The Man Who Won't Die Meets Death: Chapter 1

This is a new story idea that I had based on the Avengers. It'll feature Hela from Thor: Ragnorak meeting Captain America and visiting him while he's in the ice. 

I will be using a mixture of lore for this story. Primarily using MCU, while expanding on Asgardian lore using random stuff from the comics or the God of War: Ragnorak game.

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1945

Hela, eldest child of Odin, princess of Asgard, and now exile of the same, sat on her throne while absently running her hand through the fur of a large wolf, gazing across her realm.

Helheim. Land of the Dead.

And yes, it was her realm. Exiled she might have been for the crime of maintaining the ambition of her father, this land was well and truly hers. Hers to rule, and her responsibility.

Once the heir to the Nine Realms with the potential for so much more, now she was Queen of only one.

Hela’s hand tightened instinctively, the movement causing her wolf to stir. She sighed and petted its fur down in a silent apology before it closed its eyes again.

In truth, Hela would (reluctantly) admit that it could be much worse. Despite the myths and tales, Helheim was not a place of purgatory. It was neither Valhalla nor Folkvang, but nor was it somewhere to fear, as many mortals did.

And yet to her, it was nothing less than a prison. One designed by Odin himself as inescapable.

But if there was one thing any Asgardian knew, it was that nothing lasts forever.

On her throne, Hela closed her eyes and stared into the Ethereal Plane. The ancient bindings and runes of Odin spread across the sky; her prison, displayed for all with The Sight to see. The power and intricacy plain to all…

As were their flaws.

It was with great delight and anticipation that Hela noted the natural wear and tear on those bindings. The areas where they were strained or frayed.

Nothing would last forever. Not even the bindings of the gods.

But she had to be patient. Once before this had happened, and Hela had acted too quickly, alerting Odin to her plans.

Odin had sent an elite division of Valkyries to attack her. She should have realized they were merely meant to delay - surely Odin didn’t think that the very group she used to be a part of and whose tactics she had grown up with could overtake her.

No, the Valkyrie’s she could have handled. Yet while she was distracted, Odin had reinforced the magic of her prison, thus binding her once more.

That mistake would not be made a second time. She had waited several millennia. A few years more was nothing.

Yet that did not mean she was without options.

Hela was not gifted with Bifrost Eyes as Mimir or Heimdall, with the ability to see across the Realms on a whim. But there was more than one way to do so. She would not risk peering into Asgard, but the Realms underneath…

So long as she was careful, they were fair game.

Thus, over the years, Hela watched.

She had observed the dwarves of Nidavellir, with their grand forges and industry. Her uncle, Freyr, still trying to quell the eternal civil war of the elves on Alfheim. The Vanir that still roamed Vanaheim, and the frozen wastes of Niflheim. Surtur, still ruling over Muspelheim, and the Jotun over Jotunheim.

The last two were simply further evidence of her father’s foolishness to her mind; that Odin would let them live. Prophecy stated that the Giants, Surtur in particular, would be a key part of Asgard’s destruction. And Odin thought… What? That if he left them alone they would leave him alone?

Hela scoffed. Madness.

But curiously, the Realm that had undergone the most change - and the one she was currently watching - was Midgard.

Hela had been aware of some of the changes of course. Souls from all over the realms made it to Helheim, and Midgard was no difference. But it was different to actually see it.

So much progress. So much technology. So many people. Midgard had truly come a long way since the days the Aesir walked it.

In terms of industry, the dwarves of Nidavellir might still surpass them, but only because Midgard had forgotten their magic. By her estimations, the moment it was rediscovered Midgard would truly be a force to be reckoned with.

Clearly the first Realm she would need to conquer upon her return.

At this time, they were embroiled in a war of their own. One encompassing a not insignificant portion of Midgard, and one that had been going on for a number of years now.

Even with just the brief glances she had been doing, she could tell that this war had been particularly brutal. The influx of spirits certainly corroborated that.

Things had been drawing to a close as of late. It would be a bloody finish, but she estimated that things would come to a close in less than a year's time.

Hela was about to dismiss her projection and return to Helheim when a surge of power pulsed through the Ethereal Plane, actually managing to shock her.

The moment she regained her faculties she traced the pulse back to its origin, focusing her will across the boundary between the realms.

Even in the brief moments of astral travel, the entire Ethereal Plane seemed to writhe and froth. Much like a sea amidst a storm.

She arrived just at the end of a fight. Within one of the flying contraptions that the Midgardians made use of, two men were fighting over…

For a second time that day in as many minutes, Hela found herself in shock, and she deeply regretted not paying more attention to the conflict.

The Tesseract.

The container and interface to an Infinity Stones, a primordial source of power able to affect the very fabric of the universe, one of the most powerful (and dangerous) tools in existence, an item that would no doubt be fought between gods and titans - and it was being fought over between two mortals.

What was it doing in Midgard?!

Last she had seen it, it had been in her father’s possession - he had used its power as the base to create the Bifrost, allowing for near instantaneous travel of their armies between the Realms.

Even if Odin didn’t desire to use it anymore, it should be in Asgard’s Vaults, protected by as many seals and guardians as possible!

… Maybe her theories on Odin’s senility weren’t too far from the truth?

Shaking herself out of her stupor, Hela focused on the situation at hand.

It appeared the pulse that had attracted her was the activation of the Tesseract. Accidental, if her interpretation of the two fighters' expressions were correct.

She idly noted the red skinned one being teleported who knows where across the cosmos, but her attention was on the Tesseract itself.

Glowing red from the energy, Hela almost expected the overheating cube to explode. She was, in fact, prepared to leave. Even as a projection, the damage of the Infinity Stone of Space could not be underestimated.

Thankfully, it instead merely melted through the flying vehicle they were in, falling into the ocean below.

It must have sent the foolish red one quite the distance to overheat to that degree, she noted as she mentally marked where it fell. It was unlikely the Midgardians would let it lie until she finally came, but just in case…

That done, she then looked towards the survivor.

He was tall and well built. A warrior in his prime. His outfit was strange - some form of light chain mail armor that covered him from head to toe. He bore a gun on his belt, as well as other tools. He had a shield with a star emblazoned on the center, the same symbol on his chest.

And he was talking to somebody over the control panel.

Hela only needed to listen in for a few seconds before she understood what was happening.

This was a suicide mission. To save a city, he would sacrifice himself. And the man - Steve, according to the voice on the other end - was attempting to reassure a comrade. A lover perhaps? A close friend at the least.

A false hope. One both sides seemed aware of, yet didn’t dare bring up.

To be willing to sacrifice himself in such a way, the level of conviction that required was something she could approve of.

Even if it meant he would never enter her realm, she was sure his arrival would be greatly celebrated in Valhalla.

The souls of such warriors would never find themselves in Helheim.

It was as she was pondering this that she noticed the man was looking in her direction with narrowed eyes, as if trying to focus on her.

Oh? How curious.

He glared at the spot for a few seconds before going back to talking with his paramour.

Meanwhile, Hela observed the soldier more closely. He couldn’t see her, but he knew something was there. A considerable achievement for a mortal.

Alas, her observations came to an end far too quickly. Before too much longer came the crash, followed by the slow submersion into the ice.

Being a mere astral projection Hela wasn’t affected, but she still grimaced as she watched the man get tossed around the narrow confines of the plane by the violent crash, and even more so when he retained consciousness despite the multitude of broken bones received and the flooding of freezing water.

Even by her standards, drowning was… Unpleasant. And that wasn’t with the addition of external factors such as broken bones and temperature.

Hela relaxed a little when he finally fell unconscious, the water quickly freezing both him and the vehicle in an icy tomb.

It was still a horrible death, but considering the circumstances it was the most merciful way.

Debating with herself for a moment, Hela decided to stand vigil until the man died. Even if he was not destined for her Realm, a warrior such as he deserved this level of courtesy.

Besides, it had been a long while since she had stood vigil in this manner. Before becoming Asgard’s Executioner at least, back when she was a mere Valkyrie.

Hela waited… And waited… And waited.

Hours passed, eventually a full day. Then two. Yet still, his soul burned ever bright.

His heart-rate slowed to one beat per minute, his brain activity coming to a crawl. The ice around him was stained from the blood loss, the ice itself growing ever larger as the storm raged on, the brutal cold stealing all warmth to the point that any regular mortal would have perished.

Yet… He was alive!

Never before had Hela witnessed this level of fortitude or strength from a mortal. Had she not already checked she would have suspected either Skadi or Hodr to have bestowed their blessing on him.

Who was he?

Hela found herself overwhelmed with curiosity.

Before she knew it she had knelt down, ethereal hand outstretched, before she paused.

It was, perhaps, frivolous… No, it absolutely was. To know more of this man would change absolutely nothing, accomplish no purpose but ease her curiosity.

But then, in her current state… Was it truly a waste?

It wasn’t as if she had that much to do back in Helheim. She oversaw the souls under her dominion, but that hardly took much of her time. And it wasn’t like she had much else to do, exiled as she was.

Once free from her prison and in her proper place in Asgard, there would be much that needed to be done.

Until then, why not satisfy this curiosity?

It was with that thought that Hela touched his head and chanted the words needed. The more direct connection let her cast a dreamwalking spell, and soon she was within his mind -

Where she was instantly assaulted by noise. A cacophony of horns, shouts, and conversation of hundreds. The sudden difference in sound took her off guard, and Hela stumbled into the path of one of the metal chariots.

She growled, slightly embarrassed at her own clumsiness, about to summon a sword to destroy the vehicle, when somebody’s arms yanked her out of the way.

The man turned her around, and Hela found herself looking at the face of Steve Rogers.

Much like how he was in the plane, but this version of Steve was in more casual clothes. More than that, his entire being seemed more… Carefree. As if a great burden had been taken from him. He gave her a kind smile. “Sorry ma’am, you should be more careful.”

“I thank you.” Hela said, brushing off the dress she wore in the dream.

While she could, of course, manipulate within the confines of a dream, this was ultimately his. As such, she would appear in something suitable to the dream unless she decided otherwise.

“So, you going to the Dodgers game?” He asked curiously, taking in her features.

Hela looked around and noticed that many of the people bore flags or pennants of some kind, all heading in one direction.

Years of being a warrior, and this is what he dreamed of?

“I suppose I am.” She admitted, though with some curiosity. How long had it been since she had done something new such as this? “I admit, I am not very familiar with these Dodgers…?”

Steve nodded in understanding. “You’re not from around here, are you?” He guessed. “Norway? Your accent sounds similar to some of the resistance fighters I’ve fought with.”

Hela felt her lip quirk upward. “Close enough.” She admitted with some amusement.

When you measured distance in terms of star systems, some location on one planet was as close to Asgard as any other.

“Well, c’mon.” Steve gestured forward with a grin. “Let me show you the great American pastime!” He held out his hand to her. “I’m Steve. Steve Rogers. What’s your name?”

Hela’s amusement rose by several degrees. The way he was treating her, as if she were just another person, was unique. As if she wasn’t one of the greatest and most feared conquerors of the Nine Realms.

… She wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad feeling. It was just, different. Especially after five thousand years of nothing.

This was not exactly what she had in mind to learn more of this mortal. But, she could indulge herself this once.

With that reassuring thought, Hela reached out and took his hand. “I am Hela.” She introduced herself.

“Hela Odinsdottir.”