A/N: I don't know what to summarize that isn't a spoiler. A lot happens in this chapter: three sections, three POVs, all the cast. What I can say is that I had way too much fun writing parts of this!

It looks like I'll be wrapping this up in November, a year from when I started it, assuming I keep posting every other week. As always, thank you so much for reading. I would love to hear your feedback, good or bad.

"Heimdall informed me she was hurt," Thor said, bursting into Gladsheim's healing chamber. "What happened?"

Loki couldn't help but notice his son's instant captivation with the fabled Prince of Thunder, the boy enchanted by a figure he had spent his life reading about. Why couldn't Heimdall have left Ollerus in Glasir. These were not the circumstances Loki wished his son to be introduced to Asgard under. He'd rather Ollerus meet Thor once a reconciliation had been established between brothers, eliminating any chance at Thor confusing the boy with misunderstood events.

Loki exchanged only a brief, tense glance with Thor before focusing back on his lover's broken and unconscious form. Sif was laid out before him on Eir's table, illuminated by the network of images hovering over her. This unplanned tragedy demanded his full attention: this horrific misstep that was undoing everything he had recently gained, this error that would put him right back in chains should the truth come to light.

"She got beat up by trolls," Ollerus spoke up in a timid, shaken voice, taking it upon himself to answer Thor's question. Eir was too involved in slowing the venom's progression through Sif's body, and Loki had no desire to converse with his brother whom he hadn't spoken to since humiliating him in front of the Warriors. Leave it to Ollerus to step in. "Then, I guess," the boy paused as Thor stepped closer, "a witch poisoned her?"

"Poison!" Thor approached the table with heightened concern. He then looked across Sif's bloodied body to Loki who refused to meet his incriminating gaze. "How could this have happened? Is she going to be alright?" Loki ignored him.

With a gentle shove to Thor's silver-scaled arms, Eir urged him to step back. She hated being crowded when she worked. "She's in a coma but she does not have long." Her voice was weakened yet she kept strong through it all, paying no mind to the frost burns she had suffered from Angrboda's attack. Loki was ignoring his injuries as well, bruises and bleeding wounds trivial in comparison to everything else at hand. He needed to go and to wake up Odin, but he wasn't sure how he was going to do that, nor did he want to leave Sif's side. What if she awoke briefly only to find him absent?

"I'm Ollerus, by the way," the boy angled his neck to view the red cloaked King next to him. "Y-your highness." Loki narrowed his eyes at Thor.

"I know who you are, son," Thor said in a calming voice. He moved to place his hand on Ollerus's shoulder but Loki wedged between them, guiding the boy away from Thor.

Loki placed his hands on his son's shoulders. "Watch over her." The tall boy was still wearing the leather armor Sif had forced him to wear, the set he hated wearinng. "I'll try to make this quick." Loki then left the room urgently.

"Where are you going?" Thor followed, jogging to catch up to him. Loki picked up his pace, saying not a word, which was only making Thor more concerned. "Talk to me, Loki. Why were you attacked by trolls? Who is this witch your boy speaks of?"

Loki remained silent, flustered that he now had to approach Odin with this incessant badgering. As if this whole situation wasn't difficult enough without Thor at his heels. He rounded a corner, his frustration then compounding when he nearly ran into Volstagg's barrel chest. He and Fandral were making their way to healing room, no doubt informed by Heimdall of Sif's condition. Loki tried to push past the massive warrior but was halted by a meaty hand upon his chest.

"Not so fast," Volstagg said. He then looked to Thor. "What happened?"

"Sif has been poisoned," Thor supplied and Loki winced. "Eir says it is fatal." This was not going to go over well with these the two.

"Poisoned?" Fandral echoed. He then shoved past Volstagg and slammed Loki against wall, withdrawing his rapier. "What did you do?"

A temperamental burst of magic forced Fandral back, the invisible wave knocking the warrior to the floor and jarring Thor and Volstags's balance. "Do not touch me." Loki spat. He then turned and continued down the royal corridor, hearing the whine of strained leather as Thor was holding Volstagg back.

"Let me handle this, my friends," Thor spoke softly, helping Fandral to his feet. "Go to the healing chamber. Sif's boy is there, in need of comfort."

