Valaskjalf, Asgard.
Amidst the Throne of Asgard, in the royal palace of Valaskjalf, Odin, the All-father, sat in contemplation with furrowed brows. The news of the Olympian Civil War on Midgard had been the circulating discussion of his High Council's meetings for several months now. And yet, no decisions were made in spite of the situation.
The devastation to the mortal realm, as well as the mortals themselves, had reached a critical point where Asgard's intervention was necessary to avoid further escalations, especially with the recent suspension of the Jotunheim Invasion. However, in accordance with the Treaty of The Skyfathers, Odin's hands were tied from joining the other pantheon's internal politics without being called upon as allies.
The decision came down to whether to make right on his title as Protector of The Nine Realms and risk giving both Olympian factions a common enemy or turn a blind eye and pick up whatever was left after their war. Neither option was optimal for the prosperity of Midgard. Especially if this Ares, God of War, turned out to be the victor. The warrior god had shown a natural tendency to excessive violence and bloodthirst when Olympus and Asgard were allied against the Jotuns invaders to Midgard. 'So much like Hela.' Odin felt his beard grow a shade greyer at the sudden reminder of his wayward firstborn.
It had been more than one and a half millennia since he imprisoned Hela at the edge of the Odin Force. One and a half millennia since he sent the valkyries to their slaughter so he could buy time to gather his strength. The sins he committed then was but a drop in the ocean of blood that flowed from his blade. The shame had remained throughout all these years but he could not and would not change what had happened. For it was the only way forward.
The aftermath of Hela's rebellion had split Asgard into opposed factions as friends turned on friends and family turned on family. With the fear of Ragnarok upon them, Odin used whatever strength he had left to erase any signs of Hela's existence from the Nine. Which, in turn, quelled the majority of the unrest and returned his people to relative peace despite the horridness of his action. That was the first and the longest time The All-Father fell into Odin's sleep. By having a portion of his power constantly drained away to maintain his daughter's cage, Odin's sleep became a regular thorn in his side from there onward.
Thus, Odin Borson of Asgard drew the similarities between himself and Zeus Panhellenios of Olympus.
"FATHER!" Odin turned his head to the sudden yelling of a child as a sudden blonde head dashed into the throne room with a bright smile on the child's face, full of youthfulness and wonder.
"Thor Odinson, what did I tell you about running inside the palace's halls?" Following behind the boy was his wife, Frigga, the Witch Queen of Asgard, and a toddler holding onto one of her hands. Loki, his second son, whom he found at a temple in Jotunheim.
Gone were the days of the starved and abandoned babe, and in his place was a young prince of Asgard. Even at such a youthful age, Loki showed intelligence and curiosity that gave Odin pride in his heart. Yet love could hold no sway over duty, which was Odin's heavy burden.
They would both be raised to be kings, but only one could sit on the throne of Asgard. The other would return to Jotunheim and take his rightful place when the time was right. So, the web of lies expanded, which inevitably would end in the heartbreak of his youngest. Loki would hate him, yes, no doubt. But the bond between brothers would withstand the test of his schemes.
"I apologize, mother." A slight facet of guilt plastered onto Thor's posture as he froze and straightened himself. But quickly as it came, Thor, once again, shuffled towards Odin at a quickened pace. "Father, may I bring Loki to the training ground today? Mother said he is finally old enough to watch the Einherjars practicing their swordplay." Thor wavered for a second as he glimpsed a frown from Frigga's face, then hastily added. "From a safe distance, of course."
Odin shifted his view towards Frigga, to which she returned with a slight nod. His attention returned to his eldest son. "Very well. However, do you understand that you will be responsible for your brother's safety? It is a duty that requires the utmost care. Are you ready to take on such a task?"
"I…I am, Father." Thor replied with hesitation at the instantaneous gravity that enveloped the throne room but recovered with all the seriousness he could mutter.
"Then be on your way, my sons." Odin gestured a swift hand movement to Thor as the crown prince rushed to his brother and dragged him away. Loki gave Frigga a worried look, but the excitement soon came as the two Odinsons scampered toward the training ground. Frigga whispered to one of her servants, and soon, the woman hurried to follow the princes.
With the departure of his sons, the All-father's mind drifted back to the Olympians and their war. His face dropped laboriously in contrast to his semi-optimistic mood just a few moments earlier.
"What ails you so, husband?" Frigga pathed her way to the throne with grace.
"I believe Asgard is stuck. We have one arm in the fangs of Fenrir and the other in the maw of Jormungandr." Odin felt slight amusement at his own metaphors. Over the years, Asgardians seemed to have expanded much from the old tales of his visit to the Norns. "Each decision may lead to war, and yet even with all my wisdom and insight, I know not which path to take."
