Sif stood to the side, her eyes gleaming with barely contained excitement as vanirs shouts of excitement echoed through the great hall.
Though she and her brother had grown up in Asgard, blessed by the All-Father himself, the blood of Vanaheim still flowed through their veins. After all most of her childhood was spent here and even their parent's resting place is here.
So the prospect of witnessing her birthplace rise to glory once more stirred a little excitement deep within her warrior's heart.
Yet as neither Thor nor Loki moved to offer their blessings. She couldn't either—not as representatives of Asgard, bound by their oath of loyalty to Odin. The political implications hung heavy in the air, unspoken but understood by all.
. . . . . .
Asgard
The Bifrost
Heimdall maintained his eternal vigil at the Rainbow Bridge, his all-seeing gaze sweeping across the Nine Realms as it had for countless years. Suddenly, his golden eyes widened as a surge of divine power rippled through the realms like a shock wave.
"By the Yggdrasil..." he muttered, his usually composed demeanor cracking a little. "Such powerful fluctuations of divine energy!"
His gaze immediately focused toward the source. "Vanaheim? Today should be the coronation of their new king. What could have—"
Heimdall focused his sight across the vast expanse of space, piercing through millions of miles, cutting through clouds and cosmic winds until his vision settled on the throne room of Vanaheim. There, seated upon the ancient throne, was a figure radiating power that made the very air shimmer.
"The new Vanir King..." Heimdall's voice carried a note of awe. "This is... the power of Njord himself! The Sea Lord's strength flows through him!"
The magnitude of this divine awakening sent ripples of anticipation through Heimdall's ancient heart. For the first time in ages, a genuine smile crossed his weathered features—not the diplomatic expression he wore for visiting dignitaries, but something born of true happiness for his birthplace.
The King of the Vanir is truly reborn.
Still even if he was happy for his birthplace, it doesn't change much for him since he's loyalty is with Asgard who gave both siblings opportunity to grow away from the constant fighting in Vanaheim.
Moving away from his post with purpose, Heimdall's thoughts turned to duty. As the All-Seeing Eye of Asgard, he bore the responsibility of monitoring the Nine Realms. Any event of this magnitude required immediate reporting to the All-Father.
This is where my loyalty lies, he reminded himself. I serve Asgard now. I serve the All father.
With measured steps, he turned toward the Golden Hall, already formulating how to present this momentous news.
. . . . . .
Back in Vanaheim, Aegir worked to calm Skirnir's enthusiastic outburst while simultaneously exploring the vast new power coursing through his veins. The previous king Njord's divine power flowed within him like a second bloodstream, passively enhancing every aspect of his physical form.
Not bad, he mused, flexing his fingers and feeling strength that could crush mountains. His originally average Vanir physique had been transformed into something that likely surpassed even Thor's current capabilities. By his estimation, he now possessed power comparable to post-Ragnarök Thor—capable of withstanding neutron star temperatures, immune to conventional weapons, requiring Uru-forged arms to even scratch him.
But the physical enhancement was only the beginning. Aegir felt nature itself calling to him, as if every storm cloud and ocean wave recognized him as their master. With a single thought, he could summon hurricanes. A casual gesture could overturn seas. Every creature of the deep would bow to his will.
And then there was Nozdormu's gift—the ability to perceive and manipulate time itself. Aegir could sense it. The thin, brittle threads that tied future to present. He tugged gently, letting himself peek into what might come.
Let's see what the immediate future holds, Aegir thought, allowing his consciousness to drift forward through the temporal stream.
His eyes widened slightly as visions crystallized. 'Well, I guess this is the Thor I know..'
Just as the future-sight predicted, Thor suddenly raised Mjolnir high above his head, lightning crackling around the enchanted hammer.
"King Aegir!" Thor's voice boomed with barely contained excitement. "Let us fight!"
Silence fell like a hammer blow.
Every Vanir in the hall stared in stunned disbelief. Even Skirnir, loyal and diplomatic, felt his jaw drop at the sheer audacity of the request.
