The Weight of Immortality - CH - 22 (Patreon)

The morning sun filtered through the grand windows of Hela’s chambers in Asgard, casting a soft, golden light on the ornate room. She stirred, feeling truly rejuvenated for the first time in centuries. There was something about waking up in her ancestral home, even after so much time had passed, that brought a strange sense of peace. But that peace would not last for long—today, she had been summoned by Odin for something unusual: a morning sparring session.

With a sly smile, she rose from her bed and prepared for the day ahead. Odin’s challenge wasn’t about bonding or family—it was about assessing her strength. Hela knew this all too well.

As she made her way to the palace’s training grounds, the intricate architecture of Asgard surrounded her. The training area was as grand as the palace itself, adorned with paintings and statues depicting great battles from Asgard’s long history. But the centerpiece of the room was well warded, a massive training arena with a raised platform where warriors often faced off in front of an audience. Today, it would be her and Odin on that platform.

Odin was already waiting when she arrived, his armored form standing tall in the center of the arena. His expression was unreadable, but Hela could sense the tension beneath his calm exterior.

"It’s been a long time since I’ve practiced," Odin said, his voice carrying a heavy weight of expectation. "Let’s see how far you’ve come, my daughter."

Hela smirked, stepping onto the platform with confident strides. "I know why you haven’t practiced in so long, Father," she teased. "You’ve convinced yourself that you’re the most powerful being in Asgard. It must be hard to find someone who can challenge you without humiliating them."

Her eyes gleamed with anticipation. "But today, you’ll lose."

With a swift nod from Odin, the sparring match began. At first, Odin struck with the controlled precision of a seasoned warrior, his spear slashing through the air with deadly accuracy. Hela, however, was faster. Much faster. Her movements were a blur as she dodged and deflected every strike with ease, her strength far greater than he anticipated. She didn’t even need to summon her magic at first; her raw physical power was enough to overwhelm him.

Every time Odin attacked, Hela countered effortlessly, and soon she had the upper hand. Her ability to summon weapons out of nothing gave her an overwhelming advantage, conjuring blades and spears with a mere flick of her wrist. Odin, once the proud king and protector of the Nine Realms, found himself on the defensive. Hela was relentless, and for the first time, Odin realized how far she had truly come—how powerful she had become in her exile.

As their duel escalated, Hela finally unleashed her magic. The air crackled with energy as dark, powerful magic exploded from her in waves, unlike anything Odin had ever seen. It was raw, untamed, and devastating. In less than ten minutes, Odin was on the ground, gasping for breath, utterly defeated. The great king of Asgard had been bested.

Hela stood over him, her chest rising and falling steadily, a look of calm on her face. There was no arrogance in her expression, no trace of the hatred that had once consumed her. She had won, but it wasn’t the victory that satisfied her—it was the control. The peace she felt within herself.

"Are you all right, Father?" she asked softly, extending a hand to help him up.

Odin stood awkwardly, brushing himself off, his pride bruised more than his body. He gave her a tight nod, unable to find the words to express what he was feeling. This was not the daughter he had once known.

As they stood there, catching their breath, Hela noticed movement in the shadows above. Her gaze shifted to a balcony overlooking the training grounds, where her mother, Frigga, stood watching with a smile. Frigga began clapping, slow and deliberate, her expression filled with both pride and amusement.

But Hela’s attention was quickly drawn to the two figures standing beside her mother. One, tall and muscular with blonde hair, and the other, lean with raven-black hair. They were watching the entire match unfold, their jaws practically hanging open in shock. The blond one, clearly Thor, seemed baffled at the sight of his father being bested. The raven-haired one, Loki, wore a look of mixed awe and amusement, though he quickly masked it behind a smirk.

Thor and Loki.

Hela felt a surge of surprise. So these were the brothers she never knew she had. Their expressions mirrored the disbelief that she had once felt upon learning about them. For a moment, the weight of what had been lost—family, time, history—hung heavy in the air.

But Hela was no longer the same woman who had once been consumed by bitterness. She looked at her brothers with curiosity, wondering what their stories were, and how their paths might now intersect with her own.

Thor's eyes blazed with intensity as Odin stood defeated, still struggling to process the fact that his father had been bested by this mysterious sister, Hela. Without a second thought, Thor stepped forward, determination etched on his face.

"I want to fight her next," Thor declared, his voice firm, as if the sting of his father’s defeat had reignited his competitive spirit. Loki, standing beside him, raised a brow, intrigued but also more cautious.

