Odin's Chamber — Asgard
The air in Odin's chambers was thick with an almost sacred silence, broken only by the rhythmic breaths of the All-Father, deep in the throes of his Odin's Sleep. His form lay unmoving, draped in robes that seemed to glow faintly with Asgardian magic, and beside him stood Frigga, her gaze resolute, though softened with a mother's tenderness.
Loki lingered a few steps away, his expression inscrutable as he looked down at the mighty king who had, for so long, towered over his life—both a source of pride and a shadow he could never escape. His mother's voice was quiet but unwavering.
"Loki," she murmured, reaching out to touch his arm. "Your father has always done what he believed to be best for you, even if it seemed harsh or unfair."
Loki's lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowing as they flicked to her. "Best for me?" he repeated, a bitter edge creeping into his tone. "And what part of hiding my very identity from me was 'best,' Mother?" His words dripped with resentment, though his voice remained measured, cold.
Frigga met his gaze, unflinching. "The truth of your heritage was not a decision he made lightly. It was meant to protect you." She paused, her gaze deepening with something almost like sorrow. "And one day, I hope you'll understand that."
Loki clenched his jaw, forcing himself to look away. He knew Frigga meant well, and her words might have held some truth, but they did little to cool the fire that raged within him. A Frost Giant. The very thing Odin had taught him to despise.
He closed his eyes, the weight of that knowledge pressing down on him, tightening around his heart like iron. But as he opened them, the doors to the chamber creaked open, and a contingent of Asgardian guards entered. They moved in perfect unison, their boots echoing against the golden floor as they approached, Gungnir held reverently in their arms.
The guards knelt before Loki, bowing their heads.
He stared at the mighty spear, the symbol of Asgardian power, resting in their hands as though waiting for him to reach out and claim it. Frigga turned to him, her gaze soft but resolute. "For now, you must rule in your father's stead. The realm needs you, Loki."
Loki's fingers twitched as he took a step forward, his gaze locked on Gungnir. Slowly, he reached out, his hand wrapping around the spear's golden shaft, feeling its weight settle in his grasp. Power hummed through it, an ancient energy that seemed to call to something deep within him. As he lifted Gungnir, the guards rose, awaiting his command.
His gaze remained on the spear, its intricate designs gleaming in the torchlight. A small smile ghosted across his lips, barely there, but enough for Frigga to notice. She watched him carefully, concern flickering in her eyes, but she said nothing.
Loki turned to the guards. "Leave us."
The guards nodded, then retreated, their footsteps echoing down the hall as they disappeared beyond the heavy doors. The moment they closed, Loki's gaze shifted to Frigga, his smile widening, a touch of mischief in his eyes.
"So, this is the duty of a king," he murmured, turning Gungnir in his hands, admiring the way it caught the light. He could feel the raw power within it, power that, for the first time, belonged to him. And he intended to wield it.
Frigga's voice was gentle, yet edged with caution. "Loki… this is a great responsibility. I trust you with this, knowing you can bear it."
"Responsibility…" he repeated, almost to himself. Then, in a tone laced with both amusement and something darker, he added, "Or an opportunity."
Frigga's expression shifted, concern deepening. "Loki, this is not a game. Asgard is in your hands now. The people will look to you."
Loki's eyes narrowed, the faint smile twisting into something sharper. "Oh, I know that, Mother. And I intend to ensure they see what true leadership looks like."
She took a step toward him, her hand reaching out but stopping just short. "You must remember—this isn't about proving yourself. It's about guiding Asgard through a difficult time."
"Guidance." Loki's voice turned cold, his grip tightening on the spear. "Is that what you call Father's endless favoritism of Thor? His constant lies, his half-truths?" He shook his head, a hard glint in his eye. "No, Mother. It's time for something different. Time for Asgard to see a ruler who understands both power and the value of… truth."
Frigga's expression softened, almost pleading. "Loki… please, do not let this bitterness consume you."
But Loki only looked away, his mind already racing with possibilities. With Gungnir in his hands, the All-Father in his endless sleep, and Thor banished to Midgard… the throne of Asgard had never been so close, so possible.
The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile, his gaze growing distant as a plan—his plan—began to take shape.
---
Shield Facility — Earth
The lab was steeped in an uneasy calm, as if holding its breath. Jane Foster sat alone at the steel lab table, her gaze locked on the readings pulsing on her screen. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow over the room, yet she could feel a storm brewing. Not just outside—but here, in the heart of everything she'd ever questioned.
Her eyes drifted to the reinforced glass, and beyond it, she saw the hammer. It looked deceptively simple—a single relic, wedged deep in the earth, glinting under the dull afternoon light. But nothing was as simple as it seemed. The energy readings from this "artifact" defied every model, every theory, and every rule she'd spent her life studying. Waves of energy twisted and surged around it, seemingly alive, like something caged yet breathing.
Leaning closer to the monitor, Jane absently chewed on the end of her pen. "Localized, but it's also… pulsing," she muttered.
