I'mmm baaa~aack! Hello lovelies! Thank you all so much for sticking with this fic through my long absence.

My very, VERY long absence.

Not gonna make many excuses. The short version is that I lost my inspiration and simultaneously got very busy with real life. But I am writing again, and happy to be here!

I've got this chapter and one other for you guys that I'll be posting in the next couple of days. No promises on timeline for the one after that bc I am bad at keeping my promises where this fic is concerned.

I love you all so much, please, Enjoy.

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Three days.

He waited three days, anxious, brooding. Odin was going over the final copy of the treaty with his advisors before it was to be taken to Muspelheim and Jotunheim so he had nothing to do but wait. Loki didn't send a guard for him like he normally did when he'd not given Harry a time for them to meet next. He asked after him, but the guards told him the god was behaving no differently than normal; which could be true, or could just mean that he'd put up some illusions to hide the truth from them (and he still hadn't asked him why the cell didn't restrict his magic use). So he didn't know if Loki raged, or cried, or- did anything, really.

And of course, the wizard had told him that it would always be up to him when they met. The only times he had come to the dungeons unannounced had been after leaving Asgard, and then only because the Trickster had told him to always come once he was able after he'd returned. So of course he couldn't just go down and check on him, not without breaking his word, and he'd specifically asked to be left alone so-

So Harry worried himself sick for three days, and then decided he needed a distraction, and then, of course, he remembered his promise. He'd meant to wait until the treaty had been finalized and put into effect before he kept it, but with nothing better to do-

The whole thing was probably a terrible idea really.

Or rather, them having an impromptu audience was probably a terrible idea.

He hadn't meant for that to happen. But he'd wanted a space to duel the twins, and had asked Odin (still wary around the God-King, but the anger was fizzling), who had calmly just led him to the usual training grounds instead of any private space and ordered everyone to clear out, and of course instead of just leaving, most everyone had gone up to the pathways on the walls around it- And now Harry found himself facing the twins, with Odin, Thor, Sif, the Warriors Three and a number of others who'd been training, all looking down on them curiously, watching.

His tail twitched behind him nervously for a moment, and then he shook his head. Fuck it all. He itched for a fight that wasn't weighed down with stress and some sort of goal, and which didn't carry the possibility of some sort of bloodshed (well, not much bloodshed). Let them watch, he didn't give a shit.

... Muhammad was becoming a terrible influence on him. Or rather, he always had been but only recently had Harry realized how much he'd let himself be influenced. That should probably bother him more than it did.

"Right." He mumbled to himself, shaking his head again. He looked up at his brothers. "Hope you two are ready for this." He warned, teeth bared in a feral grin and mischief dancing in his eyes. He could already feel himself getting excited about this. The redheads looked at each other nervously. They were dressed in Asgardian clothes, and he'd been surprised, after the first time he'd seen them that way, to realize just how much these clothes suited them. Leathery trousers and green tunics held close to their bodies with leather belts that were thick enough to cover nearly their entire abdomens, with straps of the same material wrapped like bracers around their forearms to hold the sleeves in place. They had boots too, a darker material than the rest of the leather, tucked under their trouser legs. He absently noted that their hair had grown out, Fred's marginally more so than George's. They'd gotten a little darker as well. Their skin was too fair for either of them to get a proper tan like himself (he was nearly as dark as Moo these days, will all his training sessions here out under the sun), but they weren't quite as pale. They looked a lot like Bill, and he wondered if either of them would cut their hair, or grow it out further and tie it back.

Asgard... Looked good on them. It was a strange thought, but one that lingered.

They were looking at each other, having one of their silent conversations. George looked as excited as he was, confident in posture. Fred looked a little anxious, his shoulders tense. George grinned at his brother and tilted his head, and for a moment his twin looked hesitant. Then Fred nodded, grinning back, and they both drew their wands and turned to him with looks on their faces like when they were about to prank someone. He grumbled internally at the sight of the sticks. He might need to see about introducing them to Mahdi...

"We're ready little brother." He nodded, and then looked up thoughtfully. May as well make use of their audience.

"Thor!"

"Aye!" The god of thunder was leaning forward over the wall, expression bright. He and the others looked like Mrs. Figg's cats when someone had food on hand, all big-eyed and crowded together.

"Could you count down from five please?"

