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Snapshots of Odin's life raising a child of his enemy next to a child of his own flesh and blood.

The sounds of battle had finally dissipated from the frosty air. The men were weary with the fight and Odin was staggering from a mixture of shock at the loss of his eye and the sorrow in his soul from the bloodshed. Lives had been lost, many lives. He was long since over his zealous youth and now each death on both sides weighed heavily on his conscious. It was not his place to decide if this was wrong or for the best of the nine realms, that would be for the scholars and the historians to contemplate. His job was to protect his lands, his family.

A faint cry could be heard. It was mournful and helpless, just as Odin felt buried deep down beneath his rough royal exterior. Instinctively, the weary king followed the wail. As he moved closer to the source, it began to sound more like that of his own son Thor's cry than a grown warrior's. With his eye that was left, Odin searched high and low for the source of the noise. Stumbling in weariness, the king came upon a small bundle. A child, a son left crying alone in the darkness. A stirring deep within the immortal's heart, urged him to comfort the orphan his own hands had made.

Tenderly, he lifted the child from the cold floor and held it cautiously in his large hands. When his pink flesh touched the light blue hand, it turned from its natural color to mimic the king's. "Hush now, little one. I will look after you as if you were my own." The infant looked up at the one-eyed ancient with tear filled eyes. He could not help but think that if this were his son, he would want someone to care for him. A child raised and loved even by the enemy was a far better fate than being left to die in their homeland. "Yes, you will have a brother and you will be raised a prince." Chuckling to himself, Odin carefully tucked the child into his side and left the death and destruction of the Ice Giants behind.

A/N: Thanks for reading

I would like to do more, but is it worth continuing?