//------------------------------//
// Entry Two 
// Story: The Hermit's Tale 
// by BlackRoseRaven 
//------------------------------//

Entry Two

I realize that I made a grave error in the last chapter. I made an assumption, and as fate oh so gleefully likes to illustrate, any assumption I make has to be quickly proven wrong. It was an understandable one, I think, that this meeting would go smoothly and likely be as boring as possible: unfortunately, I was wrong on both those counts.
Everything started fine, of course. The twenty-member advisory council were all present, as were my personal aides, Excelsior and Aria. The agenda was laid out, and we discussed Asgard's atmosphere, the arrival ratio – a pleasant euphemism for how many mortals are dying and coming to Valhalla – and our rate of growth from other sources, such as the rare immigration from another plane and birth rate among our residents. Not that births are common, mind you: it requires ritual and luck, and I imposed 'birth licenses' as a deterrent. Babies born of the Blessed – or 'angels' as many of them refer to themselves, since so few of these annoying little ponies will listen to me when I tell them there is a vast difference between an 'angel' and a mortal who has come to Heaven from Midgard – require great amounts of care and compassion.
But all that is aside, because we were barely able to move through the first few points of the meeting before we were rudely interrupted by the most insufferable, loathsome creature I have ever met. While before she only sent her ambassadors and diplomats to harass and distract us, over the past few years this goddess of misery has taken a keen interest in being as frustrating as possible in... person, so to speak.
I'm speaking, of course, about the Queen of Helheim, Hel. She is rude, annoying, and childish... and cunning and cruel to the extreme. With the way she acts, it's easy to forget she's not just a paranoid old witch... she's a goddess with powers said to rival Odin's at his finest.
As always, there's no warning: one moment we're discussing profits, and the next the doors are flung open and Hel lets herself in. Well, not exactly Hel herself: she never leaves her throne, deep below Helheim, secure inside her sealed palace. When she wishes to make mischief, she uses an ice-golem puppet that she's able to talk and act through like it's her own body.
It's blue and crystalline, and the faintest mist of frost sparkles off it as it struts into the meeting hall, looking like a gangly, long-limbed biped. A dress of powder-blue snow wafts around her too-thin form as she grins: she has the head of a cow, with tiny horns and reedy locks and sunken, gleaming eyes in sallow features. I don't think she really has the head of a cow: I think it's an underhanded mockery of Odin's creations. But I could be wrong: Hel usually lacks any sense of subtlety.
“Hope I'm not interrupting!” she crows, shoving two of the advisers out of the way and flinging herself onto the meeting table. I can only stare as she sits right in the center of it, cross-legged, not caring about her dress half-hitched up around her waist. She's grinning, malicious and cheerful and mocking, knowing none of us can do a thing about her. “But I heard you wanted to make a deal with me, Kvasir, so I came quick as a bunny! Hop, hop, hop!”
She bounces like a child around in a circle on her rump, and I can only mouth wordlessly. My aides are both staring in disbelief and the whole council is trapped in stunned silence. But after a moment, I shake myself out and lean forwards, forcing myself to take a breath and reply in as calm a voice as possible: “Get off the table, Hel.”
“No, it's my table now. I claim this table in the name of Helheim!” Hel hops to her feet, spreading her arms wide with a bright grin, and oh how I want to strangle her. “Which I guess is kind of like claiming it in my own name, so... I hope that's not to vain. But I'm pretty enough to be vain, right, sweetie-honey-buncakes?”
She frames her own face with her hands and leans forwards, fluttering her eyelashes at me. I force myself to stay calm, not giving her the satisfaction of my anger, not wanting to act out, not wanting to encourage her to make things even worse.
Which is why I'm all the more horrified when one of the councilors stands up and shouts: “Now listen here, Hel, you are not welcome in-”
Without even glancing at the angel, Hel simply points a finger at him, and the divine being flinches as if in pain before he's covered in thick tendrils of ice. He's left immobile, mouth frozen shut, body unable to move in the slightest, and I drop my face in one hand as I close my eyes.
Hel sniffs and straightens, brushing herself off as the rest of the council remains silent. When I look up, she's smiling, her hands tented in front of herself, before she asks teasingly: “So teacher-teacher, are you going to dismiss the class? I think it's nap time for all the good little boys and girls.”
She steps forwards and leans down, pinching one of Excelsior's cheeks: my unicorn aide winces and flinches backwards, rubbing at a spot of frostbite left from the contact, and I look sourly up at Hel. But there's no winning against her, even as she pretends to beg for a moment, giving a few dog-like whimpers. She won't go away until she gets what she wants.
