Fic Post
A mish mash of Marvel comic lore and Norse Mythology which completely ignores the fact Marvel retconned the fact Hela is Loki's daughter a few years ago. Rated G.
When Hela awoke that morning she did not notice that day to be different from any other. Her father was gone but that was not unusual. He would often go and they would remain in the Ironwood where the strength of both her parents’ enchantments shielded them. Even now Hela does not know if she truly remembers that her mother was uneasy that morning or if she has just written it in to the story as an appropriate beginning. She is sure she remembers her mother’s clear instruction to her eldest brother that they were not to go far that day and his affirmative, obedient, reply. She was not paying particular attention to their conversation, too busy running out the door after Fenrir who shifted into his wolf form as soon as he was across the threshold. She now wishes that she had turned back to smile at her mother one last time, and to have her mother smile back at her. When Jörmungandr, easily caught up with her he grabbed her hand and pulled her along beside him as they chased after Fenrir to the river.
It was no different from any other day.
Even when their mother’s voice suddenly appeared in their minds it was not an unusual occurrence. It was her usual method of calling them back to feed them or to admonish them for some task undone that they were to return at once to complete.
The panic was new, the terror that seeped into their own hearts as it was so overwhelming in their mother she could not prevent it. They were to run. Deep into the Ironwood and not to return, to stay until she or their father retrieved them. There was a sharp, screeching, noise, that made Hela’s teeth grind, coming from the clearing that was their home. Others were there. She had never seen others before, only her parents and brothers and in that moment she felt a terrible guilt for sometimes having thought it would be nice to see someone new.
Without warning Jörmungandr grabbed her and hoisted her on to Fenrir’s back. Turning away he repeated their mother’s instruction to run and hide and before either she or Fenrir could reply he shifted into his serpent form, fangs bared, and then he was gone; rushing towards their mother to aid her whether she wanted him to or not.
Fenrir ran but the noise pursued them as she clung to his fur so hard she knew she must be hurting him but for once he did not complain. Then the noise was so close she could feel her bones vibrating. She heard a high pitched howl and realised it was Fenrir only when she was thrown from his back as he fell. She landed on her own back and saw the sky aflame above her. At first it didn’t hurt but then it did and she was screaming too.
The last thing she remembers of the Ironwood is a sudden bright light of rainbow colours, the crack of thunder and how the rain that started to stream down on her was soothing, cooling her too hot skin.
~
Years later when the story of her rescue is told in the feast halls of Asgard she always turns and raises her glass to Volstagg to cheers. He was the one who scooped her up from the ground and carried her all the way to Eir’s healing halls via the bifröst. It was where she woke up unable to move one arm and one leg, unable to feel anything down that side of her body. She had feeling in her other hand which was being lightly held in the much larger hand of a man with a white beard and a gold eye patch who had smiled at her and told her she was safe.
That was how she met her grandfather.
She had no way of knowing at the time but the light and the thunder and the rain on Ironwood had heralded the arrival of her uncle. When Thanos had attacked her mother had shattered the wards that prevented Asgard from seeing them and had screamed for the All Father’s aid. Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three had soon arrived. She is not sure if her mother was also able to reach her father but he soon appeared too and even grim Hogun has been known to get misty eyed when the telling of the tale reaches the part where Thor and Loki fought side by side again at last.
There is a story that is told of that day and a story that is not. Or rather a version she is not meant to have heard. She is not meant to know that Thanos left her mother alive although barely. That her mother, knowing she would not survive her injuries but suffer the indignity and pain of a drawn out death, begged her father to kill her so that she might quickly join their sons who must be so afraid in the cold dark halls of Niflheim. How her father had wept and refused, insisting she could be healed and they still had a child who lived and had need of her. How in the end her father had turned away as his brother had brought Mjölnir down on her mother’s head as she whispered her thanks for his mercy.
She is not meant to know any of this but in Asgard people drink and people talk.
~
She awakens several times in the healing halls before she opens her eyes turns her head to her still whole side and sees that the person grasping her hand is not grandfather or Eir or Idunn but father. His head rests on the bed beside her hand and she remembers thinking that could not be comfortable before her eyelids slowly close again. He must have agreed for when she next awakes he is in the bed soundly asleep beside her. Grandfather has taken father’s place in the chair.
Her injuries are beyond Eir’s abilities to heal. She is not told so at the time but now knows it to have been true. There are whispered conversations across the hall between Eir and her grandfather and her uncle and when her father is present they are not whispered as his voice rises. She awakens one night to the shock of her father in his Jötun form, something she has never seen before although her mother would sometimes shift into her own original form. He has something with him which she later learns is the casket of ancient winters. He has someone with him too, her uncle, who holds out Mjölnir and when the clash of blue and green lights fade she jumps down from the bed to shout “Father!” as he collapses.
It is then that she realises the feeling has returned to her dead limbs.
The scars remain and when her father announces from his own bed in Eir’s hall that he will remove them next her grandfather bellows and rages and confiscates Mjölnir until her uncle swears on his own mother’s soul in Valhalla that he will not aid her father in such a thing again.
Her grandfather places a glamour on her instead and promises to show her how to one day do it for herself.
~
She moves into her father’s chambers where she has her own room. She likes to sleep in a nest of furs for it reminds her of sleeping next to Fenrir, even though mother did not approve of him being a wolf in the house. One night she is woken by her father gently pushing at her shoulder and telling her to pack whatever she would like to take for they are leaving Asgard that night. She would like to take the furs but she does not think she can carry them all so selects a more modest assortment of possessions. Her favorite dress, her combs, the book grandfather is reading to her from, the dagger Sif gave her and promised she’d show Hela how to use when she was little stronger. She holds her father’s hand as they make their way through the corridors but she is sleepy and yawning and slow so her father lifts her up and carries her.
Her head is resting on his shoulder and she is half way back to sleep when they are stopped. She raises her head to see her grandfather, uncle and Sif. It is her grandfather who speaks.
“I cannot stop you, Loki, if you are determined to throw your life away, but I will not allow you to throw Hela’s away too. Leave if you must but the child stays here.”
Her father’s voice is the same, disrespectful tone it always is when speaking to her grandfather. If Hela or her brothers had spoken to either of their parents in that tone they’d have found themselves scrubbing the kitchen floor for the rest of the month. “Throw my life away, Odin? Are you the sort of man who would not make those who murdered his woman and children pay? I can assure you I am not.”
Her uncle interjects, “Brother, this is what Thanos wants. He wants you to confront him alone. I swear to you we will not forget what was done to Angrboda and your boys and we will avenge them but we will do it together when the time is right.”
Her father laughs but there is something about it that frightens Hela and she squirms in his arms, he is holding her too tightly, her father answers her uncle, “Do not pretend to mourn them. You are hypocrites, all of you. You had no love for Angrboda and thought the boys monsters, you feared their power.”
Her uncle moves as if to step closer but her grandfather stops him with a gesture, speaks, “Angrboda was a powerful Jötun sorceress who had no cause to love us or any other realm and we feared the influence she might have on you. That she would inflame and encourage your bitterness and instability for her own purposes. We were wrong in our assumptions though for you lived peacefully together and troubled no one else. That we heard stories of powerful, shape changing, offspring I also cannot deny, or that we feared they would be raised to hate Asgard as much as you insist you do. There is no hate in Hela’s heart though, she is a child to be proud of and I see no reason why the boys would have been any different. Many of our fears would have been allayed if you had not gone to such lengths to hide yourself and them from us. Now I will never know my daughter-in-law, or my grandsons. Angrboda called on me for aid, called on me to protect her children. I intend to do that, even if it means protecting Hela from you. I wish I could protect you from yourself but I have long had to accept that I cannot. Leave the child here, Loki. It is for the best. You know this.”
Hela can feel her father shaking, she thinks he may be crying but she cannot bear to lift her face, which she has buried in her father’s shoulder, to look, before she can summon the courage to do so she is suddenly thrust into her uncle’s arms as her father says, “I don’t want him raising her, you do it, you and Sif. I’ll only let her stay under those terms.”
Her uncle’s arms wind round her, to keep her from falling out of his grasp as she twists round to see her father, she can see now she was right and he is crying. Hela immediately joins him, starting to sob and to scream, holding her arms out for him to take her with him, or preferably to stay with her, but with a twist of the air he is gone.
~
Hela moves from her father’s chambers to her uncle and Sif’s. They are kind to her even though in those first months Hela is not always kind to them. She wants to go back to the Ironwood. She wants to run to the river with her brothers, riding on Jor’s back as he slides through the grass once she is too tired to keep up with them as he chases Fenrir while Fenrir’s laughter comes out in barks. She wants to kneel beside her mother in the garden to pick herbs and she wants her mother to be the one to brush her hair before she goes to bed. She wants to listen to her father’s stories and watch the illusions he conjures to illustrate them.
Her uncle tells stories well but he can’t conjure any illusions.
There is never a time when she does not miss her life in the Ironwood but it becomes less vivid, less real, and Asgard becomes more so. She tells her grandfather about how she would ride on her brother’s backs and he takes her to the stables to meet Sleipnir his horse. Tells her that when Sleipnir was born his mother struggled to birth him and both their lives were in danger. Her father had been reading a book about birthing practices on Midgard at the time, her grandfather had no idea why except for her father read all and any book he could find. He helped the mare deliver her foal and on Midgard the tale had become confused and they thought Loki had borne Sleipnir himself. Hela giggles at this and hugs Sleipnir’s front leg then squeals at the horsey tongue that licks the top of her head. Her grandfather lifts her up and she and Sleipnir spend the rest of the day cantering around.
~
Hela is surprised to eventually learn that Thor and Sif, while betrothed are not actually wed. This is to be remedied though and Hela takes far more pleasure in attending the dressmakers than Sif does. Sif suggests she wears the armor and Thor can wear the dress to the ceremony. Hela’s uncle declines this offer but shrugs and says he has no objections if Sif wants to wear her armor too. Sif’s mother most definitely does object and a dress it is. Hela is sitting on Volstagg’s knee in the feasting hall eating a chicken leg on the eve of the ceremony when a voice behind them states, “Careful child, when the roast is demolished noble Volstagg may turn to little girls up far past their bedtime for his next snack.”
Hela turns to see her father smiling down at her, she jumps off Volstagg’s knee and throws herslef into his arms. He picks her up with ease and after holding her close for several minutes, transfers her to his hip, holding her there with one arm and holding his other hand out, with a slight hesitation, to Volstagg in greeting. They are interrupted by a boom of, “Brother!” Hela is soon being squashed as her uncle embraces her father while declaring, “You’re here!”
Her father wriggles out of Thor’s grasp with a roll of his eyes, “Obviously. Who could resist the lure of the wedding of the Millennium.”
Thor is grinning, “Sif will be so pleased, Father too.”
“Yes, I’m sure their joy will be palpable.” With that her father sits down, sets Hela on his knee and asks Fandral to pass him the bread.
~
She is fidgeting on her stool in front of Sif in the throne room until Sif’s hand comes down suddenly to pin her shoulder. She wants to get up to greet her father who has presented himself as a petitioner this day. It is a formal audience with her grandfather, uncle and Sif all present on their thrones. Hela only has a stool but she doesn’t mind as she can set it down in front of any of them depending on her whim. She regrets choosing Sif this day now for her grip is always less indulgent. By forcing Hela to sit still Sif has focused her attention on the conversation, her grandfather is speaking wearily, “I acknowledge you have the right to celebrate the winter solstice with your daughter, Loki. I just do not concede that you need to take her from Asgard to do so, you would be very welcome to stay here and we can celebrate together, as a family.”
She sits up straighter at this news, the possibility that her father may stay awhile but her father dismisses the notion, “I can think of nothing worse than a holiday spent here in these musty halls while I’m stared at and whispered about and everyone frets I’m about to cause a scene.”
Sif’s grip on Hela tightens and Hela squirms as Sif says, “What? Like you’re doing now?”
Her father smiles at that and Hela thinks he may be genuinely amused so she smiles herself, “Exactly. Think how much worse it would be with a feast table to upend at my disposal. I will bring her back here in the New Year, Odin. On Midgard they have a custom called ‘access’, that is what I wish, access to Hela for the holidays.”
