Chapter 18
MUSPELHEIM
Hela took her time walking amongst the dying embers. The planet was quite large and the debris was widespread. It was also noticeably quiet now. Without the fire demon to stir things up the lava now flowed gently like water down a stream. The ground beneath her feet was relatively still and a crust was starting to form in areas. In her estimation it was quite possible if this cycle of life continued long enough the entire face of this realm might reshape itself.
Because this planet was so large she had chosen to bring her hounds with her. They could find with ease what would be more difficult for her to find on her own. And the climate was agreeable to them, while she was beyond feeling discomfort by such things. She almost likened this to a mortal strolling with their pets through the park on a temperate day.
She walked slowly but with quiet purpose, her mind flitting back to Odin’s words. She actually found both his and Farbauti’s brief defiance amusing, as she did his impression of her capabilities. She was not omniscient and she was not all-powerful. She had a particular skill set and she had age on her side. But the simple truth was that Odin had always underestimated Loki so he had no way of knowing the trickster’s true power. Not even she could force Loki to do anything.
It was within her ability to pull him towards Helheim, as she had after Svartalfheim, but the passageway that opened to Valhalla hadn’t been her doing for she had no control over that realm. It was Loki’s choice. It always had been. He could choose a realm for his eternity, just as he could have chosen to return to his form. She could no more force Loki to enter her kingdom any more than the Valkyries could force him to Valhalla. She could trick him, of course, but if he truly wished to escape he would.
The hounds were ahead of her, scouting through Surtur’s remains. She paused, looking down at what could have been dismissed as two lumps of burning coal. But she knew better. She smirked and purred smugly, “I told you there are worse fates than imprisonment.”
Surtur was little more than a conscious mind hovering over Muspelheim, able to see and hear but no longer able to interact. The flames within the coal flickered but Surtur had no way to respond to her mockery.
One of her hounds growled and she slinked to its side. There was a mountain of ash, rock, and burnt stone in the way but it was no obstacle for her. She held up both hands, green and black tendrils of magic swirling around her before reaching out to part what was before her.
There was a howl, followed by a puzzled whine and she slinked forward now that the debris had been cleared. She could see why her precious pets were confused. At the epicenter was not the crumpled burnt body of a man but a glowing compact sphere of what could have been dismissed as green glass, like a crystal ball. Loki’s body had not just burned, it had disintegrated under such heat. But that wasn’t what caused a slight smile. She knew what this sphere was. Magic. Enough magic to end everything and restart the cycle of Ragnarok. Certainly enough magic to protectively cocoon a soul.
Thanos would see this as a means to achieving his goals.
Odin would fear this and lock it away in his vault…or his dungeon.
Very few were in fact worthy of such a precious gift from Yggdrasil. For that is what a mage was. A being with enough power and intelligence to move mountains. They were a gift that could bring their people great prosperity…or great despair. It all depended on how that gift was treated. Leaning down gracefully, she held out her hand and after a moment the globe leapt into her grasp of its own accord. Standing, she turned to look thoughtfully in the direction of Asgard. In fact of the choices of candidates who held enough honor and love to be a worthy caretaker, the two most worthy both resided on Asgard.
ALFHEIM
Anya did her best to contain her emotions as she stared out the window. Her elven escort would arrive in a few hours so she could journey to the Bi-Frost site. Today a king would be crowned…and tonight a king would be mourned. The timing of her journey would allow her to miss the coronation but that had been a conscious choice. She had no interest in celebrating today.
As a commoner her journey to another realm was almost unheard of, until now. Word had reached her of Loki giving the order to empty Asgard of all citizens moments before the mountains erupted of fire and death, so her experience was no longer unique. She was also pleased to hear that they had all been spared. She knew many were thanking the Norns of their good fortune. She knew they should be thanking their king.
A figure entered without a knock to the doorframe and she turned to observe an oddly colored light elf sweep into the room. Light elves came in a variety of shapes and skin tones, but none had hair of ebony. Anya paid little attention, her focus on the knowing green eyes the elf carried.
