Death Becomes Her

the darkness of her slumber

six

Hadrianne was royally pissed under her blank faced facade, the fire that Faux had gifted her with was beginning to blaze to an intense flame or maybe it was the malicious poison in her blood from the terrifying serpent. She wanted to peel this one eyed god's face off, slowly shove it down his throat and make him shit out a new one. Maybe even pluck that other eye out and thread it on a necklace for him.

This miserable deity was insulting her for absolutely no reason. Here he was, sitting there on his golden porcelain toilet, looking like a knock off Santa Claus. Doing nothing but mouthing off about her for no reason at all.

Death could feel her barely restrained anger and had stepped in to make sure she didn't obliterate the deity, or better yet his city, for speaking such needless, cruel words, and not even to her face did he spit them. She was barely conscious while he ridiculed her, a cowardly move that would not be ignored nor forgotten.

Hadrianne nodded once, to the one who appeared to be her only ally at this moment. The archaic Being bowed deeply to his Mistress, his own wings settling before he vanished in an implosion of fiery ash.

There was silence as the ravenette's midnight coloured wings drooped slowly, the feathered tips brushing the gold tiled floor of the extraordinary room. Her enthralling electric verdant eyes flickered from face to face, a dangerous glint in her glowing orbs, challenging anyone else to speak another word against her as her patience waned.

One of the last things she could remember, besides her godfather before she fell into the darkness of her slumber, was stepping through a large archway and being devoured by an abrupt coldness, like jumping into a pool of icy water in the middle of winter with no clothing for protection.

Now she was here, standing in the middle of this crowd of people dressed in oddly familiar clothing, their faces etched with awe and reverence. Hadrianne turned her head slightly to look at the older woman who had moved closer to her as if to protect her, unknowingly making her expose the side of her neck, letting the people of... wherever she was right now... see the mark of the Deathly Hallows.

The Triangle of the Invisibility Cloak.

The Circle of the Resurrection Stone.

The Centre Line of the Elder Wand.

She subconsciously reached up to twirl the cold, ebony coloured stone threaded on the long golden chain that hung in the valley between her breasts with her left hand, while she could feel on her right thigh, the wand hidden away from sight.

Hadrianne shuddered and under everyone's astonished gaze, a lengthy, shimmering cloak emerged from nothing to drape across her back, hiding her glorious wings from their sight. The ravenette could sense behind her, two men, of complete opposites. The woman radiated kindness and concern, a warm, maternal emittance that Hadrianne could barely recall a memory of.

Just where the hell was she?

The older woman reached forward to touch her bare forearm, the small movement making the blackette's eyes drop to the hand before she looked up to study the lightly wrinkled face smiling gently at her, "You are in Asgard, Lady Hadrianne. Perhaps you would like to rest."

The Mistress blinked and slowly nodded once, before watching as the woman softly tugged her arm and wrapped it around her's then guided her towards a large archway, Thor and Loki following close behind. Her eyes glanced away to meet the man sitting on the throne's single eyed gaze, locking onto him with a deadly glare, her eye colour becoming almost toxic.

The Lady felt a flicker of amusement to see him gulp and shift slightly in his seat.

:3

Hadrianne was nudged onto a small sofa. A fricking comfy sofa that made her want to fall asleep almost immediately. Even though she had been unconscious moments before, the Mistress felt like she could sleep for a couple more centuries.

The woman was kneeling before her, with both her hands grasping the blackette's, "If you should need anything, my dear girl, simply ask-"

"Who are you? Why are you treating me like this?" she practically asked immediately, gazing into the other woman's wise, aged eyes, like she was trying to drag the truth out of her.

By the door, several metres away, the two men stood side by side, staring at the two women, neither looking away.

She smiled up at the younger, almost sadly, "I am Frigga, Queen of Asgard. And you are Lady Hadrianne, the Mistress of Death. You deserve every piece of kindness given, as you have suffered horribly but gained so much."

The blackette frowned, her electric green eyes darting off to the two men, before leaning close to the Queen and whispered, "I remember nothing but my name, Queen Frigga. And a freezing discomfort that blanketed my entire being."

It was a lie, she did remember a few more things than that... but the Queen didn't have to know.

The older woman stood then took a seat beside Hadrianne, pulling her close and resting the younger's head against her stomach as she began to thread her fingers through her messy, ebony coloured curls. A deep sadness spreading through Frigga's soul, both thankful and upset that the Mistress could not remember such betrayal and pain from her previous life that the tales all seemed to portray.

Fictional tales, no longer...

As here the Mistress of Death was.

Laid across her lap, frozen like a statue as though she did not know what to do in the Queen's motherly embrace. It made her eyes water, looking over to her sons who studied the two.

Frigga would do anything in her power to make this young woman smile, anything to make her feel happiness, anything at all to make her feel loved.