The Weight of Immortality - CH - 67

Frigga never imagined that Midgard, the realm she once considered primitive and insignificant compared to the splendor of Asgard, could hold such wonders. Yet here she was, walking hand in hand with her daughter, Hela, through the bustling streets of Paris, marveling at the sheer vibrancy and variety of human civilization.

The air was filled with the aroma of freshly baked bread from the patisseries, and the sight of the Eiffel Tower towering above the city skyline took her breath away. She turned to Hela with wide, amazed eyes. "Daughter, I must admit, I never thought Midgardians were capable of such... beauty," Frigga said, her voice tinged with awe.

Hela chuckled, linking arms with her mother. "You’ve only seen the tip of it, Mother. Midgard has its fair share of wonders. And thanks to the portal magic I've learned, we can see it all without the hassle of traveling like normal people."

With that, Hela traced an intricate rune in the air, and within seconds, the bustling streets of Paris melted away, replaced by the serene canals of Venice. Frigga gasped in delight as she gazed upon the ancient architecture and glistening waterways. Gondolas drifted lazily through the canals, carrying laughing couples and wide-eyed tourists.

"This is... remarkable," Frigga murmured, stepping cautiously onto a gondola, balancing with regal grace. "To think that mortals have built such a breathtaking city over water."

Hela smiled as she guided the boat with a flick of her fingers, using a subtle touch of magic. "They are resourceful, Mother. Far more than Asgard gives them credit for."

Their travels took them across the globe—standing atop the Great Wall of China, marveling at the vast expanse of the Sahara Desert, exploring the bustling markets of Istanbul. With each stop, Frigga's appreciation for Midgard grew, and she found herself wondering why Asgard had always looked down upon this realm.

"Midgard is full of life," Frigga observed one evening as they stood atop a hill overlooking the glowing lights of New York City. "Not just in its landscapes, but in its people. They are so... persistent. They endure and thrive despite their limitations."

Harry joined them, handing Frigga a warm drink. "That's what makes them special," he said with a smile. "They're not bound by destiny or prophecies. They carve their own paths."

Frigga regarded him thoughtfully. "And yet, they have so much to teach us. Perhaps, after all these years, we have been the ones with limited vision."

During their journey, Frigga and Hela shared stories, laughed over Hela's adventures in Midgard, and even indulged in human pleasures like street food and music. They sat by the beaches of the Maldives, sipping on coconut water while watching the sunset. Frigga found herself feeling something she hadn't in centuries—contentment.

"You've built a good life here, Hela," Frigga admitted, watching the waves crash gently against the shore. "A life free of war, of expectation. I am proud of you."

Hela smiled, her usually hardened features softening. "It wasn't easy, Mother. But I found happiness here... with Harry."

Frigga reached over and clasped her daughter's hand, squeezing it gently. "He is a good man," she said, glancing at Harry, who was skipping stones a few feet away. "And he makes you happy."

Hela nodded. "More than I ever thought possible."

As their journey continued, Frigga learned to appreciate the little things—the joy in a child’s laughter, the kindness of strangers, the beauty in a simple flower market. She even took a liking to mortal literature, reading novels with a fascination she hadn’t felt in years.

Eventually, their travels brought them back to New York, where Frigga had grown fond of the small restaurant Harry and Hela ran. Sitting at a corner booth, watching Harry cook and Hela working on her reserved table, Frigga realized something profound—her daughter had found peace.

"Perhaps Odin was wrong," Frigga mused aloud one evening over dinner. "Perhaps exile was not a punishment, but a gift."

Hela looked up from her plate, raising an eyebrow. "You mean that, Mother?"

Frigga smiled. "I do. I see now that power is not the only measure of a life well-lived. Happiness, love, purpose—these are the true treasures of existence."

Hela smirked. "I suppose even gods can learn a thing or two."

Their time together was precious, and when the day came for Frigga to return to Asgard, she left with a heart full of gratitude and understanding. She embraced Hela tightly.

"I will speak to Odin when he wakes," Frigga promised. "And I will tell him what I have learned. Perhaps Asgard can learn to see Midgard as I do now."

Frigga stood on the rooftop of Black's Hearth, her regal figure outlined against the evening sky. She raised her hand elegantly, her voice calm yet commanding, "Heimdall, bring me home."

She expected the familiar hum of the Bifrost, the streaks of rainbow light descending from the heavens to envelop her in their embrace. But instead, there was only silence. A flicker of confusion crossed her face, and she called again, louder this time, "Heimdall, bring me home!"

