Chapter 5 — The Prince and the Hammer
The Realm Eternal was alive with golden firelight, the city humming with its usual chorus Valkyrie wings overhead, Einherjar drills below, distant echoes of celebration, steel, and song. And in the center of this vast and shining world strode three young figures determined to carve their place in legend.
Thor Odinson led the way, seventeen winters old and incapable of subtlety. His stride was bold, his laugh louder than any herald's call, his presence like a walking sunrise. To his left drifted Loki—sixteen, all coiled intelligence and quiet smirks. And to Thor's right moved Bor—sixteen, tall, warm-skinned, golden-eyed, and composed with a gravity far beyond his years.
Only Bor carried a secret the others would never know.
---
By five years of age, Bor had remembered everything.
Not suddenly, not painfully. More like a tide returning to shore. Dreams formed faces, childhood smells became real again, and the name Jacob Walker crept back into him like a whispered confession.
He kept the past hidden.
He told no one of the life before this divine one the old bones, the battlefield grit, the hospice sweat, the quiet death. He locked Jacob away inside himself, a private trove of scars and lessons.
In Asgard, such a truth would not be understood. So Bor became what the realm believed him to be: a prince of dawn, a gifted son of Odin, a prodigy whose strange abilities—speed, sight, heat vision, strength—were simply called "mutations."
Only Bor knew they were something else. Something alien. Something earned. Something dangerous.
---
"Bor!" Thor bellowed, throwing an arm around his younger brother's shoulders. "You must fight with me today! I feel the storm in my veins!"
"You feel the storm every day," Loki murmured.
"I am the storm!" Thor roared proudly.
Bor rolled his eyes but smiled. "We sparred yesterday."
"And the day before," Loki added.
"And the day before that," Bor said.
Thor waved a hand. "That was practice. THIS will be important!"
"For what purpose?" Loki asked lazily.
"For glory! For honor! For—"
"For losing again?" Bor said calmly.
Thor sputtered. Loki snorted. Sif, walking behind them with a bundle of practice spears, laughed outright.
Thor looked betrayed. "You side with him, Sif?"
"I side with whoever actually practices footwork," she said.
Bor felt the warmth in her tone. She never mocked cruelly; only to sharpen.
He liked that.
---
The Arena of Valor. The Arena towered before them, carved from living stone and shimmering with enchantment. Warriors crowded the stands, young Einherjar and daring trainees watching the princes approach with excitement.
Thor leapt into the sand pit with a roar. