The grand feasting halls of Asgard buzzed with life, their high wooden beams echoing with vibrant laughter and the clamor of clinking goblets.
Enormous tables overflowed with lavish platters, showcasing an impressive array of succulent meats, fresh fruits, and delectable pastries, all accompanied by copious amounts of frothy, rich ale that filled the air with the scent of indulgence.
"You should have witnessed it firsthand! The Destroyer was no match for Thor and Wilkins as they unleashed their fury upon it!" Volstagg bellowed, his voice booming like thunder as he brandished a large, ornate pint of Asgardian mead. His words ignited a chorus of cheers and gleeful roars from the assembled Asgardian warriors, their spirits soaring alongside the vaulted ceiling.
Seated along the long dining tables of the hall, Volstagg, Hogun, Fandral, and Sif, legendary warriors of Asgard, had just regaled the gathered crowd with the tale of Thor and Wyatt's epic clash against the unstoppable Destroyer down on Earth, referred to as Midgard among the Asgardians.
As the warriors wove the narrative of the battle, embellishing it with larger-than-life details that helped all those who listened to picture the imagery of valor and heroism that both Thor and Wyatt exuded during the battle.
Wyatt, however, found himself bemused by the exaggerated retelling, recognizing how their skilled storytelling transformed a fierce confrontation into a grand epic worthy of the Eddas.
"Aye, despite his youth, Wilkins is a formidable warrior, deserving of the title Champion of Midgard!" Thor declared, his voice ringing with pride as he lifted his own pint high above the crowd.
Another thunderous applause erupted, reverberating through the walls and shaking the very foundations of the hall as everyone raised their drinks in jubilant unison.
Amidst the revelry, Wyatt sat next to Thor, a pint of mead in hand, feeling the warmth of the atmosphere seep into his bones.
In his other life, the life of the older Wyatt, he had often indulged in drinking at college fraternity parties. Which often then not left him with some of the worst hangovers and regrets. As such, he was no stranger to drinking large amounts among large crowds.
But unlike his old college party's, the crowd around him drank and celebrated on a completely different level, steeped in ancient traditions and camaraderie. Despite that, Wyatt embraced the moment and enjoyed himself alongside everyone. Momentarily letting go of his worries about being stranded in Asgard.
"Tell me, Wilkins," Sif said, her curious gaze settling on him as she took a measured sip of her ale, "how many battles have you partaken in? Surely a warrior of your caliber must have witnessed countless conflicts."
Wyatt chuckled, a hint of modesty creeping into his voice. "Well, I've only been acting as Atomic for about a year or so. I've faced off against my share of criminals, but I've really only had two other true life-and-death struggles prior to the encounter with the Destroyer," he replied, taking a hefty bite of the hearty meat that filled his plate.
His admission brought a stillness to the hall, the gravity of his words weighing heavily for a brief moment before the atmosphere erupted in boisterous celebration once more. Almost causing Wyatt to choke on his food.
"Incredible! You were born for this!" someone shouted, their voice piercing through the joy.
"Haha! A true warrior indeed! You must come from a long lineage of champions!" another exclaimed, their laughter ringing like bells as compliments surged around Wyatt, enveloping him in a wave of appreciation.
Not accustomed to such loud and numerous praise directed towards him, especially without his superhero persona, Wyatt felt a flush of bashfulness rise in his cheeks.
The warriors of Asgard, whose battle scars and storied pasts echoed through the hall, were now looking toward him with admiration, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie and warmth that made his heart swell with pride. It was certainly a unique environment he found himself in.
Wyatt turned his gaze towards Thor as the god expressed his gratitude to those who showered him with praise.
The God of Thunder tried to muster a festive spirit to match his friend's exuberance, but the effort seemed to falter. Wyatt couldn't entirely blame him; only recently had Thor, to his knowledge, lost his brother Loki to the vastness of space, and to add to that sorrow, he had inadvertently destroyed the Bifrost—the only means of returning to Jane Foster.
Wyatt was jolted back to the lively atmosphere as Volstagg, ever the boisterous companion, threw an arm around his shoulder with a hearty laugh that resonated through the feasting hall.
"Haha! Tell me, young Wilkins, have you set your sights on any women who strike your fancy here? Asgard boasts some of the most beautiful women you will ever lay eyes on!" Volstagg exclaimed, gesturing towards a nearby table where a cluster of young women giggled, their eyes glittering as they stole glances in Wyatt's direction.
