Chapter 130:
– Haru –
Clutching his spear tightly, the reindeer man stopped directly in front of us. His gaze swept over me, Kunou Coulson, and the "hot milf" Frigga, who was standing near the door.
"Who are you people, and what are you doing near my mother's and my father's quarters while he is in the Odin-sleep?" he demanded to know.
His eyes then landed on Kunou a second time, and she responded by sticking her tongue out at him. For some reason, he flinched as if he recognized her…
It was a shame Sif had been knocked out, as she could have provided more details about this guy and the rest of the royal family. But then, I would have had to actually speak with her while she was coming onto me again, which wasn't something I particularly wanted to do anyway. I glanced to the side of the golden hallway where she was still knocked out and shrugged to myself. She didn't look like she'd be waking up anytime soon.
"Loki, I'm glad you're okay. Is the attack on our palace over?" Frigga asked the man, whom I now realized was Thor's brother and the current ruler of Asgard, based on the very vague information Thor and his friends had given us.
"It is fine for now, mother. My loyal soldiers are picking off stragglers and throwing survivors into the dungeons!" Loki declared, suddenly looking far more proud as he banged his golden spear on the floor.
The resulting, irritating echo made both my and my little sister's fox ears twitch on our heads.
Frigga stepped out into the hallway, swiftly securing the door with a quick series of spells. She smoothed down the fabric of her elegant dress. My gaze flickered, a movement too quick for anyone to catch, tracing the curve of her slender waist and the fullness of her chest as her hands glided over the material.
She then turned her attention back to my group.
"Thank you all for coming to my family's aid," Frigga began, addressing myself, Kunou, and Coulson. "You rid us of the Frost Giants pounding on the door. I honestly don't know if I could have fought off their King and his top warriors while guarding my husband's body," she explained.
"Oh, is your husband dead? I'm so sorry for your loss, ma'am," Kunou offered politely.
"Sorry for your loss," Coulson added, still looking slightly bewildered by the entire situation, but the agent was doing his best to be sympathetic.
"No, he's not dead. He's simply sleeping for a very long, indeterminate amount of time," Frigga clarified gently to Kunou.
"So he's only half-dead then," Kunou stated, nodding her head. "I get it!" she declared sagely, which made me chuckle.
"I suppose that's not entirely incorrect," Frigga conceded. She then noticed the hammer on Kunou's hip and the armor. "Where did you get that, deary?" she asked Kunou.
"I found it in a crater and picked it up. It gave me lightning superpowers, and I named it Sparkling Lightning-Chan! It's my new friend, but not a best friend yet. That spot is reserved for Tanya, Myrcella, and Mavis!" Kunou rattled off while counting three of her fingers. "My name is Kunou!"
Frigga simply nodded her head like an experienced mother who had long since stopped trying to decipher a child's rambling, choosing instead to just go along with it. "It's nice to meet you Kunou, dear. Welcome to Asgard," she said warmly and I could tell she meant it and was happy we were here even if she'd never met us.
What a genuinely kind queen. A lot like our mother Yasaka.
Loki did not seem to appreciate being sidelined in his own palace.
The "Reindeer Man"—as I'd mentally dubbed him thanks to that absurd horned helmet—tightened his grip on his golden spear. His knuckles turned white, and his gaze snapped impatiently between his mother and the small fox girl currently sticking her tongue out at him.
"Enough of this," Loki snapped, his voice echoing sharply against the high, vaulted ceilings. He stepped forward, inserting himself into the conversation with all the subtlety of a jealous child. "I demand to know who you people are. And more importantly, I want to know why that child is holding my brother's hammer. Mjolnir is not a toy to be paraded around by... whatever species she is."
Frigga placed a gentle hand on Loki's arm, effectively silencing him with a look that was both stern and calming. "Peace, my son," she said softly. "There is no need for hostility. I can sense the truth in the child's words. She bears us no ill will."
She turned her attention back to me, her expression shifting from maternal warmth to regal curiosity. She smoothed the front of her gown, composing herself like a true queen despite the unconscious guards and frost giants littering her hallway.
"Forgive my son's manners," Frigga said, offering me a polite nod. "It has been a trying day for our family. I am Frigga, Queen of Asgard. I assume, given your presence and the way you carry yourself, that you are the one in charge of this... unique group?"
"I'm in charge of Kunou, at least," I replied, reaching down to pat my little sister on the head. Kunou leaned into my hand, her golden tails swishing happily behind her, utterly unbothered by the tense atmosphere. "I'm Haru. I'm a Prince of the Yokai."
I paused, letting my gaze drift casually over to Loki before locking eyes with the Queen again. "As for why we're here... we came to Asgard alongside Prince Thor. We figured we should have a little chat with management after someone decided to send the Destroyer—Asgard's ultimate weapon, or so I'm told—down to Earth to kill us all."
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
My fox ears twitched atop my head. The sound was faint, buried under the ambient noise of the palace, but my enhanced senses picked it up instantly. Loki's heartbeat had just spiked. It was an erratic, nervous rhythm that betrayed him completely. I didn't react outwardly, keeping my face neutral, but internally, I smirked.
Gotcha. If I had any doubts that this guy was behind the attack, his own physiology just confirmed it.
I was right! Loki is always the BAD GUY…
Frigga, however, looked genuinely horrified. Her hand flew to her chest, her eyes widening. "The Destroyer? Sent to kill you?" She looked between us, distress etched into her features. "By the stars... are you all unharmed?"
"I almost died," Coulson piped up from beside me. He adjusted his suit jacket, looking entirely out of his element but trying to maintain his S.H.I.E.L.D. agent composure. "That beam missed me by inches. If Mr. Haru hadn't deflected it—"
"It wasn't that big of a deal!" Kunou interrupted loudly, cutting Coulson off before he could finish his grim report. She puffed out her chest, brandishing the heavy Uru hammer like it weighed nothing more than a plastic bat. "I smashed that big dumb robot to pieces! It was super easy! I hit it with Sparking Lightning-Chan and it went Kaboom!" To demonstrate, she made a wild exploding gesture with her free hand, grinning from ear to ear.
