"But Loki doesn't look anything like a Frost Giant!" Thor protested, still refusing to believe it.
"You live in a world of magic," Fury shot back. "How hard would it be to use a spell to hide soone's true appearance?"
"Well… not hard," Thor admitted reluctantly.
Disguising soone's identity with magic wasn't difficult at all. And in Asgard, only two people had the skill to pull off such a powerful, lasting enchantnt: Odin, the All-Father, and Frigga, the Queen.
If anyone knew whether Loki was truly their son, it would be them.
But they had never told Thor. They'd kept the secret his entire life, allowing him to believe Loki was his blood brother.
Now, whether Thor wanted to accept it or not, the truth was staring him in the face.
And he felt like an idiot.
He'd never questioned Loki. When Loki said Odin was dead, Thor had believed him without hesitation. He hadn't even considered the possibility that his father might still be alive.
He'd been so consud by grief—devastated that he'd killed his father with his recklessness, and that he could no longer lift Mjolnir—that he'd accepted Loki's lie at face value.
He'd been played. Completely.
But this ti, strangely, Thor didn't feel devastated.
Because if Loki had lied about Odin's death, that ant his father was still alive.
No matter how many tis Loki had deceived him, no matter how cruel the tricks, Thor would forgive him a thousand tis over if it ant Odin wasn't dead.
For once, he wanted to be lied to.
He felt… relieved.
Fury studied Thor carefully, and sothing clicked.
No wonder Odin refused to pass the throne to Loki, even though he clearly loved his adopted son. No matter how much affection he held for Loki, one principle remained absolute: you don't hand the ancestral kingdom to an outsider.
That rule transcended ti, culture, and species.
Even though Thor was nowhere near ready to be king, Odin was still orchestrating this entire trial to force him to grow. Because Thor was the only legitimate heir left.
Well, except for one.
Hela.
"Who's Hela?" Coulson asked, glancing at the diary entry. "In Earth's Norse mythology, Hela is Loki's daughter. But that doesn't seem right anymore. And Lucas just said Odin would rather give the throne to Hela than to Loki… so could she be a relative of yours?"
Coulson was learning fast. Earth's Norse legends clearly weren't reliable historical records. Many of the figures in the myths didn't exist—or existed in completely different forms.
"Hela?" Thor's brow furrowed. "I've never heard of anyone by that na. My father was an only child, so our family line is just and Loki. There are no other relatives."
But even as he said it, doubt crept into his voice. He couldn't afford to dismiss anything Lucas wrote anymore. Too much of it had already co true.
"We don't know who Hela is yet," Fury said slowly, "but if Lucas ntioned her, she's probably real. And if she exists in Norse mythology and in Lucas's diary, there's a good chance she'll show up eventually."
He paused, thinking it through.
"Logically speaking, succession usually prioritizes sons, then daughters, then adopted children. So Hela is most likely your father's daughter—or maybe his niece. For so reason, she hasn't been in Asgard, which is why you don't know her."
Fury's analysis resonated with everyone in the room, including Thor.
If Hela had a legitimate claim to the throne, her bloodline had to be close to Odin's. That ant she was family—close family.
"But regardless," Fury continued, "she'd still be a better choice than Loki. If I rember correctly, the Frost Giants are your enemies, right? Which makes Loki the son of your enemy's king. No matter how you slice it, the throne would never go to him."
Thor nodded slowly. He wasn't naive. Growing up in the royal court, he'd absorbed enough political awareness to understand the reality.
Thor wasn't stupid. He was strong—absurdly strong—blessed with the power of lightning from birth and crowned the God of Thunder at a young age. Because of that strength, he'd spent his life solving problems with his fists instead of his brain. Over ti, he'd beco a warrior first and a thinker second.
But that didn't make him a fool.
A fool could never beco a king.
No matter how much he loved Loki, no matter how little he personally cared about the throne, Thor had to consider what the people of Asgard thought.
The throne wasn't a family heirloom. It represented the will of an entire civilization.
And Asgard and Jotunheim had been at war for centuries. Every family in the Nine Realms had lost soone to the Frost Giants. How could they accept one as their king?
It was impossible. Unthinkable.
His father's reluctance made perfect sense now. Just as Lucas had written: You can share love with an adopted brother. But you don't hand over the ancestral kingdom to an outsider.
"At least your father is still alive, right?" Tony's voice ca through the video call, tinged with sothing bitter. "That ans you still have a chance to pass his test."
His expression was complicated—sowhere between envy and pain.
What Tony wouldn't give to have a brother tell him, It was all a lie. Dad's not really dead. This is just a test.
If only it were a test. If only he could stand before Howard Stark and say, Look at now. Look at what I've accomplished. I'm just as good as you—maybe better.
But he'd never get that chance.
So despite everything, Tony felt a strange, bitter jealousy toward Thor. Jealousy that Thor still had the opportunity to prove himself to his father.
"That's right," Fury said firmly. "This is good news. Now you just need to figure out what kind of test your father wants you to pass."
At the sa ti, Fury's mind clicked into place.
Earlier, he'd theorized that Thor was only on the second stage of his trial—that the third stage hadn't begun yet. And he'd wondered who the final enemy would be. Who could possibly serve as the ultimate challenge in Thor's redemption arc?
Now, the answer was obvious.
Loki.
The God of Mischief. The adopted prince of Asgard. The liar who'd deceived his brother and stolen the throne.
Minutes ago, Thor had been singing Loki's praises, and Fury had believed him.
Not anymore.
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