The sky of Asgard always maintains a unique luminosity.
There is no obvious alternation between night and day here, only changes in the intensity of light.
At the edge of that massive continent suspended in the void, golden seawater pours down from the end of the world, producing a deafening roar.
The magnificent Golden Palace stands at the city’s highest point, with countless spires piercing the clouds, every brick and stone emitting a faint golden light.
The streets are paved with pure white marble, so smooth they can even reflect a person’s image.
Exotic plants are planted on both sides of the streets, their broad leaves swaying gently in the breeze, releasing a pleasant fragrance.
The Bifrost Bridge glimmers with seven-colored radiance in the distance, connecting this divine realm with other worlds.
On this wide marble street, a small figure is running swiftly.
This is a young boy who looks to be six or seven years old.
He has supple, short black hair that has a healthy luster under the sun.
His skin is fair and delicate, and his features are so exquisite that one cannot look away, especially those amber eyes, which are clear enough to reflect the entire sky.
He is dressed in well-tailored Asgardian noble attire; his deep blue coat is embroidered with golden silk thread, and he wears a pair of exquisite little leather boots.
At this moment, those little leather boots are treading on the marble pavement, making a crisp “da-da-da” sound.
He runs joyfully, a bright smile hanging on the corners of his mouth, and a thin layer of sweat has broken out on his forehead.
The roadside vendors are organizing the goods on their stalls.
Seeing this small running figure, they stop their work one after another, kind smiles appearing on their faces.
“Prince Arthas, run slower, don’t fall,” a fruit-selling uncle shouted loudly.
Arthas stopped his pace, turned around, and waved at the uncle.
“I know, Uncle Lucius!
Today’s apples look really good!” His voice was crisp and loud, full of vitality.
After speaking, he bowed to an old grandmother who was pushing a handcart nearby.
“Grandmother Helen, good afternoon!” The old grandmother smiled so much that the wrinkles on her face smoothed out.
She reached out tremblingly, wanting to get something from the cart for him, but Arthas had already turned and run far away with a laugh.
Not long after Arthas ran past, two even smaller figures followed.
Running in front was a blonde, chubby little fellow.
He ran somewhat stumblingly, his face flushed red, and he was huffing and puffing for breath.
“Brother!
Wait for me!” he shouted loudly while running.
Although his voice was youthful, his lungs were quite powerful.
This was Thor, Odin’s biological son and the future Thor.
Following behind Thor was a black-haired young boy.
He ran more steadily, following Thor at a leisurely pace, his green eyes revealing a hint of cleverness.
He was Loki, Odin’s adopted son.
“Thor, slow down, Brother won’t leave us behind,” Loki muttered softly, but his pace didn’t slacken at all.
Hearing the shouts from behind, Arthas stopped.
He turned around and stood in place, waiting for his two younger brothers to catch up.
Looking at Thor, who ran up panting, Arthas reached out and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
“Don’t be in such a hurry, Thor,” Arthas said with a smile, his tone carrying a hint of doting indulgence.
“I was just waiting for you at the intersection ahead.” Thor grabbed Arthas around the waist and rubbed his head against him.
“Brother runs too fast, I couldn’t keep up,” Thor said endearingly.
Loki also walked over.
He didn’t pounce directly like Thor did, but instead stood to the side and gently pulled on Arthas’s sleeve.
“Brother, where are we going to play today?” Loki asked, looking up with eyes full of expectation.
Arthas thought for a moment and tapped a finger against his chin.
“Hmm…
let’s review today’s lessons first,” he said solemnly.
“Do you both remember the incantation for the ‘Light Spell’ from the magic class Mother taught this morning?” As soon as Thor heard the word ‘lessons,’ his little face immediately slumped.
“Huh?
Memorizing incantations again…” he grumbled.
“Those are so hard to remember.
I want to practice swordplay.” Loki, however, nodded.
“I remember it, Brother.
Can we go play after we finish reciting the incantations?” Arthas reached out to ruffle Thor’s messy golden hair and then patted Loki’s head.
“I’m just teasing you guys,” Arthas blinked, revealing a mischievous smile.
“I’ve finished all my lessons, and I’ve even written the treatise on the politics of the Nine Realms that Father assigned.
Now it’s free time!
Come on, I’ll take you to the Bifrost Bridge to see Uncle Heimdall!” At this very moment, in a magnificent Private Chambers at the highest point of the Golden Palace.
Two figures stood before a massive floor-to-ceiling window.
Odin had already taken off his heavy battle armor and changed into a loose, comfortable linen robe.
He held a cup of golden wine in his hand, his gaze passing through the window to watch the three small dots chasing each other on the distant street.
Standing beside him was the goddess queen Frigga.
She wore a light blue silk gown with exquisite silver patterns embroidered on the hem, which swayed gently with the breeze.
Her long hair was elegantly pinned behind her head with a delicate pearl hairpin.
Her appearance was dignified and beautiful; time seemed not to have left many marks on her face, but instead endowed her with a calm and gentle temperament.
Her eyes were as soft as if they could embrace everything in the world.
Odin gently swirled the wine in his cup, and as he watched the three children, the corners of his mouth involuntarily turned up slightly.
“Time really flies,” he sighed softly, his tone carrying a hint of the passage of years.
“In the blink of an eye, those three little fellows can already run and jump.
