Prologue - Part 1

"My king," spoke a kneeling man, fully adorned in black and bronze armor. Rainwater rolled off his cloak and body, creating a small puddle spreading out from where his knee rested on the ground. "Are we sending troops to support the situation in Midgard?"

"Hmm," the man on the throne mused. He stroked his beard with one hand while the other tapped the armrest with an orderly rhythm.

*Tap, tap tap tap*

*Tap, tap tap tap*

His eyes drifted away from the soldier out towards an obscure direction where he squinted, as if trying to see past the torrential downpour that fell outside the tent. Had the kneeling man dared to look up, he would've seen the flickering light of wall sconces reflected off two sapphire eyes that seemed aglow with blue flames.

The king held his gaze long enough that one would believe he saw what laid far beyond the horizon. Finally, he looked away and sighed, "When was the last time Hela sent a report?"

The soldier paused for a moment, not knowing how to answer, before a voice came from over his shoulder, "Two weeks my King," it said. "The last one informed us that she was preparing to storm the capital. She claimed that Alfheim would be ours within the moon."

The king gave his acknowledgment with a grunt. "And what of Tyr's forces? Has he wrapped up the pacification of Vanaheim yet? The world was taken over a year ago, resistance should've died down enough by now to replace him with a smaller garrison."

"He returned to Asgard half a month ago to rest his men and resupply," the voice answered. "They should be ready to move out again with fresh troops within the week, sooner if needed."

*Tap, tap tap tap*

*Tap, taptaptap*

The fingers drumming the armrest quickened and the king's eyes closed. His mind went over myriad battle plans and tactics needed for the next campaign. Reinforcements and logistics came next, followed by casualties and morale.

All this and more needed to be considered before he could decide whether to allocate troops to a world that was, by all means, unimportant to the war. Had it not been for its link to Yggdrasil and his connection to some of its inhabitants, such thoughts would not be wasted on a planet incapable and unwilling to support his crusade.

His mind went back a hundred years to the past battles he fought there. They were truly glorious and were what led him to believe that this current war would be possible to win in the first place.

He thought about his companions that fought by his side as they struck down foes far surpassing any they could've bested alone. The noble Black Panther, the wise Sorcerer, the cursed Ghost Rider, the brooding Starbrand, and the crazy Iron Fist.

*Tap, tap taptap*

*Tap, taptap tap*

The king's drumming grew erratic and his face flushed in excitement at the memories of battle with the like of Mephisto, Zgreb 'The Fallen', and the First Host. Thinking of the songs that will surely be sung in Valhalla of their victories on that world caused his blood to boil and his heart to race wildly.

However, all the excitement came crashing down and the memories faded away as a single face appeared in the forefront of his thoughts. One shrouded by a wild mane of fiery red hair and possessing the most beautiful emerald green eyes that could make lesser men become lost in them at a glimpse.

The one that stayed behind. The one who refused to join him in Asgard despite all the time and memories they shared. The woman who he couldn't bring himself to hate, despite the fact that she did more damage to him than all the wounds he'd suffered fighting for her world, for her.

The other two men in the tent shared a worried glance when the tapping stopped and the room become silent. As a howling wind blew open the tent flap, the king opened his slightly reddened eyes. He gazed up at the ceiling, allowing his heart and mind to calm down from the torrent of emotions.

After a short while he took a deep breath, still looking upward, and asked, "What of Heimdall?"

"My king, he's currently corresponding with the reconnaissance division. They're still working out the invasion plans for Niflheim,"the standing soldier spoke. He paused briefly to gather his thoughts before continuing, "As you know, the natives are so deeply entrenched that we're struggling to devise a strategy that's more than just drowning them in bodies."

"Put that aside for now," the seated man said. "What of the plans for Jotunheim, Muspelheim, and Nidavellir?"

"Actually, my king," the kneeling soldier spoke for the second time since entering the tent. He briefly paused, catching his err, before continuing when indicated, "With the fall of Alfheim, it's widely believed that Nidavellir will surrender to us without a fight and should be sending emissaries shortly after Lady Hela returns."

