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There was a strange feeling, like a hook had caught around his spine and was yanking him through space. Or perhaps it was an anchor, holding him in place while the world re-centered itself around his fixed point. He went from a rocky clearing to a dark but large room of polished black stone, an arched ceiling, and torchlight that guttered in the wake of whatever it was that had brought him here.
There was no sound to draw his attention, but Steve was aware on an instinctual level where to turn to look for the presence of someone else. A dark green runner followed the center of the long room and ended at a raised dais capped with a large, grotesque throne made entirely of bones– not all of which were humanoid, even at a glance.
A woman sat, no, draped herself on the throne, one long leg thrown over an arm of the seat, her upper body and elbow propped on the opposite arm so she could cup her chin on her palm and stare at him. She looked tall and sleek, her armor appearing almost liquid in places and chitinous like an insect shell in others, predominantly black with designs in the same dark green as the runner. Inky hair spilled around slim shoulders in contrast to milk pale skin, and the entirety of her eyes glowed golden without whites or pupils to disrupt the divine radiance. Her mouth, full and soft and blood red, was curled in what might be an enigmatic, secretive smirk but combined with that armor, her pose, and what looked like black-painted talons on her fingertips, it came across as a predatory smirk. Something in Steve’s hindbrain that he thought he couldn’t feel anymore screamed at him to run, to hide, to do whatever he could to get her attention off of him before he was turned into prey.
It also screamed at him that he was too late. He was already prey. Not even the horrible howl he’d heard a few moments before had made him as afraid as being in her presence did.
There was no one else in the room. Steve slowly moved his shield to hook it on the holster at is back, not wanting to disrespect her by appearing openly wary and defensive around her. He had a feeling even the vibranium shield wouldn’t help him against her, anyway.
He took a slow breath and stepped closer, bridging the distance between them. Her brows rose slightly, and he felt his mouth go dry, a situation that wasn’t helped when her smile deepened, seemingly amused by his boldness. At least, he hoped that was the case.
“To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence, Midgardian? It is rare that someone living is in our lands.” The Queen’s – Goddess’s – voice was a raspy purr, lower and huskier than he had anticipated. It reminded him of Natasha’s, a contralto with a little velvet and a little gravel, meant for whispers in the dark. Something twisted in his gut, but he couldn’t seem to make himself look away from her eyes even if it would have been more polite, more deferential.
“I apologize, your Highness. My name is Captain Steve Rogers, and I didn’t mean to come here. There was an– incident involving magical stones. I’ll happily leave if you can tell me how to, I don’t want to disrupt the order of things here.”
Her head canted a few degrees to the side and though there was no way for him to prove it, he could feel her attention focusing even harder on him, like she was looking through him, seeing every bit of him inside and out. Whatever she saw made her hiss slightly, her eyes flinching halfway closed, and the twisting in his gut worsened in uncertainty over what could have caused that reaction.
Her armor creaked quietly as she drew her leg up and over the chair arm and placed both booted feet on the ground, then pushed herself up into a standing position. The Queen slowly came down the shallow steps, her wide hips swaying with each riser, before she prowled in a wide, slow circle around him, seeming to take him in from every angle. “Stones? What kind, do you know?” The hair on the back of his neck prickled as her voice came closer when she was behind him, and he couldn’t tell if he imagined her breath on his nape or not. Surprisingly, she was taller than Steve by almost a foot. She was taller even than Thor, and it was as unnerving as all the rest. “Something that can do that sounds quite dangerous to just have lying around.”
“Norn stones, ma'am--Your Highness. Thor called them norn stones.”
She slowed to a stop in front of him and rested one hand on her cocked hip, her lips twisted in a vague sneer. “Thor was correct. I'm guessing he didn't explain them well, though, else you wouldn't be so shocked to be here.” Her head chanted to the side as she studied his face, her gaze narrowing and sharpening again to give him another soul-searching look. “And now that you're here, you just expect me to let you leave? Just like that?”
Steve's hands clenched slightly, and he resisted the urge to draw the shield back between them. “Please, Highness. Something horrible is happening, and I need to help fight. The world needs me. My team needs me.” He was tired– so tired. The ghosts of his past squadron had been right about that, but he still had a job to do, people who were relying on him.
