(General P.O.V)
The moment Freyja gave the order, the ground beneath Siegfried shifted with the stomping of armored boots.
A wall of soldiers, gold-plated and armed, encircled him with mechanical precision. At their head stood Tyr, broad-shouldered, armored in steel and shadow. His face was grim, one hand resting on the hilt of a battle-worn sword.
Tyr, the God of War and Justice, and General of Asgard's army.
He stepped forward. "Thor," he said. "Don't resist. I don't want to kill you so soon after bringing you home."
Siegfried squared his shoulders, Mjolnir firm in hand.
"I won't be put in chains," he said. "Not again."
Tyr nodded slowly, almost with respect. "Then I'll try not to break you too much."
From above, Freyja's voice cut in once more. "Warriors Three—assist General Tyr."
On the royal dais, Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun exchanged glances. They looked to Baldur, who stood silently, his face carved with uncertainty.
He gave a slow nod.
The three warriors leapt down into the arena, landing with practiced grace. Their eyes were somber as they approached.
"Please, friend," said Fandral, "stand down. We don't want this."
"You're surrounded," Hogun added. "And the Allmother has spoken."
Volstagg sighed, resting his hand on his axe. "You have the look of Thor. But where is his laughter? His love of the fight, not just the victory?"
Siegfried's voice was firm. "I'm not here to amuse you. I didn't come back to wear a smile. I came to understand why I was brought here… and I won't kneel for answers."
The three looked at each other—uneasy. This was not the Thor they remembered.
Tension coiled. Tyr raised his sword.
Then—
Wind rushed down as Sleipnir, the eight-legged winged pegasus, landed between them all. Loki stood atop it, arms spread dramatically.
"Enough with the posturing," Loki said. "If this is justice, where is your proof?"
Freyja stood, regal and cold. "You want proof? The Cyclop's attack. You orchestrated it to give your puppet hero credibility."
Loki shrugged. "A fair accusation. I would do something like that. But assumption is not evidence."
He turned, pointing to the hammer in Siegfried's hand.
"Mjolnir chose him. If that's not proof enough, the Allfather can confirm it. Unless, of course, you're afraid of what Odin might say."
The temperature dropped.
Freyja's voice turned to ice. "You cling to the past like it will save you Loki. So desperate to revive the glory days, you invoke the Allfather's name in your schemes."
She raised a hand.
"Loki, adopted son of Odin, I hereby strip you of the mantle of Agent of Asgard. You are charged with conspiracy against the throne—an attempt to unseat Crown Prince Baldur through deception and false prophecy."
Gasps broke out in the crowd.
Whispers spread like wildfire.
Tyr's hand tightened on his blade. Soldiers advanced.
Freyja's voice cut through the chaos: "You will always be Loki the Trickster. And I need no proof to end you both, here and now."
Siegfried raised Mjolnir. Loki stepped off Sleipnir, defiant.
And then—
A voice.
Ancient. Commanding. Like thunder from the roots of Yggdrasil itself.
"ENOUGH."
The sky dimmed.
The clouds pulled inward.
And the voice echoed again—ripping through every corner of Asgard:
"ENOUGH."
Every god, soldier, and noble dropped to their knees.
Even Freyja's mouth froze mid-command.
From high above, atop the Hliðskjálf, the empty throne at the peak of the palace, a figure emerged—cloaked in shadow and light and one eye burning like a dying star.
Odin Allfather had awakened.
-0-
The great throne room of Asgard was packed to the edges. Warriors, nobles, gods of the Aesir and Vanir alike stood silent in the golden hall, unsure whether to bow or flee in awe.
Then Freyja, her voice hard but reverent, stepped forward.
"Kneel," she commanded.
And they did.
Even Baldur lowered his head. Sif knelt beside Tyr. The Warriors Three sank to one knee. The weight of the moment crushed all resistance.
At the peak of the stairs, cloaked in shadow and light, the Allfather sat—his one eye burning with the weight of eons, his grip tight around Gungnir, the eternal spear.
His voice rolled through the hall.
"I am Odin, son of Borr. My sleep is broken, and so I speak."
Silence followed.
Then:
"My first decree—this one…" he motioned to Siegfried, who stood alone with Mjolnir in hand, "…is Thor, my son reborn. The God of Thunder, my rightful heir and the Protector of the Nine Realms."
Murmurs spread like lightning.
"My second decree—Loki, for all his lies and games, acted by my will."
Freyja opened her mouth.
Odin's eye snapped to her. "Speak not, my Queen. This is no court. This is truth."
She fell silent, trembling with fury.
Odin rose from the throne.
"Leave us. All of you."
There was no hesitation. Everyone stood and began to file out, casting final glances at Siegfried. The great golden doors boomed shut behind them.
Siegfried was alone.
Alone with the god who had forged a world.
He took the chance to study Odin—not just look, but feel. The very air resonated with the old god's breath. He was Asgard's spine. Its weight. Its core.
Siegfried's own power felt like a spark compared to the storm of pressure Odin carried simply by standing still.
The silence stretched.
Then Odin asked a question Siegfried didn't expect:
"Which cycle is this?"
Siegfried blinked. "What?"
Odin studied him with that single eye, sharp and weary. "You haven't gone through the Thoric ritual, then. You don't remember."
"No," Siegfried said. "I don't even know what that is."
Odin looked disappointed—tired. "A half-born Thor. Strong, but hollow. Loki said I could give you answers, did he?"
Siegfried nodded. "He said you'd know the truth. I want to know… how did Thor die?"
A shadow passed over Odin's face.
His voice was quieter now. Heavy.
"Thor was betrayed. Murdered. By one of our own. An Aesir god."
Siegfried froze.
Odin continued. "Only Thor knew who. His death was not a clash of glory. It was an ending. One laced in shadows, in secrets. Only your memories hold the name of the traitor."
Siegfried's thoughts spiraled. "Then why was I… why did you leave me in the forest? If you knew who I was, why didn't you send someone to bring me back?"
Odin didn't answer immediately.
Instead, his eye began to glow. Deep and ancient.
"Walk with me, boy."
The room shifted—not physically, but as if the throne itself had vanished and the world with it. Light and time distorted.
The marble beneath Siegfried's feet dissolved into mist.
And when he blinked, he was somewhere else entirely.
Siegfried floated above a ruined Asgard, the skies gray and suffocating, the light of the sun barely a dying ember beyond the haze. Cracks split the golden towers, now toppled and scorched. The great halls were rubble. The sea that once shimmered around the realm was black and still.
He looked down, stunned. "Where… where are we?"
Odin stood beside him, calm, his cloak billowing in the lifeless wind. "This is Asgard… at the end of Ragnarok. Not a vision of the future, but a memory. My memory."
Siegfried stared at the wreckage, heart pounding. "It's completely gone."
Odin nodded. "Asgard is a divine realm. Unlike the other Nine Realms—except for Hel—it is not bound by physical existence. It reflects the state of its ruler's soul. When I falter, Asgard falters. When I sleep, I preserve it... barely."
He sighed, heavy with centuries. "I've been weakening for a long time, boy. It's why I couldn't come to find you when I sensed your rebirth."
Siegfried's voice softened. "Then how did I survive?"
A faint smile touched Odin's lips. "Your mother saw to that."
Siegfried blinked. "Mother?"
"Jord or Gaea, it matters little." Odin said. "She is the Elder Goddess of Earth. I feel her in you. Her fertility divinity is strong."
And suddenly, it made sense.
The way the earth responded to him. The animals that trusted him. The crops that bloomed in his hands.
"That's why," Siegfried whispered. "Why I could breed livestock better than any man. Why plants grew from the dirt the moment I touched them."
Odin nodded. "A gift from her. One of many."
Siegfried lowered his gaze. "Still doesn't feel like enough. That life… it was full of pain."
Odin placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. "And yet, it shaped you. I would change it if I could."
Siegfried didn't flinch. "I wouldn't. It made me who I am."
The Allfather smiled faintly. But it didn't last.
His voice turned low. Steady.
"There's another reason I brought you here," he said, motioning to the sky above. "Tell me, boy… what do you not see?"
Siegfried looked up at the dull, choked heavens. "The sun." he answered.
"Exactly," Odin said. "For millions of years, Asgard has endured cycles of destruction and rebirth. That is the nature of the 9 realms. The memory you see now—this is Asgard during the last cycle."
He turned, gaze sharpening. "For the past two cycles, just moments before Ragnarok consumes everything, someone has stolen the Asgardian Sun. Ripped it from the heavens."
Siegfried felt his pulse quicken.
"I believe," Odin said, "that the one responsible is also behind your fading. And if I'm right… this enemy isn't just killing gods. They're killing the concept of rebirth itself."
Siegfried clenched his fists. "Why me?"