It is her uncle who replies, “Perhaps then, brother, you should secure the services of a Midgardian lawyer to argue your case.” Her uncle turns to her grandfather, “I do not see any harm in it, Father, not if Hela wishes to go and I will ask my fellow Avengers to be ready to…respond…if any situation arises.”
Hela finally speaks for herself, “Where would we go? Will we go back to the Ironwood?” She is not sure how she feels about that, not if her mother and brothers will not be there.
Her father smiles at her, “No, Sweetheart, I will take you to Midgard. Dreary as it is it becomes much more tolerable during their winter festivals. I think that you would like it.”
Hela finally jumps from her stool before Sif can prevent it, the chance to go to Midgard is a rare one, she runs over to her grandfather, “May I go, Grandfather? I promise I will stay here for the summer solstice…”
Her grandfather smiles now at her too but she thinks it makes him look sad instead of joyful, “There is no need to make such a promise, child, we can decide on that at the time.” He looks past her to her father, “Very well but you will not shield yourself from Heimdallr when she is with you. If at any point either of you disappear from his sight I will drag you back here by your hair myself and you will remain in this palace under guard for the rest of your days, is that clear?”
Her father nods his acquiescence as Hela bounces down from the dais to him.
~
Hela has no idea if her father has ever even used the washing machine in his apartment on Midgard but it looks to be a simple enough contraption. She has taken the soap from the bathroom and is about to stuff it into the drawer she suspects it should go in when a voice behind her suddenly asks, “Hela, what do you think you’re doing?”
She yelps and turns in surprise to see her father standing behind her. She had only arrived on Midgard that morning to spend the week with her father, finally being deemed old enough to travel the bifröst by herself instead of her father having to collect her from Asgard. It was typical that this could not have occurred the previous week, or the week after, when she would simply have gone to Sif. Instead she has no choice now but to blurt out, “I’ve started my monthly bleed. It’s on the bed sheets. Sorry, I’ll clean them…”
For the first time she can remember she thinks her father has actually been rendered speechless. He stands completely still for a moment before replying. “Oh. Oh.” He waves his hand and the bed sheets disappear from Hela’s grasp only to reappear in the machine which is now burbling away in activity. “I can take care of the sheets.” He looks like he’s very much trying not to smirk, “That’s not the sort of soap you use for laundry, Sweetheart. Do you have, erm, sanitary items?”
Hela shakes her head, “Not here, I do at home. Sif gave them to me a little while ago in preparation but I didn’t think to bring them…”
Hela is very grateful that when she and her father suddenly materialize in an all night chemist’s downtown that he has at least placed a glamour on them so the store clerk can’t tell they’re both in their pajamas.
~
“You are staring at that boy in the same manner noble Volstagg stares at a roast.” Hela feels her face redden at Fandral’s words, a quick glance up to see his amusement makes Hela blush even more and she stares at her dinner plate, mumbles, “I am merely curious.” They are in the feasting hall to dine and as it is an informal occasion people are sitting where they please. The high table remains empty as she is the only member of the Royal family present this evening. The only one unless Balder is counted. He had come to court the previous month as a ward of Odin and was of an age with Hela. There is much talk of where exactly he has come from as his origins seem to be purposefully vague. Sif had set her face into a grim line and asked that Hela not question her uncle over it when Hela had asked.
Fandral sighs dramatically, “I fear my time as the most dashing warrior in Asgard is at an end, I hear they are calling him ‘Balder the Beautiful’. I was watching him at training today, most impressive.” Hela takes a gulp of her drink to avoid answering, but Fandral continues to look at her in expectation of a reply. She mutters, “I would not know.” Fandral grins, stands and shouts “Balder, my boy! Come here, have you been formally introduced to the Lady Hela?”
As Balder makes his way over with a warm smile Hela wishes very much that a bilgesnipe would strike Fandral dead.
~
Hela crouches behind the door to the sitting room in her uncle’s hall. She is deemed old enough for her own suite and would normally be there. If not for the fact she and Balder had been caught in the gardens and she had been summarily marched to the family rooms.
It would not be so bad if not for the fact her father was currently in Asgard and was one of the two people shouting behind the closed door, the other being her uncle. She honestly does not know what all the fuss is about for they were barely doing anything and she is hardly a child. Her father is in a rage though, “How could you allow this to happen! I left her here in your safekeeping!”
Her uncle had been patient at the beginning of the argument but his own temper has now been lost, “You are overreacting to this, Loki, as you overreact to everything!”
That does nothing to pacify her father, “How can you say that, knowing who that boy is! Knowing he’s Odin’s bastard!”
Hela feels her stomach lurch at that, for if that was true then she and Balder were…Her uncle is replying, “So what! They are not blood, Loki for you are not of Odin’s blood!”
Hela cannot help the gasp that escapes her at her uncle’s words, at the carelessness of them. He seems to realise himself as he quickly begins to apologise, “Loki…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, you are my brother, not him…”
Her uncle is cut off by her father’s laughter and Hela can feel her throat constrict. She knows that laughter well, had been quietly led from a room as a child several times once commenced. She leaves before she has to hear any more.
She is not asleep when the door to her room opens later that night. She can tell from the tread that it is her uncle. She tries to stifle her crying, make it sound like the heavy breathing of sleep. Her uncle is not fooled. “Hela, are you alright?” When she does not reply he sighs and sits at the foot of the bed, “I wish you’d known Mother, she would know exactly what to say.”
Hela turns to ask, “Is Balder really Odin’s son?” Her uncle hesitates but only for a moment, “Yes. He was raised in the mountains with his mother but she sickened and so Father brought him here. I do not know why he is unacknowledged for he was born after Frigga’s death… but Mother always said there was a reason for everything Father did. Balder does not know.”
Hela nods in the dark, a silent promise that she will not be the one to tell Balder the truth. She asks quietly, “Is Loki gone?”
Her uncle sighs again at that, “Yes. I could not calm him. I said a thoughtless and cruel thing to him and in truth I said it not out of carelessness but because he was, well, as they say on Midard, pissing me off. I know it is not his fault that he is the way he is, that he suffers a sickness in his mind, but sometimes I feel if only I could scream louder than him he will finally see reason.”
