Many Ways, 2/5. NC-17
Title: Many Ways
Series: #23 in Ready For The Siege
(#1 - Look Over Your Shoulder, #2 - Armed Up To The Teeth, #3 - Misery Inspires, #4 - Broken Underneath, #5 - Change Is Coming Soon, #6 - Lick Your Wounds, #7 - Bitter Sparks, #8 - Father's Will, #9 - To Feel Safe Again, #10 - Hit Your Prime, #11 - Open Your Eyes, #12 - Can't Be Ignored, #13 - Make You Ill, #14 - Aim Straight, #15 - Not The First Time, #16 - Friendly Fire, #17 - Relieved, #18 - Release, #19 - Never Noticed, #20 - How You Live And Breathe, #21 - Love, #22 - Do You Wanna Die?)
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Loki/Natasha, Natasha/Bucky, Bucky/Loki, Natasha/Yelena, Clint/Darcy
Disclaimer: Not mine! Some comic backstory is incorporated into characterizations, but this is still primarily movieverse.
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-Avengers, AU to the rest of MCU. References events in prior stories, self harm, PTSD, violence.
Title and series title from "The Royal We" by Silversun Pickups.
Summary: Queen Hel can give gifts if she wants to. That doesn't mean that her gifts don't come with strings attached, or set off a whole other chain of events. She wouldn't have it any other way.
One - Dancing With Ghosts
Two - Helheim
Natasha got up, feeling groggy and sore, as if she had been heavily drugged, tossed around, then left in an uncomfortable position on a cold stone floor somewhere. It was eerily quiet, no sounds other than her own breathing. Likely, whoever had snatched her had left her alone, so it was safe enough to take stock of the situation. She pushed herself up to a sitting position and managed not to feel overly nauseous, though her head swam dizzily. Keeping her eyes closed only seemed to heighten the sensation, so she cautiously opened her eyes.
She was sitting on the ground in a gray field at the very center of a circle of standing stones, each one inscribed with different runes. Everything around her was fairly nondescript, the sky the gray of a predawn spring. No clouds marred the view, no hint of sun or moon or even stars bright enough to pierce the haze. It seemed like a fog was in the distance, obscuring everything but the single stone path leading out of the circle.
Her clothes were not what she had been wearing before. Instead of her nanomesh armor catsuit and fighting gear, she was in a white dress that had a square neckline, cap sleeves, gathered in at the waist and then fell to midcalf. Her feet were bare, and she was wearing no jewelry. Her hair hung loose in soft waves.
"What the hell?"
As soon as she said the words aloud, everything clicked for her. She was in Helheim.
"Well, damn," she muttered, looking around again. It was a different entry point than the last times she had visited. Those times had been via portals carefully constructed not to strip her soul from her body. This must be the entry for the dead.
There was only one path through the fog. Tales were always telling of misfortune to those that wandered from the path, with horrible things happening, monsters rearing up and rending the fools limb from limb. Natasha was no fool. She was simply dead.
Following the path, she made her way out of the standing stones and through the fog. It felt as though she walked for miles, though she wasn't tired. She didn't feel much of anything, actually, but was bored of the sunless gray that permeated the entire place. If she had an idea of where Hel's castle was, she would have chanced straying from the path to find it.
Finally she came to an area where the stone walkway opened into a wide circle. Paths split off from it like spokes on a wheel, though there was no indication where each path led. This was rather irritating, but Natasha simply closed and eyes and tried to get a sense of where she was in Helheim. Souls weren't meant to wander here aimlessly, after all. It was a wide realm, growing to fit the needs of the dead, and that meant there had to be a place for her. She might not have always felt at home in different places while alive, but she had started feeling as though Avengers Tower had been home, her friends her family.
She could still sense magic. That must have been in her very bones and skin, because nothing else had come with her when she died. Using it was difficult, having no magic skill of her own, but she could still sense things, could still home in on where magic was. It had helped her track down Amora in the caverns in upstate New York, allowed her to sense the wrongness that had entered Asgard, get a feel for where Loki was and what mischief he could get up to, and now was leading her in a certain direction. She took a step forward, testing that magical sense, and it only grew stronger.
Keeping her eyes closed, Natasha began to walk.
The numbness around her faded as she progressed, sound beginning to come to her ears. It was still muffled, and was probably what the world sounded like to Clint. He'd had some hearing loss prior to his death, but it had worsened afterward. He hadn't blamed Hel for it, thinking that perhaps it was the repeating gunfire from Yelena shooting him. "Tash," he'd said at the time she suggested it was Hel's fault, "she brought me back from the dead. She didn't have to. If I lose a few more decibels of hearing, I really don't give a fuck. That's what hearing aids are for. I'm alive, I still have my sight as sharp as ever, and I can shoot a target. I'm okay."
Gradually, the sounds stopped being so muffled and sounded rather like city life. Natasha opened her eyes and found a medieval town ahead of her, and beyond it was Hel's castle. Perhaps she had approached the castle from a different direction before, or perhaps the town was only visible to the dead. The thought didn't bother her as much as the place had obviously bothered Sif before. Then again, Natasha had a very pragmatic view of death to begin with.
Natasha skirted around the town, not feeling the need to explore the buildings or see who lived there. She wanted to see Hel, after all, not innumerable strangers.
Reaching the front gates, Natasha looked up at the gargoyles above. They stared straight ahead, and didn't acknowledge her presence. "Excuse me," she called out to them. "I'd like to speak with Lady Hel."
No response, and the portcullis remained lowered. Thinking they couldn't hear her, Natasha looked at the gate post carefully. It was made of hewn stone, with only the barest of lips around each stone to serve as finger or toe holds. Seeing that, she sighed. At least she was barefoot. Her boots never would have found purchase.
Climbing up took some time, but she was careful and didn't tire as she would have if she was still alive and trying this stupid stunt. Once she reached the stone gargoyle, she touched its surface gingerly. Magic pulsed beneath her fingertips, and the creature turned to face her, lips drawn back in a snarl. Ignoring that, she pasted a pleasant smile on her face. "Hello. I thought perhaps you couldn't hear me down below. I'd like to speak with Lady Hel."
She is too busy to deal with the likes of you.
"Even Natalia Alianovna Romanova? She'd marked me as hers some time ago."
The gargoyle considered the words, then looked at her carefully. You're not supposed to be here like this.
"Dead, you mean? In my line of work, it had to happen eventually."
You are very... calm about the situation, the gargoyle mused. Was that humor in its tone?
"No point being upset about it. I can't change it. The most I can do is figure out what happened to me and what I'm supposed to do next."
You're dead. There's very little purpose to existence here.
"I don't like that," she said sweetly. "I'd rather take a more active approach."
I see that, the gargoyle replied, definitely amused now. By all means, enter the castle if you can.
"What do you mean?"
The dead don't enter unless the Lady Hel wills it. I don't control the gates.
"You don't? I thought you did."
Helheim is an extension of her will and might. As am I.
Natasha nodded as if she understood. "Well, thank you for clarifying that."
You're very polite.
"No point being rude to you just because you're doing your job. I'll be rude to someone for all sorts of other reasons."
The gargoyle laughed, then resumed its prior perch. I wish you good fortune, Ambassador Romanova, the gargoyle said. I see why she is taken with you.
Having nothing to reply, Natasha dropped down to the ground. As she thought, she wasn't injured by the fall and landed on her feet. "Taken with me, huh?" she mused, rolling her shoulders as she contemplated the gate. "Then she'll let me in."
And sure enough, as she came close to the portcullis this time, it raised high enough for her pass through the gate without any trouble at all.
