The Sovereign's Gambit.
"Stop! That is more than enough!" Loki's voice cracked the oppressive silence of Vormir. "I never agreed to staying here as your permanent resident!"
Hela's eyes held a calculating, jagged smile. She didn't let go of his collar; instead, she leaned in, her presence like a cold shadow. "And what if I simply don't care? What are the consequences, little runt? If you don't return, perhaps Odin will realize Frigga has been playing behind his back. I wonder how the All-Father punishes a Queen for treason."
Loki felt a surge of genuine anxiety—not for himself, but for the woman who had nurtured him. "You wouldn't. If Mother is exposed, her safety is forfeit. I have to go back to protect her!"
Hela feigned a look of bored arrogance, though her grip loosened just a fraction. "Then give me a reason to let you go. Unless..."
"Unless what?"
"Unless we form an alliance," Hela purred, her voice dropping into a seductive, dark vibrato. "Think about it, Loki. You are a rogue Frost Giant playing at being a Prince. I am the true heir, discarded and buried. We are the same. We share a destiny written in the stars and carved in blood."
She began to circle him, her black robes trailing like smoke over the obsidian dust. "In the future, we are destined to become supreme powerhouses. Imagine it: joining forces to conquer the Nine Realms, and then... the boundless universe beyond. Just think of the chaos we could sow."
Loki didn't hesitate. "Fine. An alliance. We're partners."
Hela paused mid-stride. She hadn't even reached the climax of her pitch, and he had folded. She felt a sudden, strange sense of emptiness—the hollow disappointment of a hunter whose prey simply walked into the trap and lay down. Where was the struggle? Where was the sense of accomplishment?
Of course, she thought, her lip curling in a mix of disdain and amusement. He is exactly what I saw. A born villain. He has the spinelessness of his race, a tongue made of lies, and a heart that forgets righteousness the moment profit is dangled. He is greedy, lustful, and cunning. Her only concern was Frigga's influence—the boy was clearly soft for his mother. As long as I hold that leash, Hela decided, he is mine.
The Mask Slipped.
Hela released him, smoothing out the wrinkles in his silk tunic with a mock-maternal gesture. As she did, she noticed something that made her sapphire eyes narrow.
The reddened skin where she had gripped him and the bruise on his forehead from her "affectionate" pinch were fading. The tissue was knitting back together at a visible, impossible rate.
"Self-healing?" she whispered.
Loki sighed, the "innocent cub" persona finally falling away like dead skin. "Hiss... you truly are too sharp for your own good, Sister. Fine. Since you've already seen behind the curtain..."
Loki went straight to the point. He didn't just stand there; he reached into the air and tore open a shimmering golden portal. With the casual air of a waiter, he pulled out a polished mahogany table, two high-backed chairs, a spread of roasted meats, and several bottles of Goria's best mead.
"Oh?" Hela took a half-step back, her hand moving toward a manifested necro-blade. "Another ability. I was truly too careless. My apologies... I'll be more careful next time."
"You!" Hela's voice was a low growl, her cold eyes fixed on him with a hint of something that looked dangerously like horror. She had spent the last hour convinced she was the predator, the one holding the initiative. Now, in the blink of an eye, the situation had inverted.
Loki watched his internal "Fun Meter" rise. Interface, if only we had a camera, he thought. Hela's face right now is worth ten thousand chaos points.
"So," Hela said gravely, "this is your true face. The Viper finally shows his fangs."
"No, no, no," Loki shook his head, pouring two glasses of mead. "You are my sister. Look into my sincere eyes. I have never 'acted' or deceived you—I have merely hidden some personal trade secrets. I thought we would get to know each other slowly, a natural progression of honesty. But you're just too smart. You caught me stealing from the Vault, you caught the regeneration..."
Loki sat down, gesturing for her to join him. "I'm not pretending anymore. I'm laying the cards on the table. We're talking about an alliance to conquer the Nine Realms, right? Why waste time daydreaming? I have a project starting very soon. A big one. Do you want to hear it?"
