Over a century had passed since I began working alongside Amora. To some, such a span of time might seem daunting, but for me, it felt like mere moments slipping through my fingers. As an Asgardian, the concept of time had always been fluid, and while I had initially struggled to acclimate to the passage of years as a mortal might, my experiences in the realms of darkness and my subsequent reincarnation had left me with a different perspective.
Physically, I had changed little over the years. I appeared to be in my mid-twenties, with a height of 1.90 meters, just a centimeter shorter than Thor. My hair cascaded down to my shoulders, braided in a Viking style that reflected my heritage. I had also grown a beard to match, much to the chagrin of the lovely Amora. Despite her protests and spells to rid my face of hair, I persisted, finding a sense of pride and identity in my appearance.
My relationship with Amora had evolved gradually over time. At first, there had been hesitation and apprehension, but through countless hours of collaboration and camaraderie, we had forged a bond that transcended mere friendship. I admired her beauty and magical prowess, offering compliments and encouragement that gradually bolstered her confidence. However, it wasn't until she met Thor that our dynamic faced a new challenge.
Thor, ever the charmer, had initially been captivated by Amora's beauty, much to her surprise and mine. However, his cavalier attitude towards romance and his tendency to treat women as conquests soon became apparent, causing Amora to recoil from his advances. In a fit of frustration, she cast a charm of seduction upon him, causing him to unwittingly attract the attention of men instead of women. The resulting chaos was both amusing and enlightening, leading to a temporary rift between Thor and Amora, which I eventually resolved by convincing her to lift the spell.
As for our parents, Odin had become increasingly preoccupied with matters concerning the Frost Giants, who had begun to exhibit suspicious behavior. Reports suggested that some had ventured beyond their kingdom, prompting concerns of rebellion and unrest. Meanwhile, my mother, Frigga, remained a beacon of peace and reason, her wisdom guiding our family through turbulent times.
I couldn't help but ponder my mother's reaction to Amora's presence in the palace. Despite my initial concerns, she had welcomed her with open arms, expressing a desire for me to have companionship and camaraderie akin to a mother-daughter bond. It was a sentiment that touched me deeply, reminding me of the importance of genuine connections in a world filled with uncertainty and change. And in Amora, I had found not just a colleague, but a true friend whose presence had enriched my life in ways I had never imagined.
Anyways, now I'm sitting in a chair similar to that of dentists only more futuristic my arms, legs, torso and head stuck by metal arches uru.
"Are you ready to get started?"
Amora asked beside me. She was wearing a tight green outfit that highlights all the curves of her body, She now has a body of a twenty-five-year-old woman
"You can start"
Amora squeezes a holographic screen in front of her. Soon a mechanical arm starts to descend from the ceiling to the height of my chest. I am now ready to record the primary rune on my body, so I am stuck in that chair. Any wrong move and all work is lost. The mechanical arm is close or my chest is right in the position of my heart, a black needle begins to be inserted into my skin drawing the rune, the ink used was made from magic materials enchanted with magic. It took fifty years to research it, and another twenty-five to produce a small amount of it. Amora is quiet during the process. after an hour the rune in my chest is done, it looks like the two signs of the infinite over each other with several small runes inside.
As I basked in the newfound connection to the rune etched upon my chest, I could feel its power resonating within me, a tangible link between my soul and the vast expanse of magic that surrounded us. With a simple thought, I could channel its energy, transforming magical essence into divine power and vice versa, a feat that had once seemed unimaginable.
Beside me, Amora let out a sigh of relief, her eyes alight with satisfaction at our success. Her expertise had been instrumental in guiding the intricate process, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards her.
"It seems everything has worked out," she remarked, her voice tinged with both relief and joy. "I detected no changes in your vital signs, so I believe we have succeeded."
"Yes, it was a success," I replied, my tone filled with a sense of accomplishment. "Shall we proceed with recording the next rune next time?"
Amora's expression shifted, her concern evident as she considered my suggestion. "Are you sure about that? Perhaps we should wait a few days to observe how the primary rune reacts. We must proceed with caution."
