Thor drank honeyed mead through his tears, the glow of countless lights ascending into the sky above him. Jane Foster stood by his side, sipping in small, contemplative swallows. Across the hall, Sif and the Warriors Three guzzled their ale. Sif sobbed loudly between gulps, occasionally choking and coughing. She blamed herself for Queen Frigga's death at the hands of the Dark Elves, seeing it as her failure.
Although the Allfather had tried to console her, Sif, like Thor, couldn't fully accept his words. She longed to charge headlong into battle and face the Dark Elves. However, she had enough sense to stay for the funeral and await Odin's orders.
The entire population of Asgard attended Queen Frigga's funeral. To them, Odin symbolized war, death, and the harshness of winter, while Frigga was the warm sun in that cold season. Asgardians wept openly, their grief uncontainable.
For many of them, Frigga had been a constant presence throughout their lives. Her long reign had shaped Asgardian society across generations, and her motherly care permeated every aspect of their lives—education, governance, and daily affairs. She was, in many ways, Asgard's second sun.
Odin watched solemnly as the small funeral vessel bearing Frigga's body drifted farther into the cosmos. Thousands of lights rose from the ship, twinkling like distant stars.
Solomon, standing among the mourners, quietly opened his eyes, a faint blue glow spilling from his pupils. After a moment, he exhaled softly and let his hand fall from the Eye of Agamotto hidden beneath his robe. The sight aboard the vessel reassured him—Frigga hadn't disrupted the Sorcerer Supreme's spell.
It was likely the Sorcerer Supreme had already relocated Frigga somewhere safe. The mage's best guess was the secluded wooden cabin in Finland, surrounded by scenic tranquility, complete with a fireplace, smokehouse, and nearby forests teeming with chanterelles.
It seemed the Sorcerer Supreme genuinely intended for Frigga to spend her days caring for Odin in his old age.
With a half-hearted toast to a nearby Asgardian, Solomon sipped the strong ale. Frigga's likely new role of nursing Odin through a sedentary life amused him—especially since Asgardian men tended to grow plump without sufficient activity.
Yet, one pressing question remained: where had the Aether gone? Heimdall hadn't shared that information with Solomon, merely stating it would be revealed during the post-funeral meeting. Solomon was expected to attend the council as a representative of Kamar-Taj to discuss Asgard's defenses and the fate of the Infinity Stones.
The royal throne had been destroyed during the Dark Elf attack, leaving Odin standing on the golden steps, addressing his subjects from above.
"Father!" Thor clenched his fists. "Let me go! I'll kill Malekith and avenge Mother!"
Odin didn't spare his son a glance. Instead, he looked toward Solomon, who stood silently to one side.
"Solomon Damonet," the Allfather called out. "What does Kamar-Taj advise? You've heard—Midgard is the Dark Elves' ideal battleground for unleashing the Aether. That is your territory, and the decision rests with you."
Solomon stepped forward and bowed slightly. "Great Allfather, I believe Thor, accompanied by one hundred Einherjar, will be sufficient to repel Malekith. Kamar-Taj will also send a contingent of mages to assist."
His phrasing was deliberate. The situation was akin to one lord assisting another in reclaiming a contested territory—in this case, Kamar-Taj's Midgard. Asgard, though nominally the suzerain, needed to tread carefully.
To ensure the allied forces didn't linger on Kamar-Taj's territory post-conflict, Solomon subtly controlled the scale of Asgard's involvement. Historically, such scenarios often led to unintended land grabs by opportunistic allies.
With Kamar-Taj's resources stretched thin, only apprentices in training were available to send. Solomon himself would also participate in the battle, as the conflict directly impacted his responsibilities.
"Thor and I will confront Malekith directly," Solomon continued. "The Einherjar and other mages will handle the Dark Elf soldiers. Given the possibility of more cursed warriors, I recommend Lady Sif and the remaining two Warriors Three join the fight. Their coordination with Thor is far superior to mine."
He glanced at Sif with a slight smirk, as if to say, Here's your chance to redeem yourself.
Sif caught the hint and stepped forward. Kneeling at the foot of the stairs, she bowed her head low. "This was my failure," she said. "I humbly request the chance to redeem myself, Allfather."
The remaining Warriors followed suit.
"Where there's battle, there's Volstagg," the once-mighty warrior declared, patting his axe. Though now portly, he knelt beside Sif with great difficulty.
"To avenge the queen is our duty," added Fandral.
Odin granted his approval, and the council adjourned.
Thor disappeared after the meeting. Unlike previous battles, he didn't stay behind to strategize with his friends. Instead, he wandered the palace's winding corridors alone. Sif decided to give him space, leading the other Warriors in the opposite direction.
Solomon, too, needed solitude.
The damaged dimensional pouch containing his belongings had been recovered and delivered to his guest room. He hoped the palace maids hadn't inspected its contents too closely—some items weren't meant for prying eyes.
Fortunately, the scroll cases were intact and accounted for. Most of the potions had survived, with the maids carefully cleaning the unbroken bottles. Some spell components had been discarded, likely mistaken for trash. His books, even the ones with embarrassingly colorful illustrations for leisure reading, were all present.
Good, he thought, stuffing his possessions into a replacement pouch.
The phoenix perched on the desk pecked lazily at some fruit. With a yawn, it flapped its wings, sending a warm breeze through the room.
"Exhausted, Phoenix?" Solomon asked, noticing the bird's tired demeanor.
"I've spent too much energy editing my poetry, My Lord," the phoenix replied, nodding. "Though I don't require sleep, refining verses is taxing. Your pet cat's fascination with my tail feathers hasn't helped. Athena promised to help publish my book, so I've been making final adjustments."
"And your pen name?" Solomon inquired.
"Thirty-Seven," the phoenix declared with pride.
"How… literal," Solomon chuckled. "I still don't know what you've written."
"A grand heroic epic, My Lord," the phoenix replied, puffing out its chest. Its shimmering feathers swayed as it spoke with pride. "It extols your wisdom and kindness in your past great deeds."
[Check out my Patreon for +200 additional chapters in all my fanfics! Only $5 per novel or $15 for all!!] [[email protected]/Mutter]
[+50 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]
[+5 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter]