Archive of Our Own

“Well, this is the happiest I’ve seen him in ages.”

“It’s also the warmest he’s been in ages.”

“True.”

It was the warmest any of them had been in ages, but any other day they might have recalled as a comparison would have been at a distinct disadvantage. First and foremost, the triplets had never been in Arizona, let alone during the summer.

Arizona was one of many stops they had made on what iron-dad had dubbed a ‘family vacation.’ It involved a lot of semi-transparent rules which all native Midgardians seemed to take for granted, and which they, their father and their uncle just had to accept as true and go along with. The basic concept was simple enough: an extended period of time taken away from one’s usual responsibilities, such as work or school. In their cases it also included some time away from tasks set upon them by Odin or general world saving - barring any major disasters. That was easy enough to understand, as was the additional detail that vacations typically included travelling away from home, taking the opportunity to visit far flung places and experience new things simply for the pleasure of it.

Every one of the triplets had lit up at the idea. It would give them time away from home, away from responsibilities, away from all those things which continually took up so much time of the people closest to them. Time they could spend with their fathers without any fear of them being called away.

But then ‘vacation’ had ‘family’ added to it, which also seemed a simple concept: a vacation one enjoyed with one’s family. While that did seem to be the main gist of the phrase, the term ‘family vacation’ also implied much more than it stated. All of which the human members of their family were glad enough to teach.

First, ‘family’ included everyone at the Mansion. The entire Avengers team had been dragged into the event. There had been no objections from anyone on the inclusion in general, just one or two very weak protests that there was too much work to do to justify taking time off. Those had been overruled quickly enough - even Director Fury had helped with that. JARVIS had been brought along as well, via an emergency suit and a few devices. Hela had one such on her wrist, keeping the near-live AI close.

‘Family vacation’ also seemed to mean that they had to travel by car, rather than by simply teleporting to where they wanted to go, or by using one of iron-dad’s planes. It seemed a strange, not to mention an inconvenient way to get about considering how many of them there were. Father had certainly grumbled at the revelation, and even Bruce had looked a little uncertain, but the others had held firm.

‘Half the fun of a vacation is getting there,’ iron-dad had insisted, and father had sighed and given in.

It wasn’t as though travel by car was uncomfortable, not when using the large and luxurious vehicles iron-dad had to choose from. No one was cramped, the kids had fun hopping from car to car, spending time with everyone - though mostly with their fathers.

But there were a lot more rules that went into a ‘family vacation,’ most of which they were having to learn as they went.

Hela tugged a little self-consciously on the hem of her short sleeve. Because it was so hot, there was no way she would have been able to wear her usual hoodies. In the cars where there was excellent climate control it wasn’t an issue, but out in the open she would have baked in long sleeves and pants. For the first time in almost her entire memory, she was outside in clothing which left her limbs exposed.

Of course, father had provided her with a strong illusory spell so she looked… fully alive, as much for her comfort as for the peace of mind of any who happened to see her… But she still felt terribly exposed. Short sleeved shirt, shorts, even sandals which exposed her toes - and nails which iron-dad had insisted on painting for her. She felt nearly naked. The only thing which made her feel even slightly covered was the floppy hat she wore to keep off the sun. The hat and her hair still hiding the left half of her face were all that made her feel as though she were still protected from curious eyes. She’d thought perhaps the sun screen slathered over every inch of her skin might provide at least an illusion of cover, but no. It just left her feeling mildly sticky and smelling of coconut.

Possibly that was another intrinsic part of a ‘family vacation.’

“Quit worrying,” Fen growled at her, noticing her fidget. “The illusion is still there, you look just like any other Midgardian brat.”

“You’re the brat,” she snapped back at him, giving the sleeve one last parting tug. “You look like one of those kids from that movie Clint made us watch.”

Her brother paused, thinking. “Lost Boys?”

She shook her head. “No, the other one.”

“Uh… Honey, I Shrunk the Kids?”

“No,” she said, but smiled. Clint seemed to enjoy setting them down to watch comparatively old films. They ranged in quality and entertainment value, but the most notable part of that film had been iron-dad’s reaction when he found out Clint had shown it to them. He hadn’t been upset, exactly, but he had berated the archer for ‘giving the magic time bombs ideas.’

“Hook?”

Hela sighed. She shouldn’t have mentioned it at all. She looked down from their vantage point, frowning. “Do you think we ought to try and get him out of there soon?”

Fenrir also looked. It was a long way down. When iron-dad had said one of their planned stops was to see a giant hole, no one had really been impressed, although most of the Avengers had either snorted or smiled knowingly. It turned out ‘big hole’ meant ‘Grand Canyon.’ It was a more impressive name, and it turned out to be a much more impressive sight than they had expected.

Of course, it was struggling a little to remain impressive, given what was going on around it. And slithering through it.

Fen shrugged. “Like you said, it looks like he’s having fun. That’s the point of a vacation, isn’t it? Why pull him out now?”

“Well, this is meant to be an important place for mortals, and who knows how much damage his scales are doing. The Grand Canyon was made by erosion, but I don’t think they’ll appreciate Jör’s help in the matter.” She frowned, staring at Jör consideringly. “Did you know he could get this big?”

Fen shook his head. “I don’t think he knew he could get this big. This is the first time he’s really had the chance to stretch out.”

Which was true. In New York or Malibu or anywhere else, it was rare when Jörmungandr’s or Fenrir’s shapeshifting powers were allowed to stretch to their limits. The closest they had come in some time was when they all went to the Avengers Compound, a place built specifically as a base and training ground for the team. It had the advantage of being private, so the boys could transform all they wanted.

Except apparently Jörmungandr had felt the need to hold back even so, and as was typical of him, hadn’t said a word about it. The size he was now - large enough around to fill this particular winding section of the Canyon from side to side with his bulk, either end of him lost to sight in the distance - was larger than Hela had ever seen him by far. It was larger than she had ever suspected him capable of getting. She wondered if he was enjoying the warmth or the chance to change without holding back more.

“I suppose this is as big as he can get?”

Golden eyes widened slightly. “Jeez, I hope so.”

“Mm. There’s also that.” She gestured behind them, towards the ‘that’ in question.

Whether or not the Avengers were technically off duty from having to save the world, local bad guys didn’t seem to care. They hadn’t been in the park long, not even gotten up any real steam in the debate about whether they ought to take the mule rides that were offered, when a large group of men and women in suits that looked like piecemeal versions of iron-dad’s had come down from the sky.

Whatever it was they wanted, they weren’t bothering to say. They had just fallen to, straight in and fighting without so much as a hello.

Hela and her brothers had already wandered on ahead by then. She and Fen were waiting for the moment someone caught up and spotted Jör and what he was up to, and were a relatively safe distance away to simply watch the fighting.

It wasn’t the first fight they had seen the Avengers take part in. They were used to the regular sparring, had even taken part on occasion, much to everyone’s amusement and chagrin at how well they did. They had each of them been present at various real battles as well. But this was possibly one of the oddest looking ones they had ever watched. Iron-dad had brought an emergency suit because, well, he was iron-dad and that’s what he did, so he looked fine, but everyone else… Well, they were always ready to do battle, but they had mostly been ready for a hot day looking at rocks. And possibly some mule riding.

Natasha had lost her sun hat pretty quickly, and her flowy top had torn in a few places, but her glare was still impressive, even with the sun block on her nose. Bruce had lost nearly all of his clothes when he became the Hulk, which was probably just as well, as it had been an atrociously patterned shirt iron-dad insisted was Hawaiian. Hela had privately decided that Hawaii must have so many pairs of sunglasses as a means of combating the shirts. Steve looked the most normal in army pants and a white tee, but it was still weird to see him fight without his shield. As for father and uncle Thor… Hela was sure iron-dad was using the mysterious rules surrounding ‘family vacations’ as an excuse to see how much he could get away with putting the two who knew the least about Midgardian culture through. There was no way humans willingly wore what they were wearing. Not if some of the looks they had been getting before the fight started were anything to go by.

It wasn’t a particularly nerve wracking battle. Hela was fairly certain the reason the fight was still going on at all was just because there were so many enemies flitting about.

“Yeah…” Fenrir watched as Bruce took two of the buzzing fliers and smashed them together before tossing them away. “Say,” he turned to Hela, his eyes alight. “Do you think we could help? They don’t look too dangerous, so the dads shouldn’t get too mad…”

“I would strongly advise against it, Master Fen,” JARVIS piped up from Hela’s wrist. At his voice, she lifted her arm, as though giving the AI a better view when he had no body or cameras to view anything with. “The hostiles are well contained,” he went on, measured as always. “And the situation should be wrapped up within a few minutes. Your contribution, however well intentioned, would only add an unknown variable and complicate the matter. And Masters Stark and Loki would definitely not like it,” he added.

Fen pouted, going so far as to cross his arms over his chest. “I thought the point of a vacation was to have fun.”

“That’s what they keep telling us,” Hela agreed, wincing as Natasha tore out what looked like an arc reactor rip-off and used it to brain another passing enemy.

“Well, that looks like fun!” He pointed at the fighting.

Hela didn’t respond, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her brother. She couldn’t deny that it did look a little fun, but she wasn’t going to encourage him to run out and join the fray. Fen probably spent the most time in the training rooms with the others, usually with Clint, practicing archery. But she knew her brother. Even if he had brought his gear along like Clint had, he wouldn’t have used it for long before abandoning it to go into wolf form and simply rending everything he could with teeth and claws. He was learning control, but he was still far from where the others could rely on him in battle. That he dreamed of one day becoming a part of the Avengers she had no doubt, but it was still too early for that. Jörmungandr had shown no interest in actually becoming an Avenger himself, or anything like one. He was too laid back, too quiet to take well to the idea, but who knew? Perhaps that would change as he got older.

She sighed and restrained herself from tugging at her sleeve again. “I guess we could just let him be down there. I mean, it’s not like any of the clowns can hurt him when he’s this big.”

“Yeah. Midgard’s got some good legends about dragons, but I don’t think anyone has actually had to slay one. At least not in a long time.”

“If Jör’s the dragon, what does that make you?”

Fen snorted. “The Big Bad Wolf. Duh.”

“Which I suppose makes me a princess, or maybe some poor cobbler’s daughter?”

“Don’t be stupid. You’re the witch.”

Hela’s face twisted up like she’d bitten into something sour. “That makes all of us the bad guys, you know.”

Fen paused, his expression coming to mirror his sister’s. “I knew there was a reason I didn’t really like Midgardian folk tales. They always have us die at the end!”

“Everyone dies in the end. Eventually.”

“You’re being morbid again.”

“Sorry.”

“Anyway, screw fairytales.” He kicked at the ground, sending a flat pebble skittering. “What do they know? Stupid stories they tell kids to make them behave, where the good guys are always pretty and nice and the bad guys are strange or crazy. Stories aren’t how real life works. We don’t work like stories.”

“I guess so…” she said, fiddling with the strap of her JARVIS watch.

Fen looked at her, his normally belligerent expression becoming one of concern for a moment. Then he blinked, and tossed his head with a snort. “Stupid Midgardian stories…”

Hela was just thinking it might be worth wandering a little further on to see if there was a way down to Jör and tap his hide, or maybe find a concession stand with some drinks. There was a battle going on, but it wasn’t a big one, and there was sure to be at least one employee who would stick close by to take some pictures. Her plans were thwarted, however, by JARVIS’ suddenly urgent voice cutting through the fight.

“Fenrir, Hela, seek cover immediately! One of the hostiles has broken rank and is approaching your--“

Then Hela was flying through the air. An arm was wrapped around her middle and hair streamed into her eyes, making it impossible to see. Someone had grabbed her. Someone who was not iron-dad, father, or Uncle Thor.

They stopped abruptly, and Hela sucked in a breath of air. The arm around her was too tight, but she wasn’t about to try and make it let go, not when she saw how far off the ground her sandals had gotten. Instead she craned her head around, looking up and backwards to see who had grabbed her.