The Queen of Hel hummed noncommittally for a moment before she seemed to come to some sort of resolution. “I hope you'll understand my situation, Captain Rogers. If people learn that anyone, living or dead, can simply come and go as they please from these lands, then there will only be chaos and anarchy here. The only reason there isn't currently is because of the strict rules and laws that everyone abides by.” She turned to the throne again, the half skirt of her armor swirling around her long legs. Instead of re-taking her seat, she leaned against the side of the throne, her arm draped along the top of the high back. “If I do this for you, there must be consequences and repercussions. There must be high and dangerous enough stakes that no one else would willingly try to repeat the action. However,” she added as if to placate him, seemingly aware that his mind was scrambling to parse out what the consequences could even be, “I also acknowledge that this was not something you willfully intended to do. Some grace will be given for that.”
Steve could feel cold sweat on his spine. Her low, considerate purr only made him feel more and more like a web was being spun around him and that it was too late to get out. His jaw was clenched, and he was wound so tight there wasn't even room for him to jerk in surprise when she waved her hand and a small table manifested itself in front of him, with a simple seat on either side. A piece of paper was on her side, and a pitcher of what he assumed was water was on the side next to empty glasses.
He watched her take the opposite seat, graceful and confident, but only sat when her eyes narrowed and some of the taunting humor faded from her smile.
The shield was set down next to him, leaning against his legs. It still seemed useless, but the weight comforted him.
“Thank you, Captain. There's no reason we can't be civilized about this.” Her smile returned and deepened, genially, but there wasn't any warmth or answering smile in her eyes. He shook his head when she gestured toward the water, and had his read on her reinforced when the smile turned into more a baring of too-sharp teeth instead.
“Fine. Business only then.” Rather than pick up a pen or some other, older writing utensil like he might have thought she would do, Steve watched her hold one of her slim, elegant hands over the page. Letters in a sharp, spiky font appeared, the ink looking black at first before drying into the same dark green as was in her armor and in the textiles of the room.
“I, Hela, Queen of Hel, will return Captain Steve Rogers to the fight his team is about to engage in.” Her eyes rose to his, one corner of her mouth quirking in a sardonic smirk. “I will ensure he arrives at the battlefield unharmed, without delays or detours that would otherwise interfere with his ability to assist them. In return…
“In return, Steve Rogers, when you eventually fall in battle, you will be mine. You will not go to some other realm of the dead but will join me here, and will be my champion.”
It was both better and worse than he had thought it might be. Steve swallowed past a knot of nerves in his throat and shook his head. “What would being your champion entail? I can't agree without knowing the expectations properly.”
“We can discuss the definition and duties at that time. It may be many years before that happens and my needs could change.” It was vague--too vague, and she sighed in annoyance when he merely stared at her impassively until she waved her hand at the page again and the writing resumed. “...the duties of which will be determined at that time by both parties and will not be unduly taken advantage of. Does that please you, Captain Rogers?”
He tried not to scoff. None of this pleased him. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“Mm. No lies between us, ljós. I would prefer the truth from you in the future, even if it comes with teeth. Now– the most important part of the deal. Once you have fought your little battle and helped your precious team… I want you to kill Thor.”
Shock rendered him silent for several long seconds before he stood abruptly, the action so sudden and jarring that both his seat and the shield fell to the floor with a loud thud and metallic crash. “No. He's my teammate, my friend. I refuse.”
Despite the noise, Hela merely watched him with that faint smile and too-sharp look in her eyes. She hadn't jumped or startled, as if expecting a strident reaction from him. “Not even if it means you can't return to the fight? Not even if it means our deal is null and void?”
A muscle worked in Steve's jaw, and he leaned in, his fists pressing against the top of the table. The goddess opposite him didn't seem the least bit intimidated, but he still made certain to meet her eyes, unflinching. “My freedom means nothing if it means taking a life. Any life. You could ask me to kill one of my enemies and I wouldn't do it, not for this. Not for anything.”
