4/27 Edit: Changed the last two Realms from Midgard and Helheim to Midgard and Niflheim
Chapter 2: The course of Potter Luck never did run smoothly
Loki wakes to the feeling of Evelyn's kiss still lingering on his lips. He gasps out a ragged sob, heart pounding from the abrupt wake up call. He can still feel his wife's magic coursing through him, though it's fading quickly. His cheeks are wet and his throat tight.
Then wild and raw and chaotic magic brushes up against his own, startling him upright. That's Soul Magic running amok. He doesn't even know how it's possible, but that's what's happening. He's barely managed to throw his sheets back before the wing of the palace his rooms are located in explodes. Lightning flashes across the now visible night sky, thunder cracking loudly in its wake.
"Thor!" he roars unconsciously, so used to scolding his brother for his flamboyant ways that even three years after his death he still reacts to lightning and the thunder that follows like that. His magic surges to life, honed by too many years of constantly being on edge. Battle shields fall into place as easily as breathing.
Then he blinks and remembers.
His battle brother is dead. The warrior he fought side by side with for three years as an equal is nothing more than a memory now. Thor hasn't been broken down and humbled yet. He still struts around like he hung the stars himself.
Loki presses a hand to trembling lips, allowing himself just a moment of grief to mourn what once was. Of what he desperately wishes he could've held onto for longer. Then he inhales and exhales, collapses his shields, and shoves the feeling down into the depths of his soul. He doesn't have time to dwell on it for too long, lest it never let him go. He has a wife to locate and save. At least, after figuring out why Thor blew up their wing of the palace. He doesn't ever remember him doing that after Odin gave him Mjolnir. If it's just Thor being an idiot, he'll slip away with Asgard none the wiser. He knows he's not ready to stay and face anyone here. Not by himself, not without Evelyn beside him to temper his rage and pain. Of course, she might just do all the yelling herself. She always did have a few choice words to use whenever the topic of Odin came up. He huffs out a laugh at the thought.
It's a simple matter to change his night attire for something more suitable to rummaging through the rubble his brother's produced for who knows why. Sparks still dance through the air, and the smell of ozone and smoking pine increases the closer Loki gets to the center of the explosion. With a hiss, he draws his hand back from a slab of metal that shocks him unexpectedly.
"Was all this truly necessary?" he mutters to himself while shaking out the numbness in his hand. That shock had certainly been stronger than anything his brother could produce before it all started. He stumbles down a particularly steep set of rubble, only to abruptly find himself face to face with a rather pissed off Thor.
"What did you do?" his brother demands, lightning arching up and down his arms. It's very reminiscent of when he'd lost Mjolnir and had to master his abilities without it. Loki's so thrown by the sight that he doesn't even react when Thor reaches out to grab ahold of him. "Loki, what trickery is this? How am I alive?"
A sound of surprise tears it's way out of Loki's throat. "You—" He's so unprepared for that question his voice hitches uncomfortably. "Thor?"
"Do not play your games with me, brother," Thor snarls, pressing closer. "What did—"
"Thor!"
Loki doesn't even realize he's reacting to the unexpected voice until the screaming hum of his battle shields penetrates the ringing in his ears. Until he raises his hands, glowing a sickly green, only to find himself face to face with someone he hasn't seen or heard or touched or allowed himself to dwell on in seven years. His magic peters out, unable to sustain itself in the wake of his shock.
"Mother?" Thor's voice is as shaky as Loki's limbs feel. It's only because the oaf hasn't actually let go of him that Loki hasn't fallen to his knees yet. Unconsciously he reaches up to latch onto his brother's wrist, needing something to ground himself with. Because of that, he feels Thor shudder. "Loki?"
He squeezes his eyes shut, unable to think coherently while looking at Frigga, and he needs to make sure he's not imagining certain things before trying to deal with her. "What does the name Jane Foster mean to you?"
Thor's grip on him tightens minutely. "She was—" His brother lets out a harsh breath and Loki feels painful hope blossom in his chest. "She showed me what it truly meant to protect someone."
Tears gather and Loki futilely tries to blink them away. It shouldn't even be possible. "You've been dead three years to me, brother," he whispers hoarsely. "Midgard and Niflheim were all that were left." He meets Thor's horror filled gaze with his own broken one. "Evelyn and I, we were the last two. She had been hit with a death spell a week prior when Wakanda fell."
"No," Thor breathes out, his free hand coming up to grip Loki's shoulder.
Loki swallows around the painful lump in his throat. "I used Soul Magic."
"Loki!"
