Reincarnation

He hadn't known what to expect, but death wasn't quite how he'd imagined. Instead of pearly gates, flaming pits, or giant oni's behind majestic desks of mahogany, there was nothing.

He just idly floated through the infinite void, patiently waiting for his mind to collapse for what felt like an eternity. He didn't know exactly how long, could've been months, years, or millennia, the first few days of sensory deprivation had stripped all his perception of time long ago.

Unable to even sleep, he was left there, alone and forgotten. That was until the flames arrived.

At first he thought they were some insidious scheme, crafted to drive one to actually desire a hellish eternity over this infinite abyss. The genius behind the idea being that it would've worked perfectly, had that truly been the case.

However as fire engulfed his being, instead of eternal torment at the hands of some goat horned demonic entity, the darkness that haunted the man's every waking moment was burned away.

The warmth was like a mother, cradling his soul and softly whispering that all would be well. With it, a long forgotten notion of security flooded his mind, driving out the ever present fear and loneliness.

The flames wrapped up his weary soul like a blanket as the man allowed himself to fall deeper into their warm embrace. For the first time in ages, his frayed consciousness began to wane as the exhaustion of an eternity of wakefulness caught up to him. Had he still possessed a physical body, he imagined tears of relief would've been flowing from his eyes.

As he succumbed to the beckoning of slumber, he held no care for whether he awoke once more. If these flames truly sought to end his pitiful existence, he would allow it. Any form of escape was preferable to spending another moment within the abyss.

_______________________________

Within a small room filled with various forms of scanners, magic, and advanced medical technology, five figures stood around a bed.

"How much longer until he's out," asked an excited Hela as she tightly gripped the outer railing of the bed frame.

"Should be any moment now," replied the equally enthusiastic healer. "The orb has been shrinking at a constant rate for the past month and if it continues to do so, the prince should emerge any moment now."

The healer might actually have been the most eager in the room. Her many decades spent watching over the cocoon had built up an anticipation for this day far greater than that of the others who just periodically stopped by. Despite her effort to mask it within a guise of professionalism, her excited fidgeting was plainly noticed by all present.

"Calm down Eir," laughed Heimdall. "You wouldn't want Fenris to start making fun of you again."

Eir blushed and glanced down to catch said wolf smirking up at her as it leaned over the bed, propped up on her two back legs. The pup had grown considerably in the last 139 years since it was first brought back by Hela. Standing at a shoulder height of 4ft tall and nearly 9ft long, the wolf was now a truly massive beast who's growth showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.

*Crack-*

"Be silent," ordered Odin. "It's starting."

The cocoon's solid outer shell had fallen apart with a sound akin to shattering glass, the remaining flames coalescing into a rudimentary sphere that shrank at regular intervals.

*Hisss- Hah*

*Hisss- Hah*

All eyes in the room were glued to the shrinking fire. It was unlike the slow and gradual fading of candles, instead it condensed greatly in long, deep breaths before exhaling and slightly growing once again.

*Hisss- Hah*

For ten long minutes the anticipation grew.

Eventually, the crude outline of a body could be discerned from within the flames. It became sharper and sharper as the fires receded until the clear figure of an infant emerged.

A relieved smile soon spread unknowingly across Heimdall's face as recognition flashed in his golden eyes. He could see the prince's chest lightly rising and falling with the shrinking of the fire, affirming that nothing unfortunate had occurred during his slumber. He would never admit it to his king, lest he add unfounded fears to the man's plate during this time of war, but ever since the first decade had passed with no indication of change, Heimdall had worried that the prince might never awaken. Irrational to be sure, especially considering who the mother was, but the ineffectiveness of his 'all-seeing' eyes for the first time had truly unsettled him.

*Hisss-hic*

As the last of the flames were consumed by the prince, his figure was revealed to the outside world for the first time in over a century. A tiny, sleeping child wrapped in a crimson cloth and slightly steaming, like a hot bun fresh from the oven. Waves of heat could be seen billowing out from his small button nose which made him appear more akin to a dragon than an Asgardian infant.