Hela sits up, wipes at her eyes, remains composed for a moment but then she thinks of Balder, who she cannot be with now and who she cannot tell why. She thinks of her father who is alone and hurting somewhere. Her composure breaks and she flings herself into her uncle’s arms when he holds them open for her.
~
She causes a scene at the training ground as everyone watches agog and Balder looks at her like she has literally ripped his chest open. She ignores the mutters of “Loki’s daughter alright.”
~
Everything changes after Balder. She spends less time with her peers and shrugs when her uncle and Sif make gentle enquiries as to what she is spending her time doing. The whispers around her increase and she wonders if they have always been there and she was just too naïve to notice before.
She has a new understanding now of why her father hates to be in Asgard. Hela finds herself largely indifferent to what is said about her. She asks her grandfather’s permission to begin to study seidr and it is granted. She is competent but she comes to suspect she does not have either of her parents’ natural flair. There is a book in the library speculating on the origins and capabilities of the great and terrible ‘Witch of Ironwood’ and Hela hoots so much with laughter she is asked to leave. It is not that she cannot believe it, it is she can believe it all too well, having been on the receiving end of one of her mother’s stares, usually when she and her brothers had broken something in the house. She becomes proficient enough in her studies that she is able to remove the glamour that covers her scars and takes to roaming around ‘au natural’. No one says anything, at least not to her face. The only exception is her grandfather, who catches her under the chin during dinner one day, turns her scarred side to the light and asks her to pull several faces to test her facial muscles and says, “Loki didn’t do a bad job with the healing spell, not a bad job at all. It is only the superficial damage that remains.”
Her indifference wavers when it is announced that Balder is to marry; Nanna, her name is. Hela does not attend the ceremony or following feast. She finds herself slinking to Midgard and her father’s apartment there, glamour back up due to the obvious distress the sight of her mangled face causes her father, the memories of the night he lost his wife and sons it invokes. She lies facing the wall on the bed in the room that is kept for her and does not move when the bed shifts with another’s weight and she feels Loki’s arm slide around her. He says “I’ll kill him for you, if you want.”
Other girls would laugh through their tears at that, but as her father most likely means it she shakes her head and whispers into the side she’s turned to curl against, “No. I don’t want that.”
~
She has been summoned to dine privately with her uncle and Sif. She is bemused at first with their odd behavior, concerned for a time before annoyance finally descends. She finally asks peevishly, “What is it? If this is about what happened in the library I didn’t mean to set that chair on fire…”
She is cut off my Sif abrupt declaration, “I am with child.”
Hela blinks at them both for a moment before a grin spreads, she rises from her seat and hurries round the table to embrace Sif, “That is wonderful news! I’m so pleased, a little cousin at last!”
Her uncle looks sheepish, “Ah, we were not sure how you would react…”
Hela snorts, “Oh you thought I would fly into a jealous rage? You forget I’ve had siblings before.” There is a shard of sadness in Hela’s heart but not for the reason Thor and Sif may have feared. Jörmungandr and Fenrir would have adored a baby cousin, she is sure of it, would have made excellent, overprotective, proxy big brothers for the child. She has never stopped missing them.
~
Niflheim, the realm of the dead, is in revolt. Hela stands in Heimdallr’s observatory with her grandfather, her uncle, Sif, Tyr and Heimdallr himself, who is reporting the news with his usual grim stoicism. The king of the dead has been overthrown and there is a risk that the realms will slip into chaos, that the natural order will break down. The dead cannot come back, the All Father cannot allow it for it would be the doom of all, including the dead themselves. There must be a regent of royal blood on the throne in Niflheim. It is Tyr that says it and all their eyes drift towards Thor, who only looks crestfallen for a moment, at the thought of all he is being asked to forsake, before stepping forward to receive the blow that will send him to Niflheim.
Hela steps between Thor and Tyr without hesitation. “No, Uncle. I will not allow my cousin to be born without a father.” She turns to Tyr. “Dispatch me, I will rule Niflheim.”
Sif, too stunned at previous proclamations to speak, cries out, “No, Hela! No I will not allow this, neither you or Thor. I will not allow either of you to die here today!” She pulls her sword at that, despite being heavy with child, and begins to move herself between Tyr and both Thor and Hela. Tyr, for his part, scoffs. “You are all fools! Do you know what is at stake here yet you indulge in your own selfish bonds?” He turns to Hela, “It is a brave gesture girl, but the sacrifice must be made by one of royal blood and you are not…” He trails off, as if the matter embarrasses him, Hela just rolls her eyes.
“Yes but there is nothing to say it must be Asgardian royal blood is there? I may not truly be of Odin’s house but I am of Laufey’s. It will do. Now if you would be so kind as to kill me please”
Both Thor and Sif shout at Tyr to stay his hand this time and Sif follows it with a cry of “Loki!” All turn to look at her but before she can elaborate Odin finally speaks with a heavy, quite voice. “No. The ruler of Niflheim wields much power and could overturn the realms and send all back to the abyss. He would have the power to restore his sons to life yet to do so would destroy all. That is not a burden I can ask Loki to bear.” He steps forward, raises his hand to Hela’s damaged cheek, “You are sure, Hela? I will not think less of you if you do not wish to do this, it is a duty I thought was meant for another…”
“Balder?” Hela whispers it but there is no doubt her grandfather can hear her, he nods, “Yes, but perhaps I was wrong, perhaps it was a throne meant for you all this time.”
Hela smiles, nods and closes her eyes. Thor has Sif and their baby, Balder has Nanna and there will be children, in time, for them too. Hela feels as if she is going home, to where she was always meant to be, as if she had been meant to die all those years ago. Sif is screaming, “Don’t you dare! You’ve never loved any of them have you? Thor, Loki, Balder, Hela, you are a monster incapable of it! You will not come near my child, you will not!” Thor is moving towards them, Hela can sense it, she can hear the thrum through the air that means he is summoning Mjohnir, he is shouting, “Father! Do not do this! Loki will not forgive you and neither will I! We will find another way, please, Father!”
Hela feels her grandfather’s hands grip under her chin, there is a sharp turn of her head, the sound of tendon and bone stretching and snapping.
