Chapter Text
[2011]
Hela had never imagined she would ever walk upon the Bifrost again.
Since the moment she had left Asgard she had known better than to hope - for hope, after all, meant relying upon Odin's 'kindness'.
Then, after a while, she had stopped even thinking of Asgard and the life she had left behind of the planet. She had had no need to, having made a life for herself on Midgard.
She had most certainly never forgotten the planet she had hailed from; it would have been like forgetting her magic or godhood. Impossible.
Equally as impossible would have been to forget what had, once upon a time, been her home.
But few were the things or people remaining on the planet that would have made her long to come back, or cause her upset about having left it behind.
Odin had ensured that she did not have many fond memories of the planet, and those she had were tainted by the bitter memory of her last moments on the planet.
But still, she felt… strange, as the Bifrost deposited them from Midgard to the golden platform of the Observatory.
It had been more than a millennia since the last time Hela's feet had touched this particular surface.
She was not sure of how she should react to this.
“Holy ravioli,” said Alyona, a hand covering her mouth. “I think I just threw up in my mouth and then swallowed it.”
“I don’t even have the strength to smack you for saying that out loud,” groaned Yelena, shooting daggers at her sister.
“I think I left my stomach on Earth,” whined Clint Barton, also looking very pale.
Most of them, in fact, looked unnaturally pale. Everyone, really, with the glaring exception of Tania – who’s dark skin and make up protected her secrets – and Natasha – who Hela had suspected from the very beginning was not a very normal child/human.
“Princess Hela.”
Hela turned around at the familiar serious timbre of the Watcher’s voice.
Heimdall had not aged at all. He looked as he had always looked, in his golden armour, Hofund in his hands. He looked the exact same way he had the last time Hela had seen him – on the morn of the day he had sent her and her Valkyries on their ‘mission’.
She had spent her entire self exile shielding herself from his gaze (not out of fear, mind you; she simply did not want the hassle that would surely follow if Heimdall spotted her and decided to inform the All-Father of her existence). Even after Loki and Thor had tumbled into her life, Hela had kept herself invisible to his watchful eyes – eyes that did not see quite as much as he and Odin liked to believe – careful to not tip him off of her existence or of where she resided now.
She did not know what orders Odin might have left with the Watcher, after all. And while she did not fear him, she also was no longer interested in courting disaster and seducing trouble.
She had only taken off the spell moments ago, to allow the Bifrost to locate her and transport her group to Asgard.
She had wondered, in the past, at the very beginning of her self exile, if he had known the truth. If he had known of Odin’s lies, or if he had simply believed them like a good subject should.
Had he known Odin’s orders were built on paranoia and no solid basis? Had he known Hela was innocent?
Had he cared?
She was not sure; and, truthfully, she was not sure it mattered, either.
Not any longer.
What had happened had happened, and Hela found that she did not wish to change anything. Not anymore.
Heimdall’s expression did not change as he bowed to her fully, the way he would bow to any member of the Royal family. “Welcome back, Princess Hela.”
She did not ask any of the questions she had for him, nor did she snipe at him.
It did no matter anymore.
“Thank you, Watcher.”
“And welcome, Valkyrie Brunnhilde,” he added, inclining his head towards her.
“Watcher,” said Brunnhilde, in a much more unfriendly manner, glowering at him from beside her.
He did not react to her animosity, golden eyes turning to rest on the rest of Hela’s family.
“Welcome, Anthony Stark, Natasha Romanova, James Rhodes, Lizabeta Zhukova, Bruce Banner, Anya Kulikov, Yelena Belova, Clinton Barton, Alyona Preobrazhensky, Franchezka Nikolayev, Alina Zaytsev, Nebula daughter of Thanos, Gamora daughter of Thanos, Jane Foster, Darcy Lewis, and James Barnes.”
“Creepy,” said Darcy Lewis, shuddering.
Winter, Nebula, Franchezka and Yelena had pointed their guns at him before he was done speaking.
“Do not call us that,” said Gamora, weapon not drawn but stance combative.
“How do you know our surnames?” demanded Alyona, appearing tense. “I can't even pronounce Fran's surname, how can you? And also, who the fuck is James Barnes?”
“The Watcher sees and knows all,” explained Hela, making a note of the surnames. It was now occurring to her that she had not, before this, known the surnames of most of the girls.
“And James Barnes was the ghost I was before becoming the man I am today,” said Winter, watching the Watcher with narrowed eyes, weapon still cocked. “If you see and know all, then you’d know damn well that my name is Winter and not James. You did that on purpose, you little shit.”
“The Watcher finds amusement in the little things,” said Hela, giving Winter, Nebula, Franchezka and Yelena a pointed look. “You were told no weapons. Which meant at least hide the weapons, so that I can pretend not to see them.”
“Sorry, General Big Mama.”
Hela shot Yelena a dark look that promised pain and that she knew would achieve nothing. Unfortunately for her, the name seemed to have caught on. Just last week, Thena had called her that.
“Your carriages are coming,” said the Watcher, pointing at where they could now see and hear horses galloping towards them. “King Thor and Prince Loki await you at the castle.”
"Oh," said Lizabeta, expression falling as the horses came to a stop in front of them.
"Lizabeta? Are you well?"
"She was hoping those were pegasi," said Anya, snickering at the pout on her sister's face.
"Or, at the very least unicorns," added the youngest.
"I get you," said Anthony, putting an arm around her shoulders. "So far they are failing the sci-fi test big time."
"You should have expected that," said Natasha, following Hela towards one of the carriages. "Even you said that Loki talks like he expects to have to have to duel Mr Darcy for Elizabeth's hand soon."
"You read the book!"
The Einherjar before the carriage bowed when he saw her, eyes quite wide in what she was not sure was fear, shock, or surprise.
Maybe all three.
“Princess Hela,” he greeted. “An honour. Your carriage. Others will arrive for the remaining of your party. We-”
“That is all right,” said Hela, ignoring his hand and preparing to climb aboard by herself. “I believe there is space for five more in here.”
The Einherjar express was filled with consternation, but Hela ignored it.
She did not care for all of the etiquette rules she was breaking with her actions. Between her Midgardian attire - Yvonne still insisted on calling her style 'sexy goth', while Anya said that she was 'if female rage was a person' - and her life this past few centuries, she was no longer the princess she had once been.
She saw no reason to act as she had or as they expected her to.
The Einherjar did not protest, though he did look a little scandalised as Winter, Natasha, Anthony, Bruce and Clint Barton climbed after her.
She ignored it, trying not to smile at the glower on Brunnhilde’s face when she noticed Winter or the jeering of some of the girls and James towards the other four members of the carriage.
“You know, when you told me about all of the technology Asgard had, carriages and horses were not what I had in mind,” said Anthony, a judging expression on his face as he inspected the now moving carriage.
“Flying ships,” commented Natasha, pointing outside her window.
“Your father promised me a flying car, Tony,” said Winter, as Anthony all but climbed over a complaining Bruce’s lap to see out of the window. “Where is my flying car, Tony? I deserve it. It would make killing so much easier. Build me one already.”
“Normally I would answer with ‘you killed my parents, so fuck you and your flying car’, but the fact that Howard was unable to deliver intrigues and delights me,” said Anthony, settling down more comfortably on Bruce’s lap. “What do you think, Brucie-Bear? Can we make a flying car?”
“What I think is that there is a perfectly fine chair right here. Please use it, before your parent killing step-father decides to kill me,” said the berserker, eyeing Winter and the gun he had started polishing as soon as they had gotten inside the carriage warily.
“Sometimes I think you don’t even love me,” complained Anthony, putting an arm around Bruce’s neck and getting even more comfortable. “Ignore him, he’s all bite and no bark. Wait, no, that’s not reassuring. Ugh, whatever, doesn’t matter, he’s not my dad. The point is, can we make a flying car when we get home?”
Bruce sighed, pretending great annoyance. But Hela could see the intrigue and quick calculation going on inside of his mind just by looking into his eyes. “Mathematically... I mean, theoretically I guess we could...?”
“Hell yeah, we could!” cheered Anthony, clapping his hands together. “Take that, Asgard’s flying ships! Remind me to talk to Rhodey about this as soon as we get out, he’ll be in immediately. And once we are done with that, you, me and Jane Foster need to talk, because there is no way we cannot do what Asgard did with the Bifrost in a non throwing up inducing sort of way.”
“I would not be surprised if you managed to,” said Hela, eyes fixed on the window of the carriage.
She was not nervous, no.
But she certainly felt some kind of way, as she watched the carriage get off the bridge and drive through the citadel. Seeing so many people on the road, curiously watching the procession of their carriages, children cheering and running alongside them for stretches of the road, trying to take a peek inside...
It was not that she had missed it, per se. But it brought up some nostalgia, some melancholy that she wasn’t sure the origin of or what to do with.
She glanced up at the slight kick from Winter, to find the once soldier and still assassin watching her carefully from opposite her.
“We can leave whenever you want,” he told her, in a low voice, offering her his metal arm.
Anthony, Natasha, Bruce and Clint Barton were in the middle of a heated conversation regarding the ships, not even noticing the byplay.
