Time in Asgard
A hundred years passed.
In Asgard, that was not long.
But for Alexander—
It was enough.
The Shape of His Days
Alexander moved easily through the realms of his life.
He spent time with Lorelei and Amora, their teasing banter never quite hiding the fondness that had grown over decades. They learned quickly that Alexander was not a prince who demanded attention—but one who gave it.
With Sif, he trained.
Not harshly.
Not arrogantly.
He corrected her stance.
Adjusted her grip.
Showed her how to let a blade flow instead of forcing it.
Sif realized something unsettling over the years—
Alexander did not teach to win.
He taught to end fights before they began.
The All-Mother's Shadow
No matter how much the centuries shifted—
Alexander always returned to Frigga.
He listened to her stories even after he knew them by heart.
He brewed tea.
Cooked meals.
Sat beside her in silence.
She never treated him as anything but her son.
And he never forgot that his first word had been mama.
The System Never Slept
Alexander never missed a sign-in.
Over the century, the rewards accumulated quietly:
Eye of God (Thunder) — stored, untouched Eye of God (Geo) — sealed carefully Ancient magic books from a distant wizarding world Gold and diamonds beyond mortal accounting Darkrai — slumbering, bound by mutual respect Ceruledge & Armarouge — fiery spirits who recognized him immediately An empty dimension, stable and infinite
Raphael cataloged everything.
Alexander did not rush.
A Silent Breakthrough
One night—
Without fanfare—
His cosmic power broke through.
From Surface Level
To Sub–Heavenly Father (Peak)
The universe noticed.
Alexander suppressed it instantly.
Raphael spoke calmly:
"Master, suppression successful. Power stabilized."
Alexander exhaled.
"Good."
Asgard did not need to know.
Not yet.
Hel, No Longer Silent
Alexander visited Hel from time to time.
Never announced.
Never dramatic.
He brought food.
Hela tried it suspiciously the first time.
"…This is good," she admitted grudgingly.
After that, she waited for him.
They talked.
Argued.
Teased.
Alexander showed her his weapons.
She tested them with brutal honesty.
"These are balanced," she said.
"But if you ever make one for me—don't hold back."
Alexander smiled. "I won't."
Sometimes he teased her.
Sometimes she threatened him.
Neither meant it.
The Goddess of Death, Amused
One day, Hela caught him watching her.
"…What?" she asked.
Alexander tilted his head. "You're less terrifying when you're eating."
She threw something at him.
Missed.
"…Brat."
But she smiled.
A hundred years passed—
And Alexander remained the same:
A scholar instead of a conqueror A creator instead of a tyrant A son instead of a king
Yggdrasil's roots wrapped tighter around his fate.
Hel was warmer.
Asgard was steadier.
And the cosmos—
Watched carefully.
Because when someone with that much power chose restraint—
It was never an accident.