The aftermath of the war wasn't nearly as carefree as Solomon made it seem in his casual retellings. His habit of presenting things lightly in front of the witches belied the complexity of his actions. Opening a portal and moving the nuke to the Pentagon's basement? That was only the tip of the iceberg. He'd even openly admitted to trying to pry open the warhead with a screwdriver. His excuse? "For the sake of knowledge."
To Solomon, radioactive material—classified in magical terms as heavenly metals like mithril or adamantine—was a rare treasure. Ancient techniques had supposedly used radioactive elements to power golems. Since purchasing uranium legally wasn't an option, Solomon had thought to harvest it directly from the nuke.
He failed spectacularly, of course. Nuclear warheads aren't designed to yield to mere screwdrivers.
But Solomon had done far more than fiddle with warheads or knock out a pompous senator. He had handled countless tasks during the chaos of the Battle of New York: fetching clothes for Bruce Banner, feeding Pegasus an apple, and helping Tony Stark disassemble his damaged armor. More importantly, he had ensured the safety of the visitors from the alternate timeline. Shielded by invisibility spells, they moved undetected, and his dimensional anchor ensured Loki couldn't escape.
Everything had unfolded according to the timeline Solomon knew.
"You hit that senator really hard," Jeanne commented the day after the battle, lowering the newspaper she'd been reading. "The U.S. government is pressuring S.H.I.E.L.D. over it. Looks like the White House wants to use this incident to meddle in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s operations. Petty games, but effective ones. Do you think your secret will stay hidden for long?"
"Probably a while," Solomon replied nonchalantly, stirring cream for that evening's dessert. Bayonetta had a sweet tooth, while Jeanne preferred less sugary treats, so he had to strike a balance. Habitually, Solomon reached up to brush back his hair, only to remember it was now short. "I've got a contract with Fury," he added, focusing on whipping the cream. "He can't reveal anything about me. Even if he tries, I have contingencies for anyone who learns too much about me."
"I hope so," Jeanne muttered with a scowl. "Cereza and I both like our peace and quiet. You already crossed the line when you introduced us to your mentor. Why should we deal with clueless mortals? Unless... don't tell me you've got a thing for that Darcy Lewis? Is her figure really your type? Nice butt?"
"Please stop slandering me," Solomon said with an exaggerated eye roll. "Why are you always picking on me?"
"Because you're a mage from Kamar-Taj. Do I need to say more?"
"That's pure prejudice," Solomon shot back. "Kamar-Taj is about maintaining order, not meddling. Besides, the witches aren't exactly minor players."
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Wiping his hands on his apron, Solomon answered. Jeanne watched him silently listen to the caller, his expression shifting slightly before he hung up.
"What was that about?"
"Nothing important," Solomon replied with a shrug, feigning indifference. "Tony Stark wants to throw another dinner party. Apparently, the last barbecue was a disaster—even Pegasus got too much salt. Stark wants to make up for it since Thor's heading back to Asgard. He asked if I'd attend, though it was more like he assumed I would."
"But your dessert isn't done yet," Jeanne pointed out, sipping the tea Solomon had made. "And Cereza's still at Athena's place. Why did you even arrange for them to meet? They're like fire and water. Aren't you afraid they'll fight?"
"Athena's my foster mother. I couldn't refuse her request," Solomon explained. "And I think family should learn to get along, not constantly argue."
"So you just threw Cereza into the lion's den? That's hardly manly."
"For the record, it was Bayonetta who suggested the subsequent meetings with Athena. She's as stubborn as ever," Solomon said with a shake of his head. Initially, Bayonetta had been playful, teasing Solomon at every opportunity. But as their bond deepened, her competitive nature became clear. Meeting Athena was less about understanding family dynamics and more about asserting dominance, minimizing Athena's influence over Solomon.
The phone buzzed again. This time, Solomon placed the cake in the oven before answering.
"Yes, I'll come. Stop repeating yourself," he said irritably, his tone shifting as he listened further. Surprise and anger crept into his voice. "Are you sure? Do you really think this won't have catastrophic consequences? Understand? I don't understand, Nick Fury! Have you already forgotten why I refuse to reveal my information? Humanity's greed knows no bounds. If S.H.I.E.L.D. wants to play this game, then prepare to face the consequences."
Solomon ended the call, ignoring Fury's attempts to justify himself.
"He refused," Fury told Pierce, sinking back into his chair with a frustrated sigh. "He's as touchy as a cat with its tail stepped on."
"We could have your agents get closer to him," Pierce suggested. "I recall Agent Romanoff worked with him during the battle. Let her approach him—the knight in armor. It's almost funny the media thinks he's King Arthur."
Fury said nothing, unwilling to mention Solomon's prior refusal to cooperate with Natasha. He doubted this revelation would comfort Pierce anyway. Solomon had no exploitable weakness, and Fury doubted Project Insight could contain someone like him.
"Maybe he is King Arthur," Fury said finally. "Or his successor. Either way, he has a claim to Britain."
"Even if that's true, claims over a thousand years old are meaningless. Besides, no one cares except those independence fools in Scotland. Look at Wales—it's quiet. Camelot's supposed to be in Wales, isn't it?" Pierce said with a smirk. "If your knight in shining armor wants to reclaim Britain, his first target would be Prince Charles. Let the British deal with their headaches. Meanwhile, you're the one who can talk to him. Ask him this: can he help S.H.I.E.L.D. train magical operatives? Now that we know the magical world exists, we can't ignore its security, can we?"
"That's not going to work," Fury replied, shaking his head. "I've already suggested it. Magic operates on a scale of personal power that dwarfs anything S.H.I.E.L.D. could field. Even our best agents can't match a skilled caster. And you've already angered him with this idea. He doesn't follow our societal rules—he follows ancient laws of his own."
"Then you'll need to calm him down first," Pierce said, his tone firm but weary.
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