Deep within the golden halls of New Asgard—formerly a sleepy Norwegian fishing village, now one part tourist attraction and two parts divine retirement home—Thor Odinson, God of Thunder, was arm-wrestling a minotaur in full armor.
The minotaur was losing. Badly.
"This is humiliating," it grunted.
"Verily," Thor agreed. "But such is the fate of those who underestimate my post-lunch strength!"
With a final grunt, he slammed the minotaur's hand to the table, scattering mead mugs and victory chicken wings across the wooden floor.
Just as the crowd roared, the doors burst open.
Cue wind. Dramatic lighting. Cloaks billowing.
Tony Stark marched in with Kamala Khan at his side, Steve Rogers bringing up the rear, and—most importantly—Alfredo, who was perched on Tony's shoulder like a battle-hardened pirate's parrot. Alfredo wore a tiny helmet. No one knew who made it. No one dared question it.
Thor squinted. "Is that… the chicken?"
Tony raised a finger. "The chicken, thank you. Alfredo. Herald of Eggternal Loops. Slayer of Timelines. Layer of omelets."
Steve stepped in. "We need your wisdom, Thor. Ancient Asgardian stuff. Deep lore. Mystical poultry knowledge."
Thor grabbed a fresh tankard. "Ah! You wish to hear the saga of Cluckdrasil, the World Rooster."
"…what," Kamala whispered.
Thor stood on the table, arms wide, mead sloshing as he began.
"In the beginning—before Midgard, before the Nine Realms—there was a cosmic chicken, radiant with celestial flame, perched atop Cluckdrasil, the great Feathertree that spanned the stars!"
Steve sighed. "I knew this would happen."
Tony grinned. "Let him cook."
Thor's eyes glimmered with joy. "Cluckdrasil laid an egg the size of a planet. That egg cracked, and from it spilled the first dawn. Its yolk became the sun, its whites the sky. And when the chicken sang, the stars listened."
Kamala's jaw dropped. "Are you… serious?"
Thor looked deeply offended. "As serious as Mjolnir's worthiness enchantment, which, by the way, Alfredo might pass."
Alfredo puffed out her feathers, seemingly in approval.
"There was a prophecy!" Thor bellowed, pointing toward the clouds. "That one day, a feathered avatar of destiny would return. Not to destroy—but to uplift. To dance in the halls of gods, peck the noses of tyrants, and lay the egg that ends all wars."
Tony clapped slowly. "That's incredible. I don't believe a word of it, but I want it tattooed on my chest."
Steve looked genuinely concerned. "We may need to reevaluate Thor's mead intake."
Kamala, meanwhile, knelt before Alfredo like a medieval squire. "Milady Alfredo, are you… the prophesied Chosen Cluck?"
Alfredo pecked her forehead gently. A single feather drifted down, glowing softly.
Everyone gasped.
Even Thor.
Later, as they lounged around a campfire in the Asgardian courtyard, Tony passed around roasted marshmallows while Thor plucked at a lute, strumming a song called The Ballad of the Egg That Shook Yggdrasil.
Steve poked at the fire. "So, do we even care about the egg or chicken question anymore?"
Tony leaned back. "We asked Doctor Strange, and reality blinked. We asked Thor, and now Alfredo is apparently a cosmic flame-being of prophecy. So no. I think the answer is: Alfredo came first."
Kamala nodded solemnly. "Long may she cluck."
A loud thunderclap echoed above them. The clouds parted.
Alfredo flapped once and ascended—just a few feet, but it felt like watching Apollo rise from Olympus.
Tony put a hand on his heart. "There she goes. Flapping through myth and Marvel alike."
-
End of Chapter