She knew exactly who, more like what, she was the moment she stepped into the tavern. Freezing halfway in the doorway as her eyes roamed the figure with immense interest. Her stunning olive skin appearing much darker beneath the dim tavern lights. Pin straight brunette hair tumbling past hunched shoulders. Her brown eyes, ones that Hel swore put black birch trees to shame peered through long lashes as a...a pencil moved swiftly across the pages of a book. Her plump lips pursing in concentration as she flipped the page. Her focus briefly breaking from the book to glance at the vampire that appeared in the seat besides her.

"Amara," The name burned across her tongue. She knew, of course, that this couldn't be Qetsiyah's handmaiden. The poor girl forever stuck as the anchor to the shadow realm. A punishment for the betrayal Qetsiyah should have seen coming. A betrayal Hel had known of from the beginning. Amara had been the closest thing Hel's ever had to a friend. She was kind and sweet, innocent to a fault, yet she was quite the liar. Her ability to go unnoticed initially drawing Hel's attention. She may have used the girl to gain access to a necklace of Qetsiyah's, but she'd valued the time they spent together, despite her mistresses displeasure at that fact. She'd even gone so far as to help hide the relationship between Amara and Silas, despite her dislike for the man. They where soulmates, who was she to tear them apart?

Unfortunately, Qetsiyah had already agreed to cast a spell for Hel when she'd discovered Silas' betrayal. Their engagement had been one of political convenience, yet Qetsiyah had fallen for the man. For a man who held no love for any, but Amara in his heart. In a rage she tampered with the spell. Anchoring it to Amara and sealing Silas away within a stone coffin. Hoping he'd take the Immortality Cure and join her in death.

He refused.

The original spell she'd provided Qetsiyah with was not something one could mess up without doing so purposely, in truth, it wasn't a difficult spell. Had Odin not forbidden her from casting it, she'd of done it herself. But alas, he had. Qetsiyah was too easily manipulated. A few honeyed words and a single grimoire had the witch almost begging to cast the spell. The spell was more like a list of instructions on how to create a new plain of existence. A second Helheim, if you would. Hel wanted a realm where supernatural creatures could go upon their deaths besides Helheim itself. Werewolves annoyed Garmr and Modgrud didn't like the taste of Vampire blood. Yet Qetsiyah's tampering corrupted the spell. Tainted it with flaws. Anchoring the plain to a living being, immortal or not, destroyed any chance of any supernatural being finding peace within death. It kept them trapped within a shadow of the living, forever torn between life and death. Never able to move on or return. Never capable of finding a true death.

It infuriated Hel. She ended up beating the witch to the point of near death before tearing the harlots heart from her chest. Her soul getting trapped within the shadow realm she'd created. Even now, just thinking of her name filled her with rage, yet, somehow, Hel grew to like the idea of her trapped within the shadow realm. Stuck watching the man she loved choose desiccation over spending any time with her. Choosing her lowly maid over her.

Hel would have originally rectified the spell, yet within an hour of killing Qetsiyah she found herself forced back to Helheim and unable to exit. Odin had trapped the goddess within her realm, and every supernatural creature to die over the last two millenium within Qetsiyah's flawed "Other-Side" as it came to be called. The harlot would one day know suffering, however. As soon as Hel found the witch's spirit she'd drag her into the pits of Helheim and allow Modgud his fun for the rest of eternity.

Death was not one to be made an enemy of, something Qetsiyah would soon discover even if it was the last thing Hel ever did within the land of the living. Qetsiyah would know suffering.

Slipping past Amara's doppelgänger, and her vampiric companion she took a seat at the bar. Focusing her attention on the two occupants as she flipped absentmindedly through a menu. Trying to stifle the emotions waring within her body. As soon as her brothers where free she find a way to rescue her friend. But until then, she'd have her fun. "So this is where you spend your time when you're not stabbing people in the back."

"I tricked you into telling me the truth. That's not stabbing you in the back, that's using your own tactics against you." She could hear the doppelgänger grabbing her bag as she prepared to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"I made myself clear Damon, I want nothing to do with you." Hel was as convinced as her vampire friend. Her voice held no force, no power. Was she playing him? It sure sounded like it. How interesting...

"May I get an..." her eyes skimmed the drink list. "Old Fashion, with an order of French fries?" The barkeep either didn't notice, or didn't comment of the confused tone. She'd never heard of most of the things on the menu. Though Hel would be lying if she said she wasn't excited to try it. Back before she was trapped she'd often attend village feasts around the mortal world. All the different cultures fascinated her. From food to art and music to language and architecture. It was something that, despite the nearly nine thousand years Hel has spent in existence, had never lost it's complexity and intrigue.

The barkeep gave her a smile, one that didn't quite reach his hazel eyes as she shot down his attempt at small talk. Instead, refocusing her attention upon the doppelgänger who was now preparing to leave. "Okay, see you at Jenna's barbecue."

The doppelgänger stopped. Tugging the pile of books closer to her chest as her heart skipped a beat. Slowly turning with a deer in headlights look on her face. Nervously running her hand through her hair. Hel's eyes rolled. Such dramatics. She runs with vampires yet one she invited in stopping by scares her? "How did you know about Jenna's barbecue?"

She didn't get to hear the vampires response. The barkeep placing a strange plate in front of her alongside her drink. "If you need anything else just let me know," she smiled to hide her annoyance at his timing. Struggling to pinpoint their conversation for a brief moment as she easily downed the drink.

"I'm going to put some silver into Mason Lockwood and prove he's a werewolf." He paused. "See you at the barbecue."

"Of course," she spoke, glancing to the badge upon the barkeeps chest. Tapping the empty glass against the bar as she tried not to smirk at the vampires statement. "Derek. Question for you, who's the brunette?" She motioned towards the doppelgänger. Derek's eyes following and a somber smile crossed his lips when he saw her.

"That's Elena Gilbert," he said, taking the glass off the bar as she took a bite of a French fry, almost moaning at the taste once it hit her tongue. "Her parents died about a year ago. Lives with her aunt now." He raised a brow. "Any reason specifically why you're asking?"

Hel shook her head, watching her finally turn to leave. "She looks a lot like someone I know. Thought it might've been her."

"You aren't the first one to say that."

"I don't doubt it."

She got one more glance at the doppelgänger before she disappeared through the door. Completely unaware of the attention she'd just garnered from the goddess. Attention that would bring her nothing but trouble...

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