The grounds that afternoon felt like it should: warm but not too hot, with long, even light. The grass had grown tall. No one minded.
Blankets on the grass. Food in the center. Everyone out.
Thori and Indominus had their own setup at the edge of the blankets: two portions of raw meat, bought that morning and simply placed out. Indominus went straight for his, focused like a young predator who knew exactly what was going on. Thori had a different approach.
He sat in front of his portion and looked at it with the focused consideration of someone about to apply a finishing touch.
Then he breathed fire on it.
He didn't hold back. Thori—an Asgardian hellhound with strong opinions about meat—incinerated it. In two seconds, the meat went from raw to charred. Thori looked at it with the satisfaction of a job well done.
Indominus had stopped eating to watch this.
Thori looked at Indominus, then at Indominus's portion of meat, which was untouched after Thori's fiery display. Thori's gaze became intent, suggesting he had decided to do something.
He moved to Indominus's side and looked up at him, clearly intending to offer the same treatment as a gesture of generous brotherhood.
Indominus shook his head. He did it for real, pulling his head sideways and tilting it in the clear animal way that meant, 'No, thank you.' He was certain about it.
Thori looked at the raw meat. Then at Indominus. He sat back down.
He didn't seem offended. He just noted the preference and moved on, turning back to his charred meat and eating it happily.
Rogue watched all of this from her blanket position.
"He really does love the burnt taste," she said, to the group rather than anyone specifically.
"He is a Hellhound," Raven said. "They have a different relationship with fire."
"He breathes it," Rogue said. "Of course, he prefers it cooked that way."
Jean was watching the interaction between Thori and Indominus. "Indominus has never tried cooked meat," she said. "He might actually prefer it eventually."
"He won't prefer that," Rogue said.
The first hour passed easily, like it does when no one has plans. Madelyne sat at the end of the blankets. She stayed close enough to join, but kept space for her own thoughts. She wasn't anxious, just thoughtful, like someone who had made a decision and was now living with it.
Ethan noticed Madelyne sitting apart and quietly chose not to interrupt or engage, allowing her her own solitude.
---
The second hour of the picnic was in its middle section when Madelyne looked up from the ground in front of her and at the group without waiting for a pause in the conversation.
"I'm going to go," she said. "Tomorrow. I've made my decision."
The conversation stopped.
Raven set down her cup.
Rogue looked at Madelyne with the evaluating directness she brought to everything, and what she found there she apparently approved of. "Good," she said. Then, after a moment, "I'm going to miss you."
She said it plainly, without trying to make it easier. It was true, and Rogue never changed the truth of what she felt.
Jean was genuinely pleased with the warmth of someone whose advice had been taken seriously. She didn't make it about herself. She just smiled at Madelyne from across the blanket and let that be enough.
Ilyana looked at Madelyne. She nodded once — precise, complete, the full weight of her approval in a single motion.
Ethan looked at her.
"I'm glad," he said. "Genuinely."
Madelyne took it in. She wasn't tearful; she was clear, like someone who had spent time deciding and was now ready to move forward.
Raven reached for the practical question, which was always where Raven went first.
"You need a car," she said.
Madelyne started to respond, and Raven continued.
"You can use mine," she said. "Not borrowed. Yours."
Madelyne looked at her. "Raven, that's—"
"It's practical," Raven said, using the short tone she had when something was settled. "A car gives you independence. A borrowed car is just another thing to worry about. You're taking mine, and that's final."
Madelyne looked at her for another moment.
Then she looked at the grass.
"Thank you," she said.
It was real gratitude, the kind you feel when you've been given more than you expected and are trying not to make it awkward. Raven accepted it simply.
She also told Madelyne about the phone — the brick-sized cellular that was 1992's version of a lifeline, already loaded with Raven's number. Not for emergencies but for whenever.
---
The afternoon continued, its pace gentle and unhurried, as sunlight lingered and conversations flowed.
The mood changed—not to sadness, but to a gentle tenderness. People knew something was ending and wanted to enjoy what was left. No one asked Madelyne about her plans or where she was going. They just let the picnic be a good afternoon in the sun, with Thori happily finishing his charred meat and Indominus returning to his raw portion, eating with the focus of a young predator who didn't care to try new things for now.
The afternoon moved until the light changed, and they carried the blankets back inside.
---
Morning arrived again, and Madelyne's bag was already packed.
It wasn't a big bag. After two months at the house, she hadn't collected much. She'd lived carefully, never quite believing she would stay. The small amount she packed showed that. Raven's car waited in the driveway, keys inside.
Everyone in the house ended up near the front door at about the same time, without planning it. They just wanted to be there for this moment.
Raven was first. She looked at Madelyne and briefly touched her face, the way she did with people she loved unconditionally. What she didn't say was clear in her gesture.
"Call when you want to," she said. "Not when you need to. When you want to."
Rogue stepped forward. "Find what you're looking for," she said. "And call me when you do. I want to hear about it."
Jean gave her a real hug, arms around her, holding on for a moment. She didn't say anything that needed a reply. The hug was enough.
Ilyana, standing a little behind the others, gave her a real, meaningful nod—the kind that showed Madelyne she was valued. Madelyne understood this was how she showed things like that.
Ethan was last.
"The house will be here," he said. "Whenever you want to come back, for however long. No conditions on that and no timeline attached to it." He held her gaze. "I hope the road is good to you."
Madelyne looked at him.
"Thank you," she said. "For letting me stay when you didn't have to."
"We did have to," he said. "You needed a place to land. And we had the place."