Frigga blinked, looking down at the small girl in disbelief. "You... destroyed the Automaton?" Her gaze drifted to the hammer in Kunou's hand, and a look of dawning realization crossed her face. "I see. If Mjolnir has accepted you, then you must possess incredible strength of character. You are very compatible with its power, little one."
Kunou shrugged nonchalantly. "I guess? The hammer is cool and all, and the lightning is shiny, but honestly?" She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I probably could've beaten that tin can way quicker if I just used my own foxfire and magic instead. I was just taking it easy on him because the hammer wanted to play!"
Frigga stared at her for a long moment, mouth slightly agape, clearly unsure how to process a child claiming that the legendary weapon of Thor was actually slowing her down.
"I... see," Frigga managed eventually, regaining her poise with practiced elegance. She glanced down the hallway where Sif was still unconscious and groaned softly. "Perhaps this hallway is not the best place for this discussion. Why don't we retire to one of the royal sitting rooms? We can speak more comfortably there." She turned, gesturing for us to follow, but then paused, her brow furrowing with concern. "You mentioned you came with Thor... where is my son? Is he safe?"
I couldn't help but chuckle, picturing the scene we'd left behind on the Bifrost. "He's fine," I assured her with a shrug. "But as for where he is... well, that depends entirely on his cardio. He took off running the second we landed. Considering the length of that rainbow bridge, I'd say he's probably just reaching the city limits right about now, wheezing his lungs out."
Loki let out a loud, derisive snort, rolling his eyes. "Typical," he muttered. "Brash and thoughtless as ever."
Frigga, however, just let out a long, relieved sigh, her shoulders slumping as the tension left her frame. "That certainly sounds like Thor," she said, a fond, weary smile touching her lips. "I am just relieved he is alive and well."
"Yes," Loki added, his voice smooth as silk but carrying a distinct, razor-sharp edge that my ears picked up instantly. "We are very glad he's returned."
I glanced at the God of Mischief, noting the way his eyes didn't match his smile.
…The royal sitting room was a testament to Asgardian excess. Everything that wasn't made of solid gold was draped in silk or carved from marble that seemed to hum with faint, ambient magic. It was beautiful, certainly, but it was also a lot. It felt like sitting inside a jewelry box that was trying too hard to impress you.
I sat comfortably on a plush velvet sofa that was probably worth more than my entire first apartment back in my previous life.
My ten golden tails fanned out behind me, draping over the back of the couch and brushing against the floor like a luxurious carpet.
"Here you are, Prince Haru," Frigga said softly.
I looked up as the Queen of Asgard leaned over to place a delicate porcelain cup on the low table before me. The movement brought with it a waft of her nice scent.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," I said, picking up the cup. I didn't drink immediately. Instead, I let my golden eyes travel over her, offering a warm, appreciative smile. "Though I have to say, the tea is only the second most delightful thing in this room. It is truly an honor to be served by a Queen as gorgeous as yourself."
It wasn't a lie. Frigga was stunning. She had a maturity to her beauty that the younger girls I knew simply couldn't replicate. It was in the way she held herself, the wisdom in her eyes, and, quite frankly, the incredible figure she was hiding beneath those Asgardian robes. I'd meant what I thought earlier—she was a top-tier MILF.
Frigga let out a small, airy laugh, shaking her head as a faint blush dusted her cheeks. "Oh, stop teasing an old woman," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "I am far past my prime, Prince Haru. You are young and vibrant, you need not waste your silver tongue on someone like me."
I set the tea down with a sharp clink, letting out a dramatic, offended gasp. I pressed a hand to my chest, feigning shock. "Past your prime?" I repeated, my voice dropping an octave into a low, smooth rumble. "My Queen, you wound me. That is simply not true. In fact, looking at you now, I find it hard to believe anyone in this realm manages to get any work done." I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, locking eyes with her. "Surely," I continued, "whenever the lords and ladies show up to court, they aren't there to listen to the King drone on about politics or war. They must be there simply to catch a glimpse of your lovely face. If I were a citizen of Asgard, I'd invent reasons to be put on trial just to stand in your presence!"
Frigga blinked, her lips parting slightly.
I caught a flicker of movement from the corner of my eye—Loki shifting in his seat—but I ignored him.
My mind was busy trying to picture Odin. I hadn't met the All-Father of this universe yet, given that he was currently in a magical coma, but if lore was anything to go by, he was likely a crusty old guy with one eye and a bad temper. If he looked anything like the Odin from the DxD universe—the perverted old geezer who hung out at strip clubs with Azazel—then Frigga was definitely out of his league.
"You... you are too kind," Frigga stuttered, her composure cracking under the weight of the compliment. The blush on her cheeks deepened to a lovely shade of rose.
She hesitated for a moment, glancing at the empty armchair across from me where she had likely intended to sit. Then, she looked back at me.
With a small, almost shy smile, she bypassed the chair entirely. She moved toward the sofa I was occupying, the silk of her dress rustling softly. She sat down next to me—not at a polite, diplomatic distance, but close. Very close.
I felt the warmth of her thigh pressing lightly against mine through the fabric of my trousers. My fox ears twitched atop my head, picking up the slight hitch in her breathing. My tails gave a happy, involuntary swish behind me, brushing against her back. She didn't pull away.
"You flatter me, Haru," she murmured, pouring herself a cup of tea with hands that trembled ever so slightly.
"I only speak the truth," I replied, flashing her a grin that showed a hint of fang.