"Good," the king nodded. "The dwarves reproduce even slower than Asgardians, it'd be a shame for them to lose so many in a hopeless battle."

Both soldiers nodded in agreement at the statement before the standing one spoke again, "As for Muspelheim, Heimdall submitted his report shortly after the fall of Vanaheim and no new changes have been made since. It's still expected to take somewhere between fifty and a hundred years to fully pacify the realm."

The king's lip curled in disgust at the number. Despite how weak the average resident of that burning hell is, Surtr and his spawn procreate almost as fast as they're destroyed.

He thought over the plans for that rock he'd previously read before waving his hand dismissively and asking, "And the Jotuns?"

"This…" the soldier paused. He hesitated before a sharp glare from the seated monarch pried the answer from the man. "My king, Heimdall hasn't submitted the final plan yet but, his latest estimate has the world requiring nearly half as long as Niflheim to take and no estimate on the requirements for holding it yet."

"So…" the king asked leadingly, his eyes narrowing to slits.

*Tap, Tap, Tap, tap*

The soldiers both flinched with every beat before the standing man took a deep breath, bowed his head, and answered, "We're looking at roughly three hundred years to capture and maybe another two hundred to to fully pacify."

The king retracted his gaze and thought over the reported estimates. They were slightly higher than what was proposed at the start of the war, but who would've thought Vanaheim could've held on for as long as they had either? Heimdall was probably being more conservative by using the former as an example.

Muspelheim's numbers have remained the same, but that was expected. That world is more of an extermination than anything else, Surtr is practically unkillable on his home ground. All they need to do is trim down his forces enough to neutralize any threat they could potentially pose in the future.

Niflheim is a similar ordeal to Muspelheim, in that it too holds nothing of value. Apparently, Hela's been working on something with her Mistress that will allow them to take the world more easily, but nothings come of it yet.

As his thoughts came around to his only child, he remembered the original purpose of this meeting and his eyes fell back on the solider still kneeling in the center of his tent. The small puddle he'd created upon entry had spread out by now, nearly soaking through twice the area the man's body occupied on the carpet.

The ambient magic in the air had left his armor almost completely dry by this point, symbolizing how far they'd gotten off track from the main issue.

Catching himself before his mind could wander off again, Odin, the young King of Asgard, sighed wearily before speaking towards the kneeling soldier, "Call for Heimdall, he's no longer needed with the reconnaissance division. I have a mission for him."

_______________________________

Atop a lone mountain reaching far beyond the clouds, a solitary figure cloaked in translucent flames peered down at the bustling world below. Despite the vast distance, her shining emerald eyes could distinguish individual blades of grass from one another with perfect clarity.

"You should head back down," a disembodied voice spoke from within the woman's mind. "The child should be getting hungry soon."

The words brought a smile the the woman's weathered face. "Who would've thought the majestic and aloof Phoenix would care so much about a little baby boy," she giggled.

"Hmph," the Phoenix snorted. "You should know that as my first host, this child could be considered half my own." She paused for a second before grumbling, "Though I would've chosen a better father if I'd had a choice."

The woman rolled her eyes at the comment she'd heard over a thousand times, "We've been over this, just because Odin is an ass in almost every universe you've seen, doesn't mean he would've necessarily been one here."

"…" Despite existing solely within her own mind, the woman could swear the bird was glaring daggers at her.

*Cough*

"Ok," she said sheepishly. "So maybe he did turn out like you said he would."

"Hmph," came the expected snort of derision.

"But! I didn't really have any other options at the time," She replied back defensively. "Vnn never got over his wife, Agamotto is wed to his magic, Ghost was an undead demon, and Mosi died before anything came up!"

"And besides..." she continued in a much smaller voice. "For all his faults, Odin was the first person after Highwalker that didn't look at me with fear."

The mountaintop grew quiet when she finished her little rant. Only the flapping of her furs could be heard over the howling winds as both parties fell into thought.

"Well," spoke the Phoenix hesitatingly to break the awkward silence. "At least he did his part in making such a cute kid."

"Hehe," the woman let out a small chuckle. "You can't argue that Asgardians don't make good looking babies. I can't imagine half of those knuckle-draggers down there leading to anything as cute as my Fyr."

"So you decided on Fyr," the Phoenix stated, more than asked. "I don't know what I expected from a woman who named herself Firehair."

"Hey," Firehair protested. "At least I don't call myself Human. You don't even have a name!"

"Hmph," the Phoenix snorted disdainfully. "I am Phoenix and the Phoenix is me! I have no need for a mortal name."

With that the two fell back into companionable silence while Firehair played with the single lock of crimson hair atop Fyr's head. While twirling it around her finger, she smiled as she thought about the last hundred years.

From the last time she was with Odin, to the unnaturally long decades of being with child, to just last month when her little Fyr joined them in this world, she reminisced about it all. Phoenix had said that her power, Odin's bloodline, and Firehair's own considerable abilities were the reason behind needing to carry Fyr for so long.

It wasn't a huge inconvenience, had Phoenix not told her she wouldn't have even known she was pregnant till about two years ago. Alas once she knew, the wait itself was unbearable.

She desperately wished she had more time to spend with her boy. She wanted to watch him grow up, take his first steps, get into pointless fights, and chase after girls. But most of all, she just wanted to be there, like any mother should.

"They're coming up again," spoke the voice inside her mind. Since the first day she'd awoken her powers, it'd always been there. At first she thought of it as an old granny, then later as a mother, and eventually it became the sister she'd never knew she so desperately needed.

Coming out of her thoughts, she wiped a small tear from the corner of her eye and stood up. "I know," she said. "They've been gathering since midday."

"Do you still plan to go through with it," the Phoenix asked. "What about Fyr?"

A vicious glint briefly flashed across the woman's beautiful face as she gazed upon the gathering at the foot of the mountain. "Especially for Fyr," she said in a voice dripping with venom.

"This world is nothing more than a playground for the Celestials, demons, aliens, and all manner of vile creatures," she spat the words like a curse. "And all of it is centered around us, Mutants. We're too tempting a prize, too valuable a resource for other parties to ignore, and too weak to defend ourselves as a whole."

"You could petition Asgard for assistance again," said the Phoenix, deciding to play devils advocate. "Who knows? They might answer this time."

Firehair laughed bitterly at the suggestion, "It's been almost a decade since we sent for aid and still no reply. So much for being allies…"

A new presence behind her stopped her rant in its tracks. Centuries of fighting instincts had her briefly tensed before she recognized the presence and relaxed.

"Actually," spoke a new voice, "we just received your message a month ago."

"Heimdall," said Firehair without turning around. "Odin couldn't be bothered to send something other than a projection? Is Midgard truly worth so little in your eyes?"

The silence that lingered in the air was more than enough of a answer for her.

"May I ask if my lady still has need of Asgard's assistance," questioned Heimdall attempting to change the topic. "My gaze hasn't had the time to rest upon Midgard for a long while."

Thinking over the question in her mind and conversing with the Phoenix for a few minutes, that passed by in seconds to the outside world, she replied with a mocking laugh that ended with a sad chuckle. "Had you deigned to look over even a year ago I would've said yes, but now?"

She turned around to face the shimmering projection of her former lover's closest confidant. His pale white eyes landed upon the child in her arms and widened enough to completely fill the slit in the visor of his helmet.

She chuckled at the sight before asking with a hint of resignation, "Could you come here yourself? Just you, I have no need of Asgard any longer."

Before the last words even left her mouth, a beam of rainbow light crashed down on the mountaintop sending chunks of rock careening over the edge into the growing crowd below. The sight of the Bifrost brought back fond memories of her first meeting with the Asgardians before she shook them away faster than they came.

"My lady," spoke a now kneeling Heimdall. "My prince."

