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Hela, daughter of Odin no one

The touch of Death was something Odin had been spoken to about before, both as a babe, learning at his father’s knee, and after becoming friends with Mimir. Never something he had expected to personally feel, but he had known of it, had read tales regarding the phenomena in the many books in his late father Bor’s library.

Not an actual touch in itself. But rather a gust of wind trailing through the hairs of your body, pushing through your essence, physically, metaphysically and magically, a sensation unlike anything else you might have ever felt before. A complete absence of seidr, something that was simply unnatural.

Odin had never even entertained the idea that he would one day feel it, but he could not have missed the cool and rotting air passing through him and the room, even if he had tried. Could not have not felt that unnaturalness ghosting over him and his wife, as they laid beside each other.

Asger laid deep asleep beside him, tired after their lovemaking, but Odin had been awake, and felt the evil, dead and decaying energy seeping inside the room.

He had feared, for a moment, that this was Death itself, coming to collect either his or his wife’s soul - or both. That she would wake and find him dead the next morn, or that she would never wake up again, that Asger would die in her sleep beside him.

But the next morning, even to his dormant magic, the far more terrible answer was clear.

Asger was pregnant.

And she was pregnant with Death itself.

+

Even without that feeling that night, Odin would have known that there was something deeply unnatural about Asger’s pregnancy.

They had been trying for a child for a long time, but the Norns had been cruel up until that point, refusing to give in despite how deeply they prayed or how often they tried.

But the Norns were more wicked than he had ever believed them to be, because now they were going to have a baby, but Odin knew within himself that that child would be nothing but pain, death and destruction.

With every day the pregnancy continued, the worse Asger’s health became for it. Her light hair lost its natural shine, falling off strand by strand. Her bright green eyes became duller and duller. Her cheeks, more and more sunken. Her skin, once a beautiful sun kissed colour, ashened, leaving behind the pallor of death. Her strength left her, her robustness leaving place for frail skin and bones.

Odin had 12 of his healers and sorcerers beheaded before he came to the conclusion that there was truly nothing magical that could be done to save his beloved wife.

Except for killing the child inside her.

Asger had refused that from the first moment he had suggested it. Claimed that she would ensure her own death if he dared take her child from her.

Odin of course did not listen to the ranting of the woman. She did not know what was best for her, the illness of the pregnancy had also taken her wits from her, clearly. They could have another child another time, but there would never be another like Asger. King Bor himself had selected her as the perfect Aesir woman for Odin to marry, and his father had always been the most knowledgeable man Odin had ever known.

He could not and would not lose her.

So he slipped some poison Mimir had procured for him in her food when she was not looking, something to ensure the death of the child in a way that would not harm Asger.

But it did not work. Asger did feel sick from the meal, but instead of having a miscarriage, the woman simply ended up throwing up what she had been eating.

And this continued, several times over. No matter what he attempted, no matter what poison they tried to give Asger, no matter what curse was cast upon her, she only ever threw it back up or was sick herself. The child continued to suck the life of his wife from her, and seemed to have found a way of protecting itself from death since its conception, no matter what was tried.

Odin was both horrified and stupefied by the ability.

+

Asger died the moment the child of Death, the child of Hel itself was born. Odin had never been more disgusted and awed by a child in his existence.

For the hellish babe did not come out with a cry, or with any other sort of noise. She came out with cold blue eyes already with open, his own dark hair resting atop of her head and a stare that almost made the healer drop her to the ground.

Odin named her Hela the second he saw her (of Hel) and left the room way before Eir could even read her godhood to him. 

When the announcement that the Goddess of Death, Crown Princess Hela Odinsdottir was born, Odin was not even surprised.

+

He had resented her, at first. Hela had stolen his wife from him, made his beautiful Asger die giving birth to her. He had tried to kill this child so many times, but everything he had thrown at her, she had just spat back out.

But the longer Hela grew, the more he started to see her for what she truly was.

She had killed his wife, but not out of choice. She had done it because that was what she did, that was what she was.

A killer.

A weapon.

And as he watched Hela best every magic and battle tutor she was assigned - no matter his disdain for her, she was still a princess of Asgard - he understood what she was, and what she could finally do to avenge the mother she had killed with her mere existence alone.

He could sharpen the blade, perfect the killer.

Make her the best version of herself she could be.

+

Hela had grown up knowing that everyone around her feared and hated her. From the day she was born, it was nothing but terrified and scornful eyes that followed her, whispers about her being a kin killer, of the danger her existence brought Asgard, of her being a reincarnation of Death itself.

That wasn’t true, of course. 

Hela was the Goddess of Death, but she wasn’t Death. She had seen Death, since the day she was born, and therefore knew she wasn’t that.

But no one else seemed to understand.

Not even her father liked her, no matter how much Hela tried. No matter what she did to get his attention, she knew he resented her for the death of his wife, the death of Hela’s mother.

Hela wasn’t sure she understood his resentment. She hadn’t meant to kill her mother. She had not chosen to do it. But he never seemed to care for that, having nothing but disappointment in his heart for her.

Until the day he saw her on the sparring grounds.

Hela had not even noticed him watching her, as she decimated every single tutor that had been brought in front of her with the precision she had seen her father display in the battles she had observed and in the training he had participated in.

She was clinical, she was fast, and she knew they feared her mere presence.

So Hela took advantage of it, striking always first and always fast, never giving mercy to any of them, because if there was something she had learnt being her father’s daughter was that. Odin had no mercy and therefore she should have none either. She was born for battle, she was the goddess of Death and when father finally brought her in a battle at his side, she would show them all why even the Aesir army itself feared her.

And when she turned around and spotted him, she saw, for the first time, something other than disappointment and pain in his eyes when he looked at her.

She saw pride.

Hela could say that, in all her 14 years of life, there had never been a better moment.

+

As she grew, Odin’s pride for her did too. 

And not only his pride, but his love for her too. For she was terrifying, and more than once he had felt a flash of fear at her raw power and the inability of anything to kill her, but he had loved her. He’d always mourn his first wife, but she had left this gift to him. A weapon that he was proud to call his daughter.

She was his secret weapon, his bravest commander, the Valkyrie’s general and his deadliest executioner.

And she would have remained so, would have continued to be the person he loved the most, had Vanaheim not happened.

Odin had not believed he’d ever love again, after Asger’s death. Because she had been the perfect wife, handpicked by Bor himself, and Hela’s mother. She had been perfect, and no one would ever be able to compare to her, surely.

