Work Text:
I burned down every bridge that I found
Now I limit myself to a six gun quota
I prayed down every feeling I felt
And I bottled them up till the well ran over
—Seether, Six Gun Quota
When the world reformed around him, and Tony opened his eyes, the three of them were back in his and Loki’s penthouse. Hel immediately broke away and started examining the main room with long graceful movements.
“I haven’t been out of Niflheim in ages,” she told them. “Midgard’s technology has come such a long way.”
“Most of what you see here isn’t exactly standard fare,” Loki said. “Stark is just ahead of the curve.”
Tony stepped out of his suit, trying not to put too much thought into the pride he heard in Loki’s voice as he showed Hel around the main room, walking her through some of Tony’s inventions, and introducing her to JARVIS.
“JARVIS?” Hel hummed thoughtfully.
“Yes ma’am? How can I be of assistance?”
“Oh! No, my apologies. Your name just sounds familiar, that’s all.”
“It’s an English name going back several hundreds of years. It is unsurprising that this isn’t the first time you’ve come across it.”
“Are you perchance named for Edwin Jarvis?”
Tony dropped his phone, halfway through calling Peter. “What?” Loki and Hel were both looking over at him. Loki looked concerned, while Hel just looked confused. Leaving his phone where it fell, Tony stumbled over and sat heavily on the couch. “You know Jarvis? My Jarvis?” He croaked.
Her expression turned apologetic. “Did you not realize?” Her hand clutched at her dress, over her heart. “The way he spoke of you, I assumed you knew he wasn’t deemed worthy of Valhalla—”
“Good,” Tony replied, more sharply than he intended. Loki took a moment to retrieve his phone before sitting down next to him. “He didn’t die in fucking battle. He was at home. Surrounded by people who loved him. The way any sane person would hope to go.”
It wasn’t until the words left his mouth that he recognized the insensitivity of them. Oh well, too late now. He wasn’t going to apologize, either. The knowing look Loki leveled at him told him that he hadn’t missed the hypocrisy of Tony’s statement, either.
But Hel didn’t look offended as she mulled over his statement. “Are you not gratified to know that he is doing well in the afterlife?”
Tony frowned and crossed his arms. His chest hurt, and he wished he could blame it on the Arc Reactor. “I don’t—didn’t—believe in an afterlife,” he admitted after a moment. “Not that I haven’t been listening to you, or that Loki hasn’t talked about it, but… Knowing that Jarvis is stuck somewhere? He deserves to rest.”
Loki gently extracted one of his hands, linking it with his own. “Does the knowledge that he’s free from illness and injury help any?”
Tony shrugged. He wasn’t sure if that helped or not. He had too many questions. “We should call Peter,” he said instead of allowing himself to be trapped by his fears and concerns.
He took his phone back from Loki and hit the call button. The sun had risen, but it looked it was still fairly early in the morning. The phone rang five times before the line was picked up with an out of breath, “Tony?”
“Hey, Peter. Listen, do you still have—”
“No! Wade, I am not saying that.”
Tony closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure why Wade was over there that early in the morning, and frankly, he didn’t think he wanted to know. “Is this a bad time?”
“Yes!” He could hear Wade call in the background.
“No, not at all. Sorry. Do I have what?”
“Remember those rocks Loki gave you for your birthday last year?”
“Yeah, of course! I use them as a keychain.”
“Of course you do.” He bowed his head. In Peter’s defense, it wasn’t like anyone but Loki had known that it was some sort of magical artifact. “Would you mind swinging by here for a minute, we need to borrow it.”
“Oh, sure, no problem.”
Loki pulled the phone away from him and turned on the speakerphone. “Peter, how would you feel about joining us on a mission.”
“Absolutely not,” Tony growled.
“I was gonna ask what sort of mission, but now I’m just going to say yes. Should we suit up before heading over?”
“We.” Tony sighed.
“We do have something of a limited timeframe, so that would be preferable, yes.”
He couldn’t quite make out what Wade was saying, but the tone of voice sounded like he was complaining. “We’ll be there in ten!” Peter told them before hanging up.
