Peter woke up on the sofa the following morning with a woolen plaid thrown over him. He looked up and saw Hela behind the piano again. He pretended to be still asleep to observe her. Her white bones shone in the early morning light as she let her hand run over the keys without pushing them, almost like a lover's caress. Peter noticed a single tear on her cheek.
"They said that sadness freezes around the heart, in Asgard. They have always associated cold with either maliciousness or despair… They also said that tears are the melting water, which has to leave the body when the frost dissipates."
Hela didn't look at Peter, so it startled him that she knew he was awake. And as if she not only saw him but also heard him think she said.
"Death sees everything, Peter. I may have only one eye but that doesn't mean my dead side can't see you."
Aha. That explained it. Didn't make it any less unsettling, but Peter could accept it for an explanation. He decided to try a conversation to break the silence a bit.
"How did you learn to play the piano so well?"
Hela gave him her sad half-smile again as she looked at him and caressed the keys once more.
"My father taught me."
"Oh…"
"Your kind doesn't possess the magic to conjure or fight anymore, but you have another kind of magic, magic that is less tangible and more elusive than what we are used to. Older magic that is closer to the roots of Ygdrassil than ours, in a way."
Now that surprised Peter. Hela pushed a few keys and played a small tune.
"Music. Your magic is like a ball of black wool with a single red thread somewhere in it. It's nothing but a red thread, hard to find unless you unroll the whole ball, but as soon as you knit something the red will create a pattern in the black. In your music, the sounds are the black wool, and a spell is woven in them like a red thread. "
"Wait… Are you saying that music is magical?"
Hela gave him a snarky grin.
"It's completely different from the magic of me and my father… Also, few mortals know how to play with the red thread. They create music, knit without aim, and sometimes the red thread forms a useful pattern and many times it doesn't. But there are people who know how to weave spells in music, there always have been."
Peter nodded.
"So… you can 'play' with the red thread, no?"
"I can. It's not as simple as it seems, but I can."
"It's really wonderful."
"You're generous with your compliments, Peter Parker."
"That's because you deserve them."
"Not many share your opinion…"
"In the medieval age here all people but a few exceptions believed the earth was flat. Well, last time I checked the earth was still a sphere. Having a lot of supporters doesn't make a statement true."
Hela's lips folded in that hesitatingly happy smile, that smile that looked as if any moment someone could say something to ruin the happiness of it. Peter smiled as well and proposed.
"Why don't we go see what the others are doing? Perhaps we could watch a movie… for some reason I think you will enjoy Tim Burton's movies…"
Hela reapplied the illusion and showed a full smile now, and hand in hand they left the library for the living room.
(Pagebreak)
They were halfway the second week, and the peaceful moments in Loki's demeanor were rare. Tony was terribly worried because there was no improvement at all. Frigga tried to console him a bit.
"The spell does not break gradually, Tony. Do not be afraid that you don't see improvement… It shall not be long anymore now."
"What will he be like, after this?"
"His mind will not be ill anymore. Damaged, but not ill. He will… It won't be easy, but it will be easier than… this."
Loki was currently screaming while fighting the restraints they had to put in place to stop him from hurting himself. The look in his eyes was so frightened and deranged it almost physically hurt Tony to see him like that. Whatever demons he was being confronted with, they had to be worse than anything Tony even wanted to imagine.
"I just hope he will feel better."
"He will. I promise you."
(Pagebreak)
It was so confusing, all was so confusing… Loki saw so many things and even though he knew it was real (it is not it is not) it felt like an imaginary world, a dream almost. He felt as if he as being dragged from one place to another, as if everything that happened to him was without him actually having a choice. His free will in the situation was a simple illusion. The images were they images or not? He didn't know anymore, it was so confusing… Loki didn't want to participate anymore. In his muddled mind he had started to realize that it had to be some sort of dream, that the memories he had were all too mixed up, but he didn't know what was real and what not. He didn't care anymore for real and un-real and surreal and what not. He just wanted it to stop.
As if for once the universe had decided to listen to his please, Loki felt the confusion fade. He opened his eyes, which he had kept pinched shut, and saw… nothing. It was a blissful, happy nothing, and it filled him completely with a sense of delightful order. Everything was where it ought to be. He sighed contently. The notions of time and space, the universe and all its secrets… he had the feeling he understood now. It was safe and good and all the pain and fear he had felt was gone.
(Pagebreak)
It was the next day that the change occurred. Suddenly, the trashing and crying had stopped, and Tony had been afraid to see once again that empty stare he hated so much. Instead, Loki's face had been completely relaxed, a soft smile folding his lips and his eyes staring dreamily into the nothing. Frigga had smiled when seeing the change.
"The spell has broken. He will sleep now, and when he wakes the dreams will have faded."
