"Father of the Gods… Muspelheim…"
After a long silence, Heimdall finally stirred. His golden eyes swept over what remained of the royal court—leveled to ruins—countless Fire Giants dead or injured, and especially that massive hemispherical abyss. His tone was marked by hesitation.
Since the war against the Dark Elves, this was probably the most brutal conflict Asgard had seen. The Fire Giant King didn't even have a corpse left to bury; the Fire Demons and Fire Dragon mounts had lost over half their number. It was ruthless—pushing the Fire Giants to the brink of extinction.
"Until tomorrow, Aaron isn't really one of us Asgardians, is he?"
Odin composed himself, thinking for a moment.
"Announce everything that happened here to the Nine Realms! Let it be known that Surtur—having violated our treaty—was defeated by the illustrious Son of Borr, Deputy King of Asgard, God of Storms, Commander of Flames, Ripper of Space, Keeper of the Frost, Watcher of All, a member of the Celestial, the Destroyer of Muspelheim, and King of the Crystal Palace—Aaron—who personally returned the Eternal Flame to its rightful owner, bestowing 'Eternal Surtur' upon his throne!"
Odin said this without emotion.
Thor felt his blood race just hearing it. How glorious, how courageous! So many noble and formidable titles gathered upon one man. Beyond a doubt, Aaron was the greatest presence in the realm after Odin himself! Surtur, at the peak of his power, surrounded by hordes of Fire Demons and Fire Dragons, had still been effortlessly slain by Aaron in the midst of idle conversation—an achievement worthy of praise for millennia to come.
Thor couldn't help a mix of envy and awe. He understood, though, that Aaron deserved all this honor. Had Thor been the one facing that "Eternal Surtur" who easily sliced through mountains and roared loud enough to shake the heavens, he had no confidence he could win. Still, it didn't stop him from feeling proud of Aaron—who, after all, was his uncle.
"Father, Zeus, I'm sorry. From now on, the one I admire most might just be Aaron…" Thor thought happily, rushing off to share the story of Muspelheim with his friends, and planning a visit to the local tavern to proclaim Aaron's glorious deed. This was on a whole different level from Volstagg taking down a handful of beasts or Fandral fighting a dozen enemies in Nornheim. Tonight, no doubt, all the ladies and noblewomen in Asgard would lose sleep, chattering about it.
Heimdall, meanwhile, took charge of announcing the news to Nidavellir, Alfheim, Nornheim-26, Ria, and so on—particularly to Laufey, King of the Frost Giants in Jotunheim. Hearing this, Loki volunteered to deliver the message personally; after all, Laufey was technically his biological father, though Loki didn't acknowledge him as such—he'd even once planned to kill him to prove his loyalty to Asgard.
Loki set off alone for Jotunheim with a copy of the recorded projection. This was about celebrating his dear Uncle Aaron, and Loki wanted to ensure the matter was handled perfectly.
Initially, Laufey couldn't have cared less that Loki had come—knowing Loki was a Frost Giant child he'd abandoned long ago, yet never accepting him as kin.
"If you're here begging me to attend some ridiculous 'celestial banquet,' then save your breath. I won't go to Asgard. Never!"
"Not even if it kills you?" Loki replied with a confident smirk.
Hearing that, Laufey burst into laughter. "Look around you—this is Jotunheim!"
Loki lifted his head proudly. "So? In my uncle's eyes, you're all just dry bones lying around his house."
"Loki! That's outrageous! You think you're Odin—?"
Before Laufey could finish, Loki raised a hand, casting a projection spell. The sight of the colossal, Titan-like Surtur instantly pulled every Frost Giant's attention—especially Laufey's. His face shifted with alarm.
"Surtur and the Eternal Flame…"
"Indeed. My uncle returned the Eternal Flame to Surtur as a gesture of Asgard's good faith," Loki said with a smile.
Laufey's expression grew guarded. On the projection, Aaron pressed that flame right to Surtur's face. Laufey's eye twitched. You call that "good faith"? Whose "good faith" slaps someone in the face with fire?
Still, he couldn't deny that Surtur genuinely had regained his power. Even with the Casket of Ancient Winters, Laufey couldn't match that "Eternal Surtur." He wasn't the Frost Giants' true progenitor; his bloodline was incomplete. That giant form alone made Surtur a tier above him. Besides, he couldn't absorb the casket's power to strengthen himself—he fell short of Surtur by default.
