The Hel Experience

-10 Years Left Until Ragnarok- The Palace Garden

Some days I experience life as time. Every sound I hear is a clock ticking impatiently, nagging at my head as it urges me to get up and do something. When I finally calm down and wipe the tears off my face, a quiet follows, and before I know it the sound of my heartbeat alone has caused me to pull up my knees and cry again. It makes eternity seem only so much longer, when you truly notice every passing second.

I could have done something. I could have gotten up, brushed the snow off my frozen fingers, and gone back inside to interrupt the yelling, but I knew neither side of the argument would appreciate my help at all. Odin would just watch me like some rat staining the beauty of his golden home, while Frigga and my father would probably ignore my presence and continue trying to convince the king, until Thor would be the one to kindly guide me back to the garden to wait.

I didn't want to leave Asgard. It was my home. My family lived there, my life was there. Though I would never have described myself as popular, I had enough to lose if I left the place where I was born, and the worst part was probably that I knew nothing and no-one would follow me wherever I would end up going. Even Loki, my dad, wouldn't bother giving up his life here to give me any company.

"She's just a child!"

"As I've already said, this matter is far more important and necessary than her mental wellbeing and-"

"For god's sake! What has she done wrong?!"

"I don't need to explain my reasons."

"Odin, dear," Frigga interrupted. Though I couldn't see very well through the curtain and the window, I saw silhouettes dance like shadows on a background of candle light. "I don't think we should do this."

"Why? I've told you what will happen if we don't."

"I have the feeling this is only going to make matters worse. Please, just liste-"

I moved away from the glass. The snow crunched under my body when I sat down again and pulled up my legs so I could wrap my arms around them and pull them up against my chest. I was freezing. There were snowflakes caught in my lashes and thick, black hair, but I didn't even bother trying to remove them.

At the time I could still be described as sane. Perhaps a bit mentally unstable, tormented and, according to some, strange, but sane. Just a poor child, half orphan, who had been fighting all her life to stay in the place where she belonged. It seemed like 11 years of trying were going to have been for nothing, though.

The argument felt 10 times longer than usual. By the time Thor and Loki came outside for me, I had almost fallen asleep in the snow- my hands shaking and teardrops frozen on my cheeks. The next thing I remember is waking up in the barn with both of them sitting quietly against the wall, but the dead have told me of their sad attempt to at least give me one more night in the palace.

"Go back to sleep. You'll need it." Loki's voice sounded stern, but I was too tired to notice. The only reason I wasn't still fast asleep, was the sound of a voice next to me. The spirit sounded my age, but I ignored her. It didn't sound important.

So I did what I was told.

The next morning Thor woke me with a strong hug. I almost screamed, but the air had been pressed out of my lungs and all I managed a squeak. When I stood on my toes and looked over his shoulder, I could see Loki's silhouette on a background of perfectly white snowflakes falling from the sky.

The wind blew the cold air through the hole in the wall that could be described as the window. The smell of cooking meat flowed into the barn, but I knew none of it was going to be for me. It was clear what had happened over night; I had become a subject. I had lost my rights. I had lost everything.

And my heartbeat reminded me how quickly that could happen.

"I'm going to miss you," my uncle said, once he had stepped away from me. The sudden loss of his warmth left me freezing, so I hugged myself and tilted my chin towards my chest. Then he held out his hand for me to take and led me out towards the horses.

It was a short, silent ride to Jormungard. The sound of the horses' hooves crunching snow beneath them was a bit distracting, but not even close to as helpful as it would have been if Loki didn't have to concentrate on keeping himself calm.

The train was coming to a halt when we arrived. People got in and out of Asgard’s Best and Quickest Transportation! and hurried past us. There was no goodbye, just an unclear promise that he would remind Odin of what that day felt like to us.

Then I left to Vanaheim without asking about it twice.

Dear readers,

The Illusionist here. I am currently looking for an editor for this story, as well as the Wolf's Jest. If interested, send me a message!

Love,

The Illusionist