The Weight of Immortality - CH - 24 (Patreon)

Harry could feel the tension in the air as he approached the Asgardian royal family, each step resonating with an unyielding confidence that only heightened the unease among the gathered crowd. Whispers flitted through the air, many unsure how to react to this unexpected visitor who had arrived with such mystique.

As he continued his approach, Thor tightened his grip on Mjolnir, his gaze narrowing. "Who is this man?" he muttered, the unease clear in his voice.

Loki, standing beside him, scanned the figure with his magical senses, but found nothing out of the ordinary—no illusion, no enchantment. Yet the feeling of unease persisted. "I don't know," Loki replied, his voice laced with suspicion. "But he's no ordinary visitor."

Hela stood silently, watching the figure approach with a calm expression. Yet, there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes—a familiarity that she did not immediately share with the others.

Frigga, ever the wise observer, looked at Odin, whose gaze had hardened. The All-Father's single eye was fixed on the figure as he walked closer, and though he said nothing, it was clear that he was assessing the newcomer carefully.

Finally, the figure came to a stop just a few feet from the royal family. His eyes, dark and piercing, swept over each of them before settling on Hela. A brief smile flickered across his lips.

"Is this how you welcome all your guests?" he asked, his voice smooth but with an undercurrent of danger. His words were directed at no one in particular, but the entire courtyard seemed to feel the weight of his presence.

Odin, still observing him closely, replied with a hint of irritation, “I was not expecting any guests today.” His tone was gruff, a king’s voice meant to command respect, but it was clear that the unexpected nature of Harry's arrival had thrown him off balance.

Harry smirked slightly, leaning into the moment. “I thought there was a festival going on in honor of your daughter's arrival.” He gestured toward Hela, whose expression had shifted from calm observation to mild intrigue at the interplay between her father and Harry.

Odin regarded Harry with a penetrating gaze, the weight of his words hanging in the air. “So, who are you, stranger?” he inquired, his voice commanding yet curious.

With a sense of pride and conviction, Harry replied, “I am called Haraldin Peverell.”

A ripple of recognition swept through the crowd. Although many had never laid eyes on him before, the name carried a heavy significance. Whispers filled the air as the Asgardians exchanged glances, each acknowledging the legendary status associated with the Peverell name.

“Haraldin Peverell, you say?” Odin repeated, his brows furrowing as he processed the information. “I have heard that name before. You must be the Haraldin Peverell of Vanaheim, correct?”

A nod from Harry confirmed Odin’s assumption, prompting Odin to continue, “I’ve heard many things about you from Heimdall. He spoke highly of how you used your magic to protect Vanaheim from external threats. They say that because of your teachings, Vanaheim has become incredibly powerful in such a short time.”

The crowd murmured in awe, their respect for Harry deepening. They were aware of the significance of strength and wisdom in the realms, and Harry’s reputation as a protector and teacher was well known.

“As king of Asgard,” Odin continued, his tone softening slightly, “I welcome you as an esteemed guest of the royal family to my palace.”

Frigga stepped forward, her eyes twinkling with warmth. “Your arrival is a blessing, Haraldin. It seems fate has intertwined our paths for a reason. We are honored to have you here, especially on such a momentous occasion.”

Thor and Loki exchanged glances, their initial skepticism giving way to a newfound respect for Harry. Loki spoke up, a broad grin spreading across his face. “Welcome to Asgard! Perhaps you can teach us a thing or two about your magic—especially how to keep our enemies at bay!”

Before Harry could take a step toward the royal palace, Heimdall, who stood resolutely at Odin's side, interjected with a tone of measured suspicion. “Where is Lady Peverell?” he inquired, his gaze sharp and unwavering. “I thought you were always accompanied by your wife, Helena Peverell. I’ve seen the two of you undertake countless adventures, but I never imagined you would part ways to celebrate a festival in an unfamiliar realm. What do you want with us? Where is Lady Peverell? What is she doing while you attempt to entertain us?”

Odin interjected, sensing the tension in the air. “Heimdall, your caution is commendable, but Haraldin Peverell is not an enemy. He has proven himself a formidable ally to Vanaheim and, by extension, to Asgard. We should welcome him rather than question his motives.”

Heimdall’s expression softened slightly, though his wariness remained. “It’s not often that powerful beings travel alone. I’ve witnessed too many times the chaos that can ensue when someone of your stature is present. You should know that your presence here, while welcome, raises questions.”

Harry felt a rush of amusement as he saw the confusion on Heimdall’s face. “It’s all right, Heimdall,” he said with a playful smirk. “It’s true that I came alone because my wife is already here.”

Before Odin could voice his confusion—he had never met Lady Peverell—Hela took the opportunity to reveal her true self. With a graceful flick of her wrist, her form shifted, and in an instant, she transformed into Lady Helena Peverell, radiating an aura of majesty and power.

Heimdall’s eyes widened in shock, and he took a step back. “Lady Peverell?” he exclaimed, processing the revelation. “Is this truly you?”

Hela smiled warmly, her emerald eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yes, I am Lady Peverell,” she confirmed, her voice soothing yet commanding.

The royal family was momentarily speechless, their expressions ranging from astonishment to disbelief. Thor blinked, trying to reconcile his sister’s playful demeanor with the stature of one of the most powerful beings from another realm. Loki's mouth hung open, disbelief written all over his face as he processed the implications.

Odin, his brow furrowed in confusion, finally managed to find his voice. “You mean to tell me that Helena Peverell, a figure of great renown and power, is not only an Asgardian but is also my own daughter?”

Heimdall still looked bewildered. “This means that Haraldin Peverell is actually your son-in-law?” He shifted his gaze between Harry and Hela, trying to understand how he had been fooled.