"You Asgardians have a death wish, handing the Eternal Flame to Surtur. Is Odin so eager to die that he wants to rid you of the trouble first?" Laufey sneered. He was aware Odin was on the brink of death, and he waited patiently. The moment Odin died was when Frost Giants would storm Asgard. Whether Thor or Loki took over, he didn't see them as threats. Even without the casket, Laufey believed he could defeat Asgard, grown complacent with old glories and a weakened military. After all, they liked to spend a month celebrating after battles that should take days, and brag for years over trivial skirmishes. Meanwhile, the Frost Giants had been sharpening their hate in the bitter cold, training relentlessly. Laufey figured he just had to outlast Odin.
And then…
Laufey suddenly got up. On the projection, he watched Aaron freeze Surtur solid in an instant—even the Eternal Flame was powerless against that extreme frost. Next, Aaron hovered over Surtur's head, devouring him with strange spatial power. And then, a conjured black hole consumed Surtur, wiping him from existence, leaving only a deep, bottomless sphere on Muspelheim's terrain. Countless Fire Demons were dead. Eternal Surtur had no corpse left. Aaron left the battlefield unharmed.
"Loki, what are you plotting—using cheap illusions to deceive the Frost Giants? Is that all Asgard can do?" Laufey forced out a laugh, but inwardly his hands—hidden behind his back—were balled into fists, cold sweat running down his spine. The Frost Giants around Loki stared in horror, seeing that towering Surtur vanish like a popped bubble, accompanied by thunderous wails of despair. They felt genuine fear. Especially when they thought: that massive Surtur only lasted three seconds; how long could their own chieftain—who's way smaller—last? Maybe half a second?
Face darkening, Laufey descended a few steps from his platform, stopping in front of Loki. He wasn't much taller than Loki…
Loki smiled. "I figure the illustrious realm of frost can confirm for itself if this is real or not. For now, I'll just say this: tomorrow, my closest uncle Aaron is hosting a homecoming celebration. If there's even one living person left in the Nine Realms, they are required to come witness it. Laufey, my uncle, is actually a merciful and reasonable man who pays little attention to who attends or what gifts they bring. But he will definitely remember who doesn't show up—understand?"
Loki kept smiling. Laufey was sorely tempted to teach him a lesson on paternal discipline—but held back. This young man's blood was Laufey's own, after all. Despite living in Asgard for a thousand years, that bond of blood was unerasable. As his father, Laufey still felt a duty to make up for those lost centuries of care and love. So, maybe it wasn't impossible to go show off at Asgard's grand ceremony. They were all in the small circle of the World Tree, after all—one big family since ancient times. Might as well live in peace, right? "We're all family," as the saying goes.
"Loki, you can tell Odin I'll be there tomorrow," Laufey said through clenched teeth, forcing out words he truly despised. But faced with the reality that Odin might soon die, only to be replaced by the far more powerful, infinitely younger Aaron, Laufey had no choice. Today he refused to retreat, and tomorrow, Aaron would leave the Frost Giants with nowhere to hide. Muspelheim's present was Jotunheim's future. Taking a long breath, Laufey sank back onto his throne, not even noticing when the smug Loki left. His mind was still full of that ruthless image of countless Fire Giants and "Eternal Surtur" annihilated in a blink. Furious, he looked up at the sky and roared:
"I was finally going to outlive one tyrant—only to see an even worse tyrant rise to power. Ancestors of the Giants, this is so unfair!!"
…
The next day…
Aaron, who'd just been tidying up some clothes, looked down at Sif and shook his head with a sigh.
"Sif, you're a Valkyrie blessed by Odin, yet your performance last night was pretty sad for someone of that rank."
The truth was, "double the sensory sharing" had turned out to be scarier than expected. Even though she had serious strength and fighting skills, Sif had ended up just like Felicia before her. And Aaron still hadn't gone full force…
Sif stammered, "Uh… s-sorry!" Feeling aggrieved, she thought, People said men were the ones with stamina problems, but how did it end up the opposite with Aaron? She'd lost her Valkyrie dignity. Luckily, no Valkyries survived to laugh at her, or she'd never hear the end of it.
"Alright, you just need more practice. For now, your punishment is to clean all this up." Asgard's technology was sophisticated—cleaning stains had an auto-mode. It looked somewhat cumbersome, but Aaron believed with enough instruction, she'd get used to it. Once she'd gained more "experience," she might become a more skillful combat partner. Then he'd have a truly seasoned Valkyrie soldier at his side for future battles.
