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Hera's Odyssey
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Hera's Odyssey
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===Chapter 4 - A Necessary Darkness === [[File:Graphic Lore Chapter 004.png|350px|right]] With Thor and Argus at her side, Hera made her way to the gates of Valhalla. The grand palace of Asgard, where Odin had ruled all the realms of his dominion, was now an empty and broken place. The breath-taking statues of champions of the Aesir that had lined the boulevards were torn down and shattered, their blank faces staring up in silence at an uncaring sky. Thor paused at each one, kneeling to whisper to them and swear oaths for their vengeance. Fires smouldered from the shells of ruined buildings, their flames casting the shadows of Hera and her companions high as Titans' against the palace walls. No warriors stood sentinel before the doorway leading into the palace to bar their entry. After the bloody fighting to usurp the throne and the battle against Thor and Hera, most of the armies beneath Hel's banner were gone, growing cold upon the ground or taking flight within new bodies upon the midnight air. The great high doors of rune-etched iron and gold were open, left to reveal the darkness within as the three warily approached. “Be on your guard,” said Thor, coming to a halt before the entrance. “I do not like this. It all reeks of Loki, and my brother's progeny are no better.” Hera paused at the name. She had not caught sight of sound of the trickster after following him here. Had Loki even stepped through at all, or was this yet another one of his tricks? Had he led them here into a trap? Argus gave a low growl, his fists clenching and unclenching in the soft scrape of a rockslide. His faces spun as he searching their surroundings, the twin wills within him tugging his body in opposite directions. Hera reached out, resting her fingertips upon the giant's arm. Argus calmed, his focus restored. With a nod from Hera, Thor stepped through the great doors, and entered Valhalla. The halls of the palace were a reflection of the devastated Asgard outside. Rubble choked the ground, with helms, weapons and limbs visible within the mounds. The only light came from what few fires were still crackling, unable to rid the bone-deep chill from the air. Great fissures ran across the walls in close rows of four, the marks of monstrous claws that could only have come from one being. Thor raised Mjolnir, sending a shivering chain of lightning about its head to light their way. They walked through the halls within the sphere of stark illumination, studying the irrevocable destruction that had been wrought. Everywhere they looked, priceless artworks had been defaced, with every likeness of Odin, Thor and the other rulers of Asgard ruined outright or covered in thick black pitch. A dim light flickered ahead at the end of the thoroughfare. Thor stopped as an immense shadow played across the wall, a hunched form prowling on all fours, gone as quickly as it had appeared. Hera gripped her sceptre tighter, and Argus grunted as he ground his fists together. They continued on, following Thor as he made a walk that he had done countless times, though never in such circumstances. “It is like a nightmare,” whispered the God of Thunder, staring at his home rendered into a ruined tomb. “A cracked mirror of what my home has always meant to be.” “It will be made right once more,” said Hera, coming to Thor's side. “Walls and statues can be rebuilt, hope and justice can be restored.” “And those who have been slain,” said Thor, his voice cold and low, “they shall be avenged.” He looked at Hera. “That is my justice, Queen. And in the name of the Allfather and all those who sleep upon the ground of Asgard forever more, I shall have it.” The great hall of Valhalla was a long corridor of stone and intricately carved hardwood. Low wide bowls were spaced along the central passage at intervals, the oil within them still and doused to leave the chamber in darkness. Hera walked down the carpet of furs leading to the dais where Hlidskjalf, the mythic throne of Asgard, took pride of place. Hera could feel Thor's anger rise at the state of the throne room, its relics and treasures collected over the millennia by the Allfather defaced and ruined, and his father's throne occupied by the usurper that had unleashed Ragnarok upon the world. The figure who sat upon Hlidskjalf was only partially visible to Hera, such was the darkness that shrouded the chamber. A great pyre burned to the right of the throne, illuminating a visage of stark, ethereal beauty that transcended even the splendour of the gods. Hera faltered for a moment as she saw her, but Thor continued on, stepping forward and setting a boot down upon the first step of the dais. “Greetings, Uncle,” honeyed words flowed from the seated figure as she regarded Thor, a voice that could steal hearts and win minds just from hearing it. “And you have brought guests. Welcome to Asgard, travellers.” “You,” Thor levelled Mjolnir up at the throne, “you dare to sit upon my