" at the heart of all beauty lies something inhuman. "

Indie, selective, mutually exclusive HEL OF HELHEIM of norse mythology, with heavy vertigo comics influence. fandom/setting aus available. multi and sideblog friendly. established 2017, revived 2021. 21+. PENNED BY KADIAN,

" beauty is terror. what we call beautiful, we quiver before. "

As the youngest child and only daughter of the god Loki and his bride Angrboða's, Hel was born into a bed of wild roses. Whether it was due to the deformity that ate away half of the child's body, or being the sole heiress to a long matriarchy, she was truly treasured from the start. She was barred from little, and so ran wild as she pleased. Recurring illnesses and ongoing struggles with mobility did little to dampen her spirit, her days spent wandering the Ironwood and making merry with her brothers.It was because of them that Hel was far from the strangest creature in her family.Her older brothers were stranger still, by divine reckoning. Fenrir, the eldest, was a wolf cub, proud and boisterous as a warrior. Jormungandr, the middle child, was a great emerald snake, ever-growing, forever seeking purpose. Simply bearing a humanoid shape would prove enough to make Hel palatable compared to her monstrous siblings, the division of her form notwithstanding. The trio became well-known among their mothers people, and dwelt in adventurous, fairy tale days from the start.Delightful as this existence was, it did have its failings. Angrboða, in her fervor for glory, was often away from her children, chasing her ambitions over the horizon. It was inevitable that Loki step forward and consult the mother of his children on the matter, eventually leaving with Hel and her brothers under his care alone. Overnight, the children went from the enchanted woods that had sheltered them from the world at large to a society that was all too interested in Loki's affairs.Asgard was as far from her beloved forest home as Hel could get. Thrust into a splendid court, the children found themselves in a situation that demanded adaption. Each had their stumbling blocks. Hel, for her part, began to retreat further into herself. There was no place for a near-corpse in such a beautiful place. How could anyone ever understand her?Of course, she was never as alone as she thought. Her closest ally was her father, who looked at the quiet, unsure girl and saw far better in her. For attempt the girl made to carve out a place for herself, for every afternoon sat quietly observing the court of Asgard, Loki began to see more and more of himself in his only daughter.It was only a matter of time until he chose to take Hel further under his wing in earnest, educating her in courtly manners as well as deceit. Piece by piece, the blade of Hel's mind became more comfortable against its whetstone, even if she misliked the little deceits her father carried out as a chaotic faction in his blood-brother's court.Loki created his own monster. In time, even her brothers began to notice how 'the baby' was father's favorite, no matter his affection for his sons. A more modern observer might have called the child Hel a Daddy's Girl, and they would not be wrong.Just as Fenrir was a reflection of his fierce mother, Hel became a tender shadow of her father. She spent many an afternoon begging stories from her elders, daydreaming of being a part of this beautiful world her uncle had built forevermore. Delicate, thoughtful, and a peacemaker, she would never be a great warrior like her cousins and their children -- but then, she would sooner tend to Asgards wellbeing than fight for it.It is a condition of childhood that, for better or worse, it must come to an end. All children eventually grow up, no matter their form. This was perhaps most evident in the sons of Loki and Angrboða, whose inhuman bodies matured too quickly for the comfort of the Aesir.Even in the face of such mistrust over their growth, all three siblings saw nothing strange in their development, nor could they see the suspicion in the eyes of the Aesir. Other than a few jokes at the expense of the slower maturing Hel, all was just as it had been for them. Much as Fenrir might balk at the term, and in spite of their growing infamy, the trio were still just children.Within a few short years of their arrival, both Fenrir and Jormungandr had developed to monstrous size -- With no indication that they were to stop. The pairs Jotunn blood was becoming more and more obvious with each passing day, something that had begun to worry the more 'natural' residents of Asgard.It was no secret that the Jotunn were an eternal enemy, one that ensured war