skyrosebud (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
skyrosebud) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomweekly2020-03-22 09:11 pm
skyrosebud) wrote in fandomweekly2020-03-22 09:11 pm
Entry tags:
[#045] Alas (MCU)
Theme Prompt: #045 – Fall From Grace
Title: Alas
Fandom: MCU
Rating/Warnings: PG
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 748
Summary: Valkyrie reflects on the tragic tale of Hela.
Valkyrie considered telling Thor.
Sometimes, something simple. “I used to work with Hela, y’know?” or “Hela wasn’t so bad back in the day.” It seemed silly. Boiling down something so grand to small talk spoken over a weekday dinner.
She got drunk some nights, not many — she tried not to drink, these days — and considered telling everything. She never did.
Thor seemed keen on forgetting he ever had a sister. He had enough to deal with, considering the reconciliation with younger brother Loki swiftly shifting into mourning his death. Val didn’t want to add to the rambling thoughts that probably went on in his head.
She still thought about it. Dreamt it.
They were friends. Close friends. As close as a Valkyrie and Crown Princess could be. Of course, they were busy. They had their duties and they both took pride in it. But, when Val looked back, there were signs along the way. Val was too caught up in her own business to see her friend was changing, and not for the good.
Hela worked alongside the Valkyries. Odin had put her in charge. They went from realm to realm, planet to planet, overtaking anywhere Odin had decided he wanted. Of course, their work could be cruel at times. However, Hela wasn’t the tyrant she would one day become. She hadn’t even earned her title: Goddess of Death.
She wore light green tunics and dresses. The color of spring. Light and delicate. Her hair, a light brown shade, was always braided to perfection. She was a Princess, no doubt. Princess Hela was beloved by Asgard. Everyone was anticipating her reign as Queen.
She was still fierce on the battlefield. Whenever Val trained with her, she was in awe of Hela’s skill with a sword, as well as her magic. She used less magic then, mostly for healing, but whenever she did Val stopped to admire it.
They were friends. Close friends. Maybe even lovers, if they had had the time for such frivolous things. It all came crashing down. It all led to Ragnarok.
Hela had been sent on a quest with a small group of Valkyries. The details were fuzzy in Val’s mind, after so many centuries, but she remembered Hela asked her to come along. Val had declined her offer as she was busy training new recruits. She regretted it, often wondered if the outcome would have been different had she went along.
There were witches, a colleague had said after the events happened. Hela had been tasked with killing them but — they offered her power, spells, the universe and command over death itself.
Hela had been frustrated with Odin over the previous months. He’d been sending her on increasingly simple and short tasks. Odin wanted to stop conquering new lands, wanted to settle into his rule over the Eight, no, Nine Realms.
Hela wanted more. She thought they deserved more. If they can have it, why not take it? It’s in their reach. He’s a fool, that old man, doesn’t see the mistake he’s making. Once I’m Queen, I’ll show him. He’ll look down from Valhalla and see he was wrong. Asgard under my rule will be—
Hela would rant such things to Val, late at night when they managed to meet in a tavern. Val thought it was harmless words.
The witches were not the cause. They were a catalyst. They sped up the inevitable: Hela’s descent and Asgard’s ruin.
Hela studied dark magic under them, killed them, and taught herself even more. She had sent the Valkyries back to Asgard. Odin had forced them to go back to retrieve his daughter, but what they found was no Princess Hela.
The Goddess of Death had arrived. Wearing a black, thorn crown and shooting swords from her hands.
She slaughtered those Valkyries, as she did the rest. Odin, upon realizing he had created a monster he could not slay, locked her away. A problem for another day. A problem for his son, as it turned out.
After it all, after Val stared down Hela on the battlefield while screaming and begging her to stop, fighting as hard as she could between shouts of “This isn’t like you!” and “Snap out of this curse!”, she ran. She found her way to Sakaar and, well… The rest was history.
