The Weight of Immortality - CH - 23 (Patreon)

When Odin was finally convinced that Hela posed no immediate threat to Asgard or its people, he decided it was time to formally announce her return to the entire realm. He knew this day would be met with mixed emotions, especially among the warriors who had once known Hela during her reign of terror and conquest. But it was necessary. Hela's return could no longer be kept a secret, and Odin had to ensure the people would accept her presence once again.

The grand announcement was made during a royal gathering, a ceremony arranged in the Great Hall of Asgard. The hall was filled with Asgardians—warriors, nobles, and common folk alike—each awaiting the words of their king. Statues of ancient warriors lined the halls, a reminder of Asgard's legacy and its turbulent past.

Odin, adorned in his golden armor, stood on the dais with Frigga by his side, her eyes reflecting a quiet strength. Thor and Loki stood slightly behind, watching as the room filled with anticipation. Hela, dressed in her signature dark green and black battle armor, stood beside Odin, her expression unreadable, though a faint smirk played on her lips.

When Odin raised his hand for silence, the crowd quieted, all eyes focused on him. His voice echoed through the chamber, commanding but calm. "People of Asgard, today marks a momentous occasion, the return of my daughter, Hela."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. The older warriors, those who had fought alongside her in the ancient wars, exchanged uneasy glances. They remembered Hela’s strength, her unmatched ferocity on the battlefield, and the dark days of conquest that followed in her wake. For them, the name Hela was synonymous with fear and death.

One of the older warriors, a man named Brynjolf, stepped forward, his scarred face tense with recognition. "Hela, the Goddess of Death," he muttered, just loud enough for those nearby to hear. His words spread through the hall like wildfire.

But many of the younger Asgardians, those who had grown up after Hela’s imprisonment, had no idea who she was. They had heard whispers, legends of an ancient warrior goddess who had once led Asgard’s armies into countless victories, but they didn’t know the full extent of her history. To them, she was just another figure from Asgard’s past, a story their parents told to frighten them as children.

Odin continued, his voice steady. "Hela once fought alongside the warriors of Asgard, bringing glory and victory to our realm. But her path... diverged from ours. For her ambition grew beyond what was just and right."

A tense silence filled the hall as the old warriors stiffened, their eyes fixed on Hela. Brynjolf stepped forward again, his voice shaking. "My king, I fought beside her. I saw her power, the destruction she caused. How can we trust that she will not lead us down that path again?"

Odin held up his hand, silencing the warrior. "Hela has returned not as a conqueror, but as family. She has no desire to wage war or conquest. Her ambitions have changed, and she stands before you today not as an enemy, but as my daughter and champion of Asgard."

The words hung in the air, a heavy declaration that left many shocked. Hela, the lost daughter of Asgard, an heir to the throne? The new Asgardians whispered among themselves, trying to comprehend what this meant.

Hela stepped forward then, her gaze sweeping the hall, locking eyes with some of the older warriors who remembered her for who she once was. "I am not here to reclaim old glories or settle old scores," she said, her voice smooth yet powerful, cutting through the tension. "My time for war is over."

The younger Asgardians watched in awe as Hela spoke, her presence commanding the room. She looked every bit the warrior queen she was rumored to be—formidable, cold, yet somehow more controlled than they had expected.

"But," she added with a hint of danger in her tone, "I am still the Goddess of Death. I wield more power than once I wield. Do not mistake my return for weakness." She glanced at Brynjolf and the older warriors. "But know this: As long as I am respected, and my family is respected, I will bring no harm to Asgard or the Nine Realms."

The hall fell into an uneasy silence again, but this time there was an undercurrent of acceptance. Hela had proven herself capable of mercy, as well as immense power. She wasn't the same conqueror she had been before her imprisonment, but the reminder of her strength kept the Asgardians wary.

Odin, sensing the crowd's uncertainty, addressed them once more. "We are a people of strength, but we are also a people of unity. Hela is part of this family, and as long as she upholds the values of Asgard, we will stand together."

The great hall of Asgard transformed into a lively celebration. The tension that had filled the air earlier dissipated as food and drink flowed freely, and music filled the chamber. Long tables were laden with the finest delicacies of the Nine Realms, goblets overflowing with Asgardian mead and wine. Laughter and cheers echoed through the grand space, and soon the nobles and warriors alike began to relax into the festivities.

Hela stood near the throne, observing the lively scene with a faint smile. Despite her earlier display of power and Odin’s declaration of her return, there was still a part of her that felt out of place. She had been gone for so long, and the Asgard she knew was different from this one—a place of war and conquest, not revelry and peace. But tonight, she was determined to play the role expected of her, as the returned daughter of Odin and a member of Asgard's royal family.

Nobles, eager to curry favor with the newly returned goddess, began to approach the royal family. Many brought well-wishes, offering gifts and toasts to her return, though Hela could sense the hidden motives behind their smiles. Some of the more ambitious lords and ladies saw an opportunity to elevate their status, seeking to make alliances with the royal family through Hela.

One noble, Lord Vigmar, a tall and broad-shouldered man with silver hair and piercing blue eyes, approached with a deep bow. “Lady Hela,” he said smoothly, “it is an honor to witness your return. Asgard will surely flourish with your strength and wisdom once more.” He paused, his gaze flickering briefly to Odin before returning to her. “Might I propose a humble suggestion for your future?”

Hela raised an eyebrow, already guessing where this was going. “Go on.”

“I have a son,” Vigmar continued, his voice as polished as the armor he wore. “A strong young man, trained in the ways of combat and diplomacy. A marriage between him and you would bring great prosperity to Asgard and unite our houses.”

