Chapter 911: A Second Date

The presidential suite had finally fallen silent.

The curtains were still partially open, allowing Venice’s nighttime lights and the distant reflections of the Grand Canal to spill into the room, but neither of them seemed to be paying much attention to the city anymore.

Hela was lying on top of Vergil, her head resting on his chest and one leg draped across his body, apparently with no intention of moving away anytime soon.

Her hair was completely disheveled, spread across him and the sheets, while she idly traced small lines over Vergil’s chest with the tips of her fingers.

"That was very good," Hela murmured, lifting her face slightly to look at him.

Vergil stared at the ceiling for a few seconds before lowering his eyes toward her.

"Yes. It was."

Hela smiled in satisfaction and rested her chin on his chest again.

"That answer could use a little more enthusiasm."

"I’m tired."

"You?"

"Emotionally."

"Ah."

Vergil slowly ran one hand through her hair, enjoying the silence for a few more moments.

It was strange to think that only a few hours earlier Hela had been sulking on her own throne because he had simply returned to Sparda without saying anything to her, and now the two of them were in a five-star penthouse in Venice after having dinner, walking through the city, arguing over ice cream, and spending a considerable amount of time provoking each other.

Eventually, a concern crossed his mind.

"Hela."

"Hmm?"

"Is Helheim okay with you being here?"

She did not even take long to answer.

She shrugged while continuing to draw invisible shapes over his chest.

"Yes."

"You seem very calm for someone who temporarily abandoned an entire realm."

"Because Helheim does not depend on me every second of the day."

Vergil raised an eyebrow.

"You’re its ruler."

"That doesn’t mean I have to sit on that throne twenty-four hours a day watching dead people arrive."

"You made it sound exactly like that when we talked."

"I was being dramatic."

Vergil let out a small laugh through his nose.

"I noticed."

Hela remained silent for a few seconds, but then her expression changed.

She did not exactly become sad.

She simply lost some of the mocking lightness she had maintained since they arrived at the hotel.

"Besides, Helheim isn’t exactly a kingdom to me in the same way Sparda is to you."

Vergil looked at her.

"What do you mean?"

Hela took a deep breath before shifting slightly, resting the side of her face against his chest.

"At the end of the day, Helheim is a prison."

Vergil went quiet.

She noticed his attention and continued.

"People like to imagine that I’m there because I’m some great administrator of the underworld, chosen to rule the dead and keep everything functioning. There is some truth to that, of course. Someone has to control that place. But it wasn’t exactly a profession I chose."

"Then why did you stay?"

"Because there was nowhere else."

Vergil frowned faintly.

Hela let out a small, humorless laugh.

"You forget that I wasn’t exactly welcomed with open arms by the Nine Realms. To Asgard, I was always Loki’s daughter, something that needed to be watched. To other realms, I was too monstrous, too dangerous, or simply inconvenient. So Helheim became the place where I was supposed to remain."

"Exile."

"With a pretty throne."

"It’s still exile."

Hela raised her eyes toward him.

"Exactly."

Vergil remained thoughtful.

That explained a few things about her that he had not considered before.

How quickly Hela had become interested in leaving Helheim.

How easily she had accepted going to Venice with him.

Even the way she had reacted to simply spending a few hours somewhere no one recognized her.

He slowly ran his fingers through her hair.

"And Fenrir and Jörmungandr?"

Hela reacted immediately.

She closed her eyes.

"Those two are complicated."

Vergil blinked.

"Those two?"

Hela opened her eyes again.

"Yes."

"Women?"

Now it was her turn to blink.

Then she started laughing.

"Oh. You didn’t know."

"Clearly not."

"I forgot that you spent practically your entire existence living as a human."

Hela rested her chin on his chest again.

"Yes. Fenrir and Jörmungandr are women."

Vergil stared at her.

"Fenrir."

"Woman."

"Jörmungandr."

"Also."

"The World Serpent."

"Woman."

Vergil remained silent for several seconds.

Hela began to smile.

"Is this breaking some mental image?"

"A little."

"You imagined Fenrir as a gigantic male wolf?"

"Yes."

"Funny."

"And Jörmungandr as a male serpent."

"Also funny."

Vergil narrowed his eyes at her.

"You’re enjoying this too much."

"I am."

He decided to let it go.

"Where are they?"

Hela thought for a few seconds.

"Fenrir is in that Werewolf Kingdom."

Vergil immediately lost part of his smile.

Hela noticed.

"You know it?"

"Unfortunately."

"Then you already know she is basically the divinity of that place."

Vergil slowly turned his head toward her.

"Fenrir is the goddess of the werewolves?"

"In a way."

Hela moved one hand while trying to explain.

"She isn’t exactly a goddess in the traditional sense, with an organized religion and priests kneeling before her every day. But a huge part of those werewolves’ spiritual structure exists because of her. Especially among the alphas."

Vergil became thoughtful.

"And Jörmungandr?"

"Somewhere out there."

"That is not a location."

"It’s the best one I have."

"You lost a world serpent?"

Hela looked offended.

"She is my sister, not my pet."

"A sister the size of a continent seems difficult to lose."

"She knows how to hide her presence."

Vergil sighed.

"Naturally."

Hela settled herself more comfortably on top of him.

"Jörmungandr never liked staying still very much. She appears in some ocean, disappears for a few decades, crosses dimensions when she wants to be completely alone... sometimes I find out where she is through dead people who saw something strange before they died."