Word of Wyatt's bravery and strength had traveled fast through Asgard, and despite the realm's advanced civilization, its people clung dearly to traditional Viking-like values. In this context, Wyatt had unwittingly become a coveted target for many of the young women present, enchanted by both his accomplishments and charm.
"Well… they're certainly beautiful," he replied, a charming smile breaking across his face as he felt the infectious energy of the crowd sweep him along. The sweet, warming effects of the pint of mead in his hand only added to his buoyant mood.
His comment elicited a roar of approval, followed by a chorus of delighted giggles from the table of young women, each of them blushing under his gaze—a moment that seemed to brighten not only their faces but the entire hall.
As the festivities unfolded around him, Wyatt allowed the worries and stress he had accumulated over the several months melt away.
Laughter filled the air, music echoed against the stone walls, and with the night full of merriment, Wyatt embraced the joyous celebration, letting the vibrant atmosphere sweep him into its embrace.
••o••o••o••
Wyatt floated high above the golden structures of Asgard, the vast night sky stretching endlessly above him, dotted with shimmering stars that seemed to sing the ancient tales of this mythical realm.
After the lively celebrations in the Feasting Hall had drawn to a close, he had slipped away, wanting to escape the throngs of eager admirers who sought his attention.
Once outside, spreading his arms wide, Wyatt took flight, savoring the exhilaration of solitude among the tranquil skies of Asgard. The cool, refreshing air enveloped his exposed skin, crisp and invigorating, free from any hint of pollution or impurities, a stark contrast to the bustling chaos of New York City.
"I could get used to this view," Wyatt mused, his eyes scanning the beautifully crafted streets below, illuminated by the soft glow of enchanted lights.
In sharp contrast to his home city's frenetic and unpredictable streets, Asgard operated with an elegance that felt like poetry in motion.
The city thrummed in harmony, where peace reigned and crime was virtually nonexistent. There were no dark alleys or desperate corners; every citizen had what they needed in this grand utopia, a vivid tapestry of thriving communities and vibrant cultures.
Yet, a pang of longing pierced through the beauty surrounding him. "Still… it isn't home," Wyatt murmured wistfully as he turned his gaze toward the towering royal palace, where he had been graciously invited to stay by Thor himself.
As he descended and landed softly on the terrace of his lavish quarters, Wyatt stumbled slightly, the remnants of the evening's drinks swirling in his head. Catching his balance, he stepped inside the opulent room, taking in the rich fabrics and intricate designs that adorned his temporary abode. The sheer size of it was staggering, almost overwhelming, yet inviting at the same time.
After a moment of admiration, he made his way into the adjoining bathroom, eager for a warm shower to wash away the remnants of the festivities. As the water cascaded over him, it felt as though the weight of the evening's indulgence melted away, leaving only a sense of clarity and calm.
Once refreshed, Wyatt emerged to find an array of traditional Asgardian garments laid out on the bed—each piece meticulously crafted, adorned with intricate patterns that spoke of the realms culture and heritage.
After giving them a cursory glance, Wyatt decided to leave them for later, instead opting to lie down on the plush bedding. The softness enveloped him, and as he settled in, he couldn't help but reflect on the stark contrast between this enchanted realm and the life he had left behind.
"This bed is heavenly," Wyatt muttered as he sank into the soft, cloud-like mattress below him. "That's it. I'm going to scan everything."
A brief knock at the door interrupted his daydream about building his own palace back on Earth. After creating a robe and a pair of pajamas, Wyatt walked to the door and opened it to reveal Thor.
"Wilkins, I hope the room is to your liking," Thor said.
"It's great," Wyatt replied with a grateful smile.
"Excellent. I've spoken to my father about your deeds back in Midgard. For your actions in preventing the Destroyer from striking me while I was mortal and helping me defeat it, he will grant you any reward you choose. He is also finding a way for you to return home as we speak," Thor added with a small, bittersweet smile.
"That's great... You know, Thor. I'm sure you'll find a way back to Jane soon. And when I return, I'll tell her why you haven't come back to see her. That way, she won't think you abandoned her," Wyatt said.
"I appreciate that, my friend. Now, let me leave you to your rest. We have much to do tomorrow," Thor said, and the two exchanged goodbyes for the night.
Closing the door, Wyatt threw off his robe and landed face-first on the bed. It didn't take long for him to drift off to sleep on the blissful cloud.
