Chapter 123
Avengers
Arc 8 - Ch 15: Court
Wednesday, May 02, 2012.
Location: The Hallway of Possibilities
Tyson stood in what he thought of as the Hallway of Possibilities, a deeper area of his subconscious that he'd only visited once before. The hallway stretched out before him, lined with doors, each holding the buried psyches of those he'd absorbed in the past. The last time he'd been here was back during the fight on the Rainbow Bridge when Amora had boosted his power, granting him access to this previously unknown realm within his mind. The hallway was longer now, filled with additional rooms from all those he'd touched in the past year. Months had passed since he'd gained control of his power, which allowed him to touch without risking harm to others. He knew that further down the corridor lay doors for Thor, Natasha, Peter Parker, Jessica, Max, and many others whose essence he'd absorbed.
His original plan, which he'd come up with and shared with Amora, had been simple.
Select Azazel's door, just as he had done back on Asgard.
The demonic mutant's teleportation powers had previously allowed him to return to Earth, and now he intended to use them again to travel to Asgard and retrieve Thor. Azazel's door was near the beginning of the hallway, one of the first threats he had faced.
Yet, he approached and stood before a door that wasn't Azazel's. The sight of its occupant made his chest tighten.
Jubilee.
Memories of his deceased ex-girlfriend flooded his mind, bringing with them a wave of emotions he thought he'd been on the path of processing. But seeing her there standing as if she were still alive took him back to before the Battle in Times Square.
He reached out a trembling hand, his fingers hovering just inches from the door's surface. The energy emanating from it felt warm, like Jubilee's laugh on a sunny day. He could almost hear her voice and feel the touch of her hand in his.
The logical part of his brain reminded him of his mission, of the need to open Azazel's door and use his teleportation powers. But logic seemed to fade away in the face of this unexpected encounter. All the pain, love, and regret he'd felt since Jubilee's death came rushing back, threatening to overwhelm him.
He wished he could open this door and somehow, some way, bring a part of her back to life. The temptation was almost unbearable.
Yet, he also knew it couldn't be done.
That wasn't how the hallway worked.
Opening this door couldn't bring Jubilee back. It would derail his entire mission, leaving Thor stranded and forcing Odin to weaken himself, using dark magic to get the God of Thunder to Earth.
But as he stood there, the other doors, the mission, and the world outside his mind receded into the background. At that moment, there was only the door that held the essence of Jubilee.
He found himself unable to move, unable to turn away. The door represented power and knowledge, but he couldn't care and wanted the chance to reconnect with someone he had loved and lost. It was a temptation more potent than any of these latent superpowers.
This was not supposed to be the hard part of the events he'd prepared for. He had secured Amora's favor over half a year ago, meticulously planning for the challenges that lay ahead. Yet, he hadn't factored in how difficult it would be to see Jubilee again, even in this abstract form.
He should have known better.
Memories flooded his mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of what he had lost. He remembered their first meeting, the spark of attraction that had quickly grown into a friendship. He recalled their shared laughter, their quiet moments, and the way her face would brighten when she smiled. The essence behind the door called to him, a siren song of nostalgia and longing. It wasn't truly Jubilee, he knew that logically, but it was so tantalizingly close. The last time he had absorbed her was during their 'wedding,' before she became a vampire. That final kiss, while she'd been alive-alive, was the imprint of her essence within him.
Which begged the question. Why did he hesitate?
He couldn't bring her back through magic. Death herself had made that clear.
But he had a vial of Jubilee's blood from after she'd been turned into a vampire. With that, he could potentially bring her back, or at least a version of her. He could take that blood to Sinister and have Jubilee recreated with all her memories up to that point.
Still, he hadn't done it.
The idea had seemed cold, almost sacrilegious. It felt like he'd be getting a fake copy of her, a pale imitation of the vibrant woman he had loved. Yet now, seeing her essence so tantalizingly close, he hesitated. Was it really that different? This door, this fragment of Jubilee within his mind, was it any more real than a clone created from her blood?
The philosophical quandary momentarily mired him in a maelstrom of ethical considerations and emotional yearning. What truly makes a person who they are? Is it their memories? Their very essence, spirit, or soul? Or is it something more, something intangible that can't be replicated or stored behind a door in one's mind, or a drop of their blood?
Wasn't this why he'd spent so many months in therapy?
Well, he had fucked his therapist, so there was that.
As he grappled with these questions, the initial shock of seeing Jubilee's essence began to fade, replaced by a more rational understanding of what lay before him. This wasn't Jubilee, not really. It was a fragment, a memory, a piece of her that he carried within himself.
He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to center himself. When he opened them again, he looked at Jubilee's door with love and resignation. He knew that he couldn't open it, couldn't lose himself in the temptation of what lay beyond. It wouldn't bring Jubilee back, not really. It would only be a shadow, a reflection of what once was. Moreover, he knew that opening the door wouldn't honor Jubilee's memory. She had lived her life with courage and conviction, always moving forward even in the face of adversity. She didn't want him to dwell in the past, to lose himself in a facsimile of their relationship. And her spirit had said as much.
With a heavy heart, he stepped away from Jubilee's door. The action felt both like a betrayal and a release. He was letting go, not of Jubilee herself, but of the desperate hope that he could somehow bring her back, somehow undo what had been done... for now.
As Tyson moved away, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He had faced one of his deepest temptations and overcome it. The pain of losing Jubilee would always be with him, but he now understood that he could carry her memory without being consumed by it.
Moving on, he turned his attention back to the task at hand. He had a mission to complete, a friend to save, and a world to protect.
But he only made it a few steps.
Azazel's door was nearby, but again, it wasn't the one he stopped at.
Jean.
The sight of her stirred something deep within him, a memory that had been buried for months. He hadn't thought about Jean in a long time. What had happened to her? He realized with a start that he hadn't seen or heard from her since the Battle of Times Square.
As if a dam had burst in his mind, memories came rushing back, filling in the gaps.
He remembered the aftermath of the battle. Jean had been there. He had pleaded with her to stay, but she insisted she needed to find out what Xavier had done to her mind. He offered to absorb her power and help her control it. With tears in her eyes, Jean had used her immense psychic abilities to overwhelm his defenses. Her command "Stop Fighting Me" had crashed into his mind like a tidal wave, leaving him helpless against her telepathic assault. Her power had far surpassed his own, burning through his thoughts with an intensity that put his abilities to shame. She compelled him to prioritize himself and his friends, to not worry about her or even think of her until they were all safe. She had known that if left to his own devices, he would have disregarded everything else to ensure her safety. He felt the anguish in her command as she forced him to repeat it. He remembered the choked sob that had escaped her. The memory of their final moments together flooded back. Jean stepped away from him, ending their embrace. She picked up Magneto's helmet, turning it over in her hands before heading away. At the edge of the lot, she paused, looking back one last time. She smiled over her shoulder and whispered, "I'm sorry," as she walked away.
As these memories resurfaced, confusion, anger, and sadness battled within him. How could he have forgotten about Jean for so long? Their minds had been entwined; even with her overpowering him, now that he remembered, he felt everything that she felt and knew everything that she was thinking.
Realizing that his mind had been manipulated, even for what Jean believed to be the greater good, he felt betrayed. Yet, beneath these feelings, there was also understanding. Would he do the same in her position? Would he make those close to him forget him, for the greater good? Jean had acted to ensure that he fulfilled his role as a symbol for mutantkind. She had sacrificed her own happiness and potentially her safety for what she believed was the greater good.
"Fucking hell. She didn't need to do that."
In his mind's eye, he could see the alternate path they could have taken. If Jean had helped rescue Felicia and defeat the Sinister Six, it wouldn't have been long before they could've worked together to help her, or he could've taken her to Massachusetts himself. A few weeks would've been all it took.
It was a bittersweet vision of what could have been. He understood her need for self-discovery and healing; if anyone could empathize with the desire to fix oneself, it was him. His journey for control had been long. But now, faced with the reality of Jean's choice, he felt helpless.
"What can I do now?" he wondered aloud, his words hanging in the air unanswered. Concern for her safety clashed with respect for her autonomy; longing intertwined with frustration and helplessness.
There was a distinct possibility that he would forget all of this once he left the Hallway of Possibilities. Jean's psychic assault had been overwhelming, her power far surpassing his own. It was only due to Amora's enhancement that he could even access these memories. Her power boost increased his abilities across the board. His illusions would be more potent, his resistance to telepathy stronger. But would it be enough? Would he be able to hold onto these memories once he returned to the real world and once the boost faded?
He couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something crucial. If Jean had been able to overpower him so easily before, what chance did he have of resisting her psychic command once he left this place? Even with Amora's enhancement, there was no guarantee he would be able to hold onto these memories.
He knew Jean should be at the Massachusetts Institute, but how could he even begin the search if he couldn't remember her? He frowned at the thought of forgetting her again, of losing these memories that had just resurfaced. He needed a way to remind himself, something that would trigger these memories even if Jean's psychic command reasserted itself. But what could be powerful enough to break through such a formidable mental command?
His gaze swept across the hallway's myriad doors as he pondered this dilemma. Perhaps the answer lay not in fighting Jean's command directly but in finding a way to work around it. He might not be able to remember Jean directly, but what if he could leave himself a clue or triggers that, when pieced together, would lead him back to these memories?
Or…
He could open Jean's door, absorb her psychic strength, and potentially break through the mental block she had placed on him. But doing so would force him to abandon his carefully laid plans, plans that would prolong Odin's life and, by extension, delay Ragnarok.
Who was more important, Odin or Jean?
The Allfather's survival was key to pushing back Ragnarok. If Odin weakened himself by using dark magic to bring Thor to Earth, he would die. Hela would be released, and Ragnarok would occur, leaving the Tesseract within Thanos's reach.
But if he didn't help Jean, who knew what would happen? He shuddered at the thought.
Tyson paced back and forth. Was he just exaggerating things? There was a chance that Emma Frost could and would actually help Jean, but he knew nothing about the woman besides his scant metaknowledge of her, which didn't give him a positive outlook.
He cursed in frustration. He knew for sure that Ragnarok would happen without his intervention, and likely, even with his efforts, he was delaying the inevitable. But he didn't know what would become of Jean. The uncertainty gnawed at him. Would his indecision lead to her becoming the Phoenix or Dark Phoenix?
He had to choose the more likely outcome.
As much as it pained him, he couldn't risk everything for Jean, no matter how much he cared for her. So, he tentatively left her behind.
It was time to open Azazel's door.
— Rogue Redemption —
Tyson opened his eyes, still feeling the remnants of Amora's magical kiss tingling on his lips. "Will there be any issues if we teleport to the Rainbow Bridge?" he asked.
Amora shook her head. "Heimdall watches all. He has undoubtedly been keeping an eye on me. He should be aware of what we're planning and will likely have informed Odin himself. If we're fortunate, Thor will be waiting on the Rainbow Bridge, and you'll be able to return immediately."
He wrapped his arms around her in a firm embrace. Leaning in, he whispered into her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "You purposely shielded yourself from my absorption with that kiss, but I know what you're thinking. You don't need to kiss me to cast these spells. You want to kiss me."
Her green eyes met his with a challenging glint. "That's the demon talking," she replied.
"Nice try," he said, "I haven't forgotten. You boosted my power, not theirs. I don't have to worry about another psyche overriding mine." He quoted her own words back to her.
Before Amora could formulate a response, the air around them twisted. Red-black smoke swirled about their forms, accompanied by the distinct scent of brimstone.
In the blink of an eye, they vanished from the room and rematerialized on the Rainbow Bridge. Its crystalline surface, once shimmering and smooth, now ended abruptly in a jagged edge that hung suspended over the cosmic abyss.