He flinches at Frigga's outburst. "Do not!" he snarls, holding up a hand to warn her from approaching. That's the last thing he needs right now. If she gets close enough to touch, he knows his control will snap, and he's only barely hanging on by a thread as it is. He turns his broken gaze towards her, his teeth bared in a mockery of a sneer. She's taken only a few steps towards him, towards them. When their eyes meet, she recoils slightly. He both relishes and despises her doing so. It's what he wants, he tells himself. For her to realize he's not the son she raised anymore. He's not even her son, he thinks painfully. That honor belongs solely to the oaf he still calls brother. His eyes dart momentarily to the smoking doorway where Odin stands looking on expressionlessly. The sight raises his hackles even more.
"Brother," Thor murmurs, squeezing his shoulder in both warning and support.
"I can't—" Loki gasps out a sob while taking a step back. "I have to—"
"You will be going nowhere, Father."
Loki whirls around so fast he nearly falls over in his haste. Sitting atop the rubble he'd stumbled down just minutes earlier is his precious daughter, Hela. She's just as he remembers. Half living, half skeletal. Her living half is still a perfect mix of him and Sigyn. His laughing green eye and Sigyn's harvest wheat golden hair that fades to a ghostly white on her opposite side. Her skeletal half, he knows now, is like a mockery of his Jotun heritage. A burning red eye regards him solemnly, pale blue skin pulled taunt haphazardly across exposed bone.
"Hela?" He hasn't seen her since she dropped Evelyn into his cell all those years ago after the attack on New York. "What are—"
"Stopping you from making a mistake," she returns blandly. "You need to stay on Asgard for now."
He falters slightly, her instructions unexpected. "What?"
"You need to stay here, Father. There's nothing you can do on Midgard for my Avatar at the moment. She has tasks to complete on her own before you two are reunited," Hela explains, lazily picking at the underside of her fingernails on her living hand with a dagger held between bony fingers. "Once she's concluded with them, she will make her way to Asgard with all due haste."
He inhales sharply, realizing what she's asking him to do and to not do. "You cannot expect me to just stay away from her!"
"You can and you will," Hela counters, fixing him with a glare and pointing her dagger at him. "Your presence would be more of a hindrance than a help. She is capable of taking care of herself. You did teach her yourself, after all."
"There is a murderer out for her blood!"
His daughter immediately waves away his argument. "Tom Marvolo Riddle is nothing more that a wraith at the moment, bound to his host body. As she is now, my Avatar would have little hardship sending their souls to me."
A growl builds up in his chest and he does nothing to try and stop it. "And is that what she must do before you allow us to see each other again?"
"No," she retorts flatly. "Goddess of Death I might be, I am not cruel. For all her courage, that is not something I will make her face alone."
"The man who murdered her parents, he's alive again?" Thor abruptly demands, stepping forward so he's shoulder to shoulder with Loki. "I thought she'd sent all the pieces of his soul to your Realm, niece."
Hela dips her head in acknowledgement. "She had, and she will again with better help this time. However, Father in his desperation sent my Avatar's soul back thirty years. Tom Marvolo Riddle has not yet risen to power again. She herself is just shy of her eleventh year."
Loki chokes on air, not having realized that that might've happened. He'd been so desperate to give them some form of second chance that he hadn't even bothered to consider that Evelyn didn't have his numerous years at her back. "I could've killed her," he whimpers, slumping against Thor.
"No, Father, that I can assure you never was a possibility," Hela soothes. "The soul you sent back had mastered the Deathly Hallows, so I was able to stop before it when too far."
"And you couldn't have stopped it sooner?" Thor asks, a protective arm curling around Loki's shoulders. He doesn't have the heart to shrug it off.
Hela smiles wryly. "As I said, Father was desperate. He powered the spell with his very soul having nothing left to lose. It was simply because she was already my Avatar that I was able to halt her soul at all. Death might be beyond time, but there are still limitations on what I am able to do."
"Hence why you now have us."
Out of the shadows steps a woman. She wears black leather with silver armor and a winged helmet that's strangely reminiscent of the ones the Valkyrie wear. Golden eyes gleam brightly in the nighttime gloom. However, it's the midnight feathered wings that hold Loki's attention the longest. All those of the Valkyrie have white feathers. There's never been another color.
"You've finished, then?" Hela inquires.
A self-satisfied smirk graces the unknown woman's lips. "I put the fear of death into their dull minds. They'll not touch her should she ever desire to return."