It was a woman, youngish with a frightened, wild face and sandy hair whipping round like live snakes. The armor she wore really did look like a half hearted attempt at replicating the Iron Man suit. There was no all-over body plating, but there was a centralized power source over her sternum, from which several pairs of thick cords ran. What would have been the skeletal interior of an Iron Man suit ran along her limbs, repulsors of a kind at her feet and palms, and a headset rather than a full helmet was wrapped around her skull.

To Hela’s eye, the makeshift suit was poorly put together. All the time spent in iron-dad’s lab gave her enough discernment to tell that much. He own innate skills, her small magic which allowed her to see what others could not, told her something more upsetting. The arc reactor the woman wore was a power source for her ‘suit,’ but it was also siphoning off power from something else before feeding it into the tech. Somehow it was taking energy out of its wearer and converting it into viable fuel. Hela could see her lifeshine and how it was dimming even as she watched, being fed to the half-armor.

“Enough!” The woman screamed into the fray. Whether her voice carried so well that everyone heard or something else alerted them, they all to looked up with various expressions of fury and horror. Iron-dad wore his helmet and faceplate, and father’s face was an absolute blank, his fingers curled at his sides.

Given an instant, the woman holding Hela would never even see her death coming.

“You will all lay down your weapons now,” the woman said, and her arm tightened round Hela further, making her grunt. “Now. Or this girl will never get to develop her photos.”

Hela almost scoffed at the dramatic flare. Far below she could see the Avengers were conferring with each other quietly, planning as quickly as they could, all without ever actually taking their eyes off of her and the crazed woman who held her. Hela looked straight down. She hadn’t been flown as far away as she had thought, or as high. She smiled and tapped the woman’s arm to get her attention. “Excuse me.”

The woman snarled, her free hand coming up beside Hela’s face, a faux repulsor right next to her eye. “Shut up, kid.”

“It’s just I don’t think you understand something--“

“You don’t understand, brat.” The woman took her eyes off of the Avengers to look at Hela. Her eyes were fever bright, wide, her lips stretched into a mockery of a smile. She looked half deranged, and Hela remembered how Fen had described the bad guys in stories. ‘Strange or crazy.’ Maybe it wasn’t always an inaccurate description.

“The ‘heroes’ down there? They’re going to do exactly what I tell them to do. If they don’t,” the repulsor began to hum threateningly, “I’ll burn your head clean off your shoulders.”

Hela eyed the glow. It was close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from it, even above the heat of the day. She doubted it had enough power to actually take her head off, but it wouldn’t have to. Even as Hela watched the glow increased, and the woman’s lifeshine dimmed a little more. She didn’t seem to notice the drain on her life at all. Perhaps she was too mad to notice - or it was the drain causing her madness.

She shook her head slowly, making herself be calm in the face of madness. “No. I mean, you’re supposed to grab someone else, not one of us. We’re not right.”

The woman scowled at her. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“We’re not the kinds of kids the bad guys grab,” she said, and pointed down. The woman followed her finger, her eyes widening as she took in what Hela was gesturing to.

“We’re the monsters.”

Directly below them was Fenrir, changed into his wolf body. Like Jör, he’d allowed himself to grow as large as he was able. If Hulk stood beside him, Fen’s head would have cleared his easily. He stood with legs braced, glaring up at the woman with eyes that glowed gold, lips wrinkled back from teeth longer than the woman’s arm. Her eyes fixated on the sight, and Hela couldn’t blame her. Fenrir was a terrifying sight even at a distance. But an even more terrifying sight, as the woman quickly realized, was what was rising up behind them.

Wherever Jörmungandr’s head had wandered off to in the Canyon, it was here now, rising up and up and up and up, a seemingly endless column of white and yellow scales. It didn’t matter how high the woman had flown them, Jör was still higher, fixing them with a cold stare, his slit pupils as tall as the woman. Very deliberately he opened his maw, revealing fangs which wouldn’t pierce so much as pulverize anything he set them to. Hela felt the woman’s limbs begin to tremble, her breathing coming in ragged gasps. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw even some of the Avengers take a step back.

“These are my brothers,” she said quietly. She knew the woman could hear her by how her head twitched at her voice. The area had gone very quiet, with the last of the struggling enemies going still under the shadow of the giant serpent. A dragon rising from the earth, the big bad wolf at his side.

“Your brothers,” the woman breathed. She couldn’t seem to look away from Jör, which was a shame, since Fen looked as though he were preparing to leap straight up and snap the woman out of the air.

“Yes,” Hela said, and ignoring the trembling repulsor by her head, she reached for the counterfeit reactor in her chest. “And I’m the witch.”

She didn’t notice what Hela was doing at first, distracted as she was by Jör and Fen, and by the time she did it was too late. The false arc reactor was warm, much warmer than iron-dad’s, its yellow glow like an ember against her palm. An ember which she could feel trying to reach out and draw on her life, just as it was drawing on that of the woman, dimming her lifeshine round the edges and leaving insanity in its place.

Hela felt it reach for her and batted the seeking tendrils away. She knew what she was doing would upset father, but what else could she do? She couldn’t let this woman win, and she wouldn’t let a machine suck the life out of her while she watched.

She gathered up the seeking tendrils, making a bundle, and then twisted. The woman gasped, the sensation of her life force no longer being drained coming as a shock. Then she cried out as the remaining power in the arc quickly ran out, her repulsors dying.

And then they fell.

The woman shrieked, her grip on Hela instantly abandoned as they plummeted to the ground. Hela tried not to scream, but couldn’t help the little squeak that escaped as gravity took over. She didn’t try to hold on to the woman. She remembered what iron-dad had told her about slowing a fall, about making herself as big a target as possible for someone to catch and spread her arms and legs out wide. The wind made her eyes water, and it was so loud in her ears and shouldn’t someone have caught her by now the ground was getting too close--!

“Oof!”

“Gotcha!”

Metal arms encircled her, holding her securely. Iron-dad had caught her. She was safe.

“Christ on a cracker, kid.” Iron-dad’s voice sounded shaky, even through his mechanical mask, like he’d had the life scared out of him. That wasn’t really fair, when she had been the one falling. “Don’t ever do anything like that again, okay? I don’t think my heart can take it.”

Hela tried to take a deep breath, but even though iron-dad wasn’t squeezing her, she could only get in tiny sips of air. Her heart didn’t feel like it could take much more, either. It was beating too hard, too fast. Surely it would explode if it didn’t calm down?

“What happened to the one that grabbed you? It looked like you found an ‘off’ switch on her crummy armor.”

Still struggling to breathe properly, hoping her heart didn’t burst, she looked round, searching for the woman. It looked like she had been caught as well, either by father or Uncle Thor, and was surrounded on all sides by Avengers and by Fenrir, who was still snarling. Hulk was stomping about, keeping those enemies still conscious in line while Clint was on the phone, probably calling in S.H.I.E.L.D. for cleanup.

“I… saved her.”

Iron-dad tilted his head to look at her as he slowly lowered them to earth. “Is that right, little ‘witch’?”

She tried to laugh, because of course he had heard everything, piped to him by JARVIS through the watch she was wearing, but it only made her chest hurt. As though hearing her thought, JARVIS spoke up, as calm as he ever was. “Sir, I believe it would be best if Miss Hela were given some rest and care. The stresses of her ordeal seem to have sent her into a mild panic attack.”

“Isn’t that an oxymoron, J? A ‘mild’ attack?” His tone was flippant, but Hela could hear the worry all the same. Their descent became a touch quicker, but they landed softly, and even on the ground iron-dad refused to put her down.

It wasn’t until he’d walked them to a picnic table with benches that he released her, settling her on the rough wood carefully. Somehow she’d lost both her sandals and her hat, but at least the glamour making her look normal was still working. Still, she hugged her arms around herself, trying her best to make everything stop shaking, even though most of it seemed to be on the inside.

Iron-dad was stripping out of the armor, the process quick, but he was still climbing out of it by the time father appeared. It was one of the few times Hela could say that she had seen her father actually look frightened. Rather than make her fear worse, she found the sight of him coming for her made her heart slow down a little, each beat less likely to bruise her ribs.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t scold her for what she did up in the air - either for using her magic or for what it had almost led to. He just wrapped her up in a hug, his familiar scent surrounding her in a comforting blanket. He held her close, but he didn’t squeeze her, like he was afraid to hurt her. After a few moments, she noticed that he was shaking as much as she was. Slowly the bands around her chest loosened, she could breathe a little easier than before, and she just held on to her father.

She didn’t know how long she and her father sat like that, but she eventually became aware of an extra hand rubbing up and down her back and iron-dad’s voice murmuring gentle, soothing nonsense. As she listened, she was pretty sure that it was meant just as much for father as it was for her.

When he finally pulled away, father’s eyes were bright. She thought perhaps he would begin with the scolding, but instead he gave her a fierce, proud smile. “My brave girl.”

Hela stared at him. She knew he would be happy she was safe - but she had used magic. Father hated it when she did that. Why was he praising her for it?

She didn’t get long to wonder, as both her brothers came barreling down the little path towards them, both in human form and kicking up dust in their wake.

“Hela!”

“Hela!”

It was probably the fastest she had ever seen Jörmungandr move on legs in her life.

“Did you see? Did you see--?”

“Are you okay?”

“You get all the fun, I wish she had grabbed me, I woulda shown her--“

“Still almost did.”

“Yeah, but uncle Thor caught her before I could grab her--“

Father backed away a little, allowing the two boys to crowd round her, though he didn’t back away very far. Just far enough to stand beside iron-dad, who still had a hand on her back, solid and warm. She pretended not to notice as iron-dad took one of father’s hands with his free one, interlacing their fingers and stroking the backs of his knuckles with his thumb.

“You can’t just eat people you don’t like, Fen,” Jör was saying blandly, but with a little frown.

“I don’t see why not,” Fen replied with a sniff. “Nobody liked her. She’s a bad guy. And she tried to hurt Hela!”

“That does seem like a pretty good argument for an exception to the ‘no eating people’ rule,” iron-dad murmured quietly to father. He got a sharp nudge in response, but father had a faint smile. They were both too relieved to scold either Hela or Fen for what they had done or attempted to do. Possibly that would come later.

Hela straightened a little bit in her seat and stamped down on her trembling as best she could. “She tried, but she didn’t. She had no idea who she was taking hostage when she grabbed me.”

Jör smiled at her, pale eyes filling with pride, and Fen chuffed at her. “I told you joining the fighting would be fun! No fair only you got to.” He looked over at their parents, but his question didn’t even need to be asked before father was replying.

“Absolutely not. Today was not practice for the three of you to start throwing yourselves into danger.”

“But--!”

“No, Fenrir. In fact,” he looked at iron-dad, a frown marring his expression, “should we cut this vacation short, considering that enemies seem to take it as an open invitation to attack? At home at least we could be reasonably assured of the children’s safety.”

“No way!”

They ignored Fen’s protest, and Jör’s much quieter look of alarm. Iron-dad frowned as well, considering, the hand on Hela’s back growing very still against her.

“Well, it is a bit more dangerous than at home,” he admitted, making Fen practically dance in place with unhappy tension. “But at the same time, all of us are here, and there has only been one incident, and it wasn’t exactly successful. At all.” He looked at each of them, weighing the options. “I’d hate to cut the trip short. The kids are having fun, and it’s been a while since we’ve all gotten the chance to spend so much time together…” He looked father in the eye. He gave him a look which Hela had come to recognize as one when what he meant was more than what he was actually saying. She couldn’t always tell what it was, but father always seemed to understand just fine. “I think we should stick with it, give the whole thing another chance. We’ll be more vigilant about possible hostiles, and have some better contingencies for the kids if it comes up again.”