He had also never believed in love at first sight until he saw Princess Frigga of Vanaheim, daughter of King Njord, on the battlefield. Until he had seen this powerful warrior, Seer and sorceress handle an amazing weapon she had crafted herself that pulsed with magic unknown to him, and strike down Mimir.

Odin knew enough about magic to know that such a blow, from such a woman, with such a weapon would not simply kill him. So he had stopped Hela from going after the woman herself (she had been very fond of Mimir, unaware of his actions prior to her birth), and instead had her recuperate the man’s severed head and imbued it with her own magic. 

Princess Frigga had watched him from across the battlefield with a sneer, but she had not attacked him, instead retreating back with the few of her soldiers who had made it out alive. 

Her hair was braided, her armour was gleaming, her sword was covered in Mimir’s warm blood; she had been a sight, and Odin vowed to himself that that wouldn’t be the last time he’d see her.

+

Battle made Hela feel alive. Because while her father had stopped resenting her, stopped looking at her with disappointment and hatred, it was when they were on the battlefield together, that he truly showed his love and appreciation for her.

He called her his executioner, his fiercest weapon and warrior, and with her Valkyrie, she knew she was an unstoppable force.

So when he ordered to retreat, to let that wrench who had dared raise her sword against her dear Mimir, Hela had felt shocked and angry.

How could he do such a thing to her? How could he ask that she let this crime go unpunished, that she let the man who had taught her so much of magic and sorcery go unavenged? She had raged, and would have wanted to go after the witch anyway, but she did not.

Because the battlefield was the only place where she felt her father’s unconditional love for her, and she did not want to see his disappointment or resentment once more if she did not comply with his order.

And if she could, as he had suggested, prevent Mimir from reaching the Realm of the Dead with her magic of Death?

It seemed unnatural to her, to stop him from reaching the halls of Valhalla or otherwise drag him out of the Realm of the Dead, but father knew best did he not? Perhaps she would have another chance at the witch and meanwhile, Mimir would remain at her side for a while longer.

So Hela listened to him and did as she was asked.

+

Convincing King Njord and Prince Freyr to hand over Princess Frigga so that he stopped his war with Vanaheim was complicated, but it was nothing to Hela’s reaction at the information.

The girl had nearly killed the Einherjar in the room in her rage, the bloodlust clear in her eyes, as well as her hatred for the Vanr witch.

“She killed Mimir!” she had snarled, glaring him with a ferocity that he had often seen in her eyes, just never towards himself.

“And we saved him,” pointed out Odin, keeping his voice calm and trying to hide how unsettled he was by her display. “In fact, she has made his head much more powerful than it has ever been.”

Hela’s eyes narrowed. “You know that was not the witch’s intention. She would kill us all, if she could.”

“But she won’t,” he reminded her. “If she wants Vanaheim to continue to exist, she will comply.” He knew she did not care for him, even though he already loved her. But he was sure he could win her over. 

Hela snorted, disgusted. “I don’t see why we shouldn’t just raze the entire planet to the ground, as Grandfather did with Svartalfheim.”

Sometimes her violent appetites made him weary. “We seek to bring order to the Realms,” he reminded her, gently. “Not destruction.”

“As if there is much of a difference between the two,” she muttered, with disappointment and still badly concealed rage in her eyes. “I still do not want to see her anywhere at Court.”

“Then stay away from Court for a while,” he offered. At the betrayed expression on her face, he put both hands up, feeling a shiver of cold air going down his back. “Peace, Hela. I am simply advising that you go check on Muspelheim, Alfheim and Vanaheim for a while. I am not kicking you out for Princess Frigga, of course. But,” he could not be sure that Hela would not kill Princess Frigga with her bare hands when the woman arrived, and he wouldn't let her take away another of his wives. “It would give you time to see the good Asgard has already done, and her a chance to understand our ways and perhaps understand what the loss of Mimir has done to you. Give her a chance to be truly sorry about it by the time you return.”

Hela was not stupid enough to not recognise the thinly veiled banishment Odin was pushing her way. “How long?” she finally asked, after a moment or two, eyes blank and closed off.

Sometimes Odin forgot, but Hela truly had the eyes of a killer.

He loved his daughter, but she frightened him greatly.

“A century,” he offered.

Hela’s jaw ticked. She dropped Mjolnir harshly to the ground, making every Einherjar stiffen at the sudden noise and then gave him a bow. “As you wish, All-Father,” she said. Then she turned on her feet and walked out.

He wanted to reassure her of his love, call her back.

But the door closed between them, and Odin did not attempt to go after her.

+

After being banished from her home, Hela travelled. She went to Vanaheim, Alfheim and Muspelheim, her mere presence quelling any insurgence before it could even begin, the fear she made them feel stronger than their want to rebel.

It made her uncomfortable at times, but she pushed it down. Father had told her that to be respected, she needed to always be the thing people hated and feared the most in the room, and that was what she was going to be and do.

Even though Father no longer wanted her, she thought bitterly as the end of the century came to a close. She was on Midgard, and she knew that Heimdall at the very least should have his eyes on her. And yet no one had come to seek her out, no one had come to demand that their princess return home already.

It hurt more than the banishment had in the beginning.

She understood that father had started to fall in love once more, and that was why he wanted a chance to be alone with the Vanr witch. And a normal child who had grown up with both parents would feel betrayed by the idea that their father was turning their back on their mother for a new woman, but that wasn’t what upset Hela.

What upset Hela was that it had taken father more than 13 years to get over the resentment he felt at her mere existence. It took more than 17 years for him to even say that he loved her.

Meanwhile he had seen this Vanr witch once from across the battlefield, after she had struck down Hela’s mentor and his own advisor, and immediately he had been ready to declare his love for her and ask for her hand in marriage.

“Those who are touched by Death are not often loved,” informed her Mistress Death, appearing from the shadows.

Hela looked up, a little startled at seeing her. She had of course seen the Mistress several times already, the first time being the day she was born, but she had never had a chance to speak to her.

“My Mistress,” she said, unsure on whether she should bow or not.

It was hard to look at her in the eyes. Mistress Death never looked the same, and yet you always knew that it was her. She had many faces and none, and always appeared different each time she saw her.

Today, she looked like Hela’s mother. Not like Asger had looked, no. She did not have her mother’s green eyes, or her light hair, or anything of the sort. She did not appear as she had in the few paintings of her Hela had seen.

But at the same time, to Hela, it appeared as if Mistress Death looked like her mother.

“My goddess,” greeted Mistress Death and she did not smile, but her voice sounded like it held a smile. Now that she looked, it did not appear as if she had a mouth. Looking at her directly was giving her a headache. “Are you ready to come see your home?”

