A month and a half sped by like a whirling sandstorm, and Sigyn and her family eventually had to return home. Dawn had made a full recovery, and had grown to about the size of a small watermelon.
She was a small child, very quiet, and when she looked at you with her wide, green eyes, you felt as though your very soul was being evaluated. Her older brothers took to referring to her as a Pterano-Dawn, not for any particular reason, just because Narfi was obsessed with dinosaurs in general, and the moniker seemed to fit.
She was adorable, yet tiny. So tiny, Loki had begun to suspect she'd grow up small, just like he had. He wasn't going to say anything, obviously, but the idea was a sort of comfort to him. All his other kids had inherited his giant-ness, but not his small-ness. Sigyn wouldn't like the idea of him still beating himself up about his inferior stature, but it wasn't as if he was actively loathing himself, any longer. He just had a little glow of companionship when he held his beensy little girl in his arms.
Speaking of things Sigyn wouldn't like, he'd also been pondering over the idea of Hela a lot more. It was still a touchy subject, still something that brought an old wound to the light, but it was easier just to think about it than to actually talk about it.
There was a sort of twisted sense in what she said. Odin did certainly love to cover things up and hide them away where no one could ever suspect they were a problem. But there were still some pieces of the puzzle that didn't exactly click. Why would Hela not say anything, if she really had been family? Had she only mentioned it to Sigyn? Or were there other clues, elsewhere? His memories of events that occurred before the blip were still so fuzzy, even after nearly a year out of The Dark Place.
Loki knew it was rather petty of him, but after nearly a year of agreeing to disagree, admitting that Sigyn might actually be right felt like a personal blow to his pride. Therefore, it was with great reluctancy that he sought his wife out, one beautiful summer afternoon.
She was making cookies, because she was amazing. They were full of coconuts, because she also lacked taste buds.
"Sigyn." He purred, leaning ever-so-innocently on the countertop. "For the sake of argument, suppose Hela isn't evil."
The way Sigyn immediately brightened, and whirled around to give him the most hopeful, delighted look he'd seen on her in weeks made the stab to his running streak of being right suddenly worth it.
"Yes?" She asked.
"What of it? What are we supposed to do about it?" He asked. "She's dead, isn't she?"
"Can you really kill the literal goddess of death so easily?" Sigyn returned. "She can open portals. You saw her do it the first time."
"Was that a portal, or just a rift Odin had been holding closed that came open when he died?"
Sigyn emphatically shoved the cookies into the oven, and slammed the door of the oven. "A rift would stay open after she walked through it."
That was an excellent point. "Then you think she's at large? Gathering power?"
"She can't gain more power without Asgard." Sigyn pointed out, and hopped up on the counter. "But yes, she's probably at large."
This was definitely a problem, then. "And you… You remember her? How?"
"She broke through to me, I'm not sure why." Sigyn shook her head, and brushed her hair behind her ear, leaving a streak of cookie dough on her forehead. "She… I think she wanted me to remember her."
"And she didn't want Thor and I to? Wouldn't she have known us better?"
Sigyn only shrugged. "I don't know. But I really do think we need to find her. She's not… She's rightfully angry at Asgard, right? If I'm right, they did a lot of damage to her. I don't think what she did was right, or justified… but it might be understandable?"
Loki was silent, and glared at the floor as if it had been the one who had destroyed his home. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. He couldn't deny Sigyn was talking sense, but that didn't mean he liked it a single bit more. Hela had slaughtered the warriors three, annihilated the Einherjar, and threatened the very safety of the people over a sword. That was what he remembered, and what could he trust except his own memories?
Sure, fine, he could technically trust Sigyn. And it wasn't like she was pushing the matter. She'd let it rest for almost a year, now, perfectly content to let Loki believe whatever made him feel safest. She benefited nothing from Loki believing her, save the assurance that he really did trust her.
"So what you're proposing is… what?" He grumbled, glancing up at her out of the corner of his eye.
"Are you angry with me?" She asked softly, her eyebrows knitted together in concern. "I didn't mean for this to be something we fight over. I'm sorry. It's just… she's family. And family's really important to me."
"I know." Loki huffed. "Family 's important to me, too. That's why I'm… I'm not angry. I'm… frustrated. I'm hesitant. I'm doubtful. But I'm not angry. Even if she is family, she could still kill everyone else included under that category. Sometimes… Sigyn, sometimes just because someone is family, it doesn't mean they're safe. Or healthy for you to be around."
Sigyn hummed in agreement. "I always did have a thing for trusting people really easily. Do you… do you really think I'm… I'm too trusting of her?"