Father didn’t look pleased, his frown in place as he looked over each of them. Father always worried about them - worried that something would happen, that someone would harm them or that they would disappear. It was an understandable fear, but sometimes it made him too anxious for them, coddling them like fragile cups. Iron-dad worried too, but his way of protecting them was quite different from father’s. Even as she watched, she could see where the two methods were setting up to clash again.

But father surprised her, and probably iron-dad as well, when he took a deep breath and nodded. “Alright. For now. But if they’re put in danger again--“

“Straight home,” iron-dad agreed quickly, probably thinking it best to take the offer while it was there, before father retracted it. “Straight home with no complaints from me. Or anyone else, right?” He added with a pointed look, mostly in Fenrir’s direction.

They all nodded, Fen with a mutinous expression, but it was enough to satisfy father. He nodded as well and seemed to relax slightly.

“Hey guys,” Clint waved at them. “If you’ve got everything sorted, we could use an extra hand or two getting this stuff off of our new friends.”

Iron-dad looked down at her. “You okay for now, or would you like one of us to stay with you?”

“I’m okay. And I’ve got Jör and Fen with me. And JARVIS,” she added, holding up her wrist. With all three brothers close by and the rest of her family in sight, it would be silly to feel like she needed more than that. She’d done fine while the woman had actually had a hold of her - why would she need help now that the danger was over? She was tougher than that.

Fen puffed up proudly, while Jör moved up to the table to sit next to her. “We’ll keep her company and get you if we need anything,” he promised.

“Quite so,” JARVIS chirped.

Moving somewhat reluctantly, they left the group at the table to help with the cleanup of the men and women that had attacked them. Before iron-dad stepped back into his suit he gave her shoulder a squeeze and fixed her with an odd look. It seemed to be trying to tell her something, but before she could interpret exactly what it was, his face broke into a grin, he winked at her, and turned away.

She watched their fathers go while Fen jumped up on top of the table, then sank down to sit next to her, one brother on either side of her. The cleanup after the fight wasn’t as interesting to watch as the fight itself, but it did have the advantage of there being no threat of being snatched by some crazed fighter. Hela tried to pick out the woman that had grabbed her, but they were all mobbed together, now. Hela wondered what would happen to them when S.H.I.E.L.D. got a hold of them, if all of them had been cracking round the edges like the woman that had grabbed her, and whether or not they would all recover now the equipment was being removed.

She wondered who had made it, a machine which fed off a person’s lifeshine? She wondered if the woman she had saved would tell S.H.I.E.L.D. what she had done, breaking the connection with a touch. She shivered.

An arm wrapped around her shoulders heavily, jostling her. She looked over at Fen, who was smiling at her, showing sharp canines. “Don’t worry, little sister. Nobody’s getting past us again.”

Jör said nothing, but put a hand on her knee and squeezed, a mere sliver of the strength he hid.

Hela did her best to laugh, but it came out as a weak chuckle. “Yeah, thanks. Maybe next time I’ll have to save you, since I saved myself this time.”

Fen surprised her by shrugging rather than scowling at her. “Whatever. We can all save each other. The point is no one can win when they’re up against us.” He paused a moment, and then grinned, teeth showing again. “Maybe when we’re older, we’ll get to save everyone else! Wouldn’t that be cool?”

On her other side Jör hummed. “That would be kind of cool.”

Hela smiled at the thought, also warming to the image it brought to mind. The big bad wolf, the dragon and the witch all coming to the rescue. Wouldn’t that be a sight.

“Maybe then I can eat the bad guys!”

Jör sighed.

“The good guys don’t eat people, Fen,” she said as patiently as she could.

“I don’t see why not! It seems like an effective way to stop them.”

That was a little hard to argue with, since technically it wasn’t wrong. But. “It’s not nice. And good guys are meant to be nice.”

Fen wrinkled his nose, the motion so similar to when he was a wolf there was hardly a difference. “Beating people up isn’t nice, either, and the Avengers still do that.”

Hela just shook her head, giving up. Once Fen had an issue between his teeth he would worry it to death. Best to let it drop before she was worried thin as well.

They watched as the last of the men and women were restrained, their armor all piled together in a heap. Hela wondered if iron-dad would take any of it home to examine, and if she would be allowed a peek if he did. Most of the hostile mortals were awake, but none of them seemed in much of a hurry to restart their attack once they’d been stripped of their gear, and definitely not with seven angry Avengers glaring and leveling various weapons at them.

Before too long S.H.I.E.L.D. arrived via a few helicopters and bundled away the attackers and their equipment. There was what looked like a minor argument between one of the agents and iron-dad and Steve, probably trying to convince them to come in for debriefing right away. Whatever arguments were made, iron-dad must have won, because the helicopters left with only the hostiles and their inferior tech, leaving the team to enjoy the rest of their vacation.

Jör bumped her shoulder. “Do you think the next place we go to will be as exciting as here?"

It wasn’t as exciting at their next stop, nor at the next. For a while they progressed through the various parks and tourist traps with much the same level of energy and strangeness that Bruce, Clint and Steve all assured them was typical for a family vacation. After the stress of being kidnapped, even if it was only for a couple of minutes, Hela at least was grateful to have some time that was relatively quiet. Dull attractions were fine with her. There was plenty of time being spent with everyone in the cars, playing road games, listening in on stories, poking fun at one another, experimenting with roadside diners… Just getting from one place to the next was proving to be its own strange brand of fun, with each stop acting more as punctuation than a goal.

Hela began to wonder if that was the real point of a vacation. It wasn’t to be somewhere other than home where one could relax. It was about the act of escape, to be in a constant state of flight, so that the responsibilities left behind could never find them. The stops along the way were always brief, temporary things, moments allowing them to catch their breath before they picked up again.

Always on the run, never looking back.

Still, even she was ready for a little excitement when it finally came. It wasn’t too surprising that it was Fen and his antsiness which finally gave them all something to get excited for.

By most accounts, Yellowstone National Park wouldn’t have been seen as terribly exciting by itself. At least not for a trio of young children who would have been more interested in diversions which could light up, make noise or scare them - or all three. A park whose biggest claims to fame were geysers and wildlife wouldn’t be expected to catch and hold the attention of most young children.

But ‘most’ young children didn’t include Fenrir.

Even before they had pulled to a stop in the shaded lots of the park, Fen had been at the car window, eyes fixed out on the forest and mountains going by. Whether in humanoid shape or canine there was no mistaking his alert attention, every limb practically vibrating in excitement. Hela could understand why. Since coming to Midgard almost all of their time had been spent in highly urbanized areas. Save for the occasional ‘field trip’ their father took them on, it had been a long time since any of them had been anywhere that could be considered wild. Here, while they still drove on paved roads and people thronged around them, there was a sense of wildness pressing in close here, a feeling that if one went just a little further, they could be lost in the trees with no hint that civilization even existed anywhere near them.

It was the closest anything had felt to Járnviðr - to home - in years.

Fenrir would feel it the most keenly of all of them, with wolfish instinct and childhood memory both working on him, pulling him out and away, to just run and run and run until he could run no more.

She was surprised it took as long as it did for him to go missing.

They were all out on one of the many tours the Park offered when it happened. It being a private tour was one of the few exceptions to the ‘normal family vacation’ rule that had been put in place right towards the beginning of the trip. There were a lot of different kinds of tours the Park offered, each ranging in their level of adventurousness and difficulty. Everything from science and photo walks, bus tours and carriage tours, to white water rapid tours and backcountry hikes that took several days to complete. Since interest levels also varied in their group, they’d compromised and gone with an all day tour taken on horseback.

Father and Uncle Thor were proficient riders, of course, but it was surprising how many of the others seemed to do just fine astride the animals. Bruce seemed to be the least familiar with the concept, though he admitted to having ridden a little, one of the many skills he’d picked up over the years. Steve professed to have never ridden in his life, but he took to it quickly, and iron-dad only claimed to have had a few lessons as a kid, but stubbornness if not skill kept him in the saddle. Clint and Natasha both got mounted up with the easy motions of long experience, and no one questioned why they might be experienced riders.

Whatever the surprise with anyone else’s level of experience, though, none matched the shock on everyone’s faces when she, Jör and Fen all mounted up with ease and guided their mounts as confidently as their father and Thor. Iron-dad, who was still trying to adjust his seating properly, had actually groaned a little bit.

“Oh, come on. Is horseback riding just a genetic thing with Asgardians? Is there something in the DNA which makes saddle sores a mystery?”

Hela shared a glance with her brothers while father and Uncle Thor did the same with each other, Thor raising his brows questioningly at father. It would be easy enough to explain that they were so familiar with horseback riding because their other brother was a horse and allowed them to ride whenever they visited… Except none of their Midgardian family knew about Sleipnir. Not even iron-dad knew they had an elder brother who still lived in Asgard - a fact which Uncle Thor disapproved of quite thoroughly. But father insisted on remaining silent on the matter, and no one else was willing to go against him.

It was a matter he seemed willing to remain silent on for now, as he simply shrugged off the question with, “I suppose there is. Certainly I have never been subject to such inconveniences.”

Uncle Thor snorted, possibly recalling some memory from their shared youth which made a liar out of him, but he said nothing. The subject was dropped, and any further curiosity anyone had they kept to themselves.

It was probably because they showed such competency that the others didn’t watch them as closely as they normally would have. As the tour went on, the three of them began to trail further and further behind, pulling away from the sound of voices droning on about the natural wonders around them in favor of simply enjoying those wonders for themselves. The longer they stayed out, the further they went, the more it felt like Járnviðr - with that same echoing openness all around them, the promise of freedom niggling at the edge of their senses.

Hela noticed that Fen was gone first, though not by much. He’d been lagging the furthest behind, eyes and nose fixed on the sharp mountain ranges cutting a ragged line the in the horizon. The way his head would lightly twitch from side to side, she was sure he was hearing and scenting much more than she was, which commanded his attention much more assuredly than the tour guide. She’d been a little startled when his horse had lightly tapped her leg, but when she’d looked and found the horse’s saddle empty, she’d been much less surprised.

Jör had noticed soon after that, looking off towards the mountains that had been fascinating their brother all day with a sigh, and then--

“Oh, come on.”

Hela felt a little bad for their tour guide. The woman had been so excited to be showing the Avengers around the Park, probably already planning out how many free drinks she could get by retelling the story to locals and tourists alike, but also a little nervous. It was understandable, and now that something had gone wrong on her watch - a missing child, no less - she was beside herself. By contrast, father and iron-dad were more annoyed than anything else. There was some worry, but they and the rest of the team had the advantage of knowing that Fenrir posed a bigger threat to anything he could come across rather than the other way around.

“Look,” Steve said eventually, ever the one to act as the trustworthy public face. “Why don’t you ride back to the station and arrange a helicopter for us?”

“A helicopter…?”

“Yes. And while you’re doing that, we’ll begin the ground search here. We’ve got some experience with this. And if we haven’t found him by the time the chopper gets here, we have some… equipment which will make spotting him from the air much easier.”

The poor guide looked terribly confused, but at the same time a little reassured by the Captain’s tone. Probably relieved just to be given a clear objective, she gave a sharp nod, wheeled her mount around, and started off at a gallop back the way they had come.

Once she was out of earshot, the tone of planning changed.

“So,” iron-dad began, “where would a boy who can change into a wolf go first once he’s been let loose in a three and half thousand square mile National Park? Taking all bets, here…”

“Nearest bison herd?” Clint suggested.

Bruce shifted uncomfortably. Even out of the saddle he didn’t look as though he were enjoying this part of the vacation much. “I hope not. They don’t allow hunting in the Park - it’s a conservation.”

“If he’s the same shape as one of the natural predators, would that technically be breaking any of the Park’s rules?” Steve asked.

“We just had lunch,” Natasha said blandly. “You’d think three double-decker hamburgers would be enough to curb any appetite.”

“Look who he’s related to,” iron-dad pointed out, earning a pair of mildly insulted grunts. “Plus he’s a growing boy. They’re like bottomless pits at this age. And considering how big he can get, an entire herd of bison might not be so far outside the realm of possibility.”

