Hela is still imprisoned when the ring twists its way around her finger like a vine. Gold with inlaid flecks of black diamonds and ghostly white opals, it isn't distasteful in itself — except that she has no idea where it came from. And no matter how much force she puts into trying to pull it off, it refuses to budge.
It's an unbreakable bond, then. Whoever inflicted this on her knows what he's doing.
Her main question is why. Why would anyone force marriage on a banished Asgardian? If he thinks her father will look kindly on him for it, he's wrong. Or is it a misguided attempt to restrain her by giving her someone else to consider? Surely not; surely all who know her knows she will rain hellfire down on him when she breaks free.
She redoubles her efforts to escape, plotting what she'll do to the man who dared to make himself her husband. The ring pulls her towards Midgard in a quest to find its counterpart.
When Odin's hold over her finally breaks, she leaves Hel and descends on Midgard in a fury, ready to wreak vengeance. Delaying her return to Asgard is loathsome, but she needs to neutralise this threat first.
Midgard is a poor imitation of her home. The clothes, the buildings, the accents… Even the tallest and most elaborate buildings are pitiful compared to the golden arches and towers of Asgard.
The ring leads her to a building in what appears to be a magical district. Security guards stand watch outside, but she strides through, ignoring their cries of protest.
Before long, she's standing in front of the oddest-looking Midgardian she's ever seen. By galactic standards, he's quite commonplace, but he looks nothing like the people she passed on her way here. Tall and thin, his nose is inhumanly flat and his eyes wide and scarlet.
On his left hand sits a ring, identical to hers.
'Who are you?' he asks, looking up from a piece of parchment on the desk in front of him. 'How did you evade my guards?'
'Your wife, apparently. If you wish to challenge an Asgardian and survive, you will need better guards than that.'
Hela takes perverse pleasure in the shock that crosses his face.
Rising to his feet, he pulls some kind of weapon from his pocket. It resembles a stick, but for its smooth finish and elaborate handle. 'It was you! Tell me why you did it or I will rip you limb from limb.'
She laughs at the threat. 'Oh, please do. I would hate to lose the entertainment of seeing you try.'
'Do you not know who I am?' he asks, his voice lowering into a near-growl. 'I single-handedly enslaved all of magical Europe, and it will not be long until the whole planet is under my rule.'
'That's nice.' She supposes that, for a Midgardian, that's an accomplishment. 'But no, I don't know you. That's rather the point.'
For the second time, she's treated to seeing complete and utter confusion cross his face. 'Then why did you force me to marry you?'
Her enjoyment fades at his words. 'I didn't. I thought that was you.'
They stand there silently for a moment, staring at one another.
'Why would someone want to bring us together?' she muses.
'Who are you?' he asks again.
'I am Hela Odinsdottir, the rightful heir to Asgard and goddess of Death. Who are you?'
'Lord Voldemort, Death's master.'
'On what grounds do you lay claim to that title?' she demands. 'Death may only ever have one master, and I have held that position for millennia.'
'I am the holder of the Deathly Hallows; the title is mine by right.' Something flashes across his face.
'The Hallows are on Midgard?' Hela wielded them prior to her fall, combining her own talents with their powers to become nigh unstoppable. Odin must have brought them here after he banished her. She steps forward, enraged. 'They are mine. Give them to — '
Her ring burns, stilling her approach. 'It won't let me hurt you.'
Voldemort twirls his wand at her before letting out a low hiss. 'Nor I you.'
'When did the ring appear?' she asks. 'Before or after you wielded all three Hallows for the first time?'
'After. Death may only ever have one master, yet I became the second. Perhaps — '
'Perhaps it resolved the issue by making its masters one.' Raising her hand, she feels her face contort in disgust. This has all been some cosmic accident, perpetrated by an entity upon whom she cannot even exact revenge? 'By marriage.'
'You spoke of a place called Asgard. Where is it?'
Slowly, Hela smiles. She can't take the Hallows from him by force, but that doesn't mean she can't use them — or him. 'It is my homeland and my inheritance, but it has been stolen from me. If you come with me to win it back, I will annihilate your opposition here on your planet.'
Voldemort sits at his desk once more. 'Tell me more about this Asgard.'
Maybe he has the potential to be interesting after all.
A/N: For the Villains round of Marvelously Magical Fanfiction's Roll-A-Drabble Roll-A-Thon with the prompts 'Hela' and 'accidental marriage'.
Hela was actually a lot of fun to write.