The first thing Odin heard was laughter.
Not polite laughter. Not courtly noise. Real laughter—loud, rough, echoing through Asgard's stone halls like it had every right to be there. The kind that came from gods who drank too much and fought too often and somehow lived long enough to do both again.
He smiled before he even stepped through the gate.
Asgard hadn't changed.
The great courtyard was alive. Warriors sparred in pairs and trios, boots scraping stone, shields clashing hard enough to ring the air. Others lounged along the steps, passing horns of mead back and forth, shouting bets and insults with equal affection.
Someone lost their footing and went down hard.
The cheers were immediate.
"Get up, you bastard!"
"That all Jotunheim's got?!"
Odin stepped forward, staff tapping once against the ground.
The sound carried.
It always did.
Heads turned. Conversations stalled. One by one, warriors straightened, eyes widening.
"Wait"
"No way."
"That's"
"WE GREET THE ALLFATHER" Every god present simultaneously bowed to show respect
The God-King of Asgard had arrived.
Before anyone could properly react, a blur of red and muscle barreled straight at him.
"FATHER!"
There he was.
He was a titan of a man, built with a massive, barrel-chested physique that spoke of raw, earth-shaking power. His arms were thick as oak trunks, corded with heavy muscle that seemed to thrum with a restless, buzzing vitality. He didn't just walk; he moved with a booming, high-energy stride that made the ground tremble in greeting. His hair was a wild, unruly thicket of deep copper, tossed back as if he were perpetually standing in the wake of a gale.
Thor slammed into Odin like a siege engine.
His face was ruggedly handsome, dominated by a wide, infectious grin and a booming laugh that could shatter glass. There was no cold indifference there like that of the Olympian gods, only a vibrant, roaring sense of life. His eyes were a startling, electric blue, crackling with a relentless hunger for the next great challenge.
The impact knocked the breath from Odin's lungs as strong arms wrapped around him and lifted him clear off the ground. Thor laughed, loud and unrestrained, spinning once before setting him back down.
No one would dare act this way with the Allfather—no one except Thor. He had always been Odin's special child, the one who came with far too many headaches. Their relationship was one of constant bickering and argument.
"You're back!" Thor grinned, lightning faintly crackling along his arms out of habit. "You disappeared again. Mother said you were 'wandering.' That usually means trouble."
Odin huffed, steadying himself. "You could try greeting me without attempting to break my ribs."
Thor laughed harder. "You're still standing. That means I went easy."
Odin snorted. "You always go easy. That's the problem."
Thor beamed, utterly unapologetic.
"I just came back from Jotunheim," he said proudly. "Frost giants this time. Big ones. Ugly ones. You should've seen their faces when.."
"Thor," Odin interrupted.
Thor paused.
"…Yes?"
"How many?"
Thor hesitated. "Define 'many.'"
Odin fixed him with a look.
Thor scratched the back of his head. "A dozen? Maybe more? Hard to count when they keep exploding."
Odin sighed. "You weren't supposed to go alone."
"They started it," Thor said immediately.
"They always start it," Odin replied. "That doesn't mean you finish it by flattening half a mountain."
Thor shrugged. "Mountain's still there. Mostly."
Odin pinched the bridge of his nose.
This child of his might really bring some more heavy headache for him in the future.
"I leave Asgard for a short while," he muttered, "and you treat the realms like a proving ground."
Thor leaned in conspiratorially. "It worked, though."
Odin glanced at him sideways. "Did it?"
Thor opened his mouth then paused.
"…I mean," he said slowly, "I won."
Odin smacked him lightly on the arm with his staff.
"Winning is not the same as understanding," he said. "You're strong. You always have been. But strength without restraint is just noise."
Thor grinned. "Loud noise."
Odin tried not to smile.
"Go," Odin said, waving him off. "Clean yourself up. You smell like frost and blood."
Thor laughed and turned—then stopped.
"Oh! Mother!"
Frigga stood at the edge of the courtyard, hands folded calmly in front of her, eyes already on Odin.
She smiled.
Thor crossed the distance in a few long strides and wrapped her in a careful hug, lifting her slightly off the ground.
"I missed you too," he said.
Frigga chuckled softly. "You say that every time you nearly die."
"Only nearly," Thor replied cheerfully.
She patted his arm. "Go. Let your father breathe."
Thor nodded, then glanced back at Odin with a grin. "We'll drink later."
"Not tonight," Odin said. "You've had enough bloodshed."
Thor scoffed. "Never."
He jogged off toward the halls, calling greetings as he went.
The courtyard slowly returned to life.
Frigga walked to Odin's side.
"You look thinner," she said.
"Midgard does that," Odin replied. (Note; The Norse's refer to all mortal realms as Midgard)
"And tired."
"That too."
She studied him for a moment longer, then took his arm. "Come. You can tell me what trouble you found this time."
They walked together through the halls, the noise fading behind them.
Odin's chambers were silent. A contrast to the halls brimming with Vitality.
Frigga poured him a drink and handed it over without a word.
He took a long sip.
"…I met a boy," Odin said.
Frigga blinked.
"A boy," she repeated carefully.
Odin nodded. "A mortal."
Frigga raised an eyebrow. "You don't usually bring mortals into conversation."
"I don't usually bring anyone into conversation," Odin replied.
She waited.
"He wasn't special," Odin continued. "Not at first glance. No divine spark. No destiny screaming for attention."
"And yet," Frigga said gently, "you're talking about him."
Odin leaned back slightly. "He stood like he expected the world to move out of his way."
Frigga smiled faintly. "Confidence?"
"Something like that," Odin said. "Not arrogance. Not foolishness. Just… certainty."
Frigga's expression grew thoughtful.
"And this certainty interested you."
"Yes."
She sat across from him. "Enough to interfere?"
Odin hesitated.
"I gave him something," he admitted.
Frigga's eyes sharpened. "Odin."
"A precaution," he said quickly. "Nothing active. Nothing intrusive."
"What did you give him?"
Odin reached into his cloak and placed a familiar shape on the table.
A wooden necklace.
Frigga stared at it.
"…You forged this," she said.
"Yes."
"From your divinity."
"A fragment," Odin replied. "Barely enough to matter."
Frigga exhaled slowly. "You know what this looks like."
"I know what it is," Odin said. "A single escape. One chance."
"And when it's used?" she asked.
"Then it breaks," Odin said simply. "No trace. No anchor."
Frigga leaned back. "The Olympians will not see it that way."
Odin chuckled. "The Olympians barely see anything beyond themselves."
"They guard their borders fiercely," Frigga warned. "They'll call it intrusion."
Odin waved a hand dismissively. "Zeus blusters. He always has."
"He is dangerous," Frigga said quietly.
"So am I."
She studied him. "You sound certain."
Odin smiled.
"Zeus is a mad, lustful dog," he said bluntly. "All thunder and noise. He doesn't plan. He reacts."
Frigga frowned. "And if he reacts to this?"
"Then he'll bark at shadows," Odin replied. "I didn't cross his realm. I didn't challenge him."
"You left something behind."
"Yes," Odin said. "And that's the difference."
Frigga was silent for a long moment.
"You're excited," she said finally.
Odin didn't deny it.
"I don't know why," he admitted. "I don't know what the boy is. Only that when I looked at him… it felt like something unfinished."
Frigga folded her hands. "Be careful."
Odin met her gaze. "I always am."
She smiled faintly. "That's what worries me."
They sat together in quiet.
Husband and Wife together in harmony
The sounds of their son continued to echo across the hallways.
Asgard was joyful for the All-Father has returned from his travels.