[It seemed that Midgard held quite a bevy of wonderful, mysterious, and varied women. Some stayed in their homes and raised many children while others served meals at diners. Some taught at schools, others attended the sick and wounded or the old and senile.

And some, bright-eyed and with hair the color of a campfire surrounded by friends and good food, worked for extremely rich, powerful, and intelligent men with heart problems. The name Pepper wasn't quite what he'd been expecting to hear, and Lady Potts had only served to do what it did to all the other Midgard women: fluster them until they corrected him. It had been a bit difficult finding a proper title for her, but calling her Pepper just sat wrong on the tongue of any true gentleman of Asgard.

He wouldn't keep her for more than the weekend. The Stark man needed her as much as he needed the light piece in his chest, and she was quite attached to being constantly busy with work. He understood this much. Still, he had never been to a land of cold in a time of peace, so it wasn't something he could just pass up when the chance came.

In the foyer of the little cabin set a few miles away from a small town, overlooking a clearing before a forest of stripped, bare trees reaching into a beautiful night sky, he stepped in after her, pulling off his gloves and brrr-ing as he made to take off his fox fur coat. Take it off quickly in order to help her shrug out of hers.]

Here, let me get that, Fair Pepper. I will go to the metal chariot and retrieve our luggage once I have lit a fire for you to warm yourself against.