Svartalfheim Hydra Base.
Russell had his legs propped on the desk, a tablet in his hands as he checked on the exact situation at the palace next door.
Though half the property deed bore his name, the marriage had been Odin's one-sided wish from beginning to end. He had never nodded in agreement.
As for accepting the dowry but refusing the bride, that was all malicious slander from Odin. Russell believed that, as a Dimensional Demon God, seeing an ownerless dimensional fragment and immediately snatching it without a second thought was proof of professional integrity. It was perfectly reasonable and logical.
So, although Russell was nominally affiliated with the palace next door, he had never gone there even once, apart from that family banquet Odin had imagined for himself.
Of course, not much time had passed since the palace had been completed.
On the screen, Hela was not soaking in a pool for a bath. That did not fit the eldest princess's decisive, ruthless persona. Even when applying makeup, she merely swept on some fierce-looking eyeshadow, then wore a long face as if everyone owed her money.
Everyone loved beauty, but the eldest princess was indeed an anomaly. She rarely spent time dressing herself up. All three hundred and sixty-five days of the year, she wore nothing but combat gear and a cape.
Expecting her to sit down and spend several hours grooming herself was unrealistic...
The third princess, on the other hand, might have done it.
To be fair, Hela had great perseverance. She had endured for over fifteen hundred years within that hellish dimensional fragment, refusing to submit to the path Odin had laid out for her, determined to become the queen of Asgard.
Unfortunately, the rigid were easily broken. She did not know how to compromise; if