Idunn's Apple Pie
A Marvel 616 fic by Andrew Joshua Talon
DISCLAIMER: Ain't mine.
How it all began...
1945
Rarely did Hela stare into the Ethereal plane. Deaths happened, and their souls came one way or another. As of late, fewer and fewer had come into her realm. Over the centuries, fewer souls from Midgard even crossed into her path. So she had turned her attention to other realms, taking in their dead and managing their afterlives as best she could. It was her duty, after all.
A long, lonely duty.
She was not ignorant of the happenings on Midgard though: They had seen more bloodshed and more death than any other time in their history. A few souls still came her way, and she could learn a bit from them. She shook her head mentally as she navigated the streams of fate and the layers between the universes with ease.
So much progress. So much technology. So many people now. Midgard had come a long away.
No wonder the Aesir had left.
She about about to return to Nifelheim, to brood in silence on the changing situation on Midgard, when something changed in the ethereal plane. She focused her will, far across the boundaries between realms... Until at last, she opened her eyes.
She was on a snowy, windblown tundra, far from any civilization. A blizzard was rushing over the land, bathing it all in bleak darkness. She turned and regarded the sparse ruins, partially buried in the ice. She could make out stonework with runes carved into them, and a few scattered idols. It was one of her shrines-Ancient, abandoned for centuries, but still mostly intact. The runes still held power, and they had alerted her of something changing.
She turned her attention to the source of the disturbance: A massive airplane, shaped like one giant wing, sinking through the ice that covered the small bay that had once let the Norsemen live here. Some distance away on the beach, caught in the ice, a man was slowly freezing. Hela walked, her astral self covering the distance easily. She knelt over the man, and examined him carefully.
He was tall and well built, a warrior in his prime. His outfit was strange-Some kind of lightweight chainmail armor, covering him head to toe. He bore a gun on his belt, as well as other tools. He wore a cap that covered his eyes, and a star over his chest. And a shield of an unusual metal-Held close to him in his strong arms.
His heart was slowing, his breath reduced to nothing. His mind was surging with emotions, his soul raging, mournful, and yet... Satisfied. Satisfied with the end of the contents of the aircraft already slipping down into the deep. His mind was sharp, even as it slowed into a dream like state. And from his mind, she could see flashes of the man he was...
"I don't want to kill anyone. I don't like bullies. I don't care where they're from."
"What are you ladies waiting for, Christmas?!"
"I can do this all day..."
"I am not afraid to die this day because what we do here is necessary. Look at me. I'm just a man, but I believe that one man - one man with enough conviction - that one man can win a war. Give that man a group of soldiers with the same conviction, and you can change the world. You fellas know where I can find some soldiers like that?"
"I'm just a kid from Brooklyn..."
"Logan..."
"Bucky..."
"Peggy..."
"Mama..."
Hela sighed mentally. He was... A true warrior. Noble and daring, kind and intelligent.
The kind of soul that would never end up in her realm. Still, she waited for him to pass. It had been so long since she'd done anything like this herself.
She waited... And waited... And waited, for long hours. The night turned into day, yet the storm would not pass. Still, his soul remained, though his body had slowed. His heartbeat was at one a minute, his brain was dreaming. The cold did not stop, and the ice kept building, and any normal mortal would be long dead...
Yet... He was still alive. What strength! What fortitude!
Hela knelt down and laid her ethereal hand on his head through the ice. This more direct connection let her cast a dreamwalking spell, and soon she was within his mind.
She was assaulted by the honks of horns, the loud noise of thousands of people chatting, and she stumbled into a street. She felt a man's arms wrap around her waist, and she was yanked out of the way of some metal chariot that blared angrily as it drove past. The man turned her around and smiled, and Hela felt blood rush to her cheeks for the first time in... Ever.
It may have been a mere astral projection, but it felt so real.
"Hey! You gotta be careful around here," he said kindly. He set her down, his blonde hair shining in the sunlight. She brushed off the dress she wore in the dream-the spell allowed her to blend in with the dream, so she appeared as a mortal woman.