“Loki, this is going to be dangerous.” Tony snatched his phone back.
“I’ll make sure he stays safe. We need his assistance, Tony. He’s the only one who can use the key.”
“You must trust him a great deal, to weave the spell in such a way,” Hel said, sounding amused by their disagreement.
Loki nodded slowly. “He is a good man. There are very few I would trust with Fenrir's whereabouts.”
As they waited, Tony struggled to keep up with Loki and Hel’s conversation. Questioned burned in his mind, and without a proper distraction, they were hard to ignore. Jarvis talks about me? Hel knows him well enough to connect us so quickly? Is Miss Ana there too? A new thought clutched at his chest. Are my parents there?
He wasn't sure what qualified as “dying in battle”. He'd seen the footage of the Winter Soldier killing them. Did that count?
“Tony?” Loki's voice brought him back to the present. Loki nodded down at their joined hands. Tony's knuckles had turned white he'd been gripping so hard.
“Sorry,” he pulled his hand away, slowly opening and closing it, encouraging his circulation to return to normal.
“That's not…” Loki trailed off for a moment. “What's wrong?”
Tony hesitantly looked up at Hel. “I don't know if this is allowed but, can I ask about someone?”
Hel tilted her head to the side, “Of course. Why wouldn't you be allowed to ask?”
Tony shrugged. “I don't know how this stuff works,” he admitted. “Are my parents in Helheim? Howard and Maria Stark?”
He watched as Hel glanced over at Loki and waited to speak until he gave her a slight nod. “They are.”
Tony expected the same wave of grief that had passed over him at the knowledge that Jarvis was trapped in some weird form of the afterlife. Knowing still hurt, but the sting of it was nearly inconsequential in comparison. He hoped it was because it wasn't as much of a surprise rather than because he was a terrible son. Well, he already knew he was a terrible son.
“Huh,” was all he said.
“Misters Spider-Man and Deadpool are here, Sir. Shall I send them up?”
Tony jumped to his feet, glad for the distraction. “Yep! Thanks, JARVIS!”
When the elevator door opened, Peter was the first one out. “Okay, Mr. Stark, what's going—holy ff—” He made a choked off sound as he bit back a scream as he saw Hel.
“What the fuck are you?” Deadpool asked, looking the goddess up and down.
“Deadpool!” But Peter's admonishment was too high of a pitch to hold any real weight.
Hel was giggling at their reactions. Maybe she was used to it? “It's lovely to meet you both, you may call me Hel.”
“Hel?” Peter echoed.
“My daughter,” Loki said from his position of the couch.
“Really?!” Peter asked, all but ripping his mask off. He was across the room and holding his hand out to shake hers. “I didn't know Mr. Loki had any kids. It's so great to meet you! I'm Peter Parker.”
Deadpool, Tony noted, was rooted to the spot just outside the elevator. He looked wary. “Are you a god too? Er, goddess?” He asked after Peter shot him a look.
“I am,” she smiled. “That must make you Deadpool. What an interesting name.”
Deadpool crossed his arms. “It's not my… It's what I go by, sometimes.” He finally moved into the room, giving Hel a wide berth, and stopping behind Loki's seat on the couch.
“First Clint and now you?” He asked, obviously trying to play off his discomfort. “Who else has kids?”
Loki turned back to look at him, confusion written on his features. “Barton has children?”
“What's your mother like?” Peter asked, but seemed to immediately think better of the question. “Oh, sorry, that was rude and totally none of my business.”
But fuck if Tony wasn't also curious to hear the answer.
“Móðir was a Risi—a storm giant. Her name was Angrboða. I didn't know her all that well. Giants aren't known for being nurturing.”
That was interesting. He glanced over at Loki who was carefully not meeting anyone's eyes. Sure he could be aggressive, demanding, obnoxious, and egotistical. But just from the brief time Tony had watched his interactions with Hel, he could feel the deep well of love and care he felt for his daughter. Another point for nurture over nature, perhaps?
“Didn't you say we had a timeframe?” Deadpool interrupted. “What are we doing?”
