Hello! Here is a fic that I thought up on the bus to school. Probably a multi-chapter, but hey, if you don't like it just review or DM me why. Do the same if you like it!
Leah lay on her back in the grass, playing with her long raven hair and enjoying the feeling of the afternoon sun on her face. She had been suspended from school again - for throwing a bully out of a window in defence of her best friend - and the Allfather was not exactly pleased with her. After being given yet another lecture, she wandered around Oklahoma and eventually found her way back to the school playing fields. The girl sighed, staring into the sky.
"Odin," she said as she squinted her eyes at the blaring sun, "look, I'm sorry but that guy deserved it. He was tormenting everyone, Loki especially, and he needed to be punished. And anyway, it's not like he's dead or anything. It was barely G.B.H."
"Yeah, two broken limbs, five spinal fractures and a cracked skull counts as 'barely," replied someone behind her, the black-haired, green-eyed someone who was the best friend she nearly killed someone for. Loki.
"Not many people can sneak up on me," the girl smiled as he sat down beside her.
"Not many people throw people out of windows for me," he laughed, looking down at his friend. "Thank you, by the way, and I'm sorry about the suspension. It's my fault."
"It kinda is, actually. But," Leah sang, slowly, "I know how you can pay me back!"
"Milkshake?"
"Milkshake."
The Queen reminisced about her youth, when all she ever dreamed of was laid down in front of her. Friends. Love. Loki, for Odin's sake. But she threw it all away, all of it, for the power over death itself while whatever life she could've had passed her by without a second glance.
She had always known that the day would come when the Allfather's promise to her would be fulfilled. When she would rule over the dead souls of all nine realms, leading them either to the blissful fields for those who were good in their past life, or to the deepest, darkest crevices from which no one, neither dead nor living, can escape.
Hela sometimes thought of ways that she could change things for the better. The words that she wanted to say but didn't, the actions she wanted to take but refused to, and especially the people whom she wanted, no, needed to love but instead deprived herself of feelings for them.
In one of these alternate reality dreams, she grew up, without power or fame or the ability to kill whomever she wished. She had a normal life on Jotunheim, occasionally going back to Oklahoma, and living as Leah. She lived in the Palace of Loki as a frost giant, with black hair, blue skin and red eyes. Life was good to her. There was no war. No one questioning the rule of Laufey's son. She was happy. He was happy.
Another dream would be of that day she threw some stupid mean kid out of a third floor window, but instead of just sitting on the grass with her best friend, she - strangely - didn't ask for milkshake. Instead, she asked for something much cheaper and more important. Something only Loki could give her. Something she could only have once.
Her first kiss.
But that's what reminds her how unreal her unrealities are. How...stupid and childish her dreams are. How impossible they have proven themselves to be.
And so, as she lay on her bed, barely dressed, in an Oklahoma City hotel room, she didn't even look up as fifteen armed SHIELD agents surrounded her. Nor as they handcuffed her. Nor as they walked her into a car.
She just stared mournfully into the air, not caring when a single tear fell down her face.
The goddess had lost track of time in the cars and planes. She knew where she was, of course, floating fifteen-thousand or so feet above Washington DC, but the question of what time it was was still in need of an answer. The green cloth that covered her chest was still there and was the main reason for the lusty stares from the agents around her, mostly because the cuffs had been made to stop magic like hers. She wondered who or what could have possibly made that happen.
As the door of the jet opened, Hela smiled when she saw the stars and the new moon above her. Night surrounded them, their breaths hot against the cool air. Her green eyes glowed softly in the darkness as her wild hair was pushed back by the cold breeze. She was escorted into the carrier and as soon as the door opened she squinted her eyes at the white lights and walls.
She looked through each window with awe in her eyes, having never been told about the intelligence of some of these mortals. Both men and women looked at her with the same expression, men longer than the women on most occasions, before she passed a larger room of science and knowledge. In this room stood a man of around 5'8" with messy brown hair and a purple shirt, beside whom was a slightly taller man with shorter yet more wild dark hair and a black shirt. She waved suggestively at the latter who blushed slightly both at her attire and her action before looking ahead of her.
The guards separated slightly when they reached her destination: A glass box. It wasn't just a box, however. The glass was thick and the lights were dimmer than those of the corridors. Her reflection bounced from wall to wall from at least four angles, showing each imperfection and movement of her face, let alone the single tear streaked down the left side of her pale face. As the escorts moved further away from her, she felt the cuffs slip from her wrists, the sweet release into freedom. She could've ran away at that very second. She could move faster than any of her captors but refused to run from the sight before her.
He stood facing away from her, his hands behind his back and his armour lacking the helmet and the cape. The goddess' breath hitched as he turned, the woman before him wiping away the smug look on his face and replacing it with one of astonishment. He walked quickly to the glass panel and let his fist fall down to his side before putting his forehead on the pane.
"What are you doing here," she whispered, doing the same on the other side. "You were dead! You fell from the Bifrost- Who are you?"
"I am Loki, son of Laufey," he sighed as if it didn't matter anymore, "and I am the same God of Mischief that I was before this came to be."