While she couldn't quite remember the way to the throne room, she found herself there anyway. The doors opened to admit her, and Hel was seated on the throne. Her dress was the dark black of a midnight sky on a new moon night, no stars to be seen. Silvery thread leant a shimmer to the fabric, and Natasha thought perhaps it wove runes into it. She didn't doubt the presence of spells in the dress or in the headdress Hel wore. It was a heavy silver circlet, wide enough that it cast shadows over her eyes, giving them the appearance of empty eye sockets in a skull.
"Lady Hel," Natasha said as she walked into the throne room. "Greetings."
Hel's lips drew back in an amused smile. "I truly don't see you often enough, my dear."
"It looks like that has changed. I'm dead."
"You are if I say you are," Hel replied, the smile still on her lips.
Natasha looked at her evenly, arms at her sides. "Did you just want a visit?"
"You needed a break. And someone wants to see you very much. Considering our last conversation was rather less than pleasant, I thought to correct it."
Hel looked rather pleased with herself, and Natasha was about to open her mouth to ask what she meant when there was the click of heels on stone behind her. She turned and saw a petite blonde woman wearing the same white dress she was, only with white sling back heels and a string of pearls around her neck. "Yelena?" Natasha asked, stunned.
"Yes," she replied, smiling sweetly at her. She clasped her hands in front of her and seemed almost shy, almost reverent, much as she had right before Natasha had slit her throat. "It's really me, this time. Nobody else with me."
"What are you talking about?"
A door swung open to Natasha's left. "Why don't the two of you talk in private?" Hel suggested, rising from her throne. She appeared at Natasha's side in an instant, movement too fast for the eye. She rested her hands gently on Natasha's shoulders, suddenly looming large above her, face concealed by shadow. Her teeth gave the appearance of fangs, eyes glittering like falling stars. "I am quite sure you have much to discuss. I will speak with you afterward."
"Thank you, my lady," Yelena said, curtseying deeply in her direction.
Confused, Natasha let Hel push her toward Yelena and the open door. It led to a comfortable windowless room that looked more like a bedroom, with its divan and piles of pillows and furs scattered everywhere. The door sealed shut behind them.
"I don't understand," Natasha said slowly, taking in Yelena's youthful enthusiasm and guileless smile. "What's going on?"
Flashing her an almost childlike grin, Yelena drew her toward the divan. "I couldn't tell you about the others in my head," she said, letting go of Natasha's hands to tap her temple. "I didn't even know how many others there were, not all of them, but some of them I could talk to. They weren't all very nice, and I had a version of Starkovsky there," she added, tapping her temple again. "Alive, even after he burned in reality, but a Starkovsky inside my mind, part of me but separate, and he was gaining strength as we brought other organizations to their knees."
"Others. As in, other personalities?"
"They were people. We shared my body. I didn't even know it at first, what was happening, and with the personality overlays they gave us..." Yelena shot her an apologetic smile. "They were real to me, were part of me. I was them, even after the overlays were supposedly stripped out of my mind. Sometimes they helped me. So when I lost my grip on my body, even when with you, they helped keep things consistent to the outside world so no one would know. You saw it as erratic behavior, and explained it away with lots of little excuses. I let you. I fed you bullshit, too, because how do I explain it to you? How do I tell you how horribly crazy I am? How could you love me when I'm that broken?"
"I've always loved you, Yelena."
"Not as much as Winter. Not as much as your Clint."
Natasha sighed. "It's not the same. It's not a ranking game. It shouldn't be."
"No. But we can tell through priorities." Yelena cupped Natasha's cheek with one hand tenderly, thumb stroking her skin. "I would raze the world in your name. I would kill anyone and everyone if that's what it took to keep you safe. And you can't dive headlong into that for me."
It was the same way that Loki loved her, she realized suddenly. Both saw love as a destructive force, as something to prove themselves worthy for, something that had to be earned instead of simply being, that it had be bought with blood and sacrifice.
"Sometimes love just is," Natasha said quietly. "It was simpler when we were children."
"It was only us, and we kept each other safe."
"There were never conditions on it when we were children. We made it work. It simply was, and it was good enough."
"We all grow up sometime."
Natasha pulled her hand down into her lap and squeezed her hand tightly. "I'm sorry I wasn't good enough to keep you safe."
"You were perfect," Yelena contradicted with a gentle, loving smile. "You always were the best, the model we all had to follow. You were what we all wanted to be. I made you happy for a little while, didn't I?"
"You did."
Yelena beamed at her, reminding Natasha of when they were children in the Red Room, tangled together in the dark. "I've always loved you, Natalia. Even when I didn't know what love was, when I thought it was a silly fairy tale."
"And now we're both dead."
"But I know you're not for me," Yelena murmured, reaching up to push Natasha's curls behind an ear. "I can have a little time with you, but there's more in store for you. The seers all said so, and the Queen has plans for you."
"Frigga?"
Shooting her an irritated. "Don't be deliberately dense."
Natasha blinked. "Oh. I suppose I don't think of Hel as a queen. Lady Hel, maybe."
"She might not stand on ceremony, but she's still a Queen and rules this realm."
"So what are her plans?"
"I'm hardly in her confidence," Yelena replied, shrugging. "I think she brought me here more as a present to you."
"A present," Natasha echoed, not sure how she felt about that. Were the two of them being used in some kind of an elaborate game?
"Because you've been hurt so much," Yelena told her, nodding. "She thought it would be nice to see a familiar face. At least, that's what she told me."
Hel likely had multiple reasons for doing things, but Natasha wasn't about to reject Yelena's presence just because she was suspicious of Hel. "What's it been like for you while you've been here? For me it's been three months since you died."
"Has it?" she asked, not sounding upset in the slightest. "I don't know how long it's been for me. I'm just... here. Time really doesn't have meaning here." She shrugged, clearly unconcerned in a way she never would have been while alive. "It just is. I suppose it's nice now, since I'm by myself and not with all the others. I like the quiet." She tilted her head to the side to contemplate Natasha, a shy smile on her face. "Unless you don't want to be quiet at all."
"Yelena..."
Instead of answering, she leaned forward and kissed Natasha on the lips, hands on her shoulders to stay steady. Sighing a little, Natasha responded to the kiss and wrapped her arms around Yelena. It felt good to hold her like this, to feel something other than regret.
"I don't think we'll get this chance again," she began softly, biting her lip a little as she touched her forehead to Natasha's. She smiled, still biting her lip, eyes dancing in amusement. "But we have a private room to talk in. So why not make use of it?"
"Like the old days?" Natasha asked wryly.
She laughed, a light and carefree sound. "Yeah. Before it all went wrong."
Natasha cupped her cheek with one hand. This would be a better memory of her, as opposed to the hotel room in Atlanta, the string of rundown and dingy places across Europe and the US, the swinging volatile moods, the flashbacks and nightmares and sheer terror of who she was becoming. She didn't like who she had been with Yelena. Wasn't that the real issue? She was a better person away from her. Not that it was Yelena's fault, but they had so many patterns of behavior that was hard to break.
"A better goodbye, then," Natasha offered. One last day. She could have this, and it would carry her through when she remembered Yelena. It was so much better than guilt.
It was easy to give herself over to Yelena's touch, to lift up the skirt of the ridiculous dress and then toss it up and over her head to somewhere across the room. There was no cold, no heat, just presence, and Yelena stripped off the dress and kicked off the shoes. No underclothes to get in the way of her fingers exploring her folds or her mouth suckling on a breast. Natasha held her head in place, fingers running through Yelena's blonde hair. She egged her on, murmuring childish endearments she hadn't said in a long time. Wet and slick around Yelena's fingers, Natasha let Yelena work her body as she knew how to do.