"And so do I," Loki added. "Not because I think brute strength will win the day, but because it’s rare I get to fight someone who actually knows magic. This should be interesting."

Hela turned toward her brothers with an amused smile, seeing their eagerness but also their naivety. "Both of you at the same time?" she mused, as if she was considering it. "Very well, but you’ll regret that decision."

Thor, not one for words, acted first. He called Mjolnir to his hand, its familiar weight giving him confidence. With a mighty roar, he hurled the enchanted hammer directly at Hela, expecting the force alone to knock her off balance. But Hela moved with impossible speed and grace. Her hand shot out and caught Mjolnir midair, stopping it cold.

Thor froze, disbelief washing over his face. "That’s not possible," he muttered, his eyes wide.

Hela smiled wickedly. "Oh, dear brother," she said, swinging Mjolnir lazily in her hand as though it were no more than a toy. "I’ve been wielding this hammer long before you were even born. Did you think a piece of metal would help you win against me?"

Without another word, she tossed Mjolnir aside as if it were nothing, and Thor's heart sank slightly at the ease with which she dismissed his most trusted weapon. But his battle instincts took over, and the fight began in earnest.

Thor lunged, fists clenched, aiming for brute strength, while Loki circled from behind, hands glowing with illusions. But Hela was prepared. Thor’s attacks, while powerful, were too straightforward for her, and she dodged them effortlessly. As Thor swung his fists and called down lightning, Hela anticipated every move, parrying and countering with expert precision.

Loki, meanwhile, tried a different approach. He conjured multiple illusions of himself, surrounding Hela with a dozen false images, hoping to confuse and outflank her. But Hela had learned much in her time away, especially from Harry. With a calm flick of her wrist, she cast a spell Harry had taught her, Finite Incantatem, unraveling the illusions with ease. Loki’s trickery wasn’t strong enough to fool her.

She turned to him with a bemused expression. "Is that the best you can do, little brother?" she asked, her voice almost mocking. "Your magic is impressive for an Asgardian, but weak against someone who truly understands it."

Loki's confidence wavered for a moment, but he was nothing if not resilient. He tried again, this time summoning a whirlwind of dark energy to bind her in place. But Hela countered effortlessly, dispelling it with a wave of her hand.

Thor, seeing his chance, rushed in again, calling upon the full power of his lightning. But even his godly strength was no match for Hela’s sheer skill. With a graceful twist, she avoided his attacks, letting his strength exhaust him.

This fight wasn’t about defeating them; it was about testing their limits. Hela could have ended the fight within minutes, but she was curious to see just how powerful and resourceful her brothers were. She allowed them to fight, all the while observing their weaknesses.

As the battle raged on, Hela began giving them pointed instructions, her voice calm and commanding amidst the chaos. "Thor, you rely too much on brute force," she said, blocking a heavy punch and then delivering a sharp strike to his shoulder that made him stagger. "Strength is useful, but it will blind you to subtler tactics."

She then turned to Loki, who was still attempting to overwhelm her with illusions and magical traps. "Loki, your magic lacks focus," she criticized as she dismantled one of his traps. "It’s clever, but easily countered. You need discipline, not tricks."

Every time they made a mistake, Hela corrected it with a sharp attack. When Thor overextended himself, she would strike him painfully across the ribs with one of her conjured blades. When Loki tried to flee into the shadows, she would catch him by the arm and pull him into a devastating counter.

The fight dragged on, not because they were close to winning, but because Hela was intentionally holding back, using each mistake as a lesson. She made sure they remembered every correction by leaving them with bruises and cuts that stung enough to drive the lesson home.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to Thor and Loki, both brothers stood panting and battered, bruised and humbled. Hela, on the other hand, stood tall and unscathed, a look of quiet satisfaction on her face.

"You both have potential," she said, her voice softer now, as though the lesson was over. "But you’re not ready. Not yet."

Thor wiped the sweat from his brow, his pride wounded more than his body. "You’re stronger than I thought," he admitted, begrudging respect in his tone.

Loki, ever the strategist, narrowed his eyes, already thinking of ways to improve his magic. "What else do you know?" he asked, clearly intrigued by her skill.

Hela only smiled, her green eyes gleaming. "Enough to teach you both a thing or two. If you’re willing to learn."

