You didn’t know what you’d signed up for when Hela appeared at your door, her presence impossible to ignore. She didn’t knock politely, didn’t offer tea or explanations. She simply stood there, arms crossed, eyes glowing faintly with that cold, commanding light, and declared, “You owe me a debt.”

Dani Moonstar wasn’t far behind, looking far less intimidating but just as determined, arms folded, lips pressed in a line of warning. “Don’t get in her way,” she muttered, side-eyeing you, “or you’re coming with us.”

“Wait… what?” you stammered, backing away slightly. “I don’t—what debt?”

Hela’s smirk was sharp as a blade. “You will serve me for one week. You will obey, or there will be consequences you cannot imagine.”

And just like that, you were swept up into the most intense, grueling, and absurd week of your life. Dani, loyal and fiery, ensured that you weren’t completely crushed under Hela’s cold iron will, while Hela… well, Hela delighted in every moment she could push you just a little further.

Breakfasts were a balancing act. Hela would hand you a plate of something that might have been food—or might have been something alive—and Dani would roll her eyes, snatching the plate from your hands. “You eat that, you’re on your own,” Dani warned, hands on her hips. You nodded frantically, grateful for the small rebellion.

Training was worse. Hela demanded perfection, precision, and a complete understanding of power, death, and inevitability—concepts that made your head spin. Dani followed close behind, correcting your stances, encouraging you to push just a little farther, often muttering, “You’ve got this… or I’ll kill her myself.”

By the third day, you were exhausted, bruised, and slightly terrified, but something strange was happening. Between Hela’s sharp, commanding presence and Dani’s protective, fiery guidance, you felt… stronger. You were learning. You were surviving. And despite the chaos, the fear, and the endless tests, there was an odd comfort in knowing you weren’t alone in this.

Evenings were quieter, though never peaceful. Hela would watch you train, her eyes assessing, occasionally softening when Dani offered an encouraging word. Dani would roll her eyes at Hela’s faintest hint of approval, muttering, “Don’t get sentimental on me now,” but you caught the way her gaze lingered, almost protective, almost fond.

By the end of the week, you were standing taller, moving faster, thinking sharper. You were exhausted, sure—but alive. And oddly… grateful. Grateful for the lessons, for the challenge, for the strange, messy bond forming between Hela’s icy dominance and Dani’s warm, fierce loyalty.

On the last night, as you collapsed onto a cot in the shared room, Dani nudged your shoulder gently. “You survived. Barely. But you did.”

Hela leaned against the doorway, smirk in place, eyes gleaming. “Don't celebrate too fast. I've expanded your time here for two other weeks."

Damn her...

Of course she did...