realms beyond?"

Odin knelt down in the vegetation. "Many mistakes have led me here, as well you know. I beg you, pray, tell me where I have been going wrong. Is it not my task to fend off the looming threat of Ragnarök? Is that not my destiny?"

"You know, Odin, son of Bor, that destiny is not a final or unchanging thing," Skuld said grimly.

"The path can only be given," Urd said.

"You must decide how you wish to follow it," Verdandi said. She clenched her fist, breaking one strand, and the ghostly image of a dying warrior flickered once briefly before dissipating into nothingness.

"Even we Norns are not immune to the vagaries of Fate," Skuld said, blinking slowly.

"Please, tell me where I have failed my people," Odin said, his voice insistent yet resigned.

"You bring many children to your wife's bosom, Odin, son of Bor," Skuld said, "but only three were of your coupling with she who is your wife. Which failing is it that you wish exposed? Which fault is any greater than another?"

Odin remained still and silent for a time.

"How did I fail Loki?" he finally whispered.

"Wanderer," Urd began. "In all of your travellings, did you never learn how new gods and goddesses are birthed unto the Cosmos?"

"Not those of the Æsir," Verdandi clarified, "who pick and choose their own lot in life as a mortal does select a career or a trade."

Odin was silent.

"True gods and goddesses are born when they are needed most and to fulfill a specific purpose, Odin Borson. Loki is one such god. That you saved him as an infant from a cold and lonely death, that you took him to your lady wife's bosom, and that she accepted him as her own were all deeds that began his ascension into that which he was meant to become."

"But true gods and goddesses do not exist in the nigh-endless vacuum between Life and Death," Skuld said.

"They exist in those Realms which exist between waking and dreaming, guiding the paths of those who truly believe and those who so desperately wish to believe, in defiance of all those who do not." Verdandi pulled on a single strand, weaving it with her fingers and replacing it on a line.

"Just as Loki was born to be a god, so too was his destined mate— both born to ascend together unto the very throne of the Cosmos and stave off Ragnarök with the birth and seeding of their children unto the Realms."

"A tiny seed, planted within a young sorceress of no great name, no family of note, no reputation of grandeur."

"But when preparing to be mated to he who was meant to be her other half, her partner throughout the eternal cycle—"

"Embracing her fate."

"Bound to him until suns grow cold and still."

"You did rip them apart."

"Broke the cycle before it could begin."

"Warped the very order of things."

"Instead of witnessing the rebirth of the gods—"

"You instead hastened the coming of Ragnarök."

"Had they not found each other again."

"Purely by chance."

"Random chance."

"Sheer dumb luck."

"Lucky for you, Odin, son of Bor."

"Lucky for the Realms."

"Lucky for you, two sons found each other again."

"Two sons grown closer than ever before."

"Both finding love while banished to another world."

"Do not allow your temper to destroy that which you yourself could not create, Wanderer."

"Do not commit the same foolish mistake twice."

"Remember, Odin Borson," Urd cautioned. "Do not forget that which you have learned here this day."

"Lest ye bring forth that which you have worked so tirelessly to keep at bay."

"With no one left to blame but yourself."

"Remember," Skuld reminded him sternly. "Fenrir began as but a pup long before the gods twisted his innocent trust into hatred and loathing. When he consumes everything that lies between the ground and sky, it will be because the Æsir created their own enemy out of fear of what he might be and not what he truly is."

"What kind of god do you wish to be known and remembered as, Odin, Wanderer?" Skuld asked.

"He who embraces destiny?"

"Or he who runs from it?"

Minerva stood on the front pathway into Hogwarts and immediately facepalmed at what she saw. Argus was hanging by his feet from the front gates, covered from head-to-toe in hoofprints. Mrs Norris was yowling piteously from a nearby tree, clearly terrified. The giant squid was tied up in knots on the shore, struggling in vain to get back to the lake. Fang's posterior had been replaced by that of a goat's and he had a large number of writhing, octopus-like tentacles sprouting up from his head. The tattered remains of multiple rose bushes were scattered all up and down the path to the castle. One of the front doors had been ripped half off its hinges, and Minerva was fairly certain that trees were supposed to grow roots-down and not roots-up as the Whomping Willow currently was.

Minerva shifted a bit uncomfortably. Even with as little on as she had at the moment, it was hot enough outside to make her sweat. Back at the temple, Hermione and Loki had worked with the goblins to create a perfect jungle climate that was still blissfully cold for their most appreciative Jötunn residents. The goblins had proceeded to outdo themselves over and over again, catering to a sudden rise of different cultures, all of which had their own ideal climate-controlled residences on islands that circled around the main temple grounds. Her hand went to the shell-pendant around her neck, feeling the cool surge of magic that kept her newly-acquired nature under wraps— but also kept her from being too uncomfortable in a climate that was not, at the moment anyway, made up of ice and snow. She said a soft prayer of thanks, smiling as the image of Vidar doing loop-de-loops in the air filled her mind and heart with happiness and love.

Laufey grasped her hands and drew them to his mouth, blowing a chilly frost upon them they way a normal human might do the same with heat. Minerva smiled at him at the consideration, leaning into his loving embrace. Even months in from their marriage and their blissful consummation, the very feel of his gaze sent her heart aflutter and her knees knocking together. He chilled her body the way her body used to heat at the thought of her husband, only it was a very good sort of chill. His large hand pressed against the bare skin of her abdomen, touching gently where a new life grew within. It hadn't taken long at all for her King-husband to fulfil his duty as her mate in ensuring that no other giant dared to doubt the depth of his devotion, not that she had complained, at all, ever, during the entire process of "conversion". Laufey had been a most experienced lover, making her transition just as smooth and un-traumatic as possible, even to the point where when she was required to present herself to him in front of the other elders, she hadn't even noticed they were there— so enraptured she had been with him and him alone.

Severus stepped in the gate, raising his eyebrow at the dangling iron, his previously black eyes were now a deep, penetrating garnet, and Minerva found them very attractive, indeed. She knew that Lady Ishea was very, very happy with Severus. He had taken to his duty as hunter and provider like a duck to water, showing a side of himself that only a handful of people knew him to be capable of. None of this had surprised Hermione or Loki in the least, but it was hard to get the drop on those two anymore, especially with all the prayers and dreams flooding in to them.

Severus had his hands wrapped around the traditional hunting spear, the glistening rune-carved point was wrapped in frost-seal sinew and the shaft carved with the runic prayers of the hunt. It, like his wand, never left his side whenever leaving home. Home was the only place where all weapons were set beside the door, save for those used in the process of preparing food. He bared his teeth instinctively, grimacing much as she had at the unsavoury heat. His hand, too, instantly went to the pendant around his neck, taking solace as the flare of cold magic came to life and made it much more tolerable.

Raina was wrapped snugly around Severus' neck, as per her usual routine. Her blue tongue flicked in and out curiously, her bravery in proportion to her limited life experience. She seemed a little nervous, and rightly so, as the adults around her weren't exactly pillars of self-assured calm either. As a testament to their absolute trust in him, perhaps, Hermione and Loki never minded when Raina wished to accompany Severus like a living serpentine stole. They allowed Vidar much the same with Minerva, but Vidar was back home at the temple learning Gobbledegook with the goblin goblets.

Minerva hadn't been expecting such a level of complete and utter chaos, even after having sorted through about a hundred plus frantic owls literally begging her to come back and sort things out. It had taken a few days to get the owls to even give her the mail due to the rather significant changes in her magical signature. Hermione had said that she had no issue, but owls were stubbornly fickle beasts when it came to the delivery of mail— one small change and they refused to deliver at all, lest they end up presenting the package or missive to the "wrong" witch or wizard.

Under normal circumstances, Minerva would have been inclined to understand, but the Jötunn saw owls as being no less the nuisance than the avian menaces that routinely raided their hidden supply caches— supplies that literally meant life or death to the travelling hunter. The instinct to do in the owls was surprisingly strong, and being pregnant did not quell that instinct in the slightest. In fact, quite the opposite.

Even Hermione— one of the most tolerant witches Minerva knew— had to fight the instinct to rage all over the avians taking over Malfoy Manor and later the temple as they tried (and failed) to "find Minerva McGonagall."

There was a sudden startled hiss, and Severus was instantly a blur of motion. He slammed his spear down into the twitching carcass of a huge acromantula. The creature gave a short death rattle and then stilled.

"You and the spear have bonded well," Laufey said with approval. "What is this creature?"

Severus' lips curled back. "Acromantula," he replied. "They will eat anything smaller or weaker than them— and that includes people." He took out a vial and collected the venom with a sort of habitual ease, even as he sniffed the carcass experimentally. "However, I had never before noticed how incredibly good they smelled until now."

Laufey and Minerva leaned in together, their eyebrows raising in curiosity. "Delicious."

Severus broke off a leg experimentally, yanking it off the carapace with a sharp crack. He sniffed it again, eyes looking around carefully as if waiting for a trap. He nibbled on the end, and his eyebrows shot up into his hair as he shivered in pure pleasure. "My King," Severus said with a purr. "I think you will be more than happy with the outcome of this most unexpected new food source."

Laufey, who was already drooling, yanked off a leg and tested it for himself. His ruby eyes widened as a low growl of pleasure rumbled in his throat. He broke off another and guided it to Minerva's mouth. "My mate."

Minerva sampled the arachnid leg and closed her eyes in obvious pleasure. "I never dreamed such a thing would taste so wonderful."

The three of them proceeded to devour the spoils of Severus' unexpected culinary discovery until only the hardened carapace remained— that and one bundle of legs that Severus had carefully wrapped and preserved to take back to his mate.

"Do you raise them for food?" Laufey asked interestedly.

Minerva laughed. "I think if Hagrid knew we just ate one of his 'friends', he would be most horrified."

"He is friends with a man-eating species?"

"He thinks they are harmless," Severus explained rather dryly.

"Even a frost-sabre or a Jötunheimr beast raised from birth can maul even an experienced hunter to death," Laufey said, shaking his head in sheer disbelief. "To not remember this is what gets the young killed."

Minerva shook her head. "Hagrid is— a bit of a special case where the laws of nature and nurture have been lost somewhere along the way. I can tell you that he does mean well. There is no doubt of that, but that is about all I can say for sure."

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Argus screamed as he finally managed to free himself from the entanglement only to stumble into the party of post spider-eating Jötunn.

"ALIENS! INVADERS! SOUND THE CASTLE ALARMS! HOGWARTS IS BEING INVADED!"

He then promptly turned only to run face-first into the tree and fell to the ground, knocked soundly unconscious. Mrs Norris fell out of the tree and landed claws-first in the middle of Argus' already-battered face.

Severus curled his lip in derision. "That certainly went well."

"I cannot wait to resign," Minerva said with a tired sigh. "Glamours on now, everyone. My husband king, if you do not mind?"