It was quite a relief to see Loki in a state that looked at least a bit happy, Tony thought, but nevertheless he was anxious to see what the god would be like when waking…
(Pagebreak)
They had watched a whole lot of movies, and Hela had especially liked "The Corpse Bride", for rather obvious reasons. Clint had joined them. Clint hadn't wanted to even meet Hela at first because she was Loki's daughter, but Natasha had given him a stern remark in Russian and that had changed his mind. Hela sighed at the end credits of The Corpse Bride.
"If only the afterlife would be as lively as it is portrayed by this Tim Burton, perhaps it would not bore me so much…"
Clint leant back in his seat and turned to Hela.
"Really, if it's not like that, what is it like? Is it all burning flames and atoning for your sins and stuff?"
Hela raised an eyebrow.
"You must be confusing Niflheim with Muspelheim, Son of Barton…"
"Oh? Well, I didn't believe in the afterlife, and now I know it does exist I'm kind of curious…."
Hela nodded and started to speak.
"My realm is everything but fiery or burning. It is cold and misty. My halls are made of black marble infused with the souls of the unworthy, and the mighty roots of the world tree Ygdrassil run over my grounds. There are the halls where I judge those that are sent to me, and where I meet those who come to banter, and my personal quarters Éljúðnir, where I have my books, things and servants… There is Náströnd, the hall made of snakes where the murderers and oath-breakers wade eternally through rivers of venom… Close to it you find Hvergelmir, the source from which the eleven rivers are born, and above it crawl the roots of Ygdrassil, where my dear Nidhogg eats away at the world tree and spends his days sucking up the souls of traitors and insulting the eagle that lives in the top of the tree."
Hela seemed lost in memory.
"On some days, listening to the pointless insults Ratatoskr brings him is the only distraction I get… Of course, in the cold and misty plains of Niflheim dwell the souls of the dead, and sometimes they amuse me as well, but… most of the time it's rather boring."
Clint didn't really know what to say.
"Err… Not meaning to insult you or anything, but that sounds like a crappy place to live. Who is Nidhogg?"
Hela nodded sadly.
"As a queen I should not allow such sentiment, but yes. Niflheim is not the most hospitable of realms. Nidhogg is… well; you could say he is sort of my pet. He's the dragon that lives under the roots of Ygdrassil. Sometimes I sit on the roots and have a chat with him, but most of the time I just listen how he quarrels with the eagle."
"Wow. You have a pet dragon? Can you ride on him?"
Clint seemed impressed. Hela… not so much. Peter could see that talking about her own realm hurt her. The young goddess shook her head at the archer.
"When Nidhogg breaks loose, Ragnarök comes."
"You use a hell of a lot of unpronounceable words, you know that?"
Peter wanted to facepalm. He filled in for Clint.
"Ragnarök is the end of the world, Clint."
"Oh. Well, then I can see why you haven't got much riding practice yet."
How insufferable were these people? To his surprise, Hela actually chuckled.
"Yes, that is true. However, I may ride him when the time comes."
"So if I ever see you on a dragon, it's time to run and hide?"
Hela chuckled again, but coldly now.
"When Ragnarök comes, there will be no place to hide…"
Those words contain so much dread that it makes Clint pale. Hela's cool, deep green eyes stare at him without betraying a single emotion.
"You however will not likely see my realm. As you are a warrior, you will most likely die a warrior's death and go to Valhalla."
"That… that's a good thing, right?"
Peter sighed.
"I think we should do a mythology course for the whole team… spares you the time to explain it to everyone separately."
Hela looks at him, and the cold unfeeling glance makes place for an affectionate one.
"Ah yes, that would indeed be a good idea."
Clint made his way out, shuddering from that bizarre feeling he felt throughout his whole body, and Peter and Hela are once again left to their own devices.
"I think you should let the others hear you play the piano."
"No. When I play, the illusion falters. I do not want the to see…"
Hela hesitates, and Peter pulls her closer.
"You are not a monster, how many times must I tell you that? You are beautiful just the way you are."
(Pagebreak)
"Operation Avenge Hela" was an elaborate plan consisting of different phases, and Justin had been more than happy to help when hearing what Peter had in mind.
"I have everything you asked me for."
"Even the ultra strong magnets?"
Justin grinned.
"Even those. Are you sure Mr. Stark won't mind they're Hammertech?"
"He never even needs to know, really."
Justin's grin became wider and he spread out the things he had in his backpack. A special box filled with strange metal devices, a roll of fluffy pink fabric, a few cans of spray paint, glue, clothing bleach, jelly red cubes, and a white pot without a label.
"As you can see… everything is here!"
"Perfect. Are you ready for phase one?"
Justin rubbed his hands with a mischievous grin.
"Completely, Spiderman!"
The plan was simple. All they had to do was wait until washing day. Washing day was the day everyone grabbed their clothes and armor and collectively made their way to the basement of Stark Tower, where a whole battery of top-notch washing machines stood. To prevent people from having their clothes mixed up, each of the avengers –including Thor- had his own machine. Sneaking downstairs and adding a royal dose of clothes bleach to Thor's laundry detergent was ridiculously easy… Justin and Peter couldn't help but giggle all the time, and if JARVIS presumed anything was wrong, he didn't say so.
