Baldur Odinson:The light of Asgard

Chapter 1: The Light of Asgard

The first few years passed in a blur of golden halls, grand feasts, and the ever-present warmth of divinity coursing through his veins.

From the very moment he took his first breath in Asgard, Baldur knew—this was no ordinary life.

The body he inhabited was stronger, more resilient than anything he had ever felt before. His muscles, though small as a child, already carried a force beyond human limitations. His senses were sharper, his reflexes unnaturally quick. But the most defining aspect of all?

The light.

It flowed within him like a second pulse, responding to his every thought, his every whim. Sometimes it flickered softly, other times it flared up, surrounding him in a golden glow that made the palace walls shimmer. He didn't fully understand it yet, but he could feel it—power waiting to be explored, to be unleashed.

And the best part?

Asgard was a playground like no other.

The realm of gods was a place of endless adventure, of boundless wonders. From the towering spires of Valaskjalf to the massive golden gates that opened to the Bifrost, everything about this place felt like something straight out of legend.

But for Baldur, this wasn't just legend.

This was life.

And he intended to make the most of it.

His earliest memories were filled with laughter and games, most of them involving Thor and Loki, his two older brothers who, despite their differences, had always been part of his life.

Thor was boisterous, loud, and full of unshakable confidence. He loved to spar, to test his strength, and to talk about the day he would wield Mjolnir as the greatest warrior Asgard had ever seen.

Loki was clever, sharp-tongued, and always plotting something. He had a way with words, a charm that could make even Odin pause to listen. But Baldur could see something else in him—a hunger, a desire to prove himself in a world that often looked at him as lesser.

Then there was Baldur himself—the youngest, the wild card, the troublemaker.

His childhood was a whirlwind of running through the palace halls, sneaking into forbidden chambers, and trying to see how fast he could outrun the palace guards before they caught him.

He learned quickly that his light-based abilities made him the fastest of the three.

Thor could hit like a mountain crashing down, and Loki could outthink most of his opponents, but Baldur?

Baldur was untouchable.

By the time Thor could throw a punch, he was already behind him. By the time Loki tried to weave an illusion, Baldur had already seen through it and was three steps ahead.

And the best part?

He loved every second of it.

As he grew, so did his powers.

At first, it was subtle—small bursts of light flickering from his hands, a strange glow that danced across his skin whenever he got too excited. But as the years passed, his control sharpened, and his abilities became more defined.

By the age of six, he discovered he could accelerate his movements, turning into a streak of golden light that zipped across the palace grounds in an instant.

By the age of eight, he learned how to form constructs of pure energy, creating weapons of hard light—blades, spears, even wings that allowed him to hover for brief moments.

By the age of ten, he had mastered the ability to heal wounds, though it took concentration. If he focused enough, he could close minor cuts and bruises, restoring vitality with nothing but his own energy.

Of course, with power came trouble.

He had a habit of testing his limits in ways that often ended with Odin shaking his head in frustration.

Like the time he jumped off the highest tower in the palace just to see if he could use his light to slow his fall.

Or the time he tried to blind one of the palace guards as a joke and nearly got thrown into the training pits as punishment.

Or when he snuck into the royal stables, convinced that he could outrun one of Asgard's war-horses on foot.

He was right.

But that didn't stop Odin from grounding him for a full week.

Despite his mischievous nature, there was one thing that set Baldur apart from his brothers—

His hunger for exploration.

Thor craved battle. Loki craved recognition.

But Baldur?

Baldur craved the unknown.

He wanted to see every inch of Asgard. He wanted to run across the Rainbow Bridge and gaze into the endless cosmos beyond. He wanted to fly over the golden plains of Vanaheim, dive into the shimmering lakes of Alfheim, and chase the stars themselves.

There was an entire universe out there, and he refused to stay confined to the palace.

That was why, at the age of twelve, he did something that would change everything.

He stole a boat.

Not just any boat—a royal vessel, enchanted by the best sorcerers in Asgard.

His plan was simple.

Sail beyond the Bifrost's reach and see where fate would take him.

But fate had other plans.

Because before he could even reach open skies, his father was already waiting for him.

Odin stood at the dock, arms crossed, watching as Baldur—his youngest son, the one who never listened—tried to sail away as if he wouldn't notice.

The boat hadn't even left the harbor.

Baldur blinked.

"…I can explain."

Odin's gaze hardened.

"No, you cannot."

And just like that, Baldur found himself dragged back to the palace by the collar of his tunic, with Thor laughing in the distance and Loki shaking his head in amusement.

But even as he was lectured for the next hour, Baldur couldn't stop grinning.

Because this was just the beginning.

The universe was vast, endless. There were stories to be told, adventures to be had.

And Baldur Odinson?

He would see it all.