"Whatever you need me to do, my queen mate. I find I am quite done with mindless screaming for today."

Minerva pressed her forehead lovingly to his and waved her wand. "What about other kinds of screaming?" she asked rather mischievously.

Laufey's eyes gleamed a radiant ruby. "I will certainly make time for that, I promise you."

"Get a room, you two," Severus muttered, sweeping up the path to Hogwarts, his robes billowing behind him.

"You're just jealous," Minerva ribbed to his back.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, I realise that you believe this school to be perfectly safe, and maybe it was safe, once upon a time, but there are now a pack of mutant, illegally-bred, erumpent-unicorns hybrids out there exploding everything they put their horns to, and considering that unicorns like to stick their horns into all sorts of different things, this is NOT a safe situation!"

"It's one thing if we have a rampaging unicorn purifying everything," one of the new board members said. "That's almost helpful, but the bloody front gates have been literally blown off their hinges! We already have twenty-plus students being treated in the Hogwarts infirmary who are suffering from second and third-degree explosive burns. The Whomping Willow has been uprooted and is now even crankier than it was when it had its roots in the ground. It has since punted half of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team into Black Lake and then proceeded to tie the giant squid up in knots. In KNOTS!"

"The traumatised squid has now bloody well taken to hugging the far side of Hogwarts and whimpers so constantly that no one in Slytherin House can even sleep at night— not that anyone else is sleeping what with a bunch of invisible somethings charging down the halls and taking out random prefects, house-elves and staff members alike!"

"To top it all off, Minerva McGonagall has finally had the good sense to retire, not that any of us can blame her," one board member added rather peevishly. "And now Severus Snape has resigned too, and after everything that poor man has had to deal with, I find I can't blame him either, no thanks to the, ah… late Mr Malfoy, no offense to the current Mr Malfoy."

Draco waved his hand dismissively. "No worries. My father was a real piece of work. We all know that."

"The DRCMC has mandated that we address this illegal breeding of magical animals at once in order to keep this school from shutting down. We cannot simply turn a blind eye to this, Headmaster."

"As I have stated on many previous occasions, Rubeus Hagrid has an impeccable character. He doesn't have it in him to bring harm our students," Dumbledore said calmly, stroking his beard.

"It's not about whether he has it in him, Headmaster," one of the board members said with a heavy sigh. "It's about how things always seem to happen on Hagrid's watch even without his actually intending it. Look, we already have Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank on board, she's prepared to come in here and whip things back into shape. We can keep the school from suffering any further. We simply need you to step up, Headmaster, and remove Mr Hagrid from Hogwarts before we end up with something even worse rearing its ugly head. We already have an entire horde of rampaging, non-native Acromantulas terrorising the school grounds, and we need to find a way to deal with those creatures too."

"The Acromantula situation will be taken care of by me," Draco said, lifting his hand in an "as you were" gesture. "All students and staff members of Hogwarts will be going on a mandatory holiday, starting next week."

"And what about the erumpent-unicorns?" one man moaned. "They simply aren't natural. They're violent, much unlike the pertinent natural species— and every time they bleed they leave the most horrendous purple stains everywhere."

Draco rubbed his temples. "I believe I can solve that issue as well, but it will require hiring in an outside party."

"Fine, fine, you're quite welcome to hire whoever you want, Mr Malfoy," the others said without a second's hesitation. "Feel free to pay them whatever they require. Just please get the school back to being safe?"

Draco arched a blond brow. "As you wish."

"Look, Headmaster Dumbledore," the main board member said, rubbing his temples to ease an obviously nasty headache. "It's like this: Just get us some fresh blood in the teachers roster and, for Merlin's sake, sack that mad half-giant of yours. I don't even care if you arrange for him to go somewhere else, anywhere else, but it cannot be here. Help him if you must, but you must help him out the doors. If you do not, the DRCMC is going to step in, they're going to make all kinds of hay and parents are going to want to send their kids off to Durmstrang or Beauxbatons rather than Hogwarts."

Dumbledore sighed in reluctant acquiescence. "Very well."

A deep sigh of relief fell over the Board of Governors. "Good."

Hermione rumbled in amusement as her darling serpentlets promptly descended upon one of the freshly-dead spider carcasses and tried to tear it apart together. Her golden eyes glowed as she chuckled, basking in the sun as her mate and a throng of happy Jötunn hunters proceeded to lay waste to the Forbidden Forest's Acromantula colony.

Certain key potioneers had been informed of the golden opportunity, and many of them had paid very well to be permitted to come harvest the fresh Acromantula venom, and all the proceeds were right going back into the Hogwarts coffers to help rebuild the damaged castle after the mass chaos and destruction caused by rampaging erumpent-unicorn hybrids as well as the roundup of Hagrid's latest pet project, a pack of manticore-thestral hybrids that had somehow slipped through the cracks.

Just how such a thing had 'slipped through the cracks' of anything was beyond her. They were bloody huge— and thanks to getting into multiple nasty fights with the Erumpent Unicorns, they were also permanently stained a rather obnoxiously bright purple.

Hagrid had, thankfully, been relieved of his post and had eagerly taken on a new position as a dragon-handling apprentice in Romania, thanks to some remarkably quick negotiations via owl on the part of one Albus Dumbledore. Albus himself, who had been allowing Minerva and Severus to do most of his official work previously, had, at long last, resigned himself to sucking it up and running the school again as a proper Headmaster. Severus, of course, blamed Minerva for coddling the old man for so long, but Minerva had pointed out that she had two choices: either do it herself and have it done right (read: random things not exploding directly in their faces), or she could've left Albus to do it, which would've surely resulted in everything exploding everywhere.

Severus conceded her point.

Loki had curled himself around the Whomping Willow and personally re-planted the ever-cranky tree, earning himself a swift punch directly to the face and the need for the services of a serpent chiropractor; thankfully Ishea was on call to adjust his spine back into proper alignment for him.

The Acromantula hunt went on for almost a week, and Jötunn hunters came and went through the hastily crafted temporary portal, hunting until their packs were entirely full and then dragging the carcasses back to Jötunheimr to feed their delighted families. Everyone agreed that Acromantula flesh was finest gift of all from Miðgarðr, so much so that Loki and Hermione saw fit to gift King Laufey with two breeding pairs of frost-acclimated Acromantulas to "supplement their hunting enjoyment." Laufey's broad grin quickly spread from Jötunn to Jötunn as all of them felt that one more tasty item for the menu was always something to be celebrated.

Perhaps the only losers in the entire deal were the Acromantulas— having never once found themselves on the menu for something ELSE.

Hagrid had tried to take a giant Acromantula named Aragog to Romania along with what was assumed to be the spider's mate, but Hermione had beamed with private pride as her sweet little serpentlets had sniffed that plan out almost immediately. Their reward was— thankfully well out of sight of a sobbing Hagrid— absolutely delicious.

Hermione secretly celebrated the fact that her babies would not have to eat for an entire week.

After casting a mass Arachnid Gigantus Revelio spell on the castle, grounds and the forest itself, it seemed the Forbidden Forest and everywhere else was now blissfully Acromantula-free. The larders back in Jötunheimr, however, were full to bursting, and by the time they finally ran out of that, the new population of ice-Acromantulas would've stabilised and would be ready to be hunted. Life was looking very good for their allies in Jötunheimr— and that made for quite the happy Loki, a very happy King Laufey, and some very, very happy Jötunn.

Even Jane had bravely sampled the Acromantula legs, which Ishea had prepared with lime and sweet chilli sauce, and, much to everyone's surprise, the very pregnant Jane began to crave it. Thor ended up trekking off to the jungles of Asia to put Mjölnir to work, bringing back a spider or two every week or so— not that anyone was complaining. They were totally delicious.

As for the super-violent erumpent-unicorn hybrids and the equally horrible mutant manticore-thestrals, no one seemed to know what to do with them. They smelled so bad that even thinking about eating them was completely out. The local centaur couldn't use their parts due to the overwhelming stench, and the very concept of an un-unicorn was considered to be blasphemous. Severus recommended testing the creatures for potion use viability, as long as he wasn't the one doing it. His super-sensitive nose was even more sensitive after his recent transformation, and he wasn't going to willingly put his nose near them anytime soon.

Even the serpentlets tried to bury their faces into their mummy's thick mane of feathers to avoid the stench.

Draco shipped one of each off to this side Potions company to see what they could do about it, but so far, the only thing that had come of it was about fifteen employees falling unconscious only to awaken with pounding headaches. Draco considered using the carcasses as bio-weapons, but then figured with his luck, someone would manage to botch the thing and it would end up exploding right next to him.

He knew it was really bad when a bouncing batch of baby booklets wandered by with clothespins affixed to their covers, followed by a swarm of Venomous tentacula seedlings, all with clothespins in place over each tentacle.

Hermione had to agree there. She didn't realise that venomous tentaculas even had scenting organs to begin with. Then again, she hadn't imagined that the tentaculas would get along so well with baby booklets either.

Who knew?

They still bit Draco and Harry on the face, arse, ankle or any other bit of exposed flesh they could reach, every single time they saw either of them. Loki swore it was a love bite, but neither Harry or Draco were understandably disinclined to believe that their faces or other appendages swelling up due to the venom could be interpreted as a sign of affection. Loki claimed they were simply inoculating them, but Harry and Draco were highly suspicious of that particular explanation.

"I'm not the one who got himself totally knackered and got laid by a horny venomous plant," Loki pointed out, getting in the last word, as usual.

"There is a life lesson in there somewhere," a smirking Theo had agreed.

"I'd always wondered who would get pregnant first," Luna said dreamily. "I suppose this gives Draco a bit more perspective when it comes to having children. Good thing I don't mind sharing. Venomous tentaculas seem very down to earth with regard to custody rights." After which, Luna pulled out a spicy Acromantula leg and began to crunch on it in a disturbingly noisy manner.

A small gathering of baby tentaculas bounced eagerly after her, begging for her to share the tasty treat.

Hermione smiled as Loki curled his body around hers and of all the serpentlets curled up to snuggle into her mane. She yawned lazily, golden tongue flicking in and out. Loki's insidious tongue flicked teasingly against hers, his crimson eyes meeting her golden ones.

"Gnnnnnnnnnnnnh?" Loki sang softly.

"Nnnnnnnnnngh," Hermione replied, her tongue quickly shooting out to peg his ear.

Loki's crimson eyes widened. He coiled himself around her body ever so insidiously, without even dislodging the serpentlets from her mane. He pressed his head to hers, his tongue sliding slowly against her scales.

"Mrrrrr," Hermione said.

"Mmmmmm," Loki hissed, the very picture of serpentine innocence.

Itzel sat on top of Volstagg's cast, yawning and exposing her fangs in a lazy stretch. She stared into the warrior's blue eyes, as she was prone to do, seeming to evaluate his soul for the afterlife.