The door opened, and Jane was jolted from her thoughts. Selman, a wiry scientist with dark-rimmed glasses and an air of perpetual skepticism, stepped in and gave her a raised eyebrow as she pointed to the chaotic spikes on the monitor.
"Take a look at these energy patterns," Jane murmured, leaning closer to the screen. "They're not static. They're shifting... like the hammer's waiting for something."
"Yeah, well, whatever it's doing, it's cost us two spectrometers already," Selman replied dryly. "Not exactly a cheap hobby."
Jane didn't respond; she couldn't take her eyes off the hammer outside. If it's waiting... what could it possibly be waiting for?
Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to him. Thor. The man who had appeared out of nowhere, claiming to be a god. And yet, every rational fiber of her being screamed that it couldn't be real. But what if he was right? What if this hammer—his hammer—was here to change everything she thought she knew?
Then, as if on cue, the lab door hissed open again, and James Carter entered, hands in his pockets, with an awkward air that felt almost out of place in the tense silence of the lab. Jane glanced up, surprised, but gave him a polite nod.
"Glad to see you're still in one piece," she greeted him, her voice just a bit warmer than she'd intended.
James returned her smile, casually leaning against a desk. "Likewise. So, how's it feel working for the people who just tried to swipe all your research?" he asked, his tone light but his eyes curious.
"Oh, a dream come true," she replied, matching his sarcasm. "Nothing says career highlight like having everything you've worked on for a decade snatched up by some shadowy government agency."
James chuckled, his easy smile a stark contrast to the tension swirling in the room. "At least they gave you a decent lab," he offered with a shrug. "Could be worse."
Jane couldn't help but smile back, her shoulders easing just a little. "I suppose I should thank you for your help, anyway. If it weren't for you, I'd probably be starting over from scratch." She paused, giving him a curious look. "You don't exactly seem like the 'government agent' type. You said you were just a guy. What are you doing here?"
"Me? I'm a tech guy. From New York," he replied simply, his expression almost sheepish.
"Just a tech guy?" she echoed, eyebrow raised, her tone skeptical.
James chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Why does everyone keep sounding so shocked?"
"If Darcy wasn't my intern, I'd offer you the job," she replied, laughing.
James smiled. "I'd take you up on it if I wasn't trying to get into Stark Industries."
They exchanged a grin, a brief moment of levity in an otherwise heavy day. But then James's face turned thoughtful. "Where's Darcy, anyway? Didn't see her around."
Jane's smile faltered, guilt flickering across her face. "Uh… she's… on an errand," she said, a little too quickly.
James raised an eyebrow. "An errand?"
There was something beneath the surface, a vulnerability she wasn't quite ready to expose. He could sense her dilemma, the internal war between her logical mind and whatever instinct was pushing her toward... something else. But before he could respond, alarms blared throughout the lab, filling the air with flashing red lights and a droning siren.
Both of them spun toward the security monitors. The screen flickered to life, displaying a tall, imposing figure with a mane of wild blond hair and a determined look that could split stone. Thor.
"Oh no..." Jane muttered under her breath, barely containing her frustration. "Darcy, you absolute idiot!"
They watched as Thor charged through SHIELD's facility, brushing guards aside like they were little more than obstacles in his path. James's eyebrows shot up, but he couldn't suppress a wry grin. "Well, whoever he is, he's definitely not big on subtlety," he quipped.
Jane shot him an exasperated look before muttering, "I've got to stop him before they…" She didn't finish, her tone filled with urgency as she bolted for the door, racing down the corridor without looking back.
James hesitated, his gaze flickering between the monitors and the hallway where Jane had disappeared. Something told him she was running straight into a storm she wasn't prepared for, but he decided to let her go. This is SHIELD's mess, he thought, trying to convince himself.
But as he turned back to the monitor, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Outside the lab's window, the sky had darkened, heavy clouds swirling with ominous purpose. He stepped closer to the glass, squinting as jagged streaks of lightning cut through the thickening gloom. Each bolt felt like a pulse, syncing with an ancient rhythm he couldn't explain.
James's instincts stirred, a deep, unsettling feeling gnawing at him. This wasn't just any storm—there was something alive in it. Something powerful. Something… familiar.
A voice echoed in his mind, almost too faint to catch but unmistakable. This is no ordinary tempest.
James pressed a hand against the glass, the feeling intensifying. The sky outside roared with thunder as if the very air vibrated with latent energy. In his mind's eye, he saw flashes—a cavern bathed in glowing light, towering statues, and the surge of power that had coursed through him the first time he'd said that word. SHAZAM.
Realization struck like a blow to his chest. This wasn't just about an ancient artefact, alien technology, or any ordinary weather pattern. Something ancient, something cosmic, was in play. And as the storm intensified, he couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't just SHIELD facing a reckoning.
It was him.
With one last look at the ominous sky, James squared his shoulders, sensing the pull of something he could barely understand. He didn't know what lay ahead, but he felt it deep in his bones—whatever storm was coming, he would be right in the heart of it.
"You seek the truths you already bear…"
"Cast aside doubt… and see…"
"Within you lies the wisdom…"
"The voice of Solomon calls."