The Man That Won't Die Meets Death: Chapter 6 (Patreon)

Author's Note: I actually had to rewrite a large chunk of this chapter a couple times. It was beginning to read like a play by play of the movie or something, just with Hela watching. Which is not what I wanted. We already know what happened during the movie - and honestly, Hela wouldn't be privy to many of the scenes. It took a lot to force it out of that rut.

One week after the previous chapter

Hela paced across her throne room, agitation coming off of her in waves. 

There weren’t any spirits or servants at the moment. No need to hold back or pretend that she wasn’t frustrated beyond belief. 

Besides Heimdall, anyways. And she didn’t care if he was confused or not. 

Hela had two younger brothers. 

Which… Probably shouldn’t be as surprising, right? 

After all, it had been thousands of years since she’d been exiled. Her parents were still young, so of course her parents would have more children. It would be expected even. 

Hela just… Hadn't made that connection. 

Sure, Hela might have been avoiding Asgard in her astral spying- there were way too many people that would still ‘see’ her - but she should have connected the dots. 

All of that made logical sense, and it should not confound her as it was. 

Counterpoint: She now had two younger brothers. 

… 

She couldn’t find an argument against that. 

Thor. The first of her brothers. He looked so much like pictures great-grandmother Elli had shown of her father in his youth. His face, his hair, his eyes… The resemblance was uncanny. 

Hela wanted to be insulted that her brother received better treatment than her own exile, seeing as how he was on a planet with an actual civilization. But, to be fair, Hela had committed multiple levels of treason in murdering several of Asgard’s allies that were supporting peace, followed by attempting to kill her father. 

Something told her that her brother didn’t quite manage her level of treason. 

Then, not long after Thor, she saw her second sibling, Loki.

Svelt instead of burly. Black hair instead of blonde. Where she could easily imagine Thor amidst a Vanaheim hunting party, Loki would be amidst the scholars of Alfheim.

All that, and with a silver tongue that carried an impressive skill in speaking falsehoods. Had her youngest not claimed that Odin was dead, she might not have realized he was lying at all. 

Not that Thor would know. Hela’s prison still bound her as tightly as ever. Therefore, Odin was still alive. 

Which meant Loki was trying (and succeeding) in guilting Thor into staying in exile. Which didn’t quite make sense to Hela - Thor was in exile just as surely as she was, for all that his exile was better furnished than hers. There was no conceivable way for him to return on his own. 

And if aid ever did come, the truth would be revealed. 

It did make her ever more curious to learn what exactly her brother had done to earn exile, yet still love their father so. 

All that being said, Hela truly was out of the loop, and had very little idea of what her little brother schemed. 

A couple days later, aid came for Thor. There was a scuffle as Loki sent a war machine on an underdeveloped world’s territory, her brother regained his power (a curious bit of enchanting - she really wanted to get a closer look at it), the entire group departed for Asgard… 

And then an insanely bright light seared itself into her vision as it tore a scar through Yggdrasil, slamming into Nifleheim, and Hela felt the sudden surge of Jotun souls enter her Realm. 

It was at this point that Hela came to the conclusion most older sisters had of their siblings: Her brothers were idiots. 

All told, the entire debacle was the greatest upheaval the Nine Realms had seen in years, spawning millions of schemes and plots throughout Yggdrasil. Everybody was in an uproar, each planet demanding answers. 

Hela had no doubt that a summit would be held. Without the Bifrost it would take some time for all to attend. While there were many ways to travel, with sorcery or technology, the Bifrost had been by far the fastest. 

Alliances would be reviewed. Treaties examined. Complaints. Explanations. Apologies. Restitution. Etc.

It was one giant mess. One that everybody of importance was staring at, both internal and external. 

But none of that felt like it mattered right now. 

Because despite all of the turmoil in the cosmos, or discovering that one had family, there was one spot that hasn’t changed at all. 

Steve remained trapped inside a frozen sarcophagus, living on borrowed time. 