"Hah," barked Odin, breaking the silence with his booming laughter. "That's my son!"

The statement stirred the others from their awe. Hela rolled her eyes at the man before leaning over to inspect her newly emerged brother, with Fenris joining her and laying her muzzle atop the bed, just inches from the babe's closed eyes.

_______________________________

Fyr awoke as he felt the hot breath on his face and gave out an undignified snort before lightly swatting the offender away. Ever since the first time he awoke to that massive snout and nearly shit himself in fright, the mutt had thoroughly enjoyed waking him in the same way as often as possible.

It had been nearly twenty years since he'd been reborn and he still remembered it as if it was just yesterday. From closing his eyes within that forsaken abyss, to opening them in an entirely new world, it wasn't an experience he'd soon forget.

It had been a struggle at first, trying to act like a child. Especially when you understand everything that's being said around you. Allspeak was both a blessing and a curse back then and Fyr was pretty sure Fenris knew he was more aware than he let on, if her near constant attempts to put him in embarrassing situations was any indication.

And hadn't that been a trip, if waking up to what was essentially a dire wolf in your face wasn't enough of a shock, the young Anthony Hopkins, Cate Blanchett, and Idris Elba, lookalikes definitely were. Just a quick matching of names to faces was enough for him to figure out where he was and considering he wasn't blonde or shooting sparkles out his ass, it was easy to discern that things were not entirely as he remembered.

Fyr pushed the giant fleabag off his chest and got out of bed to get ready for the day. As he stepped into the shower, he thought back on his years in Asgard so far.

He adapted far quicker than he believes he would have had it not been for all the memories he lost in the void. Almost everything about his personal life had been forgotten, leaving him in the weird situation of having the mindset of a 25 year old man without said 25 years of experience. He imagined it was similar to what an AI would go through when it was first created.

It made him grateful for all the independence he was given from an early age. Asgardians in general, and even more so during a time of war, we're not ones to coddle their children. Fyr was given his expectations, access to what he needed to fulfill them, and then essentially just left alone.

Apart from the first week of his new life, Fyr hadn't seen Odin even once. Had it not been for Hela coming to check in on him every few years under the guise of 'ensuring her brother didn't embarrass her,' he might've forgotten he'd had a family at all. Yet, as Fyr dried himself off and looked at the reflection of his new body in the mirror, he had to admit that he'd done alright on his own.

Years of intense martial training and constant sparring with veteran warriors eager to leave their mark on the young prince, had given him a body akin to the finest Uru hand chiseled by the dwarves themselves. His in-depth study into magic could also be seen by the runic tattoos that marked his chest, arms, and back.

Fyr stood at a solid six-foot-two and looked barely over 200 pounds, far too skinny for most on Asgard but he couldn't help it. No matter how much weight he gained, it all went towards further condensing his muscles and produced no visible changes whatsoever.

His two sapphire eyes that glowed in firelight, thin lips, and broad shoulders were some of the few commonalities he shared with his father. The vast majority of his features however, such as thick crimson hair, strong chiseled jawline, and frame leaner than most Asgardians, were all gifts from his mother.

His thoughts drifted towards the woman as he got dressed in his usual light training wear, consisting of a white shirt, brown pants, and no shoes. Fyr remembered the first time he heard the name Firehair, it had surprised him almost as much as the revelations it carried.

A million years, a million years before everything he knew best about Marvel came to be. Fyr didn't remember more than a few random wiki articles about her, but it was enough to know that. The knowledge had left him in a daze for about a week, that was until Hela came back to Asgard and kicked his ass across the yard for brooding like a child.

"Let's go," Fyr said as he left his closet. He patted Fenris as he walked past her, exiting his room and heading towards the training ground for his daily routine. The soft sound of graceful footfalls, unfit for a beast nearly 8ft high and 20ft long, echoed from behind as his mind wandered to this afternoon's spar with his sister. He scratched his beard and winced as he felt the bruise beneath it from yesterday's bout.

Though Hela never went easy on him and he always left the field with more than a few new welts, he enjoyed the fights with her more than those with Tyr or any of the others who came to train him. It wasn't because Fyr was a masochist or anything, it was just far more enjoyable seeing the look on her face the few times he managed to land a blow of his own. A certain wolf's barking laughter every time it happened, only added to his amusement.

As Fyr walked out into the empty courtyard, Fenris trotted up next to him and took a deep breath of the cool morning air. The two had always had a close relationship since his childhood and she usually came to join Fyr on his morning workouts whenever Hela returned.

"Well," the man asked as he glanced over at her out of the corner of his eye. He tied back his shoulder length hair with a string and cracked his neck, producing a satisfying pop. "Ready to run?"

_______________________________

*BAM!*

"Oof," Fyr wheezed out as all the air in his lungs left him. His back ached from its less than gentle collision with the hard courtyard ground as he laid there, unwilling to rise once more.

A smirking face came into view overhead, looking down on him with eyes full of amusement. "Had enough?" Hela asked.

Fyr closed his eyes and groaned his affirmation. He stretched his arm upwards for help, blindly waving it around in the empty air before a snort and retreating footsteps had him getting up on his own.

He jogged after his sister as his Asgardian physique healed the many small cuts and bruises that littered his body. It wouldn't take care of the more serious injuries, but anything less than that would be healed within a few minutes. Luckily Hela had forgone using her hammer this time.

"Your getting better," remarked Hela, "at least better than the old and cripple you spar with usually."

Fyr rolled his eyes at the jab, his sister couldn't say anything complementary without throwing in a mocking snub afterwards.

"I still don't understand why you haven't chosen a weapon yet," she continued. "Father would surely commission one for you. Kicks and punches can only take you so far in a real fight, let alone a war."

"I've already told you at least a dozen times," he sighed. "Once I acquire my domain and mix it into my style, it'll all come together. I want to train my body to the point where it can pull planets behind me and crush stars within my grasp. At that point a weapon would just be an accessory anyways."

"And I keep telling you that's a foolish goal," Hela replied as she raised a hand and summoned her hammer, casually flipping it in the air. "Mjolnir has served our family for millions of years, from father, to grandfather, to his father before him, it and Gungnir are both almost as old as Asgard herself."

She conjured a black blade in her other hand and twirled it gracefully before continuing, "Even these simple conjured swords, with my prowess, could slay scores of men for every one you'd manage to take down as you are now. I just can't see the realism or practicality of your reasoning."

The two arrived at the resting area near the corner of the yard and made there way over towards the two large barrels of water.

"Let's just agree to disagree then," Fyr shrugged nonchalantly, loosening the leather straps of his gauntlets and setting them on the bench. "Besides, I thought you of all people would understand the novelty of crushing foes with your fists."

"Novel, yes. Efficient, no," Hela replied. "After you've gained your domain and spent a few years on the battlefield, I'm sure you'll come crawling back to me on your knees begging for a blade. Being the generous goddess I am, I might even lend you one of my own."

Fyr rolled his eyes but didn't push the argument further. They'd bickered over his choice of fighting style for years and he didn't see it ending anytime soon. In his previous life, Fyr wouldn't have made this choice and would've even agreed with all the points his sister made. But living in a universe he'd previously believed a work of fiction and as an Asgardian at that, his imagination just couldn't ignore the myriad of possibilities.

Who's to say that he couldn't become the next Goku or Monkey D. Garp, with magic and divine power anything was possible. Once he reached those levels of strength, a weapon wouldn't make any difference so he might as well just fight the way he prefers.

