Chapter 12: The Queen's Failsafe – A Visit to Hela's Vacation Spot.
[ASGARD ROYAL LIBRARY – DAY]
Odin looked tired, older than his millennia. He was drawing complex, shimmering runes in the air above a star chart—the coordinates of Hela's prison dimension. I watched, fascinated, as the magic moved like liquid starlight.
"The prison is sustained by a constant influx of energy," Odin explained, his voice low. "If you enter, you must maintain the illusion that the seal is intact. Hela must not perceive any weakness, or the psychic feedback could shatter the entire pocket dimension—and you along with it."
"Got it," I murmured, taking notes on a small, enchanted notepad Loki had left behind (it drew tiny, sarcastic arrows next to the important points). "Look strong, feel strong, don't let the Goddess of Death know I'm actually a teenager who gets dizzy watching vertical videos."
Odin looked at my notepad, sighed, and then pointed to the complex sigil hanging above the projected prison coordinates. "This is the true danger. It is the key to her power. If she manipulates you into touching that sigil, she can draw energy from you, strengthening the prison's tether and weakening the external seal."
"So, no high-fives," I summarized.
"No high-fives," he confirmed gravely. "The purpose of this mission is reconnaissance only, Frigga. Learn her state of mind. See if there is any vulnerability, any crack in her millennia of hatred."
I slipped into my simplest royal robes—a practical, deep green tunic and leggings suitable for accidental magical mishaps. Loki had installed a glitter-based cloaking charm into the tunic. It was either useless or genius; I wouldn't know until the illusion failed.
"Loki left me an illusion charm for the outside world," I said, showing Odin the small, shimmering amulet. "He set it to mimic my aura and appearance here in Asgard. I'll be sitting on my throne, drinking tea and looking pensive, while the real me is off playing prison visitor."
Odin actually smiled, a hint of genuine amusement flickering in his eye. "My son is a genius of self-preservation. Let us hope his genius extends to keeping you alive."
He stepped forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Be safe, my Queen. I have already lost my Firstborn. I cannot lose you again."
The sincerity hit me harder than any lightning bolt. "We've got this, Odin. We're improvising, remember? That's our Clause Four."
With a nod, he began the spell. The air around me grew cold, humming with raw cosmic power. The glittering shield Loki had fashioned crackled, and the world fractured into darkness.
[HELA'S PRISON DIMENSION – MOMENTS LATER]
The dimension wasn't a dungeon or a fortress; it was a vast, desolate wasteland beneath a perpetual twilight sky. The ground was cracked obsidian, and the silence was heavy, broken only by the sound of my own anxious breathing.
At the center of the wasteland, upon a throne carved from what looked like petrified nightmares, sat Hela.
She was magnificent and terrifying. Her armor was midnight black and emerald green, her eyes glowed with barely contained wrath, and her long black hair cascaded around her like a storm cloud. She looked exactly like Cate Blanchett, but with way more daggers.
She didn't move, yet her voice echoed across the barren landscape—low, smooth, and utterly bored.
"Well, well. Look what the pathetic All-Father finally coughed up."
I took a deep breath, channeling the confidence of every anime protagonist who has ever faced an overpowered villain.
"Hela," I said, making my voice regal and surprisingly firm. "I am Frigga, Queen of Asgard. I'm here for a consultation."
Hela slowly tilted her head, a cruel smile spreading across her face. "Consultation? Did my pathetic brother lose his hammer again? Or has the old man misplaced his sanity?"
"Odin is fine," I lied smoothly. "And Thor is currently engaged in a trade mission concerning thermal drapes. I am here to discuss your future."
Hela laughed—a dry, brittle sound that scraped across the silence. She snapped her fingers, and a dozen spectral weapons materialized and hovered around my head.
"My future is predictable, little step-mother. The old man dies, and I kill everything he loves. Starting with that rainbow bridge."
"That's boring," I countered immediately, stepping closer, ignoring the daggers. "It's predictable. It's an ending. And honestly, it's not very stylish."
Hela paused. The daggers stopped rotating. "Stylish?"
"Yes. You're the Goddess of Death. That's a huge personal brand. And your big comeback plan is... genocide? It's been done. Loki does it on a Tuesday. I have a proposal that will give you far more power and a much better arc."
This was it. The pitch. I was trying to pitch the Goddess of Death a better life plan.
"Odin is losing his touch," I continued, relying on the truth to give my words weight.
"You are his firstborn. You have the raw power. But power alone is a relic. If you escape and try to seize the throne, you destroy the power base (Asgard) you want to rule. You need a better endgame."
"And what, pray tell, is your stylish endgame?" Hela drawled, sounding intrigued despite herself.
I lowered my voice. "The Infinity Stones. The universe is about to face a purple idiot with a rock collection. If you escape and kill your family, you become a footnote in Thanos's story. If you align with us—use your power to secure the remaining Stones before he does—you don't just rule Asgard, Hela. You rule the Cosmos."
I watched her face. Her eyes were narrowed, calculating. For a goddess obsessed with conquest, the promise of cosmic power was a tempting lure.
"You offer me the universe," she whispered. "For a truce with the man who imprisoned me?"
"No," I corrected. "For a strategic partnership with the Queen who understands ambition.
Think of the new aesthetic, Hela. Cosmic dominion. We can discuss your new armor palette once we get you out of this… rather drab place."
Hela was silent for a long moment, the spectral weapons dissolving around me. The hate was still there, vast and cold, but now it was layered with genuine, compelling curiosity.
"You are not the Frigga I remember," she concluded. "You are far more interesting."
I smiled, feeling the terrifying rush of success. "Thank you. Now, let's talk logistics."
To Be Continued…