"It seems fate has already chosen my path," Alex thought, the corners of his mouth curling into a faint, wry smile. "No matter how I resist, destiny keeps pushing me toward Asgard."

He had already struck a secret accord with Odin long ago, a pact woven in whispers and sealed with mutual necessity. Now, with Earth's uncertain future hanging in the balance, that pact had grown into something far larger than either had imagined.

Helping Odin deal with Hela—the dreaded Goddess of Death—was no longer a matter of politics or convenience. It had become inevitable, a cornerstone of survival itself.

And for Alex, it was not simply about defeating Hela. No, if he was to cement his standing with Asgard, he needed to appear at the exact moment of their greatest despair—when the kingdom trembled on the brink of destruction. Only then would his intervention carry the weight of salvation. Only then could he claim a place not merely as an ally, but as a protector worthy of shaping Asgard's—and perhaps Earth's—future.

It would come at a cost. He knew that. Asgard would bleed, and many of its warriors would fall beneath Hela's hand before he acted. But Alex was not blind to his own nature. He was not a saint, nor did he pretend to be. His concern was strategy, not sentiment.

He had already severed mutants from the Celestials' grasp; with that threat removed, mutant life had returned to an uneasy normalcy. They trained, studied, built their futures without the shadow of godlike experimentation hanging over them. Alex himself watched over them like a silent guardian.

And so, the years slid by. Seasons turned, and in the blink of an eye, the calendar crept into 2017.

Earth remained strangely quiet, no event significant enough to draw Alex's full attention. Yet on the golden spires of Asgard, the threads of fate were tightening.

Odin's time was running out.

–––

Unlike the original timeline where Loki schemed, cast illusions, and exiled Odin to Earth, things had shifted under Alex's silent hand. The Dark Elves had been eliminated early on. Loki's elaborate charade of faked death, deception, and stolen throne never took place.

Odin remained in Asgard, surrounded by family, cherished in his twilight.

On this day, in the radiant gardens of the realm, Odin sat beneath flowering trees with Frigga at his side. Thor and Loki stood close, the family gathered in rare peace. Sunlight bathed the palace walls in gold, the gentle breeze carrying the fragrance of blooming starsong lilies.

But Odin's eyes, though soft, carried the heaviness of ages.

"Ragnarok is coming," he said suddenly, his voice solemn, the weight of prophecy pressing down on his children.

Thor blinked, then straightened, indignant. "Father, you need not trouble yourself with that anymore. I killed Surtur, destroyed his crown. Ragnarok has been prevented!" His voice was filled with certainty, almost pride.

Odin only shook his head, weary but resolute. "No, Thor. You have delayed a spark, nothing more. Ragnarok is no mere fire giant's whim. It is destiny, and destiny cannot be stopped by brute force alone. At best, Asgard cannot prevent it on its own."

Loki's sharp gaze narrowed, always quick to hear what others might miss. "So… you mean we will need help. Outside help."

Thor's brow furrowed as he glanced between them. "Father, what are you saying? What kind of help?"

Odin's reply was a single name, a word spoken like the toll of a funeral bell. "Hela."

The brothers stiffened.

"Hela?" Thor echoed, confusion darkening his face.

"She is coming," Odin said gravely.

"Who is she?" Thor asked again, this time with a frown.

"My daughter. My firstborn."

The words struck like lightning.

Thor's jaw dropped, disbelief etched in every line of his face. Loki, too, was wide-eyed, though suspicion lingered behind his expression.

"Your daughter?" Thor repeated. "Our… sister?"

Odin's eyes closed briefly, pain flickering across his features. "Yes. She was the mightiest warrior Asgard had ever known, destined to conquer the Nine Realms at my side. But ambition consumed her, and power twisted her heart. I was forced to imprison her. Now, her chains grow weak. Soon, she will be free."

Thor's grip tightened around Mjolnir. "Then we will stop her. Whoever she is, whatever she was—we are her family, and we will stop her!"

"Yes," Loki added firmly, though a shadow flickered in his gaze.

Odin studied them both, then spoke the words he had long withheld: "If that day comes, remember this—Alex, the Homelander, can be trusted. When all else fails, seek his help. Only he has the strength to save Asgard when I am gone."

Thor blinked at the name, frustration breaking through. "Father, what agreement did you make with him? You've been keeping secrets!"

But Odin did not answer. Instead, he gazed at the horizon where Asgard's towers gleamed, his voice softening with nostalgia. "Come with me. Look upon our home one last time. Asgard, my Asgard… so beautiful."

Light began to shimmer around his body, fragments of golden energy dissolving into the air.

"No! Father!" Thor cried, his voice raw.

"Father!" Loki echoed, grief cracking through his controlled mask.

Frigga clutched Odin's hand, tears streaming down her face.

And then—

Hum!

A sudden ripple in space tore through the garden. Shadows bent, and a swirling black portal bloomed in the air.

From its depths stepped a woman.

Clad in emerald armor that shimmered like scales of a serpent, her tall frame radiated arrogance and absolute authority. A cold beauty marked her face, but her eyes held only disdain, no warmth.

"So," she said, her voice rich and venomous. "He's dead."

Thor's head snapped toward her. Frigga's breath caught in her throat. Even Loki felt a chill crawl up his spine.

Hela's gaze swept the garden—the grieving family, the fading sparks where Odin had stood—and satisfaction curved her lips. At last, her prison was broken, and the old fool who bound her was gone.

"Mother," Hela drawled, tilting her head toward Frigga with mocking sweetness. "Did you miss me, all those centuries?" Then her eyes cut to Thor and Loki, sharp and appraising. "And these must be my little brothers."

Thor's fingers twitched on Mjolnir's handle. "So it's true. You are our sister."

Hela's smirk widened. "That's right. Now—kneel."

The command cracked like a whip, her voice soaked in regal domination.

Loki bristled instantly, scoffing. "Excuse me? Did I hear you correctly? Kneel? To you?"

His mockery barely masked his unease. Already he could sense it: the oppressive aura spilling from Hela was unlike anything he had ever felt. Even standing still, she pressed upon them like a storm about to break.

"Hela," Frigga said, her tone pained but firm, "hatred has already stolen so much from this family. Do not let it take more."

Swish!

A blade shimmered into existence in Hela's hand, black steel gleaming with deathly energy. She lifted it lazily, her smirk turning to a sneer. "I said, kneel."

"Never!" Thor roared, hurling Mjolnir with all his might.

Crack!

Hela's hand shot out. With effortless precision, she caught the spinning hammer mid-flight.

And stopped it cold.

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