CHAPTER 229: CHAPTER 230: NEVER SIT STILL WHEN TROUBLE STRIKES

Drip...

Drip...

Drip...

Asgard. The prison.

Hela sat on the ground, her back against the cold stone wall. Disheveled hair fell over her face, hiding any trace of the regal pride once befitting the Princess of Asgard.

From a shattered vial, dew that once tasted sweet now trickled steadily onto the floor. Scattered fragments of once-elegant ornaments lay about, silent witnesses to the storm raging inside her heart.

"Why..."

"Why..."

The question, whispered like a mosquito’s hum, echoed through the silent cell. Curled in a corner, Hela trembled slightly, haunted by the image of her father, Odin, etched in the torment of her mind.

"You’re being reckless, Hela!"

"I am the King of Asgard, not you!"

"Or do you think you’re ready to replace me?"

Odin’s fury from just three hours ago remained vivid, seared into her memory.

"From this moment forward, you no longer command an army. Furthermore, you will reflect on your actions, here, in the ancient prison beneath the palace!"

"You’ll remain until you understand your mistake."

The rest had been nothing more than Frigga’s pleas, and Odin’s heartless refusal.

Hela didn’t even want to remember it. Because each time she did, her heart grew colder.

Everything she had done, hadn’t it been for Asgard?

Anyone with half a mind could see that it was only a matter of time before Asgard conquered Jotunheim completely.

"Why..."

The gash on her brow had long since clotted. The Mind Stone, which she’d borrowed from Lothar, had been violently torn from her by a surging Odin, at the height of his power.

...

"Can we talk now, Odin?"

"Why did you have to go that far?"

"Do you even realize the damage you’ve done to Hela?"

Back in the throne room, with Odin’s fury finally beginning to subside, Frigga stood once again before her husband.

"This is her doing," Odin said coldly, fiddling with the scepter now re-embedded with the Mind Stone.

A king’s authority is not to be challenged, even by his own daughter.

"There was no need for this, Odin," Frigga said, lowering herself onto his lap, gently caressing his back.

"If she truly meant to rebel, she wouldn’t be sitting quietly in prison. You know that."

"Of course I know," Odin admitted, eyes closed as he leaned into her touch. "But this time... Hela went too far."

He still remembered the moment she stood before him, surrounded by her army.

He was the King. He was Asgard’s King. Hela was his daughter, nothing more.

But the respect, the loyalty, that army showed her?

It bordered on treason.

And that terrified Odin.

The once-fearless All-Father, who had faced Celestials and tamed realms, felt something he hadn’t in eons.

Fear.

"She just needs time, Odin," Frigga murmured. She didn’t know how to excuse Hela’s actions, only that time might help.

"This is on me, Frigga."

Just because she wouldn’t say it didn’t mean Odin wouldn’t admit it.

It was he who had planted the seeds of extremism in Hela’s heart, teaching her about conquest and war from the time she could walk. Grooming her to be his executioner.

How could she not turn out like this?

Or perhaps...

If not for encountering that terrifying Celestial being, Odin might never have changed so drastically in the first place...

"Let her stay in prison for now," he said with a sigh, opening his eyes.

He had lost count of how many times he had sighed recently.

A wedding, under such circumstances? Madness.

Heimdall was injured. A Celestial threat loomed over Asgard. The Nine Realms were barely stable.

Everything was falling apart.

"What about the wedding between Hela and Lothar?" Frigga asked hesitantly, shifting to the subject of their daughter’s betrothal.

"It proceeds as planned."

"Let her cool off for a few days. Then you can bring her out. Start preparing."

Thanos, the Mad Titan, was Odin’s last card for his daughter.

If the Celestials did descend, Odin would use every ounce of his strength to get Hela to the Black Quadrant.

And if they didn’t?

Then everything would return to normal.

An alliance. Nothing more.

"Oh, and, have someone return this," he added, tossing the Mind Stone scepter to Frigga before she left.

...

Three days later, Penal Zone.

Lying on the ground, Lothar gnawed irritably on the rations Woz had smuggled in, eyes glaring up at the unchanging stars above.

His face screamed frustration.

He’d been played.

Sure, Hela had returned the Mind Stone as promised, but to his adoptive father Thanos?! Not to him?

Brilliant. Now everyone knew Lothar had left the Penal Zone without authorization.

And Thanos, ever the stoic disciplinarian, didn’t just confiscate the scepter, he doubled the length of Lothar’s reflection essay.

From ten to twenty.

Hela had promised to write extra for him. She’d written nineteen.

Which meant... he owed one more.

"Tch."

The more he thought about it, the more furious he became.

Three days, and the only thing he’d managed to write was the title: Reflection.

"Woz! Still no word from Hela?"

"No, Prince Lothar," replied the robotic feline, bowing respectfully.

"Contact her!"

"I’m sorry, Prince Lothar. During your confinement, Lord Thanos has locked all of Woz’s outbound communication functions."

"Unless Lady Hela initiates contact herself, Woz cannot reach her."

BOOM!

Lothar exploded a nearby boulder with a punch, volcanic fury in his voice.

"Hela!"

He gritted his teeth.

Women. They’re all traitorous swine.

Lying, backstabbing...

...

Asgard. The prison.

"Princess Hela, you haven’t eaten in five days..."

"Princess Hela?"

"Princess Hela?!"

The handmaiden’s voice quivered with concern as she looked at the silent figure hunched in the corner.

Five days without food.

Hela’s condition was beyond worrying.

Thunk.

As if responding to the noise, Hela’s head suddenly rolled off, right in front of her.

"AAAHHH!!!"

"Princess Hela?!"

"PRINCESS HELA!!"

Panicked, the maid screamed for the guards. The cell door swung open, just in time for a jet-black weapon to shoot out from the shadows!

SHNK!

The blade pierced flesh. Blood splattered.

Step... step... step...

Boots echoed off the cold floor. From the shadows of the wall, a figure emerged—Hela, hair now combed back into her signature battle style.

"You... Why...? Princess Hela...?" the maid gasped, collapsing, eyes wide in terror and disbelief.

"Why?"

Hela crouched beside her, eyes gleaming with a deadly aurora.

"Because once, a man told me something."

Her voice was cold. Unshakable.

"When trouble comes, never sit still and wait to die."

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