"Of course my friend! Five!" Harry bent his legs a little, and, to his surprise, the twins started moving apart. "Four!" He watched them, curious. He'd expected them to remain close. "Three!" Instead it looked like they were spreading out, trying to give him an opponent on either side. "Two!" His grin widened and he felt almost like it would split his face. Oh, this was going to be so much fun- "ONE!" He leapt bodily towards Fred immediately, deciding he'd go for the less dominant of the two, and George cut in.

"Ignis!" Golden sparks arced towards him like lightning, and he ducked under them, feeling the warmth at the back of his neck. He twisted in a circle.

"Amnis flagello!" Water shot from his hand like a whip, flaring out and snapping into George's chest. It knocked him backwards and continued in a flick toward Fred, who dove into a roll and came back up with a wordless red spell flaring from his wand like an explosion. It smelt like ash, familiar enough for him to recognize it as an advanced stunner. He was surprised at that. George was the better of the two at defensive and offensive spells. He turned and ducked, letting it splash harmlessly against the back of his armor (he'd discovered the hard way that the armor wasn't as impressive as Blaise and Luna had once made it out to be, or rather, that the advanced magic and opponents he often found himself facing were too strong for it to stop as much as it was meant to, but a stunner it could handle).

"Sabulo!" He snapped across the ground on all fours, managing to get out of the way in time to not be caught in the pit of quicksand George's transfiguration had turned the solid dirt floor into. He zigzagged, dogging out of the way of several spells sent by the redheads and making his way in a circle around them, pushing them towards each other. He'd thought before the fight that separating them would work in his favor, but now he thought the opposite might be better. They would be easier to keep track of if they were closer together.

"Stupefy!" Oh shit, scratch that. Their combined stunner left a small crater where it hit the ground just near his tail. They both looked a little stunned themselves at the power they'd managed casting in tandem and he used their distraction as an opportunity to duck in close to them. He grabbed Fred by the arm and twisted, spinning him around and kicking him forwards, his tail lashing out behind him and hamstringing his other brother, then twisting around his leg and dragging him across the dirt. He leapt away, looking back at the bewildered twins sprawled across the ground and laughed.

He was having so much fun playing with them.

Fred growled and sent something bright yellow his way that he ducked under harmlessly. It hit one of the walls and splinters of rocks came off. He dashed away, flicking a wrist at the debris as he did so, and the splinters broke into smaller shards and rushed at the redheads in a cloud of grey. George transfigured them into water and the two were soaked by a gentle rain. He darted in close, touching a wet spot on the ground, and ice spread towards them from it as he jumped away again. Fred vanished the ice, and Harry resumed his mad dash around the training ground while they fired spells at him, some verbally and some not.

He was trying to use his spells and magic creatively, like Moody had told him to, and it was easier to do so in a battle against opponents like George and Fred. The two of them weren't as dangerous as some people he'd faced, and while some of the spells they sent his way were dangerous, none were lethal. There was nothing at stake, and they were slower than Moody or Sif, so he could afford to take the time to think about what he was doing. In a real fight most of his spells were relatively basic offensive and defensive spells. Magic designed to simply cut or break or explode. Maiming and killing spells. They were the spells quickest to fall from his lips and his hands when he wasn't able to think and had to react on instinct; because he usually did fight on instinct.

It was also interesting to watch the way they both incorporated their strengths in battle. George excelled at the same offensive spells that came naturally to Harry, and he certainly put them to use, but he also wielded transfiguration spells with the same ease, using the space around him to his advantage with the sand, the water, and once as he turned loose dirt into needles and Fred sent them flying at him. Fred, for his part, was not as good as his brother when it came to practical offense, but he knew a bit, and he had a powerful knack for shield charms that caught the animagus off guard a time or two. His charm work was where he excelled, and he made liberal use of vanishing charms, banishments, summonings, flying charms, and other such magic.

Those moments when they managed to cast in tandem, always seemingly on accident as their thought processes ran close enough for them both to go for the same spell at once, had fantastic results. The spells were few, but noticeably more powerful than anything they managed separately. With some training, they could make a devastating pair in a real battle.

That thought spawned another. Had the twins ever even received any sort of proper dueling training outside of classes and the defense association?

... He might need to rectify that.

Conjured birds sent the pair's way distracted them. George turned them into colorful confetti and Fred blew the sparkling bits of paper out of their line of sight, but he was already up close. He slammed into Fred to knock him down, and then turned to the other. With a muttered charm of his own and a swing of his tail the redhead's tunic was growing and twisting tight around him in bindings and his wand had been slapped out of his hand, sent rolling across the ground. George stumbled, off-balance, and fell with a grunt, and Harry turned-

"Terra dens!" And jumped and ran as spikes of earth shot out of the ground beneath his feet. Fred had recovered from his fall quickly, and Harry was more surprised than he should have been to see George's wand in his hand. He should have known they were in-tune with each other enough to use one another's wands, but he hadn't even thought of it. The spikes kept up, forming a short wall around the two. He paused several feet away, waiting and curious to see what they would do next. They were fun to duel, and he was honestly enjoying himself, a wild grin overtaking his face.

