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  PROLOGUE

  They’ve always asked questions—this race called man, on this planet called Earth. Passionately longing to know how they are connected to the heavens. In ages past, they looked to us as gods, for indeed so many times we saved them from calamity. We tried to show them how their world was but one of the Nine Realms of the cosmos, linked to all others by the branches of Yggdrasil… the World Tree. Nine Realms in a universe of wonder, beauty, and terror that they barely comprehended.

  But for all their thirst for knowledge, they let our knowledge—they let our lessons—fall into myth and dream.

  The mighty Thor. Where did he—the one whom the humans call the God of Thunder—come from? He came from us, the proudest warriors the worlds have ever seen. He came from this—the greatest realm the universe has ever known.

  Thor came from Asgard.

  And these are his tales.…

  THE ALL-FATHER’S FEAR

  The All-Father did not act without thought. Now, as the sun shone over Asgard and the buildings were illuminated by its rays, gleaming like gold, he thought long and hard. At the realm’s edge, the darkness of the cosmos spread out like a calm sea. Asgard was at peace, and all was ready for the momentous events to come.

  Standing in his chambers, Odin stared out at the realm he had ruled for so many years. Despite the beauty before him, his mind was troubled and his expression drawn with worry and tension.

  As All-Father, Odin had battled great beasts, invaded foreign realms, destroyed strong enemies, and kept the realm of Asgard safe and peaceful. He had lost his brothers and father to war. For thousands upon thousands of years, he had carried the burden of his crown alone. It had wearied him at times, energized him at others. When he had married his wife, Frigga, the burden had lifted, as she was a strong partner and had a helpful ear. And with the birth of his first son, Thor, Odin had felt hopeful that one day he would be able to pass along his crown to a worthy successor and find the peace he so rightly deserved.

  Now that day had finally come. For today, Thor would become king.

  Yet Odin did not feel a sense of relief.

  With a deep sigh, he turned from the wide doorway that led out to his chamber balcony. Behind him, the two giant statues of his fallen brothers standing outside the palace framed his tired body, dwarfing him, while at the same time hinting at his great might and heritage. He was not yet dressed for the evening, still in the golden robes that he would soon exchange for his ceremonial gear. But his hair was combed and his face freshly shaved. Odin’s shoulder-length hair was no longer the blond of his youth, but the gray suited him and he still had the bearing of a great warrior and powerful leader.

  Queen Frigga sat at her vanity, putting on her jewelry. In the reflection, she saw her husband turn and come back into the center of the room. His blue eyes were dark with worry, and she felt a now long-familiar rush of love. She had married a warrior, but knew him as so much more than that. He did not rule lightly. Everything he had done and everything he would do was the result of great reflection. He had seen the results of battles that had not been thought out and had lost too many warriors to unnecessary violence. And so she knew that he had thought long and hard about this day.

  While some argued that Thor should have assumed the throne years ago, Odin had seen the benefit in waiting. He wanted his son to follow in his footsteps and the footsteps of his father before him—to keep Asgard safe and free of war. Yet Thor was not his father. Thor was impulsive and hotheaded. He still had much to learn about the value of patience. Alas, Odin had no more time left to teach. He was growing weaker by the day. Soon, he would need to enter the Odinsleep, during which he would be unable to rule, his body in a state of suspended animation while he used the powerful Odinforce to rejuvenate.

  Feeling his wife’s gaze on him, Odin looked up and smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. She continued to amaze him. Her beauty was beyond compare, and while servants rushed about in preparation below, she sat calmly, her back straight and her head high. Now, more than ever, he needed her strength.

  “Do you think he’s ready?” Odin asked, his voice deep with emotion.

  She looked at him and nodded slowly. “Thor has his father’s wisdom,” she said, knowing that was what he needed to hear. But Odin’s expression remained worried, so she added, “He won’t be alone. Loki will be at his side to give him counsel.”

  She stood up and approached her husband. Loki, their younger son, was a source of tension between them. Odin had always favored Thor because Thor was a warrior, just like him, but Loki was not, and so his younger had formed a closer bond with Queen Frigga. But in a way, that had been a good balance. Loki was Thor’s opposite—quiet, thoughtful, and content to stay in the shadows. Frigga hoped that Odin would see the benefit of having the brothers side by side.

  He reached out a hand, about to caress her cheek. But he stopped suddenly.

  Odin’s hand was shaking. The All-Father stood staring at it with fierce concentration, as though willing it to stop. “If only we had more time,” Odin said when his hand finally stopped shaking. “I can fight it a little longer.…”

  Frigga held up a hand. “No! You’ve put it off too long!” she said harshly. Then her expression softened. “I worry for you.”

  Odin cocked his head, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve destroyed demons and monsters, devastated whole worlds, laid waste to mighty kingdoms, and still you worry for me?”

  “Always,” Frigga answered truthfully. She knew what he was capable of, but she still feared that Thor’s new role would be Odin’s undoing.

  But she didn’t have to worry. Her words had reassured her husband as they always did, and now, for better or worse, he was ready to pass the throne on to his elder son.