“We,” Loki said, standing up. “Are going to break into Valhalla.”
“Break into… Isn't that like, heaven, or something?” Peter asked.
“The dead live there, but that's the end of the similarities,” Loki explained, and patiently answered Peter's follow-up questions, and broke down their intended mission.
“So why do we need Spidey’s keychain?” Deadpool asked.
“It's a key,” Loki said brightly as Peter held up the three bound stones. “In an ideal world, we would just pass through Asgard to get to Valhalla. But, as that's not possible, we're going to take the back entrance, past the Gjǫll river.”
“Tell me, Faðir, how are we to access the Bifrost?” Hel asked, clasping her hands together.
“We aren't,” Loki said. “Again, ideal world, sure. But since Thor didn't like my little plan, we have to do things the hard way.”
Tony frowned, not liking the sound of this. “What's the hard way, Loki?”
“We're going to use the Realm Between Realms,” he said with a grin.
Deadpool didn't even try to hide his displeasure at that idea. “I don't like that place,” he complained.
“No one's making you come along,” Tony pointed out.
Deadpool scoffed. “Like I'm gonna make Webs deal with this shit alone. Where he goes, I follow.”
Tony rolled his eyes as Peter flashed Deadpool a grin before pulling his mask back on.
Seemingly without communicating, Loki and Hel both took up positions on either side of Peter.
“Hold the Gjǫll up in front of you,” Loki instructed as he rested his hand on Peter's shoulder.
“Do you mind if I touch you?” Hel asked. She waited for Peter to tell her it was fine before placing her flesh hand on his other shoulder.
Tony hurried back into his suit before taking Hel’s outstretched hand. He watched Loki grab hold of Deadpool's wrist. He'd never admit it aloud, but it was nice to know he wasn't the only one to hate this form of travel, however convenient it might be.
“I won't let anything happen to you,” Loki promised Peter in a whisper. “But close your eyes if it'll help.”
Tony clenched his eyes closed and was glad that he didn't have to actually try to move for this. When actual minutes had passed Tony realized they had to be traveling an absurd distance.
“Is this almost over?” He heard Peter ask in a strained voice.
Before either Hel or Loki had time to answer Tony could feel solid ground beneath him again. “Oh thank God,” he gasped out. It was another moment before he opened his eyes to take in his surroundings. And then another to realize that the reason it was so dark was because they were in a cave.
By all rights, it should have been pitch black, as there were no discernable light sources. He flipped up the lights mounted on his shoulders, but the cave just swallowed the light before it could travel more than a foot. He turned them back off—no sense in wasting energy. Besides, he could still see. Everything was muted, or in shades of gray, but he could make out a winding river ahead of them. And more importantly, a giant breathing hill of fur positioned on an island of sorts in the very center of the river.
“Is that—?” Tony started, but Hel interrupted him.
“Fenfen!” She said in an excited voice.
“What’s a Fenfen?” Deadpool asked as they watched Loki stride towards the island.
As he neared, the shape began to stir. “Allow me to introduce,” Loki started in a voice that made Tony struggle not to roll his eyes, “The Vánagandr—The Monster of the River Ván .” The beast began to drag itself to its feet, thin golden cords digging into its legs as it moved, impeding its range of motion. Tony guessed it wasn’t thrilled at having company, given the deep growls emanating from it. “The Hróðvitnir,” fondness echoed in every syllable as Loki spoke. The giant wolf turned to face him, snarling, thick cords of drool fell from its bared fangs. “The god of wolves, battle, and vengeance.” Loki held his hands out, and with a snap of his fingers, the silken cords binding him to the stone fell away. “And my son. Fenrir Lokason.”
Now that he was able to stand properly, Tony realized that Fenrir was significantly bigger than Váli, his presence seeming to take up the entirety of the massive cave.
Fenrir’s growling stopped, and a confused expression replaced it. “Fa...ðir?” Fenrir spoke slowly, his voice rough from a lack of use. He moved closer with the utmost care, eyes darting around as though he expected this to be some sort of trap. It was only when Fenrir brushed his giant nose against Loki’s outstretched hand that he calmed. “Faðir,” he said softly, closing his eyes. “How are you here?” He wasted no time pressing his muzzle more fully against Loki, who ran his fingers through Fenrir’s thick fur.
