"I'd like access to Asgardian technology," Tony said when Odin turned to him. "Anything that could translate to Earth-based systems."
He wasn't exaggerating his interest. Walking through Asgard had quietly overturned his assumptions. At first glance, Thor looked like proof that the place ran on myth and muscle alone. After seeing the city, the palace, and the machinery woven seamlessly into magic, Tony had revised that opinion completely. Asgard wasn't primitive. It was centuries ahead of Earth, just operating on rules Earth science hadn't learned to name yet.
Odin considered him for a moment.
"Asgard's technology is bound to magic," he said. "It does not always align with Midgard's methods. Still, I will have scholars compile what can be adapted for your world."
Tony smiled. That was more than enough.
Odin moved on, his gaze settling on Steve Rogers, who stood quietly with Mjolnir resting at his side. There was unmistakable approval in Odin's expression.
"For a mortal to lift that hammer," Odin said, "speaks volumes of your character. What do you wish for?"
Steve shook his head. "I don't have one."
Everything he had once wanted belonged to another era. If he had a true wish, it was a moment long gone, a date he never made. But some things couldn't be asked for.
Odin nodded slowly. "Then leave your shield with me. I will have it reforged with uru and enchantment. When it is finished, it will return to your hand whenever you call for it."
Steve accepted the decision with a simple nod.
Next came Logan.
Logan scratched his chin, amused. "Thor tells me Asgard's got some legendary booze. Especially the stuff his old man keeps locked away. Thought maybe we could get a barrel."
Odin turned his gaze to Thor.
Thor suddenly found the ceiling fascinating. He said nothing, but discreetly gave Logan a thumbs-up.
Odin sighed. "That wine has aged for over two thousand years," he said. "You may have one barrel."
Logan grinned. For a man who had lived nearly two centuries, there were wishes he would never voice aloud. This one would do just fine.
Finally, Odin looked to Rowan Mercer.
From the moment Rowan had entered Asgard, Odin had felt it. A subtle distortion, like fate itself hesitating. Odin had long foreseen Ragnarok, the end of gods and realms alike. That future had always been fixed. Until now.
"Wizard of Midgard," Odin said, voice measured, "what do you seek?"
Rowan met his gaze without flinching. "A branch from the World Tree. If that's too much, then uru metal will suffice."
The hall went quiet.
Odin did not respond immediately. Even Frigga looked sharply toward him, surprise and concern flickering across her face.
At last, Odin nodded. "I will retrieve a branch myself."
Rowan froze, genuinely stunned. He had expected refusal. The request had been a calculated overreach, meant to make uru metal easier to negotiate. The World Tree was sacred. Only fragments of it existed in all of Asgard, used in artifacts of the highest order.
Frigga opened her mouth to speak, then stopped when Odin raised a hand. She knew what this would cost him. She also knew Odin would not explain himself.
The audience concluded soon after.
The Midgard visitors were escorted back to their quarters. Darcy's gold arrived quickly. Jane and Erik received crystalline data archives filled with knowledge beyond Earth's current understanding.
Rowan waited.
Two hours passed before the World Tree branch arrived, sealed and wrapped in layers of Asgardian wards.
Steve's shield, the guards explained, would be reforged and returned via the Bifrost once complete.
Not long after, Heimdall, fully recovered, opened the bridge. Light swallowed the group, returning them to the quiet house in Old Bridge Town as if none of it had been real.
Far below Asgard, in the dungeons, Loki lay on his narrow bed, idly tossing a dagger into the air and catching it again.
Then a voice drifted through the energy barrier of the neighboring cell. Soft. Musical. Dangerous.
"Well now," the voice purred. "If it isn't Prince Loki. How did you end up down here with the rest of us?"
Loki turned his head.
A woman with crimson hair lounged against the barrier, lips curved in a knowing smile.
"Lorelei," Loki said. "The enchantress."
Six centuries ago, her voice had bent armies to her will. It had taken the full might of Asgard to imprison her.
She licked her lips. "Care to work together, little prince? Prison breaks are more fun with company."
Loki's eyes gleamed. He sat up in one smooth motion.
"You know," he said lightly, "I suddenly see a very promising future for you."