518 AD.
Asgard.
Seated upon his throne, Odin attentively listened to the latest reports from his subordinates. Suddenly, a warrior burst into the throne room, swiftly falling to his knees as he spoke.
"My king, I apologize for the intrusion. I come bearing news that Queen Frigga has given birth."
Odin promptly concluded the meeting and hastened to the medical wards. Upon entering, he beheld his wife, weakened and exhausted after a long labor. The attending doctors respectfully bowed to the king as he entered, ensuring the queen's well-being before discreetly departing the room.
Using his divine powers, Odin examined his wife and the child cradled in her arms. He discerned that it was a boy, and within him lay a formidable hidden divinity.
Tenderly embracing his wife, Odin gazed upon the child's face—the future protector and king of Asgard, his heir.
"I am relieved that you are well. Now, let us cast our eyes upon our son and bestow upon him a name," Frigga replied, her voice filled with warmth as she, too, regarded their son. With golden hair and energetic nature, he exuded an undeniable vigor.
"Hmm, as my heir, I shall name you Thor. Thor Odinson, God of Thunder and Lightning, and the first prince of Asgard."
At that moment, bolts of lightning emanated from the infant Thor, and the resounding echoes of thunder reverberated throughout the royal palace, reaching the ears of every denizen in Asgard.
Odin's smile broadened, soon evolving into a hearty laugh that resonated through the halls.
"Hahaha! Divinity awakens in you at such an early age. Behold, my son—my blood, and the future bearer of my legacy." Odin's joy was palpable, for this premature awakening signified immense potential, assuring him that Thor would grow to be as formidable as himself in the years to come.
Under Thor's guidance, Asgard would flourish for thousands of years even after his eventual passing. The thought filled him with delight, leading him to make a decision. Channeling his powers, Odin declared, "Today, my heir, Thor Odinson, is born. Let us celebrate with a grand feast—a royal banquet! Rejoice, my people!"
The inhabitants of Asgard were overjoyed, eagerly preparing feasts and libations. Amidst the preparations, Odin issued another command. "Send invitations to the rulers of other realms. Let them come and witness the birth of their heir, my son."
The warrior bowed respectfully and departed to relay the news. Meanwhile, amidst the revelry, Frigga's happiness was tinged with a touch of melancholy. She knew all too well that, like their daughter, their son would bear a tremendous burden and great responsibilities.
Hela, like Thor, had awakened her divinity from birth, and her fate now bound her eternally to the realm of the dead. Frigga harbored no doubt that Thor, too, would be faced with a similar destiny.
Despite the celebratory atmosphere surrounding Thor's birth, Frigga couldn't help but feel a pang of concern for her son's future. She knew all too well the weight of the responsibilities that awaited him, just as it had befallen their daughter Hela.
Hela's early awakening of divinity had led her down a path that forever severed her ties with the living realm. Frigga couldn't shake the foreboding sense that Thor, too, might be subjected to a fate as daunting as Hela's.
As the preparations for the royal feast continued, Frigga sought solace in the presence of her son. She gently caressed his tiny hand and whispered words of love and protection into his ear. It was her fervent hope that her maternal prayers would guide Thor's path and shield him from the shadows that loomed over Asgard.
Meanwhile, word of Thor's birth spread throughout the realms, reaching the ears of other rulers and dignitaries. Invitations were dispatched, inviting them to witness the arrival of the heir to Asgard's throne. Messages were exchanged, and soon emissaries from various realms began their journey to the majestic realm of the gods.
The anticipation and excitement were palpable, tinged with a mixture of curiosity and respect for the newly-born Thor. The arrival of the distinguished guests would not only honor the royal family but also serve as a testament to the power and prestige of Asgard.
Meanwhile, in the icy realm of Niflheim, Lafaye, the King of the Ice Giants, resided in his frozen palace, seething with anger.
"Cursed Odin and his cursed blood! He keeps birthing one powerful heir after another, while I am left with worthless rubbish."
Thoughts of his son, a feeble and pathetic creature born weak and insignificant, only fueled his wrath further.
"Must I spend all of eternity serving not just the father but also the son? No, I refuse to accept such a fate."
Rising from his throne, Lafaye emanated a chilling mist, capable of instantly freezing any feeble mortal. He was not only the King of Giants but also the mightiest of the ice giants, possessing magic that could freeze entire worlds.
"Summon my warriors! We shall attend the feast in Asgard. Let us revel heartily and show our jubilation at the birth of King Odin's son."
"Whaaah!"
"Yeah!"
"Let us remind these weaklings of their rightful place."
"For the King!!!"
"For the King!!!"
"For the King!!!"
All the ice giants cheered for war and bloodshed, for they were born to spread the eternal cold across the realms.
Lafaye seized his most powerful artifact, the Casket of Ancient Winters, preparing to murder Odin's heir. He also aimed to demonstrate that, by forsaking Hela, Odin was now nothing more than a naked king, his reign lacking the obedience of the nine realms.
"Follow me!"
"Yeah!"
"Yeah!"
The army of ice giants rallied behind Lafaye, their voices echoing with a ferocious determination. With each step, their presence sent shivers through the land, leaving behind a trail of frozen earth.
As they marched towards Asgard, the realm of the gods, Lafaye's mind swirled with thoughts of vengeance and conquest. He yearned to make Odin and his precious son feel the weight of his wrath, to remind them of their insignificance in the face of his icy might.
Meanwhile, in Alfheim, the elf queen reclined on her ornate throne, a furrowed brow betraying her concern. The news of Odin's heir, with his potential rivaling that of the Goddess of Death, Hela, had reached her ears. With a weary sigh, she issued a decree for messengers to be dispatched, bearing precious gifts for Thor's birthday.
"You possess remarkable lineage, but whether you can wield it with wisdom and maintain a peaceful rule remains to be seen. While I may not seek revenge personally, other kingdoms may not share my restraint. I hope you find happiness once you come to understand this," she murmured, her voice laced with a hint of caution.
Remaining seated on her throne, the elf queen contemplated the future. As a long-lived race, planning for centuries and millennia ahead was ingrained in their nature. The elves were renowned not only for their ethereal beauty and affability but also for their propensity for treachery and intricate webs of intrigue. Though those who were privy to such knowledge had long since passed away.
She knew that the world was a tapestry of shifting alliances, where power dynamics and ambitions collided. And amidst this complex landscape, she had to ensure the well-being and interests of her realm. Her thoughts drifted to the delicate balance that needed to be maintained, the diplomacy to be employed, and the precautions to be taken.