Thor frowned. "Don't you want to give the highest level of reception?" he questioned, almost offended.
James's smile felt awkward. "I may have forgotten a fact about Earth, it isn't unified. The highest level means the leaders of multiple nations would be present—worldwide. And it also means the public learns the truth about: gods, aliens, and everything."
He tilted his head, pragmatic.
"Such knowledge to the public could cause an uproar, an uprising that would destabilize civilizations. So our only choice would be, the people in the know could give you a reception, like S.H.I.E.L.D and the Avengers." He explained.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
James's words had put the idea of visiting Earth in Odin's mind, but this wasn't the time.
Asgard had just been through a brutal war. Now was the time to mourn and rebuild. As king, Odin had to reassure his people and hold the throne for anyone who dares to take this opportunity to invade. Reconstruction after war hadn't been needed in Asgard for a long time.
The first thing after such a war was not a victory celebration, but a funeral.
On the second night, most of Asgard gathered by the river. The wide current flowed toward the edge of the Asgard continent, spilling and scattering into the universe like a waterfall.
Small boats carried the dead—soldiers and civilians alike—covered in flowers.
There were far too many who lost their lives, filling the river with countless Karve boats .
Warriors lined the shore with bows drawn. On a single command, they let loose burning arrows upon the drifting Karves. The river lit up—one burning Karve after another as the current carried them to the edge of Asgard.
The night stayed still, as Asgard mourned.
Everyone watched the drifting flames.
When the Karves reached the edge, they didn't fall. Odin's scepter tapped the ground, and the Karves remained drifting as they sailed the sea of stars. Till the fire consumed them and scattered into sparkling embers, climbing upward like stars joining the sky.
Among the crowd, many held glowing spheres in their hands. One by one, they released them. The lights floated upward, like souls rising to Valhalla.
Funerals allowed the people to move on with their life, the people they knew, they loved, they shared memories with, were gone but they have to keep moving.
When the funeral ended, the next step followed: confirming merits and rewarding service.
Merits and rewards can help the people to keep on living after their loss.
Thor found James after, palace attendants trailing behind him with an armful of gears—an armor, a helmet, boots, a cloak, and a sword.
"James," Thor said, "this is what you'll wear today."
"Me?" James frowned. "Why am I wearing that?"
"You're being honored." Thor's tone softened. "My father will grant you the identity of a Knight of Asgard. After today, you may come to Asgard at any time."
James blinked once. "Asgard gives titles to non-Asgardians?."
"Of course we do," Thor said, as if it were obvious. "Everything is judged by battle achievements no matter the race. You saved Asgard. The title may be honorary—but it gives you standing, and it makes travelling here simpler, and if you want closer relations between Asgard and Earth, it will be easier with you being recognized as a Knight of Asgard."
James gave a slow nod. "Fair enough. Then I will gladly accept the honor."
Strictly speaking, "Knight" was a symbolic title—lower than the great noble ranks in old Earth history, but still meaningful. James wasn't Asgardian, so such a simple title would be fine. It also gaved him a clean bridge between Earth and Asgard.
Odin's legend had long been rooted in Northern Europe. The tradition didn't feel out of place.
James accepted, and secretly also wanted to gain access to Asgard's library. He was still curious about Asgard's systems, its magicraft, and resources. Most of all, he wanted to bring Hulk here one day, if he could.
With the funeral over, victory still demanded celebration. That was Asgard's tradition.
No matter how heavy the losses, when the battle was won, Asgard gathers.
Today the great square overflowed with people. Flowers fell from high balconies. Those who'd tasted war's bitterness laughed louder, cheering harder—to remove the darkness brought by war.
Odin sat on the throne and accepted Asgard's cheer. Then the court orchestra began, a deep, majestic battle hymn that made the entire square feel like it was old disney.
"Today," Odin's voice echoing through the city, "we honor those who stood in Asgard's defense. But before all else—there is a hero not born of Asgard."
He paused, letting the crowd settle.
"He comes from Earth. By his efforts, we vanquished the Dark Elves. Welcome our friend—James Gibson."
James didn't know how the ceremony was supposed to go, but he walked forward anyway, following the passage the crowd opened for him.
It was the path of a hero, Thor had walked it before, and now so did James.
Upon his head sat a high-crested helm with sweeping silver horns, a regal silhouette that marked him as a champion of the Einherjar. A heavy crimson cloak, weighted by gold clasps at his collar, dragged behind him like a river of blood across the floor. At his hip, the cross-guard of a star-forged sword glinted, its hilt wrapped in dark leather.
Despite the heavy splendor of his gear, he kept his smile easy. He met the eyes of the cheering Asgardians, nodding to the soldiers he had bled with.
Before the throne, he dropped to one knee and placed his right fist to his chest.
Odin rose, the scepter came down onto James's shoulder, making him feel the weight of the title being given.
"You are a friend of Asgard, and a warrior in truth," Odin declared. "Today, I grant you the title of Knight. You will hold the rights and duties of this honor, as our own may."
The square erupted.
James stood and raised an arm, a sign of acknowledgment. In Asgard there was no "nobility" as Earth defined it. What mattered was merit, and achievements. The king held power because he led victory after victory.
After that, more awards followed. Then the celebration ran into the evening, and the banquet began.
James stripped off the armor and changed back into his suit he felt more comfortable in, before joining Thor at the table.
There were huge platters of roasted meat and fruit. Tall cups of Golden Wine, said to be made from the Apples of Idunn. The noise, the music, the roaring laughter truly boast the grandness of Asgardian celebrations.
"What do you think?" Thor boomed, draining a cup and slamming it down.
Jane Foster leaned in to refill him.
Thor threw the empty cup onto the ground and shouted, "Another!"
Jane stared, then muttered, "I finally understand why you broke your coffee cup."
