Chapter 3: The Festival
With a command from Farbauti, Hela immediately pushed forward with all her might, but Mavuika's stance remained as steady as a rock. Hela was surprised to find that her seemingly gentle elder sister actually possessed such immense, unyielding strength. It felt like pushing against a mountain rooted in the very foundations of Asgard.
"Your feet are shaking," Mavuika said softly, her voice a calm counterpoint to Hela's exertion. "Power rises from the feet, passes through the legs, waist, and back, and then into the arms. You aren't just pushing me with your hands; you must use your entire body as a single, unified weapon."
Hela's brow furrowed in concentration. Gritting her teeth, she adjusted her posture, planting her feet wider and sinking her weight lower. She tried again, channeling her strength from the ground up as Mavuika had instructed.
This time, the force that slammed into Mavuika was significantly stronger, a tangible wave of power. Yet, Mavuika still absorbed it steadily, her expression unchanged.
"Very good!" she encouraged, a rare smile gracing her lips. "You learn quickly. Now, feel my push."
Mavuika did not use her full strength, only applying a fraction of her power as a demonstration. It was a slow, inexorable forward pressure, like a rising tide. Hela was able to resist at first, her muscles straining, but she soon lost her delicate balance and stumbled back a step, her boot scraping loudly on the packed earth of the training yard.
"You lost!" a boy from a nearby training pair shouted with youthful glee.
Hela's face instantly flushed a deep crimson, a fire of defiance and humiliation flashing in her emerald eyes. She hated losing, hated being shown up.
Before her temper could flare, Mavuika immediately raised a hand. "Instructor, it was my foot that moved. Consider this my loss."
Farbauti, the grizzled weapons master, had seen the entire exchange with his sharp, practiced eyes. He gave Mavuika a long, deep look, acknowledging the lie but understanding the wisdom behind it. He did not expose her, merely giving a curt nod. "Continue practicing."
During the break, Hela pulled Mavuika aside, her voice a fierce whisper. "Why did you admit defeat just now? It was clearly me who moved first."
"Because winning a simple practice match is not as important as helping you understand how to truly stand firm," Mavuika said, handing Hela a cup of cool, clear water. Her own composure was a stark contrast to Hela's simmering frustration.
"Anger and impatience will make you overlook the real lesson," she continued gently. "Do you remember the feeling from just now? The difference between when your stance was solid and when you were thrown off-balance?"
Hela took a large gulp of water, the coolness doing little to quench her pride, but she pondered her sister's words. After a moment, she nodded reluctantly. "When I stood firm, I could feel the power flowing all the way to my hands. When I shook, the power dissipated halfway through my body."
"Exactly," Mavuika smiled. "So Instructor Farbauti is right: the foundation is everything. A strong stance is the root from which all true combat grows."
Hela looked at her elder sister, her expression a mixture of respect and curiosity. "Sometimes you talk like Mother, full of wisdom. But sometimes... you're like Father, talking about foundations and power."
Mavuika's heart stirred slightly. In that moment, she was reminded of her past life, of the centuries spent teaching the warriors of Natlan. She simply patted her younger sister's shoulder. "I'm just your elder sister. Come on, the second round is about to begin."
In the following training session, Hela was clearly more focused. The desire for a quick victory had been replaced by a quiet determination. She practiced every basic movement with painstaking seriousness, her powerful form gradually becoming more stable and grounded. Mavuika remained by her side, sometimes demonstrating a perfect form, sometimes offering a soft-spoken pointer that unlocked a new level of understanding for Hela.
On a high platform overlooking the training grounds, Odin took all of this in, a complex light flashing in his single eye.
"They are very special, aren't they?" Frigga's serene voice came from behind him. She had arrived at some point, moving with her usual grace, and now stood quietly beside her husband.
"Mavuika possesses a wisdom and composure that far exceed her years," Odin said slowly, his voice a low rumble. "The way she guides Hela... it is not like sisters playing. It is more like..."
"More like a mentor guiding her charge. A leader nurturing her most promising soldier," Frigga finished, her tone laced with unmistakable pride. "And Hela, she has limitless potential. She simply needs the right hand to shape it."
"They complement each other," Odin agreed, resting a hand on the pommel of his sword. "But I fear that if one side becomes too outstanding, it might cause the other to lose their balance."
"They will find their balance," Frigga said, taking her husband's hand in hers, her touch reassuring. "Because they have each other."
Down on the field, the training drew to a close. As a final test, Farbauti had all the apprentices demonstrate the basic steps they had learned that day. When it was Hela's turn, her movements still carried her characteristic explosive power, but they were now much more stable, each step planted with authority.
When it was Mavuika's turn, every one of her movements was as precise as if measured by a master architect, yet they remained natural and fluid, a seamless flow of perfect form. She was the ideal to which all others aspired.
