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The great hall of Asgard, usually filled with morning laughter and songs, was wrapped in a heavy silence that morning.
The servant maidens came and went, laying trays of fruit, freshly baked bread, and pitchers of mead on the long table adorned with ancient carvings. Silver cutlery and obsidian plates gleamed under the dim light filtering through the high windows.
Vidar sat at the far end of the table, the hood of his cloak still over his head. His eyes barely lifted to look at the others. Loki toyed with his goblet, casting sidelong glances, while Thor —still recovering— kept his gaze fixed on his untouched plate.
Odin entered the hall, his very presence making everyone straighten in their seats. Without a word, he took his place at the head of the table. Frigga, elegant and serene, settled beside him.
"Good," the All-Father finally spoke, his firm voice breaking the stillness. "This morning, one page closes and another begins. What happened yesterday… is behind us."
Silence was his only answer.
Odin let out a measured sigh and turned his gaze to each of his sons in turn.
"Thor," he called first. "How are you?"
Thor barely lifted his gaze. "Well, father."
A brief, curt exchange.
"Loki."
"As always, father," Loki replied with his usual half-smile, though his tone lacked its typical mischief.
Odin turned to Vidar, who still hadn't raised his head.
"And you, Vidar. How do you wake?"
Vidar finally lifted his eyes, his pupils glinting with a cold light.
"Ready for whatever comes."
Odin nodded slowly.
"Your formal training will soon begin," he announced then. "Thor and Loki began theirs long ago. It's time for you to do the same, Vidar. You are the youngest, but your abilities…" he eyed him carefully, "are different. You won't need to ask the dwarves of Nidavellir for weapons. The steel of your spirit has already forged its own."
The tension in the room thickened.
The maidens continued setting down food, but no one seemed hungry.
Frigga tried to soften the atmosphere.
"It's a good day for a fresh start," she said with a gentle smile. "Asgard stays strong when family stands together."
Vidar didn't respond, but a slight tightening of his jaw made it clear his thoughts were still a storm.
Odin rose from his seat.
"Starting tomorrow, each of you will resume your duties. Thor will travel to Vanaheim, Loki will study the defenses of the Bifrost, and Vidar… you will train with me."
A declaration, not an invitation.
Vidar rose. "As you command, Father."
And with that, Odin left without another word, once again leaving the table in heavy silence.
Frigga touched Loki's shoulder before departing as well, leaving the three brothers in a hall far too large for so few words.
…
When the hall doors closed behind Odin, Vidar remained still. He watched the flickering flames of the torches and listened to the distant echo of his father's footsteps fading down the corridors.
"This won't be training," he thought bitterly. "He's not trying to forge me… he wants to study me. Understand what I'm made of. And discover the abilities I've awakened. Odin destroys what he doesn't comprehend."
Every word Odin had spoken sounded like an order disguised as concern. Vidar was no longer a son, but a variable the All-Father needed to control. A strange power that belonged neither to gods nor mortals.
"'Train with me…'" he repeated in his mind, clenching his fist beneath the table. "All he seeks is to measure my limits, to see how far he can bend me before I become a problem."
Thor still wouldn't meet his gaze. Loki cast small, sideward glances, as if trying to guess what was running through his head.
Vidar rose without a word, his dark cloak trailing behind him. Outside, the lands of Asgard awaited him — and with them, questions no god dared to ask.
…
Elsewhere in the palace, beyond the golden towers and suspended bridges, a lone warrior walked among the training grounds. Thor held his hammer tightly, but his gaze lacked its usual arrogance. The cold Asgardian air struck his face, and for the first time in a long while, he didn't answer with defiance.
Each step echoed against the stone, and in his mind, his father's words and his brother's strike replayed like an unshakable echo.
"Not all power is claimed by force," he told himself. "Not everything is earned by birthright."
The confrontation with Vidar had been more than a physical defeat. It had torn away a blindfold he'd worn for years. In his younger brother, he'd seen a power that needed no titles — a force born not from the will to rule, but from the need to balance.
Thor halted at the edge of a cliff overlooking the Bifrost, watching the swirling energies in the distance.
"Perhaps… perhaps I still have things to learn," he admitted silently.
The god of thunder spun Mjolnir's handle in his hand, and without another word, vanished into the morning mist in search of his own path.