Over the course of the next week, things in Asgard slowly began to settle.
While Erik focused on preparing for the next steps in his plan, Wanda and Cindy stayed busy inside the palace.
Together, they carefully went through every part of the treasury, library, and old storage rooms. They collected every valuable item they could find—books on ancient magic, scrolls about lost runes, rare artifacts, powerful weapons, and enchanted armor. Nothing was left unchecked.
Cindy made sure that every magical object was either secured or taken, just in case it could help in the future. She also helped organize and sort the books and magical items, using her sharp eyes and calm approach to keep things running smoothly.
Wanda on the other hand even discovered a few hidden rooms behind illusion spells, packed with even more forgotten knowledge. The two of them were efficient, and by the end of the second day, they had hoarded everything important from Asgard's inner vaults.
At the same time, Erik appointed Frigga—Odin's wife—as the temporary ruler of Asgard. With Odin now a mindless servant under Erik's control, they needed someone the people still trusted.
Frigga, wise and kind, was a natural choice. Though surprised at first, she agreed, promising to guide the people and keep peace in the realm for as long as it was required.
Thankfully, the population was small already. This made things much easier. The people were shaken but alive, and with no real destruction from the battle (no permanent deaths), stability returned quickly.
Some were still wary, but most were simply relieved to be alive and reunited with their families. Erik's promise to bring their loved ones back to life had been real.
People had seen their friends, siblings, children, and partners return from death—whole and unchanged. This miracle somewhat softened their hearts toward him.
And so, after a long week, Asgard stood quieter, organized, and under Erik's control—its secrets looted, its ruler replaced, its people watching and waiting.
The man who was the cause of all this was currently standing naked on a high balcony of the Asgardian palace, bathed in the soft golden hue of morning light. Erik's gaze swept across the city below, where the last of the Chitauri ships were lining up for departure, their dark forms gleaming under the rising sun. They were preparing to return to Mars, his temporary stronghold—the new center of his growing empire.
A calm breeze rolled over his skin as he stood there in silence, watching his forces shift like pieces on a board. It should've been a moment of peace.
Then came the touch.
A hand slid around his abdomen, smooth and slow, fingers gliding downward with unmistakable intent. Erik didn't flinch, but his eyes rolled the moment he felt the direction it was headed.
It wasn't the touch of a woman he loved.
It was the hand of the woman who "loved" him.
"Hela," he said, his tone measured as he removed her hands before they could reach any further.
"Aww, husband-to-be... you're no fun," Hela purred, her voice sultry, teasing, as she stepped back with a mischievous smile dancing on her lips.
Erik sighed, his brows tightening just slightly. "I've told you—we'll wait until there's a real bond between us. This pushing, this constant game—it's only making things worse."
Hela didn't look even slightly chastised. Instead, she flopped down into a nearby chair, crossed her legs with practiced ease, and leaned forward, her chin resting on one palm. Her eyes sparkled with something halfway between lust and laughter.
"It's your fault for roaming around all naked, you slut," she said with a smirk.
Erik stared at her for a long moment.
It was his room. It was barely past dawn. He had just put Wanda, Helen and Cindy to sleep after a night that could only be described as... intense. Yes, he brought Helen here too since for some enjoyment - for her and him.
Anyway, he fucks three women from midnight to sunlight, so of course he wasn't wearing anything. But the real question wasn't why he was naked—it was why Hela was even here. She had been assigned a chamber on the opposite end of the palace.
Still, he didn't let the irritation show.
"You know what?" he said with a sigh, turning back toward the horizon. "I'm not even going to argue with you. You're right. It was my fault."
Behind him, Hela let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying every second of the discomfort she stirred.
But Erik ignored it.
Hela's laugh lingered in the air like a blade being sharpened. It was soft, dangerous, and filled with the kind of playfulness that could turn into malice in a blink.
Erik had known that about her from the very beginning—every word, every look, every smile was layered with traps.
"Where are we headed next? You're not just planning to rot the army in your realm, are you, darling?" Hela asked, the playful purr still there, but with a tint of curiosity.
"Knowing you, whatever I'm going to do will be enjoyable for you, maybe a bit too much," Erik smirked.
"And that is?" she pressed, her voice dropping, genuinely intrigued now.
Erik didn't answer right away. A slow, knowing smirk touched his lips.
"Hm," he murmured, the sound low and thoughtful.
He pushed off the balcony railing and moved toward her. Hela watched him come, her playful expression faltering for a second as he closed the distance without hesitation. He didn't stop until he was standing over her, his face just inches from hers.
He reached out, his fingers gently lifting her chin so her eyes met his. She could feel the warmth of his breath, and her gaze dropped to his perfect lips.
"Where's the fun," he said, his voice a soft, teasing whisper, "if there's no anticipation?"
Then, he pulled away, turning and walking back into the room as if nothing had happened.
Hela was left in the chair, her lips slightly parted. She bit down on them, surprised to feel her heart pounding wildly in her chest. This was the first time it had raced like this for anything other than a massacre.
'Anticipation, huh...' Hela thought, a slow smile spreading across her face as she licked her lips. 'He wasn't talking about war,'
Hela leaned back in the chair, fingers drumming idly on the armrest. For once, her smirk wasn't entirely for show.
The pounding of her heart was a new experience for her. She was a goddess of death, the rightful heir of Asgard, breaker of armies, and terror of realms. Yet here she was, watching Erik move pieces across the board like a god of war, bending realms to his will, denying even her.
And damn it all, she liked it.
Her lips curved into a dangerous smile as she whispered to herself, "Fine, Erik. If anticipation is your game, I'll play. But one day, you'll beg for more than my touch."
The morning sun caught her crown as it shimmered into existence, jagged black antlers casting shadows over the golden balcony. She spread her arms, savoring the mix of hunger and fury that swirled inside her chest.
A goddess of death could wait.
But not forever.
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