Baldur Odinson:The light of Asgard

Chapter 8: The Fall of the Thunderer

Baldur knew this was coming.

He had known since the day he first opened his eyes in Asgard, since the moment he realized where he was, what this world was, and what was bound to happen.

And tonight, it was happening exactly as it was meant to.

He stood in the grand halls of the palace, watching as Thor basked in the celebration of his greatest triumph—the day he would be crowned King of Asgard. The golden banners draped from the high ceilings, the flickering torchlight reflected in the polished floors, and the great hall was filled with the laughter of warriors and nobles alike.

Thor stood before the throne, pride burning in his eyes, Mjolnir heavy at his side. Odin watched him with quiet patience, and Baldur could see what no one else could—the weight behind the Allfather's gaze, the decision he had already made.

The moment Odin raised his hand, the entire hall fell silent.

"Thor Odinson," Odin's voice carried across the chamber, firm and regal. "You have proven yourself to be a mighty warrior. Today, you stand before us, ready to take your place as King of Asgard—"

Then, right on schedule, the doors to the throne room burst open.

A palace guard, injured and frantic, stumbled into the hall, his armor torn and his face streaked with blood.

"Frost Giants," he gasped, struggling for breath. "They have breached the vault!"

A chill ran through the gathered warriors, and Baldur schooled his expression to hide the fact that this was exactly what he had expected.

Thor's grip on Mjolnir tightened. Here it comes.

Baldur walked beside Thor through the palace halls, his expression neutral as they approached the destroyed entrance to Odin's vault. He could feel the lingering energy of the Odinforce, the remnants of the spell that had slain the Frost Giants where they stood.

The relics remained untouched, but the damage was done.

And now, Thor was fuming.

"This is an act of war!" he roared, his voice echoing through the chambers. "They came into our kingdom, into our home, and you would have us do nothing?!"

Odin's expression did not shift. "They were stopped. The relics remain. The matter is closed."

Baldur knew Thor would never accept that. He had seen the movie, after all. He had read the stories. But now, standing here in the flesh, watching it unfold—it felt different.

He knew what was coming next, and he had thought about stopping it.

If he stepped forward now and told Odin that Loki had let the Jotuns in, that this was all a ploy, that this entire sequence of events was a catalyst for something far, far greater—would it change anything?

Or would he just be throwing the entire timeline into chaos?

Too many unknowns.

Baldur had power, but he wasn't a god of time. He knew that one wrong move could send ripples that might not be fixable.

So instead, he remained silent.

Loki, standing near him, tilted his head. "If the Jotuns wanted to steal the Casket of Ancient Winters, why would they send so few? Why risk so much for so little?"

Baldur glanced at him. It was a leading question—Loki was already planting the seeds of his next move.

Thor turned toward Odin, rage burning in his chest. "Then let us show them the consequences of their actions. Let us march on Jotunheim and—"

"Enough," Odin's voice rang like thunder, final and unyielding. "There will be no march on Jotunheim. I will not sacrifice the peace we have fought so hard to keep."

Thor scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "So we do nothing. We sit on our thrones and hope they never return?"

Odin's silence was all the answer he needed.

And Baldur watched as Thor made his choice.

Jotunheim --

The air was sharp and biting, thick with the power of an ancient, frozen realm. Jotunheim was just as Baldur remembered—massive towers of jagged ice stretching toward the storm-filled sky, the landscape a barren, frost-covered wasteland.

He stood beside Sif and the Warriors Three, his posture relaxed as they followed Thor deeper into the enemy's domain.

The King of the Frost Giants was already waiting.

Laufey stepped forward, his crimson eyes glinting with cold amusement. "You bring your war to us, Odinson?"

Thor, predictably, did not back down.

"You sent spies into our kingdom," he declared, standing tall. "I have come for answers."

Laufey chuckled, his deep voice like cracking ice. "You mean you have come for blood."

Baldur sighed.

Then the fighting started.

Thor swung first, hurling Mjolnir with reckless force. The Frost Giants moved fast, their massive forms weaving through the battlefield with a speed that should not have been possible for creatures of their size.

Baldur moved even faster.

In a flash of golden light, he darted through the chaos, his hard-light blade carving through the Jotuns as they tried to surround them. He wasn't worried—not really.

They would fight.

Odin would come.

Thor would be cast out.

This was all part of the plan.

And yet, Baldur couldn't deny the feeling that this time, it felt real.

Sif fought beside him, her blade cutting through a Frost Giant's exposed throat, her movements flawless. She turned to him, breathless.

"Are you holding back?" she asked between attacks.

Baldur smirked, even as he dodged a blast of freezing energy. "Wouldn't want to ruin the story."

Sif gave him a confused look but didn't press him.

He had spent his entire life knowing how this would play out.

It didn't make watching it any easier.

The Jotuns began to overwhelm them.

And just like before—the sky tore open.

Odin descended, power crackling around him, his spear glowing with golden energy.

"You are not ready," he declared.

Thor's fury met his father's disappointment, and within moments, it was over.

Baldur barely had time to blink before the Bifrost swallowed them whole.

The throne room was silent.

Thor knelt before Odin, his hands clenched, his shoulders stiff with barely restrained rage.

"You are unworthy," Odin said, his voice carrying the weight of final judgment.

Mjolnir slammed onto the ground, stripped of its magic.

Thor's breath hitched. "Father, please—"

Odin's gaze hardened.

A flash of golden light—

And Thor was gone.

Baldur exhaled. He knew this was necessary.

He knew Thor would grow from this.

But it still hurt to watch.

He turned toward Loki, who was watching too intently, his expression unreadable. This was the beginning of his rise.

Odin sat heavily on his throne, looking older than he had just minutes before.

Thor was gone.

Stripped of his power. Cast down to Midgard. Left to wander as nothing more than a man.

He had let things unfold as they were meant to. But if Odin was going to let Thor suffer alone—

Then Baldur would go to him.