Discussions about the future were always captivating, but Solomon refrained from joining the room where such conversations were unfolding. Instead, he focused on a seemingly trivial matter. After a moment of contemplation, he reached into his dimensional pouch and pulled out a sleek, silver iron box.
The box, enchanted to maintain a consistently low temperature, was small and could only hold a limited number of items. Solomon opened it carefully, extracting a vial of serum and a small bottle of white powder. With practiced hands, he prepared a syringe, carefully drawing a clear liquid into it.
Just then, a furry, four-legged creature bounded past him, shouting, "Thor, I've got it!"
A squad of Asgardian guards chased after the strange being, yelling, "Catch that raccoon!"
This was the moment Solomon had been waiting for. With precise timing, he scooped up Rocket mid-sprint and deftly injected the syringe into the scruff of his neck.
"Shit! Who the hell are you?!" Rocket growled, snapping his jaws at Solomon's wrist.
Unfazed, Solomon tossed Rocket onto a nearby ledge. The raccoon clutched the artifact he had stolen, eyeing the mage suspiciously.
"Relax," Solomon said calmly, "just a rabies vaccine. Can't have you biting someone and spreading who-knows-what interstellar diseases."
"Rabies? Are you kidding me?!"
"Better safe than sorry," Solomon replied, his tone deadly serious. "You've been to Earth, haven't you? Who knows what kind of mother raccoon you've had... interests in?"
Rocket was too stunned to reply. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Think of it as preventive care. If I get bitten, I'll need it too."
"You're insane!" Rocket barked. "What did you really inject me with?"
"Go ask Stark, Banner, or Rogers when you're back in your timeline," Solomon said, waving him off. "Oh, and be sure to return the Aether to Jane Foster before you leave."
"Whatever you say, weirdo," Rocket muttered before scampering off, glancing back frequently to ensure Solomon wasn't following him.
When Frigga emerged from her chambers, she held the artifact Rocket had been carrying earlier. "A strange little man gave this to me," she said, eyeing the device skeptically. "He was carrying Thor's hammer, of all things! I can't imagine how distraught Thor will be when he realizes it's missing."
"We now have a choice," she continued, looking at Solomon. "Do we return the Aether to Jane Foster?"
"This matter is far from simple," Solomon replied, following Frigga and Sif to Jane Foster's chambers. "I worry about the forces of fate. They have a way of correcting themselves, often violently. While we could withhold the Aether from Jane, there's a risk that the Dark Elves will find another way to retrieve it."
"Are you questioning my ability to protect this realm?" Sif snapped, her frustration boiling over.
"Calm down," Frigga interjected. "You've heard what the future holds. But we must tread carefully. Too many variables could destabilize everything."
"Destroying the Dark Elves and safeguarding Yggdrasil is our priority," Solomon added. "We cannot allow the World Tree to be corrupted by dark matter."
"I've already made peace with my destiny," Frigga said quietly, her expression serene. "Whether it comes now or during Ragnarok, it's all the same. Such is the fate of the Aesir."
Solomon hesitated for a moment. "Perhaps it doesn't have to be," he finally said.
When they reached Jane's chambers, they found her unconscious on a chaise lounge, her neck bearing four distinct puncture wounds. Clearly, Rocket's extraction of the Aether had been far from gentle.
"Let her rest," Frigga instructed, directing Sif to move Jane to an adjacent room for safety. Once they were alone, Frigga turned to Solomon. "The Dark Elves will come for the Aether. They've planned this for a long time. I'll face them here. You, as Asgard's guest, need not involve yourself—"
"Actually, the Ancient One gave me a very specific task," Solomon interrupted, pulling something from his pouch. When Frigga saw it, her eyes widened in surprise.
"It's a contingency spell, prepared by the Sorcerer Supreme," Solomon explained. "She insisted I attach it to you as a safeguard. She said Odin cannot afford to lose you... something about him needing someone to change his diapers in his old age, and Kamar-Taj not offering those kinds of services."
Frigga chuckled despite herself. "I hadn't expected the Sorcerer Supreme to be so generous," she said, nodding her consent. "I see now that Odin's future isn't as stable as I'd hoped. Very well, proceed. And I have a plan of my own…"
When Malekith entered the room, he was greeted by an unusual sight: three women and a peculiar-looking man.
The man, garbed in strange robes and wielding a longsword, exuded an unmistakable aura of magic. One of the women, clad in flowing Asgardian silks, was clearly a sorceress of great power. Malekith didn't recognize the man's insignia, but the Asgardian style of the sorceress's attire spoke volumes.
These two were the true threats. The other two women—though armored—barely warranted his attention.
"Who are you?" Malekith demanded.
"I am Malekith," he announced, his voice filled with icy disdain. "I've come to reclaim what is mine."
Before he could take another step toward Jane Foster, Frigga's dagger was already buried in his chest.
"You won't," she said firmly, her blade glinting as she twisted it.
Sif lunged forward, her sword slicing through the air toward Malekith. Meanwhile, Solomon stood motionless in front of Jane, his fingers twitching as he prepared his spell.
The true threat wasn't Malekith—it was the cursed warrior Solomon knew would arrive next.
And he was ready.
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