What did it matter that Asgard was weaker than it had been in millennia if she couldn’t use it to help the one friend she’d made in all her years of exile?!

Hela continued to visit him in his dreams, banishing the frost and ice as best as she could. But while that could grant some measure of peace, it did nothing for the elements that ravaged his physical self. 

And she could do nothing. 

And that hurt more than anything. 

Hela used her Sight to view the runic array of her prison, glaring at their remaining integrity. 

Weak as they were, they were still strong enough to restrain her. They might as well be in pristine condition for all the good it did her! 

It was truly an ironic situation. Now would be the ideal time to break out - the Bifrost was destroyed, Odin would know, but there would be little he could do about it. There were Paths that could then be taken to Midgard. She could find Steve herself, and…

Hela cast the dream aside with a scowl. 

Let alone the simple fact that she wasn’t strong enough to break out, Steve would then require medical attention, which she could not provide. 

It was with great relief that Hela allowed herself to enter Steve’s dreams several hours later. 

The dream coalesced around her, forming into a tavern. The lights and conversation was muted, with frost on the windows. A quick flick of her hand, and green fire burst from the fireplace, filling the place with warmth. 

It was a small thing, but she hoped that it was helping. 

Hela found Steve in the back, by himself. He saw her and gave a smile, raising a drink in welcome. “Good afternoon Lieutenant.” 

A lieutenant? Hela was a bit bemused. Was that what he perceived she was this time?

“Good morning, Captain.” Hela slid into the booth across from him. “What brings you here by yourself?”

Steve shrugged. “Was hoping for some privacy from the base.” He replied with a vague gesture. 

“Ah” Hela frowned. “I can leave?” Hela offered, meaning it. Sometimes, even in dreams, one desired solitude, and she was being intrusive enough as it was. As a stranger or as a target to control it didn’t truly matter, but as a friend? That was different. 

“No no, you’re fine.” Steve hastily said before she could get up. “I don’t mind a little company. But what about you? You look more stressed since last I saw you.”

Hela let out a heavy sigh. “Things could be better.” 

How does one tell the other that they might die within months when they don’t even realize they are dreaming? 

For several minutes, Hela and Steve just sat in companionable silence. Blurred faces walked by, refilling drinks, and moving on. 

Not for the first time, Hela wished Steve had sampled more types of beer. The lack of variety was shameful. 

As the evening moved on they made some small talk, Hela just enjoyed the companionship after the stress of the week. 

But she couldn’t relax. Not fully. 

The cold hovered just outside the dreamscape, an ever present reminder just outside of hers and Steve’s perception. Any more aware, and Steve would waken that much more. 

A reminder that there was nothing she could do. 

“What would you do,” Hela broke the silence with a soft voice. “If there was somebody you knew in enemy territory, and if nothing changed, would die. But you yourself were unable to go to him.”

Steve straightened and gave her his full attention. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard what happened with my friend’s unit when they were captured.” 

“Ah-ah-ah” Hela waved a finger at them. “You aren’t allowed to go, remember?” 

Steve frowned. “How exactly am I not able to go?” He asked. 

“Let’s assume you are in a prison.” Hela advised. “One crafted specially for you and your strength.”

Steve looked at her skeptically. “Why would I be in prison?” 

“Don’t ask me.” Hela shrugged. “I’m just giving the hypothetical scenario.” 

“Hypothetical?” Steve looked at her with doubt before nodding. “I would contact my unit and trust them to accomplish.”

Ah, if only. Never before had Hela missed her legions as she did now. Long gone were the days she could order them to accomplish an objective, or order a detachment of volur to see to one’s wounds. 

“And if they are unable or don’t have enough authority?” Hela pushed. 

Steve shrugged. “I know enough people that I can call in some favors. Assuming I’m allowed while inside prison of course.” He snarked. 

Any allies of hers were long gone. Dead or had forgotten her entirely. 

“And if that wasn’t enough?” 

Steve met her gaze steadily. “Are you asking for ideas on what to do?” He asked. “Or are you asking how to deal with losing even after giving it your all?”