“Council is in recess for twenty minutes.” I say finally: it's better than making Hel temper tantrum. Not for my pride, maybe, but for everyone else. Hel beams at this and straightens, snapping her fingers to the side, and the ice trapping the angel shatters and sends him spilling to the ground. He picks himself up shakily, but leaves as quickly as the rest of the council. A small favor.
Excelsior shrinks his head awkwardly and picks up his clipboard with telekinesis to hide behind it. It's an almost admirable act of outright cowardice. Meanwhile, Aria is only keeping her gaze away, the Pegasus' head lowered as she breathes slowly in and out. I can feel how frustrated she is, and I know Hel can, too. Hel's enjoying their discomfort... my discomfort.
I look up at her: I don't believe she actually knows that I have a request for her. But on the other hand, she has no problem overcoming all the wards and protections of Valhalla. Her ridiculous ice-puppet is almost undetectable even by our most sensitive sensors, and it's said that once upon a time, Hel was a member of the Aesir herself. The archive legends say that Odin threw her out of Valhalla for how hideous she was... but her power and position both hint at a much different story.
Hel smiles at me, then she purposefully places a foot against my chest and shoves me back into my seat, making me wince before she drops to a sitting position on the edge of the table. She primly crosses her legs and laces her fingers together in her lap, looking down at me and asking kindly: “How are the ponies treating you, Kvasir? You do make a very handsome horsey. It's rather nice to see a shapeshifter who doesn't have to turn himself into a big strong man to soothe his teeny-weeny little ego. Who happens to be proud of his love of sparkly unicorns.”
She flutters her eyes at me, then reaches out and begins to teasingly play with my bangs. I only continue to glower at her, knowing she'll eventually get to the point, and trying to rush this along will only make her draw it out even more. But oh, it's hard. I cannot begin to describe the things I would do to Hel if I had the power. The things I want to blurt out, but fight to swallow back.
“Now, Kvasir, dear. Just what is it that you want my help with today, sweetheart? Do you need some more demons to help protect Valhalla, or some help dealing with those icky Pious? Is there a nasty-tempered god on the march, or are you just lonely and want to talk to your good friend Hel?” the goddess almost purrs to me through her ice-puppet. “You can tell me anything, after all. I can keep a secret. I never told anyone that Excelsior wets the bed.”
Hel pretends to blush as she covers her mouth, looking mockingly over at my aide, but Excelsior only stays resolutely hidden behind his clipboard. I roll my eyes at her childishness, then shake her hand off my head and say moodily: “And what if I do actually need your help with something, Hel?”
“Well, that makes everything different!” Hel laughs as she spins herself around: one moment she's sitting, the next she's rolled onto her back, head grinning up at me invertedly and arms spread wide to either side as if to hug me as she kicks her legs with gleeful childishness. I think my revulsion is more than understandable. “I'm delighted to hear it though, blood brother! And for a fair price, I'll give you just what you desire!”
I look at her distrustfully. I know already this isn't going to work in my favor, but all the same I force myself to stay calm, and say in as even a voice as possible: “I require an orb of soulstone, made by your own hand.”
“Ooh, really?” Hel looks interested. Too interested, as her eyes gleam and she leans forwards, licking her lips and grinning at me with those big cow teeth. “Now, that's a very specific request. And a very big one too. Which makes it double fun as much as double weird, because usually you're trying to keep as far away from me as possible. But this is quite the favor.”
Excelsior peeks out nervously from behind his clipboard, but he doesn't speak. Aria, on the other hand, looks up at me uncomfortably, and she's only silent for a moment longer before she asks quietly: “What do you need something like that for, Lord Kvasir?”
“Hey, I wanted to ask that! That was my line!” Hel whines loudly, and then she huffs and crosses her arms, sitting back up and glaring down at Aria as the Pegasus looks back up at the ice puppet defiantly. “Now don't be such a naughty girl, naughty little girl. Let's not forget, I might not do a thing to you up here, but that's only out of respect for Mr. Seriouscorn over here. And that respect definitely doesn't extend to your family down in the nasty cold place.”
Aria opens her mouth, but I reach out and grasp her shoulder quickly, stopping her from saying something I know she'll regret later. Or rather, that I know Hel will make her regret later. There's an uneasy silence for a few moments, and then Aria closes her eyes and bows her head, nodding to me once. I nod back, and return my eyes to Hel, who looks grumpy at the fact her nasty little provocation didn't work after all.
