M110- Vanaheim

Donald pulled the gang and Loki toward the Bifrost, clapping his hands together. "How about we journey to other realms a bit? We deserve a vacation."

Diego stretched his arms behind his head. "You mean we deserve a vacation from our vacation?"

Sofia adjusted her armor straps. "We just drank half of Asgard dry, and your idea of relaxing is plane-hopping through cosmic death traps?"

Donald scoffed. "You’re acting like I suggested we walk into Muspelheim naked."

Anthony tilted his head. "I mean, if we’re doing dumb shit, might as well commit."

Maria smirked. "Yeah, no. I like my skin unsinged."

Diego snapped his fingers. "Okay, but what if we do somewhere fun? Like Alfheim. I bet they have amazing spas. And wine."

Loki sighed. "Of course, you’d choose the least interesting place possible."

Diego pointed at him. "You have no taste."

Loki’s eyes narrowed. "I have excellent taste. You, however, would spend the entire time attempting to seduce an elf noble."

Diego grinned. "You say that like it’s a bad thing."

Nigel, who had been silent until now, exhaled sharply. "You realize every single place you’re considering could end with at least one of you detained, exiled, or executed?"

Nero shrugged. "Sounds like a normal Tuesday."

Donald gestured toward Heimdall, who had been listening with an expression bordering on exasperation. "Alright, we’re settled. Send us somewhere good."

Heimdall’s gaze flicked between them before he sighed, gripping his sword. "You will regret this."

Diego clapped his hands together. "That’s the spirit!"

The Bifrost opened, swallowing them whole before they could reconsider.

They landed in a realm of towering crystalline structures, the sky streaked with endless hues of violet and gold. The air shimmered faintly, almost electric.

Maria glanced around. "Where the hell are we?"

Donald crossed his arms. "Vanaheim."

Anthony raised a brow. "I thought this place was supposed to be covered in forests."

Loki rolled his eyes. "It is. You’re in one of the few civilized parts."

Diego took a deep breath. "Smells nice. Feels expensive. I like it."

Sofia looked at the sky. "It feels like magic is bleeding out of the air. Should we be concerned?"

Nigel scanned the surroundings. "Not unless one of you offends someone important."

Donald glanced at Diego. "So, we have about ten minutes."

Diego pressed a hand to his chest. "The lack of faith in me is truly hurtful."

Maria linked arms with Nero. "You say that like it isn’t justified."

Nero looked at Donald and Loki. "This is literally your homeland."

Donald nodded, while Loki rolled his eyes. "I've visited with Mother before."

Nero’s gang turned to him. "What do you mean?"

Nero chuckled. "Well, Queen Frigga—or Freyja, Frey—was revered as the Goddess of the Hunt in Vanaheim before she represented this realm in the Council of the Ten Realms."

Diego’s mouth hung open. "Mommy Frig is that awesome?"

Loki smacked him on the arm. "Be respectful to my mother."

Donald sighed. “She represented this realm on the council and was one of the greatest huntresses in the Ten Realms. When my father decided the Aesir and Vanir would unite into one tribe, no matter the cost, he issued an ultimatum. After a long war, he married my mother, and the two tribes merged.”

Loki continued without looking at them. “Although peace required an heir, well... that’s not a subject we really want to talk about.”

Nero looked at Donald. He wanted to tell him—wanted to say that she was alive. But if he did, if he so much as gave Donald a name, even without Loki standing right there, Donald would charge straight into Heven without a second thought.

And Aldrif Odinsdottir didn’t want to come back.

Not yet.

Only Meruem gave them a real chance at forcing that door open, and Nero had already sent him on another task. If he told Donald now, it would just be a problem.

So instead, he asked, “Do you trust me?”

Donald stared at him.

Nero had asked him the same thing once before—when he was just a crippled mess, drowning in his own failures, barely holding on to the past. Nero had known his truth then, had seen straight through him, and told him he knew—but that Donald had to trust him.

Donald had never doubted him. Not for a second.

He didn’t now, either.

“Always.”

That was enough.

Loki’s gaze flickered between them, a sharp glint in his eyes. But he didn’t press. If anything, he looked amused, like he was watching a puzzle shift into place. “Well. That was dramatic.”

Diego let out a breath. “I was waiting for someone to throw a punch, but that was… weirdly wholesome. I’m disappointed.”

Sofia kicked a stray rock, unimpressed. “Yeah, at least insult each other or something. We have standards for these moments.”