“Even Odin couldn’t keep me away forever.”
Tony jumped slightly as Hel bounded forward, easily removing the distance between them in one fluid movement. “Fenfen!” She pressed herself against his front leg in a hug.
He heard a wet sniffle from his right. “Fuck. This is so sweet,” Deadpool said, his voice wavering.
Tony glanced over, “Are you crying?”
“So what if I am?” Deadpool challenged. He watched Peter gently pat Deadpool on the shoulder.
Tony enjoyed giving Deadpool a hard time, but it wasn’t like he didn’t understand. Watching Loki and his children reunite was incredibly touching.
He didn’t miss Peter tensing as Fenrir moved past his father and sister, coming over to investigate the humans. “Mortals?” He asked, his voice full of disdain.
“Friends of mine,” Loki assured him.
Fenrir seemed to recognize that Peter was struggling with his proximity, and left him be. He sniffed and eyed Deadpool with curiosity, his ears pressed forward, and his tail standing nearly straight up. “What’s wrong with you?”
Deadpool scoffed, “Rude,” he complained. “Nothing’s wrong with me.”
Fenrir cocked his head to the side as if he were listening for something. “You’re dying,” the wolf mused, “but not.” He glanced back at Loki. “What sort of magic is he?”
“It’s not magic,” Deadpool said. “I just heal really well.”
Even through the mask, Tony could see Peter’s anxiety in the way he held himself. He didn’t like to think about how Deadpool was constantly dying and regenerating—an endless cycle. Honestly, Tony didn’t like to think about it much, either.
Fenrir didn’t look convinced but he did pass by Deadpool to focus on Tony. He flipped up his facemask—it seemed rude not to look at him face-to-face.
He couldn’t help the high-pitched squeak that escaped his throat as Fenrir’s nose came inches from his body, the wolf’s hot breath covering him. Even in his armor, he didn’t come up to the fur on Fenrir’s chest when the wolf stood at full height. After a moment he pulled back, and Tony could see his tail wagging in slow broad sweeps.
He looked back to Loki and Hel, speaking in a deep guttural language that Tony couldn’t recognize, but that seemed to be almost all consonants. Although he couldn’t make out the words, he knew it was a question by the way his voice lilted at the end.
Loki replied in what sounded like the same language. Whatever he said brought a warm smile to Hel’s face, and Fenrir gave something of a nod.
“The gate to Valhalla is this way,” Hel said, pointing downstream.
As they traveled, Hel filled Fenrir in on the goings-on. He seemed to be as delighted as she had been at the news that Váli was alive.
“Were you guys talking about me?” Tony asked in a hushed voice when Loki fell into step next to him.
Loki hummed an affirmative. “Fenrir wanted to know why you smelled like me.”
Tony balked, and he heard Deadpool laugh behind them. “Do I?” He asked. “Fuck, because that’s the kind of first impression I want to make.” More than anything else, that knowledge just felt weird.
But Loki looked amused at his reaction. “Does it help knowing that I smell like you, as well?”
Tony shrugged. “I don’t know,” he sighed. “Maybe a little.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It did actually feel good to know that he’d marked Loki as much as the god had marked him.
“So,” Fenrir said as they reached a freestanding stone archway that stood in the center of the tunnel, “What’s the plan?”
“Hopefully we’ll get to Gullinkambi before Váli does,” Loki said.
“And if we’re too late?”
“We try to break the curse and save him.”
Fenrir’s ears pulled back flat against his head. “Why do you say “try”?” He asked.
“I wasn’t able to break the curse last time. I was,” he hesitated, “distracted. I didn’t have enough time to undo it.”
Hel was frowning, “And I panicked and stepped in before he had another chance.”
Tony blinked, “That was you panicking?” He couldn’t help but sound incredulous. “Panicked” was the last word he would have used to describe her as they dealt with the rooster.