Hela turned to look at iron-dad for a moment. He was doing a good job making it seem as though he were fine, but there were signs he was more upset than he was letting on. A note of anxiety underlying his joking tone, the way he had his horse stand so near to father’s, so their knees were practically touching. He was worried about Fen, either because he thought he might get hurt or lost, or he was worried he just wouldn’t come back.

“I doubt he would consume an entire herd,” father quipped lightly. “He’s grown too used to things like ketchup to make it entirely palatable.”

Which was a subtle way of telling iron-dad that Fen would come back even if they didn’t find him. Father had also heard the worry in his voice.

“There are plenty of restaurants around here,” iron-dad mused. “We could go to some of those and get him some bison burgers if he really wants to try the local herds.”

Uncle Thor gave him a look. “Really? You serve these animals that are meant to be protected?”

Clint chuckled. “Oh, yeah, it’s the full experience around here. Come stand in awe of the majestic, shaggy beasts once nearly driven to extinction, then head back into town in the evening and eat them. Something for everyone.”

The conversation diverted from there into some of the other oddities of humans and their behavior, probably as a way of also diverting some of their anxieties before they got started on their search for Fen. Hela tuned it out, turning her horse and joining Jör who was seated a little apart, staring in the direction of the mountains.

There was no doubt in her mind which way Fen had gone, nor obviously in Jör’s. Other than the fact that it was the direction Fen had been showing the most interest in the entire time they had been on their tour, it was the direction which most pulled at her. It was the direction where, when she looked, there was an almost hollow echo in her bones, tugging at her to come close, to run that direction, run and run until she outran everything and… And she wasn’t sure. Something wonderful, she thought. And the longer she looked, the harder it was to resist. It was the same pull which had eventually won out over Fen’s resistance. He’d snuck off and plunged into the wilderness, answering the call. She wondered how far he’d gotten already.

“Hela.”

She started, and looked over at Jör. Her normally relaxed and laid back brother was tense, his shoulders a stiff line, fingers blanched pale with his grip on the reins. He didn’t say anything, but he glanced back at the adults quickly - none of them were looking their way - and then back to her. Almost too small to see, he jerked his head in the direction of the mountains.

Hela didn’t have to think about the consequences of agreeing with what Jör was silently suggesting. The pull of the mountains was too strong to refuse. She nodded, tiny and invisible to anyone not looking directly at her, and the both of them slowly began walking their horses towards the mountains.

It was difficult to not break into a gallop. Not only because of their own eagerness, but because the horses could sense their pent up nerves and were antsy, ready to run at the slightest encouragement. But it was important not to run, not yet. They had to get a head start before the others noticed what they were up to.

They hadn’t gotten very far before someone noticed that they were getting further and further away. From behind them father’s voice rang out. “Jör, Hela! Don’t go wandering off! One is quite enough!”

Hela raised one hand to show that they had heard, but didn’t look back, didn’t slow down. She and Jör kept going, hands firm on reins, ready to spring forward at any moment. Any moment soon. As soon as someone saw they weren’t stopping, they weren’t turning around--

“Hey, sprats!” Iron-dad’s voice came, even further away. “Stick close, we- oh, for fuck’s sake-!”

They didn’t look back, didn’t wait to see if they would be allowed any more time before they were pursued. Together, they kicked their horses into a run, the beasts more than ready to comply. They surged forward with tosses of manes, leaving the shouts of the adults behind.

It was a long way to the mountains, further than even the horses would be able to make in a sprint, but the edge of the forest was much closer. That the horses would be able to reach in no time, eating up the long expanse of open ground between them and the dark line marking the beginning of the trees.

Hela laughed, loud and wild as the wind whipped past her. It was almost like falling, except this was more like flying. The call of the mountains sang inside her, wild and joyous as she finally answered it.

A sound behind them had her look around, squinting through tears brought on by the wind and her whipping hair. She could just make out their pursuers, what looked like everyone who had still been mounted, with father and Uncle Thor at the lead. And they were quickly gaining ground.

Her stomach fell in dismay. She didn’t look forward to the scolding that they would get, but even more, she didn’t want to be caught, to be stopped. She wanted to run, to fly, to be free for just a little bit. But Thor and father were superior riders, with bigger and faster mounts. They would overtake Hela and Jör, and then when Fen was found - or came back - all three of them would be scolded until their ears burned.

Even knowing they would be caught, she didn’t slow her horse, and was soon glad she didn’t when she heard Jör calling out to her again.

He was grinning, lips pulled back from his teeth in an open expression of joy she almost never saw on him. He held out a hand to her, eyes alight with mad excitement. “Ride!”

She knew what he meant, and nodded, another wild laugh escaping her.

More shouts sang out from behind as Jör, without slowing his horse, began to stand up in the saddle. She could imagine the cursing from Thor and father as they realized what he was about to do, and the terror in their Midgardian family who had no way of knowing he had performed this trick many times before. She allowed herself a brief moment of regret as she thought of how frightened - terrified - iron-dad must be and to be so far away from them. She comforted herself with the knowledge that it wouldn’t last long and concentrated on keeping her own mount moving.

Jör got to his feet, balanced for an instant in a low crouch, still holding on to the reins - and then leapt.

For a second her brother hung in the air, arms outstretched, body hurtling towards the ground to be smashed mercilessly to pieces--

And then her brother, the great serpent, the dragon, came to ground with a shuddering impact, body already writhing, maintaining the same speed as his horse.

He wasn’t nearly so huge as he had been in the Canyon, but he didn’t need to be. He was still large, and more than large enough for what they had in mind.

At the sudden appearance of such a beast, Jör’s horse shied away and took off running on its own. Hela’s horse tried doing much the same, but she hauled on the reins to keep it going the direction she wanted. At least she didn’t have to worry about keeping it moving fast, Jör’s presence was a better goad then her heels ever could be.

Now it was Hela’s turn. They were a little less than halfway to the forest edge, and the pursuit was even closer. Still, she moved carefully, pulling her feet out of the stirrups and standing up in the saddle. She’d done this before with Sleipnir, but Sleipnir had eight legs, and knew to run smooth as she stood. An eight-beat gallop was silk compared to a four-beat one, and she had to concentrate hard on making sure the creature didn’t veer away when Jörmungandr came close.

It seemed to take an eternity, but she finally crouched atop the saddle, reins in one hand and Jör as near as he could get. Somehow still managing to feel the trembling working through every one of her limbs even when galloping, Hela took a breath, timing carefully--

And jumped.

Now she was flying, and falling, and it was terrifying and exhilarating and such a bad idea and everything her hollow bones ached for, promised in the mountain’s call and it was fine because Jör would always catch her--

She landed hard against her brother’s hide, the scales warm and soft beneath her touch, muscles working hard beneath the surface. It took a moment and some helpful wiggles from Jör to get her astride, clinging to his smooth sides with legs and arms. If he had been as large as he could get, she never would have managed.

As soon as she was in place she looked back. Father had put on a bust of speed and was practically level with Jör’s tail.

Hela flattened herself to Jör’s back and shouted over the wind. “I’m on! Go, go!”

Jörmungandr went. The landscape blurred as he moved at a speed to shame the fastest of race horses. The shouts behind them fade as they were left behind. Hela laughed again. No one could keep up with her brothers on land, and the tree line was already looming close.

In the very last stretch to the trees, Hela was sure something would come to stop them, that father would use his magic or iron-dad would prove to have stashed another emergency suit in his saddlebags and one or both of them would come down from the skies, halting their mad dash into the wilderness. But nothing came, no one stopped them, and Jör dove under the threshold of the forest with a crash, unhindered, with Hela still clinging to his back.

It wasn’t quiet progress. Even for a creature that could slither between the trees, there was no way to speed through a forest without making a great deal of noise. But stealth wasn’t the point. The point for now was distance.

They went deeper and deeper into the woods, the trees pressing closer, the undergrowth growing thicker, and Jör somehow managing to avoid all other wildlife as they went. Hela had no idea how much time passed before, at last, they did come across another living creature - Fenrir, in his full sized wolf shape.

Jör came to a quick halt before his brother, who gave a delighted yip at the sight of them, his golden eyes aglow.

“Fenrir!”

Jör and Fen came close to each other, allowing her to easily hop from one to the other. She could ride either one, but Fenrir was by far the easier of the two, with a thick pelt to hang on to. She settled herself behind Fen’s shoulders, and then gave him the closest thing to a hug she could manage, burying her nose in his fur, delighting in the scent of his wolf form as it mixed with the woods around them. It reminded her the days and nights long before, when they would all pile together before the glowing hearth in a tangle of mismatched limbs. She sighed deep into Fen’s ruff, and he gave a low, approving growl.

When she sat up she looked around. The mountain range was nearer than ever, and the sky still light. The wild call still beat through her veins, just as it surely did for Jör and Fen. When they went back to civilization, back to their family and the vacation with all of its rules and silliness, there would be consequences to face. But for now, this was a bit of vacation just for them, just for their tiny bit of family who could hear the call of the mountains and were compelled to answer.

Hela dug in deep to Fen’s mane, curling her fingers to hold on tight. She leaned over towards Fen’s ear, which canted back towards her. “Fen? Run.” She squeezed with her legs, heart pounding, the song of the mountain loud in her blood. “As fast as you can!”

Fenrir tossed his head, giving a sharp bark. He turned, nose to the mountains, and then they were flying through the forest, creatures of fur, scales and magic answering an instinct born of their deepest selves.

Consequences might await, but for now they were free.

It was dark by the time they had worn themselves out, chasing the phantom of freedom through the forest, up the mountainside and down glens, through streams and bounding through clearings. Hela didn’t think she’d ever had so good a time as that one day with her brothers, unfettered by worry or expectation. They were themselves and free. No frets, no dangers, only open skies.

But the time came when even wild spirits calmed, when the call of the mountains and the memory of Járnviðr cooled, and it was time to return home. Back to the rest of the pack.

Finding their way back to the field where they had left the others was no challenge, not even with how widely they had roamed and how late it was. Between Fen’s nose, Jör’s reptilian sight and Hela’s small magic, they found the way easily and avoided all threats. Once back to the field, finding their way to the lodge where they were all staying would be simple enough, though none of them thought they would get very far before some search party or other found them. It was rather surprising that one hadn’t come close to finding them yet.

What none of them expected to find was a campfire on the edge of the forest where they had entered.

Almost the instant they saw it, father’s voice came out of the dark to meet them. “There you are - and earlier than I expected. Come on, it’s been hours. I’m sure you’re all hungry, and Bruce insists this stew is just the thing for fortifying the recently depleted.”

Father was sitting beside the fire, beckoning them over. He didn’t seem angry, or anything other than just… fine. Like they had only been gone a few minutes, and not like the sky was alight with stars. She exchanged looks with Fen and Jör, both of whom were back to their humanoid shapes. Fen shrugged, as at a loss as she was. With no other options, they left the last protective boundary of the forest and entered the circle of light.

Around the fire were logs and flat stones, apparently set to act as seating. Over the fire there was a metal tripod from which a small pot was hung. Father was unhooking it carefully as they came near, scents of spices and meat wafting from it. As they got closer Hela was able to make out the shapes of tents a little ways off. Even without the enhanced senses of her brothers she had no trouble determining that the rest of the Avengers were in those tents, sleeping close by, waiting for them to come out of the forest.

All except for iron-dad, who was curled up on the ground beside the fire, a saddlebag for a pillow and one of father’s long coats as a blanket.

“Don’t wake him,” father warned quietly. “He’s worried himself faint all afternoon and needs the rest. He insisted on waiting up for you with me, but I helped along his fatigue.”

“Won’t he be upset he missed us coming back?” Jör took a seat close to iron-dad, examining his face as though he could see all the worry father told them about.

Father shrugged. Working in the dim light, he filled up three bowls with the contents of the pot, a thick stew, and handed one to each of them as they sat down. “He might not like it, but that’s too bad. He needs the rest more than more worry, and he’ll see you when he wakes.”