"Ah, I understand your dilemma, mínn hjärta. Would you have my thoughts on the matter?"
"Of course, swæs. I will hear what you are willing to share."
"If either option results in an equal chance of conflict." the Witch Queen stared straight into Odin's eye with an intensity that few Asgardians could withstand. "then I would rather say that I have acted in defense of the nine realms than linger in fear of what was to come." With every one of Frigga's words, Odin saw not the benevolent and dutiful woman that was his wife but the fair and wise Vanir Goddess, The High Queen of Asgard.
A smile coated Odin's lips. "Thank you, my queen. I have made my deci…"
Before the Allfather could finish his sentence, a wave of sickening magical signature enveloped both their senses. Odin peered through the Nine Realms with his gift of sight to pinpoint the location of such powerful and foul magic, but the only answer he found was on Midgard.
"Olympians…what have they done?" With heavy breaths, Odin descended from his throne.
Frigga replied, severity in her tone. "That was Chaos Magic? No, not just that, I only know one source of magic with such a vile tinge, the Darkhold."
"They wouldn't. As all descendants of Gaea and Atum, we know not to call upon His treacherous powers." Odin's grip tightened on Gungnir.
"While that may be so, husband. You know as well as I do. Any beings with an inkling of magical sensitivity within the Nine Realms could have felt that. A spell with such a wide range signature could have reigned Midgard unlivable."
'And yet the mortal realm still stands' were the words left unsaid, which brought further fear into Odin's mind. Questions arose to speculate what was done without him knowing. The Olympians, like Asgardians, were descendants of the elder gods. In the hands of the mortals, the Darkhold could have wreaked havoc on Midgard, yes. But in the hands of the gods, the results would be cataclysmic.
With a strike from Gungnir to the palace's floor, Odin's voice boomed throughout the chamber hall. "Send for a squadron of Einherjars. Tell them to meet me at the Bifrost."
"Then I will help plan with the High Council to ease the realms and mobilize the army while you are predisposed. Panic may have arisen across the worlds, my king." As swiftly as she could, Frigga hurried to the nearby attendances.
"Thank you, swæs. Keep the mass of the Einherjar on standby outside of the gates. I will head on to scout ahead." Without further words, Odin disappeared from the throne room. The last sounds he heard were from his wife. "Send for my sons, Hlin."
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Himinbjorg, Asgard.
Heimdall stood solemnly in Himinbjorg, host of the Bifrost, as his eyes frantically surveyed the lands and oceans of Midgard. The foul magical energy left a bitter taste in his mouth, and yet, he could not pinpoint the reason why he felt that way. Despite the breadth of his vision, which spanned realms and epochs, this anomaly eluded even his keen sight. It was a vexation; for all his power, the source of this sinister energy, remained shrouded in mystery.
The serene atmosphere of the watchtower was suddenly pierced by a burst of golden light, heralding the arrival of a familiar presence. Without needing to turn, Heimdall acknowledged the arrival with a formal. "Your Majesty."
Odin, urgency threading his voice, wasted no time. "Heimdall, report. What do you see?"
The Gatekeeper's eyes, those unparalleled windows to other worlds, remained fixed on the troubled realm of Midgard as he confessed. "Much to my frustration, the origin of this disturbance eludes me. It's as if magic itself veils it."
A shadow of concern darkened Odin's features as he clenched Gungnir, his knuckles whitening with the grip of unease. "Then we are all in the dark as Olympians play with forces they were meant to conceal."
An eerie silence set between the king and his vassal as rapid marches of soldiers journeyed across the Rainbow Bridge towards the edge of Asgard. Before long, Squadron Commander Nanna Nepsdottir of the Einherjars 1st Battalion 2nd Regiment stood before the two men.
"My King." The woman's gloved fist collapsed onto her golden chest plate as she bowed to her liege. After she righted herself straight, Heimdall and Nanna shared a slight nod to acknowledge each other.
Odin turned himself towards the Einherjar, leaving the gatekeeper to his search. "Squadron Commander, how do we fare?"
Without hesitation, Nanna answered. "My men and women are ready for your command, your majesty. General Tyr had taken swift mobilisation of 5000 Einherjars to reinforce outposts and patrols across the Nine-realms. The remainder stands ready, awaiting the All-mother's commands."
Listening to the report, Odin felt a strange tug at the edge of his senses—a faint call from Midgard, muffled and obscured by enchantment. It was a plea, or perhaps a warning, wrapped in the subtleties of magic, reaching out to him from the troubled realm below.
Hear me, Odin Borson!
As Queen of Olympus, I request Asgard's immediate aid.
We… I need my allies! Come to me!
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Themyscira, Midgard.
