Entry Nine
I have spent the last few days cutting and trimming through text and paper to remove unnecessary filler from this narrative. Looking back over previous pages, I see a lot of repetition and... unclean work, I suppose is the best way to phrase it. I am not satisfied with what I have produced so far, and wish to create a cleaner, more coherent narrative.
Part of this is because of the nature of this confession: I realize that, as this enchantment records mainly my thoughts and reactions, my perhaps subconscious desires play a great role in steering the narration forwards as if following some preset plot. But this is no fictional design, and nor is this supposed to serve as anything but a telling of important matters during this period of my life as King of Valhalla, in the event that something happens to me.
I am working on finding a better enchantment to summarize events, but so far the results have not been up to par. And nor do I have the time to return to my private office every night and list out the entire events of the day, while going over what may or may not be important. I have many days that are so busy all I can do is concentrate on each task on the agenda as I reach it, and then cross it off once completed and put it completely out of my mind.
For example, the last few days have been tedium, during the course of which the only event that sticks out is working with Antares Mīrus. He's a fairly fast learner, but his problem lies in application: he has a tendency to be hesitant and meek in negotiation until his disputant eventually touches a sore nerve. Then his mother's personality surfaces and he becomes much more aggressive and sharp, and he forgets the first rule of debate: do not get emotionally involved.
This may have little bearing on my own personal situation, but at the same time I have to wonder if the actions of himself and Brynhild won't contribute in some way to my eventual – and likely premature – demise.
Either way, you see my point: what I do remember is not always anything of any real use. I'm no machine able to perfectly and precisely process every little bit of information available. For now, using the enchantment makes it much easier to deduce what should be removed and what should be left behind.
And that is why I've reactivated the enchantment from this point onwards. I sit back in my chair with a sigh, feeling... exhausted, and like I have a terrible headache. I'm not... really sure what I should do with myself right now, either. There's a few possibilities but none of them stand out as being the best use of my time.
There are a few matters to attend to, certainly, and I have a notebook out on my desk nearby, open to a list of things that I have to get done that I... I just don't feel up to the task of attempting to sort out at this moment in time. I glance at this, then reach out and draw a finger slowly down the list before I sigh quietly, tapping moodily on the third point on the short list, and the most pressing matter: selecting a replacement for Aria.
For a moment, I feel a faint ache. A tremor runs through me, and I think about... well, how different things could have been if I'd just been honest with her, with Terra... with myself. And furthermore, how different, how much better it would have been for everyone involved if Aria and I hadn't gone chasing after some momentary, diminutive pleasure and instead we had acknowledged the only possible rational end to our actions together.
The only positive point is that in her showing yesterday, Aria excelled. Yes, I was worried at first: when Hel attacked, Aria was simply frozen and thrown away, after all, and she may not seem like much apart from your standard Blessed Pegasus. But even if she lacks magical ability, she excels in physical combat, and this is where many of our Valkyries require training. Even Terra relies heavily upon her special abilities in combat: Aria's demonstration showed that with a few proper tools, even a Pegasus is a force to be reckoned with.
I was proud of her, and I hurt a little. I don't like that I hurt a little. And I don't like that I yearned to have her back at my side as my assistant. But I'm doing my best to let her go and let her move on, because I know this is what's best for everyone involved. And I already said that I was going to allow Aria to make this transfer if she could earn it... and she can.
The new Valkyries need a coach like her. A former mortal, young, but strong and talented, who can show them how to use mortal and divine tools and avoid relying on magic or special abilities. I should have considered earlier how this could benefit everyone. And yet at the same time I don't want to select a new assistant from the candidate pool Excelsior has finished putting together. I want her back, and I want...
I sigh and shove myself away from my desk, then look for a moment at the notebook before grumbling and snapping my fingers. The book vanishes in a puff, and I turn towards the door, striding to it quickly and shoving through it to slam it bad-temperedly behind me. But in the hall, I stop, take a breath, and raise my hands in front of myself, resisting the urge to fidget, to fiddle with my suit. My fingers want to tighten my tie but... the irony is that I'm no longer wearing a tie. Just an open-throated dress shirt... a 'compromise' I've made with Terra.
Terra... my thoughts turn to her, and I quietly look down at the tooth and claw bracelet around my wrist, shaking it once, making it jingle softly. I study it for a few moments, and a small smile spreads over my features as everything is temporarily blotted out. Then I shake myself quickly and drop my hands to my sides, letting them slip into my pockets as I turn and stride down the hallway, intent on taking care of some of my business in spite of how... well... pointless everything feels right now. Despite how much I just want to go to sleep, or go to Terra.