“You know who I am.”
It wasn’t a question and Anya didn’t treat it like one. “Yes.” There was a pause of silence between them before she asked almost mechanically, “You knew, didn’t you?” The elf, who was in fact Hela wearing her elven disguise, lifted a single eyebrow and asked, “What did I know?”
Anya couldn’t even muster the emotion to feel anger. Hurt. Nothing seemed to penetrate the blanket of sorrow that weighed down her limbs. “That was why you made the bargain with me. You knew that…that he would lose…”
Hela ignored the question in Anya’s voice and instead asked one of her own, “Are you familiar with the principle of Ragnarok?” Nor did she wait for a reply before continuing with an explanation of how life truly worked. “Life is not merely a process from beginning to end but a loop. When the end comes, space and time resets again. All the players from the previous cycle return to their start positions with no memory of what has happened. But I remember.” Hela green eyes flinted with a dull fury. It was a pointless emotion, yet she felt it every time the cycle of life ended and began again. But beyond the fury of her cursed awareness was the dullness of one who had given up. “After five thousand years of living you have AEsir that crave death. Imagine living a million times that amount. Then multiply that by a thousand-thousand cycles.” Hela suddenly sounded as tired as she looked. “You all now resemble gray pieces moving about on a chess game with no ending. A game where victory and defeat don’t matter. It’s all pointless.”
Tall. Short. Fat. Thin. Young. Old. Jötunn. AEsir…what did any of it matter? Life was pointless, in her opinion. There was no meaning. And with no meaning there was no victory.
Anya frowned delicately, distracted out of her grief. “Then why are you here? Why would you leave Helheim if it doesn’t matter?”
Hela had had many phases through the cycles. She’d searched for a way to prevent the cycle in the beginning. Then she’d embraced it for countless more and would seek to bring it about sooner rather than later. It may have no meaning to her now but after she’d spent 51 cycles sulking about it, she’d decided 127 cycles ago to change her tactics. “Ending you all quickly or allowing matters to spiral on their own makes no difference. So when I find those that are entertaining I see them as a break in the monotony. Loki has always been one of my favorites.”
“He’s--…” With a shudder Anya glanced away and wrapped her arms around her body in a self-hug.
Hela chose a seat by a window without asking permission, resting the green globe in her lap. “I have witnessed countless cycles and yet he never acts the same way twice. It is almost as if he remembers what he has done before and refuses to repeat himself. I find that thrilling.” Her green eyes flicked over to the simple bag that was packed and waiting by the entryway. “Why do you return to Asgard today? To see the crowning of a king?”
Anya could hear the tease in Hela’s tone but she ignored it. She tightened her arms around herself, her voice hoarse as she spoke, “Lord Loki’s funeral rites are tonight.”
The queen inclined her head but made no move to leave. “Well, do not allow me to delay you.”
“Why did you seek me out? Again? I-I cannot fulfill a vow that--…” Anya closed her eyes and pulled in a slow breath, willing away the burn that stung her eyes. She was becoming convinced Hela’s only purpose was to torment her.
Hela’s voice quieted when she asked, “Why do you believe I have?”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, answering after a momentary pause, “You approached me.”
The Queen stayed silent for a moment before seemingly changing the subject. “Answer me this question…are you loyal to Loki above any other?”
Anya glanced up, not for the first time wondering why everyone found her loyalty so surprising. “Yes.”
Hela nodded slowly to herself. “I should indeed have observed you over the years. Such a curious AEsir.”
“What is that?” Anya wasn’t even aware of what Hela was said, focused and mesmerized by what the Helheim queen held.
“Magic.” Hela’s lips twitched in amusement as the fingers of her right hand lovingly caressed the smooth globe. “It is the physical proof of the power of a mage.”
“Is--…” She knew that color. He made fantasy creatures that held that color. His eyes would flash that color on rare occasions. “Is that his magic?”
Hela tilted her head ever so slightly as she asked curiously, “Why do you think it is?” It wasn’t the sort of question someone unfamiliar with seidr would ask. Witches understood magic…the rest were either awed by it or feared it but they never took the time to understand it.