••o••o••o••
"Stand, Wyatt Wilkins. Today, you have brought honor to yourself and to your ancestors," boomed the king of Asgard, Odin the Allfather, from his majestic throne. Beside him, his wife, Frigga, looked on with a thankful smile. "Because of your valor in saving my son's life and your pivotal role in vanquishing the mighty Destroyer, I, Odin, King of Asgard, shall reward you with anything within my realm of power. Speak now, brave one."
Wyatt rose from his bow, gazing up at Odin with awe and humility. The aura of power emanating from the king was palpable; he was no mere mortal but a god among gods, one of the mightiest beings to ever exist.
"Thank you for your kind words, Your Majesty," Wyatt replied, striving to maintain a tone of utmost respect. "However, I seek no reward for my actions. It was simply my duty to do what was right." His voice held steady, and he hoped he would not offend the king or those gathered there by sounding too casual.
The nobles and warriors present exchanged glances of admiration, recognizing a rare quality in the young mortal. No longer merely a warrior of strength and skill, it was clear now that Wyatt also embodied principles of justice and righteousness—an ideal that should resonate with all in Asgard.
Thor smiled broadly, while Sif and the Warriors Three nodded approvingly, their respect for Wyatt deepening as he humbly turned down what many might consider the chance of a lifetime.
A reward from the king of Asgard was no trivial matter; the king could bestow riches or powers unimaginable. Yet Wyatt stood firm, a mortal among titans, rejecting such an offer.
Odin's countenance remained firm throughout Wyatt's words, but as he spoke, a flicker of warmth crossed the king's features.
"I see… you are indeed a warrior of exceptional courage and honor. Still, as king, I cannot let such greatness go unrewarded. Thus, I insist: Wyatt Wilkins, I grant you one of my treasures… the gift of Mystic Eyes. With these eyes, you shall perceive and comprehend the very fabric of magic itself. I believe they will complement your already formidable skills." As Odin proclaimed this, he raised his spear, Gungnir, and struck it against the ground, unleashing a brilliant golden light that filled the throne room.
Wyatt gasped as an explosion of energy swelled within him and vibrant colors flooded his vision, overwhelming his senses like a kaleidoscope coming to life. He staggered forward, pressing his palms against the sides of his head as a searing pulse of pain radiated through his skull, only to subside as quickly as it had appeared.
When he finally opened his eyes, a startling transformation had taken place. His green irises now bore two golden rings, shimmering and spinning slowly within his pupils before dissipating away.
Astounded, Wyatt felt his perception shift; a new dimension unfolded before him, revealing an intricate web of the magic woven throughout the room. A sight he was already aware of before, but he could never truly understand. But now, it was all so clear to him.
"This... this is magic," Wyatt whispered, his voice barely above a breath. He followed the swirling lines of colorful energy that danced before his eyes, the once-confounding tapestry of existence now laid bare to his understanding.
Previously, when he gazed upon the vibrant, flowing lines of dancing atoms that comprised the magic coursing through Asgard, he had felt lost and bewildered, unable to grasp their intricate makeup or manipulate their delicate forms.
Ever since he gained his powers, Wyatt's connection to all of the fundamental essences of the universe had always felt incomplete, rendering him incapable of touching or reshaping these ethereal threads that were always in sight but unreachable.
But now, clarity surged through him. The mysteries of the vibrant, living atoms unfolded before his mind's eye like a masterfully drawn map. Each line was a complex structure, alive and responsive, capable of shifting and changing to adapt to the needs of the world around them.
As he turned his gaze downward, his newfound perception pierced through solid material layers, revealing their molecular composition's hidden intricacies.
To his astonishment, the deep layers below the throne room pulsed with expertly casted magic, a vibrant reservoir that thrummed in harmony with the very essence of the castle itself. Wyatt could hardly believe it; he realized that this grand structure, every stone and beam, was an intricate creation born of magic, a testament to the boundless power surrounding him.
"It's beautiful, is it not?" Odin asked, a knowing smile on his and Frigga's faces as they watched Wyatt look around with a look of wonder similar to that of a child discovering a new playground.
"It is," Wyatt nodded and bowed before Odin. "Thank you, Allfather. Truly."
"Think nothing of it," Odin replied. "I recommend you take some time to understand your new gift while I find a way to return you to Midgard. Although the Bifrost is destroyed, there are many ways to travel between the realms."
Wyatt nodded and bowed once more.
With his business concluded with the king of Asgard, he was excused from the room.
As Wyatt left the palace, he took the opportunity to further explore Asgard. He allowed his new senses to guide him as he sought to gain a deeper understanding of the new world that was now open to him.