A sharp, grinding noise cut through the pleasant atmosphere. I turned my head slowly to the side. Loki was sitting in a high-backed chair that looked suspiciously like a throne, his knuckles white as he gripped the armrests. He was glaring at me with an intensity that suggested he wanted to set me on fire with his mind.
He looked like he was about to start growling. His green eyes darted from my relaxed posture to his mother's flushed face, and his lip curled in a sneer. "Do not flirt with my mother," Loki hissed, his voice dripping with venom. "Especially not in front of the King of Asgard."
I blinked at him, keeping my expression perfectly neutral. "I'm just making conversation, reindeer games. No need to get possessive."
Loki stood up abruptly, his cape swirling around him. "You speak with too much familiarity, outsider," Loki spat. "You waltz into our palace, you parade around with your beastly appendages, and you claim foreign royal titles for a race we have never heard of! How do we even know you are a true Prince, as you claim to be?" He looked me up and down with disdain. "For all we know, you are merely a common monster who has learned to mimic the speech of his betters. A trickster."
"Loki!" Frigga set her cup down sharply. Her voice whipped through the room like a lash, instantly shedding the flustered demeanor she'd had a moment ago. "That is enough. Haru and his companions saved us from the Frost Giants. They protected your father's slumber when your own guards failed. You will show him the respect a guest—and a savior—deserves."
Loki flinched, looking like a scolded child. "Mother, I only—"
"He is a guest," Frigga repeated firmly. "Apologize."
Loki's jaw worked, his eyes burning with humiliation. He looked at me, hate simmering in his gaze.
I just shrugged, leaning back into the sofa cushions and spreading my arms along the top, looking as unbothered as possible.
"It's fine, Lady Frigga," I said easily. "There's no way to prove my words, really. And I'm not here to cause trouble." That second part was a lie of course, why else would I have bothered coming to Asgard with Kunou.
I glanced to the side. Kunou was currently munching on a bunch of sweets as Asgardian maids happily served and cooed at her adorableness.
Loki straightened up and puffed out his chest, reaching out to grab the golden spear leaning against his chair. "Indeed," Loki declared, his voice regaining its arrogant smooth timbre. "No one would dare cause trouble in Asgard while I sit upon the throne." He clutched the golden spear tightly, brandishing it like a scepter. The metal gleamed under the magical lights of the room. "As long as I wield Gungnir," Loki announced, raising the weapon high, "I am the protector of this realm. My will is absolute!"
I stared at the spear. It was a nice stick. Gold, enchanted, pulsating with a decent amount of magic I supposed.
And then I tilted my head, letting a mischievous grin spread across my face.
"What's a Gungnir?" I asked innocently.
Loki froze. He lowered the spear slowly, staring at me as if I were the stupidest creature in the nine realms. "Are you daft?" Loki sneered. "It is this spear! The weapon of the All-Father. The symbol of the King's power! It never misses its mark. It is the most powerful weapon in—"
"Right, right," I interrupted, waving a hand. "Whatever you say, buddy."
Loki's eyes narrowed. "Do not mock me, fox. You stand before the King! This spear represents the might of Asgard, and it is right here in my hand—"
I narrowed my eyes. Ultimate Skill: [Lord of the Kitchen].
The world shifted. The colors of the room didn't change, but my perception did. A grid of blue light, invisible to everyone but me, expanded outward from my body, washing over the room.
The sofa, the table, the tea, Frigga, Loki... and the spear. In my domain, they weren't people or legendary artifacts. They were ingredients. They were utensils. They were mine to prep, chop, or move as I saw fit. I focused on the spear in Loki's hand. To anyone else, it was Gungnir, the legendary weapon of Odin. To me, it was a long, golden skewer. A kebab stick. A utensil that was currently in the wrong place.
Move, I commanded silently. There was no sound. No flash of light. No struggle. One millisecond, Loki was clutching the shaft of the spear, his knuckles white, mid-sentence about his glorious rule. The next millisecond, his fingers were closed around empty air.
Loki stumbled forward, his center of gravity thrown off by the sudden disappearance of the heavy weapon. He grasped at nothing, his eyes bulging.
"—right here in my... hand?" He looked down at his empty palm. He blinked. He looked at the floor, thinking he had dropped it.
He hadn't.
"Hmm," I hummed, weighing the heavy golden weapon in my own hand. I was inspecting it casually, twirling it between my fingers like a baton. The metal was warm, humming with a low-frequency magic that tasted like authority to my own senses. "It's a little unbalanced," I critiqued, running my thumb over the intricate runes etched into the metal. "Heavy at the top. Good for piercing tough hides, I suppose, or maybe for roasting a whole hog if you had a fire pit big enough."
Loki made a strangled, choking noise. He looked up, his face draining of color as he saw the symbol of his kingship resting casually in my grip. "My..." he wheezed. "My spear..."
"It's an alright weapon, I suppose," I said with a shrug, unimpressed. "But I've seen better. My sister's hammer seems a lot more fun, honestly. At least that one can change the weather. A spear that never misses sounds boring in comparison."
I turned to Frigga, who was staring at the spear in my hands with wide, shocked eyes.
"Here," I said gently. I extended the spear toward her.
Frigga reached out with trembling hands, her fingers brushing against the cold gold of the shaft. She took it gingerly, as if she expected it to bite her. "I..." Frigga whispered, looking from the spear to me. "Prince Haru... I have never been allowed to hold Gungnir before. Odin... he never lets it leave his side." She looked at me with a mixture of awe and bewilderment. "How..."
"HOW DID YOU DO THAT?!" Loki shrieked. The God of Mischief looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. He was pointing a shaking finger at me, his composure completely shattered. "That is Gungnir! It answers only to the King! You cannot just... take it! It is impossible! What sorcery is this?!"
I just grinned at him challengingly as a few of my tails started to bristle and move back and forth.
A polite, dry cough cut through the thick tension of the room.
