Odin heard his brother's pledge and felt a wave of reassurance. Preparing for the coming troubles would be a monumental task, and having his brother by his side was a great blessing.
"Good. I hope the future holds good fortune for us. As for our parents, we cannot speak of this. You know how they believe in fate. They might see my vision as an unchangeable destiny and would not agree with our methods to intervene."
Sigurd listened, thinking of Ragnarok, which was fated for Asgard in both myth and certain comic timelines. Often, attempts to change fate led directly to the destruction they sought to avoid. He had to admit that fate seemed to play a role. However, the Marvel version of Ragnarok was a different story altogether, with countless timelines offering different outcomes for Asgard.
"So, what's the plan, brother? Do I need to prepare for war?"
"Yes. You must forge a weapon; it will be a great asset. We need to increase our strength to its absolute peak before we face our enemies."
Odin then led him to the storage room of his palace, which was filled with countless artifacts. What immediately caught Sigurd's eye was a massive bone that seemed to be the room's centerpiece.
Odin noticed Sigurd's gaze fixed upon it. "You're drawn to the bone? That is a bone from Ymir, the first Frost Giant. When my other brothers and I were young, we waged war against the Frost Giants. We slew him to establish Asgard's dominance."
Sigurd looked at the bone, thoughts turning to Odin's other brothers, Vili and Vé. They had fought alongside Odin against Surtur but were forced to sacrifice themselves, their power merging with Odin's to create the Odinforce. Though he had never met them, Sigurd felt a pang of sadness. His mother often spoke of them, recounting how the brothers lived in a harmony that was rare among gods.
Sigurd felt that Odin's trust in him was profound, perhaps even deeper than their father's. He wondered if it was because he was the youngest, a living connection to the brothers Odin had lost, or something else entirely.
Odin, too, was lost in thought, the pain of his brothers' loss a permanent scar. He pushed the memory aside and moved toward the bone, cutting a large piece from it. Then he retrieved a special metal from another chest.
"Sigurd, what kind of weapon do you envision? This material can be used to create something powerful for you. Do you have anything in mind?"
Sigurd considered it carefully. A weapon was a long-term commitment and needed to be a perfect extension of his will.
"I think a spear, like yours, would be good. And if we could also forge a sword, that would be perfect for the present."
Odin nodded, considering the materials, and took another box from the storeroom.
The two brothers then made their way to the Bifrost, where the warrior Sigrund stood guard over Asgard's most important weapon.
"Sigrund, transfer us to Nidavellir."
Without question, Sigrund activated the sword, and the Bifrost teleported them away.
It was Sigurd's first time traveling by the Bifrost. He tried to decipher the spatial energy swirling around them, but the journey lasted only a few seconds. Though he couldn't grasp its full complexity, he glimpsed spatial principles he could later attempt to replicate and integrate into his own power.
Nidavellir, the home of the Dwarves, was built deep underground, utilizing the planet's geothermal heat and the focused energy of a dying star to power their colossal forges. The air thrummed with intense heat as dwarves moved purposefully between the mighty engines.
Odin didn't pause to admire the forges but led Sigurd directly to a hall where King Eitri was hunched over a drawing, so deeply focused he didn't notice their arrival.
Odin respectfully did not interrupt, instead signaling for Sigurd to sit. Sigurd's eyes, however, were locked on the drawing. He was sure he had seen the design before but couldn't place it. He followed Odin's signal and sat down.
Eitri's eyes flickered as he finished his work, and then he suddenly rushed out of the room as if struck by an urgent idea.
Sigurd turned to his brother. "Brother, did you commission this weapon?"
Odin looked surprised by the question but answered. "Yes. I took inspiration from a Celestial and thought to develop a weapon that could be controlled by the Asgardian royal family. It will be a great boon for future generations."
Sigurd now understood; his brother was already laying the foundations for his reign. He looked back at the drawing.
'A Destroyer,' he thought. 'A weapon that was misused by future generations more than it was ever used for good.'
But he remained silent. The fault lay not with the weapon, but with those who would wield it without wisdom.
His curiosity piqued, Sigurd began to examine the hall, a place where legendary weapons were conceived. His eyes fell upon a hammer-like prototype that looked immensely heavy. Intrigued, he walked over and lifted it. It was heavy, but he knew instantly it was not Mjolnir. He felt no essence of thunder or storm within it. True Mjolnir was made of Uru metal fused with the captured essence of a defeated God of Tempest.
Eitri returned, a look of clarity in his eyes. He saw Sigurd examining the prototype but said nothing, addressing Odin first.
"You are not supposed to be here now. Your weapons are still in the testing phase. Completion will take considerable time."
Odin took no offense at the bluntness. "I did not come for those. My brother is in need of a weapon. I have brought him here to forge one."
Sigurd stepped forward. "Greetings, King of the Dwarves."
Eitri glanced at him. "At least your brother has the habit of respecting others." He then looked Sigurd up and down. "Enough formality. What are your requirements for this weapon?"