Yelena licked her way down to her pumping fingers, nipping and nuzzling the skin at random intervals. She murmured endearments in Russian, all the things she would have wanted to say when they were girls in the Red Room but couldn't. Then her mouth was on Natasha's clit, licking in broad stripes before flicking at it. Natasha whimpered, drawing her legs up toward her chest to give her better access. And oh, Yelena added another finger, further stretch, sliding into her deeper, and Natasha came with a cry. Yelena wasn't done, not by a long shot, and didn't slow down or alter the rhythm at all. Not falling off that crest, Natasha shook and panted. "Lena, Lena, right there," she gasped.
Smiling against her, Yelena continued as she was doing. Natasha shut her eyes and reveled in the feel of her mouth and fingers, in feeling Yelena's presence with her. Now she could feel the difference between this lovemaking and some of the times they were together before. Yelena had been absent or different, and that must have been other alters in charge of the body. Now it was Yelena alone, focusing all of her attention on Natasha's pleasure, on getting her to come and pant and moan her name. When her jaw ached, Yelena pulled her mouth away and continued with her fingers. She pressed her mouth to Natasha's quivering thighs, then leaned back to turn Natasha to the side. Still she pumped into Natasha, stretching over her and rubbing her bare breasts against Natasha's torso.
As her thumb hit Natasha's clit and made her wail, Yelena smiled, lips pressed right up to the underside of a breast. "I will continue, every way that you love it, as long as I need to, until you beg me to stop. Maybe then I will." She licked the seam of breast and torso, laughing in a sultry way. "If you're tired enough or I'm tired enough. Which will be a challenge, given how tireless the dead can be."
"You mean to fuck me to death?" Natasha gasped, writhing beneath her. She grasped Yelena's shoulders and brought her up for a filthy kiss.
"I'd kill you again with pleasure if I could," Yelena murmured, mouthing her jaw. "To make up for the pain I caused you, for the terror I left behind."
"You don't owe me-"
"Yes, I do." She gave Natasha a sad smile. "You don't like yourself with me, do you?" She kissed Natasha through the impending orgasm, still fingering her. "Not as I was, at least." Yelena shifted down, mouthing her skin. "But you want to. You want me to love back. I know that about you, and I love you so much for it."
"I do love you," Natasha gasped, nails scratching down Yelena's back.
Suckling a breast again, Yelena rubbed her own swollen clit and slicked folds against Natasha's thigh as she kept working her fingers inside Natasha's dripping slit. Her eyes were dark with passion as she looked up at Natasha, sucking hard.
Coming again, Natasha cried out when Yelena didn't slow down. She pushed at Yelena's arm, her gasp turning into a whine. "Too much," she whimpered and shifted away. Yelena giggled a little, then shifted position, allowing Natasha to sprawl onto her back. She lay there, limp and sweaty, hair sticking to her scalp. Her entire body was oversensitive and exhausted, yet she still craved more. Yelena sat beside her, crosslegged, grinning like a loon, one hand lying gently on Natasha's stomach. She leaned down to kiss her, and Natasha caught her lower lip between her teeth, tugging gently.
"When's my turn to turn you into a gibbering mess?"
"Thoughts are powerful here. You can start now, if you like. If you don't want to be so tired, you won't be." Yelena gave her a beatific smile, and kissed her tenderly. "And I would do anything and be anything you want, you know."
"I know," Natasha murmured. Sure enough, she was able to sit up and slide a hand around Yelena's neck to pull her in for a naughty kiss. Natasha smiled, biting her lip a little. "And I want you to be you. It's all I ever wanted for you."
Yelena touched Natasha's arm gently, eyes dancing. "I love you, Natashenko."
Natasha leaned forward to touch her forehead to Yelena's. "I love you, Yelena. Rooskaya," she added playfully, making her laugh.
"And now it's my turn," she said, pushing Yelena onto her back. Yelena laughed again, free and lighthearted, eagerly waiting for Natasha's touch.
***
The portal slashed open time and space, but was farther away from Hel's castle than Loki wanted to be. He had to walk through the endless sunless gray land, had to tread the path like an ordinary supplicant. He didn't want to think about the favor he owed Hel, the weight of a worthy life far too hefty to contemplate. But he wasn't storming Helheim and wasn't threatening to burn it down. That had to be worth something, surely?
The gargoyles at the top of the gates leading into the castle leered at him, baring their teeth in threatening grimaces. Enter if you dare, one of them said. You know not what you seek, Loki Odinson.
"You dare use that name?" Loki snarked, baring his own teeth. "I am no Odinson!"
There are no secrets from the dead.
There was no answer he could give to that, so Loki simply strode forward, jaw clenched. He ignored the rising portcullis as if entry was his due, and made his way to Hel's throne room. She was perched on her throne, a bloodred gown embroidered in black on her skeletal frame. Her skin was the sallow color of a rotting corpse, though no blemish could be seen. There was a headdress on her head, deep black of a starless night, with protruding horns on either side of her head. It cast shadows across her face, adding to the frightening ethereal look.
"My Lady Hel," Loki began, using his most charming voice. He even gave her a gallant bow, as befitting her station, and rose to his full height.
"To what do I owe this honor, Loki?" she asked, her voice like the whisper of grave dust and dead leaves moving across a headstone.
He smiled, but it was more of a grimace than a genuine smile. "Natasha Romanoff is dead."
"Oh, yes. Of that I am very much aware."
"I wish to bargain for her soul."
"Really?" Hel asked in reply, lips stretching into an amused smile. "And what have you to bargain with?"
She'd already refused his soul once, but it was all he had to give. "My own."
"Your own what? Soul?" She laughed, the sound like grating metal. "Loki. Why would I want that? What value is it to me?"
"It was equal in measure to Clint Barton's."
"Doesn't that pain you? A mere mortal, just as worthy as you?"
Worthier than he, if Loki had to tell the truth, but Hel wasn't asking for that. He lifted his chin to meet her dead gaze. "It means he had risen above the mire of his origins."
Hel laughed, amused. "Oh, Loki. How proud you still are."
Loki's temper flared, and his grimace went from obeisant to snarling. "I could raze this land to the ground, drown your castle in fire and sever the connection of every denizen in this realm. Do not belittle me!"
She was on her feet inside of a blink. The power radiating from her was terrible and threatened to knock him to his knees. "You dare threaten me here? In the seat of my power? I am the arbiter of life and death, of the secrets they hold, of the riches they had. You owe me, Loki. Did you think you could try to claim me as a Lokasdottir? Did you think you held sway over me in some fashion?" Her laughter was derisive and cruel, and Loki resisted the urge to flatten himself to the floor.
No matter his mistakes, he would not bow or scrape.
Hel swept down from the dais until she was in front of him. Her spindly limbs still held strength, and she was taller than he was now. "This is my realm, Loki. This is my place of power, my home. Oh, I know how you lust after Natalia, the poor mortal girl. Should I reshape her, then?" Her voice was deceptively sweet, and Loki's skin crawled at the sensual curve of Hel's lips. "Shall I put her back together, hale and whole? Womb intact? Shall I let you bed her, beget a child? You have one in some realities, you know. Sometimes you have two. So tell me, Loki. Would she be your Angrboda? Your Sigyn?"
"Hel..."
"Yes, Loki?" she asked sweetly, as if reveling in the spike of fear and misery she had generated within his breast. "Oh, but she already played the role of Sigyn for you, did she not? She poured the venom from the bowl to save your life, sacrificing her safety for yours. So shall she bear your Nali and Vali? Or did you want Jormungandr and Fenrir, since I already exist?" Now her voice turned cruel, and her hands were like hooked claws. "Should she bear you monsters? Or shall I make her bear lovely boys, beautiful and kind, and watch as you love her, watch as you love them with all your twisted heart? Then make you give them to me, so I may take their souls and rule over them for eternity and let you wallow in the shame of it?"