Nothing. The sky remained still.

Harry and Hela, who had been watching from the balcony, exchanged a concerned glance. Hela stepped forward, her arms crossed. "Heimdall always responds to the call of the Queen. If he's not answering, it means something’s wrong."

Frigga’s eyes darkened with worry. "Heimdall is ever watchful. If he has not opened the Bifrost, then something dire must have happened in Asgard."

Harry, sensing the tension rising, gently placed a hand on Frigga's shoulder. "What could stop Heimdall from seeing? He's supposed to be able to watch over all the realms, isn't he?"

Frigga nodded slowly. "Yes, his sight stretches across the cosmos. If he has not responded, it could mean one of two things: either Asgard has fallen under attack, or something has clouded his vision." She turned to Hela. "And we both know what or who could be powerful enough to do that."

Hela's face hardened. "Loki."

Harry sighed. "Well, that’s not good."

Frigga's brow furrowed, deep in thought. "Loki must have taken action while we were here. If he's found a way to block Heimdall's sight, then Asgard is in great danger. We must find a way back."

Hela, tapping her chin, smirked slightly. "Well, there are other ways to travel the realms besides the Bifrost. But none of them are as... elegant."

Frigga turned to Hela with a look of determination. "Then we'll have to use what we have. We must get back to Asgard before it’s too late."

Harry, already pulling his wand from his pocket, nodded. "I might have an idea."

Frigga looked at him with curiosity. "You can open a path to Asgard?"

Harry grinned. "Not exactly to Asgard, but to somewhere close enough. Hela can take it from there."

Hela smirked. "Let’s just say, I know a few backdoors Odin doesn’t."

Frigga raised an eyebrow at her daughter. "Of course, you do."

Harry began tracing complex runes in the air, muttering incantations under his breath. A faint golden shimmer appeared, forming the outline of a swirling vortex. The air crackled with energy as the portal solidified.

"There," Harry said, stepping back. "It should take you to one of the Nine Realms—Vanaheim, if I got it right."

Frigga examined the portal with an appraising eye. "Vanaheim... it's close enough. We can find a way back to Asgard from there."

As Hela prepared to step through the shimmering golden portal, Harry stood beside her with his arms crossed, a small smirk playing on his lips. "So, when should I expect you back?" he asked, his voice tinged with knowing amusement. "Tony and S.H.I.E.L.D. will be on my case the moment they realize their star lawyer is missing."

Hela, adjusting her dark cloak, glanced at him with an exasperated smile. "I'm just escorting my mother to Asgard, Harry. I'll be back before you know it."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Right, because I know you so well. You'll go there, see something that doesn't sit right with you, and then what? You'll dive headfirst into fixing it. So, should I tell Tony and S.H.I.E.L.D. to expect you in, what? A month?"

Hela rolled her eyes. "You're impossible, you know that?" But she sighed, conceding his point. "Fine. Tell them I’ll be back within a month. I promise."

Harry stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on her arm. "Be careful, okay? I know Asgard isn't exactly the safest place for you."

Hela smirked, her eyes flashing with confidence. "Asgard should be worried about me, not the other way around." She leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "Don't let Tony drive you crazy while I'm gone."

Harry chuckled. "No promises."

Frigga, who had been standing quietly nearby, observed the exchange with a soft smile. "You two truly love each other," she said warmly.

Hela turned to her mother, nodding. "That we do."

With one last glance at Harry, Hela took Frigga’s hand and together they stepped through the portal. As the swirling energy engulfed them, they vanished from view, leaving Harry standing alone in the dim glow of the fading magic.

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "A month, huh?" He glanced toward the restaurant below, where the sound of customers and clinking dishes echoed. "Well, I better come up with a good excuse for Tony."

With that, he headed back inside, already bracing himself for the inevitable flood of questions from Stark and S.H.I.E.L.D.

As Hela and Frigga stepped through the shimmering portal, they found themselves standing in a familiar clearing within the heart of Vanaheim. The air was crisp and filled with the scent of pine and wildflowers, carrying the distant hum of life from a nearby village. Hela’s emerald eyes swept across the landscape, and a wave of nostalgia hit her like a storm.

