Solomon bowed respectfully.
He was currently standing in a room adorned with Asgard's characteristic intricate dark-gold carvings. Underfoot was a luxurious wool carpet, and before him sat Queen Frigga, accompanied by a lively group of noblewomen and attendants, giggling and chatting away. This was the formal invitation following dinner. Although Asgard's courtly etiquette was far simpler compared to the convoluted rituals of Earth's aristocracy, Solomon adhered strictly to the formalities, not daring to make the slightest mistake.
"Rise, and come sit beside me," said Queen Frigga. She was dressed in deep-blue Asgardian court attire, which, as was customary, incorporated elements of armor—because even within the safety of their palace, the Æsir never forgot their warrior roots. Even the noblewomen wore short swords at their waists.
And these women were no delicate flowers. With their superior lineage, they could easily best fully armed Asgardian soldiers—or deal with their husbands' lovers. Indeed, catfights among noblewomen were one of the most common dramas in the Golden Palace.
Frigga smiled and said, "I've already instructed the kitchen to send over some desserts. I know Midgardians aren't too fond of Asgardian cuisine."
Desserts were a rarity in the palace. Athena had once told Solomon that he would inevitably encounter certain "challenges" in Asgard, though not all of them would be intentional; some would simply stem from cultural differences. For instance, desserts were considered children's food in Asgard. Once a boy was old enough to wield a spear, he would forsake sweet treats in favor of a drinking horn filled with mead. By offering desserts, Frigga was subtly treating Solomon as a child—after all, compared to the long-lived Æsir, most humans were essentially toddlers.
"Kamar-Taj emphasizes asceticism to purify the soul; we dare not indulge in luxurious fare," Solomon replied, rising to his feet. He did not deny Frigga's subtle implication that he was a child—after all, his age was indeed insignificant by Asgardian standards—but he still declined the desserts to avoid appearing weak. Representing Kamar-Taj meant that every word and action reflected the Ancient One's will; he could not afford to act casually or show vulnerability.
Frigga was momentarily taken aback by his stern demeanor.
"Don't be so uptight," she said, her initial surprise giving way to laughter. Her amusement quickly spread to the noblewomen beside her, who joined in with peals of laughter. It had been ages since they'd encountered someone so serious. Asgard had been at peace for a long time, and most of the noblemen spent their days drowning in wine and festivities, forgetting the meaning of solemnity.
Frigga added, "I had a delightful conversation with the Ancient One, and the Sorcerer Supreme specifically instructed me to ensure you enjoy your time here until your mission begins."
Mission? What mission? Solomon mulled over the word. Did the Ancient One intend for him to change something? Or was he merely a variable meant to steer events toward a desired outcome? The more he thought about it, the more he realized the only thing he could truly influence in Asgard was Queen Frigga's life and death. He was certain Frigga, with her unparalleled magical prowess, had already foreseen her demise. Was the Ancient One counting on him to shift the course of fate? What role did Frigga's survival or death play in the larger picture?
"Stop just standing there," Frigga said, patting the seat beside her and interrupting his train of thought. "Come, sit. Whether it's tea or wine, it's all just part of everyday life in Asgard. You're not even twenty years old—stop pretending to be an adult. Hurry, child, or the cake will get cold."
Her words pierced through Solomon's self-imposed barriers. Blushing, he reluctantly sat on the fur-covered seat beside her.
"If you want to prove you're grown-up, go defeat a soldier in the training grounds. But before that, you still have much to learn," Frigga said, placing a piece of cake in his hands. She leaned closer and, in a voice only he could hear, added, "You're still so young. Don't overthink things. Fate is not something any one person can change. It will come to pass regardless; all we can alter is how it unfolds."
Since the dawn of Asgard, the Æsir had been bound by the prophecy of Ragnarök—a curse, really. This deep-seated belief in destiny had shaped their worldview: fate was unchangeable, and the end would inevitably come. Yet, they also believed that destruction would give way to renewal, and life would be reborn from the silence and darkness of annihilation.
This unique perspective on life and death was deeply ingrained in the Æsir, but it didn't resonate with humanity. Human lives were far too brief; every individual had to live with passion and purpose. That was also the worldview the Ancient One had instilled in Solomon: to dedicate one's fleeting existence to a grand cause.
Solomon nodded, not refuting Frigga's words. His very existence had already disrupted the natural order—who knew what else the future might hold?
The next morning, Kaecilius prepared to return to Earth via the Bifröst. Solomon came to see him off.
It was unclear where Kaecilius had been the previous night, but he returned with freshly trimmed hair and had even borrowed a little magic from Solomon to style it.
"I went to the infirmary," Kaecilius admitted, looking slightly worse for wear. "I thought your potion could neutralize alcohol, so I drank a lot… Luckily, the healers here fixed my liver, or I'd have to say goodbye to cold beer forever."
Solomon sniffed the air and caught a faint whiff of perfume, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
He had given Kaecilius several bottles of universal elixir, so there was no reason for him to end up in such a state—unless he had engaged in some "indiscretions" the night before, like spending time with an Asgardian noblewoman. Solomon gave him a once-over. With his rugged charm, it wasn't hard to imagine some noblewoman choosing him as a lover.
"You skipped breakfast," Solomon remarked, opting not to expose Kaecilius's flimsy excuse. "That's not healthy."
"If you mean the grilled lamb ribs, I did eat," Kaecilius retorted, patting his stomach. His offhand comment inadvertently revealed his whereabouts and his companion from the night before. Solomon rolled his eyes in exasperation, annoyed that Kaecilius had left him to fend for himself. Acting recklessly in a place like Asgard could easily backfire.
Kaecilius simply shrugged, unfazed. "Life is about taking risks," he said. "Otherwise, you're not really living—you're just a random clump of molecules drifting aimlessly through the universe."
"By the wise Vishanti, when did you start watching Rick and Morty?" Solomon asked incredulously.
"At the No-Door Tavern," Kaecilius replied with a grin. "It's a favorite for late-night viewing during drinking sessions."
"Time's up," Heimdall called out from the end of the Bifröst, standing stoically as ever. He watched as Kaecilius bid Solomon farewell.
"Take it easy," Kaecilius advised. "The Ancient One has everything planned out. Just enjoy yourself here."
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