was a when rather than an if. There were always those who assumed that rearing such monsters within Asgard was a failure to keep the wolves at the door -- Indeed, they were living like princes in Odin's own hall. No matter who their father might be, there was no excuse to continue entertaining such outsiders when they might one day choose blood over hearth.Plans were discussed behind the back of Odin's brother. Decisions were made in the wake of prophecies. In some fashion or another, the threat that Loki's children presented would be dealt with.Fenrir, Jormungandr, and Hel had no reason to question their audience before Odin and the rest of the court. The trio even joked among themselves about it, reasoning that Fenrir must truly be in trouble from his last run through the halls, that Jormungandr must have startled an envoy from the Dwarfs so severely that he was to be punished, that Odin was going to make a royal decree for the solemn Hel to lighten up for once.None of them had truly done any wrong that they could recall. Walking towards her fate, seeing the crowd that awaited she and her brothers, Hel even reasoned that it was simply some affair that required the whole of Odin's household to be present. It was the only sensible answer she could find.In fact, it was all perfectly sensible, before Odin began to speak. Calling the children forward, Hel found herself discomforted by the atmosphere, by every eye clapping onto her. Even in that moment, the final calm before the storm, the siblings assumed that, however severe this meeting was, they would make it through whatever punishment awaited them.The reason for their appearance was made known soon after the three young Giants approached Odin's throne. The Allfather spoke of the growth of both wolf and serpent, of their bestial forms, and what a threat they might pose. Were it not for the severity of the accusations, any one of them might laugh.Asgard was their home. They would never see it come to harm. For all the hardships they had faced within the court, they were not the animals waiting to strike that they were made out to be. Hel, especially had her hopes of one day making a real home out of Asgard, that if she could prove to the Aesir that she was good, that she was smart, that she came in peace seeking nothing but love, that people might regard them with a little more kindness.She was only able to wonder about how the Aesir could come to such malicious conclusions for a moment, was snatched into Odin's grasp. Not a word was said as the great serpent was cast out of Asgard, banished to the great sea of Midgard. This was called just. This was called right. Hel can no longer remember who had decreed it as such, not for the sound of someone crying out. She has never been able to recall if it was Jormungandr or herself screaming as the judgment was passed down.She can remember the heaviness in the air. She can remember the feel of Fenrir's fur standing on end as he drew closer to her, meaning to protect his sister from a similar fate. Hel might have held tight to him, or ran for safety, were it not for the fear that kept her feet rooted to the spot. Fenrir spat, snarled, lashed out at every hand that reached towards them, refusing to allow anyone to hurt his pack any further. By the time the eldest son realized that it was not Hel they meant to snatch up, it was too late. Fenrir was bound in cold iron and dragged, howling and fighting, out of the throne room.The fate of Loki's gruesome sons were sealed. All that remained was his trembling, wide-eyed daughter, grotesque in her own ways, but hardly a threat.Yet.Hel was only a girl, unflowered, soft-cheeked, still sheltered enough to hope for better. Some might have compared the tender child to a babe, more easily moved to tears than fits of anger. Odin, however, knew better than to expect the best from any child of the liesmith. A child she might be, but one day Hel might learn to use those claws. Blood would always seek out blood, and what of a girl whose kin were thrown from their home in disgrace? No, that girl might one day be a threat, just the same as her brothers. It was for the best that she be sent far from court as well.Odin, for all his pragmatism, for all his judgment, was hardly a monster. She was too much her father's daughter for him to make a third play at cruelty. No, Hel was granted smaller mercies than her brothers would ever be allowed. Polite, patient Hel was scooped into the Allfather's great arms, and spirited away from Asgard in the blink of an eye, allowed nothing from her old life as she raced towards what others had decided was her future.When