As hours had passed, the air above Asgard had finally begun to settle. The clouds of ash and smoke had dispersed, allowing the sky to return to its golden hue.
The bloodied scent had largely been dissipated, and yet for all of the ruined property, the city still breathed.
Drunk men clicked their glasses of alcohol before chugging it down together, telling each-other stories of what they accomplished on the battlefield.
Women and children ran through the streets, telling their own stories of how Hela, Thor & Maxim saved their lives. Bards played music and people danced and cheered, and the occasional cheer of Hela's title echoed throughout the streets.
However, deep within the heart of Asgard, beneath the high towers and gilded halls was the throne room, which had tension so thick it could be sliced by a knife. The massive doors creaked open, and Hela strode in without hesitation.
At the far end of the room stood her father, the King of Asgard, Odin.
He wasn't wearing his crown, and his stance was no longer that of the Allfather, but of a weary King whose kingdom was close to the brink of ruin not long prior. Still, Odin's presence was undeniable, like a drawn blade following Hela's every move.
For a long time, neither of them spoke. The tension between them filled the vast space like choking smoke.
"So," Odin finally said, voice low and cold, "You return to the halls of Asgard, cosplaying as some sort of hero."
Hela raised a brow, the corner of her lips curling slightly as she chuckled and responded, "You're welcome, by the way."
Odin's eye flashed with fury. "Do not mock me, daughter. You think I've forgotten the chaos you've wrought? The pain your defiance cost this realm?"
"And yet it was me who saved it," Hela snapped back, her voice firm, unyielding. She took some steps around the throne room, looking up and noticing the art of her had been replaced and chuckling.
Meanwhile, Odin took a step forward, his staff slamming against the marble floor with a thud that echoed across the chamber.
"You escaped your prison, violated the very order of the Nine Realms, and now you parade yourself before me as if you've earned redemption!"
"I didn't escape alone," Hela said coolly. "I had help."
Odin's gaze narrowed. "Who?"
"Maxim."
Odin's lip twitched, as if the name was acid on his tongue, "Of course it was. The outsider. That... dangerous creature."
Hela laughed, a dark and amused sound. "Dangerous? Oh, you've no idea. He's far more than you give him credit for. Without him, I wouldn't be here. And without me, Asgard would be ashes."
Odin stepped closer, his power radiating from his frame like a roaring furnace, "You speak as though I should thank you."
"You should," she said, unblinking.
"Why shouldn't I kill you where you stand?" Odin barked, raw power lacing every syllable, "Tell me, Hela—why shouldn't I strike you down for all your crimes? For the blood you spilled, the terror you brought to every corner of the Nine Realms?"
"Because you need me."
The words rang through the air like a bell.
Hela stood tall, uncowed by her father's fury. "Because when the Dark Elves descended, when the skies were blackened, when the Aether threatened to consume everything, I stood between Asgard and destruction. I was the blade that cleaved through death, the shield between your people and oblivion."
She pointed towards the stained glass window overlooking the broken horizon.
"Ask them. Go ahead. Ask the warriors still bleeding in the streets. Ask the mothers who watched their children nearly torn apart by monsters. Ask the people chanting my name beneath the palace. Ask them if they want the Goddess of Death dead."
Odin's silence was louder than any scream.
"I bled for this realm," Hela continued. "Not because of duty. Not because you asked. But because I chose to. I chose to protect Asgard. ,akes me more than your firstborn. That makes me Asgard's hero."
Odin's face was unreadable, a thundercloud waiting to break as Hela continued. She sent a Necrosword upwards, destroying the painting that covered hers.
"Maybe the people should also learn about our past." Hela said, and Odin just stood frustrated as he comprehended what Hela was saying.
"And the throne?" he asked, barely above a whisper.
"What about it?" Hela said with steel in her voice.
"You want it?"
"I've always wanted it," she said. "And now… I've earned it."
The room seemed to freeze.
"I am the rightful heir, Odin. I am your eldest. The firstborn of Asgard. The blood of Bor runs thick in my veins, just like it did in yours. You locked me away because you feared what I might become. But I've already become it. Not the conqueror you cast out, but the protector you never were."
Odin's eye flared with ancient light. "You presume much."
"I speak the truth," Hela retorted. "You may have been King, but you were never a father. You molded me into a weapon, and when I became too sharp, you cast me aside. And now that weapon has saved your people. What does that make you?"
A crack appeared in Odin's stoic facade.
"You think this is simple?" he murmured. "That power is all it takes? That victory on a battlefield gives you the right to rule?"
"No," Hela said. "But power, victory, loyalty, and the will to fight for those beneath you? That gives me a damn good claim."
Odin turned from her then, slowly, walking toward the dais where the throne still stood untouched. His footsteps echoed in the silence like the ticking of a countdown.
He stared at the throne for a long time. Then, in a voice that sounded tired in a way Hela had never heard before, he asked, "And what would you do with it?"
She didn't hesitate.
"I would protect Asgard. Not by hiding behind illusion and compromise. Not by silencing those who defy me. But by making sure we never again cower under anyone's boot."
Odin's hand gripped Gungnir tightly. "And what of conquest?"
Her voice softened,not in weakness, but in clarity.
"I don't want to conquer. I don't need to. I've seen what lies beyond war. Maxim showed me. There are battles worth fighting. There is purpose beyond domination. I want to give Asgard something it hasn't had in centuries—truth."
Odin finally turned back to her. The fire in his eye had dimmed, not from defeat, but deep contemplation.
"You've changed."
"So have you," she replied.
The silence that followed stretched long.
Then Odin walked forward until he stood before her once more. He stared deep into her eyes as if trying to read something buried in her soul.
"You walk a narrow path, Hela. One step too far, and you will fall."
She stepped closer, their gazes locked. "Then I'll make sure it's a path worth walking."
A long pause. Then finally—
"I will not give you the throne," Odin said quietly.
Hela didn't blink.
"But I will not take your head either."
She gave him a slow, knowing smile. "That's a start."
They stood in silence again. Odin finally turned away, walking toward the throne. But he did not sit on it.
"Go," he said. "Rest. You've earned that much."
"And after that?"
"Then… we talk again."
Hela nodded once, the fire in her eyes undimmed.
She turned, her cape sweeping behind her like the shroud of twilight, and exited the throne room, her steps steady, her heart lighter than it had been in centuries.
As the doors shut behind her, Odin stood alone before the empty throne, the echo of battle still lingering in his ears… and the name the people chanted below still ringing in his mind.
Goddess of Death.
The future of Asgard had changed. Whether for better or worse, only time would tell.
But one thing was certain.
Hela… had come home.