Asgard and Olympus - Chapter Two

Amazing, a Saturday update. 8D

Asgard and Olympus, chapter two
Wordcount: 2,836 (because I felt the need to share that.)

Hela finds Aphrodite lurking around the trees that shield Loki’s hall from the rest of Asgard. Or she assumes the curvy, fair-haired woman in the rather revealing Grecian dress is Aphrodite. “Heil,” she says politely. (As much as she dislikes goddesses of Aphrodite’s type--and no, she is definitely not thinking of Freya right now--Aphrodite is a guest and Hela will be polite.)

Aphrodite blinks at the Nordic greeting. “Hello,” she says. Hela nods in greeting and turns right, intending to go look for her brother Fenris.

Aphrodite gives a pretty little gasp. “Euuuuw! Your face!”

The polite smile on Hela’s face stiffens and nearly falls; she only just manages to keep it on her face. (You would think after thousands of years of this she would be used to it, but it still hurts.) “I know.” She shakes long black hair over that half of her face, hating the loss of vision, the way it tickles her nose and gets in the way. “I’m sorry if I startled you.”

The goddess of love shakes her head. Hela walks past her, ignoring the mortified expression, and sets her mind on looking for Fen.

It’s official; she really doesn’t appreciate Grecian deities showing up in Asgard unexpectedly. Óðins skegg, Loki should have warned her!

The forest ends, giving way to the ostentatious golden halls of the Æsir. She sees various familiar faces in the people: there’s Thor and Sif, Skadi arguing with Njord, Idun quietly handing out apples, and…

Oh, Ás. Fenris arguing with Tyr the Warrior. Hela increases her pace, limping slightly on her bad leg, and pushes past various Æsir to get to the two facing off in the middle of Ida’s Plain.

“Your confinement in Asgard was not my decision, Fenris,” Tyr says, looking down at the boy in front of him (for though Fenris is ancient by human standards, he’s only a boy by Æsir standards).

“I know that,” Fen snaps. “But Odin would listen to you over me--”

“If you want something done, Fenris, I suggest you take it up with Odin yourself. I am done here. Do not begin this argument again or I will be forced to take action against you.” Tyr turns on his heel and strides away, back into Asgard.

So Fenris still hasn’t learned to stop picking fights and arguments. Hela sighs and crosses the remaining distance to her brother, laying her right hand on his shoulder. “Fen?”

He whirls angrily, light blue cape swirling. She takes a step back; when Fen’s angry he doesn’t think about who he’s lashing out at, and a brawl is really the last thing she wants right now (not to mention Odin won’t exactly be happy if she and Fen trash the meadow directly in front of his doorstep). He relaxes when he sees her, though, and says, “Hei, Hela.”

A thousand things she could say after a few centuries apart…and the first thing that comes out of her mouth is, “You need to stop picking fights, especially with Tyr.”

He shrugs, arrogant as always. “Asgard’s gotten dull. There’s nothing else to do--and Odin still insists on keeping me and Jormungand confined here.” Fen looks her up and down. “You haven’t changed a bit, Hela.” Something in his gaze says, Still the lucky one, the one who got to leave…

She returns the gaze. He still keeps his hair cropped just below his ears, with one long shock over one eye; still wears that ostentatious fur-hemmed blue cape and the golden armbands with the rune Fehu on them…not all that out of place among Asgard, but compared to the simple commoner’s dress that Hela, Jormungand, and Loki dress in, it’s…a statement.

“You haven’t either.” She’s not sure it’s a good thing that he’s still the same old hot-tempered, rebellious Fenris.

Another shrug from Fenris. “I take it you’ve met the resident Olympians.”

“They’re staying here!?” Why did no one ever tell her anything?

“Yeah.” He laughs. “They’re going to be here for quite a while if Odin agrees to the alliance. If there’s a threat the Æsir should be able to deal with it themselves,” he adds, almost sounding reluctant to admit the competency of the Æsir but still managing to add derision to the sentence. “And the Olympians likewise.”

