Chapter 274: Chapter 274: The Hayes Invasion – Part – 1

Asgard — September 2010

The golden portal spiraled open on the lower terrace, and the Hayes family spilled through like a small, chaotic invasion force.

Elena came first. She always came first.

“WE’RE HERE!” she announced to the golden city, the alien sky, and anyone within a quarter-mile radius. She spun on her heel, arms wide, hair flying. “Dad! It’s even better than the Pensieve! Look at the bridge! Is that the broken Bifrost? Can we—”

“Breathe,” Arthur said, stepping through behind her.

“I am breathing. I’m breathing and talking. I can do both.”

Tristan came next, holding Eileen’s hand. He stepped through the portal, looked up at the alien sky with its impossible colours, and his face broke into a wide, delighted grin.

“Dad, the sky has too many colors,” he said, his little brow furrowing in concentration. “Our sky doesn’t have that one.” He pointed a chubby finger at a band of light between violet and gold that had no earthly name.

“No, it doesn’t,” Arthur agreed.

“I like it. Can we paint my room with it?”

“I’ll work on that.”

Eileen stepped fully through, looking effortlessly put-together despite only having twenty minutes’ warning.

The Extremis launch was days away. Everything was filed, approved, manufactured, and ready. After months of sixteen-hour days, Eileen had a rare window of free time, and they both knew that once the launch hit, she would be swallowed by the corporate and political fallout for weeks. This was the last chance for a family outing before the storm broke.

Pietro came through next, practically vibrating out of his shoes.

“This is insane,” he said, turning in a full circle. “This is actually insane. We are on another planet. Another actual planet.” He looked at Arthur, wide-eyed. “Why didn’t you bring us here sooner?”

“To be polite. Because I cannot throw you and your antics at the Asgardians without earning some goodwill with them first.”

“I would never.” Pietro placed a hand over his heart. A beat passed. “So, I am free to roam around now?”

“Don’t.”

Wanda stepped through last, quiet as always, her eyes taking in Asgard with careful attention. She stood still and let the golden city settle into her understanding.

“It feels different here,” she said softly. “The air. There’s something in it.”

“Cosmic energy,” Arthur said. “Asgard is saturated with it. It’s what makes them strong and their enchantments last millennia.”

Faint wisps of red curled at Wanda’s fingertips, responding to the ambient energy before she could stop them. She clenched her fists and the wisps vanished.

“Relax,” Arthur said softly. “You don’t need to hide here. No one here will judge you for it. To them, your powers are just small theatrics.”

Winky appeared beside them with a soft pop. She’d insisted on coming. A family trip to Asgard was a family trip, and Winky was family.

She took one look at the golden city, the alien sky, the crystal bridges, and her eyes went wide with wonder. In all her years with Arthur, through all the extraordinary things she’d seen, this was new.

“The magic here is incredible,” she squeaked softly. “It feels so old… so powerful.”

Arthur looked at his assembled family. His wife. His children. His adopted twins. And Winky, who was as much a part of this family as anyone else. Standing on a terrace in the golden city of the gods.

Normal Tuesday.

—

The training grounds erupted when they arrived.

Arthur had mentioned the visit to Thor the day before. This had been a mistake. Thor had apparently told everyone, and “everyone” in Asgard meant the entire warrior class.

Volstagg spotted them first.

“THEY’RE HERE!”

The bellow carried across the grounds like a foghorn. Every warrior in earshot turned. Training stopped. Weapons lowered.

Volstagg crossed the distance at a near-run, which for a man his size was roughly equivalent to a small avalanche approaching at speed.

“The legendary children!” He dropped to one knee with a crack of joints that echoed off the gallery walls. “Your father speaks of you every single day. I feel I know you already!”

Elena looked up at the massive, red-bearded warrior and beamed. “You’re the axe one! Dad says you hit like a battering ram wrapped in a battering ram.”

Volstagg’s chest swelled visibly. “He said that?”

“He also said you eat enough for six people and that you’re the loudest person he’s ever met. And he knows Uncle Tony.”

Volstagg’s chest deflated slightly. Arthur suddenly found the architecture very interesting.

“Your father,” Volstagg said with immense dignity, “is a man of great wisdom and occasional poor judgment in what he shares with his children.”

“I think he meant it as a compliment,” Elena offered.

“Then I accept!” Volstagg roared, fully recovered. He produced a tray from seemingly nowhere holding Asgardian honeycakes, each one the size of Elena’s head. “I had these prepared for your arrival!”

Elena grabbed a honeycake and bit in. Her eyes widened. “Oh. Oh wow. Pietro, you have to try this.”

Pietro already had one in each hand, his cheeks bulging. “Way ahead of you.”