Donald shook his head. “Not everything has to be a damn spectacle.”

Anthony scoffed. “Says the guy who summons lightning every time he’s pissed.”

Nero smirked. “Or makes dramatic speeches mid-battle.”

Donald sighed. “You people are insufferable.”

Maria stood on her toes, messing Donald’s hair. “Oh, cutie patootie is sad? Didn’t you summon lightning for thirst-trap gym photos the other day?”

Donald blushed. “Were you there?”

Diego laughed. “We were all there, Donny. We were hiding behind Maria’s illusions.”

Sofia leaned against Anthony. “It was a full event. We even had popcorn.”

Donald groaned, running a hand down his face. “I hate all of you.”

Loki crossed his arms, unimpressed. “You actually did that?”

Diego nodded. “Oh yeah. Full-on storm, shirt half off, brooding expression—you’d think he was advertising for some Asgardian cologne.”

Before Donald could respond, a group of Vanir approached. One of them, a tall man with dark braids threaded with silver, stepped forward. “Thor Odinson, Loki Odinson, we weren’t expecting your arrival.”

Donald gave a small nod. “I’m traveling with my friends. We’re passing through.”

The Vanir warrior glanced at the group, eyes flicking over each of them before settling back on Donald. “Your presence is always welcome. Will you be staying long?”

Donald shrugged. “Depends.”

Loki, standing slightly behind, smirked. “What my dear brother means is that we shall see where the day takes us.”

The warrior’s gaze flicked to Loki, unreadable. “As you wish. If you require anything, the city is open to you.”

Diego clapped his hands together. “See? That’s the kind of hospitality I like.”

Sofia nudged him. “Try not to make them regret it.”

“I make no promises.”

The Vanir exchanged glances before stepping aside. “Then enjoy your stay.” They moved off, though a few still cast occasional glances toward the group as they walked.

Maria turned to Donald. “So, what exactly do people do here for fun?”

“Depends what you’re looking for,” Donald said.

Loki smiled. “Oh, I know just the thing.”

Diego immediately perked up. “If it’s another one of your mind games, I’m interested.”

“It’s not.” Loki turned, walking ahead without explaining further.

Sofia adjusted her armor. “I don’t trust that.”

“You shouldn’t,” Donald muttered, already following.

The path led through winding streets, lined with intricate carvings and shimmering banners, until they reached an open courtyard. A large circular arena sat at the center, surrounded by an amphitheater-style seating area.

Diego’s grin widened. “Oh, are we about to watch people beat the shit out of each other? Loki, I take back half the insults I’ve ever said about you.”

Loki smirked. “Half?”

“Let’s see how good the fights are first,” Diego replied.

Anthony crossed his arms. “This some kind of gladiator pit?”

“Not quite.” Loki gestured toward the warriors already gathered. “It’s an honor duel arena. Here, disputes are settled through combat, not pointless bickering.”

Donald sighed. “You mean sanctioned brawls.”

“Is that not what I just said?”

Maria looked over at Nero. “I assume we’re just watching?”

Nero shrugged. “Unless someone wants to fight.”

Diego’s hand shot up immediately. “Oh, absolutely.”

Sofia sighed. “You just want to fight a shirtless Asgardian.”

“Correct,” Diego said without hesitation.

A nearby warrior, hearing this, laughed. “If you seek challenge, step into the ring.”

Diego tossed his cloak aside and cracked his knuckles. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

The crowd around them perked up, clearly interested in an outsider taking on a Vanir warrior. The warrior—a broad-shouldered man with silver-lined braids—stepped forward, drawing a short sword.

Diego grinned. “Swords? Alright, let’s make this interesting.”

He grabbed a dagger from his belt and flipped it effortlessly before catching it.

Anthony shook his head. “Here we go.”

Loki gestured, and the center of the arena shimmered with golden runes. “First to yield, gentlemen.”

Diego barely waited for the signal before moving. He feinted left, pivoted sharply, and aimed a low slash at the warrior’s ribs. The Vanir deflected with ease, stepping back just as Diego twisted and struck again.

Donald watched with a critical eye. “He’s faster than before.”

“Of course he is,” Sofia muttered. “He fights like he’s dancing.”

Maria leaned against Nero. “How long before he starts flirting?”

“Give him a minute,” Nero said.

Sure enough, Diego ducked under a strike, spun behind his opponent, and murmured, “You know, if this was a date, I’d say we’re off to a good start.”

The warrior snorted. “You talk too much.”