Colorful lights danced beyond the tips of the earthen spikes, and he cocked his head. A moment later several dozen spheres of brightly-colored light shot out and came down around the area like bombs. He slammed a hand down, mimicking Fred's spike spell, and created a small half-dome of packed dirt to duck under, weaving a protective shield around himself for good measure. The little balls of light rained down... And exploded into globs of paint where they hit the ground. He grinned, watching a few of them hit away from him, one splattering close enough to splash against his shield but not penetrating it, another hitting the little half-cave he'd made himself almost dead on.

He watched, and very carefully gathered his magic. It wasn't the sort of spell he'd have time for in a real fight, probably, but he had time just then. It was also a taxing spell, dangerous to use in a fight where he would still have enemies after, but he had magic to spare and he could use it here. So he gathered his magic, letting it swirl and build, and then, just as the magical paintballs stopped, he let it go.

"Novadnein!" Water appeared, swirling and rushing from his hands and outwards like a firehose. It cleared away the paint and hit the wall and rushed back in a stream, towards the twins. He could hear murmured curses, and he kept it up a moment-

And frowned. It was... not half as taxing as he knew it was supposed to be. He kept it up longer than he had planned, letting it flood the training ground by a couple feet, though that wouldn't last. There were open entryways the water would escape from easily enough. Then he stopped it and let its' current pull him away from his hidey-hole, twisting through the water like a snake.

The twins had turned their spikes into a platform, and were atop it, standing back-to-back and safe from the water. It was rushing too fast for them to be able to see him just then, so he swam in close and slammed a palm into the platform, a wordless bombarda-esque spell at his fingertips. He felt them be thrown off as their ground was made unstable more than he actually saw it, and a moment later the water had gone down enough for him to push himself up to his feet. Then it receded fully, drifting out the openings and sinking into the earth, turning most all of the training grounds into a pit of mud.

Fred and George had clung to each other so as not to be separated, and he commended them mentally for managing to both do that and keep a hold on their wands. They were sprawled in the mud coughing and spluttering. Then they saw him and George transfigured some of the mud around them into something that looked like feathers, and Fred sent them careening at him. When he dodged they lodged into the mud where he'd been standing like knives.

The water spell had been good, but the unintended side-effect of the mud made the ground harder to move quickly across. It was more of a hindrance for himself than for them, because his way of fighting relied more on mobility than theirs. It took twice as much effort to move half as quickly, and he growled to himself, annoyed at his lack of foresight.

Well then. It was time to end things, he supposed, before they were able to take advantage.

He twisted his fingers, sending globs of mud careening at them, and pulled out his retractable spear even as the pair banished the mud away from themselves. Then he went in close, too quick for them to react. A twist of his arm one way had the spear slamming into the back of George's shoulders like a baseball bat, and then another twist and an underhanded swing got Fred in the legs. In a matter of moments he had them bound and their wands in his hands, and he stood between where they were both on the ground and grinned at them.

A cheer went up and he jumped, startled. He'd honestly forgotten all about their audience. The Asgardian warriors were clapping and whooping, altogether more enthusiastic about the end of their fight than he would ever have expected them to be, given the magic use. He blinked at them. Thor waved a victorious fist at him, Odin rubbing his beard with a smile at his side. Volstagg was hollering and Sif-

She looked... Thoughtful.

He turned away, and set about freeing the redheads from their bindings and getting them on their feet. Both groaned and rubbed at sore spots.

"Bloody hell."

"Could you have been a bit gentler, little brother?"

"Well if I had been then you wouldn't have learned your lesson." They both grimaced, and he handed them back their wands. "We've got a lot of work to do. You two both think well on your feet but you're not experienced enough. You need to be trained, and we need to either get you different foci or you need to learn to keep hold of your wands better." Fred whined and dropped his shoulders, and George groaned again. He ignored them. "Come on, help me dry up all this mud and set the training grounds to rights." The twins sighed, but dutifully lifted their wands to help him repair the damage that had been done. By the time the ground had been fixed up, the damage to some of the walls repaired, and the puddles all properly vanished away, the various Aesir had made their way back down.

