The Weight of Immortality - CH - 68

The golden city of Asgard shimmered under the ethereal glow of the stars, its towering spires and pristine halls standing as a testament to its eternal grandeur. However, despite its magnificence, an air of unease spread through the streets as whispers turned to alarm.

Hela, the Goddess of Death, had returned.

It was true that many among the younger generation had only heard rumors of her existence. To them, she was nothing more than a bedtime tale—a specter of Asgard’s past used to warn of the dangers of unchecked ambition. But the older generation, those who had once stood under Odin’s banner, knew the truth. They had seen Hela’s power firsthand, had fought beside her when she was Asgard’s mightiest weapon.

And now, she was walking towards the gates of Asgard, side by side with Queen Frigga, as though she belonged.

The guards stationed near the entrance stiffened, gripping their weapons tighter as Hela and Frigga drew closer. Murmurs of disbelief and fear rippled through them. Some of them had seen what she was capable of before Odin banished her, had seen her wage war across realms in the name of Asgard's conquest.

"The Queen is smiling," one guard whispered, uneasy.

"Mind control," another responded immediately, his voice laced with panic. "Hela must have bewitched her!"

The notion spread like wildfire. Within moments, runners had been dispatched toward the palace, the urgent message carrying through the ranks:

Hela is alive. She has returned. And she has the Queen under her spell.

Odin, who had recently awoken from his Odin Sleep, sat in his chambers, regaining his strength. The weight of his long reign pressed heavily upon him, but before he could fully gather himself, the doors burst open, revealing a breathless guard.

"My King!" The guard fell to his knees, struggling to catch his breath. "The Queen… she has returned… but she is not alone."

Odin’s sharp gaze turned towards the soldier. "Speak clearly."

"Hela… she walks with the Queen! And—she seems unharmed! They are approaching the city gates as we speak!"

For a moment, Odin’s face betrayed no emotion, but deep inside, turmoil brewed. He had hoped never to hear that name again, had hoped his firstborn was buried and forgotten, wiped from the annals of history. Yet here she was, walking freely into his kingdom as if nothing had happened.

He took a deep breath, gripping his staff tightly. "Summon the Einherjar. I want the gates secured. No one is to make a move until I command it."

The guard hesitated. "But my King, what if she truly has enchanted the Queen?"

Odin’s jaw tightened. "Frigga is not so easily controlled. If she walks beside Hela, it means there is more at play than we understand. I will not let fear dictate our actions. Now go!"

The guard bowed deeply before rushing out of the chamber.

Odin exhaled slowly, his mind racing. Hela had always been strong-willed, rebellious. But after centuries of banishment, what could she possibly want now? And more importantly, was she still the ruthless warrior who once sought to rule Asgard with an iron fist?

Only time would tell.

Hela and Frigga finally arrived at the grand gates of Asgard. The guards who stood before them held their weapons at the ready, their expressions a mix of terror and determination.

Hela, however, paid them no mind. She had expected fear. She was used to it.

What she hadn’t expected was Frigga's calm demeanor.

"Lower your weapons," Frigga commanded, her voice carrying the weight of royalty.

The guards hesitated, glancing at one another, their training battling their fear.

"Your Majesty," one of them stammered, "we cannot—"

"Are you questioning your Queen?" Frigga’s voice, though soft, held an unmistakable authority.

The soldiers exchanged uncertain glances, but ultimately, their loyalty to Frigga overrode their fear. One by one, they lowered their weapons, though their grips remained firm.

Hela smirked. "At least they’re trained well."

Frigga shot her daughter a warning glance before stepping forward. "We seek audience with the King."

One of the guards stepped forward. "King Odin has already been informed of your… arrival. You will be escorted to the palace."

Hela chuckled, crossing her arms. "Escorted, huh? In case I suddenly decide to destroy the city?"

The guards flinched at her words, but Frigga placed a calming hand on Hela’s arm. "Let them do their duty."

Hela sighed. "Fine. Lead the way."

As they walked through the city, the people of Asgard watched from the safety of their homes and marketplaces. The name Hela was spoken in hushed whispers, and fear flickered in their eyes.

Some of them, however, were not afraid.

Some of them… remembered.

They remembered the warrior who had once fought for Asgard, the fierce and proud daughter of Odin who had led their armies to countless victories. They remembered the goddess who had once been their champion before she became their nightmare.

And now, as she walked among them once more, they wondered—was she here to reclaim her throne?

Or was there something else at play?

With each step closer to the palace, Hela knew one thing for certain:

Her past was not as buried as she once thought.

Hela stepped into the grand halls of the Royal Palace of Asgard, her eyes sweeping across the once-familiar surroundings. The scent of divine incense still lingered in the air, and the golden pillars still gleamed under the ethereal light cascading from the ceiling. Yet, despite the architectural grandeur, something felt… off.

It was no longer the same Asgard she had known.

Her eyes darted toward the towering walls and ceilings where, once upon a time, glorious depictions of Odin and Hela adorned the palace. She remembered them well—massive portraits carved into the golden surface, each stroke capturing the power and conquest that once defined Asgard. Scenes of battle, of Hela leading Odin’s armies into war, of realms bowing before their might, had once covered these walls.

Now, those portraits were gone.

Instead, new murals had taken their place. Scenes of diplomacy and peace treaties. Odin standing beside leaders of other races, shaking hands rather than raising swords. Asgard no longer seemed to be the empire of warriors it once was.

Hela’s jaw tightened.

Her past had been erased.

