Set in a dimension higher than most, even among the divine realms, there was a kingdom whose splendor few could compare to.
The kingdom was majestic and divine, covered in green mountains from the vast forests brimming with beasts larger than any creature seen by man.
But that was just the tip of the iceberg. Its rivers stretched as far as cities, its vegetation thrived with untouched species, and a rainbow bridge connected it in a straight line. In the center of the realm stood a city built from immense wealth. At its heart was the palace of the king who ruled the kingdom—surrounded by houses and palaces made of gold and silver, libraries, statues, and gardens. The streets were entirely paved with gold.
All this wealth had a reason—this was Asgard, the Eternal Realm.
In one of the palace chambers, a woman lay on a bed. Her hair was black, her eyes blue, and her beauty rivaled that of a goddess of love. But that lovely face was now crying out in pain, her wails echoing throughout Asgard.
The All-Mother was giving birth.
"My queen, just a little more," said a male voice, holding her hand beside the bed.
It was a middle-aged man with long black hair and beard, a golden eyepatch over his right eye. He wore a white robe that covered his entire body.
"UUURGH!" the All-Mother screamed again.
The midwife assisting the delivery pushed her hands deeper into the womb, causing more pain, yet the queen remained strong. A battle of wills began. The midwife tried to pull the baby, who resisted.
But not even a baby could defy the persistence of an Asgardian. The child lost the battle, and carefully, the midwife pulled the blood-covered baby from the womb, staining the lower bed.
"It's a boy, my queen!" shouted the midwife.
She conjured a white cloth and wrapped it around the baby, placing him in the arms of the glowing and joyful mother.
"He's beautiful, Odin, come see our son," said the All-Mother.
Odin approached the bed, now able to fully see his child. The baby had strands of red hair and emerald-green eyes and radiated warmth from his body.
"Yes, he is beautiful," said the All-Father, his single eye shining.
"He needs a name."
"Yes, a name worthy of his blood," Odin replied, gazing intently at his son, seeing the boy's soul.
Minutes passed. Then the All-Father made his decision.
"His name shall be Vali Odinson!" Odin declared, engraving the name into the very soul of the child with authority.
He handed the baby back to his mother, then dismissed the midwife from the room, leaving the couple alone.
"So, my dear husband… what is the divinity of our son?" asked the queen, her voice faltering for a moment.
"Ah, Freyja… even though I know, I cannot reveal it yet—not until the right time," Odin replied, sitting beside the All-Mother.
"But why do I sense fear in you, my beloved queen?" he continued.
A sigh escaped Freyja as she looked down at her son.
"Even after so many eons, I still miss her… and seeing this child, I fear it could happen again," she said, a tear rolling down her cheek.
Odin pondered her words, understanding his wife's reasoning. His stern expression softened.
"Put those worries aside. No one would be foolish enough to harm our son—not after what I've done," the All-Father said, tapping Freyja's forehead and releasing a bit of his power into her.
"This should be enough to fully heal you. Now you and the child must rest," Odin said as he stood up.
He walked over to the wall, where a golden spear rested. He picked it up and headed to the door.
"I expect great things from you, son," said Odin before he left.
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"M-Mommy," I say again with difficulty, trying to get my mother's attention.
Luckily for me, it worked. Freyja walked over to the golden crib where I lay, picking me up in her arms and lifting me to her chest.
"What is it, my little one?" Freyja asked gently, as I responded by raising both my tiny arms.
Understanding what I wanted, she walked to the bed and gently laid me down. She then removed part of her upper garment. Holding me in her arms again, she placed me against her chest, and I began to nurse.
"That's it, drink as much as you can, my little one," said the All-Mother.
With every second I drank her divine milk, I felt my small body growing stronger. I must admit, the sensation was a bit addictive.
So this is how Hercules felt when he drank Hera's milk?
I kept feeding for several minutes until I suddenly caught a scent. I stopped nursing.
"Already full? Well, now your mother has royal matters to discuss with your old father," Freyja said, placing me back in my crib before leaving the room.
I sighed—or as much as a baby can sigh—while staring at the golden ceiling.
To think it's already been a year since I ended up in this universe…
When I reincarnated here, I remembered nothing about myself. My mind was a blank slate. But as the days passed, memories started to return. By the time I turned six months old, they had come back—well, partially. I still don't know my name from my past life, what job I had, or any of that. But I couldn't complain. The memories I did regain included academic knowledge and general life skills—and most importantly, knowledge about the world I was in.
I don't know if I was a scholar in my past life, or if I even went to college, but from what I recall of history, I must've at least studied it.
But what mattered most was knowing where I had ended up. And that wasn't hard to figure out—especially after I heard my full name. Everything clicked when my memories returned.
I was in the Marvel Universe.
Yes, the very universe where beings can destroy planets—or even entire realities—with ease.
Instead of panicking or throwing a tantrum like a normal baby, I was actually happy. I could meet my favorite heroes—the ones I used to see in comics, shows, and movies. Of course, I was still a little scared. This was still Marvel, where every corner might hide a psychopathic, overpowered villain.
But I was lucky—I didn't reincarnate as an ordinary human. Far from it. I was born Asgardian.
Asgardians—one of the most powerful races in the Marvel Universe, alongside the Eternals and other divine pantheons. Their physical abilities far surpass those of humans. Even the weakest Asgardian can lift tons with ease and shrug off bullets. They live for thousands of years without much effort—unlike truly immortal races, they do age, but very slowly.
And that's just a normal Asgardian.
But I'm the son of Odin. That means I carry the royal Asgardian bloodline in my veins. I'll be far stronger than the average Asgardian, and I'll likely live for millions of years.
What truly sets royal Asgardians apart, though, is something only they possess: divinity. Every member of the royal family is entitled to a divine power that evolves over time.
I honestly don't remember any "Vali" in Norse mythology… but that probably doesn't mean much in this universe.
I hear the door open, breaking me out of my thoughts. I turn my head, curious about who it could be. My mother's talks with my father don't end so quickly… so who could it be?
Peeking through the bars of my crib, I see one of my mother's handmaidens, dressed in Nordic servant attire. She quickly scans the room, then her gaze lands on me.
With surprising speed, she picks me up.
"The All-Father sent me to fetch you, dear prince," she says with a smile.
I'm still getting used to this whole "prince" thing, but her joy is making me uneasy.
She seems familiar. Where have I seen her before? My mother has many handmaidens, and I rarely spend time with them—most of my time is with my mother or occasionally my father.
"You probably don't remember me—and I don't blame you. After all, you had just been born," she says as she carries me out of the room.
Ah, so she's the one who helped deliver me. That explains her excitement at seeing me.
"How could I forget? My name is Astrid, young prince," she says as she turns down another golden corridor.
"Da-da!" I try to speak, but fail miserably.
Astrid chuckles softly at my attempt.
Knowing it'll take a few more minutes to reach the throne room, I drift back into my thoughts about my situation.
First off—Thor and Loki haven't even been born yet. That means I'm far back in the past. But how far, I can't say. Which brings me to my second concern:
Which of the infinite Marvel realities am I in?
I could be in any number of Marvel's alternate universes. But one thing's for sure—I'm not in the MCU. And how do I know that? Easy: my mother is Freyja, not Frigga. That leads me to believe I'm in a version of Marvel that's closer to the comics than the films.
Well, I should stop thinking about that now, because we're finally reaching the throne room—where I see the king of this realm in all his glory.