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He fell for a long time through the Gap. It was soundless, airless, all milky white, and it choked and blinded him. He wasn’t sure when it stopped, when he fell into Helheim. He didn’t remember dying. What he remembered was waking up on the cold floor of her throne room, with her scowling down at him. She was unchanged, half alive and young, half dead and withered, and as tall as her jotunn mother. He was not sure if she was the same as the one he had known. Perhaps all worlds had the same hell.

“What are you doing here,” she demanded.

She sounded the same. She had always been fierce, like her mother had been. He had been able to hide them - but not her. Her face, even veiled, had been an abomination to the gods. It was why Odin had cast her down. Even Fenrir and Jormungandr had been left alone at first, in the woods and the sea.

He laid flat on the cold stone, too weak to prop himself up. His limbs were heavy and numb. “Well, I don’t know,” he said. “I must have blacked out.”

“Doing what?” she snapped.

“Oh, dying, I guess. I don’t know. It’s a long story. The world’s ending again, that sort of thing. You must heard about that, Hela.”

“The world is not ending.” Hela looked exasperated already. Her father was the last person she wanted to have as a guest in her court. And if he was dead, a permanent guest. “Tell me the truth for once in your life.”

“What a rude and distrustful thing to say to your old father,” said Loki. He closed his eyes. She was, after all, a horrific sight, barefaced. “Anyway,” he said, “it’s a dull story. Very boring. Very stupid.”

“I should throw you in a pit. I’m sure we have one deep enough even you can’t slither out of.”

“Lady - “ started one of the members of her court. It was a voice that Loki had not heard in thousands of years. He almost didn’t recognize it at first.

“I’m not going to listen to you on this one, uncle,” said Hela. “You must understand, he’s only going to make trouble here.”

“Well, that may be, but - “ said the man again in a gentle tone. Loki opened his eyes to see Baldur having approached, standing at the foot of the throne. He took it with his customary grace as Hela cut him off again. He was unchanged since his death: clear eyes, golden curls, broad shoulders, dimpled smile. Loki’s lip curled automatically. The god was obnoxious.

“No,” she said. “We will have to do something with him.” She pursed her lips. “We’ll simply have Thor collect him.”

“Thor’s busy,” Loki supplied.

Hela ignored him. “We know the All-Father is not to be relied on to protect the realms,” she continued. “We have no other sensible option. He cannot stay here.” She looked at Baldur as if expecting a protest.

But he was not that kind of person. He only smiled at her, and sincere, as if he really did respect her. And probably did. Loki doubted he had an inch of insincerity in the whole of his being. It was insipid. “If you think we must, Hela,” he said gently. “But I would abide with him as our guest. He is family. Have you turned anyone away before?”

“No,” said Hela. “Uncle, you might be forgiving, but I must think of our people.”

“As you say.” Baldur wasn’t even chiding. He only looked disappointed, as if he had truly hoped that she would forgive Loki.

“I’m not the only one who doesn’t want him here,” added Hela. “You know what will happen if word gets out. Put him somewhere out of the way for now. And don’t let him out. Not until we can summon Thor.”

Baldur nodded. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to disturb the children.”

Neither of them expanded on that reference, to Loki’s annoyance. He sighed aloud, somewhat theatrically. “I hate children anyway,” he complained. “They’re always so ungrateful. Especially when they are given entire kingdoms from the cradle.”

Hela pursed her lips. “Take him away before I’m tempted,” she said to Baldur. “Thor doesn’t need another mess to clean up.”

Baldur moved quickly. “Don’t worry, Hela. We’ll keep him out of the way.” He smiled at her and down at Loki and then he slung the god’s limp body over his shoulder without so much as a warning. Despite the gentle voice and the disarming smile, he was just as physically capable as his living brothers and sisters in Valhalla. Loki did not resist; his limbs were cold and heavy. Perhaps it was because of something Hela had done to him. More likely it was because he was dead. Technically dead. Very corpse-ish. He did not like thinking that, but what else could have happened? If he was here, he was really, truly some kind of revenant, more spirit than body, someone that belonged to this grey and dull realm and under its power. He would not get out of this without some extraordinary creativity. And Thor would be useful.

Hela’s eyes were sharp on them as Baldur hauled him off into the corridors of her palace. Loki closed his eyes again and went limp. The air was cold and still. It smelled of dust, of decay halted by winter, of stale sitting water, of rotten wood and every aspect of dying. It was the scent of expiration. He didn’t have to see it to know that everything in sight would match, down to the last corner of crumbling stone. Grey and ugly.

He gave another dramatic sigh as Baldur set him down on a couch in one of the private suites deep in the palace. Baldur only smiled and told him, “I’m sure you won’t be here long. And your senses should be coming back to you soon enough.”

Loki glowered at him.

“Try to rest,” Baldur added. “You fell through the Gap after all.”

Loki continue to glare.

“But please don’t try to leave. Hela wouldn’t have said this herself, but many of your children are here. It would be upsetting to them to meet you.”

“I can only imagine.” Loki managed to find the energy for sarcasm. The couch was as dingy as everything else in the realm, but it was surprisingly soft. His body sank into the cushions without resistance.