"The best performers today are Princess Mavuika and Princess Hela," Farbauti finally announced, his gruff voice carrying across the yard.
A brilliant, unrestrained smile broke across Hela's face. She turned to Mavuika, her eyes filled with a pure, unadulterated joy that Mavuika gladly returned with a smile as warm as the morning sun.
After the training concluded, the two sisters walked side by side on the long path back to the palace. The setting sun dyed the sky of Asgard in hues of gold and crimson, and in the distance, the Bifrost Bridge shimmered with a faint, ethereal light.
"Sister..." Hela said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. "One day, I will become even stronger than you."
"I believe you will," Mavuika said with complete sincerity. "And on that day, I will be overjoyed for you."
"But even if I am stronger, you are still my sister," Hela added, with a kind of fierce, childish earnestness.
Mavuika stopped, turning to face her younger sister. She placed a hand on her shoulder, her amber eyes reflecting the golden sky. "Always, Hela. Regardless of strength, regardless of victory or defeat, we will always be sisters."
Hela nodded vigorously, her belief absolute. She then pointed toward the distant, jagged mountains that pierced the horizon. "When we grow up, I want to conquer there, and there, and everywhere the Bifrost can reach!"
Mavuika followed her gaze, a fond smile playing on her lips. "Oh? That won't be an easy task."
"But I can definitely do it!" Hela declared, her chin held high.
Mavuika laughed, a warm and genuine sound. "Then let us work hard together, little conqueror."
***
Asgard's grand festival was held only once every ten years, making it one of the most sacred and important traditions in the entire realm. It was a time when the cosmic energy flowing through the world-tree Yggdrasil reached its annual peak. On this night, the light of distant stars would penetrate the golden dome of the Eternal City, projecting ancient, shimmering patterns of magic onto the floors of specific temples.
This year's festival was particularly special, for it marked the first time that Odin's two princesses would officially participate and be presented to the Nine Realms.
"Mother, do we really have to dress so formally?" Hela complained, tugging at the layers of her magnificent ceremonial gown. Her dark green eyes, usually filled with fighting spirit, were now full of reluctance.
The gown was woven from the lightest Star Yarn of Vanaheim, a fabric that seemed to capture starlight, and was adorned with shimmering gems. But for Hela, who was used to the freedom of training leathers, this beautiful outfit was a form of gilded torture.
Frigga smiled gently as she arranged the crystal hair ornaments in her daughter's dark hair. "The festival is a sacred ritual, Hela. This is your first formal appearance as princesses before the envoys of the Nine Realms."
On the other side of the chamber, Mavuika stood quietly, allowing the maids to attend to her without a word. Her gown was similar in style to Hela's but was a warm, sun-gold tone that perfectly complemented her amber eyes. When a maid moved to place a small, elegant golden crown upon her head, she shook her head gently.
"No need for this, thank you." Her voice was soft, but carried a note of unassailable firmness.
Frigga walked over, her own regal gown rustling softly, and studied her eldest daughter. "Mavuika, this golden crown symbolizes your status as the Eldest Princess of Asgard."
"I understand, Mother." Mavuika looked up, her gaze clear and direct. "But tonight's focus should be the festival itself, not our status. And..."
She glanced over at Hela, who was still fidgeting uncomfortably, and offered a slight smile. "If one of us wears a golden crown and the other does not, what will the people think?"
Frigga was taken aback for a moment, and then a profound light of admiration and understanding shone in her eyes. Mavuika was not just thinking of herself, but of her sister's pride and their unified image. She turned and retrieved two identical, delicate forehead chains set with luminous Starstones from a jewelry box, placing one upon each of her daughters' brows.
"Then this will do," the Queen said with deep satisfaction. "Both solemn and equal."
Hela shot Mavuika a grateful look and silently mouthed the words "thank you," to which Mavuika responded with a subtle, reassuring smile.
The festival was held in the magnificent Starry Sky Temple. When Odin's family arrived, the vast hall was already filled with the most important figures from across Asgardian society, as well as esteemed envoys from the other realms of the Nine Realms. The Vanir had sent a high-ranking delegation of sorcerers and nobles, radiating an aura of ancient magic. Even the Frost Giants of Jotunheim had sent a low-profile observation team, their cold presence a stark contrast to the warmth of the hall. The envoy from the Light Elves of Alfheim seemed to emit a soft glow, and the Dwarf King Eitri of Nidavellir was present in person, his robust, powerful frame particularly conspicuous in the crowd of elegant figures.
Odin, clad in his battle armor, stepped onto the Main Altar, holding the Eternal Spear, Gungnir, its tip gleaming with cosmic power.
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