Anya felt her breath quicken as she loosely gestured with her left arm towards the sphere. “His magic was usually that color. He once spoke that the color is a reflection of the caster.”
Curious how the AEsir would respond, Hela nodded. “Yes, this is his magic--…”
It was remarkable the change that came over Anya’s face. It contorted as a vicious edge entered her voice. “Why do you have his magic??”
Hela blinked in surprise, slightly taken aback by the reaction. A second later she felt the flush of amusement and chuckled. “Such a fierce little thing when the occasion requires it.” She shouldn’t be too surprised. The AEsir were a naturally aggressive race and even the most congenial of their numbers would react when perceiving a threat to one of their own. “I’m doing a little shopping before I pay a visit to your new king.” Her expression turned coy. “Would you like to assist me?” Anya blinked as shock knocked the fierceness out of her. “I need a drop of your blood.”
“Why?”
After a considering moment Hela stood back up and approached the woman. Her words could be seen as comforting if that was Hela’s intention. They also could be seen as factual proof of her innate selfishness. “With a mage of Loki’s caliber, they only pass on to the next life if they choose to do so. Magic will cling to him, mending what is broken if he were to choose to return to his form. Unfortunately his body was burnt beyond ash. It would take a great deal of time and I refuse to wait a thousand years for that to happen.”
For as fantastical a concept as what Hela had just alluded to, Anya took such news in stride. “And my blood will assist his return?”
Hela didn’t say anything to confirm or to deny, she just calmly stared back at Anya. It’s not that it would assist in his return. It would be useful for another purpose, but she didn’t feel like explaining herself to the Asgardian. A moment later Anya held out her hand, palm up. With a tilt of Hela’s head and a quick flick of her wrist the drop of blood was stored in a vial and hidden.
Anya watched Hela as she turned with the orb held in her hands. She wanted to reach out and snatch the sphere away from Lady Death but she restrained herself by clenching both fists stiffly at her sides. But her mind continued to ponder what Hela had said and she found herself too curious not to ask, “Is that the only reason? Because you enjoy watching him?”
The Queen of the Underworld continued to walk for a moment before she paused. She’d allowed the images in her throne room to continue, following her journey so that the dead could continue to watch as the story slowly reached its conclusion. She hoped Odin was watching right now. “Your books are like your lives, Asgardian. Heroes and villains. It’s all that any of you aspire to be. Good will triumph and evil will be punished. It’s so delightful when that’s not how life ends.” It was a break in the monotony when it happened. It was thrilling, even if it sometimes deprived her of one of her favorites. But then a life with no trials was a boring life and not worth watching. “Yet there’s little room for anyone who isn’t one or the other. You gray little pieces all demand that a choice be made, particularly of a powerful man or woman. Hero. Villain. Pick one and embrace it.” Which is what Loki had tried to do. He’d spent over a thousand years following Asgard’s path of a hero and the last couple of years trying to embrace the path of a villain, which he felt was his by fate and genetics. “The role of hero fit him ill so he tried the role of villain. But that too is not a well fitted coat.” A hero wouldn’t have unleashed the Chitauri, even for the right reason. A villain wouldn’t have saved Thor on Svartalfheim, a debt owed or not. “I want to see if perhaps he will choose to ignore all of you puzzle pieces and step beyond you.” Perhaps he would become someone like herself who could move through the nine to set the wheels in motion. Someone who could with cunning and ingenuity orchestrate a truly united front against Thanos. To inspire and persuade not with a goal of saving their realms or their people, but to prevent the collapse of the nine. To prevent Ragnarok, no matter the cost of an individual species. A hero couldn’t accomplish it. A villain wouldn’t even try. It could only be done by a trickster.
Hela turned sharply and commanded Anya, “Go home now.” Then a dangerous, amused smirk curled her lips. “This is one coronation you are not going to want to miss.”