I understood her apprehension, but the desire to unlock the full extent of my abilities outweighed any lingering doubts. "You don't have to worry about me," I assured her. "I am confident that it will work out, and I would rather not linger on that table any longer than necessary."
"As you wish," Amora conceded, her tone reflecting a mixture of caution and respect for my decision. "But if I notice any changes, I will not hesitate to intervene."
As the mechanical arm glided towards my left shoulder, a sense of anticipation coursed through me. This rune, adapted from the powerful symbol of uruz, held the promise of enhancing my abilities to unprecedented levels. With a profound understanding of its significance, I had carefully crafted it to amplify not just my physical strength, but every facet of my being, from mental acuity to spiritual resilience.
With meticulous precision, the mechanical arm etched the intricate design onto my skin, infusing it with the essence of magic and vitality. As the process neared its completion, I could feel the rune resonating with my soul, its energy pulsating in harmony with my own.
"It seems another success, my... fairy," I remarked, a playful twinkle in my eye.
Amora let out an exasperated sigh, her expression a mixture of amusement and annoyance. "I told you not to call me that, Prince. It's rather... unconventional."
"I've also told you to call me by my name, Amora," I countered, a smile playing at the corners of my lips. "Or at least a nickname. I must confess, I am rather terrible at them. Now, if you wouldn't mind, could you assist me in getting out of this confounded chair?"
As she approached me, a sense of unease crept over me, amplified by the mischievous glint in her eye. Despite my attempts to maintain composure, beads of sweat formed on my brow, betraying my apprehension.
"Hey, Baldur," she called out, her voice laced with a hint of mischief.
I braced myself for whatever scheme she had concocted, my heart pounding with anticipation. "Yes?" I responded, my voice betraying a hint of nervousness.
A sly smile spread across her lips as she advanced towards me, her movements calculated and deliberate. With each step, my apprehension grew, a sense of foreboding settling over me like a heavy shroud.
"You can't move, right?" she remarked, her tone teasing yet tinged with an undercurrent of something more.
Before I could respond, she closed the distance between us, her proximity sending a shiver down my spine. Suddenly, she halted, as if struck by an idea, her eyes alight with mischief.
"Now you can't escape from me..." she trailed off, her voice taking on a seductive tone.
With a fluid grace, she mounted the chair, straddling my lap in a bold and unexpected move. As her weight settled against me, I realized with a sinking feeling that I was completely immobilized, unable to so much as twitch a muscle.
In that moment, a silent battle of wills ensued between us, our unspoken desires and frustrations simmering beneath the surface. Despite the physical proximity, we remained locked in a stalemate, each vying for control in our own silent war of attrition.
For all our banter and playful exchanges, the tension between us was palpable, a potent mix of desire and restraint. Love, it seemed, was indeed a battlefield, and we were both determined to emerge victorious, even if it meant dancing on the edge of temptation.
Just as the moment teetered on the brink of something more, a sudden knock shattered the fragile tension.
"Come in," I answered hastily, relief flooding through me at the interruption.
To my surprise, Loki entered the room, his expression initially one of shock at the scene before him. However, his shock quickly morphed into a mischievous grin as he assessed the situation.
"Brother," he began, his tone playful.
"I didn't know you were having fun. Really sorry to interrupt."
I shot him a pleading look, silently willing him to rescue me from this awkward predicament. After all, it was clear that my discomfort was anything but entertaining.
Amora hastily exited the room, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, leaving me to contend with Loki's mischievous grin.
"Baldur, I didn't know you had such peculiar tastes," Loki remarked, amusement dancing in his eyes.
"Get me out of this damn chair, Loki," I retorted, my frustration evident in my tone. The situation had quickly turned from uncomfortable to downright humiliating, and I was eager to put it behind me.
Loki's grin only widened at my plea, his amusement seemingly unabated. "I think I'm going to call our other brother and commission a beautiful painting," he teased, relishing in my discomfort.
I rolled my eyes at his jest, resisting the urge to scowl. It seemed that wherever Loki went, chaos and mischief followed, much to my chagrin.