Loki chewed on the inside of his lip. How was he supposed to put this? "Well… She is a murderous psychopath."
"She's not."
"Alirght." He shook his head. "Did you set a timer for those cookies? Because they smell like they're about to burn."
"Oops." Sigyn slipped off the counter, and yanked open the oven. The cookies were a beautiful golden-brown, almost-burnt-but-not-quite.
"Do you think we ought to track her down?" Loki asked, as she pulled them out and placed them on the counter.
"Whether she's actually wicked, or not." She replied. "If she's awful, she'll be looking for us, again, and she's an unchecked threat. And if she isn't… She's been alone for nearly twelve years, now."
"Or however long it's been on Niffleheim." Loki agreed. "Time differences."
"Right." Sigyn was nearly bouncing in glee. "You're actually going to do this?"
"I think so." Loki admitted. "Tonight?"
"Perfect!" Sigyn clapped her hands. "Should we get Thor to watch the kids?"
Just the very notion of telling Thor sent horrified chills down his spine. He would never approve of this in a million years, and for once, he'd be right. He'd tie them to chairs before he let them go after her. "I think Vali's capable enough to handle them. It'd just be an overnight, thing, right?"
"Unless we die." Sigyn cheerfully posited. "And then it's sort of permanent."
"Well, then Thor can take them."
"All six?!" Sigyn wheezed. "And one of them barely more than a newborn? They'd murder each other."
"We'll have to do our best not to die, then." Loki reasoned. "Inconvenient as it may be."
The moment Lokigyn stepped into the living room, where most of the children were currently playing, there was a resounding chorus of oohs and ahs. They'd dressed in their armor, the same outfits they'd had as Avengers, and looked, head to toe, wholly awesome.
The three youngest boys leapt up to fangirl over the grandeur. "You look so cool!" Fenris squealed, running the fabric of Loki's cape through his little hands.
"Are you off to fight a monster?" Narfi guessed. Gandhi could do little more than vibrate in excitement, and poke at his mother's seven league boots.
"They're real…" he whispered. "I thought it was just made up for the tabloids. But they're real! Can you walk up a wall?"
"If I wanted to." Sigyn giggled, and fondly mussed up her boy's hair. "Vali, your father and I are going on a quest. You're in charge until we get back."
The glee in the room immediately turned into groans of despair.
"Why does he get to be in charge?" Sleipnir whined.
"I'm oldest." Vali pointed out.
"By like six months!" Sleepy hooted. "I'm responsible too!"
"Yes, you are, but I can count on Vali to remember to feed Dawn." Loki explained. Vali couldn't help the very smug look he sent Sleipnir's way.
"Are you going to be in deathly peril?" Narfi bounced in excitement. "Will you bring back the heart of a dragon so we can eat it and understand everything animals say?"
"Do I look like Sigurd?" Loki laughed.
"Well, kinda." Vali admitted, not looking up from his homework. "To be fair."
"Alright, kids, we really ought to be going." Sigyn reminded them all. "Dinner's lasagna, it's in the fridge. I want you all in bed by nine."
"I have homework." Sleipnir objected. "Can I get nine-thirty?"
"Alright, nine-thirty…"
"How am I supposed to supervise her if I'm in bed?" Vali asked. "I should get nine-thirty, too."
"Va, you aren't included in everybody. You're going to have to take care of Dawn when she wakes up in the night."
Vali suddenly looked way less pleased to be in charge.
"We love you all, darlings." Sigyn had to laugh at his extremely crestfallen face. "See you tomorrow morning, hopefully."
With that, Loki opened the portal to Niffleheim, the two of them stepped through, blowing kisses to their kiddos, and closed the portal behind them.
It was night, but on this realm, it seemed always to be night. The clouds were so thick, so dark, that the sun never seemed to shine. It was cold, dark, and extremely spooky.
Long ago, Niffleheim had been an inhabited realm, full of people, one of the greatest sources of rich minerals in the Nine realms, and Nidavelir's greatest ally. All this had changed, had gone nearly forgotten, when Odin and Hela had gone on their conquest of the Nine. The people had been entirely wiped out, the cities abandoned, and now there was little left but the aged ruins and hollow wind.
The portal had dropped them in the square of the capitol city, potentially the eeriest place on the planet. The cobblestones had sunken into the ground, ivy and moss crawled up the buildings. It was so quiet, so still, it was hard to believe anyone had ever lived there. The walls of the buildings were collapsed, tumbling in on each other, and it was mainly just the frames, the bare skeletons of the homes and shops that still stood. There was a fountain in the middle of the plaza, no longer running, but the basins were filled with disgusting black muck. There was dust over every surface.