She made her way from cast to cast, checking on each patient and then checking in with Lady Ishea, purring with pleasure when the Jötunn healer rubbed all of the happy places in her mane. Her soft downy mane had started to sprout real fur, and her down had started to unfold into real feathers, surrounding her head with a rainbow assortment of colour very much like her mother's.

Itzel turned her head to the side and peered at Volstagg through the cast hole. "You must be seriously bored."

The serpentlet sighed. Day after day she had tried to speak with the red beard, but nothing came of it. It was odd to her that it was so easy to talk to Lady Ishea and pretty much everyone else— everyone else but the ones here in the infirmary. She concentrated. She thought really clearly. She even tried making odd shapes with her body, but alas, nothing came of it. It was frustrating.

"They have no faith, little one," Ishea said quietly, scooping up the little serpentlet. "That is why they cannot hear you."

"But why?" Itzel complained. "I'm right here!"

"Just because they see you doesn't mean they have faith."

Itzel sulked. That was no fun. How was she supposed to communicate if they insisted on being so silly and stubborn about it?

Fwoop!

Thump.

"Hi sis!" Geir landed on top of Itzel and hugged her. The moonstone coloured serpent tickled her with his wings and made mock attacks at her scruff.

Itzel flared her mane and dodged and struck, mirroring him.

"Hallo, Lady Ishea!" Geir greeted, rubbing his nose against Ishea's chin. "How is little Ishea coming along?"

Ishea smiled, rubbing her belly. "Good so far. Severus made me a potion for the nausea."

"That's good," Geir agreed. "Throwing up is nasty, and it's a waste of perfectly good food."

Ishea smiled. "Indeed."

Both serpentlets placed their heads against Ishea's belly, listening.

"Did Uncle Thor bring you some spider legs?"

"Mmmm, yes he did. It was very kind of him."

"Uncle Thor is the best!" the two serpentlets agreed enthusiastically.

Itzel flared her mane. "I just wish he'd hurry up and get properly mated so that Grandma Frigga doesn't explode."

"Technically they are are mated," Geir noted.

"Married mated," Itzel clarified. "Nan Frigga likes marriages with cake and strange figurines on top of icing."

"Nan is pretty strange," Geir commented. "Mum and Dad didn't need cake and strange icing figurines."

The moonstone-coloured serpent peered intently into Volstagg's cast, staring straight into his eyes. "You sure he's healing? They've been here for months."

"Grandpa Severus says they need to have an apostrophe."

"Epiphany?"

"Yeah, that."

"What kind of epiphany?"

"Probably a crisis of faith," Lady Ishea said, soothing both serpentlets with her hands. The pair purred and rubbed up against her hand happily. "This temple is a junction of faith— this infirmary sits in the midst of a vortex of power, but without your parents, it is only just power. It is power without a focus."

The serpentlets cocked their heads, thinking hard.

"What about us?"

"You, too, can manipulate it— but probably not quite as well as your parents. Severus and Minerva can as well, due to the bonds that they share with your family."

"Grandpa Severus says that if they don't heal for a while, they may have to leave them out in the open somewhere and let Heimdall find them."

Itzel sighed. "Why are they so stubborn?"

Ishea smiled. "You do realise what a miracle you are, yes? Some people don't rely on miracles. They don't have faith in anyone or anything but their own power because they have learned that they can only rely on themselves. Perhaps, they think since they are gods, that they cannot and should not do so."

"That's silly," Geir replied. "Mum and Dad rely on each other. Dad and Uncle Thor rely on each other. We all rely on each other. There is no shame in that."

Ishea tapped the serpent gently on the nose. "That is one of life's biggest lessons, love. Some people go their entire lives without ever learning that."

Geir play-gnawed on Ishea's fingers, carefully gumming her digits with playful mock bites. He laid his head on her fingers and stared up at her adoringly. "Be mine." He wrapped himself around her hands and stared into her eyes. "I'll share you with Grandpa Severus."

Ishea stilled, great emotion filling her ruby eyes. "Are you quite certain? I am not anyone special."

Geir snorted. "You are Grandpa Severus' mate. Even without that you have always been special. You tend your enemy's wounded, despite the fact they tried to injure you along with all the others. You've survived a terrible war, but you still smile. That is pretty special. I like how you sing in the mornings too. You have heart enough for everyone. Heart enough for me."

Ishea tenderly stroked his mane. "How did one so young become so very wise?"

"I have excellent teachers," Geir beamed, flapping his rainbow feathers. His colour-shifting mane of feathers oscillated.

Geir licked her chin appealingly. "Be mine?"

Ishea opened her arms to the serpentlet. "I'm already yours."

Geir sprang up into her arms and wrapped himself around her neck and chest. His baby fangs sank into her shoulder where he bit her gently, injecting his magic into her. His magic flared, swirling around them as ancient runic patterns spread across her skin— matching Geir's scaly patterns. Ishea cried out, but not in pain, tears flowing down her face as her body spasmed. Cosmic plasma spread from Geir into her, moving in and out of her, tightening as a bond between a quetzalcoatl and his chosen priestess formed and solidified. '

"Ahh!" Ishea gasped, her body spasming.

Geir snuggled up close to her. "I'm here. Always."

Ishea held Geir tightly as the overlapping patterns of the feathered serpent imprinted on her very soul, claiming her for life. Tiny feathers sprouted from her hair, weaving themselves into her silver tresses with just a hint of oscillating colour. She let out a slow, ragged breath, her crimson eyes glowing ever so slightly.

"I love you," Geir said proudly.

"Oh little one," Ishea sobbed as she hugged him tight. "I love you even more."

Itzel perked as her brother managed to snag himself a high priestess at last. She beamed proudly, happy that her brother managed to do the deed before Yoki beat him to it. All of them loved Ishea, and it was only a matter of who beat who to get to her first. Itzel was content to let Geir have the honour, not that she loved Ishea any less. But all of them were systematically assimilating their loved ones, one high priest or priestess at a time, instinctively making the bond that would anchor them into the very heartbeats of their chosen people.

Ishea had a lot of faith, even from the start.

They could feed on it and not have to eat for weeks. Her faith was powerful and pure. It was perfect for Geir, who wanted to help people— when he was done pranking them, at least.

Itzel had begun to realise that the bond between a Quetzalcoatl and their chosen guaranteed that no matter what happened— the rise or fall of whatever civilisation— there would always be a faith meal close to home. Raina would always have Severus. Vidar would always have Minerva, and Geir would always have Ishea. There would always be someone close who could translate for them— be their vessel for communication and be loved by them. No matter where they made their home— here or on the snows of Jötunheimr— they would always have each other.

Itzel was willing to wait for her Uncle Thor to get his act together and marry Jane. Nan Frigga might murder him otherwise. It was possible that Uncle Thor might already have a little too much on his plate for him to be Itzel's in the way she would need him, but only time would tell. She could wait. She had a quetzalcoatl's patience. Right now, Jane needed Thor far more than she cared to admit. All of the serpentlets knew that. Her world was rapidly expanding, changing, evolving— it was only natural to have some growing pains. Much like breaking out of that shell to make her way into the world! Now that had been exhausting!

But, what was she to do? Mum told her that some things took time. It had taken quite a bit of time for her to find Dad again, after losing him the first time. Still, it had worked out in the end. Grandpa King Laufey had to love and lose his first mate before finally finding Grandma Queen Minerva. She, too, had lost two husbands before having met the One-Who-Truly-Mattered. So, Itzel, too, would wait.

Itzel closed her eyes and lay her head down on the edge of Volstagg's leg cast, her tongue flicking lazily in and out. "You need to hurry up and have that epiphany, red beard," she sighed. "How are we supposed to heal you if you just lie there like a bump on a log?"

"My apologies, little lass," came Volstagg's deep voice from inside the cast. "I fear I couldn't hear you until just now."

Itzel's eyes snapped open, going very wide, and she almost fell off his cast.

"I'm also sorry that I stepped on your tail," he rumbled quietly.

Itzel clambered up towards the face slot and peered in curiously. "You can hear me?"

"Aye, lass, I can."

Itzel seemed to ponder that really hard. "Okay, I'll forgive you, but you have to promise not to do it again."

"I promise, little lass, that if I do, it will never be on purpose."

Itzel pondered again. "Okay."

She poked her head into the cast slot. "Did you have an epiphany?"

"Let's just say I've had a lot of time to think about what brought me to this place," Volstagg told her. "And witnessing a miracle sure didn't hurt."

Itzel stuck her head deeper into the cast. "Grandpa Severus says we can help you if you have your epiphany, so try to keep doing that, okay?"

"I'll do my best, lassie," Volstagg promised.

Geir pounced on his sister. "Ooo, is he talking?" He stuck his face down the cast hole, claws scrambling on the side.

"What are you two doing?" Ishea laughed, tickling their feathered tails to get them to back out of the hole. "He needs to be able to breathe too, you know."

Itzel and Geir scrambled out and gave her their best halos. "He's talking!" Itzal announced sweetly.

"Oh?" Ishea peered down the cast. "They may not be able to understand me."

The serpentlets boggled at that. "We understand you."

"I… can understand you," Volstagg whispered.

"See? Talking!" Itzel said, scrambling back up the cast again.

"Why have you not spoken before now?" Ishea asked, suddenly suspicious.

Silence, then, "I am ashamed, my lady, but until this very moment, I couldn't understand a word you said."

Geir curled around Ishea's neck. "It's because you're mine," he announced proudly.

"Hrm?" Ishea responded, confused.

The moonstone serpent snuggled into her skin. "You're a part of me, so he can understand you now because he can hear me too."

Ishea arched a brow and then just shrugged. "I am way too old to start questioning miracles in my life, especially considering what glorious gifts I have already been given. You are such a wonder, my Geir, and there is no doubting that."

Geir beamed, radiating rainbow plasma.

"We should try and heal him," Itzal said, poking the cast with her tail. "Help me brother?"

"Okay!" Geir said. "Help us, heartmate?" He turned his eyes to Ishea in earnest appeal.

Ishea smiled. "What do you need of me?"

Geir slithered around her arm and guided it to the sole patch of skin Volstagg had that wasn't completely covered in ice-cast. "Touch here and then touch us."

Ishea did as directed, gently placing her free hand on the two serpentlets and the other on the bit of exposed skin. They rubbed up against her, pulling on the celestial plasma and power of the temple grounds. Tiny rainbow tornados of power swirled around them, faltering slightly as they attempted to control them.

"Hnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn," Hermione's voice sang, reverberating from outside the temple, great wing beats thrumming as the power rose and focused.

"Nnnnnnnnnnnhhhhhh," Loki's low drone replied, joining with her voice in perfect harmony.

Power thrummed, focused, and poured in from outside, streaming down to the serpentlets in smaller, bite-sized doses.

The baby serpents thrummed, beating their wings in time, curling themselves around Ishea to use her as a conduit, guiding the whorls of healing power into Volstagg's severely injured body. Plumes of radiant energy swirled and danced, and the baby serpents focused hard, willing their feed of energy where they wanted it.