But Terra, unfortunately, is busy at the moment: I've helped her apply for permanent residency in Valhalla, and her new job is... well... I'm somewhat concerned for her, even if I was told that she's made an excellent impression so far with her fellow workers and new employer. Although her original plan was to apply for a military position, instead of helping with Valhalla's safety and security, she's – ironically – taken on a position as an import specialist between Helheim and Valhalla.
In other words, her job is to oversee trade between Heaven and Hell, transport and inspect cargo to ensure nothing is being illegally moved between planes, and a variety of other small tasks. It's a job that requires a sharp eye as well as brute strength, and while by no means do I think that Terra is anything less than intelligent... sometimes she strikes me as not being... meticulous.
She's made a good impact thus far, though, and it does settle me to think that our cargo is being better protected now. In the past we've had trouble with things being imported through security to sell on the black market here in Heaven: as in all places, we have our own share of illegal trade. Drugs, certain plants and animals considered endangered or too dangerous to be possessed by unlicensed civilians, other contraband including weapons and elixirs designed to permanently alter a person in some way or another.
Export can be just as frustrating: although a portal can take us extremely close to the Archive facilities in Helheim, the Archives themselves will not protect us outside of their land, and until we turn over the property to them. Bands of demons have, in the past, attacked and destroyed our trade caravans, even killed some of the trade escort. Hel, of course, refuses to extend either laws or her Archives to defend the caravans, and prefers to revenge any deaths over seeking justice and turning guilty demons over to Heaven for punishment.
Not that I can honestly complain about the latter: Hel's punishments are much more severe than our punishments. The real problem is in the fact that while Hel will take an eye-for-an-eye when one of Heaven's citizens are killed, she refuses entirely to pay us for trade goods that are destroyed and even enjoys mocking the fact Heaven can't transport a small trade caravan through even a hundred feet of wild Helheim to an Archive storehouse.
Terra, however, still retains Archive status herself. Her presence alone should be an enormous deterrent, now that she's working with the trade commission.
So I abandon the idea of... bothering her, trying to pull her out of work early. Instead, I walk down the halls and decide moodily that... the best way to choose a new assistant is through a simple test. It's late right now, deep night in Heaven, and while not even the Blessed technically need sleep to survive... it feels natural to sleep at night, even for me, and the rest is important for our minds, if not our bodies. So in all likelihood, all these candidates are sleeping...
Without slowing, I flick my hand to the side, and several notebooks appear, floating around me slowly as they flip open. I concentrate on a simple spell, and recite clearly: “Attention: your presence is requested at Frigg Hall in Castle Valhalla for a briefing. Please join us within half an hour. End message, annotate identity.”
The three letters end, signing my name at the bottom of the paper as I continue to walk through the halls of Valhalla with the books floating around me. Then I reach up, touching each page in turn as I concentrate on a name, which scrawls itself out in gold at the top of each page. I may have difficulty remembering some things, but names and faces always stick with me: it's a useful talent for an administrator like myself.
Then, with a snap of my fingers, the pages rip themselves free from the books and burst into green flames, sent along their way by another simple pony spell. I reflect on the pony's magic for a moment and all the uses it has, then shake my head quickly before waving my hand, the notebooks vanishing from sight. It's embarrassing that their spells cover such a wide range of utility, while the only spells I've managed to craft are... less impressive.
I continue on my way towards Frigg Hall: a lecture theater that we don't use very often, as Nibelung and Knights of Valhalla are not often all that interested in sitting patiently in seats and listening to seminars on strategy. They would much prefer just to charge forwards and swing at things with the heaviest weapon they can find, and damn the consequences.
I push through the door into the hall and stride moodily down the steps, putting my hands behind my back. The seats here are gorgeous, comfortable, each with their own arms and designed for pony or biped to sit comfortably in: a greater difficulty to achieve than most would expect. The podium at the front stands tall, with an amplifier for the speaker's voice built into it, and the stage is wide and well-lit by quietly-glowing spotlights.
This makes me frown as I look up, glancing over the catwalk above, but I don't see anyone. Yet someone's been here, prepped the stage for me... yes, I can even see a broom at one side of the room, that must have been used to dust things quickly off. But it's been... ten minutes, perhaps, since I sent out that message...
“Lord Kvasir!” calls a voice brightly, and I raise my head slightly in surprise as a small, lanky pony hurries out from backstage, grinning widely, the Blessed looking excitedly at me. “Lord Kvasir, hi! You can call me Pipsqueak or just Pip, and I'm-”
“Enthusiastic.” I finish dryly, and Pip blushes and lowers his head a little, but he nods quickly all the same. He must have died around his twenties... I try and think back through the extensive log of names and identities I've memorized, before I reach up and rub meditatively at my cheek as I half-ask, half-state: “You're from... Layer Thirty. Accidental death twenty or so years ago from drowning. You've worked very hard to improve your status in Valhalla and currently serve as a notary public.”
