In his fevered haze, Jack found himself standing before Yggdrasil. The mighty tree whose trunk rises at the center of the Norse cosmos. Arrayed around it and held together by its branches and roots were the Nine Worlds. It was just as described in the stories Jack's father used to read to him.

It was larger than any mountain man would dare to climb, so tall that none but the Gods could see the top. Around Jack were stars, nebulas, clouds, waterfalls... all things beautiful and majestic.

Walking closer to its roots, Jack saw three figures emerge from the bark and transform into cloaked women. He recognized them as the three Norns, Urd, Verdandi, and Skuld. The sisters who weaved the webs of fate, the past, the present, and the future.

Urd said, "Who are you? State your name."

Jack's voice trembled, practically cowering beneath these mighty immortals, "J-Jackson..."

Skuld said, "What brings you forth?"

"I—I don't know! I don't even know how I got here!"

"Do you know who we are?" Verdani's voice rattled the cosmos.

"Yes... You're the three Norns."

"To you mortals." Urd briskly corrected. "To the Gods, we are the weavers of fate. They claim to be above destiny, but we Norns know better. They are at our mercy as much as any human."

Skuld, the sister of the future, asked, "Tell me, do you wish to know what lies ahead?"

The oldest sister, Urd, said, "Or the many lives of your past?"

"I want to know if my family will be safe!" Jack replied briskly. Even if I don't survive, I need to see if they'll be okay.

Verdandi, the middle child and sister of the present, stepped forward. "Why are you so keen to worry about what hasn't happened yet? What will soon become past? I tire of being overlooked."

Jack knew he was in trouble. "It's not that, I–"

"All that matters is the now." Verdandi said, her voice ethereal and haunting, "What we do now changes everything. There are endless possibilities, limitless universes we have woven based on a single action alone. Tell me, would you rather be told what lies ahead, or what you must do now to achieve it?"

Jack stepped forward; they seemed untouchable and so far away. "Tell me what to do then. Please."

Don't be foolish. Something said to him. Even the Norns don't know your true fate; they simply weave it as it happens. Jack tensed and stepped back, realizing there was truth in those words.

"Humph." Urd read his body language, "Perhaps you'll find out on your own." The three women stepped back, becoming one with Yggdrasil once again. Jack wasn't sure what he was to do next, nor how to get home.

"Most impressive." Said the voice that had been assisting him. He turned and saw Duraþrór, one of the four stags. He was larger than any reindeer or elk he'd ever seen, with antlers like tree branches. Somehow, Jack knew his voice.

"Why did you help me?"

"You'll find that we are not strangers, Jackson. But no matter, such details are trifling in a time like this. You are about to tread amongst the Gods! Tell me, are you from Niflheim?"

Jack shook his head, "No, I'm not from Niflheim. And I don't want to see the Gods. I want to go back to my family. My wife and children, where are they?"

"The mortal realm."

"How do I get there?"

"Simple. You head straight to Asgard, then take Bifrost back into Midgard." Jack wasn't sure how to even get to Asgard. Frankly, he wasn't sure what awaited him once he started down the roots of the tree. "I see you're hesitant. If you'd like, I could guide you there myself."

Jack was skeptical, "Would you?"

"Of course. However, on one condition. We take my route."

Jack's face fell, "How long is that going to take?"

"Tch. You'll find that time has no meaning here. Now, come along. For an informed mortal, you certainly have a lot of questions." Duraþrór then bowed his head, gesturing for Jack to mount him. Jack was reluctant, but he knew he didn't have a choice. Like he was back at home riding Faust, Jack climbed aboard, not sure what to hold onto since he had no reins.

At a brilliant pace, Duraþrór dashed along the branches of Yggdrasil, Jack ducking and swerving around smaller ones that were about to knock him off. He passed through Vanaheim first, marveling at the work the Gods had put into keeping their realm lush and fertile. As Duraþrór slowed his steps, Jack took in the sight. Elsa will never believe this. His breath was taken away; the Arcadian landscape with falling white flowers as the wind blew through the tall, green trees. They looked like snowflakes as Jack held his hand out to catch some.

