So I did a thing. I've still got Frozen on the backburner, but I've got a couple of shorter stories lined up that are just floating around and I couldn't help myself.
This is a crossover between the Marvel comics (specifically post Agent of Asgard #10) and Over the Garden Wall, although much more the former than the latter. There's just a lot of Kid Loki feels okay.
The first person the Odinson sought out was Hela.
He had stormed her castle, fighting her Valkyries to the foot of her throne, where the Goddess of the Unworthy Dead watched impassively. It had been no easy fight, but the Odinson had known he had been allowed to pass, but he did not care.
"You will take me to him." He said, searching her face for any sign or any culpability.
"To whom do you refer, unworthy one?" There was a glint there in her eyes, the long-familiar malice that ran between the two.
"I will speak to my brother," Odinson replied, "And I would have him returned to me, whatever the price."
"The one you name brother is not here," Hela replied, but there was an undercurrent to her words that the Odinson could not place. He was no idiot (the biggest, sweetest idiot in all the Nine Realms), but seeing through the masks of others had never been one of his great strengths.
As though to illustrate, Hela made a motion in the air, a green ball of fire appearing over her fingertips. The surface rippled for a moment, then formed a projection of the young man that Thor had mistakenly believed to be his brother.
"That is not my brother, witch," Odinson said, hand tightening on his axe. The Valkyries that he had 'defeated' had returned, and they were watching him, waiting for him to raise a hand to his mistress. But Hela was the daughter of Loki, and in that much like her sire, and Odinson knew that he must step carefully if to get what he so desired. It took every ounce of self-control to calm the rage burning deep within his heart. "I wish to see brother. The child that died while his murderer walked about in his skin."
The glare Hela gave him could only be described as 'dead', fully unimpressed by this revelation. Perhaps, Thor thought, she had some score to settle with the child. There had been many goings-on that he had never learned the full truth of from the boy, and never pushed to know when he had the chance.
"So you have finally realized, Odinson." Hela spat the words, not with the contempt or taunting that he had expected, but with something far more fierce and poisonous.
"How long have you known?" he asked, the rage boiling up inside of him, "Tell me what part you played in this foul manner, so I may decide whether to sever your head from your shoulders." It was an empty threat, most likely, but at this moment Thor was willing to die trying to uphold it.
"I should have thought that the past few weeks would have taught you some humility, unworthy one," Hela hissed, and suddenly she was off her throne. She flowed more than walked, her face nearly touching his. He could feel the cold she radiated, and smell the stench of rotted flesh. "You speak of things you do not understand. Stories written within stories, and I a prisoner in a body of rotted flesh and parchment. I was the only one to know what path this story would take, but the only one unable to prevent it." She paused in her cold tirade, backing away without backing down, and settled once more into her unflappable veneer. "If you wish to seek blame, look elsewhere Odinson."
"I do not seek blame," Odinson replied, aware that all who watched knew it for the lie that it was. "I seek to make amends and bring him home."
"You seek to do the impossible."
"I was returned to life, once before." Odinson countered, "As was he."
"Returned to life, yes. But the child you called brother is not merely dead. His soul was annihilated when another took his place. There is none to bring back, and no body to bring it back to." Hela paused, a cruel but sorrowful smile flitting across her face. "And even should there be he would not be among us here, although I would have welcomed him to my courts."
"He died fit for Valhalla," Odinson said, anger and dismay and pride all mingling into a horror feeling of hopelessness. "But he will not be there, for you say he is gone forever."
"No," said the goddess of the dead, "I merely said that he cannot reside in the afterlife, among souls who have died. But it is difficult to completely destroy a thing that once existed, especially one as bright as he. But he is beyond me."
"But you know where he is?" asked Odinson, hope flickering dangerously.
"I can but point you the direction you must go. And even then, the journey will be perilous, for not even I dare travel that way. The odds of you finding the child are slim. The odds of him returning with you, nonexistent."
"What of…what of the odds of returning him here? To you?"
"Do you propose a bargain, Odinson? One in which you have very little to gain, for if I have the boy, I will never return him to life even should that be an option."
"It is a better path."
"So believed the ones who wrote the pages that set us on this path…yet, I am inclined to agree." Hela pointed a finger at a far side of the spacious room. A thick mist appeared to have formed there, obscuring what should have been a wall, but Thor knew a portal when he saw one. "Go, Odinson. Travel through the mists, by the pale light of moon. All that is lost will be revealed. But first you must travel over the garden wall."
AN: So hopefully this will be a fairly short story, but at any rate, Thor is off to the Unknown.