Erik's mind churned at the mention of the Ancient One.
If she had foreseen this, if Odin had agreed to it, then the threads of fate were tangled far beyond what he'd initially assumed.
His attack on Asgard, Odin's death, even Hela's potential role as his wife—it wasn't just his ambition driving this. There was a larger design at play, one he wasn't sure he liked being a pawn in.
Frigga's tear-streaked face softened as she watched him process the revelation. "Yao came to us years ago," she said, her voice steadying. "She spoke of a threat beyond comprehension—a force that would unravel not just Asgard, but all existence. She saw a path, one where Odin's death, your rise, and Hela's return would align to stop it."
"Thanos," Erik muttered, the name tasting bitter on his tongue.
Frigga shook her head. "I don't know. But I don't think it's him. Asgard's fall was inevitable—that it would either crumble forever or be reshaped by someone strong enough to wield its power against him. Odin chose the latter. He chose you."
Erik's jaw tightened. "He chose me? That smile—he let me win."
"He didn't let you," Frigga corrected gently. "He fought you with all he had. But he knew the outcome was inevitable. His smile… it was his acceptance. His trust in you, however begrudging."
Frigga corrected, her voice soft but resolute. "Not because he wanted to die, but because he believed in what you could become. He saw something in you, Erik. A strength that could rival even the gods. But also a darkness. He hoped…" pausing her eyes searched his. "He hoped that by giving you Asgard, by letting you take the Odinforce, you'd rise to meet the threat. That you'd protect what he could not."
Erik let out a dry, humorless laugh. "So I'm supposed to be some savior now? After I butchered his people, took his throne, and plan to parade his head around like a trophy? That's a hell of a leap of faith."
Frigga's expression hardened, though her tears still glistened. "Do not mock his sacrifice, Erik. Odin was many things—stubborn, proud, flawed—but he loved this realm. He gave his life so you could have the tools to save it. Whether you choose to honor that or spit on it is up to you."
For a moment, silence hung between them.
Erik's eyes flickered with something unreadable—anger, guilt, perhaps even doubt. Finally, he spoke, his voice low. "And Hela? Where does she fit into this grand plan?"
Frigga's lips pressed into a thin line. "Hela… is my firstborn, I love her dearly. I don't know how she would help you but she will become someone you can rely on. But Hela… she can be bit unruly. Please take care of her."
Erik smirked faintly. "I'll handle her."
Well, for now the goddess of death seemed obedient enough.
Frigga's gaze softened, but there was a warning in it. "Be careful, Erik. Hela is not like Wanda or Cindy. She doesn't bend to love or loyalty. She thrives on power and destruction. If you give her too much, she'll take everything."
"I'm counting on it," Erik replied, his tone cryptic. He turned to leave, pausing at the threshold. "One last thing. If Odin and the Ancient One saw all this coming, why didn't they just tell me? Why the games?"
Frigga smiled faintly, a bittersweet edge to it. "Because, Erik, the future isn't set. They could guide you, but they couldn't force your hand. You had to choose this path yourself. And you did."
Erik didn't respond. He gave her a curt nod and stepped out, leaving Frigga alone with her thoughts.
As the door sealed behind him, she collapsed on the ground and whispered to herself, "I only hope you choose wisely from here."
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Back in the throne room, preparations were underway.
The guards of Asgard stood in stunned silence, their breath caught in their throats as they beheld a sight they had never dared to imagine.
Odin, their king, the All-Father who had ruled the Nine Realms with unmatched might, stood before them with his hands bound in heavy iron cuffs.
His once-regal bearing was diminished, his silver hair disheveled, and his piercing gaze dulled by a somber resignation.
To these men, who had sworn their lives to his service, Odin had always been the epitome of strength—an unyielding force destined to meet his end in the glorious chaos of battle, his name sung in the halls of Valhalla for eternity.
But this?
This was no heroic death. This was a humiliation beyond comprehension, a betrayal of everything they had believed him to be.
Yet, amidst their shock and sorrow, Hela, the goddess of death, radiated an almost palpable glee.
Her dark eyes sparkled with a wild, unrestrained joy as she paced before the resurrected Odin.
This version of her father was no longer the proud king she had once known; he was a puppet, brought back from death by Erik's formidable power. Though he retained his memories, his experience, and even his commanding personality, his will was no longer his own.
No one apart from them knew about it though. To everyone else, Erik, the conqueror of Asgard, had defeated and chained their mighty king.
And to Hela's delight, Erik had ordered this Odin to obey her commands as well. To her, it was a delicious irony—a father who had imprisoned her now reduced to her servant.
With a flourish of her cloak, Hela turned to the guards, her voice sharp and commanding.
"Prepare the city center," she ordered, her tone leaving no room for defiance. "Gather the people. Our new king has a proclamation to make."
The guards hesitated, their instincts warring with their fear of her wrath.
But they nodded, they knew resistance was futile. After all, Odin... had surrendered. With heavy hearts, they dispersed to carry out her command, their footsteps echoing hollowly through the golden halls.
Moments later, Erik strode into the throne room, "Are the preparations proceeding well?" he asked.
Wanda, standing near a table littered with maps and artifacts, raised her eyes and smiled wryly. "They are," she replied.
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