It tasted like ashes in his mouth, like ice water in his veins. "Don't harm her," he said in a soft, pained voice. "Please. Do whatever you like to me, but don't harm her."
"You offered that before," Hel replied, sounding bored. "Try again."
"I just want Natasha to live."
"I can make her perfect..."
"She already is!"
Hel stepped backward, biting her lip and smiling as if he had offered her a great delicacy. She brought her hands together in delight, humming. "Oh, Loki," she said, voice full of pity. "The things you give me."
"You already knew of my feelings for her."
"Oh, but you give me so much more than that."
Not knowing what she meant by that, Loki glared at her. He would not give her the satisfaction of asking her what she meant, he would not. His pride was in tatters, nothing more than ashes, but he clung to the scraps of it.
Looking to the side, Hel beamed and gestured for someone behind Loki to enter the throne room. "My dear," she said warmly. "Come here, child, tell me how your visit went."
It was Yelena Belova, appearing innocent and sweet, dressed in white, the skirt of the dress flaring out from her tiny waist, the bustline rather demure and cut to show off the pearl necklace resting on the rise of her breasts. She wore white shoes and no other adornment. What did it all mean? Or did it mean nothing at all?
She sat gingerly down on the steps to the dais, right at Hel's feet where she sat regally in her throne. Wait, how did she get there? Loki hadn't seen the movement at all. But Yelena looked up at Hel with a rapt expression, as if Hel hung the sun and moon. Perhaps here, she did.
"Oh, it was lovely. I know I don't necessarily deserve it, that I can't ask for anything like that, but I am so grateful for the time you've given me."
Loki was shocked at how gentle and fragile Yelena sounded. It was nothing like the visions he had seen of Yelena prior to her death.
Hel stroked Yelena's hair as if she was a cute child or a kitten. "I'm glad, my dear. You had such horrors visited upon you. A little tenderness is such a small gift."
"Not to me, my Queen. It's meant everything to me."
By the Tree, Yelena was all but besotted with Hel. She would do anything that Hel asked her to do without questions asked, Loki could tell. She was a hollowed out girl, needing direction, the lost and helpless girl left when the sociopathic killer was stripped away.
As if sensing Loki's horror, Hel met his gaze with a sinister smile, still petting Yelena's hair as she sat there, all but purring at the attention. "And what would you do for me, darling girl?"
Wanting to retreat or perhaps vomit, Loki instead stood his ground. That was what he called Natasha, and here was Hel calling Yelena that. He was sure that Hel didn't actually sleep with the dead souls of her realm, but what did he actually know? Her motives were her own. He hadn't even been aware of what her mother's motives had been, and look at what had happened.
"Anything, my Queen," Yelena said with utter adoration. "Anything at all."
"Then get your lady love for me. We have unfinished business here."
"Of course."
She skipped down the steps and past Loki, the bounce in her step and the smile on her face making him want to throw up. "What are you doing?" he hissed to Hel.
"Oh, Loki. Do you have any comprehension of the power that the dead possess?"
No, he hadn't. Not until he had come here and felt it pulsing all around him. Even the powerless dead fed Hel, and those with magic fueled her directly. Her numbers swelled constantly, and she had her choice of what to do with those energies they provided.
This was true power, not the paltry excuses of magic that Loki played with.
Natasha arrived, barefoot and in a dress similar to Yelena's. Her hair was vivid red in the gloom, tousled and inviting rather salacious thoughts as Loki watched her walk. Her eyes slid past Loki as if he wasn't even there, as if all she saw was empty space. She smiled and bowed regally to Hel, and didn't say anything as Yelena moved to take her place at Hel's feet.
"Lady Hel, thank you for the visit. I really appreciate it."
Hel seemed to be amused, and Loki had to wonder if it was at his expense. Especially when he found he was unable to speak, not even a grunt or calling out her name.
"If I gave you the opportunity to live again, would you?"
Natasha frowned, looking at her in confusion. "But I'm dead."
"I have power over life and death, remember? I could send you back."
She opened her mouth and shut it, eyes fixed on Yelena for a moment as Hel stroked her hair again. "Clint and James were probably devastated. I know Loki probably was. The others-"
"I asked about you. Do you wish to go back? Or are you ready to leave that mortal coil forever?"
This gave Natasha pause, and Loki knew that she had gotten so used to sacrificing herself for others, she likely never really thought about what she wanted.
"Yes, I'd like to go back, if I can."
Hel beamed at her, as if that was what she had expected Natasha to say, and Yelena's smile had a soft and sad cast to it. "Of course you do. Unfinished business. And the matter of Selene going after Midgard."
"It's not going to be easy to take her down."
Loki wanted to reach out and touch her, caress her. The matter of fact tone comforted him. Even in death she was the same. Some things were constants in the universe.
"Of course not. But I can give you a little help."
"Why?"
This amused Hel a lot, and Loki struggled against the invisible bonds holding him fast. He never even felt the casting, she was that good.
"Selene has been in existence since the beginning of time. Or close enough to it." Now her smile had an edge to it, a frightening cast that reminded Loki that it was never a good idea to fuck with death. Thanos hadn't learned that lesson yet, but he was off collecting deaths in another part of the cosmos, so Loki couldn't be bothered to care.
"And?"
"Bring her here. And Loki will have to present me with her heart."
Loki's stomach plummeted to his toes. What?
Natasha was frowning at her, confused. "You don't want me to carve it out of her or something like that? As if it's from a story?"
"As amusing as that would be, no. That would change the properties of the heart. I want it intact until it's time to be harvested. And Loki will harvest it for me. It's the price of a life."
He could remember stag hunts and larger meat beasts being slaughtered for high holiday feasting on Asgard. Little more than a boy at the time, he had been unprepared for the carnage that carving up an animal generated. A humanoid body would be the same. The blood and gore would be awful, and he would have nightmares of it for ages.
A wave of Hel's hand and then the bindings and invisibility spells were lifted from Loki. Natasha turned toward him in surprise, lips parting. Yggdrasil's roots, she was gorgeous, and it pained him to see her and know he was forbidden from doing anything else. Touching her was outlawed by tradition, lest her death corrupt him or draw out his soul. Why go through the trouble of a specialized portal to keep his soul inside his body if she would simply remove it with a touch? All the horrors he tried to avoid would crash down upon him.
Hel's instructions washed over him. What did it matter anyway? How would they tempt Selene to the realm of the dead? How could he carve her heart from her chest? It was an impossible task, one that would kill him.
But she descended from her throne faster than his eyes could even see, her hands on Natasha's chest. She was paralyzed, eyes blown wide with pain. Her lips were open in a silent scream, and the dress caught fire and burned to ashes. Her skin wasn't blistered, but Loki could see the tension in every line of her body, the way her eyes darted around with panic. Loki wanted to reach for her, wanted to help her, but would only make Hel angry. If he couldn't fulfill his debt and repay the favor, she could utterly destroy him.
And as the color came back into her features, she swayed and fell in his direction. Loki caught her by instinct, and he watched as clothes formed over her body. First the underthings, cami and socks, then her black nanomesh armor and boots. Even her usual weapons were in place, though they carried the air of magic augmentation to them, rather like the twin swords still in her possession back at Avengers Tower.
"I give you the means to find Selene," Hel told her sweetly. To Loki, she seemed to have terrifying and ethereal power, the likes of which could obliterate all the other realms at once if she chose to do so. When her gaze turned to him, he barely managed not to quail in fear. "Don't disappoint me."
It didn't matter what Natasha said, what she believed. There was nothing else but to obey Hel's command or suffer the consequences.
