The Lost Asgardian (Loki)

Entry 11)Realization

"All Good Things" by Nelly Furtado


AVA

The dream had left me shaken, tears lingering in the corners of my eyes even as I awoke. It wasn't just the death of Balder that haunted me; it was the intensity of the emotions that accompanied it. The raw grief, the overwhelming sense of loss, as if I had known him intimately, as if his passing had torn a piece of my own soul away. And yet, Balder was a stranger to me, a character from a story.

As I wiped away the tears, a part of me chastised myself for indulging in a nap after allowing Loki's handmaidens to tend to me, transforming me into the likeness of his long-departed wife. The warm bath scented with lavender and lilies, the meticulous styling of my hair to match its natural pale blond hue, the careful grooming of my nails and skin—it all seemed surreal, as if I were playing a role in a story I had stumbled into by accident. And now, I was being prepared for a dinner where I was expected not only to be immaculate but also to resemble Sigyn, whether living or dead.

As I glanced down at the words scrawled in my journal, the lines blurred between reality and fantasy. The notion that Sigyn and I were one and the same, that I was a reincarnated soul instead of merely a victim of my own delusions, was difficult to reconcile. In a world where dreams felt like illusions, confronting the possibility of a deeper truth was daunting, unsettling, and yet strangely compelling.
"How are you fairing?"

Hela's soft-spoken voice startled me, causing a jolt of fear to course through me. I hadn't realized she was in the room, silently observing me until she spoke. Her ethereal presence seemed to hover in the air, her pale face and inky black hair reminiscent of her father's. Those piercing eyes, so like Loki's, seemed to hold secrets beyond comprehension, as if they could unravel the very fabric of one's being with a single glance.

Caught off guard by her sudden appearance, I struggled to collect my thoughts. My words came out in a mixture of accents, a bizarre blend of American and British that mirrored the duality of my existence, caught between two worlds, two identities.

"Which are you?" I blurted out, my frustration evident. "Are you like Fenrir, wishing me death, or are you like Jormungand, speaking in cryptic riddles?"
Hela blinked, taken aback by my question. "Excuse me?"
"Do you wish me harm, or do you speak in puzzles?" I pressed; my tone tinged with frustration. The constant shifting between accents only added to my confusion, a constant reminder of the blurred lines between reality and dream, between Ava and Sigyn.
"I mean you no harm, nor do I wish to engage in meaningless riddles," Hela replied earnestly. "I simply wanted to see you."

Hela's calm demeanor contrasted sharply with the turmoil raging within me. Her words echoed in my mind, unraveling the layers of my existence and forcing me to confront the truth.
"Here I am, your little human toy," I muttered bitterly, my words heavy with resignation.
"Although you are not immortal, you are also not a mere human. You are of Asgardian blood, capable of living for at least a thousand years," Hela responded, her voice soft yet resolute.
Her words struck a chord deep within me, stirring a sense of unease and realization. I was neither fully mortal nor immortal, trapped in a liminal space between worlds.

"Why is Loki keeping me his prisoner?" I demanded, my frustration bubbling to the surface.
Hela regarded me with a raised eyebrow, her expression unreadable. "I see no shackles on you, mother," she replied calmly.
The word "mother" hung in the air, heavy with implications and questions left unanswered. My head throbbed with the weight of confusion and uncertainty.

"Why do you call me such?" I asked, my voice trembling with emotion. The pain in my head intensified, threatening to consume me. "You and I both know I am not your mother."
"A mother is not only one who provided life," Hela exclaimed quietly. "She is the one who loved and protected you as you grew to adulthood." The goddess stared off into space, as if reliving a memory. "To this very day, you are the only soul who nearly died to protect me."

I wanted to release a biting remark to her words. Something that made her feel the pain of her bipolar attitude towards me. At the same moment, I could never do that. A motherly instinct flooded through me, positively hating to see my child in duress. Only, this wasn't a mother and a tearful toddler. It was an in-over-her-head reincarnated human (Is that the proper wording for me?) and a couple-thousand-year-old goddess.
"Hela, what are you referring to...?" I began, my voice tinged with both curiosity and apprehension.

"Hel," she corrected quietly. "I now go by Hel." There was a pause before she continued. "Have you seen Balder's passing yet?" She continued after witnessing my cringe. "It was prophesied that I would become the goddess of the Hell dimension-"
"Isn't Hades the god of the underworld? Wait, are there different underworlds? Is there a Norse one and a Greek one? What about humans, who runs their hell...Lucifer? Is he real, too?" I blurted out, my thoughts racing.
"Are you going to pay attention or are you going to ramble idiotic questions?" Hel's response cut through my thoughts sharply.
A part of me felt like I should continue with my idiotic questions. Those, at least, made sense to me unlike everything else. My silence inspired Hel to continue. "The old king of Asgard, Odin, wished to resurrect the slain Balder. But in order to do so, it was needed for me to take my place in Norse Hel."
Something in my mind clicked. Old memories, or rather the 'Sigyn' part of me, grasped what the goddess was saying.
"You were but a baby when Balder died; what could you have done to assist in bringing him back?" I asked, my brows furrowed with confusion.