To Hel, it felt like it was a recipe. Though for disaster or success, only time would tell. The recipe would read something like this:

Take one father
Add a freakish daughter
Mix in one stepmother
Optional: add a generous portion of loss and heartache
Add one pinch of hope
Blend

That's what they called what they were. ( Blended families )

She had asked after him and what had he done? HE sat on his hands like a dunce instead of inviting her back immediately. But what had she thought of his home? He should have asked, but hadn't. It proved well enough to impress mortal women who wanted to be swept away in fantasy, but what was it to a queen? These were thoughts that made him pace. Even Igor was starting to get annoyed by his hesitation, asking if he'd be serving the woman in ( his lifetime or the next )

It wasn't exactly a formal affair. She didn't want to have everything bogged down by formalities and niceties for the entire night. She enjoyed catching up with other rulers. There were always plenty of stories to share and things to learn from each other. In her experience, the rulers of the dead had a much more interesting view on the world of the living. A lot of gods stopped dealing with people after they bit the dust. The ones that were invited to the party did a lot of the work after that point.

Nothing had been changed for their arrival. The castle, non-drafty, was dark and looming. It had a classic Gothic design. It had dark corners, large stained glass windows which were highlighted by the candlelight. The carpets were all sorts dramatically deep reds mixed with black. The artwork were several macabre pieces. ( Hades' friend did like to have his fun. )

It was rare this time of year that he was able to sit down and put his feet up on the tasseled hassock in his study. Which was why, as he settled into the cushy plumpness of his red velvet chair, Santa began mentally reviewing his to-do list for today. Did he really have time to enjoy his peppermint hot cocoa, or had he forgotten something that would require his attention?

( The List )

Loki was numb.

Not in the same way he was when his sons were taken from him, that was different. There was nothing he could have done to change that situation at the time. He had been in a net, Thor had him and no amount of fighting was going to free him from that in order to save his children. This situation was different. There were things he could do, things he was going to do and he could hopefully help this from becoming tragedy. What had him numb was watching someone very dear from him so... emotionally detached and not in a good way.

Idun was so bubbly and vibrant. Even when she was angry or upset, she still had a brilliance about her. Rather like a polished up bit of amber. Homey, warm, happy and sweet like honey. Loki couldn't recall how Sigyn looked after the incident, after they'd tied him down. He didn't know because he didn't look at her for a good long time. Not only out of his own shame and guilt, but because he knew damn well that seeing her in pain was going to just compound the pain in his heart into something he wouldn't have been able to bear.

( He was absolutely no good with emotions. )

Knowing it was long overdue, Hel made her way to Transylvania. Somehow, even based on the little knowledge gleaned about him, she was not the least bit surprised by the location. Makaria had given her the address, and Hel had smirked to herself. Transylvania, God of Nightmares...leave it to him to want to go with something so cliche. The boy took the horror genre to a whole new level.

( Now, standing before his home... )

Makaria loved that she had so many unique friends outside of her Pantheon and kind of lived to meet more. Each Pantheon had different traditions and unique ways of celebrating life and celebrating death. Of handling the souls. That's one of the many reasons why she enjoyed Anubis' company or that of Hel's. Speaking on Hel, she hadn't seen the Norse Goddess in a while. Too long in fact. Makaria needed to remedy that. And so she set up her home for a visitor. She grabbed a really nice bottle of wine from her cellar, one she was sure would have been devoured eventually anyway by Thanatos' great love of fermented grapes. Hel deserved a really good bottle.

( Makaria just wanted everything to be perfect for her guest.. )

Her father's visit still had Hel reeling. It had been highly emotional for the both of them; things had been said that shouldn't have, others were things that should really have been spoken long ago. It would take time, she knew that, but Hel had a feeling the healing process had begun. Finally.

While her attitudes could not change overnight- centuries of feelings and beliefs took time to alter- now she at least had a few new phrases to remind herself each time she slipped into the old mindset. Words Loki had spoken that she held very tightly to. Hel knew that to cling to the things said was no less an obsession than holding to the old concepts, yet it was a better thing to be obsessed with.

One thing she never questioned was her father's word. He was many things, and Hel was not blind to his faults. Yet his honesty was never something that had been called into question, at least not where she was concerned. She knew, too, his absolute disdain for emotional outpourings, and with that knowledge she knew the truth of what he spoke.

What she needed now was a friend to talk to. Hel didn't have many of those, and only one that she had shared her past with in total honesty. Only Hades knew the whole story, from her point of view at least, and all the emotional trauma that had come with it. Just as she knew nearly all there was to know about him.

( Pity he was married. )

Loki felt like a colossal ass.

There was no way around it, though. Either he was completely honest with his wife and he took her with him to Niflheim and risked getting absolutely nowhere with Hel, or he deliberately deceived Sigyn so that he could go alone. He chose the latter for the greater good.

( It was easier said than done, though. )

Her father's calls had fallen on deaf ears. Well, not deaf; she certainly heard them. But Hel ignored them as she broke into a run, slipping into Concept a short distance away and reappearing in her bedroom.

( It took hours for the tears to subside )

It was a trek Hel had not made many times over the long years, though one would have expected such a devoted daughter to have done so. Truth was, Hel couldn't stand to see her father like this. Bound, unnecessarily, for all this time. It was gross, which said a lot as an opinion of someone who spent their entire life with half her body rotting. It was unbefitting. And it was irritating. There was no reason he should still be there, as far as Hel was concerned.

Yet, occasionally, she made the journey regardless of how much it might make her bile rise. He was still her father, and she felt the need to remind him that she loved him every now and again. And there was still that small spark of hope that one of these times she might convince him to leave. The possibility that maybe this time Loki would have come to his senses. That it had been long enough. That he was still needed elsewhere.

( So far she had been met with nothing but failure. )