The golden serenity of Asgard did not prepare anyone for the sound that broke the morning calm:
the sudden, echoing crack of the Bifrost activating.
Harry looked up sharply from the throne dais. Wanda, seated beside him, immediately straightened, her instincts prickling. Frigga paused mid-conversation with a group of healers and turned toward the great doors.
A guard sprinted inside, breathless.
"Your Highness—someone has returned from Jotunheim!"
Harry was on his feet at once. His heart thudded hard. Returned? Too soon. Much too soon.
He raced out of the palace hall, Wanda and Sirius at his heels, America close behind. Even Frigga moved swiftly, skirts whispering across the marble floor.
They reached the Bifrost bridge just as the light faded.
What stood in the center made everyone freeze.
Three warriors knelt on the shimmering surface of the bridge—two Valkyries and one dwarven smith, all covered in frostbite burns, cracked armor, and blood. Their faces were gray with exhaustion.
Heimdall stood behind them, his expression carved from stone.
"They asked for the prince," Heimdall said quietly. "And for the Queen."
Harry stepped forward, throat tight. "What happened? Where is—"
One of the Valkyries lifted her head.
Her eyes brimmed with tears.
"Your Highness… the All-Father leads as only he can."
Her voice shook. "He is unstoppable. His armor… it burns like the sun. The Frost Giants cannot withstand him."
Harry exhaled sharply in relief.
But then—
Her face hardened, fear creeping in.
"But King Laufey has rallied forces from the Iron Glacier. They number in tens of thousands. The sky… it blotted out with their numbers. Even Odin cannot face them all at once."
Wanda stepped closer, her voice soft but steady. "Are Father and Uncle Loki safe?"
The dwarven smith bowed his head. "They fight at King's side. Thor's hammer has shattered entire ice cliffs. Loki commands the mages. They hold the front… barely."
Sirius swore under his breath.
The second Valkyrie, younger than the first, stared at Harry as if begging him to understand.
"We came because Odin ordered all gravely wounded to return home. There were too many injured for the healers to handle in the field."
Her lip trembled.
"But a second command accompanied it: 'Tell the prince to prepare. Jotunheim will not fall easily.'"
Harry felt a chill that had nothing to do with cold.
The dwarf reached into his armor, drawing out a strip of frozen cloth bound with runes. He held it toward Harry.
"This was from Lord Loki."
Harry took it.
The runes pulsed once, then Loki's illusion shimmered to life above the cloth—flickering, unstable, clearly made during battle.
Loki's image smirked weakly. "Little thunderbird… if you're seeing this, it means we're in the thick of it."
Behind him, distant explosions shook the illusion. Frost giants roared.
"We're alive. Thor is crashing through the giants like drunken lightning. Father… well, he's Father."
Loki's eyes hardened.
"But Laufey has called ancient forces we did not expect."
A massive shadow passed behind him—something huge, armored in ice.
"We may not hold the outer ridge for long. Be ready, Harry. Asgard must not be caught unprepared. Fortify the palace. Prepare the Bifrost guards. And listen to mother."
Loki hesitated… then forced a faint smile.
"Don't worry too much. I've survived worse."
He paused.
"…I think."
The illusion shattered.
Wanda touched Harry's shoulder. "He's scared."
Harry swallowed. "So am I."
The wounded were taken to the healing chambers, Frigga guiding the process personally. As the palace healers ran to assist, the murmurs that followed spread like wildfire:
"Odin is overwhelmed?"
"The giants number too many…"
"The prince must decide what happens next."
"We must ready the defenses."
For the first time since Odin left, the entire palace looked to Harry.
He felt the weight of their stares—heavy, expectant, almost suffocating.
Wanda stepped in front of him, her hands warm on his cheeks.
"Harry. Breathe."
He did.
Sirius put a firm hand on his shoulder. "We're here. You don't face this alone."
Even America nodded, her expression serious for once.
"Tell us what to do, boss."
Harry closed his eyes. The chaos inside him stirred, but he pushed it aside. He could not rely on that—not yet. Not unless the palace itself was in danger.
He straightened.
"Prepare the city," he said quietly. "Fortify every wall. Call the council. Strengthen the wards. Our soldiers must be ready if the front breaks."
The guards bowed.