“Yes,” Hela replied, a hint of pride in her voice. “And to think, I managed to slip past your watchful eye, Heimdall. You really should have been more vigilant.”

The realization swept through the assembled crowd, causing murmurs of astonishment to ripple through the guests. Many began to comprehend the weight of the revelation: Hela, the daughter of Odin, was married to one of the most powerful sorcerers in the realms. This made Harry not just a guest but an integral part of the Asgardian legacy.

Odin, though still processing, cracked a proud smile. “Well, I suppose this changes quite a bit, doesn’t it? We welcome you both as family.”

As the tension eased, Frigga clapped her hands, a bright smile lighting up her face. “Come now, let us celebrate this newfound union! A marriage that brings together the strength of Asgard and the magic of Vanaheim is surely a cause for a grand celebration!”

As the festivities resumed, Hela and Harry exchanged knowing glances, their bond solidified not only by love but by the weight of their shared destinies. The music played on, and the hall filled with laughter, magic, and the spirit of unity, a beautiful tapestry woven with the threads of their families' histories.

As the celebrations in the Asgardian palace continued, the atmosphere was electric with joy, laughter, and music. Yet, amidst the revelry, shadows loomed in the hearts of several nobles who had hoped to see their own sons win Hela’s hand in marriage. The news of her impending wedding to Haraldin Peverell was a bitter pill to swallow.

Seated in a corner of the grand hall, a group of noblemen whispered among themselves, their expressions darkening as they plotted in hushed tones. They were well aware of the implications of Hela’s marriage—if she wed Harry, he would be elevated to the status of king, and with that title would come significant influence over Asgard and its people.

“Unacceptable!” one nobleman hissed, his face twisted with anger. “We cannot allow a mere outsider to claim the throne of Asgard through Hela. He may have fought valiantly, but he is not of Asgardian blood. We must act swiftly.”

Another noble, his eyes glinting with malice, nodded in agreement. “Yes. We need to eliminate this threat before it can blossom into something far more dangerous. If Hela becomes queen and he becomes king, our families will be pushed aside, forgotten.”

They began to plot, discussing ways to undermine Harry’s position. The nobles exchanged ideas—subtle sabotage, public humiliation, or perhaps even more sinister means to ensure that he would not live to see his wedding day.

“Perhaps a staged accident? Something that would look like a misfortune rather than foul play?” suggested a particularly cunning nobleman, his voice low and conspiratorial. “He is a powerful sorcerer, yes, but we can exploit any weaknesses he has. Even the strongest fall when least expected.”

The group nodded, emboldened by their shared ambition. They would not allow Hela to rise to her rightful place beside a man they deemed unworthy. They would ensure that she married into one of their families, providing the connection to the throne they so desperately craved.

As the realization settled in among the Asgardian court, Odin felt a deep sense of pride. The new information about Haraldin and Helena was nothing short of mind-blowing, reinforcing his belief that Hela had truly changed. As Heimdall shared stories of their adventures in Vanaheim—how they had defended the realm from marauding foes, shared wisdom with its people, and built a lasting alliance—the room was filled with a renewed sense of respect and admiration for Hela and Harry.

“The people of Vanaheim would have bent the knee and accepted you as their queen if you had chosen that path,” Heimdall explained, his voice filled with awe. “But instead, you chose to travel with your husband. That speaks volumes about your character.”

Hela, standing proudly beside Harry, nodded in acknowledgment. “I am no longer just Hela of Asgard. I am Helena Peverell, and my heart lies with my family and the adventures we share. I wanted to explore the realms with him, not rule over them.”

The room buzzed with excitement as the realization that Hela and Helena were one and the same began to sink in. Odin observed his daughter with a mix of relief and wonder. The fierce warrior he had once known had transformed into a powerful yet compassionate woman, one who valued family and experiences over mere titles.

Harry interjected, “While we share a deep bond and live together, we are not officially married. Hela has always expressed a desire to have her wedding in Asgard, surrounded by her family. It has always been her dream.”

Odin’s expression softened, his heart swelling at the thought of his daughter finally getting the wedding she desired. “Then it is settled,” he declared, his voice booming with authority. “You shall marry under Asgardian customs. Let us give you both the celebration you deserve, one that unites our families and solidifies your bond.”

Cheers erupted from the assembled nobles and warriors, their faces bright with joy at the prospect of a royal wedding. Hela exchanged a delighted glance with Harry, the promise of a future together shimmering in her emerald eyes.

As the festivities continued, Odin instructed his guards to begin preparations for the wedding ceremony, ensuring that every detail would be perfect for his daughter’s special day. The atmosphere was filled with laughter, music, and the sweet scent of feasting, but Hela and Harry found themselves yearning for a moment of peace.

“Shall we retire to our quarters?” Hela suggested, her voice warm and inviting.

“Sounds perfect,” Harry replied, taking her hand as they made their way through the bustling palace.

Once inside their private quarters, the noise of the celebration faded, replaced by a tranquil silence. They settled on a plush couch, the remnants of the evening’s festivities still hanging in the air around them.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Hela said softly, leaning her head against Harry’s shoulder. “We’re actually going to have a wedding here, in Asgard.”

Harry smiled, wrapping an arm around her. “It’s what you’ve always wanted. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. But let’s not rush into things. We have a lot to talk about—our adventures, our plans, everything.”

Hela nodded, grateful for the quiet moment amidst the chaos. “You’re right. It’s easy to get swept up in everything. I just want to enjoy this time with you.”

They spent the rest of the evening sharing stories of their travels and dreams for the future. Each word deepened their bond, making it clear that no matter the titles or realms, what mattered most was their love and the family they were about to create.

As night fell over Asgard, they felt a renewed sense of purpose and connection, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, hand in hand.