Author's Note: Whoa! Blown away by the response! Thank you guys so much! Your favs/follows/bookmarks/reviews made my day! =D 30+Thank you! :)
Look who's not dead!? It is I! XD Sorry for the wait, guys, life is kind of crazy for me at the moment and I wrote most of this instead of sleeping. XD But I planned the entire story, now, too, so yep. :) *rambles tiredly*
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Sorry for any grammar/spelling errors!
Warnings for this chapter: None.
Chapter Two:
Hela is jerked into consciousness with the realization that something is poking at her foot and it shouldn't be. Her fingers curl around a summoned weapon, metal cool against her skin, before she jerks into a sitting position, hair tumbling across her face and restricting her vision. It matters not as she brings her dagger up towards—
"Norns." Hela hisses under her breath, drawing the weapon back before it slits his throat, "Loki, I swear—" she starts.
Loki flicks his hands up in surrender, but his lips are twitching with a smirk. "Please don't, I've made it a considerable length of time since anyone gutted me, and I'm rather proud of it."
She shakes her head with irritation and slams the weapon onto the bedside table, attempting to shake the sleep from her limbs. She tugs the free strands of black hair away from her face and pinches her lips together staring up at him with confusion. Why is he in here? Her siblings don't wake her up unless something drastic has happened.
Hela shifts her gaze to the window for a second, trying to gauge the time. Light is pouring in from the window, but it's not the faint light that early morning gives off, but a firmer and brighter light.
What time is it?
Late.
Very late.
Norns.
She was supposed to meet the curia regis to go over something the remaining parliament brought up and then they would finalize the details. After that she and Heimdall were going to—Loki. Loki is in here and she still hasn't discovered why. He's dressed in a loose tunic with his hair hanging around his face, a quick glance at his bare feet assures her that he hasn't left house the yet.
She looks up at her brother, detangling her legs from the quilt and swings them over the edge of her bed. "Is something wrong?"
Loki lifts an eyebrow, "Not exactly. Thor made a late lunch and we opted to invite you."
"Lunch?" She repeats, flabbergasted. "What time is it?"
"Fourteen twenty-three." Loki admits with a slight shrug.
Hela curses under her breath and scrambles to her feet, "Why didn't you get me up sooner? I've nearly missed everything. The council is going to be furious, and that isn't something that I want to deal with today—" Really any day, they're so nitpicky.
Loki grabs her shoulder and holds her steady for a second, forcing her to turn at look at him. He's shaking his head slightly, but his lips are thinned with fond amusement. "Sister," he addresses calmly, "be at ease. Thor and I have taken care of the most pressing matters. We assumed that you needed the rest."
She did.
She'd hardly slept the last week before now.
Still.
Half the day is already over and her body is more than happy to continue with such a pattern of late-resting. She whacks his hand away and scrambles across her room in search of clothing that's clean and matches. As she's digging through her dresser, she pauses, then looks back at her youngest sibling, properly processing what he said.
"You dealt with everything?" She questions. There were piles. She barely touched it last night in her office. She can't help the slight doubt that slips into her voice, but Loki doesn't seem bothered by it. Instead he rolls his eyes good naturedly.
"You really have such little faith in us." He sighs, then clicks his tongue. "I'll be sure to pass that on to Thor. Yes, we dealt with it all." He affirms, "Come eat something, you skipped dinner."
Ha. It wasn't exactly a feast in the first place, so she feels no guilt over the manner. People were arriving for the ceremony and between her head and the anxious flit in her stomach, she couldn't think of keeping anything down.
Hela pulls out a dark brown shirt and sends him a scathing look, "So did you."
His lips twitch before he shrugs, moving to exit the room, then pauses, "Fair point, yes, but I didn't sleep in until after noon."
Oh, hilarious.
"Get out." Hela demands, pointing towards the door. He grins and exits the room, closing the door behind him. Hela shakes her head with annoyance before she pulls out the remaining fresh clothing and swiftly changes out of her sleeping attire. She tugs her hair up into a ponytail and pauses next to the mirror in the semi-vanity, before she exits her bedroom and slips into the hall.
The smell of cooking eggs immediately greets her nose and Hela bites back a gag. She has nothing against the taste of eggs—enjoys them, really, but the smell is nothing short of fetid. She buries her heaving throat into her stomach and quickly makes her way into the kitchen.
Loki is sitting at the table, nursing a cup of tea slowly as Thor dishes out plates on the counter. As she enters, he looks up and gives a light dip of his head, "Good morn, Sister." He greets.