Odin and Hel reached their destination, far beneath the roots of Yggdrasil, she thought she knew her fate. Though she was rather old to be left exposed in the desolate landscape, she knew it was a practice of humans to leave their unwanted babies to die in the cold. She knew then, with a growing sense of panic, that she was to be left in the snow until she either starved or froze to death.In spite of her grim thoughts, Odin carried the delicate girl through the snow, not a word spoken between them for all the miles he walked. Though their surroundings remained bare, nothing but white purgatory on all sides, Odin moved with purpose, until at last both he and Hel could see a dark hall rising out of the snow. It was here that Odin came to stop, before high, finely carved doors, and set Hel back onto her own feet. Then, without flourish, the one-eyed god thrust open the door, allowing Hel to enter the silent building.There were many long tables, and high wooden beams, a raised dais upon which a black throne sat, even a great pit for fires. Spartan as the hall's decor might be, it would make a fine enough home. Quietly, Odin led Hel through the grave property, all the way to the inner chambers, with a bedroom and amenities fit for a queen. It was then that he told her what her fate was.You will be queen, he said, and rule over the damnable dead here, in Eljudnir. It would be enough of a distraction and honor to hopefully stymie any plans for revenge the girl might pursue in womanhood. In some ways, Hel would always wonder if it was some apology on the part of Odin, who had already taken so much from her in so short a time.No matter his intentions, Hel managed to smile at Odin, bitterness thick as blood building in her heart. Even for all the rancor budding in her heart, she found her fear cut it down far too easily. All that Hel knew was that if she acted out, she might end up like her brothers. If she was to live, she must play gracious to these gods, must prove herself worthy of the gift of life.Odin tarried for a short time, long enough to hear the child name what few belongings she had. Her knife was Famine, her bowl Hunger, her threshold a Stumbling Block, and a bed called Sickbed, in the manner a melancholic child might seek to connect with their possessions. Odin accepted each name, and left almost immediately after.There, in the loneliness of her new home, the Child-Queen forced herself to keep her head high.She was not alone for long. The dead filed in after that first lonely night, and that left her isolated in a different way. It was unnatural, to be one living thing among the dead.For a small eternity, Hel's life fell into a cycle. She would rise, rule, and then retreat back to her chambers by her measure of night. Her servant Ganglot would attend to the child queen's wardrobe and hair before she left to attend her duties, while her manservant Gangloti served his queen sweetened mead and food as she sat on her throne. Hel never quite worked up the courage to ask where such delights came from, too fearful that any questions might slight the Aesir who permitted all of this to be hers.Manic, struggling to keep from the path that had been the downfall of her brothers, Hel found few comforts in her life beyond her music and the stories of the men and women that came to dwell within her realm's borders. For years, all that Hel knew of the outside world came from the mouths of her Guests, the passage of time marked in the lines of Midgard kings and their battles.It was not enough -- would never be enough -- but it was a kinder hand than what her brothers had, and for that, Hel learned to keep her mouth shut tight and her nails digging into the soft flesh of her palms.Hel could not tell you, even if she dwelt on it, how old she had been when calamity struck. Her life was still routine enough that time seemed to change nothing, even as she began to grow into womanhood. If asked, she might call herself guilty of becoming as indolent as her servants. The only thing that shook up this system was an arrival Hel could never have foreseen.

She had so loved the light of Asgard. The realm had seemed woven from gold itself, with an endless sky overhead and blazing fires at every hearth. The sun had seemed near enough to touch, in her time above ground.It was a father's love, that brought the brightest of the Aesir to her dark realm.Hel became certain of a few truths in rapid succession.Her father had killed Baldr, taking the life of Odin's most beloved son as wergild for the three children stolen from Loki.
Her father had sent the beautiful youth as a gift to his loved and lost daughter.