father's throne, after all you have done to him and his realms?” “Is he alive?” Her tone was soft, almost childlike in its innocence. She leaned forward, the right side of her face lit by the glow of the flames, the other masked by the shadows. “I wasn't sure if I would feel it or not, if he died.” “Odin lives,” snarled Thor. “He has foreseen his end across the skeins of fate, usurper, and it will not come this day, and not at the hands of the likes of you.” “Oh, our Allfather,” she gave a soft smile. “How he loves his prophesies. Did you find him crouched in a corner, sifting through the loops of a goats insides to try and learn the future? “Hold your tongue, Hel,” snarled Thor. “Or—” “Or? What?” All warmth vanished from Hel's voice. Her smile became a bright flash of teeth, a huntress baring her fangs. “What will you do, exactly? Oh to be the favoured one, the heir, mighty Lord Thor, the God of Thunder. There's no need to put on airs here, Uncle. The only source of your rage is that it is someone other than you who sits upon this throne.” “The throne of Asgard is not yours to take,” said Hera, stepping forward onto the dais. “You have unleashed mayhem and murder upon all the world, and for that you must face justice, Hel.” “Be gone from Asgard, Grecian,” said Hel coldly, her eyes still locked upon Thor. “This matter is one for our pantheon.” “And it went beyond your pantheon,” Hera stepped forward, “the moment you unleashed Ragnarok and cast all of creation into darkness.” For the first time, Hel turned her gaze upon Hera. Her eyes gleamed, even the one shrouded in shadow. “And did you ever once consider, oh Queen of the Gods, that it was a necessary darkness?” At that moment, Hera became aware of a low, wet rumble coming from the shadows beside Hel. Argus growled, plodding forward onto the dais, but Hera stilled him with a raised hand. “So like you all, to cling to the light,” said Hel. “To drown your servants and lessers in its radiance, and so much the blinder for it. Like my grandfather, master of all he chose to be master of, and the rest he cast down to the shadows, forgotten in their chains. Even the dead. “He kept Valhalla, of course, for all those who met their ends in glory. The warriors and the battle kings, the great champions who fell atop heaps of the enemies they had slain. But for me, I was granted reign over other souls. A queen, ruling a realm of the sick, the infirm, the old and the lame. The helpless.” Hel sat back, resting her head against the worn leather knotwork adorning Hlidskjalf. “I loved it down there, and I hated that I did. I hated that I was just like the loathsome dead I ruled. Helplessness, Hera. That is what Odin meant for me. A prison, just as my dear brother too was imprisoned.” The wet rumbling Hera heard grew louder, and a dark shape detached itself from the shadows. Great claws scraped against the stone of the floor as it came into the light, an enormous grey wolf of a size and strength beyond what the natural world could ever create. The beast's eyes blazed in the dark, glaring down upon Hera, Thor and Argus. Slowly, its black lips peeled back, exposing its gleaming fangs as a snarl built in its throat. Hel clicked her tongue once, and the creature padded to her side. It settled down onto its haunches like a guardian hound, even still dwarfing her and Odin's throne. “Fenrir,” Hel lifted a hand toward the beast, and slowly he lowered his head, never taking his baleful eyes from the intruders. With a slow, careful touch she brushed the coarse fur away from the great wolf's throat, revealing a stark band of hairless flesh pebbled by scar tissue. “Though his chains were far more real.” “Odin had cause to banish you,” said Thor, “and by your very deeds you have vindicated his choice. You have carried your poison out from the underworld and sowed it here, using Hades and even your own father.” Hel laughed softly. “My father will play his games, though he rarely concerns himself with the feelings of the pieces. Hades, though, was an easy touch, the poor deluded fool. The simplest ones to turn are those who do so eagerly, thinking of themselves as saviors.” “So you have been wronged,” said Hera. “And therefore any atrocity you wreak is justified? You expect the world to accept being swallowed by the darkness as though you are the only one to have ever suffered?” “This is not about being wronged,” Hel snapped. “You always say the same things, the self righteous. The light always crusading for order, without ever knowing what it means, without ever thinking that it is they who have overstepped. Because order, true order, is balance, Hera. Coexistence between light and shadow. And the light has had its way for so very long.” Fenrir clenched his paws, carving deep furrows into the floor in a screech of claw against stone. Hel looked to her brother, running a hand down his flank in affection, before regarding Thor and Hera once more. “My brother grows restless with all of this bickering, and I am bored of it myself, I must admit. Perhaps we can dispense with the notion that you have come here for words alone, dear Uncle, and get to it?” “Cherish this moment,” Thor rolled his shoulders. He squared up, sending a current of lightning shivering across Mjolnir. “Once and only once, now, we are in accord.” Hera blinked, and Fenrir was among them. The immense wolf crashed down, hurling Argus aside and rounding upon her. She leapt back, the radiant field surrounding her flashing as Fenrir's claws raked across it. Thor hurled himself at Fenrir from behind, Mjolnir a crackling blur as he brought it down in a blistering overhead strike. But the wolf wasn't there. Thor's hammer smashed a crater into the floor in a cloud of twisting stone fragments. He whirled around, raising his weapon just in time to put it between himself and Fenrir's snapping jaws. The two gods grappled, straining against each other with all their strength. Spittle flecked Thor's face as Fenrir snarled, enduring the lightning that seared his flesh as he sought to tear Mjolnir from the God of Thunder's grasp. Thor felt his hold begin to slip when a massive stone fist pistoned into Fenrir's skull, breaking the deadlock. The wolf sank his claws into the ground and skidded to a halt. He shook his mane, a deep snarl building in his throat as Argus charged him. Fenrir ducked under a swinging fist, letting his claws carve deep into Argus' side as he surged past him. He sprang onto the giant's back, fangs snapping down and biting deep into the bronze and marble armour of Argus' shoulder. Crimson light began to pulse beneath Fenrir's flesh as he fought, winding patterns that Hera realized were runes in some ancient Asgardian tongue. Iron-hard bands of muscle bulged across Fenrir's body, swelling and expanding his already monstrous frame. A sharp crack rang across the throne room as Argus' shoulder plating shattered between the wolf's jaws. Like a comet, Mjolnir smashed into Fenrir, hurling him off of Argus. The hammer continued on, singing as it cut the air, when Thor appeared before it. Mjolnir sailed into the grasp of its master, and with a bellow of rage Thor pressed the attack. Hera whirled her sceptre in front of her, drawing power from the natural world and weaving it together. The hair on her neck stood on edge as it build, surging across the sceptre in chains of purple and gold, before she sent it screaming toward Fenrir. The ball of energy enveloped Fenrir, and a piercing howl shook the hall. The air was filled with the reek of scorched hair. The wolf thrashed under Hera's assault, unable to see or defend against Thor as he swung Mjolnir into his chest and left him sprawled at the foot of the throne, barely conscious as coils of stinking smoke coiled from his body. “Now,” Thor spat onto the floor, raising his hammer to point at Hel. “Come and pay for your sins, usurper.” Hel rose from Hlidskjalf, gliding down the dais to Fenrir's side. The darkness followed her, clinging to half of her form to keep it cast in inky shadow. Hera then realized that it was not the natural dark that was obscuring Hel. She was the very source of it. Tendrils of blackness emanated from Hel, bleeding from her silhouette like ink diffusing into water. She stopped beside Fenrir, her angelic half the very image of beatific sorrow as she beheld his wounds. “My brother,” Hel whispered, lowering her head to rest it against the wolf's. “You've done so much for me, but I must ask more of you, before we can rest our heads.” Hel placed a hand over Fenrir, the limb pulsing with radiance. Golden rays of light washed over him, smoothing away the wounds and restoring his coat to its full, shining lustre. Strength flooded back into the wolf, and he surged back to his feet, turning his hunter's glare upon Hera, Thor and Argus. “This little contest has been enjoyable but I have work to do,” said Hel. “Brother, won't you show our guests out?” Fenrir filled his lungs, expelling it as a roar that shook Valhalla to its very foundations. The runes beneath his flesh blazed as he began to grow, doubling and then tripling in size. His claws extended to the length of swords, his fangs nearly as long as Hera was tall. Fenrir had become a giant, nearly needing to stoop beneath the ceiling of the throne room. Argus ran at Fenrir. Empowered by Hel's magic, the wolf reached for a pillar, wrenching the stone column loose and swept it out like a club. Argus took the blow's full weight, hurling him back to smash against the far wall. Thor threw himself into the air, Mjolnir held high. Fenrir roared at the God of Thunder as he flew toward the wolf's open maw. Fenrir's fangs snapped down to devour him. Thor snarled as he fought to keep the beasts jaws from closing with all his strength. Seeing Thor's desperation, Hera hurled bolts of energy at Hel. Her protective radiance flared around herself as Hel turned her attention from Fenrir and unleashed her dark power upon the Queen of the Gods. Hera gritted her teeth as the blasts of midnight energy crashed against her, each one a hammer blow even through her barrier. But she knew that every attack striking her was one less that was aiding her brother wolf. She glimpsed Thor through the wash of conflicting energies, seeing the God