"Good morn, Thor," she responds, taking a seat across from Loki. She does a quick headcount, and catches Loki's gaze for a second when he looks up at her before Thor shuffles the food onto the table. He takes a position between Hela and Loki; she picks up the fork and glances towards the blond, "Where's Jane?"
Hela expected that with the time she was asleep that Thor would have visited her by now. Jane's eaten enough meals with them that it wouldn't be to odd for her to make an appearance. Didn't she say she was going to stay in Resumption for this purpose in the first place? For Thor? Where is she then?
Thor shrugs lightly, "She and I have exchanged texts, she's otherwise occupied."
Hela nods and quietly picks through the food on her plate, watching as Thor quickly downs his and Loki halfheartedly makes an attempt at eating his, but he seems distracted. "Was there anything that needs to be brought to my attention?"
Both look up at her.
"When you went digging through my private work, which, if I might add, I could reasonably behead you for." She smiles. The penalty for digging through the king's work without permission was worse on Asgard, and nothing Hela was to keen on, but she performed many of the brutal executions before their father met Frigga.
"When you find yourself a King's Executioner, we'll make sure to be available." Thor promises, rolling his eyes slightly.
"No," Loki interrupts before Hela can push Thor further into the banter, "we didn't find anything. Unless you want to hear about the thirty page document that someone sent petitioning the fact that Asgard has lost its native grammar; it's exhilarating."
Truly?
She lifts an eyebrow and glances at Thor whose expression looks pained. "No, I don't think she needs to read that."
"I didn't need to either," Loki says, taking a sip from the tea, "but yet, here we are."
Hela shakes her head slightly and blows out a breath between her teeth, glancing towards the countertop. They're sitting on the counter, still strewn among other papers. They haven't moved since last night, which means that neither Loki or Thor have seen them.
And she needs to explain about them.
They are leaving in two days.
At least, according to the letters.
A week. What on the Nine do they want to talk about for a week?
Hela shoves the plate towards the center of the table and folds her arms across her chest, "We need to talk." She avers, tilting her head forward.
Her younger brothers turn to look at her. Both are quiet, expectant.
Hela forces herself to keep her face blank as she begins to explain: "Director Fury broke into my office last night—he expressed his condolences about our losses, but it wasn't why he was there." She admits. Loki and Thor exchange a glance, but she can't quite read it; and that's fine.
She rises to her feet and moves to the counter, flicking through the papers before she arrives at the letters and walks back to the table throwing them in front of Thor, where he, too, has shifted the previous position of his plate. Hela rests a hand on her hip, "He wanted to give me these."
Thor hesitantly reaches a hand out to the thick envelope and Loki slips to his feet, moving to read over the blond's shoulder. Thor rapidly moves through the papers, his eyebrows meeting and his expression thinning the further he goes. Loki's face remains impassive save the slight twitching of his eyebrows somewhere in the middle.
Thor looks up at her when they've finished tearing through the papers, "'You are to arrive'," he quotes, "'You're rooms are located', 'preparations have been made'," he rests the letter on the table, and bites on his lip for a second, "this isn't by choice, is it?"
Hela gives a slight shake of her head, crossing her hands across her chest. "No, I think not." Mandatory. And for what?
Loki sits back, "What could they possibly want to discuss with all of us for a week?"
It is her same question.
Hela shakes her head, "That is why I'm hesitant: I don't know."
Thor frowns, running a hand through his hair in agitation, "Did Fury leave you with any other information?" Beyond not to try and fight it, no, he didn't. He was vague and unassuming, as always.
Hela thins her lips and gives her head another shake, "No. Just that."
Loki sighs between his teeth. "Great."
Not really, no.
"I'm going to call Steve," Hela says, flicking her gaze around the kitchen helpless when she realizes she doesn't know where her mobile went, yet again. She forces herself to remain calm as she adds: "I'll see if the Avengers know anything about this. For now, though, I need to discuss arrangements with Heimdall about who will be acting regent." Asgard hasn't had to be ruled by regency that isn't from the royal family since she was a child and the outbreak of Frozen Bite had just struck the capital. It's been more than two millennia. If it was just for a few hours, or even two or three days, she wouldn't bother. But this is a week.
What could the U.N. possibly want to discuss?
Have they angered them somehow? They are perfectly legal here—at least, as far as she still believes. Gah! She hates this! Although it has been a year, she is still not used to working around another government. Asgard was at the head of the Nine before it fell, they never had to ask anyone for permission about anything. And that was a problem.
They bathed cities in tears and blood because of it.
Focus.
