The giants from the snowy realm fought brutally against those the mortals would call gods. The kings of both armies fought, each desperately trying to get the upper hand, but neither could, and many on both sides were dying. Eventually the gods from Asgard had destroyed enough of his force that the Giant's king had no choice but to surrender, if only to save his people from utter destruction. He, and what was left of his army retreated to their icy city, leaving the other king to gather his dead and return to his realm as quickly as possible, for the ice giant's king had lost too much already that day.
Asgard's king walked through the battle field, directing his men to their fallen and injured fellows. As he neared the edge of their battle ground he heard a faint wail of an infant. The king followed the noise until he reached the half frozen child and stared in awe with his one eye at the babe. So small, even by his people's standards, and so utterly helpless.
The king took off his battle stained cloak and carefully wrapped the small babe in it, only to be amazed when the child's cobalt blue skin faded to pale peach, and blood red eyes turned to green. He carefully took the small boy's hand in his, only to be more surprised when he was not burned, and the child stopped crying for an instant and stared up at the king's face. After a moment the babe started to fuss again.
"Hush, child." He soothed. "Soon you shall be safe and well cared for."
The king surveyed his men to see that all had been gathered and they were prepared to leave. He held the child close to him as he walked back to his men.
"Heimdall! Open the Bifrost!" he called to the heavens.
And then he, his men and the ice king's abandoned babe were gone in a swirl of light and color.