“Is there anything else related to the Olympians I should know that nobody bothered to tell me?” Hela sighs.

“I don’t know. What have people told you?”

She rattles off her knowledge, scant as it is. “Hermes came with Ares and Aphrodite,” (she winces at that name), “to deliver a message to Odin about an alliance.”

“Then people forgot to tell you that Hermes brought his two sons.”

Absolutely fantastic. More Olympians.

Hela sighs and nods, brushing her coarse black hair behind her left ear. “Thakka, Fen. You’re sure that’s all?”

“Absolutely positive.” Fen would never admit it, but on rare occasions he grins just like Loki.

“They told me I could find Hermes with Loki, and they said you two would know where to find Loki if anyone,” a voice drawls from behind Hela, a voice she’s never heard before.

As it’s male and not Hermes’ or Ares’ voice, she figures it must be one of Hermes’ sons (unless there are other strangers in Asgard that people have also neglected to tell her about) as she turns around to look at him.

Curly dark-brown hair in an unruly mess, round nose, eyes full of mischief, the slouching demigod in front of her looks exactly like a teenaged Hermes.

“If Loki doesn’t want to be found, not even his children can find him,” she replies.

He straightens. “You’re Loki’s children?”

Fen growls quietly. (Hela remembers that Fen has never liked being tagged as Loki’s son, and winces inwardly.) “Yes. We are. My name is Fenris; that is my sister Hela.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Autolycus.” Autolycus nods at Fenris.

What a strange name, Hela thinks. “Why are you looking for Loki?”

“They said that he would know where to find Hermes. Geez, do the Æsir ever just give a straight answer, instead of always passing a guy to other people?”

She cocks her head at his odd accent even as Fen snarls, “We are not of the Æsir.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Autolycus says. “You sure look Æsir. So you don’t know where to find Loki or Hermes?”

“Technically, we are three-quarters Jotun and one-quarter elf,” Hela says, just to set the record straight, “but our father was adopted into the Æsir and so…we have a place in Asgard.”

“Jotun; you mean the frost giants? Nice.” Autolycus talks fast, nodding a lot. He hasn’t said a thing about Hela’s dead side, and she wonders why. (She’s not complaining, of course; after Aphrodite she’s happy to find someone who doesn’t seem to care.)

“I have business elsewhere,” Fen says, turning to vanish into the crowd of Æsir walking across Ida’s Plain.

She knows he means ‘I have no more patience for this fool’s jabbering’ and sighs. At least he didn’t say that outright. And without Fen to interject things for her to smooth out, she has no idea what to say to an Olympian.

“Huh. What’s up with him?” Autolycus asks.

“It’s…complicated.” Hela doesn’t feel like explaining about frost giants and ancient battles and most of all, Loki. “You--you wanted to find Loki?”

“Well, Hermes, but the sea god told me that Loki would know where to find him.”

She nods. “Alright…um, I last saw Hermes at Loki’s hall in the forest that way--” she points behind her.

Autolycus leans to the side to look around her in the direction she’s pointing. “That way, huh? Okay. I’ll see you later, then.” He saunters off, hands tucked into his belt.

One more unexpected visit from an Olympian and I think I’ll just go back and hide in Loki’s hall for a while… She sighs for what feels like the hundredth time and decides to go on her own quest to find Loki; maybe she’ll also find Jorgi on her way, and then she’ll have seen everyone she meant to see on her first day back at Asgard and she can withdraw from the crowd and relax and stop worrying about unfamiliar people like Aphrodite.

Hela makes her way in the approximate direction Loki’s back door faces, which is more or less the same way Fen and Autolycus went. (She assumes Loki at least started out in that direction, though he’s probably halfway across Asgard by now). Wrapped up in her own thoughts of surprises and random Olympians and what she needs to do before she can call it a day, she forgets to watch where she’s going and slams into someone.