Pip stares at me, then he nods hurriedly again, opening his mouth, but I cut him off as I raise a hand and say mildly: “And none of that explains how you managed to get here before me.”
He clears his throat, then gestures quickly to the side a few times with his head, saying awkwardly: “Well, you see, I was doing some research over in the library there. I like to read up on the different layers and research all the variations in the strata and the... the Princesses and everything, especially... well, you know, Valkyrie Luna...”
“Valkyrie Brynhild.” I correct, feeling a little more acerbic on this subject than is particularly fair. Then I sigh tiredly before looking meditatively up at the podium, stepping onto the hurriedly-dusted stage as the earth pony Blessed half-stumbles anxiously after me. “Excelsior recommended you because of your enthusiasm for... legal matters. Is that correct?”
Pip brightens and nods rapidly. I note this but keep myself indifferent as I cross my arms, glancing down at him from beside the podium. “Yes, yes, you bet, yep! I really like to... you know, I mean, I'm really interested in learning the lore of all the different layers and helping prescribe... some kind of legal system that can help everypony. I mean, everyone... I'm sorry, two decades and I'm still getting used to thinking of all the different races. It's just been so... thrilling, sir, thrilling to see all these different peoples coming together.”
I look at him for a few moments, then simply nod moodily. I don't know if you could say I'm exactly pleased or not with how excitable he seems to be, but I suppose the enthusiasm is... refreshing. I just highly doubt that he'll be able to keep up this level of energy as time goes on.
He looks up at me, so eager, and it's... well, I don't know why I keep being so negative. I think it's simply because I never thought I'd be trying to select a replacement for Aria, and that still hurts more than I want to admit that it does.
Thankfully, I'm spared any more one-on-one by two more ponies hurrying their way into the lecture hall. I roll my eyes at how eager they both are to run down to the front seats, announcing their presence the whole time. Well, they're loud, at least, but Excelsior should know that the last thing I need are more loud attendants. I need people who can do the job: everything aside from their productivity is secondary to me.
I wait twenty minutes, pointedly ignoring anyone's attempts to talk to me: during that frame of time, two more ponies show up. I suppose I understand why Excelsior was reluctant to select non-pony candidates, but I do have to wonder whether or not this is going to impact in a negative light by looking as if we were specifically attempting to choose from only one species pool.
Still, there are five of them, all apparently capable of handling the workload. I look over the ponies, studying them moodily: they're seated side-by-side in the front row like excited children, all of them leaning forwards a little, eager for me to bestow on them the next phase of the test. For some reason it only sours my mood more, and I shake my head slowly before explaining in a dry, calm voice: “As I am sure all of you are aware, I require a new aide after... letting Aria go due to unforeseen personal circumstances. Apparently you are all exceptional candidates, and as you have all managed to show up despite-”
“She didn't get past the job interview, she just followed me here!” blurts one of the ponies, raising her hoof and waving it wildly. I look at her meditatively: this makes it easy. “Neither did he! They're both here on illegitimate circumstance, Lord Kvasir!”
The two she's called out look horrified, and I take a moment to tap my fingers slowly on the desk. The sound draws their attention, but none of them make excuses as I only scowl out over the ponies before pointing at one, two, three of them. “You are all dismissed.”
The pony who tattletaled looks up in surprise, blinking and mouthing slowly, and I say irritably: “This is not kindergarten, where it is perfectly understandable that you can't wait your turn to tell me that little Timmy is eating your paste or Susie is playing with your blocks. Furthermore, I fully comprehend the fact that I only sent out three letters to three candidates. I am able to count. Your need to point out the obvious, mixed with your apparent need to interrupt me while doing so, is nothing but a hindrance to productivity and has incurred consequences for other employees, namely termination. I do not need a whistle-blower. I need someone who can sit down, shut up long enough to listen to orders, and follow my instructions. Apparently you are incapable of all three of these things because I see you're already leaning up out of your chair after making a nuisance of yourself.”
The female whimpers and covers her face, her eyes going wide, tears filling them. I feel a little sympathy for her, but... only a little. I need my aide to be able to deal with... well, me. And to deal with all the high-pressure situations they're going to be placed in. And most of all, I need someone who isn't guided completely by moral highs and lows. There will doubtlessly be times when I will have to skirt the very laws I've created in order to do what is best for Valhalla, and a moralist who is so terrified of competition that she has to call out the other desperate candidates before I can even finish explaining what's going on is not wanted. I need someone who... maybe isn't okay with hypocrisy, but recognizes that sometimes we all have to be hypocrites in order to evade getting trapped in endless loops of bureaucracy, and to take care of the things we care for.