I turned my head slowly. I had almost forgotten Phil Coulson was even there. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent had been sitting on the edge of the sofa the entire time, his posture rigid, his hands clasped tightly in his lap like a schoolboy waiting outside the principal's office. He looked pale, likely trying to calculate the exact diplomatic fallout of a fox Demon Lord stealing a magical spear from a Norse god in real-time.
He cleared his throat again, adjusting his tie with a nervous twitch of his fingers. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else in the multiverse, preferably somewhere with paperwork and bad coffee, rather than in a golden palace surrounded by volatile deities.
"Um," Coulson started, his voice cracking slightly before he smoothed it out into his usual professional deadpan. He looked at me, his eyes darting nervously toward the fuming Loki. "Mr. Haru... perhaps we should remember that we are technically guests in this palace?" He didn't dare scold me outright, but the look in his eyes was pleading. It was the look of a man who just wanted to go home without starting an intergalactic war.
Fair enough. I did drag him along after all. Mostly because I thought it would be funny.
I turned my gaze toward Loki. The God of Mischief was vibrating with fury, his hands opening and closing emptily where his spear had been just moments before. He looked like a child who had his favorite toy snatched away by a bully on the playground.
"Sorry about that, Reindeer Games," I said—for some reason that nickname just felt right to call him—offering him a lazy, sharp-toothed grin that didn't reach my eyes. "I didn't mean to emasculate you in front of your mom. It just sort of... happened."
Loki's face turned a shade of puce that clashed horribly with his gold armor. He opened his mouth to scream something that would likely involve treason and executions, but the words died in his throat.
His eyes—and mine—were drawn to the woman sitting beside me.
Queen Frigga hadn't moved. She sat perfectly still on the sofa, her posture regal and upright, but there was something strange happening. Her hands were clamped around the shaft of Gungnir, her knuckles white from the force of her grip. The golden metal of the spear seemed to be humming, a low, resonant vibration that I could feel buzzing against my hip where our legs touched.
"Are you alright there, Queen Frigga?" I asked softly, my earlier playfulness vanishing.
She didn't answer immediately. Her head was tilted back slightly, her lips parted in a silent gasp. But it was her eyes that caught my attention. They weren't just blue anymore. They were glowing—a brilliant, molten gold that swirled and pulsed with raw, unchecked magic.
It was like looking into the heart of a star.
"I am..." Frigga whispered. Her voice sounded distant, echoing as if she were speaking from the bottom of a well or across a vast distance. "I am very well... thank you, Prince Haru."
The glow in her eyes intensified. She was staring off into space, seeing something none of us could see. Whatever was happening with her and the spear, it didn't look like it was hurting her at the very least…
I decided not to interrupt whatever was happening there.
Loki was watching his mother with a mixture of confusion and naked jealousy. He looked like he desperately wanted to snatch the spear back, his fingers twitching at his sides, but the sight of his mother in such a state—and perhaps the lingering fear of what I might do to him—kept him rooted to the spot.
I decided to break the tension one of the best ways I knew how. By being an annoying mischievous kitsune.
"Oh, that reminds me," I said, snapping my fingers. "Hey, King Loki. Since we're talking about royal responsibilities and all that boring stuff, you actually owe my friend here a whole bunch of money." I jerked my thumb toward Coulson.
Loki blinked, the sheer absurdity of the statement snapping him out of his stare. He looked at me, then at Coulson, his expression twisting into a sneer of profound annoyance. "What?" Loki spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "I owe... him? How could a god possibly owe a debt to some random, insignificant Midgardian mortal?"
Coulson coughed into his hand, looking like he wanted to melt into the floor upholstery. "Actually, Mr. Haru, we don't really need to—"
"Nonsense," I interrupted, waving a hand. "Business is business, Phil." I looked back at Loki, my golden eyes narrowing slightly. "He represents a government on Earth. You know, that little mudball your brother was sent away too? Well, his friends—along with that out-of-control robot you sent down to murder us—blew up half a town."
Technically Kunou and Tanya caused a bunch more damage, but there was no reason to bring that up. Yep, none at all!
I ticked the points off on my fingers. "Property damage. Emotional distress. Zoning violations. Destruction of a 7-Eleven. That stuff adds up, Loki. Rebuilding a town in the American desert isn't cheap. Someone has to pay the bill!"
Coulson facepalmed. The sound of flesh hitting forehead was audible in the room. He dragged his hand down his face, looking exhausted. "Fury is gonna be so pissed," he mumbled under his breath, his voice tight with stress. "I'm in an alien palace negotiating reparations with a space wizard... this wasn't in the job description."
I tilted my head, my fox ears twitching. Fury? I wondered who that was. Probably Coulson's boss.
Sounds like an angry guy.
Loki stared at me for a long moment, his lip curling. He looked like he couldn't decide whether to laugh at the audacity or attack us where we sat. Finally, he rolled his eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck in the back of his skull. "Fine," Loki sneered. "If it will get you out of my sight faster, then take it!"
He waved a hand dismissively through the air. There was a flash of green emerald light, a ripple of translocation magic, and then—
THUD.
A heavy leather sack materialized out of thin air and dropped onto the low table in front of Coulson. The impact was heavy enough to crack the marble surface of the table. The sack slumped over, the tie coming loose, and a cascade of gold coins spilled out.
These weren't small coins. They were thick, heavy Asgardian doubloons.
"There you go, mortal," Loki said, his voice bored and haughty. "Take your pittance. And don't let anyone ever say the House of Odin does not pay its debts, however trivial they may be."
Coulson stared at the pile of gold. His mouth fell open slightly. He reached out a hand, picking up one of the coins. He tested the weight of it, his eyes widening behind his sunglasses. "This is... solid gold," Coulson whispered. "This bag must be worth... millions." He tried to lift the bag. He grunted, straining, but the sack barely budged. It probably weighed as much as a person. He let out a sigh, realizing he wasn't going to be carrying that out of here on his own.
