The first time Loki lays eyes on his daughter it's love at first sight.
Compared to her equally loved brothers, she's a small thing. Tiny. Beautiful. He holds her close, carefully cuddling her against his chest.
She looks just like him- all alabaster skin with a tuff of dark hair that mirrors his own ebony locks. "My dear Hela," he coos, filled with love for once instead of endless misery. The babe makes a small, soft noise in return and opens her eyes. To Loki's delight Hela has the same piercing green eyes as does he and as father and daughter regard each other he can see the same spark of mischief in her eyes. Oh, the chaos they could cause! The possibilities dance unbidden through his mind and for several moments the pair are an oasis unto themselves.
He's rocking her gently, his eyes locked upon her tiny face when he sees it happen- a shiver overtakes Hela's tiny form making the small bundle quake in his arms. But before he can get truly alarmed its over as fast as it started but Loki can feel his heart freeze in his chest nonetheless.
Whereas Hela was the embodiment of beauty a moment ago she is no longer. With shaking hands he lays her down in her crib and unwraps the blankets swaddling her to prove the perversion laid before his eyes. His tiny daughter, so much like him, has changed. While half of her has remained flawlessly pale skin the other half has shifted, changed into a decayed rotting form. It's hideous, and Loki finds he has to swallow hard against the revulsion rising in his throat as he regards his daughter anew.
From the tips of her small toes to the crown of her head she's split perfectly in half, one side perfect and living and the other completely dead. On a morbid level it's fascinating and while he's inwardly horrified he can't look away. In the background he can hear Hela's mother screaming, cursing his name for bearing such monsters yet he pays her little mind. Hela coos up at him, seemingly oblivious to her radical change and somewhere in his mind it strikes him that this might be normal for her.
It's a more comforting thought than Loki would have anticipated. He has sedir, it wouldn't be a stretch to consider that Hela does as well. Her brothers have already demonstrated their talents by shifting from beasts to babes and then back again. . With some proper training they will grow to be fearsome indeed. Although, if he truly considers it, there is a large leap between transforming from beast to babe than going from babe to partially dead.
Mind swirling, Loki reaches out with more conviction than he feels towards the arm on Hela's dead side and gently runs a finger against her skin.
He's fully expecting it to compare to touching an actual corpse- cold and unyielding yet the skin under his fingers is the opposite. It's cold and certainly dead, yet Loki can feel the pull of seidr underneath. He's abruptly fascinated and revolted in the same breath and as he watches another shiver runs through Hela's body. Underneath his fingers he can feel the thrum of her sedir at work therefore he's hardly surprised to find she's completely reverted back to looking as pristine and perfect as before. Loki laughs, delighted. She will be powerful when she grows up, he's sure of it.
It seems Hela's mother is far from delighted, however. Still, it isn't until the onslaught of icy air from the corridor starts to fill the room that Loki finally pulls himself from his adoration and casts a look around. Aside from himself and his children the bedchamber is empty and it's with a frown that he starts towards the door. The corridor and beyond is empty and silent and for a long moment Loki simply stares at nothing. Angrboda was a means to an end, perhaps, but at the moment the knowledge doesn't fill the hole left in his heart.
He stares for a long time, sinking easily back into his misery yet Angrboda doesn't return. The chambers are silent and Loki's half a mind away from considering something tragically desperate when the cries of his children bring him back to the present. His dear boys and his beloved little Hela, they need him and while he still feels like he's a stone-throw away from the edge the thought is like a balm to his wounded heart.
As much as he may want to fall apart and drown in his own despair he knows he can't. His children need him and for them he will try to be strong. He is Loki, and he can do what he wants, when he puts his mind to it. Resolute, he turns back towards the bedroom and his children.