He swung hard, but Diego sidestepped effortlessly, slicing at the straps of the warrior’s chest plate. The armor loosened, forcing him to readjust.

Anthony whistled. “Damn. He’s playing with him.”

The Vanir warrior realized it too and adjusted his grip, pressing forward with more aggression. Diego grinned, clearly enjoying himself, twisting and dodging as if the fight were a game.

Sif smirked. “He’s good, but he’s arrogant.”

Donald sighed. “That’s just Diego.”

The Vanir finally landed a hit, a shallow slice across Diego’s arm. It wasn’t deep, but it was enough to make Diego step back.

He glanced at the cut, then at the warrior, who looked pleased with himself.

“Oh,” Diego said, licking his lips. “Now it’s fun.”

Before the warrior could react, Diego surged forward, stepping into his guard and twisting the blade from his grasp. It clattered onto the arena floor.

Diego, now close enough to be face-to-face, whispered, “Still think I talk too much?”

The warrior shoved him back, but Diego just winked.

Loki sighed. “This is painful to watch.”

Sofia leaned over to Maria. “How much would you bet that Diego ends up in this guy’s bed by the end of the night?”

Maria considered. “I’d say even odds.”

Diego flipped his dagger again before tossing it aside. “Alright, I had my fun. You win.”

The warrior frowned. “You yield?”

Diego winked. “I have better things to do with my hands.”

Anthony groaned. “I hate him.”

Loki dismissed the golden runes. “A disappointment, as expected.”

Diego wiped the sweat from his brow. “Excuse me, I put on a great show.”

The crowd clapped, though it was unclear if they were impressed or just amused.

Maria pulled Nero aside. “I have no interest in dueling some warrior, but I wouldn’t mind getting out of here for a bit.”

Nero didn’t hesitate. “Let’s go.”

Sofia caught them sneaking away and called out, “Skipping out on the fun?”

Maria waved over her shoulder. “You have fun. We’re busy.”

Taking Maria’s hand, Nero walked away, the two of them stepping into the quiet forests of Vanaheim.

The trees stretched high, their bark shimmering faintly in the evening light. The ground beneath them was soft, the air filled with something different from Midgard—calmer, older.

Maria glanced around. “It’s strange. It looks normal at first, but then you start noticing how… not normal it is.”

Nero hummed. “Vanaheim’s full of magic. Everything’s got something extra.”

Maria kicked a small, glowing stone near her foot, watching it roll before it floated slightly and settled back down. “Yeah. Not unsettling at all.”

They walked in silence for a moment before she nudged him with her shoulder. “So? What was the big meeting with Odin about?”

Nero exhaled. “Tesseract. He wants it to protect it.”

Maria scoffed. “Did you tell him no in your usual charming way?”

“I was polite.”

She looked at him with a smile. "Polite as in ‘Nah, you’re not getting it,’ or ‘Sorry, but you’re too dumb to protect it’?"

Nero chuckled, kissing her cheek. "You know me too well."

Maria hummed. "So, Odin still thinks Asgard is the best safe?"

"He means well," Nero said. "Doesn't mean he's right."

Maria pulled him along, weaving through the trees. "So, what’s next? He didn’t push for it?"

"He knows I won’t budge." Nero glanced at her. "I assume you have a better question."

She grinned. “Obviously. The heir Loki talked about. You know something again, don’t you?”

Nero sighed. “It’s their sister. Firstborn of Odin and Freyja.”

Maria slowed her steps. “Wait. Sister?”

He nodded. “Aldrif Odinsdottir. She was supposed to be Asgard’s future queen, but she disappeared during the war with the Angels.”

Maria narrowed her eyes. “You’re saying ‘disappeared’ like you know where she actually is.”

Nero nodded, holding Maria close as they walked. "When Heven waged war on Asgard, the Queen of Angels kidnapped Aldrif to force Odin into surrendering."

Maria raised a brow. "The same war where Odin merged the Vanir and Aesir by marrying Frigga?"

"Yeah." Nero glanced at her. "Except he didn't just unite the realms—he erased one. The Angels were strong enough to push Asgard back. They took Aldrif in the chaos. Odin refused to bow to threats, so the Queen of Angels killed Aldrif—at least, that’s what everyone thought. Odin retaliated by cutting Heven off from the Nine Realms, severing it from Yggdrasil entirely."

Maria glanced at him. "So you’re saying she didn’t die?"

"Not if the comics are right."

She exhaled, watching him. "And you’re not telling Donald because…?"