Hela frowned, not exactly afraid but confused. “It is time that I die?”

“No,” said Mistress Death, head shaking. Her hair was golden, and brown, and red, and curly, and straight, and she was bald and it was long enough that it dragged behind her. “But you are touched by Death. You have a Realm within the Realms of the Dead.”

Hela was surprised. “I do?”

“Of course,” said Mistress Death, and she offered her hand. “Helheim was created for you to rule, my dear.”

Her hand was just bones, and it was white, and black, and brown, and cream, and every colour of the rainbow.

“ Are you ready to see your home, Hela of Asgard and Helheim?”

Hela hesitated for a moment. She looked out at the vast expanse of Midgard, where their feeble minds had started creating structures they liked calling pyramids. Nowadays, they chose to worship half human half animal creatures. And cats, it appeared.

No Einherjar appeared, and no Bifrost landed to stop her, despite her knowing that Heimdall was still watching over the Realms.

What else could she do?

She took the Mistress’ hand.

+

Just as he had hoped, with the advice from Mimir and the absence of Hela at his side, his relationship with Princess Frigga improved greatly. Many at court hated the woman for being of Vanaheim, but Odin crushed the dissent bloodily, quickly and efficiently.

And while her hatred was great from the beginning, without Hela and with the way he forced himself to improve as much as he could to gain her favour, the steadfast and prideful Vanr Princess started to melt under his courtship. He did not doubt that the only thing that stopped her from leaving at the beginning was her love for Vanaheim, but after five centuries, he could say that the woman started reciprocating his feelings.

And of course, that was when Hela returned.

He had always known, with the help of Mimir and Heimdall, where his daughter was. He had been both grateful and disappointed when the first century passed and she did not return to court. She had gone to Midgard after the first century passed, and then somehow to Niflheim. But unfortunately Heimdall could not see that far into the Realm of the Dead.

That was Mistress Death’s Realm and no alive soul could cross into it.

He supposed being the Goddess of Death gave Hela an advantage over everyone else.

Frigga and him were sitting on their respective thrones, the woman narrating a tale from Vanaheim to him, when the doors opened abruptly and without announcement.

Odin was ready to demand who would dare, but then he saw who would and chose not to.

Hela had not changed much, looks wise, since the last time he saw her. Her hair was longer than she normally kept it, and she appeared a little paler than normal, but other than that, her visage had not changed.

But where before she walked around in the gold and white of Asgard, now she was clad in black and green, and there was an energy around her, a death magic that had not been there before.

Her eyes trailed over Frigga, for a moment before she looked over at him with a chilling smile. “Father,” she said, voice sickly sweet. “I have returned.”

“I can see this,” he said, trying to hide some of the unconscious fear he felt at the sight of his beloved daughter. It had been a while since he had been in a war, but the scent of magic and death clung to her in a way that reminded him of it and terrified him to his core. “Welcome back, my daughter.”

“Queen Frigga,” greeted Hela, giving a slightly more polite smile to his newly wedded wife. “An honour to finally meet my step mother.”

“And you, Princess Hela,” said Frigga, though she too appeared a little ill at ease at seeing her.

“A pity I was not invited to the wedding,” said Hela, an almost wild edge in her eyes. “It was hurtful.”

“You were in Niflheim,” he reminded her, keeping his voice kind. It had been only a decade ago. “We had no way of reaching you.”

“I suppose,” she agreed, watching the room around her with a disgusted expression. “I see you have redecorated. Ashamed of your past, All-Father?” she asked, pointing at the ceiling over their heads. Where before stood a painting of him, Hela, and the Einherjar and Valkyrie, now was a simple painting of himself and Frigga. Hela was nowhere in the picture.

“I am sure we can commission a new one,” quickly said Frigga, glancing between Odin and his daughter. “You weren’t here, so recapturing your likeness-”  

“I never cared much for art for the sake of art,” said Hela shrugging. “It’s all very... Vanir.”

Frigga stiffened beside him, and Odin glared at Hela. “Hela,” he said, voice warning.

The sound of his voice appeared to mean nothing to her. “There is a battle at your doorstep, father,” she then said, and Odin sighed.

It always came down to battles when it came to her. “Hela, I know-”

“I did not instigate nor ask for this battle,” she told him, rolling her eyes at him. “It is Thanos the Mad Titan who dares. He seeks the Infinity Stones and has heard that one resides in your treasure rooms.” 

Odin had almost forgotten about the old artefact. He had heard tales of the Mad Titan, whispers from merchants who hailed from beyond the Nine Realms. But he had not realised that’s what he sought.

“He also seeks me,” she told him, appearing a little amused. Odin frowned and she snorted. “He used to seek the favour of Mistress Death. Death will not take him, so he has chosen to go for me instead. From what I have heard from the souls of the dead I have encountered in Niflheim, he seeks to destroy Asgard to give to me as a present.”

Odin stilled a little, looking at her with slight apprehension. “And you plan to...?”

Hela smiled at him, voice filled with fake innocence. “Wish you good luck and watch from afar,” she said, and her smile that had too many teeth. “It is not my fight, as no one came to seek me out after my banishment supposedly ended.”

“It wasn’t a banishment,” he lied, ignoring Frigga’s frown on him, but Hela waved him off.

“Whatever pretty words you want to dress it in, doesn’t matter to me,” she told him. “I just came to warn you. What you do with my warning matters not to me.”

“You would leave Asgard and your Valkyries to fight alone?” he asked, voice a tad unsure. “Give an enemy of your Realm a chance of defeating us?”

“My Realm is called Helheim,” she informed him, rolling her eyes at his surprise. “Mistress Death gave it to me. If you don’t make it to Valhalla after the battle, I will be happy to host you.” She smiled once more, a vicious thing that made him feel even more fear than before, before bowing again. “All-Mother, All-Father. I will be with my Valkyries, if you seek me.”

With that she turned with a flourish and marched out of the room again, leaving behind a very confused Queen and a slightly afraid King.

+

Time in Helheim had changed Hela greatly. The Realm of the Dead was an interesting place, and she had met all sorts of people as she redecorated Helheim and her castle as she pleased. Mistress Death had given her free reign over her dominion and Hela had been grateful for it.

There was plenty of death without battle in Helheim, and while part of Hela was a warrior and wanted to run her sword through one or several enemies, she was... content, if not happy, in Helheim.

Every now and again, an Aesir died and ended up in her Realm instead of Valhalla, but none of them ever came with anything other than great tidings and news regarding Asgard. About how happy the Court was with her father and his new wife, and she couldn’t lie, Hela was a little displeased by it. Hearing them, you would not even know that Odin had ever had a daughter.

It hurt her.

Then Thanos the Mad Titan started his campaign, his overpopulation of the Realms of the Dead. Hela had been confused as to why would anyone do this - kill for the sake of killing. When she battled, Hela was quick and efficient, but other than in revenge, she had never struck down someone who had forfeited the battle. There was no honour in that.

At first the story was that he sought the favour of Mistress Death. Hela did not understand why he thought this was the way to do it, by overpopulating her Realms for no reason, by attacking Life in such a manner.

Mistress Death sent one of Hela’s Merchants to deliver the news.

She wasn’t sure of how the news of her banishment had reached his ears, but that was the response the Merchant of Death returned with.

That Thanos would now sought the favour of the Queen of Helheim instead, and was willing to raze Asgard to the ground for her.

Hela had not been impressed.

While she resented her father for his actions, while she still harboured feelings of jealousy and dislike for the Vanr witch, she could not hide the love she still felt for the place that had been partly her home all these years.

That was when she - with the blessing of the Mistress Death - left Helheim for the first time in centuries, to warn her father.  

And maybe she should have been kinder in her delivery, maybe she should have acted a little more like the dutiful daughter who constantly sought his approval that she had been, but walking inside the throne to see the witch and her father cosying up in their newly decorated castle, looking happy and in love and missing her not at all?

It had hurt.

And Hela had, as usual, lashed out.

She never would have guessed the effects a change in attitude and clothing could have had on her father.

+

“Mimir,” said Odin, standing before the severed head of his advisor. Thanos had been sighted not too far from Asgard, a mere month of travel away, and the All-Father had been preparing his army for his arrival. But while he believed Asgard’s might would crush the Titan, he could not be sure of where Hela’s loyalty truly laid anymore. And she could turn the tide against them very easily, if she joined the Titan.

Frigga was standing beside him, not hiding her disapproval at his actions. She was of the mind that Hela clearly loved him despite her anger, and that was why she had returned home to warn him, but she did not know his daughter like he did.

Hela loved him, but she had loved Mimir more, and therefore still hated Frigga because of it. And she never let go of a grudge. Her spitefulness and bloodthirstiness knew no bounds. 

Mimir’s eyes opened, a familiar light in them that Odin was not sure of the meaning of, but that had been growing as the years passed. “King Odin Borson,” he drawled, dead eyes fixed on him almost sullenly. “What unwanted truth do you wish me to share with you today?”

“My daughter, Hela,” he said, sitting down to face him more easily. “She has returned to me, today. But she is not the same young girl who left Asgard all those years ago. I fear something in her was irrevocably broken when I sent her away for everyone's continued happiness.” It hurt him to think that, in trying to keep both his wife and daughter happy and out of each other’s way, he had hurt one. “Tell me, have I broken something in her?”

Mimir’s lips lifted in a smile. “You have done something, King Odin Borson,” he informed him. Odin’s blood went cold, as he exchanged a look with Frigga. She appeared merely suspicious, but not alarmed yet. “I have seen. I see Hela, and the Heladottir. I see the Bifrost, destroyed. I see Thanos the Mad Titan with Infinity in his gauntlet. I see blood running down the Bifrost. I see your Queen on the ground, Hela’s sword running through her her.” His lips lifted in an almost mad smile. “I see your head just as I see mine: off your shoulders and rolling on the grass.”

Odin blanched and, when he looked at Frigga, she too looked alarmed. “What do your words mean?” he asked, heart beating a little faster in his chest.

“That Hela and the Heladottir will bring destruction to Asgard and run blood down the Bifrost,” he said, easily.

“Ragnarok,” whispered Odin, standing up again.

“You don’t know this for sure,” said Frigga, eyes afraid, but there was a slight mistrust when she looked at Mimir. “Your words cannot be this simple. What do-”

He looked at his wife incredulously. “Blood on the Bifrost. Me, beheaded. You, injured before Hela. Thanos the Mad Titan comes to seek her as his wife, and Mimir speaks of a child of Hela who will bring destruction to the Nine Realms. How could this be anything but Ragnarok?” He asked, as he started walking out of the room, Frigga hot on his heels. “For all we know, she has already laid with the Titan. Heimdall thought she was in Niflheim but even he does not always see everything. Hela is a talented sorceress.”

“Hela is not pregnant!” pointed out Frigga, pulling his arm back slightly.

Odin gave her a look that was anything but amused. “Hela is the Goddess of Death. You truly think we’d even know if she was, or what she could give birth to? She killed her mother, coming into this world.” He pulled her hand from his arm. “I cannot risk it.”

“What do you plan on doing?” asked Frigga, frustrated as he walked away. 

Odin did not turn around, nor did he respond.

But he knew what he had to do.

What he should have done from the beginning.

Stop her, before she could hurt anyone else ever again.

+

Hela had heard the words Mimir spoke to her father. She had been outside the door of his study, coming to apologise for her earlier behaviour and inform him that she’d stand with him when she had heard him and Frigga speaking to one another, and her heart had sank.

After all these years, she thought, incredulously, as Odin and Frigga emerged from the room, rushing the opposite way from her, neither having noticed her.

After everything she had done for him as his daughter, as his general. After she had come to him to warn him of Thanos, when she could have remained safe in Helheim, he still believed her dangerous, he still thought her untrustworthy.

She returned for the first time in half a millennia, and instead of being overjoyed, he went and consulted Mimir’s head to ask what her true motives were. As if her mere presence at Court did not prove that she was loyal to the throne of Asgard.

She walked inside of the room, where Mimir’s head laid, uncovered.

He did not appear surprised to see her.

“I have no ill intention towards Asgard, and I have not laid with the Mad Titan,” she said, feeling betrayed. How could he, who had been her teacher, imply this?

Mimir’s eyes softened when they settled on her. “I know.”

She frowned. “But you told father I would bring upon Ragnarok.”

“That is not what I told him. I told him of what I saw. He’s the one who decided my sight was that of Ragnarok,” he reminded her, voice almost kind.

That was true. Mimir spoke in tongues, and what Hela had felt from the beginning, about the unnaturalness of his continued existence in the Realm of the Living, she felt it even more now. The death magic was twisting him, making his tongue sharper and more painful than it had reason to be. 

He did not lie, of course. But the truth he spoke was always convoluted.

Still, “I would not kill father,” she said, voice shaky. No matter what, no matter who he had chosen to love, she cared for father. Hela would never kill her father. “Not for the worlds. I love him.”

“One day,” told her Mimir, sounding slightly amused in a perverse sort of way. “You will.”

Hela did not say anything else.

Mimir never lied.

But this could not be the truth.

So she turned on her heels and left.

She’d leave the castle, she decided. Return to Niflheim until Thanos was dealt with. That way her father would know that she was not with him, and she would prove her loyalty.

Because she knew if she attempted at joining him, he’d only see it as a proof of Mimir’s sight.

Hela would prove that it was wrong.

She'd prove that she was loyal to him.

+

Hela kept her word about watching the battle from the sidelines, and that was her undoing. Because she might have been the general of the Valkyrie, but they were loyal to the House of Odin before they were to a Princess they had not seen in five centuries.

As Odin and his battalion went into battle against the Mad Titan, the Valkyries turned on their general, under Odin’s orders that she had to be destroyed for having committed treason.

No one returned from that battle, and Odin did not have to pretend he did not feel grief when Mimir’s head finally died, the enchantment Hela had cast dying with her. 

Frigga questioned him on where the girl had disappeared to, but Odin never had the strength of mind to tell her the truth of what had come to pass.

He grieved his daughter, truly. 

But Asgard and his Realm came first. Even over his own blood.

+

Hela had been soaked in death since the day she was born. Her mother had died of childbirth, but Hela had never grieved her. Had never known the woman, and had felt nothing but a slight curiosity when her name was mentioned. She had felt jealous of Frigga, and hurt by her father’s resentment, but nothing more than that.

But it was pure and complete grief, an acute sort of agony that she felt as she dragged her body through the shadow passageway she had been able to create with nary a thought, one that took her from Niflheim to Jotunheim. Nowhere else would take her, and she did not dare go to Helheim, where she would have to face the Valkyrie she had killed.

Her own warriors, she thought, and the dark feeling threatened to choke her as she dragged herself over the cold snow of Jotunheim. It was colder than all of Niflheim, but Hela did not feel it, did not feel anything.

She had several daggers and swords stuck all over her body, the weapons her Valkyries had used to try and slay her.

Hela did not understand. She had left to prove herself to the All-Father, to prove that Mimir’s words were not truths, or simply wrongly worded. When the Valkyrie had said they’d come with her, she had been confused, but not opposed. She had thought they were showing where their loyalty truly laid. That they still remembered her as their general, that they still loved her.

Her Valkyries had, after all, never feared her. Not like her father’s Einherjar.

Hela had not seen the first attack coming. Had not seen when they had turned with their swords raised, when their stances had changed from tenseness to hatred, when their eyes had flashed and one after the other they had tried to bring her down.

Hela had not wanted to kill them. She hadn’t.

But how did they think they’d ever be able to kill the goddess of Death? Hela had taken blows to the heart, chest, arms, throat, and just stood up again. She had not understood it, did not know how she continued to live but she had fought back.

Because that was what she was, she was a warrior, and she did not want to sit back and just let them continue to try and slay and injure her. Because injuring her they were, despite not being able to kill her, and Hela did not want to challenge the extent of her apparent immortality.

So she had fought back as wildly as they had and in the end, it was just her standing on the ground of Niflheim, swords and daggers embedded in her body and the women she had called friends, family and, at times, lovers, lying dead in front of her.

“Who goes there?” came a voice, and Hela’s breath shuddered as she looked up from the snow and to a Jotun man, staring at her with wariness, an ice blade in his hands pointed at her. “Who are you, and what do you seek?”

Hela was a warrior, but she did not want to fight any longer. She did not want to fight, she did not want to be surrounded by death and pain any longer, she just wanted rest. Because all of her Valkyries were dead by her hands, Odin All-Father, her father had sent her friends, her soldiers after her and she-

“A verndarsáttmáli,” she said, forcing her emotions to not spill through too much. Her armour was broken. Her helmet had fallen during the battle. She still had blades in her and she knew her eyes showed her pain, and tiredness. 

“Who are you to ask me, Laufey King of Jotunheim this?” he asked, and Hela had not known who he was. She had never been to Jotunheim. Never had reason to. She had created a passage from Asgard to the planet over a millennia ago, just in case, but had never used it.

“Hela,” she said. “Hela Od... Hela of Asgard and Helheim,” she corrected, because she was not Odinsdottir. Never again would she be.

King Laufey’s eyes widened, and Hela wondered if he would refuse her. If he would send her back to Odin so that he could finish her off once and for all.

She was not sure if she would fight again. The faces of her Valkyries as they died, one by one, by her hands, refusing to listen to reason, still haunted her.

She did not know if-

“I, Laufey, King of Jotunheim, swear an oath of verndarsáttmáli before the Norns, on my name and on the name of the rulers and chieftains of Jotunheim,” said King Laufey, and Hela’s eyes filled with tears when he put away his spear and offered her his hand, his bright red eyes appearing somehow kind. “Come with me, Princess Hela. We shall hand you over to one of our healers.”

+

Odin was shocked when Heimdall came to him, one day, in secret, with the news that not only Hela was still alive but was in fact married to the new Jotun King, King Laufey of Jotunheim.

It had been centuries since the battle against the Mad Titan, a battle that Asgard had won with some fatigue, and the supposed death of his firstborn.

Asgard and Jotunheim had a good relationship, one that had been consolidated millennia ago between the All-Father Bor and King Fornjót. They had been the first Realm to join the Nine Realms, and had done so without much conflict.

The relationship between the two Realms was an easy one built on mutual understanding and general trust, so Odin did not pay as much attention to them as he did to Alfheim and Muspelheim.

He clearly should have. But Mimir had died, and no Valkyrie had returned from the battle. Sure, Hela had destroyed entire armies herself before, but she had trained the Valkyries herself and Odin knew she had cared for them. Could she really have slaughtered them all and escaped, despite claiming to have loved them?

Then again, he thought with a grimace, wasn’t this what he himself had done? He had loved Hela, but knowing what she could have done, he had sent others to kill her. Even as the goddess of Death, Hela would have fought for her life.

It only made her more dangerous, and Odin should have killed her herself when he had the chance.

But when he arrived in Jotunheim and stood in front of King Laufey and a furious Hela - sitting at his side, as his Queen - he knew, even as he demanded her return to Asgard, that he could never raise a blade and kill her himself. That was why he had sent the Valkyries to begin with. He might have won a fight against Hela if he tried hard enough, but he could never look into her eyes - Asger’s eyes - and cut off her head.