Hela lightly squeezed the hand, ignoring the dagger (her dagger, when had he taken it?) offered, and did not answer.
He still understood, letting go of her and leaning back.
The melancholy was less stifling after that, and they arrived soon after.
Sooner than Hela had expected, and her heart lurched unexpectedly as she spied the amount of people waiting for her in front of the castle.
“Uh,” she said, a surprised expression crossing her face at the sight. “Loki is quite good.”
“I would not use the word ‘good’ to describe him,” said Anthony, head almost knocking against hers as he also observed the outside of the window with some curiosity. “That man’s brain is a bag of cats.”
“Just your type, then?” asked Natasha, as two Einherjar came to open the doors for them.
“Well, I won’t say he’s not my type. He’s a litt– aw, Brucey, are you jealous?”
“I- of course not!”
“So it’s normal for you to just start holding me closer as soon as mention of Loki being hot is made?”
“Neither you nor Loki will ever be good enough for Tony,” said Winter without bothering to look back, as the doors opened. “Now, let’s pretend to be better than we actually are. I have a bet with Darcy Lewis that her group will be the one to cause the first gaffe or fight, and I am not above murder to ensure it is so.”
“With Nebula on that team, you probably won’t need to.”
Hela tried to not roll her eyes at their exchange, quickly satisfied when she heard his ‘oof’ as Natasha smacked him on the back of the head. Instead she took the first step forward, this time accepting the hand of the wide eyed Einherjar that opened the door for her.
Then, she stepped out.
The crowd audibly gasped at the sight of her, and Hela held her head up as she glanced at the large group before her, eyes focusing on her brothers first.
“Princess Hela-” started Thor, looking sort of awkward in his King attire. But Frigga was moving before he could finish his sentence, a large smile on her face as she rushed towards Hela with open arms.
Hela knew love now. She knew what love felt and looked like. She knew Frigga might have cared for her, but she knew she had never truly loved her.
But Frigga was also one of the very few people who had cared for her, so she did not resist or pull away as the woman wrapped her arms around her.
She had not done enough. But she had done something, and for that Hela could be thankful.
“Oh, Hela,” said Frigga, looking at her with shining eyes. “I cannot believe it is true. I thought you dead.”
“You thought or you were told?” asked Hela, watching her shrewdly.
“It matters not,” said the woman, pressing a kiss on Hela’s cheek. “You are with us, now. And with your family, too, I-”
“All-Mother,” said Loki, pointedly.
Frigga did not look apologetic, but she did let go of Hela to step back slightly.
“King Thor,” said Hela, inclining her head to him.
“Princess Hela,” he said, smiling a little too much for the dignified King he was meant to be. “Sister. Welcome home. And welcome home to you too, Valkyrie Brunnhilde.”
Brunnhilde, now standing at Hela’s left, bowed. “Thank you, my King.”
Hela ignored the curious warriors and Generals standing behind Thor, and turned to a group of maidens who was standing at the edge of the group.
“My prediction was wrong, it seems,” she said. “Valkyries. I am glad to see it.”
“We are glad too, General,” said Anna, as the Valkyries rushed through the line of Einherjars to approach Hela and Brunnhilde.
“General, Commander, we-”
“It is all right,” said Hela, and she actually meant it, as Hylla and Reina took her hands. “It is all right.”
They nodded, eyes shining with joy and unshed tears, keeping the softer and more painful words to their hearts, for the time being.
Hela was grateful for it. She turned slightly to where the rest were standing, bored and clearly very jealous.
“Let me introduce you to my Naevis.”
“Naevis?”
Hela made eye contact with Winter. “Nae for new. Vis for defenders. My new protectors. My family.”
Anthony winked at her, Winter nodding approvingly beside him.
"Norns know what you would do without us," he said, like the annoying creature he still was, despite it all.
“I don’t remember signing anything,” loudly said Yelena, breaking the moment.
“So long as we get paid per hour, I’m good,” said Clint Barton.
Hela shot him a glare. “And that is why he has become Bruce and you remain Clint Barton.”
“Aw, man.”
The first thing the All-Father saw when he woke up from the very convenient Odinsleep he had fallen into was Hela herself, filing her nails with a dagger and staring at him, Goose sitting on her lap.
She wasn't sure of how the flerken was here, seen as they hadn't brought her with them, but she was pleased.
And she found that the utter panic in the man's eyes at the sight was the perfect mix of incredibly amusing and satisfying.
It was with pleasure that she saw how much older he had gotten, since the last time she had seen him. White covered every hair on his body, his skin had greyed and wrinkled, and even his ‘good’ eye was not looking so good.