There was nothing accusatory in his tone, nothing which approached the scolding which they had been anticipating. It was just a bland statement of the way things were - which almost made it worse. Iron-dad had worried over them, enough so that father had used magic to get him to sleep. Shame made an abrupt, delayed appearance, weighing down Hela’s head so she could only concentrate on the stew in front of her. She ate, barely aware of the flavors as she did, the combination of exhaustion and embarrassment making her feel very small and uncomfortable.

They ate in silence, only the night sounds of the Park and the tapping of spoons against bowls filling the space between them. It was Fenrir who finally broke it when his bowl was scraped clean and he had nothing left to distract him. “Are you angry with us, father?”

For a moment he didn’t answer, his face blank as he stared into the low burning fire, his arms braced on his knees, fingers tangled up with each other. Then he let out a breath, halfway between a sigh and a snort. “I was at first,” he said. “I was angry, but only because I was frightened for you. Eventually that calmed and so did my anger. I’m still not best pleased… but I’m no longer prepared to ground the three of you for the next decade.”

Hela swallowed, happy to have avoided that much at the least, but Fenrir frowned, mouth bowed down in an unhappy line. “You were frightened for us? Did you think there was anything out there we couldn’t handle?”

Father gave him a faint smile. “No. I know better than to think there is anything on this planet which could stand a chance when faced with my children standing shoulder to shoulder. But what one knows to be true does not always have any bearing on the anxieties one feels. I watched as my children sped off into the wilderness without me to protect them, and that frightened me deeply. It frightened Anthony deeply, though he did his best not to show it.”

Hela glanced over at iron-dad, guilt once again twisting in her gut. Iron-dad had always been there for them, ever since that very first day when he’d not had any idea that they would become his family. He’d always watched over them, cared for them, protected them, chased their fears away. It didn’t seem right that they would repay him with such anxiety. Even as he slept, there was a faint line between his brows. Hela bit her lip.

“And then you weren’t frightened,” Fen was saying slowly. “Because you remembered we wouldn’t be hurt?”

Father gave them a smirk. “Partially. I also cast a spell of farseeing to keep track of you from a distance.”

Fenrir jumped. “Dad!”

“You were watching us the whole time?” Jör asked, sounding mildly aghast.

Father was not moved by either of their stares. “Of course I did. And if you hadn’t expected it or something similar then your schooling has been lacking up to this point, and we’ll have to redress that soon. As it was, even with that spell in place I had some trouble convincing Anthony to not get suited up and do flybys until he tracked you down himself.”

Fun huffed, insulted, scowling into his bowl.

“I was able to do so,” father went on, “because the spell gave us some tangible way of knowing where you were, and because Anthony trusts me - trusts me to know my children. He trusts me, because I trust you.” He looked at them each in turn, the firelight casting his face in severe planes and shadows, his eyes shadowed pools. “I know the three of you. You feel the tug of the wild, the kind of freedom which is your birthright. You are your mother’s children as much as mine,” he murmured, pain lacing his words as it always did when he spoke of their mother. “It’s not surprising to me that you would wish to run free, to feel as though…” He trailed off, face pinched as he looked into the fire.

“I understand,” he said after a minute, “why you would feel as you do, and why you would race off without a word. And I understand that we have been neglectful of this side of your natures.” He looked up from the fire again, his gaze heavy with regret. “It’s something that ought not to have been so overlooked, and which we will be redressing in future.”

They all took a moment to absorb this. For Hela, tiredness was coming on her too quickly to think much on it or to make sense of what she did manage to consider. But it sounded positive, so she smiled. “Thank you, father.”

He smiled, and the boys also murmured thanks, sounding as uncertain and shell shocked as she felt. After a moment or two Fen stood, holding out his bowl and asking for seconds. Jör joined him and they were both soon sat with bowls steaming in the cool air. Father looked at her, ladle still at the ready. “What about you, Hela, still hungry?”

She shook her head. She could still eat, but sleep was becoming a much more pressing issue. She glanced over at the tents again, wondering which of them was intended for them, then abruptly decided they were all too far away to bother with. Instead she went the few steps to iron-dad and insinuated herself under his coat-blanket with him. He was warm, and it was nicer than going to sleep alone in a tent.

As careful as she was, she couldn’t help but touch him as she curled up. He stirred, blinking groggily. “Mm-zat?”

“Go back to sleep, iron-dad,” she said, putting a hand over the faint glow of the arc reactor coming from beneath his shirt. “We’re back. We’re safe. Go to sleep.”

He blinked at her a few more times, apparently having trouble focusing, before he smiled at her muzzily and patted her hair with a sleep heavy hand. “’Course you are. Nothin’ takin’ out my kiddos.”

Hela smiled, and snuggled closer when the sleep heavy arm fell over her shoulder. After a day of running wild it was nice to feel protected. Whether they needed it or not.

Relaxing into the familiar warmth of family, Hela let herself drift off to sleep.

“You know, considering some of the troubles we’ve had on the way here, I’m not sure that a stop at Disneyland is the wisest of choices.”

“What’re you talking about, Cap? Of course it is. Every kid should visit it at least once, you know. Get a dose of some old-timey theme park fun, indulge in whimsical capitalism and get sick on churros and roller coasters. It’s an experience meant to last a lifetime, for kids and parents.”

“I’m not debating that the place is worth visiting, Tony. I’m just… concerned that maybe, given the unpredictable natures of the triplets, a place with a lot of fragile, high speed structures and a lot of people might not be the best place to bring them…?”

“High spirits, Cap. Every family trip has its share of rough spots, and, as you said, considering who and what our munchkins happen to be, it’s not surprising ours just happen to be a little more extreme than what’s typical.”

“Still, I’m worried. A lot could go wrong, and you could hardly find a worse place for something to go wrong. I mean, look at all these kids…”

“I know, it’s great! The triplets have never had a chance to be around so many people their own age before!”

“Tony…”

“Tony, have you thought about what might happen if we’re attacked again? How that would go down in a place like this? We’ve been having enough trouble with our public image without having ‘destroyers of the most beloved children’s park’ added to our resume.”

“Never thought I’d hear you worried about something as visible as ‘our public image,’ Miss Subterfuge. And yes, in fact, I have given it some thought. Lokes and I have been working hard to make sure we’re as covered as we can possibly be, magically and scientifically. We’ve got some tricks in place to act as deterrents to any would-be attackers, plus some nice surprises should anyone make it past those. Nice, quiet surprises which won’t disturb our fellow park-goers.”

“And the rest of us haven’t heard about any of this before now because…?”

“Because your input in our planning was neither required or desired.”

“Lokes…”

“I speak only truth on this point. Between the two of us we had more than enough in the way of strategizing experience, not to say intelligence when it came to the designing of our fail safes. There was no need to bother with soldiers and spies in our plans.”

“Tact, honey. Just because it’s true doesn’t mean you should say it.”

“Seriously. They used to call you Silvertongue in your castle in the sky?”

“My tongue is very talented, archer, when given proper motivation to be so. As Stark could tell you.”

“Okay, ew. Could we remember where we are before we start reaching for the sexual innuendos?”

“I don’t know about you, Brucie, but I’m feeling positively enchanted already.”

“Of course you do, Tony…”

“You need not concern yourselves, friends, with the effectiveness of Stark and Loki’s plans. I had the opportunity to take a peek at their preparations and they’re quite impressive.”

“I’m a little disturbed at this recent propensity of yours, brother, for spying. It’s so unlike you. Whatever would father say?”

“Possibly that I am beginning to resemble my brother.”

“Hmph.”

“I’m not concerned what the Allfather might have to say on the subject. There are worse things one might endure than a scolding. Though avoiding one of those seems to have been part of Stark’s motivation in ensuring the peace while at this park.”

“Oh ho, what’s this? Is this confirmation that our billionaire playboy philanthropist is well and truly whipped? Want to avoid the sharper side of that silver tongue-“

“Clint, don’t set him up for another innuendo.”

“-or are you actually worried about what Fury might have to say?”

“Neither. It would seem Stark is much more concerned with how Ms. Potts would respond to such a public outrage.”

“Yeah, well, you try facing her when she gets up a head of steam and you’ve got no clear avenue of escape. That red hair isn’t just for show, you know. The fact that she’s been my assistant for so many years before I made her CEO only means she’s got the inside track on how to get at me.”

“A trait I’ve come to value. She’s been invaluable to me in recent times.”

“I’m well aware of that, thank you. Remind me again why I thought it would be a good idea for my ex and my current lover to get along again.”

“Because you prefer the people you care for to get along with each other, my love. Also because you’re a fool.”

“Ah, right. I forgot. Odd I would forget something like that.”

“Not really.”

“Hey-!”

“Speaking of Ms. Potts, there was a rumor going around that she might be getting engaged some time soon?”

“Mm. That’s the plan. It’s just a question of whether or not Happy ever gets up the gumption to actually ask. Knowing Pep, though, she might ask him before he gets a chance.”

“Really? Pepper and Happy?”

“They’ve known each other as long as Pep and I have known each other. Happy’s a sweet guy under all the, uh, fronting, and Pep is good at getting through all of that. But yeah, I was a bit surprised, too.”

“Huh. Happy and Pepper getting married. You know, that’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, Tony. You and Loki have been together for four years, now, are you two--“

“Say! How’s about we start planning out the itinerary for the day, eh? I was thinking we should start with the traditional train ride and go through each section of the Park and ride every ride they have. What do you guys think?”

“I think that’s a subject that’s off limits for now…”

“Well spotted, there, Cap.”

“I’m not sure I understand why I am required to wear this.”

“Because we’re in Disneyland, honey. It’s part of the experience. Besides, it’s not all that different from the headgear you were wearing when we met, a hat with sticky-outy bits. At least these won’t get caught on anything.”

“You realize that I’ve been aware that you have been using the excuse of ‘tradition’ to get myself and Thor to dress in ridiculous outfits this whole trip? It’s only because I see about half of the visitors wearing these ridiculous ears that I’m agreeing to this.”

“And because the kids would be upset if you didn’t wear them.”

“I doubt that. I think you would feel the lack more keenly than they ever would.”

“If the Mickey Mouse ears put you off so much I could probably find you a little Donald Duck sailor cap instead.”

“… I’ll take the ears.”

“That’s the spirit!”

“I’m not sure why we agreed to be the designated photographers for this. I mean I get why he thinks we’d be best at it…”

“Yeah, his joke about ‘framing’ wasn’t exactly subtle.”

“He’s never going to let the spy thing go, is he?”

“No, but I never expected him to. He’s not the type to let betrayals go. At least a lot of the bitterness seems to have worn off.”

“So long as he never sees you as betraying him again.”

“That shouldn’t be too hard. Besides, his point about your aim was true enough.”

“Hitting stuff with projectiles doesn’t automatically make me a good photographer, Tasha.”

“Maybe not, but all of your stuff is looking good so far.”

“A shame, really. If we were bad at this the job might be given to someone else and we might get a chance to enjoy the trip a bit more.”

“Clint, were you really looking forward to riding some of the Disney rides?”

“Well. Maybe.”

“…”

“Oh, come on! How often do we get a chance to just do something stupid and harmless? You can’t tell me there’s not at least one ride you haven’t wanted to go on.”

“… fine, yes, there’s one I would… really like to go on.”

“Which one is it? We can sneak off like sneaky spies and indulge our inner children.”

“I’ll let you know when we get to Fantasyland. And stop smirking like that!”

“To tell true, Banner, when brother Stark called this place a Magical Kingdom I wasn’t certain what to expect. A place in Midgard that was rife with magic seemed unlikely, let alone an entire kingdom. Even when my people and yours were in contact, such a thing had never been heard of.”

“What surprises me is that you and your brother haven’t been tackled to the ground yet by medievalists or mythology majors. The two of you are walking treasure troves of knowledge, it seems impossible you aren’t constantly swamped with undergrads.”

