Bor turned his gaze from his son to the empty throne, his voice resonating with the weight of millennia. "The title of God-King is not merely a position of power, Odin. It is a sacred responsibility to secure the future of our people. We cannot afford to govern by whim. You must learn to control the board before the game begins. To wait for proof while enemies gather at our gates is to already have lost precious time."
He placed a hand on Odin's shoulder, his expression stern yet not unkind. "A king must be both ruthless and compassionate, knowing when to show each face. Show only kindness, and your people will see weakness. Prepare for the future, my son. Never extend mercy to an enemy who would destroy us; it is far kinder to our own to eliminate a threat than to mourn them later."
Odin met his father's eyes, recognizing the truth in his words. He had perhaps grown too reliant on strategy and diplomacy since his brother's birth, softening edges that needed to remain sharp. "I understand, Father. Any who raise a hand against Asgard will find only the steel of our resolve. They will learn the price of their ambition."
Bestla and Frigga listened in respectful silence. They were warriors and queens in their own right, and they knew better than anyone that mercy shown to a venomous foe was a poison offered to one's own people.
Satisfied, Bor turned to them. "Odin and I will go to Svartalfheim. Bestla, you will rule Asgard in my stead, with Frigga at your side."
With the matter settled, the two kings departed to prepare for war.
Deep within the dark, twisted forests of Svartalfheim, Sigurd moved like a phantom, mapping the positions of the Dark Elf armies. As he neared the heart of their territory, a massive, ark-like spacecraft loomed into view—Malekith's personal warship.
Sigurd's senses heightened, his grip tightening on his spear. This was the lion's den.
Unbeknownst to him, within the ark's command hall, a pivotal meeting was underway.
Malekith faced the fiery form of Surtur. "The plan is simple," the Dark Elf king stated. "We do not wait for them to come to us. We bring the war to Asgard's golden gates. While Bor and Odin are powerful, with you at our side, their strength will mean nothing."
Surtur's form flickered, his voice a low rumble. "Why draw them out? Why not let them break upon the defenses of your own realm?"
Malekith concealed his true intentions. Revealing his plan to use the Aether to corrupt the World Tree Yggdrasill and plunge the Nine Realms into eternal darkness—a perfect environment for his Dark Elves to ascend—would turn his allies against him instantly.
"Fighting here would decimate my people," Malekith lied smoothly. "A direct assault on Asgard maximizes their casualties. And you, Surtur... you would have your vengeance for the descendants Odin has slain."
Before Surtur could respond, his head snapped up, his fiery eyes burning with sudden awareness. "An Asgardian cur is here!"
A thunderous roar echoed through the city as Surtur's power flared.
Outside, Sigurd heard the alarm. So much for stealth. He immediately sent a pulsed message to Odin: "Found them. Surtur is with Malekith."
Dispelling his concealment magic, Sigurd rose boldly before the enemy ark. "The bereaved hounds have finally left their kennel!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the din.
His gaze locked on Surtur, the monster responsible for the death of his brothers, Vili and Vé—a loss that had carved a hole in his family for millennia. With a sweep of his hand, Sigurd unleashed his magic, weaving a spatial seal around the area to prevent any escape.
Surtur recognized the prince and knew Odin would now be en route. He glared at Malekith, who was watching the unfolding scene with a calculated, cold expression.
"Prince Sigurd Borson," Malekith called out, his voice dripping with false diplomacy. "You invade my territory and insult my guest. Do you mean to declare war upon the Dark Elves?"
Internally, Malekith seethed. His intricate plan was unraveling. He needed to use the Aether to absorb the life force of multiple races, not just his own, to achieve his goals. A battle here, now, was a catastrophic disruption.
Sigurd studied Malekith's face, and a cold realization dawned. He had missed a crucial piece of the puzzle. He swiftly pieced together the lore of the Reality Stone and its potential. "Absorb life force..."
Suddenly, the full scope of the horror became clear.
"You fool, Surtur!" Sigurd yelled, pointing an accusing finger. "You are helping him prepare to bleed the World Tree dry! He plans to use the Aether to consume the life force of every being in the Nine Realms to birth his age of darkness!"
Malekith's mask of composure shattered. His plan was exposed.
Surtur turned his immense head, the inferno in his eyes now directed at his ally. Malekith's guilty expression confirmed everything.
"Let us deal with this princeling first," Malekith hissed, desperate to regain control of the situation. "Then we will... discuss this."
Enraged at the deception but recognizing the immediate threat, Surtur roared, his body expanding into his colossal, true form, the Twilight Sword igniting in his hand.
Sigurd stood his ground, facing both titans.
With a world-shattering swing, Surtur brought the Twilight Sword down upon him.
Sigurd did not dodge. He met the blow head-on, hurling his own spear with enough force to crack a continent.
The collision was a cataclysm. A shockwave of pure mystical energy erupted, vaporizing the surrounding structures and flattening the landscape for miles.
A fierce grin spread across Sigurd's face. "Now this is what a real fight feels like!"
He pressed the attack, his spear becoming a blur of motion as he sought to break through Surtur's fiery defenses.
But in his focus on the fire giant, he let his guard down for a split second. It was all the opening Malekith needed.
A blade of solidified darkness, silent and deadly, shot from the shadows straight toward Sigurd's head. Only a last-minute instinct made him twist, his own sword flashing up to parry the sneak attack a hair's breadth from his skull. The ring of steel was a stark reminder that he was fighting a war on two fronts.