"I wouldn't hold onto those if I were you," Duraþrór instructed, "everything here belongs to the Vanir Gods. From the stars they count to the ground they walk on."

The petals flew out of Jack's palm and danced across the sky.

"Tell me something, Jackson. Do you know what occurred here in Vanaheim?"

More quizzes? Jack furrowed his brow as he struggled to remember anything of note besides the Gods who lived there. He could only remember one fact. "I know that Njord was once held hostage in Asgard. That's all I remember."

"During the war, yes. Funny, isn't it? How the Gods live together peacefully nowadays... back then, however, that wasn't the case."

"That's how it is for a lot of people," Jack mumbled.

"Mortals are always fighting amongst themselves, aren't they?"

"That's why I have to go back; my home could be in danger. I have to get to my children before Hans or that thing does."

"What 'thing?'"

"The Angel. I'm sure you of all things know about it."

"Ah, yes. Her. The somber, moody wench who was foolish enough to make a deal with Hel."

Something profound occurred to Jack then, "...She just wanted to be accepted by the others, to be great like them. She was willing to do anything."

"Yes, but not all sacrifices are worth making. Oftentimes, life will deal you a bad hand. But one must make do with what they've been given, it may lead to greater things."

Jack took these words in. "I suppose..."

"Now then, we're making our way into Jotunheim. Try not to stare at anyone, all right?"

"Okay...?"

Then with Duraþrór, he rode into the land of the giants. It was a mighty wilderness with deep, dark forests, mountain peaks where winter never eased its grip. The rest was inhospitable and grim.

"This is insanity," Jack commented to himself.

"Ah, yes, but you haven't seen what I wish to show you yet."

Jack raised a brow, skeptical again, "What's that?"

"Patience, boy. We're heading there now." Jack was a little insulted that he'd just been called a boy by a stag. Of course, when one was immortal, he presumed every mortal male was a boy to him. Soon, Duraþrór changed his direction to down the roots, making Jack realize they weren't going to Asgard at all.

Jack tugged on his antlers to try and stop him, "Hey, wait! You lied to me! You're taking me to the Underworld!"

"I didn't lie! I simply said I'd take you my way. I know a small detour through here, and trust me, the land of the dead is one not every mortal gets the chance to see."

Jack's palms began to sweat and his heart began to pound wildly. "N-no! I don't want to see the dead! Anything but that, please!" Jack expected the very worst; the tormented moans of punished souls left to wander, decayed bodies reaching for him to try to drag him down where they'd keep him there forever.

Duraþrór then entered the cold and dark realm that was Hel. Jack clung to Duraþrór's antlers and clamped his eyes shut, terrified. To his surprise, he heard and felt nothing except the casual stride of Duraþrór's steps. Steadily opening his eyes, he saw not agony and misery, but a startling abundance of life on the other side of death.

Hel was not the same as the Hell most people were taught about. The dead in Hel lived as the men and women of the Viking Age did—eating, drinking, fighting, sleeping, and so forth. It wasn't a place of eternal bliss or torment as much as it was simply a continuation of life somewhere else.

Catching his breath, Jack loosened his grip around Duraþrór's antlers and looked around. He was no longer afraid. "Names can be deceiving," Duraþrór said almost under his breath.

"Was this what you wanted me to see?"

"Not quite." Duraþrór rode into a small cave, deep enough so the entrance could no longer be seen. He gestured for Jack to climb off, so he did. Jack was distracted by the small headstones at the end of the cave, some with swords placed on them out of respect. Do the dead die? He asked himself, confused by his own question. Or are these for their mortal souls?

"Jackson." Said a voice from behind him. It wasn't Duraþrór's anymore, but the voice Jack had believed he'd been hearing earlier.

In disbelief, Jack turned his head to see that the great stag was gone.

"...Dad?"