The abyss that follows lasts both forever and for no time at all, Hela is both the grown woman she is and the little girl she was. Her mother is waiting at the gate for her.
When Hela awoke that morning she did not notice that day to be different from any other. Her father was gone but that was not unusual. He would often go and they would remain in the Ironwood where the strength of both her parents’ enchantments shielded them. Even now Hela does not know if she truly remembers that her mother was uneasy that morning or if she has just written it in to the story as an appropriate beginning. She is sure she remembers her mother’s clear instruction to her eldest brother that they were not to go far that day and his affirmative, obedient, reply. She was not paying particular attention to their conversation, too busy running out the door after Fenrir who shifted into his wolf form as soon as he was across the threshold. She now wishes that she had turned back to smile at her mother one last time, and to have her mother smile back at her. When Jörmungandr, easily caught up with her he grabbed her hand and pulled her along beside him as they chased after Fenrir to the river.
It was no different from any other day.
Even when their mother’s voice suddenly appeared in their minds it was not an unusual occurrence. It was her usual method of calling them back to feed them or to admonish them for some task undone that they were to return at once to complete.
The panic was new, the terror that seeped into their own hearts as it was so overwhelming in their mother she could not prevent it. They were to run. Deep into the Ironwood and not to return, to stay until she or their father retrieved them. There was a sharp, screeching, noise, that made Hela’s teeth grind, coming from the clearing that was their home. Others were there. She had never seen others before, only her parents and brothers and in that moment she felt a terrible guilt for sometimes having thought it would be nice to see someone new.
Without warning Jörmungandr grabbed her and hoisted her on to Fenrir’s back. Turning away he repeated their mother’s instruction to run and hide and before either she or Fenrir could reply he shifted into his serpent form, fangs bared, and then he was gone; rushing towards their mother to aid her whether she wanted him to or not.
Fenrir ran but the noise pursued them as she clung to his fur so hard she knew she must be hurting him but for once he did not complain. Then the noise was so close she could feel her bones vibrating. She heard a high pitched howl and realised it was Fenrir only when she was thrown from his back as he fell. She landed on her own back and saw the sky aflame above her. At first it didn’t hurt but then it did and she was screaming too.
The last thing she remembers of the Ironwood is a sudden bright light of rainbow colours, the crack of thunder and how the rain that started to stream down on her was soothing, cooling her too hot skin.
~
Years later when the story of her rescue is told in the feast halls of Asgard she always turns and raises her glass to Volstagg to cheers. He was the one who scooped her up from the ground and carried her all the way to Eir’s healing halls via the bifröst. It was where she woke up unable to move one arm and one leg, unable to feel anything down that side of her body. She had feeling in her other hand which was being lightly held in the much larger hand of a man with a white beard and a gold eye patch who had smiled at her and told her she was safe.
That was how she met her grandfather.
She had no way of knowing at the time but the light and the thunder and the rain on Ironwood had heralded the arrival of her uncle. When Thanos had attacked her mother had shattered the wards that prevented Asgard from seeing them and had screamed for the All Father’s aid. Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three had soon arrived. She is not sure if her mother was also able to reach her father but he soon appeared too and even grim Hogun has been known to get misty eyed when the telling of the tale reaches the part where Thor and Loki fought side by side again at last.
There is a story that is told of that day and a story that is not. Or rather a version she is not meant to have heard. She is not meant to know that Thanos left her mother alive although barely. That her mother, knowing she would not survive her injuries but suffer the indignity and pain of a drawn out death, begged her father to kill her so that she might quickly join their sons who must be so afraid in the cold dark halls of Niflheim. How her father had wept and refused, insisting she could be healed and they still had a child who lived and had need of her. How in the end her father had turned away as his brother had brought Mjölnir down on her mother’s head as she whispered her thanks for his mercy.
She is not meant to know any of this but in Asgard people drink and people talk.
~
She awakens several times in the healing halls before she opens her eyes turns her head to her still whole side and sees that the person grasping her hand is not grandfather or Eir or Idunn but father. His head rests on the bed beside her hand and she remembers thinking that could not be comfortable before her eyelids slowly close again. He must have agreed for when she next awakes he is in the bed soundly asleep beside her. Grandfather has taken father’s place in the chair.
Her injuries are beyond Eir’s abilities to heal. She is not told so at the time but now knows it to have been true. There are whispered conversations across the hall between Eir and her grandfather and her uncle and when her father is present they are not whispered as his voice rises. She awakens one night to the shock of her father in his Jötun form, something she has never seen before although her mother would sometimes shift into her own original form. He has something with him which she later learns is the casket of ancient winters. He has someone with him too, her uncle, who holds out Mjölnir and when the clash of blue and green lights fade she jumps down from the bed to shout “Father!” as he collapses.
It is then that she realises the feeling has returned to her dead limbs.
The scars remain and when her father announces from his own bed in Eir’s hall that he will remove them next her grandfather bellows and rages and confiscates Mjölnir until her uncle swears on his own mother’s soul in Valhalla that he will not aid her father in such a thing again.
Her grandfather places a glamour on her instead and promises to show her how to one day do it for herself.
~
She moves into her father’s chambers where she has her own room. She likes to sleep in a nest of furs for it reminds her of sleeping next to Fenrir, even though mother did not approve of him being a wolf in the house. One night she is woken by her father gently pushing at her shoulder and telling her to pack whatever she would like to take for they are leaving Asgard that night. She would like to take the furs but she does not think she can carry them all so selects a more modest assortment of possessions. Her favorite dress, her combs, the book grandfather is reading to her from, the dagger Sif gave her and promised she’d show Hela how to use when she was little stronger. She holds her father’s hand as they make their way through the corridors but she is sleepy and yawning and slow so her father lifts her up and carries her.
Her head is resting on his shoulder and she is half way back to sleep when they are stopped. She raises her head to see her grandfather, uncle and Sif. It is her grandfather who speaks.
“I cannot stop you, Loki, if you are determined to throw your life away, but I will not allow you to throw Hela’s away too. Leave if you must but the child stays here.”
Her father’s voice is the same, disrespectful tone it always is when speaking to her grandfather. If Hela or her brothers had spoken to either of their parents in that tone they’d have found themselves scrubbing the kitchen floor for the rest of the month. “Throw my life away, Odin? Are you the sort of man who would not make those who murdered his woman and children pay? I can assure you I am not.”
