"It does have presence," Tony muttered as they walked, eyes flicking across spires of gold and steel fused into something halfway between a legend and a satellite launch facility. "But all that gold? A little loud."
They followed Thor and Frigga toward the palace, passing bridges that shimmered like circuitry etched into myth. Even Tony Stark, professional critic of shiny things, could only poke at details that barely counted as flaws.
When they crossed the central plaza, Rowan Mercer's gaze stopped.
The Frost Giant King lay there.
Laufey's body sprawled across the stone, colossal and unmistakably dead. Frost Giants could alter their size at will. At full stature they towered over buildings, but they could compress themselves down to human scale when needed. Loki himself had been abandoned for being born small.
Laufey had shrunk to infiltrate the palace and strike at Odin. Loki had struck first. Now, exposed in the open air, the giant's corpse had slowly reverted, expanding until it loomed several stories high, frost still creeping along the cracks in his skin.
Rowan didn't slow his stride.
A flick of his fingers sent a blade humming forward, guided by magnetism so precise it might as well have been intent. It slipped between frozen ribs, pierced the heart, and vanished again just as quietly. A sliver of nerve tissue came with it, hidden from every eye.
Laufey had died weakened, cut off from the ancient casket that fed his power. At his peak, he had taken Odin's eye. That kind of strength didn't simply evaporate with death.
If wand cores were ever Rowan's problem again, a Frost Giant King's heart nerve would rival even Odin's own relics.
Inside the palace, they were shown to a lavish chamber prepared for guests. Food waited on long tables, fruit unlike anything grown on Earth, fragrant and bright.
"Rest here," Thor said. "My mother and I need to deal with what Loki set in motion."
Once they were alone, conversation filled the room.
Bruce Banner, finally steady after Rowan's quick spellwork earlier, looked around with open awe. "We weren't wrong," he said. "This isn't magic in the fairy-tale sense. It's an alien civilization far beyond Earth's technology. Which means the universe is a lot more crowded than we thought."
"And that's exactly why I'm not celebrating," Tony said, already halfway through a skewer of unfamiliar fruit. "Advanced tech doesn't mean advanced judgment. Look at their civil war. Look at the walking glaciers that tried to invade Earth."
He wiped his hands and leaned back. "If they wanted to, they could wipe us out. We wouldn't even see it coming. Maybe it's time we stopped pretending Earth is untouchable."
Logan sliced fruit with his claws, unimpressed. "You got a pitch, metal man, or just paranoia?"
Tony shrugged. "I'm thinking scale. Redundancy. Automated defense. Stark-style."
"No," Rowan said flatly.
The word cut through the room harder than any shout.
"Tony, machines follow code," Rowan continued. "Alien tech outclasses ours. If someone cracks your systems, every machine you build becomes a weapon pointed at Earth. Even worse, it wouldn't have to be an alien. One smart criminal is enough."
He didn't say the name Ultron. He didn't have to. Some disasters deserved to stay hypothetical.
Steve Rogers finally spoke, voice calm but immovable. "Trying to win a war before it exists always costs innocent lives. History doesn't forgive that."
Tony raised his hands. "Relax. Thought experiment."
Still, his eyes drifted toward the balcony, where sleek Asgardian ships traced silent arcs through the sky.
Rowan watched him carefully. Tony Stark didn't abandon ideas. He shelved them. Seeds planted in his mind had a habit of growing when no one was looking.
After a moment, Rowan let out a quiet breath. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad. The chain of events that led to true catastrophe hadn't formed. Loki was imprisoned. The alien invasion that scarred Tony's psyche would never happen.
And if Tony did build something dangerous years down the line, Rowan doubted he'd still be unprepared by then.
An hour later, Thor returned, expression brighter.
"My father has awakened," he announced. "Odin wishes to see you all. He wants to thank you personally for saving Asgard."
Rowan blinked. "Already?"
The timing didn't sit right.
In the stories he remembered, Odin's awakening had been… convenient. Too convenient. Arriving just in time to seize both sons at the edge of disaster.
As they followed Thor toward the council hall, a thought settled in Rowan's mind like frost.
Odin wasn't naive. He never had been.
A king who unified realms, conquered worlds, sealed away his own daughter, erased his blood-soaked past beneath heroic murals. A ruler who once chased cosmic artifacts and then chose to pretend he never had.
Peace suited him now because time did not.
Rowan didn't care.
Whatever Odin truly was, Asgard stood because they had acted. That debt was real.
And kings, even clever ones, understood the weight of that.