They have to tread where they breathe carefully lest something come after them with a pitchfork. It's frustrating. And inane. Look how the mighty have fallen. Asgard is not a place, Asgard is not a place, Asgard is not—
Hela sighs between her teeth, "In any case," she addresses her siblings, "pack your bags, we're leaving for this…" she waves her hand, uncertain what word to strap to the frontal of this. After a moment, she settles on: "Gathering."
Thor blows out a breath, "I'll tell Jane, we had plans."
Hela's lip twists with sympathy and she awkwardly pats him on the back for comfort. "My apologies."
Loki flips Hela's phone out to her and she mentally releases a breath of relief as she takes it from him, biting at her tongue to quell her embarrassment. She nods her head, trying to feel firm when she's not, then flicks the screen on to contact Steve.
000o000
Hela ends up taking a picture of the letters and sends it to the Avengers through a group chat she and her siblings were wrangled into a few months ago with the headline, "anyone else aware of this?" attached. She pockets her phone before tugging up her boots and leaving the house to find Heimdall. He's among the small handful of people that she trusts to not burn Resumption to the ground on accident during her absence, but the number is startlingly few.
She finds Heimdall nearly an hour later, talking over something with of the other council members, Lord Wyson. She's not certain what they're talking over, she is behind in her work (she used to go weeks without paperwork when she was younger, how she misses that). The Gatekeeper (there's no gate to keep anymore, Asgard is ashes) and the curia regis member turn to face her as she approaches.
Lord Wyson's face pinches slightly, and she's not surprised, having grown accustomed to such a reaction. She's uncertain what she did to make him so wary of her, but he is, and she hasn't done much to change it. People still fear her, they always have, and it's nothing new to her. Nothing that she can fix. The more terrifying you were a thousand years ago, the longer you survived.
"Your Majesty," Heimdall greets, dipping his head with a sign of respect and she returns it.
"Queen Hela," Lord Wyson says and clasps a hand over his heart, dipping his head.
"Lord Wyson." She says curtly, then turns to Heimdall, "I need to speak with you about a private matter, Gatekeeper, am I interrupting something?"
"No," Heimdall says when Lord Wyson opens his mouth to counter it, "please, Lord Wyson, we can continue this later. Hela," he gestures towards the hillside on their right and Hela slips into pace with the Gatekeeper, then they begin to walk down the hill together.
"What troubles you?" Heimdall asks.
Hela shakes her head, then blows out a breath, "My brothers and I have been called to New York. It's mandatory, the U.N. requested our presence for a week long meeting. Director Fury arrived last night to give me the invitations."
Heimdall's expression flickers, "All of you?"
"Yes," she answers thinly, "I'm not any happier about it than you. Especially not now. Not after we finally sent off the ships." They waited more than a year for it. Hela wrote letters to her parents since last November.
Heimdall nods, then sighs quietly, "Such is the will of fate, however."
Hela snorts, "Indeed. I'm asking you to care for Resumption while Thor, Loki, and I deal with this. If all goes well, we'll be back by next week and we can carry on like usual. If not…"
Heimdall shakes his head, "It will be fine, I'm certain."
"Still," Hela presses.
Heimdall hesitates, then sighs and dips his head, "I would be honored, Your Majesty."
"Thank you."
Hela's pocket buzzes multiple times and she thins her lips, digging through her coat to find the mobile, "I contacted the Avengers about this," she explains at Heimdall's curious gaze. "I wanted to see if they knew about the meeting, the letter mentioned they'd be there. Along with Stephan." She finds the phone and victoriously tugs it from her pocket, flipping open the screen to read the responses:
Nope. Not till this morning, we were emailed. I feel bummed we didn't get real paper. -TS
No, nothing. It's mandatory, though, so I guess we'll be seeing you. -SR
im excited. -CB
No, you're not, Clint. We all heard your querulous .-NR
I didn't know, I don't know what they want. Do you have any ideas? (Also, Clint *I'm)-BB
Grammar is for nerds. -CB
...-TS
Hela quietly releases a breath of amusement, wonders for the umpteenth time how they live together without killing each other, then fires off a response: No. I don't know why. Friday then?-H The Avengers respond with the affirmative and she pockets the device, turning to look at Heimdall.
"I should start preparing." She admits with a slight slump. Packing. Joy. She adores packing.
Heimdall stares at her with a curious look for a second, then she sees the barest tightening of his fists. "I do not feel comfortable with this." He admits after a second.
Neither does she. Does anyone?
She rests a hand on his arm, a gesture she usually refrains from, then gives a smile that feels so stretched it's painful. Her attempts at comfort are inane at best. They always have been. She's never gotten better. "We will be fine, Heimdall." She assures.
They have to be. She doesn't know what she'll do if they aren't. Norns. She hates this.