"I can't wait 'till washing day…"
Washing day came, and the clothes bleach did exactly what they had hoped it would do: turn Thor's fiery red cape into an impossibly gay shade of pink. The thunder god stared at his recolored cape in amazement.
"These Midgardian contraptions are malicious! Look what this one has done to my cape!" he called out to the other Avengers. Clint almost got a heart attack from laughter, and even Natasha couldn't help but giggle. Bruce grinned, and even though Steve felt sorry for Thor, he still had to admit the situation was kind of funny."
"You must have used the wrong product to wash it."
Thor's trouble with "Midgardian Contraptions" were famous throughout the tower, so no one actually suspected bad intent as a cause for the bleaching. The god looked sort of helpless at his pink garment. He sounded defeated when he sat down and said.
"What am I going to do now?"
Bruce suggested.
"You could always wear it like that and act as if nothing is wrong. You might just start a new fashion!"
Thor didn't look too convinced at that time, but his picture still graced the front page of the paper the next day with him sporting his very pink cloak…
Peter and Justin had only just begun though. The cape, that was nothing compared to what they still had in store for the oblivious blonde god… A few days later they crawled through the Tower at night, to Thor's room. Again, Justin had trouble with keeping his giggling under control, but this time Peter made him shut up.
"Sssh, we can't have him wake up now!"
"As if he's going to wake up just like that… the guy's miles into neverland…"
Thor was snoring. Snoring at a decibel level that challenged a Concorde taking off. Even if Justin giggled at full noise level, it was unlikely he would rise above the sound Thor made while sleeping.
"You do the bathroom, I do the hammer."
Justin nodded and disappeared into the bathroom. Peter then proceeded to take out his equipment. Mjolnir was lying next to Thor in bed like a teddy bear, easily reachable for the young Spiderman. With spray-paint he gave the mythical device a solid layer of pink. Then he opened the special box and take out the devices. It was a batch of super-magnets, and they had been proficiently coated in pink fur for their purpose. One by one, Peter put them on Mjolnir. He winced at the clanking sound the magnets made when they flew from his hands, but Thor didn't move a muscle at it. When he was done, Peter cleaned up and sneaked to the bathroom. There, Justin had screwed the showerhead open and inserted the jelly red cubes. He was just finished with screwing it back in place when Peter entered.
"You done?"
The nerdy boy grinned and put two thumbs up.
"All done, baby…"
"Let's get out of here then…"
The next day everyone was woken up by a resounding scream.
"WHO DID THIS TO MJOLNIR!?"
The kitchen door flew open, showing Thor in pajamas holding a very pink, very furry war hammer. He dropped it on the kitchen table, leaving a deep dent in it. Once again, everyone chortled, if not for the molested hammer then for the fact Thor wore pajamas with little hammers on them, his blonde hair sticking in all directions. Peter and Justin looked at each other and then back to their plate, afraid that if they looked at Thor any longer they would burst out in laughter. Eventually, Clint did that for them.
"Oh my god that is so GAAAY!"
It earned him a slap from Natasha, but no one could deny the truth. Pink cape, pink furry hammer? That was like a very gay Barbie version of Thor. Thor glared at the other Avengers.
"If you do not unmask the culprit of this deed immediately I will unleash the wrath of Thor!"
That made them all burst out in laughter. Thor looked at them non-comprehendingly.
"What did I do?"
Steve restrained his laughter and said.
"It's not that we don't want to take you serious or anything, but… it's kinda hard to take someone wielding a fluffy hammer while in pajamas serious. That's all."
Gruffly, Thor left the kitchen, slamming the door.
Bruce looked suspiciously at Peter and Justin.
"Did you…"
"Anything you say can and will be considered ridiculously hypocritical."
Bruce sighed and rolled his eyes.
"Just keep it clean, okay?"
The boys just wanted to nod when a second scream echoed through the building.
"MY HAAAAAIR!"
(Author's Notes)
So, Hela is being avenged. Which includes Mjolnir getting a makeover. I always thought Thor was like... a little too vain, so attacking the looks would have been a good vengeance. Also, good luck getting super strong magnets off ANYTHING, let alone a mythological hammer. I suppose Tony would know a way, but since he's currently unavailable... (eheheheheeh...)
Then, we learn Hela's realm is quite dreary. Poor Hela. Ygdrassil is like the only plant in the whole place, and then she still only gets to see its roots. Yay for Nidhogg though, I'm a big fan of all things apocalyptic dragon.
Any suggestions for an author's gift (yes, yours are noted jaquelinelittle, and I'm working on how to do that) are welcome, since over 50 reviews will bring you that!
REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW PLEASE! I love you all, my dear reviewers!