***
***
To Chapter Three - Return
Series: #23 in Ready For The Siege
(#1 - Look Over Your Shoulder, #2 - Armed Up To The Teeth, #3 - Misery Inspires, #4 - Broken Underneath, #5 - Change Is Coming Soon, #6 - Lick Your Wounds, #7 - Bitter Sparks, #8 - Father's Will, #9 - To Feel Safe Again, #10 - Hit Your Prime, #11 - Open Your Eyes, #12 - Can't Be Ignored, #13 - Make You Ill, #14 - Aim Straight, #15 - Not The First Time, #16 - Friendly Fire, #17 - Relieved, #18 - Release, #19 - Never Noticed, #20 - How You Live And Breathe, #21 - Love, #22 - Do You Wanna Die?)
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Loki/Natasha, Natasha/Bucky, Bucky/Loki, Natasha/Yelena, Clint/Darcy
Disclaimer: Not mine! Some comic backstory is incorporated into characterizations, but this is still primarily movieverse.
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-Avengers, AU to the rest of MCU. References events in prior stories, self harm, PTSD, violence.
Title and series title from "The Royal We" by Silversun Pickups.
Summary: Queen Hel can give gifts if she wants to. That doesn't mean that her gifts don't come with strings attached, or set off a whole other chain of events. She wouldn't have it any other way.
One - Dancing With Ghosts
Two - Helheim
Natasha got up, feeling groggy and sore, as if she had been heavily drugged, tossed around, then left in an uncomfortable position on a cold stone floor somewhere. It was eerily quiet, no sounds other than her own breathing. Likely, whoever had snatched her had left her alone, so it was safe enough to take stock of the situation. She pushed herself up to a sitting position and managed not to feel overly nauseous, though her head swam dizzily. Keeping her eyes closed only seemed to heighten the sensation, so she cautiously opened her eyes.
She was sitting on the ground in a gray field at the very center of a circle of standing stones, each one inscribed with different runes. Everything around her was fairly nondescript, the sky the gray of a predawn spring. No clouds marred the view, no hint of sun or moon or even stars bright enough to pierce the haze. It seemed like a fog was in the distance, obscuring everything but the single stone path leading out of the circle.
Her clothes were not what she had been wearing before. Instead of her nanomesh armor catsuit and fighting gear, she was in a white dress that had a square neckline, cap sleeves, gathered in at the waist and then fell to midcalf. Her feet were bare, and she was wearing no jewelry. Her hair hung loose in soft waves.
"What the hell?"
As soon as she said the words aloud, everything clicked for her. She was in Helheim.
"Well, damn," she muttered, looking around again. It was a different entry point than the last times she had visited. Those times had been via portals carefully constructed not to strip her soul from her body. This must be the entry for the dead.
There was only one path through the fog. Tales were always telling of misfortune to those that wandered from the path, with horrible things happening, monsters rearing up and rending the fools limb from limb. Natasha was no fool. She was simply dead.
Following the path, she made her way out of the standing stones and through the fog. It felt as though she walked for miles, though she wasn't tired. She didn't feel much of anything, actually, but was bored of the sunless gray that permeated the entire place. If she had an idea of where Hel's castle was, she would have chanced straying from the path to find it.
Finally she came to an area where the stone walkway opened into a wide circle. Paths split off from it like spokes on a wheel, though there was no indication where each path led. This was rather irritating, but Natasha simply closed and eyes and tried to get a sense of where she was in Helheim. Souls weren't meant to wander here aimlessly, after all. It was a wide realm, growing to fit the needs of the dead, and that meant there had to be a place for her. She might not have always felt at home in different places while alive, but she had started feeling as though Avengers Tower had been home, her friends her family.
She could still sense magic. That must have been in her very bones and skin, because nothing else had come with her when she died. Using it was difficult, having no magic skill of her own, but she could still sense things, could still home in on where magic was. It had helped her track down Amora in the caverns in upstate New York, allowed her to sense the wrongness that had entered Asgard, get a feel for where Loki was and what mischief he could get up to, and now was leading her in a certain direction. She took a step forward, testing that magical sense, and it only grew stronger.
Keeping her eyes closed, Natasha began to walk.
The numbness around her faded as she progressed, sound beginning to come to her ears. It was still muffled, and was probably what the world sounded like to Clint. He'd had some hearing loss prior to his death, but it had worsened afterward. He hadn't blamed Hel for it, thinking that perhaps it was the repeating gunfire from Yelena shooting him. "Tash," he'd said at the time she suggested it was Hel's fault, "she brought me back from the dead. She didn't have to. If I lose a few more decibels of hearing, I really don't give a fuck. That's what hearing aids are for. I'm alive, I still have my sight as sharp as ever, and I can shoot a target. I'm okay."
Gradually, the sounds stopped being so muffled and sounded rather like city life. Natasha opened her eyes and found a medieval town ahead of her, and beyond it was Hel's castle. Perhaps she had approached the castle from a different direction before, or perhaps the town was only visible to the dead. The thought didn't bother her as much as the place had obviously bothered Sif before. Then again, Natasha had a very pragmatic view of death to begin with.
Natasha skirted around the town, not feeling the need to explore the buildings or see who lived there. She wanted to see Hel, after all, not innumerable strangers.
Reaching the front gates, Natasha looked up at the gargoyles above. They stared straight ahead, and didn't acknowledge her presence. "Excuse me," she called out to them. "I'd like to speak with Lady Hel."
No response, and the portcullis remained lowered. Thinking they couldn't hear her, Natasha looked at the gate post carefully. It was made of hewn stone, with only the barest of lips around each stone to serve as finger or toe holds. Seeing that, she sighed. At least she was barefoot. Her boots never would have found purchase.
Climbing up took some time, but she was careful and didn't tire as she would have if she was still alive and trying this stupid stunt. Once she reached the stone gargoyle, she touched its surface gingerly. Magic pulsed beneath her fingertips, and the creature turned to face her, lips drawn back in a snarl. Ignoring that, she pasted a pleasant smile on her face. "Hello. I thought perhaps you couldn't hear me down below. I'd like to speak with Lady Hel."
She is too busy to deal with the likes of you.
"Even Natalia Alianovna Romanova? She'd marked me as hers some time ago."
The gargoyle considered the words, then looked at her carefully. You're not supposed to be here like this.
"Dead, you mean? In my line of work, it had to happen eventually."
You are very... calm about the situation, the gargoyle mused. Was that humor in its tone?
"No point being upset about it. I can't change it. The most I can do is figure out what happened to me and what I'm supposed to do next."
You're dead. There's very little purpose to existence here.
"I don't like that," she said sweetly. "I'd rather take a more active approach."
I see that, the gargoyle replied, definitely amused now. By all means, enter the castle if you can.
"What do you mean?"
The dead don't enter unless the Lady Hel wills it. I don't control the gates.
"You don't? I thought you did."
Helheim is an extension of her will and might. As am I.
Natasha nodded as if she understood. "Well, thank you for clarifying that."
You're very polite.
"No point being rude to you just because you're doing your job. I'll be rude to someone for all sorts of other reasons."
The gargoyle laughed, then resumed its prior perch. I wish you good fortune, Ambassador Romanova, the gargoyle said. I see why she is taken with you.
Having nothing to reply, Natasha dropped down to the ground. As she thought, she wasn't injured by the fall and landed on her feet. "Taken with me, huh?" she mused, rolling her shoulders as she contemplated the gate. "Then she'll let me in."
And sure enough, as she came close to the portcullis this time, it raised high enough for her pass through the gate without any trouble at all.