Heimdall blows out a slight breath and worries his lip between his teeth, "I foresee ill intentions."
Hela draws her hand back. Admittedly, she's trying her best to not think about motives. She is uncertain what to say, and instead presses her lips together and nods mutely. Silence gatherers between them for a long minute before she looks up at him, "Tell the curia regis of this."
"I will." He reassures, hesitates, then adds: "Good luck."
They'll probably need it.
000o000
Hela, Thor, and Loki step off of the plane three days later. They're all exhausted, mildly cranky, and Hela's certain that Thor was going to hit the flight attendant, an obnoxious young woman, trying to flirt obnoxiously with him at least twice. She nearly did herself. The attendant walks away unscathed, probably not even aware how close she came to getting her nose bashed in. The plane was issued by the U.N., so the airport they've arrived in is private. One of the attendants assures them that they'll handle luggage and all but pushes them from the plane into the open hanger.
Hela blows out a breath between her teeth and breathes in the fresh New York air deeply. After nearly sixteen hours on a plane, she's more than happy to be resting on solid ground again, without the rocking rotations of something she's sure will give out any second. Asgard never really had such inventions, but she doubts she would have participated in them often if they had.
She's not one for tight spaces.
Neither, she has just realized, is Loki. Not anymore. He used to spend hours cramped into spaces so small it looked painful as he worked on one thing or another. His breathing never steadied while they were in the air, assuring her of his discomfort. She's not certain when this spawned, but she has a general idea and she realizes with a sickening jolt in her stomach that she wants to hunt down the remainder of the Chitauri and skin them.
Feel their pain beneath her fingertips.
But she's better than that now. (She's supposed to be better than that).
As they step into the airport, Hela is immediately graced with the fact that it isn't very big for the amount of people they're trying to stuff into it. Most of them seem to be employees, but she spots a few familiar faces after looking for them. The Avengers are gathered as one unit off towards their left, with Stephan and Wong beside them. Off to her right is mutants she doesn't recognize, Director Fury with Ms. Hill, a sizable gathering of smaller heroes (Iron Fist and Nova to name a few, but not, she realizes after seeking him, Spider-Man), and in front of her is a small gathering from Wakanda.
As of the yet, she hasn't had the opportunity to interact with the recently opened country, but she's heard many stories from the Avengers. Particularly about how the princess, Shuri, and Peter's friendship is a disaster that ended up with some version of banana pizza that nearly burned the kitchen beyond repair. Both are awful cooks, turns out.
Hela gathers herself together, glances briefly at her siblings, then lifts her fingers to strain for her helmet. As the familiar weight settles on her head, she feels herself relax. It's familiar. It's comforting. She can hide behind the crown, like a hero does a mask. Loki and Thor have already switched into more formal attire, but they don't bother with their ceremonial helmets. Hela isn't surprised, thus far, since both reached adulthood, if they can escape it they will.
Hela moves forward, her brothers following after her as they begin to search for a director of some sort. Someone to tell them why they're here. Why they bothered to gather so many of them together. (It would be a clean place for slaughter).
The letter's were commands, and didn't bother to offer directions beyond arriving here.
A few minutes pass with them wandering aimlessly, attempting to reach a familiar face, but stepping away from the plane makes the entire room seem to be swallowed in the sheer mass of the crowd. Hela doesn't like it. It makes her stomach do weird twists of discomfort that she's never been able to quell in large crowds.
Surely it can't be this hard to find the Avengers, or a member of S.H.I.E.L.D..
Elusive they prove to be.
"Queen Hela!" Hela turns at the sound of the accented voice, her brothers doing the same. The Wakadian group has shifted towards him and she assumes that the man who called was their king, T'Challa. Over the last year Hela has heard a great deal about their family problems, which have been presented to the public. T'Chaka's untimely death by the hand of his nephew was only one casualty in the small civil war that broke out.
She commiserates the country for such private details being leaked.
"King T'Challa," Hela answers in turn, giving a thin smile when the Wakadian offers a hand out to her. She stares at it, then briefly considers what he would do if she refused to take it. Deciding on not seeing the outcome of the inevitable culture clashing, she grasps his cool palm with her own. His fingers draw back slightly, as if surprised by her bony hands and cold touch. Such a strange gesture of goodwill.
"I've not yet had the opportunity to visit your country, though I hear it's beautiful." T'challa says, releasing her hand as quickly as is polite, but it's still obvious she discomforted him.
"Mmm, I should hope so," Hela avers, her tone lacking adornment, "my people will be proud to be remembered by verdure and scenery."
The smile she gives him is sharp.