  In a few short minutes, the mighty Thor would succeed his father and become the new king of Asgard. All attention would be on him, just as he liked it. No one would notice Thor’s younger brother. No one would notice Loki the Trickster. And that’s just the way Loki liked it.

  Loki paused behind thick curtains as he made his way toward the elaborate throne room. For now it was quiet, with no sign of the large crowds of Asgardians who would soon fill the space. It was just Loki. On his head he wore his great helmet, its two horns rising up and then curving like a ram’s. He was dressed in his finest clothes and wore his signature green cape. He soaked in the silence and for a moment, imagined that it was he who would walk down the aisle to kneel in front of Odin and ascend to the throne of Asgard. He imagined thunderous applause and saw his mother glowing with pride as he stood, ready to rule.

  Hearing the sound of loud footsteps, he shook off the fantasy and turned. His brother was striding down the long hall toward him. Towering over even the tallest of Asgardians, his chest broad and his shoulders straight, Thor held Mjolnir in his hand as he walked, and his long red cape flowed out behind him. Even Thor’s helmet seemed more powerful than Loki’s, its wings catching rays of sun and looking perfect atop his golden locks.

  “Nervous, brother?” Loki said when Thor came to a stop in front of him. His eyes were teasing. He knew that Thor never got nervous.

  “How do I
look?” Thor asked, ignoring his brother’s question. He adjusted his red cape and ran a hand over his armor. He may not have been nervous, but he did want to make sure that he looked the part. He had been waiting for this day for years. Nothing could spoil it for him now.

  “Like a king,” Loki answered, his eyes flashing.

  Thor gave him a quizzical look. Loki’s answer had been honest, but his tone had held a hint of something he couldn’t quite read. Jealousy? Anger? Envy? His younger brother had always been something of a mystery to him. While Thor had been eager to spread his wings, fight in battles, and go off on grand adventures, Loki had always been more hesitant. True, he had Thor’s back, but it was often only out of necessity. So why would Loki be jealous now? He couldn’t want the throne for himself, could he?

  As if sensing Thor’s hesitation, Loki smiled, erasing the fire in his eyes and replacing it with affection. Then, to Thor’s amusement, he turned to a servant passing by with a goblet full of wine. The wine morphed into a swarm of writhing eels that slithered up the servant’s hand and arm. The servant let out a scream and dropped the goblet, which clattered to the ground. Instantly, the eels disappeared and were replaced by spilled wine. Thor laughed, reassured. Loki was a trickster and a magician. He did not want to be king.

  Then Loki spoke, confirming Thor’s thoughts. “I’ve looked forward to this day as long as you have,” he said, his voice serious. “You’re my brother and my friend. Sometimes I’m envious, but never doubt I love you.”

  Suddenly, a horn blasted. It was time for the ceremony to begin.

  Inside the throne room, Asgardians had gathered to bid farewell to their current king and welcome their new one. Ceremonial banners fluttered from the high ceilings while attendants handed out golden goblets full of sweet drinks to the beautifully dressed guests. There was a festive air to the room as people chatted softly to each other and waited with eager anticipation for the arrival of the royal family.

  At the front of the room, Thor’s best friends and fellow warriors, Volstagg, Fandral, Hogun, and Lady Sif, stood at attention while members of the palace guard lined up in formation. Then Frigga entered the room and walked down the long aisle, Loki by her side. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back in ringlets that matched her golden gown. When they had made their way to the front of the room, another horn sounded, and the guards stepped aside. There was an audible gasp.

  Odin sat atop his golden throne. On his head he wore a large helmet, and in his hand he gripped the mighty spear Gungnir.

  Looking out over the room, Odin sighed deeply. Even after ruling for tens of thousands of years, he felt as if it were only a day ago that his father had crowned him in a ceremony similar to this one. He wondered now if his father had had the same doubts about him that he was having about Thor. Did he regret having to step aside for the younger generation to take over? Odin thought. Was I as impulsive then as Thor is now? Does that mean that he, too, will grow into a wise king in time?

  Odin’s thoughts were interrupted by another gasp from the crowd. Then the room erupted in applause. The mighty Thor had arrived.

  Thor raised Mjolnir, the hammer that only the worthy could lift, high over his head and soaked in the adoration. His body was covered in battle armor with large metal disks on the front chest plate. His winged helmet sat on his head, and his long red cape flowed behind him. While moments ago, everyone had believed Odin to be the most powerful ruler they would ever have, the appearance of Thor made them believe otherwise. Standing there, he looked every inch a king.

  When the cheering faded, Thor finally strode up the long aisle, a smug smile on his face. Clearly the concerns of his father did not trouble Thor. He felt more than ready to rule Asgard. He had watched his father do it for years, and he thought it was time for a fresh start. He had proven himself to be one of the finest warriors the realm had ever seen. Now he would prove himself to be one of its finest kings.

  As Odin watched his son walk toward him, the gravity of the situation hit the All-Father hard. Though sometimes brash and irresponsible, Thor had grown into a fine young man. And now he was about to take the throne as the new ruler of Asgard. Odin could still vividly remember when Thor was just a boy, learning how to hold a sword for the first time. Or when he was first able to wield Mjolnir. How the hammer, which now looked small in his large hands, had nearly toppled Thor!