He took in the sight. It was by his decision that the Bifrost was destroyed. The bridge's broken end still glowed with residual energy, sparks of rainbow light occasionally flickering off into the void.
They stood near the edge, the same spot from which they had departed to Earth. The winds whipped around them, tugging at Amora's clothes and long, golden hair. Below them, the endless expanse of stars stretched out in all directions creating a dizzying vista.
As they oriented themselves, a figure approached from the direction of the distant golden city. It was not the red-caped Thunder God as Amora had hoped, but rather Heimdall, the all-seeing guardian of the Bifrost.
"Welcome back to Asgard." His golden eyes, capable of seeing across the vastness of the Nine Realms, studied Tyson with particular interest.
"Where is Thor?" Amora asked, impatience creeping into her voice. "We expected him to be here to greet us."
"The Prince awaits your arrival in the palace."
Tyson could feel her unease. Something was amiss.
"Why is he not here?" she pressed. "Surely you informed him of the urgency of our mission. Midgard faces a grave threat."
Heimdall's attention shifted from Amora to Tyson and back again. The weight of his stare seemed to pierce through their very souls, as if he could see not just their physical forms but the very essence of their beings.
"The Allfather wishes to speak with you," Heimdall stated, ending any objections or further questions.
They exchanged a wary glance before falling into step behind Heimdall. The guardian led them away from the broken edge of the Bifrost and towards the shimmering city. As they walked, Tyson marveled at the beauty of Asgard, with its impossibly tall spires of gold and crystal reaching towards the star-studded sky.
Amora, for her part, kept her focus ahead, considering their situation. This was not how she had envisioned their return to Asgard. The absence of Thor and the summons from Odin set her nerves on edge. She could feel the weight of Heimdall's earlier stare, as if the all-seeing guardian had peered into the very depths of her soul. What had he seen? What had he told Odin?
As they approached the outskirts of the city, Tyson noticed the curious stares of Asgardians going about their daily lives. Children pointed and whispered, while adults tried to maintain a facade of disinterest even as they followed the strange procession. He realized that his appearance, a mortal in Midgardian clothing, must be quite the spectacle in this realm of gods and warriors.
"They don't see many humans here, do they?" he asked.
Heimdall's reply was measured and even. "Mortals in Asgard are indeed a rare sight. Your presence here is... unusual."
Amora scoffed lightly. "Unusual is putting it mildly, Heimdall. Has another from Earth ever entered Asgard, let alone had the privilege of an audience with the Allfather himself?"
Tyson could sense the undercurrent of tension in her words. He reached out and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
"It has happened before," Heimdall finally answered, but didn't elaborate.
As they entered the city proper, the streets were lined with onlookers. Word of their arrival had clearly spread quickly. He noticed that many of the Asgardians seemed to recognize Amora. He remembered then, through the memories he had absorbed from her previously, that the Enchantress had quite a reputation in these parts. They passed through grand archways and across sweeping plazas. Tyson wished he had more time to explore, to soak in the wonders of this alien world.
As they approached the palace, Einherjar, warriors that made up the Asgardian army, stood at attention with their weapons at the ready. Climbing the grand staircase leading to the main entrance, Tyson felt a surge of nervous energy. He was about to meet Odin, the Allfather, ruler of Asgard and one of the most powerful beings in the Nine Realms.
Heimdall led them through vast hallways adorned with intricate tapestries depicting great battles and cosmic events. Tyson recognized some of the scenes.
The fall of the Dark Elves.
The war with the Frost Giants.
In passing, he noticed that there was a similar figure in both. A warrior with wings, almost like an angel. Was that supposed to be a Valkyrie? He thought their horses had wings, not they, themselves.
Each step brought them closer to the throne room, and with each step, their anticipation grew.
Finally, they arrived at a set of massive doors, intricately carved with scenes of Yggdrasil, the World Tree. Two Einherjar guards stood at attention on either side. Heimdall nodded to them, and they pushed the doors open.
The throne room of Asgard was a sight to behold. Columns of gold and marble supported the ceiling. Great windows allowed the starlight to pour in. At the far end, atop a dais of golden steps, sat the throne of Asgard.
And upon that throne sat Odin.
The Allfather's presence was palpable, filling the vast chamber with an aura of power. His one eye fixed upon the newcomers. To his right stood Thor, Mjolnir hanging at his side. To Odin's left was Frigga, the queen of Asgard.
As Heimdall led them forward, Tyson could feel the weight of every eye in the room upon him. The Einherjar lining the walls, the courtiers gathered, even the ravens perched on Odin's throne; all seemed to be studying him intently.
Amora's posture stiffened as they approached the foot of the dais. He could sense her unease. He gave her fingers another reassuring squeeze before they both knelt before the throne of Asgard.
Heimdall's voice rang out in the hushed chamber. "Allfather, I present to you Amora the Enchantress and Tyson, the Mirage of Midgard, as you requested."
There was a moment of heavy silence as Odin regarded them. Then, his voice, deep and resonant, filled the throne room.
"Rise."
As they rose to their feet, the weight of Odin's attention bore down upon them. Like Heimdall earlier, the Allfather's single eye seemed to see through their very beings, as if searching for the truth of their intentions. The throne room remained silent, the assembled Asgardians watching with bated breath as this unprecedented encounter unfolded.
The Allfather's voice filled the chamber. "There are few mortals who have ever set foot on Asgard," he declared. "A number of mortal women, all who became valkyrie, dying in battle. Their names are etched in the halls of Valhalla, honored for their sacrifice and bravery."
His eye swept across the room, as if seeing beyond the present moment. "There were others," he continued, "Bragi Boddason, the skald of old. His verses still echo through our halls and in your myths. He was a rare talent, able to bridge the gap between realms."
"You," the Allfather intoned, "are the first in centuries to walk these halls as a mortal of Midgard. It is my understanding that, like Bragi, you can tell quite a tale. Have you come to bridge the gap between realms? Without the Bifrost, few others could do what you have. Mirage of Midgard."