Of course, I can't look over something that's been clearly identified as 'against the rules,' and the need to learn that lesson as well. That I am forced to work on a 'by word' basis: in other words, as long as no one says anything, I can overlook even glaringly obvious violations. But once it's declared I have to act on it, like it or not, especially in a public forum.
And maybe I just really, really hate being interrupted.
The female takes off, whimpering to herself as she runs into the aisle and towards the doors. The two who snuck in follow after her hurriedly, and I brush moodily at the lapels of my jacket as I turn my eyes towards Pipsqueak and the remaining mare. They both look scared. Good.
“I'm glad we've gotten that out of the way first.” I say distastefully, and then I look slowly from one to the other. I make a show of sizing them up. I make them feel the weight of my gaze: and while I may not be imposing physically, I've learned to put a coldness in my eyes that can make even giants cower... assuming those giants are at my bureaucratic mercy.
These two are just job applicants, and Blessed I could hurt both physically and economically, and who are looking to put themselves at my mercy. Understandably, they both cower as I tent my hands together in front of myself. “Since introductions were interrupted, we're going to move forwards into a short quiz.”
“Quiz?” Pip asks worriedly, and then he whimpers a bit when I look at him sourly. “Sorry, sir! Just... yes, sir, quiz!”
I only sigh and shake my head slowly, then I turn my gaze towards the other candidate. She's still looking... shellshocked. Scared, like this is too much for her, which... is not a point in her favor. Pipsqueak is shaking but at least still responsive and engaged... and I'd rather have his nervous energy than a nervous silence.
After a few moments, I order abruptly and sharply, catching them both by surprise: “Define Code of Law 75-192.”
“I don't-” Pipsqueak starts, and the mare lunges forwards like a cat verbally pouncing on a mouse.
“Code of Law 75-192 deals with business finances and allowances, mostly regarding business-related expenses such as travel and lodging costs.”
Pipsqueak stares and pales, and I meditatively turn my eyes towards this pony. Her name is Lexi, if I remember correctly. I dislike names that end in vowels. Like Terra. Or Luna. Or Celestia. Or most of the other stupid names these ponies go by that extol their self-fulfilling destinies.
“How do we deal with illegal immigration and reports of demons hiding out in Valhalla?” I ask, and Pip opens his mouth, but he's cut off by the mare.
“Code of Law 111-22 and Statute 13-46-B.” she proclaims, looking more sure of herself now. She has quite a grasp of rules and law codes. I think I like that, since it takes me a second to place the specific codes she's references, but they're proper answers, even if... she's taken a rather non-descriptive path. Still, a factual answer is an answer all the same.
Then she ruins any positive feelings I've begun to have for her by adding: “And I believe we should reinstate Order 66 authority.”
“You're fired. Get out.” I reply calmly, and the mare stares at me wordlessly before I point at the door, still calm but letting my eyes clearly show my... adversity. Not quite anger, because she strikes me as more stupid than callous, but close. “I can't revoke your current employment legally, but if I cared a little less about civil rights and equality, believe me when I say that I would. I recommend that you do not allow our paths to cross again.”
She whimpers, then half-falls out of her seat and scurries like a kicked dog for the door. I shake my head slowly, looking after her with disappointment before I move my eyes to the remaining earth pony, who looked dumbfounded by the whole exchange I just had. “What about you? What would you answer?”
“Uh... not sixty-six?” he responds lamely after a moment, and I focus a moody look on him that makes him wince and scramble for a more serious answer. “Well, you know, it... it has to be taken on a case-by-case basis, I think.... it's... I mean, it's slower and not cost effective over the short term, but it gives us more options and in the long run it might help us to develop 'adoption' policies and reform the current immigration laws, which would let us bring powerful or talented demons into Valhalla and... we need the help right now, don't we?”
I look at him thoughtfully, then nod slowly. He's right. Short term loss, but in the long term it would help us refine our filtering system and immigration laws, and secure us talented, powerful minds and warriors. He's caught my interest.
I step around the podium, leaning against the side of it as I study him, and then I ask curiously: “Off-record, what is your opinion of Helheim?”
Of course, that's really a trick statement. Whether on or off record, I still assess people based on their behavior and response, and I still have hire-and-fire power. I'm not sure that Pipsqueak recognizes this, but all the same he thinks for a little while. He shifts a little back and forth, licking his lips and gazing at me uneasily, and then he finally answers in a single word: “Necessary.”
Necessary... not a bad response. Careful, more considered than it might seem at first... yes, not bad at all. He covered it well with that single word.
I study him, and he looks uncomfortably back at me, clearly aware that even if he's the only candidate left, it's no guarantee that he's going to be hired. All the same, he licks his lips slowly again before finally asking hesitantly, visibly unable to contain himself: “Lord Kvasir, sir, not to be a bother, but... uh, well... what's Order 66?”
“Order 66 authorizes the extermination of all demons on sight and the use of torture and other 'advanced interrogation techniques' to discover their associates and if other demons are inside Valhalla. It also permits the use of lethal force against any citizen of Valhalla who aids or assists a demon and suspends their civil rights indefinitely.” I say moodily, not keeping the disapproval out of my voice.
Pip swallows loudly, his eyes widening as he looks up at me, and after a moment I simply gesture to him to calm down. He does, just a little, even if he's brimming with questions still... probably about when that law was instituted, which was quite a long time ago now. I like that he has questions. I like that he's not afraid to ask. And I think I like him... well, not as a person, he's too fidgety, he seems naïve, everyone knows abut his awkward crush on 'Princess Luna...' but I like his qualities as an employee.
“You're hired. Duties begin immediately.” I say after a moment, and the earth pony's eyes slowly widen as he stares at me, mouthing slowly. I grimace a bit at this, holding up a hand and feeling a little moody. “No exaltations of joy, please. Time is money and and I need you to find Excelsior and help him finish compiling the income tax results. You will also need to head to the licensing bureau and make an appointment to update your privileges and employment. I'll have a signed letter sent to them within the hour as proof of hire.”
Pip nods violently, shutting his mouth tightly. But his cheeks are puffed out and his eyes are bright with joy, and the earth pony greatly resembles a child in his moment. I slowly lean pointedly forwards, but he's still staring at me like I'm some... shining idol of happiness or something else equally stupid and insipid. It makes me feel uncomfortable.
Finally, I clear my throat loudly and gesture irritably at him with one hand. “I believe that I just gave you an order, Pip.”
“Oh, why, yes sir! Yes, sir!” Pipsqueak squeaks, then he stumbles up to his hooves and salutes sloppily, looking at me with bright eyes as he grins widely despite his best efforts to control himself. “Yes sir, very good and right away sir!”
I sigh and shake my head slowly, then watch meditatively as he scrambles off and almost rams face-first into the door before shoving through. For a few seconds, I'm left only standing alone in the lecture hall, feeling... strange. I reach up, touch my chest, breathe slowly in that... long, long moment... and feel... sadness, yes, but also a sense of closure. I have a new assistant now, who is not Aria. It hurts, but it was necessary, and it's been dealt with, and it all feels like it's over and done with.
So... why does it still hurt? I've done everything right... well, I started and stumbled on the way, but over this process I've done the rest of it right, after how badly I screwed everything up. That just leads me to taking a mental step back, though, and thinking about how... I got into this situation in the first place. I know that I'm responsible for my own missteps, but I thought that once I corrected that and took control of my life and made things right, the sense of guilt and loss would fade. But it hasn't... it's only gotten more intense, along with that sense of longing.
Yet Terra and I... we're happy, aren't we? Yes, we are. More than that, we're good together. We're right together, and I would do anything to stay beside her, give up anything I had to, suffer through any pain for her. She and I... I don't know how or why we fit together so well, but we do.
I grumble to myself, shake my head out, and give myself the same advice that I had just given Pipsqueak. I have a job to do, and I should stop wasting my time here and get it done. It's as simple as that. All these emotions are just a distraction that I should put out of mind for now, and deal with later.
I brush myself off, then start towards the exit... but after a few steps, I halt and hesitate. There's silence for a moment as I scan the room, feeling a strange tingle at my senses, and then I turn slowly towards the left wing of the lecture hall as a too-familiar presence tickles at my mind.
Hel is sitting complacently in one of the chairs, and I look at her moodily as she gazes innocently back. There's an uncomfortable quiet, which she interrupts by saying brightly: “I like that kid. He's got lots of spunk.”
I sigh tiredly. That strikes me as a fairly transparent manipulation. “He'll make a decent employee. That's what's important in the long run.”
Hel huffs at this, complaining: “Hey, I just said I like him, and I do! No more or less, that's all there is to it. By some old dead guy, Mr. Seriouscorn, not everything is me attempting to harass or undermine you, you know.”
I grumble at this, then look grouchily over her before asking finally, despite knowing the chance of getting an honest answer is next to nil: “How long have you been here?”
“Since you totally defended the Jedi. You make a fantastic Emperor.” Hel quips, and I sigh tiredly and drop my face in one hand. “Oh shut up, I'm just having a little fun. You should really try it some time, Kvasir, get rid of some of those wrinkles.”