"Well!" Fandral grinned at them. "That's not quite what I expected for a battle of seidr." Harry raised a brow.

"And what did you expect?" He shrugged.

"More illusions, more-" he waved a hand. "Well. Not something so straightforward." The animagus frowned.

"What?"

"What he means," Sif started, standing with her arms crossed and that same thoughtful look on her face. "Is that he expected you all to fight more like Loki." His brows scrunched together. He had fought Loki like that, and the god had fought him back in the same way... Well, not exactly like that. They hadn't used anything fancy or showy (he and the twins had been playing more than fighting), and all their spells had been designed to hurt each other rather than anything to affect the environment so much, but that was also because it had been more serious than a spar, and too fast-paced. Still... Sif tilted her head forwards. "Loki uses his magic to make himself appear to be in different places, or in more than one, and then sneaks upon his enemy's back like a coward." His shoulders tensed with a desire to defend the Jotun, but he held his tongue, waiting to see what else she had to say. "He teleports himself from one place to another, shields himself from attack and makes himself invisible. I have seen him turn stones or clouds into animals and monsters that serve him, and he changes his own form at whim." Her lips turned down at this last bit and he leaned away from her a little. He felt his brothers crowd in behind him, and let his back rest against them. He felt uncomfortable.

"We have magic like all that too though." She looked surprised at that. "We did use shields, but they're hard to maintain while still casting other spells, so we can only use them sparingly. Turning one thing into another isn't any different than what George did, although inanimate to animate transfiguration is very advanced." George nodded.

"I wish I could do something like that in a fight, but it takes too long."

"I hear McGonagall can." Fred commented, and his twin snorted.

"McGonagall is scary scary woman." Harry's lips twitched, and he continued.

"I can and have turned myself invisible in a fight," Technically only the one fight, although they'd used disillusionment charms during that debacle at the ministry. "when I needed to or it suited me, and teleportation, apparition, takes a lot of concentration. We use it mostly for travel purposes because it's very difficult to use in a fight. I could probably manage it if I trained myself to." And that was a thought worth considering. Being able to pop from one place to another to avoid blows and surprise your opponent? Now that would be useful. "The magic we use isn't different from the magic Loki uses, it's just weaker. Loki is much more powerful and skilled with his magic than the three of us."

"And the illusions?" Hogun asked, and Harry shrugged and put his hands together, making, with effort, the image of a round ball appear.

"They're difficult. It's not a type of magic we're taught much of, so I've only just begun learning how to do it. It takes way too much concentration for me to even consider using it in battle, but I would if I could."

"You would use such cowardly sorcery?" Fandral was frowning, and the moment gave Harry pause. There was something... This conversation felt very important all of a sudden. He noted that all the Asgardians were waiting for him to speak, listening intently, and he chose his words carefully.

"I don't think of such magic as being cowardly." He propped his spear against his shoulder. "When I fight, usually I'm fighting for something important. I fight to protect myself, and to protect the people who matter most to me. I fight for my family, for my friends, and for people who can't fight for themselves." Thor nodded with his words.

"Such as it is for us as well." Harry smiled.

"That's the way it is for most people..." He swallowed. "When I've got something or someone to protect, I'd do anything to do that, to keep myself and the people I love safe. If that means I've got to resort to underhanded tactics and cowardly maneuvers, if it means I have to be cruel or merciless, if it means I have to do something unpleasant, then so be it. Fighting honorably is all well and good (and I commend those who manage it), but if being a dishonorable bastard in a fight will keep me and mine breathing another day then honor be damned." His words were dangerous, with a group like this, with the way the Asgardians were, and they all looked startled.

... But they also looked thoughtful, rather than angry.

"You believe this is why Loki fights as he does?" Hogun asked, and several of the Aesir frowned in disbelief. He did, but-

"I didn't say that. I don't know why Loki fights that way, I can't speak for his motivations. I can only speak for myself. I can't do half the things that Loki can, because I haven't learned them or gained that kind of skill yet. I'm still something of a novice by comparison. But if I could do all the things he can, then I would. I would fight the way he does, would fight any way that I had to, to protect what I love, even if that upset those around me. Maybe it used to be the same for Loki, maybe he fights that way for other reasons, I don't know. I just know how I feel about it. For me, if something is important enough to fight for, to die for or to kill for, then it's worth giving everything for; worth using every trick up my sleeve and every dirty tactic, and every nasty bit of magic I know for. I'd rather use all I've got and be called a coward and a trickster and a liar and a monster than risk my family being hurt or killed because I didn't do everything in my power to keep them safe."