Hela's returning grin is more of a dangerous baring of teeth, much like Loki had done earlier. Only hers isn't broken. It's full of righteous fury and a familiar maniac glee that earned Loki the title of God of Mischief centuries prior. "Well done."
The woman bows to Hela, offering her a pulsing blood red stone. "The first piece, milady."
Hela delicately takes it out of the woman's hand. Loki can't help the shiver that slides down his spine when an agonized scream echoes from it. "Very well done indeed." She gets to her feet and daintily makes her way down the rubble. "Unfortunately, this is where I must leave you. Uncle, please look after Father for me until my Avatar arrives." She stretches up onto the tips of her toes to kiss Thor's cheek.
Thor in turn wraps her up in a crushing hug. "I would do so even without being asked."
Hela draws back to gift him with a dazzling smile. "I do so like what your Jane Foster wrought. You will be a better king because of her."
Thor smiles back sadly. "I hope to be."
"You will be." His daughter nods decisively before turning to him. She doesn't even bother waiting for permission, simply throwing her arms around him. "Father, be strong," she whispers into his ear. "She is coming." He just holds her tightly, unwilling to say anything himself lest it come out horribly emotional. He presses a desperate kiss into her hair before letting her go. She continues on past him towards where Frigga and Odin still wait. He's a little surprised they didn't try to say anything while Hela was talking. A wounded noise escapes him when Hela calls Frigga, "Grandmother."
"Brother," Thor murmurs, taking a step towards him only to stop when Loki flinches.
"I am the reason she was killed," he hisses out through clenched teeth. It's one of the few things Evelyn's never been able to convince him otherwise on. He knows with utter certainty that, because he told that wretched Dark Elf how to get out of the dungeons and to Jane Foster, Frigga died. There will never be any way for Evelyn to change his mind. He is the reason the woman who raised him and loved him in spite of himself was killed, and he will carry that knowledge with him until he dies.
"And yet here we are, all alive again," Thor counters. "Is that not enough for now?"
He laughs brokenly, thoroughly amused at how stupidly naive Thor still can be even after all that's happened. "I am still the monster parents tell their children about at night."
"No, you are my son." The fierceness in Frigga's voice causes Loki to freeze in place, allowing her to wrap him up in a hug. "Whatever you have done, you always have been and always will be my son."
And Loki breaks. Great, heaving sobs tear their way out of his throat as he collapses, dragging Frigga down with him. She just holds him through all of it, rocking the two of them back and forth. He clings blindly to her, pressing his face into her shoulder while desperately melding their magic together so he can feel the steady tempo of her heartbeat through it. She allows it, crooning softly like she used to whenever he or Thor were upset as a child.
Only once he's calmed somewhat does she speak again.
"You have a story to tell, but it can wait until morning," she says, smoothing a hand over his hair. "For now, you and Thor will join Odin and I to sleep. When morning dawns, then you will tell me what drove you to use Soul Magic and what you meant by Midgard and Helheim being the last two Realms left."
And Loki, so utterly exhausted, doesn't protest.
Evelyn wakes to the sound of screaming.
High-pitched, irritating screaming that echoes around in her head and makes her want to drop a building on whoever's making the noise, if only to shut them up. Then she remembers her dream and abruptly sits up, only to gawk at the scene in front of her. She's back in the cupboard under the stairs. That much she'd expected. However, the sight of most of the stairs blown to smithereens above her, not so much.
"What did you do?!"
Ah, the lovely tones of Aunt Petunia shrieking her head off about something. Probably the destroyed staircase, now that Evelyn thinks about it. She does wonder how exactly that happened, because she can't remember ever doing that before.
"Answer me!"
Tipping her head back, Evelyn looks up to see her aunt hanging over what's left of the banister, red in the face, and pointing an accusing finger at her. Uncle Vernon looks like he's gearing up to give her a sound thrashing, if only he can find his voice. He's turning that lovely shade of purple that only Evelyn is capable of bringing out in him.
Dudley, however.
Dudley is looking at her with wide, far too knowing eyes for a ten-year-old boy.
"Eve?" he whispers hesitantly in the din his mother's producing. No 'Evie'. No mocking tone. No terror over the fact that she somehow managed to blow up the stairs. No, he's reacting like her Dudley from after the war, once they'd reconnected and he stopped communicating with his parents.
"You've got to be kidding me," she retorts flatly, twisting so she can stop craning her neck. Of course she managed to screw something up. Damn Potter Luck. She only hopes that nothing goes too terribly wrong on Loki's end. He creates enough chaos all on his own, he doesn't need her bizarre luck to help him at all.
"What did you do?" Dudley hisses at the same time his mother shrieks the question again.