T'Challa's lips thin and she feels one of her siblings subtly kick the back of her heel. She has been given no reason to be nasty, she knows, but Asgard will not go down in history as a country that was crippled and resorted to farming to survive. She would have not her legacy to be such, and she wouldn't curse it upon anyone.
Hela forces her expression to lose edge, "Wakanda is as unknown to me as Asgard to you, don't fret."
T'Challa visibly relaxes, "Of course. I meant no offense."
"Yes, the same goes for me."Hela says, then tilts her head slightly to return the stare of the woman behind T'challa watching her with a burning gaze. She seemed friendly enough until Hela began to toy with T'Challa, but now her eyes hold the vague promise of murder and Hela is briefly curious how detailed her plan is. Bodyguards. The Einherjar served that purpose for Asgard's royalty, but since Resumption, she hasn't bothered to reenact it.
Anyone who tries to kill them has to deal with a living weapon, energy trapped in a living form, and a master sorcerer. Thus far, no one has been stupid enough to attempt it.
"Hello," Hela greets the woman, smiling tightly.
"Okoye," T'challa murmurs quietly, apparently noticing her murderous stare at last. He looks back at her and sighs, murmuring a few words in their native tongue. T'Challa returns his gaze to her, "Forgive her, it has been a tense few months."
Mmm. Yes. Two murders in the family tend to do that.
Hela gives a mirthless laugh, "Yes. I imagine so. My apologies for your loss, King T'Challa. This last year has taken much from us all, hasn't it?" She doesn't want to talk about this, nor share sob stories over spilled coffee and cookies. Norns, her social levels are low today. She leans back slightly, away from T'challa.
Apparently noticing her desire to stop talking with him, he turns to Loki and Thor giving a curt dip of his head, "Prince Loki, Prince Thor."
"Your Majesty." Thor says, dipping his head.
"King T'Challa." Loki answers in turn, "How do you fare?"
T'Challa stares at him for a second, then answers, "Well enough. You are well, I trust?"
They're going to sit here for minutes and trade awkward pleasantries for a great deal longer unless she can pull them out of this. Hela rests a hand on her youngest brother's shoulder and smiles apologetically at T'Challa. "I'm afraid we're otherwise occupied at the moment, perhaps we can continue this discussion later, Your Majesty?"
T'challa nods, "Of course. Sorry to intrude. Good day to you, Your Highness."
Hela gives a mute nod in response and quickly slips away from him, dragging her siblings with her. She blows out a breath and Thor lightly whacks her on her upper arm. "'Remembered for verdure'," he quotes snippetly, "are you serious?"
Hela shrugs, "What else were you expecting? I'm not nice, Thor."
Thor rolls his eyes up towards the ceiling in irritation and Hela quietly smirks bitterly to herself, resisting the urge to wrap her arms around her chest in a self-hug. (They're in public. She can't afford to look weak. Her father would have skinned her alive for it). She hates large crowds. She's being suffocated.
They wander for some time, with people slowly trickling out and going somewhere, but she can't find where. After nearly an hour since arriving, Steve and Natasha walk up to them. Anxiety on Steve's brow lessons as he spots them and he waves cheerfully, coming to a halt in front of them. "I'd thought you'd gotten lost." He says.
Thor shrugs, "We were seeing the sights."
"Absolutely," Loki agrees, his voice bare, "did you know there's no less than six coffee stains on the floor behind us?" He points a thumb in the direction they came from and Hela barely resists the urge to look back because no, she didn't know. She hadn't been paying enough attention.
Natasha rolls her eyes, "Funny." She assures the trickster.
Steve glances at her, before returning his gaze to them, "We're supposed to check in at the counter over there, did they not send that information in? They asked us to find you three." Steve says and Hela shares a quick look with her siblings. Both gazes are confused, assuring her that such information didn't escape her notice intentionally.
Hela shakes her head, "No. Where's the counter?"
Steve points towards the far edge of the room, "The meeting is in half an hour, probably less. There's a building off of the airport they want us to report to. This entire area is government owned property, including the hotels we've discovered." His eyebrows flicker at this, but the rest of his expression is a desperate dissemble.
Hela nods. "Right then, shall we?" She questions the other two.
Twenty minutes later, the three of them are standing in front of the counter. The woman at the desk with graying red hair looks up at them, eyes widening a fracture as she sees them. "Ah. Asgardians." Her accent is thick, but Hela isn't familiar enough with Midgard yet to pinpoint from where. Not the United States, however.
She shakes herself from her daze and shoves a piece of paper out towards them and says, in an annoyingly chirpy voice: "Sign your name here," she leans down to grab a briefcase and rests it onto the counter's surface. "All weapons must be confiscated for the sake of safety." She gives a sympathetic smile and Hela shares an awkward glance with Loki.
