The sunlight outside the window gradually slanted westward, and the shadows in the garden were stretched very long.
A servant came to report that dinner was ready.
The dining table was set in the dining hall of Frigga's palace; it was not large, but very cozy. Odin was already sitting there, having changed into a simple, elegant robe. He wore no crown, and the Eternal Spear was not in his hand.
He did not look like a King of the Gods; he looked more like an ordinary old man waiting for his family to reunite.
Mavuika sat down beside him, Hela sat opposite Mavuika, Thor and Loki sat on either side, and Frigga sat opposite Odin. The family sat around the round table, just as they had a long, long time ago.
The dinner was sumptuous, featuring traditional Asgardian delicacies: roast boar, mead, toasted bread, various fruits, and cheese.
Frigga had specifically instructed the kitchen to prepare several dishes Mavuika loved as a child: honey-roasted lamb chops, cream of Mushroom soup, and a stew made with spices native to the Nine Realms.
Mavuika looked at those dishes, and her nose felt a bit sore. "Mother, you still remember."
Frigga smiled. "A Mother never forgets what her child loves to eat."
The dishes in front of Hela were different from Mavuika's; it was not because Frigga was biased, but because Hela's tastes were inherently different. She loved spicy and salty food and disliked sweets, and Frigga remembered this clearly.
Hela looked at the plate of roast meat in front of her, sprinkled with red spices, and was silent for a moment.
"Thank you," she said softly.
Frigga smiled and shook her head. "Why stand on ceremony with your Mother?"
Thor was eating happily, devouring meat and drinking mead in large gulps, his mouth stuffed full, yet he kept talking.
"Mother, this roast boar is delicious! It's ten thousand times better than the pork on Earth!"
Frigga smiled. "Then you should eat more."
Loki ate very slowly, chewing each mouthful carefully. He occasionally looked up at this family—father, Mother, eldest sister, second sister, brother. He sat at the table like a piece of a puzzle, neither too big nor too small, fitting perfectly.
Loki picked up his wine glass, took a sip, and the corners of his mouth curled up slightly.
The dinner lasted a long time.
From dusk until nightfall, and from nightfall until the stars filled the sky, Odin did not say much, but every word was just right.
He watched his four children, watching them eat, talk, bicker, and laugh, and there was a look of satisfaction—almost relief—in his eyes.
Mavuika noticed that look.
She knew that her father was old, not just in body, but in the weariness of his soul. He had lived for so long, experienced so much, and protected so much that it was finally time for him to rest.
She raised her glass. "Father, Mother, a toast to you both."
Hela also raised her glass, and Thor and Loki followed suit.
The five glasses clinked together gently in the air, making a crisp sound.
"To everyone," Mavuika said.
Odin looked at her, something flickering in his eyes. "To everyone."
After dinner, Frigga took Hela's hand and asked her to stay and chat. Hela did not refuse; although she looked a bit reluctant, she sat down.
Thor and Loki left first. Thor said he wanted to see the night view of Asgard, and Loki said he needed to find some books in the library. The two walked out of the palace side by side, moonlight spilling onto them, casting long shadows.
Mavuika walked alone toward the largest Training Ground in Asgard.
The Training Ground was on the west side of the palace, covering a vast area, surrounded by high walls, and the ground was paved with an unknown black stone, incredibly hard.
The walls were covered with countless scratches, dents, and cracks—traces left by countless Asgardian warriors over thousands of years.
Mavuika pushed open the gates of the Training Ground and walked in.
Moonlight spilled down from the open dome above, illuminating the entire area. She stood in the center of the Training Ground, looking around; nothing had changed.
On the wall to the left, there was a long crack, which she had accidentally scorched with fire when she was ten, earning her a full day of standing in punishment from Odin.
On the ground to the right was a deep depression, which Hela had blasted out with death energy when she was twelve, earning her a month of scrubbing toilets as punishment from Odin.
At the far end of the Training Ground, there was a massive boulder engraved with a dense list of names—the oaths left by Asgardian warriors before major battles.
Mavuika found her own name on it, found Hela's name, Thor's name, and Loki's name. Everyone had once stood here, made their oaths, and then marched toward the battlefield.
Mavuika crouched down, pressed her hand to the ground, and felt the pulse of the Asgardian Earth. That power surged from her palm into her body, like a warm river flowing through her veins, her bones, and her soul.
The ground of Asgard would grant power to any Asgardian standing there; this was something she had known for a thousand years, but every time she returned here, she could feel that power again—the power of "home."
Footsteps came from behind her.
Mavuika did not turn around; she recognized those footsteps—steady, powerful, each step landing in rhythm. Hela.
Hela walked to her side, also crouched down, and pressed her hand to the ground. She, too, felt that power.
Her body stretched slightly, like a leopard just released from a cage, moving her limbs and feeling the vitality in her muscles and bones.
"There is no such power in the Underworld," Hela said, her voice flat, but Mavuika could hear what lay beneath that flatness.
"I know," Mavuika said, standing up and looking at Hela. "So, how do you feel now?"
Hela also stood up, stretching her wrists and neck, her joints making slight cracking sounds.
"I feel... like my body has rusted."
Mavuika smiled. "Then let's move around."
Hela looked at her, and in those deep green eyes, a fighting spirit began to burn—not anger, not hatred, but a pure, warrior-to-warrior desire.
"Sister." Hela rarely called her "Sister," and each time was precious.
"Spar with me."
Mavuika looked at her, the corners of her mouth curling up slightly. "I'm a bit surprised you waited until now to say it."
Hela raised an eyebrow. "Did you think I would challenge you to a fight the moment I returned?"
Mavuika nodded. "Otherwise?"
Hela gave a soft "humph." "I've grown up."
Mavuika smiled. "So what about now? Are we fighting or not?"
Hela did not answer, but she raised her hand, and a ball of black-green energy condensed in her palm. It was the power of death, the power she had tempered in the Underworld for a thousand years—cold and sharp, like an invisible sword.
Mavuika looked at that energy, her eyes brightening slightly. "Not bad, stronger than a thousand years ago."
Hela's mouth curled up slightly. "You're the same, I can feel it."
The two looked at each other for a second.
Then they moved at the same time.