JOTUNHEIM
The realm was cold and hard, much like the inhabitants. But once, before the AEsir had taken away everything from them, it had been beautiful. That is not to say that it wasn’t acknowledged that Laufey’s actions had inspired the Asgardians but it was much easier to blame another species for the ruin of your own world than your own king.
She arrived soundlessly, as she did with any world that she visited. Her way of travel was both coveted and envied, but it was an ability that few possessed. Yggdrasil was the great tree of life and the nine realms were her fruit. Hela’s ability was to twist to the left and slip between the folds of space, walking along the hidden golden branches of Yggdrasil that connected each of the nine. A path that most could not walk, both because of the lack of seidr running through their veins as well as an inability to preserve their sanity among such vastness.
The area she walked through now looked no more remarkable than any other, but this was a truly special place only a select few in the universe knew of. To most, it would seem to be nothing more than a hollowed mountain of Jötunheim wrapped in ice, perhaps a volcano a few eons ago that had erupted. But Hela knew it was something much more as she knelt to carefully scoop up a small handful of what appeared to be sparkling dust.
It wasn’t necessary for her to breathe but she allowed a plume of smoke to escape as she exhaled, just to enjoy the vast temperature difference.
“This is a sacred place.”
Hela grinned just a little at the soft rebuke, the dust in her hand vanishing into storage as she stood back up and turned. She didn’t bring her hounds with her here, the climate far too cold for their comfort. A Jötunn watched her silently and she might have been surprised at his presence if she didn’t sense the seidr running through his veins. This one was not as powerful as Loki, but still noteworthy for his race. She took note of his kin markings, the markings that were passed down genetically. Some races passed down freckles. Some a specific eye color. For the Jötunn, it was a specific arrangement of raised markings. “You are the king’s son.”
He stood up just a little straighter, all ten feet of him, but there was respect in his expression. Not that Hela was surprised. The Jotnar had always held the proper respect for her and her role in the universe. “Laufey-king is dead. I am king of Jötunheim.” She knew of him, if only because he was the blood kin of Loki. He wasn’t destined to be one of hers. This one, Helblindi, wasn’t as interesting to her but she knew his reputation. Much like his older brother, he was both intelligent and a tactician by nature.
She shrugged a single shoulder in dismissal. “That does not change the fact that you are the king’s son.”
He looked around the hollowed mountain with a small frown, stubbornly sticking to his point. “It is believed Ymir’s ashes were spread here to honor him. You do not belong here.”
Ymir, the first of the frost giants. Legend said that just as Surtur sustained the fire demons of Muspelheim, Ymir sustained the life of the frost giants until they gained a life of their own. And she knew that legends had at least a grain of truth to them. That particular legend had much more truth than anyone knew.
Her reply was a statement of fact, “I am queen of the dead. I would argue I am one of the few that belongs here.”
The young king eyed the softly glowing globe in her hand. “Laufey-king knew nothing of the universe but Farbauti-queen was quite wise.” He took a single step closer, frowning thoughtfully. He knew magic manifested itself for several reasons but the most common was to cocoon something. “This is a physical manifestation of magic. What does it contain?”
Her lip twitched in amusement but she answered truthfully. “A soul.”
His frown deepened before he asked, “Why bring it here?”
“To accomplish what all the king’s horses and all the king’s men could not.” He just stared back blankly. Not that she was surprised. A Jötunn would have no concept of a mortal nursery rhyme. A rather morbid nursery rhyme in her opinion. “To put him back together again.”
Helblindi’s mind worked quickly, piecing things together. He knew the songs of Ymir well. He knew her intention without even needing clarification. “And you would attempt to reconstitute a body with the ashes of Ymir?” Which made no sense to him. Ymir was the father of the frost giants. Those ashes would only be useful to assist one of their own.
“Indeed.”
Narrowing his red eyes as he asked, “Who was it?”
She tilted her head as she studied him. A relationship between Jötunheim and Asgard wasn’t necessary to either realm yet. Yet, being the important word. When Thanos finally came, Jötunheim would be a useful ally and both realms had something in common. They both believed in the importance of blood. “Asgard’s second son, Loki.”