Hela scowled. “He’s not dead.” 

You’re not dead. Not yet. 

She still had time. 

“But you don’t think it can be done,” Steve concluded. Hela said nothing, and he continued with “and you aren’t going to tell me more about it, are you?”

Hela shrugged. 

Steve drummed his fingers against the table. “Without information, there really isn’t anything I can help with besides generic advice you’ve already heard.” He eventually settled on. “If you told me an approximate area, I might be able to recommend some resistance squads, or I could ask a couple people for a parachute drop…”

Hela sighed. “No matter. I apologize, it was an unfair question to begin with.” And began to stand up. 

She knew more than anybody. Sometimes, one's best was simply not good enough, and there was nothing that could be done.

And what he said was true, but it was information she’d already thought of. There was nobody she could contact, and her legions were long gone. 

“Have you tried asking your superiors?” Steve tried, and Hela almost snickered as she adjusted her uniform. Nobody had been in a position to give her orders for so long… “Or your parents?” 

Hela froze. “What?” 

Steve tilted his head as he studied her carefully. “You’ve told me your parents were military folk. And were fairly high up.” He stated. “It’s possible they’ll have the knowledge or the reach needed.”

Another example of Steve remembering conversations he shouldn’t. But that wasn’t important right now. 

“My parents are the last people that would help me.” Hela replied firmly. 

Treason and attempted murder had a way of severing most bonds. They would take her and bind her more thoroughly than ever before. 

“Then don’t make it about you. Focus on who they would be saving.” Steve shrugged. “It might not be their area. But would they do it for the ‘soldier’?” Steve asked. 

That… Would they? 

As Hela thought about it, she was forced to acknowledge that it might work. Mother and Father highly respected the warriors of Midgard, despite their people having the shortest of lives in the Nine Realms. Many times, with either mortals they had become friends with or somebody that had caught their favor, they would send a Valkyrie to assist in honoring the dead when it was their time. 

If she phrased it right, it would be a matter of honor to assist a celebrated Warrior. And if that was not enough, their curiosity would do the rest. Either way, they would assist Steve. 

There was just one little problem with this plan. 

“And what if the price for doing so is more than I’m willing to pay?” Hela asked softly, the sounds of the bar falling to the back. 

For if she revealed herself, her prison would be tightened. To the point where she wouldn’t be able to Astral Travel anymore. She would never see Steve once more.

Was it worth it to be chained so thoroughly once more? 

Steve looked conflicted for a moment, before leaning forward, putting one of his hands on hers. “I don’t have an answer for that one.” He admitted. “I feel like I know you though. I have no idea what kind of situation you’ve gotten yourself into, but I’m sure you’ll do the best you can. And if you need help, you can always ask me.”

Hela wasn’t sure if she wanted to curse or to laugh. The situation she got herself into? This was all because of the situation he got into! 

How did this happen? Hela could distinctly recall being convinced she could convince Steve to join her in conquering the galaxy. How was he able to turn it around on her? To the point where she was willing to give up her dreams of conquest and look for something else. To where she was considering asking Asgard to save him. 

How dare he become her friend! 

And that’s what it boiled down to, wasn’t it? Steve was Hela’s friend. Steve was in trouble. So how far was Hela willing to go to save him? 

Had this been some monster to slay, the choice would be easy. If it required some lost, mystical artifact, she would scour the cosmos. 

But no. To save her friend, Hela had to give up her freedom. 

“I’ll think on it.” Hela lied. “For now, why don’t I walk you back to base?” 

“Shouldn’t it be me walking you back to base?” Steve asked.

As they chatted, Hela could already feel herself make the decision. 

Dang it. 

She was going to do it. 

Brief Author's Note: I'm considering cutting it off here, and leaving this for the next chapter.

To see Asgard again, after so long, nearly brought tears to her eyes. 

For all that she had seen incredible sights across the universe, Asgard would always stand above all, for it was home. 

Hela felt Heimdall more than saw him. The sudden pressure around her was enough to tell her what she needed to know, and she raced ahead. 

