The Hel Experience

-3 years left until Ragnarok- Vanaheim-

Time passes slowly when you are an observer. One second, a moment, even, is suddenly filled with every detail of life; the soothing sound of someone's breathing, a leaf dropping to the floor, hair sliding over your ear into your face, the smell of burning oak, wolves howling in the distance, the color of flames dancing on candles.

That's why I like distracting myself with thought, despite how hard it was in the beginning. To concentrate on one specific idea, a thought irrelevant to all the others, can feel like I'm cutting myself out of reality. To me, that's terrifying, and I guess I just fear that I may never come back.

But, back before that day, there were still more things surrounding me that called for my attention. Not just drops of green water dripping off of stone walls, the weight of steel around my wrists or my ankles, slowly dragging me down the tilted rock I stand against. Even the Midgard Serpent has become too default to request my mind's time. Always the same, stupid expression. Always the same, intimidating hiss.

Always the same pain that makes me scream, cry, and attempt to release myself, until Balder comes over with eyes full of torment, knowing he can never help me.

Once, I sat on a wooden bench just outside the circus tent. It was quiet. Everybody inside busied themselves with mundane tasks, on my orders, but only so I could have a moment of silence in the fresh air.

My mind wandered, so I tried focusing on my breathing, but it didn't help. Exactly one year before that day, I'd almost killed my own father, and- what a surprise- nobody had come to visit me since then. Even Balder seemed to become a bit scared of me, but when he'd told me that, I had just laughed in the irony of it. "I can't kill the dead!" was all I'd said in return.

There were so many things I regretted, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized only a few of them were my own fault. If I dug far enough in my memories, I could always find someone else to blame, and that comforted me. Leaving behind all my friends without ever saying goodbye? Odin. Becoming a worthless, traveling performer? Well, Balder. But I couldn't blame him, because we both knew it was the only way to earn any money and survive. And as for Balder's death? Thor didn't protect his own little brother. Even if it was against another younger brother. And Loki? He was the reason I roamed the realms alone, without the security of family. He wouldn't leave his precious life in Asgard for anything as insignificant as his own daughter. And who was to blame for me becoming an emotional wreck? Odin. Becoming an Asgardian outlaw? Odin. Becoming the villain of each story? Odin. Having to disguise my appearance and identity any time I entered Jotunheim, Asgard or Midgard? Odin.

As I sat there on the bench, under the boiling summer sun and watched the fuzz in the air float between the bright green leaves on long branches, my head started to ache. The reality was that I had become a young girl who was never going to grow up. Ripped away from a life where she was privileged enough to think she could have any dreams for the future, she just held onto one she already had; to become queen of Asgard one day.

But I shook my head, stood up and walked towards the entrance of my circus. Until I'd have a kingdom, and long after that, at least I'd have my dead.

I took a deep breath and squeezed my bright blue eyes shut. I walked straight into the sounds of busy spirits, crashing objects, and a thick, sickening smell of vomit and popcorn.