  Odin smiled now, thinking back on that day. Learning to be king would be like learning to ride a horse. Thor wouldn’t like having to go slowly, and he would fall a few times, but his difficulties would serve to teach him some valuable lessons. Or so Odin hoped. He could be only grateful that the realm was at peace and had been for a long time. There was no doubt Thor was a good warrior—but a warrior king? That was another story. That was something he had yet to learn.

  Finally, Thor arrived in front of his father. He nodded at his mother and brother and friends and then knelt, bowed his head, and waited. A hush fell over the crowd as they, too, waited.

  “A new day has come for a new king to wield his own weapon,” Odin began, his deep voice echoing through the room. “Today, I entrust you with the sacred throne of Asgard. Responsibility, duty, honor. They are essential to every soldier and every king.” As the All-Father spoke, Thor raised his eyes to look at him. Odin willed the words to impact his son, to get through to him. For after this day, he would be on his own.

  Odin continued, repeating the declaration that had been spoken to him so many years before. He was at the very end of his speech when he felt it—a chill that cut through the room and caused people to shiver uncertainly. Odin’s heart began to race. He had felt this chill before—on Jotunheim. Asgard had waged a long and fierce war with the ice realm. But a truce had been made years ago. There was no reason for Odin to think Jotuns would be in Asgard. Still…

  Shaking off the feeling of dread, Odin continued. He was just about to say the final words that would make Thor king when the banners hanging from the ceiling suddenly iced over.

  There was no denying it. “Frost Giants,” Odin whispered.

  A GROWING CHILL

  After leaving so Thor could prepare for his entrance, Loki had made his way to the front of the throne room. The Warriors Three—Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun—were already at their places of honor, along with Lady Sif. The four were Thor’s lifelong friends. Together, they had gone on many adventures in which Loki had taken only a reluctant part.

  The room had grown crowded and was filled with muffled conversation as everybody eagerly awaited Thor’s arrival. But first, Odin appeared, seated on his golden throne, spear in hand. His expression showed pride—and perhaps a hint of sadness—as he looked out over the room. Loki felt a pang, wondering if Odin had ever looked that way at him. Shaking off the thought, he focused on the door again.

  “Where is he?” Loki heard Volstagg mutter. “I’m famished. And Odin will not be happy with the delay.”

  Turning, Loki gave him a look. The huge warrior was always hungry. “I wouldn’t worry,” he said softly. “Father will forgive him. He always does.”

  Then, as if in response to Loki’s words, the room erupted in applause. Standing at the opposite end of the throne room holding his hammer high above his head was Loki’s brother and the future king of Asgard, the mighty Thor.

  As Thor knelt in front of Odin, Loki watched, his expression unreadable. Today, everything would change. For better or worse, he could not tell. Would Thor be a good king? A wise king? Or would he be a rash and foolish one? There were times Loki doubted that Thor was ready—he didn’t listen and he was quick to judge. Would Asgard benefit from such a leader? Watching him now, as Odin spoke the words his own father had spoken to him thousands of years before, Loki had to admit Thor looked like a king.

  Odin had just gotten to the final part of the ceremony when a chill filled the room. Loki shivered and rubbed his arms. Trying to ignore the feeling, Loki turned his attention back to Odin, who hadn’t stopped. But then,
the banners that hung from the high ceilings suddenly crackled.

  Upon his throne, Odin’s expression grew serious. He seemed to know exactly what was causing this strange phenomenon. “Frost Giants,” Loki heard him hiss.

  And then, as he and everyone else watched in shock, Thor stood up and ran from the room. The Warriors Three and Lady Sif followed. Sighing, Odin went after them.

  Loki turned and looked at his mother. “What is going on?” he asked.

  “I have no idea,” Frigga answered. “But I suggest you go and find out.”

  Odin ordered the guards to be on alert and then followed the chill out of the room. Thor was ahead of him, charging down toward the Vault, the deep labyrinth where Asgard’s greatest treasures and direst threats were held… under the protection of the Destroyer. He had a very good idea about what the Frost Giants were after—the Casket of Ancient Winters. The Casket enabled anyone who held it to create a never-ending winter. Laufey, the Jotun king, had wanted to use the Casket to turn all the realms into frozen ice lands that he could rule. Years earlier, Odin had taken the Casket in order to ensure it would never be misused. For the safety of all Nine Realms, he had it placed in the Vault. Although it was guarded at all times, someone must have gotten in.

  When he arrived at the Vault, his assumptions were proven true. He found Thor, with Sif and the Warriors Three, staring at the remains of a great battle. Two Asgardian sentries lay on the floor, frozen solid. Towering above them stood the Destroyer, Odin’s deadliest weapon. It was a suit of armor, three times the size of a man, animated by the mystical Odinforce. When a threat to Odin or Asgard was felt, the Destroyer would awaken, and the Odinforce would burn bright, laying waste to anyone or anything that got in its way. The Jotuns who had found their way into the Vault had not survived to find their way out.