Oops.

She desperately hopes she hasn’t run into an Ás who will take offense (Thor and Skadi spring to mind) as she stumbles backwards and looks up.

“Are you all right? My apologies!” he says anxiously.

Óðins skegg, it’s another teen in a toga. She blinks, shakes her head. “It’s fine--I assume you are Autolycus’ brother?”

He’s gaping at her. She sighs and runs her dead hand through the left side of her hair--does she need to explain her condition? But he’s polite; he shuts his mouth quickly and meets her gaze (probably just trying to keep his gaze off her dead skin) nods. “Yes, I’m Abderus. Autolycus is my half brother.”

She nods back, dropping her hand. “Um. Apologies for running into you…I’ll be on my way now.”

He gives another nod (people seem to be nodding a lot lately, more than usual) and steps to the side to allow her to pass.

A very loud Nordic curse makes Hela jump as Odin, in full battle armor, helmet covering his long gray hair, cuts through the crowd of wandering Æsir with Hermes trying to keep up. The Æsir part before the two as they pass right by Abderus and Hela.

Odin stops right in front of his son Thor, who looks up from where he has been chatting with Sif. “My father! You seem in a foul mood,” Thor declares. (Thor always has been good at stating the obvious.)

Two large ravens glide through the air, settling on Odin’s shoulders. “Thor, there are Jotuns loose on Midgard. Dragons have managed to break through to Yggdrasil and from there, Alfheim. There has been an outbreak of monsters across the Nine Worlds.” He turns to the crowd. “Warriors of Asgard! Ready your shields, your swords! The threat that Zeus pleaded for aid with is upon us!”

Abderus mutters something that sounds like, “Zeus doesn’t plead.” Hela ignores him, trying to piece together exactly what Odin is saying.

Odin spreads his arms, an impressive figure with his two ravens still on his shoulders. “The Olympians have asked for our help in this matter. Do we agree to give it?”

The Æsir are drawing weapons left and right, only a few of them without weapons altogether. Plenty of the Asynjur the female Æsir, draw knives and swords and various other weapons as well; even prissy Freya looks ready to outfit her cat-drawn chariot for war.

Thor hefts Mjollnir in his hand, a wickedly determined grin on his face. “Shalt we remind these frost giants why they have stayed in Jotunheim these past centuries!?”

“I see why Zeus calls your people barbaric,” Abderus mutters.

“We’re not barbaric, we’re warriors,” Hela hisses, not noticing that she’s referring to the Æsir as her people. (Odd, as usually she denies having any true connection to the Æsir.)

He shrugs as if he doesn’t see much of a difference. Hugin and Munin, Odin’s ravens, take flight and the Allfather turns towards the Bifrost, the bridge between worlds. Odin leads at least half of the Æsir, the ones perpetually ready for battle at a moment’s notice. Thor whirls Mjollnir above his head, and lightning crackles in the sky. Thor is too powerful to use the Bifrost, for fear of breaking the delicate rainbow bridge, so he always takes an alternate route over the mountains of Jotunheim.

Hela shakes her head as she takes a step backwards. Odin’s just declared war on a moment’s notice and the Æsir respond enthusiastically… she’s not sure this is the wisest course of action. Of course Hugin and Munin have informed Odin of what’s going on…but she still feels that there should be some sort of reconnaissance before the Æsir dive headlong into battle…

“The Olympians will fight as well, won’t they?” she asks Abderus in a low voice.

“Of course they will,” Abderus says flatly.

Hela cocks her head, wonders if he shares her misgivings.

The Æsir and the Olympians on a battlefield together…when they haven’t been friends or even allies in thousands of years…

No, this is probably not the greatest idea ever…

Ehehehe. Wrote this at ten at night, so it's probably not my most polished work. xP And I hope the random Nordic exclamations didn't bother you too much...