Asgard, Royal Chambers.
After his bath, Odin let out a long sigh as he donned the gold-trimmed robe symbolizing the supreme authority of Asgard, assisted by his wife.
His brows furrowed with deep concern.
"Frigga… what do you think Hela really feels about all this?"
Given his understanding of his daughter, if anyone else had done what Lothar did, at the very least, they'd have gotten two daggers in the kidneys. And yet, Hela hadn't so much as raised a brow toward Lothar. That was precisely what made Odin feel an unexpected sense of danger.
When a woman begins to show unusual interest in a man, the stories that follow are always worth paying attention to.
And Odin was no fool, he had been through this stage of life. He knew exactly what it could mean.
Even if Hela hadn't expressed any overt feelings toward Lothar yet…
"I think," Frigga began, her voice gentle, "that what Hela feels toward the son of Thanos isn't affection, but defiance."
Recalling how Hela had once complained about Lothar, Frigga paused, then continued thoughtfully in line with Odin's concerns.
"Before meeting Lothar, Hela was the golden child of destiny, everything always went her way. But after encountering Lothar, she's faced one defeat after another at his hands. Naturally, her perception of him would begin to shift."
"Just like I once did," she added with a sidelong glance.
Odin's arms instinctively wrapped around her at that look, those limpid, autumn-water eyes melting all resistance.
"You mean… Hela is you, and Lothar is me?" Odin murmured, caught in the moment, his thoughts drifting back to the past.
Back when he was a brash young upstart, sheltered under King Borr's protection.
Back when he first met Frigga, the most powerful sorceress of the Vanir.
That was Odin's own legend, his journey from reckless youth to the unifying king of the Nine Realms, a saga worthy of song.
"No," Frigga said with a smile, resting her head on his shoulder. "Lothar could never become you, the king who united the Nine Realms."
She inhaled the fresh scent lingering on Odin's skin from his bath, her lips soft against his ear.
Odin said nothing, but his hand slid down to encircle Frigga's slender waist.
The king of the Nine Realms…
"Frigga, you always were the master of saying difficult things gently," he muttered, closing his eyes as his chin brushed her smooth forehead.
"How else am I supposed to speak to a man who allows no dissent? You are Odin, after all," Frigga teased, her slender fingers trailing down his chest, heading westward.
A tender embrace, a touch, a glance—
Outside, the willow fluff drifted through fine spring rain, while within the silken canopy, their bodies met and parted again and again in quiet ecstasy.
By twilight, only faint echoes remained.
A few cups of mellow wine later, and the evening was perfect once more.
...
The Bifrost.
Under the watchful gaze of Heimdall, a group of travelers emerged from the prismatic stream of the Rainbow Bridge. At the forefront was the Sorcerer Supreme, Agamotto himself.
Lothar stood with arms crossed, a lazy orange cat draped over his shoulder. Behind him was The Other, cradling the Mind Stone scepter, and Hela, still visibly shaken.
Pharaoh Menis had no right to set foot in Asgard and had already returned to Egypt to continue work on the pyramids. Woz, the mechanical cat, had reverted to a wristband on Lothar's arm and was currently running calculations to build a ship capable of multiverse travel.
"Why did Heimdall open the Bifrost for you?" Hela asked sharply, the moment she stepped foot on Asgardian soil. Her gaze flicked between Agamotto and Heimdall, whose hands rested solemnly on the hilt of his sword.
The Gatekeeper of Asgard didn't activate the Rainbow Bridge lightly, and Agamotto?
"I've known your father for a long time," Agamotto replied with a smile, raising a hand to casually greet Heimdall, whose usual stone-faced expression made the interaction all the more surreal to Hela.
"Agamotto, Odin awaits you in the throne hall," Heimdall said, emotionless as ever, cutting off Hela's next question.
Agamotto turned toward Lothar. "Care to join me?"
"I'll pass," Lothar said flatly.
The Other behind him nodded enthusiastically in agreement.
"Come on, The Other. We're leaving."
With the Flerken that had been hiding the Reality Stone now recovered, Lothar had no reason to stay. His ship awaited just past the Rainbow Bridge, ready for launch.
"You're sure?" Agamotto raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised.
Clearly, Lothar didn't understand the gravity of the situation.
Odin had witnessed the kiss in the Dark Dimension. Every second of it.
Lothar didn't slow his stride, brushing past Hela without a word.
The setting sun cast blood-red light across the horizon.
"In that case, let's go, Hela," Agamotto said.
To construct Valhalla for Hela's legions, his wisdom alone wasn't enough. It also required the divine death essence etched into Hela's soul.
"…Alright," Hela replied, burying her questions. She shot a quick glance at Lothar's retreating figure, her heart fluttering, and then followed the Sorcerer Supreme toward the throne hall.
"Hm?"
After they left, Heimdall's ever-stoic face flickered for a brief second with something rare: confusion.
At the docking site.
When Lothar and the delighted The Other arrived at the spot where their ship was parked, they found someone waiting, someone Lothar had only met once before.
Frigga.
Queen of Asgard. Mother of Hela. The wisest sorceress in all the Nine Realms.
"We meet again, Lothar."
Every gesture of hers was poised, every word steeped in gentle nobility.
"…Hela's mother?" Lothar's brow arched, his muscles tensing instinctively.
"No need to be nervous. I mean no harm."
Frigga smiled, raising a calming hand. "I just wanted to ask you something: What are your feelings toward Hela?"
"My… feelings?"
Lothar frowned, confused.
"Then let me put it another way, what do you think of Hela?"
"Not much," he answered instantly.
"…"
"But the way you two interact," Frigga said meaningfully, "doesn't seem to reflect that."
Lothar was thoroughly puzzled.
When it comes to emotions, Frigga mused, he's clearly more reliable than Odin ever was at his age.
In her mind, Lothar had already been labeled a decent man, not some playboy who'd break her daughter's heart.
And that was exactly the kind of son-in-law she could accept.
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