There's an uneasy few moments of silence before I finally say quietly: “Why I need it is none of your business, Hel. You and I may not see eye-to-eye on many things-”
“Because ponies are short, dear. Ponies are short.” Hel chides, reaching up and patting my cheek firmly a few times. I again have to bite back several very unpleasant remarks I want to make, as well as the urge to throw what little magic firepower I have at this... witch. “I like short men, though. Or stallions. Or whatever you prefer to call yourself, it makes no difference to me.”
She pauses, then rolls her head back and forth indecisively, humming under her breath before clicking her tongue and snapping her fingers with a wide grin. “I have the perfect idea! You set up a nice little meeting for me with Brynhild and Freya and that icky clay-pony of Valthrudnir's, and... oh, I want handsome little Thor to attend to, he's such a cutie-pie. And I'll hand-deliver you the orb.”
I look at Hel warily, but the goddess smiles and holds up her hands, saying encouragingly: “Oh come now, let's not play this game. You know that I can't lie, especially not to my equal and opposite number in Valhalla. Let's... skip the whole banter and back-and-forth, just agree, sweetie! I wanna help you out here... so long as you do me that nice favor.”
“I... I can see about arranging a meeting.” I say after a few moments: I feel grudging and hesitant, but I don't know what else to do. And I'm already fairly certain that Freya will be anxious to meet with Hel herself: she's already expressed an interest in trying to form some kind of... working relationship, so to speak, with the goddess of Helheim.
Hel looks pleased, beating a tattoo against the table as she giggles a little before leaning forwards, her eyes flashing with... no, that's not just amusement. There's a dark, terrible intellect in those windows into her soul... if Hel can even be said to possess a soul, that is. “I'm very happy you're willing to try and see things my way, Kvasir. Me and you, we can be the best of friends. You like making friends, like these silly ponies, right?”
I grimace, and I don't like what she's hinting at. But Aria leans forwards, taking Hel's attention off me as the Pegasus says sharply: “We silly ponies look out for each other, at least. And our unity gives us a bond of strength not even your mightiest demons can match.”
I admire Aria's strength: I wish I could be as brave as she is. And to think, she's relatively young for a Blessed, only a decade or so. But maybe it's youth that gives us courage... and makes us a little stupid, as I wince at the expression on Hel's face.
It's not a scowl or a snarl. It's not a look of displeasure. It's a pleased smile, before she licks her lips like a kitten that's gotten into the cream. And Aria realizes too late what she's invited in as Hel almost coos: “Oh, is that a challenge, darling, from one of Heaven's administrators? I do so love a challenge! That's why me and Vally-wally hung around and had such fun together, you know... we loved our fun and games!”
I grimace, and Aria already looks horrified, opening her mouth... but with a snap of her fingers, Hel creates some massive, oversized party hat that falls over Aria's head in a burst of confetti, cutting her off as the goddess proclaims: “Delightful! I don't hear any objections, so... once, twice, three times and you're sold! Oh, what a wonderful day, a deal with Mr. God and a chance to play game with my favoritest littlest ponies ever... est! I'm so happy I could just kill!”
Hel laughs and rocks back and forth, then she suddenly almost throws herself forwards, nearly shoving her face up against mine as she bares sharp icicle teeth in a grin. “I've always seen Heaven and Hell not like enemy nations, but... warring hockey teams. I love hockey. Don't you love hockey?”
“No.” I shove her away with a grimace, then shake my head quickly and add moodily: “Aria is a senior aide, but spoke out of turn and we all know she has no impact on-”
“It's cute how you stick up for the little girl by insulting her position. Really, you're such a protective passive-aggressive bitch.” Hel remarks with a flick of one finger, and I breathe slowly. I breathe nice and slow, in and out. “Now now, honey-bunny, don't worry about a thing. It'll just be a game, we won't play for keepsies.”
I grimace at this, looking up with discomfort at Hel. Hel is only grinning in that horrible way of hers, her eyes gleaming, not bothering to hide her excitement in the slightest. I don't really know what to say. I don't really know what to do. And Aria looks so... scared. Scared and ashamed of herself as she glances up from beneath that stupid, oversized hat Hel plopped on her head.
“Oh come now, Kvasir, don't look so down!” The goddess of the dark place reaches out and pinches my cheek, and I grimace and slap her hand away, which just makes her giggle before she continues almost soothingly: “You and me, we're the coaches, we don't have to worry about going on the field... I know, I'll stack everything in your favor, how about that? I'll wrangle me up a team of demons, choose a few sit-ins, and we'll play capture the flag. Or hostile corporate takeover, with emphasis on the takeover part.”
