Loki's Daughter, Mortem and Mischief

Chapter Thirty-Seven

When I was on Midgard, I spent so much of my time watching movies. Nearly every night I could be found curled up in that little cottage, swallowed up by blankets, with that little TV blaring nonsense. I always knew there was better ways to spend my time but something about them just entranced me. I had adored the stories within movies such as Silence of the Lambs, Black Swan, and even the Shining. But of those films, I always felt like there was one piece missing for me to really understand their protagonists. In all of them, the main character was always...crazy.

At the time, I never understood what had driven them to act in such terrible ways. How they could possibly feel so paranoid and feel driven to commit atrocities. But with every passing minute, I was beginning to sympathize. I hadn't a clue who I was more fearful of, those around me, or myself.

I didn't want to be in trouble. To have my father be angry at me, or worse-disappointed. I knew that we had a good relationship, that he would be fiercely loyal to me until the very end. A lot of daughters would never be able to say the same thing and because of that, I should've been grateful. I wanted him to be proud of me, to be happy with me. But I felt like I didn't even know how to do that anymore.

I didn't want to hurt anyone and yet, I had come away with cracked teeth, a black eye, a broken nose, and a stab wound that went just too deep for my mother to fully heal. I had hurt myself in the process, the only person I should've been worrying about the most.

As I sat at breakfast, my parents chattered away. It was like old times all over again. But every single time either of them even mentioned my name, I wanted to die. With every sideways glance my father payed me, I wanted to jump out of my seat and run as far away as possible from his eyes. I felt swallowed up by my emotions, ragged and neurotic. But I choked it all down, keeping the way I felt strictly on the inside. I didn't dare shed a tear or ask for help, I knew that would just mean I lost.

"Hela," my father chimed, knocking me out of my daze. I smiled at him, shoving down the nervousness that came over me as soon as he said my name. Oh god, oh god, I thought as my mind became abuzz with all the things he might say. Was he finally going to accuse me of helping Grimnir? Was he going to ask about the stabbing? Was he going to somehow punish me? My heart was nearly beating up and out of my throat as I waited for him to continue.

"Mind going on a walk with me today?" he asked with a small smile. "You seem awfully pale, my love. I think some fresh air might do you some good," my mother added kindly.

I blinked away my nerves, trying my best to put on a straight face. "I...um, I need to do other things," I stammered as I stood up from the table, "Inventory of um our...armory. I need to hire a new leather-worker too."

My mother raised a brow before she promptly forced me to sit down once again with a flcik of her wrist. She pulled my chair back into the table, forcing me to fall into it. "You haven't been outside in nearly a week. You're going, even if it's for a moment," she commanded.

I shook my head. "I'll go by myself, just for a ride or something," I attempted, trying to compromise. My mother and father shared a glance before my father said, "I'd like to spend some time with you, bunny."

"What he means is, you can't be trusted to be alone," my mother said bluntly, that golden smile just as bright as ever. I furrowed my brows as I looked between the two. "I can be alone," I scoffed but my mother simply shook her head. There was no way she was taking no for an answer.

I grit my teeth and took a deep breath before I slapped on the best fake smile I could manage. "Alright, then. Walk it is. I'd prefer to go now if that's okay, I have queenly duties to attend to later," I said.

Of course, I was expecting a resounding yes-perhaps my father would just spring to his feet that same moment. But to my surprise, my father replied, "No. We'll go in a bit, when I see fit. I believe Mobius would like to join us as well."

A chill slid down my spine as I felt nausea and anxiety creep up on me all at once. I kept my feelings at bay and simply nodded. "I'll be in my room, when you need me," I said before excusing myself and briskly walking to my chambers.

As soon as the door was locked behind me, I grabbed the nearest potted plant and proceeded to empty the contents of my stomach that same moment. My mouth stung with the taste of bile as I wiped my face with my sleeve. I heaved a deep breath before I looked up to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

Staring back at me was a horrifying version of myself. Half of my face was youthful and bright, looking more like my mother than ever. My cheeks were plump and pink and the corner of my lip was pulled into a tight smile. But the other half of my fave looked like a rotting corpse. Skin was practically melting off me, exposing the bone underneath. My eye was grey and cold, unmoving no matter where I stared.

I scrambled backwards, as far away from the mirror as possible. I tripped over my rug and tumbled back onto the floor, finally away form the mirror's gaze. My hands immediately fled to my face, just to make sure what I saw wasn't real. I felt my cheeks, my eyes, making sure it was all there and intact as my heart raced faster than it ever had before.

I gripped the ledge of my vanity and slowly pulled myself up. As I got a glance of myself in the mirror, I sighed as I saw my face just as I knew it. My cheeks were hollows but pale, my eyes that familiar vibrant green, and my teeth were just as white and straight as ever. Just as I got my whits about me, a knock sounded from the door.

I picked myself up off the ground and opened the door where my father stood. Though my heart was racing and I was still questioning whether or not what I had seen was real, I faked a smile as I met my father's eyes. At that moment, all I wanted to do was crawl in bed and hide.

"Ready?" he asked, extending his elbow to me with a soft smile. I nodded and took his arm. I hardly noticed it at the time, but I was gripping his arm like my life depended on it.

Without a word, he lead me down to the place gardens. As the sunlight hit my skin and I tooo in the floral scents, I felt a small bit of calm returned to me but I knew it wouldn't last.

My father was quiet as we walked through the rows of hydrangeas and spindly vines. The air was crisp and clean, far better than the stuffiness of my chambers. The only noises in the gardens were the subtle crunch of our feet on of the gravel and the light chirping of birds nearby. It was the closest I had gotten to silence in days. Even in the dead of night, the throbbing beat of my heart or the regret that rang in my head kept me up with a deafening loudness. The soft noise in the garden was refreshing.

For once, I was allowed to think. I wasn't panicking, being consumed by paranoia, or even anxiety. I was able to just plainly think. And for that reason, I turned to my father and said, "I feel as though I'm going insane."