Chapter Text
+ 1 Ages 14, 16 & 32
"Every villain has their origin story," Frigga said as she combed Hela's long hair, "but only good villains get a redemption arc."
"What about the accidental villains?" Hela asked.
"Are there such things as accidental villains?"
Hela chuckled, "Of course there are, Stepmother."
Frigga didn't try to understand what an accidental villain was, but she assured her stepdaughter that yes, even accidental villains could get a redemption arc.
The memory often replayed in Hela's mind throughout her rule of Hel; she often blamed Odin for that small curse, right along with literally being imprisoned in the nastiest corner of the Nine Realms. But she had to give it to the old man; he had been merciful in some aspects of her sentence. Like the fact that she could still control dead people, or more prominently the fact that she the ability to look into what was happening in Asgard with ease.
She supposed that Odin hadn't meant for that special gift to be something she enjoyed, even less so now that he had made it his arduous task to erase her from all Asgardian memory. But Hela treasured the small moments in which she could tap into what was left of her Seidr and watch her brothers grow up. She especially enjoyed the moments in which either of her brothers would do something so her that her father twitched in anger. Like when Thor would let Loki do his hair into ridiculously intricate hairdos, or when Loki chose his colors to be green and black.
She had laughed for days at the look of disgust on her father's face, then cried herself to sleep when she realized that Loki could not possibly remember the reason why he had chosen those colors. So yes, she guessed that having that small feedback was a little curse, but it was one she was rather fond of. Even if she could not hear anything said on the other side of the mirage.
Today Hela sat on her throne, looking at her realm with something between bitterness and fondness. The valley stretched below her filled with houses and building which she had ordered the people to make. She could no longer help the warriors get to Valhalla, or reunite families in the afterlife, but at least she could give the dead a purpose. Under her rule, Hel became organized, and the Valley of Warriors grew to be a splendid city. She ruled in every way that her father had not governed; mercy and kindness being the things she showed regularly. But inside, deep where none of her subjects could see, Hela grew bitter.
She hated the way her father was raising her brothers. Hated the way that he seemed to be doing his utmost to taint her image. Hated the way that he had erased her from the memory of the only people she had truly loved. Even Frigga, with her incredible magic, was unable to remember her only daughter and that made Hela unspeakably angry.
What about accidental villains?
What about them indeed.
To her people, Queen Hela was nothing but their salvation. Nothing but the reason that they weren't wandering helplessly around Hel. But more often than not, when an Asgardian came stumbling to her city, they would scream about how ridiculous it was for the dead to be letting someone like Hela rule over. She treated these people with kindness inviting them into her throne room and explaining what Odin had done, then asking one of the skilled mages to clear their mind from any magic remaining.
Today was no different. According to Hela's royal guard, an Asgardian had wandered into the city and started to scream once he had found out who their queen was, "A commoner," the guard assured her, "it's not clear what his job was before dying, but he is not from the royal court."
She had extended her hands, a gestured that her guards knew as 'bring him in,' and a few seconds later she had been left alone as the guards went to the guest rooms to bring the Asgardian. Her throne room was deadly silent for a few seconds, precious seconds in which she let her bottled up anger consume her every thought. The back door opened with a screech, and Hela turned her head to look at the person who had entered. The maid smiled at her and bowed, "Good morning, Hela."
Hela pushed down her anger and smiled, "Röskva."
The old woman walked over to the throne and kissed Hela's cheek, then stepped down and started to prepare for the Asgardian's arrival. She set the table, making food appear and dusting the chair's sitting cushion before turning to Hela, "How has your day been, dear?"
Hela stepped down from her dais, walking over to grab a biscuit from the table, "Decent. You know I hate the days in which I have to deal with the people of Asgard."
The maid gave her a sympathetic smile and returned to her work, placing cutlery on the guest's side of the table, "I can't imagine it is easy for you."
Hela shrugged, "At least some people are starting to forget me. That is preferable than the alternative."
"If I may ask," Hela motioned for her to keep talking with the hand that held the biscuit, Röskva cleared her throat, "How are the babies doing?"
Hela smiled at Röskva's fondness of her brothers. Her old maid had managed to meet both babies before dying, for a brief time but just enough to love them dearly, "Thor wielded Mjölnir yesterday."
Röskva raised her eyebrows, "Did he now?"
Hela nodded, "I always knew he was worthy."
"What about Loki?" Röskva asked, "How is he doing?"
