Loki and Sigyn, His Glorious Purpose

Chapter One Hundred and Thirtern

HELA'S POINT OF VIEW
"Mother's going to die."

I could hardly hear myself over the obnoxious buzzing that seemed to fill the room. It sounded as though a swarm of invisible flies had surrounded my mother, buzzing rampantly and drowning out the beating of her heart and even the sound of her voice.

I hated to admit this all. I had tried to ignore the sound for weeks but it had only grown louder and louder with each day that passed. My mother was radiating death and I knew it. I just had just wished to at least try and suppress this truth. I had hoped that maybe, just maybe, as the Goddess of Death, I could will it all away. I could shoo away my mother's fate and allow her to stay with me as long as I desired. I thought I could stop death from infecting her. But I couldn't, no matter how hard I tried.

I had believed for so long that I couldn't tell anyone about this, much less tell my mother. I couldn't imagine breaking the news to her, to tell her I knew that her time here was short. Truthfully, I didn't want to tell her because I still refused to believe it. But as always, she was a step  ahead of me and already knew the direction of her future. The only one that was truly left behind was my father.

As I told him this, told him that his bride, that my mother was soon to be six feet under, his face immediately paled. He shook his head, his eyes squeezed shut.

"I know you two think your little tricks on me are funny," he said, "But this is no laughing matter. Jokes over."

Denial. The first of the five stages of grief. I knew the phase well as I had lived in it for the past month. I didn't want to lose her and I know my father felt the same. I could hardly imagine a life without her and yet it was steadily approaching. My mother was the only person who was consistently there for me. Even in the midst of torture and destruction, she was always there for me. She kept me safe and sound, kissing my boos boos and tucking me in at night. She always knew what to say and just how to say it. I was truthfully terrified to live in a world without her in it.

"It's a not a joke," I said softly, trying my best to stay strong just as my mother had taught me. I didn't deserve to cry. It wasn't my life that was being lost, it wasn't my time to grieve the living.

"Why can't we stop it?" he asked, looking towards my mother with narrowed eyes, "My dear, we've overcome death before! We can do it again."

My mother shook her head and smiled a bit as she took my father's hands. She knew better. She knew that beating death was no option.

"We can't," she said, "You know we can't. You said it yourself, there's only one me. There's not variant out there that could come and replace me. No method of raising me from the dead. It's just...me."

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," he insisted angrily, "No. We are going to grow old and die the same day. We're going to watch Hela grow up, watch her children grow up. This can't be the end. It can't."

Leave it to the God of Lies to lie to himself about reality.

"Please," she begged, "I'm sorry I even said anything."

"I'm glad you did," I chimed in as I watched from the doorway, "It was getting too hard for me to ignore. At least you know...I guess."

"I just wish I wasn't so repulsive to you," she teased, attempting to be as normal as possible, "Is it so bad that you can't hug me?"

"You're just very...loud right now," I explained, trying to focus on the darkness and buzzing that loomed around her, "Loud and...uncomfortable. It's like you have a huge thunder storm around you, ya know? Dark and...scary."

"I know exactly what you mean," she sighed, "I wish it wasn't like that."

"Agreed," I said, "Normally you're quite the opposite, sunnier than everyone else and just warmer."

My mother nodded, "Always warmer. I'm sorry, I just feel like everyone knew about this but me... Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asked, looking at my mother with pained eyes.

"I didn't really know either," she explained, "Not until today when I put all the pieces together. But listen, I'm not dead yet. Alright? I don't want to act like I am either. I'm alive. I have blood in my veins and air in my lungs. Okay? I just want to pretend that everything is fine. As long as I can, I want to live life and continue to fight for all of this. To get back the half we lost."

"Ever noble," Father scoffed gently, "Even as you face death, you're concerned with others."

"I'm not doing it for others, though," she insisted, "I'm doing it for myself because I like to help. Is that so criminal?"

"It's definitely not how I would chose to spend my last days," he remarked.

"Me either," I agreed, "I'd eat as much as I possibly can, shoot as many arrows as I can manage, and read every book I could."

My father shivered as I spoke and quickly snapped, "None of that. I can hardly fathom your mother dying, we are not talking about you dying either. That is not allowed."

"That's a little difficult..Goddess of Death and all," I mumbled.

"I'm sorry," he sighed, "I shouldn't have snapped at you, I'm very...very overwhelmed."

"You're not the only one," I replied.

"We're all on edge," my mother interrupted as she stepped between my father and I, "And that's alright. But let's not fight."

The room went quiet for a moment as my Father processed all that he had learned. It was like that for a solid five minutes before he finally piped up and asked, "Well...what are we going to do then?"

"Not tell anyone," My mother sighed, "I don't want anyone else to be distracted. It's not worth it."

"And you're certain there's nothing we can do to stop this?" he continued, glancing between the both of us.

"I can't bring her back if that's what your asking," I replied, "It's like the movies, ya know? They just don't come back the same."

"I don't know a thing about it," my mother added, "With healing I've been able to revive dead limbs and such but, never an individual. I can try and research it but..."

"But there's no real solution," Father concluded.

It was a stark reality and one I really didn't want to admit. But he was right.