"Oh will you shut up?" Evelyn gripes, shooting a heated glare at Petunia. "It's not like you'll believe anything I say, not to mention you don't want any talk of freakishness, so why the hell should I answer you?"
She is viscously pleased when Petunia is so surprised that she just shuts her mouth. Unfortunately, this makes Vernon find his voice.
"Girl! You will not—!" Vernon sputters, unable to finish his sentence.
"I won't what? Talk back?" Evelyn taunts, a smirk reminiscent of her husband gracing her lips. "I'd really like to see you try and stop me."
"Eve!" Dudley protests, only to yelp when his mother looks at him in shocked horror.
"Diddykins?"
Evelyn's unable to stop her gagging noise at the nickname, not having heard it for over twenty years. "Merlin and Morgana, I'd forgotten about those," she mutters, shuddering slightly.
"Don't you go mentioning that freakish nonsense in this house!" Vernon roars. "When I get down there I'll—!"
"You will do nothing, Vernon Dursley," a new, female voice interrupts.
Evelyn whips around so fast she nearly falls off the cot she's still sitting on. Wood chips go flying in her wake, and she sneezes from the amount of dust she stirs up.
Standing at where the base of the stairs used to be is a woman. She's dressed in silver Asgardian armor over black leathers, a winged helmet sitting atop raven black braided hair. It's probably either her glowing golden eyes or the black feathered wings that have Petunia screaming this time.
"You're from Asgard," she says rather dumbly, not having expected anyone this quickly. Even with how clever Loki is, even he couldn't've managed this in so little time. Of course, that's also her assuming they remembered at the same time. There's no telling how screwy things get when Potter Luck comes into play.
"Helheim, actually," the woman corrects her. "Lady Hela sends her greetings."
Evelyn frowns. "Did she also offer an apology for dumping me into an Asgardian prison cell for a year and a half?"
"No, you'll have to take that up with her when you see her next."
"I don't exactly plan on dying anytime soon, thanks," she throws back indignantly.
The woman cocks her head to the side, and the sight strangely reminds Evelyn of her husband. "Are you not Lady Hela's Avatar? Did you not unite the Hallows under your command?"
Evelyn squints suspiciously, wondering how the woman knows that. "I haven't yet, given that I'm only ten years old at the moment. That doesn't happen until I'm nearly eighteen. And what, exactly, does that have to do with me not dying but still able to see Hela again?"
"Your body might be young again, but your soul remembers." A pulse of magic ripples through the air, tingling under Evelyn's skin. "Death is beyond time. As far as the magicks surrounding the artifacts are concerned, you've already mastered them and thus they answer to you. With them, you are able to summon Lady Hela and she is able to summon you."
Well, that explains how she got pulled out of Potter Manor without any of the magical defenses trying to blow Hela to kingdom come. That would've been nicer to know before it happened. Still, what's done is done, and she won't get anywhere griping about it, so she shelves her irritation until she sees Hela again.
"Right, fine, whatever." Evelyn scrubs a hand over her face only to sneeze again because her hand's still covered in dust. "If Asgard didn't send you, what are you even doing here?" Golden eyes flicker towards where the Dursleys are still stuck upstairs. Evelyn realizes they've been suspiciously quiet. She turns to see Petunia frozen mid scream and Vernon stuck with his mouth twisted into a rather impressive snarl. "You did something," she states, glancing back at the woman.
A self-satisfied smirk graces the woman's lips. "Whatever gave you that idea?"
"The fact that they're frozen by some magical means, and the Ministry isn't breathing down our necks," Evelyn points out dryly.
The woman chuckles softly. "The benefits of being taught magic by some of the greatest of the Nine Realms. Shielding the house from your Ministry's detection for a brief period of time is a simple matter."
"Handy, that."
"Indeed. Now, I am here for two reasons. Firstly." Evelyn tries not to gawk, but the sight of the woman walking up air like the stairs are still there is kind of cool looking. "Vernon Gerard Dursley, Petunia Harriet Dursley nee Evans." Now Evelyn shivers, the woman's voice echoing and stirring up dust with the amount of power she suddenly brings down onto her Aunt and Uncle. "This will be your only warning. You will not threaten Evelyn Rosalie Potter. You will not touch Evelyn Rosalie Potter. Should you disobey, your deaths will be swift and unforgiving. Evelyn Rosalie Potter is the beloved of milady Hela's father. Believe me when I say that we will know if you disobey."