Hela chuckled darkly, her amusement barely concealed. She leaned in slightly, her voice cold but playful. “I appreciate your offer, Lord Vigmar, but I assure you, I am quite capable of deciding my own future.”

The nobleman’s face faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered, offering another polite bow before retreating.

Thor, who had been watching the exchange with amusement, stepped up beside her. “It seems you’re quite popular tonight, sister,” he teased, a grin on his face. “Half the nobles are already lining up to see if they can marry into the royal family through you.”

Hela gave him a sidelong glance, her expression a mix of humor and exasperation. “Let them try. I’m not interested.”

Loki, standing nearby, smirked as well. “You’d think they’d learn by now that power isn’t something you can gain through simple alliances,” he remarked. “Though, it is rather entertaining to watch them scramble.”

As the night wore on, more nobles approached, each with their own offers and attempts to gain favor through Hela. Some were subtle, speaking of alliances and friendship, while others were more direct, offering their sons or nephews as potential suitors. Hela handled each proposal with a blend of politeness and icy detachment, making it clear that she was not one to be swayed by flattery or political maneuvering.

Frigga, ever the gracious queen, gently deflected some of the more persistent nobles, reminding them that tonight was a celebration of family and unity, not negotiations. Odin, meanwhile, kept a watchful eye on the proceedings, though he did not interfere. He seemed content to let Hela handle the situation in her own way.

Despite the constant stream of proposals, Hela found herself enjoying the night more than she had expected. It had been centuries since she had seen Asgard so alive, so full of joy and celebration. The music, the laughter, the sense of camaraderie—it was all foreign to her, but not unwelcome.

As the music grew louder and the dance floor filled with nobles and warriors, Hela caught a glimpse of her mother, Frigga, dancing with Odin, both of them smiling in a rare moment of peace. Thor and Loki were also mingling with the crowd, laughing and sharing stories with the warriors who had fought beside them in countless battles.

For the first time in a long while, Hela felt a strange sense of belonging. Despite the past, despite the years of exile and anger, she was home. And though the road ahead was uncertain, tonight, she allowed herself to enjoy the moment.

As the party reached its peak, the music, laughter, and clinking of goblets filled the grand hall. It was a moment of lighthearted celebration—a rare event in the halls of Asgard. However, amidst the revelry, a group of guards approached Odin with urgent expressions. Odin, sensing their approach, raised his hand to pause the music for a moment. The hall fell quiet as the guards knelt before their king.

"All-Father," one of them spoke, his voice steady but laced with curiosity. "An unknown spaceship is approaching the palace. It is red and gold in color, and bears an unfamiliar name—'Gryffindor,' engraved on its side."

A murmur spread through the hall, curiosity and excitement stirring among the guests. A single ship, arriving unannounced? Such things rarely happened in Asgard without forewarning.

Odin, however, remained calm. Glancing toward Hela, who stood nearby, he saw that she, too, was unfazed. If anyone else had arrived in such a manner, Odin might have been concerned, but with Hela standing beside them, there was little reason to worry. Her power was unmatched, and her recent display of strength had reassured him of her loyalty—at least for now.

"Since it is a single ship, we need not be alarmed," Odin said calmly to the guests, then glanced toward Hela again. "Especially with my daughter at our side."

Thor, ever the eager warrior, grinned at the mention of the mysterious spacecraft. "I wouldn't mind seeing this 'Gryffindor' myself. Who would dare to dock unannounced at the palace?"

Loki, always intrigued by the unknown, raised an eyebrow. "A single ship with no fleet? It seems either reckless or very confident."

As word spread of the arrival, a sense of anticipation rippled through the hall. Many of the party's attendees—nobles, warriors, and guests alike—began to make their way outside, eager to get a closer look at this curious ship. Thor and Loki joined them, their expressions a mix of amusement and curiosity, while Hela watched from the doorway, her sharp eyes fixed on the horizon where the ship would soon dock.

As the Asgardians stepped outside, they saw the ship descending toward the palace's grand landing platform. It was a sleek vessel, shimmering with shades of red and gold, the name "Gryffindor" clearly visible on its side, etched in bold letters. The design of the ship was unlike anything seen in Asgard—a perfect fusion of elegance and strength, with an aura of mystique surrounding it.

The ship landed with a soft hum, its engines barely making a sound. A ramp extended smoothly from its side, touching the ground with a gentle thud. The gathered crowd waited in anticipation, whispering among themselves. Who could have arrived on this singular craft?

Hela stepped forward, her gaze unwavering as she approached the ship's ramp. Thor and Loki followed close behind, their hands hovering near their weapons, just in case. Odin remained on the balcony, watching with a calm, yet watchful eye.

As the metallic door of the ship slid open with a soft hiss, a single figure emerged from within, stepping down onto the Asgardian courtyard. The moment his foot touched the ground, the ship vanished without a trace—disappearing from sight as if it had never been there at all. The gathered crowd, both warriors and nobles alike, gasped audibly at the sight. Even those skilled in magic furrowed their brows in confusion; they couldn’t sense the ship’s presence, its energy, or any trace of how it had vanished.

An uneasy silence fell over the courtyard. Despite the absence of a weapon or armor, the figure who exited the ship carried with him an aura of danger. He moved with a quiet but confident grace, each step measured, as if he was in complete control of his surroundings. His eyes, sharp and unwavering, locked onto the royal family standing on the steps of the palace.

Though the figure was unarmed, there was something unsettling about him—something intangible yet powerful. His very presence felt like an unspoken challenge to those gathered, a silent declaration that he was not to be underestimated. The crowd began to murmur nervously, warriors instinctively reaching for their weapons, unsure of what to make of this new arrival. Even the seasoned Asgardian warriors, who had fought countless battles, felt an unfamiliar tension in the air.