C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A LT H O R
"I have danced on distant stars. With a host of a thousand at my back, I have conquered realms. Countless foes lie dead at mine feet. Gods tremble at my coming. You are merely mortal, villain. Beneath my notice."
T H O R O D I N S O N ♦ G O D O F T H U N D E R , P R I N C E O F ♦ A S G A R D
History records that Bor, second Allfather of the Æsir and King of Asgard, was murdered by a Jötunn sorcerer. This is a half truth. In reality, Loki Laufeyson bore a hole through time and transformed his adoptive grandfather into a living snowstorm. Odin Borson led an army of Asgardians into Jötunheim, land of the giants, to rescue his father. Yet when he found Bor begging to be freed, Odin was taken by a lust for power and cast Bor away. Bor placed a curse upon his son that he, too, would have his throne usurped by his children. Enraged, Odin tore Jötunheim apart, killing its king, Laufey, and taking the babe Loki as hostage to dissuade the remaining jötnar from seeking vengeance. He raised Loki as his son, shrouding the boy's true origin from his family out of paranoia.
Odin reigned over Asgard and the Nine Realms for countless eons. He sired many sons with his wife, Freya, the Vanir witch he had wed to end the war between their peoples. By other dalliances did he father children as well, including one with Mother Gaea of Midgard, which produced Thor, the God of Thunder. The boy proved a prodigious warrior. Many believed he so was fearsome he may even surpass his father's might some day. Odin commissioned the dwarves of Nidavellir to forge the legendary hammer Mjölnir for his son. With it, Thor adventured across the realms: he battled demons in Muspelheim, Malekith's dark elves in Svartalfheim, and even ventured to Midgard to hunt great wyrms and leviathans. In time the skalds sung more of Thor's deeds than those of even Odin himself.
The realms shook with grief the day Thor murdered Loki. The God of Thunder claimed that he had discovered Loki's true ancestry as a son of the giant king Laufey and confronted his brother for this deception. The accusation angered Loki enough that he struck Thor, and the two began a battle that leveled half the realm. By the time their companions could subdue them it was too late: Loki had suffered a mortal wound, perishing soon after. For the crime of kinslaying, Odin banished Thor to Midgard until he was once again worthy to wield Mjölnir.
For the first time in fifty thousand years, Thor was cold. A bitter wind was howling in from the north. The snow was deep enough to swallow his boot when he took a step forward. Thor cast his eyes around the glade. The overcast sky blotched out the spare moonlight. Dark trees loomed as shadows all around him. Far away, mountaintops peeked through the falling snow. This place was unfamiliar to him. He had to imagine it was not so frozen as the icy cliffs of Jötunheim. Yet when he wandered in those hoary winters never did he shake with chill. Never did these strange little bumps cover his skin as they did now.
Thor clutched his crimson cloak tight around his bare arms, wishing he had begged furs from Odin before his banishment to this awful place. He trudged through the snow across the clearing, aimlessly.
"Has my father cast me so far that even you cannot see me, Heimdall?" He wondered aloud. His usually booming voice was hollow as the caves of Nidavellir. "Is this the domain of mine most accursed niece?"
Surely this was not Helheim, for he was not yet dead. He could still still the heat of his breath; still he felt the beating of his heart, quick and erratic. Nay, this was not Hel, nor anywhere on Niffleheim- for the great dragon Nidhogg would surely be here to devour him if it was. The skalds sing warnings of Nidhogg to all with aspirations of murder or betrayal in their hearts: the serpent will pursue them to the end of the realms to feast upon their corpses. A fitting punishment, Thor once believed, for who would are raise a hand against their own kin?
"Loki..." Thor choked on the name. The sting of the bitter wind grew too much, and he snapped his eyes shut. "Why did you lie to me?"
What sort of fool was he to strike down his own brother? Perhaps there was little love lost between them. Loki had always spoken out of both sides of his mouth. Every day he had some new mischief to make, and rarely was it harmless. Many gods were relieved he was finally dealt with, Thor was sure. That mattered not. Loki was still the boy he'd chased through the woods on the back of a stag. Thor remembered fondly the day he disguised himself as Freya and wed the giant Thrymr to steal back Mjölnir. Balder, Sif, the Warriors Three- they all thought the scheme ridiculous. It was only Loki who would accompany him. His brother even disguised himself as a bridesmaid.
A mournful smile crept up Thor's face even as tears streamed down his cheeks. Somewhere far above him there was a crack of thunder.
Lightning struck the ground before Thor, throwing him back off his feet and into the snow. Shock seized his chest as he opened his eyes and saw a crater where the bolt had landed. Within it sat Hammer of Gods, sparking, alive. Thor clambered down the side of the crater as fast as his unsteady legs would allow. He thought Mjölnir lost to him! Odin had declared him unworthy of her moments before thrusting him off the rainbow bridge. Perhaps his father had seen reason. Perhaps he understood that the killing blow was never meant to be such. Thor wrapped his hand around the familiar hilt and lifted.
Mjölnir did not budge.
The battle must've sapped more of his strength than Thor realized. He grasped lower down the shaft with his other hand, twisted his back foot into the dirt and lifted with all his might. The ground beneath him began to crack. Thunder roared over head as lightning lit up the sky. Still it would not move.
"Damn you," Thor snarled, and he slammed a fist into the snow. The stone beneath shattered, and Thor and Mjölnir alike went tumbling down into the dark embrace of the earth. They fell a great distance into a cavern far below. Dirt, snow and rock tumbled over head, burying them in the dark.
With a strength only a god could know, Thor tore himself free. He began digging in a panic through the rubble, blindly grasping for the weapon that had rejected him. It was all he had left of home. Even if it did not want him, he could not abandon it so easily.
Thor couldn't say how long he searched. The alien embrace of fatigue clung to his body like an unwanted cloak. He was moments from collapsing into despair before he spotted the faintest glow among the snow. Thor plied his way to it, and the glow revealed itself to be words etched upon the face of Mjölnir: Whosoever holds this hammer, if they be worthy, shall the power of...THOR.
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