Loki's chest ached upon hearing that, hating that he couldn't be there for Ollerus in the moment. This was one situation where a cloning spell wouldn't suffice. No magical illusion could mimic the feel of a real embrace or offer supporting words. He shifted his hurried stride to a jog and then a full out run, the end of the hall where Odin's door stood a seemingly infinite distance. Breathless, he finally reached the door. It sparkled with a protective spell, impenetrable to most, even Mjolnir, which Loki now heard growing closer, carrying Thor with it. Thor had traveled the endless corridor with the help of that damned hammer in a fraction of the time it had taken Loki to run it.

"Our father cannot help us this time," Thor said upon approach. "He has sealed himself in. His magic is impregnable. Even Mjolnir could not break..."

A simple hand gesture removed Loki's magic–-wearing the golden guise of Odin's magic-–from the door. Thor was incredulous.

"This was your magic all along?"

Loki avoided eye contact, taking a deep breath and wrapping his fingers around the large ornate door handle. He attempted to open the door but Thor ripped him away, yanking the door open himself and storming into the hallowed chamber.

"I dread to think what you have done to him," Thor's voice cracked. Loki gathered himself then followed Thor into the room, a shudder racking his body once he beheld the familiar cocoon. It sparkled in that living gold aura, delicate and translucent, each twinkle a piece of Odin's thoughts and dreams. Thor knelt by the bed, inspecting his father, ensuring he was asleep and nothing more."

"He is unharmed," Loki assured.

"And I'm supposed to believe you?"

Loki approached slowly, each muscle tensing up with a different emotion, none of which he identified as the hate he felt the last time he entered this room, when the All-Father was draped over his shoulder. During the first Odinsleep Loki had witnessed, the guards had been the ones to carry him in and carefully lay him down, Frigga close at their heels, hands covering her mouth in disbelief. Loki had held back, still in shock, too overwhelmed with the truths he has just learned to know what he should be feeling. It wasn't grief, that much he was certain of. It was something closer to opportunity.

Shapeshifted into a soldier, he had only needed to drop the words 'Svartalfheim' and 'body' to induce the second sleep. Odin had been teetering on the brink since Frigga's death, loosing his grip, making one bad call after the next. The Chaotic Prince had done Asgard a favor in being the final push that triggered the Odinsleep. The old fool would have put them all in danger by housing the Aether so close to the Tesseract. He knew not the potential of those primordial powers or of the beings that sought them, nor did he have the capacity to deal with them.

What he did, however, have the capacity for–-and was the only being known to possess this rare wisdom, much to Loki's reluctant acceptance–-was how to heal Sif. Eir fell short because she did not work with dark magic as much as Odin did, nor did she converse with the enigmatic Norns. If anyone knew the required resources to combat a deranged witch's venomous attack, it would be the All-Father, especially now that he would be adequately restored from his grieving state.

Loki drew closer but stalled when Thor rose up and planted himself between him and the bed, blockading.

"Now is not the time for this, Thor," Loki said. "You must let me speak to him. If I don't wake him up, Sif will die. He is the only one who can help her."

Thor studied the desperation Loki had on clear display, conflicted, tightening his grip on the hammer, his knuckles going white. Finally, he seemed to find truth in Loki's intentions and stepped aside, sliding Mjolnir into his belt and crossing his arms over his chest.

Loki sighed. "I wish to speak to him alone."

"Forgive me that I don't trust you."

Loki had no choice but to let him stay. He didn't have the time to talk him out of the room either. He instead nodded, understanding, then knelt down at the bedside.

"All-Father," Loki began, finding a comfortable distance with that title. "We need your help. Sif is dying from illness. Poisoned, beyond Eir's capability to heal her." Loki paused to look for a trace of reaction but there was no change. He continued. "She needs your aid or we will lose her to the underworld. Please All–Father. Eir alone cannot save her."

Odin's chest rose and fell but no more or less than it has been doing. At a loss, Loki glanced to Thor, who merely stood contemplatively. Loki was hoping for a suggestion. Desperate times were indeed upon them when Loki looked to Thor for assistance.

Thor closed their distance and knelt at the bed. "I am here too, Father. We all need you. I need you."

This should do it, Loki thought. The golden son's touching sentiment better suited for this task than the silver tongue's ever would be. These were the words Odin truly wanted to hear.

"I am sorry I left Asgard," Thor continued, his speech becoming more broken. More difficult. "I should have stayed with you, in our time of mourning. I should have taken the throne when you offer—" Loki cleared his throat, interrupting. "What?" Thor barked.

"I was actually the one who offered you the throne, remember? Then you said how I had the better grasp on ruling, and that you'd rather be a good man than a great king?"