“You're going to attack Heaven?” Excelsior asks in surprise, sticking his head up for a moment from behind the clipboard, and then he winces and drops back behind it when Hel grins over at him, licking her lips and leaning towards the unicorn.
“'Attack' is such a nasty word. I prefer to think of it more as... oh... a friendly little airing of conflict resulting in minor bodily harm.” Hel clicks her tongue thoughtfully, then she claps her hands a few times. “And I'm only going to... friendly-air yadda-yadda-yadda Valhalla's gates. Rules is rules, and all, I'll leave the Vale and the pretty little ponies you so cherish all alonesome.”
I look up with disdain, but my hands smooth down my suit, adjust my tie: nervous tells I've never been able to get rid of, and that Hel recognizes with a grin. But I know she won't back down: the most I can hope to do is minimize the damage from this... well, this catastrophe. This is not what I need to deal with on top of everything else. “I'm already dealing with plenty of unwanted incursions from Helheim as it is-”
“No, you're dealing with rogue demons, that's all. I really have nothing to do with them, you know that.” Hel says dismissively, waving a hand quickly. “And I'm giving you a fighting chance here too, aren't I? Like I said, I'll just put together a nice little team of boys and girls. We won't even use you as the flag, Kvasir-honey. We'll use... her.”
Hel's eyes glint as she turns to Aria, licking her lips slowly, and I feel a moment of... of desperation. Of agony, as I look at Aria, who glares back at the goddess in spite of the fear in her eyes. I admire that. I admire her... and before I even realize what I'm doing, I'm already saying: “No. Aria is an aide and an assistant, that's all. Her regular duties are nothing more important than adjusting schedules and fetching documents. And we all know that I'm Heaven's figurehead. I'm the logical choice.”
Funny that I use that phrasing. The logical thing to do here would be to sit back, let Aria be the sport of Hel's games, and continue to calmly administrate Valhalla. The logical thing to do would be not to get involved and ruin Hel's fun by offering Aria up as a sacrifice... and with her dedication to Valhalla, I know she'd go willingly.
But I'm not always logical. If anything these ponies and interacting with Heaven have taught me, it's that: I'm no machine, no logician, just... what I am. Flesh and blood, mind and emotion. And I care about Aria. I do. Which is probably why it actually hurts a little that Aria looks... surprised at what I just said.
Hel is intrigued. She clearly likes my offer: in fact, it makes me uncomfortable precisely how much she seems to like what I just said. She leans forwards, licks her lips, looks almost like she's salivating at some prospect I've stupidly overlooked. “You as the prize, honeybun? Well, I'm just delighted all to... well, hell!”
She laughs at her own joke, then claps and nods a few times rapidly, her eyes gleaming. It unnerves me, to say the very least, even before she continues: “I'm just so happy to see some stupid has rubbed off on you. It's good to be stupid. You might not believe this, Kvasir, but I like to be a little stupid now and then myself too... there's quite a few things I'd be stupid for. And you know what else this is great for? This is a great trust exercise, because, you know, when my demons storm Valhalla you'll have to trust them not to eviscerate you and make daisy chains out of your insides.”
I grimace, but try to hide my fear as Hel licks her lips slowly, before she sighs and sits back,looking from one of my aides to the other. “And just look at you two sweet little things. Trying oh-so-admirably-hard not to tell your boss he's being an idiot, or let your mouths run and get you in even more trouble with little ol' me. That's sweet. Kind of like cotton candy or something. Or tea. They make sweet teas, right? I've never really been a tea drinker myself. I'm a queen but not that kind of queen, you know? Right! Exactly!”
She nods forcefully a few times, then reaches forwards and starts to play with my goddamn mane for the third goddamn time in five goddamn minutes. And I find myself absolutely, utterly hoping that when Hel meets with the Valkyries, it goes as badly as possible purely so I can watch them attempt to punch some sense into this insufferable witch through her puppet. “I like that. It makes you cuter. It makes me a little more hopeful for you. You know I'm a big, big fan of the Valkyries and what Brynhild is doing... just majestic! And you, Kvasir... I honestly do like you too!”
“So you say.” I only glare at her, reaching up and swatting away her hand again, and Hel grins in response at this like it's all part of some big joke. It's making me angrier and angrier, but I keep myself in check: I've had a lot of practice with that over the years. “What are your proposed terms?”
“Ooh, yes, talk businessy to me. That makes me so hot and bothered.” Hel sighs dreamily, putting a hand against her face as her ice puppet rapidly begins to steam, then suddenly bursts apart into water. I lean backwards with a face of disgust, but I don't flinch even when she reforms immediately, the ice puppet smiling as if nothing had happened, hands knitted together and resting over her crossed legs. “Oh fine, spoilsport. Since you don't care how... wet... you make me...” She giggles at her own joke: I do my very best to only let out the smallest hiss of frustration through my teeth. “Let's go on to the nuts and bolts.
