Jotunheim Royal Palace, the World of Ice and Snow.
Hela shivered involuntarily as she was brought down from the mothership alongside Lothar, utterly powerless to resist. It was the cold—bone-chilling and relentless. She had yet to reach the level of her father, Odin, and the bitter frost of Jotunheim still affected her to so degree.
Not to ntion, her current condition was far from ideal. Space-jumping was anything but kind to soone as gravely injured as she was.
"Woz, cloak the fleet and remain on standby."
Dressed in a sleek black combat suit, Lothar casually tossed Hela onto the snow-covered ground. Raising his wrist, he issued his command. A shimring blue holographic screen erged from the silver tallic bracelet on his arm—Woz, the intelligent chanical lifeform, was requesting operational access.
"Prince Lothar, are you certain about this?"
The Other, gripping his sapphire-tipped scepter, surveyed the vast, snow-blanketed surroundings before turning to face Lothar with deep reverence.
Wouldn't it be easier to simply raze the Frost Giants with an all-out assault?
Although Hela's relentless barrage of swords had already cut the Chitauri forces by more than half, The Other didn't consider that a major loss. The remaining Chitauri soldiers were still more than enough to form an overwhelming force. In his view, rather than relying on this so-called Hela Odinsdottir as a guide, it would be far more effective to lead the Chitauri in a direct siege on the Frost Giant royal palace. With the Chitauri keeping them occupied, Lothar's path forward would be far less obstructed.
But his suggestion was swiftly rejected by Woz.
The royal palace, being the heart of the Frost Giant stronghold, was naturally fortified with defensive barriers. According to Woz's calculations, the Chitauri's firepower wouldn't be enough to instantly tear through the palace's protective shield. On the contrary, attacking outright would only expose Lothar's presence in Jotunheim. And once King Laufey—who knew of Lothar's lineage—realized that the son of Thanos had arrived, he would beco extrely cautious. After all, standing behind Lothar was a colossus of the Centauri system, a figure known throughout the cosmos as the Tyrant of Annihilation—Thanos himself.
No gunfire. No cannons. The plan was simple—slip into the palace undetected.
Bringing Hela along served that very purpose. Among them, she was the only one who had previously set foot in Jotunheim's royal palace, having once accompanied Odin to a diplomatic eting with the Frost Giants.
Though that negotiation had ended in failure—Odin had refused the Frost Giants' demands for reparations, cutting the talks short—Hela had still seen the inside of the palace. And for Lothar's group, that was good enough.
At the very least, it was better than stumbling in blind.
Moreover, as Odin's daughter, Hela wasn't likely to betray them midway and expose Lothar's presence to Laufey. She was, in essence, the perfect unwilling guide.
"The real problem is that Hela Odinsdottir isn't in good shape. If we bring her along, there's a high probability she'll be detected by the Frost Giants."
The Other paused, then pointed a finger at Hela, who remained slumped in the snow.
Even as their reluctant guide, she looked like she could drop dead at any mont. He seriously doubted she'd make it all the way to the Casket of Ancient Winters.
"You Asgardians actually get cold?"
Lothar strolled over, crouching in front of Hela. He lifted her chin with one hand, his golden eyes gleaming with curiosity. That was unexpected. A race that sought to conquer the Nine Realms shouldn't be so easily affected by sothing as trivial as temperature.
"Shut up."
Suppressing the unbearable chill, Hela shot him an icy glare. Even wrapped in that loose-fitting combat suit, Lothar showed no sign of discomfort in Jotunheim's freezing climate.
She made up her mind—once she returned to Asgard, she would intensify her training. The proud princess of Asgard would never allow herself to be weaker than anyone, save for Odin himself.
"Prince Lothar, Hela Odinsdottir's injuries are severe. I recomnd administering a suppressive injection."
The blue light from Woz's holographic display cast data across Lothar's vision as it scanned Hela's vitals.
Based on Woz's calculations, a healthy Hela wouldn't have much difficulty on Jotunheim—at worst, she'd just need an extra coat to fend off the cold.
"What are you doing?"
Hela tensed as Lothar produced an injection device. A surge of instinctual wariness shot through her.
"Just giving you a shot."
He spun the silver injector between his fingers before pressing it against her neck. Hela flinched but couldn't move. The mont he withdrew the device, she collapsed onto the snow.
An indescribable pain surged through her body as the injected serum coursed through her veins, violently nding her severe injuries.
Agony often precedes rebirth.
Curled up in the snow for what felt like an eternity, Hela suddenly realized that most of her wounds had already healed. Even her recovery rate had noticeably increased.
"This is Prince Lothar's gift to you."
The Other wasted no ti in stepping forward, his voice tinged with jealousy.
Access to Lothar's universal healing serum was a privilege reserved exclusively for him. And now, this prisoner was receiving the sa treatnt?
"A single dose is enough to restore your mobility. Now, get up and take to the treasury in your mories."
Hands clasped behind his back, Lothar gazed at Hela, who was still visibly pale, sweat beading on her forehead.
Hela, of course, knew the location of the Casket of Ancient Winters—it was one of the Frost Giants' greatest treasures, after all.
That knowledge was the only reason Lothar had spared her life.
To take the Casket in silence, Hela's existence was essential.
"This was your plan all along, wasn't it? You deliberately revealed your knowledge of Jotunheim to ."
Lothar's golden eyes bore into her, sharp as blades.
Hela's pale lips curled into a smirk. She staggered to her feet, catching the fur-lined coat Lothar tossed her way.
"You know, the last person who dared infiltrate Laufey's treasury ended up as a permanent ice sculpture."
"That's because they failed."
"And what makes you think you won't?"
"Because I never fail."
Lothar lifted his gaze to the snow-laden sky above Jotunheim's royal court. Beyond the frost and ice, a hidden light awaited.
"If I will it, fate stands by my side."
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