Nero smirked. "Because if I do, he’ll grab Mjolnir and charge straight into Heven without thinking. And I don’t feel like explaining to Odin why his son is picking fights with an entire lost realm."

Maria hummed. "Fair point. So if she’s alive, the Angels have been keeping her hidden all this time?"

Nero shook his head. "The Queen of Angels ordered the baby’s corpse to be disposed of. Loriel, her handmaiden, was given the task, but when she found the child still alive, she didn’t do it. She took her instead, raised her as one of the Angels, named her Angela."

Maria’s steps slowed. “And nobody noticed?”

“As far as they knew, the baby was dead. Loriel hid her, made sure she blended in as much as a wingless child could in Heven.”

Maria frowned. “Wingless?”

Nero nodded, lifting his hand as a faint mist coiled around his fingers, forming a flickering illusion above his palm. A woman stood within it, tall and armored, wings spread wide—except for one. The other was missing entirely.

"Angels have wings. Asgardians don’t. Angela was the only wingless ‘Angel’ in Heven," he said.

Maria tilted her head, watching the illusion shift. "And no one questioned that?"

"Heven isn't exactly built on compassion," Nero replied, letting the mist fade. "Strength decides worth. As long as she was useful, no one cared where she came from."

Maria folded her arms. “So she was raised thinking she was Angel-born, but treated like an outsider the whole time?”

Nero dispersed the illusion. “Exactly. She fought her way to the top, became their deadliest warrior. One of their greatest hunters.”

Maria sighed, kicking a small rock down the path. "Always tricky with leaders. No matter Earth or another realm."

Nero nodded. "I do plan to tell Donald eventually and save her if he and she wants to. But with Meruem away, our chance of surviving in Heven is none."

Maria glanced at him. "And if Meruem was here?"

"We’d have a shot." Nero didn’t hesitate. "Not a great one, but better than walking in blind."

Maria looked at Nero. “I thought Meruem was already strong.”

Nero shrugged. “He is. But Heven isn’t some backwater kingdom. If he went in alone, he’d wreck plenty of them, but he wouldn’t win.”

Maria raised an eyebrow. “Define ‘wreck.’”

"Infiltration, he’s got the advantage. Shadow travel means he can slip in unnoticed. His illusions are strong enough to trick weaker Angels. He can suppress his presence with Nen and Haki. He’d be able to take out a few before they even knew he was there."

Maria hummed. “Sounds good so far.”

"For a little while." Nero flicked his fingers, and tiny glowing figures appeared, weapons drawn. "The stronger Angels aren’t idiots. They have divine senses, and the second they realize they’re under attack, they’ll sound a battle hymn. The moment that happens, the whole city’s on him."

Maria watched the illusion shift, Meruem cutting through waves of enemies. "Can he handle their warriors?"

"The regular ones? Yeah. With Nen, Haki, Flames, and his Lantern abilities, he’d tear through them. He can transmute the battlefield, make constructs to control space, heal mid-fight. If it were just them, he’d have a real shot." Nero let the illusion expand—Angel warriors taking flight, weapons shimmering with celestial energy. "But their weapons are divine-forged. They can bypass normal durability. And the stronger Angels fight using celestial energy. He doesn’t have a direct counter to that."

Maria frowned. "So he’d be taking hits that actually hurt."

"Exactly." Nero let the image zoom in on a group of imposing warriors, each one glowing with radiant energy. "Then there are the Angel Generals. They’re not like the grunts. They’ve been fighting for millennia. They don’t just rely on power—they know how to use it. If he faces them, the fight changes completely."

Maria tapped her fingers against her arm. "And the Queen?"

Nero’s illusion shifted again, the warriors parting to reveal a tall figure clad in blinding gold armor, a massive spear in her grip. "That’s where he loses."

Maria tilted her head. "That bad?"

"She’s not just strong—she’s divine. Her weapons are ancient, her magic is beyond anything we have faced. If she steps in, it’s game over."

Maria sighed. "So what’s the play? He can sneak in, cause damage, but full-on conquest’s impossible?"

"Exactly. If it’s a hit-and-run, he can wreck their forces, steal something useful, maybe even cripple part of Heven’s infrastructure. But if he stays too long? They’ll overwhelm him. Worst-case scenario, they kill him outright." Nero let the illusion fade. "If we did this, he’d have to move fast and get out even faster."

Maria leaned against him, arms crossed. "So we’re not doing this until we have a real way to win."

"Exactly."