“I'll organize an attack team, and tell my good little demons it's just a drill. Really, I'm doing you a favor by giving your new Valkyries some experience here.” Hel continues, sitting up and gesturing easily with one hand. But overall she's toned down her childishness... although that only makes me all the more worried. I don't like being reminded of the fact she's not just a lunatic: she's a smart lunatic. “Thirty demons, no more, no less. For the first wave, I mean... but don't worry honey. The first wave will be the biggest and the dumbest.”
I look at her moodily, then ask acerbically: “I can't help but wonder, does that mean your final wave is going to be a lone assassin, Hel?”
“You wound me!” Hel gives me an expression of hurt so well-faked that for a moment, I wonder if she's being honest. But then her eyes glitter, she shows those icicle teeth in another grin, and she winks down at me teasingly. “Sweetie, why would I send an assassin when I could easily kill you myself if I wanted to, right here and now?”
There's silence for a moment as Excelsior gulps behind his clipboard, and Aria snarls, but suppresses herself... and I only look calmly, coldly up at Hel as I reply quietly: “Because that wouldn't be part of the game.”
“Oh, nice answer. Very nice indeed... you definitely did spend all kinds of time around Valthrudnir, now didn't you?” Hel looks pleased with me, and it makes me feel... uncomfortable. “But sweetie-pie, listen to me, just once, okay? I don't want to kill you. I want us all to be friends, work together, like Brynhild's done on her marvelous little layer! I mean, let's face it, Helheim is nothing but one giant mess these days.”
Hel nods seriously a few times... as if that's not all her fault for the dog-eat-dog system she put in place, for the way she toys with her own subjects for her personal amusement, how she seeks to make Helheim as chaotic as possible. “I'm not really the bad guy, you know, not really. Not at all. Odin's ponies are just so cute, and the fact that all the other equus started picking up how to talk and chatter on was just so adorable... like the cows, the cows!”
She giggles and slaps her hands against either side of her face, and I just... focus on breathing, and don't let my hands try and smooth down my suit for the hundredth time since she showed up. Control, Kvasir. Control is what separates us from barbarians and beasts, monsters and fools. Not intelligence, not charm, not strength, but our ability to control ourselves...
Hel looks at me for a moment longer, then she drums a tattoo against her cheeks before continuing almost plaintively: “Now listen, honeybutt. I'm a good person, really, in my shriveled little dark nasty heart-place. I really want us all to get along, because, you know, Heaven and Hell are supposed to be buddies, not enemies.”
She pauses, then huffs at the sour look I give her. “Hey, it's true! Oh, I know, we get painted as bad people all the time, but you know... so I've let a few layers of reality collapse, big deal. I've let Gates break open and hordes of demons escape... they get their just reward, don't they? Whole layers of reality, collapsing down on different slices of Helheim, killing hundreds of thousands of demons and forcing the few strong enough to try and tear their way through my Iron Curtains. But really, that's for the best. It gives me an example of why precisely we demons don't just flood up onto the mortal world and devour everyone. No mortals, no business, means I gotta close up shop.”
“I hear that you've been making the best of those ruined layers in Helheim, all the same.” I say evenly, and Hel only smiles at me knowingly. “Your Archives... your loyalist demons, who serve as your army and Inquisitors and keeping Helheim under your control... you've been building massive institutions for them in the ruined slices. Clearing them of debris and creating gigantic, sprawling colonies...”
“Well, Mr. Seriouscorn, I thought you'd approve of that. I'm trying to add a little order amidst all the chaos, give things a little extra zest.” Hel replies cheerfully, gesturing easily with one hand. “Look at this, Valhalla. You got it easy. Most of the people are here obey authority and are interested in following all the rules. Me? All I get are the garbage, the cowards, the psychopaths and the animals. How do I work with that? By letting them weed each other out, that's how, until only the ones smart enough to take orders remain.”
There's silence for a moment, and then Hel leans forwards, tenting her fingers and continuing kindly: “But I really like what Brynhild's done. Using not just a whip, but an open hand, I admire that. I question if I really have the patience for all that, though... probably not. I just like seeing things move, you know? And oh, I hate hate hate it when my little ducklings disobey me... like... right now, there's an Inquisitor who thinks he's actually getting away with selling contraband to a stupid Pride demon. The nerve!”
