Prologue:
The girl stared in disbelief at the bloody visage of her father's face, his once fine and elegant features now drenched in blood, giving a stark contrast to the pale ivory of his neck and face. The body of the Lady sif lay sprawled before him, limbs stretching to odd angles as though she was trying to escape some horror that haunted her even through death. Blood coated her once beautiful face, now made gruesome by the cold horror of death.
Her death had not been a pretty one, and despite Loki's best efforts Hel had still ended up as a witness to her grisly end. She rushed at him in a blind rage, arms outstretched, fingers writhing in a desperate search for his neck. However before she could lay a hand on her father, Loki made one short step back allowing her to trip and fall onto the body, when she raised her head to look for him again he had vanished, leaving only a trace of green mist.
Hel sank back to the floor, Sif had been her one true friend in this accursed Asguard, the only one with the sight to look past her disfigured features and dubious heritage and treat her as a equal. That is the only one other than her father. She began to weep hugging Sif's rapidly cooling body to her breast, silently begging her not to be dead.
Asguard and its residents were often cruel to her with their constant thinly veiled insults and the mutterings behind her back they thought she could not hear. Sif had been the only reason she had been able to cope this long and with her now taken from her by none other than her own father, she had finally lost even her will to carry on. Slowly a plan for vengeance formed within her mind.