Nicholas Overland stood in Duraþrór's place. He was not covered in blood or decomposed, but healthy and aged quite a bit from the last time Jack had seen him. Jack wanted to sprint into his arms and hold him tightly, but he was too astounded to do anything. He almost didn't believe what he was seeing.

Instead, Nicholas took a step forward; he didn't have the slight hobble he'd had during his last days of life. He walked with perfect posture and grace as he closed the space between himself and his son. When his hand touched Jack's face, it was warm with life. Upon that touch, Jack became a mess of tears. Nicholas smiled at him.

"Oh, Dad!" Jack clasped his arms around him like he was a little boy wanting to be picked up again. He sobbed uncontrollably into his shoulder.

"Shh..." He said, holding the back of his head, "It's all right."

"I'm sorry!" Jack cried, relieved he could finally tell him. He looked right into his eyes, "I'm so sorry. It's all my fault that—"

"Shush." Nicholas put his finger to Jack's lips. "Enough of that now." He whispered in a loving voice. "How's my wife?"

"Mom's fine." Jack smiled through his tears, "She thinks about you every day, I'm sure. A-And Sophie! Oh, Dad, you should see how much she's grown up!"

"And you?"

"I..." He sniffled. "I married Elsa... We have kids now." Jack took his face, "Our son has your name. I wish you could see them so much!"

"And are you happy?"

"Wha–?" He found himself baffled by the question. "I—Of course I am... I love my family."

"Good... That's all I needed to know." Jack's smile faded. Nicholas brushed some of Jack's bangs aside, "To know you've lived, that the others are taken care of, that's all I need to rest."

Jack's eyes widened in horror and he shook his head, "Dad," he gripped his shoulders again, "I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry I couldn't even make it less painful. I miss you so much every day."

"I know."

"I... I can't forget it. Every night, I hear you screaming... I see your face the way it was after you—"

"—Jack. That's all over with now." He said, taking his chin.

"Not for me, it isn't."

Nicholas frowned, compassionate. "What will it take to ease you? Is there anything?"

Jack's voice caught in his throat and he couldn't answer. All that could make everything right was if he could bring Nicholas back with him; but he knew that wasn't an option. Jack held onto his hand so tight that his knuckles turned white. "Do you regret having me?" He asked, voice shaking.

Nicholas was stunned. "No. How could you even think such a thing?"

"You'd be alive if I wasn't here!"

"Jackson." He took him firmly by the face, "When you were born, you were the most important thing Emily and I had to live for. You and Sophie... I never stopped looking for you when you ran away. Didn't I tell you that? Deep down, I knew you were alive, so I kept going... And I would've searched for you for the rest of my life if it meant bringing you home. You're my son... My only son. Didn't I tell you you'd understand when you had children?"

He had, and Jack recognized this truth all too well now. Agnes and Nicholas; they were more precious to him than all of the world's treasures. To his last breath, he would live for them. No matter what they did.

"I love you, Dad." Jack whimpered.

"I love you, Jackson. I've always loved you."

Jack wasn't sure how much more he could take. His heart felt like a stone in his chest.

"Jack, I have to go now."

Jack's entire body jerked and he plastered himself to Nicholas like a frightened child, "No, no! Please! I'm not ready!"

"It's all right."

"I can't do this without you! Don't—!"

"Look at me." He took him by the shoulders and locked eyes with him. "You have to let go. How else are you going to take care of Arendelle?"

Jack squeezed more tears out of his eyes, unable to say goodbye one last time. "I'm scared to let go." He confessed, "I don't know how."

"You can do it... I believe in you."

None of this gave Jack comfort. Only more pain. At least now he knew his father never hated him, that he was at peace and not suffering like he was in his final moments.

Taking deep breaths to calm himself, Jack felt his father brush his tears away. In a soft voice, Nicholas said to him, "Wake up."

Jack's eyes fluttered open.

...

Dazed, Jack found himself lying on his back in the same bed he'd been in for two days.