While she couldn't quite remember the way to the throne room, she found herself there anyway. The doors opened to admit her, and Hel was seated on the throne. Her dress was the dark black of a midnight sky on a new moon night, no stars to be seen. Silvery thread leant a shimmer to the fabric, and Natasha thought perhaps it wove runes into it. She didn't doubt the presence of spells in the dress or in the headdress Hel wore. It was a heavy silver circlet, wide enough that it cast shadows over her eyes, giving them the appearance of empty eye sockets in a skull.
"Lady Hel," Natasha said as she walked into the throne room. "Greetings."
Hel's lips drew back in an amused smile. "I truly don't see you often enough, my dear."
"It looks like that has changed. I'm dead."
"You are if I say you are," Hel replied, the smile still on her lips.
Natasha looked at her evenly, arms at her sides. "Did you just want a visit?"
"You needed a break. And someone wants to see you very much. Considering our last conversation was rather less than pleasant, I thought to correct it."
Hel looked rather pleased with herself, and Natasha was about to open her mouth to ask what she meant when there was the click of heels on stone behind her. She turned and saw a petite blonde woman wearing the same white dress she was, only with white sling back heels and a string of pearls around her neck. "Yelena?" Natasha asked, stunned.
"Yes," she replied, smiling sweetly at her. She clasped her hands in front of her and seemed almost shy, almost reverent, much as she had right before Natasha had slit her throat. "It's really me, this time. Nobody else with me."
"What are you talking about?"
A door swung open to Natasha's left. "Why don't the two of you talk in private?" Hel suggested, rising from her throne. She appeared at Natasha's side in an instant, movement too fast for the eye. She rested her hands gently on Natasha's shoulders, suddenly looming large above her, face concealed by shadow. Her teeth gave the appearance of fangs, eyes glittering like falling stars. "I am quite sure you have much to discuss. I will speak with you afterward."
"Thank you, my lady," Yelena said, curtseying deeply in her direction.
Confused, Natasha let Hel push her toward Yelena and the open door. It led to a comfortable windowless room that looked more like a bedroom, with its divan and piles of pillows and furs scattered everywhere. The door sealed shut behind them.
"I don't understand," Natasha said slowly, taking in Yelena's youthful enthusiasm and guileless smile. "What's going on?"
Flashing her an almost childlike grin, Yelena drew her toward the divan. "I couldn't tell you about the others in my head," she said, letting go of Natasha's hands to tap her temple. "I didn't even know how many others there were, not all of them, but some of them I could talk to. They weren't all very nice, and I had a version of Starkovsky there," she added, tapping her temple again. "Alive, even after he burned in reality, but a Starkovsky inside my mind, part of me but separate, and he was gaining strength as we brought other organizations to their knees."
"Others. As in, other personalities?"
"They were people. We shared my body. I didn't even know it at first, what was happening, and with the personality overlays they gave us..." Yelena shot her an apologetic smile. "They were real to me, were part of me. I was them, even after the overlays were supposedly stripped out of my mind. Sometimes they helped me. So when I lost my grip on my body, even when with you, they helped keep things consistent to the outside world so no one would know. You saw it as erratic behavior, and explained it away with lots of little excuses. I let you. I fed you bullshit, too, because how do I explain it to you? How do I tell you how horribly crazy I am? How could you love me when I'm that broken?"
"I've always loved you, Yelena."
"Not as much as Winter. Not as much as your Clint."
Natasha sighed. "It's not the same. It's not a ranking game. It shouldn't be."
"No. But we can tell through priorities." Yelena cupped Natasha's cheek with one hand tenderly, thumb stroking her skin. "I would raze the world in your name. I would kill anyone and everyone if that's what it took to keep you safe. And you can't dive headlong into that for me."
It was the same way that Loki loved her, she realized suddenly. Both saw love as a destructive force, as something to prove themselves worthy for, something that had to be earned instead of simply being, that it had be bought with blood and sacrifice.
"Sometimes love just is," Natasha said quietly. "It was simpler when we were children."
"It was only us, and we kept each other safe."
"There were never conditions on it when we were children. We made it work. It simply was, and it was good enough."
"We all grow up sometime."
Natasha pulled her hand down into her lap and squeezed her hand tightly. "I'm sorry I wasn't good enough to keep you safe."
"You were perfect," Yelena contradicted with a gentle, loving smile. "You always were the best, the model we all had to follow. You were what we all wanted to be. I made you happy for a little while, didn't I?"
"You did."
Yelena beamed at her, reminding Natasha of when they were children in the Red Room, tangled together in the dark. "I've always loved you, Natalia. Even when I didn't know what love was, when I thought it was a silly fairy tale."
"And now we're both dead."
"But I know you're not for me," Yelena murmured, reaching up to push Natasha's curls behind an ear. "I can have a little time with you, but there's more in store for you. The seers all said so, and the Queen has plans for you."
"Frigga?"
Shooting her an irritated. "Don't be deliberately dense."
Natasha blinked. "Oh. I suppose I don't think of Hel as a queen. Lady Hel, maybe."
"She might not stand on ceremony, but she's still a Queen and rules this realm."
"So what are her plans?"
"I'm hardly in her confidence," Yelena replied, shrugging. "I think she brought me here more as a present to you."
"A present," Natasha echoed, not sure how she felt about that. Were the two of them being used in some kind of an elaborate game?
"Because you've been hurt so much," Yelena told her, nodding. "She thought it would be nice to see a familiar face. At least, that's what she told me."
Hel likely had multiple reasons for doing things, but Natasha wasn't about to reject Yelena's presence just because she was suspicious of Hel. "What's it been like for you while you've been here? For me it's been three months since you died."
"Has it?" she asked, not sounding upset in the slightest. "I don't know how long it's been for me. I'm just... here. Time really doesn't have meaning here." She shrugged, clearly unconcerned in a way she never would have been while alive. "It just is. I suppose it's nice now, since I'm by myself and not with all the others. I like the quiet." She tilted her head to the side to contemplate Natasha, a shy smile on her face. "Unless you don't want to be quiet at all."
"Yelena..."
Instead of answering, she leaned forward and kissed Natasha on the lips, hands on her shoulders to stay steady. Sighing a little, Natasha responded to the kiss and wrapped her arms around Yelena. It felt good to hold her like this, to feel something other than regret.
"I don't think we'll get this chance again," she began softly, biting her lip a little as she touched her forehead to Natasha's. She smiled, still biting her lip, eyes dancing in amusement. "But we have a private room to talk in. So why not make use of it?"
"Like the old days?" Natasha asked wryly.
She laughed, a light and carefree sound. "Yeah. Before it all went wrong."
Natasha cupped her cheek with one hand. This would be a better memory of her, as opposed to the hotel room in Atlanta, the string of rundown and dingy places across Europe and the US, the swinging volatile moods, the flashbacks and nightmares and sheer terror of who she was becoming. She didn't like who she had been with Yelena. Wasn't that the real issue? She was a better person away from her. Not that it was Yelena's fault, but they had so many patterns of behavior that was hard to break.
"A better goodbye, then," Natasha offered. One last day. She could have this, and it would carry her through when she remembered Yelena. It was so much better than guilt.
It was easy to give herself over to Yelena's touch, to lift up the skirt of the ridiculous dress and then toss it up and over her head to somewhere across the room. There was no cold, no heat, just presence, and Yelena stripped off the dress and kicked off the shoes. No underclothes to get in the way of her fingers exploring her folds or her mouth suckling on a breast. Natasha held her head in place, fingers running through Yelena's blonde hair. She egged her on, murmuring childish endearments she hadn't said in a long time. Wet and slick around Yelena's fingers, Natasha let Yelena work her body as she knew how to do.