"By your command, Prince Harry!"
As the palace leapt into motion, Harry stood at the center of the storm—not as a child, not as a smith, not as a student—
but as the acting king of Asgard.
The emergency council was called at dawn.
By noon, the throne room felt like a boiling cauldron—packed with nobles, generals, war scribes, and rune-strategists. Every breath carried tension; every whisper carried fear.
Harry sat in the throne. He wasn't wearing armor, but the posture, the seriousness in his gaze—it was the closest he had ever come to looking like Odin's heir.
Wanda sat beside him again, ignoring the dirty looks from several nobles.
Sirius stood behind the throne with arms folded, radiating silent threat.
America Chavez leaned against the pillar, chewing gum and giving nobles a look that said Try something. I dare you.
Frigga watched Harry quietly from the side, ready to support him, but letting him lead.
When the last noble filed in, Harry stood.
"We received wounded from Jotunheim," he said, voice steady. "King Odin, Thor, and Loki face an army far larger than expected. They need reinforcements."
A murmur of unease spread.
Harry raised his voice.
"As acting king, I call for six thousand additional soldiers to march immediately."
Gasps.
Shouts.
Instant protests.
A noble with rings on every finger stepped forward. Lord Kjarl of the Western District—wealthy, influential, and a notorious hoarder of private troops.
"Your Highness," Kjarl said, bowing only the minimum required, "we sympathize with the royal bloodline… but my soldiers must remain in Asgard."
"And why," Harry asked calmly, "would that be?"
Kjarl lifted his chin. "Because there are bandits, raiders, and… uncertainties. What if Asgard is attacked while the royal army is away?"
"Jotunheim is our threat," Harry said, voice sharpening. "Not bandits."
"But threats shift," Kjarl insisted. "My estate contains priceless artifacts. If space bandits breach a Bifrost gap while my army is gone, my family will have nothing."
"That," Harry said coldly, "is the definition of cowardice."
An uproar followed—outraged nobles protesting, a few loyal soldiers muttering approval, scribes trying to keep up.
Another noblewoman—Lady Brynhild—stepped forward.
"I agree with Lord Kjarl," she said. "Every family must protect its holdings. If we send our private forces, who defends our homes? Our children?"
Harry felt heat rise in his chest. "Your king and princes are fighting at the front. And you worry about your gold."
She stiffened. "Your Highness, you ask us to risk everything."
"I am asking you," Harry said, "to stand with Asgard."
"And what if we refuse?" Brynhild asked boldly.
The throne room fell silent.
Harry opened his mouth—
but Wanda stood.
Her red magic flickered faintly at her fingertips—not threatening, but not subtle either.
"If none of you will go," she said quietly, "I will."
The council blinked.
Brynhild laughed under her breath. "You? A mortal sorceress? One woman against an army?"
Another noble snickered. "Let her go, Prince Harry. She will return running by sundown."
Sirius growled under his breath. America cracked her knuckles.
Wanda only smiled—slow, dangerous, amused.
"One woman," she repeated, stepping forward, "can do more than ten thousand cowards."
Gasps.
"You dare—!" Kjarl sputtered.
"Oh yes," Wanda said sweetly. "I absolutely dare."
Harry stood abruptly. "Mum—you don't have to—"
Wanda touched his arm gently. "Harry. Your grandfather is fighting. Your father is fighting. Your uncle is fighting. You are needed here."
"But—"
"I go where you cannot," she said softly. "Where you must not."
The truth of it hit him like a punch.
Wanda turned back to the council, eyes glowing faint red.
"You speak of protecting treasures," she said. "My treasure is Harry. And I don't sit back while the people he loves are dying."
Dead silence.
Kjarl, however, sneered. "One woman cannot turn the tide of a war."
Wanda tilted her head. "Really? Shall I demonstrate?"
The nobles collectively stepped back.
Frigga stepped forward, finally speaking. "Prince's mother is more powerful than half this room combined. Do not insult her because you do not understand her."
Harry straightened.
"She goes," he said firmly. "And I will send my two thousand soldiers with her."
More protests exploded—but Harry raised one hand and the room fell silent instantly.
No one dared breathe.
Harry turned to the generals. "Assemble the army. They depart within the hour."
He looked at Wanda.