And with that, the sparring session ended. Hela had proven her point, and both Thor and Loki had a lot to think about. As they walked away from the training grounds, their minds buzzed with newfound respect for their long-lost sister, and the realization that they had much more to learn if they ever hoped to rival her.

Hela’s arrival had sent ripples throughout Asgard, and no one felt it more than Loki. For as long as he could remember, jealousy had gnawed at him. Thor, the golden son, the future king of Asgard—everything Loki had ever wanted had been promised to his brother. Loki had grown up in Thor’s shadow, his skills in magic always dismissed in a culture that valued brute strength over cunning and sorcery. But with Hela’s return, everything had shifted.

There would be no King Thor. As far as Loki could see, Asgard would have a queen. Hela was stronger, smarter, and more ruthless than either of them. The throne was hers by right, and Thor, for all his strength, stood no chance against her. This realization soothed some of Loki’s jealousy. His brother, once the object of his envy, was no longer his main rival. And, strangely enough, Loki found himself gravitating toward Hela.

She was like him, more so than anyone else in the family. They shared the same black hair, the same piercing green eyes, and even similar sharp facial features. It was as if Hela were the sibling he’d always needed. And more than that, she was a master of magic, something Loki had never had in Asgard. He felt safe with her in a way he never had with Thor. With Hela around, Loki no longer felt like an outsider.

In the days that followed her return, Loki began to ask Hela for lessons in magic. He begged her, in fact, eager to learn from someone who could truly understand him and help him hone his skills. Thor, meanwhile, was also intrigued. For all his power and strength, he knew Hela had knowledge that could give him an edge, and he, too, wished to learn from her. But Hela, always one step ahead, told them she had other matters to attend to before she could commit to any training sessions.

The entire family gathered for breakfast the next morning, the atmosphere thick with tension and anticipation. Hela’s return had upended the dynamics in ways none of them could have predicted. As they sat at the long golden table, surrounded by the grandeur of Asgard’s palace, Odin cleared his throat.

"So," Odin began, his voice measured, "I imagine you have plans, my daughter. Even if you wished to conquer the Nine Realms again, we both know I could no longer bind or defeat you." There was a weariness to his tone, a grudging acceptance of his limitations. "What is it you plan to do?"

Hela’s emerald eyes sparkled with mischief as she set down her goblet. "Ah, father," she said, a sly smile curving her lips. "You think my mind is still set on conquest? You think all I wish is to rule and wage war?"

Odin and the rest of the family stared at her, expecting her to declare some grand plan of dominion. But instead, Hela leaned back in her chair, her gaze drifting to the ceiling as though lost in thought.

"No," she said finally, her voice soft but firm. "I’ve no interest in conquering realms anymore."

Odin's brow furrowed, clearly not expecting this answer. "Then what is it you desire, if not power?" he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.

Hela’s eyes twinkled with an emotion none of them had ever seen from her—love. She looked straight into Odin’s eyes and spoke words that left the entire room in shock.

"I'm going to get married," she said simply, her voice carrying a weight of certainty. "To the love of my life."

For a moment, the table fell silent. The air seemed to freeze, and every eye was on Hela, wide with disbelief. Frigga dropped her fork. Thor’s mouth fell open, and even Loki, who prided himself on always being calm and collected, looked utterly astonished.

Odin was the first to break the silence. "Married?" he repeated, his voice strained as if the concept was foreign to him. "You... you love someone?"

Hela smiled, a genuine smile, one filled with warmth rather than her usual cold indifference. "Yes, father. I do." She looked across the table at her family, gauging their reactions. "And that is what I plan to do next. I’ve spent enough of my life fighting. It’s time I start living."

Thor, still trying to process the information, leaned forward. "Who... who is it?" he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and disbelief. "Who is this love of your life?"

Hela’s smile widened, but she remained cryptic. "That," she said, "is something you’ll find out soon enough."

Loki, always the observer, narrowed his eyes, his mind racing. Whoever this person was, they had to be extraordinary to have won the heart of someone like Hela. But he said nothing, only watching her carefully, waiting for more clues.

Odin, still reeling from the revelation, leaned back in his chair. "And where is this person?" he asked, struggling to maintain his composure.

Hela chuckled. "Closer than you think," she replied cryptically, before rising from the table. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have preparations to make. My wedding won’t plan itself."

With that, Hela swept from the room, leaving her family in stunned silence. The Godess of Death was going to marry, and none of them had seen it coming.