When Arthas first arrived, he was only a tiny thing; I was afraid of crushing him just by holding him in my hands.” Frigga also looked out the window, her gaze constantly following the three figures.
“Yes,” she replied softly.
“The current Arthas already looks like an older brother.
Look at how he takes care of Thor and Loki; he’s so sensible.” At this point, she turned her head and glanced at Odin.
There was a hint of a playful smile in that look.
“Do you still remember the day you first brought him back?” Frigga asked.
“That day you were covered in sweat, clutching an infant in your arms, and you sneaked into the palace,” Frigga chuckled behind her hand.
“That guilty look on your face was exactly like a thief’s.” “When I saw you holding a child, I thought an illegitimate son of yours had come to the door.” “I was so angry that I snatched up the magic wand nearby to beat you without a second thought.” Hearing this, Odin rubbed his nose somewhat awkwardly and coughed twice.
“Ahem…
well…
that was just because I was afraid you’d misunderstand,” Odin defended himself.
“After all, that child’s origin…
is indeed a bit complicated to explain.” “But didn’t I explain it clearly later?” he added quickly.
“As you can see, this child is so lovable.
Your current doting on him is not a bit less than your doting on Thor.” Frigga gave him an annoyed roll of her eyes.
This eye-roll was extremely charming, carrying both a wife’s pique and a goddess queen’s majesty.
“I never disliked Little Arthas in the first place,” she said matter-of-factly.
“That child’s eyes are so beautiful; whose heart wouldn’t soften upon seeing them?” “The one I disliked was you,” she said, crossing her arms.
“Sneaking off to see your old flame without saying a word to me.
Any wife would be angry seeing that, right?” Odin’s face was filled with a placating smile.
“Hahaha, my fault, my fault,” he quickly raised his hands in surrender.
“My lady’s lesson is well-taken.
I didn’t expect it to turn out like that either.” Odin placed his wine cup on the windowsill and turned to face Frigga, his expression becoming a bit more serious.
“However, I still have to say it once more,” Odin said solemnly.
“There really isn’t anything of that sort between Aphrodite and me.
It’s just some old history from when we were young.” “And you know her temperament,” Odin spread his hands with a helpless look.
“Her standards are very high; she hasn’t taken a fancy to any man.
Whether mortal or god, they are all the same in her eyes.” “Even if I had the heart for it, I wouldn’t have the ability.” Frigga nodded.
“Yes, that much I know,” she said softly.
“Who in the Nine Realms hasn’t heard of the deeds of that Goddess of Beauty?
I don’t know how many people have pursued her, only to be rebuffed.” She looked Odin up and down, a playful smile curling at the corners of her mouth.
“An old man like you really doesn’t make the cut.” Odin was choked for words.
He opened his mouth to retort, but in the end, he gave a helpless, bitter laugh.
“My lady, leave me some dignity; there’s no need to be so detailed about it,” he muttered softly.
“Although I’m a bit old now, I was at least handsome and dashing in my youth.” Then Odin waved his hand, moving past this distressing topic.
His gaze returned to the window, looking at that golden sky, and his expression gradually became solemn.
“However, that’s all in the past.
I’ve long since let it go,” Odin sighed.
“What worries me now is the situation over there.” “The Olympian Realm…
has been completely sealed off.” “Since the day she returned, I haven’t received any news from there.
Even the Bifrost Bridge cannot peer into the situation inside Mount Olympus.” Odin frowned, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the windowsill.
“I wonder how she is now.
Whether she’s still alive, or if she stopped Zeus’s madness.” Seeing her husband’s worried look, Frigga reached out and gently squeezed the back of his hand.
“It’s alright,” she comforted him softly, her voice firm and powerful.
“A woman like her is by no means a fragile vase.” “If she had long been on guard against Zeus, she surely would have left herself a way out.
Since she dared to return, it means she was confident.” “Moreover, she is the Goddess of Beauty and holds a special status,” Frigga analyzed.
“Even if she really couldn’t stop Zeus, with her abilities, she could at least save her own life.
No matter how mad Zeus is, he wouldn’t easily deal her a fatal blow.” Hearing this, Odin’s furrowed brow relaxed slightly.
“That’s true,” he nodded.
“She is indeed much stronger and smarter than I imagined.” Odin withdrew his thoughts and refocused his attention on the three children before him.
At this time, Arthas had led his two younger brothers to the fountain.
Thor wanted to catch the fish in the water and nearly fell in, but Arthas was quick-eyed and fast-handed, pulling him back just in time.
Watching this scene, a gratified smile appeared on Odin’s face.
“The most important thing now is to take good care of these three children,” Odin said.
“By the way,” he suddenly turned his head to look at Frigga, his tone becoming serious, “regarding Arthas’s origins…” “Before he truly becomes powerful, let’s not tell him yet.” “That secret is too heavy, and if it leaks out, it might bring trouble from Olympus.” Frigga nodded, her eyes clear and bright.
“Don’t worry, I’m not foolish,” she said softly.
“I know what’s appropriate in such matters.” “I will raise him as my own child until the day he is capable of facing his own destiny.” The two of them stopped talking and stood side by side in front of the window.
Sunlight spilled in through the massive floor-to-ceiling window, casting long shadows of them.
Outside the window came the crisp laughter of the children; it was the most beautiful sound in Asgard.
Arthas held Thor’s and Loki’s hands, running toward the place where the sunlight was brightest.
At this moment, the years were peaceful, and the storm seemed far away.