She had been here before—well, not exactly here, but in another universe where she and Harry had made a life together in this very spot. The memories were vivid: a quaint cottage nestled between the towering trees, the warm glow of candlelight spilling through the windows at night, and the sound of Harry’s laughter as they built a home far from the prying eyes of Asgard. Together, they had transformed Vanaheim into a powerful and independent realm, capable of defending itself against any external threat.

But this Vanaheim was different. The towering mountains and lush forests remained the same, yet the realm felt untouched by the progress they had once brought. It was still a world steeped in its medieval traditions, where seidr practitioners lived discreetly among the common folk, their magic woven into the very fabric of daily life. The streets were lined with thatched-roof houses, and warriors clad in traditional armor patrolled the borders, their spears reflecting the morning sun.

Frigga observed Hela’s expression with a knowing smile. "This place holds memories for you, doesn’t it?" she asked softly.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. A group of Vanaheim warriors, clad in thick furs and bearing long spears, emerged from the tree line. Their leader, a tall man with striking silver hair and a scar running down his cheek, stepped forward and inclined his head respectfully. "Lady Frigga, we were not expecting an Asgardian presence today."

Frigga smiled gracefully, always the diplomat. "We come in peace, warrior. I am merely here to visit old friends."

The warrior’s gaze flicked to Hela, his eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. "And your companion? She bears an unfamiliar presence."

Hela smirked, stepping forward with the confidence of a queen. "I am Helena Black, an advocate of Midgard, and a traveler seeking knowledge of your realm."

The warrior hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "We do not turn away guests, but I must ask you to remain within the village until our elders grant you passage beyond it."

Frigga placed a hand on Hela’s arm, subtly urging restraint. "Of course," she said smoothly. "Lead the way."

For two days, Hela and Frigga remained in Vanaheim, blending into the daily life of the people. They visited the bustling markets, observing the vibrant culture of the realm, and even attended a small festival celebrating the harvest season. Frigga, with her natural grace and kindness, was welcomed with open arms, while Hela remained more reserved, though she found herself enjoying the simplicity of it all.

Despite their patience, the uncertainty of Asgard’s situation weighed heavily on their minds. Hela knew they couldn't linger forever. They needed answers, and they needed them soon.

Late on the second night, as the fires of the village died down and the streets grew quiet, Hela stood by the edge of the forest, gazing at the stars. Frigga approached her, sensing the turmoil within her daughter. "It's time, isn't it?" Frigga asked softly.

Hela nodded. "Yes. We can't wait any longer. Whatever happened in Asgard, we need to face it head-on."

With a flick of her hand, Hela summoned her portal—swirling with dark green and black hues, a testament to her mastery over her powers. The portal shimmered ominously in the moonlight, casting eerie shadows on the trees around them.

Frigga stepped beside her daughter, giving a soft sigh. "You always did have a flair for the dramatic."

Hela smirked. "Old habits die hard, Mother."

Stepping through the portal, they emerged on the outskirts of Asgard, where the golden spires of the great city loomed in the distance, untouched by the destruction that Hela once sought in another life. The familiar sight filled Hela with a strange mix of emotions—nostalgia, resentment, and something else... a sense of longing she hadn’t felt in centuries.

The area they arrived in was one of the few spots outside the grand city that remained untouched by Odin’s intricate enchantments. It was a quiet, remote location, hidden within the rocky cliffs that overlooked the Bifrost in the far distance.

Frigga scanned their surroundings warily, adjusting her cloak. "We must tread carefully. If Loki is ruling, he will have spies everywhere."

Hela nodded, her eyes scanning the landscape. "Agreed. We need to move quickly and quietly."

They proceeded through the shadows, making their way toward the city’s outer gates. Hela’s heart pounded with anticipation as memories flooded her mind—memories of battle, of triumph, of betrayal. And now, she was returning not as a conqueror, but as something else entirely.

As they approached the outskirts of the city, Frigga paused, her brow furrowed in thought. "Loki may expect us to come through the main gates... We should find another way inside."

Hela smirked. "You forget, Mother, I know Asgard’s hidden ways better than anyone."

With a confident stride, she led them along the edge of the golden city, avoiding the patrols and slipping through the lesser-known paths. As they neared the palace, Frigga looked at Hela with a worried expression. "Whatever we find inside, remember why we're here."

Hela glanced at her mother, determination in her eyes. "Don't worry, Mother. I didn't come here for vengeance. I came to see if there's anything left worth protecting."

Together, they pressed forward, the grand halls of Asgard looming ever closer, unaware of the challenges that awaited them within.