Five smaller voices joined in the thrum of power as their brothers and sisters all joined in the song, and Itzel burst into radiant light as Geir's body gleamed with a deep lunar incandescence.

The resplendence thrummed outward, coursing through the ice-cast in every direction and it burst into pieces, shards of cast turning into an icy vapour in an instant burst of power.

Volstagg landed with a great thump onto the bed, his cast gone and his body completely healed. His pale, sunless skin was disturbingly white and he was wearing not a stitch.

Ishea, without missing a single beat, covered up his nudity with a sheet and a warm blanket, handed him a gown, and hugged the serpentlets to her bosom to cover their very young eyes. Geir and Itzel wriggled but soon settled, trusting in her judgement but practically radiating with insatiable curiosity.

Volstagg hurriedly pulled the gown over himself and used the sheets to give an extra bit of coverage between himself and absolute mortification in front of 'children.'

Thor and Frigga then came bursting into the infirmary at top speed, looking as though they had raced there from somewhere just as Severus suddenly appeared with a loud crack. He swept into the room, black robes swirling around him, his glowing crimson eyes locking onto hers as he enfolded her against himself with a low, possessive growl, embracing her while keeping a firm grip on his runed spear.

Severus stared over Ishea's shoulder at Volstagg, his eyes narrowing, and the red-headed warrior promptly lost all blood flow to his brain, falling unconscious and slumping heavily back into his bed.

The serpentlets poked their heads up, snuggling themselves into Severus in greeting. "Do that again, Grandpa Severus! That was cool!"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, "We can't take you two anywhere."

"Volstagg, I've known you long enough to know that you and your brethren do not just show up with weapons brandished unless there was some kind of plan at work. It might not be a great plan, but there would be a plan," Thor said, eyeing the other man narrowly.

Mjölnir was sitting on a countertop not very far away, liberally covered in cooing baby booklets and an odd number of venomous tentacula seedlings. Mjölnir's runes glistened with magical amusement as the tentaculas played keepaway with the booklets, all wanting to be king of the magical hammer. As usual, Mjölnir appeared to be a highly effective babysitter and didn't even seem to mind such things. Even more strangely, Thor didn't seem to think that made him any less masculine having a babysitting magical hammer with a strange fondness for baby booklets and venomous plant life.

"Aye," Volstagg agreed rather wearily. "We were told to be ready for when the beacon went out, Thor. We were told to be ready to extract Loki from whatever problems he might have gotten himself buried in and bring him back home."

"Specifically Loki?" Frigga asked, her brow creasing in thought.

"Aye, my queen," Volstagg replied. He tilted his head as the serpentlets tussled over a large Acromantula leg, trying to tear it to pieces for sharing but they seemed unable to get it to break for them. He reached over and quickly cracked the leg into seven equal pieces, earning himself happy and somewhat drooly serpentine snuggles on his hand.

"Was this my father's command?" Thor asked, frowning.

"It came directly from the royal guard," Volstagg confirmed. "We were told to be ready at a moment's notice, so we ended up sleeping on bedrolls on the Bifröst."

"Heimdall was probably ecstatic about that."

"Isn't he always?"

Thor just shook his head.

Geir gnawed on Volstagg's boot, making odd ripping noises. Volstagg looked a little horrified, yet totally unable to do anything about it lest something bigger and angrier come down to beat him upside the head.

Thor, however, chuckled, prying the serpentlet off Volstagg's poor boot. "Hey now. You are not that hungry. I happen to know you've been quite well fed."

Geir drooled a little. "His boots smell really good."

"Must be the oil I used to season the leather," Volstagg said, flashing a lopsided grin.

Itzel sneaked up on the boot and began to sniff it, gnawing on it experimentally.

Frigga scooped up the serpentlet and distracted her with a piece of Acromantula leg. "And then what? After you had brought him home?"

"A wedding, your Highness," Volstagg told her. "To Lady Sigyn."

"Unless your king wishes to un-marry a pair of mated quetzalcoatls, break a peace pact between Realms, seriously piss off a mated set of primal gods, piss off all of Jötunheimr as well, and quite possibly have the more spiritual half of Miðgarðr prepared to skewer him, he might wish to quickly rethink this most unwise plan of his," Severus said, tapping his fingers together. Raina nodded decisively from his shoulder as if to say "Yeah! And that!"

Volstagg's eyes widened almost comically as he took in the sight of Severus again, instantly intimidated without even knowing why.

Severus simply rolled his eyes at the red-bearded Asgardian, which was made all the more unnerving by his unwavering crimson stare.

"Before—" Volstagg muttered quietly. "You were… um. I thought—"

"Human?" Severus asked with a sniff, his nose wrinkling on one side.

"Yes," Volstagg replied, looking very confused.

Itzel snuggled into Thor's arms, radiating absolute contentment like a cat in a sunbeam. "He thought they were just stories made up to scare Asgardian children."

Thor peered down at his niece and ruffled her silky mane. "What are you saying?"

Itzel flapped her blue-white wings, stretching them out and giving a big, lazy yawn. "Stories that say the Jötunn will take over Ásgarðr by breeding with them. That's really silly, isn't it Uncle?"

Thor shook his head amusedly. "It doesn't quite work that way, Volstagg."

"Wait— you were human?" He stared at Severus with wide eyes and then hastily looked away.

"It is exceedingly hard to impregnate your chosen mate as the wrong species," Severus said, utterly deadpan.

Raina hummed melodiously. "He sang for her!"

"She sang back!" Geir beamed.

Itzel rubbed her back against Thor's arms. "Makes perfect sense to us. So why are you freaking out over it?" She peered at Volstagg who seemed to be going through a gauntlet of dramatic and emotional facial expressions.

"We'll get more playmates," Raina purred.

"We like new playmates," Geir agreed.

"We can teach them how to eat spiders!"

"And frost-seal!"

"Oh, and whale too!"

"Don't forget the shark!"

"Oh, and the ice-jellyfish!"

"Hey, Grandma Minerva's haggis!"

"Ooooo!"

"Yes!"

"And Nan Frigga's red velvet cake!"

"Mmm, cake."

The serpentlets stared adorably up at one very confused-looking Volstagg.

"You want to be able to have kids, right?"

"Mini Volstaggs?"

"Do they come out with beards?"

"Or do they have to grow in later?"

"Do you have to teach them not to step on tails?"

"Maybe he has to teach them not to step on whales?"

"Stepping on a whale would be rough."

The serpentlets all slithered onto Volstagg's lap. "If you really loved someone, you'd want to be able to be with them, right?"

"In every way."

"Right?"

They stared at him, their eyes glowing intently.

"Point taken."

The serpentlets gave fluid shrugs in response and promptly re-affixed themselves to their chosen people, exposing their bellies in blatant begs for attention.

Frigga closed her eyes, pondering a moment before turning to Thor. "That your father has neither sent word nor attempted to retrieve his 'rescue party' means he has either figured out his plan is a lost cause or else he is considering that the situation has changed in some way. I would like to think he has cause to believe that circumstances have changed, as he has not as of yet spoken to me of any plans, much less for a wedding, and I have been there and back a great many times since our guests were first… laid up."

Itzel playfully gnawed on Thor's fingers, doing her best to sound like she was trying to kill them.

Thor looked down at the little serpentlet, his face softening with love. He raised her up and snuggled her mercilessly, causing her to purr happily.

"All-Father wished to teach us both humility, but perhaps, he is working on a project of his own," he said grimly. "That is the only reason I can think of to explain why he has not made himself known to you, my lady mother, nor to us. Mjölnir is with me again. Loki is far better than fine. Random cities are not in smoldering ruins— even if Heimdall cannot see us, he can certainly see that."

"Heimdall is more than aware of everything that occurs in the Nine Realms," Frigga said. "He has always been in the know, and of far more than most, but he is duty bound to keep his silence." She was silent for a moment, and Naseem appeared under her hand and in her lap almost instantly. She pet his feathered mane soothingly. "Sigyn was Loki's betrothed. Odin did arrange it from an early age, ensuring that she was trained just as Loki was in the hope they would find they had much in common."

Thor frowned. "But my brother never cared for her. Not even merely in passing."

Frigga sighed deeply. "I know. But arranged marriages amongst the royal family have never been solely about love. If love came after, so much the better, but it was never actually required. I love my husband, but it was always duty first."

Thor suddenly paled, realising that his marriage to Jane could and would be summarily shoved aside in favour of duty if he didn't get a move on and quickly. Child or no child. Jane, herself, was aware of the fact that the next Asgardian king would most likely have to marry for influence, not love. It was because of this that she had resisted the idea of marriage to him from the very start. Love, she had said, was not enough.

"And what of me, mother?" Thor said, turning sombre.

"You would be expected to pick a queen upon being crowned, my son," Frigga said. The queen's face grew quite serious. "And your bride would be expected, nay, required to have lifespan to complement your own."

Frigga, while very much approving of her son's love for his Jane, gave a small, sad smile. Jane, while having proven herself well enough by wielding Mjölnir as effectively as any well-trained Asgardian warrior could, was still very much a normal, mortal human woman. Unlike the Jötunn, who were biologically equipped to ensure that their chosen mate lived just as long as they did, Asgardians, in this instance, were unfortunately not cut from the same cloth.

Suddenly, all the serpentlets started vibrating together with excitement.

Fwoop!

They were gone.

Frigga, Severus, Ishea, and Thor all exchanged worried glances.

"That's… never good."

"Hnnnnnnnnnn," Hermione's whale-like song rumbled over the temple.

"Nnnnnnnnngh!" Loki replied.

"What was that?!" Volstagg asked rather nervously, looking like he very much wanted to jump out of bed, grab something heavy and whack something repeatedly with it.

"That, or rather they, would be the reason you're not dead," Thor said pointedly, poking Volstagg with his pinky finger and pushing him back down on the bed.

"Oh, well— okay, then." Volstagg sat back down and calmly folded his hands in his lap.

Seven tiny songs thrummed above the temple, and Hermione and Loki's voices joined in. Enchanted cosmic plasma floated and swirled, mixed with the power of their mustered faiths of the believers. Severus' and Ishea's eyes began to glow, their ghostly scaled markings lighting up over their skin as their bond to their serpentlet reinforced itself. Severus' mouth descended upon Ishea's in a passionate kiss, and a whorl of faith power burst from their bodies, drifting upward to the apex of the temple grounds.

"Hnnnnnnnnnnnn," Hermione sang.

"Nnnnnnnnnnhhh," Loki replied.

Volstagg looked a little uncomfortable. Thor shook his head with a smug smile. "I've had to witness you loving many a woman, Volstagg. Don't tell me that true intimacy makes you that uncomfortable?"

"True, genuine intimacy is— disconcerting." Volstagg gave him an unfathomable look.

