Baldur Odinson:The light of Asgard

Chapter 9: The Exiled Thunderer

Baldur remained in the throne room long after Thor had been cast out.

The golden halls were now eerily silent, as if the air itself had stilled in the wake of Odin's judgment. The cheers, the pride, the grandness of the coronation that should have been—all of it gone.

He exhaled, tilting his head as he studied his father on the throne. Odin, the Allfather, the great king of Asgard, sat heavy in his seat, as though the weight of his own decisions pressed down on him.

Baldur could have stopped all of this. He knew he could have.

All it would have taken was a few words. A simple warning. A nudge in the right direction. Tell Thor to wait, to control his temper, to suspect Loki, to do anything differently.

And yet… he hadn't.

Because this—this needed to happen.

Thor's fall, his journey, his return.

This was how he became worthy.

But that didn't mean Baldur wasn't irritated by how slow this process was about to be.

He folded his arms. "Dramatic."

Odin's single eye slid to him, calm yet knowing. "You disapprove."

Baldur smirked faintly. "You know me, Father. I'm just a fan of less exile, more learning from mistakes. Maybe a little therapy?"

Odin hummed, resting his hands on the arms of his throne. "And yet, you did nothing to prevent this outcome."

That caught Baldur off guard for half a second.

Odin knew.

Baldur kept his face impassive. "And if I had?"

Odin's gaze remained steady. "Then you would have changed what was meant to be."

Baldur scoffed. "Meant to be," he repeated, letting the words roll in his mouth. "That's a convenient way of saying, 'I let my son get himself banished when I could've just sat him down and had a conversation.'"

Odin didn't react. "And yet, you let him walk the path of exile. Why?"

Baldur shrugged, but he knew the answer.

Because Thor needed this.

Because this was how he would become the king he was meant to be.

Because if Baldur stopped this one moment, he would have to stop everything.

And then… what?

How many butterflies would he crush before he didn't recognize the world anymore?

He sighed, rolling his shoulders. "If I said it was because I believed in fate, would you buy it?"

Odin smirked. Just barely. "No."

Baldur chuckled. "Worth a shot."

Odin's expression shifted slightly, calculating. "You are leaving."

Baldur stretched lazily, clearly not denying it. "You sent my brother to Midgard. Can't let him have all the fun, can I?"

Odin studied him for a long moment. "You do not intend to interfere with his trial."

Baldur's smirk didn't fade. "Nope."

Odin's voice was quiet. "Then why go?"

This time, Baldur didn't answer right away.

He couldn't say the truth.

He couldn't say that he knew what was coming. That he wanted to see how events unfolded from the ground level. That despite knowing Thor's story, Loki's plan, and how all of this should end…

There was something thrilling about seeing it with his own eyes.

So instead, he just grinned. "Midgard's fun. They have coffee."

Odin exhaled, as though unbelievably tired. "Go then. But remember—the fate of the gods does not take kindly to those who think themselves above it."

Baldur winked. "Good thing I don't think that, then."

And with that, he vanished in golden light.

Midgard –

Baldur slammed into the dirt.

Hard.

He groaned, lifting his face out of the desert sand. "Ugh. I need to work on landings."

The air was dry, hot, and smelled vaguely of gasoline.

Welcome to Midgard.

Pushing himself up, Baldur dusted himself off, stretching out his arms as he took in his surroundings. The small desert town was about what he expected. Low buildings, an old diner with flickering neon signs, and a road leading to a research facility in the distance.

He knew what was happening.

Thor had already been found by Jane Foster and her team. He was probably being his usual dramatic self—demanding mead and storming off into the night.

And Mjolnir…

Baldur turned his head. Even from here, he could feel it.

That subtle pull. The weight of something not quite of this world.

Mjolnir had landed miles away, drawing attention, drawing people.

And right about now…

A smile tugged at Baldur's lips. Thor was probably charging straight toward it.

Which meant he had time to kill.

Perfect.

Darcy's POV –

Darcy had already decided this was the weirdest week of her life.

First, she hit a literal Norse god with her car.

Then, she tasered him.

And now, there was a second Norse god.

A hot one.

Darcy was not subtle about checking him out.

Short blond hair, golden eyes, taller than any man had a right to be but still leaner than Thor's wall-of-muscle build. Where Thor walked like a conqueror, this one moved like he belonged wherever he was.

And then he smirked.

She had to physically stop herself from sighing.

"So," she said, leaning on the diner counter, stirring her coffee. "You also do the whole hammer-throwing thing?"

Baldur chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "Nope. More of a light manipulation kind of guy."

Darcy raised an eyebrow. "Light manipulation? So, what, like a giant flashlight?"

Baldur grinned. "Something like that."

He held out his hand, and golden energy crackled at his fingertips, forming a small, glowing orb. It hovered just above his palm, pulsing gently.

Darcy's jaw actually dropped.

"Okay, that is unfairly cool," she muttered.

Baldur winked. "Glad you think so."

Jane groaned, rubbing her temples. "Darcy, please don't encourage him."

Darcy grinned. "Jane, I'm only human. And he's, like, literally a god."

Baldur chuckled. "You flatter me."

Darcy stirred her coffee. "I do my best."

Baldur tilted his head. "So, how does a woman like you end up in a place like this?"

Darcy smirked. "Oh, we're flirting now?"

Baldur grinned. "I thought we were always flirting."

Jane sighed. "I hate this."

Darcy loved this.

Thor could go run off and fail to lift his hammer.

She was going to have fun.