“Oh, there have been many who have approached us, seeking interviews and similar. For a people so interested in your own pasts, you seem not to have kept very extensive records for long stretches.”

“Methods and habits of record keeping varied from place to place, as well as from time to time. Not all peoples were as focused on keeping track of what would have been considered everyday minutiae at the time, or even had the same ideas of what counted as ‘history.’ I know, I’ve had my ear talked off plenty by friends at Culver.”

“Still, it seems strange that you should be such mysteries to yourselves.”

“Well, it doesn’t help that there are so many of us. From what I understand Asgard is comparatively tiny to Earth.”

“Perhaps. Comparatively.”

“So have either you or Loki accepted any of those requests for interviews? Seems like something we would hear about if you had.”

“No, we’ve turned down all requests. I’m not certain why Loki does not wish to contribute, but for myself I am no expert in history, and would not wish to give your scholars false information. They seem to have their hands full as it is without adding my ignorance to their troubles.”

“Noble as the sentiment is, I doubt the historians view it quite the same way you do.”

“No, they do not. They are quite determined to discover what they can. They’re all very passionate in their chosen fields, much as you are. Which reminds me, I must thank you for being so restrained yourself in interrogating me and my brother on the workings of Asgard.”

“I’m not a historian, Thor.”

“No, but Asgard has many advancements in the fields of science and technology. Those are both subjects which I know interest you greatly, and yet you have never hounded us for that knowledge.”

“Ah. Yes, well, I’m glad you appreciate the restraint, because my own inquisitive nature certainly doesn’t.”

“It is something you’ve wished to ask us about?”

“Well, of course it is! It just never seemed like the sort of thing which was your specialty. Nor did it seem very fair to bug you about it when you’re actually here - since you can’t always be here, it’s better you spend your time with your family.”

“I hope you include yourself in that definition of family, Bruce.”

“…”

“And if you’re concerned with taking my time or that I will not be able to answer all of your questions, there’s always Loki. He’s more knowledgeable and spends more time on Earth than I.”

“Uh. There are other things which make us hesitate in asking Loki very many questions. Besides, he’s not always around that much more than you. He’s often gone for a week or two at a time on those tasks set to him by Odin.”

“Is he? That’s… interesting…”

“Is it? Why?”

“Mm. I’m uncertain what it means. I’ll have to ask him later. For now I must ask you to explain the purpose of the giant cartoon characters.”

“Oh, fine, start with something easy, why don’t you?”

“So what is it that they’re doing in there?”

“They’re giving our terrible three a Disney makeover! It used to be that you could get your kid decked out from top to bottom in Disney chic as one of the most popular princesses - Snow White, Cinderella and the like, but that was about it.”

“Given the number of human characters in this Kingdom’s arsenal that seems rather limiting. Only princesses?”

“Right? It was totally unfair to any of the boys who wanted to join in. And the tomboys, I guess.”

“Did they not allow boys to dress as princesses?”

“Uh… It wasn’t encouraged, no. They’re probably more open about the idea, now.”

“Your planet’s customs never cease to exhaust me. Remind me to tell you the time we dressed Thor in a wedding gown.”

“Well, that sounds like a fun story. Anyway. That arsenal of characters is much wider now in terms of what they have available to dress everyone up as. So the kids are in and picking favorite characters to look like.”

“That should be interesting. Will they be removing their mouse caps?”

“If you want to take yours off, I’ll insist you dress like Princess Jasmine.”

“You say that as though I wouldn’t.”

“… remind me to remind you of this conversation when we’re back home, would you?”

“You’re incredibly predictable at times, Anthony.”

“Makes me easy to shop for. Ooo, here’s our first fashion victim!”

“…”

“…”

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting Violet Parr in full superhero gear.”

“You must admit it suits her, though. You look incredible, Hela. How do you like it?”

“… I like the mask. And the boots.”

“I’ll bet. They are pretty awesome, honey. I’m going to have to start designing some hero outfits of your own soon, won’t I?”

“Stark…”

“Oh, look, next up!”

“… Fenrir, did they even dress you up?”

“Dad!”

“It’s alright, kiddo, I recognize it. Jim Hawkins from Treasure Planet, right?”

“Yeah! Look, they even gave me the map ball!”

“Very nice! You’ll have to talk to big daddy about space adventures, but I wonder if I could design one of those solar boards…”

“If you could restrain yourself from actually turning our children into Disney characters…? Oh.”

“Oh. Wow. Jör, you, uh. That’s an interesting choice.”

“I believe I remember the name of this one. Quasimodo, correct?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. It’s an impressive costume, kid, but you sure that’s going to be comfortable for the rest of the day? The hump isn’t too much?”

“It’s fine.”

“Well. Unexpected, but I think all three of you managed to surprise us with your choices. I like it, actually. Much more interesting than some of the standards we see running around.”

“I think we were only spared things like radios, cats and kangaroo mice due to the amount of costuming it would take to do.”

“See, that just shows a lack of imagination and commitment. You don’t have to be a radio to look like one with the right outfit.”

“As you often prove, dearest.”

“… do you think they have the right stuff to dress you up as the Horned King? I’m starting to think horns do suit you better than mouse ears.”

“Don’t be fractious, Anthony, you’ll set a bad example.”

“But I’m so good at it.”

“Of that there’s no doubt.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s get out three little oddballs in front of a camera and record their awesomeness for all time. …Where did our two candid cameramen go?”

“Oh, yes. I saw them wander off - or I should say sneaked off - to one of the rides in Fantasyland.”

“Really? And you didn’t say anything? Did you see which ride?”

“Peter Pan’s Flight.”

“Well, I’d say the delay on photos is worth the blackmail material, wouldn’t you? Why don’t we go and find us some lunch, then continue to terrorize the Magical Kingdom with our awesomeness?”

“… Fenrir did they actually cut your hair?”

“They did what?”

“I asked them to.”

“And they actually did?”

“I told them you said it was alright.”

“Fen, for…”

“Eh. It’ll grow back. One thing we don’t have to worry about with this one is how quickly he regrows fur.”

“Nat! Clint! How’s it going?”

“Not bad, doc. How about… you… two…?”

“Eh, we’ve been kind of cycling through all of the rides in turn. Thor was curious.”

“Is that why he looks shell shocked?”

“He was fine up until the It’s a Small World ride.”

“Oh, well. That’s like to break just about anyone.”

“Have you two gone on Mr. Toad’s Wide Ride, or Alice in Wonderland-“

“-or the Car Toon Spin-“

“-or the Matterhorn-“

“-or Splash Mountain-“

“-or the Haunted Mansion yet?”

“Uh. I think maybe some recovery time, first?”

“Nope! Let’s go, we’re checking out Space Mountain.”

“Oh, come on, now Bruce and Thor are AWOL as well? Is this the kind of family vacation we were meant to have?”

“From what I was able to gather about these sorts of arrangements, then yes.”

“You’ve caught on to the nuances of human traditions disturbingly quickly.”

“When one if surrounded by the creatures, it’s a useful survival trait.”

“Well, fine. Let them wander off, then. We’ll have our own fun. C’mon guys. Fen, how’s about we show the Caribbean a modern pirate?”

“You know, Space Mountain was fairly future-y when it first opened. Now…”

“Major 1980’s flashback. Yeah. Still fun, though.”

“And worth it for the culture shock expressions.”

“True. He’s actually more fun to overload than the kids.”

“Oh, the kids are fine. Tony’s been ‘training’ them for months, going through practically every Disney movie in existence.”

“Huh. That might explain the random quoting. And the occasional racist sing-along.”

“Mm. Song of the South was kind of a weird choice.”

“Splash Mountain.”

“Oh, right.”

“You guys are hungry already?”

“A shame there are no nearby bison to satisfy our little pack.”

“You’re telling me. Well, I vote for Main Street waffles. Those things are heavy enough to sink air craft carriers, they should hold over the kids a few minutes.”

“At least.”

“Okay, how do we lose a man over six feet tall and two hundred pounds of muscle?”

“To be fair, for once we’re not the most colorful characters wandering around. He doesn’t stand out so much when there’s literal cartoons everywhere.”

“You suppose the Park would put out a search for someone over fourteen years old?”

“Fourteen, maybe. Fourteen hundred less likely.”

“Wonderful. Who wants to tell Loki we lost his brother?”

“You kidding? We’ll probably get extra Christmas presents for that.”

“You know, I never would have pegged our kids as the type to join in on a street dance. I mean maybe Fen, but Jör and Hela?”

“Perhaps this is the magic you insist this place has. It’s broken through their usual recalcitrance and brought them out of themselves.”

“Yeah, maybe… Look, Lokes, I know you weren’t totally sold on coming here, what with- well, everything. Crowds, high stress, excitable shape shifting kids and all that. But I’m glad you agreed to give it a shot. I may have gone on and on about the need for a little bit of Disney in every child’s life, but… this is really what I was hoping to see. Just the kids being kids and having a good time. I mean look at them.”

“…Yes, I agree. Coming here was a good idea.”

“Worth putting up with all of the clamoring mortals and their noise?”

“To see our children laughing and playing so easily? Yes.”

“Worth putting up with my smug face?”

“The last few years, I would have thought, should have been enough to prove that I consider that no hardship.”

“Sweet talker.”

“Guys, I found him.”

“… Are you sure that’s him?”

“Pretty sure. You know, underneath all the, uh… stuff.”

“Tony, hey! Wait up!”

“Bruce, there you are! Where did you get off to? I kind of expected the wandering from the spooks, but you? I expected more, I really did.”

“That’s because you have unreasonable standards, Tony. You remember my habit of hiding from any and all people actively seeking me out, right?”

“Well, yeah, but we’ve been making so much progress. Did you lose Point Break?”

“Uh. Briefly. Listen, you remember how you gave us all cards to cover food and souvenirs?”

“Yeah? …Bruce, you look like you’re trying to brace me for bad news. Even if you tried to buy the entire Park, it wouldn’t overload the cards.”

“Nothing quite that extreme, but, uh. Well, we lost track of Thor for a bit, and I think the whole ‘Disney saturation effect’ hit him at once. He went into the shops and-“

“Yeah, I think I see the problem. Unless someone not Thor is walking around like a mountain made of tchotchkes.”

“No, that’s him.”

“I’m glad you’re amused, Lokes. Really, this is why shopping waits until the last day. Now we have to get all of this back to the hotel.”

“Can’t Loki just… magic it back there?”

“I could… But with free hands, Thor might simply be encouraged to continue pillaging every shop for more merchandise.”

“This is true. I say we make it a learning experience and have him take it all back himself.”

“That’s not likely to slow him down very much. Even carrying as much as he is, Thor is still a god and will be back to continue his rampage.”

“Do you suppose we should knock him out for a while?”

“Not unless you truly fear your finances. Let him have his fun. We can worry if he begins insisting on wearing a mascot uniform.”

“That happens, I’m getting popcorn.”

“Alright, c’mon, everyone, time for a group shot! Yes, even the invisible ones, in front of the camera, now. We’re getting photographic evidence that this happened and potential blackmail material for the future. Together like you all like each other! There we go. Big smiles all around!”

click

Family vacations, Hela decided, were an entirely odd experience, but one which was, overall, pleasant.

They were contradictory things - time taken away from one’s everyday life in order to have fun and lower stress, and yet every part of the process seemed geared towards generating as much stress and trouble as possible. Cramming a lot of people into confined spaces, travelling far from home, getting tossed into new, unknown settings surrounded by crowds of strangers… Whoever among the Midgardians thought that would be a good way to relax had some rather odd notions on the concept.

Still, Hela had to admit that she’d enjoyed herself, even if she didn’t fully understand the logistics. There had been plenty of stress and frustration along the way, small arguments and unexpected attacks, and people getting on one another’s nerves. But looking back over the trip as a whole, she found that those memories weighed hardly anything at all, their details already growing fuzzy around the edges. They weren’t as important as all of the rest. The times where everyone was laughing, playing with one another, or even arguing good naturedly - the teasing and the jibes which made their whole, cobbled together group a family and not just a team.