He was sweating. His throat was dry. Most of all, he couldn't fathom that the last few hours of his life had all been a dream. Part of him believed for a moment Duraþrór had brought him here, but the more he woke up, he realized that wasn't at all the truth. The pain all over his body returned to him, as well as the dizziness of fever, but his mind was fixated on the details of his dream.

He could see daylight behind the closed curtain. To his side, Elsa was asleep on a small cot that was set up for her so she could lie down. She was so exhausted that she was breathing heavily, not a single dream in her head. She'd done her best to stay awake for Jack, but her entire body longed for rest.

Jack wanted to let her sleep longer, but he could barely speak and was desperate for some water. His body wouldn't move.

"El–" he tried, but his voice was too hoarse. "Els–!" He tried again. "Elsa!" He said, coughing after barely raising his voice. She woke and was shocked to see him already up. He'd been sound asleep the entire time she was awake. Concerned, she came over with a cup of water and grabbed the damp cloth.

After letting him drink, she dabbed his forehead with the cool towelette, along with the rest of his face and neck.

"What time is it?"

"No idea." She shrugged. "How'd you sleep?"

"...I had the craziest dream." Elsa listened with intrigue then as he explained, "It felt so real. I was in Yggdrasil, and Duraþrór was taking me around the different worlds... When we got down to Hel, I saw my dad." Elsa's heart sank. "He looked old—older than he ever got to be... he told me it was time to let go." He was too weak to cry, but his quivering lip showed his desire to. "I wasn't ready. I told him I loved him, and he said he didn't regret having me."

Elsa locked eyes with him, her face full of empathy as she felt both his pain and his relief. She caressed his cheek, not saying a word. When she kissed his forehead, Jack was met with another feeling.

"Elsa?"

"Hm?"

"I gotta..." He then sighed, embarrassed he couldn't do this himself.

"...Nature calls?" She asked quietly and Jack made a tell-all face. She took the bedpan and put it in place, helping Jack sit up. After a minute, nothing happened.

"This is so embarrassing. I can't!"

"You can," Elsa said, laughing a little.

"...I can," he laughed back as he relieved himself. It was the first time he'd laughed in days. He'd forgotten he could. When Elsa finished cleaning up, she proceeded to change his bandages. "How does everything look?"

"I'm no doctor, but I'd say okay."

"Nothing's black?"

"Nope." She frowned, seeing the horrible scars he'd have for the rest of his life. At least he could easily hide them. When she laid Jack back down, she saw him weakly grinning up at her. "What?"

"You always take care of me..." He looked more ashamed than endeared. "I just wish sometimes it could be the other way around."

Elsa didn't answer immediately. She knelt down beside him so they were eye-level, "You remember the day Agnes was born? How much pain I was in? How I was so scared something could go wrong that I started bawling? How long it took just to start pushing?"

How could Jack ever forget?

"Who was the one rubbing my back when I was having contractions?" She reminded. "Who was calming me down? It certainly wasn't the nurses!" She snorted.

"At least they let the men be in the room while it's happening. My dad said he didn't get to have that."

"...Jack, I have to tell you something. We don't let men be in the room when a woman's giving birth." He looked at her, confused. "You were so insistent that you be with me, that you make sure nothing happened to me or the baby that the doctor finally said 'yes.' He told me afterward that he saw fire in your eyes; he was scared you'd fight him just to be in the room with me when I gave birth. I couldn't believe they let you stay the entire time..." She felt herself tearing up and she ducked her head away so she could fight it. "I remember when Agnes was born, they let you carry her to me... It was you who brought our daughter to my arms, not some doctor or the midwife. Not even my father got to do that."

Jack took all of this in. He never knew.

"I don't think it would've gone that way had I married anyone else... No one's been there for me the way you have."

The memory washed over him; the moment he first saw Agnes, how small she was, how hard he cried when he heard her first squeak of life. How relieved Elsa was to hold her to her bare chest, feeling their daughter all over with her hands. All he could think was she looked just like Elsa, and that she was the most beautiful baby girl he'd ever seen.

...His sweet children. He had to go back to them.