“Well, you broke the curse when it hit me, right?” Peter asked. “So we just need to make sure you have time to do it again.”
“The spell Váli is casting on the roosters is much more powerful than the version you were struck with. But it is the same principle,” he conceded.
Once they were sure everyone understood the game plan, (which really, was: hope for the best, and if needed, try to hold Gullinkambi long enough for Loki to break the curse), they walked through the archway.
If someone had asked, Tony isn’t sure what he’d have said he’d been expecting after passing through the archway. It was not, however, to suddenly be standing outside at the edge of a cliff, miles and miles into the air. There was a narrow but solid-looking stone bridge that connected the cliff they stood on to the mountain on the other side of the canyon. Massive waterfalls flowed from every point besides their location and a landing on the other side with a pathway to the entrance of the... Castle? Hall? Palace? Tony wasn’t sure what to call it, but it was built into the side of the mountain. Great golden eagles circled lazily in the sky, and a tree with gold-red foliage grew to the right of the entryway.
“Wow, that’s far,” Deadpool said, moving to the edge of the cliff. Tony didn’t have to get closer to see that the ground wasn’t visible from this high up. All they could see were the whites of the clouds below them.
Peter didn’t get as close to the edge as Deadpool did when he held out his arm and shot out a web. It barely made it a third of the way across before it started to arc downwards and disappear into the clouds.
Startling all three of the humans, Fenrir leapt across the chasm with no discernable difficulty, landing smoothly on the other side. Before, Tony would have said that Fenrir was black. However, now that he could see him in proper light, his coat was instead a deep gray, with stray patches of white on his chest and tail.
While not startling, it was no less surprising when Hel managed the same feat with only a running start to bolster her.
“Please tell me we can use the bridge,” Peter pled desperately.
“Of course you can use the bridge,” Loki told them, “that’s what it’s there for.”
Deadpool let out a long breath. “That’s good because I don’t think I can jump quite that far.”
Tony really didn’t like this. He was usually able to ignore his discomfort—it wasn’t a fear, damn it—of heights, but not being able to hear the sounds of the waterfalls crashing to the ground, or see anything besides an endless expanse of white? That was disconcerting as hell.
“What would happen if I fell?” Deadpool asked, looking far too comfortable as he leaned over the edge of the bridge.
“Probably nothing good,” Peter said as he pulled Deadpool back towards the center of the path.
“I would recommend not trying to find out,” Loki chided him.
“Does that mean you don’t know?” Deadpool sounded curious.
“I don’t believe anyone has ever fallen from the bridge.”
“What?” Peter asked, disbelieving. “How could no one have ever fallen?”
“Guys,” Tony said, unable to quash the anxiety in his voice, “can we please stop talking about falling?”
Tony couldn’t think of a time he’d been more glad to be back on solid ground. Well, he could, but he preferred not to think of that time. Hel looked apologetically at them, but Fenrir looked more amused at their distress than anything else.
“So this is Valhalla?” Peter asked, awestruck at the sight. The entrance hall was held up with massive columns, and the ceiling was thatched with golden shields. JARVIS confirmed that in place of typical rafters, long golden spears gave the roof its structure.
Tony couldn’t place why, but he got the distinct impression that the hall extended infinitely. The smells of hundreds of different cuisines and the sounds of swords and shields clashing bordered on overwhelming, but somehow stayed manageable.
“Oh.” He looked over to watch Hel open her eye. “I had hoped we might find Narfi here, but…”
Loki stopped dead. “He's not here?"
She shook her head sadly. “Not here. Not in Niflheim.” She looked at Loki beseechingly, “What does that mean?”
Tony could all but feel Loki’s pain and confusion at her words. “I don’t know,” he admitted. Hel obviously hadn’t been the only one hoping to be reunited with Narfi, even if the circumstances were less than ideal.
Fenrir was sniffing at the air. “Váli has been here,” he informed them. “Been and gone.”
Loki swore. “Is everyone ready for a fight?”
Before anyone could answer, an arrow shot towards them, and Peter only narrowly avoided it with a yelp.