“I don't have time for fun.” I say distastefully, and Hel pretends to look horrified, covering her muzzle with her hands as she widens her eyes and kicks her feet childishly. It annoys me, probably much more than I should let it. “I have a lot of work to do-”
“And ladies to flirt with?” Hel asks, sudden sly and grinning, and she winks before vanishing in a puff of frost from the seat to reappear beside me in a burst of snow. Before I can react, she seizes me in one companionable, forceful arm, squeezing me against her frosty side as she grins widely down at me. “All those dirty and flirty god instincts are waking up in you, ain't that so, Kvasir? You're genetically engineered to be a man-whore. What a bitch, huh?”
“Go. Away.” I enunciate slowly and clearly, looking sourly at the goddess as I pry myself free from her unwelcome, cold grip. “Besides, Terra and I-”
“Are weird. That's like bestiality.” Hel informs me in a serious voice, and I want badly to hit her. Or choke her. Or obliterate her. Obliterating her would be nice. “Who bangalangs who, by the way? Just out of a sick discovery-channel kind of curiosity.”
I look at her for a few moments, then simply turn to leave before she finally succeeds in making me snap. But Hel is quick to leap in front of me, waggling a finger and grinning down into my face. “Now, hold up, honeybutt! I still need to have a nice, peaceful word with you. Alone.”
To emphasize her point, she snaps her fingers and seals the doors shut in a thick layering of ice. I grimace in distaste at this, then moodily turn my eyes back to Hel as she leans over me and licks her frosty lips.
“What do you want?” I finally ask, and Hel rubs her hands together eagerly. I hate this, and I hate her, and I hate that it seems like I'm just... bowing to her will, but even without the pointless show of her power... what can I do against her? Nothing. She can hound me around Valhalla however she pleases, and there's no way I can stop her... and no way I can risk going out in public if she wants to talk about sensitive information, anyway.
She eyes me like a hawk, and then she asks in a patronizing, teasing voice, unwilling as ever to be rushed: “So does this make us best friends forever now?”
I scowl at her, but it's much less effective on her than it was on the ponies who were vying for the position of my aide. It only makes her laugh, then she raises her hands and flicks them towards me dismissively. “Oh, calm down! There you go again, taking everything so damn seriously! You're going to have a hernia at this rate, Kvasir, or at least get some really bad hemorrhoids.”
“Will you please just tell me what you want?” I ask waspishly,and Hel sniffs disdainfully and crosses her arms, pouting like a child. “I really don't have the time for this right now. Unlike you, I can't simply delegate all my tasks to tyrannical overlords or let my kingdom float in chaos.”
“My kingdom doesn't float in chaos. It doesn't float at all.” Hel retorts, and I close my eyes and rub slowly at my temples before the goddess pauses and pushes a finger against her chin, looking up thoughtfully. “Wait, it's made of ice. Okay, so it might float after all. Still, you're... you're a poo head.”
I can't explain entirely why that of all things... gets to me so much. Why that, of all the insults and threats and intimidation, makes boil over. I grit my teeth, desperately clinging to control, but it lasts all of a moment before I finally glare up at her furiously and shout as I completely lose my temper: “Look, you stupid, ignorant bitch, I am not your little puppet on a string and you are not welcome to show up and strut around like you own the place whenever you please! Either get to the point and say what you want to say, or get the hell out of Heaven, or I swear to Mimir's head that I will kick your ass out of the Gates myself and leave your puppet in Asgard to be eaten by the primal spirits!”
There's silence for a few moments and I breathe hard in and out and Hel stares down at me, and then she leans slowly down and presses almost nose-to-nose with me. We look at each other as I rapidly feel my temper fading and embarrassment and... maybe a faint sense of shame filling my system instead, and then Hel says kindly: “Don't be mad, Kvasir. You lasted a lot longer than any other god apart from Baldur before I finally made you snap. Good, you have limits. You have an ugly side, like we all do, and I've just made you show that and acknowledge that. Don't apologize, honeybutt. It's a pleasure to get you pissed off.”
I glare at her, and she smiles at me before reaching up and poking my nose, making me grumble and rear back. But there's no magic or enchantment or hex or even pain, it's just a poke from a cold finger. “Okay, honeybutt. You want to know what I want? I'll tell you what I want, then. I want to strike a meeting with Gymbr, but... after he's recovered. And I'm gonna show up in my feast-day best, you better believe it, and I'll act like just the sweetest little girl you ever did meet.
“Sure, I've passed him before. Had a conversation now and then with him, but... always careful to keep my distance, between the bars, on the other side of a heavily insulated bunker.” Hel smiles slightly and reaches up to tap her stomach lightly. “Gymbr and I... well, we don't like each other much, but we're friends by necessity. And oh, believe me. I would have loved to have screwed with him somehow, modified that soulstone orb to make him my little pony... but there's a problem with that I don't think you've considered. It's that Gymbr would know, and would either scratch out those charms or possibly... well, find me and have a nasty word with me.