Thor chuckled. "You will find much in the way of true, genuine intimacy here, Volstagg. The like of which you have probably never seen so much of nor so openly. It is the very nature of this place now, I think. Of my brother and his queen. Together, they foster something beyond themselves. It is not like Ásgarðr, where the only true intimacy is behind closed doors."

Fwoop!

Pop!

SHOOM!

Thud.

Flurp!

The serpentlets phased into existence in a rush, flopping into laps and curling around necks as if they had never left. The only evidence of something having gone on was the rather odd assortment of Cheshire cat grins on their serpentine faces.

"And what were you up to, hrm?" Thor asked Itzel.

Itzel cocked her head, wearing her shiniest halo. "Taking care of business," she said cheerily.

"Mhmn," Thor said, narrowing his eyes.

At that moment, Loki and Hermione swept into the room. Loki wore the intimidating horned helm of his Asgardian armour, the sweeping emerald cape billowing behind him as he walked. On his arm, Hermione had her arm looped around his. Her robes fluttered around her— darkest black of the space lined in golden scales and rainbow feathers. Loki's eyes, however were unequivocally crimson, his skin a dark, runic-patterned cobalt. Hermione's were bright gold— reminiscent of the colour of her scales, save for the tracings of her blue, raised runic markings that spread across her skin. Their hair— fluffed out like a mane— was lined with tiny feathers.

Behind them, was Jane, and she came in behind them with a wide-eyed, confused expression on her face, as if unsure as to why she was being brought in.

"Our serpentlets have brought a gift for you, my brother," Loki said with a smug smile. "One that simply could not wait."

"Consider it, a wedding gift," Hermione said with an almost feline grin of smugness about her face.

"Lady Hermione," Frigga greeted, opening her arms.

"Lady Frigga," Hermione greeted in return, allowing the elder Asgardian to enfold her.

"Seeing as you two seem to be avoiding all things involving wedding planning, I have brought the cord with which to bind you two together," Loki said, grasping his brother's arm and wrapping it in ice-cord. He then pulled Jane over without any further ado, wrapping her up with it to, and the cord pulled them together like a Chinese finger-trap puzzle.

"Hrm, wherever will I find a goddess of marriage to officiate?" Loki pondered tapping his fingers against his chin.

Hermione placed Frigga's hands on Thor and Jane's bound hands. "Oh, just look what I found, my love."

"Excellent." Loki's eyes smoldered with a soft red glow. "Hrm, Asgardian witnesses?" He took a large paint brush and put a large check mark on the surrounding casts. "Check and check!"

"Midgardian witnesses?" Loki pondered. "Severus you don't mind doing double duty here, hrm? Technically you have duel citizenship."

Severus raised a brow. "As you wish."

"Excellent. We're all here and we have all we need." Loki polished his horns. "We'll just sit over here while you swear your undying love to each other." He dragged Hermione over to sit on a nearby bed and the two stared up at Jane and Thor. All the serpentlets lined up in a row and hummed a passable wedding march.

"Oh, and don't forget the hammer to bless your marriage," Hermione said. "You wouldn't want to leave out Mjölnir, now would you?" She plunked Mjölnir down between them and went back to sitting next to Loki.

Volstagg's jaw hit the ground.

"Do you, Thor, son of Odin, take Lady Jane as your love and consort, your wife throughout the trials of life may they be many or few, tragic or happy, through turmoil or ecstasy, hallowed as your equal for as long as you two shall live?"

"I do." Thor looked into Jane's face, his eyes and expression full of love.

"Do you, Lady Jane, take Thor, son of Odin, as your love and consort, your husband throughout the trials of life, may they be many of few, tragic or happy, through turmoil or ecstasy, hallowed as your equal for as long as you two shall live?"

"I do," Jane said, her voice cracking with emotion.

Frigga pulled out two glowing golden rings that were hidden in her hair. "Oh, now imagine that. Hrm.." She placed the rings on their fingers. She picked up Mjolnir and placed it in Thor's and Jane's hands. I do bless your union as husband and wife. May what is forged today never falter and only grow stronger. And if there are no objections—"

Total silence.

"I, Lady Frigga, goddess of marriage, now pronounce you husband and wife."

The serpentlets pushed a beautifully carved box up to the couple with their noses and hummed.

Thor leaned down to pick it up, and Jane unlatched the tiny, golden clasp in order to lift up the lid.

Nestled in a nest of multi-coloured downy feathers, was a perfect, shimmering, almost crystalline golden apple.

Thor stared in total astonishment at the serpentlets. "Is that… an Apple of Idunn?"

"Now it's an Apple of Loki and Hermione," Itzel said.

"They blessed it."

"We fetched it!"

"We're awesome!"

The serpentlets wiggled their tails and wings.

"We might have moved the tree it came from."

"They won't miss it."

"It's down in the garden."

"It's really pretty!"

"Shhh, don't tell!"

Thor swallowed hard, lifting the apple up and bringing it gently to Jane's mouth. "I love you, my Jane, my lady wife. Will you stay with me until the very end?"

Tears flowed down Jane's face as she took a bite of the enchanted apple, and a warm gust of magic swirled around her. "Yes," Jane whispered, swallowing the gift of the enchanted apple while wearing her heart on her sleeve.

"Finally!" Loki said, falling backwards dramatically onto the bed, both arms sprawled out.

"Three, two, one," Hermione hummed.

"Ahhhhhggggh!" Jane moaned, instantly clutching at her abdomen. ""Ohhh god. My water just broke!"

Ishea scooped her up and promptly carried Jane off to another part of the infirmary.

The serpentlets perked together. "Oooo! Playmate! Maybe even more than one!"

"Will they hatch like us?"

"Lady Jane will lay an egg?"

"I dunno."

"Let's go watch!"

Seven serpentlets dashed off to stick their little noses right in labouring Jane's business.

"You're just going to let them watch?!" Thor bellowed at his brother.

"Try and stop them," Hermione pointed out almost lazily, shoving her nose into Loki's long, black hair and smiling against his neck.

Hermione pointed in the other direction. "Better get a move on. Before Jane names the children after baby booklets instead of whatever inexplicably manly Norse name you'd want."

"Ode to Pregnancy: Absent Father," Loki chimed in.

Thor immediately rushed off after his pregnant, labouring wife.

Loki and Hermione high-fived each other, not even bothering to move from the comfortable infirmary bed.

Yoki was wrapped snugly around Jane's neck, using her serpentine muscles to massage the labouring female's neck and shoulders, and Jane was panting and gasping in between contractions.

"Damnit, why couldn't I lay a couple of eggs and just watch them hatch!" Jane moaned.

Violet and Heliotrope purred at her, snuggling against her neck, and Jane's eyes glazed over a little, her pain forgotten for the time being. They moved down to her hands and let her squeeze them for comfort, eyes bulging a little when she squeezed them just a touch too hard, but they tolerated the mild discomfort for her sake.

Heliotrope projected furry hearts at her, despite it all, and Jane was starting to calm into her contractions, feeling a little less homicidal. After going through the cuddly phase and the don't-you-dare-touch-me phase, Jane was finally settling in for the next phase: less-pain-please-thanks.

Thankfully, between the serpentlet massage, the booklet support group, and the patient tending of Lady Ishea, who which Jane kept describing as a goddess on earth, Jane was ready to evict her womb-interloper.

Thor, on the other hand, was pacing the stone floor into a well-worn path in his father-to-be nervousness, so much so that Severus forced an extra-strong dose of calming draught into his mouth and bade him drink it or else. "You're giving me tachycardia just watching you," Severus hissed at him.

Severus provided a few pain potions customised for the needs of the varied temple residents, stating that the temple grounds did something "different" to those who that lived there, especially on a regular basis. Perhaps, he mused, it was the faith of having one's living gods so close and so real, and perhaps it was the magic they tended. Whatever the reason, what worked on the temple grounds was different, and the people that lived there (or creatures, as it were) were imbued with a different sort of living magic that required specialised tending.

Thankfully, Severus and Ishea were hardly unprofessional, and they automatically made adjustments without thinking about it. Hermione and Loki tended the magical flows as ones born to it, and even the serpentlets seemed to have a good grasp of the general basics. What it meant in the long term, however, for those who lived on the temple grounds, no one was quite sure just yet.

Minerva and Frigga both seemed as though thousands of years had been lifted away from their souls, and the ambassadors who lived in the island residences reported splendid good health. The goblins had experienced a population explosion of baby goblets, and they were absolutely ecstatic about that turn of events. Ironically, the fertile land and people seemed to affect everyone but the nearby Wizarding Britain, and many of the faithful were still trying to figure out why when the lands so far away, such as South America, seemed to be flourishing with record gains.

Hermione, Minerva, and Frigga joined Ishea in tending Jane while Loki practically hogtied his brother in his coils and pinned him down until the calming draught did its work. Jane seemed to appreciate the attention, and it didn't seem to matter to her that Thor was out of commission at least for the time being. As long as he was there for the end, Jane was good.

Minerva moved her cool hands across Jane's forehead, transferring cool compresses to ease her suffering, and Jane smiled in sweet, blessed relief. "Just a wee bit longer, lass," she said. "Then you can sleep away for a while."

"Ishea, how do the Jötunn birth their children?" Jane asked in between pants.

The giantess smiled. "Water birth. The water takes the weight off, and we support ourselves on cords and let nature do the rest. We could probably set something up here to be the same, but we'd have to adjust the temperature of the water so it wouldn't instantly kill you."

Jane laughed, despite herself. "A little numbing cold might be helpful at this point. Maybe not quite THAT cold, though."

Ishea smiled.

"Eeuughhrrrr!" Jane moaned. "I think this is it! Oh, god."

Ishea quickly moved herself at the foot of the bed. Heliotrope and Violet squeaked as Jane squeezed them tightly. The serpentlets hummed in musical encouragement as Thor stumbled in from the side. He placed his large hands over her arm, carefully avoiding the dirty looks he earned from the books when he tried to hold her hand.

"Push, push, push," Ishea guided. "Make it count. You can do it!"

"Agggghhhhh!" Jane screamed, bearing down hard with all her might.

She panted. She screamed. She pushed for all she was worth.

Minerva held one hand, book and all, and Hermione the other as Thor stood at the head of the bed, gazing down at her and rubbing her shoulders comfortingly.

With a large gush of fluid and blood, Ishea caught the emerging firstborn of Jane and Thor with the smooth snatch of a towel. She rubbed the baby down vigorously until the baby cried loudly. "Ah, there's the voice. There's a good cry. Keep trying, little one. Take some good, deep breaths of your birthplace."

She dipped him down under the warm heating area that Hermione had crafted months previously, washed the babe off, and swaddled him expertly with record speed. She placed the baby against Jane's breast so he could keep skin-to-skin contact, and then went back to the foot of the bed.

"Nngah?" Jane managed.

