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The knock was loud enough to pull Dante out of a dreamless sleep.
He lay still for a moment, gazing at the gilded ceiling of his new bedchamber. Death was curled against his side, his arm serving as her pillow, her black hair spread across his bicep and covered most of her face. A small smile was still visible. A very human smile filled with warmth.
'So cute.'
He extracted himself by lifting his arm slowly, replacing it with the pillow while observing her face for any sign of waking. She shifted once and stayed on the pillow quietly.
'Phew.'
He collected his clothes from around the room, dressed up, and ran a hand through his hair to fix it. His face and neck had some dark lipstick marks. He wasn't in the mood to fix any of that.
'I'm gonna ask Loki to make copies of this outfit.'
He had fallen in love with its looks and comfort. Of course, he wouldn't parade around Asgard in this as they associated it with Death's Companion.
He opened the door to find Hela standing there with Gungnir in her right hand. She had ditched her bodysuit in exchange for a black Asgardian armor and green flowing cape. She looked dangerous and heroic yet charming.
The role of a queen required her to be dignified, or so Dante had advised her when he had gone to visit her late at night.
He never thought she would take his suggestion to heart.
"Hmmm." She looked at him deeply before she put her hand under his chin and turned his face to the side, studying his neck, jaw, cheeks, and eyes attentively. He felt like a husband who had been caught with love bites except Hela wasn't his wife nor was he anything to her. "No wonder…"
He pushed her hand away with a frown. "What is the meaning of this?"
She craned her neck slightly, trying to peer past him into the room. He shifted to block her vision with his body and activated the cloak's ability to make her invisible to every eye and every sense except his. Only he was allowed to admire her in that state.
"Death," she said with venom in her voice, her gaze filled with sharp murderous intent. "Her scent is all over you."
"She smells nice, I know," he said with a flat expression. "And how do you know it's her scent? Could be any woman."
"Death has appeared before me many times." She pressed one finger to the left side of his chest, directly over his heart. Her eyes stayed sharp and venomous. "Everything about her is carved here. I would never mistake her for anything for someone else."
He looked down at her finger. "You're indeed right. Everything about her is in here, my heart."
"My heart," Hela corrected him and glared at the wall behind him. If looks could kill, Death would be dead on the other side. Except Hela had no ability like that and Death could not die. The venom in Hela's expression shifted into something more complicated. "I'll never forget her… And I'll never stop seeking revenge."
He put a hand on her shoulder and teleported her to the throne room.
Hela blinked, adjusting to the shift. The throne room was empty and golden as it had always been. She turned slowly and took in the space around her in disbelief.
He settled on the throne, loving the feeling of stealing something Odin held dear to his heart.
She turned her attention back to him. "Death doesn't need your protection."
"You do," he said. "You may be the new queen of Asgard, but you're pathetically weak. I need a finger to kill you. Death needs one thought. How're you going to take revenge with such measly strength, vermin?"
"How dare you disrespect me!"
A Necrosword materialized in her hand by pure reflex as her eyes narrowed on him. The blade clattered as if it couldn't contain itself from lunging at Dante and piercing his heart.
When he kept smiling, she made the sword disappear and crossed her arms. "I won't be weak forever."
"Good." He nodded in appreciation. "That's the mindset of a true warrior."
The power difference between Hela and Death was just ridiculous. One could wipe out universes with a thought. The other could barely be in the top ten of her universe. Even so, he respected her for not losing spirit in the face of such a massive power difference.
It was stupid and reckless, but it was also endearing in a way.
Hela clenched her fists, her jaw muscles working overtime. "Why did she toy with me if she is all powerful herself? She tasked me to gather souls. I fulfilled her terms, yet I was betrayed."
She had really held Death dear at some point, and so, the consequent betrayal broke her. The feeling of vengeance born was as vicious and deep as her admiration for Death.
"That…" He rubbed the back of his head. "Is genuinely on you. You took things too far."
"I want her explanation." She brought up her right hand and clenched it. "I wish to feast on her soul."
"You'll hear it when the time is right." He crossed one leg over the other. "For now, let's talk business. Where is Loki?"
"Probably hiding under his mother's skirt." Hela snorted. "A talent that man is, but he is too naive."
She had worked alongside Loki to execute the plan. That didn't mean she respected him. The cooperation had been strategic and the feeling of loathing was mutual between the two.
He raised an eyebrow. "Behave."
Hela noticed the displeasure in his expression and made an effort to adjust her demeanor by putting a hand on her chest and taking deep breaths. Her emotional switching was nearly Silvija's level—which, given that she had spent a thousand years with nothing but hatred and isolation for company, was remarkable. She would grow in her role as she gained more experience.
"We have some concerns at the moment."
"Heimdall."
Hela nodded slowly. "Loki passed down the order to lock the Bifrost. Everyone, including Heimdall, is currently on a vacation."
The one month celebration period hadn't been to get cheers from the crowd. It was a window for solidifying power. Anyone who intended to oppose Hela's coronation would be taken care of. Anyone who might otherwise have asked inconvenient questions would be put on a watchlist. Besides, nobody would know if anything happened to Heimdall during this celebration.
"What else?"
Hela put a hand to her chin and began listing more concerns like resource management, alliance structures, the communication with other realms, the potential dangers of Jotunheim, and which of Odin's existing arrangements were functional and which were terrible.
"Leave the Frost Giants alone. As for other realms, maintain the current relationship."
He gave some thoughtful answers to her other questions. Some made Hela roll her eyes and some got a slow, reluctant nod of approval.
"Handle the rest yourself."
What remained was politics. He had been clear with both Loki and Hela from the beginning that governing Asgard would fall on them. The daily work of nine realms was not his interest. He only needed resources from Asgard and a realm as his base in case he decided to create his own faction. This was the whole reason behind putting Hela on the throne and controlling Asgard from the shadows. Well, beside the fact that her ascension would stop any civil war as long as Odin passed off the throne.
A coup without a single death so to speak.
As for him, he had quite a lot of things to accomplish on Earth.
"Oh, one more thing. Keep an eye on Frigga. If you can't do that, I'll never let you rule any world outside of Asgard."
He had given a warning to Loki already to keep Frigga in line and asked Death to watch over Frigga. If Frigga still decided to try anything, he wouldn't mind breaking his promise with Lady Loki. The ball was in Lady Loki's court to keep her mother alive.
"I will."
"Then I'm—"
"Halt." Hela raised one hand and summoned a Necrosword, pointing it directly at his face. "Spar."
He stared into eyes without blinking. The lesson in Hel—the dance of elegant violence—had been designed to sand down her centuries of fury and adjust her psyche to be more submissive to him. The results were a little too outstanding as she had begun to yearn for that feeling of growing stronger while dancing to his tune. Maybe she craved that feeling of being dominated and led around by him. He wouldn't know unless he tried telepathy on her.
"Be a good girl, Hela." He smirked. "I'll dance with you next time I return."
She threw the sword at his face. He slapped it aside without a shift in his expression.
A grunt of frustration left her lips. "Who in the nine realm is your good girl? I'm Hela, Goddess of Death. The executioner who bathed the nine realms in blood."
His feet tapped the floor once, then he was in front of Hela. With the Helio Reactor glowing in his chest, he took her arm and pulled it to him. She watched, stunned, as he slid his arm around her waist and confidently lowered her.
She went completely stiff.
He leaned in and kissed her cheek. A very tame kiss. "Listen. You might be Asgard's queen, but don't forget who's holding your leash. Say, who is your master?"
A thick red covered her pale cheeks. She snarled, "You—!!!"
He thought of quite a lot of ways Hela would retaliate. But what she did was unexpected.
A black swirling portal, tinted with Hela's signature green, opened behind her and swallowed her.
…The goddess of death escaped.
He rubbed the back of his head, feeling like he had just bullied her. Then again, it was her fault for having no resistance to his "charm".
Shouldn't she fiercely fight back with everything and then get taught a lesson—Never mind… She had tried it plenty of times in Hel and failed.
He was just too powerful for Hela, having an unfair advantage in both power and skill.
Since he was done with Hela, he decided to visit the other Asgardian beauty and give a heads up about his departure.
***
Thor's POV
Thor stood on the balcony of his room. The warm and rich air of Asgars felt cool on his bare chest as he observed his home. The city moved through its celebration below, music and cheer coming from every street.
"Dante."
The name brewed many emotions in his heart. Shame was the loudest.
He unclenched his fists and looked back.
Sif sat on the edge of his bed with her hands in her lap and her long ponytail over one shoulder. The expression on her face was that of concern or something else. In all the years he had known her, he had never seen her like this.
Sif had never been shy about her desire for a warrior's death.
To fall in battle with a sword in her hand and then be carried into the halls of Valhalla on the strength of her deeds alone, to be sung the same as any other warrior who had bled for Asgard—this had been her lifelong goal. She had shed blood and sweat for it. Now, she was the only female warrior known throughout Asgard.
But for Thor, she had not considered that. No, she wished for him to live more than anything else and she would die by his side.
That was…
He shook the thoughts away. "That face ill suits you, Sif. I lost one battle. I've won hundreds. It is not a challenge for me to bounce back."
Sif looked up at him. "You should let me worry about you, Thor. Let me carry some of it… You mean a great deal to me."
Something stirred in Thor's chest that he wasn't sure he had a word for. He gave her a charming smile. "Asgard's most capable warrior and the most golden heart in all nine realms."
Sif tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The gesture was small and entirely ordinary and for reasons Thor could not immediately explain why it made him quiet and stare at her face.
His silence only made Sif more restless as she began to avoid looking directly at him.
He covered the awkwardness the only way he knew how. He let out a loud laughter.
Sif shook her head, unable to suppress a smile. "You are a moron."
"This moron has made a decision!" He turned to face the open balcony and spread his arms as though addressing the city below. "I will travel the nine realms. I will train until the day I can surpass or be Hela's equal. Until I am truly worthy of taking over the throne."
The silence after it was softer than the laugh.
"I will make him proud."
Sif rose from the bed and gripped the hilt of her sword to hold it upside down. In Asgard, warriors did that when they made a big decision.
"I'll go with you," she said, meeting his eyes. "You'll need someone watching your back. Someone capable of doing it properly. Allow me the honor, Odinson."
***
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