"Well said." It was Odin who spoke, and the other Aesir started, seemingly having forgotten their King's presence. Harry met his gaze. He was still unhappy with the Allfather but for a moment he was an ally. Like Harry, Odin was someone who would do anything for the people he loved, even terrible things. In this, as much as it sickened him, they were the same (and that of course made him wonder if he was more sickened at knowing what Odin was capable of, or at the thought that he might be capable of the same).

... And really, Harry hadn't been there. The smaller connotations and the emotions involved with the war against the Jotuns were lost to him. Had he been there, had he experienced what was happening then first-hand...

Would he have made the same decisions? Would he have been willing to order innocents killed to put an end to things?

A shiver went down his spine, his hair standing on end.

He didn't know the answer.

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He tried to retreat back to his quarters after that, saying his goodbyes to the warriors and Odin, but Sif put a hand on his arm and quietly asked him to come eat with her and the others. He followed her and the warriors with his brothers as matching shadows at his back, and Thor, who looked deep in thought, and found himself in a different set of private rooms. They were a little larger than his own, and grander, with nearly an entire wall on one side of the main common area being lined with open arches leading onto a wide balcony. There was a red cape slung over one of the benches at the long table, already laden with food, and he thought the rooms might be Thor's.

They all settled in at the table, the warriors chatting quietly to themselves while Volstagg set about getting himself food and Hogun poured drinks. They all got some food of their own, except Harry (who found himself with a plate anyways, that Fred sat in front of him with a pointed look), and then things fell quiet for a bit. He felt nervous and only picked at his fish, which was a shame because they didn't seem to serve much of it here for how close they lived to the ocean. Fandral, to no one's surprise, was the one to break the silence.

"So!" Harry glanced up at him. "You've been holding out on us." He grinned slyly at the animagus, who frowned.

"I beg your pardon?"

"He means," Sif looked at him. "that you fought with more skill today than any of us has ever seen from you in training." He blinked at her.

"I didn't think I should use magic duri-"

"It's not about the seidr." She huffed. "It's about the way you move. I had thought you were particularly strong and swift for a Midgardian, but I assumed both came from whatever power you attained as King of Niflheim. But you were quicker today than you have ever been in our spars, and you moved differently. You moved on all fours at times, and you used your tail as a third arm." She scowled at him. "When you were keeping your appearance secret, you were also holding back your true level of skill." She seemed more upset about him holding back than him keeping secrets, and he blinked at her. Hogun settled his crossed arms on the table next to her.

"You said that you wished to improve your skill in battle."

"I do. I have."

"But not as much as you would have been able to had you been working your hardest from the beginning." He had been working hard!

... Although it was true that he could have been doing better. How many times had he been forced to put too much of his attention into keeping himself from moving his tail or dropping down to his hands? How many spars had he lost as much because of a moment of distraction as Sif's superior skill? He grimaced, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck.

"Yes." He agreed, shoulders slumping. Hogun nodded and leaned back, seemingly satisfied that he had admitted it.

"And you were still holding back today!" Sif looked incensed, and he blinked dumbly at her. "Not as much as in your spars with me, but still!" He hadn't held back that much- at least not on a physical level. "I knew that something wasn't right in our fights, but I didn't realize what it was." She glared at him, and he ducked his head a little, anxiety curling in his belly. She'd never gotten mad at him before. She glared at him for several seconds, and he heard George growl at her, thankfully too low in pitch for any of the Aesir to hear. He kicked him. Thor came to his rescue.

"I am sure he did not mean-" She shot him a venomous look and he closed his mouth. Then she suddenly stood, turned away from them, and left, the large door closing with a heavy thud behind her. Harry flinched at the sound and looked down at his plate, his tail curling up against his leg. He felt like scum, but he didn't think he'd done anything worth that sort of anger on her part...

Had he?

He tried to look at it from her perspective, but... He hadn't been upset back when Moody would hold back against him, or Mahdi, when they were teaching him. He hadn't really been upset when Loki had done it during their fight either (and the sorts of magic they'd said he was capable of really brought it home just how much he'd been holding back). If anything, he'd been more upset with his own level of skill, and the vast chasm he could feel between their levels of ability.

But Sif was more skilled than him, holding back or no. Without his magic, he doubted he could come anywhere close to beating her, or any of the other Asgardians. With it he liked his chances much better. But still. It wasn't as though he was secretly better than her, so why was she so angry?

George wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and Fred around his back.

"You should challenge her to a spar." He blinked incredulously up at Volstagg.

"With as angry as she is right now?" The big man grinned at him.

"Of course. Challenge her and give it your all and give her a chance to beat you bloody; work off some aggression." He snorted, and the other men laughed.

"He's right though." Fandral told him. "You've offended her more than you know."

"I didn't mean to." He dipped his head in acknowledgement.

"I know, and Sif shouldn't be half as angry as she is, but we all have things we find especially upsetting, and this just happens to be one of hers. You haven't done anything so bad that you should need to apologize, but a good spar where you give it your all for once would be a good way to settle things." He nodded.

"Alright..."

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It may have been wiser to wait to take Fandral's advice until the next day, but no one had ever called Harry wise, so he excused himself after he was done picking at his food and went to find her. He didn't know where her quarters were or where she prefered to hang out when she wasn't training, but he figured the grounds were where she'd be, working off her aggression.

He found her there immediately, hacking viciously away at moving training dummies with her sword, the tense set of her body suggesting her temper hadn't cooled in the least, and he winced.

"Sif?" She sliced one of dummies clear in two and then turned to him. He just knew he was going to regret this and he hesitated, then cleared his throat. "Ah... Would you like to s-spar?" She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Will you fight me properly this time?" He nodded. "Fine then." She marched towards one of the empty sparring areas, leaving the dummies on pieces behind her, and he followed meekly.

This was going to be unpleasant.

She turned to face him at the end of the clear space, and drew her sword, motioning for him to do the same. He grimaced. Her reach was longer than his with a blade, and for a moment he felt a sliver of irritation work its way through him. He pulled his scimitar from its sheath. They almost never sparred with swords, although she often had him work through steps and motions with his blade while she corrected his mistakes, or used her own for demonstrations. They had established early on that he was a novice with it, and what little Mahdi had taught him had been done with the expectation that he would be using those moves against people who didn't use physical weaponry. After that she'd made it clear that the spear was an overall better choice for him than anything shorter, and focussed most of her attention on teaching him that. She often used a shorter spear herself when they sparred to make things more even between them.

Using blades, her prefered one longer than his on top of her longer reach, made it clear that this fight wasn't about being fair.

... But he just didn't understand what it was about. Why couldn't they have just sat down and talked about it?

He sighed a little internally, and readied himself. She stood across from him, watching him with sharp eyes and a mostly stoic expression that belied the rage he could see in the tense way she held her body. There was a beat of silence, and then she lunged.

He jumped back, knowing better than to hesitate with her, and brought up his sword. She lunged to the side and swung, and he side-stepped it and swung back. She blocked and pushed and he stepped back.

Stab. Deflect. Swing. Dodge.

She slashed, twisted her blade sharply and slashed again, and he ducked and slammed her legs with his tail. She fumbled, snarled and pushed after him.

He couldn't recall her ever moving so quickly against him, couldn't recall any spar between them being so fast-paced. He didn't have time to follow that train of thought. She swung again, he blocked and kicked out at her and she twisted to avoid it. Her next jab was quick. A viper-strike he could only partially avoid that left a shallow cut on his arm before he was after her, rolling and twisting around the side of her to stab out.

It went on like that for a while, his moves coming faster and more instinctive until that red-black started to creep into his vision and he'd forgotten who he was fighting. There was the elated rush of battle, of taking blood and seeing his own on another blade. Move, run, swipe, stab, block, dodge, parry.

He grinned.

"Harry." He flinched at Tom's voice, vision sharpening back to clarity and she used his hesitation, his distraction, to knock him on his ass and put her blade at his throat.

He blinked up at her rapidly, startled. It had seemed like a short fight, hadn't it? But she was sweaty and panting and covered in cuts; the pinkish hue of future bruises on her cheek and collar bone. The ache and pain of his own body hit him full force and he panted.

Had he- Had he done all that? But it hadn't been long had it?

What had- Did he? How long had they been fighting?

He swallowed heavily as she pulled away her sword and sheathed it. He laid there a moment, staring up at her in confusion, and she stared back at him, looking puzzled herself.

There was a moment of silence.

"Oh." Her soft exhalation came with a loosening of her expression and body. "I see. You are a berserker."

"What?" He frowned at her, and she only smiled, apparently amused, and held a hand out to him. He hesitated, but took it, and she pulled him up. For a long moment they stood there in silence, still holding hands, before she shook her head and pulled away with a sigh.

