"We are siblings."
Hela met Caesar's gaze, her emerald eyes unwavering. The weight of her words carried the authority of a goddess long denied her birthright.
Ragna nodded silently. There was no need for further confirmation.
Without a word, he reached out and gently smoothed Hela's hair. It was tangled and unruly—far from befitting a ruler of gods.
Hela allowed it, standing still as he arranged the raven strands. Then, as if reclaiming lost time, she turned her attention to the world around her. She plucked a seagull from the air, cradling it in her palm, watching as it struggled yet remained trapped within her grip, bound by invisible power. She pulled up a few stalks of grass and tasted the roots, only to spit them out in disgust. The taste was too bitter—nothing like the sweet nectar of Asgardian fruits.
Ragna watched Hela's behavior and chuckled. There was something strangely childlike about her in this moment. She was appreciating the beauty of the world instead of rushing back to Asgard, determined to claim dominion over all. Solitude could break lesser beings, twisting them into something monstrous, yet Hela had endured.
A few feet away, Thor and Loki observed the scene in silence. Thor hesitated, torn between words, while Loki rolled his eyes before speaking up.
"My dear sister, I'm Loki. I imagine Asgard's feasts and luxuries would be far more enjoyable for you than…"—his eyes flickered to the chewed grass—"whatever that is."
Loki already knew the truth. Hela had been declared the new All-Father, the God-Queen of Asgard. It was only natural to align himself with the new ruler—especially given Odin's final, dying words. He remembered how the All-Father had spoken of Hela with both reverence and fear.
Hela's past was one of war, bloodshed, and conquest. The old tales whispered of her ruthlessness, her insatiable ambition.
Hela turned her gaze toward Thor and Loki, her lips curving slightly.
"I know who you are. Ragna has told me," she said. Then, her expression hardened. "And you're right—it's time to return."
"Heimdall."
Hela's voice carried across space like a divine command.
Ragna had already informed her of Heimdall's current status. Within seconds, Bifrost's golden radiance engulfed them, transporting them back to Asgard.
—
Odin was gone. His passing left an emptiness in the very air of Asgard, a heaviness that clung to its golden halls. The realm of gods felt colder, quieter—uncertainty hung over the people like an unspoken curse.
Who would take the throne? Who would rule the Nine Realms?
Panic spread through Asgard's streets.
At the gates of Bifrost, two of the Warriors Three stood ready, awaiting Thor's return.
Hogun, now the de facto leader of Asgard's forces, had mobilized his warriors, determined to secure the throne for Thor. Their loyalty was unwavering—Thor was the rightful heir, the one meant to carry Odin's legacy forward.
Not Hela.
Not Caesar.
Only Thor.
As Hela stepped onto Asgardian soil, the two warriors stiffened. Heimdall, who had been standing at the edge of the bridge, simply observed in silence.
Hela inhaled deeply, drawing in the very essence of Asgard. The land, the power, the throne—it was all connected to her. As Odin's firstborn, she was its rightful ruler. Energy gathered around her in waves, the very lifeblood of Asgard answering her call.
Asgard was not a mere planet. It was a construct of divine power, built by the Aesir using ancient magic and technology beyond mortal comprehension. Those who possessed the authority of Asgard could wield its immense might.
Hela opened her arms, feeling the energy of her homeland coursing through her.
"Asgard—your queen has returned."
Her voice echoed like a prophecy fulfilled.
Heimdall's golden eyes flickered. He cast a lingering glance at Ragna before dropping to one knee. His loyalty was to the throne, and Hela was now its undisputed heir.
Seeing Heimdall kneel, Thor and Loki hesitated—then followed suit.
Odin had made his will clear. The decision had been made before his passing.
But the two remaining Warriors Three did not kneel.
They stood, watching in disbelief.
Volstagg—broad-shouldered and blunt as ever—stepped forward. He grabbed Thor's arm, pulling him up with a look of defiance. His voice boomed across Bifrost.
"Who is she? Why should she be queen? The throne belongs to you, Thor!"
It wasn't just about loyalty—it was about legacy. The Warriors Three had fought alongside Thor, bled for Asgard, and trusted him to lead. This stranger—this Hela—was unknown to them. She had no place in their history.
Fandral, ever the strategist, was more cautious. He observed everything—Caesar's silence, Thor's hesitation, Heimdall's unwavering loyalty. His grip tightened on his rapier as his gaze met Caesar's.
Why was Caesar—Odin's son, ruler of the Heavenly Palace—allowing this? Why did he not object?
Caesar, after all, had once been considered a potential heir. He had exiled himself from Asgard, rejecting the throne, but his power was undeniable. If he accepted Hela's rule without question, it meant there was something greater at play.
Fandral's mind raced.
A secret.
A hidden truth.
Hela was no ordinary warrior.
He discreetly motioned for Volstagg to quiet himself.
Ragna remained silent.
Thor, embarrassed by Volstagg's defiance, finally spoke. His voice was softer, yet carried the weight of finality.
"She is my sister—Hela. The throne is hers to inherit."
Volstagg's eyes widened in shock.
"Hela?" he repeated.
Fandral inhaled sharply. His mind immediately recalled the cosmic legends—the ranking of the universe's strongest beings.
Hela—one of the top ten most powerful figures in existence.
It had always been a matter of pride that Asgard boasted some of the strongest warriors in the universe. But Hela… she had vanished from their history.
The Warriors Three had fought in countless battles, but never had they encountered someone of her caliber. Now she stood before them, alive, claiming the throne.
Odin's family was far more complicated than they had ever realized.
Volstagg muttered under his breath, still struggling to process everything.
Thor gave him a pointed look before adding, "It wasn't just Odin's will. Ragna approved it as well."
The weight of those words silenced any further objections.
Ragna was no mere prince—his authority extended beyond Asgard. If he had accepted Hela, then it was final.
The throne was hers.
But even as Hela took her first steps toward the palace, Hogun—the last of the Warriors Three—stood firm, his expression unreadable.
Asgard had lost its king.
But not everyone was ready to accept its new queen.
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