James took a slow sip of his own drink, amused. "It's just as I've heard. Carefree and filled with joy, a true epitome of celebration."
Then his expression went solemn.
"But I'm going back to Earth tomorrow."
Thor froze mid-drink. "Tomorrow?" he asked, stunned. "Why are you in such a hurry to leave?"
James didn't respond, simply smiled and gave a toast to just enjoy the night.
James arrived at the palace hall early the next morning. He was there to confirm the timing with Odin, and to settle the reception plan.
By the end of it, they had a process.
S.H.I.E.L.D. would handle Odin's reception. Odin had no interest in Earth's nation-state politics and had no intention of getting dragged into them. If he was building ties, it would be with S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers.
That suited James just fine.
With both sides aligned, the date was set quickly. Asgard also assigned an escort to accompany James back to Earth—Lady Sif accepted the mission.
They rode to the Bifrost together as Heimdall opened the gate home.
The transit through the Bifrost never stopped being strange. On the Bifrost's Rainbow Road, the body was fully protected while moving at impossible speed. Asgard fought across realms because of this—and had done so successfully for centuries.
They landed with a heavy boom. It felt like stepping across a threshold.
James looked around. A desolate terrain with sparse population.
"Where are we?" Sif asked, scanning the horizon.
She'd looked striking in formal wear the night before. Now in armor, she looked like what she was—a goddess of war. James didn't dare entertain fantasies, she was loyal to Thor, even if Thor's attention was fixed on Jane Foster. To Sif, time was a fleeting moment. Earth lifespans were brief, his love would be a short one.
"I'm not sure," James said. "But we'll know soon."
He checked his phone, but there was no signal.
He equipped the Umbra Sentinel and initiated satellite lock.
"This is Africa," he said after a moment. "Heimdall dropped us here. Well I guess this place is as desolate as can be so no one notice us."
Then he contacted S.H.I.E.L.D..
S.H.I.E.L.D.'s global coverage did what it was built to do. About an hour later, a Quinjet arrived. James and Sif lifted off over open water—Nick Fury and Maria Hill would meet them on the Helicarrier at sea.
The Helicarrier had always been hidden deep in the ocean. Even with only one for now, the mission load was still heavy. The onboard AI, Athena, processed massive volumes of information every day—efficiently with strict confidentiality.
Nick Fury used the Helicarrier as an intelligence convergence hub, a deliberate layer in his defense against Hydra. If Hydra couldn't break Athena's security, then whatever they managed to steal would be fragments at best.
Athena also maintained a list of names—every Hydra agent embedded inside S.H.I.E.L.D.. Anyone on that list was automatically blocked from accessing anything above Level Seven. Whether Hydra liked it or not was irrelevant.
Neither side had openly torn the organization in half yet. For now, it was a standoff—both waiting for an opportunity that could ignite at any moment.
The New York branch closest to HQ hadn't expanded staffing. Instead, they intensified long-term training. It was a trap being set by Fury and by the Hydra leadership at HQ—each side building a "feast" for the other.
Meanwhile, internal personnel reshuffling at HQ quietly accelerated.
Of course, James didn't know any of that yet.
Soon the Quinjet landed on the flight deck.
James stepped off first. Sif followed, shield in hand.
Natasha Romanoff was waiting.
James was surprised to see her. "Agent Romanoff?"
Natasha gaved an amused smile. "Yeah. Surprised?"
Her attention changed briefly to Sif. "Welcome to earth, I'm Natasha Romanoff."
"I am Lady Sif of Asgard," Sif said, offering her hand without hesitation.
Natasha reached her hand out as Sif took her arm in an Asgardian hand shake.
Natasha was surprised but did the same in greeting.
"Come with me," Natasha said. "I'll get you settled first. The Director's still en route."
James knew the Helicarrier well. He also intended to pull data from Athena again—to know the current situation.
They were given separate quarters to clean up and rest. Lunch came at noon.
After lunch, Fury and Hill arrived from HQ. Everyone gathered around a conference table.
"James," Fury began, eyeing him, "the last time you left—did you really go to Asgard?"
"That's right," James said. "Jane Foster had an incident, then Thor took her to Asgard and invited me along. Then war broke out, remnants of the Dark Elves invaded Asgard. I helped them out, then All-Father Odin knighted me."
Fury's expression didn't budge, but he said curious and disbelieving. "Asgard got attacked by remnants of a dying race?"
Sif felt annoyed by his tone of voice.
Looking at Sif, James shook his head, telling her to let it go—he clarified the situation. "Asgard had a long reign over the 9 realms, skirmishes happened here and there but it was never a full blown war, they grew a little lax and lacked defensive weaponries. For all this time, they adapted to an offensive tactic. The Bifrost lets them strike an enemy camp wherever or whenever they want—so a degradation in defence is a given."
Fury nodded at the explanation. The long dominance and fear of anyone daring to strike Asgard had made them pay the price of dismissing their defence.
"So," James continued, "I suggested an alliance. Earth shouldn't stay in our local bubble. Odin agreed to visit Earth—and S.H.I.E.L.D. will receive him."
"Hold up," Fury cut in. "A king is coming to visit Earth and we're not involving the heads of state?"
Sif answered before James could. "His Majesty has no interest in Earth's politics. He won't participate nor involve himself to their whims. He's building ties with S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers only."
Fury considered it—then nodded. An independent alliance, without government interference and corruption. A dream of any Agency Head.
James continued. "Asgard is a high magi-tech society, but their history and culture haven't forced them to convert to modern ways of combat. They need help in adjusting to current tactical maneuvers and defence. S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers can benefit from their side too. This is a rare opening for real communication."
Fury leaned back. "I understand, when will he come? We'll start preparations immediately." Opportunities like this don't come twice.