Helblindi focused inward. The ashes would be able to assist a Jotnar mage in regaining a form. Only one Jötunn was unaccounted for after the war between Jötunheim and Asgard, and none since. Then he took a step back, horror in his eyes. Something like understanding flashed across his face as he gnashed his sharp teeth together. Hela realized that Helblindi shared another trait with Loki. The ability to make strange leaps of logic.
After the destruction from the Bi-frost a missive had been sent by Odin’s strange crows that both Laufey’s death and the destruction to Jötunheim had been the unsanctioned actions of his second son. Not that many truly mourned Laufey’s passing and the destruction had struck an unoccupied section of Jötunheim. It had made Helblindi wonder why those actions had occurred, even if he had no choice in accepting Odin at his word. Now so much of what happened made sense to him.
He glanced away and snarled softly. “Did they teach him to hate his own or was there another reason?”
She studied him silently, debating the merits of indulging in his curiosity or merely leaving. In the end she decided of anyone in this world, this boy deserved the truth. “He was taught to hate…and that he’d been abandoned to die, which fueled the fire.”
“He was first born--…” Helblindi cut off his instinctual denial with a soft snarl, knowing it made sense. A Jötunn raised loyal to the throne of Asgard was much more logical than a Jötunn brought up knowing he was kidnapped. And with Laufey-king, he wasn’t entirely certain his brother hadn’t been abandoned to the elements. “Of course they did.” He didn’t bother asking why she was interfering. He doubted she would give the real reason if he dared. Instead, Helblindi studied the glowing sphere for another moment. The magic was keeping the person within tied to this plane of existence. Loki was sleeping. The ashes would react with the sphere, providing the elements needed to give him a shape but that would be all they would do. They couldn’t force Loki to remain if he didn’t wish it and it wouldn’t provide him with the kin markings of his birth. “The ashes will give him a body but he will be without markings or heritage.”
Then he held out his palm. It was the law of the universe. Like sang to like. Blood to blood.
Hela smiled ever so slightly as she realized what he was offering. With the ashes and the offering of blood, Loki would have the opportunity to be completely whole. “What do you want in return, young king?”
“That he knows not all of us are monsters.”
What she was doing seemed like a lot of work with little reward for herself. But she hadn’t been lying. Loki among the living was much more entertaining that a lifetime without him. She also knew that Thanos would be coming. The trickster’s presence could stave off Ragnarok and she wasn’t quite ready for the next cycle to begin. She opened her own palm and another small vial appeared.
ASGARD
Heimdall furrowed his brow, looking to the left as a figure swirled into existence on the edge of the Bi-frost. She was wrapped in a dark traveling cloak, one hand occupied by a glowing green sphere. The Goddess of the Underworld slowly turned her head, giving him an assessing glance before smirking at him and stating softly. “You are known to me.”
Those that were entertaining were known to her. This man, however, was not entertaining. He was dull and predictable in her opinion. The rest who were known to her could potentially be welcomed to Helheim. That specific phrase held a lot of significance. A phrase that was known and feared by any AEsir warrior. Heimdall’s golden eyes widened slightly and he took a half step back.
Her green eyes were too knowing, too seeing. “Such a foolish AEsir. You see yet you are blind. With love you are blind to fault.”
“Love?” There was no expression on Heimdall’s face. There almost never was. But Hela had learned long ago to look beneath the skin.
“For your beloved thunderer.” She purred the words at him.
The AEsir were not so rigid that sex could only occur between a man and a woman. It wasn’t talked about, but it also wasn’t really important. Unfortunately the AEsir had different views when it came to marriage. Even further from that, were the views of warriors with designs for a prince’s bed. He could lose his position if not face banishment if something like that was spoken to the wrong person.