By the waves, Skirnir thought, his mind reeling. I assumed after hearing Prince Loki and Lady Sif, it would keep the prince in line. How does Odin tolerate such behavior from his heir?
"Prince Thor," Skirnir said carefully, his voice carrying the weight of barely restrained indignation, "while you are indeed our honored guest, this borders on insulting our hospitality."
The other Vanir present in the court immediately bristled with hostility, hands moving instinctively toward weapon hilts. Murmurs of outrage rippled through the assembled crowd.
"Thor, what in Hel's name are you doing?!" Sif hissed, covering her face with one hand in exasperation. Her attempt to invoke Frigga's name had clearly backfired spectacularly. Now she had to deal with a room full of increasingly angry Vanir while Thor acted like a battle-drunk berserker.
Loki, meanwhile, simply rolled his eyes with practiced indifference. Oh, brother, he thought with dark amusement. Always the fool, always playing right into my hands.
This was perfect. Thor's impulsive challenge to a newly crowned king—a king who had just inherited the full power of his predecessor—was tantamount to a declaration of war. Whether Thor won or lost, Odin would be furious. And when the time came to speak, Loki would position himself as the voice of reason, the brother who understood diplomacy and consequences.
The comparison will be delicious, Loki mused. Everyone will see who truly deserves the throne of Asgard.
Meanwhile, Thor, in all his glory, kept digging his own grave.
"Come now!" Thor called out with that boisterous grin. "Don't you want to test your strength, King Aegir? I'm just trying to help! I don't see any Vanir here strong enough to train you."
That one stung. The crowd bristled visibly.
Sif hissed under her breath. "Really? You had to throw that in?"
Thor's words, though arrogant, had a strange effect.
The tension didn't vanish—but it shifted.
Anger gave way to curiosity. After all, Vanaheim was a realm of warriors too. And who wouldn't want to see their new king humble the thunder-brained Asgardian in open combat?
Aegir set aside his temporal experimentation and studied Thor with calculating eyes. Despite the arrogant delivery, the request wasn't entirely without merit.
He'd spent his entire life avoiding conflicts when possible, but now such restraint was unnecessary. More importantly, Vanaheim truly lacked opponents of sufficient strength to properly test his new capabilities. Who will have time to have casual spar with him when there's unrest everywhere.
"So you're offering to help me?" Aegir asked, rising slowly from his throne. His voice carried a subtle note of sarcasm that only sharpened his words. "How thoughtful of you, Prince Thor."
Despite himself, a fire lit in Aegir's chest. He hadn't sought out conflict for years. Had always avoided it, side-stepped it, out-thought it.
But now?
Now he didn't need to run.
He wanted to fight.
He stood slowly, his presence commanding the hall without a single shout.
"Very well," Aegir continued, his lips curving into a slight smile. "If you're so eager to serve as my testing partner, we'll settle this in the arena. Wouldn't want to accidentally bring down the palace, after all."
He stepped forward, his presence seeming to fill the hall as divine power radiated from him in barely contained waves. "But do remember, Prince of Asgard—you're challenging the King of Vanaheim. I trust you'll maintain appropriate etiquette after this. Neither of us wants to reignite the old wars, do we?"
Thor's grin widened, electricity dancing across his armor. "Agreed!" he boomed, already mentally preparing for combat. The prince's excitement was palpable, drowning out any consideration of diplomatic consequences or political ramifications.
Finally, Thor thought, a strong opponent after so long!
The tension in the hall shifted from outrage to anticipation. This would indeed be a battle worth witnessing—the newly crowned King of Vanaheim, wielding the power of the previous Sea lord, against the Thunder God of Asgard.
Skirnir stepped forward, his diplomatic instincts finally catching up with events. "My king, if you're determined to proceed with this... exhibition... perhaps we should establish proper terms and boundaries?"
"You do that." Aegir replied, never taking his eyes off Thor. "It should also be a good opportunity for the people to see who will rule them, after all."
The challenge was accepted. The stage was set. And in the arena of Vanaheim, two gods would test their might.
"Well then, let's go give the crowd a show."