"I... Thank you," she said. The man kept smiling.
"So... Going to the Dodgers game?" He asked. Hela looked at all the people walking past them-All with pennants or flags or tickets. She shrugged.
"I... Suppose I am," she said. "I'm not very familiar with the Dodgers-"
"From Norway, right?" He guessed. "The accent-Sounds like some of the resistance fighters I fought with."
"Ah, yes," Hela said with a nod. "Yes! Norway!"
"Well, come on," he said with a grin. "Let me show you the great American past-time." He held out his hand to her. "I'm Steve. Steve Rogers. What's your name?"
She hesitated. This was only a dream. He couldn't possibly know she was real. He wouldn't just extend such courtesy, and yet...
She reached out and took his hand, smiling softly.
"Hela," she said. "Hela... Lokidottir."
She came again, and again, and again, visiting him whenever she could. Sliding into his dreams as they went through his life. She saw the tragedy of his mother being beaten by his father, and felt the pain and anguish and anger. She saw Steve's mother rise up again, and again, no matter how much it hurt. She saw how Steve had resolved to be just like her, and to never stay down.
She saw his childhood. So many bullies, so much pain. She saw him meet Bucky, and how good of friends they both were-More than brothers. Days of riding trains and playing baseball and drawing on any surface they could find. She saw his art college education, his love of culture and of literature. She saw the war.
So much bloodshed, but so much courage. So much kindness. So much loss. So many friends...
And finally, she saw the plane crash. The supposed end of the Red Skull before that. The regrets he bore that he tried not to let destroy him. And his dreams of the future, the hope of peace and enjoying it.
Those were the dreams she loved the most, because Steve seemed happiest there. She loved his smiles, his laughter. The social faux pas and brief bits of foolishness that he displayed, the trouble he had dancing, the way his eyes would light up over a childish radio show or music he loved. The obsession with baseball and how much he put into it, a strange hobby that filled him with contentment. The tears he shed when no one was looking, that she so wanted to wipe away. To kiss away.
Hela saw it all. She wanted to see more, so much more. She couldn't though, not while he was frozen in the ice. Not while his story was stopped.
So Hela took a rare physical trip to the base of Yggdrasil itself, between the roots of the mighty tree of reality. She walked the holy soil, offered the respect deserved to the gatekeepers, and strode into the domain of the Norns.
As usual, the three sisters were at work: Urd with her new obsession from the mortal world, television. Verthdandi, with her love of baking. And Skuld, who had taken up tinkering. All three stood and bowed the moment she entered, a courtesy she appreciated.
"Norns, I ask thee for information," she began, "on the mortal Steve Rogers of Midgard... Also known as Captain America."
Urd of course was the first one to break with the practices of respect around royalty, grinning like a cat that had gotten its prey. "Oh? Interested in the frozen champion, are we? ... My Queen," she quickly added at Hela's glare.
"Oh, it's wonderful!" Verthdandi said with a smile, "it's simply wonderful! One day, he will be found by other heroes! He will be returned to a world that needs him, and he will become one of the greatest heroes of all the Realms! That's what Skuld showed me!"
Hela found herself fighting a smile. "I see," she said. She looked over at Skuld. "And when he dies?"
Skuld smiled. "As with any great hero, he will either ascend to Heaven when he dies, or go to Valhalla," she said.
"Then," Hela said slowly, "there is no chance of him coming to Nifelheim then?"
Skuld frowned, confused. "What? Of course not! Why would he?"
"Check again, Skuld," Verthdandi said gently. "Maybe there's a possibility he will."
"For a lovelorn queen," Urd added. Hela didn't bother with a glare this time-She fired off a sword that took a few locks of silver hair from the head of the eldest Norn. "Shutting up now," the chastened Norn of the Past said, hiding behind her TV.
Skuld examined the threads of fate carefully, each one with a meticulous use of her tools and odd lenses. Microscopes, Hela recalled the term. The youngest Norn went over and over the threads, humming and grunting softly as she studied the possibilities of the future.
Hela tried to hide her impatience, but at last could not take it any longer.