"That was well done." She told him, smiling. "You're a fierce opponent when you let yourself be." He blinked at her, cheeks pinking a little at the obvious pride in her voice. "Your control needs a little work, and we'll need to put you through more drills, until the motions for swordplay and spear-fighting come more naturally to you. But if you keep fighting like that, properly-" She smirked at him. "We might just make a warrior out of you yet." He grinned, still confused (and disconcerted by the loss of control), but happy she clearly wasn't mad at him anymore.

Even if he still didn't fully understand how he'd angered her so badly.

"Come," She tugged at his arm. "Let's get patched up and get some water, and then we can go over your training regimen from her forward."

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When he was finally able to go to his rooms that night, all he wanted was to rest. Sif had kept him occupied for nearly the entire day with drills and training, and the spar from earlier that day hadn't been an effortless thing either. He was exhausted.

So when he came to his room and found his bed already occupied, he was half tempted to turn around and walk right out.

It was Loki, and while Harry's first response to that was to ask how and when he'd gotten from his cell and why an alarm hadn't been sounded, he hesitated instead and looked him over.

Loki's hair was a bit wilder than usual, his clothes rumpled, and there was a redness around his eyes. He wasn't crying, but he had been, and very recently. He looked tired and worn down, and he was curled up tight on the bed with the covers pushed down, watching the animagus almost warily; as though he expected to be thrown out.

So he sighed instead of demanding answers like he should, and instead shut the door behind him, kicked off his boots, and went about preparing himself for bed. Loki watched him silently as he moved, which should have bothered him but didn't. He crawled in behind the Liesmith on the bed, and then hesitated.

Touch was-

It was a thing, for Harry. It had taken him a long time to notice, but once he did he was fully capable of recognizing that he was much more tactile than the average person was. Most young men weren't as comfortable with hugs as he was, or with sleeping curled up against another person (entirely platonically), or the many casual everyday touches he shared with his brothers and friends. He hadn't really noticed it about himself until recently, and he didn't know if it was a natural part of himself he didn't get to explore when he was younger, or something connected to the Mishipeshu within him.

But it was a thing.

And it occurred to him now, that he and Loki had never touched after those first fights in New York. All their interactions, all their friendship, had happened and developed with a thick pane of glass between him.

So.

For him, when he was upset, the best relief in the world was sleeping sandwiched between his brothers, or lying curled up with Muhammad. Touch was a comfort thing for him, so it was also his natural instinct to reach out when someone else (someone he cared about at least) needed comfort.

But he also knew that not everyone was comfortable with that. Both Bruce and his father had been skittish about touch in the beginning, and had simply adjusted to his ways over time, but there were other people in the world who didn't like touch much at all. He didn't know if Loki was one of those people. He didn't know if reaching out would hurt him or make him uncomfortable, or if he would reject it.

He hesitated, and then he decided to take the chance, and slowly reached out to lay a hand on Loki's back. It was all he did at first, and the god tensed up. He waited a beat, and as he thought he should pull away, Loki relaxed.

It happened slowly, tension leaking out of his frame in small but steadily amounts. Harry ran a hand down his back a little, and then reached out with the other and pulled.

By the time they settled, Harry plastered to his back with his arms around him, tail curled up along the taller man's knees, Loki was boneless.

"I left an illusion in my cell." He nodded against the god's shoulder, and relaxed.

Questions could wait for morning. He was too tired for them right now. So instead of asking all the things he should have, he instead closed his eyes, sighed, and let himself drift off.

There would be a lot of questions in the morning.

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When he awoke, it was to the smell of mint and pine, and to find his face buried in soft black curls. He stretched a little, uncurling, and found that at some point in the night Loki had shifted genders again, and the twins had joined them.

George was snoring softly behind him, one arm wrapped snugly around Harry's middle, and Fred was on Loki's other side, arms crossed over his neck and one leg thrown haphazardly over hers.

Loki herself was awake, blinking slowly at the animagus and looking quite comfortable. He smiled at her and she smiled tentatively back, whispering when she spoke so as not to awake the others.

"This happens often, I presume?" He shrugged.

"Sometimes. It's a big bed. There's space enough for it." It really was. The bed in his chambers fit the four of them comfortably, and there was still room for one or two more. She huffed a little.

"Thor and I used to do this as children. Our rooms were next to each others, and there was a time when we shared a bed more often than not. I can't recall when we grew out of it." She looked a bit sad, and he ran a hand over her hair in comfort, taking care with his claws. She closed her eyes and sighed, and he could feel the pulse of magic under her skin just before she shifted to her male form.