“I’m sure.” Baldur cast another sunny smile down at him. “I suppose they would overcome their fear eventually, if you considered staying with us.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Baldur,” Loki drawled in response. He didn’t know what else to say. As if he wanted his monstrous spawn to cozy up to him in death? It was as ridiculous as the idea of staying in Helheim. It was completely idiotic.

The god gave a light laugh. “Your tongue truly is no less sharp.”

“I didn’t even know you.”

“Didn’t you?” And Baldur was so unperturbed and casual that Loki had to wonder. Was this that he had known, he had murdered, from the dead world that he had abandoned years and years ago? Was this where all the dead had come to rest? And he thought of the other faces that he might see if he regained power over his limbs and went wandering in the realm. It was a curious idea. He felt he might find surprises here.

“No, the one I murdered was much better looking,” Loki told Baldur. “It’s the hair.”

“Is that so?” He didn’t seem offended. He straightened. “You could consider staying, you know.”

“Not likely.”

“Isn’t it time? I heard it’s the end of the world. Yggdrasil is burning. The All-Father has lost his sense. Skrymir is fallen. Isn’t it much more peaceful here?”

Loki snorted. “I’ve survived one Ragnarök already. Do you think I’m going to hide down from the world? Do you think I want peace? Has your brain rotted along with everything else down here?”

“I suppose not.” Baldur laughed. “Or perhaps your courage has grown since we last met.”

Loki closed his eyes. “Not likely, either.” He was already sick of looking at his pretty face. Very much equal were his feelings about his pretty opinions. “Fuck off already, Baldur. Soon as this corpse decides to move again, you’re the first one I’m going to murder. Again. Less pleasantly this time. I’ll find some mistletoe and fucking eviscerate you with it.”

Baldur was silent for a moment, one merciful moment. “I’ve offended you.”

Loki groaned. “Only with your entire existence. Will you leave?”

Baldur sighed. “Clearly you won’t rest with me here, anyway. I’ll be in the next chamber. Let me know if you need anything.” He had much the same tone of gentle disappointment that he had with Hela, though it was doubtful that he had ever expected anything better from her father. But still, he sounded as if he truly cared for Loki’s well-being.

It was not an entirely unfamiliar sentiment. Perhaps a handful of living souls had become fond of him in the last few centuries. But those were the people that Loki could stand. Baldur was not one of them.

He watched the back of his dusty golden tunic as the god turned to leave. He did not move as in retreat. Loki felt instead like he had lost this round, somehow.

Description
He fell for a long time through the Gap. It was soundless, airless, all milky white, and it choked and blinded him. He wasn’t sure when it stopped, when he fell into Helheim. He didn’t remember dying. What he remembered was waking up on the cold floor of her throne room, with her scowling down at him. She was unchanged, half alive and young, half dead and withered, and as tall as her jotunn mother. He was not sure if she was the same as the one he had known. Perhaps all worlds had the same hell.

“What are you doing here,” she demanded.

She sounded the same. She had always been fierce, like her mother had been. He had been able to hide them - but not her. Her face, even veiled, had been an abomination to the gods. It was why Odin had cast her down. Even Fenrir and Jormungandr had been left alone at first, in the woods and the sea.

He laid flat on the cold stone, too weak to prop himself up. His limbs were heavy and numb. “Well, I don’t know,” he said. “I must have blacked out.”

“Doing what?” she snapped.

“Oh, dying, I guess. I don’t know. It’s a long story. The world’s ending again, that sort of thing. You must heard about that, Hela.”

“The world is not ending.” Hela looked exasperated already. Her father was the last person she wanted to have as a guest in her court. And if he was dead, a permanent guest. “Tell me the truth for once in your life.”

“What a rude and distrustful thing to say to your old father,” said Loki. He closed his eyes. She was, after all, a horrific sight, barefaced. “Anyway,” he said, “it’s a dull story. Very boring. Very stupid.”

“I should throw you in a pit. I’m sure we have one deep enough even you can’t slither out of.”

“Lady - “ started one of the members of her court. It was a voice that Loki had not heard in thousands of years. He almost didn’t recognize it at first.

“I’m not going to listen to you on this one, uncle,” said Hela. “You must understand, he’s only going to make trouble here.”

“Well, that may be, but - “ said the man again in a gentle tone. Loki opened his eyes to see Baldur having approached, standing at the foot of the throne. He took it with his customary grace as Hela cut him off again. He was unchanged since his death: clear eyes, golden curls, broad shoulders, dimpled smile. Loki’s lip curled automatically. The god was obnoxious.

“No,” she said. “We will have to do something with him.” She pursed her lips. “We’ll simply have Thor collect him.”

“Thor’s busy,” Loki supplied.

Hela ignored him. “We know the All-Father is not to be relied on to protect the realms,” she continued. “We have no other sensible option. He cannot stay here.” She looked at Baldur as if expecting a protest.

