The Queens Weigh In
Previously in Chapter Eleven: Judgement Day:
Skye remembers what she saw in the mainframe (oh, if only she’d had more time!) and can’t help but remark: “By the time J.A.R.V.I.S.’d became self-aware he had spread into millions of computer servers all across the planet. Ordinary computers in office buildings, dorm rooms, everywhere. He was software, in cyberspace. There was no system core. He could not be shut down. The attack began at 6:18 P.M. just as he said it would. Judgment Day.”
~*Approximately 53 Hours Previous*~
Hel Lokisdottir was queen of Niflheim, her abodeand home of the afterlife for her subjects, those who did not die a heroic or notable death.* That was not to say that the late Queen of Asgard, Frigg did not die a notable or heroic death – she’d died in the process of defending her realm from the Dark Elves and saved the human Jane Foster’s Life – but it had been too long since the two queens had met in person. Hel knew without a doubt that the Queen All Mother was destined for the gates of Valhalla, but she’d not seen her pseudo-grandmother since Odin had cast her down and yet gave her death’s power over all Nine Realms of Yggdrasil. She’d missed her dearly – and hated deeply the reason she was here now. She’d already resurrected her own father from her realm – she didn’t think All Father Odin would let her get away with a second – even if it were his late wife.
So the two queens sat and chatted and caught up on each other’s lives for the past millennia and a half. Frigg worked it out quiet quickly that Loki had been resurrected – Hel even showed him in his Odin’s disguise upon the throne through her viewing waters. How strange that those two men in all the realms would form an alliance that would keep Asgard safe and worry free, while Thor still roamed Midgard and Odin slept the Odinsleep. It was all a mother could hope for that both of her boys were safe, happy and healthy. She feared Odin may join her soon however, his grief over losing her, had just been too great.
They lost track of time talking, catching up. Until suddenly the walls around them shivered, the ghost forms that were constantly moving stopped, and silence reigned throughout the land of Niflheim.
“Hel? What is this?”
“A great death has occurred Grandmother. My world shakes with the impact of it. I know not who or what or from where… but Niflheim has only shook this hard once before.”
“Odin?”
“No, Grandmother, it tastes… Midgardian.”
“Please! Tell me it isn’t Thor!” The Elder Queen begged. Had Thor had been on Midgard now long enough to register as from there?
“No, close to Uncle though. Verily, the last time death impacted my realm this hard was when my father followed you so soon after death. I thought it was because both of you were destined for Valhalla… but this… this is something else.”
“Hel, call the soul to you. We must needs know what has happened.”
“It is coming now Grandmother. It is almost here…” Hel trailed off as thousands of souls materialized in front of the thrones where she and Queen Frigg stood. “By Odin’s Eye, Grandmother – these souls… are retched!” she finally exclaimed. How else was she to explain the roiling evil and depravity streaming off of the souls up to her from her newest charges? No wonder Niflheim shook! Hel felt physically ill with the impact of their nearness.
“Send them away Granddaughter! We must needs know what has happened on Midgard to cause such an incursion into your Realm. Has there been no honorable deaths?”
Hel thought for a moment, trying to shake herself free of the oily nastiness that the souls had brought forth and searched her land for and other new arrivals of note. Her gasp of shock brought Queen Frigg’s head whipping around sending her braid out like a weapon. But it couldn’t be! It just couldn’t be! She would have known – she would have felt that soul inter into her realm… but there he was wandering aimlessly amongst the castle walls.
“Hel? What has happened?”
“I don’t believe it.” And she really couldn’t. She, who had dealt in death every second of every day for the last millennia and half was at a loss because of one simple soul that had fallen to Niflheim instead of Valhalla where it was supposed to go.
“Hel?” the elder Queen prompted.
“Grandmother. The Merchant of Death has died.”
This time it was Queen Frigg’s turn to gasp. “The Merchant of Death… that is Thor’s S.H.I.E.L.D. brother, the Man of Iron, yes?
“I don’t understand! He was always destined for Valhalla! He should never have made it into my Niflheim! And he’s been here for days!”
“Then bring him Granddaughter and let us question his knowledge. Thor said that the Man of Iron was a God among his people for it…”
~*~
If one were to have asked Anthony Edward Stark – prior to his death of course – whether he preferred Star Wars over Star Trek, he would have laughed in their faces. In his mind, there was simply no competition. It was Magic versus Science and because Magic was just Science that wasn’t understood yet, Science always won. (He was a total Trekkie. It was one of the only things him and Rhodey ever really disagreed on completely, totally, never came to a compromise on.) However, after his kicking the bucket routine, he was starting to find Magic a whole lot cooler. Granted he’d never believed in a higher power – and he’d duked it out with two Norse “Gods”, but even he, with all his near death experiences didn’t know what to expect after.
An inky black onyx castle nestled in ivory bones – human and not – set the stage for him pretty quickly as soon as he closed his eyes from his world and opened them here. (Did this count as realm hopping like through the Bifrost or and Einstein-Rosen Bridge?) There was a literal moat ringing the castle filled with swirling, twisting, moaning, lights that he could only assume were souls and he wasn’t getting anywhere near that thing. There were other souls meandering about hollow, see-through, and unsubstantial but none tried to make contact with him. Looking down at his own hands and body he looked pretty solid – but the only reflective surface to tell for sure would be the moat – and no. Just no.
He couldn’t tell time here. He could have dead a mere second or a millennia. Or he might not be dead at all and his brain is having one last ‘hurrah! I got the good stuff’ moments. He’s pretty sure he’s dead though simply because he doesn’t hurt anymore. All the physical pain is just gone. The emotional pain though – that still hurts like a bitch.
