Gwen finished throwing up in the corner of the cave, wiped her mouth and straightened up. "I'll never get used to that," she muttered weakly.

The crashing sea beneath the cliff, coupled with the cliff itself (and the long, long drop between them) brought her back to her senses fairly quickly. "Don't give in on me," she told her knee as she sidled out of the cave, cane wedged in her knife harness for safekeeping and both hands gripping onto the craggy rock for support. She did her best not to look it down and managed to make her way all the way to the top of the cliff without screaming, and took a moment to steady herself on the lush green headland before turning around and looking at the vista of Asgard spread out before her.

Something was… wrong. The air tasted metallic and there was no music to be heard from the city, even though the wind was blowing from that direction. Gwen, like all rodents had a good instinct for danger, and now every fibre in her body was telling her to turn face and run.

"This is a very bad idea," she murmured, setting off towards the city as the wind pulled her hair around her head.

%

The metallic smell was blood, it turned out. Lots of it.

Gwen hid in the shadows as she stared at the massive plaza that connected the city to the Bifrost. Someone, or something, had torn what looked like the entire Asgardian army apart. If anyone else was alive, they must have got the hell outta dodge, because apart from the bodies the streets were deserted. She could hear rumbling sounds inside the golden palace, as though somebody were demolishing it.

"Psst!"

She turned around and saw a couple of kids, cowering in a doorway opposite. "What happened?" she asked them in a low voice.

"It's not safe out here," one of them told her, glancing around. "She might come back. Come with us."

Since she had no better plan, Gwen darted across the street and followed the kids around the back of the building, where there was a big wooden trapdoor leading to some kind of cellar. She dropped down into it, grimacing as the impact shook her joints, and let them lead her through a small arch shrouded by a curtain into a series of dusty, echoing catacombs. There was a large huddle of people waiting for them, led by a tall man with golden eyes and a fuck-off massive sword.

"Heimdall!" Gwen hissed, running up to him. "What the hell is going on?"

"Funny you should say that," he replied, ushering the kids past him and down a tunnel. "What are you doing here?"

"Odin's dead, isn't he? And that means something bad. Where's Loki?"

"We have seen and heard nothing of either Odinson," Heimdall replied. Now that everyone was ahead of them, he followed them down the tunnel and beckoned for her to follow him. "When was the last time you saw them?"

"A few hours ago. I heard he exiled you."

"The boy has been in a foul mood. I believe I have you to thank for that."

Gwen shrugged. "I'm not his mother," she said. "What he does is none of my –"

"Duck!"

Without thinking, Gwen dropped to the floor as Heimdall lifted his sword and swung it where her head had been just half a second ago. Something blocked it with a screech. Gwen scrambled out of the way, turned around and saw a seven foot tall blackened, twisted corpse parrying his hit with his blade. Its eyes were glowing a vivid, terrifying green.

In a shower of sparks, Heimdall twisted his sword with a grunt and kicked the zombie thing back against a pillar. He drew his arms back to take another strike, but before he could a knife embedded itself in the thing's left eye socket. It crumpled to the ground, the green light inside it fading, and Gwen braced herself against the pillar before yanking her weapon back out again.

"You're welcome," she said, wiping black slime off of it. "What was that thing?"

"The reanimated corpse of one of Asgard's long-fallen soldiers," Heimdall told her, resheathing his sword.

"And that's bad, right?"

"Very much so. Would you care to follow me? It's not safe to talk here."

"Evidently," she said, glancing around them. The shadows seemed to be growing, reaching out towards them even as they moved away. "After you."

%

"The goddess of death," Gwen said, sat on a giant piece of rubble in the vast, abandoned cavern the people of Asgard were hiding out in.

"Yes."

"Rightful queen of Asgard."

"Indeed."

"Secret history of thousands of years of bloodshed and colonialism."

"I am afraid so."

"And the Odinsons are…?"

"Half the universe away."

"Can't you get 'em back?"

"Not without attracting Hela's attention."

Gwen buried her face in her hands. "Coming here was a terrible idea," she mumbled.

"Yes," Heimdall agreed. "I can see why you would think that. Why did you return to Asgard?"

"I told you. Because Odin's dead, and –"

"What does that mean to you?" Heimdall asked, golden eyes serene as he cleaned the black goop off of his sword. "Do you feel some kind of vigilantine urge to protect my people?"

She snorted. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Do you feel guilt for Loki's actions that have led to this situation?"

"I don't even feel guilt for my own actions, gatekeeper."

"Then why?"

"Because…" she took one of the knives out of her harness and tested it against the pad on the bottom of her palm. "Because I was bored. I did all I could do on my own planet, and I needed a new mess to throw myself into. Is that the answer you're looking for?"

"I see more truth in it than you think," Heimdall replied. "Troubled souls seek trouble, Ratatosk."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Then, of course, there is the simple fact that you are dying."

Her eyes shot up to him. On her hand the blade slipped as her fingers switched, drawing blood. "It's rude saying something like that to a lady," she snapped.

"You are running from death."

"I'm not dying!"

"I can see the fear in your eyes, even if you cannot. You have weeks, at most. Days at least. Old lungs failing, old bones crumbling."

She clenched her fist, nails digging into the red gash. "I'm not dying," she repeated, through gritted teeth. "I'm going to live forever out of fucking spite."

Heimdall chuckled. "Coming from you, I can almost believe it. Rest those weary bones, the Asgardian air revive you. I have need of a troublesome rodent like you yet." He clasped her shoulder in one of his massive hands as he stood up, so hard Gwen felt her teeth rattle. By the time he had walked away she could already feel the big ugly bruise forming there. She broke so easy these days. Cuts and bruises and worse. It was like she was made of paper.

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back. "You think I'm gonna die?" she said under her breath, to whoever might be listening. "Just you wait and see, you bastards. Just you wait and see."