Asgard, the celestial home of the Aesir, was not a vast realm. After Odin's conquest of the Nine Realms, this was the small sliver of land he had chosen for his throne. It was less a planet and more a continent floating in the cosmic sea, its total area roughly equivalent to that of the United States. This was a world with a literal edge, where the endless, surging ocean cascaded over the precipice into a bottomless cosmic abyss.
A kaleidoscope of light flared across the galaxy as the Rainbow Bridge opened. Inside the observatory, Heimdall turned the great golden sword, and the torrent of energy gradually subsided, revealing a figure walking out of the light.
It was Ben. He was soon followed by another, a slender figure clad in striking silver armor.
It was Brunnhilde.
Upon learning that Loki was to succeed to the throne of the God-King, she had returned from Sakaar to the home she had abandoned for centuries. Though she now served a new king and a new world, Loki was a comrade-in-arms. As one of Sakaar's most powerful warriors, it was only fitting that she accompany Ben to offer her congratulations.
"I still can't quite believe it," Brunnhilde mused, her voice a low murmur. "That boy, actually inheriting the throne of Asgard."
"Loki as the All-Father…" Ben said with a wry smile. "It feels… off, doesn't it?" Something about it didn't sit right. He suspected things were not as simple as they appeared. Loki's goal had never truly been the throne; it had been recognition.
As they spoke, they looked up to see Heimdall, the eternal guardian of the Bifrost. He stood sentinel in his gleaming golden armor, his face a mask of stoicism. His shining, golden pupils, though seemingly empty, could pierce the veil of reality and see across the Nine Realms.
"Welcome to Asgard, King of Sakaar," Heimdall's voice was a deep, respectful baritone. He and Odin had both witnessed Ben's transformation into a being of cosmic power, a god in his own right. In their eyes, Ben was a peer, perhaps even a scion of the World Tree itself.
"And what about me, Heimdall? Am I not welcome?" Brunnhilde asked, a challenging glint in her eyes.
As a veteran of Asgard, Heimdall had lived for millennia. He certainly recognized the last survivor of the Valkyries. "Odin the All-Father will be glad to see you return home."
In response, Brunnhilde offered only a soft, bitter smile. Asgard was no longer her home. Her home was now called Sakaar. Heimdall, a man of few words and even less tact, found himself at a loss. He knew that Odin had wronged the Valkyries, that their annihilation was a stain on his reign. The truth of it left him speechless.
Fortunately, Loki arrived to break the awkward silence.
He appeared aboard a magnificent, flower-draped float, surrounded by dozens of celestial handmaidens who scattered petals from woven baskets. Loki stood at the prow, one foot propped up, his chest puffed out with pride. In one hand, he held Mjolnir high, its head crackling with power. He wore shining silver armor, and a bright red cloak billowed dramatically behind him, making him look like a living sculpture.
As he advanced, he bellowed, "Loki is here! Your king has arrived!"
Thor stood on the side of the road, his expression a tangled mess of emotions. He felt a pang of resentment, but also a flicker of genuine happiness for his brother. And yet, watching Loki wave his beloved hammer around so wantonly stung with a unique bitterness. The Warriors Three and Lady Sif stood by his side, offering quiet comfort, but their words were lost in the roar of the crowd, who cheered wildly for their new champion.
As if sensing Ben's arrival, Loki snapped the reins, and the float veered toward the Bifrost. When it stopped before them, Loki looked down at Ben with a haughty, self-important air.
"Feel honored, mortal!" he declared, his voice booming. "You are about to witness the birth of a legend! For a being such as yourself, simply setting foot in Asgard is a great honor!"
Evidently, a few days of adulation had gone to Loki's head, making him forget who, exactly, he was talking to. Ben was not about to indulge him.
"Get down here," Ben said, his voice dangerously calm. "Don't make me come up there and spoil your big day."
You're scarier than my father. The thought flashed through Loki's mind, and he shuddered. The majestic facade crumbled instantly. He shrank back, hopped down from the float with surprising swiftness, and landed before Ben with an awkward cough.
Heimdall couldn't bear to watch. The thought that the future of Asgard rested in the hands of this shameless creature filled him with such despair that he simply closed his eyes.
"My apologies," Loki mumbled. "Got a bit carried away." He then winked at Ben. "But seriously, you are about to witness history. My father and mother have been eager to meet you."
He invited them aboard the float, which turned once more. This time, Loki snapped the reins, and the white Pegasi drawing the chariot took to the air, their hooves leaving a glittering rainbow trail across the sky. On either side of the arc, ethereal flowers bloomed in their wake. Their destination was the glorious palace of the Aesir, a majestic structure that seemed forged from solid gold, its spires rising like the pipes of a grand, celestial organ. As the wind whistled through them, it seemed to play a heavenly melody.
When the float landed, Ben and Brunnhilde were met with a reception of the highest honor. Queen Frigga, accompanied by a host of handmaidens, greeted them first. She draped a fine white veil over Ben, placed a wreath woven from flowers pulsing with life and vitality upon his head, and blessed him with ancient magic. She then expressed her profound gratitude for his care of Loki on Sakaar before turning to Brunnhilde with a look of pure love and compassion.
Even Brunnhilde's hardened heart felt no resentment toward the queen. The blame for the past lay with Odin alone. His endless expansion, his insatiable thirst for conquest, had driven his daughter Hela mad. Odin could have stopped her himself, but instead, he sent the Valkyries to their deaths, one by one. Looking back, she suspected he had planned it all, a way to bury his own bloody, brutal history along with his invincible army and his monstrous daughter. Then he had simply remade himself, remade Asgard, into a realm of peace and love, as if the darkness had never happened.