"You're not quite done yet, my dear," Ishea smiled.

"Oh hell no," Jane moaned.

Thor seemed torn between being really happy and trying not to show that he was really, really happy. The serpentlets were all examining the swaddled baby with curiosity in spades.

"He's all pink!"

"And wrinkly."

Serpentlet eyes stared as they stuck out their tongues to curiously taste the new arrival's scent.

"Will he have wings?"

"Can he teleport?"

"Will he be able to go on grand adventures?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Too soon?"

"Day after tomorrow?"

"I dunno, he looks pretty uninspired. Might want to give him at least a week."

"A week?"

"That's so long!"

The serpentlets gently nosed the baby.

Jane let out a scream as she was suddenly beset by another strong contraction, and the the baby went tumbling off her chest. The serpentlets immediately swirled around him, cushioning him as they carried him off to a safer spot, out of the way of the flailing mother. A string of booklets hurried up and cuddled around the baby, allowing themselves to be used as fuzzy cushions.

Severus snagged Thor by the collar and dragged him back, scooping up the newborn infant and shoving him into the new father's arms. "Baby. Father. Father. Baby. Stop pacing around like a dunderhead and hold your child."

Thor's eyes widened as he froze in place, unsure of what to do.

"Mjölnir has better child-rearing sense than you," Severus muttered, taking the infant and demonstrating a proper holding and rocking technique. "I'm starting to think that Jötunn instincts are far better for the survival of the species than anything Ásgarðr has to offer."

Frigga laughed, taking the infant and rocking it tenderly before Severus decided to cast it out the window. "Just my son, Severus. Not all Asgardians are failures at fathering, even if they don't come imprinted with infant caring instincts."

Severus rolled his eyes.

"Even if Thor may have gained his fatherly skills impairment from my dear husband," Frigga said with a wink, causing Severus and Hermione to snort together.

"Hey! Father taught me a lot of things!" Thor protested.

"List the ones that didn't involve weapons and rulership."

Thor paused, frowned, and sighed.

Ishea had the next infant washed and swaddled before Thor could come up with an answer, placing him on his tired mum's chest as she waited for signs of either baby number three or placenta, whichever came first. As if an answer to a prayer, Jane delivered the placentas, and she seemed thankful for that her first childbirth wasn't triplets or worse.

The serpentlets hummed in harmony as Hermione and Loki stood together. Jane weakly held the second child out to them. Hermione cradled the newborn infant in her arms as Loki cradled the firstborn son. They rocked the infants together, bodies rocking back and forth just like their serpent forms. They hummed together, leaning over the infants to press their heads to the little ones' foreheads.

"Hnnnnnn," Hermione sang.

"Nnnnnnh," Loki replied.

Their combined warble of song conjured a swirl of cosmic plasma. Hermione sang a note, and the serpentlets tried to match. Loki sang another, and they tried to match that too. Tendrils of magic formed and solidified, securely moving around the two infants. Hermione sang another note, and the serpentlets imitated. The tendrils swirled and wove together, becoming more and more solid. Loki sang a note too, and Geir, Vidar, and Naseem imitated. The tendrils solidified even more, wrapping around the two infants. Then, with a soft whoosh, the vapour slided into each baby and dissipated.

"Hello, Terje," Loki purred to the firstborn infant. "Welcome to Miðgarðr, nephew."

"Hello, Leif," Hermione whispered to the second-born boy, tenderly kissing his forehead. "Welcome to Miðgarðr, little one. You have a lot of growing to do, so rest up."

"Wait, how did you know their names?" Jane boggled as they placed both babies on their mother's chest again.

Hermione smiled. "They told me in their dreams."

"Mum!"

"Mummy!"

"Hn?" Hermione opened one sleepy eye to regard her offspring.

"We do good?" the serpentlets asked, all seven pairs of eyes looking to Hermione for some sign of approval.

"Hn." Hermione closed her eye again.

The baby serpents wilted. "Aww!"

Hermione scooped all seven of her serpentlets up and hugged them tightly enough that they squeaked. "You did good, my darlings."

"Yay!"

They snuggled into their mother's mane of fur and feathers with pleasure, wriggling and cavorting playfully.

Hermione closed her eyes again, feeling a bit tired after all of the wedding, birthing, naming, blessing, and reviving of the remaining members of the Warriors Three plus Sif. It seemed that the serpentlets had managed to thaw the hearts of the other two ice-casted warriors at last, but not before they very thoroughly ensorcelled the contingent of guards that had come down with them first.

The guards were the most thoroughly mind-rolled of the lot, practically singing praises of the little serpentlets like a devout believer and then some. The newfound faith, however, had allowed the magic of the place to finally take root and allow them to be healed, and Hermione was thankful for that. Lady Ishea had other duties to attend than nursing the foolish Asgardian war party— like the growing child in her belly. Ishea, however, like most Jötunn females, took everything in stride. Being pregnant didn't change what needed to be done, no matter what Severus had to say about it. His growing instincts to protect his mate had not gotten any duller. Both Hermione and Loki found it endearing. Severus really couldn't be more happy with his situation. Having a mate and child on the way— a child he had quite joyously conceived— was more than enough to tip the scales of his faith into overdrive, and that fed Raina very, very well. Neither quetzalcoatl was complaining there.

Hermione and Loki were proud of their little serpentlets— more so that they were making sound choices in their priest and priestesses, even at such a "young" age. The elder quetzalcoatls hadn't chosen their priest or priestess, feeling that they could wait until the right one came along. To them, it was more important that their serpentlets have the best picks to choose from, as the bond would provide something essential to them no matter what place they chose to live in when they left the temple grounds to find their own place. Whenever that would be, hundreds to thousands of years from now, they would have a strong bond with someone who loved them. That was what mattered. Young they may be, but the serpentlets had a lot of ancestral memories inside them. Eventually, worldly knowledge would temper what they had started with, and the little charmers would be ready to take on the world, Realms, or whatever came in between.

Loki's arm slid around her waist and pulled her closer as they shared the makeshift bed in the infirmary. Hermione hummed softly, snuggling into his warmth, even with the wonderful coolness of his skin, he radiated heat like a furnace. She, much like Minerva in a sunbeam, loved to wallow in his heat. His blue fingers wove with hers, and she smiled, enjoying the feel of his skin on hers. The thrum of their joined markings sent a joyous rapture through every nerve of her body, and she had never once complained. It had always been so, or so she remembered, even long ago when she was but a young sorceress of Ásgarðr. His touch, and his touch alone was… magic.

Yet Loki had always been more than a Jötunn, and perhaps she had always been more than a mere sorceress of Ásgarðr. Instead of becoming fully Jötunn, they had both become quetzalcoatls, merging somewhere in between. Their serpentlets were, and Hermione had no doubt of it, fully quetzalcoatl. They would be whatever it was they chose in life in due time.

One thing was for certain, no matter what the future brought, Hermione would always have Loki at her side, and Loki would always have her. That was what had been meant to be, what was destined to be. She could no more deny her love and desire for Loki than he could resist her. They were two sides of the same coin.

As Hermione rolled over on her side, the serpentlets curled up against her body, purring along with Rith, Grim, and Violet and their umpteen fuzzy booklets. Loki spooned against her back, pressing his face into her mane. Hogun and Fandrall had finally broken free of the casts that had held them for months, and even Sif, (who Hermione couldn't help but compare to Xena Warrior Princess of the Muggle television show), had surrendered to faith enough to be healed.

All, save for one.

Sigyn, goddess of fidelity, remained fully entombed in her ice cast, her bones painfully shattered into countless smithereens.

Lady Ishea wasn't sure how it was even possible, but it seemed the goddess was somehow digressing instead of improving, almost as if her body rejected her very presence in the place she was currently lying, likely all the way down to her most basic cellular level. Hermione wondered how that was even possible, but the evidence before her was stark and incontrovertible. Ishea said that it was probably because she, Ishea, was Jötunn— Sigyn's hatred of her entire species did not endear her to the injured Asgardian goddess in her care— but Hermione wasn't sure if that was the only thing going on.

"Everything she has grown up believing is being challenged, love," Loki said into her ear, pulling her close. "Not everyone can be as accepting as you. That is your gift. Your very nature. Her ingrained prejudices are extremely strong and stubborn, but underneath, far below the surface, it is fragile and cracking. Unlike the others, she has nothing to fill in the holes left behind. Take away the things she always believed to be truth and she is left with nothing, not even faith. Perhaps especially not that."

Hermione pulled Loki's arm against her and snuggled into it, entrapping his hand so she could rub up against it. She felt him tighten the wrap of his arms around her, a soft purring growl coming from the back of his throat. "I love you," she whispered, closing her eyes to more completely enjoy the feel of his loving embrace.

Loki's teeth answered her, pressing into the soft skin of her neck as he left his mark upon her again, sending a jolt of exquisite pleasure shooting from head-to-toe. Hermione let out a soft moan of blissful contentment, forgetting for that moment that they would need to deal with the problem of a very broken, cast-away goddess of Ásgarðr.

That would wait for later.

Mystery Woman in Body Cast Found at London Bus Stop

A woman bound in a body cast, wrapped entirely bandages and plaster from head-to-toe was found last night at a London bus stop near Hyde Park. The Boathouse bus stop, just south of Serpentine Road overlooking The Serpentine Lake, hadn't seen any unusual activity and there was no one who witnessed anyone dropping her off, let alone the arrival of the mysterious, near-mummified woman.

"It's not like this sort of thing happens 'round here every day!" Mrs Eugenia Merryweather exclaimed as she held her two grandchildren to her bosom. "I mean, someone obviously had to have been taking proper care of her, and she didn't exactly walk here under her own steam!"

"Aliens," Mr Bartholomew Godfrey remarked succinctly, not even looking up from his newspaper and cuppa.

The mysterious cast-bound woman was immediately rushed to the Royal London Hospital, where she is being treated for extensive crushing bone damage.

"It's like her bones have been practically atomised!" noted trauma doctor, Dr Phineas Grey, said with a disbelieving shake of his head. "I know that strange things have been going on in the world ever since superhuman beings have been popping up, but this isn't that. There was no momentous battle in London or even so much as a mere twig out of place at Hyde Park. We simply up and found a mysterious woman in a cast. Other than that, we can only treat her and hope we can get some identification photos out so her undoubtedly worried family can find her."

Sadly, the cast-bound woman had no identification attached to her, so identification will have to wait until a photo can be taken by authorities. Her unfortunate mental state, however, has not been conducive to learning the woman's identity, as she tells anyone who will stand still long enough to listen that she's the Asgardian Goddess of Fidelity and that we are all but mortal heathens.

"I can only imagine that whoever had been taking care of her previously had finally come to the end of their rope with her, but we won't know the particulars until we can ascertain her true identity."

"Someone is worried sick about her, most likely," Dr Grey said.