Hela let out a scoff, shaking her head. “So this is what Asgard has become?” Her voice was cold, edged with mockery. “Odin the Peacemaker. Odin the Merciful. I suppose war and conquest no longer fit his new narrative.”

Frigga sighed. “Things change, Hela. Asgard has changed. Odin… has changed.”

Hela let out a bitter laugh. “Changed? Or rewritten history to suit his own image?” She turned, eyes narrowing at the walls. “He erased me from history. As if I never existed.”

Frigga placed a gentle hand on Hela’s shoulder. “You were not erased,” she said softly. “You were… hidden.”

Hela clenched her fists. Hidden. Banished. Forgotten.

“I was his greatest weapon, and he cast me aside when I no longer served his vision,” she said, voice laced with old resentment. “Tell me, Mother, do the people even know about me anymore? Or has Odin spun some tale of how he alone built this empire?”

Frigga sighed, her gaze unreadable. “Few remember. Most have never heard of you.”

Hela took a deep breath, letting the anger simmer beneath the surface. She had expected this, of course, but seeing it… was different. She had prepared herself to face Odin, but she hadn’t expected to feel the sting of being erased so completely.

Then, the large doors at the end of the hall creaked open.

A row of armored Einherjar warriors stepped forward, standing at attention, forming a path toward the throne room.

And there, in the center of it all, stood Odin.

The All-Father himself.

His golden armor gleamed under the torchlight, his single eye observing her carefully. There was no anger, no immediate hostility—just quiet assessment, like a man calculating his next move on a chessboard.

Behind him stood Thor.

Hela met his gaze, and Thor’s expression was unreadable. A flicker of wariness, perhaps… but also curiosity.

Odin remained silent for a long moment before speaking.

“Hela,” his voice echoed through the hall, measured and calm. “You have returned.”

Hela tilted her head, her lips curling into a smirk. “I was never gone, All-Father. You merely chose not to look.”

Silence fell.

The air in the throne room was thick with tension, heavy enough to crush the breath from a mortal’s lungs. Hela stood poised, shoulders squared, her emerald-green eyes flashing with a dangerous light. Odin’s expression was unreadable, but his words carried weight, each syllable laced with accusation.

“Hela, release Frigga from the spell you cast on her.”

A silence stretched between them, the kind that came before a storm.

Hela raised an eyebrow, tilting her head in mock curiosity. “What spell?” she asked, her voice dripping with amusement.

Odin’s grip on Gungnir tightened. “Do not play games with me.”

Frigga took a step forward, her voice calm but firm. “Odin, I am not under any spell.”

The All-Father’s single eye flicked to his wife, searching, doubting. His lips pressed into a thin line.

“He doesn’t believe you, Mother.” Hela’s smirk widened. “How amusing. Even after all these centuries, you still think I’m some sorceress weaving tricks and illusions?” She let out a small chuckle, stepping forward, her presence commanding. “Odin, you made me who I am. You shaped me into the warrior I became. And yet, even now, you refuse to acknowledge the truth.”

Odin’s jaw tightened. “I know what you are.”

“Do you?” Hela’s smirk faded, her eyes cold as the void.

And then, before anyone could react, Odin moved.

Gungnir, his legendary spear, materialized in his grasp, its golden tip gleaming ominously in the torchlight. With a single powerful thrust, he hurled it straight at Hela’s head.

Frigga gasped. Thor’s eyes widened.

But Hela?

She merely tilted her head to the side, the spear whistling past her ear, embedding itself into the marble floor behind her with a deafening crash.

She didn’t flinch.

Didn’t blink.

Instead, her lips curled into a grin.

“Tsk. Missed.”

And then, with a flick of her wrist, necro-swords exploded into existence around her. Dozens of jagged, dark weapons erupted from the floor, forming a swirling, lethal dance of blades.

Odin clenched his fist, and with a single gesture, Gungnir ripped itself from the marble, flying back into his waiting hand.

The throne room erupted into chaos.

Odin lunged forward, his spear clashing against Hela’s swords in a flurry of rapid strikes. The room shook with every impact, the force of their battle sending shockwaves rippling across the golden palace.

Hela danced around Odin’s attacks, her movements fluid, graceful—lethal. Each step she took was calculated, precise. This was her element. This was war.

Odin, despite his age, was no slouch. His experience was unmatched, his reflexes razor-sharp. He blocked, parried, countered, each motion carrying the weight of eons of battle.

Thor, standing beside Frigga, clenched his fists, torn between intervening and letting the fight play out.

“Father, stop this!” he shouted.

But neither Odin nor Hela seemed to hear him.

Hela twirled, her swords moving like shadows, each one a whisper of death. She closed the distance, aiming a blade at Odin’s throat—only for Gungnir to thrust forward, forcing her back.

She smirked, flipping effortlessly through the air, landing softly on her feet. “Getting slow, old man?”

Odin exhaled sharply, his patience wearing thin. “You have not changed, Hela.”

“And you are still a hypocrite,” she countered.

Their weapons clashed once more, sparks flying, magic crackling in the air.

Frigga stepped forward. “Enough!” she bellowed, her voice carrying a power of its own.

For a moment, the battle halted.

Both Odin and Hela remained poised, their weapons at the ready, their eyes locked in a battle far deeper than just their physical fight.

Odin’s gaze softened—just slightly. “You could have ruled by my side, Hela.”

Hela scoffed. “No, Odin. I could have ruled above you.”

The silence was deafening.

Thor swallowed hard, watching his sister—his true sister—for the first time without illusion.

This was Hela, the warrior Odin had locked away, the goddess erased from Asgard’s history.

And she was far from done.