The battlefield was silent at last.
Odin Allfather stood among the ruins of Jotunheim's palace, his spear Gungnir dimming as the final echoes of his clash with King Laufey faded into the cold wind. His right eye burned—a wound he knew would never heal—but the victory was his. Laufey lay defeated, and the Nine Realms were safe.
Yet as he walked deeper into the shattered throne room, the Allfather felt something strange… a tug, as if fate itself was pulling him forward.
Behind the fallen ice pillars, a soft cry echoed.
Odin pushed aside the frost debris and found a small chamber, hidden from the main hall. Inside, wrapped in ancient Jotun cloth, was a tiny blue-skinned infant—the child of Laufey. Odin recognized him instantly:The abandoned heir of the Frost Giants.
He lifted the baby gently."So… this is the one you cast aside," Odin murmured. "You will not be left to die."
But then—another glint caught his eye.
A treasure chest, sealed with runes older than even Odin himself. With a sweep of Gungnir, the lock shattered. The lid creaked open.
Inside lay another baby.
This child was different—a strange, radiant aura surrounded him. His hair shimmered like silver starlight, and his eyes—though half-closed in drowsiness—glowed with a blue deeper than any Asgardian sky. Odin reached out and placed his hand above the infant, letting his power probe for answers.
He found none.
No bloodline he had ever encountered. No traceable origin. No realm matching the energy he sensed.
Just… raw, overwhelming potential.
Stronger than Frost Giant blood.Stronger than Asgardian blood.Perhaps stronger than Odin would ever admit.
The baby stirred, reaching up—and grabbed Odin's finger.
The Allfather froze.
Most children cried. Most feared the presence of Odin's immense power.
But this one… smiled. A small, bright, fearless smile that pierced straight through Odin's heart.
"Even injured and terrifying, you do not fear me?" he whispered.
The infant only cooed.
For the first time since the battle, Odin felt the faintest warmth of amusement."…Very well, little one. If fate has delivered you to me, I shall not abandon you."
Carrying both infants—one blue as night, one bright as silver—Odin opened the Bifrost and returned to Asgard.
In the healing chambers
Frigga, exhausted yet radiant, lay cradling her newborn child—her firstborn with Odin. When she saw her husband enter with two additional babies, her eyes widened.
"Odin…" she breathed. "What have you brought home this time?"
He explained everything—the battle, Laufey's child, and the mysterious baby with the impossible bloodline.
Frigga listened, and when her gaze fell upon the silver-haired infant, she laughed softly.
"He smiled at you, Odin? Truly?"
"…He did," the Allfather admitted, slightly embarrassed.
Frigga reached out, lifting the silver-haired child. The baby looked up at her, blue-diamond eyes sparkling—and Frigga's heart melted instantly.
"He's adorable," she whispered. "And so peaceful… He is special."
She glanced at the other infant.
"And the Frost Giant child… he seems frightened. We must give him warmth."
Odin nodded."Their names…?"
He looked at the three children:
His newborn son—strong, healthy, destined for greatness.
Laufey's abandoned child—small, fragile, yet sharp-eyed.
And the mysterious silver-haired baby—radiant and fearless.
"I name our son Thor," Odin declared proudly.
He placed a hand over the blue baby."And this one… shall be Loki."
Finally, his gaze settled on the silver-haired boy—the child whose origin he could not see… whose smile had softened the heart of the Allfather himself.
"And you," Odin said gently, "shall be Roy. Roy Odinson."
Frigga nodded with a warm smile, holding all three children close.
"Welcome home, my sons."
And so the legend began.
One month later, when Roy was alone in the nursery, a screen no one else could see flickered before his eyes—
[SYSTEM BOOTING…]
But that was a secret he would carry alone.
A secret that would one day shake the Nine Realms.