"I'll carry it for you later, Phil," I offered with a smirk.
Loki ignored us. His attention had snapped back to the sofa. He took a step forward, his brow furrowed with genuine concern, the mask of the arrogant king slipping for a moment to reveal the worried son beneath.
"Mother?" Loki asked, his voice losing its edge. "What is wrong with you? You look... you look as though you are fighting off some kind of powerful enchantment."
Frigga didn't answer him. Her eyes were still wide, still glowing with that intense, blinding gold light. Her hands were trembling around the shaft of the spear, but not from weakness. It was from intensity.
"Mother!" Loki shouted, taking another step.
Finally, Frigga reacted. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, cutting off the beams of golden light. She took a deep, shuddering breath, her chest rising and falling heavily beneath her gown.
When she opened her eyes again, the golden glow had faded, returning to her natural blue, but there was a new depth to them. A sharpness. A vitality that hadn't been there before.
She turned her head slowly, bypassing her son entirely to look at me.
Her gaze was intense, heavy with an emotion I couldn't quite place. She fluttered her eyelashes, a soft, flushed smile spreading across her lips that made the blood rush straight to my face. It wasn't the look of a Queen looking at a guest. It was the look of a woman looking at... something she wanted.
"Thank you~" she muttered, the words meant only for me. Then, she reached out. Her hand, warm and soft, came to rest on my thigh. She squeezed gently, her fingers lingering on the fabric of my trousers. It was a possessive, intimate touch that sent a jolt of electricity straight up my spine. My tails gave an involuntary, excited twitch behind me.
"Mother?" Loki asked, his voice trembling with confusion. "Are you... well?"
Frigga turned to look at Loki, but her hand didn't leave my leg. She smiled at him—a radiant, beatific smile that looked almost too bright. "My son," she said, her voice rich and resonant, vibrating with a power that wasn't there before. She sat up straighter, looking a bit more imposing. "I am fine. In fact... I haven't been WHOLE in millennia." She gripped Gungnir with one hand, tapping the butt of the spear against the floor. A ring of sound echoed through the room, clear as a bell.
Loki looked confused by her words. He opened his mouth to speak, to demand the spear back, to demand she take her hand off my leg—
BANG.
The heavy double doors of the sitting room were slammed open with enough force to shake the walls.
We all jumped. Frigga's hand slipped from my thigh (much to my disappointment), and Loki spun around, summoning a dagger into his hand from thin air.
Thor Odinson stood in the doorway.
He looked absolutely wrecked.
His flannel shirt was soaked through with sweat, clinging to his massive chest like a second skin. His blonde hair was plastered to his forehead, dripping onto the expensive Asgardian rug. His face was beet red, and his chest was heaving like a bellows as he gasped for air, making a wheezing sound that was painful to listen to.
He stumbled into the room, his legs shaking with every step. He looked like he had just run a marathon at a full sprint—which, considering the length of the Bifrost bridge, was exactly what he had done.
"I..." Thor wheezed, bracing a hand against the doorframe to keep from collapsing. He pointed a trembling finger into the room, though he was too dizzy to aim it at anyone in particular. "I... made it..." He took one more step, his knee buckled, and the former God of Thunder went down.
SMACK.
He faceplanted directly onto the marble floor with a wet, meaty thud that echoed through the silent room. He didn't move. He just lay there, a puddle of sweat forming around him.
"So... tired..." he groaned into the floor, his voice muffled. "Legs... burning... Why is the bridge... so long..."
Loki stared at his brother's prone form. He lowered his dagger he had drawn slowly. "He is an idiot," Loki said flatly.
"He certainly has stamina," I noted, impressed despite myself. I had to give him props for that, because it looked like he sprinted all the way here.
Over by the refreshment table, Kunou hopped down from the high-backed velvet chair she'd been occupying. A cascade of crumbs tumbled from the crevices of her armor—bits of Asgardian pastries and cookies scattering across the marble floor.
The two handmaidens who had been fawning over her, cooing at her ears and tails, let out collective sighs of disappointment as their adorable little charge moved away.
Kunou ignored them, her focus entirely on the man currently face-planted on the floor. She marched over to Thor.
She stood over the groaning, sweat-soaked God of Thunder, tapping her chin thoughtfully. Then, with a casual shrug, she unhooked the gray metal hammer from her belt.
"I had a lot of fun, Mister," Kunou chirped, her voice bright and cheery in the somber room. "But you can have this back now!"
She held Mjolnir out, then simply let go.
THUD.
The hammer hit the marble floor inches from Thor's nose.
"It was a cool toy," Kunou added as her armor dissolved and she was once again wearing a kimono. "But I'm bored of it now. I kinda wanna go home and play with my friends and dog now." Like a child bored with a Christmas present by noon, she skipped back over to my side, grabbing my pant leg and leaning against me. "Can we go now nii-chan?"
Thor, who had been lying in a puddle of his own exhaustion, cracked one eye open. He stared at the hammer sitting mere inches from his face. A spark of life seemed to return to his battered form. A grin—exhausted, desperate, but hopeful—spread across his face.
"My... my hammer..." he wheezed.
He pushed himself up, muscles trembling from the strain of his marathon sprint across the Bifrost. He reached out, his hand shaking, and wrapped his thick fingers around the leather-wrapped handle.
He pulled.
Nothing happened.
He pulled harder, gritting his teeth, the veins in his neck bulging as he put his back into it. The hammer didn't budge. It didn't slide. It didn't even wobble. It was anchored to the floor.