"A terrible way to keep in touch with family."

"My family is terrible at keeping in touch."

"I noticed."

Vergil thought about Fenrir again, and his expression gradually became less satisfied.

"I don’t like werewolves very much."

Hela did not seem surprised at all.

"Understandable."

"That was quick."

"Because they’re ridiculously stupid."

Vergil looked at her.

Hela continued with complete naturalness.

"And they have enormous character problems. Many of them turned that whole obsession with strength, hierarchy, and dominance into a permanent excuse to act like animals without self-control. Ironically, real wolves are usually more organized."

Vergil laughed.

"That explains quite a lot."

"But don’t blame everything on Fenrir," Hela added. "She barely manages that place."

"Then why is she treated like a goddess?"

"Because they use her power."

Vergil narrowed his eyes.

Hela realized she needed to explain more clearly.

"Fenrir spends most of her time sleeping."

"...Sleeping?"

"A lot."

"How much?"

"Sometimes years."

Vergil stared at her.

Hela shrugged.

"She likes sleeping."

"That’s the entire explanation?"

"Were you expecting a philosophical explanation?"

"I expected something more dignified for a Norse calamity."

"Fenrir gets angry when people wake her up. That can be pretty catastrophic."

Vergil could not disagree.

"Her sleep also serves a purpose," Hela continued. "While she sleeps, Fenrir distributes part of her own energy among various werewolf alphas. That is what sustains much of the supernatural hierarchy in that kingdom. Some receive only small portions, others have a deeper connection. The greater the alpha, the closer they are to the source."

Vergil fell silent.

Now that was interesting.

"So the alphas are strong because they receive energy from her."

"In part."

"And while she sleeps, she maintains those connections."

"Yes."

Vergil looked at the ceiling.

Hela immediately noticed the change.

That was the face he made when he had started organizing something in his mind.

"You’re plotting something."

Vergil did not answer.

"Vergil."

"Hmm?"

"That is exactly your ’I just discovered extremely useful information and will probably cause a disaster with it’ face."

He looked at Hela.

"I have a face for that?"

"You do."

"Interesting."

"Don’t avoid the question."

Vergil let out a small sigh and resumed stroking her hair.

"I just remembered that I need to visit the Werewolf Kingdom with Alexa."

Hela raised an eyebrow.

"Visit."

"Yes."

"With that expression."

"Yes."

"And you just said you don’t like them."

"Correct."

Hela waited.

Vergil remained perfectly calm.

"You’re going to destroy that place."

"Probably."

She stared at him.

Then started laughing.

"I knew it."

"It isn’t that simple."

"You just said ’probably’ like you were choosing between white wine and red."

"There are circumstances."

"Of course there are."

Vergil smiled faintly.

Hela still looked curious, but she did not insist.

If there was one thing she had learned that night, it was that Vergil eventually explained his problems when he believed it was necessary.

Trying to pull every detail out of him before then would probably only turn a simple conversation into another argument.

He looked toward the window.

The night was already well advanced, and as comfortable as he was there, something else began to bother him.

"I need to go home soon."

Hela immediately frowned slightly.

"Already?"

"I’ve been away for quite a while."

"A few hours."

"For me, that’s quite a while."

She rested her chin on him again.

"Why?"

Vergil thought for a moment.

"It’s been a while since I’ve seen my wives."

Hela went still.

Vergil noticed too late how she was looking at him.

"What?"

She took a few seconds to answer.

"I want that too."

Vergil raised an eyebrow.

"Want what?"

Hela moved her fingers over his chest, avoiding his eyes for a moment in an unusually rare gesture.

"To be a wife."

Vergil fell silent.

She finally looked at him.

"You don’t have to make that face."

"What face?"

"That face."

"You just met me."

"I already know enough."

"We had one date."

"An excellent date."

"That isn’t exactly a foundation for marriage."

Hela pouted slightly.

"You have several."

"That is not a justification."

"It is precedent."

Vergil started laughing.

Hela lightly slapped his chest.

"Don’t laugh!"

"You went from ’I want to have sex’ to ’I want to be a wife’ in one night."

"I’m efficient."

"That is not efficiency."

"It is to me."

Vergil ran a hand over his face, still laughing, while Hela settled even more comfortably on top of him as if she had already decided she was not leaving until she received a satisfactory answer.

"First you wanted a relationship," Vergil reminded her.

"Yes."

"Then we had a date."

"Yes."

"Now you want marriage."

"Yes."

"You skip steps."

"I ruled the dead for ages. I learned that wasting time is a terrible idea."

Vergil looked at her for a few seconds.

Hela held his gaze with a perfectly serious expression.

He eventually smiled.

"Let’s start with a second date."

She narrowed her eyes.

"Was that a no?"

"It was a ’second date.’"

Hela thought.

"Then a third?"

"Possibly."

"Then marriage?"

"Are you negotiating?"

"Yes."

Vergil laughed again.

Hela rested her head against his chest once more, apparently satisfied that she had at least not received a direct rejection.

"Then it’s decided."

"I didn’t decide anything."

"Second date."

"That, yes."

"And then we’ll see."

"Exactly."

She smiled against his chest.

"Good enough."

Vergil returned his gaze to the ceiling, realizing that the night that was supposed to simply help him get to know Hela better had ended with important information about Fenrir, a possible new complication involving the Werewolf Kingdom, and the Queen of Helheim trying to negotiate a marriage in advance.