She did not doubt that some of his strength remained, but his appearance betrayed the weakness and frailty his body had grown into.
No wonder he had given Thor the crown even though the boy-man had been barely of age and clearly nowhere as mature enough to handle it.
“You-” he said, not moving an inch, eyes widened in fear. “You- how- you-”
“My dearest brother's first order of business was to lift my and Brunnhilde’s banishment,” said Hela, pulling her dagger away and shaking it dangerously. Odin’s eyes were fixed on it, though she knew his attention had also not left Goose. “Something that, oddly enough, I was not even aware was in place to begin with, since I willingly chose to leave the Realm.
“And then my other brother, the one who is Jotun but I decided to claim anyway, noted magic on certain people on Asgard that affected their memories. He decided to, kindly enough, not bother you with it, and cleared the mind magic himself. Strangely enough, many – most – of the people affected by this ailment were my old Valkyries. You would not happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“How did you...” he had the gall to look shocked. “How did you manage all this? How did you- How?!”
She scoffed. “The thing about you, Odin All-Father, is that you never had enough sense. And you never realised that my biggest hold back, the only thing that strayed my hand was your ‘care’. But noticing that would have implied you noticing me as anything other than a weapon, and of course you were never going to do that.”
She let her dagger go closer to him, close enough that she could cut out his throat and he would never be able to stop her.
“You will never get away with it,” he warned, forcing himself to remain calm despite the threat on his non metaphorical neck.
“I know,” she said, not moving an inch. “But I do not wish to kill you. I just wanted to scare you, a little bit.” She smiled. “I could have killed you before you even woke up. I could have killed you over a millennia ago, had I wanted to. I could have killed you the moment you decided to kill me and that I was dangerous.
“I chose not to do that. And I have lived by that choice, for over a thousand years.” She pulled her dagger away from him and stood back up, Goose mewling in irritation as she jumped on the ground. “You know what I find most amusing? I have no inclination to explain myself to you at all. I could tell you all I have learnt since you did what you did, all I have found, but... I don’t wish to. I don’t owe you an explanation, and I have no need or want to do it either.”
“Then why did you do all this?” he asked, slowly sitting up on his bed, still afraid.
“My not-husband’s dramatics rubbed off on me,” she said, turning her back to him. “And I thought it’d be fun to scare you. See you at dinner, Father.”
+++
Anthony was at the door when she exited, having been leaning on the wall and awaiting her.
She was not particularly surprised, despite having made sure nobody saw her as she had come see her dearest father.
“How does it feel?”
“Movies will tell you that revenge is not worth it,” she admitted, linking their arms together as they walked. “They would tell you that it is useless to chase it, and that it will not undo any of the pain you have suffered.”
She turned to glance at him, at the boy who she had met by accident in a war workroom and who had changed everything. He no longer was the babe with mischief in his eyes who’s new talent of speech was hindered by his inability to coordinate his mouth and tongue that she had met back then.
He was a man, now, with a company he had built from the ground up, a reputation of warrior of Midgard, and a potential romantic entanglement with one Bruce Banner.
He was grown.
But the mischief in his eyes remained the same.
“They would be lying,” she said, and grinned. “It felt fucking fantastic.”
“Hell yeah!” he said, raising his left hand for her to high five. “Fuck Odin!”
“Fuck Odin!” she echoed, just as amused.
“Fuck Odin!” echoed Anya, Franchezka and Darcy Lewis from somewhere not too far.
Hela threw her head back and laughed.
[Loki was right, she found, later on at dinner.
Odin’s expression as she presented her family and pretended not to see all of them shooting him dark glares and hidden threats – or not so hidden in the case of Winter or Hulk, who decided to make an appearance – was very amusing.
Especially when he had to agree, through gritted teeth, that, as Hela's children they were princes and princesses of Asgard, and technically deserving of lands and official titles – which applied to those there with her and the members of her family currently on Midgard.
Idunn was certainly less happy about the number of golden apples she had to give Hela, a rightful token for princes that Loki, surprisingly, had reminded Odin to dispense.
(“I once taunted you with the mortality of your family,” he told her, when she questioned him later on. “Before I saw what a family really was, and before I understood your bond with them. You… you helped me find the truth, and I owe you one for that. Since you will not rid yourself of me or I of you any soon, I thought it right to give them the same dubious privilege.”)
(Neither of them were huggers, so the two seconds hug that followed those words would never be spoken of again.)
Still, she was much happier the next day, when they returned home and she was reunited with the rest of the girls, Agatha, and the other magical annoyances she had accumulated on Midgard.
Family. She was glad to have them.]