of Thunder course with crackling lightning just as Fenrir's teeth crushed down against him. And shattered. Fenrir reeled back, howling in agony as bits of broken fang clattered over the ground. Thor broke loose from the wolf's maw, raining down blows with Mjolnir. Every strike shrank Fenrir, the runes dimming as he shrivelled back down to his normal size. One last hit cracked against Fenrir's skull, sending him to the floor where he stayed. Hel shrieked, breaking off her attack on Hera. The Queen sagged slightly as the assault ceased, the barrier around her dissipating with a soft snap. Panting, sheened in ozone and Fenrir's stinking saliva, the God of Thunder turned to Hel, who stood defiantly over her brother. She leapt at Thor, rage making her strikes a blur as she fought, but her uncle's rage was stronger. Hera held back, letting Thor settle it. This was a reckoning that must be brought to an end by Asgard. “You cannot stop this,” Hel growled, glaring at Thor as he seized her. “Fight all you want, there will be a balance between the light and—” Thor yanked Hel forward, smashing his head against hers. She dropped without a sound, collapsing atop Fenrir at the foot of Hlidskjalf. “What is to be done with them?” asked Hera. Thor scowled down at the unconscious pair of his kindred who had wrecked so much havoc upon the world. “Their fates belong to the Allfather,” he spat against the ground again. “He will see to their sentence, as he takes his rightful place on the throne once more.” Argus dropped to one knee before Hera with a hard thud, pressing a fist against the ground to steady himself. Hera looked over her giant, drawing in a breath at the grievous wounds he had suffered. His body was riven by claws and covered in cracks that spread over him like jagged spiderwebs. Whole sections were warped by Hel's magic, rendered loose and softened like molten stone. Any one of the injuries Argus had suffered would have killed a mortal warrior outright, or crippled a divine one. Hera had rendered her champion into someone capable of enduring such lethality, but the twin minds within his shell still bore the full pain of them, and she could feel the agony exuding from Argus like a heat haze. Lifting her sceptre, Hera closed her eyes, and reformed Argus. Her power reknit his body and healed his wounds, returning him to the full grandeur and strength he had known at the moment of his creation. Though such a restoration caused great pain itself, Argus withstood it, only snarling quietly against the hurt, to his credit. She had nearly finished healing Argus when she sensed someone behind her. Hera's intuition felt the knife coming as surely as if it had been buried between her shoulders, and the cruel laughter of the horned coward who wielded it as he sprang forth to strike. Hera spun, sceptre raised. She uttered an incantation and Loki disappeared in a cloud of crackling mist. A soft thud issued from the cloud, along with the irate bleating of an inhuman throat. The mist cleared, revealing a scraggly, grey-haired goat where Loki had once been. “A fine trick,” Thor chuckled despite his exhaustion. He squatted down before the creature. “You should thank her, brother. Compared to your usual self she's made quite an improvement.” “I warned him,” Hera gave a thin smile before gesturing to her champion. “Argus, if you please?” Argus grunted, plodding forward and scooping Loki up in one massive fist. The transformed trickster bucked and kicked in the giant's grip. Argus paid him no heed as he stomped toward where a ragged hole had been torn in the wall of the throne room, open clear to night-shrouded Asgard beyond Valhalla. Coming to a halt, Argus ignored Loki's flailing as he looked back at Hera. She gave her champion a nod, and without pause he hurled the creature out through the gap. Loki's cries filled the great hall as he sailed out through the collapsed wall and into the night, quickly fading until he had disappeared from sight. Thor looked out at the night sky for a moment, before moving to stand at Hera's side. “You have honoured your part in our pact, Queen,” Thor thudded Mjolnir against his chest as he dipped his head. “And I shall do the same. I will follow you, and whatever comes to stand against you, you will have the God of Thunder by your side.” Hera smiled, but it faltered when her intuition struck her again. A presence was within the hall, but it defied sense. “What is it?” asked Thor. Hera peered back at Hlidskjalf, seeing the faintest impression of a horned helm, boots kicked up on one arm of the throne. And a cold, liar's smile. “Coward,” hissed Hera under her breath. Thor frowned. “What?” Hera considered putting an end to the trickery once and for all. The temptation was strong, but she pushed it aside. She had won what she wanted in Asgard, and there were far more pressing matters before her. “Nothing that can't wait,” she replied, turning and striding out of the great hall. “With this business done, we need to gather strength for the battles ahead. Come, there's a place I'd like you to see.”
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