"Wait!" Sif suddenly blurted, eyes wide. She felt like her body wasn't even hers anymore. The high-intensity "training" was overwhelming. Especially Aaron's "unyielding rod" that could even break through her Asgardian-brand shield. It always struck at the sneakiest angles, hitting her weak spots. Experiencing both her own viewpoint and Aaron's at the same time made her feel things she never would have before. It was too bizarre.
Aaron blinked—apparently the washing machine had kicked into high-speed mode without him pushing any buttons. Asgard gear is impressive indeed. Once it was all done, maybe they could enjoy some fine Asgardian cuisine. He'd been looking forward to it, hoping it would satisfy him today…
After a while, once personal matters were settled, Aaron—refreshed—and Sif—who'd enjoyed some Asgard-produced "milk"—arrived at the celebration in their formal outfits: Aaron in his majestic Emperor Armor, Sif in a splendidly flowing Asgardian gown. The two rode a winged steed together to the Golden Palace, site of the day's banquet.
Under everyone's admiring gaze, the dashing, powerful Aaron and the noble, beautiful Sif smiled graciously while walking up the red carpet to the highest dais. Sif's footsteps were a bit unsteady, so Aaron discreetly supported her. No reason to trip at the big event.
From the stage, Aaron spotted:
Eitri, King of the Nidavellir Dwarves, towering nearly four meters tall.
The King of the Light Elves in Alfheim.
Laufey, King of Jotunheim…
And a few other unfamiliar realms. After all, the "Nine Realms" didn't always mean only nine realms. Various scattered territories lived upon the World Tree, such as Nornheim, technically under Asgard's rule. In Thor: The Dark World, Thor had once put down an uprising there—its queen, Karnilla, only pretended loyalty while scheming for independence. She was a very powerful sorceress and a dangerous beauty, with rare black hair. Dressed in resplendent robes, she looked especially eye-catching among the front rows, acting perfectly submissive. But Aaron knew it was all an illusion—Sif had already filled him in on each visiting realm's background.
To be honest, aside from the Vanir gods of Vanaheim, the dwarves of Nidavellir, and the light elves of Alfheim, most realms didn't have particularly warm feelings toward Asgard. Nobody liked having a "supreme ruler" over them, giving orders and meddling in their internal affairs. That's why, when Thor shattered the Bifrost, nearly every corner of the Nine Realms rebelled—Asgard could no longer intervene. Now, they'd obeyed Odin's summons for one main reason: Aaron. The fact that he slaughtered Eternal Surtur had pushed his reputation to the pinnacle. Once they confirmed that was real, no matter how reluctant they felt, they had to come. Even Laufey, who wanted no part of it, was here in the front row, silent and blank-faced, gazing at the man he feared. Odin, seated on the royal throne, was basically being ignored. He'd grown old. Everyone's real attention was on Aaron.
At Aaron's repeated request, the formalities were trimmed down drastically. When Odin personally draped him in Asgard's finest cloak and together they took hold of Gungnir, Odin spoke:
"In the name of Borr's son, the current King of Asgard, I hereby declare that I shall share my supreme glory with my brother Aaron. All that I have—riches, honor, and station—belongs equally to him."
At this final high point, all Asgardians, led by Thor and Loki, shouted Aaron's name in unison. Among the guests, some smiled willingly, while most forced a grin. Laufey's smile looked more like he was about to cry—enough to terrify any children watching.
In that moment, it dawned on everyone that the Nine Realms were under new management. Odin's display made one thing clear: he and Aaron would together wield the authority of the All-Father. To see Aaron was to see Odin; they jointly embodied the supreme might of the Aesir and the lords of the Nine Realms. From now on, nobody would bat an eye if someone called Aaron "All-Father" or "Ruler of Asgard." More frightening was that Aaron was young, stronger than anyone could have predicted, and seemingly boundless in potential.
For the next five thousand years—or however long Aaron's Celestial bloodline sustained him (potentially until the universe itself perished)—the Nine Realms would once again tremble beneath Asgard's rule. Picturing that grim future, most of the realms felt their hopes of freedom vanish.
Queen Karnilla of Nornheim bit her lip as she watched Aaron standing on stage, exuding unstoppable authority. She felt completely lost. Just then, she noticed Aaron glance her way. She forced a smile and inclined her head to him, then looked at the woman by his side—Sif—and glanced over at Thor, pondering something.
~~~
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