Dinner with Loki was always… unpredictable. Luckily, it was much more mundane now that they were in the mortal world.
Hel sat at the small wooden table watching Loki—currently in a slim, mostly female form with short red hair.
“No, no,” Loki waved their fork in a small circle. “This is a specific quiet. The ‘I did something important, but I won’t tell you unless you guess correctly’ quiet.”
“…I helped someone.”
Loki’s eyebrows shot up. “Ooh? A mortal? A magician? A witch? Please tell me it wasn’t a god.”
“An Olympian.”
Loki froze, fork halfway to their mouth.
“Hel. Sweetheart. Darling child. We talked about this.”
Hel frowned. “What?”
“Who’s gonna try and use this as an excuse to marry you now?”
Hel blinked, offended on multiple levels. “She didn’t— It’s not— That’s not what happened.”
Loki set the fork down like it personally betrayed them.
“Hel, honey, Olympians don’t understand casual favors. You heal their curse and boom—suddenly they turn into a goose and try to fuck you,” Loki declared, pointing her fork at Hel with the confidence of someone who had lived through far too many questionable myths.
Every member of the Loki Familia went completely still.
Ais’s fork hovered mid-air.
Tiona mouthed the word goose.
Tione muttered, “That explains so much and also nothing.”
Bete looked personally offended by the information.
Finn shut his eyes like he was begging any god—besides Loki—for patience.
Riveria froze in place, face blank, soul momentarily leaving her body.
Hel looked around the table as half the familia silently tried to process that sentence and utterly failed.
“…Loki,” she said flatly, “Hephaestus is not going to turn into a goose.”
Loki blinked, then her entire posture relaxed.
“Oh, it’s Hephy-chan? You’ll be fine then.”
Hel stared. “…That’s all it takes?”
Loki waved her hand dismissively. “Sweetie, if there’s one Olympian who isn’t gonna sprout wings, honk seductively, it’s Hephaestus. Zero percent goose-potential. Rock-solid. Craftsmanship only.”
Riveria opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
“…I cannot believe I’m hearing this,” she whispered.
Loki kept going, fully committed.
“Now Poseidon? Zeus? Hera? Absolutely top-tier animal menace.” She stabbed her fork into her food for emphasis. “Those three shift forms like other people change socks. And don’t even get me started on the swan incidents—plural.”
Hel could only stare at Loki in disbelief, lips parting slightly before she shut them again. For the first time in centuries, she looked genuinely… lost.
Around the table, the familia began muttering.
Tiona leaned forward eagerly. “Wait—do gods really turn into animals to flirt with each other?”
Tione groaned. “Please don’t encourage her.”
Ais blinked slowly. “…What is seductive about a goose?”
Bete scoffed. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. This entire conversation is cursed.”
Finn cleared his throat, trying for leadership and failing miserably. “Loki, perhaps we could refrain from discussing divine… ah… bird courtship at the dinner table?”
Loki ignored him entirely.
“Look, the point is—Olympians get weird, okay? You don’t just heal one of them without consequences!”
Hel finally managed to speak, voice flat and incredulous.
“There is no way you are judging others for sleeping with an animal father… Did the bards not write a song about an incident you were involved in…”
Loki froze mid-bite, eyebrows climbing like they were trying to escape her face.
“Excuse me? What incident are you referring to, my clever little death-brat?”
Hel leaned back slightly, eyes cool and mercilessly calm.
“Oh, you know the one. The tavern classic.” She cleared her throat, voice deadpan and merciless.
“There is no cock like horse cock, as the bards of Asgard used to sing.”
“HEEEEEEL!” she shrieked, flinging a roll at her daughter. “You ungrateful little crypt-goblin! That song was BANNED in three realms!”
The familia simply stared at their goddess—half horrified, half fascinated—while Hel remained perfectly still, perfectly calm…
She tilted her head, voice mild as if asking about the weather.
“What was your defense again? If the horse dick doesn’t fit, you must acquit?”
Bete and the others froze mid-chew, eyes wide and unblinking.
Tiona slowly—very slowly—set her fork down like she feared it might explode.