“Look, I know that I'm omnipotent and omniscient and omni-lots.” Hel stretches, showing off her gangly body and making me grimace before the goddess touches her stomach, becoming... serious. I don't like that she becomes serious. “But do you know why I stopped following Vally-wally around? Because he and I had a little falling out after he managed to do this.”
She shoves a hand into her own stomach, and it ripples with silver light, and I stare for a moment as Hel quickly draws her arm back... but her stomach continues to ripple, for a moment revealing a portal. A portal on the other side of which is a throne, surrounded by screens and orbs and strings and magic, and in which sits an emaciated figure of a woman, a shape that-
It's gone. The frost puppet, is just a solid puppet again, with the window that had occupied its stomach completely vanished. And as I look up at Hel, she grins a little. “I just showed you, sweetie, that I'm not... a hundred percent secure. Oh, sure. Reversing the link that I control my puppets through, that takes creativity and a hell of a lot of juice. Maybe... oh... one in a million could manage it, and even then it'd likely be through luck. You need Jötnar-level powers, if not beyond, to produce that kind of effect.
“But Gymbr... he has those powers. And for a little while he was a complete goddamn lunatic, with his brain falling apart first, and all those animal instincts, those bad boy instincts, taking over.” Hel pauses, then she touches herself and smiles. “So, you know... avoidance is bliss, because ignorance is lethal. So yeah, I was very, very eager to help you get his sanity back in control. And it's funny, because even though it might knock me out of top-dog position, I want to help you get control of Gymbr, too. Mostly because I don't think you'll use him to kill me. I mean, I'm paranoid and I got anxiety like you wouldn't believe, Kvasir, but I'm still capable of rationalizing stuff out perfectly well. It just takes a tick or two.”
She's quiet, and then she exaggeratedly gnaws on the inside of her cheek for a few moments as I frown at her, trying to understand what she's saying. And then, for once, Hel simply looks down and says it: “Fix him, or put him down. I'll help you with either decision you make, and personally... a god like this is too good to just put down, I think. That's why I tried to get Vally-wally to stop trying to implement his endless reign of stupid. He and I, we could've been best friends. Instead, he chose to be enemies. Which is why I decided to stop helping him with all his schemes. Not that he ever really noticed, arrogant son of a bitch as he was.”
She clicks her tongue, then looks down at me and pets me a few times, making me grimace and wince away. “So I'm real glad we're friends, and you're not as much a jerk as he is. Or was. Is? It's hard to say... Jötnar don't die, after all, they just dissolve slowly over time in the Void. But there's a lot of us that death really has no power over, if you stop and think about it. And that's really too bad, because death takes and gives. The Void just gobbles us up, and we... dissolve. Poof.”
Hel spins slowly in a circle, her ice puppet breaking apart into pieces that dissolve into motes, floating slowly upwards as she all-but-evaporates... and then I wince when her hands seize into my shoulders from behind, the reformed puppet leaning over me and saying cheerfully: “But here's hoping it'll be a long time before that happens to either of us, right Kvasir? I mean, you and Terra have still gotta work out this whole... thing... between you two.”
“Please don't talk about my relationship with her.” I say moodily, and then I carefully brush her hands off my shoulders and turn around to look at her with a grimace. “You just revealed that you have a glaring vulnerability through the very thing you act through. You already apparently know that I'm recording most of this information in a sort of log, and I long ago stopped lying to myself that you're not aware of everything else that goes on inside of Valhalla. You also act insane, but I have no doubt you're aware of the possible repercussions of your actions.”
“Yeah, because, you know, I don't have fifty other layers of security enabled between me and that glaring vulnerability, which again, can't really be accessed by anyone apart from Gymbr. Which makes it a little less 'glaring' and a little more... uh... 'peephole.'” Hel pauses, then she leans forwards and pushes a finger against my nose. “Also, I like fair play, or at least the illusion of it. All my cards are on the table, all your cards are on the table. It makes it all the more surprising when I pull out an ace in the hole or you manage to keep some secret actually secret.”
“I suppose that all goes back to your idea of 'fun.'” I'm unable to stop myself from saying, and Hel nods brightly several times and claps as if in approval. “Wonderful.”
“I think it is too!” Hel cheers, thrusting her arms into the air, and I roll my eyes before turning towards the ice covered doors, and Hel huffs as she follows after me, tripping over her own dress as she whines: “I'm not done yet, listen to me!”
I sigh and roll my eyes, then stop... and then I'm knocked stumbling forwards, cursing and pinwheeling my arms, when Hel walks right into my back. She squawks and topples back on her own rump as I stumble around in a circle, glaring at her as one of my eyes twitch.