Amid the ruins and silence that now held dominion over what was once a vibrant island, Hera, Queen of Olympus, stood as a solitary figure amidst the devastation. The ground was littered with the fallen—mortals, gods, and everything in between—each telling a tale of a swift and sudden end. As the Realm Eternal's remnants lay scattered on Themyscira and its dimensional veil gasped its final breaths, Hera was enveloped by a singular, inescapable truth: this was her doing.
Her introspection was shattered by the cry of an infant, a sound piercing through the cacophony of loss and regret. The babe was a child born out of deception and unfaithfulness from her husband, Zeus, and her most trusted follower, Hippolyta. A deceitful bastard child, she was the true cause of all this destruction.
She was the reason that pushed Hera's hands.
She was…
Stop! No. No! No more!
Hera's blackened fingers ended their descending path towards that babe's neck. The Darkhold's whispers had subsided since she locked it away in the deepest and darkest depth of the once Paradise Island, but the whispers were not gone. They would never be gone until they had their iron grips on her body, mind, and soul.
With a mixture of contempt, pity, and regret, Hera left the infant girl crying and screaming in the dead embrace of her mother's burnt carcass. "Be patient, child. You will get rid of me soon enough."
As if hearing her words, a shining beam of light tore apart the dawning sky and scorched itself onto the earth in a runic circle. Out of the Bifrost, walked Odin All-father and a squadron of his golden armored warriors. The All-father's eyes scoured all the death and decay around him before bearing his sight on Hera herself.
"Tell me, Queen Hera. What have you done?" Odin's voice boomed with earth-shattering force, yet it did nothing to unsettle the Olympian. For what is a screeching of a sovereign to another sovereign?
"King Odin of Asgard, I greet you as allies and distant cousins." Hera replied to the best of her abilities. The Darkhold had taken much of her strength. What else remained was struggling to combat the dark connection with the cursed book and its creator.
"This is no time for pleasantries. Explain yourself, Queen." Odin's patience was thin as his spear pointed in her direction. "For Chaos Corruption is evident in you, and were I not certain you are still resisting His whispers, I would have slain you where you stand."
"Asgardians. Truly as boarish as they come. Very well. I will tell you what you need to know. But first, I have an official request for asylum." Hera said with little amusement to the son of Bor's threat.
The All-father's brow raised as he heard her words. "For yourself?"
She audibly scoffed at that. "No, it is much too late for me."
Her hand gestured towards the now-quiet babe. "Take the girl."
With hurried steps and much distaste, Odin gently pried the baby from the corpse's arms and stared into the sky-blues that displayed wonder and innocence. Part of him schemed and planned for the possible induction of a foreign demi-goddess into Asgard. For he felt the rising power in the babe, and yet, it had been lessened by Midgardian blood. The other part, the one that joyed over his sons' growth, the one that Frigga fell in love with, felt compassion and heartbreak for the young girl.
"There is divinity in her." Odin stated as a matter of fact.
Another scoff broke from Hera's shadowed lips. There was a time when she would cloak her biting wit in layers of politesse and grace, but not anymore—not with her people lying dead and her realm broken all around her. "Indeed." she uttered, her voice a blend of scorn and resignation. "As one might expect of a child born from Zeus's dalliance with a mortal."
"Yet she remains alive under your care." Odin, ever observant, probed further with a note of genuine curiosity.
Hera resigned and answered the unasked question. "Much has changed so quickly. My son… Ares' insurrection had brought tragedy to my kin. This child may well stand among the Greek Pantheon's last remnants. Halfbreed as she is."
"I accept your request." Odin declared, having weighed the matter's gravity. "Though, she would need a name."
Hera's eyes momentarily wandered to the lifeless form of Hippolyta, her expression a mixture of complicated emotions—affection entwined with bitterness and a multitude of regrets. Shaking off the reverie, she answered. "Her mother wished for her to be named Diana."
"Squadron Commander Nepsdottir." Odin called back to his Einherjars.
Nanna approached briskly, a mix of reverence and readiness in her stance. "Yes, All-father?"
"Take Diana to my wife." Nanna cautiously received the foreign babe with the awkwardness of one's unpracticed. "Tell her that I will inform her of everything when I return. Afterward, you and your squadron shall report to General Tyr."
Nanna Nepsdottir, despite her loyalty, could not mask her unease in the presence of such devastation and the Olympian Queen's ominous aura. Magecraft was never her forte, in any case. "Should we not remain here with you, my king?"
"No, I do not believe I will be in any danger. Will I?" Odin, his demeanor laced with a blend of intrigue and a lighter note.
Hera's response carried the weight of her situation and a lingering defiance. "Only if you consider the last words of a dying woman a danger. Now let us talk, Odin-King. I believe you wanted to know what happened."
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Valaskjalf, Asgard.