Thor sighed, frustrated. "Yes, I remember now."

"And then you offered me Mjolnir and I turned it down?"

"I said I remember," Thor's volume rose. "There is no need to rub it in. Yes, you pulled one over on me, again, all so you could—" Thor cut himself off. "It just occurred to me why you refused Mjolnir." A smirked tugged at Thor's mouth. "You wouldn't have been able to hold it. It would have pulled you to the floor and then your game would have been revealed."

"Brilliant deduction." Loki rolled his eyes. "It's only taken you how long to figure that out?"

"Oh, pardon me if ruling Asgard has taken precedence over unraveling your mischief. Some of us have better things—"

Odin stirred, a faint hum escaping his lips, capturing both brothers' wide-eyed attention.

"It is the arguing," Thor suggested. "Last time father awoke from the Odinsleep, we were fighting."

Loki narrowed his eyes, skeptical. "What are you suggesting? Shall I take a crack at you? Should we take this to the Bifrost so you can destroy it again?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"It was a ridiculous idea," Loki said. "If our arguing interrupts the Odinsleep then he would be the most sleep deprived—"

"Well I don't hear you offering any insight," Thor said, shoving off the bed and falling into a pace. "Did you not come in here with a plan? I thought you always had a plan. Did you simply think he would awaken at the mere sound of your voice?"

"I have a theory," Loki defended. "But I prefer to test it when you're not here."

"Well that's not going to happen. So spit it out."

"Truths," Loki blurted. His voice then shrank. "I-I think our truths stir him. He reacted after your confession."

Thor paused his pacing, holding his arms out expectantly. "Then what are you waiting for, Loki? Sif is depending on you, as is your son. We're all depending on you."

"Your truths work too."

"You have far more to confess than I," Thor argued. "And besides, it's your turn."

"Fine!" Loki snapped. He couldn't argue there was no time. He turned back to Odin, taking some deep breaths and attempting to clear his thoughts of Thor who was standing expectantly behind him. He could do this. He told the truth all the time. To Ollerus, to Sif. Why was this any different?

"Talk to him," Thor added. "As his son."

Muscles tensed in Loki's neck. "Easy for you to say."

"Talk. To him." Thor would not let up. "Now."

"I know!" Loki bristled, furious how Thor had commandeered the situation. Loki knew what he had to do and he already would have been doing it had Thor not intervened with his watchdogging. Did he realize how severely he was slowing down the process? How he was endangering Sif with these delays?

"All-Father," Loki began, trying to ratchet down the edge in his voice. "I need you to wake up. I...I want you to meet my son, Ollerus. He is the most remarkable child, he has taught me so much in very little time." Loki paused to study Odin, watching for any sign of change. There was nothing. He had to continue. "He has taught me...Well, I have learned...how difficult it can be to make the right decisions for a child. How the need as parent to protect our young, can cause us to make improper decisions. Lie even."

There was a single twitch in Odin's one visible eye. Loki's heart jumped. "Thor!" he said. "He twitched."

Thor darted over, kneeling down, scanning Odin. There were no more twitches. Thor looked to Loki. "Well, keep going."

"Father, please," Loki blurted, surprising himself. Why did he say that? This being was not his fathe—ah to Hel with it! He had to keep going. "I think...I understand why you lied to me." From his peripheral he could see Thor's features soften. He took a deep breath. "I'm trying to forgive."

"Trying?" Thor said, brow lifting.

"That is the truth," Loki countered. "To say any more would be a lie."

Thor nodded, accepting, and they both looked to Odin, who hadn't budged since the single twitch. "This isn't working," Loki sighed. "Perhaps there is something Heimdall can do."

Thor stood up, offering his hand to help Loki up. "Why don't we leave him in peace. Let him muse on all that was spoken."

Loki accepted Thor's hand, lifting himself up. "Last time he was asleep, Mother said he could still hear everything."

"Aye." Thor led him to the door. "Mother also said he never wakes in the presence of others."

Loki stopped, blinking in disbelief. "You could have mentioned this earlier."

"It only just occurred to me," Thor confessed.

Loki shook his head. "It amazes me you can get up every morning and dress yourself, let alone rule Asgard."

"Enough of that." Thor took it lightly, opening the door for Loki. "Let us return to the healing chamber. Heimdall will inform us of any change."