We glower at each other, and then I slowly brush myself out before reaching up towards the tie I forget isn't there. My fingers instead brush against my throat before quickly shifting to neaten my collar, as I mutter: “Let's just get this over with.”
“Fine, fine. If you want to be such a big girl about it.” Hel complains, and I give her a sour look before the goddess suddenly smiles up at me and pops up to her feet. “I have a proposal for you that you're going to like. A new treaty between Heaven and Hell.”
I glare at her distrustfully, but Hel only grins at me and shakes her head firmly. “No, listen to me, okay? I know you've been letting those Pious build their... gross little temples, and I know that no one's really a fan of them. So how about you let me set up an Archive checkpoint in Looking Glass World and here in Valhalla? I know you've got plenty of open rooms still in the castle: we'll build a whole demonic wing!”
She stops, giggles at the stupid pun, snorts like a child, and then clears her throat loudly when she catches my ill look. “Hey, you know what I mean.”
“Why would I want more demons wandering around Valhalla?” I ask moodily, even though the answer is probably obvious to us both.
But to my surprise, Hel chooses a different tactic, sliding forwards and leaning down as she says kindly: “Because we'll include a full-scale portal between Heaven and Helheim... Helheim's Archives, to be precise. And I'll grant you and a few other friends, like the Valkyries, full Archive privileges and access. Hundreds of thousands of years of accumulated history and power, waiting to be tapped and read and investigated... how does that sound for my end of the bargain?”
I'm silent, and then I look up and ask quietly: “Why are you offering me this?”
Hel looks at me... and then she leans slowly down and says softly: “Because if something goes wrong... if the Void should rip open, if Gymbr goes looney-tunes, if our best friends turn into our worst enemies... then you, and Brynhild, are my backup plan. But I gotta give you guys incentives to want to protect me, to want to get behind me, to recognize me as an ally instead of an expendable asset because I'm the most powerful thing in existence 'round here. I'm no front line hero, sweetie.”
There's silence for a few moments, and then I finally sigh quietly and lower my head, closing my eyes as I murmur: “I'll think about it, Hel. I'll have my response sent to you tomorrow.”
“Send it by special courier. Send it by Antares Mīrus and his squeeze, Valkyrie Prestige.” Hel instructs eagerly, and I glare up at her. I'm tempted to remind her she's in no position to give orders like that, but I know I'd just be kidding myself... that, and it's a funny request, even for her. After all, if either of them were injured in Helheim, she could kiss any possible alliance with Brynhild goodbye. Which means... “Oh, they'll be safe, you stick in the mud.”
I sigh and shake my head slowly, and there's silence for a few moments before Hel absently flicks her wrist, the ice melting away from the doors as she says positively: “We had a great talk, friend. I think we covered a lot of information, and got a lot dealt with, and I think we're entering a brand new era here. You just watch yourself, though, Kvasir... one itty-bitty misstep, after all, could send everything toppling into the sea. You don't want that, and neither do I: I want us to be around for a long, long time together.”
With that, Hel pets me again before she vanishes in a burst of blue, chilling smoke, and I grimace backwards from this before sighing quietly and shaking my head slowly. I look at where Hel was a moment before, then turn around and head towards the door, shaking myself out a little. I feel... less than comfortable with the way things have gone, and her warning...
It sounds so loud in my head, and worse... so true. Things are on a razor's edge... and they are, aren't they? At any moment, something could happen, something could send the whole world upside down: the Pious could turn on us, the gods I've allied with could withdraw their support or betray Valhalla, and worst of all, there's the threat that Gymbr poses, if he...
No, I don't want to think about that. Gymbr is... in a strange way, he's my friend. I want to believe in that. So instead, I breathe slowly in and out, and I steady myself before walking out into the hall, muttering: “I have to prepare that letter for the licensing agency and... then I should attend to these other tasks on my agenda. At least now I have a new assistant to help out with that.”
That's right, isn't it? Silver linings, to every dark cloud and all that... except if there's only dark clouds lingering overhead, maybe it's a little naïve to try and find a little brightness amidst all the murk instead of preparing for the inevitable thunderstorm.
I think about that for a moment, and whether or not it's something I should be doing right now: getting ready for the thunderstorm. I shiver a little at this thought, then close my eyes and lower my head, and wonder silently whether or not I will be. I take comfort, at least, in the thought that even if something does go wrong... I'll leave behind this record. I feel like something is coming, after all, something is going to happen, whether it's days, months, or years away.
I only hope that I'm prepared for it when the time comes, and that when it does happen... my last words, my last actions, will be something better to remember me by than the rest of this narrative has shown so far. I only hope that if in life I don't prove I am a worthy successor to Odin... when my story ends, I'll go out with even a sliver of the strength and nobility that my mentor did.