Yelena licked her way down to her pumping fingers, nipping and nuzzling the skin at random intervals. She murmured endearments in Russian, all the things she would have wanted to say when they were girls in the Red Room but couldn't. Then her mouth was on Natasha's clit, licking in broad stripes before flicking at it. Natasha whimpered, drawing her legs up toward her chest to give her better access. And oh, Yelena added another finger, further stretch, sliding into her deeper, and Natasha came with a cry. Yelena wasn't done, not by a long shot, and didn't slow down or alter the rhythm at all. Not falling off that crest, Natasha shook and panted. "Lena, Lena, right there," she gasped.
Smiling against her, Yelena continued as she was doing. Natasha shut her eyes and reveled in the feel of her mouth and fingers, in feeling Yelena's presence with her. Now she could feel the difference between this lovemaking and some of the times they were together before. Yelena had been absent or different, and that must have been other alters in charge of the body. Now it was Yelena alone, focusing all of her attention on Natasha's pleasure, on getting her to come and pant and moan her name. When her jaw ached, Yelena pulled her mouth away and continued with her fingers. She pressed her mouth to Natasha's quivering thighs, then leaned back to turn Natasha to the side. Still she pumped into Natasha, stretching over her and rubbing her bare breasts against Natasha's torso.
As her thumb hit Natasha's clit and made her wail, Yelena smiled, lips pressed right up to the underside of a breast. "I will continue, every way that you love it, as long as I need to, until you beg me to stop. Maybe then I will." She licked the seam of breast and torso, laughing in a sultry way. "If you're tired enough or I'm tired enough. Which will be a challenge, given how tireless the dead can be."
"You mean to fuck me to death?" Natasha gasped, writhing beneath her. She grasped Yelena's shoulders and brought her up for a filthy kiss.
"I'd kill you again with pleasure if I could," Yelena murmured, mouthing her jaw. "To make up for the pain I caused you, for the terror I left behind."
"You don't owe me-"
"Yes, I do." She gave Natasha a sad smile. "You don't like yourself with me, do you?" She kissed Natasha through the impending orgasm, still fingering her. "Not as I was, at least." Yelena shifted down, mouthing her skin. "But you want to. You want me to love back. I know that about you, and I love you so much for it."
"I do love you," Natasha gasped, nails scratching down Yelena's back.
Suckling a breast again, Yelena rubbed her own swollen clit and slicked folds against Natasha's thigh as she kept working her fingers inside Natasha's dripping slit. Her eyes were dark with passion as she looked up at Natasha, sucking hard.
Coming again, Natasha cried out when Yelena didn't slow down. She pushed at Yelena's arm, her gasp turning into a whine. "Too much," she whimpered and shifted away. Yelena giggled a little, then shifted position, allowing Natasha to sprawl onto her back. She lay there, limp and sweaty, hair sticking to her scalp. Her entire body was oversensitive and exhausted, yet she still craved more. Yelena sat beside her, crosslegged, grinning like a loon, one hand lying gently on Natasha's stomach. She leaned down to kiss her, and Natasha caught her lower lip between her teeth, tugging gently.
"When's my turn to turn you into a gibbering mess?"
"Thoughts are powerful here. You can start now, if you like. If you don't want to be so tired, you won't be." Yelena gave her a beatific smile, and kissed her tenderly. "And I would do anything and be anything you want, you know."
"I know," Natasha murmured. Sure enough, she was able to sit up and slide a hand around Yelena's neck to pull her in for a naughty kiss. Natasha smiled, biting her lip a little. "And I want you to be you. It's all I ever wanted for you."
Yelena touched Natasha's arm gently, eyes dancing. "I love you, Natashenko."
Natasha leaned forward to touch her forehead to Yelena's. "I love you, Yelena. Rooskaya," she added playfully, making her laugh.
"And now it's my turn," she said, pushing Yelena onto her back. Yelena laughed again, free and lighthearted, eagerly waiting for Natasha's touch.
***
The portal slashed open time and space, but was farther away from Hel's castle than Loki wanted to be. He had to walk through the endless sunless gray land, had to tread the path like an ordinary supplicant. He didn't want to think about the favor he owed Hel, the weight of a worthy life far too hefty to contemplate. But he wasn't storming Helheim and wasn't threatening to burn it down. That had to be worth something, surely?
The gargoyles at the top of the gates leading into the castle leered at him, baring their teeth in threatening grimaces. Enter if you dare, one of them said. You know not what you seek, Loki Odinson.
"You dare use that name?" Loki snarked, baring his own teeth. "I am no Odinson!"
There are no secrets from the dead.
There was no answer he could give to that, so Loki simply strode forward, jaw clenched. He ignored the rising portcullis as if entry was his due, and made his way to Hel's throne room. She was perched on her throne, a bloodred gown embroidered in black on her skeletal frame. Her skin was the sallow color of a rotting corpse, though no blemish could be seen. There was a headdress on her head, deep black of a starless night, with protruding horns on either side of her head. It cast shadows across her face, adding to the frightening ethereal look.
"My Lady Hel," Loki began, using his most charming voice. He even gave her a gallant bow, as befitting her station, and rose to his full height.
"To what do I owe this honor, Loki?" she asked, her voice like the whisper of grave dust and dead leaves moving across a headstone.
He smiled, but it was more of a grimace than a genuine smile. "Natasha Romanoff is dead."
"Oh, yes. Of that I am very much aware."
"I wish to bargain for her soul."
"Really?" Hel asked in reply, lips stretching into an amused smile. "And what have you to bargain with?"
She'd already refused his soul once, but it was all he had to give. "My own."
"Your own what? Soul?" She laughed, the sound like grating metal. "Loki. Why would I want that? What value is it to me?"
"It was equal in measure to Clint Barton's."
"Doesn't that pain you? A mere mortal, just as worthy as you?"
Worthier than he, if Loki had to tell the truth, but Hel wasn't asking for that. He lifted his chin to meet her dead gaze. "It means he had risen above the mire of his origins."
Hel laughed, amused. "Oh, Loki. How proud you still are."
Loki's temper flared, and his grimace went from obeisant to snarling. "I could raze this land to the ground, drown your castle in fire and sever the connection of every denizen in this realm. Do not belittle me!"
She was on her feet inside of a blink. The power radiating from her was terrible and threatened to knock him to his knees. "You dare threaten me here? In the seat of my power? I am the arbiter of life and death, of the secrets they hold, of the riches they had. You owe me, Loki. Did you think you could try to claim me as a Lokasdottir? Did you think you held sway over me in some fashion?" Her laughter was derisive and cruel, and Loki resisted the urge to flatten himself to the floor.
No matter his mistakes, he would not bow or scrape.
Hel swept down from the dais until she was in front of him. Her spindly limbs still held strength, and she was taller than he was now. "This is my realm, Loki. This is my place of power, my home. Oh, I know how you lust after Natalia, the poor mortal girl. Should I reshape her, then?" Her voice was deceptively sweet, and Loki's skin crawled at the sensual curve of Hel's lips. "Shall I put her back together, hale and whole? Womb intact? Shall I let you bed her, beget a child? You have one in some realities, you know. Sometimes you have two. So tell me, Loki. Would she be your Angrboda? Your Sigyn?"
"Hel..."
"Yes, Loki?" she asked sweetly, as if reveling in the spike of fear and misery she had generated within his breast. "Oh, but she already played the role of Sigyn for you, did she not? She poured the venom from the bowl to save your life, sacrificing her safety for yours. So shall she bear your Nali and Vali? Or did you want Jormungandr and Fenrir, since I already exist?" Now her voice turned cruel, and her hands were like hooked claws. "Should she bear you monsters? Or shall I make her bear lovely boys, beautiful and kind, and watch as you love her, watch as you love them with all your twisted heart? Then make you give them to me, so I may take their souls and rule over them for eternity and let you wallow in the shame of it?"