His weakness and being dismissed by both of them and sent back to Asgard did not change his resolve that Hela must be disposed of. He might have been wrong about the idea that Hela had laid with the Mad Titan, but if there was a race in the Nine Realms that presented a real threat after Asgard themselves, it was Jotunheim, more so than Vanaheim.

What would happen when Hela’s fury at him and his actions grew and she decided to attack? Then, as Mimir had previously foreseen, she and her daughter would bring Ragnarok upon Asgard.

And Odin was the protector of the Nine Realms.

He could not allow this.

+

Hela had never wanted or expected to have a child. Mimir’s words still haunted her, and considering the rage she had felt when the All-Father had shown up to the Jotun court a couple of decades after her wedding to demand her return - after he had sent for her to be killed - made her think that perhaps his words had not been as unbelievable as she had first thought.

Still, while she had hated him for what he had made her do, he had given her a second chance by making her find Laufey. She hated him, and wanted nothing to do with him, but did not care for Asgard and Frigga much, any longer.

Certainly not enough to kill him and free Surtur and start Ragnarok.

Even when he started a war between Jotunheim and Asgard over something completely inconsequential, Hela had not felt the need to do as Mimir had foretold. Sure, cutting the Watcher’s tongue might have been on the list of things she daydreamed about, but even he she did not care about enough to want to physically kill him.

And she knew there was a reason that both herself and Odin avoided fighting each other if they could help it. That there was a reason, she was unwilling to enter a battlefield she knew her father would stand in.

She hated him, but still, despite it all, she did not wish him to die by her hand. And if he died by anyone else’s, she knew she’d mourn him despite everything.

But the second her energy shifted and she realised she was with child, things changed. Because Hela knew without a shadow of a doubt that there was nothing she would not do to protect her child. She still found the notion that she would start Ragnarok far fetched, but if it meant that her son, her Loptr would be safe?

May blood rain over the Bifrost and over the headless bodies of Odin and Heimdall. 

+

When news of the birth of a child born out of the union of Laufey and Hela came upon his ears, Odin knew he could no longer stand back and fight half heartedly anymore. He had to dispose of the woman who had once been his child once and for all.

He knew he’d never be able to kill her. He just would never be able to do such a thing against his own flesh and blood, it was unthinkable of him. Despite everything, despite her being the harbinger of Ragnarok, despite knowing what she could - and would - do to Asgard, he could not bring his own axe against her neck.

But he also knew no one else would be able to stop her but he himself.

He looked at where Frigga laid, fast asleep. Thor, his second born, had found that his father had returned from battle early today and had insisted on waiting up for him, but had ended up falling asleep beside his mother.

Odin would no longer be able to kill Hela than he would be able to physically harm Thor.

But there were other ways of defeating her, other ways of permanently or semi-permanently stopping her.

For Odin was not just the greatest warrior in the Nine Realms, King of Asgard, All-Father and a master tactician: he was also one of the strongest mages in all the Nine Realms. And with the Aesir Force - the Odin Force - running through him, he knew there was one spell he could still cast that perhaps might be able to put a stop to Hela once and for all.

+

Hela watched with a sense of foreboding as Odin took off on his horse, his eyeball sitting on the ground in front of her.

Laufey was rejoicing at her side about the critical hit she had landed on the King, but Hela could feel that something was not right.

Odin had fought them, and had hit them, but there had been something off about the battle.

Hela had learnt to fight by watching him first of all. She has seen her father in battle. The fact that she was younger made her faster and more precise, but all of her moves she had learnt from him.

It had been too easy to injure him. He had fought too sloppily. He had left too quickly. All he had gotten was one strike at her, and Hela knew Odin.

“We need to go,” she said, feeling the premonition growing. Laufey looked confused at her side, but Hela started rushing, started running. “We need to get to the temple right now!”

Laufey’s eyes widened as he started to move, and Hela let him grab a hold of her, his larger height making his movement much quicker than her. “You don’t think-”

“He tried to have me killed at birth,” she said, eyes fixed in front of her, heart in her throat.

She had not known until she had gone to Helheim and met some of the healers and assassins that had been killed for not managing to kill her inside her mother’s stomach. “He is a child slayer.”

And that’s when Hela’s world started to burn all around her.

+

The spell was simple in its absolute devastation.

Odin did not go far after his battle against Hela and Laufey. The injury where his eye had once been burned, but he persevered, because he had gotten the one thing he truly needed for this spell to be completed.

“Oh Norns who dwell in the Heavens above us,” he intoned, as he sat in the snow beside his horse. Blood kept copiously falling from his eye, but he ignored it, allowing his blood and Hela’s to mix. “Listen to my prayers, listen to my spell,” he asked, and his bronze seidr lit up everywhere around him. And then he chanted the spell that he himself had created for this. 

“Norns above, resting in the skies,

Holders of the truth, listen to my cries:

As my blood mixes with hers,

May she remain trapped for all of my years.

May my life itself be her cage,

Strong and steady against her rage.

Throughout the Nine Realms and beyond:

May her memory begone,

Her name erased,

Her existence forgotten,

Any thought of her buried.

Oh Norns above, most knowledgeable of us all,

Use your powers to forever trap her, and ensure Hela’s downfall.”

Odin let droplets of the blood fall to the ground as the last word left his lips and then the world around exploded in bronze magic.

He felt the scream leave Hela’s lips as his seidr and the Odin Force mixed together to fulfil his spell, to let it befall over all of the Nine Realms, like a heavy blanket covering them all. 

He did not have to wonder if the spell had worked.

He could feel it had, a heavy weight at the base of his chest, Hela’s presence. Not trapped within him, not exactly. But he could feel her energy forever linked with his, his magic wrapping around hers.

Where, he did not know. But he knew she would never be free, and even with tears streaming down his eyes, Odin breathed.

And once more, he grieved, for a daughter only he would remember, for a child no one else would know had ever been born.

It had been the right thing to do.

But still, he grieved.

+

Hela screamed as she had never screamed before in her life, as the spell took complete control of her. She did not know what it was, but it was burning and cold and it was like hot bars were being put all around her being, her soul.

Laufey was before her and Hela was not sure when she had ended up on the ground but she was.

And as blood fell from her lips, nose, ears and eyes, Hela knew what this was.

She understood what it was about her battle with Odin that had bothered her.

That he had not tried to outright kill her, despite the various openings. She had thought he knew that killing her was almost impossible, but it had simply not been his goal.

His goal had been her blood. His aim had been gathering enough injuries on her to cast blood magic.

The most dangerous but powerful of them all.

“HELA!” Shouted Laufey, as she screamed, the darkness surrounding her growing and growing and bronze light seeming to fall from the skies as if it was snow.