Hela shivered, and pulled her coat tighter round her shoulders. It was still a long ways from winter, but in the middle of the desert it got bitter cold once the sun went down. She didn’t mind too much. She could handle the cold so long as she got to see the stars.

She always forgot how much she missed seeing them until they went someplace where the skies were clear and there was little to obstruct her view. Once, they had always been visible, cold shards of light littering the sky from horizon to horizon, thick as falling snow. Now it was a rare when they got to see them.

Of course the stars were different here, far different than the patterns she had begun to learn in her youngest years. Gone were the three Weavers, the great wolf Stalks-in-Night, and the brother and sister magicians, Aud the Cunning and Gisle the Peacebroker. Those constellations and the stories they told were ones never heard of on Midgard, but they had stars and tales of their own. Orion the hunter, Draco, the seven sisters… It was strange that for two such dissimilar people, humans and jötunar showed close similarities at times, occasionally so similar there was no obvious way to tell the difference between them.

Details were different, but the basics were the same.

Family felt the same, whether it was made up of humans or jötunar.

Staring up at the night sky, Hela wondered if the family she had once known, the one that had been made up of no more than herself, her brothers, father and mother would have gotten along with the family she knew now. Would the similarities she could see have been enough to overcome the differences which would have separated them? It was difficult to consider, even across the distance of years and uncounted miles, how people she loved so deeply might have hated each other had they ever met. But then again, perhaps they would have gotten along fine. If events had somehow unfolded in such a way that iron-dad and mother could have met face to face, perhaps they would have been friends. Hela liked to think so. Her memory of Angrboða was a faint one, tinged with the simplicity of a very young child viewing a parent, so there was no real way to know how she and Tony Stark might have interacted… But they shared a love of father, and of her, Fen and Jör, and both did their best to protect them.

Maybe that would have been enough.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Hela twisted round in her perch sitting atop one of the cars. It was a lonely stretch of road out in the middle of the desert where they had stopped, with only a diner, a gas station and one or two other buildings breaking the monotony for miles. It seemed a strange place for a few buildings to crop up, with no nearby towns, landmarks, or even bodies of water to justify them. But there they stood, spilling blue light out into the endless darkness surrounding them.

Through the windows of the diner she could see the silhouettes of the rest of the group. Standing beside the car, limned in the light of the incongruous diner was Clint, looking up at her with a bland, unreadable expression.

“Hey.”

As though the word granted him permission to remain, Clint opened the back door of the car. After a little unseen rummaging, he came out with someone’s coat - father’s, she was pretty certain.

“Here,” he said, settling the coat over her shoulders - and her head. “Don’t want you catching a cold after all of this. That’d be a pretty crummy way to finish a vacation.”

Hela fingered the fabric of the coat - definitely father’s, his familiar smell wrapped around her as reassuringly as the warmth. She waited as Clint climbed up, paying no heed at all to the damage he might cause with either his shoes or his weight, and settled into place with a sigh. He tilted his head back, taking in the sea of stars overhead.

“We don’t get sick the same way mortals do,” she said. She nevertheless pulled the coat a little more tightly around her. Whether illness were a threat or not, it was cold, and she’d rather not shiver.

Clint chuckled. “You sound more and more like your father every day.”

She studied his profile out of the corner of her eye. Keeping her voice as light as possible, so he might choose to think she was teasing, she asked, “Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?”

For a moment Clint went even more still than before. Hela thought she could read what it was that was going through his mind. They had all been told of how their current family had come together for the first time, not long before she and her brothers had been brought to Midgard. They had met as enemies. Father had led an army into Midgard, to all appearances intent on beating the planet into submission and subjugating it to his will. In his mission to do so, father had done some… terrible things. One of the first things he had done on his arrival to the human realm was to take over Clint’s mind, overriding his will and forcing him to participate, even if that led to his killing friends and comrades.

They all still bore the scars of that encounter, but they’d softened somewhat with time, faded to silvery shadows to mark where once there had been wounds. Except for Clint. For him the scars still sometimes itched, and Hela could see that it took everything in him to resist scratching.

“Well, I can’t really fault him for his vocabulary,” he said eventually, opting to take the route of teasing Hela had provided. “Though he tends to be an arrogant ass - and show it. But that could be any one of us.” His head angled down again as he gave the diner and the visible silhouettes within a mostly fond look.

There had been talks in the past between her father and Clint, she knew, and though progress was slow, there was progress being made. Doubtless there would be more discussions in the future, as well as more sniping and silences echoing with what could be said. So long as there were no major relapses, Hela was content enough to not prod either one of them. It wasn’t her place to try and heal that breach - a breach which had occurred when she and her siblings had been in Asgard, and not known any of the people involved, save their father.

If anything, she and her brothers had and were already doing quite a lot in terms of softening past hurts and reconciling opposite sides. It had been mentioned more than once that their presence did much to bring the group closer together, and had worked wonders in making their father more understandable to the humans. Hela suspected that this was true of even iron-dad, though his connection to father was vastly different than anyone else’s, and not dependant on having the triplets around to sustain it. In the beginning, though, connections between the humans and the triplets had been forged first. Through those bonds of protectiveness and affection, they had begun to see their father in a gentler light. No longer a conqueror but a parent, seeing to it his children were well taken care of and safe. It would have been difficult to keep the old image of Loki the Villain in mind once he was seen with his kids, the way his guard would drop and the love would show through. It was arguable that the fact he tried to keep from showing that side of himself when in front of others - and utterly failed at it - only helped his cause.

Even Clint was more on Loki’s side than not anymore, with only that ghostly itch left to trouble him.

With a small start, Hela realized that the three of them had acted as something like ambassadors between their father and the Avengers.

It wasn’t the common narrative for the Monsters in a fairytale. She wondered what that made them.

“You looking forward to getting home?”

She nodded. “Mm-hmm. It’ll be nice to have my bed again,” she said, thinking of the long chain of very nice, but strange beds they’d been sleeping in.

“But you had fun on the trip, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded again.

“No regrets for trying out a human vacation?”

Hela blinked and cast a sideways glance at the archer, the general direction of the questions and the tone of concern finally registering. Clint wasn’t looking at her, but there was something in the way he sat that spoke of some anxiety. Either something in the lines of his posture or just the way he breathed, something was bothering him - enough to make him speak of it, which was relatively rare.

“No, no regrets. Why?”

He shrugged, but his posture was still stiff. “Just like to make sure, you know. This vacation wasn’t exactly what we had originally planned. Most vacations take some unexpected turns, but this one was a bit extreme, and it was your first one… I just wanted to make sure you had more fun than not, is all.”

Hela frowned, and it took her a moment to figure out what it was he was obliquely referring to. The fight at the Grand Canyon, and her being grabbed. He was still worried about it, afraid that it had affected her liking of vacations? “Yes, more fun than fear.”

“Mm. So, not planning on running off again?”

Ah.

There had been some upset when she had nearly been abducted while the entire team had been so close by, and it had remained even after she’d escaped. She remembered how, once all of the villains had been bound and carted away by S.H.I.E.L.D., each of the Avengers had made sure to check in on her, even if it was only to touch her on the shoulder, as though confirming that she was there and alright.

But she hadn’t thought anyone had been terribly worried after their romp in the woods - worried that they would be eager to repeat the experience. And even if they were, it seemed odd that they would be so concerned about their safety. They were more than a match for anything a Midgardian forest could throw at them, and as Hela herself had proven, they could even take on villains. It didn’t make sense why Clint would be so worried. Unless it wasn’t any potential danger they might encounter which had him concerned.

Unless he worried that they just wouldn’t come back.

“What was your favorite part of the vacation?” she asked, rather than answer Clint’s question directly.

The archer’s brow wrinkled, making it look as though he were scowling at the stars for daring to look down on them.

“Not sure,” he said eventually. “Yellowstone made a nice change of pace. But I got some pretty good blackmail material at Disneyland.” He tilted his head at her far enough to send her a wink. She snorted.

“What was your favorite part, then?”

She looked up at the stars, thinking of how similar and how different they were from the ones she had once known. How similar and how different she and her brothers were since the time they had first begun to learn their names.

“No real part of the vacation, really,” she said eventually. “What I liked most were… were the in-between times. Getting from place to place, or stopping to rest a while. Like when we stopped at that one motel, ordered in Chinese food and stayed up all night. Or that time we tried to teach Uncle how to play Cards Against Humanity. Or places like this,” she motioned towards the diner, warm light and shadows spilling out over the parking lot, reaching for them. “Not really parts of the vacation, just parts where we’re together and have fun.” She ducked her head a little, the edge of father’s coat falling down to hide her from whatever look she saw Clint turn to give her. “I guess I didn’t really enjoy the vacation the way I was meant to, but-“

“Nah,” Clint interrupted, and she couldn’t quite stifle the squeak of surprise as an arm came around her and pulled her into a kind of sideway hug. “I’d say you picked up on what family vacations are really about better than most humans do.”

Hela tilted her head, just able to make out a bit of his profile and the bright shine of one eye. Slowly she relaxed in his hold. Clint was difficult to read sometimes, a little like Fenrir, but communication through touch was easier. Warmth and nearness spoke more clearly of affection and family than words ever did, and Clint was family. He was pack.

They all were. From scattered bit and pieces they had formed a pack all their own, and it felt good to be going to a home where they all belonged.

Home.

“Gods,” Tony groaned as he finally, finally allowed himself to collapse face first across the couch. Not just any old couch, though. Their couch, in their penthouse, where they would be spending the next week without venturing outside at all if he could help it. Good old trusty couch, had he ever thought of it simply as utilitarian, as background, as plain?

“I’ll make it up to you somehow, Couchy,” he mumbled, patting a cushion vaguely.

“Have we been lowered so far as to speak to the furniture now, Anthony?”

The Asgardian’s voice sounded just as drained as he felt, but the hand on his ankle, shoving a little to make him make room, was insistent enough to have Tony force his body to move. It was a struggle. “If I could lower myself into the Earth’s core at this moment I would,” he groaned, levering himself into something resembling a sitting position. “It sounds comfy. Besides, given who we are and what our lives are like, furniture suddenly taking on sentience is not as farfetched as it probably should be.”

“No,” Loki agreed, not quite able to mask a wince as he lowered himself - ha - to sit beside Tony. “Not outside the realm of possibility, perhaps, but not quite within the realm of probability, either. Ought you to be encouraging the anomaly by initiating conversations?”

Tony abandoned his short lived attempt to remain upright and leaned against Loki’s side heavily. Loki lifted his arm and Tony fit snugly into place, a heavy arm draped over his back. “Are you suggesting that by speaking to random inanimate objects, I might bring them to life? Have you been bleeding off enough raw magic to make that a risk worth considering?”

“Not so far as I am aware. But such things have a habit of sneaking up on one.” Loki sighed, his frame relaxing and becoming all the more comfy for Tony to lay against. Long fingers drew lazy, random patterns on Tony’s arm, a steady heartbeat drummed beneath his ear.

This was nice. Warm. Familiar. Much as he loved the sight of home on returning, this was what coming home was all about: Being able to relax, to snuggle up somewhere cozy without having to worry about the delicate sensibilities of the team. Not that he gave such things very much thought in any case, but it was nice not to have to listen to the whinging. Later on he would reacquaint himself with his workshop, the pile of work Pepper had no doubt collected for him, and probably the many messages Nick Fury had been patiently waiting to dump on them all. Then it would really feel like they had gotten home and things were back to normal. Tony would get wrapped back up in work, Loki would return to his endless tasks for the Bearded One, and they would both be back to the challenge of raising three jötun kids in a mostly human family. All the familiar stresses and worries and terrors of everyday life would be back on them like they had never been gone. That would be when they could say they were officially back.