How on the Nine do they expect her to put hundreds of weapons into a small case? She doesn't store them on her person, nor in a physical place, not after Asgard. Loki taught her how to create a magical cache, and though it isn't the finest one crafted, it suits her purposes. She's not being disarmed, not when she doesn't know what this entire mess is about in the first place. It's not as though she can't make weapons from any material (she can, and has), but she'd rather save herself the trouble.
Loki, too, holds his weapons in a magical cache.
Well.
Looks like they'll be getting only a handful of their personal armories.
Hela blows out a breath between her thinned lips before moving forward to scrawl her name in thin runes, attempting to be difficult. English was something she mastered as a child, an older version, but the way the letters are looped has always been something that bothers her. Just use straight lines, it won't kill anyone.
Loki and Thor scribble their names onto the paper, Thor in similar runes to her's, but Loki's is in a tight, loopy scrawl.
The woman nods slightly, then pushes the container towards them her smile stretching slightly. Hela shoves back the worst of her annoyance, summons a sword and a dagger, then pretends to draw them from her cloak, resting them on the countertop. Thor places a handful of knives and Stormbreaker, then Loki sets two of his daggers beside their weapons.
The woman stares at them for a second, then lifts her gaze to Hela, "Miss, I'm afraid that any headdresses aren't permitted inside the building."
Hela levels her stare with her own, but after a few seconds complies. She resists the urge to roll her eyes as she tucks her helmet into a magical cache and her long braid tangles down her back from the tight french braid she wove it into this morning.
"Thank you."
The woman opens the case and quickly stores their weapons inside, tapping something out on the screen beside the handle, then opens a drawer and tugs out a container. She looks up at them, "Due to safety reasons and previous experience, the U.N. has requested that you wear these registry bracelets at all times. It will give us your location and it has a panic button," she lifts up the thick, ugly, gray cuff and points towards a small button on the left side, "hold it for ten seconds and we'll be alerted of your situation."
She gives another wide smile, but all it does is make Hela want to strangle her.
She gestures for their hands and Hela hesitates. Norns, she doesn't want to be attached to these people any more than she has to be, and this is far beyond what she'd imagined. If they're wearing the stupid cuffs, it means that her goals for her siblings and herself leaving before the day is up are a fantasy. They're staying for days, and for what she still doesn't know.
She gnaws on her inner lip before thrusting her hand out and waiting.
The woman smiles, wider still, then straps the bracelet around her wrist. It immediately begins to rub, and Hela feels the strangest sensation of thin needles digging into her skin, but it passes. Likely her imagination then. Or paranoia.
But still, Thor's face grows a shade paler as the cuff is strapped around his wrist and his fists clench tightly. Loki's fingers fidget with discomfort and the woman at the counter grimaces with sympathy, "Yes, sorry, they're a bit uncomfortable at first. You'll get used to them."
No, she won't.
Hela bites at the tip of her tongue to keep herself from saying something nasty, and rubs around the cuff lightly with her other hand, "Where is it that the U.N. wanted us to go from here?"
Smile. She's smiling again. Norns. No one can smile that wide and truly be jubilant. "Off to your right, there's a large meeting room in a building that's white with red trim. They have it labeled inside, if you need anymore help, just let someone over there know." She gives a slight dip of her head and her expression is one that's trying to be sympathetic to their apparent stupidity.
Hela releases her fingers with a wide flex, bites back a rude retort, then nods and offers a thin thanks and moves to exit the building, her siblings trailing behind her.
000o000
The room is large with a single wide window along the far wall. A lengthy "U" shaped table is set up with over fifty chairs present. Fifty seems like an impossibly small number for everyone she saw in the airport, but then she factors out the employees and escorts and fifty seems less enormous. Representatives will do that.
The Avengers, sans Steve and Natasha, are already present at the table with a handful of the mutants and lesser known heroes. Director Fury and Ms. Hill are sitting across from the Avengers and Hela spots the small pieces of paper with their names written a second later. Arranged seating. Swell. Thor nudges her arm and gestures towards their right and Hela trails after him as he guides towards the previously assigned spots.
Her siblings end up on either side and Hela tries not to fidget too obviously or rock back and forth in the spinning chair. Silence envelopes the room like a thick blanket and no one makes much of an effort to clear it.
Within the next ten minutes, the rest of the seats are filled, Natasha and Steve taking their places within the Avengers. After a time, Thor begins to awkwardly play with his feet and Loki flexes his fingers in and out.
Tony makes a loud popping noise with his lips and everyone shifts their gaze to him. He gives a thinned, embarrassed smile, "Sorry."