'Hmph,' came the Phoenix's mental reply to his actions. 'About time he noticed. All-seeing my ass.'

Firehair rolled her eyes at both their antics before speaking plainly to the man, "Stand up and take him."

"Wha.." he tried to ask, before a pressure far greater than anything his king had unleashed fell upon his shoulders and nearly crushed his body into the rocks beneath him. Clearly the Phoenix was growing tired of his being here.

"Just do as she asks," spoke a majestic voice from the woman's mouth that the man knew actually belonged to a entity he could never hope to match.

Heimdall warily glanced up at the pair briefly before rising and gently taking the child wrapped in furs into his arms. As he backed away, he looked down and a small smile unknowingly graced his lips.

Upon seeing her child in another's arms, tears threatened to burst from her eyes but were held back by an unshakable resolve. Her's was forged through centuries of conflict and loss and it had to be, as the hardest choices often required the strongest wills.

She strode forward to rest a hand on her child's head and gently caressed him whilst wearing a smile only a doting mother could. She leaned over and kissed his forehead as a lone tear escaped her control and fell atop his cheek.

"Wha.." Heimdall tried to ask before he was once again interrupted, this time by Firehair.

"His name is Fyr," she said softly, barely above a whisper. "Son of Firehair, Odin, and… Phoenix."

The small tremble of emotion she felt within her mind as she spoke that last part made her smile grow even wider as she lovingly gazed down upon her whole world.

'Do it,' she spoke into her mind and she felt it as the Phoenix burned away every last vestige of what, in another universe, would one day be called the X-gene and all of his human DNA, replacing it with pure Phoenix Force. The process caused the child's furs to be burned away and become wrapped in a crimson cocoon of gentle flames.

"There, it's done," Firehair said. "You can take him back to Asgard now. This world is no longer his home."

"Wh.."

"Leave."

Heimdall tried to speak for a third time before, once again, being interrupted by a voice more powerful than the last. Though no pressure fell upon him, for reasons he could plainly guess, it was clear he was no longer welcome on Midgard.

With one last look towards Firehair, Heimdall bowed in respect before a rainbow beam of energy struck his position and carried him away.

"Now," breathed out the tired woman as she rose into the air. "Time to set the world back to how it should have always been."

'Are you sure you truly want to do this,' the voice of the Phoenix sounded smaller than ever before in her mind. 'There's no coming back from this. I'm sure Odin would still allow you to reside on Asgard, he did offer more than once.'

'Yes,' Firehair spoke as she rose high enough that she could clearly see the curvature of the Earth. 'My son could never truly be safe in this world as it is now. All it would take is one sufficiently powerful mutant and a single truly bad day to end it all.'

She took one last look at the world that raised her, her home for all her life. She almost hesitated before picturing its surface cracked and scarred by those desperate for the power contained within her people. 'Better to just set the world back to how it should've been.'

"Before demons scarred the earth with their filth," she spread her arms out wide.

"Before aliens claimed parts of our home as their own," flames licked across her body as her clothes turned to ash.

"Before Celestials decided to use humans for their games," skin, muscle, and bones burned away.

"Before humanity was turned into the greatest harvest in the universe," flames blotted out the sky and spread beyond the horizon.

"No more mutants," and fire flooded the Earth.

*******************************************

Author Note:

And there's the first chapter! Thank you all for reading, I've had this idea in my head for a long time and finally decided to write it out. This is my first time ever writing anything so hope it's not too bad. This'll be updated whenever I have time to write more so sorry if it's not as regular as some of you would hope.

For the mc, his name obviously means fire in old Norse, it's pronounced Fey-yurh. I've seen a lot of variants for the word online, from Logi to Bal and I'm not an expert in the language by any means so I'm just going with this one.

Also, for anyone who doesn't think that the Phoenix would act like that, this is it's first ever host and it's only experience with human emotions. It was an empty canvas and Firehair was all the paint it got. Imo, it's reasonable for it to get attached to the baby mc especially since she knows a little thing about him that only one other entity in the entire Marvel universe does.