"Same old Loki," Hela said fondly, "he turned into a wolf and scared Thor dumb."
Röskva chuckled, shaking her head with amusement. She finished arranging the table and turned to look at Hela. The younger woman knew what was coming before the maid could say the words, but the air was still sucked out of her lungs, "How are you doing?"
Her thoughts were private, fickle, things which no subject could ever know. Except Röskva was not a subject. She had been the one to save Hela from her own sadness when she had first arrived at Hel. She had been the one to look into her eyes, grab her face and place her forehead against Hela to comfort her when her punishment became too cruel. Röskva was not just a subject; she was Hela's lifeline.
"It gets worse every day," Hela confessed.
The Queen knew that if not for the light knock on the door Röskva would have hugged Hela, and then tears would have ruined her make up. Röskva settled for merely stroking her cheek and wishing her good luck. The maid left the throne room, and Hela ordered the guards to come in. One near emotional breakdown left, then she could go to have lunch in the kitchen and listen to the tales told by her cooks.
Ages 20, 22 & 39
Hela had had to watch in horror as everything went down. She had to sit in her throne room and push down bile as Loki's real skin came into view and she remembered the thousands of times she had called Jotuns monsters, wishing she could take it all back. She had to watch Thor being cast out, words eerily resembling her own casting out as if her father was making fun of her one last time. She had to watch powerlessly as Loki learned he was a Jotun and became bitter and cold like his home planet.
Loki's fall still tormented her dreams, as well as Loki's torture at the hands of the Mad Titan.
Thor's unwillingness to take the throne made her eyes water, but his crusade to save the universe made the fear in her heart grow.
Malekith's resurface was enough to send her down a deep dark hole of anger and regret that she could barely recover from.
Frigga's death had a completely different effect, her chest and mind became empty of any emotion she had once been able to muster. For the first time since she had fallen to Hel, Hela grew cold and angry with her subjects, all who pitied their queen instead of resenting her.
When her time came close, she apologized to her subjects and promised that she would go back to rule over them when the troubles at Asgard were resolved. A big fat lie that she had had to tell them to appease her conscience. She had no intention of returning to that prison, even if she had grown to like her life. She did not belong in Hel as she did in Asgard, she knew that much, and even her wounded heart yearned to be in the palace that had seen her grow up. She just did not know if she craved to be there to make the empire fall in payment for her suffering or if she merely wished to regain that which she had lost.
The night the doorway appeared she had been sitting alone with Röskva, her maid had her hands placed on her head, trying to mend the wounds caused by Frigga's death and failing spectacularly. Heartbreak was not something you could heal. The air in the room changed, making strands of Hela's hair flutter and she snapped her eyes open.
"Hela promise me you won't do anything you will regret," Röskva pleaded, and Hela had to hold back an angry retort. She deserved the world, not bitter responses and hurtful words.
"I will do my best."
She stepped through the portal expecting to see Asgard or a bloody battlefield only to be met by the scent of grass and salt water. She inhaled, letting the light air fill her lungs and clear her mind. She stayed with her eyes closed for a couple of seconds, dreading what she would see when she stepped out of the portal. In the end, she regretted ever doing so.
Standing in front of her like two of the most painfully realistic mirages she could have ever conjured stood her brothers. Dressed in battle armor and staring at their latest foe with wariness. The sight nearly made her snap, almost made her summon her swords and drive them through her brothers' hearts just to finally put an end to her suffering. She refrained just because she needed to hear them speak. She hadn't listened to their voices in so long that she had forgotten how they sounded.
"So," she started, voice monotone. She cursed at Odin again, cursed for ripping her apart and turning her into the monster she presented her brothers with, "He is gone. Shame, I would have liked to see that."
A torturous silence followed one that ate away her brain and patience; she had not waited this long for them to charge into battle against her without giving her the satisfaction to at least say her name. Or maybe that was not it; perhaps this was another trick by Odin because he sensed that she had grown comfortable in her exile.
"You must be Hela," Thor said, and dizziness took hold of her, "I am Thor, Son of Odin."
For a second she was tempted to start a fight. She was tempted to say something that would challenge Thor and the words he had spoken. Pettiness had never been Hela's forte, but she could be every once in a while. Then she looked at Thor's eyes, and that thought went out of the window.
"You must promise me you will never be Past Hela again."
"I promise I will never be Past Hela again, little brother."