The action seems to ease the tension in the room, however, and Hela feels her shoulders relax.
Twenty-six minutes after entering the conference room, the door is thrown open and an old, graying man steps storms into it, followed by ten or so masked agents. Hela feels her eyes narrow with recognition and buries a noise of disgust.
General Thaddeus Ross.
Joy.
What a pleasure.
Who on the Nine put him in charge!?
"Thank you all for gathering under such abrupt circumstances," General Ross addresses them, coming to a halt in front of the opening in the "U". "I have been asked by the U.N. to be in charge of these meetings. I know that many of you are curious as to why you've been summoned here today—" So they know that they were vague. It was on purpose. Even better. "—which we'll answer within the next few minutes. As many of you are aware, Earth has undergone a dramatic realization that we're hilariously under-prepared for the world beyond our atmosphere, even within it. A single, small source of power nearly caused HYDRA to wipe us from the planet in the 1940's, a single man created an energy source strong enough to power a weaponized suit, one man nearly destroyed the United States' most powerful ground prison for enhanced individuals, and much more."
General Ross lets that hang.
Thor flicks his gaze to his feet.
"Do you have a point for this?" Director Fury questions, his voice bare.
General Ross snorts. "The point I'm trying to make, Director, is that in this room we have gathered the most powerful individuals on this planet, or representatives for them. Single-handedly, the lot of you could enslave us, and that's not acceptable. The people are afraid, Director, and the U.N. is trying to quell that; no one should live in fear." General Ross's jaw shifts slightly, a tic forming before he blows out a loud breath and lifts up a thick pamphlet, "This, the Accords, is the proposition we've arrived to; the only way to enact peace."
He tosses it at the table and it lands with a dull thump.
"You'll each be provided with a copy, you have an hour to read what you can. It's sectioned into specific categories for the people you represent. Start there. This is for peace, remember that. When you agree to the terms, you'll be asked to sign with the rest that you'll follow them. One hundred and seventy-three countries have already signed. Your hour begins now." General Ross says and waves the ten he brought with him forward.
They set copies on the table and Hela takes her's without a word, flicking it open and setting it open on the table. Loki and Thor ignore the two put in front of them, shifting forward to share her's. Hela stares at the English for a long second, mentally cursing that it's been some time since she read it in more than simple texts between the Avengers.
Business was conducted in Aardent on Asgard, and in Resumption it's mostly the same with Norwegian when it's needed. This is fine. Norns. Hela clenches her hands to keep her fingers from stiffening before she flips to the back, looking for an index.
The topics are voluminous, ranging from A to Z respectively with dozens between each category. Hela ignores them, searching for 'Asgard'. Page seventy six through another number Hela doesn't bother to memorize. She flicks through the thick book backwards until she finds the section she's searching for and Thor and Loki lean forward to read over her shoulder as she begins to study through the papers:
Asgardian's are guests on Earth. This is a privilege, not a right, and it can be taken from them if the need arises—
Royalty will fall under the jurisdiction of the U.N., any major decisions will be consulted with—
(Also see under "Magic". Pg. 394-410) Due to the fact that Asgardian's are an unknown species everyone equivalent to the human age of twelve, or older, will be subjected to a medical analysis—
All children still in educational years will attend fifteen years of formal school in England—
Because they are guests, they will be admitted to wearing a tracker at all times so countries can be aware of their locations—
(Also see under "Magic". Pg. 394-410) Magically enhanced beings will work closely with scientists to reveal how it works, they will be subjected to a week of testing—
(Also see under "War". Pg. 536-542) The U.N. can call on Asgard for assistance with wars in any country the U.N. has need of them for—
If the U.N. has need of Asgard for their knowledge of space, they will offer what information they can—
Reconstruction of the Bifrost will be conducted immediately. Asgardian scholars will be consulted and—
Children born from this point will not receive permission to become a formal citizen of another country—
Marriage between humans and Asgardian's need permission from the U.N., or the local government. Anything that is not consulted with will be required to sign papers of divorce—
Royalty of Asgard will sign a formal document promising that they have no plans for world domination, should they attempt conquering this planet (or any other) Earth has permission to take deadly force to stop them—
The list drags on.
It's lengthy, it's messy, and the further Hela reads the more she feels herself recoiling with disgust, an abstract horror, and silent fury. They are living, breathing, beings, not some sort of pet the U.N. gets to kick around then throw into the streets if it snarls back. Norns, some of these apply to children.
This isn't humane.
She can't agree to this.
She can't.
To do so would put her people, her siblings, and herself in a position a little better than favored slaves.
