A/N: I do not own Thor or any of the characters. My representation of them is purely for writing of fan fiction. As it is not so obvious to begin with, my plan is to write about Loki and Thor as children as opposed to adults. I apologize for inconsistencies, though I may change parts later to account for a different series of events.

Prologue

Snow blew angrily across Jötunheimr, home of the frost giants. Back in their realm, the Asgardians downed ale like water and ate like kings. This realm was a polar opposite. The sheet of snowflakes glistened, ensanguined with the lifeblood of the fallen armies. They choked the ground like patches of uneven carpet. The sky stayed a consistent shade of gray. A monstrous, tusked beast lay wounded, swiping at Asgardians as they passed just outside of its radius. Odin wondered in spite of himself if their bodies would freeze. He raised a hand to his eye socket, wincing at the emptiness. The giants had paid for that with more lives than he wished to count. The only good thing about the cold was the numbing it lent to his wounds. The All-Father cursed as his foot snagged the misshapen ice, his balance afflicted by the strain on his eyesight. He surveyed the field once more and walked unopposed to Laufey's vacant throne, wary of the stalagmite formations that pointed like ragged cones toward the thick ice he treaded on.

The structures had the hue of frost giant skin, as if composed of ice instead of some type of rock. The throne was the focus of his red-tinged vision; Odin jerked his head to the right to make up for the half of his vision that had been stolen from him. The back of the throne branched off in three directions, diverging to his thrown. The metal was lifeless to his touch. Fitting for the giants.

Something stirred in the corner of his vision and then an excruciating pain enveloped his ankle, as if he'd stepped into a fire. Reflexes ripe from battle, Odin shouted and plunged his sword into the arm of the frost giant female that had been deranged enough to lay hand on him. The frostbitten fingers slackened and the giant's arm fell with a sickening thump. Vile eyes bore into his as he twisted his blade through the heart of the giant, the sound her ribs cracking reminding him of how many lives his steel had claimed in the past few hours. A film of frost giant blood coated the blade.

Odin had not seen a single frost giant standing since the fighting abated.

Wailing flooded in the castle. At first, Odin was not sure he'd heard anything at all as the noise was so shrill and sudden. It was like Thor's cries with added pitch. The cry struck him as a plea. He slid his sword out of the slain giant, using his foot as leverage. He followed the bawling, trying in vain to avoid stepping on the frost giants in his path. Odin found the source of the cry in the frost giant temple. A baby, small for a frost giant's offspring. Alive among the dead. Alone. Suffering. Left to die. He blinked, trying to make sense of the faint lines on the child's forehead and body that marked their parents.

Laufey's son. Odin brushed the child's head and the sobbing subsided for a fleeting second. Cold seared his fingertips.

A plan begin to stir in Odin's mind. The son of his most prominent enemy. A child on the opposite side of the fight. Odin gingerly lifted the child, stroking the newborn's head with affection. His lips held a faint smile. This child was an innocent, something he could save from this battle. Something good that might come of all the red-stained snow and pain. Odin tested his power, changing the boy's royal blue skin to a shade similar to his own. The garnet eyes shifted to a less piercing, tangible Asgardian eye color. Odin rocked the boy in his arms as he would Thor. The child could be the turning point for the Asgardians and Jötun, a way to bring about a permanent peace. An alliance could be born if he nurtured his discarded child; the people needed some common ground. He hummed a lullaby to the boy in hopes that someday they would have no reason to kill one another.