When asked how long the woman would have to remain in full traction, the doctors have indicated that she will require extensive treatment for several months until the cast can be removed, perhaps even longer as many of her bones are fractured in multiple places.

"It's almost like a bomb went off right in front of her, except for a complete lack of burns that one would certainly expect if that had been the case," boggled Regina Thornwhistle-Sykes, nursing supervisor.

Officials seem to believe that the mysterious woman is likely a foreigner, as no one has reported anyone fitting her description as a missing person.

King Laufey was having the best day of his life. Minerva, Ishea, and Hermione were all having a picnic together out on the ice-floes and his son and quite a few new Jötunn and their potential mates were learning the old traditions together. The future of his people looked very bright, and the relationship between himself and his son seemed to be well on the mend.

The sun was rising clear above on this particular afternoon, and Laufey had forgotten just how beautiful it made the snows, Jötunn vision had always made the sharper details surface even when others found it blinding. What he considered to be utterly mundane and ordinary didn't start to change until he watched some of the young humans struggling not to freeze to death under many layers of warm clothes, while he and his people wore the equivalent of light gossamer in comparison.

To their credit, however, much as Severus had done when he had gone on his own first hunt, they followed the old ways without trying to cheat the system and build a bonfire for the middle of the camp. Laufey found that to be worthy of praise, as few had really paid attention to Jötunn ways before this strange and yet so comforting peace between Jötunheimr and Miðgarðr. Though, technically, there was peace between Jötunheimr and Ásgarðr as well, there wasn't a Jötunn alive who didn't know the pact was really between them and the Quetzalcoatls— wherever they might make their home.

The Jötunn were not complaining. True peace was a balm that soothed like nothing else could. True peace sealed in the most traditional of manners, well, that was even better. Not only had his son taken a mate to seal such a peace, but others had joined with his people in willing conversion, not to mention Laufey's own new queen, plucked from Miðgarðr and most happily converted on the pristine snows of Alakshomr— his most favoured hunting ground. He wasn't going to let such a wondrous woman get away— not if she was truly interested in him.

She was.

She still was. Mrrrr.

The paltry peace between Jötunheimr and Ásgarðr had been brokered by force. The peace between Jötunheimr and Miðgarðr, however, had been ushered in with passion and unmistakable love. Nothing else would spread the marks and make children possible. And, oh, there were children. Laufey would never complain that his grandchildren were feathered serpents, no. That was to be celebrated from the oldest of stories that sprung from Mimisbrunnr, or Mimir's Well. The oldest of wisdom resided there— so much so that Odin himself had abased himself to Mimir for but a sip from the well's wisdom once upon a time.

The quetzalcoatl was a sacred being all on its own, but to have the solar and lunar pair united was nothing short of the holiest of cosmic signs— a sign of good fortune, health, and fertile blessings upon posterity. He wondered if Odin had even known what potential had been written on the soul of his premature son any more than he himself hadn't known. He wondered if he had caught his son together with an Asgardian, would he have been any more accepting of the pairing?

Laufey smiled. He knew the answer. It wasn't a true mating if there were no children. There were no children if the acceptance wasn't full and willing. If his son chose an Asgardian, and she had truly accepted him, there would have been nothing to feel shame about. She would have been Jötunn. That would have been clear enough proof that there were no untruths held between them.

Perhaps, Laufey mused, this was why the Asgardians so feared the Jötunn. They made up the most outrageous stories, thinking that the Jötunn would just rape their way across their people and forcibly convert them. So many stories of giants who wished to take wives from the Æsir, and all of them were twisted so that the giants were always the losers in the end. Mind you, most of the stories had the giants wanting not only a goddess but the sun and moon or some other such nonsense. What would any Jötunn do with a sun and moon? It was far better off in the sky, providing sufficient light to hunt by. All such stories were twisted and shamelessly grandiose. Some were even true, he had to admit, at least in part. But some others… not so much.

Laufey smiled as he watched Severus teach the young human how to properly craft a spear. The formerly-human wizard had fully embraced all that was Jötunn, instincts and all, and he was an exceedingly good teacher with a wealth of experience and perspective that helped him teach the young hopefuls in a way that wouldn't get them killed in the process. That was really the goal in any hunt. A dead hunter did no one a good service. Not their mate, most assuredly, and definitely not the hunter, let alone if there were also younglings to feed. A Jötunn would live as long as the snows themselves, provided they weren't stupid, didn't get themselves into a war and get end up getting themselves killed. The goal was always survival. Jötunheimr was harsh enough without useless inside bickering, and while Laufey himself had fought his way to the position of king, it hadn't been solely earned via the cracking of heads. It did help that he could knock heads together quite efficiently in a pinch, but that was more posturing like the ice-mammoth or the frost-sabre with the biggest fangs. Even the beasts tried to avoid fighting whenever possible. Jötunheimr itself was hostile and unforgiving enough.

Still, it was home, and it was quickly becoming a far better place. The new addition of Severus brought magic into the mix— something Laufey hadn't been quite sure about until he realised that it was just like any other tool. It could harm or benefit depending on the wielder, and Severus came from from a pool of beings almost straight from the mouth of the quetzalcoatls. Laufey trusted him implicitly, and if Jötunn began to show signs of such sensitivity in the future, he would trust him to be able to teach them right. Severus and Minerva both could usher in such changes safely, of that, Laufey had no doubt at all. There was, too, Hermione and Loki themselves, both inherently magical creatures attuned both sorcery and the cosmic flow. Between them all, no Jötunn with magical abilities would go untrained or worse, end up being ostracised by their society.

Laufey definitely wasn't complaining. Anything that improved the quality of life for his people was something to be treasured, not feared. Already the blessings were pouring in, and that didn't even include the filled caches of Acromantula parts and the gift of frost-tolerant Acromantulas for the future. His people were chalking him up as the best king in thousands of years, which amused him. There weren't any other challengers to his throne even before recent events, but there were definitely not any now. Who would want to ruin such a good thing?

"I'm glad you decided to come with us, Luna," Hermione said. "I haven't seen you in quite some time."

"Well, I did have to help father with his Crumple-Horned Snorkack problem," Luna said. "Turns out they eat socks. Father couldn't find a single sock to wear."

"How… horrible," Hermione chuckled.

"I told him he could just start wearing wooden shoes or Muggle deck shoes, but he didn't listen," Luna said sadly.

"How are you and Draco doing?"

Luna sighed. "He's a really good kisser, but I think he's much too busy with the new brewery business to have time for a girlfriend. That and—"

"His mother?"

"Yeah," Luna agreed. "He's still trying to get back in touch with her, and he's become more than a bit obsessed. A lot like father is when he's out hunting something, only with socks."

"Can't forget those."

Luna nodded. "It wouldn't be so bad if they ate both halves of a pair, but they only eat one half, so you end up with a bunch of socks with no matching mate."

"The horror!"

"Indeed," Luna replied, somewhat dreamily. "It's okay, though. I think Draco finally realised that if we did get married that he'd have to give up on finding his mother, who would have never approved of his marrying a Lovegood. Bad enough that his father is all furry and drooly forever. He at least holds onto some hope for his mum."

"Somehow, I don't think he'll ever be happy there," Hermione said grimly. "He doesn't want to marry a 'perfect pureblood princess', but that is exactly what his mother will want and expect."

"He's already living with Harry and Sirius at Grimmauld Place," Luna remarked with a shrug. "I'm thinking he'll end up living the perpetual bachelor life right along with them and stealing cable service from his Muggle neighbors."

Hermione sighed. "Even my serpentlets have given up on Harry. They all say his fate is far too frazzled to read."

"Do you ever try to read it?"

"No," Hermione said firmly. "There are some things you don't want to know about your friends. My serpentlets have no boundaries or shame, but I at least try to keep my snout out of his private business. Now, if he could stop dreaming about sausages and beer kegs, that would be really great."

Luna chuckled. "There are worse things to dream of."

"Yes, he could be dreaming like Sirius Black," Hermione said darkly, her face twisting into a scowl. "I wonder why he hasn't been struck down with lightning yet."

"Knowing Mr Black it probably involves some random food fetish and Rosmerta tending the bar in her starkers," Luna snarked.

Hermione eyed Luna somewhat suspiciously.

"No way," Luna laughed.

Hermione's eyebrow twitched.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Luna apologised.

"I find I much prefer Alastor's dreams," Hermione said. "He dreams of beautiful, peaceful seashores and cool saltwater breezes."

Luna nodded in fervent agreement. "Much better."

"Man needs to find himself a nice, Jötunn female and settle down," Minerva offered sagely.

"Isn't that your answer for everything nowadays?"

"Worked out well for me, lassie," Minerva said with a saucy wink.

"I dunno, I am thinking a Jötunn male would be much more my style," Luna said casually, peering off to the cluster of young hunters. Some of them seemed to gain a little more enthusiasm for their hunting upon hearing Luna's startling confession.

"Ahhh, lass," Minerva purred. "I think you might've just inspired the young, unmarried hunters to work harder."

"Something had to get them inspired," Laufey chuckled as he leaned down to give his wife a kiss before walking off to check on the hunters.

There was a yell and scramble as Loki suddenly hoisted up a very large frost-seal from the frozen waters. It was still struggling mightily, but Loki pulled it up and thrust his spear directly into the beast's heart swiftly to end its struggle. He roared his victory, slapping his chest, and the other hunters bowed to him in acknowledgement of his successful kill.

A grinning Loki looped a harness around the carcass and dragged it back towards where the ladies were sitting to observe the hunt, pleased and happy to have succeeded in not only making the traditional spear but making use of it quite successfully.

As per tradition, he skinned the seal right in front of them, stretching the hide out on a sturdy frame with its own sinew. The glistening, blue-grey hide still shimmered with the ocean's icy waters. He carved a generous slice of the blubber off the seal and knelt beside Hermione. "My mate, will you share with me of my first kill, that you may taste of my prowess?"

Hermione smiled at him, warm gold flashing across her eyes. She leaned in and took a large bite of his offering, making a big show of chewing it and savouring the rich flavour. "I acknowledge your prowess as a hunter, my mate. Our children shall never go hungry."

Seven little pairs of eager eyes peered at the carcass quite hungrily.

Hermione took her sabre-tooth knife and claw and began to carve into the carcass, separating the tastiest parts into seven neat piles. She then nodded to her hungry little vacuum cleaners, and they promptly descended upon the piles with gusto, making it all disappear. Hermione, in the meantime, cut deeper into the carcass in order to expose the guts, and she carefully separated out the intestines and the organs into separate piles, pulling out the bladder and other useful pieces. Loki then moved those piles to the growing communal pile, which the hunters would distribute according to the needs of the group at the end of the day.

The meat was always kept apart from the more succulent blubber, and since this day was about preserving the sealskin for tanning, the hides were immediately parted from the rich blubber.