She paused to look at the house one last time, taking in the drive, the trees, and the greenhouse at the far end. Then she walked to the car, got in, and prepared to leave.
She didn't make a scene. She started the engine, drove down the private road, and the car disappeared past the trees before anyone had really decided to stop watching.
---
The house felt different, the way it always does when someone who was part of daily life is suddenly gone.
Rogue stood in the kitchen, arms crossed as she leaned against the counter—not out of coldness or defense but simply because that was what she did when quietly holding something inside. Jean sat silently at the table while Raven stood by the window, each of them processing the change in their own way.
Thori came in from the grounds. He looked at the humans with the direct, puzzled attention he brought to things he did not understand, and what he found in the room was clearly a thing he did not understand.
He looked at Rogue specifically, because she was the most visible.
"What is wrong?" Thori asked, his tone direct as ever.
"Madelyne left," Rogue said. "Someone we care about just drove away."
Thori processed this. He looked in the direction of the drive. He looked back at Rogue.
"If she wants to come back," he said, "she will come back."
He said it simply. Then he turned to look outside, where Indominus was making his morning rounds. For Thori, the subject was finished; he didn't dwell on things once he was done with them.
The sentence sat in the kitchen.
Rogue let out a breath, the kind you release when you've been tense and finally feel allowed to relax. She looked at Thori, who was already watching Indominus through the window with the warm focus he always gave his little brother.
Ethan looked at him, too.
"He's right," he said to the room.
Raven turned from the window. "That he is," she said.
---
He raised the subject of Kun-Lun after lunch, when the household had found its feet again.
"We had it planned," he said. "We move it back one day. We can go tomorrow."
Raven looked at him with the immediate interest of someone who had been waiting for this.
Jean was already considering the logistics.
Rogue nodded — a firm, forward-looking nod that meant she was ready to be moving toward something.
Ilyana looked at the table for a moment and then at Ethan. "I'm coming," she said.
He asked Thori, who was on the couch in his established position. Thori looked at him.
"I will come," Thori said.
Ethan held his gaze for a moment. "Kun-Lun is full of people and creatures that have done nothing wrong," he said. "Probably almost nobody there is guilty of anything."
Thori was quiet for a moment.
"Then I will not deal with anyone," he said. "I know how to tell the difference."
"I know you do," Ethan said and petted him on the head.
Raven went to the greenhouse, where Indominus was just inside the open door, carefully checking the threshold as he did with all boundaries. She crouched down to his level.
She knew he could not understand the question she was going to ask. She asked it anyway, in the tone she used with him when she wanted him to feel addressed rather than managed.
"Do you want to come tomorrow?" she said.
Indominus met her eyes for a moment. Then, without hesitation, he turned away and walked to the far end of the greenhouse where he spent his mornings, settling himself there in his usual spot with deliberate intent.
Raven watched him.
"He stays," she said to Jean rather than anyone else.
Jean was already reaching out with her telepathy, gently and without intruding, just as she'd learned to do since the Sinister operation. "I'll keep the connection open," she said. "If anything happens with him, I'll know."
Raven looked at her with the warmth she kept for things she was genuinely grateful for.
"That's enough,"
---
The rest of the day was easy, the way it is after a group has worked through something together. Thori returned to the grounds. Indominus patrolled his area. The others settled into their routines—Jean in the library, Rogue in the garage for a while, and Raven with her transformation books.
By evening, the house was quiet in a good way.
Tomorrow, they would go to Kun-Lun.
---
Asgard — Amora's dwelling:
The room looked just as Amora had set it up: meant to be seen and admired. Amora knew that spaces sent messages, and she was always careful about what hers said. Rich materials, deliberate colors—everything showed she saw herself as important and didn't pretend otherwise.
She stood at the far end of the room when they arrived, choosing to stand instead of sit, which sent its own message. She was striking, confident, and powerful, with the magical sensitivity needed for this request.
Loki explained what they needed. He kept it brief: They wanted to find Thori, and Amora could locate any creature from Asgard, even across the Bifrost.
Amora listened to all of it with the focused attention of someone who had already decided her answer before the question was finished.
"I'll help," she said. Her gaze moved to Thor with the ease of long practice. "I come with you. I'm not providing coordinates from Asgard — I locate him in person."
Thor looked at her. "That is a fair condition," he said. "We would be glad to have you."
He meant it fully, as Thor always did, never considering there might be another reason for the condition. He looked genuinely happy, glad for the adventure and the extra company.
Amora held his gaze a moment longer than was strictly necessary for an agreement.
"Then it's settled," she said.
Loki agreed to the condition.
He didn't say why he didn't object, since that would mean admitting he knew exactly what Amora's condition was really about. Her goal had always been clear to him, even if it wasn't to everyone else. Thor on a quest meant Thor away from Asgard, where Amora could spend time with him without the court watching. She took every chance to join him on a trip, always giving another reason.
He had seen through it before the sentence was finished.
He did not particularly care. They were going to find Thori. Amora's motives did not change the outcome.
Amora was already at work, her hands moving through the motions of a locating spell. She focused inward, searching for the resonance of something from Asgard now somewhere beyond the Bifrost. Loki knew the spell had a certain feel when it worked—a vibration that connected realms, a thin thread tracing back to its source.
Thor watched her work with the open, uncomplicated attention he brought to things he found impressive.
Loki watched the room.
The spell was building. Midgard waited. Somewhere there, a hellhound—named as a joke, but one who kept the name—slept beside a young T. rex in a house he now called home. He didn't know that two princes and an enchantress were coming to find him, or that finding him would lead them all somewhere new.