Well, that was kind of disappointing…
Thor let out a long, agonizing groan of despair, his forehead thumping back against the cold stone floor. "No!" he cried into the marble. "Why?! How am I still not worthy?!" He rolled onto his back, staring up at the vaulted ceiling with tragic, wet eyes. "I ran!" he shouted, his voice cracking. "I ran the entire length of the Bifrost! My lungs burn! My legs are jelly! I did it for love! I did it to repay the debts of my folly! Is that not worthy?!"
Beside me on the sofa, Queen Frigga let out a tired sounding sigh.
"You were not supposed to return," a cold voice cut through Thor's lamentations.
Loki was looking down at his brother with a mixture of scorn and something that looked suspiciously like fear. "I told you, brother. The burden of the throne is mine. You were banished. You should have stayed in exile!"
Thor sat up slowly, looking at Loki. For the first time since I'd met him, the arrogance was gone. He looked… humble.
"I know, brother," Thor said softly. He got to his knees, not reaching for the hammer this time. He looked at Loki with genuine remorse. "I did not come to take the throne. I only wished to… to make things right. To secure the funds to rebuild what the Destroyer broke." Thor lowered his head. "I am sorry for being such a fool, Loki. I see it now. My pride… my arrogance… it blinded me. You were right. I was not ready. I am not worthy of being King."
The room went silent. Loki stared at him, his mouth opening and closing, his script clearly thrown off by Thor's sudden maturity.
But it was the sound from beside me that drew my attention.
"Hah!" It was a scoff. Harsh, bitter, and completely unlike the gentle, maternal figure I had met earlier. Frigga was staring at Thor, her eyes hard, glowing with a faint, residual golden light. She then turned towards me and I noticed her hand drifting back to my thigh.
"What is it?" I asked her quietly, leaning in slightly. "What's wrong?"
Frigga turned her head to me. The look in her eyes stopped my breath. It wasn't sadness. It was a deep, ancient weariness, mixed with a sudden, sharp clarity. It was the look of someone who had just woken up from a very long, very bad dream.
"Everything," she whispered, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. "So many things are wrong, Prince Haru. I cannot even begin to describe the depth of the deception that has been done to me..." She looked back at her sons—Thor on his knees, Loki standing stiff and awkward—and shook her head. "My mind..." she murmured, lifting her free hand to touch her temple. "The enchantment is broken. The weave Odin placed upon my mind to keep me docile, to keep me compliant... it is gone."
My eyes widened. "Odin brainwashed you?"
She leaned in closer, her body pressing against my side. "Prince Haru," she said, her voice urgent now. "Can my sons and I seek sanctuary with your people? Can we leave this place?"
"Mother?" Thor asked, his head snapping up.
"What!?" Loki spun around, his cape swirling. "Sanctuary? What madness is this? I am the King! We need no sanctuary! If father has wronged you mother, then I will stand up to him!"
Frigga ignored them. Her focus was entirely on me. Her hand slid higher up my thigh, her nails digging in slightly. "We do not have much time," she said, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Now that the enchantment on my mind has been shattered... now that I have touched Gungnir and rejected its master's will... he will know." She glanced fearfully toward the ceiling, as if the All-Father were watching us right now. "Odin will know. He will force himself from the Odinsleep. And when he wakes... he will not be the benevolent father my sons believe him to be. He will be furious."
Brainwashing his wife? Binding her power? That was… decidedly villainous behavior. Was the Odin of this universe actually a dick? Like, a Zeus-level dick?
"He will try to bind me again," Frigga whispered, her voice cracking. "He will try to pit my sons against each other to secure his legacy. I cannot stay here. I will not go back to the fog I spent millenia enduring like a puppet!" She squeezed my leg, leaning in so close her lips brushed my ear. "Please, Prince Haru. Help us!"
She was literally begging for help from a guy she just met and barely knew at all. The desperation in her voice was palpable. But beneath it, there was that undercurrent of heat again. She was terrified, yes, but she was also looking at me like I was the only man in the universe who mattered. The blush on my cheeks deepened as I felt the soft weight of her breast brush against my arm.
Damn it. How was I supposed to say no to a beautiful queen begging for help?
"Of course," I said, my voice coming out a little rougher than I intended. I placed my hand over hers on my leg, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You're welcome at the Fox Hole, Lady Frigga." I glanced over at the two princes. Thor looked like he had been hit by a truck. Loki looked like he was about to vomit. "Even Loki and Thor can come," I added, though I couldn't help the begrudging tone. "I guess."
Loki bristled, his face twisting into a scowl. "I do not need your pity, fox! I am the ruler of Asgard! I will not run away like a—"
"Loki!" Frigga's voice snapped like a whip. She stood up, releasing my leg—much to my disappointment—and turned to face her sons. Her posture had changed. She wasn't just a mother anymore, she was a sorceress who had remembered her power. "There is no time for your pride," she told him, her eyes blazing. "You do not understand what your father is. If we are here when he wakes, none of us will leave. We must get to the Bifrost. Now!"
"Mother, what is going on?" Thor asked, scrambling to his feet. He looked lost, a giant man suddenly reduced to a confused boy.
"I will explain everything once we are safe," Frigga promised. She walked over to Thor. She reached out, grabbing him by the front of his flannel shirt. Then she lifted him to his feet with ease. Thor yelped as his feet left the ground. Frigga hoisted her massive son effortlessly with one hand, steadying him on his feet as if he weighed no more than a feather pillow. "We are leaving," she stated.
Then. She reached down with her other hand. Her fingers wrapped around the handle of Mjolnir.
Thor gasped. Loki's eyes bulged.
Frigga didn't strain. She simply... lifted it. The hammer came up from the floor as if it were made of paper maché. She hefted it, testing its weight, her expression grim.
"By the gods..." Thor whispered, staring at his mother. "You... you are worthy?"
"It is not about worthiness, my son," Frigga said cryptically, her eyes glowing with that faint golden light again. "It is about authority. And I am done letting men decide what I can and cannot hold." She turned to us, holding the hammer in one hand and supporting her massive son with the other. "We must hurry," she commanded.