Heimdall was fast. But a spirit was faster. 

The city was a blur as Hela went through the town, through the doors of Valaskjalf (had they been closed it would have been impossible to get through the wards). With a familiarity that hadn’t faded even after all these years, Hela sped down hallways and rooms. 

With her senses, Hela could easily keep track of her mother, the light a beacon against the backdrop of the universe. 

It wasn’t until she arrived at her destination that she stopped. It had been three thousand years since they had last spoken. feeling hesitant and hating herself for it. 

Hela heard shouts and a commotion in the distance and sighed in aggravation. 

Why couldn’t Heimdall be a little less efficient? 

Throwing caution to the wind, Hela walked through the door and saluted in the manner of the Valkyrie Commander saluting their Queen. 

“My Queen.” Hela whispered, though it felt loud in the room as Hela used the old salute. “I seek an audience with thee.” 

Hela heard the sharp intake of breath, the subtle shift of a dress, but kept her head bowed. She was not here as a daughter - she was here as a supplicant, a former Valkyrie, asking for a favor. 

“Are you here to fight me?” 

Yeah, that was fair.

“I’ve only come to talk.” Hela sighed, practically feeling the chains of imprisonment tightening around her. “And to ask for a favor.”

She heard her mom take several steps towards her, nearly flinching as when she felt a hand on her cheek. 

Of course her mother would know a way for the physical to interact with the spiritual. Dang it, if she had known how to do that -!

“Let me look at you.” Her mom commanded, and Hela lifted her head. 

Oh. 

The hair was in a style she wasn’t familiar with and that looked rather impractical, and there was something about her that felt softer, if that made any sort of sense. But this was her mother. Older. Different in a way she couldn’t quite describe. But her. 

A thumb brushed across her cheek as Freyja’s eyes seemed to mist

“My daughter.” She murmured as she unexpectedly pulled Hela into a hug. “It is good to see you.”  

Hela remained frozen in place as her mother embraced her, feeling extremely confused.

Author's Note:

So, I will say - Hela isn’t exactly the most accurate viewpoint for her parents. From her perspective, they must hate her. She committed treason, murdered several allies and friends who also wanted peace, and then attempted to commit regicide, after which she was exiled for VERY good reason. So of course they hate her. 

Imagine how Frigga is feeling right about now - in the span of a week, one son tried to start a war behind everybodies back, followed by the second trying to commit genocide behind everybodies back. And then, during the fallout of all of that, her daughter that she hasn’t seen in thousands of years comes in and says “Mom? Can you help me?” 

She’s having a really rough week. So, yeah, there wasn't any way Hela was getting out of a hug. BUT, that doesn’t mean that Freyja has forgotten what Hela has done. Hela was an adult that made her own choices that led to committing murder and treason. That will need to be addressed. But for now, a mother wishes to welcome her child home. 

That being said - Hela has been imprisoned for 3000 years. When is enough enough?

But now I’m rambling. 

And right now, we as the audience know that in a little bit, SHIELD is going to find Steve, defrost him, and everything is going to turn out alright. But Hela doesn’t. So she’s going to act accordingly. Ergo, she’s getting help from Asgard. 

Major divergence from canon incoming!

I do apologize for not posting for this story in a while. In the first place, I have been extremely busy, and when I get home from work my mind is just not willing to cooperate with me on writing. And that’s been up for a while. Work has been a lot. That’s for all of my stories though - but another reason for this one in particular:  The high number of bashing and toxic fanfiction stories really bothered me… it did a great job in driving me away.

See, I like Captain America. And while Iron Man wasn’t my favorite, I still enjoyed him. But holy cow, the ‘pro iron man’ fics out there (and there are a lot) not only bash Steve so hard it’s not enjoyable, but the majority of their portrayal of Tony Stark has made me really dislike Iron Man. 

I mean, it's fanfiction. People are totally allowed to write what they’d like, and that’s fine. It’s just that the majority of what’s being written is stuff that I dislike.