Hela remained silent. The "Little Wolf in Sheep's Clothing" before her had split into two terrifying personas. One was the coward she had judged him to be—a man who hid secrets out of fear. The other... the other reminded her of a young, cunning Odin. If he was truly like her father, he was the most dangerous thing in the universe.
She wasn't sure. So she chose to test him.
CRACK.
"AH! Are you insane?!" Loki shouted, clutching his jaw. She had lunged across the table, nearly dislocating his mandible with a lightning-fast strike.
"...I was wrong! I was wrong! Ah... Mmm!"
Loki's eyes blazed with fire. He had only teased her a little—was there a need to be so ruthless? Hela, however, saw the fire in his eyes and felt his heartbeat spike. She had her answer. She could still provoke him. She still had a measure of control.
"Sister wants to drink," she commanded, sitting back down with a cruel arc on her lips. "Pour the wine."
"Do it yourself!"
"Sister didn't hear you clearly," she whispered, her hand drifting toward her blades. "What did the stingy one say?"
Loki grumbled, grabbing the bottle. "It's poured. Happy?"
"You should say: 'Please, My Lord Sister.'"
Loki ground his teeth. "Please... My Lord Sister."
"Ha! Hahahahaha!" Hela's laughter echoed across the misty plains. "Good boy."
The Multiverse Gambit.
Smash!
The third wine bottle shattered against an obsidian rock. Hela stood heroically, raising a fourth bottle and drinking heartily. The crimson wine flowed down her fair, swan-like neck—a sight that was as stirring as it was intimidating.
Smash!
She sat back down, her cheeks flushed with a divine glow. "Now, tell me about your 'big project,' my little partner."
Loki tilted his head, assessing her sobriety. He didn't want to explain this twice. "Sister, do you know of the Parallel Worlds? The Multiverse?"
Hela remained impassive, waiting.
"In the Multiverse," Loki explained, leaning over the table, "there are countless versions of us. Stories where everything is different. In one world, you successfully took the throne and you and Odin are a happy, conquering family. In another, you are a Prince and I am a Princess."
"I will soon have the power to open the doors to these worlds," Loki continued, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "Think of the possibilities. We could find a world with a senile, weak Odin. We could find a second Tesseract. A second Eternal Flame."
"You kill, and I'll hand you the knife. You conquer, and I'll be the first to kneel. If you want to blow up planets for fun, with the two of us together... we can do whatever we want."
It was the same seduction she had tried on him, but Loki had increased the dosage. He was offering her the one thing she wanted more than Asgard: a chance to win.
Hela clenched her fist, the wood of the table groaning under her strength. "I admit... your words move me. How soon is 'very soon'?"
"Three years at the latest," Loki replied. "I open the door, we march forth, and we leave no blade of grass alive."
"Excellent!" Hela lifted her chin proudly. "I look forward to the day we step into a Parallel World. A senile Odin, you say? I'll practice on him first. But listen, little darling: you lure the Odins out of their palaces, or you steal their spears. I won't fight you for the Fire—but I take thirty percent of every other spoil. Clear?"
Loki blinked. Her tactical mind is still sharp, he thought. She had analyzed the plan and carved out her profit in seconds, while still maintaining the implicit threat of her power.
"Absolutely no problem," Loki said. "I just hope you keep that rationality. It increases our success rate by twenty percent."
"Heh..." Hela gritted her teeth. "I have rehearsed my revenge a million times in this silence. Every sarcastic look, every humiliating word I will shove back down his throat. I won't be blinded by hatred until after his head is on a spike."
"One bit of advice," Loki added, "there's a saying where I come from: villains die because they talk too much. Don't waste time mocking them while they're still breathing. Humiliate them once they're dead."
"No way!" Hela refused instantly. "Where is the meaning in that? I want him to know it was me! You do your job, Loki. Stay out of the business between a father and his daughter."
Loki sighed. He couldn't change her nature. Maybe after she watched a few thousand movies from Midgard, she'd understand the tropes of the trade.
"Fine. I wish us a pleasant cooperation."
"Pleasant cooperation, my little treasure," Hela laughed, her eyes glittering with the promise of a billion burning worlds.
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