"Has that cell ever been able to hold you?" He asked, needing the answer and hoping it could also serve as a distraction for him from the memories. The trickster grinned at him then, melancholy gone, and this close he could see the Liesmith's teeth were sharper than a human's.

"No." He admitted. "The cells for seidmenn are individually designed, uniquely built by Odin himself to match each particular mage he chooses to imprison." He snorted. "I've been careful over the years to never reveal the whole of my power. That cell is catered to the nature of my magic, true enough, but it's never been sufficient to suppress the full strength of it. I've led him to believe it was enough to keep my magic contained to within the cell, and weak enough not to escape, if not as much as it was meant."

"But that's not the case."

"No." He hummed.

"So you could have gotten out all this time?" Loki nodded, and he sighed. "I'd suspected as much, but it's something else to have it confirmed."

"Why didn't you?" They both jolted at the unexpected input, and Fred chuckled softly at them, cuddling into Loki's back and repeating his question.

There was a pause, the god looking tensely over his shoulder with an unreadable expression. Fred nuzzled his shoulder affectionately in a gesture reminiscent of his behaviour as a wolf, and Loki relaxed.

"I've left my cell a few times, just not the palace grounds." He looked sideways at Harry. "I saw the three of you fight yesterday. I heard your words." He frowned a little. "I've never seen Aesir look at a mage with the same level of respect they offered you." Harry grimaced, unsure how to respond. While it was good that they respected him, that soft commentary also highlighted the lack of respect they held for Loki himself.

"It is not a bad thing." The trickster told him gently. "I don't think you realize how much you are changing things here; all of you." The arm around the animagus tightened, George clearly awake now too. "You and I are so similar in some ways, though so very different in others. They've always condemned me for my magic and my preference for words over battle; for my differences to them. Yet they hold you in high esteem for those very same things." He smiled in a self-deprecating sort of way. "Part of me is jealous."

"Loki-"

"But most of me-" He paused, swallowing. "Most of me is pleased. All these centuries and they have never accepted me, and I learned to believe they never would. But they accept you. You and your scales, your words and secrets, your magic. It makes me hopeful; for Asgard's future, for my future in Asgard." Harry didn't quite know what to say to that, feeling more than a little humbled in the face of the gratitude he could see in Loki's expression.

"Maybe we can steal you away to Earth till they get their heads out of their arses." George cut in from over his shoulder, and the god threw his head back and laughed, utterly delighted.

"Oh!" Fred propped himself up on an arm to look at his twin. "Think of all the trouble we can get into together!" It was a frightening thought, but he looked excited.

"The pranks we could pull!"

"The products we could make!"

"I'm sure Loki has amazing ideas-"

"He's the god of chaos, I'm sure he-"

"We could introduce him to Lee-"

"He'd love him."

"So would Mum."

"Oh the heart attacks we could give her-"

"Maybe." Loki interrupted, looking happy in a way Harry had never seen on him; eyes warm and smile bright and unrestrained. Harry found himself thinking of mobile wards and spells, things to keep him hidden and safe even outside Asgard.

It probably wasn't all that feasible, with the troubled future waiting for them but-

Maybe, indeed.

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Some fun, some speeches, and some cuddles.

A damned good chapter, this was. It was a lot of fun to write, and I wish they all could be.

Sorry again my friends for the very long hiatus. I'm back now, and to be quite honest I don't know how often I'll be updating past the next chapter, but I'll try not to go MIA so long again if I can help it.

Moving on from that, I've realised a couple things about this fic recently, and as a result, we will soon begin to see some bigger departures from any measure of canon.

Teeth is simultaneously a crossover, AU, and a "for-want-of-a-nail" fic. There are things that are naturally different simply because it's a crossover, which is expected. There are things from canon which I have actively changed because I didn't like them, just felt like it, or was inspired, and other things which ended up different simply because of things I wrote in before more information was provided by newer movies (like the spiderman cameo- not mcu spiderman clearly bc little Tom Holland spidey would have been a little kiddo when "The Incident" occurred).

And then there are things which I set in motion by making changes, sometimes without even noticing the full extent. I realized this the other day with the scepter. By removing it from play, I've altered a lot of the Avenger's future, hence the soon-coming great departure.

I'm nervous and also just plain excited for it. I have so many ideas, and we'll see how it goes.

What do you think will be different?

See you all later, my fondest regards to you all.

Sincerely,

Mr. Hate