Hela did not know what spell this was, but how could she had forgotten? Odin was the All-Father, was the warrior-King, but battle was not the only thing she had learnt from him, was not the only thing she had sought his approval in.

He was also one of the most powerful mages in the Nine Realms. His powers were unknown, but Hela had to have gotten her prowess, her ability to create passageways throughout the Nine Realms from someone, and it was not from her mother.

She screamed and screamed as the ground opened under her, black like coal. Laufey was screaming something too but she could no longer hear him as he tried to reach her, could not make sense of his words.

But Hela was not even thinking about him anymore, because Loptr was out there and if she wasn’t there and Laufey kept trying to reach her, who would save him? Who would get Loptr to safety? She needed to, she needed to free herself, for Loptr, he was in danger and-

Hela saw the sky turning as dark as the shadows around her and then she was

falling.

and falling. 

and falling.

+

Perhaps it was that, that made him pick up the child from the centre of the temple, after killing the priests that had been torturing him and taking the Casket. Laufey must still be far, for if his love for Hela was true - and it must have been, for him to plunge his Realm into war for her - he would feel a loss, even if he did not recognise it.

He had thought that Hela and Laufey had loved their child. A small boy, who he had heard one of them call Lo- something. Not a daughter, as had been prophesied, but if he was half Jotnar, that mattered little. Everyone knew of their ever changing natures.

He had believed that they had cared for the babe. 

But instead they had not, perhaps because his size was not even a half of one of a normal Jotun child his age. But to leave him like that among the snow, to die? With the priests all around him, watching the babe cry and suffer in the cold?

Odin’s first plan had been to steal the Casket, kill the child and spare the priests, for a Temple was no place for a battle.

But seeing the babe, blue and yet so similar to Hela, his heart had not been able to take it. Seeing them watch him suffer with smiles on their faces for no other reason than he was smaller than a normal Jotun, he had not been able to stop himself from massacring every single one of them.

And it was a risk, he knew this, as he picked up small Lo from the ice. The prophecy... he should kill this child immediately. 

But the second his finger touched the boy’s, his skin turned a pale pink and Odin nearly cried at how similar he looked to Hela like this, with his dark hair. How similar to Asger he looked, with those bright green eyes of his, that stopped crying as soon as Odin picked him up, tears replaced immediately by a gummy smile.

Guilt for Hela, or guilt for Asger, or something else, Odin knew not.

But he could not leave the child behind.

“From now on,” he told him, heart melting further when he grabbed his finger. Hela would have never done something like this, not even as a babe. Odin had stayed away from her during her early years, but of this he was sure.

Mimir could have been wrong. Odin would raise him right, him and Thor, and the prophecy would never come to pass. Hela was trapped and so long as the child was sheltered, and loved Asgard - and was therefore not on Jotunheim - he would have no reason to destroy it. 

“From now on,” he repeated, pressing a kiss against his forehead. “You will not be my grandson. You will be my son. You will be Loki Odinson.”

+

Hela watched in desperation as Odin walked away from the temple, her child in his arms, her Loptr being taken away. Laufey was still walking aimlessly, the spell Odin had cast affecting him much more strongly than anyone else, and even as she screamed at him to move faster, to get to the temple, to save their child from Odin, he couldn’t hear her.

She watched as the Temple burned behind Odin, all of the priests who had been keeping an eye on her child laying dead, from Farbauti’s brother Ingor, to Kieewa, the young healer who had helped her deliver Loptr.

The invisible cage around the castle was the strongest thing she had ever felt, even stronger than the Uru that her Mjolnir was made of. No matter how much she pushed, how much magic she threw, it wouldn’t budge.

“I need to get out of here!” she shouted, as Mistress Death appeared at her doorstep, no doubt drawn by the anguished and furious screams that were leaving Hela’s throat. She had never thought herself capable of making such noises, but her Loptr, her Laufey... She needed to get out, she needed to gut Odin like a fish for what he had done, she needed to-

“You cannot,” told her Mistress Death, voice calm. She looked like Odin today, even without looking like him. Like Odin and Heimdall, all at once. “He has trapped you within his life force. So long as Asgard and the magic of Asgard is within him, and so long as he draws breath, you cannot be free.”

“No!” snarled Hela, pushing against the door of her castle, her eyes fixed on the veil between the Realm of the Living and the Dead. But it wouldn't crack and within her, Hela knew Mistress Death did not lie. She knew she had no reason to lie.

But...

“No,” she cried, rage and desperation leaving her lips as she watched Odin smile - how dare he smile, how dare he be happy! - as he handed HER child to the witch. As the witch looked surprised but still took what was Hela’s, as she cradled a child her and her husband had stolen within her arms. “NO!”

But they couldn’t hear her, and Hela could barely hear them. She was trapped in Helheim, and her son, her Loptr, was gone. In the arms of that thieving witch, with the blond boy that would have been her brother at her side, watching the child curiously. 

Odin had stolen her and Laufey’s child from them and would never give him back, and Hela could do nothing. She could do nothing but scream and rage.

And she swore on everything that was holy, on the Norns and the immortal souls of the Dead, on Idunn’s orchard and on the stars beyond the Nines and everything above them, that she would rain blood down the Bifrost.

She watched as Laufey finally reached the Temple, watched as he fell on his knees at the destruction before him, and even if he did not know, his screams and hers were matching each others, and Mimir had been right all along.

Mimir had been right. Hela would bring destruction, death and pain against Odin and his house, for what he had done to her.

Odin had stolen Loptr from her.

For that, she promised death to the house of Odin.

Death to Asgard.

Attack

Getting to know her daughter was not something Hela had ever thought she would be able to do. She had wished it, of course, with all of her heart as she sat in Helheim, greedily trying to learn everything about her that she could without being able to even speak to her.

The only time she had spoken to her did not count, since Loki - and it still hurt to have to call her daughter a name that was different from the one she had given her - had been almost dead, then.

Loki's death, that chance of sending a soul back to the Realm of the Living, had been the opening she had needed to start disassembling the cage Odin had put her in. 

She could never say that she was grateful for Loki’s premature death, but she was happy that she now had a chance of getting to know her better.

Loki was still a little nervous around her, unsure of how to treat her, which Hela understood. She would always resent Frigga for taking her place in Loki’s life, but she could not hate the witch for the woman that she had raised Loki into.

She could respect her, but Hela would never like her, no matter how hard either of them tried.

“Is something the matter?” asked Hela, watching with curiosity as Loki glared at the cupboard.