Upon return, they found Volstagg and Fandral standing outside of the room, regaling Ollerus with fantastically exaggerated war stories. They were emphasizing Sif's many strengths and victories which, if Loki correctly recalled, needed very little exaggeration to be impressive. Ollerus was fascinated by it all, smiling through watery eyes and even laughing. Loki had to admit these barbarians were occasionally good for something. Ollerus brightened upon seeing Loki, interrupting Volstagg to speak to him.

"Father! Elder Eir figured out how to slow the venom's spread. Now the All-Father has more time to heal her. Did," he paused, looking down the hallway. "Did you wake him up?"

Loki felt his shoulders drop. "We're...working on it." He was about to explain the situation but Thor cut in.

"I will update him." He placed his hand on Loki's shoulder. "Go to Sif. She needs you."

Loki nodded, gratefully, then exchanged smiles with his son before entering the healing room. Eir was bent at Sif's side, cleaning the last of her wounds. She had completely transformed Sif from the battered condition he last saw her in, her bloodied and mangled armor piled in the corner, replaced by a loose linen gown that was beige in color with a tie in the front, allowing easy access to her superficial injuries. It was standard issue patient wear but Sif had a way to make it beautiful, even with half her face swollen and purple, her lips dried and split, and her hair disheveled. Loki's heart sank as he sat beside her. He didn't think it could sink any lower for her but the pained expression on her face proved him wrong. It was a deep pain, beyond the flesh wounds, beyond the tainted, burning blood.

Eir affixed the final bandage on Sif's leg then put away her supplies, squeezing Loki's shoulder as she passed behind him. "I'm glad you're here," she said with a worn voice. Operating on reserves, she channeled most of her energy into her work alone. She couldn't afford to be slowed by fear or grieving. "Let her know you're there. I need a break if I am to be any help during Odin's appraisal of her."

"He's not awake yet," Loki said, lowly. He took Sif's hand between his. "How long does she have?"

"A full day," Eir said, moving to Loki. She began dabbing the open wound on his forehead. "Possibly two."

"Don't worry about me," Loki said, pulling away. "Go. Get some rest." She smiled at him before leaving the room. He was amazed she didn't suspect anything.

Propping an elbow on the table, he leaned into his arm, resting his head close to Sif's and continuing to to caress her hand with his thumb. He listened while Thor and the Warriors talked to Ollerus, asking questions to get to know him, distracting him from the present tragedy. They were doing a better job than Loki ever could. They knew what to say. They didn't have any guilt to mask.

"I know you told me to look after Ollie," he spoke weakly, pathetically. "But I think your comrades are better suited for it. Our son will ultimately prefer their company, especially once he learns what I have done."

Sif had been right when she said all who meet Ollerus fall in love with him. Thor was completely taken by him, fascinated at traits he recognized from both parents and enamored by what was uniquely his. The boy spoke with confidence the way Sif did when telling a story and he even picked up some of her mannerisms, like the lofty chin and proud posture. He talked excitedly about skiing and hunting, offering to teach either sport to whoever cared to learn. Fandral expressed an interest in skiing once Ollerus mentioned how he impresses the Valkyries with his jumps, and Volstagg wanted to hear more about the ideal way to cut a stag shank for maximum absorption of marinating spices. Ollerus hid blades beneath his clothing, just like his parents did, pulling each one out to explain what he used them for. They all had specific roles, whether for carving trinkets or skinning animals, each knife had its designation and he kept them very clean. He was meticulous like his father.

That was only a glimpse of his similarities to Loki, however. Beyond the tall, lean build and sharp facial features, there was the young man's mind, complex and brilliant. Thor didn't even need to ask if he took to books, that was obvious by his vocabulary and his knowledge of Asgardian history. He had dates memorized for battles Thor and the Two barely remembered fighting in, and any chance he got to correct them on a fact, he would. He made everyone laugh, especially with stories from his younger years, where he apparently pushed Sif to her wits end, an impressive feat indeed that the Warriors were much less successful at.

It was so strange, Thor mused, to imagine Lady Sif as a mother. How well she had hidden it from them all these years, and the tragedy was that she didn't have to. The All-Father wouldn't have exiled a child like this, how could he? Sure he may have masked his blue skin and dodged the issue of Loki's heritage a while longer, but he wouldn't have separated child from parent. Not again. Not after what he had done to Loki's cursed children.

That was a whole other matter that stung Thor's heart, the issue of Loki's violently broken family whose matriarch turned her jealous wrath onto undeserving souls.