The assembled Asgardians seemed to hold their collective breath, waiting to see how this strange mortal would respond to such a pronouncement from the Allfather himself. And Tyson was acutely aware of the attention upon him. But he was here for a reason, and he would not be cowed by the grandeur of Asgard or the power of its ruler... that he was trying to save.
"It is an honor, Allfather. I stand before you not for my own glory, but out of necessity. Earth... Midgard faces a great threat."
"Speak then, Tyson of Earth. What threat is so great that it brings a mortal to our halls?"
He glanced briefly at Thor, who stood stoically by his father's side. "It is Loki, Allfather," his words causing a ripple of murmurs to spread through the assembled crowd. "He has returned to Earth. He seeks to subjugate my world."
Odin's features darkened at the mention of his adopted son's name. Beside him, Frigga's face showed a complex mix of concern and sadness warring within her.
"And how did you come by this knowledge? How does a mortal presume to know the movements and intentions of a lost Asgardian prince, fallen though he may be?"
Tyson hesitated for a moment, aware that his next words could determine the course of this encounter. He could feel Amora's attention on him, silently urging caution.
"I have... abilities. Gifts that have allowed me to perceive things beyond most. I foresaw Loki's arrival on Earth. And I have foreseen the devastation that will follow if he is not stopped. I did not witness Loki's arrival personally, but Amora assured me that it occurred as I had foreseen."
Odin's attention shifted to Amora, who had remained silent throughout the exchange. "And you, Enchantress? What role do you play in this mortal's quest?"
"I have seen the truth of his words, Allfather. Loki's return poses a threat not just to Midgard, but to the stability of all the Nine Realms. I brought Tyson here because he believed we need Thor's help to stop him."
"Actually, I believe I can stop Loki." Tyson corrected. "However, I was unsure if I could do so without killing him. Intentionally or not, I did not wish to anger you. Earth owes Asgard much. We do not wish to sour relations or incur your wrath. If I understand correctly, Prince Thor is the protector of Midgard, and I believe he would want to know of the test it faces, and that his brother is alive."
The throne room fell silent once more as Odin considered their words. The fate of two realms hung in the balance, waiting on the decision of the Allfather.
"You speak of grave matters, mortal. Of threats to the peace of the Nine Realms and the machinations of a son of Asgard. Such claims cannot be dismissed lightly, nor can they be accepted without proof."
Heimdall cleared his throat. The assembled Asgardians turned their attention to the all-seeing guardian. "Allfather, I can confirm the truth of the mortal's words." A hushed murmur rippled through the crowd, quickly silenced by a stern look from Odin. "I have observed this mortal for some time. Tyson came to my attention after his first visit to Asgard. I have witnessed him explaining his visions of events yet to come. At first, I dismissed his claims, but as time passed, I saw his prediction come to fruition with alarming accuracy." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.
"His accounting of Prince Loki's return was far beyond a Völva performing the seiðr."
A collective gasp echoed through the throne room. Thor's hand tightened on Mjolnir's handle, his face a mask of conflicting emotions. Frigga placed a comforting hand on Odin's arm, concern shining in her gaze.
"You saw Loki on Midgard with your own eyes?"
"I did, Allfather. He appeared suddenly, as if emerging from a portal between worlds. I know not how he survived his fall into the void, but I can attest to his presence on Midgard." Heimdall's words lent credence to Tyson's claims. He glanced at Amora, who gave him a small nod of encouragement. But the guardian of the Bifrost wasn't finished. "There is more, Allfather. Loki did not return to Midgard empty-handed."
The tension in the room was palpable. Odin's grip on Gungnir tightened. "Speak plainly, Heimdall. What does Loki possess?"
Heimdall's golden eyes seemed to glow brighter as he delivered the news. "The Tesseract, Allfather. It created the portal, and Loki has claimed it."
The reaction was immediate. Gasps and cries of disbelief echoed through the throne room. Frigga's hand flew to her mouth, shock widening her eyes. Tyson had known that Loki would acquire the Tesseract, of course, but hearing it confirmed by Heimdall made the threat feel all the more real.
"How?" Thor's voice boomed across the chamber, silencing the panicked murmurs. "How did Loki acquire the Tesseract?"
Heimdall turned his attention to the Thunder God. "The mortals had it in their possession, Prince Thor. They have been studying it, attempting to harness its power. Loki turned their research facility into a gateway for his return. He wields a scepter of unknown origin, capable of bending minds to his will. He has amassed followers, both willing and unwilling. The mortals attempted to stop him, and several were killed."
Tyson felt a surge of anger and grief for the fallen SHIELD agents. He had known them, worked alongside them. He'd known some would die, and he did his best to prepare them to face Loki. Now they were gone, casualties in a fight that he decided needed to happen. He clenched his fists, reminding himself why he had come to Asgard in the first place. "Allfather, this is why we've come. Loki with the Tesseract poses a threat not just to my world, but to all the Nine Realms."
"Father, let me go to Midgard. I will find Loki and bring him home."
Odin held up a hand, silencing his son. "It is not so simple, Thor. Without the Bifrost, the dark energy required to send you to Midgard would be immense. It would weaken Asgard at a time when we can ill afford it..." His words trailed off. He squinted as he looked at Tyson, then he turned to Heimdall, who gave a barely perceptible nod, and refocused on Amora.
The Enchantress spoke up. "We understand, Allfather. That is why I went to Midgard, to watch over Mirage. He can traverse the realms at a negligible cost to himself. And has grown to be strong enough to protect the Earth."
The Allfather studied Tyson carefully, then spoke with authority that commanded absolute attention.
"Then prove you are worthy of being a protector of the realms."
He raised his voice and called out, "Thor." His son stepped forward. Thor knew exactly what Odin meant. He placed Mjolnir on the ground in front of Tyson. All of Asgard knew that Mjolnir could only be lifted by someone worthy. The assembled crowd watched with bated breath, wondering if this mortal from Midgard could possibly pass such a test.
Tyson looked down at the hammer, then back up at Odin and Thor. He could feel the weight of expectation, could sense the doubt radiating from the Asgardians around him. Amora stood nearby, anticipation widening her green eyes, and she licked her lips, knowing what would come next.
He bent down slowly and wrapped his fingers around Mjolnir's handle. The leather grip felt warm beneath his touch, almost alive. For a moment, he hesitated, though he had lifted Mjolnir before; so much had changed since then. Yet he knew in his heart, his worthiness hadn't changed. Tyson tightened his grip and lifted.
To the astonishment of all present, Mjolnir rose from the ground as if it weighed nothing at all. He casually lifted the hammer, feeling its perfect balance in his hand. A collective gasp echoed through the throne room, followed by excited murmurs and exclamations of disbelief.
As he held Mjolnir aloft, he felt a surge of power. It was as if the very essence of lightning and storm had been distilled into the weapon. The hammer's power flowed through him, filling every fiber of his being with raw, elemental energy. But there was more to it than that. He could feel Mjolnir synergizing with the electromagnetic powers he had inherited from Magneto. It was as if two complementary forces were meeting for the first time, recognizing each other as kindred spirits. The hammer's lightning-based power merged seamlessly with his control over electromagnetism, creating a harmony of energies that felt both exhilarating and natural.
As this power coursed through him, his feet left the ground. He began to float, rising slowly into the air as if gravity no longer held sway over him. Sparks of electricity danced across his body, arcing between his fingers and along the length of Mjolnir. The air around him crackled with energy, causing nearby Asgardians to step back in awe. Lightning sparked from his eyes like miniature thunderstorms.
Amora's face lit up with a triumphant smile. She had known he was worthy, but knowing was different than seeing him channel the full power of one of Asgard's sacred relics.
The assembled Asgardians were in a state of shock and wonder. Since Odin placed the worthiness enchantment on the hammer, none had wielded Mjolnir, save Thor, let alone with such apparent ease and power. Whispers raced through the crowd, speculation running wild about who this Tyson truly was.
He slowly descended, his feet touching the polished floor of the throne room with a gentle tap. The crackling energy that had surrounded him moments ago began to dissipate, leaving behind a faint scent of ozone. He held Mjolnir reverently, feeling the weight of its power in his hands. With a respectful nod to Thor, he extended the hammer back to its rightful owner. "Thank you for allowing me this honor," he said.
Thor stepped forward and accepted Mjolnir. "You are indeed worthy, Tyson of Midgard. I look forward to fighting alongside you."
Odin rose from his throne, Gungnir in hand, his presence commanding the attention of all present. The Allfather surveyed Thor, Tyson, and Amora, assessing them each in turn.
"Thor," Odin's voice boomed, filling every corner of the vast chamber, "you will accompany Tyson and Amora back to Midgard. Retrieve Loki." A ripple of murmurs spread through the assembled Asgardians at the mention of Loki's name. Frigga's face tightened with concern. "However," Odin's voice took on a stern edge, "Loki is not to be killed. He will face Asgardian justice for his crimes. Is that understood?"
Thor nodded solemnly, his grip tightening on Mjolnir. "Yes, Father. I will bring Loki home to face the consequences of his actions."
"Yes, Allfather," Tyson said, bowing his head slightly.
Frigga descended from the dais, approaching Thor. She embraced her son tightly, whispering in his ear. "I need both of you to come back home," she said softly.
Odin's voice resonated through the throne room, commanding the attention of all present. "Before you go, there is another matter we must discuss." He settled on Amora, who straightened her posture.
"Amora, when Thor was acting king while I was in the Odinsleep, he declared that your actions following Loki's orders were not treason, as you remained loyal to the king of Asgard." A murmur rippled through the assembled Asgardians, some nodding in agreement, others frowning in disapproval. Odin continued, his one eye fixed on the Enchantress. "I have spoken with Heimdall, and he concurs that your actions, if not directly following orders you were given, remained neutral and within the best interests of the realm." He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle.
"I agree with Thor's decision."
Amora's shoulders visibly relaxed. The tension that had been coiled within her since entering the throne room began to dissipate. Several Asgardians exchanged glances, surprised by the Allfather's pronouncement. His attention swept across the room before returning to Amora. "You have spent time on Midgard, atoning for your actions." His words carried a hint of approval, though he remained stern. Then, unexpectedly, he turned to Tyson, catching the mortal off guard.
"You," Odin addressed him directly, "has she served well as a guardian of Midgard while we've been cut off from the Nine Realms?"
Tyson knew that his answer could significantly impact Amora's standing. He glanced briefly at the Enchantress, noting the mix of hope and apprehension in her green eyes. "When we returned to Earth, she told me that she'd watch over me, as I wasn't strong enough to defend the world myself, yet. While Amora did not coddle me, I stand here far stronger than I was when I last left Asgard. That is proof her sojourn was a success."
Odin considered his words, his attention moving between the mortal and Amora.
The throne room remained silent, the air thick with anticipation. Finally, the Allfather nodded, his decision made. "I agree," he declared, his voice carrying the weight of final judgment.
A collective release of tension rippled through the room. Amora's face lit up with gratitude as she looked at Tyson. Thor, standing nearby, nodded approvingly. Frigga, still by Thor's side, regarded Amora with a thoughtful expression, perhaps seeing the Enchantress in a new light.
The assembled Asgardians buzzed with hushed conversations. Some seemed pleased by the outcome, while others appeared more skeptical, their attention lingering on Amora with wariness.
When he spoke, his voice carried a warmth that surprised many. "Amora," Odin began, his tone unexpectedly gentle, "your journey has been one of great transformation." The Enchantress stood straighter, surprised at the turn the conversation had taken. "From humble beginnings, you have risen to become one of the most powerful and acclaimed in all of Asgard."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the assembled Asgardians. Even those who had harbored doubts about Amora found themselves nodding along with Odin's words.