"Because you are the last line," Odin said. "The final Thor. This is the Final Ragnarok, Siegfried. If we lose now—there will be no more cycles. No more rebirths. Only silence."
"What do you want me to do?"
"You're no good to anyone without your memories. Journey the realms, recover your lost power while protecting the realms that have fallen into chaos with your absence. Then, once you're ready, find the Well of Mimir and undergo the Thoric ritual to regain your past memories."
"How will I know I'm ready?" Siegfried asked.
Odin pointed at the hammer. "Once you can hear Mjolnir's voice again..."
As he spoke, the ground rumbled below.
The cracked earth split wide.
And then—two colossal jaws tore up from the abyss, lined with rows of teeth as long as spears.
Jormungandr.
The World Serpent.
Its mouth opened wide, impossibly wide—and swallowed Asgard whole.
Siegfried gasped—
—and opened his eyes.
He was back in the throne room. Odin sat slumped on the golden seat, eyes closed once more, his body in Odin Sleep.
The gods had left.
The hall was silent.
But Siegfried understood now.
This was no longer about reclaiming lost glory or vengeance.
This was the final stand before the end of everything.
That evening, the celebration in Asgard's Grand Hall roared with revelry. Tables overflowed with roasted boar, golden mead, and glowing fruit from Alfheim. Harps and horns played, and the gods laughed loud enough to shake the columns.
At the center of it all, Siegfried stood like a statue of tension.
Gods and demi-gods hounded him—slapping his back, calling him by names that didn't quite feel like his own.
"Thor, do you remember the frost bear you wrestled drunk?"
"Thor! You still owe me a rematch in the clouds!"
"Thor, how did it feel to kill a dragon again?"
They laughed as if they knew him, but he didn't know them. He barely knew himself.
His jaw clenched.
Across the hall, Loki lounged between two goddesses—one a redhead in crimson silk, the other blonde and radiant, both hanging on his every word.
Siegfried glared at him.
Loki raised a cup in mock salute and grinned.
Before Siegfried could storm off, a strong hand pulled him by the arm.
Sif.
"Come with me," she said, eyes sharp. "Before you shatter someone."
He let her lead him as a part of him recognized her at least. They weaved through the drunken immortals and out into the quieter halls of the palace.
Eventually, they stopped before a door inlaid with lightning-shaped carvings.
Thor's former hall.
She opened it without hesitation and stepped inside. The space was wide and warm, lit with firelight. The scent of cedar and old steel clung to the air.
Before he could say a word, she pulled him in and kissed him—long, fierce, and longing.
"I missed you," she whispered.
He pulled back gently, surprised yet oddly nostalgic. "Who's guarding Baldur?"
Sif smirked. "Don't underestimate him. The Warriors Three are with him. And after I knew you were alive... I couldn't wait."
She stepped backward toward the hot spring pool sunk into the floor, untying her armor piece by piece.
"Spend the night with me like we used to," she said, slipping into the water. Steam curled around her skin. "Maybe you'll remember a few things."
He gulped at her tanned beauty, muscular yet feminine in frame. Her assets were big but not too much. She was just...perfect.
He dropped Mjolnir and stepped in after her.
Elsewhere in the Royal Palace, the air was cooler—tense.
Freyja's private chamber was dim and quiet, guarded by enchantments of silence and shadow.
Baldur stood across from his mother, arms folded.
"You cannot let him take everything from us," Freyja said. "Your father gave Sie- Thor a mission—to stabilize the realms. A task that may take thousands of years."
She stepped closer, voice lowering.
"In that time, you must prove yourself. You must earn Odin's favor."
Baldur's expression was unreadable. "How?"
Freyja's eyes gleamed. "While Thor is off unnecessarily saving the other nine realms, you will focus on the only one that matters—Asgard."
She reached toward a crystal globe and whispered a word. It projected an image—a spear, dark as night with veins of golden light running through it.
"Gungnir. Your father's true weapon. Lost long ago."
"If you retrieve it," she continued, "there will be no contest. Odin will have no choice but to name you his heir."
Baldur raised a hand suddenly.
"Wait."
His fingers glowed with soft light. He flicked them toward the far corner of the room.
A beam of light lanced out, struck the wall—and retracted like a rope, pulling back to reveal a small, buzzing fly caught at the end.
His hand clenched. The fly shimmered, then burst into sparkling green dust.
Down in the Grand Hall, Loki's eyes twitched.
The link was severed.
He tapped his finger thoughtfully against his cup.
"…Interesting."