Eir had told Thor the specifics of Sif's attackers, how Angrboda had tricked them and how she probably had sent the trolls to siege them in the wilds. Angrboda may be a frost giant by blood but she always held the status of a troll by Asgardian standards, exiled from her people, choosing to live among outcasts and criminals, maddened by her handling of dark magic. Her infamous sorcery and her undeniable beauty were what had lured Loki in. Looking back, Thor wished he would have spoken up against Loki's nightly escapades into the wilds, but at the time he saw them as no more than rebellious stunts. Imagine the heartache he could have prevented if he had any foresight, the lives he could have spared a tragic fate. But how was he to know? How could anyone have predicted such an atrocity? Loki didn't even see it coming, and he was usually several steps ahead of his enemies' game.

Thor's heart ached for his brother, as much as it was for everyone else scared for Sif's life. Despite all he had put Thor through, Loki was proving to be on a path to redemption, suffering through trials set up by the warriors, substitute teaching for magic classes (Thor hadn't believed that when Eir first mentioned it), learning to forgive their father for the truths he withheld. Was this is how fate would repay him? It wasn't punishment enough that they lost their mother, but now Loki was on the verge of losing the only other woman dear to him. It wasn't fair. He couldn't let this happen. To anyone! Not Loki, not Ollerus, not Eir, not his comrades, and especially not to himself.

Sif was his best friend. He wasn't about to see her conquered by a cowardly witch.

"Loki," Thor beckoned upon entering the healing room. They were going to do whatever it took to awaken Odin. "Get up."

Loki lifted his head from the table, his eyes sunken for having stayed up all night with Sif. Ollerus was seated across from him, sharing the duty of keeping a vigilant watch. The boy had brought his father some wine and various snacks, but Loki hadn't touched any of it. He was in a dark place, comparable to when Thor had gone to him in the dungeon, asking for his help. Loki had a peculiar way of mourning, unlike anyone else. This is the second time Thor had witnessed it, and both times he was unnecessarily self loathing, as if he was the one to blame. Thor hated seeing him like this, especially in front of his son.

"Ollerus," Thor said, "keep watch on your mother. Loki. Walk with me."

Loki didn't raise a fuss, just placed a sleepy kiss on his boy's head as he ambled to the door. He didn't speak until they were in the hall.

"Are we attempting to wake the All-Father again?" His voice was laden in defeat.

"Yes," Thor confirmed.

"What good will it do?" He avoided Thor's gaze. "We don't know for certain that Odin can heal her. Eir said it was only a possibility."

"You cannot lose hope, Brother. And you must not blame yourself. These things, their...beyond our control."

Loki snorted. "Are they?"

"Yes!"

Loki shook his head. "I couldn't protect her."

"Sif is not one who needs–"

"In fifty feet, make a slight right turn." Thor was cut off as a rigid female voice buzzed in his pocket. Loki gave him a strange look.

Thor continued, sliding his hand into his pocket. "She's not one who needs protec–"

"At the next intersection, make a legal u-turn," the voice said again, muffled.

"What," Loki's eyes widened, "the Hel."

Thor pulled the small computer out, trying to remember which button silenced her. "OK. Let me take a look." He mistakenly turned her volume up, "I'm afraid I can't answer that for you."

"Why do you have that?" Loki asked.

"Her name is Siri." Thor smiled, fumbling with the device. "I like to listen to her. She reminds me of Jane."

Loki could only stare, dead panned. "Have the healers found a name for your condition yet?"

"Shut up," Thor defended. "I miss her. And the condition is called love, which I know you—"

"I found what you were looking for. All You Need is Love by the Beatles. Shall I play it for you?"

"By the fires of Muspelheim," Loki threatened. "Shut it up or I will."

"Alright, fine." Thor resorted to pushing every button. One of them should do the trick.

"I do not understand, Mus-pel-heim."

Or not.

"Please repeat the question."

"Give it here!" Loki snatched her from his hands then made her vanish with a flick of green dust.

"Bring her back," Thor ordered, his voice pitching up.

"It's not a her, it's an it," Loki corrected. "A highly obnoxious one."

"Give her back!" Thor shoved his arm.

"No."

"Dammit, Loki." Thor backed down. "I hate when you do this."

"You can have it back if you let me silence her."

"But..." Thor whined. "When will she be able to speak again?"

"When I pull my cock out of her mouth."