“I think the fight’s come to us.” Deadpool didn’t even try to hide his excitement.
Gullinkambi was possibly the most beautiful bird Tony had ever seen. Bright golden feathers covered its body, and he seemed to give off his own light. But it wasn’t the rooster who fired off the arrow. No, hundreds, if not thousands, of men and women had taken up arms and marched towards them alongside Gullinkambi.
Fenrir’s tail was back, nearly vibrating. Every bit of his fur stood on end, his hackles were raised, and he bared his teeth with a wild snarl. Deadpool was beside him in an instant, guns drawn.
“What’s happening?” Peter asked, surveying the walls and ceiling for the best vantage points.
“We’re fools,” Hel said. “Gullinkambi is active, and we brought Fenrir.”
“So?” Tony asked, trying to get an idea of just how many people were marching towards them, armed to the teeth.
“So, this is what they’ve been training for,” Loki explained. “To fight alongside Odin against Fenrir, during Ragnarok.”
“That’s a hell of a detail to overlook, Loki!” Tony growled. “So, what do we do?”
Loki summoned forth two balls of fire as he spoke, “We kill them.”
“We what?!” Peter squeaked as he threw himself into the air.
“They’ll be fine by tomorrow,” Hel said as Loki intercepted a volley of arrows with his flames.
“I second his “what?!” Tony exclaimed.
“I’ll explain later!” Loki snapped.
Fenrir and Deadpool had already rushed forward fangs tearing through people, and guns landing headshot after headshot, not wasting a single bullet.
Hel looked over and winked at Tony before joining the fray, pillars of fire and ice taking out great swaths of the dead. It was in that moment that Tony understood the stories that Loki had grown up hearing about Giants. The fervor and ferocity with which Hel and Fenrir battled was unlike anything he had ever seen. Fenrir looked positively giddy at the bloodshed. Judging from Deadpool’s peals of laughter, he too was right at home.
Tony knew, as he carefully shot down some of the people surrounding Gullinkambi, that if the goal hadn’t been to keep the rooster alive, Hel and Fenrir could have easily handled the situation on their own. He couldn’t help but wonder if Loki was capable of the same level of gratuitous violence, as opposed to his usual careful and precise movements.
Unlike everyone else, Peter was focusing on just webbing people up, steadfastly refusing to kill anyone, even with Hel’s reassurance that they would somehow be fine. Once Gullinkambi was near enough, he changed his target and started trying to impede its movement as well as he could.
Tony added his grappling chains to Peter’s webs, and the rooster went down. Probably not for long, but hopefully long enough.
“Peter, keep him down!” He ordered through the comms. “I’ve got crowd control.” And he did, blasting at those who got between Loki and the rooster, and—once Loki had his hands on it—any who came too close.
Through the comms, he heard Peter ask Karen to turn on his sense dampeners. He really couldn’t blame the kid. The screams and the smells of blood and other bodily fluids were starting to get to Tony as well, and he didn’t have enhanced senses like the kid.
“Are you okay?” He asked.
“I’m managing!” Peter was trying to sound reassuring. It didn’t quite work.
Thankfully Loki’s work on the curse didn’t take all that long. Tony turned back in time to see Gullinkambi laying there looking positively dazed.
The fighting dead didn’t seem concerned, though, and they had no problem continuing the battle, trying desperately to take down Fenrir and Hel.
He was so distracted by the encroaching army that it took him a solid minute before he recognized Loki’s slumped form and blue skin. “Loki!” He called out as he rushed to the god’s side.
“I’m okay,” Loki insisted, despite the fact that he couldn’t stand on his own. “Just… took a lot out of me.”
“No kidding.”
“Is Mr. Loki alright?” Peter asked through the comms.
“He’ll be fine,” Tony assured the panicking teenager.
With a final burst of magic from Hel, she left the rest of the fighting to Fenrir and Deadpool and made her way over to Tony and Loki. “What happened?” Her eye was wide, and Tony couldn’t quite place the expression she wore.
“Broke the spell,” Loki said with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes.
