Marvel’s Reckoning:The Shadow Monarch Ascends

{ Disclaimer}

I don't own any of the cool characters or worlds in this story (sadly). They belong to the brilliant minds who created them. I only own my original characters, and I promise they're not trying to take over any established universes.

This is just a work of pure fiction, meant to entertain you, maybe make you laugh, and definitely not to upset anyone! Enjoy the ride!

————————————————————

Asgard was a kingdom of gold, its streets lined with opulence, its warriors clad in the finest armor the realms had to offer. But beneath the shimmering façade, beneath the pride of the gods, something was stirring.

Something unstoppable.

The Monarch stood in the center of a vast, abandoned chamber, hidden beneath the very foundation of Asgard's mighty halls. A place long forgotten by time—its purpose erased from history.

A perfect breeding ground for rebellion.

Around him, dozens of kneeling figures swore their oaths in silence. Their eyes burned with ambition, with desire.

Desire for power.

Desire for more than what Odin's rule allowed.

The Monarch walked among them, his black cloak trailing behind him like a living shadow. The air was thick with tension, his presence suffocating yet intoxicating.

He stopped in front of one of the recruits—a seasoned warrior, his armor scratched from years of battle, his face hardened by experience. The warrior clenched his fists.

"Why do you serve?" the Monarch asked, his voice smooth, commanding.

The warrior hesitated. "Because I know what Asgard could be," he finally said. "What it should be. Odin has grown complacent. He preaches peace while still ruling with fear. He allows the weak to sit at his table, while the strong are cast aside."

The Monarch smirked. "And you believe I will do better?"

The warrior met his gaze. "I believe you will do something."

A pause. Then, the Monarch nodded. "Good answer."

He extended his hand.

The warrior's shadow twisted beneath him, writhing, before latching onto his body like a second skin. His eyes widened, his breath hitching—but he did not resist.

Then, it was over.

He gasped, falling to his knees, trembling. But this time, it was not out of fear.

It was out of power.

The Monarch turned away, addressing the room.

"Odin's rule is not eternal," he said, his voice calm, absolute. "The throne of Asgard is not unbreakable. The gods bleed. They fall. And when the time comes—"

He glanced toward Igris, toward Bellion, toward Beru—his true generals, his true army—

"You will be the ones who stand beside me, not beneath me."

A ripple of dark energy pulsed through the chamber. The shadows at his feet stirred, as if in anticipation.

The gods were not ready.

But they would learn.

Loki's Interest

High above, within the golden halls of the palace, Loki sat on the edge of a grand balcony, a goblet of wine in hand, watching the city below with idle amusement.

But his mind was far from idle.

No, he had been watching. Listening.

For weeks now, he had felt it. The shift in Asgard's underbelly. The growing whispers. The presence of something new.

Something dangerous.

And at the center of it all?

That… man.

Loki sipped his wine, smirking to himself. An outsider. A foreigner. Yet, despite his unknown origins, he was amassing power. Influence. He was moving like a king—no, like something more than a king.

A conqueror.

And that intrigued Loki.

A slow clap echoed behind him. "Your father has tasked you with watching him, has he not?"

Loki did not turn. He already knew who it was.

Thor.

The golden prince strode forward, his expression unreadable. "You've been spending quite a bit of time watching our 'guest.' What have you learned?"

Loki finally glanced at his brother, swirling his goblet. "That he is more interesting than you give him credit for."

Thor frowned. "Interesting how?"

Loki chuckled, leaning back. "He moves like a king, yet he holds no crown. He speaks, and people listen—even those who should not. He bends the world without force, without thunder."

Thor narrowed his eyes. "That sounds like something you would do."

Loki grinned. "Exactly."

Thor exhaled sharply. "Father believes he may be dangerous."

Loki's grin widened. "Oh, he is dangerous. "And that's why I find him so… delightful."

Thor shook his head. "Loki, this is not a game."

"Isn't it?" Loki raised a brow. "You, of all people, should know that power is a game. And I suspect our dear friend is playing it better than anyone else in this golden city."

Thor's grip on Mjolnir tightened. "And what do you intend to do?"

Loki smirked. "Watch. Learn. Perhaps… even join him, if he proves to be entertaining enough."

Thor glared. "You would betray Asgard?"

Loki laughed. "Oh, brother. I would betray many things before Asgard. But…" He looked back toward the city, eyes glinting with something unreadable.

"This man intrigues me. And when I am intrigued…" He took another sip of wine. "Things tend to get… interesting."

A Silent Throne

In the depths of the palace, Odin sat alone.

The torches flickered, casting long shadows along the golden walls.

He did not move.

He simply watched the flames.

He knew.

He had felt the shift. The unseen force moving through his kingdom. The whispers of rebellion.

And though he had not yet confronted it, he knew the truth.

Something was coming.

Something he had never foreseen.

And for the first time in centuries…

Odin All-Father felt the weight of an enemy he could not see.

The First Strike

The night was silent.

Until it wasn't.

A crack of thunder split the sky as a section of Asgard's great wall collapsed.

The guards barely had time to react before they were consumed by shadows—their screams cut short as their bodies were dragged into the abyss.

From the darkness, figures emerged—Clad in armor of pure shadow, eyes gleaming with violet fire.

Shadow soldiers.

The first wave.

And at the head of them, the Monarch stepped forward, his expression unreadable, his presence an impossible weight upon the air.

Bellion stood at his side, a silent specter of war. Igris held his greatsword aloft, unshaken. Beru chittered with excitement, claws flexing in anticipation.

Tonight, Asgard would learn.

The conquest had begun.