Riveria blinked several times, each one slower than the last, as if her brain needed a full system reboot.
“LIES! ALL LIES!” Loki howled, pointing a trembling accusatory finger at Hel. “Slander! Defamation! Character assassination of the highest mythic order!”
Hel didn’t even flinch. Her expression remained serene… almost bored.
“You,” she said evenly, “are an unrepentant pervert.”
Loki grabbed the nearest edible object—a dinner roll, possibly a weaponized one—and hurled it with the desperation of a goddess fighting for the last shred of her dignity.
The roll bounced off Hel’s shoulder with a soft thup.
Hel didn’t blink.
Tiona whispered, half to herself, “I… I think I need a drink.”
“YOU TAKE THAT BACK!” Loki shrieked, her face turning redder than the flames of Hel’s scythe.
Hel rose, the hem of her cloak brushing the floor as she pivoted toward the door. Her tone was measured, calm, and lethal in its composure—the kind that made even gods pause.
“I think I shall retire for the night,” she said, inclining her head slightly, her silver-green eyes glinting with faint amusement.
Loki froze mid-gesture, fork suspended in the air, the chaos of spilled bread and sauce forgotten. “Wait—Hel! You’re just… leaving me like this?!”
A soft, almost imperceptible smile touched Hel’s lips as she continued toward her room. “I trust you’ll survive the aftermath of your own chaos, Father.”
Behind her, the familia remained frozen—half in awe, half in disbelief—watching as the goddess of death disappeared, leaving Loki sputtering in a storm of chaos that even said goddess could not cause by herself.
======
Snow fell again.
Soft, slow, endless — drifting through a cold, abandoned forest clearing. The same place she’d met Ruby before. The same stillness. The same ache in the air.
Except this time… the hill of bodies was gone.
The shattered weapon was gone.
Ruby Rose herself was standing.
Not fully.
Not confidently.
But standing.
She stood at the edge of the clearing, cloak torn, hair dusted with frost, silver eyes staring into the darkness as if unsure she belonged here at all. She looked older than the first time — not in years, but in weight.
Hel stepped forward, boots crunching in the snow.
Ruby turned at the sound, her breath visible in the frigid air. Her silver eyes flicked up, hopeful and wary all at once.
“You came back,” Ruby whispered, something like relief carrying on the cold wind.
Hel nodded, expression unreadable. “Have you come to your decision?”
Ruby swallowed, hands tightening on Crescent Rose’s strap. “I… yeah. I mean—yes. I’ve thought about it. A lot.”
Hel’s gaze softened just a fraction—not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for Ruby to feel it.
“I do not offer paths lightly,” Hel said. “And normally I would dissuade cheating death.”
Ruby tensed—not out of fear, but because she knew that every word mattered.
Hel continued, voice soft but edged like frost, “Mortals who grasp beyond their allotted time usually crumble beneath the strain. They cling to life, rather than live it. They fear the end so fiercely that they become hollow long before it comes.”
Ruby lowered her gaze for a moment, listening.
“But you,” Hel said, stepping closer, “are not seeking more life. You are seeking purpose.”
Ruby looked up—silver eyes steady.
“I’m not trying to escape anything,” she said. “I just… want to keep helping people. I want to make sure that we do not fail this time… You said you could find my team, right?”
“Of course, I am sure it is only a matter of time. I may not find them at first or for a few years, but if they are out there. And they reach out I can get them.”
“Yes,” she said.
Her voice didn’t shake.
“I will join you, Hel.”
For the first time, something warm flickered in Hel’s expression—approval, pride, maybe even relief.
Ruby stepped forward.
And without hesitation, without fear, she wrapped her arms around the goddess of death.
Ruby’s cheek brushed the cold metal of Hel’s armor as she murmured softly,
“So this is what it means to embrace death, huh…?”
The moment the words left her mouth, the world fractured.
Snow dissolved into drifting feathers of light.
Hel’s arms vanished from around her.
The sky split into mirrored shards like broken glass.
Then—
CRACK.
Everything collapsed inward.
Ruby jolted awake, surprised to be in a bed.