On the golden dais, Odin stood at the forefront, his divine presence subdued beneath another's radiance.
He knew his eldest son far too well — in all of Asgard, none could surpass his arrogance.
Gilgamesh, bearer of divine blood and the golden radiance of kingship, possessed a strength that defied reason. Even Odin himself sometimes wondered whether he could truly command him.
Fortunately, the boy's ambitions had long since withered. If Gilgamesh still desired the throne, Thor would never have been able to claim it.
Thus, for countless years, Odin had merely watched, seldom intervening — unless his son's arrogance threatened to shake the very heavens.
When all had assembled beneath the divine palace, Odin finally raised Gungnir and declared the ceremony begun.
A deep horn blast resounded through the clouds. Thor strode forth upon the crimson carpet, hammer in hand, his grin foolish yet sincere. The people erupted in cheers — waves of laughter and applause cascading through the shining city of Asgard.
At the far end of the Rainbow Bridge, Heimdall, guardian of the realms, stood like a statue of light and iron. Resting both hands upon his greatsword, he smiled faintly as the echoes of celebration reached him.
He had watched the three princes since their births — gods incarnate, yet still children in his eyes. Of them all, it was not Gilgamesh, the prodigy touched by the sun, who impressed him most, but Thor, whose heart remained untainted by divine arrogance.
"Though lacking his brother's brilliance," Heimdall thought, "the purity in Thor's soul shall one day illuminate the heavens themselves."
Back in the plaza, silence fell. The wind held its breath. Odin raised the Spear of Eternity, his single eye gleaming with divine authority.
"Thor Odinson," he proclaimed, "do you swear to protect the Nine Realms?"
"I swear!"
"Do you swear to uphold peace and order among gods and men?"
"I swear!"
"Do you swear to cast aside selfish ambition, and devote yourself wholly to the realm you guard?"
"I swear it!" Thor shouted, lightning dancing across Mjolnir's surface.
Odin smiled faintly. "Then by the will of the All-Father, I—"
He froze. His divine sight pierced the veil between worlds.
An intruder… in the treasury?
"…A Frost Giant?" he whispered.
The jubilation turned to dread. Thor's smile stiffened. The nobles murmured. Jotunheim lay leagues away, and without the Bifrost, none could cross the void. Yet Odin's words could not be doubted.
In an instant, the shining city fell into martial readiness. Horns blared once more — not for ceremony, but for war.
Gilgamesh crossed his arms, golden armor glimmering faintly. His crimson eyes were filled with disdain.
"So Laufey sends his mongrels," he muttered. "Pathetic. Even a single phantasm from my treasury could erase him."
He scoffed softly, golden sigils flickering behind his back — faint, like the ripples of a sealed treasury gate.
"Still… it seems Loki's little drama begins. How nostalgic."
The coronation was abruptly suspended. The shattered remains of the Destroyer were retrieved from the armory and brought before Odin.
In the golden throne room, Thor's fury ignited like thunder.
"Those cursed Frost Giants! They dared defile my coronation! I'll make them pay with their lives!"
"They already have," Odin said gravely. "But their deaths reek of something deeper. This is no simple incursion… it is conspiracy."
He lifted his spear, divine runes flaring.
"This is war."
Thor clenched his hammer, lightning roaring across his shoulders. "Then allow me, Father! Let me lead the army of Asgard to Jotunheim! I will make Laufey remember—"
He raised Mjolnir high, eyes blazing. "—that even if I am newly crowned, I am still the God of Thunder, son of Odin, heir to the Eternal Kingdom!"
He thought his request would surely be granted, but Odin was utterly exasperated.
The king he envisioned should be benevolent, insightful, and not one who would start a war at the slightest provocation.
This was not a wise ruler—it was a tyrant.
"Silence!" the All-Father roared, his divine presence surging like a storm. His expression twisted with a mix of disappointment and scorn as he thundered,
"You are not the God-King yet! Asgard is not yours to command!"
Thor froze, his words dying in his throat. His face flushed a deep purplish-red, and for once, he was left speechless.
The sight of such "fatherly affection" and "filial piety" sent a chill down Loki's spine. He dared not utter a word.
Only Gilgamesh stood there, arms crossed, idly picking at his ear, as though the entire exchange were of no concern to him.
The Frost Giants?
Jotunheim?
If he wanted to, he could wipe them out in an instant. There was no reason to lose his temper over something so trivial.
After reprimanding Thor, Odin's gaze shifted toward his other two sons. When his eyes fell upon Gilgamesh's indifferent expression, irritation welled up inside him—like he'd swallowed a fly.
Neither of his sons was easy to deal with.
Truly, being the God-King was suffering incarnate.
The meeting was soon adjourned.
Gilgamesh left the palace alone. His arrogance had always driven a wedge between him and his brothers, leaving nothing worth saying.
Thor, still smoldering with resentment after being scolded, stormed off to his own palace.
But Loki followed.
The first phase of his plan—disrupting the coronation ceremony—had succeeded. Now came the second: provoke Thor into attacking Jotunheim.
Thor, ever the reckless fool, was easy to manipulate. Loki approached under the guise of concern, carefully choosing his words to stoke the fire of his pride.
It worked.
Thor, blinded by anger, vowed to go to Jotunheim himself to demand justice from Laufey.
Normally, that would have been music to Loki's ears… until Thor declared that he would be coming along.
Now Loki was panicking.
Jotunheim wasn't exactly a dragon's den—but it was perilous enough. Charging in unprepared was madness!
"Thor, we can't be so reckless! Going there alone is suicide!" he pleaded.
"Don't worry, Loki," Thor said confidently, lightning crackling faintly in his eyes. "I'll show them the strength of the Asgardian prince!"
"No, no, no—this isn't about strength!" Loki protested, his face paling. He was a schemer, not a warrior. How could he possibly face Frost Trolls in direct combat?
But Thor was resolute.
"No, we must go. I have to find out how they breached Asgard's defenses. If we don't act, our realm will become the trolls' playground!"
His righteous declaration left even the silver-tongued trickster momentarily speechless.
Yet, unwilling to abandon reason entirely, Loki grasped for an excuse.
"Then at least… at least call Gilgamesh. With twelve Gold Saints at his command, even Laufey would think twice before acting."
"Ha! Do you really think Gilgamesh would bother with our affairs?" Thor scoffed.
Loki fell silent.
He was right.
That wicked bastard never meddled in anyone's business.
If he saw them surrounded by Frost Trolls, he'd probably just complain that the fight wasn't exciting enough.
Loki sighed bitterly.
Why, of all people, did I have to end up with a brother like that?