The silence that followed was tense, neither blinking for several long moments. She looked away first, surprising him, inky lashes dipping midway over her glowing eyes before she looked down at the page beneath her still-raised hand. Two signature lines appeared, capping off the contract with only what had already been agreed upon. She did not try to push for more with some other, less lethal concession.
A feather pen appeared next to the contract. Hela pressed the sharp point to one callused fingertip and drew blood, using it as ink for the pen nib to sign her name on the provided line, then turned the page to face him, proffering the pen.
Steve took the pen with care not to touch her bare skin and looked over the text, ignoring her as she placed her fingertip between her full lips to lick the wound closed. Only when he reassured himself that the text was exactly as she had stated did he take a breath and copy her, grimacing as he pricked his fingertip and signed with his blood. His name was longer, and it took a couple of tries to get enough to finish his signature. The pen and contract both vanished the moment he finished.
Seconds later, the table, everything on it, and even the chairs vanished as well, with Hela smoothly rising to her feet in the same motion.
“Gather your shield, Captain. As a gesture of goodwill and to put your mind at ease about your future residence here, I will refrain from taking advantage of time, space, and vague wording, and will return you to your team immediately.” When he didn't immediately bend to pick it up she arched a brow at him, her palm dropping again to the wide, rounded curve of her hip. “Unless you want to explore more of my hospitality…?”
“No. I mean– not yet, Highness. I'm ready.” He felt unsettled, off-kilter, having expected something more. A trick, more push-back, something though he couldn't readily say what.
Steve bent to pick up his shield, and had barely straightened again to his full height before her fingers were wrapped around his forearm, steel bands gripping him tight enough that, if he were unenhanced, he might bruise. He had time to look up into her unnaturally beautiful face and blank, golden eyes before the world twisted around them again, his stomach lurching in disorientation as his body tried to determine what direction was up and what was down, invisible pressure buffeting him from all sides.
He closed his eyes, the colors of a rainbow streaked with sickly green making him feel even more nausea and vertigo, only opening them when the pressure and sensation of falling sideways stopped. The ground felt sturdy under his feet again and the temperature felt different, warmer, less dry, a light breeze carrying the faint scent of green and florals he had never smelled before.
Hela released him, and he opened his eyes again only to follow the line of her upraised arm, one long finger pointing to something in the distance, an open area in front of towering walls barricading a golden, fantastical city.
“The battlefield will be there, Captain Steven Grant Rogers. You will have time to make it there before it begins.” She was quiet for a moment, pensive, before turning to meet his gaze again with a wry, humorless twist to her lips. “Feel free to leave details of our meeting and deal out of any debriefings, I would rather Thor and… other parties not know of my involvement. There will be enough repercussions as it is.”
For the first time Steve considered that possibility, that someone might be upset at her involvement, that she helped him. He frowned and turned to face her, only to draw himself up as she scoffed and rolled her eyes at him.
“Don't feel responsible for me, Captain. I make my own decisions, and you have enough on your plate as it is.” Then her mouth twisted into a smirk, and she reached out to drag her nails over the star emblem on his chest. “If you are that worried about me though, you have only to call for me and let yourself falter in battle, I will come for you myself when it is time.”
He took a half-step back from her, the poisonous flirtation in her tone setting him on edge. Before he could back up further, she had a grip on his arm again, near the wrist, and raised his hand between them. The mark of the feather pen should have healed immediately, but a tiny pinprick still showed on his fingertip.
“My blood is now in your veins, ljós. If you have need of assistance, I will come, you have only to request it.”
Steve stared at Hela, feeling a strange mix of horror and anticipation roiling in his gut. The nib of the feather pen had still had her blood on it when he pricked his finger, mixing it with his. He jerked out of her hold, knowing that he was only successful because she allowed it. “Not until I fall in battle, Your Highness. As the deal states.”
Unwilling or perhaps just unable to be in her unsettling and unnerving presence any longer, Steve clipped the shield into place across his shoulders and pulled his cowl back into place over his eyes, starting for a path that seemed to lead to the front gates of where he assumed was Asgard.
He did not look back.