"Loki!" Thor grabbed his collar, halting their stride. "Do you speak this way in front of your son?" A slip of laughter then escaped him. He tried to play it off. "It is highly inappropriate." More laughter. "Childish behavior."

Loki pulled his jerkin free. "Which explains why you're amused." He made the device reappear, waggling it out of Thor's reach. "Is this what you want?"

"Give it back!" Thor grabbed for it but Loki jerked it away.

"No."

"Give it back now!"

"Make me!"

Thor kept grabbing and reaching but Loki's long arms held it just beyond his finger tips. It wasn't long before they were wrestling on the floor, a tangle of protests, growls and outstretched arms. Loki kept switching which hand he held the device in, sometimes curling his entire body around it when Thor's reach got to close.

"Quit behaving like a child," Thor commanded, attempting to pry Loki's fingers open.

"Need I point out the obvious?" Loki snarled.

"What is this?" A familiar voice filled the hallway, freezing both brothers in place. They looked up to see Odin advancing slowly upon them. "Have I awoken to times past? When my sons fought as boys, and not enemies."

The icy wind did not chill her. Her footsteps upon the cobblestones bore no weight. The eerie, tinkling melody drawing her down a frozen corridor was not of the living world. These were all signs that told Sif exactly where she was. Helheim.

She should, by all sensibility, be racked with fear, but when one's body was merely a whisper of what it should be, there was no capacity to feel an appropriate twist in the gut or palpitation of the heart. Fear did not follow her down here, nor did the longing that came with separation from her son or the heartache that she may never see him. Sif was numb, and she was grateful for that. It was something she could operate with under the circumstances: a shield of apathy.

She approached the sinister throne of a rotting queen, abstaining from drawing a hidden blade. What good would it do? One does not open negotiations for their afterlife with a threat.

"I should not be here." Sif's voice echoed up to the vaulted stone ceiling.

"You really shouldn't." The throne swiveled to reveal the deliverer of the pinched, melodic voice. She was much smaller than Sif had always pictured and strangely dressed like a doll. Well, a doll that had been trampled a by a stampede of bilgesnipe, save for the bony and magnificent crown. "Whoever wrote the rules for the afterlife of Asgardians," the girl mused, casually thumbing through a thin book with glossy pictures of Midgardian fashion, "was a world class spunkwad. Eons of loyal service, countless opportunities for an enemy blade to grant you passage to Valhalla, and here you are. All because of one little needle. Boy did you get the ass end of the bargain."

Sif held her ground, bolstered by how little effect the girl's cruel words were having on her. "You must be Hel."

"You must be pissed!" she laughed, tossing the floppy book behind her.

Sif backed up to Hel's previous words. "What...bargain?"

"You..." Hel rose, tilting her head, snapping her fingers to beckon someone over. "You still don't know?" Several naked, wretched-looking goblins gathered at the base of the throne, creatures Sif couldn't decipher as living or dead. Hel gestured some orders at them, keeping her gaze fixed on Sif. "He didn't tell you, not even on your deathbed? Wow, what a bastard."

"Tell me what?" Sif moved closer once the creatures scampered off, trying to ignore a tugging in her chest.

"Oh, this worked out even better than I thought it would." Hel brought her hands to her cheeks like a beauty queen just crowned. "I can't believe I get to be the bearer of bad news."

The tug got worse. There was now tightness, hinting at pain, creeping up her throat. Sif lifted her twitching chin and watched wordlessly as the teenager slid up the ruffled sleeves of her white blouse and began a series of delicate dances with her hands.

"Starting to grasp the big picture now aren't you," Hel sang, a swarm of sparkling dust gathering at her fingertips.

Sif shook her head, rigidly. "He wouldn't."

Hel nodded. "He did." Her sympathy was mocking. "He traded your eternal damnation so he could put on his big resurrection show." The swirling dust then rocketed from her hands, startling Sif as it spread around them, reaching high, creating a walled enclosure that quickly began resembling a royal bedchamber. "If you don't believe me I'll play it back for you. I recorded our whole conversation."

The room began materializing furniture and light fixtures, all regal and grand in design, wallpaper in patterns Sif couldn't recall the name of due to the sick overwhelming her. It was taking all of her strength just to stand tall in her show of resilience. One of the goblins hobbled up and plopped a chair beside her. Even they weren't fooled by the charade. She sank onto the velvet cushion, doubling over, leaning her head into her hands. What she found most disturbing was her lack of surprise.