Still grinning, Loki leaned in closer, his expression shifting to a more serious demeanor. "Changing the subject, Dad is calling for you," he informed me, his tone betraying a hint of solemnity amidst the playful banter.
"Why?" I inquired, puzzled by Loki's sudden departure.
Looking at the intricate tattoos adorning my body, Loki spoke, his tone contemplative. "The king of the dwarves is here. He has completed his father's old request, and now he will hear about his weapon."
"Just in time. Now I can go to Nidavellir and study with the dwarf runes," I remarked, feeling a surge of excitement at the prospect of delving into the secrets of dwarven craftsmanship.
"Well, I already delivered the message. Now I'm going," Loki stated, heading towards the door.
"Loki," I called after him.
"Yes, Baldur?"
"I'm still stuck," I reminded him, my tone tinged with irritation.
After Loki helped me regain my freedom, I made my way to the conference room to meet the king of the dwarves. As I entered, I beheld a man towering over three meters tall, a formidable presence that commanded respect.
(I always wondered what Marvel universe I was in. It seems similar to the films.)
Marvel films are the only ones where dwarves are depicted as being large. However, in this universe, there seems to be a unique twist, one that sets it apart from the cinematic portrayals.
I offered a respectful bow to Odin and the dwarf king, addressing him as Eitri, king of the dwarves of Nidavellir.
"Nice to meet you, Majesty," I greeted him with genuine warmth.
The king reciprocated with a friendly gesture, clapping me on the shoulder in a cordial manner. "Boy, I must thank you. Your father has informed me of the extent of your power. It will be a challenging task to forge a weapon for you."
"Difficult, you say? Why is that?" I inquired, intrigued by the king's statement.
"Boy, we dwarves harness the heat of an average sun to melt the Uru. However, you possess the power and warmth of a sun far greater than any in the universe. The heat you radiate could turn the uru to dust before it even becomes molten," the king explained, his expression grave.
This revelation took me aback, realizing the magnitude of my abilities in a new light. I had always known of my affinity for the sun's energy, but the implications of its intensity were staggering.
"So, what can we do?" I asked, eager to find a solution to this seemingly insurmountable challenge.
"That is why I must express my gratitude. With your presence, we dwarves are presented with a formidable challenge: to forge a weapon capable of withstanding the highest temperatures imaginable. It will be a monumental endeavor," the king declared with a hint of excitement.
"Is such a feat truly possible?" I questioned, feeling a mixture of hope and skepticism.
"If it can be imagined, it can be created. Every dwarf in Nidavellir will be invigorated by the prospect of this challenge," the king proclaimed confidently, instilling a sense of determination and optimism within me.
"How long do you think it will take?" I inquired, eager to gauge the timeline for this monumental task.
Eitri seemed to ponder the question carefully before responding. "Considering we're venturing into uncharted territory here, perhaps around 200 years? What say you, impatient one?"
(How can 200 years be fast?) I mused inwardly, grappling with the daunting scope of time ahead.
"Lord Eitri, I would also like to ask for something," I interjected, seizing the opportunity to make a request of my own.
"What is it?" Eitri's curiosity was piqued by my unexpected plea.
"I would like to learn about the runes of the dwarves in your realm," I revealed, knowing that such knowledge was typically guarded closely by the dwarves.
Eitri appeared taken aback by my request. The secrets of the dwarf forge were rarely shared with outsiders, let alone a prince of Asgard. However, after a moment of consideration, he nodded in agreement.
"Very well. It is not forbidden to learn only about runes, and it has been quite some time since a Prince of Asgard visited our kingdom. Very well, let us begin immediately. But first, what kind of weapon do you desire?"
"A spear," I declared without hesitation, envisioning the graceful yet formidable weapon in my hands.
After bidding farewell to my family, I prepared to depart for Nidavellir. However, I couldn't find Amora anywhere. Frustrated, I left a message with Loki before heading towards the Bifrost.
But as I approached the entrance, I was surprised to see Amora waiting for me.
"You left without saying goodbye," she accused, her expression a mix of hurt and sadness.
Realizing my oversight, I felt a pang of guilt. This would be the longest period of time I would be away from her, and I hadn't even bid her farewell properly.
