An Iron Resolve (Marvel)(Time Travel)

A/N: Poor Hela is suffering. SUFFERING GUYS!

-x-X-x-

Insidious. That was the nature of this new captivity of hers, in a word. She hadn’t understood it at first. She hadn’t truly had the measure of these new jailers that the All-Father was putting her with. But now Hela had begun to understand just how dangerous they truly were. Now she’d begun to see how they’d done the only thing that had any chance of wearing her down or breaking her.

They’d left her to her own devices.

One might think that after a thousand years alone on Niflheim, a few months in comparative luxury on Midgard would be easy enough isolation to withstand. After all, while her prison might be much smaller than it was on Niflheim, it’s also outfitted with everything that she could possibly want and everything that her old prison hadn’t had.

Entertainment to last her another thousand years, that’s what she’d assumed at first. And yet… and yet here she was. Bored.

Truly, this was a fate worse than torture. Worse than coming and making demands of her. Worse than any of the million scenarios Hela had fantasized about up to this point. Instead, after that last visit from Loki… they were ignoring her. How dare they?! And how dare she be so weak that such a tactic worked on her!

Oh, she saw what they were doing. See, the difference between her time on Niflheim and her time here was that she had a choice this go around. For a thousand years, Hela had zero options in her original prison. All she could do with her time was walk around, or break rocks into smaller rocks, or make token efforts at trying to escape the prison that Odin had so securely locked her up in.

The same was not true on Midgard. Here she had an abundance of options available to her. Only, many of them were incredibly shallow. She’d eventually come to realize that the ‘Midgardian Entertainment’ she’d been provided with could not possibly be real. The so-called television channels, the ‘social media’ apparatuses, and even their games… all of it was clearly made for her and her alone, to drive her slowly mad with just how utterly pointless and meaningless it all was.

No, there was no way that Midgardians actually spent all of their free time watching television, posting nonsense on social media, and playing these simulated games that did nothing to provide a real experience. She refused to believe this was how any Midgardians spent their time! If it was, how would they ever get anything worthwhile done?!

In reality, it was obvious to her now that the King of Midgard was toying with her. He didn’t even have to show his face to do it either. He was testing her limits, slowly pushing her to the edge. Niflheim had been something Hela had to endure because there were no other options. But this prison… she only had to endure it for as long as she remained stubborn.

Otherwise, she could likely ask the Guardian Spirit of the Tower for an audience with the King of Midgard, and from there request that she be allowed to do something actually meaningful with her time. Doing so, of course, would be to admit she was beaten. But to not do so might just drive her mad.

… She would play along. Yes, that’s how this would work. She would play along for now and look for an opening. This was not weakness. This was merely fighting things from a different perspective.

Sitting up on the couch where she’d been lounging, Hela crosses her arms over her chest and glares up at the ceiling.

“Spirit! I demand an audience with the King of Midgard!”

It takes only a second for the one known as JARVIS to reply to her.

“King Stark is quite busy. Why should he waste time with you?”

Hela grits her teeth, clenching her hands into fists as she’s tempted to break something. But there would be no point. She’s trashed this entire room before, only to wake up the next morning to see it reassembled. Then, she trashed it again and waited and watched, only to see it reassemble ITSELF right in front of her.

She would need to tread carefully here. She would need to… ugh, act with some level of subterfuge and guile. Tch.

“… I am a skilled warrior, regardless of my weakened status. Surely a King as great and powerful as Stark has enemies. Insurgents and rebels who seek to undermine his rule? Tell him if he grants me Midgardian Armor and Arms, I will take the fight to his enemies and kill them in his name, just this one.”

A humiliating offer on her part. She was the Goddess of Death and the rightful Queen of Asgard, no matter what anyone said. But Hela longed for war. She yearned for battle. She ached for bloodshed. At this point, knowing that this world, teeming with life, also had to be teeming with the conflict and fighting that Niflheim had sorely lacked, Hela could no longer resist her urges.

“You would be incorrect. Tony Stark’s enemies are actually quite few. Those who would seek to move against him are monitored constantly… by me. Your services are not needed, Hela of Asgard.”

Snarling, Hela leaps from the couch, stomping her feet somewhat petulantly. Even she knows as much. But she doesn’t stop.

“How can that be?! What sort of King has that much power, that much control?”

Even Odin would have had use for her if his and Tony Stark’s positions were reversed. Even he would have sent her to whatever of the Nine Realms was beset by raiders. Probably with a control collar to keep her obedient, but he would have done it all the same, utilizing her and her ferocity in a limited fashion.

“… Allow me to tell you a story, Hela. There was once an organization that called itself HYDRA.”

Hela narrows her eyes at the pretentious name. To name themselves after such a powerful creature… they had best have been powerful and strong themselves.

“This organization had a saying. Cut off one head, and two more will grow to take its place.”

Ah, so they truly did seek to embody the legendary hydra. Amusing.

“For many centuries, HYDRA existed. First as a cult, and then as something more. They managed to grow and grow, spreading themselves throughout every aspect of human life, until they controlled many of the levers of power and wielded untold political influence among the nations of Earth.”

Nations. Feh. To think that the King of Midgard allowed so many of these lesser countries to exist under his rule. Still, Hela supposed the delegation meant that he didn’t have to do quite as much work himself.

“Eventually, HYDRA’s power was such that they were able to create a vast, powerful fleet of flying ships. An armada of six carriers filled to the brim with fighter craft and covered in the most powerful weapons that Earth had ever seen. HYDRA staffed them with their best and brightest, and in doing so pulled themselves out of their places of power, away from where they were so entrenched so that they might move their powerbases into these ships and rule from the sky like the gods they styled themselves to be.”

… She was forced to admit that JARVIS was not a half-bad storyteller. Her curiosity is piqued, and she would be most upset if he stopped without giving her a conclusion. More than that though, she senses something in his words, in his tone. Something about the way he’s talking about this organization makes it sound as though they were making a mistake.

“This was called Project Insight, and eventually the day came where the armada took off, all six ships flying high into the sky. Each and every one was crewed with HYDRA and only HYDRA, so that those outside of their organization on the ground could do nothing to stop them from achieving their ultimate victory. By all rights, it was over. HYDRA had won the moment they got those ships in the air.”

There’s a pause just long enough to try Hela’s patience. Hissing, she crosses her arms over her chest and glares.

“And then what happened?”

“They all died.”

What? The delivery is succinct and to the point but leaves Hela with more questions than answers!

“How?! Such power, such strength… what laid them low? Stark? You?”

“Yes. In the end, as secure in their own power as they all were, they did not properly take into account Tony Stark. He and I usurped control of their ships. We turned them into their prisons… and then we turned them into their coffins. The ships were rated for space. But the people onboard were not. On Sir’s orders, I flew the entire armada up into space and vented the air they needed to breathe to survive. And then, we burned and purged every last remaining fragment of HYDRA from the Earth itself.”

Another pause, though this time Hela is silent, processing his words.

“Much like their namesake, HYDRA was removed all in one fell swoop. We did not remove one head, lest two grow to take its place. We removed them all, along with the body. We did not stop until they were annihilated, totally and utterly. HYDRA persisted in some form on this world for hundreds and hundreds of years. Perhaps not a long time for one such as you, Hela of Asgard, but a time period of generations for humans. Now… it does not exist at all any longer. That is the fate of my Creator’s enemies. So long as he has me… he has no use for you.”

A nice story. Hela almost wished she’d been there that day. The amount of death that JARVIS and the Stark King had visited upon HYDRA sounds like it was glorious. It’s much better than the manufactured garbage that she’s been consuming for the past few months now. Especially since unlike all of that, this story was real.

Uncrossing her arms, Hela moves from foot to foot for a moment, clenching and unclenching her hands in fists at her sides. Until finally…

“And what about his Queen? Does she have a use for me, Spirit?”

There’s a brief pause from JARVIS as Hela smirks. Finally…

“She might, Hela of Asgard. Though such things will require swallowing your pride.”

Huffing, Hela nods in reluctant agreement. She knows she’s dancing to their tune. This is what they want from her. But she will turn this to her advantage like she’s always done. She’ll find a way to destroy her enemies. No matter what.

-x-X-x-

Tch, she should have expected as much. Frowning as she moves carefully down the hallway in the high heels she’s now wearing, an irritated Goddess of Death tugs at her Midgardian skirt and jacket, frowning as she eyes herself and tries to decide if this is an insult too far or if she can perhaps stomach this for a time until she finally gets an opportunity to make a move.