"Yeah, I don't need to play it back for you," Hel said, strolling over to a large wardrobe a few goblins just delivered. "You believe me." She swung the doors open one at a time. "You know what he's capable of."

"You plotted this together?" Sif whispered, lifting her clouding gaze to the sickly adolescent who was sifting through hung garments. "Why? How have I wronged you?"

"Technically, I did it for Mother." She pulled a green dress out for inspection, shifting her glance contemplatively between it and Sif. "She hates your guts and I'm inclined to take her side. You understand, blood ties and all."

"No." Sif tore out if the chair, pacing, her voice wavering. "He would never put Ollerus at risk. He would not deprive our child of his mother. He loves Ollerus."

Hel had moved on to a different garment. "He claims to love me and Jojo and Fifi and look where we all ended up."

"He..." Sif paused, regretting the words before they escaped, "said he loved me." Hel opened her lopsided grin to speak but Sif cut her off. "Don't you say it!"

"Lordofthelies," Hel coughed out.

"Shut up," Sif ordered, pleading. "I know, okay? I know! I just..."

Hel hugged a red gown to her chest. "You thought he'd changed for you. Oh, sweet and tragic delusions."

"You are a cruel, vile thing," Sif spat.

Hel took it as a compliment, smiling innocently. "I learned from the best."

Sif turned away, hiding her building tears. What she wouldn't give for the emotional shield she walked in here with.

"Look. If it's any consolation, I didn't trust him to hold up his end of the bargain," Hel filed a little of the edge from her voice. Sif kept her back turned but heard the recoil of a metal hanger as a garment was tugged off. "I thought for sure he'd find a way to take Mother out before she could get to you. Guess I overestimated him too. Turns out he truly is just out for himself." Her voice was drawing closer. "But, whatever. Why don't we get you out of that gruesome armor and into something less barbaric." Sif whipped around to see a long red gown draped over Hel's arms. The girl prattled on. "You are much prettier up close than I thought you'd be. I can't deny that Father does have fine taste in women." She snapped and a few goblins padded up to her, taking the gown. "Mother is quite the catch too. I imagine you'll get to meet her soon, well, properly meet her. You probably didn't have much time to chat while she was murdering you."

The goblins closed in on Sif, silky gown laid across three sets of stubby, outstretched arms. She backed away. "Touch me not, foul goblins."

"Nyblings!" Hel corrected. "They're Nyblings." The creatures shot their attention to Hel, hearing their name and awaiting an order. "Have you even opened a book before? Ugh, I dread to think of the uncultured conversations we're to have over tea." She shook her head. "Well come on Nyblings, don't stand there like dunces. Prep her."

The Nyblings advanced on Sif again and she readied herself. One of them reached for her boot. She tried to kick it but her foot flew right though, causing the pathetic creature to lose its balance and topple forward. The other Nyblings backed up, a couple of them snickering at their fallen comrade.

"What the..." Hel's eye widened. She used her magic to lift a perfume bottle from the vanity and launch it at Sif. It passed straight through, shattering on the wall and startling a nearby Nybling. "You're not dead." she was now upon Sif, poking a pale finger through her bracer. "How are you not dead?"

Sif felt a smile slowly stretch her lips. "Because I do not belong here." She felt her confidence restoring. "It'll take more than than the twisted, petty plots of wicked creatures to conquer me."

Hel narrowed her green eye, pushing her hair back to reveal the other one, which was blue and equally calculating. "You must be in a deep coma." She crossed her arms, hair flopping back over her face. "Your resilience is impressive. I've seen that poison take giants out in a matter of minutes." She rubbed her petite chin. "What am I missing here?"

Sif puffed up, building to say something intently obnoxious about good dominating evil, but she was silenced when her arms blossomed with chilling goosebumps. She deflated, growing fearful. Why was the cold affecting her all of a sudden? Why was the ground now pushing back on the soles of her boots, and why was her briefly claimed victory drifting away like a memorial sky lantern. She drew her arms to her body, shivering.

Hel brightened. "Now that's more like it. The poison is running its course. You'll be dead soon." She summoned a long fur lined cloak to float over from the wardrobe and wrap itself around Sif. The warrior flinched when it touched her but she regretfully couldn't refuse its warmth.

The satisfied queen sauntered back to her throne, smirk spreading over her shoulder. "You might as well make yourself comfortable. You're going to be here for quite some time."

Music: Gutter Glitter by Switchblade Symphony