Chapter 113

Lydia watched as Aunt May and Peter got acquainted with the ship, their eyes wide and their movements hesitant. She couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction – she had not only acquired two more assets for her Empire but had also given Nina and Peter a chance at a future, far from the reaches of the oppressive SRA.

"Erik," Lydia turned to her trusted ally, a determined expression gracing her features. "It's time we return home."

Erik, understanding the implications, merely nodded. He knew better than anyone what it meant to be a fugitive on one's own planet. He found himself grateful for Lydia's intervention, even as he felt a twinge of worry for the life his daughter was about to embark on.

"Take care of them, I'll be back soon." Lydia instructed, her eyes never leaving Erik's. Her tone held a hint of a command, yet it was softened by a note of concern. Erik, recognizing the duality of her tone, nodded once again. The ship hummed to life, the familiar vibration making everyone pause. A series of lights flickered on, casting an ethereal glow on the occupants.

Then, with a swift motion, Lydia extended her hand, a swirl of cosmic energy wrapping around her. With a final glance towards Erik, she disappeared, leaving behind a sense of anticipation that hung heavily in the air.

Lydia reappeared in the serene landscapes of Norway. Her cloak fluttered in the icy wind, the chill barely brushing her. Her mind was elsewhere, her focus solely on the person she intended to meet here.

The stark beauty of Norway was an ironic backdrop to the fragile health of the man standing in front of Lydia. Odin, the Allfather, was a shell of his former self. His once muscular physique was now a frail form and his vibrant eyes, once a lively blue, were now faded, mirroring the icy landscape around them.

Lydia took in the sight, the immense power of the universe resonating within her contrasting sharply with Odin's declining state. Yet, there was still an aura of dignity and wisdom around the old king, a testament to his years of ruling over the Nine Realms.

The simple cabin held an earthy, lived-in warmth that resonated in the wood-framed hearth and the humble furniture. Lydia watched as Odin moved with careful steps towards the wooden chair by the fireplace, the fire crackling softly, casting long, dancing shadows against his weathered face.

"Odin," Lydia greeted, her voice steady but not devoid of concern. She took the seat opposite him, her attention unwavering. "You should have sought help."

Odin chuckled, a weak but heartfelt sound. "A lifetime of battles, dear Lydia," he replied, his gaze far-off. "I've had my fair share. It's time to join Frigga."

Lydia felt a pang of sorrow for the old man. She understood the lure of mortality, the desire to finally rest after eons of fighting. Yet, she also knew the danger that lurked behind Odin's death - Hela.

"I respect your decision, Odin," Lydia said, choosing her words carefully. "But remember, your death will not just mean a personal end, it will have consequences that might ripple across the Nine Realms."

Odin looked at Lydia then, his faded eyes holding a depth of understanding. He nodded solemnly, a heavy sigh escaping him. "I'm aware, Lydia," he said, the fire casting a reflective gleam in his eyes. "I've made my peace with it."

Lydia nodded, understanding but not agreeing. She watched as Odin leaned back, his frail form settling into the chair. The silence of the cabin was filled with unsaid words and impending goodbyes, and as Lydia gazed at the dwindling fire, she couldn't help but feel a sense of dread for what was yet to come.

"Any regrets?" Lydia asked.

The weight of her question hung heavily in the air. The walls of the cabin seemed to close in a bit as Odin considered Lydia's question. His eyes closed for a moment, his face lined with years of experiences, victories, and regrets.

"Regrets, Lydia?" Odin mused, opening his eyes to gaze into the flickering flames before him. "Everyone has them, no matter how insignificant or enormous they might be. I've lived a long life, seen many things, and made countless decisions - some right, some wrong."

His eyes drifted back to Lydia, a soft smile playing on his lips. "To live without regret, Lydia, would mean to live without having learned anything. My regrets are my lessons, my reminders. They are the stones on the path that has shaped me into who I am today."

He paused for a moment, the silence of the cabin filled only by the soft crackling of the fire. "Do I wish I could have done things differently?" he continued, his gaze again fixed on the fire. "Perhaps. But wishing doesn't change the past. It only clouds our perception of the future."

The room remained silent for a moment longer before Lydia's second question filled the room. Odin's face softened, his gaze dropping to his folded hands. His sons, Thor and Loki, his pride and his sorrow.

"Thor and Loki...," he began, his voice barely more than a whisper. "They are my greatest achievements, and yet also my deepest regrets." He sighed, a forlorn look crossing his face. "I miss them, Lydia. More than words can express. But they have their paths, their destinies... and I have mine."

Lydia felt her heart ache at the resignation in Odin's voice. She knew he was right, that their paths were diverging, but it did not lessen the poignancy of the moment. She reached out, gently placing a hand on Odin's arm. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to do, but words escaped her.

Odin glanced down at her hand on his arm and then looked up at her, a sad smile gracing his lips. In his eyes, Lydia saw acceptance, peace... and the end.

Lydia tells Odin of the developments on Asgard.

Lydia watched Odin's face carefully, noting the wistful expression that crossed his features. His laughter echoed in the small cabin, a rich, deep sound that bespoke a lifetime of wisdom and amusement. It was the laughter of a man who knew how to appreciate the absurdities of life and the capriciousness of fate.

"Thor has always been one for grand gestures and heroic deeds," he mused, his eyes reflecting the warmth of the fire. "Kingdoms and crowns were never really his ambition. That boy...no, that man, he has a heart for the people, not the throne. It doesn't surprise me that he would step aside."

He fell silent for a moment, as if savoring a memory. "And Loki..." his voice was softer now, tinged with a father's love and pride. "That boy was born for subtlety and intrigue. He would make a splendid King... in his own way. They've always been so different, and yet..."

He didn't finish the sentence, but the implication hung in the air between them. Odin's eyes glistened as he stared at the dancing flames, lost in thought. The lines on his face seemed deeper, etched by a thousand memories and a profound longing that words could barely encapsulate.

Lydia watched him in silence, knowing she had stirred a well of emotions within the old king. Yet, she also sensed his profound relief at knowing his sons were at peace with each other, a peace he'd always sought but rarely found. It was a small comfort, yet comfort nonetheless.

"I miss them, Lydia," Odin confessed quietly after a moment. His voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of a thousand unspoken words. "I wish to see them, to hear their laughter, their arguments... to see what they've become. But time waits for no man, not even a king."

Lydia could only offer a sympathetic nod, her heart aching for the old king's silent lament.

A soft hum echoed through the room as Lydia gathered her powers, a spectral radiance surrounding her as she closed her eyes in concentration. The tiny cabin suddenly felt awash with an ethereal energy, the air charged with a palpable anticipation.

Odin watched, taken aback by the sheer force of Lydia's abilities, the raw power radiating from her petite frame. He had always known her to be powerful, a force to be reckoned with, but the extent of her abilities was truly awe-inspiring.

The pulsating energy in the room abruptly focused, drawing in upon itself, before exploding outward in a brilliant flash of light. The energy coalesced and, in a blink, two familiar forms stood before Odin, their expressions of confusion slowly morphing into astonishment.

Thor, his long hair pulled back from his rugged face, stood tall and strong, exuding the aura of a true warrior. His bewildered gaze was still trained on Lydia when he noticed the figure seated across the room. The recognition in his eyes was instant, but the surprise was almost comical.

Loki, always the more composed of the two, recovered from the shock faster. His lithe figure, adorned in Asgardian attire, radiated an almost regal air. His sharp, green eyes flickered from Lydia to Odin, the surprise evident but quickly masked by his habitual inscrutable expression.

"Father," Loki broke the silence first, a note of disbelief evident in his usually steady voice.

"Father," Thor greeted, his voice deeper but just as shocked. His eyes, a mirror to his soul, were filled with a mix of emotions - surprise, disbelief, and a glimmer of hope.

The reunion was abrupt and unexpected, leaving everyone in a state of surprise. Odin, the once formidable King of Asgard, watched his sons with a watery smile, a sense of contentment washing over him. This was a moment he thought he wouldn't have, a moment he didn't know he needed until now.

And Lydia, the orchestrator of this reunion, watched from the side, her cosmic powers slowly ebbing away. A soft sigh of relief passed her lips as she watched the family reunion unfold, a sense of accomplishment filling her heart. For all her cosmic powers, moments like these were rare, moments where she could bring a bit of happiness into the universe. And for that, she was grateful.

A silence fell over the cabin as the three Asgardians exchanged glances, their expressions varying degrees of the same pained realization. Odin, with a weary yet firm resolve, met each of their gazes with a nod of affirmation, confirming their worst fears.

"I am proud of you both," he reiterated, his voice softer than before, yet the authority it once held still reverberating through the words. "Guard the realms with vigilance and honor, as I have done, as our ancestors have done. Do it together."

The gravity of his words hung in the air, each syllable etching itself into the memory of his sons. Loki's face was unreadable as always, his emerald eyes glassy but revealing nothing. But a certain softness to his normally sharp gaze, a trace of unspoken emotion, was more telling than any words could be.