Hel nods a few times, and I grimace before asking: “Then why don't you stop him? You're more than powerful enough to.”
“Yes, yes I am. But just because we have power doesn't mean we get to rain holy hell on everything.” Hel giggles a little at her pun, then clears her throat and claps her hands together. “No, I'll let him play his game for a few years. Years are a very short time to me, Mr. Seriouscorn, I've been around the block a good few times after all. I'll gather up more evidence, give him a chance to change, and wait for him to think he's gotten away scot-free with the dirty deed... and then I'll have my Inquisitors rip him into itty-bitty still-alive pieces, put those little pieces in jars, and ship him by first-class mail to all his friends and neighbors. Oh, and I'll have everyone he sold illegal imports to killed, too. I hope those sandals are worth it.”
I look up at Hel with a frown, and the faintest twitch: I know she's serious. I know she's powerful enough that she can – and will – do exactly that. And I know her Archive forces won't hesitate to carry out their duties against anyone they see as 'heretic' or 'blasphemer:' any demon that goes against Hel's will, refuses to be part of Helheim's system, has somehow escaped the ice. “Usually Brynhild is against killing, unless completely necessary. Not something I've always agreed with, but I disagree more with killing over a minor crime.”
“There's no such thing as minor crime in Helheim. There's just crime and not crime.” Hel counters, then she reaches forwards and messes up my mane, and I... I just really want to hit her. I just really want this conversation to end so she'll go away. “Besides, you and I both know it's really not the sandals I'm killing anyone over. It's the whole betrayal of trust. It cuts me, right here.”
Hel absently reaches up and makes a large cut in her chest with one finger, and I sigh and shake my head slowly. But thankfully, she gets back on subject after a moment, saying pleasantly: “I'm not gonna have you hurt, Kvasir. How about this, one of my demons just has to reach you and... give you a gentle tap, okay?”
Hel accents this by reaching out and punching my shoulder lightly, winking at me. “We'll start next week. That should give you plenty of time to set up that nice little meeting for me with the Valkyries and handsome Thor. See, everything's going to work out just fine, and for everyone involved! We can all get along just swell, Kvasir, if you just put a little faith in me.”
I sigh, but nod reluctantly: I dislike this whole charade, but I also know it's unfortunately important to keep Hel happy. If I don't help her with things, she'll stop lending her aid to me... and whether I like it or not, part of the reason Valhalla is safe right now is actually her own doing. It's funny: she won't leash the rogue demons that throw themselves at Heaven's gates, but she'll send her own personal guard to help protect Heaven. She's even stepped in herself to deal with hostile gods for me once or twice.
Her motives are all too clear, though: she wants me indebted to her, and whether she's insane or not, she has some grand master plan she's working towards, little-by-little. And unlike Valthrudnir, she doesn't want to see the layers demolished: not because of any sense of care or compassion, I think, but because then she'd lose her main source of entertainment.
She's looking at me expectantly, and I say finally: “Hold up your end of the deal and I will hold up mine. I do not want anyone killed, though.”
“Oh, fine, spoilsport. But feel free to kill my demons, that's fine.” Hel says dismissively, then she hops off the table and stands for a moment, rubbing at her chin before her eyes gleam, flicking towards me knowingly. “And no using secret weapons. Just your new Valkyries and the current defense force. We wanna keep things nice and fair after all, don't we?”
“Of course.” I say as calmly as possible, already suspecting that Hel's got some strategy in mind that very heavily involves cheating, or the use of excessive force. And like she can read my mind, she looks at me pointedly and puts her hands over her breast.
“Hey, you're not suspicious of me already, are you? I haven't even lined up my hockey team yet!” Hel whines, and then she leans forwards and puts one hand behind her back, asking seriously: “You really don't think that I'd send Teddy after you, do you?”
“Yes.” I reply blandly, continuing to look at her evenly, and Hel pastes a wounded expression on her face that tells me she was thinking about doing exactly that. Or, if she wasn't, she's definitely considering it now. And Theodore is the last thing I need entering Valhalla. “Keep your bodyguard out of this.”
“Oh, come on. Don't be such a wet bagel.” Hel huffs and waves a hand at me, then she reaches out and musses up my mane. At this point, I'm starting to feel that internal pressure building towards a point of no return, but I focus on the fact that Hel is leaving. If I can just last a few minutes longer, then she'll be gone, and I won't give her the satisfaction of making me snap. “Honeybutt, you really need to learn to loosen up. Not take things so seriously, not act like every little thing matters. Because really, nothing matters. Not you, not me, not all these worlds... not in the long run, oh no.
