General POV
Three years had passed since the birth of Asgard's twin deities, and their presence was already known throughout the golden realm.
In the grand halls of the palace, Queen Frigga walked with regal grace, her golden robes flowing behind her as she moved from one royal duty to the next. Behind her, laughter and tiny footsteps echoed off the walls—her young children, Fylgja and Hela, chasing each other across the sun-drenched garden canopy that bordered the royal walkways.
Hela: "Brother! Wait for me!"
shouted the young princess, her raven-black hair fluttering in the wind as she ran.
Fylgja: "Haha! You can't catch me!"
he called back, racing past their mother with a bright smile, the silver in his hair catching the light.
Fylgja POV
It's been three years since my rebirth into this world, and I'd say I'm adjusting well.
As I dash behind my new mother through the palace corridors, I take a moment to reflect. In my past life, I had no siblings. I was an only child, raised in a quiet home where connection was fleeting, especially with my mother. But now, I have both—a twin sister and a mother who is literally the goddess of motherhood.
Frigga is patient, wise, and attentive. I don't see my father often, but that's expected. Odin is the Allfather, and ruling Asgard demands much of him. Still, I can't help but wonder how much he chooses to be distant.
My thoughts are interrupted when Hela barrels into me from behind, nearly knocking me over.
Fylgja: "Hey! Watch where you're going!"
I say, shoving her back playfully.
Before our antics can escalate, Mother turns, a gentle but firm look in her eyes.
Frigga: "Enough, you two. That's no way to treat your sibling."
She leads us into one of the palace chambers, where soft cushions and incense await.
Fylgja / Hela: "Yes, Mother,"
we say in unison, settling down at her feet.
Frigga: "Today marks your first formal lesson in magic."
Her voice is calm, but I can't help the excitement bubbling in my chest. I've grown stronger just by existing, but I haven't had any structured way to refine my power—until now.
She raises a hand, and a droplet of water materializes from the air, shimmering with divine energy.
Frigga: "Magic is a complex, demanding art that requires complete focus. Mortals must borrow it from gods, artifacts, or natural forces. But we, as gods, have our own internal realms and domains—sources from which we draw our power."
Her words are slow, intentional, and I absorb every one like gospel.
Fylgja: "So… can we let mortals borrow our magic?"
I ask, intrigued by the possibilities.
Frigga: "Yes, my son. Through pacts or blessings, we can grant mortals access to our power—but only under terms we choose. Magic is a contract, and all contracts have consequences."
Her gaze lingers on both of us to make sure we understand.
Hela: "Magic is for cowards,"
my sister mutters, folding her arms. Her tone is defiant, noble—like a warrior already preparing for her first battle.
I laugh, amused by her boldness.
Frigga: "Even if that were true, Hela, you must still learn to defend yourself against it. Besides…"
She smiles knowingly,
"…as a woman, you may face physical disadvantages in combat. With magic, you eliminate those gaps and create new advantages."
Fylgja: "Is that how you can spar with Uncle Vili?"
I ask, already imagining how I might blend magic and combat myself.
Frigga: "Exactly."
She rises gracefully.
"But for now, it's time for supper. Come, both of you."
As we walk to the dining hall, Hela and I chatter—debating the uses of magic, its role in warfare, and its potential for creation and destruction. An odd conversation for three-year-olds, perhaps, but gods seldom fit mortal molds.
Time Skip: Dining Hall
We enter the grand kitchen where meals for the royal family are served. Odin sits at the head of the table, his presence casting a quiet weight over the room.
Fylgja: "Hello, Father. How was your day?"
Odin: "Eventful. And your first lesson in magic—how did it go?"
His voice is calm but distant, his gaze already elsewhere.
Hela: "It went really well! We learned a lot!"
she replies brightly, not noticing the coolness in his tone.
We eat in relative silence, the clinking of utensils echoing in the gilded hall. I use the moment of stillness to mentally call up my status screen:
🜲 Name: Fylgja Odinson
🜲 Age: 3
🜲 Race: Aesir God
🜲 Domain: Souls (Primary), Magic, Judgment
🜲 Abilities:
• Superhuman Strength, Speed, Stamina, Reflexes
• Allspeak (Universal Language Comprehension)
• Soul Magic (Basic)
• Fylgja Force (Innate divine energy akin to Odinforce)
🜲 Domain Effects:
• Souls: Communicate with, manipulate, or destroy spirits and soul-based entities
• Magic: Natural talent for spellcraft, especially within Soul and Judgment magic
• Judgment: Perceive karma, understand inner nature, and subtly influence others
🜲 Stats:
• Strength: 120 (Avg: 70)
• Stamina: 120 (Avg: 70)
• Speed: 55 (Avg: 10)
• Agility: 55 (Avg: 10)
• Health: 100/100
• Wisdom: 100 (Avg: 90)
• Intellect: 120 (Avg: 90)
• Vitality: 100 (Avg: 50)
My stats had only risen slightly since the last time I checked—a natural result of aging, nothing more. I'd also recently discovered that the "Avg" listed was for my species and age group, not humans. That explained the massive power gap.
After the meal, Mother told us a bedtime story. Hela curled up beside her, enraptured by tales of ancient battles and primordial gods. I rested my head on Frigga's lap, half-listening, half-thinking.
The day had been simple, but it left me with more to ponder. Magic. Strategy. Bonds. Power.
And the many paths I could take from here.
As sleep took hold, I let myself relax—just a child, for now.