Her uncle interjects, “Brother, this is what Thanos wants. He wants you to confront him alone. I swear to you we will not forget what was done to Angrboda and your boys and we will avenge them but we will do it together when the time is right.”
Her father laughs but there is something about it that frightens Hela and she squirms in his arms, he is holding her too tightly, her father answers her uncle, “Do not pretend to mourn them. You are hypocrites, all of you. You had no love for Angrboda and thought the boys monsters, you feared their power.”
Her uncle moves as if to step closer but her grandfather stops him with a gesture, speaks, “Angrboda was a powerful Jötun sorceress who had no cause to love us or any other realm and we feared the influence she might have on you. That she would inflame and encourage your bitterness and instability for her own purposes. We were wrong in our assumptions though for you lived peacefully together and troubled no one else. That we heard stories of powerful, shape changing, offspring I also cannot deny, or that we feared they would be raised to hate Asgard as much as you insist you do. There is no hate in Hela’s heart though, she is a child to be proud of and I see no reason why the boys would have been any different. Many of our fears would have been allayed if you had not gone to such lengths to hide yourself and them from us. Now I will never know my daughter-in-law, or my grandsons. Angrboda called on me for aid, called on me to protect her children. I intend to do that, even if it means protecting Hela from you. I wish I could protect you from yourself but I have long had to accept that I cannot. Leave the child here, Loki. It is for the best. You know this.”
Hela can feel her father shaking, she thinks he may be crying but she cannot bear to lift her face, which she has buried in her father’s shoulder, to look, before she can summon the courage to do so she is suddenly thrust into her uncle’s arms as her father says, “I don’t want him raising her, you do it, you and Sif. I’ll only let her stay under those terms.”
Her uncle’s arms wind round her, to keep her from falling out of his grasp as she twists round to see her father, she can see now she was right and he is crying. Hela immediately joins him, starting to sob and to scream, holding her arms out for him to take her with him, or preferably to stay with her, but with a twist of the air he is gone.
~
Hela moves from her father’s chambers to her uncle and Sif’s. They are kind to her even though in those first months Hela is not always kind to them. She wants to go back to the Ironwood. She wants to run to the river with her brothers, riding on Jor’s back as he slides through the grass once she is too tired to keep up with them as he chases Fenrir while Fenrir’s laughter comes out in barks. She wants to kneel beside her mother in the garden to pick herbs and she wants her mother to be the one to brush her hair before she goes to bed. She wants to listen to her father’s stories and watch the illusions he conjures to illustrate them.
Her uncle tells stories well but he can’t conjure any illusions.
There is never a time when she does not miss her life in the Ironwood but it becomes less vivid, less real, and Asgard becomes more so. She tells her grandfather about how she would ride on her brother’s backs and he takes her to the stables to meet Sleipnir his horse. Tells her that when Sleipnir was born his mother struggled to birth him and both their lives were in danger. Her father had been reading a book about birthing practices on Midgard at the time, her grandfather had no idea why except for her father read all and any book he could find. He helped the mare deliver her foal and on Midgard the tale had become confused and they thought Loki had borne Sleipnir himself. Hela giggles at this and hugs Sleipnir’s front leg then squeals at the horsey tongue that licks the top of her head. Her grandfather lifts her up and she and Sleipnir spend the rest of the day cantering around.
~
Hela is surprised to eventually learn that Thor and Sif, while betrothed are not actually wed. This is to be remedied though and Hela takes far more pleasure in attending the dressmakers than Sif does. Sif suggests she wears the armor and Thor can wear the dress to the ceremony. Hela’s uncle declines this offer but shrugs and says he has no objections if Sif wants to wear her armor too. Sif’s mother most definitely does object and a dress it is. Hela is sitting on Volstagg’s knee in the feasting hall eating a chicken leg on the eve of the ceremony when a voice behind them states, “Careful child, when the roast is demolished noble Volstagg may turn to little girls up far past their bedtime for his next snack.”
Hela turns to see her father smiling down at her, she jumps off Volstagg’s knee and throws herslef into his arms. He picks her up with ease and after holding her close for several minutes, transfers her to his hip, holding her there with one arm and holding his other hand out, with a slight hesitation, to Volstagg in greeting. They are interrupted by a boom of, “Brother!” Hela is soon being squashed as her uncle embraces her father while declaring, “You’re here!”
Her father wriggles out of Thor’s grasp with a roll of his eyes, “Obviously. Who could resist the lure of the wedding of the Millennium.”
Thor is grinning, “Sif will be so pleased, Father too.”
“Yes, I’m sure their joy will be palpable.” With that her father sits down, sets Hela on his knee and asks Fandral to pass him the bread.
~
She is fidgeting on her stool in front of Sif in the throne room until Sif’s hand comes down suddenly to pin her shoulder. She wants to get up to greet her father who has presented himself as a petitioner this day. It is a formal audience with her grandfather, uncle and Sif all present on their thrones. Hela only has a stool but she doesn’t mind as she can set it down in front of any of them depending on her whim. She regrets choosing Sif this day now for her grip is always less indulgent. By forcing Hela to sit still Sif has focused her attention on the conversation, her grandfather is speaking wearily, “I acknowledge you have the right to celebrate the winter solstice with your daughter, Loki. I just do not concede that you need to take her from Asgard to do so, you would be very welcome to stay here and we can celebrate together, as a family.”
She sits up straighter at this news, the possibility that her father may stay awhile but her father dismisses the notion, “I can think of nothing worse than a holiday spent here in these musty halls while I’m stared at and whispered about and everyone frets I’m about to cause a scene.”
Sif’s grip on Hela tightens and Hela squirms as Sif says, “What? Like you’re doing now?”
Her father smiles at that and Hela thinks he may be genuinely amused so she smiles herself, “Exactly. Think how much worse it would be with a feast table to upend at my disposal. I will bring her back here in the New Year, Odin. On Midgard they have a custom called ‘access’, that is what I wish, access to Hela for the holidays.”
It is her uncle who replies, “Perhaps then, brother, you should secure the services of a Midgardian lawyer to argue your case.” Her uncle turns to her grandfather, “I do not see any harm in it, Father, not if Hela wishes to go and I will ask my fellow Avengers to be ready to…respond…if any situation arises.”
Hela finally speaks for herself, “Where would we go? Will we go back to the Ironwood?” She is not sure how she feels about that, not if her mother and brothers will not be there.
Her father smiles at her, “No, Sweetheart, I will take you to Midgard. Dreary as it is it becomes much more tolerable during their winter festivals. I think that you would like it.”
Hela finally jumps from her stool before Sif can prevent it, the chance to go to Midgard is a rare one, she runs over to her grandfather, “May I go, Grandfather? I promise I will stay here for the summer solstice…”
Her grandfather smiles now at her too but she thinks it makes him look sad instead of joyful, “There is no need to make such a promise, child, we can decide on that at the time.” He looks past her to her father, “Very well but you will not shield yourself from Heimdallr when she is with you. If at any point either of you disappear from his sight I will drag you back here by your hair myself and you will remain in this palace under guard for the rest of your days, is that clear?”
Her father nods his acquiescence as Hela bounces down from the dais to him.
~
Hela has no idea if her father has ever even used the washing machine in his apartment on Midgard but it looks to be a simple enough contraption. She has taken the soap from the bathroom and is about to stuff it into the drawer she suspects it should go in when a voice behind her suddenly asks, “Hela, what do you think you’re doing?”
She yelps and turns in surprise to see her father standing behind her. She had only arrived on Midgard that morning to spend the week with her father, finally being deemed old enough to travel the bifröst by herself instead of her father having to collect her from Asgard. It was typical that this could not have occurred the previous week, or the week after, when she would simply have gone to Sif. Instead she has no choice now but to blurt out, “I’ve started my monthly bleed. It’s on the bed sheets. Sorry, I’ll clean them…”
For the first time she can remember she thinks her father has actually been rendered speechless. He stands completely still for a moment before replying. “Oh. Oh.” He waves his hand and the bed sheets disappear from Hela’s grasp only to reappear in the machine which is now burbling away in activity. “I can take care of the sheets.” He looks like he’s very much trying not to smirk, “That’s not the sort of soap you use for laundry, Sweetheart. Do you have, erm, sanitary items?”
Hela shakes her head, “Not here, I do at home. Sif gave them to me a little while ago in preparation but I didn’t think to bring them…”
Hela is very grateful that when she and her father suddenly materialize in an all night chemist’s downtown that he has at least placed a glamour on them so the store clerk can’t tell they’re both in their pajamas.
~
“You are staring at that boy in the same manner noble Volstagg stares at a roast.” Hela feels her face redden at Fandral’s words, a quick glance up to see his amusement makes Hela blush even more and she stares at her dinner plate, mumbles, “I am merely curious.” They are in the feasting hall to dine and as it is an informal occasion people are sitting where they please. The high table remains empty as she is the only member of the Royal family present this evening. The only one unless Balder is counted. He had come to court the previous month as a ward of Odin and was of an age with Hela. There is much talk of where exactly he has come from as his origins seem to be purposefully vague. Sif had set her face into a grim line and asked that Hela not question her uncle over it when Hela had asked.
Fandral sighs dramatically, “I fear my time as the most dashing warrior in Asgard is at an end, I hear they are calling him ‘Balder the Beautiful’. I was watching him at training today, most impressive.” Hela takes a gulp of her drink to avoid answering, but Fandral continues to look at her in expectation of a reply. She mutters, “I would not know.” Fandral grins, stands and shouts “Balder, my boy! Come here, have you been formally introduced to the Lady Hela?”
As Balder makes his way over with a warm smile Hela wishes very much that a bilgesnipe would strike Fandral dead.
~
Hela crouches behind the door to the sitting room in her uncle’s hall. She is deemed old enough for her own suite and would normally be there. If not for the fact she and Balder had been caught in the gardens and she had been summarily marched to the family rooms.
It would not be so bad if not for the fact her father was currently in Asgard and was one of the two people shouting behind the closed door, the other being her uncle. She honestly does not know what all the fuss is about for they were barely doing anything and she is hardly a child. Her father is in a rage though, “How could you allow this to happen! I left her here in your safekeeping!”
Her uncle had been patient at the beginning of the argument but his own temper has now been lost, “You are overreacting to this, Loki, as you overreact to everything!”
That does nothing to pacify her father, “How can you say that, knowing who that boy is! Knowing he’s Odin’s bastard!”
Hela feels her stomach lurch at that, for if that was true then she and Balder were…Her uncle is replying, “So what! They are not blood, Loki for you are not of Odin’s blood!”
Hela cannot help the gasp that escapes her at her uncle’s words, at the carelessness of them. He seems to realise himself as he quickly begins to apologise, “Loki…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, you are my brother, not him…”
Her uncle is cut off by her father’s laughter and Hela can feel her throat constrict. She knows that laughter well, had been quietly led from a room as a child several times once commenced. She leaves before she has to hear any more.
She is not asleep when the door to her room opens later that night. She can tell from the tread that it is her uncle. She tries to stifle her crying, make it sound like the heavy breathing of sleep. Her uncle is not fooled. “Hela, are you alright?” When she does not reply he sighs and sits at the foot of the bed, “I wish you’d known Mother, she would know exactly what to say.”
Hela turns to ask, “Is Balder really Odin’s son?” Her uncle hesitates but only for a moment, “Yes. He was raised in the mountains with his mother but she sickened and so Father brought him here. I do not know why he is unacknowledged for he was born after Frigga’s death… but Mother always said there was a reason for everything Father did. Balder does not know.”
Hela nods in the dark, a silent promise that she will not be the one to tell Balder the truth. She asks quietly, “Is Loki gone?”
Her uncle sighs again at that, “Yes. I could not calm him. I said a thoughtless and cruel thing to him and in truth I said it not out of carelessness but because he was, well, as they say on Midard, pissing me off. I know it is not his fault that he is the way he is, that he suffers a sickness in his mind, but sometimes I feel if only I could scream louder than him he will finally see reason.”
Hela sits up, wipes at her eyes, remains composed for a moment but then she thinks of Balder, who she cannot be with now and who she cannot tell why. She thinks of her father who is alone and hurting somewhere. Her composure breaks and she flings herself into her uncle’s arms when he holds them open for her.
~
She causes a scene at the training ground as everyone watches agog and Balder looks at her like she has literally ripped his chest open. She ignores the mutters of “Loki’s daughter alright.”
~
Everything changes after Balder. She spends less time with her peers and shrugs when her uncle and Sif make gentle enquiries as to what she is spending her time doing. The whispers around her increase and she wonders if they have always been there and she was just too naïve to notice before.
She has a new understanding now of why her father hates to be in Asgard. Hela finds herself largely indifferent to what is said about her. She asks her grandfather’s permission to begin to study seidr and it is granted. She is competent but she comes to suspect she does not have either of her parents’ natural flair. There is a book in the library speculating on the origins and capabilities of the great and terrible ‘Witch of Ironwood’ and Hela hoots so much with laughter she is asked to leave. It is not that she cannot believe it, it is she can believe it all too well, having been on the receiving end of one of her mother’s stares, usually when she and her brothers had broken something in the house. She becomes proficient enough in her studies that she is able to remove the glamour that covers her scars and takes to roaming around ‘au natural’. No one says anything, at least not to her face. The only exception is her grandfather, who catches her under the chin during dinner one day, turns her scarred side to the light and asks her to pull several faces to test her facial muscles and says, “Loki didn’t do a bad job with the healing spell, not a bad job at all. It is only the superficial damage that remains.”
Her indifference wavers when it is announced that Balder is to marry; Nanna, her name is. Hela does not attend the ceremony or following feast. She finds herself slinking to Midgard and her father’s apartment there, glamour back up due to the obvious distress the sight of her mangled face causes her father, the memories of the night he lost his wife and sons it invokes. She lies facing the wall on the bed in the room that is kept for her and does not move when the bed shifts with another’s weight and she feels Loki’s arm slide around her. He says “I’ll kill him for you, if you want.”
Other girls would laugh through their tears at that, but as her father most likely means it she shakes her head and whispers into the side she’s turned to curl against, “No. I don’t want that.”
~
She has been summoned to dine privately with her uncle and Sif. She is bemused at first with their odd behavior, concerned for a time before annoyance finally descends. She finally asks peevishly, “What is it? If this is about what happened in the library I didn’t mean to set that chair on fire…”
She is cut off my Sif abrupt declaration, “I am with child.”
Hela blinks at them both for a moment before a grin spreads, she rises from her seat and hurries round the table to embrace Sif, “That is wonderful news! I’m so pleased, a little cousin at last!”
Her uncle looks sheepish, “Ah, we were not sure how you would react…”
Hela snorts, “Oh you thought I would fly into a jealous rage? You forget I’ve had siblings before.” There is a shard of sadness in Hela’s heart but not for the reason Thor and Sif may have feared. Jörmungandr and Fenrir would have adored a baby cousin, she is sure of it, would have made excellent, overprotective, proxy big brothers for the child. She has never stopped missing them.
~
Niflheim, the realm of the dead, is in revolt. Hela stands in Heimdallr’s observatory with her grandfather, her uncle, Sif, Tyr and Heimdallr himself, who is reporting the news with his usual grim stoicism. The king of the dead has been overthrown and there is a risk that the realms will slip into chaos, that the natural order will break down. The dead cannot come back, the All Father cannot allow it for it would be the doom of all, including the dead themselves. There must be a regent of royal blood on the throne in Niflheim. It is Tyr that says it and all their eyes drift towards Thor, who only looks crestfallen for a moment, at the thought of all he is being asked to forsake, before stepping forward to receive the blow that will send him to Niflheim.
Hela steps between Thor and Tyr without hesitation. “No, Uncle. I will not allow my cousin to be born without a father.” She turns to Tyr. “Dispatch me, I will rule Niflheim.”
Sif, too stunned at previous proclamations to speak, cries out, “No, Hela! No I will not allow this, neither you or Thor. I will not allow either of you to die here today!” She pulls her sword at that, despite being heavy with child, and begins to move herself between Tyr and both Thor and Hela. Tyr, for his part, scoffs. “You are all fools! Do you know what is at stake here yet you indulge in your own selfish bonds?” He turns to Hela, “It is a brave gesture girl, but the sacrifice must be made by one of royal blood and you are not…” He trails off, as if the matter embarrasses him, Hela just rolls her eyes.
“Yes but there is nothing to say it must be Asgardian royal blood is there? I may not truly be of Odin’s house but I am of Laufey’s. It will do. Now if you would be so kind as to kill me please”
Both Thor and Sif shout at Tyr to stay his hand this time and Sif follows it with a cry of “Loki!” All turn to look at her but before she can elaborate Odin finally speaks with a heavy, quite voice. “No. The ruler of Niflheim wields much power and could overturn the realms and send all back to the abyss. He would have the power to restore his sons to life yet to do so would destroy all. That is not a burden I can ask Loki to bear.” He steps forward, raises his hand to Hela’s damaged cheek, “You are sure, Hela? I will not think less of you if you do not wish to do this, it is a duty I thought was meant for another…”
“Balder?” Hela whispers it but there is no doubt her grandfather can hear her, he nods, “Yes, but perhaps I was wrong, perhaps it was a throne meant for you all this time.”
Hela smiles, nods and closes her eyes. Thor has Sif and their baby, Balder has Nanna and there will be children, in time, for them too. Hela feels as if she is going home, to where she was always meant to be, as if she had been meant to die all those years ago. Sif is screaming, “Don’t you dare! You’ve never loved any of them have you? Thor, Loki, Balder, Hela, you are a monster incapable of it! You will not come near my child, you will not!” Thor is moving towards them, Hela can sense it, she can hear the thrum through the air that means he is summoning Mjohnir, he is shouting, “Father! Do not do this! Loki will not forgive you and neither will I! We will find another way, please, Father!”
Hela feels her grandfather’s hands grip under her chin, there is a sharp turn of her head, the sound of tendon and bone stretching and snapping.
The abyss that follows lasts both forever and for no time at all, Hela is both the grown woman she is and the little girl she was. Her mother is waiting at the gate for her.