"Your path has not always been straightforward. There have been questionable actions and decisions. But many have taken such paths in their quest for growth. And now," Odin's voice swelled with a hint of pride, "you have protected Midgard in our absence. While my son and I were unable to watch over the realm, you stepped forward."
As Odin turned to his wife, a hush fell over the throne room. Frigga, resplendent in her golden gown, stepped forward. Her eyes, filled with wisdom and kindness, focused on Amora as her voice rang out through the hall. "Amora. You have grown to be one of the greatest in Asgardian magics." A ripple of agreement passed through the assembled crowd. Even those who doubted Amora found themselves nodding in acknowledgment. "None here would question your prowess or knowledge. And now, none can question your dedication."
Frigga raised her hand. A soft golden light emanated from her palm, growing in intensity until it enveloped Amora in a warm glow. The assembled Asgardians watched in awe as the light pulsed and swirled around the Enchantress.
"Amora the Enchantress," Her voice resonated with power, "I bestow upon you the title of Goddess of Beauty." The golden light seemed to seep into Amora's very being, her already stunning features taking on an ethereal quality. Her blonde hair shimmered like spun gold, her green eyes sparkled with an inner light, and her skin seemed to glow from within.
Gasps of wonder and admiration echoed through the hall. Tyson watched, awestruck, beginning to understand the significance of this moment. Amora herself stood in stunned silence, overwhelmed by the honor bestowed upon her. She had always prided herself on her beauty, using it as a weapon and a shield. But now, it was more than that. It was a fundamental part of her very being.
She fell to one knee, her head bowed in reverence. Frigga smiled, reaching out to touch her shoulder. "Rise, Goddess of Beauty," she said softly. As Amora stood, Frigga embraced her, a gesture that sent another wave of surprise through the assembled Asgardians. It was a public display of acceptance and affection that few had ever witnessed the Queen display outside of her family. "You have been the Goddess of Beauty since you showed your loyalty to Asgard and returned to Earth all those months ago. I know you must have felt it, and now all of Asgard knows it."
"Congratulations," Thor said. "You have earned this honor, and I look forward to fighting alongside you once more."
Tyson, still processing the magnitude of what he had just witnessed, found himself smiling. He had known Amora was powerful, and had joked about her being a goddess, but this... this was beyond what he had imagined.
Sif and the Warriors Three, standing near the front of the crowd, exchanged glances. While they had often been at odds with Amora in the past, they could not deny the significance of this moment. Volstagg nodded approvingly, while Fandral's eyes sparkled with admiration for Amora's enhanced beauty. Hogun remained stoic as ever, but there was a glimmer of respect in his eyes. Sif, perhaps the most surprised of all, found herself reassessing her long-held opinions of the Enchantress.
As the excitement in the room began to settle, Odin tapped Gungnir against the ground, calling for silence. The assembled Asgardians turned their attention back to their king.
He swept over the assembled Asgardians before settling on Tyson. "And now," Odin's voice boomed, resonating through the vast hall, "for you, Tyson, the Mirage of Midgard."
"When Loki, in his misguided attempt, sought to use the Bifrost to lay waste to Jotunheim, you stood alongside Asgard and Thor to prevent this grave error." A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd, and Thor nodded solemnly. "Furthermore, you have proven yourself worthy of wielding Mjolnir, a feat few can claim. And it has come to my attention that you played a crucial role in aiding Thor's quest to regain his worthiness on Midgard." Thor's hand clasped Tyson's shoulder, a gesture of brotherhood that did not go unnoticed by those present.
"Asgard would be remiss to ignore the contributions you have made to the Nine Realms." The assembled crowd held its breath, sensing that something momentous was about to occur.
Odin's voice took on a tone of reverence, one that even Thor had rarely heard. "And so, I wish to bestow upon you a title that has only been held by one other."
"This title," Odin continued, "has never before been bestowed because none have met its strict requirements." He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle over the gathering. "The title's other holder was also worthy."
"The first requirement is that one must be immortal."
A collective gasp echoed through the hall. Immortality was a trait associated with gods and cosmic beings, not mortals from Midgard. Yet Odin's next words silenced any doubts. "I sense that within you. While many would see you as mortal, hailing from Midgard, I can discern that you will outlive even the longest-lived Asgardians, should you not fall in battle."
Tyson had suspected he would be long-lived. Dr. Connors said as much. But to have it confirmed by Odin was staggering.
"The holder of this title must be a great warrior. As savage as the wolf and as clever as the raven. You have proven yourself to be such a warrior."
Sif and the Warriors Three exchanged impressed glances. None had seen the battle between Loki and Tyson, but they'd seen his prowess against the Destroyer and didn't doubt Odin's words.
Odin's next words sent a ripple of unease through some of the assembled Asgardians. "The holder of this title must gain power by consuming their enemies." There were a few whispers at this, but they quickly died down under Odin's stern presence. "Lastly, the holder of this title must be a Master of Illusions."
Odin raised Gungnir, the spear glowing with light. "As you have met all these requirements, it is my pleasure to bestow a title upon you."
"Valravn."
The name echoed through the hall, carrying a sense of ancient power and mystery. Many of the Asgardians looked confused and unfamiliar with the term, while others, particularly the older and more learned among them, gasped in recognition.
Thor, his hand still on Tyson's shoulder, leaned in close. "Do you know what this means, my friend?" he whispered.
Before Tyson could respond, Odin continued, "The Valravn was a legend, born from the union of a raven and a fallen warrior on the battlefield." The assembled Asgardians listened intently, many hearing this tale for the first time.
"The Valravn was said to gain the knowledge and powers of the fallen warrior by consuming their heart." A murmur rippled through the crowd, some casting uneasy glances at Tyson. Odin raised his hand, silencing the whispers. "But legends, like all things, evolve as they're told. I understand, the Valravn's power comes not from consuming flesh, but from absorbing the essence of those it defeats." He nodded towards Tyson, acknowledging the mortal's unique abilities.