“You, me, the ponies, even Vally-wally, we're nothing to this big old universe.” Hel adds, twirling around in a circle with her arms held out. “We're just little specks, ickle-tiny bits of dust and mold and... you know, other crap like that. But that doesn't make anything bad, Mr. Seriouscorn, it's just a big ol' reminder that it won't destroy all of reality if you take a moment to sit on your bony ass now and then.”
I scowl at her sourly and reflect moodily on how often I've been told this, by almost everyone in my life at one point or another. They seem to fail to recognize that I am an administrator first and foremost, that I am in charge of maintaining all of Heaven... and that maybe I actually like staying busy. Staying busy stops me from thinking too much and doing stupid things. “Not all of us thrive on chaos, Hel.”
“You're so judgmental. That hurts me.” Hel bows her head towards me and makes her eyes big and pleading, but I only glare back at her until she finally rolls her eyes and waves a hand grumpily. “Fine, fine. I get it, I'm not wanted, don't have to tell me twice. But do make sure you send me a letter soon, Mr. Seriouscorn. I'm anxious to get to know my brand new friends.”
I shudder a little at this even as Hel's ice puppet dissolves into mist that fades quickly from the air, and I breathe a sigh of relief the moment it's gone. Yet still, there's a gnawing sensation, as I rub slowly at my face... then grimace when Aria asks uneasily: “Why did you bargain with her?”
“It's a personal project.” I respond. That's enough for Aria, who nods and looks at me with... trust. Admiration, even. And that... hurts. I don't deserve either, but I force a small smile to her all the same before I look over at Excelsior.
He's clearly not as convinced, but as he puts down the clipboard, he doesn't say anything. He's a tall unicorn, lanky but strong, wearing old regal raiment modeled after the garb he wore when he was mortal, some... thousands of years ago. He spent many years as a Pale before finally ascending to Valhalla: he watched the world he came from change and grow and evolve, how ponies and their societies have begun to develop towards something better.
Of course, Excelsior also saw a lot of things that he wishes he could forget about, hence some of his less-than-brave behavior. But he's still an excellent adviser and I can trust his opinions, even I often have to do some nudging to get him to actually express anything beyond an uncomfortable agreement or an even-more uncomfortable 'no.'
For once, though, I'm glad he keeps his mouth shut on this subject. I really don't want to discuss it further with anyone... I would really prefer to keep Gymbr a secret until I'm ready to introduce him on my own terms... which I realize, ironically, are whatever terms Gymbr himself presents. Thinking I have any say in what the creature decides is just me fooling myself.
I sigh, then look up at Aria and ask finally: “What else is on the agenda for the meeting Hel interrupted? Let's take a moment to streamline any issues we can before we ask the council to return. I have another meeting to attend with Greater Heaven today.”
“Are... are you sure it's a good idea to meet with them? We already have other allies... Eden is much friendlier, even if these... 'humanoids' are a little strange.” Aria hesitates, then adds in a murmur: “But they're perfectly normal compared to the Greater Heaven. They're... alien.”
“They came to us after Selene's death, looking to become allies with us... and unfortunately, we need their strength. Nor can I precisely refuse their help: one of them claims to be the Nephilim's mother, and is holding us accountable for her demise.” I sigh and hake my head slowly. “I know it's uncomfortable, but we have to consider all the logistics of this situation. They are a very different culture and they are far from friendly, but they make very powerful allies. We need to sacrifice comfort for security at this point.”
“Why?” Aria asks, and... it's funny. I like that she asks questions, that she trusts me, but doesn't hesitate to ask about things she doesn't understand, to... quietly point out when I'm perhaps being too logical and not enough emotional. “Kvasir, sir... with all due respect, we're not in a state of war or any major danger right now. We have strong allies, and the layers are safe... it's been four years now since Looking Glass World suffered the attack from Thesis, and... things have been just fine. We've even been able to have Queen Freya assist with training the Valkyries.”
I nod calmly, then say softly: “I understand that Aria, but the nation that prepares for war only when war is already on the horizon, is the nation that loses that war. We need to prepare for whatever the future might hold, and it will undoubtedly hold more conflict. From Hel, from other Gods, from countless other sources.
“If I turn away Greater Heaven, we could risk making an enemy out of them. I would rather sacrifice some comfort to establish an alliance with them, and work through diplomacy, than risk creating another enemy and another source of conflict. Just because we're playing nice does not mean we're not proud and strong. Diplomacy is as valuable a weapon as any hatchet or sword.” I finish, and Aria nods to me respectfully.