They've barely finished the section pertaining to Asgard as a whole and are working to the labeled "magic" segment when General Ross rises to his feet and clears his throat loudly. Hela lets her hands grow lax and the book slump against the tabletop.
"Agent Corvek," he addresses. A large man takes a step forward with thinning blond hair and a strong build. He sets a thin stack of papers on the edge of the table, near where T'Challa is sitting beside Okoye. "Who is prepared to sign?"
No one moves.
Hela is quietly vindicated.
General Ross stares across the table at them, expression thinning and rests his hands on his hips, "Need I remind you that this is for the greater good of—"
"What?" Director Fury interrupts and flicks the book in his hands up slightly, "The greater good of what? S.H.I.E.L.D. is a covert organization, General, we can't agree to half of what you have listed in this," he waves the book.
General Ross tilts his head, "Need I remind you, Fury, that S.H.I.E.L.D. is funded by the U.N.? We can take that if you disagree to sign this."
Fury's jaw clenches, tightly, but Tony snorts loudly to their left. General Ross looks towards him, eyes thinned, "Do you have something to say, Stark?"
Tony gives a tight simper, "Right, sorry, it's just that by this point I fund a little more than twelve percent, closer to forty, so if they skimp out on the breakfast bagels I can probably keep them going pretty okay. But you know how they love their bagels." Tony makes a pained face a second later, for a brief moment, and Hela assumes that either Natasha, on Tony's left, or Bruce on his right, kicked him under the table.
General Ross gives a humorless huff. "Yes. Of course. And when you sign the Accords?"
Tony offers him a wolfish smile, "Won't be a problem, General, I'm not going to."
General Ross looks close to tearing at his hair. Hela's privately pleased by it. She's never been fond of him. Not after CARCER V. "Look," he stays his patience, "is this some sort of joke to all of you? We're fighting for peace between us and this," he slams a finger onto the Accords, "is the only way to go about doing it. All of you are going to sign before you leave today."
No.
She's quite positive she isn't. If she does, it won't just be her that suffers, but all of Asgard and she refuses to put them under the rules the Accords set up. She's queen now, she has to think about the future as a whole, not a distinct point that terrifies her.
"What if we don't?" Natasha counters, "What happens then?"
General Ross gives a grim scowl, "You get retired, or you go to prison."
What on the-!?
He blows out a breath and presses down on the Accords again, "This is for freedom—"
Hela flicks her wrist out, letting her remaining hold on the Accords snap and she lets out a mirthless laugh. General Ross turns to look at her and Hela tilts her head slightly. "I find it so strange how unequivocal you are to that idea. This is not a declaration of peace, General, it's a promise of war."
He chokes audibly and shakes his head. "What on the—"
"She's right," Steve pipes up, "you can't protect everyone else by putting us in chains. We protect them. We're not going to agree to be enslaved, Ross."
"This isn't enslavement!" General Ross argues, "It's a treaty."
Ha.
"I'm having troubles seeing where you hid that idea," Stephen says pointedly, "these are a joke."
"So much wasted paper." Tony remarks, clicking his tongue sadly.
General Ross's fists clench beside his sides, "They can be adjusted after you sign. Did you read the benefits you were given?" What benefits? "You'll get government protection, funding, and someone to see your side of the story to name a few. We both benefit from this. Just—sign."
No one twitches.
General Ross blows out a breath through his agitated teeth. "Alright. This must be a lot to process and it's ridiculous to expect you to agree without thinking it over. We'll close for now and rejoin in the morning, alright? The hotels are prepared and they'll be someone there to direct you. Does anyone want to sign now? Avengers?"
Steve shakes his head.
"Dr. Pym and Dr. Van Dyne?" Hela tilts her head to where an older man and what she's assuming is his wife give a low shake of their heads as well.
"Dr. Strange?"
"No."
"King T'Challa?"
"Wakanda will not be signing at this date, no."
"S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
"What do you think?"
"Asgard?"
Hela gives him a mirthless smile, "You can sign my name with the blood of my corpse," she promises and Ross calls on the other groups who give the negative. His face grows a shade redder at the continuous dissension, but he doesn't yell at anyone before he finishes. Instead, he blows out a heated breath, shakes his head and points towards the door.
"Meeting adjourned, go."
Hela rises to her feet and exits the room willingly.
Author's Note: I don't know when the next chapter will be out. I'll aim for mid-April, but my life is just an exuberant mess right now and my mental health has taken a swift kick downwards *grimaced smile*. Anyway, I'm sorry about that, I wish I could give you all a chapter a day. :) You're all amazing! Thank you again!
Until chapter three! :)