She didn't wish to dwell on it. She was living a good life now. Although she had claimed she would do nothing but drink when the Plumbers were first established, in truth, no one aside from Caiera cared more for Sakaar and its people than she did. To watch a planet recover from the brink of death was like feeling a fountain of life gush forth from her own broken heart.
Ben accompanied Frigga to a brief meeting with Odin. The All-Father did not look well. His ancient body was failing, and the immense divine power he wielded was now a torment. He could feel his time running out, and Hela was already clawing restlessly at her prison. The God-King was still powerful, but he had no time left to spare.
Afterward, Frigga had handmaidens escort Ben to be fitted with luxurious new robes, woven in the style of the Vanir, which closely resembled the clothes of the god-form Ben had once transformed into. Then, they were led to the grand banquet hall to enjoy fine wine, exquisite food, and the entertainment of dancers and warriors. Loki, as the man of the hour, had disappeared to prepare. A king could not be crowned in a warrior's armor.
Even as he sat in the seat of honor, Ben had a nagging feeling that the coronation would not go as smoothly as planned.
Brunnhilde, though originally from Asgard, found few familiar faces. She wandered through the crowd, occasionally being recognized by an elder who saw the Valkyrie sigil on her arm, their faces a mixture of shock and confusion that one of her kind still lived. Before long, she found a quiet corner to drink alone. If there was one thing she missed about this place, it was the fine wines, aged for thousands of years.
Ben, not yet of legal drinking age, had little interest in the wine. He was content to watch the dancers, though he couldn't help but be amused by the diversity of Asgard. He even spotted the Dwarf King, who had come to present the new crown he had forged.
Amid the revelry, one figure stood out in stark contrast to the joyous crowd. He was tall and powerfully built, but his shoulders were slumped, his eyes were dull, and he seemed to be trying to shrink into himself.
After the war, Loki had brought Thor back to Asgard. Through the combined power of Odin and the magic of Frigga, he had been revived. The first thing Thor had asked upon waking was for his brother. When he learned that Loki was not only alive but was to be crowned king, he felt as though the last leaf had fallen from his soul in the dead of winter. A wave of endless grievance washed over him. Thor, who had been a golden prince for over a thousand years, had never imagined he would lose the throne.
But it was his experiences on Earth that had truly broken him. When he was alone, he could swallow any bitterness. But once he was home, surrounded by those he could rely on, a single compassionate word from his mother—"You must have suffered so much"—had made his carefully constructed strength shatter like glass. He had cried bitterly in Frigga's arms, something the old Thor would never have done. He was no longer Thor, God of Thunder; he was just a man who had been helpless while his brother was in danger. How could he face his people? He, who was once the bravest warrior in Asgard, could now barely defeat a teenage boy. He felt he had no face left. The pitying stares of his countrymen stung like blades.
It was only now that he truly understood the agony Loki must have endured for a millennium. He almost wished they had left him on Earth to die as a mortal.
And yet, through the bitterness, a genuine happiness for Loki remained. At least his brother, unlike him, had proven worthy. Mjolnir had chosen him.
So, as Loki, clad in a dark green robe with intricate golden embroidery and wearing a magnificent golden crown with elegantly curved horns, walked down the flower-strewn red carpet, Thor finally mustered his courage. Under the watchful gaze of all Asgard, he walked up to his brother, a glass of wine in his hand.
The hall fell silent. Everyone held their breath, watching the confrontation between the two princes.
Seeing Thor approach, Loki's expression became even more proud. He raised his head like a triumphant goat, the golden horns of his crown seeming to pierce Thor's fragile self-esteem.
"Congratulations, Loki…" Thor began, the words feeling like hot coals in his mouth.
Loki preened, ready to savor his victory. This moment, seeing this expression on his brother's face, was sweeter than any throne or hammer.
Thor stood there, the countless gazes burning him like fire. Finally, he seemed to find his voice. "Congratulations. You have what you always wanted. Mjolnir has chosen you. You are worthy to be King of Asgard." He took a deep breath. "Promise me you'll be a better king."
After saying this, it seemed as if all his strength had been spent.
But Loki simply shook his head. "You still don't understand, brother. Mjolnir didn't choose me. The hammer is not what makes me a king." He thought back to Ben's words. "I was once as lost as you are now, but someone told me it is just a hammer. That I should decide what kind of god I want to be. For you, and for all of us." He paused, a slow, wicked smile spreading across his face. "And my choice is…"
He turned his head, and under the watchful eyes of the entire court, he looked across the hall directly at Ben. In that instant, seeing that smile, Ben knew exactly what was coming.
As expected of the God of Mischief.
Loki gave him a subtle wink and put a finger to his lips. Then, he walked past Thor and approached the throne where Odin waited. The God-King, who had been leaning wearily on his spear, Gungnir, stood. He looked at Loki, who bowed his head to receive the crown, and a complex pride filled his one eye.
Finally, he spoke, his voice like a great bell, resonating to every corner of Asgard.
In an ancient and solemn ceremony, Odin raised the crown of power and authority high, its jewels glittering in the light. "I, Odin Borson, today pass the throne of the God-King to my son, Loki Odinson! From this day forth, he is the lord of the Nine Realms, the father of all gods!"
Loki looked up, his expression grave. He removed the horned crown he wore. "Thank you, Father."
Odin personally lowered the new crown onto Loki's head.
The moment the golden crown should have settled upon him, Loki's figure shimmered and dissolved into nothing, a flawless illusion. The crown clattered to the floor, rolling across the dais as if mocking the pathetic, duped God-King.
"I knew it!" Ben roared, doubling over with laughter so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.
Odin's face turned purple with rage, his beard bristling. With a furious bellow, he smashed the butt of his spear against the ground, the impact shaking the very foundations of the palace.