"You really didn't have to do that," Evelyn protests faintly. "I wasn't planning on sticking around long anyways." If she can just get to Diagon Alley, she has the money in her trust vault to last her until she heads to Asgard.
"Perhaps," the woman murmurs. "However, I have waited a very long time to be able to say that." Her wings flare, magic crackling in the air as she bares her teeth in a sneer that would make both Loki and Snape proud. "Do not test me, mortals, unless you wish to experience death as the worst of your kind do." Threatening apparently done, she drops gracefully to the ground in front of Evelyn. "Unfortunately, this next bit will not be pleasant for you."
"And what, exactly, do you plan on doing to me?" Evelyn asks warily.
The woman reaches out to rest a finger over where her lightning bolt scar lies. "That bit of soul stuck in your forehead. Lady Hela does not wish for it to trouble you this time as it did your last."
Evelyn abruptly feels sick at the reminder of the Horcrux she carried around for nearly seventeen years. "It's back?" she demands, not having considered that this might happen.
"It is, hence why Lady Hela sent me to rid you of it. As I said, though, it will not be pleasant."
Her magic swelling in response to her panic, Evelyn cries, "I don't fucking care! Just get it out of me!" She doesn't want to spend one more minute with it inside her than she has to. Pain is something she'll deal with if it means the Horcrux will be gone.
With a wave of her hand, the woman clears her former cupboard of all its lingering dust. "Lie down," she instructs. "You will be weak for a while after this. Do not attempt any magic until you have sufficiently recovered."
"Eve, what's she talking about?" Dudley suddenly speaks up, not having said anything but also apparently not having been frozen like Evelyn originally thought.
"There is a piece of the soul of the murderer Tom Marvolo Riddle lodged in Evelyn's forehead," the woman answers. "I will be removing it so it will no longer taint her own soul and magic, but your cousin will be very weak afterwards. She will require rest."
"Good luck with that," Evelyn mutters under her breath. The woman glances knowing at her out of the corner of her eye, but doesn't comment.
"Can I—?" Dudley stops short, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as he looks at his still frozen parents. Evelyn holds her breath, wondering what exactly is running through her cousin's mind. "She won't get any rest here," he finally says. "Could you take her somewhere safe to rest instead?"
The woman shakes her head. "Nowhere that I am able to take her would be safe to leave her by herself as she recovers."
Dudley sends another searching look in his parents' direction before squaring his shoulders. "And if you took me as well?"
"Dudley," Evelyn breathes, surprised that he offered at all. They did make up, but offering to go with her? She can't imagine Petunia or Vernon would forgive something like that. Of course, they might just say she bewitched him with her freakishness. Their leaps of logic never are the brightest.
"You would likely not be able to return," the woman points out blandly, somehow thinking the same thing.
"I can't just—" Dudley's face twists up as he tries to articulate his reason. "I can't just stay here, knowing Eve's in danger. I was a right prat while we grew up, and I'm not going to be the same fucking arse this go round. If that means leaving, then I'll leave. I've got the rest of summer break to figure something out if it all goes to shit."
"You do House Evans proud, Dudley Vernon Dursley." With a beat of her wings, the woman rises up to the second floor and holds out a hand. "Now, come. There is little time left for me to extract the soul piece, and we will be leaving immediately afterwards." With only minor hesitation, Dudley takes her hand. Asgardian strength comes into play as she easily holds him while dropping soundlessly back down. She sets him down beside Evelyn's cot, and the two immediately take each other's offered hands.
"You don't have to do this," Evelyn whispers fiercely for all that she's holding tightly to him.
Dudley scoffs. "And stay here? You know I cut all contact with them for a reason, Eve. I'm not going to suffer through another seven years of that utter nonsense, not if I can help it."
"Then I'll take you under my protection," Evelyn insists. "I'll be Lady Potter soon."
"Those are things to discuss later," the woman interrupts them. "Evelyn, lie down." This time, Evelyn lists. Once she's settled, the woman reaches over to lay the palm of her hand over the lightning bolt scar. "Brace yourself," she warns before speaking a Word that reverberates through the air and rattles in Evelyn's bones.
Evelyn only has a moment to ponder this, as a fierce, burning pain erupts from her scar. Her back arches up off the cot while it feels like a fire is lit in her veins. She feels her mouth fall open, but she can't hear if she's screaming or not, the pain is so great. It keeps growing and growing and growing. In an attempt to just be done, she gathers what magic she can and hurls it in the direction of the Horcrux to try and shove it out. Something finally gives. Evelyn gets one glance at the satisfied woman holding a pulsing blood red stone before darkness comes crashing down over her and she knows no more.