Fergus was awake earlier than he had thought possible. He had silently watched the night be replaced by eerie morning light thats dawn.

“My name is Fergus, Fergus! I'm telling you, these people here got it all wrong. In some way, I'm still convinced that this is some kind of bull. I mean, how could you possibly be pulled into another world by some mythological female-smeagol?” he ranted, going to push a piece of hair away from his eyes only to realise it had been cut. It was a reflex.

“More mead, m'lord?”

“Yes, of course, but I said it's Fergus, please call me Fergus. Also, wasn't the mythological wolf in chains anyway?” he asked, throwing his legs up on the bed as he reached for the full goblet. The maid, whose name he had learned was Aerith, was sitting on the chair where Stiorra had been sitting last night. She hadn't wanted to, but Fergus was very convincing. Now the poor maid was sitting there, short legs dangling over the edge and gripping the jug between her fingers, tense and very much trying not to squirm in his presence.

“But you were, m'lord.” his green eyes landed on her, making the maid freeze under his calculated stare.

“I'm not particularly fond of these kinds of games.” he said, looking at the flustered maid with amusement.

“I- my lord I didn't, it's not what I-” a knock sounded, pulling Fergus' attention away from the maid who was on the brink of passing out. Aerith let out a relieved sigh, melting into the chair as she took a couple of seconds to try and get her heart to calm down.

Before Fergus could answer, the door opened, relieving the small woman. Stiorra snorted at the scene before her, stepping into the room.
“couldn't you put a shirt on before you go terrifying the maids. Also, it is highly inappropriate.” she glared at the maid who hopped off the chair, avoiding eye contact at all cost before placing the jug on the table. Aerith apologised profoundly, scurrying off.

“See you later Aerith!” Fergus called out, waving at her as she disappeared out of the door.

“You're ruining her reputation, stop it.” Stiorra said, crossing her arms as she looked at the tall demigod who didn't seem to mind being half-naked.

“It's not really a crime to have a shirt off, is it? I mean, it's some kind of underworld does it really matter if— omph” he coughed, gripping the boot that had been thrown at his abdomen. He had closed his eyes for a second and there he was already abusing him.

“It won't do anything to you but she will be the one receiving all the unwanted attention by everyone.” Stiorra said nonchalantly, perching on the windowsill as she looked out, eyes landing in the dark forest the stretched in the horizon. There were cliffs in the distance, almost pitch black as a trail of water seemed to fall from then into oblivion.

“Yeah I almost forgot, it's the Medieval mindset here, got it. Also, why are you here again?”

“Because Aurgrímnir will probably pretend to forget all about you and you need to start training. Of course, I'll fill you in about everything. And would you get ready? Is everyone on Midgard that lazy? If that's true, it's gonna be a child's play to get.” Fergus' head perked up as he craned his neck to stare at Stiorra.

“What?”

The girl sighed, rolling her eyes “Just get dressed.” she replied, leaning back as she looked out thoughtfully. Fergus realised her face was smeared with ash and hair stuck up in odd places, the mud on her boots also didn't go unnoticed.

“What were you doing during the night?”

She smiled maliciously, grinning like a bobcat as she briefly glanced at him. “Working.”

He shrugged and pushed himself up to get dressed.
It didn't take as long as it had taken the previous day, but he still felt odd wearing these kind of clothes. He had worn something like that once, a long time ago in a drama class. They had done a play of Peter Pan and initially, Fergus had been chosen as one of the fellow pirates, but due to a sudden illness of their Captain Hook, he had been given the role in the last minute. The costume had been somewhat similar, but a lot lighter and not as tight. And definitely not so grim-looking, despite being such a malicious character.

They walked down the hall, green puffs of fire adorning the walls and Stiorra's little comments never going unheard.
He noticed the tall man, Aurgrímnir, once. He didn't miss the nasty look he was given. And as fast as he had appeared, he was gone. Stiorra hadn'd seemed to notice as she kept on rambling, they made it to the front gates.

“Who is that guy? The tall one who I met yesterday, what's his problem?” Stiorra gave him an evil eye, displeased by being interrupted.

“Don't feel special now, he hates everyone. But he is the Queen's right hand and advisor so I suggest you at least try to be on his good side if you see him. And I have a feeling you're gonna see him a lot. You're above us, obviously.” she grumbled the last part, walking down the wide path that led to the lower parts of the village. He could detect narrow houses, seemingly all made of logs and stones, the streets were of cobble stone and from the distance, Fergus noticed the heavy commotion.

He did a double-take when he glanced at the humanoid figures. Most didn't even look like humans.

And for a second he thought he was in Narnia or something.

When he paid closer attention to everything around him, he noticed that it was a bit alien and strange, the things they were selling in shops were odd-looking, and sometimes when he passed some certain objects he realised the magic in him hummed happily. It came alive, drawing him to different things, like for example a ring that looked like a dragon holding a ruby in its mouth, Stiorra had pulled him away, telling him he didn't need useless things.

There were animals, horned cats, snakes with wings, rabbits with fangs... He was sure they were all called something but he wasn't completely sure what exactly. And he was also convinced that the fanged rabbits, even though looking rather fluffy and cuddly, had a valid reason for being muzzled.

They walked through the village, people often looked on the ground and stepped away from his path, he felt the curious and suspicious glances, stares that followed him. Most people stopped whatever they are doing whenever he walked past them, as if they knew who he was. Stiorra pretended not to notice, or maybe she simply didn't care.

He was a bit hesitant when Stiorra guided him away from the sound of blacksmiths hitting metal and the sound of carts being pushed down the cobbled streets. Stiorra skipped in front of him, coming to a stop before the treeline.

Fergus narrowed his eyes, slowing down as he looked at the gigantic trees. They were dead, ash-covered their roots as the dry branches reached for the grey skies. He came to a stop, looking over to Stiorra quizically.

“What's going on?” his tone was cold, even though the forest looked dead, he knew the dark and dense woods were filled with life. He heard them. They shuffled around the underbrush anxiously, pacing back and forth yet not coming too close. He saw a flash of eyes, amber eyes.

Stiorra backed away, crouching down slightly as if she was ready to bolt “go on, I know you want to. They've been waiting for your return for centuries now.” there was amusement in her voice, she found his guarded demeanor and alert eyes amusing. He tensed all over when a tall form of a wolf stepped out, dark grey fur matted and amber eyes burning with... Excitement?

“That's the alpha, your second in command my lord.” she said, carefully eyeing the wolf whose eyes were solely on Fenrir.

Fergus tilted his head, looking down on the wolf who was puffing his chest, he heard them, several other wolves were hesitantly stalking near the treeline. Waiting anxiously to see what's to come.

“You know where's the castle, enjoy the rest of your day.” Stiorra sounded further away. She could feel the hungry, dangerous eyes of the pack. They didn't like people, they didn't really like anyone at all. But Stiorra knew Fergus needed to see his folk, needed their guidance to tame the beast within.

So, she walked away, leaving him to the wolves.

And Fergus knew as soon as the alpha wolf stepped closer, touched his wrist with his wet nose, he knew.

He couldn't contain the rush of adrenaline as the instincts to run took over, fur spurted from his skin, eyes blazed with fury as his paws touched the ground.

Fergus was home, he felt the joy as he heard their snapping jaws and growls of excitement as they ran by his side, claws leaving behind gashes in the soil as their feet kicked off.

And the most dangerous predator was released in the forest of Helheim.

A/N
Should I put the gifs somewhere in the book or not? Some people like them but they can also be distracting, no? Yes?

Also, do we like Stiorra or nah?