Thor said with excitement, "When I was but a child, I saw the last Valravn fight. It was glorious."
"The Valravn was believed to possess great wisdom, gained from the memories and experiences of those it had defeated." Odin continued, his voice taking on a tone of reverence. "In our understanding, the Valravn is not merely a scavenger of battlefields, but a guardian of the balance between… Life and Death." This statement drew surprised looks from many of the Asgardians, including Thor and the Warriors Three.
"It is said that the Valravn could take on multiple forms," Odin explained.
Frigga stepped forward, her voice soft yet carrying clearly through the hall. "The Valravn was also known to possess the gift of prophecy," she added, meeting Tyson's eyes. "And it appears that you possess such."
Odin nodded in agreement with his wife's words. "In the context of the Nine Realms, we see the Valravn not as an ill omen, but as a protector of balance. One who stands at the crossroads of life and death, of knowledge and power, of past and future."
The throne room was silent, every ear straining to catch Odin's words. Even those who had initially been skeptical of bestowing such a title on a mortal from Midgard found themselves captivated by the legend.
"By accepting this title," Odin grew solemn, "you take on the responsibility of maintaining balance. You become a guardian not just of Midgard, but of all the Nine Realms. Your powers, your knowledge, and your judgment will be called upon in times of great need."
The throne room fell silent, all attention fixed on the mortal from Midgard who had just been granted a legendary status.
"I accept the title of Valravn," Tyson declared. "I swear to uphold the balance and protect the Nine Realms to the best of my abilities."
A collective sigh of relief and excitement rippled through the assembled Asgardians.
"With this acceptance," Odin continued, his voice carrying the weight of divine authority, "you now honored at the level of a deity among Asgardians." A murmur of surprise rippled through the crowd. "You are equal in standing to the Valkyries. This elevation in status means that the courtesies afforded to Asgardian nobility now extend to you, Valravn." He paused, allowing the implications to sink in.
"You are to be considered one with Asgard."
The court erupted in cheers, the sound reverberating off the golden walls of the throne room. Thor's booming laugh joined the cacophony as he pulled Tyson into a bear hug. Amora's melodious laughter rang out as she clapped her hands in delight. Even Sif and the Warriors Three joined in the celebration, their earlier reservations melting away in the face of Odin's decree.
As the cheers began to die down, a mischievous glint appeared in Odin's eyes. He raised his hand, calling for silence once more. "And," he added, his tone taking on a surprisingly playful note, "these courtesies extend even to matters of the heart."
The room fell silent, and all eyes were on Odin as they waited for him to elaborate. "Should you fancy an Asgardian or goddess," he continued, amusement coloring his words, "you would now be considered a suitable match."
A wave of surprised laughter and excited whispers swept through the hall. Thor's eyes widened in surprise before he burst into another round of laughter, clapping Tyson on the back.
The Allfather declared, "But enough of that. I'm sure others can educate you in our ways. The time for court has ended. Those departing for Midgard need to make preparations."
The Asgardians streamed out of the throne room with Odin's dismissal. The air buzzed with excitement and speculation about the events they had just witnessed.
As the last of the guests filed out, a few remained. Thor, Tyson, Amora, Frigga, Heimdall, and Odin himself. The throne room, so recently filled with the clamor of many voices, now felt almost eerily quiet.
Odin's eye twinkled with a hint of mischief as he addressed the small group. "A bit of theatrics is occasionally necessary when you're king," he said.
"I understand," Tyson replied. After a moment's hesitation, he spoke again. "I was hoping... if I might ask a question?"
With a slight nod, the Allfather bid Tyson to ask his question.
Amora's hand tightened almost imperceptibly around Tyson's, offering silent support.
"My friend, Jubilation Lee, died in battle," Tyson began, his respectful tone couldn't hide the emotion in his voice. "Amora and I believe she is in Valhalla."
The words hung in the air, heavy with hope and sorrow. Frigga's eyes softened with compassion, while understanding crossed Thor's features. He, too, had known the pain of losing comrades in battle.
Odin closed his eye for a minute, as if in deep thought. The throne room fell into an expectant silence, broken only by the faint whisper of breathing.
When his eye opened again, it fixed upon Tyson with a certainty that only the ruler of Asgard could possess. "It's true," he said simply.
Tyson nodded sadly. After a beat of silence, he spoke again, hesitation in his voice. "Is it possible to—" he began, but Odin was already shaking his head, cutting off the question before it could fully form. The hope that had begun to kindle in Tyson's chest flickered and dimmed.
"Valhalla is not merely a place, but a state of being. Those who die in glorious battle, who have proven their worth through courage and sacrifice, find their way there," Odin continued. "It is a realm of honor, of eternal feast and combat, where the worthy dead prepare for Ragnarok."
Tyson listened, his heart heavy but his mind eager to understand. Amora watched him closely. She had known of Valhalla all her life, but hearing it described by Odin himself might offer fresh insights.
"In Valhalla, your friend Jubilation Lee has found peace and purpose," Odin explained, his voice softening slightly. "She prepares for the final battle at the end of days."
Thor nodded solemnly, adding, "It is the highest honor for a warrior to be chosen and brought to Valhalla."
Odin continued, never leaving Tyson. "But Valhalla is not a place one can simply visit or leave. The barrier between the world of the living and the realm of the honored dead is absolute. To bring one back from Valhalla would be to deny them their hard-earned rest and purpose."
"Your friend has found her place among the einherjar. She is at peace, and her memory lives on through you and those she left behind." Frigga added gently.
Tyson felt the finality of Odin's words and the impossibility of what he had hoped for. Yet there was comfort too.
Amora squeezed Tyson's hand gently, her voice soft as she spoke. "Jubilee's journey in life may have ended, but her legacy continues. In Valhalla, she stands among the greatest warriors, her bravery and sacrifice recognized for all eternity."