Gullinkambi let out a soft clucking noise and shifted under the chains and webbing. It looked confused if anything. Peter dropped to the ground and started pulling off its bindings. “I got ya’, Big Bird. You’re okay, now. Sorry about all this, but you weren’t yourself. You were going to hurt someone.” Peter spoke in a slow soothing manner as he freed it.
Hel joined him and gently ran her fingers over its feathers, seemingly back to her usual calm demeanor.
“He’s beautiful when he’s not trying to kill us,” Peter mused, earning a small laugh from Hel.
“He was beautiful even then.”
Tony got the impression that Peter disagreed, but he didn’t argue the point.
They snapped back to the battle when Deadpool’s yelling got louder and more creatively vulgar. Peter made a distressed sound as he noticed that Deadpool was fighting one-handed, having lost his left hand in the fight. He was swinging a katana wildly with his remaining limb.
Though Hel was still stroking Gullinkambi, Tony caught her gaze shifting between her brother and Loki. It seemed she was trying to steal the quickest glances possible, but it had the effect of just making her seem even more conspicuous about it.
“Should… should we stop them?” Peter asked. Tony could tell he was struggling to keep his voice even. Which was fair. Watching Deadpool and Fenrir mow through people was hard to watch.
“You can stop Deadpool if you want,” Loki said. “But they’ll keep coming until they either run out of fighters, or Fenrir has fallen.” At Peter’s dismayed noise, he continued, “Don’t worry. Fenrir won’t fall.”
And so they waited, Peter doing his best not to watch. The dead had no interest in them any longer and focused their attention on Fenrir. The giant wolf had no problem dispatching any who got close, and Deadpool was doing an admiral job backing him up. The speed and ease with which they’d begun to work in sync was staggering.
Tony had known that Deadpool had a penchant for violence. But even he had never imagined the absolute mirth that accompanied the brutality with which he slew the would-be attackers. His demeanor spoke of someone with no regard for human life.
With no sun or any other movement by which to glean the passage of time, Tony couldn’t begin to guess how long it took until there were no more dead aiming to try their hand and besting Fenrir.
Deadpool and Fenrir stumbled over to the group and collapsed on the ground. They both seemed dazed and giddy and absolutely covered in blood that wasn’t their own.
Peter dropped to his knees next to Deadpool. “Are you okay?”
Deadpool lifted up his stump of an arm, “Yeah. The bleeding has already stopped, see?”
Fenrir’s giant tongue lolled out the side of his mouth as he panted. “Shame about your hand.”
Deadpool shrugged, “No worries. It’ll grow back.”
“Excuse me?” Hel asked.
At the same time, Fenrir said, “It’ll what?”
“It’ll grow back,” Deadpool repeated. “Like I said, I heal really well.”
That got Fenrir’s attention. “Wait, so… If I bit off your head—”
“Fenrir!” Loki scolded.
Fenrir managed to look cowed, despite the fact that Loki looked like he could pass out at any moment.
“Wait, hang on,” Tony interjected. “I’ve wondered this for a while.”
“I think it depends,” Deadpool said, sounding excited to talk about it. Fenrir’s massive tail wagged, showing his own enthusiasm. “I’ve only been decapitated the once, though.”
“You’ve been decapitated?” Peter squeaked.
“Just the once!” Deadpool said, as if they made it any better. “Then they stuck my head back on my body, so it just kind of grew back together.”
Fenrir’s ears perked up, “So, what if we didn’t do that?”
“Well, my head was still awake, so… Maybe I’d just grow a whole new body?”
The wolf’s whole body was shaking from the strength of his wagging tail. “Can we find out?!”
“NO!” Peter and Loki said in unison.
“Hmph,” Deadpool huffed. “Maybe later,” he stage whispered, conspiratorially. It was only then that he actually looked around, assessing the state of his teammates. “Why are you blue?”
Loki tensed slightly. “Breaking that spell took a great deal more energy than I had expected.”
Deadpool sat up at that. “That’s not a fucking answer. We’re all goddamn exhausted, but no one else is suddenly a primary color!”