Her uncle had lied for all these years, that her father had forsaken Angrboda's children to their fates.The hate she had felt so keenly that first day in the Helheim flared back to life as she beheld the newly arrived Baldr and Nanna.With little else to do in the moment, the lady greeted her latest Guests, let them know the laws of her realm, and turned the pair loose to do whatever it was gods did in death. What more could she ask of them? While the tables might have turned, an Aesir now at her mercy and subject to her own form of justice, Hel did not see the point in retaliating against Baldr. The fault id not rest on his shoulders.She did wonder how far Frigg's rider wandered, seeking her son's keeper. Here, at the beginning of her first great sorrow, the mother goddess would give anything for her son's return. It would give a far better outlet for retaliation, should Hel seek it. A deep, dark part of herself wondered mutely where Frigg's pity was when Loki's children were taken from him.She could refuse Frigg out of hand, never once considering her words. She could play with the grieving mother's desperation, secure some boon from Odin's own wife. There was much that Hel could have done, staring at this weary agent of the mother goddess.What she eventually chose shamed and damned her in the same breath.Hel's cruelty was a soft thing, wrapped up in reason. She could not simply release the dead without cause -- what made the son of a king's life any more worthy than the rest of her subjects? No, she had to retain some level of order, some honor in how all her Guests were equals to one another. Death had such a fascinating way of stripping people to more than their titles and expectations. However, Hel was willing to bargain with Baldr's mother.If every thing living and dead would mourn poor Baldr, he would be released from Helheim, free to return to the living and the family that so loved him.From the moment the words left her mouth, Hel knew such a task was fool's errand. Still, Frigg agreed, though Hel could not say she was shocked. On some level, she knew, or perhaps she dreamed, that Loki would likewise undertake such an arduous task if she was in Baldr's situation.Inevitably, Frigg failed in her quest. Though she came closer than Hel could have imagined when she made her deal, Frigg was thwarted in the final hour by the giantess Þökk, who refused to grieve for Baldr. Hel was left in the aftermath, the golden god still a member of her court, and without a word from the Aesir. For some time, the adolescent goddess counted the experience a victory.The Aesir respected her agreement with Hel. Even without an oath sworn on Odin's spear, they keep their distance.It was the first time Hel realized she truly did have power. Odin was not so fickle as to revoke the power he granted her. The Aesir would not defy her so long as she operated within what was taken for reason. Even before reaching womanhood, Hel's power was absolute.She never need fear any of the Aesir again.She was free.Even left to her realm beneath Yggdrasil, even in her wasteland, even confined to that dark hall, Hel had found a form of freedom.The consequences of her attempt at revenge would not hit her, after all. Power was always strewn with consequences, a lesson she would learn all too quickly. When Sigyn's sons were given to her realm, Hel's own half-brothers left to her keeping, she at last realized what her actions had truly meant.For the rest of eternity, she would lie in bed at night, wondering if her father, her stepmother, and their children might have been spared if she had shown Baldr the mercy she had so coveted and yet refused to offer.

Her realm was rotting her, inside rather than out. This place, the root of her misery, would drag her down among the dead if she kept up her solitary life ruling them. It had taken away her ability to see beyond herself, no matter how she worked at being a good queen to those who dwelt within her border.Clad in a hood, wandering out to the other side of the River Gjoll, Hel took her chances. She moved like a ghost across Midgard. In the south, she made the acquaintance of Hellenic gods, trying to glean what she could from gods whose roles were not merely collateral. Older gods, too, came into her fold, those of Babylon and Egypt, Nubian and Celtic. Her travels brought her not only the divine, but also spiris of the earth and beyond, the Fae and the monstrous.Once among the living again, Hel realized how she had missed being a part of something greater than her own will and melancholy. There was a curiosity to this realization, however. Over time, she found herself growing fond of the mortals who struggled upon Midgard. Her faithful moved North and took her tale with them, and yet she continued to walk their earth, observing those that did not even know of her existence.In her time, she sailed to England with the sons of Ragnar, stood against the Cross and its faithful as they meant to stomp out faith in her people. She became the counsel of kings and a storyteller in longhouses, though she loved to be a traveler incognito above all. Doling out blessings and curses as she marched across history, Hel found a simple truth that made her eternity tolerable.She would always know the end of her tale, the vicious clash of Ragnarok and her status as sole survivor of her family. All her life was to reach that hateful prophesy, one her uncle seemed ot have designed by his own hand and mistrust. Yet, the thought did not shake her as it once had.Ragnarok was her destination. No Norn or disloyal kin could tell her which path to take to it. It was up to her to blaze the trail, and it was her choice to walk it so that she could look back from the end of all things with pride for who she had been -- Honorable, kind, and above all else, one who lived in hope rather than despair.