Tristan took one, bit into it thoughtfully, and turned to Volstagg. “This is really good. What’s in it?”

“Asgardian golden honey, flour milled from starwheat, and a secret ingredient passed down through my wife’s family for nine hundred years.”

“What’s the secret ingredient?”

“If I told you, it would no longer be secret.”

Tristan considered this logic carefully. “That’s fair. Can you tell the sister I said it’s the best cake I’ve ever had?”

Volstagg’s face went through something extraordinary. A massive warrior visibly melting at a three-year-old’s sincere politeness.

“I will tell her,” Volstagg said, his voice suspiciously thick. “She will be most honoured, young warrior.”

Fandral arrived with his usual flourish, bowing to Eileen. “My lady. We finally meet. Arthur has spoken of you with the reverence usually reserved for Asgard’s finest blades.”

“That sounds about right,” Eileen said. “He’s more comfortable with weapons than compliments.”

“She’s funnier than you, Hayes,” Fandral said immediately, winking at Arthur.

“So I’ve been told. Repeatedly.”

Hogun appeared. Nodded to the family. Took up position near the weapon racks. The man hadn’t spoken a non-essential word in Arthur’s presence in two weeks, and Arthur respected that immensely.

Wanda was standing at the edge of the group, watching the warriors with quiet fascination. Pietro had already finished both honeycakes and was bouncing on his toes, looking at the sparring rings the way a dog looks at an open gate.

“Arthur,” Pietro said, with the carefully casual tone that always preceded a terrible idea. “Those sparring rings—”

“No.”

“I didn’t even ask yet!”

“You were going to ask to spar with an Asgardian warrior.”

“Just a small one.”

“The smallest Asgardian here could throw you through that wall without warming up.”

“I’m fast.”

“Not fast enough to survive having your skeleton reorganised.”

Pietro deflated. Then brightened. “What about a race? Just running. No combat.”

“Also no.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m keeping you in one piece.”

—

Then Thor arrived.

The God of Thunder descended from the upper levels with his usual jubilant, earth-shaking energy. He crossed the training grounds in enormous strides, grinning with an intensity that bordered on structural damage.

“HAYES! Your family! At last!”

“This is Eileen,” Arthur said, making the introductions.

Thor took Eileen’s hand with exaggerated, princely gentleness. “My lady. Your husband has been a true shield-brother. It is my absolute honor to welcome his family to Asgard.”

Eileen smiled genuinely. “The honor is ours. Arthur has told us so much about you. Elena especially has been desperate to visit.”

“I have not been desperate,” Elena objected immediately, crossing her arms. Then, after a beat, she added honestly, “Maybe a little desperate.”

Thor laughed, delighted, and knelt to her level. “And you must be Elena. Your father says you are fierce.”

“Did he say I could do magic without a wand?”

“He did indeed.”

“Are you really Thor from the stories? Can you really create lightning storms? Are you a god? Can you…”

Thor was relentlessly bombarded with questions. He couldn’t even get a word in edgewise since Elena didn’t pause for breath, let alone an answer. Thor just gave Arthur a helpless look, which Arthur replied to with an unapologetic head shake.

Finally, Elena stopped. “What about the hammer? Can I see it?”

Thor, immensely relieved that the interrogation was over, unclipped Mjolnir from his belt and set it on the ground with a heavy thud. The hammer sat there, ancient and immovable, humming faintly with dormant power.

Elena walked around it. Twice. She reached out and touched the handle.

“It’s warm,” she said, her head tilted. “And it hums. Like a cat purring.”

Thor’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He shot a glance at Arthur.

“Are you sure, Ele? I don’t hear anything,” Pietro said, leaning over it.

“Not everyone hears the song of Mjolnir,” Thor murmured thoughtfully.

Elena shrugged, already losing interest now that she’d seen it. Her eyes were scanning the training grounds. “It’s nice. Where’s Lady Sif?”

Before Thor could answer, Tristan waddled up to the hammer. He looked at it. Looked up at Thor. Looked back down at the metal block.

He grabbed the handle with both small, chubby hands and pulled.

Arthur stopped breathing, his sharp eyes noticing something.

Tristan pulled harder, planting his feet. His small face scrunched with intense effort.

The hammer didn’t move.

He let go, straightened up, dusted off his hands, and looked at Thor casually. “Heavy. Maybe when I’m bigger.”

Thor blinked rapidly. Then he looked at Arthur over the boy’s head, his eyebrows raised high, a knowing grin spreading across his face. He’d felt something when Tristan pulled. Just a fraction. A shift in the weight.

“Perhaps indeed, young one,” Thor said softly.

But Tristan had already moved on. “Can I watch the warriors fight?”

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