Heimdall, who had remained silent until now, spoke up. "I have seen many souls pass to Valhalla. Your friend's arrival was marked by a great celebration. She is welcomed, honored, and at peace."
One thing Odin said stood out to Tyson. "You said the honored dead prepare for Ragnarok. What happens to those in Valhalla when Ragnarok comes?"
"An astute question," the Allfather said, "Few think to ask about the fate of the honored dead beyond their initial arrival in Valhalla."
All present awaited Odin's explanation. Even Heimdall, the all-seeing guardian, turned his golden attention towards the Allfather, eager to hear how he would address this query. Odin rose from his throne, descending the steps. He began to pace slowly, his hands clasped behind his back as he gathered his thoughts. "Ragnarok is not merely the end of all things. It is a cycle of destruction and rebirth that has occurred countless times throughout the history of the Nine Realms."
"When Ragnarok comes," Odin continued, "the barriers between realms thin. The honored dead of Valhalla ride forth alongside the living warriors of Asgard, joining the final battle."
Frigga added, "It is the ultimate purpose for which they have been preparing. A chance to fight once more for the fate of all realms."
Tyson's eyes widened at the implications. "So Jubilee... she would fight again?"
Odin nodded, a grim smile on his face. "Indeed. Every soul in Valhalla, from the mightiest king to the humblest warrior, takes up arms when Ragnarok dawns. They fight with a fervor and skill honed through countless battles in the halls of the honored dead."
"It would be glorious to stand shoulder to shoulder with the greatest heroes of all ages." Thor declared.
Amora asked, "But what of their fate after the battle? If Ragnarok is a cycle of destruction and rebirth, what becomes of those who fall in that final conflict?"
"The cycle of Ragnarok is complex. Those who fall in the final battle are not truly lost. As the realms are reborn, so too are the souls of the fallen."
"So they're... reincarnated?" Tyson asked, seeking clarification.
"In a sense," Odin replied, nodding slowly. "But it is not a simple rebirth. The essence of who they were, their courage, their honor, their very spirit, is woven into the fabric of the new cycle. They may not remember their past lives, but their core remains."
"Your friend Jubilee, should she fall in the battle of Ragnarok, would not truly be lost. Her essence would continue, perhaps as a new hero in the reborn realms, carrying forward the courage and spirit that made her worthy of Valhalla in the first place." Frigga said.
"Okay, but what happens to the honored dead who don't fall during Ragnarok?" Tyson asked.
"When Ragnarok ends, and the cycle of rebirth begins, the survivors of Valhalla face a choice," Odin explained. "They may choose to be reborn into the new cycle, their essence woven into the fabric of the reborn realms, much like those who fall in battle. But that is not their only path. Some choose to remain in Valhalla, to guide and prepare the next generation of honored dead for the battles to come."
Amora spoke up. "So they retain their memories and identities?"
"Indeed," Odin confirmed. "Those who choose to remain in Valhalla keep their sense of self, their memories, and their accumulated wisdom. They become living legends, mentors to the heroes of ages yet to come."
Tyson sat in silence, his mind wrestling with the weight of what he had learned about Valhalla and Jubilee's fate. Amora squeezed his hand gently. The warmth of her touch pulled him back from the depths of his thoughts, anchoring him to the present moment. Understanding and a hint of urgency filled her eyes as they met his.
"I know this troubles you," she said, "but there will be time to dwell on it later. You're stronger now, but the boost will only last so long. We should go before—"
Her words were cut short as a sudden wave of weakness washed over Tyson. His body felt as if it were made of lead. Without warning, his legs gave way beneath him, and he collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud.
The assembled Asgardians watched in surprise as he fell. Thor took a step forward, concern etching his face, but Amora held up a hand, silently indicating that she had the situation under control. With remarkable presence of mind, she opened a small portal over the sea at the edge of the Bifrost Bridge. She finished just as a powerful wave of nausea hit, causing his stomach to lurch violently. He barely managed to position himself over the portal before he began to retch, his body expelling the contents of his stomach in painful heaves.
Odin watched from his throne, his single eye betraying no emotion as the scene unfolded before him. Frigga's face, in contrast, was a picture of maternal concern, while Thor just looked confused.
Amora knelt beside him, her hand resting comfortingly on his back, pulling back his hair as he continued to be sick. She looked up at Odin in apology.
"Too late," she said, frustration threading through her voice. "Apologies, Allfather. My enhancement magic has a backlash effect. We'll need to postpone our departure until Tyson has recovered."
Odin regarded the scene before him for a moment before waving his hand dismissively. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly gentle, devoid of the judgment or disgust one might expect from a king witnessing such a display in his throne room.
"You may take him to the healing room, should he need it," Odin said. "Or your chambers if he'll recover on his own."
Amora nodded gratefully, her attention already returning to Tyson. She ran her fingers through his hair, murmuring words of comfort as he continued to retch.
Thor, overcoming his initial surprise, offered his assistance. "Shall I help carry him, Lady Amora?"
Amora shook her head. "Thank you, Thor, but I can manage. He would be vexed if I allowed him to be carried by anyone but myself." The worst of the nausea seemed to have passed, leaving him pale and shaking, but no longer actively sick. "Can you stand, my love?" Amora asked softly, her hand still rubbing soothing circles on his back.
He nodded weakly, his voice hoarse as he replied, "I think so. Just... give me a moment."
With Amora's support, he slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position. His face was pale and covered in a sheen of sweat, but determination shone in his eyes. He took a few deep breaths, steadying himself before attempting to rise further.
With her assistance, he managed to get to his feet, swaying slightly but remaining upright.
Odin spoke, his voice carrying the weight of both king and father. "Rest and recover, Tyson Valravn. The challenges that lie ahead will require your full strength."
He managed a weak nod in Odin's direction, leaning heavily on Amora for support. With a final nod to the assembled Asgardians, she began the slow journey to her chambers, supporting his weakened form with every step.