"Right," I said, still very confused at everything happening here but I couldn't help but be curious. Also, if Odin did want to fight I was very sure I could take him. Sif was weak as hell and she was a War Goddess so how much stronger could he be? But I decided to play along for now and Kunou did say she wanted to go home.
I turned to Agent Coulson, who was still standing by the table, staring at the sack of gold Loki had conjured earlier.
I reached out, tapping into my Inventory skill. A ripple of space distorted the air around the sack, and with a soft shimmer, the gold vanished, sucked into my dimensional storage. "Consider it safe keeping until we get you back to Earth," I told him.
Coulson let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for ten minutes. "Thanks," he muttered. He looked around the opulent room, then at the frantic queen and the bewildered gods. "I have a bad feeling about this," Coulson mumbled, adjusting his tie. "This feels like the part of the movie where the base explodes."
I clapped him on the shoulder, steering him toward the door. "No need to quote Star Wars and be all dramatic, Phil. It'll be fine."
"Usually when people say that," Coulson noted dryly as he started jogging, "things are decidedly not fine."
"Details," I smirked.
"Kunou, we're leaving," I told my little sister.
…At the Bifrost, Frigga stared at the sight of Heimdall frozen like a popsicle. "He has been hit by the Casket of Ancient Winters," she declared. "How did this happen?"
"It is a true mystery, Mother," Loki replied.
I shamelessly pointed a finger at Loki. "He did it. He also sent the Destroyer to Midgard to try and kill us and Thor."
Loki sputtered in protest of my words, "That is a lie! You know not what you speak!"
Thor and Coulson reacted with shock—mostly Thor since he was now learning his brother tried to kill him.
Coulson just muttered about the "soap opera levels of alien drama" unfolding.
Frigga gave her second son a stern glare, promising him a severe scolding later. However, she acknowledged his action was beneficial since Heimdall was strictly loyal to Odin and would have tried to stop her from leaving. Frigga then telekinetically lifted the gold sword and key for the Bifrost, activated it, and announced it was set for Midgard. "Everyone go through," she commanded.
"Yippee! I want to see the pretty rainbow lights again," Kunou exclaimed, grabbing Coulson and yanking him through the portal.
"Mother, is it really necessary to abandon my kingdom just when I began to rule?" Loki attempted to protest, but he was ignored.
I laughed as Frigga swiftly raised her leg and then punted him hard into the portal next. His look of shock was priceless.
Thor, raising her hands in surrender, simply said, "No need, Mother, I am going," and jumped through after them.
Frigga turned to me with a soft smile and another sigh, extending her hand. "Let's go."
"YOU DARE BETRAY ME, MY QUEEN!" an angry old man in heavy armor roared from behind us.
The spear Frigga held was instantly ripped from her grasp, flying back into Odin's hand.
I sensed this Odin's power and whistled.
Okay, this Odin is around Ultimate Class, which is pretty decent, but not even close to his DxD counterpart. He could easily be put in his place.
Perhaps Odin sensed the depths of my true power, too, because his one eye widened in shock as he got a good look at me. "What kind of monster have you brought into my home, traitorous wife! He must be a Great Old One! His evil will kill us all!" Odin said and pointed a hateful finger at the both of us.
"Don't be so dramatic, dude, we were just leaving," I replied with annoyance.
"You will do no such thing except die here and now, you abomination!" Odin shouted, slamming his spear into the center of the Rainbow Bridge, causing the entire structure to crack.
Right behind Frigga and me, the rainbow Bifrost portal suddenly turned pitch black as Odin corrupted or destroyed it. There was suddenly a powerful pulling force behind us, like gravity had been flipped. It wasn't strong enough to affect me, but I also wasn't alone.
Frigga gasped as she was sucked into the black portal! My eyes went wide watching her vanish.
I gave Odin a glare and then I made a split-second decision, leaping in right after her!
…There was a sensation of falling. This was a void between worlds, a tear in the fabric of the Yggdrasil that wasn't meant to be traversed by living things.
But I wasn't just any living thing.
"Frigga!" I tried to shout, but the sound was swallowed by the vacuum before it could leave my lips. It didn't matter.
I pushed my magicules outward, coating my body in a protective aura of blue foxfire that burned bright enough to push back the encroaching shadows. My golden eyes narrowed, cutting through the swirling obsidian mists, searching desperately for the glint of gold and cream robes.
There.
She was tumbling helplessly a hundred yards below me, her form small and fragile against the infinite dark. The chaotic energies of the corrupted wormhole were tearing at her, threatening to separate us across lightyears or shred us into atoms.
Not on my watch.
I tucked my arms in and dove. I poured power into my flight, fighting the turbulent currents of broken space-time, accelerating until the darkness blurred into streaks of gray. I closed the distance in a heartbeat, reaching out with everything I had.
My ten golden tails erupted from behind me, expanding instantly into a massive, fluffy net of protective fur and magic. They lashed out, wrapping around her waist, her arms, her legs, snatching her out of the void's grip just as a particularly violent tear in space threatened to swallow her whole!
I hauled her in, pulling her body flush against mine.
Frigga collided with my chest, and I wrapped my arms around her instantly, locking her in a vice grip. She was trembling, her hands instinctively clutching at my shirt, burying her face in the crook of my neck. Even in the freezing void, she felt incredibly warm, her soft curves pressing against the hard lines of my body.
"I've got you," I murmured against her hair, though I knew she couldn't hear me. I just needed her to feel it.
I twisted my body, reorienting us. We were exiting the wormhole. I could feel the barrier of a new reality approaching fast—too fast. The darkness gave way to a murky, gray atmosphere, and suddenly gravity—real, heavy, unforgiving gravity—took hold of us with a vengeance.