Cradling the bronze-swaddled bundle of joy in her arms, Frigga watched as her two sons gaped in awe at the tiny girl. The intricate details of Hera and Odin's prolonged discussion eluded her, but the briefing from Squadron Commander Nanna was sufficient for her to piece together the situation. Diana was now theirs to care for and guide, much like Loki was only tens of years ago. Frigga, then, still reeling from the loss of their unborn son, Baldur, had welcomed Loki with open arms. In doing so, she had inadvertently entangled Loki's life and Baldur's death in the web of deception Odin spun—a web that enveloped Asgard and the Nine in their blissful ignorance.
She knew her husband well. She knew him enough to see what he had already planned for Diana. Thor, the stalwart protector of the realms; Loki, the master of cunning and wit, tasked with their preservation; and now Diana, destined to be the unifying heart. Despite her reservations about Odin's methods—forged from his twisted sense of duty—her love for him and belief in his fundamentally good intentions kept her hand from opposing him. Yet, the burden of the lies told and the truths omitted weighed heavily on her heart. A vow formed silently within her: not again. Never. Again.
"Mother, may we see her?" Thor's gentle tug on her dress interrupted her contemplation. The eager light in both her sons' eyes drew her out of her reverie, their youthful innocence pleading apparent to all.
So she obliged to their innocence and settled into the nearest chair, Diana nestled securely in her lap. "You may, but remember, she is very delicate. It's crucial to be gentle with her. Do you understand my sons?"
At their eager nods, Frigga gently angled the infant towards them. Diana, her eyes wide with wonder, regarded the two brothers with infectious joy and curiosity. The boys, captivated, inched closer; their fascination was noticeable by all around them.
Diana's tiny and chubby hands flailed insistently, reaching for Thor and Loki.
"Offer her your fingers, but keep in mind gentleness above all." Frigga guided.
Thor, ever the enthusiastic one, eagerly allowed Diana to grasp his finger, delighting in the interaction. Loki, initially hesitant, followed suit after witnessing the joy shared between his older brother and the infant.
Thus, the three cackled and sniggled as children should, a pure expression of delight. At that moment, the throws and turns of life seemed to dissolve under the light of their innocent joy, allowing Frigga a rare moment away from the burdens she carried.
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Hall of The Gods, Themyscira, Midgard.
"Then Ares is dead?" Amidst the ruin of The Hall of The Gods, Odin stood tall, a solemn figure amongst the chaos that surrounded him. He had the pleasure of visiting this place many times before, abiding as an emissary of Asgard. The marble thrones, once symbols of Olympian divine power, now lay in shattered pieces as a mark of the fall of an empire.
Hera, in her grief, gently caressed the remnants of her son's throne before curtly answering Odin's question with a voice tinged with sorrow. "Yes."
"And what of the Darkhold?" Odin inquired.
A flash of red hue glowed in Hera's eyes, reflecting the growing corruption fighting to break through her resolve. "It is hidden away here in Themiscyra. It will be safe from mortals' hands. The wards around the island remain strong and will continue to be so for millennia more. I shall be the last to know its location."
"Then you have made peace with your end." Odin said, a glimpse of woe passed through him before his sense of duty took hold.
"There is no peace for those like me. Although, I do seek an end." Hera's slowed steps brought her to the half-broken throne of herself. She was at her limits. Soon, The Olympian Queen would be able to fight His whispers no longer. "Tell me, All-father. Will you see fit to send me on my way and end this misery? A final request from one ruler to another."
"I see strength in you, Queen Hera, despite what you have done." Odin acknowledged, his voice carrying a note of respect. "I will be here to deliver you to the next life, cousin."
Hera nodded to his words, a final reassurance since Cthon would have never allowed her to destroy herself. Then, as if all her strength was leaving her, Hera collapsed onto the shattered seat of her power.
"The girl. I shall raise her as my own flesh and blood. She will want for nothing." Odin vowed solemnly.
"As deserving of her station. I thank you, Odin Borson. Despite her mortal side, Olympus's blood is strong in her. Raise her well, and when she is ready, tell her of her heritage." At the end of her final words, the darkened char on Hera's fingers expanded towards her elbows, and the whites of her eyes gave way to the abyss of His dark realm.
"For what it is worth. I am truly sorry." With Hera's strength waning, Odin prepared to end her suffering, his empathy mingling with resolution. With a swift motion, he plunged Gungnir into her chest, channeling the Odin Force to cleanse her of corruption. Hera, instead of resisting, aided in her own passing, her divine essence mixing with the golden ichor that flowed from her wound.
As her form turned to marble and gold, Odin drifted his gaze skyward, a heaviness settling upon him. Across the broken remnants of gods and thrones, he allowed himself for a brief moment to break from all these needless deaths.