Finally reaching her destination, Hela doesn’t bother knocking like JARVIS instructed her to. Instead, she steps right in, finding herself in what can only be the Queen of Midgard’s throne room. It doesn’t look like a proper Asgardian Throne Room of course, but that matters little.

The Queen herself, a fire-haired woman known as Pepper Stark, leans back against a large wooden desk with her arms crossed over her chest. Projected in front of her is a large screen, and though she’s seeing it from behind, Hela can make out an aged, white-haired man on the screen that reminds her of Odin. He even has a beard.

“Mrs. Stark, I’m not sure what you think you’re playing at here, but Roxxon is not used to being bullied like we’re somehow the small kid on the block. Stark Industries is taking liberties that it should really think twice about. Choose your next moves very carefully, my dear girl.”

Hela isn’t even the subject of this man’s words and already her hackles are rising. Pepper, meanwhile, raises a finger in Hela’s direction and for some reason… Hela stops in her tracks.

“Your dear girl, am I? Since we’re being so familiar with each other now August, let me be very frank. Stark Industries is protecting its interests, and we will always protect our interests. Quite frankly, Roxxon has been on the decline for some time now. From CEO to CEO, I would suggest you get your own house in order before coming at me for mine.”

Hela raises an eyebrow at that, reluctantly impressed by Stark’s Queen. The white-haired Midgardian, meanwhile, sputters in disbelief.

“Excuse me?! I am trying to meet you halfway here! You can’t possibly-!”

“I think you’ll find that I can, August. You mentioned before feeling bullied. Like you’re somehow the small kid on the block. Perhaps take a moment to wonder how that came about. Roxxon has been the big dog for a long time now. Decades and decades. But you aren’t on top anymore and we both know it. Perhaps if your company focused more on your own rotting innards and less on your competition, you could plug the holes on your sinking ship and reverse course… but somehow, I doubt it.”

Oh-ho! Even though she’s looking at him from the back of the floating screen, Hela is treated to quite the lovely sight as the bearded man begins to grow redder and redder.

“How dare-!”

“Good day August.”

And then she ends the call. Just like that. The screen flicks away and Hela is left with nothing but empty air between her and the Queen of Midgard. She finds herself studying the woman who Stark married more closely now, admiring the grace that she holds herself with. Despite that rather fraught conversation, by all appearances Pepper Stark is completely relaxed and in control. She’s neither harried nor concerned over the man she just snubbed. Hela likes that. She likes it a lot.

“Hela. JARVIS tells me you wish to be put to work.”

Narrowing her eyes, Hela likes that a lot less.

“As I told your Guardian Spirit, I can be useful to you, even if I cannot be useful to the King. For instance, arm me and point me in the direction of that man you were just speaking to, and I will kill him for you.”

Far from balking or paling at Hela’s offer, Pepper Stark merely raises an eyebrow, further increasing her esteem in the Goddess of Death’s eyes.

“Do you think if I wanted him killed, he would not already be killed? I don’t need you to kill anyone for me, Hela. That’s not how this is going to work.”

Gritting her teeth, Hela resists the urge to straighten out her damn skirt again or complain about the heels. Instead, she lifts her head high and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Then how shall this work, Your Highness?”

Smiling softly, Pepper pushes off her desk and moves around to sit on the other side of it.

“You’re going to be my temporary Personal Assistant while Darcy is out for the final months of her pregnancy, followed by her maternity leave. It means you’ll follow my orders to the letter, do exactly as I say… or return to your floor and continue to enjoy the comforts of the tower from there.”

Hela scoffs. Comforts, pah! Insidious… her captors truly are insidious! She will not be beaten so easily. She will not break. She will be the best damn ‘Personal Assistant’ that Pepper has ever had!

Striding across the room, Hela slams her hands down on the desk.

“Very well! Command me, Stark Queen! But know that you have a Goddess at your beck and call and be ready to suffer the consequences of anything you ask of me. When my powers return, I shall return your ‘hospitality’ a hundredfold!”

Again, Pepper Stark is entirely and completely unfazed by Hela’s threats and attempts at intimidation. In fact, the red head just smiles wickedly at her.

“Careful now, Princess. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Hela isn’t sure why, but that sends a shiver down her spine for some reason…

-x-X-x-

A/N: This is fine~