"Well?" She demanded.
Skuld looked up, nervous, but sure. She shook her head.
"No," she said. "Not a chance. Not even within the most remote possibility."
There was a deep, hard silence.
"... I see," Hela said softly. Verthdandi moved to make her apologies, but Hela held up her hand. "It was... Idle curiosity, nothing more," she said. She turned and strode out of the Norn sanctuary. She returned to the Bifrost, and went back down to Nifelheim. Deep into her dark palace, underneath the ever twilight sky.
It was only then, in her private chambers, that she allowed any tears to fall.
She visited him one last time. The night before he was to be rescued. She entered the dream, and assumed the form of the woman he'd loved-That he'd never stopped loving. The scene became that of a wedding suite, and she was being held from behind by Steve-Her new husband. She sighed as she leaned against him, and he smiled lovingly back at her in the mirror.
"Our wedding day," she said with a happy smile. Steve's joy was nearly effervescent. He turned her around to cup her cheek, and bent down to kiss her lovingly. He held her like a desperate man clinging to a bit of floating debris in a tossing and turning sea. She returned the embrace, full of all the love she could muster.
More love than she ever thought herself capable of feeling.
"It feels... Like it was all worth it," Steve said softly, breaking the the kiss and gazing deeply into her eyes. "Every bit of pain along the road... All of it. For this moment."
"Now, we can make enough happy moments forever," Hela replied breathlessly. She hugged him again, kissed him again, desperate for his love.
"Mmm... After everything we've been through together? This feels... Perfect," he said. He hugged her tightly, resting his head atop hers. Hela sighed, and snuggled into his warmth.
"I love you, Steve," she said, fully and honestly. He tilted her head back up, eyes gazing into hers.
"And I love you... Peggy."
His happy smile... His earnest yearning... It all sent a deep chill through the goddess of death. One deeper and colder than the furthest depths of Nifelheim. She looked at the mirror, which reflected her true self. Steve saw the illusion, his fantasy made real... And yet... To deceive him...
You could have him anyway, Hela's mind thought. He's only a mortal! You have suffered loneliness, an eternity of it! Far beyond what he could fathom! Why can't you have your fun? Why can't you enjoy yourself?!
Because a strong man, who has known power all his life, will lose respect for that power. But a weak man knows the value of strength, and knows compassion...
She had been strong all her life. She had so much power... And here she was, abusing it. Not respecting it.
Not respecting him.
Hela shut here eyes tightly. She sucked in a deep breath. She gently pushed Steve away. She looked back at him, determined in the face of his confusion.
"Steve," she said. "You're going to wake up, and this will have all been a dream," she said softly.
Steve blinked. "What are you talking about?"
"You probably won't remember most of this, if you remember anything at all," Hela said, tears now bubbling at the corners of her eyes. "But I want you to know... That for me, the dream wasn't an illusion. It was real. You are real!" She was in her true form now, and Steve stared in shock. "You've made me feel things that no mortal ever has before! That-That no one ever has before! And that is why I can't do this to you! And I'm so sorry... Your future will be full of pain, and loss and battles. You will lose so much! But you will gain so much and I..." She burst into tears, "I don't want to lose you! But I have to!"
"I... I don't understand," Steve said. Hela continued to cry, but managed a smile as she did so.
"It's all right," she sobbed, even as he hugged her tightly. "It's all right... You'll be all right..."
"But," he began, pushing her chin up to look in her eyes again, "will you?"
She didn't have an answer for that. Before she could even try to come up with one... The dream ended.
Steve Rogers was being flown away, in the Avenger's Quinjet. He was already waking up, and would soon be thrust into a modern world he didn't fully understand, but nevertheless one he would fight for. Far away from the icy wastes in the land called Greenland.
Far below, Hela watched the jet shrink into the distance, and then vanish entirely. Her tears had stopped. All that was left was the cold, stoic face of her mask.
She turned away, and left for Nifelheim. Back to her eternal vigilance over the land of the dead.
Back to a land devoid of dreams.
How was that? And no, first chapter was not just a dream. This is a flashback.