"I've been looking for you everywhere."
She approaches and presents me with an object about twenty centimeters in size.
"What's that?" I inquire, intrigued by the unfamiliar item.
"I created it based on your idea. It allows you to send text messages from one device to another, regardless of the distance between them," she explains proudly.
"Oh, my Amora, you're truly ingenious," I commend her, impressed by her ingenuity.
"I'm not yours," she responds, her tone tinged embarrassment.
Realizing my misstep, I quickly backpedal. "I meant it as a compliment, Amora. Your intelligence is remarkable."
"You'd better promise to send me at least one message a day, and reply when I message you. If not, I'll come after you," she warns, her voice softening slightly.
"Of course, I'll answer," I assure her, recognizing the seriousness behind her words.
She steps closer and wraps her arms around me in a tight embrace.
"I'll miss you," she admits softly.
"I'll miss you too," I reply sincerely, returning her embrace.
After a moment, she releases me and retreats behind me. I make my way to the door, where Eitri and Heimdall await.
"Are you ready, Prince?" Eitri inquires, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"Yes, Heimdall, open the Bifrost," I instruct, preparing for the journey ahead.
A swirling column of light engulfs me, accompanied by King Eitri, as we embark on our journey to Nidavellir. When the light dissipates, I find myself in a place unlike any other—a realm of towering caverns bathed in the glow of a blue-hued sun.
"Welcome to Nidavellir, Prince Baldur," Eitri greets me, his voice echoing in the vast expanse.
198 years later...
My time in Nidavellir proved to be enlightening. Under the tutelage of Arka, the master of magical runes, I delved into the intricacies of dwarven craftsmanship and learned invaluable lessons in forging techniques. While the dwarves were initially reticent, I soon earned their respect and forged enduring friendships.
As I make my way to King Eitri's throne room, anticipation courses through me. The dwarves offer their compliments and well-wishes, their camaraderie a testament to our bond. I am determined to safeguard their kingdom against any threat, including the looming shadow of Thanos.
Entering the throne room, I find a group of dwarves gathered around an object in the center.
"King Eitri, is the weapon ready?" I inquire eagerly, eager to see the culmination of our efforts.
Turning around with a proud smile, King Eitri gestures for me to approach.
"See for yourself," he says, his voice filled with satisfaction.
As I step forward, my eyes are drawn to the center of the room where a magnificent spear stands proudly, its blade gilded and adorned with intricate engravings. The craftsmanship is truly remarkable, and I can't help but be awestruck.
"It's beautiful," I remark, my admiration evident.
The dwarves surrounding the spear beam with pride, their expressions reflecting the culmination of their hard work.
"This spear is our greatest creation since Mjolnir. It can withstand any temperature and unleash bursts of energy akin to Odin's spear, but fueled by your own power. Additionally, it will only recognize you as its master. And yes, it returns to your hand when thrown. What are you waiting for?" Eitri explains, his voice brimming with excitement.
Approaching the spear, a sudden thought strikes me.
"Does it have a name?" I inquire, curious about the tradition surrounding such artifacts.
"In accordance with tradition, the weapon receives its name only after its first battle. Not before," Eitri replies with a nod.
I take hold of the spear with both hands, feeling a surge of energy coursing through me as I channel my power into it. The spear begins to glow with a radiant golden light, and the dwarves instinctively move back to avoid the intense heat.
"Hurry, activate the energy shield around it, or the kingdom will turn into a volcano!" Eitri warns urgently.
With a focused effort, I channel my energy into creating a protective shield around the spear, containing its immense power.
As the process completes, I feel a profound connection with the spear, as if it has become an extension of myself. The newfound control over my powers fills me with confidence, and I lift the spear from the ground.
In an instant, a golden armor materializes around me, accompanied by a billowing red cape. It's a surreal sensation, akin to the legendary tales of Thor and his mighty hammer.
Feeling empowered and ready for battle, I know it's time to return home and confront the challenges that await, starting with the Ice Giants.
"It's time to go home and take care of some Ice Giants," I declare, my voice resolute as I prepare to embark on my next journey.
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