Putrid emerald and black smoke claws and spills outwards, bleeding into the frigid air of the mountain's peak as a figure steps forth from the foul smelling portal. The woman twists her neck from side to side like a serpent, muscles stiff from disuse, her ice blue eyes framed by ashen war paint narrow and survey the area. Though it has been many summers since she last laid her stinging eyes on the sunset view she recalls it instantly.
"Vanaheim." She murmurs slowly in a rough and raspy tone, features pinched as the syllables catch and pain her throat.
An icy wind cuts through the woman deeply, the torn and frayed leather armour doing little to shield her from the winter air, and she shivers violently as her tangled inky black hair is whipped around her face, stinging her eyes. Peering through the curtain of hair, the woman spies a village in the foothills of the mountain, grimacing in frustration as she realises her conundrum and slowly begins her climb towards the only help she is likely to find.
o
It is dark by the time the woman stumbles into the village, her legs finally giving out and she collapses into a snowdrift; her lips tinted blue, cheeks raw and red and a fine layer of ice and snow cover her shivering form. Still she tries to crawl closer, black claw-like nails digging into the icy cold snow, dragging her exhausted body forward. Too cold and too unused to talking to be able to call for help from the few villagers still outside, a young man and old woman the closest to her but soon moving away.
"Kari! Best come inside now, son, before-" The old woman trails off, cupping her wisened hands around her eyes as she peers into the darkness. "Kari!" She repeats more urgently, gaining the attention of the young man who hurries to her side, grasping her elbow in his broad palm.
"Grandmother, what is it? Are you well?" The young man, Kari, asks hurriedly, checking over the old woman who rebuffs him with a smack to his chest, the blow softened by his thick winter garb.
"Not me, boy, look!" Not waiting for her grandson to notice, the old woman marches determinedly into the night, Kari following close on her heels with a torch hastily retrieved from the fire pit.
"Grandmother...Is it?" Kari pauses, craning his neck to better observe the creature struggling in the snow.
"SHE is quite alive, boy." The old woman responds. "But she won't be for long if you don't stop lollygagging. Get a blanket."
Kari jumps then, startled into action. "Right, yes, of course!" He squeaks, casting a quick look at the stranger in black and his grandmother, deciding there was no threat from the stranger before disappearing into a house.
The old woman turns her attention back to the unexpected arrival, carefully sweeping the snow encrusted hair from the side of their face she could see. "Hold on there." She croons lowly, noticing the tension in the thin frame. "Don't you worry now, you're among friends. We'll get you fixed up right as rain again in no time."
The woman doesn't respond, too cold and too tired to attempt a task as difficult as speaking, curling further into herself as her shivering grows more violent, teeth loudly clashing together.
"There you are Kari, gently now." The old woman ushers, stepping back as her grandson uses the blanket as a shovel and scoops the balled up woman out of the snow and into his arms.
"She's cold as ice, grandmother. Do you think she got lost in the woods?" Kari ponders, waiting to move as his grandmother tucks the blanket securely around the woman.
"Ain't no doubt about it boy, these rags she's wearing ain't from around here." The old woman answers and leads the trio into her house, shutting the door firmly behind them, gesturing to her grandson to put the woman down. "Not too close now, don't want her to die of shock." She murmurs, pouring some warm water into a wooden bowl.
Kari nods, gently placing the woman down on her side on a bear skin rug back a bit from the roaring hearth central to the main room.
"Good job son, why don't you go find our guest something of your sister's to wear? This stuff ain't gonna do nothing but keep her cold." She sniffs, pucking at a loose string and setting the wooden bowl down by her side, not looking up as Kari leaves them alone. Dipping a linen cloth into the bowl, she soaks it and carefully starts cleaning the ice and snow from the woman's hands. Taking care to be gentle around the cuts she can now see. "You're not from around here are you. Folk round here know you'd have to be out of your mind to be running around in these mountains this time of year."
The woman manages to shake her head, the rough bristles of the bear fur scraping against the wind burn on her exposed skin, opening her mouth to attempt to speak she wheezes before the old woman clamps a hand over her mouth.
"Don't you go wasting your strength now, you're lucky you stumbled by when you did." The old woman mutters, moving on to clean the woman's face and hair, dampening the hair enough so she can run an engraved bone comb through the tangled mane. "I'm Gudrid and you already met Kari. Just relax and let us take care of you now. There'll be plenty of time for questions and answers in the morning when you're feeling better."
The woman manages to nod, soothed by the gentle tugging of the comb, unable to remember the last time someone had treated her with such kindness. A cold hand reaches out and squeezes gently on the bony wrist of Gudrid, hoping to convey her thanks.
"Ain't nothing, why don't you get some rest? You must be tired. Go on now." Gudrid encourages, humming a soft lullaby under her breath, her seidr infusing the words and coaxing the woman to her rest. "Poor thing, what trouble are you running from?"
o
That night the woman dreams; scenes of carnage and mayhem, blood and tears and of two screaming voices, a man's and a girl's, fury and heartbreak in kind. The clash of wood on metal tears the woman from her night time purgatory and thrusts her into the light of day; startled awake and up as she frantically takes in her surroundings. Her heart still hammering hard in her chest she locks eyes with Gudrid, the other's apologetic as she gestures to the stove.
"Sorry 'bout that. Weren't trying to wake you, Princess."
The woman rubs her eyes with the back of her hand, working the knuckles against her eyes and croaks out. "Princess?"
Gudrid smiles kindly. "You don't think I'd ever forget you, did ya? I remember watching over you when you were little, you've grown up since then sure, but I knew it as soon as I'd cleaned the snow out of your hair and off your face. It really is you." Concern colours her expression then. "What happened to you, Princess? How'd you end up out here?"
"Princess?" Blurts out Kari, staring at the half naked woman still crouched under the blanket. "Grandmother, there isn't a Vanir princess."
Gudrid shoots him an irritated look, swatting at him with a tea towel. "I know that boy!" She snaps before continuing on in a gentler tone. "This girl is an Aesir princess, and I'd know that face anywhere, this here is the crown princess, the Allfather and Allmother's daughter. You should know that, you've been to Asgard this past year back."
Kari rubs the back of his head, ruffling ginger curls. "Grandmother, I'm sorry to tell you, but the Allfather doesn't have a daughter. He just has two sons, the princes Thor and Loki. Remember how Prince Thor was gonna be crowned king?"
Gudrid furrows her brow in confusion and looks to the woman. "Oh Hela, what happened?"
Hela tugs the blanket more firmly around her body, summoning her strength and fighting through the pain in her throat. "Father...Didn't need...weapon." With that her words dissolve into a coughing fit, hunching over and flinching in surprise as a wrinkled hand cups her chin and tilts her head up, skinny arms enveloping her in a hug. The act alone enough to move Hela to tears, the salty liquid spilling down her cheeks and into the fur lining of Gudrid's coat.
"Shh, don't you cry now, princess." Gudrid murmurs softly stroking Hela's dark hair in a gesture of comfort. "Where have you been all this time? You can't have been in the mountains."
Choking back a sob, Hela clings to the comforting embrace, not wanting the embrace to end so soon, not after going centuries untouched by another. "Hel...Helheim."
Gudrid stiffens, fury evident in her straightened spine and white knuckles. "That son of a draugr."
"Grandmother!" Kari cries, agast at her tone and words. "The Allfather is king of the nine realms!"
"Ain't no king of mine who throws his baby girl into that pit! Don't you worry, sweetling, Gudrid is gonna take care of you. Just like I did before."
Hela nods slowly, swallowing heavily. "Will..." She coughs again, gritting her teeth, needing to be heard, needing the answer. "Mother? Father?"
Gudrid and Kari fall silent, an awkward pause to be certain before Gudrid nods slowly, pressing a light kiss to Hela's pink brow. "No, princess, we won't tell 'em you're free. Right Kari?" She says with a pointed look, Kari nodding and with a fleeting smile.
"Yeah, no one will hear about it from us." Kari assures her and then thinks rather dryly. "No one would believe us anyway. There has never been a mention of a princess, not a living one anyway. Wonder if she's the same one?" "I, er, got you some clothes, princess." He offers lamely, gesturing to the pile of hide and fur by the wooden log wall.
Gudrid nods encouragingly, patting Hela's back briskly and wiping her cheeks clean of tears with the roughened pads of her thumbs. "Change of clothes will do you good, princess, go on now and get yourself cleaned up." Standing she attempts to pull Hela to her feet when Kari is suddenly by her side, brushing her hands away and helping Hela up himself.
Shooting his grandmother an irritated look he wraps a strong arm around Hela's waist, holding her up seeing her own legs were shaking. "You're not supposed to be lifting heavy things, Grandmother! Father will be cross with you when he comes back."
"Shush now, boy, I've been doing fine on my own." Gudrid scolds, crossing her arms over her chest and continues back to the kitchen. "You just get the princess into that bath I've set up, can't imagine the last time she's had a good wash."
The tips of Kari's ear turn pink with embarrassment, hissing out between his teeth. "Grandmother!"
"What? I didn't say help her wash, just get her in there. I'm sure the princess knows how to clean her own back." Gudrid scolds, waving her wooden ladle at them dismissively.
Hela leans weakly against Kari, not seeming to mind as he just scoops her up into his arms instead, carrying her into the bathroom and setting her down on the tub. As Kari flits around the room, presumably getting last minute things ready for her, Hela shuffles towards the mirror, bare feet dragging and scuffing against the wooden flood. Eyes wide in surprise she raises a shaking hand to her face, prodding the sunken and wane skin of her cheek in horror, tracing over some of the thick, ebony veins running over her temples and down the back of her neck, like ink, to spill over her shoulders to her collarbones.
This was not what she remembered seeing in the mirror as her handmaidens did her hair, the reflection in the ocean as she and Brunhilde frollicked on the beach and the light in Fenris' sweet eyes when she snuck him into her bed at night. That girl didn't look like a shambling corpse, kept moving by spite and venom.
"No." Hela cries out softly, hands cupping over her mouth, the thing looking back at her was more a monster than the girl she remembered. The creature her friends saw as they rode atop their winged steed to Helheim to force her back into her prison; the one her mother said was consuming her, mistaking her intentions for that of greed and a lust for power and; worse still, the one her, once beloved, father spat curses and abuse at as he hurled her into the abyssal maw of Helheim, uncaring of her pleas as he sealed up what he determined to be dead to him in what he intended to be her tomb.
Kari is by her side in an instant, carefully clasping her elbow and turning her away from the offending polished surface. "Don't worry about that, Grandmother will have you looking like yourself again in no time." Lightly he nudges her towards the bathtub and, as though an afterthought, covers the mirror with a spare towel.
Hela nods slowly, the curtain of her hair hiding her features from Kari's concerned gaze as she reaches for the ties holding her armour together, beginning to remove it, uncaring of his presence.
A very un-manly squeak causes her lips to twitch upwards, pausing in taking off her bodice as Kari rushes from the room.
"I'd better go see if Grandmother needs any help!"
Hela's bony shoulders shrug the bodice to the floor as she continues with her task, looking over her body properly for the first time in eons, surprised to find the only damage on it is from her trek down the mountainside and nothing from Helheim itself. The black spider webbing veins hardly able to be considered to be damage. Skin pebbling with goosebumps Hela steps into the warm water, sitting down with her spine pressed against the smooth edge of the bathtub, tucking her knees to her chest as her hair fans out on the water's surface. The water does its job slowly, warming her aching muscles and bones, as she sits, staring at her new reflection and carefully starts cleaning the stench of the dead and long forgotten from her skin.
o
Skin soft and flushed pink, Hela makes her way back into the kitchen and main living area of Gudrid's house, now dressed in the garb of the mountain dwelling Vanir, her wet hair pulled back from her face in a messy knot. Unceremoniously she finds a bowl of fragrant stew and sweet mead shoved into her hands by Gudrid. The old woman guiding Hela to sit at the table, hands swiftly undoing the mess she had made of her hair.
Tutting softly Gudrid shakes her head. "If you wanted your hair put back all you had to do was ask, Princess." Picking up the bone comb she runs it gently through Hela's hair, separating it and beginning to braid her hair in the Vanir style. "This black hair won't do, ain't no one up here with that Aesir colour - could always change it I suppose." With each swipe of her comb blonde begins to bleed into the inky black strands. "What do you think?"
Kari snorts with derision. "Sure Grandmother, that is if you want the spitting image of Frigga walking around our mountain."
Gudrid frowns but conceads her grandson's point. "Better a brunette then. Now, Princess, I know the style ain't what you're used to, but we can't have you sticking out like you don't belong here. So don't be making your hair into that horned helmet of yours."
Hela nods, still mindful of her throat, sipping on the cool mead, closing her eyes with relief as her raw throat is immediately soothed, never having imagined she would know the taste of food or drink again. Swirling her spoon lazily through the stew Hela scoops up some meat and vegetables, grimacing as she takes a tentative sip, her stomach cramping rebelliously. Her spine stiffening, Hela gnaws on her lower lip, worried that Gudrid would take offense if she didn't eat it all.