Midgard had definitely changed since the last time Hela had seen it. It was still woefully underdeveloped, but they had grown greatly since she had last visited. It was a most impressive feat for such a short lived race.

Hela had taken to visit it as often as she visited Jotunheim, to catch up and get to know her daughter and her daughter’s family a little better. Frigga had extended plenty of invitations to Asgard, too, but Hela had rejected every single one of them.

And then there was the whole mess with her 'brother'. The Thunderer, who visibly mourned Odin - despite knowing the pain he had caused her and Loki both - by wearing a black cape, and who grieved his 'friends', two of which had been nothing but cruel to Loki and one who had committed treason more than once when she had been on the throne and who would have cut off her head, had Loki not been holding the Casket. They had done all of this, and he still had the audacity to grieve them and dislike her for taking them away from him.

Hela was no more fond of him than he was of her, which was, in both cases, not at all.

Going to Asgard meant risking running into him, and she'd rather not suffer through that.

And she did not even want to visit Asgard.

That place was not home: Loki was. And seen as Loki was not living on Asgard...

Loki pulled back with a glare, though it did not appear aimed at her. “We are out of marshmallows,” she said tersely and turned to one of the cameras. “JARVIS, why are we out of marshmallows?!”

“Because you ate the last ones last night,” said Anthony, as he and Amaya appeared in the living room. Loki’s glare sharpened, and he immediately lifted the bag he was carrying. “But because I am the awesome husband I am, I went to get you some as soon as I woke up this morning.”

Loki’s expression melted immediately. “You did? You truly do love me!”

“Grandmodir, look,” said Amaya, walking towards her with a smile. “We got the big box because daddy says moddy will finish the normal one in one sitting because-”

“Woah, Aya!” said Anthony’s eyes a little wide. “That was said in confidence!”

Loki narrowed her eyes at him, even as she dumped some marshmallows inside her ‘hot chocolate’. Hela had tried it at Amaya's request, but she did not like it very much. “Are you talking behind my back after what you did to me?” she asked him, voice too sweet to be anything but a threat.

Ah, she was so her daughter.

Hela recalled her own actions around Laufey when she was pregnant and did not receive fresh lavender milk tea the second she demanded it. She was sure she had accidentally stabbed him, once. Or twice. Or a hundred. 

Anthony lifted both hands up. “Of course not. I love you too much to do that, you are the apple of my eyes, my beautiful, gorgeous, and perfect-”

Loki shoved a marshmallow in his mouth to shut him up, which made both Hela and Amaya chuckle slightly.

Watching them from the Realm of the Dead, she had known that they had loved and cared for each other. But it was quite another thing to see it like this.

Anthony Stark, her Merchant of Death. He believed this a name that had been given to him by the Midgardian media, when in truth it was a title he had received from the ghosts of the dead themselves.

It was not an evil nickname, as he seemed to believe.

But so many people in her Realms used his name when speaking of how they had died. Not directly of course.

But his name came up, over and over. 

Killed by a Taliban launched Stark weapon.

Killed by a Stark Industries gun.

Killed by a Stark bomb going off.

Shot by a Stark issued bazooka.

Killed by Tony Stark himself.

The list went on.

He was a merchant, whether willingly or not.

But mortals and Midgardians had a skewered view of death and murder, so Hela had understood that it was better that she did not bring up that part of his legacy.

“Hela,” said Anthony, chewing the marshmallow in his hands and offering her a different packet. Loki was gripping hers with a grip that implied she’d skewer anyone who tried to get one from her. “Have you tried marshmallows yet?”

“They are delicious,” informed her Amaya, dropping on the ground so that she could caress Treasure, their cat. “They taste like happiness and everything good.”

Hela hummed, thoughtfully. “Well, I guess I shall have to try them then.”

It was hard, sometimes, knowing how to act around Amaya. She looked a lot like Loki had, growing up, but she wasn’t Loki, and her Loki was much older and had little need or use for a mother. It confused and pained her, but so long as she was around them both - even around Anthony - Hela felt soothed. She only wished she could take Laufey’s soul from the land of the dead, but unfortunately, while her powers and Loki’s were similar enough and she had been dead for only a short amount of time, which had helped her bring her back, Laufey had been dead for a time now and did not carry seidr. It wouldn’t work as easily.

Loki smiled, as Hela accepted a marshmallow, which meant that Hela must be doing right, though.

And, “Wow,” she said, surprised by how good they tasted. She suddenly understood Loki and Amaya’s obsession with them. “These are really good.”

“Great,” said Anthony, with a snort. “Three generations of Jotnar/Aesir/Helheim Royal family, and all of you are completely weak for marshmallows. I’m kind of impressed.”

Amaya smiled, offering Hela a high five before doing the same to Loki. “Go House of Hela!” she cheered.

Hela’s heart only clenched more hopefully when both Anthony and Loki whooped as advised, Anthony winking at her while Loki just snorted, shoving a marshmallow in her mouth instead of her hot chocolate.

She had worried, at the beginning that her actions when she had been first freed would have made their interactions complicated and stilted. But while Anthony had been vigilant around her since she joined their family, he had not been hostile.

And while the use of a memory spell on Amaya had made something inside of her tense - remnant of Odin’s own malicious use of that sort of magic - she was glad for it now, since it had meant that their meeting had gone much more smoothly, Amaya quickly taking to her despite a little confusion about having four grandmothers now (a woman named Roberta Rhodes, who was 'basically Anthony and James' shared mother'; Queen Farbauti, because her being Amaya's uncles' mother logically meant she was Amaya's grandma, too; Queen Frigga, who had introduced herself as Loki's mother; and now Hela, who had also introduced herself as Loki's mother).

This was what-

Hela suddenly gasped, as an unusual but not foreign emotion/energy ran through her, a hand going over her chest, the thousands upon thousands of whispers resounding in her ears.

“Hela?” asked Loki, immediately worried, as was Anthony. “Everything okay?”

“No,” said Hela, standing up, and feeling slightly irritated, slightly worried. “It’s Nidavellir.”

Anthony was immediately frowning, anxiety clear in his face. “What happened to Nidavellir? They refused to install the communication system, but-”

“Thanos,” said Hela, with a slight glare, not unaware of the way that Loki blanched at the name. Both of them had their history with the Mad Titan and Hela could not wait to get her hands on his neck for what he had dared to do to her daughter. “He has destroyed everyone Nidavellir. The entire planet's population, save for their King is...” she glanced at Amaya, who was watching them too attentively. “Gone.”

The only sound louder than the silence in the room, was that of Loki’s mug shattering on the ground.