New chapter friends a little short now I have planned a time skip of a couple of years and they will be longer.
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The light was still intense, but little by little his eyes began to adjust. The feeling of cold faded away as he was wrapped in a soft, warm, comforting blanket. Everything around him seemed enormous, almost disproportionate, as if he were… a baby.
The feminine voice that cradled him was gentle, yet carried an authority that demanded respect. When his vision finally cleared a bit, he could see her face in more detail: fair skin, eyes as blue as a calm lake, and intense red hair flowing over her shoulders, contrasting with the golden light of the room. Her smile radiated warmth and tenderness.
"My little one…" the woman whispered. "You're strong, just like your father."
It was then that his eyes lifted—and he saw him.
A massive man with a regal presence, a thick beard, and hair as dark as the night. His right eye gleamed with power, while the left was covered by a golden patch. His armor was majestic, adorned with ancient symbols, and in his hand he held a long, gleaming spear.
Odin.
No way… he thought, stunned. That's… the All-Father.
The woman pulled him closer to her chest and gave the man a loving glance.
Frigga, he thought immediately, recalling all the myths he had once read.
The Queen of Asgard… and my mother.
He couldn't speak, couldn't move beyond the faint tremble of his tiny hands. But inside, his mind was racing.
I've been reborn. Not as just any human… but as the son of Odin and Frigga.
Then, a younger voice—somewhat arrogant yet curious—broke the silence.
"So this little one will be our brother?" asked a blond boy, around six or seven years old, with a proud smile and bright eyes.
Thor.
Beside him stood another boy, with more refined features and a calculating expression. His dark hair fell to his shoulders, and his eyes sparkled with a mix of distrust and curiosity.
Yes… that's Loki.
"It'll be interesting to have another brother," Loki said softly. "I just hope he doesn't cry too much."
The memories of his past life were still scattered, floating between thoughts. But there was one thing he understood perfectly:
I'm not just another Asgardian. I'm the youngest son of Odin.
The hall was vast, filled with golden reliefs and imposing columns. It all looked like it had come straight out of a Norse legend—but it was so real he could smell the incense in the air and feel the warmth of his mother's body.
Odin leaned slightly toward him, and with a deep, firm voice, said:
"His name shall be Vidar."
The echo of the name resonated through the walls—and in his mind.
Vidar… that's me. That's my new name.
And he smiled inwardly.
I don't have a sword yet. I don't have a throne. But I have time… time to grow, to learn, and to claim my place.
And with the power of Balance in my veins… not even the gods will be able to stop me.
As his infant consciousness began to sink into an involuntary slumber, his adult mind clung to one last thought before fading:
Sleep peacefully, my brothers… Thor, Loki… One day, I will become a legend too.
His breathing slowed. The sounds faded away. His awareness, little by little, sank once more, as if the world whispered to him:
"Sleep, little god… Your destiny is just beginning."
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