Something like panic lit those golden eyes and she made a dismissive gesture before her free hand returned to lightly petting the green globe. “Do not fret…the dead know how to keep secrets.” She glanced to the right to the gatekeeper’s page who was already frozen in a moment in time. Nothing she said would be heard by anyone but who was meant to hear it. “But you should learn that one brother’s moment in the sunlight does not have to mean that the other must take a step back into the shadows. Love is more generous than that. Envy and obsession, however…”
He didn’t speak. He didn’t dare and she could care less. She could see the question in his eyes he dared not utter. He wanted to know where his honor was tarnished and she decided to be generous. It would be a delight in the future to watch him struggle to be worthy of Valhalla. “A warrior is no longer honorable if he is allowed to decide what vows he will keep and what vows he will ignore when convenient.” Like the vows made to a king that will be ignored to benefit a prince. “You should be careful, warrior.” Holding up her forefinger and thumb an inch apart. “You are this close in dishonor to becoming my permanent guest.” He paled as much as he was able. She just smirked in amusement. “At least then Odin would have company that he would deem worthy of him…that should please you.”
Heimdall blinked rapidly three times as the words were processed and understood. She was just as capable of lying as Loki was, but he took the warning for what it was. With horror in his golden eyes he stood up straighter. He didn’t bother to alert the warriors closer to the palace. There was little that anyone could do against the magical force that Hela represented.
Hela sat down, a large beast appearing under her. The general shape of a dog, but larger than a wolf. The flames didn’t even seem to harm her as she sat amongst the heat, her clothing unaffected. The hound started walking towards Asgard, she riding the creature sideways so she could study the people and structures as they passed.
The buildings had been cleaned as much as they could be in the short amount of time provided. The sun shone down, though there were thunder clouds hovering in the air. All the decorations were appropriate for the crowning of a king, yet the colors were muted. They were also the wrong colors for this particular king, tones of green instead of red. The clothing was equally appropriate for those in mourning. Curious. The AEsir didn’t believe in regret. If this were Odin, he would be holding a banquet to bolster spirits to celebrate those that survived instead of focusing on those that hadn’t.
She felt surprised…and it pleased her.
There was no fanfare this time. The people had gathered because it was appropriate, but almost none had changed out of their mourning attire and this was what Thor wanted. The few that had dressed as if the passing of the throne was all that was happening today were sent looks of scorn and disdain.
It was a large gathering, yet it was too quiet. Among the AEsir were a last minute addition of a group of light elves. Et’ana Sigyn was among the delegation with Anya choosing to stay within their midst. Her blue eyes kept looking around for someone even if she didn’t move.
Thor didn’t look from side to side. He wore the appropriate armor, but the cape at his back was black with muted green on the inside. Mjolnir hung from his belt as he walked the distance to the throne, his face solemn. The guard was on either side of him, their weapons sheathed.
There was so much missing that had been waiting for him on the day of his almost coronation. There was no fanfare and the red runner had been rolled up and put away. Now the stairs leading to the throne were nearly empty. Father wasn’t standing at the top, waiting proudly to pass the mantle to him. Mother wasn’t standing on the steps, looking regal and smiling with quiet pride.
And Loki…
He felt his heart clench and pain flash in his blue eyes, remembering with startling clarity what Loki had said to him just before the aborted coronation ceremony started. “Sometimes I’m envious, but never doubt that I love you.”
He’d never reciprocated. Not with words, not in years. Thor wondered if he had said something that day if matters would have ended as they had. Loki might not have believed him. His brother still might have gone through with everything that led to now. But what if I had…
He took the steps slowly, passing by the warriors 3 and Sif who sent him support and encouragement with their eyes even as their faces remained tight with grief. He’d told father he didn’t want the throne and he still didn’t. If he were being honest he never had. Whether intended or not, father had turned earning the throne into a competition between himself and Loki. He’d wanted to win, just as he knew Loki had wanted to win. He just hadn’t wanted the prize and he had a feeling neither had his brother.
Even as he took his place, repeating the oaths of kings, his mind kept turning. He wasn’t focused on the now. His mind was wrapped around tonight, the funeral rites for his brother, the now departed king of Asgard. He would finally be able to see his brother honored as he should have been…even if it was far too late.
Author's Notes:
I know. I'm a horrible, horrible author and I will be punished for doing this to you. ...at least I hope I will...
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