1 Asgard

Within the grand halls of Asgard, a lavish banquet unfolds, illuminated by the vibrant frescoes adorning the walls, each a testament to the peace Odin has forged with the realms.

"To the indomitable God-King Odin," the cheers echo, raising their glasses high in homage to his leadership.

"To the enduring Peace of the Nine Realms," they proclaim, celebrating the harmony Odin has safeguarded.

"To the Queen," they toast, acknowledging her grace and wisdom.

"And to the future prince," they declare, honoring the promise of new beginnings.

Laughter dances through the air, mingling with the melody of clinking glasses and heartfelt congratulations, casting a veil of warmth over the gathering.

Yet amidst the joviality, a figure stands apart—a striking man with jet-black hair and piercing eyes, his gaze a frosty contrast to the festive atmosphere.

His attention fixates on the aged figure seated upon the throne, Odin, his father, indulging in drink with gusto. Caesar, second son of the God-King and next in line for the throne, harbors ambitions that stir beneath his composed exterior.

Despite his royal lineage, doubts linger about Caesar's worthiness to rule—doubts amplified by the Queen's impending childbirth.

Feeble, they whisper. Inadequate.

For as hard as Caesar has trained and battled, he remains a mere mortal among gods, lacking the divine strength of Odin or the enchanting powers of the fairy queen.

Though he has fought valiantly, in the realm of martial prowess or magical mastery, he pales in comparison—a truth that haunts him as he stands amidst the revelry of his people.

Considered too feeble to ascend the throne, Caesar lacked the formidable strength of his father or the mystical prowess of the queen. Despite relentless training and unwavering effort, he remained a mere Asgardian soldier.

Though adequate by most standards, such a status proved insufficient for a prince destined to govern the Nine Realms. His perceived mediocrity cast doubt on his leadership abilities, subjecting him to ridicule among the realms, particularly in Asgard, where strength was held in the highest regard.

Approaching Caesar with camaraderie, Heimdall, the ever-watchful guardian, clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Caesar, let's raise a glass to peace in the Nine Realms," he exclaimed, excitement gleaming in his eyes.

With a sly wink and a mischievous grin, Heimdall leaned in, his voice filled with playful intrigue. "There's no shortage of captivating goddesses at this gathering. Are you interested? I know a few of their secrets, so feel free to take your pick!" he added, teasingly.

In their youthful days, Heimdall and Caesar shared an unbreakable bond, the closest of friends. However, while Heimdall matured gracefully, Caesar's journey took a more uncertain path.

Once, whispers suggested that Caesar might ascend the throne, being Odin's sole heir at the time. Yet, as Hela's military triumphs outshone his own, those aspirations gradually dimmed.

Now, with news of the fairy queen's pregnancy and the impending arrival of a formidable prince, Caesar's dreams seemed even more elusive.

Only Heimdall, with his all-seeing eyes, truly comprehended the challenges Caesar faced to prove his worth. Despite his relentless efforts, Caesar remained overlooked by the people of Asgard.

Forced to wear a smile despite his internal struggles, Caesar found no solace in the merriment around him.

"Is this truly the right path? She's his own flesh and blood," Caesar confided in Heimdall, his voice tinged with concern.

Heimdall's expression shifted, his gaze subtly turning toward Odin on his throne. Leaning in closer, he spoke in hushed tones. "It's all for the sake of peace. The will of the God-King," he whispered.

A cynical sneer curled Caesar's lips. "God-King," he echoed mockingly.

Five centuries had passed since the inception of Asgard, and yet, the struggles endured.

As he entered the world, it felt like a tale torn from a Marvel comic; Asgard stood proud, and he, with a hint of arrogance, knew he bore royal blood.

Yet, that confidence waned with age, his efforts to gain strength yielding meager results. Despite rigorous training, he remained disappointingly weak.

A crushing realization dawned upon him: though he comprehended everything around him, he lacked the power to alter any of it.

Over five centuries, Caesar's fate became an enigma. Even Heimdall, with his vigilant watch over the Nine Realms, couldn't maintain constant tabs on him. Memories of past lives blurred, lost to the relentless passage of time.

Yet, being born of divine heritage had its advantages. Even without the strength of his ancestors, he endured as a member of the Protoss, a fact etched into his five-hundred-year-old memory.

A cascade of memories overwhelmed Caesar's thoughts: Odin's distant presence during his infancy, the occasional glimpses of the Allfather in his youth. Despite Odin's aspirations to conquer realms, moments of paternal affection punctuated Caesar's early years. However, as Caesar matured, his lack of divine prowess disappointed the God-King, leading to a growing sense of neglect.

In the grand hall, a hushed stillness enveloped the space as Odin's stern gaze fixated on Caesar, transforming the once-vibrant banquet into a solemn affair.

"My son, Caesar, do you harbor grievances against me?" The God-King's lone eye bore into the air, exposing the inner turmoil plaguing Caesar.

Within the profound silence, an enigmatic system sprung to life, presenting Caesar with choices:

[Option 1: Unleash your fury upon Odin. Reward: Awaken the formidable power of the Sun.]

[Option 2: Temper your rage, choose a more calculated response to Odin's inquiries. Reward: Amplify your magical abilities.]

[Option 3: Play the submissive game, swear allegiance to Odin. Reward: Obtain a precious treasure from Asgard's extensive vaults.]