I smile a little: I always seem to talk... gently to her. It's a little funny and I don't know why, but when I'm discussing things with her, she makes me... lose my edge and the irritation that normally overtakes me when I deal with all these meddling little ponies. Which is a very rare feeling for me, I have to admit.
Aria looks up at me, and then she shakes her head quickly and... is that a blush? Why is she blushing? But she's quick to move on, informing me: “We also have to discuss taxes, trades, the All Father's Day ceremony and if we should begin allowing small packages to be shipped back and forth, not to mention how we should manage registration...”
“A service fee seems to be working well, keeps the numbers manageable and gives Valhalla income.” I sigh and shake my head. “Economics. The dwarves want to be paid, the Blessed want to be paid, the soldiers want to be paid. While I am no fan of ardent patriotism, I still think that the fact we're all in Heaven should make you greedy little mortals a little more willing to work for room and board alone.”
“Every society needs some kind of economy.” Excelsior mumbles, and I nod after a moment, glancing over at the unicorn as he suggests in his meek way: “Perhaps... perhaps we should have interested parties apply this year for a short, five-minute listening appointment at the Watcher's Temple. We could charge a small fee for it, but it would let us reduce the fee to send a letter. More income, less for people to pay all at once.”
I shrug a little, looking at Excelsior: I understand he has a plan, and I can even begin to see the broad strokes of it, but I don't completely know what he's getting at. He looks at me almost pleadingly, and I sigh tiredly again and say finally: “Fine. Write your proposal down and I'll look it over tonight.”
The unicorn looks relieved, nodding and smiling at me. It's a little irritating, but it could be worse. Excelsior's reports and suggestions are always concise and well-written, and this way at least I can better work out the finer details than in a stumbling verbal discussion with the far-too-shy unicorn. I turn my eyes back to Aria, nodding to her and saying: “Go ahead and call the council back. We'll shift the All Father's issues over to the next meeting, after I have time to review Excelsior's proposal.”
Aria nods and salutes with one wing, then the Pegasus turns and head quickly for the door. I study her: she moves gracefully, delicately, and I admire her dedication. Even though I offered her a placement as one of the new Valkyries, all the same, she chose to stay beside me. She's as dedicated to Valhalla as I am, helping oversee its administration, understanding that things are managed by more than just what happens on the battlefield... although all the same, she does sometimes seem to... to long for that.
Excelsior is looking at me, and I look back at him after a moment. I frown slightly, and he clears his throat and hurriedly drops his gaze. I roll my eyes at this and shake my head slowly, then stand up and shove my chair back into place at the head of the table. I close my eyes, leaning against it, feeling uneasy and frustrated and hating this waste of time. However short or long it takes the council to fritter back in, it'll be more minutes out of my day that I could have put towards dealing with other important issues.
Then, to my surprise, Excelsior suddenly speaks up and asks me worriedly: “Sir, are you okay? You... you seem more preoccupied lately. I know it's none of my business but usually you at least try and stand up to Hel, but this time... you just went along with everything she said. You seemed... disconnected from everything.”
I frown over my shoulder in surprise: was I really? I didn't think I was doing anything different from normal but... admittedly, I usually lose my temper once or twice while dealing with Hel. This time... all I could think about was that I needed her help and that I wanted it to be over. Angry as she made me... it must just be my anxiety. “Maybe I am. But don't worry, Excelsior, I only have Valhalla's best interests in mind.”
“Please don't take this the wrong way, sir, but... good intentions pave the path to Helheim. Truth and strength  lead to the Vale of Valhalla.” Excelsior replies, even as he keeps his head low. He's so humble that I can only smile a little at him despite myself, not replying.
We're left in a slightly-uncomfortable quiet: Excelsior is second guessing himself, and I'm... well, I'm doing the same. Maybe I'm not doing anything intelligent or logical here. Maybe this is... stupidity, and avarice, and... maybe that's been seeping into my entire line of work. Aria asked about Greater Heaven and I gave her what I think was a logical, concise answer, but... was it? Or was that just more fear talking, more... more need for control, power, or...  am I being...
I think about Gymbr, how Gymbr... whispers in my ear, how I seem to be drawn towards doing what he wants. What if... that's affecting me in other ways? But he's never said anything about Greater Heaven... has he? I... I feel confused. And a little sick to my stomach. And as much as I want to brush it all off, I just... I just can't for some reason.
That crawling sensation stays in my mind even as I look up at the sight of the council returning. I lean forwards over the head of the table, taking a slow breath and composing myself, watching as they filter in. But now my thoughts are becoming all the more distracted... and I find myself afraid that maybe they aren't even all my own.