It tasted like ashes in his mouth, like ice water in his veins. "Don't harm her," he said in a soft, pained voice. "Please. Do whatever you like to me, but don't harm her."
"You offered that before," Hel replied, sounding bored. "Try again."
"I just want Natasha to live."
"I can make her perfect..."
"She already is!"
Hel stepped backward, biting her lip and smiling as if he had offered her a great delicacy. She brought her hands together in delight, humming. "Oh, Loki," she said, voice full of pity. "The things you give me."
"You already knew of my feelings for her."
"Oh, but you give me so much more than that."
Not knowing what she meant by that, Loki glared at her. He would not give her the satisfaction of asking her what she meant, he would not. His pride was in tatters, nothing more than ashes, but he clung to the scraps of it.
Looking to the side, Hel beamed and gestured for someone behind Loki to enter the throne room. "My dear," she said warmly. "Come here, child, tell me how your visit went."
It was Yelena Belova, appearing innocent and sweet, dressed in white, the skirt of the dress flaring out from her tiny waist, the bustline rather demure and cut to show off the pearl necklace resting on the rise of her breasts. She wore white shoes and no other adornment. What did it all mean? Or did it mean nothing at all?
She sat gingerly down on the steps to the dais, right at Hel's feet where she sat regally in her throne. Wait, how did she get there? Loki hadn't seen the movement at all. But Yelena looked up at Hel with a rapt expression, as if Hel hung the sun and moon. Perhaps here, she did.
"Oh, it was lovely. I know I don't necessarily deserve it, that I can't ask for anything like that, but I am so grateful for the time you've given me."
Loki was shocked at how gentle and fragile Yelena sounded. It was nothing like the visions he had seen of Yelena prior to her death.
Hel stroked Yelena's hair as if she was a cute child or a kitten. "I'm glad, my dear. You had such horrors visited upon you. A little tenderness is such a small gift."
"Not to me, my Queen. It's meant everything to me."
By the Tree, Yelena was all but besotted with Hel. She would do anything that Hel asked her to do without questions asked, Loki could tell. She was a hollowed out girl, needing direction, the lost and helpless girl left when the sociopathic killer was stripped away.
As if sensing Loki's horror, Hel met his gaze with a sinister smile, still petting Yelena's hair as she sat there, all but purring at the attention. "And what would you do for me, darling girl?"
Wanting to retreat or perhaps vomit, Loki instead stood his ground. That was what he called Natasha, and here was Hel calling Yelena that. He was sure that Hel didn't actually sleep with the dead souls of her realm, but what did he actually know? Her motives were her own. He hadn't even been aware of what her mother's motives had been, and look at what had happened.
"Anything, my Queen," Yelena said with utter adoration. "Anything at all."
"Then get your lady love for me. We have unfinished business here."
"Of course."
She skipped down the steps and past Loki, the bounce in her step and the smile on her face making him want to throw up. "What are you doing?" he hissed to Hel.
"Oh, Loki. Do you have any comprehension of the power that the dead possess?"
No, he hadn't. Not until he had come here and felt it pulsing all around him. Even the powerless dead fed Hel, and those with magic fueled her directly. Her numbers swelled constantly, and she had her choice of what to do with those energies they provided.
This was true power, not the paltry excuses of magic that Loki played with.
Natasha arrived, barefoot and in a dress similar to Yelena's. Her hair was vivid red in the gloom, tousled and inviting rather salacious thoughts as Loki watched her walk. Her eyes slid past Loki as if he wasn't even there, as if all she saw was empty space. She smiled and bowed regally to Hel, and didn't say anything as Yelena moved to take her place at Hel's feet.
"Lady Hel, thank you for the visit. I really appreciate it."
Hel seemed to be amused, and Loki had to wonder if it was at his expense. Especially when he found he was unable to speak, not even a grunt or calling out her name.
"If I gave you the opportunity to live again, would you?"
Natasha frowned, looking at her in confusion. "But I'm dead."
"I have power over life and death, remember? I could send you back."
She opened her mouth and shut it, eyes fixed on Yelena for a moment as Hel stroked her hair again. "Clint and James were probably devastated. I know Loki probably was. The others-"
"I asked about you. Do you wish to go back? Or are you ready to leave that mortal coil forever?"
This gave Natasha pause, and Loki knew that she had gotten so used to sacrificing herself for others, she likely never really thought about what she wanted.
"Yes, I'd like to go back, if I can."
Hel beamed at her, as if that was what she had expected Natasha to say, and Yelena's smile had a soft and sad cast to it. "Of course you do. Unfinished business. And the matter of Selene going after Midgard."
"It's not going to be easy to take her down."
Loki wanted to reach out and touch her, caress her. The matter of fact tone comforted him. Even in death she was the same. Some things were constants in the universe.
"Of course not. But I can give you a little help."
"Why?"
This amused Hel a lot, and Loki struggled against the invisible bonds holding him fast. He never even felt the casting, she was that good.
"Selene has been in existence since the beginning of time. Or close enough to it." Now her smile had an edge to it, a frightening cast that reminded Loki that it was never a good idea to fuck with death. Thanos hadn't learned that lesson yet, but he was off collecting deaths in another part of the cosmos, so Loki couldn't be bothered to care.
"And?"
"Bring her here. And Loki will have to present me with her heart."
Loki's stomach plummeted to his toes. What?
Natasha was frowning at her, confused. "You don't want me to carve it out of her or something like that? As if it's from a story?"
"As amusing as that would be, no. That would change the properties of the heart. I want it intact until it's time to be harvested. And Loki will harvest it for me. It's the price of a life."
He could remember stag hunts and larger meat beasts being slaughtered for high holiday feasting on Asgard. Little more than a boy at the time, he had been unprepared for the carnage that carving up an animal generated. A humanoid body would be the same. The blood and gore would be awful, and he would have nightmares of it for ages.
A wave of Hel's hand and then the bindings and invisibility spells were lifted from Loki. Natasha turned toward him in surprise, lips parting. Yggdrasil's roots, she was gorgeous, and it pained him to see her and know he was forbidden from doing anything else. Touching her was outlawed by tradition, lest her death corrupt him or draw out his soul. Why go through the trouble of a specialized portal to keep his soul inside his body if she would simply remove it with a touch? All the horrors he tried to avoid would crash down upon him.
Hel's instructions washed over him. What did it matter anyway? How would they tempt Selene to the realm of the dead? How could he carve her heart from her chest? It was an impossible task, one that would kill him.
But she descended from her throne faster than his eyes could even see, her hands on Natasha's chest. She was paralyzed, eyes blown wide with pain. Her lips were open in a silent scream, and the dress caught fire and burned to ashes. Her skin wasn't blistered, but Loki could see the tension in every line of her body, the way her eyes darted around with panic. Loki wanted to reach for her, wanted to help her, but would only make Hel angry. If he couldn't fulfill his debt and repay the favor, she could utterly destroy him.
And as the color came back into her features, she swayed and fell in his direction. Loki caught her by instinct, and he watched as clothes formed over her body. First the underthings, cami and socks, then her black nanomesh armor and boots. Even her usual weapons were in place, though they carried the air of magic augmentation to them, rather like the twin swords still in her possession back at Avengers Tower.
"I give you the means to find Selene," Hel told her sweetly. To Loki, she seemed to have terrifying and ethereal power, the likes of which could obliterate all the other realms at once if she chose to do so. When her gaze turned to him, he barely managed not to quail in fear. "Don't disappoint me."
It didn't matter what Natasha said, what she believed. There was nothing else but to obey Hel's command or suffer the consequences.
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To Chapter Three - Return