Now that he’d brought it up, Fenrir seemed to take that as permission to give Loki more than a cursory glance. His large dark eyes were fully staring, now. Hel’s glances became less furtive, but she still seemed uncertain if she should look.
Loki was too exhausted to skirt the question, and so he just explained. He told of learning about his ancestry on Jötunnheim, of confronting Odin about the truth. He talked about finding out he was the son of King Laufey, and how in a fit of despair he’d tried to commit genocide against his own species.
When he finished, Hel gazed down at her own skin-covered arm. “So, I didn’t get these markings from Móðir?” She asked quietly.
Loki nodded. “I’d always assumed that since the Risar were so closely descended from Ymir that…”
Hel nodded, kneeling down by Loki’s other side, and carefully leaned against him, a look of contentment on her face.
“So what now?” Fenrir asked after a moment.
“The good news,” Loki started, “is that we won’t have to deal with any more roosters. The bad news is, we no longer have any leads.”
Fenrir gave an annoyed groan.
“I think it’s fair to say that we need to rest and recuperate,” Hel suggested.
“Yeah,” Tony agreed, flexing the armor around his hand. “My suit could use some maintenance if nothing else.”
Fenrir pushed himself up so that his head and chest were off the ground. “Are we going to Midgard, then?” He asked.
“Have you ever been?” Peter asked.
“Nope!” Fenrir told them cheerfully. “But I’m always excited to see new places.”
The moment of rest and camaraderie was shattered by Gullinkambi gaining its feet and pecking at the fallen humans, pulling back and eating long strips of flesh.
“Oh, sweet brown baby Jesus,” Deadpool yelled, jumping to his feet.
“Don’t worry, they’ll be fine,” Loki insisted as Tony and Hel helped him to his feet.
“You guys keep saying that,” Tony said. “They’re dead, right? Double-dead, now?”
Loki shook his head. “Each night all who live in Valhalla are healed from any wounds, even death, so that they can continue training for battle the next day.”
Deadpool’s jovial banter died down after that revelation. Tony wasn’t sure why he would be bothered by that knowledge, but he definitely seemed to be. Still, the merc managed to keep a spring in his step as they headed back out of the Hall.
“How are we getting back home?” Tony asked. “You can barely stand, there’s no way you can teleport all of us.”
Fenrir huffed. “Hel and I are perfectly capable of transporting a few humans,” he growled.
“Sorry,” Tony said quickly. “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”
“Fen, be nice,” Hel chided, not unkindly. “He’s just worried about Faðir.”
Fenrir grunted. “Can you lead the way?” He asked her.
She rolled her eye, “Of course I can, silly wolf. Can you keep up?”
“How do they have so much energy?” Tony asked idly.
“They’re children, what do you expect?” Loki asked fondly.
“Before we go, one thing.” Tony held up a hand. Everyone looked at him. “So, um. A giant wolf and, well, you, Hel, are going to cause an absolute panic in New York,” he said carefully. “Plus, I don’t know if you’ll actually fit in the Tower.”
The two children, as Loki called them, just looked at him, before laughing. Great, being mocked was always fun.
“My apologies,” Hel said after a moment. “You raise valid concerns, Tony.”
“Whatever. He should be glad Faðir likes him,” Fenrir muttered. “He’s not all that bright.”
“Hey!”
“You’re the one who seems to think that Faðir wouldn’t have taught his children to shapeshift, after all,” Fenrir pointed out.
Tony blinked, glancing over at Loki for confirmation.
“What sort of parent would I be if I didn’t share what I knew?” Loki said with a warm smile.
Without any warning, Fenrir’s form changed between one long stride and the next. He stood before them in a close copy of Loki’s own armor, except in shades of gray and blue. His thick gray hair was cropped against his head, his lips pulled back in a feral grin. “Better?” He asked.
Hel’s skin darkened until it was a shade that could pass for human. Muscle and skin knit itself over her body. She didn’t replace her missing eye, nor did she hide the raised markings that identified her as a Jötunn. The siblings high-fived after Loki voiced his approval.
Disguises all set, the three gods lead the way back to Midgard so that they could figure out their next plan of attack.