"Good," Thor said and cuddled into her, "because if you did turn into Past Hela, then I wouldn't be able to hug you as often because you would be different from the Now Hela and--"
"I know," She replied, "I am a Daughter of Odin too, you know?"
She walked forward, and the brothers tensed, ready to fight if the need arose, but she quietly walked in between them and headed towards the edge of the cliff. The brothers turned, to look at each other before following her. Slowly Hela made her way towards the side of the cliff, letting the tips off her toes hang over the edge, hoping the promise of injury was enough to bring some sort of emotion to her heart. Instead, her feelings remained unreachable. Her brothers came to stand beside her. She let their presences breathe life to her and tried to remember the last thing she had said before she vanished. Before her light was stripped from her and she was sentenced to live far away from them.
"Our father said you are here to bring Ragnarok," Thor said, "Is that true?"
Hela let her eyes wander to the horizon, feeling the way the wind tousled her hair and tipped her forward into the abyss, only for it to push her back into safety. She willed for her battle armor to fade and be replaced by one of her simpler outfits. Black flowing pants and a shawl, so informal and comfortable she barely used it, but she was tired of being in that stupid armor for so long, so she allowed herself to enjoy the way the grass tickled the sole of her feet, "Odin, ever the dramatic."
There was a pause, and then Loki spoke. His voice was like everything she had imagined it would be, deep and silky like it was made of the finest of kinds of honey, "Are you?"
"I don't know yet, brother," she answered honestly, "I am too angry at Odin to set foot on that planet without wanting tear it down brick by brick, but at the same time I want to go back home."
"We can't let you do that."
She bit her lip, "I suppose you can't. Ragnarok is not something you should take as lightly as I do."
"You seem lost," Thor said, and she turned to look at him. His golden hair and bright blue eyes reminded her so much of her before her fall than she found it hard to breathe.
"I am lost," she told him, "Odin took away my guiding light centuries ago, and I cannot seem to find it anymore. I believed that by coming here I would get it back, but--"
She could not finish her sentence, her throat closed up, and she had to look away. Hela realized that she was feeling again and nearly screamed in frustration when she reached inside of her to find that the only thing she could feel was anger. She was angry at Odin for stuffing her in Hel, angry at her brothers for not remembering, angry at her mother for dying.
"But they cannot seem to remember you," Loki finished for her.
"I thought Odin's death would lift the spell," she wrinkled her nose, "but it seems like even in death Odin has found a way to curse me."
There was a long silence in which Hela thought about her options, thought about the way in which she could kiss her boys goodbye and return to Hel, or in which she could start a fight and start Ragnarok, destroying everything Odin had ever done. She swallowed, heart hammering in her chest as she turned away from the view and started to walk back to where the portal had been. She called in her Seidr, and it came rushing to her like an obedient dog who had been away from her master for too long.
"Hela, wait," her steps faltered at Loki's call, and for a second she was sure an eight-year-old boy would run up to her and grab her hand. Instead, she heard heavy footsteps, "will you leave Hel open?"
The portal swirled to life, Hela clenched her fists to stop herself from turning around and touching Loki. She knew he would probably cut her hand off and then she would have no other choice but to be the villain that Odin had warned them about, "If you ever need your dear old sister you know where to find me."
She stepped through, magic washing over her, and when she opened her eyes again, she could see Röskva cleaning her room up. The maid straightened when she came through the portal, sending Hela a quizzical glance, "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in the world of the living?"
She shook her head, wrapping her shawl more tightly around her shoulders, "They did not remember me."
"Oh, Hela dear," Röskva crossed the room in a matter of seconds, wrapping her hands around Hela's neck and bringing her close. Hela finally lets that anger turn into tears; big, fat, ugly tears that rolled down her face and messed up her makeup. But that night when she was removing what remained of the eyeshadow, Hela noticed her eyes had turned from their unnatural black into a shade blue that would match Thor's. She stared at herself in the mirror, blinking every so often and waiting for them to turn back into the ugly color.
Then out of the corner of her eye, a shadow shifted in her room. Loki came to stand at the frame of the bathroom door, leaning on it to make himself appear much more relaxed that he was actually feeling, "Sister, may I ask you a question?"
Loki wavered, tightening his grip on the book and looking up at Hela. "Sister, may I ask you a question?"
Hela hesitated for a few seconds before answering, "Of course, Loki. Is it about your reading? Are you not understanding?"
"Of course, Loki."