We were plummeting from the sky like a meteor and the ground was only seconds away! It was a jagged, unforgiving landscape of black rock and dead earth.
I didn't panic though. I tightened my hold on Frigga, ensuring her head was tucked safely against my body. I shifted my weight, spinning us in the air so that my back was facing the ground. My ten tails, thick and infused with magicules, coiled around us both, forming a dense, golden cocoon of fur to cushion the impact.
CRASH!
The impact hit with the force of a bomb detonation. The ground shattered beneath us, rock pulverizing into dust, sending a shockwave rippling out that flattened the surrounding terrain.
For a moment, there was only the ringing in my ears and the settling of dust.
I lay there, blinking up at the gray sky. The cocoon of my tails slowly uncurled from the woman I was protecting.
Frigga stirred on top of me.
She pushed herself up slowly, her hands planted firmly on my chest. Her golden hair was wild around her face, disheveled from the fall, and her breathing was ragged. She blinked, her eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears as she looked down at me, checking for injuries.
We were intimately close. Her legs were parted, straddling my waist, the heavy silk of her Asgardian gown bunching up around her thighs to reveal the smooth, pale skin underneath. Her hips were pressed firmly against mine, and the softness of her full breasts was heaving with each desperate breath she took, brushing against my chest with maddening friction.
"Haru..." she whispered, her voice trembling. "You... you followed after me? To save me?"
"Couldn't let you have all the fun, could I?" I wheezed slightly, managing a crooked grin. "Besides, I promised I'd help you."
A tear slipped free, tracing a path down her dust-smudged cheek. "Thank you," she breathed, the words barely more than a ghost of sound. "Thank you for saving me."
Before I could respond, she leaned down.
Her lips met mine.
It wasn't a hesitant, chaste kiss of gratitude. It was soft, yes, but heavy with intent. Her lips were plush and warm, tasting of the tea we had drank earlier. I froze for a split second, surprised by the boldness of the Asgardian Queen, before my instincts kicked into overdrive.
I kissed her back.
My hands, which had been resting on her back to protect her, began to roam. I slid my palms down the curve of her spine, feeling the dip of her waist through the expensive fabric, before moving lower. My fingers splayed over the swell of her hips, gripping her firmly as I deepened the kiss.
She moaned into my mouth, a low, needy sound that vibrated straight to my groin. Her hands tangled in my hair, her nails scraping lightly against my scalp and sensitive fox ears as she pressed herself closer, trying to eliminate even the sliver of space between us.
It was intoxicating. Here we were, stranded in god-knows-where, lying in a crater of my own making, and all I could focus on was the feel of the milf writhing on top of me.
My hands slid further down,cupping the heavy, soft weight of her ass cheeks. She gasped against my lips as I gave them a squeeze, her body arching into my touch instinctively. She was plush in all the right places, a mature, womanly softness.
I ran my tongue along her lower lip, asking for entrance, and she granted it immediately, her mouth opening to me with a desperate eagerness. Our tongues tangled, wet and hot, sparking a fire in my belly that made me forget about the cold wind blowing over the crater's edge.
I shifted my hips upward, grinding my hardening cock against her center through our clothes.
Frigga broke the kiss with a sharp inhale, pulling back just enough to look at me. Her face was flushed a deep, beautiful crimson, her lips swollen and glistening from our kiss. Her chest heaved, her breasts pressing against the bodice of her gown, threatening to spill over.
She looked down at me, her eyes hazy with lust and confusion, her hands still resting on my chest.
"I..." she started, her voice breathless. She seemed to realize suddenly exactly what she was doing—straddling a man she had met only hours ago, a man who wasn't her husband, in the middle of a wasteland.
But she didn't get off.
She stayed right where she was, her thighs gripping my waist, her weight grounding me. She bit her lip, looking at me with a mixture of desire and shyness that made her look decades younger. "I apologize," she whispered, though she didn't sound sorry at all. "I... I was overwhelmed."
"Don't apologize," I said, my voice rough. I kept my hands on her hips, rubbing my thumbs in slow, soothing circles. "I didn't mind. In fact... I wouldn't mind if you did it again."
She let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. She glanced down at our joined bodies, then slowly lifted her gaze to take in our surroundings for the first time.
The ground around us was cracked and dry, a landscape of obsidian rock and gray dust that stretched out as far as the eye could see. There was no vegetation. No trees, no grass, not even the hardy scrub brush of a desert. Just dead, black earth and jagged spires of rock jutting up like broken ribs.
The air tasted stale, metallic, like the taste of a battery on your tongue. It was silent—a heavy, oppressive silence that felt wrong. No birds, no insects, no wind in the trees. Just the sound of our own breathing.
Frigga frowned, her golden brows knitting together. She reached out with one hand, her fingers tracing a sigil in the air. Golden magic sparked at her fingertips, but it sputtered and dimmed, fighting against the suffocating atmosphere of this place.
"The magic here..." she murmured, her voice tight with concern. "It is... thin. Stagnant. Like water that has sat too long in the dark." She looked back down at me, her expression shifting from passion to worry. "I do not know where we are, Haru," she told me, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It feels... empty. Like a graveyard of worlds."
I sat up, keeping one arm around her waist to steady her as she adjusted her position on my lap. I looked around, my demon lord senses expanding outward, tasting the air.
She was right. It felt dead. But not entirely empty. I could feel at least one fairly strong lifeform a short distance away. In fact, it sort of felt like a goddess was nearby? Some kind of dark goddess?
"We're definitely not in Kansas anymore," I muttered.
"Kansas?" Frigga asked, tilting her head.
"Never mind," I said, squeezing her hip reassuringly. "I sense someone nearby, maybe we can go ask her where we are? At the very least, judging by this terrible soil, I doubt anyone who lives here has had a good proper meal in a long while. I can bribe them with food."
XXX