But he was not that kind of person. He only smiled at her, and sincere, as if he really did respect her. And probably did. Loki doubted he had an inch of insincerity in the whole of his being. It was insipid. “If you think we must, Hela,” he said gently. “But I would abide with him as our guest. He is family. Have you turned anyone away before?”

“No,” said Hela. “Uncle, you might be forgiving, but I must think of our people.”

“As you say.” Baldur wasn’t even chiding. He only looked disappointed, as if he had truly hoped that she would forgive Loki.

“I’m not the only one who doesn’t want him here,” added Hela. “You know what will happen if word gets out. Put him somewhere out of the way for now. And don’t let him out. Not until we can summon Thor.”

Baldur nodded. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to disturb the children.”

Neither of them expanded on that reference, to Loki’s annoyance. He sighed aloud, somewhat theatrically. “I hate children anyway,” he complained. “They’re always so ungrateful. Especially when they are given entire kingdoms from the cradle.”

Hela pursed her lips. “Take him away before I’m tempted,” she said to Baldur. “Thor doesn’t need another mess to clean up.”

Baldur moved quickly. “Don’t worry, Hela. We’ll keep him out of the way.” He smiled at her and down at Loki and then he slung the god’s limp body over his shoulder without so much as a warning. Despite the gentle voice and the disarming smile, he was just as physically capable as his living brothers and sisters in Valhalla. Loki did not resist; his limbs were cold and heavy. Perhaps it was because of something Hela had done to him. More likely it was because he was dead. Technically dead. Very corpse-ish. He did not like thinking that, but what else could have happened? If he was here, he was really, truly some kind of revenant, more spirit than body, someone that belonged to this grey and dull realm and under its power. He would not get out of this without some extraordinary creativity. And Thor would be useful.

Hela’s eyes were sharp on them as Baldur hauled him off into the corridors of her palace. Loki closed his eyes again and went limp. The air was cold and still. It smelled of dust, of decay halted by winter, of stale sitting water, of rotten wood and every aspect of dying. It was the scent of expiration. He didn’t have to see it to know that everything in sight would match, down to the last corner of crumbling stone. Grey and ugly.

He gave another dramatic sigh as Baldur set him down on a couch in one of the private suites deep in the palace. Baldur only smiled and told him, “I’m sure you won’t be here long. And your senses should be coming back to you soon enough.”

Loki glowered at him.

“Try to rest,” Baldur added. “You fell through the Gap after all.”

Loki continue to glare.

“But please don’t try to leave. Hela wouldn’t have said this herself, but many of your children are here. It would be upsetting to them to meet you.”

“I can only imagine.” Loki managed to find the energy for sarcasm. The couch was as dingy as everything else in the realm, but it was surprisingly soft. His body sank into the cushions without resistance.

“I’m sure.” Baldur cast another sunny smile down at him. “I suppose they would overcome their fear eventually, if you considered staying with us.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Baldur,” Loki drawled in response. He didn’t know what else to say. As if he wanted his monstrous spawn to cozy up to him in death? It was as ridiculous as the idea of staying in Helheim. It was completely idiotic.

The god gave a light laugh. “Your tongue truly is no less sharp.”

“I didn’t even know you.”

“Didn’t you?” And Baldur was so unperturbed and casual that Loki had to wonder. Was this that he had known, he had murdered, from the dead world that he had abandoned years and years ago? Was this where all the dead had come to rest? And he thought of the other faces that he might see if he regained power over his limbs and went wandering in the realm. It was a curious idea. He felt he might find surprises here.

“No, the one I murdered was much better looking,” Loki told Baldur. “It’s the hair.”

“Is that so?” He didn’t seem offended. He straightened. “You could consider staying, you know.”

“Not likely.”

“Isn’t it time? I heard it’s the end of the world. Yggdrasil is burning. The All-Father has lost his sense. Skrymir is fallen. Isn’t it much more peaceful here?”

Loki snorted. “I’ve survived one Ragnarök already. Do you think I’m going to hide down from the world? Do you think I want peace? Has your brain rotted along with everything else down here?”

“I suppose not.” Baldur laughed. “Or perhaps your courage has grown since we last met.”

Loki closed his eyes. “Not likely, either.” He was already sick of looking at his pretty face. Very much equal were his feelings about his pretty opinions. “Fuck off already, Baldur. Soon as this corpse decides to move again, you’re the first one I’m going to murder. Again. Less pleasantly this time. I’ll find some mistletoe and fucking eviscerate you with it.”

Baldur was silent for a moment, one merciful moment. “I’ve offended you.”

Loki groaned. “Only with your entire existence. Will you leave?”

Baldur sighed. “Clearly you won’t rest with me here, anyway. I’ll be in the next chamber. Let me know if you need anything.” He had much the same tone of gentle disappointment that he had with Hela, though it was doubtful that he had ever expected anything better from her father. But still, he sounded as if he truly cared for Loki’s well-being.

It was not an entirely unfamiliar sentiment. Perhaps a handful of living souls had become fond of him in the last few centuries. But those were the people that Loki could stand. Baldur was not one of them.

He watched the back of his dusty golden tunic as the god turned to leave. He did not move as in retreat. Loki felt instead like he had lost this round, somehow.