"How long are you staying" Fyr asked, changing the subject. "Last time you said Niflheim was giving you greater problems than expected. Even Heimdall claims that both it and Jotunheim might take another two centuries to fully subdue."

Hela sighed and leaned back against the wall as she thought back to her last deployment on the world.

"It's not as easy as the other realms we've conquered," she said. "The world is covered in ice, far more so than Jotunheim. The denizens, though pitifully weak, take shelter in the millions of caves and ravines that dot the land, only coming out to to fight when the fog gets thick enough for them to move about unseen.

Honestly, another two centuries might be too generous an estimate. I've lost more men to walking off cliffs and collapsing tunnels than actually fighting. Had the world not been connected to Yggdrasil, I would've been more in favor of destroying it from orbit and just moving on. There's hardly anything of value there anyways."

The two fell into silence as Fyr thought about his sister's words. It sounded to him like she was fighting the Vietnam war on a global scale and he didn't envy her in the slightest. From what he knew of the timeline, Asgard did eventually conquer the world but it was left a lifeless rock by the time they had.

Fyr wasn't against fighting in the war, in fact he quite looked forward to it. He didn't bring any preconceived notions of a greater morality over from his past life, something he was actually grateful to his time in the void for. This life was a fresh start for him and he didn't want to know how twenty first century ideals would color his views on the subject.

"I'll be going then," Hela said, breaking the silence in the air. She turned towards Fyr as she rose from the bench and patted him on the head with a teasing smirk. "Me and Fenris should be around for a month before we head back so don't worry little brother, I'll be here to be-, train you every day."

Fyr rolled his eyes as he swatted her hand off his head. He gave Fenris' chin a good scratch before the two headed out of the courtyard. As he watched their backs disappear around a corner, his mind drifted to his sister's fate in canon.

From what he could tell, while Odin was almost exactly how he was described during this timeframe, Hela hadn't yet descended into her insane, bloodthirsty self. Sure she was a little sadistic and thoroughly enjoyed the war, but it wasn't nearly to the point where she would slaughter all of Asgard just to rule atop the piles of corpses.

While Odin's betrayal of Hela and isolating her on a dead world was definitely the major factor in her insanity during Ragnarok, Fyr couldn't see her reaching the point where that would even be necessary at this point in time. There had to be some major event that drove his sister to that state and he had a pretty good feeling that it had to do with the war on Niflheim.

He clenched his fist at the thought of what his father would do to even his own blood.

Honestly, he didn't even view the man as such at this point. Odin had never interacted with Fyr beyond simple letters asking about his progress and while that could be attributed to the ongoing war, it didn't change the fact that the man had made no effort to get to know him.

He actually thought his situation was quite similar to a certain frost giant that would come to Asgard in the future. But while Fyr didn't crave Odin's love and attention like Loki had in the movies, neither did he desire them in the first place.

His foremost goal was ensuring that his real family, his sister and maybe the mutt as well, avoided the fates laid out before them. But for that he needed strength of his own and in five years, his first real opportunity to gain it will present itself.

The domain awakening ceremony.

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

Author Note:

And that's the 'first' chapter done!

Honestly, this one was a major pain to write and I think I redid it like 5 times over the last week. It just didn't feel right no matter how I wrote it.

In case I didn't explain it well enough and anyone is confused about how much of his memory the mc lost in the void; he lost everything about his personal life. From his name, his family, to where he lived, everything that relates to the past life 'him'. He still remembers almost everything that has no relation to himself, such as history, culture, science, etc. but like he wouldn't remember where he learned that information(i.e. mc would remember watching Iron Man, but not that he watched it in his house with his girlfriend). Hope this clears up any confusion, trying to explain this is a manner that flows with the story was the main reason for so many of my rewrites.

Anyways, thanks for reading and if any of you enjoyed it, please let me know!

Hope you all have a happy holidays and spend some time with your families. I'll see if I can get another chapter pumped out on the big day but if not, Merry Christmas to you all!