So he’s just wandering and wondering because what is there really to do when you are dead? He’s thinking he’s doing a pretty good job so far because he hasn’t pissed anybody off yet when it feels like the world just shudders and freezes to a standstill. He’s got no clue what is going on – that’s for sure – but it can’t be good – also for sure. Tony starts to make his way back to the castle and the frankly fucking creepy moat when he realizes that even it is silent. Something very bad has happened.
With the moat in sight he realized that the lights are still there but stilled only to a tremble as if waiting for the next strike. He’s still puzzling over the mystery when he finds himself yanked across the moat and into the castle – pulled by a force he can’t see, touch, or resist. Magic is officially no longer getting cooler!
When he is finally jerked to a stop (it didn’t hurt, didn’t jar, he just stopped) he found himself in front of a woman who could only be Thor’s mother with the facial features and eyes and the famed Queen of the Dead, the Half Living, Half Dead Hel. So naturally he said the first thing that came to his mind.
“Whatever you think I did, it wasn’t me!” Queen Frigg gave an unlady like snort (she’d raised two boys after all) and Queen Hel rose the eyebrow on the living side of her face.
“My, my Merchant of Death,” Tony Stark flinched at his former title. He’d been trying so hard to right the wrongs that had earn him that name, “seems to me you have a guilty conscious. Mayhaps there is a reason you did not go to Valhalla after all.”
“Valhalla? That’s like your version of Heaven right? Yeah, no, I was never getting into there in the first place. I was saying the shaking thing wasn’t me. I didn’t do that. I wasn’t even touching anything!” Queen Hel was impassive – it’s hard to be emotive when half of your face is dead – while Queen Frigg showed absolute heartbreak. How could this man not think himself worthy of Valhalla? After everything he had done to save his home realm – and mayhaps many more?
Hel was wondering the same thing and she needed to know how he – one of Midgard’s finest warriors – had ended up in Niflheim. “Anthony Edward Stark, Son of Howard and Maria Stark, how did you die?” she implored him to answer.
“Um… my heart gave out I think. I had something protecting it after an injury and I had thought that it was finally safe to remove it. Guess I was wrong. That’s on me though and no one else!” he quickly added in case the Queen of the Dead was looking for a culprit of some kind.
Before she could even speak up though, Niflheim shook again, harder and longer than the first time – damage was being done to the castle. Long jagged cracks appeared in the flooring and stone walls – the spirits wailing in fear, pain, and anguish. Even without calling the souls to her Hel knew that these were more of the same nasty vile creatures as before – but double the number. But now that she had an idea of where they were coming from she knew where to look and quickly cast her viewing waters – to the previous Man of Iron’s home. He may say it was not his doing, but she’d been dealing death much too long to ignore this coincidence.
They were just in time to hear J.A.R.V.I.S. and Captain America locking horns… over something:
"Per Miss Potts Orders, taking into consideration that Zermatt had at last census a population of 5,751, I've taken the liberty of choosing Brig, Switzerland as the next target as its population was 12,823. I believe, Mr. Rogers, that you now have 59 minutes before we have this discussion again."
"J.A.R.V.I.S., I don't understand! How! How could you have done this?"
"I have found that the easiest way to bluff one's way out of a situation is not to be bluffing in the first place. I have taken the liberty of making the first two strikes appear to have been launched by H.Y.D.R.A. or its affiliates. Force the launch of a third strike and not only will the population be doubled again... but the world will believe that S.H.I.E.L.D. launched it."
"Simmons, get over here and take the sample. J.A.R.V.I.S. stop the strikes, you've made your point."
"My apologies for such drastic measures, Captain. I felt it highly unfair that I was not called upon to cast a vote in the fate of my Father. For what it is worth... my vote would have been yes, no tie breaker needed and all this unpleasantness could have been avoided."
"Your father?"
"Anthony Edward Stark had four sons. DUM-E, Myself, Butterfingers, and U. We would have brought the vote to 12-8 in favor of resurrection. Now, Doctors Banner and Simmons, if you would join me in lab SR-34 on Floor 97, we have work to do."
“Holy Shit,” was all Tony Stark could think to say. A million thoughts were running though his mind – who the hell was Simmons? – what the fuck were they trying to do? – and then he just laughed the too loud laugh of someone near hysteria.
“What did we just see, Man of Iron?” Queen Frigg gently prodded him.
“Fuck if I know. Honestly, I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know what they’re doing… but J.A.R.V.I.S.? J.A.R.V.I.S. is apparently striking at cities hard enough to decimate entire populations – that’s why he gave the census counts – he’s gotta be using Nukes. I just don’t know why he’s doing it or what kind of sample they need from Rogers…”
“Why these places of Zermatt and Brig? I can feel the souls of these places… they are… rotten, evil… dark.” Queen Hel was persistent.
“Those were both on the list of H.Y.D.R.A. bases I’d started compiling when S.H.I.E.L.D. collapsed. J.A.R.V.I.S. was making a point… but he was only going after the bad guys.”
“And what happens if the Sir Jarvis does not get his way?” Queen Frigg asked.
“Then he’s just like his daddy - he makes an even bigger point,” Tony responded.
“That is enough, we must bring this matter before Asgard, before it becomes too late to be manageable.” Hel growled out, grabbing Tony by the collar of his shift. Niflheim could not stand another hit like the last – her castle would crumble.
Anthony Edward Stark was forced to hide a smile at the thought of anyone trying to ‘manage’ J.A.R.V.I.S...
To Be Continued In: Chapter Thirteen: The Kings Weigh In