Until then, Tony intended to appreciate this peace. To just enjoy the quiet rhythm of Loki’s breathing, his heartbeat, his not-quite-as-warm-as-human body heat, his scent and nearness. Sometimes he thought he could spend his entire life like this, with no need for anything more. Which even half in a doze he knew was a little inaccurate. He had a restless mind, always needing to discover and learn more. If the entire world were ever at peace and there were no threats around to take care of, Tony would still be on the move, searching for something to occupy him.

The comfort was that, even if such simplicity wasn’t for him, Loki was more than willing to join him in the complexity which was reality. Tony might be a restless sort of person, but so was Loki, and they were great at shaking things up together. With a sigh, he leaned in further to Loki’s side. “The kids all tucked in for the night?”

“Mm, yes,” Loki answered, voice thickening with exhaustion he was finally allowing to show.

“How were they?” While Loki had taken the triplets up to their rooms, transporting the four of them, all their luggage and their many souvenirs in one massive shimmer of green, Tony had taken on the more mundane task of ‘waking up’ the Mansion and making sure that the rest of the team was squared away. He was tired enough before, and definitely tired enough now to say that he got the unrulier set of children to deal with.

“Absolutely exhausted. I think they were asleep before their heads hit the pillows.”

“Poor little monsters. I know how they feel.”

“Mm. There does appear to be something of a contradiction in these supposed rest periods of yours,” he said, tone still languid. “A vacation was meant to be a respite from the day to day things which tire us. ‘A chance to recharge the batteries,’ was how you put it.”

“Ooo, extra points for the voice acting, there. Accent and all.” Tony’s face ached with the force of the yawn he couldn’t suppress.

“And yet,” he went on, ignoring the jibe, “it appears that everyone is significantly more drained now than they ever would have been had we simply remained at home.”

“A common problem. Common enough to have given rise to the phrase, ‘Needing a vacation from your vacation.’”

“I would ask what the point of it was, then, but I know that you already have some frustratingly human answer ready.”

“I do, in fact.”

“Do share, then. Far be it from me,” and here was Loki’s turn to give a huge yawn, Tony rising and falling along with his ribs, “to deny you anything.”

Tony smiled, and nuzzled further into Loki’s shirt, the warm scents of skin and spiced soap rising up. “Life is short,” he murmured, his lips grazing fabric. “Staying home might have been more restful, but now we have experiences we never would have had before, may never get the chance to have again. The kids won’t be kids forever, you know, and trips like this always have a special kind of magic to them when they’re had as children. Besides,” he stretched one leg out with a groan, the knee joint popping before he curled it back again, “chasing three hyper kids around theme parks has made me feel my age, more than saving the world ever does, and their legs are still short. They’ll be teenagers before too long and - oh god. Oh, god. Magical teenaged triplets. Honey,” he gripped at Loki’s shirt, “we’re not going to survive.”

Loki chuckled, but it sounded a little forced. He must have been even more tired than Tony thought.

“What is magically enhanced puberty even like? Can we expect random things popping out of the walls, extra-dimensional visitors, or just more than the usual amount of shedding?”

“From what I’ve been able to gather of what Midgardians go through at that time of their lives, it’s much the same. Magical abilities will have little impact, save perhaps as a coping mechanism or means of venting.”

“Oh, god…”

He felt Loki shift beneath him, probably to look at him, but Tony didn’t bother opening his eyes to check. Eyelids had gotten particularly heavy in the last few minutes, and it was too much effort to try and move them.

“Is this truly the first time it has occurred to you that the children will one day be teenagers?”

“’Course not,” he mumbled. “’s just… I’m really good at the whole denial thing. Putting off that horror as long as possible, y’know?”

In all honesty, Tony had done a lot of thinking about the kids growing up. A lot of thinking, planning and borderline panicking, which he was certain was more or less par for the course for parents. Memories of his own teenage years rose up to haunt him with the new horrifying perspective of being the one rebelled against, rather than being the once breaking through the shackles of parental tyranny. He was at least semi-confident that he and Loki were neither as bad as Howard Stark had been, at least - or the Allfather, from what he had been able to gather. He was relatively certain none of the triplets would be champing at the bit to become binge drinking, bed hopping war profiteers, or to turn on each other in bids to get his and Loki’s attention. Reasonably certain, at least.

What worried him more was what lay on the far side of puberty. The long, uncharted waters of adulthood. What sort of futures would their kids have to look forward to? They would never have to worry about having a home or resources, even if they all chose to leave and make nests of their own, but he worried about them finding their places in the world, among humans. Who would they become, and would they be able to integrate into the world successfully? They were from another world - literally - and possessed powers and knowledge which would always set them apart. He and Loki were doing their best to be sure that the kids grew up just as much human as they were Æsir or jötun, but even the human side of their upbringing was outside the norm of Earth. They were growing up around the Avengers, for gods’ sakes.

There was always the worry that even with how much they were doing to prepare the triplets, it wouldn’t be enough, that they would miss something which would seem incredibly obvious later on. Tony supposed that was a common parental concern as well, but it didn’t calm him down in the least for being aware of that fact.

And there was the occasional, difficult to dismiss thought of, ‘What if they couldn’t find a place to fit in on Earth? What if they decided to try their luck somewhere else? What if their kids all left the planet entirely?’

Tony had gotten a lot of practice with his skills of denial over the last few years.

“Time… is short.” When Loki spoke again, his voice was so low it was barely more than a breath. So low that Tony almost missed the underlying intensity of the words. All at once he realized that Loki’s fingers had stopped in their tracing, and his breathing was no longer as easy as it had been. “A precious resource which should not be squandered. It’s far too easy to forget that, at times.”

Tony blinked, Loki’s tone bringing him more awake. “Lokes…?”

“I’ll find more time,” he said. “Too often I am away for days or weeks at a stretch, when all I wish is to be here. I know you don’t resent your time with the children, but I’m too often away. I will find us more time and--“

“You sound as though you intend to go out and hunt Time down like it’s a prize boar,” Tony said, forcing a chuckle. He came up to meet Loki’s eyes, and stroked one of his legs lightly in an unconscious attempt to soothe. “We all know that you don’t want to be gone so much. It’s not like you can just completely defy old One-Eye.” Loki huffed indignantly and Tony poked his side. “You know what I mean. Not with the way things are right now. Not with the kids still so dependent on us.”

Which was another part of the future Tony barely dared to contemplate. A future where the triplets were grown and terrorizing the world in their own ways, either this one or another, was a future where Odin had lost the single most powerful bit of leverage he had against his adoptive son: the safety and freedom of his children. Tony knew enough of the family history to know that the Allfather had already threatened that once, and Tony had little doubt he would be willing to do so again of Loki appeared to be stepping out of line.

Once that threat was no longer viable and Odin lost his leverage, Tony foresaw some kind of reckoning on the horizon. Arguments between Loki and Thor were impressive enough. A full on family feud between Æsir would be a thing best witnessed from the next solar system or so. It was a war waiting to happen, and Tony had no idea who would come out on top in the end. But he knew whose side he would be on when the time came.

“Things won’t last the way they are forever,” he said, still soothing along Loki’s thigh. “Like you said. For better or worse, time goes on.”

“Yes,” the murmur was quiet, and if anything Loki only seemed to grow tenser beneath him, muscles clenching as though he were preparing for flight, or for a strike. “Yes, things will indeed change, in time. And after… after, I intend to show you around the galaxy, Anthony. Just as you would show us your world, I will take you with me on a tour of all the Realms - and beyond if you wish. We’ll visit Alfheimr and see how well their sciences measure up against the great Anthony Stark and his peerless mind. We’ll go to Vanaheimr and see the great magics they boast, and taste their finest wines. We’ll travel the secret ways to Niflheimr and discover secrets known only to the eldest of creatures.”

Tony went still. It wasn’t often Loki spoke of other worlds, and despite how much Tony absolutely itched to ask about them, he never got up the courage for it. There was no knowing what might be a tender subject, and as much as he prided himself on how little tact he had, he’d learned some things were just best left alone when it came to tender subjects and Loki. Hearing him rattle off an entire list of far off worlds, planning to take him there as well, took his breath away. Entire new worlds to explore, new technologies, new magic, new people…

He was shaken out of his daze by Loki shifting, pushing them both up into a sitting position on the couch. Had Tony even been in a proper state of mind to complain, the look that was leveled on him would have shut him up quickly enough.

“Until that day comes, I promise to you that I will be more present than I have been. I have missed being with you and the children.” He grazed a thumb across Tony’s face, gently tracing the bone structure and making him shiver. “I have been squandering the time I have been given to share with you. But I swear to you Anthony, I will find you more time. Even if I have to steal it.”

It wasn’t often Tony Stark was at a loss for words, but when it did happen he usually had a pretty good alternative.

He cupped Loki’s face in his hands, green eyes murky and gaze so earnest - that rare expression he sometimes got when he wished more than anything to simply be believed - and leaned forward until their lips came together in a kiss.

He remembered being surprised, when their relationship had still been new, to discover that not every joining with the exiled Prince was a clashing of wills, or even a conflagration of passions. Sometimes, and increasingly often as they grew ever more familiar and comfortable with each other, it was simply a meeting of two, something soft and almost chaste. Not passion so much as comfort, a reassurance that they were not alone. They had each other.

As surprised as Tony had been to realize that it was something that Loki wanted - that he needed - it had been nothing compared to when he realized that he wanted and needed it just as much. Someone who understood. Someone to hold on to.

When they pulled apart, Tony’s fingers buried in Loki’s hair, Loki’s arms looped loosely around his waist, the earnest expression hadn’t left, nor the green become any less murky.

“I do love you, Anthony,” he said, and Tony went absolutely still at the so-rarely spoken words. “I love and treasure you just as you are. I would never have you change, there is no way you could which would make you more precious to me than as you are in this very moment.”

It was a little hard to breathe. Tony’s chest felt too tight, as though it was trying to expand far beyond the confines of his ribs. The arc reactor felt like the only thing keeping him pinned in place, an anchor to keep him from floating away entirely. “I love you, too, Loki. More than heroing, than fast cars, than engineering, more than coffee. Any time I have with you is more than I could have asked for or reasonably expected. I treasure you, too, you Asgardian goof, and I’ll take every moment the universe is generous enough to dole out.”

The intensity of Loki’s gaze finally softened some at Tony’s words, the fine line between his brows smoothing away. He took a deep breath and nodded, a tiny jog of his head, before leaning his forehead against Tony’s, his eyes drifting closed. Tony leaned into it, draping his arms over Loki’s shoulders and relaxing into the new position.

“Besides, who do you think you’re talking to, here,” he murmured into the space between them. “I’m Tony frigging Stark, honey. I ain’t changing.”

Loki huffed a silent chuckle, his breath fluttering over Tony’s face and making him smile in return. “This is true. Who would ever dare suggest the Man of Iron would ever change save by his own choice?”

“Mm.” He nudged his forehead against Loki’s, making him look him in the eye again. “Only a fool.” When he leaned in for another, deeper kiss, he was met enthusiastically, if still a little languidly. They were both still tired, after all.

The truth was, though, that Tony Stark had changed a lot over the years, both publicly and internally, and he knew it. Afghanistan and the cave had changed him, Yinsin had changed him physically and deep into his soul, Obie’s betrayals had all changed him… He’d gone from a weapon’s merchant to becoming a weapon himself, from a man who blew things up and walked away to one who created, one who tried to make the world better and stronger for having had him in it.

‘A warm light for all mankind to share.’

He’d changed, but at the same time he was still himself. He was still Tony Stark. The kids might grow and change, but they would still be their kids, no matter who they became or where they ended up. And Loki…

Loki would always be Loki. Whatever he decided, whatever it was he felt he would need to do in the future and wherever that led him, Loki was Loki, and Tony would stand beside him for as long as he was given the chance. For as long as Loki wanted him there.