"What would we be looking for, do you think?" Loki asked, his voice hushed and somber. It seemed disrespectful to speak at normal volumes, here. More likely, it was dangerous. Too many soundwaves could cause the walls that hadn't yet fallen to topple, in much the same way that a loud shout in tall mountains could cause an avalanche.
"I don't know." Sigyn replied. Her gloved hand quietly slipped into his. "Any signs of life, I suppose. Anything that might be indicative of where she'd go to."
Without another word, the two of them walked, hand in hand, through the ruins, eyes peeled, ears flared for anything out of the ordinary.
The thought suddenly occurred to Loki that if this place were haunted, these ghosts might recognize him as the son of the man who'd destroyed the city in the first place.
In a place like this, ghosts didn't seem all that implausible.
As they neared the great, looming building that had once been a palace, the streets became littered with skeletons, still dressed in armor, laying haphazardly all over the place. No one had ever had the time to bury them. No one would ever even know their names.
"Melleth." Loki suddenly whispered, pointing up ahead, up the huge steps of the palace. There, just inside the doorway, there was a little candle, unattended, but flickering silently in the dark, casting strange shadows down the ancient marble.
"Someone's here." Sigyn whispered back.
If it had been creepy to be in a ruin long abandoned, it was absolute horror to realize they weren't alone, after all.
"D'you think it's her?" He asked.
"Who else?"
He shrugged. "Ghosts…"
Sigyn actually snickered at that idea. Her laughter did help ease Loki's mind a little, reminding him of how stupid that idea was. Ghosts weren't a thing. It was just their homicidal sister, lurking somewhere in the shadows, probably waiting for someone to pass by so she could pounce. And somehow that was better.
There was little else to do but creep as quietly as they could up the steps, following the light, until they were standing over the guttering flame.
Just above it, there was a tiny line carved into the marble, too rough to have been done professionally. The exposed rock beneath wasn't nearly as covered in grime, indicating it was done rather more recently than the fall of Niffleheim.
It didn't seem to have any purpose, just a simple, straight, horizontal line gouged into the rock, at a little lower than eye-level.
But then there was another, about three feet inside the doorway. And then another, just as evenly spaced out. Each one had a tiny candle beneath it. They seemed to be markers, ways to find your way around in the dark. But considering there were candles so it was more spookily dim than dark, they were simply redundant.
They led down the hallway, away from the throne room, to a winding staircase going down, and then they stopped. At the base of the staircase, they could see a heavy wooden door, barred shut, but there were voices coming from behind it. Too low to be recognized, but one of them was a woman's, and the other two were men.
Loki and Sigyn shared a confused, almost alarmed glance. What do we do? Loki mouthed. Sigyn could only nod towards the door. They'd come here to find Hela, and find her they would.
Carefully, ever-so-cautiously, they crept down the stairs, and hesitated in front of the door. The woman's voice was definitely Hela's. The other two… Loki was sure he'd heard them somewhere, but… different. Not so deep, perhaps.
"Kick it in." Sigyn whispered. "Really dramatically. Like Perry the Platypus."
Loki gave her a flat look, silently reminding her that now was not the time to be referencing children's shows. But politely knocking didn't seem like the smartest option, either. Right now, they had the element of surprise on their side, and kicking the door in actually did make the most sense.
The hinges were nearly rusted through, and the rotten wood basically shattered under the impact of Loki's boot. It was a really great moment, he wasn't going to lie.
"Well, excuse you!" Hela's voice shrieked, and the first sight that met their eyes was her, very upset for obvious reasons, as she picked splinters out of her hair. "You could've knocked!"
"Could we really?" Loki countered. "Yes, hello, Hela, we're here to have tea and crumpets with you as we hope you don't impale us again."
"Do you really have crumpets, though?" One of the other's voice spoke up from the back wall where he, and his companion were sitting very calmly with crossed legs. The speaker was rather young, about eighteen, his dirty, blond hair falling out of a ponytail into his eyes as they stared in great joy up at the two of them. He was dressed in rags, but rags that had once been royal clothes. He was nearly unrecognizable, being so much older and so much more ragged, but those crystal-blue eyes that were nearly in tears as they blinked up at Loki were exactly the same.
The man who sat beside him was built rather slighter, his hair a firey red, eyes blank and sightless, but no less delighted, no less familiar.
They were Balder and Hodir, and they almost looked like they'd been expecting their older brother.
TheOnlyHuman.