Thor's reaction was starkly different. His blue eyes were wide, a tempest of emotion swirling in their depths. Shock, denial, pain. His father's words echoed in his ears, but the reality of the situation was slow to set in. His gaze flickered to Lydia, desperation seeping into his voice as he pleaded, "Help him, Lydia."

Lydia, however, shook her head slowly, her expression somber. "Your father has chosen this path, Thor," she said gently, her voice resonating with a quiet authority. "It's not my place to interfere."

Moving with the grace of a queen, Lydia lowered herself into a seat, her legs crossed elegantly and her posture radiating regality. She looked more akin to a sovereign than a cosmic entity in that moment, her imposing presence filling the room. Yet her gaze held a certain kindness, a compassion that softened the authority she exuded.

As the reality of Odin's fate settled over them, each character found themselves grappling with their own emotions. Thor's raw pain and denial, Loki's stoic acceptance hiding a deep-seated sadness, and Lydia's understanding and respectful distance. The room hummed with tension and unspoken emotion, a heavy sadness enveloping them all as they faced the inevitable together.

Odin's voice had softened even further, each word drawn out a little longer than the last. His breath came in shallow, wheezing gasps, as if the mere act of breathing had become an effort. Yet, despite his labored breathing, there was a serenity about him, a calm acceptance of his fate that was almost unsettling.

"I can hear her... Frigga...," he murmured, his gaze distant as if he was looking at something far beyond the confines of the cabin. "Can't you hear her?" he asked, turning his gaze toward his sons.

Thor and Loki shared a confused glance, each trying to decipher the cryptic nature of their father's words. They strained their ears, seeking the sound of a voice that they both longed to hear again. Yet all they could hear was the gentle rustling of the wind outside and the steady rhythm of their father's labored breathing.

Lydia watched them in silence, her gaze flickering from the sons to the father. She, too, strained her ears, a part of her wanting to believe in Odin's words. Yet all she could hear was the haunting melody of the universe, a tune she had long grown accustomed to. Her gaze softened, the tenderness in her eyes belying the stern persona she usually maintained.

Odin's breathing grew even more ragged, his body seemingly becoming less tangible. Slowly, it began to disintegrate into a myriad of sparkling energy particles. The transformation was slow, almost gentle, as if allowing those present to come to terms with what was happening.

The particles shimmered in the dim light, their soft glow reminiscent of the night sky. They swirled around Odin, enveloping him in a veil of starlight as he began his journey to join the cosmos. As the transformation continued, the once powerful king was reduced to nothing more than a swirling vortex of energy, the person they all knew and loved disappearing before their very eyes. And so, Odin began his final journey, not as a king, but as a part of the cosmos, returning to the universe from whence he came.

Lydia's eyes darted toward the sun which was lazily setting, its crimson rays splashing against the Norwegian skyline. Her heart thrummed steadily, an eerie calm in the storm she knew was about to unfold. Her fists clenched at her sides, the ethereal dress she wore barely rustling with the movement. Her cosmic powers tingled beneath her skin, ready to leap at her command.

"Prepare yourselves," she called over her shoulder, her voice echoing within the confines of the small cabin, her words cutting through the dense sorrow that had blanketed the room moments earlier.

Behind her, Thor and Loki stood frozen, their father's image still dissipating into particles of energy, shock etched deeply on their faces. At Lydia's command, they looked at each other, an unspoken agreement passing between them. Mourn later. Fight now.

Loki was the first to move, his hands stretching out to his sides, an incantation already flowing from his lips as he summoned his magic, readying for the impending battle. He cast a look at Thor, a challenge, a promise.

Thor, on the other hand, seemed rooted to the spot, his eyes lost in the remnants of their father's energy. His fists clenched and unclenched as he battled the tumultuous emotions within him. The loss of his father, the reality of their imminent fight, and his responsibility towards Asgard.

Outside, Lydia continued to wait, her back straight, her gaze unyielding. The seconds stretched into minutes as the cosmos answered to the shift in power. With each passing moment, the air grew dense, heavy with magic that it was almost a living, breathing entity. Lydia could feel it, the way the energy swirled and twisted, the way the universe acknowledged the shift in power, the release of a force long kept in chains. Hela was coming.

Suddenly, the air exploded in a burst of dark energy, a rift tearing open in the very fabric of reality, bringing with it a figure cloaked in shadow and power. Hela had arrived.

Lydia did not flinch, nor did she back away. Instead, she lifted her chin higher, meeting the gaze of the Goddess of Death head-on.