She cleaned the length of the intestine with her fingers, cleaning it thoroughly. She stuffed the insides with key pieces of finely chopped organs and fat, using her hands to carefully knot braid them before casting them into the boiling pot on the fire. Then, even as the serpentlets were nosing around looking for more to eat, she lifted up the still meaty spine and set it down in front of them.

The serpentlets bristled with excitement, watching her closely to make sure she wasn't teasing them, and when she nodded to them, they pored over the bones, cleaning them down to the white.

"Your family approves of your kill, my mate," Hermione said with a warm smile. "And I approve of you."

Loki smiled at her, descending upon her mouth for a passionate kiss.

Even after feeding the serpentlets, there was plenty of food for many, many more meals, and Loki and Hermione worked together to bundle it up and preserve it for storage. The ice-seal, like most of Jötunheimr, had been a huge prize, fit for feeding full-sized Jötunn. Nothing would go to waste.

"You remembered the lessons well," Minerva said to Hermione, nodding her approval of the braided sausage cooking over the fire.

"Of course, Minerva," Hermione said with a nod. "I do not wish to embarrass my mate by being an awful preparer of his hunt." She winked at the elder Jötunn witch.

"You always were a most diligent student, Hermione," Minerva said fondly. "Soaking up all of the knowledge you could."

Hermione smiled.

Minerva stared at the heaping pile "demonstration" results that Laufey and Severus had brought back earlier in the day, showing the young hunters what was to be done. They both had, of course, brought back most impressive hauls, not that anyone was doubting either of them in the slightest. Ishea had proven a speedy and experienced butcher, polishing off the large task in mere minutes. She had eagerly taught them all of her time-saving tricks, sharing her wealth of knowledge with her well-known compassion.

Ishea had also taught Minerva and Hermione how to make a proper sabre-tooth knife as well as the claw tool for the skinning and butchering, guiding them on how to carve the runes to temper their strength as well as carve the handles. Luna had taken to the lessons with enthusiasm, and Hermione and Minerva had both noted exactly how interested certain young male Jötunn were in Luna's boundless enthusiasm.

As to prove this point, a Jötunn hunter named Eirik let out a victorious roar, slapping his broad chest with his fists after having speared his seal. The others seemed to look at him with a combination of congratulations and open envy. He had parked himself on one of the furthest parts of the flow, so it was taking him a fair bit of time to drag his prize back to the camp. The others hadn't been inactive as much as they had been unsuccessful in either the final blow or surprising the frost-seal. While no one was expected to be instantly successful, it was obvious that the success of others was giving some of the younger hunters delusions of a grand victory well beyond their skill level.

Some of the young hunters were not even of age yet, so it wasn't like they were there to impress a potential mate. Laufey had encouraged them to come because learning life skills was far from a bad thing at any age. All of the young hunters seemed quite keen on learning to hunt from their king while their own fathers were out on the floes somewhere else, probably lugging back their hunt to their own mates even as their sons learned to hunt from Laufey.

As Eirik hauled in his frost-seal, he grasped the egg-shard pendant around his neck to shrink his giant self down to a "human" size, lugging the seal without missing a beat. He then approached and dropped down to one knee beside Luna, his knife flashing as he carved a fresh piece of rich blubber from the carcass.

"My lady Luna," he rumbled warmly. "I have hunted the great frost-seal. Pray, will you be the first to partake of my successful hunt, that I might gain your approval?"

Hermione and Minerva exchanged significant glances, grinning from ear-to-ear.

Luna looked up at Eirik rather dreamily. "Well, you did catch an exceptionally fine specimen. And I would never wish to insult your hunting prowess."

The young Jötunn smiled, gently bringing the offering to her mouth, and Luna made it disappear, her eyes closing in pleasure as she savoured the rich flavour. "I believe your hunt is more than satisfactory," Luna announced formally. "I approve of your hunt, Eirik."

Eirik, clearly more than fascinated with the little blonde witch, decided to test his luck a bit further. "Would you do me the honour of butchering my kill, Lady Luna?"

Luna tilted her head. "Oh, I suppose so. It's here, after all. And I would hate to see it go to waste. Oh, and I have a knife. That's a very good sign, yes?" Luna promptly went to work, tearing into the carcass like a seasoned professional, having obviously paid very close attention to the butchering that had occurred around her.

Eirik, in the meantime, was utterly fascinated, watching Luna work with rapt attention.

Hermione and Minerva noted the slumped shoulders of a few other Jötunn males who were still out on the floes, having not been oblivious to Luna's acceptance of Eirik's frost-seal carcass. Minerva winked at Hermione, mouthing, "The early bird gets the worm."

It took some time for Luna to finish, having most likely never carved a seal in her life, but when she was done there were many neat piles of meat, all arranged by size, shape, and colour. Minerva muttered something half under her breath about bloody showoff Ravenclaws, and Hermione just grinned from ear-to-ear. When Luna was done, she deftly carved a slice of the heart and held it between her fingers for Eirik. "I believe that this is the proper organ with which to offer?"

Eirik's bright ruby eyes glowed as he mouth closed over the offering, taking it straight from her fingers, his tongue licking across her fingers to relieve them of the random streaks of blood. Luna gave a soft moan of pure desire the moment Eirik's tongue worked its magic, and he immediately growled in response— utterly primal and wanting.

Witch and Jötunn came together almost immediately, not even bothering to notice that they had an audience. Luna's moans of pleasure only egged him on even more, and the pair were all over each other, hands, mouths, legs, and everything in between.

The serpentlets just stared, their tails twitching slightly.

"Oooo!"

"Well, that was quick!"

"Fastest courtship this side of Jötunheimr!"

"Don't mind us!"

"I don't think they mind anything."

"Do you think they'll—"

"Oh my."

"We should probably look away. Private time!"

The serpentlets resolutely turned away and rushed up to cuddle against their mother.

Ishea had a rather amused look on her face that seemed to be the universal expression of, "Ahhh, impetuous youth."

Ishea pulled out a tin of ice-paste and drew it across the glowing markings that were quickly taking over Luna's increasingly exposed body. "As elder, I do witness your union. May the ice sing your children to sleep, that they may never know loneliness."

"I, Minerva, do witness your union," Minerva said with an amused intake of breath. "May the frosts favour you eternally, blessing your family with its gentle kiss."

"I, Laufey, do witness your union," Laufey said, leaning on his spear. "May the winter's chill temper your emotions so that the heat of anger can never melt the bonds of love that you share."

Laufey looked quite smug. "I'm going to have to start having everyone of age carry jars of bonding paint with them just in case they happen to witness spontaneous acts of consummation."

Hermione leaned over and tossed an egg-shard necklace over Luna's neck.

Luna let out an ecstatic scream of pleasure as her lover brought her to the edge and hurled her shrieking over the precipice. She let out a low moan of satisfaction as Eirik pulled her up into a sitting position and drew a fur stole around her shoulders. Luna's now-crimson eyes were half-lidded in obvious lust, and her breathing was heavy. Her blue skin was light, the colour of an American robin's egg.

"Again please," Luna murmured. "That was most excellent."

Eirik gave her a broad grin, scooped her up, and carried her off to a nearby ice cave.

Hermione and Loki exchanged glances. "And you think I'm brazen?" Loki asked both eyebrows rising high into his hair.

"Oh, you are most definitely brazen, lover," Hermione informed him with a teasing smile.

Loki playfully stuck his tongue out at her, the forked tip flicking lightly against the tip of her nose.

"Draco is going to lock himself up in his bedroom with that new Shih Tzu puppy of his and not come out for an entire month," Hermione sighed.

"He's had more than enough time to claim Luna like he meant it," Loki pointed out fairly. "This is obviously what she wanted."

"To be taken in front of an audience?"

"Living the dream?" Loki asked quite innocently.

"LOKI!" Hermione spluttered.

"Hmmmmm, want to try it out?" Loki asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

A low, sensuous moan came echoing from across the floes, and Laufey swiftly turned his head to gaze off into the distance. "Hrm, it seems we are not quite done with witnessing spontaneous unions today, my friends. Let's go."

Laufey, Minerva, and Ishea all stood and walked out onto the floes towards the moaning in question.

"Who knew Jötunn biology could be this exciting?" Loki said with a wicked grin.

"I find I'm suddenly glad that there aren't too many Asgardians here at this particular moment," Hermione speculated. "I have a feeling that all of those odd, misguided rumours of Jötunn taking over the Nine Realms by mating with anything that moves might raise their ugly heads once more and practically beg to be smashed back down."

Loki just shrugged. "It will take time to whittle down all of the old, ingrained prejudices, my love. Remember, they are many, many thousands of years in the making."

Hermione looked over his shoulder and smiled.

"What are you up to, lover?" Loki asked, knowing that smile all too well.

"Oh, nothing, just another empty, unused ice cave over there a ways."

Loki turned to count serpentlets, and found them all dogpiled on top of each other, sound asleep by the fire. He turned back to Hermione. "How long do you think a large meal of seal will keep them peacefully digesting?"

Hermione grinned. "Long enough."

Loki hummed appreciatively, pulling his mate close and breathing huskily in her ear. "I am nothing if not an opportunistic creature."

Hermione hummed, snuggling into his chest. "And that's why I love you."

"Do you?"

"Oh, I most definitely do."

Loki purred into her ear, his tongue darting out and wriggling in just so.

Hermione and Loki promptly disappeared in a stunning blur of motion, leaving the serpentlets all snoring softly under a warm seal hide.

By the time Laufey, Minerva, and Ishea made their way back to the camp, they found seven snoozing serpentlets curled up in oblivious balls of food coma and the camp suspiciously missing both Loki and Hermione. A flushed, sheepish-looking, blue-skinned Theodore Nott walked side-by-side with a very pretty female Jötunn, Kelda, with whom he had been spending quite a bit of time with since the grand opening of the Asgardian Brothers Brewery.

"Might as well sit down and wait for them to find out," Laufey said with a rather smug smile on his face. "I have a feeling that if you don't, you may just find yourself sleeping under the ice instead of over it."

Theo swallowed hard and sat down by the fire, pulling Kelda over to sit next to him.

Severus returned shortly after, a chain of younger Jötunn hunters working together to drag another very large seal in. "Care to share anything else with the class, Mr Nott?"

Theo flushed a startling shade of purple, trying to meld himself with the snow by sheer force of will. "No, I'm… good."

Kelda purred into Theo's ear, "You most certainly are."

Theo started breathing a bit heavily, becoming all-too-interested all over again.

Severus smacked him swiftly upside the head with his open palm. "I look forward to seeing you in my basic fatherhood skills class tomorrow morning, Mr Nott. Seeing as you have successfully made the transformation, that means you have already successfully impregnated your new mate. Congratulations."

Theo's jaw hit the ground shortly before he sagged into it himself, falling unconscious right there on the ice.

Severus peered over at Theo's unconscious body. "Too soon?"

A/N: Heh. Heh. Heh. Jötunn population baby boomer era has now been activated!