As if able to read her mind Gudrid pipes up. "Just take it slow now, no rush to finish." Her nimble fingers tying off the tail of Hela's braid, letting it fall down her back. "You always did have such beautiful, thick hair." She murmurs softly, giving the top of Hela's head a pat before she shifts away to top up her's and Kari's mead.
"Thanks Grandmother. What are you and the princess gonna do today? It's gonna be real cold again." Kari asks, stein halfway to his mouth, eyes inquisitive.
"Don't you worry, Kari, I won't work her too hard." Gudrid turns her head to address Hela then. "It will still do you good to get outside and breath in the good air, Princess. You've been cooped up for far too long."
Hela's tongue darts out of her mouth, sweeping across her lips to clean them of stew, taking the time to ready her voice. "Yes," She begins, still croaky, but at least not hurting her now. "It would be nice to see the sky again."
Gudrid smiles encouraged by the sight of the princess looking brighter and talking. "We can do that, princess. But if you don't mind could you help me with some chores? Kari here doesn't trust me not to go lifting heavy things."
"Because you keep doing it, Grandmother!" Kari exclaims with frustration, rubbing his forehead with his palm.
Hela smiles gently, inclining her head. "I will help you." Grunting once as she clears her throat, brows knitting together before smoothing once more. "It's the least I can do."
Finishing his stew, Kari jabs his spoon in Hela's direction. "You know, Grandmother, you can't go around the village calling the princess, princess. Bit of a give away that you're hiding someone who's not meant to be found."
Nodding her head Gudrid gives Hela the once over, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "Neither can we call her by her name. Who's to say who else remembers the prin-girl from her soldier days."
Hela looks between them both, confused by this turn of events, a small frown taking over her face. "And what would you call me?"
"Hlif, I reckon its close enough to Hela for you not to muck it up and blow your own cover." Gudrid adds dryly. "It's a common enough name round these parts, I ain't ever heard no one else naming their girl Hela."
Setting her spoon down Hela adds shortly. "I'm not a fool, Gudrid, I can respond to a different name." She pauses to cough into her fist. "You don't have to worry, I haven't been called 'Princess' in a long time, let alone 'Hela'."
"Fantastic!" Crows Kari with glee, clapping his hands together, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb. "I'm gonna go get started now, Grandmother. I'll see you and Hlif later." He nods with a grin in Hela's direction, strapping his blade to his belt and striding out into the snow.
Hela glances over at Gudrid, leaning her chin on her palm. "What chores did you want me to do, Gudrid?" She lifts her stein, taking another swallow of the mead, clearing her throat.
"I think you'll like it now you are dressed for it. I need you to go hunting for me. Kari doesn't have the time at the moment." Gudrid looks her over. "I doubt you know anything about how to actually prepare a carcass but that's why you're the muscle."
Pouting from having being found wanting, Hela wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, eager to get out and stretch her legs. "I'll go now then." Adding when Gudrid raises a sceptical eyebrow. "I can do it."
"Not like that you can't. You need weapons."
Hela lets out a rasping laugh at that. "I don't need weapons." Flicking her wrist and summoning a small, obsidian dagger from her palm.
SMACK!
"What are you doing?" Hela exclaims sharply, reabsorbing the dagger into her palm, flexing her fingers. "What else am I-"
"You're Hlif now, not Hela, unless you like the idea of being tossed back in that box you best grow a brain in that pretty head right quick!" Gudrid scolds and pokes Hela sharply on her forehead.
"Ow! Fine, do you have a bow or something?" Hela grumbles, rubbing the still sensitive skin, checking for blood on her fingertips.
"Now you're thinking!" Gudrid praises, going to a table in the corner and selecting a bow and stocked quiver for Hela. "Here you are now. Oh, before I forget." She unties her own dagger from her belt and attaches it to the one around Hela's waist. "You might need it."
Hela smiles slightly, adjusting Gudrid's scarf for her. "Don't worry, I'll be alright."
Gudrid nods, opening the heavy wooden door for Hela. "Just don't go doing something god-like and you will be, Hlif. Bye bye now."
The door shuts abruptly in her face, Hela jumping slightly before spinning on her heel, surveying the land before her, trying to remember where she was in relation to landmarks. Her task made difficult by the thick blanket of white snow in every direction, before picking a direction at random and heading off into the dense, snow covered trees.