"Come back safe."
Wanda smiled softly. "I always do. Trouble runs from me, remember?"
Harry exhaled shakily.
The nobles watched, fearful and resentful, as Wanda stepped forward to take command of the reinforcement army.
And just like that—
Earth's most powerful sorceress marched to war.
The Bifrost cracked open like a rainbow-bladed wound in the sky, and the moment Wanda stepped into its light, her silhouette burned crimson—magic swirling around her wrists, cloak snapping like a battle flag.
Behind her, two thousand Asgardian soldiers, armored and resolute, marched into formation. The sound of their boots echoed through the golden courtyard.
Harry stood at the edge of the bridge, fists clenched.
Wanda touched his cheek.
"You'll be okay," she whispered.
"I should be with you."
"You should be here," she corrected softly. "If Asgard falls from the inside, it won't matter what happens on Jotunheim's front."
America gave Wanda a fist bump. "Punch a giant for me."
Sirius hugged her fiercely. "Come back in one piece."
Wanda nodded, then turned toward the Bifrost's center.
The silence after the Bifrost's closure felt wrong.
Too heavy.
Too empty.
Harry stared at the spot where Wanda had vanished, heart pounding faster than before.
Sirius placed a hand on his shoulder. "She'll be fine."
"I know," Harry whispered. "I'm not worried about her."
America tilted her head. "Then what scares you?"
Harry turned back toward the palace—the towering golden doors, the long shadow the throne cast across the floor inside.
"No armies," he said softly. "Only palace guards."
"And the nobles," Sirius muttered darkly.
Harry nodded, jaw tightening.
"All of them kept their soldiers. Claimed 'bandits,' 'family safety,' 'treasure protection'… but really, they didn't want to lose power while Odin is away."
America snorted. "Cowards."
Sirius crossed his arms. "They're watching. Looking for a moment to act."
Harry's eyes sharpened.
"I know."
Harry summoned his two spies—the only two Asgardians he trusted among the nobles' households:
Eira, a young Valkyrie trainee, swift as wind;
and Fenrik, a dwarven messenger who had helped Harry in the forge.
Both knelt before the throne.
"Your Highness," Eira said, breathing fast, "rumors already stir. Several noble houses are… discussing 'emergency leadership options.'"
"Discussing?" Sirius scoffed. "Plotting, she means."
Fenrik nodded. "Two houses—House Kjarl and House Brynhild—are gathering their private guards. Slowly. Quietly. But gathering."
Harry's stomach tightened.
He had suspected this.
He had prepared for this.
"You both know your tasks," he said quietly.
Eira bowed. "I will move between households. Hear what they fear. Hear what they want."
Fenrik slammed a fist to his chest. "And I'll watch the troop movements. No one moves an army inside the city without a dwarf hearing the ground rumble."
"Good," Harry said. "Report directly to me. No one else."
The spies vanished, slipping into shadows.
America whistled. "You're really doing the whole spy-king thing."
Harry's face was serious. "I have no choice. I know the nobles. They want the throne. And now that Odin is gone… Thor and Loki are gone…"
He swallowed.
"…I am the only one standing in their way."
When night fell, Asgard glowed in gold and violet hues—but its heart was uneasy.
The great halls whispered.
The servants whispered.
Even the palace guards shifted nervously, glancing at the nobles' palaces beyond the walls.
Rumors were already spreading:
"The boy-king is weak."
"He has no army."
"Foreigners occupy the throne."
"Now is the time."
Harry stood at the balcony overlooking the entire city, feeling the weight of a realm that did not trust him.
Sirius joined him quietly. "You don't have to do this alone."
"I know," Harry said, gripping the railing. "But if something happens here… No one will be able to help."
The truth cut deeply.
Two battles.
Two fronts.
And Harry was responsible for both.
He lifted his chin.
"Then we protect Asgard from the inside," he said. "And we trust them to protect it from the outside."
Sirius smirked. "Good plan."
Harry didn't smile.
His eyes glowed faintly with Thunderbird lightning.
"Let them try," he whispered.
"If any noble thinks I'm a greenhorn… they're about to learn otherwise."
As Shadows gathered across Asgard's noble estates, and Wanda marched toward a war of giants—
Harry prepared for the war brewing right behind his throne.
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