Maybe Thor wasn’t the person to tell, but Val wanted to tell someone. Another person alive needed to know the real story of Hela.
Title: Alas
Fandom: MCU
Rating/Warnings: PG
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 748
Summary: Valkyrie reflects on the tragic tale of Hela.
Valkyrie considered telling Thor.
Sometimes, something simple. “I used to work with Hela, y’know?” or “Hela wasn’t so bad back in the day.” It seemed silly. Boiling down something so grand to small talk spoken over a weekday dinner.
She got drunk some nights, not many — she tried not to drink, these days — and considered telling everything. She never did.
Thor seemed keen on forgetting he ever had a sister. He had enough to deal with, considering the reconciliation with younger brother Loki swiftly shifting into mourning his death. Val didn’t want to add to the rambling thoughts that probably went on in his head.
She still thought about it. Dreamt it.
---
They were friends. Close friends. As close as a Valkyrie and Crown Princess could be. Of course, they were busy. They had their duties and they both took pride in it. But, when Val looked back, there were signs along the way. Val was too caught up in her own business to see her friend was changing, and not for the good.
Hela worked alongside the Valkyries. Odin had put her in charge. They went from realm to realm, planet to planet, overtaking anywhere Odin had decided he wanted. Of course, their work could be cruel at times. However, Hela wasn’t the tyrant she would one day become. She hadn’t even earned her title: Goddess of Death.
She wore light green tunics and dresses. The color of spring. Light and delicate. Her hair, a light brown shade, was always braided to perfection. She was a Princess, no doubt. Princess Hela was beloved by Asgard. Everyone was anticipating her reign as Queen.
She was still fierce on the battlefield. Whenever Val trained with her, she was in awe of Hela’s skill with a sword, as well as her magic. She used less magic then, mostly for healing, but whenever she did Val stopped to admire it.
They were friends. Close friends. Maybe even lovers, if they had had the time for such frivolous things. It all came crashing down. It all led to Ragnarok.
Hela had been sent on a quest with a small group of Valkyries. The details were fuzzy in Val’s mind, after so many centuries, but she remembered Hela asked her to come along. Val had declined her offer as she was busy training new recruits. She regretted it, often wondered if the outcome would have been different had she went along.
There were witches, a colleague had said after the events happened. Hela had been tasked with killing them but — they offered her power, spells, the universe and command over death itself.
Hela had been frustrated with Odin over the previous months. He’d been sending her on increasingly simple and short tasks. Odin wanted to stop conquering new lands, wanted to settle into his rule over the Eight, no, Nine Realms.
Hela wanted more. She thought they deserved more. If they can have it, why not take it? It’s in their reach. He’s a fool, that old man, doesn’t see the mistake he’s making. Once I’m Queen, I’ll show him. He’ll look down from Valhalla and see he was wrong. Asgard under my rule will be—
Hela would rant such things to Val, late at night when they managed to meet in a tavern. Val thought it was harmless words.
The witches were not the cause. They were a catalyst. They sped up the inevitable: Hela’s descent and Asgard’s ruin.
Hela studied dark magic under them, killed them, and taught herself even more. She had sent the Valkyries back to Asgard. Odin had forced them to go back to retrieve his daughter, but what they found was no Princess Hela.
The Goddess of Death had arrived. Wearing a black, thorn crown and shooting swords from her hands.
She slaughtered those Valkyries, as she did the rest. Odin, upon realizing he had created a monster he could not slay, locked her away. A problem for another day. A problem for his son, as it turned out.
After it all, after Val stared down Hela on the battlefield while screaming and begging her to stop, fighting as hard as she could between shouts of “This isn’t like you!” and “Snap out of this curse!”, she ran. She found her way to Sakaar and, well… The rest was history.
Maybe Thor wasn’t the person to tell, but Val wanted to tell someone. Another person alive needed to know the real story of Hela.
no subject
The witches were not the cause. They were a catalyst. I really loved this line.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject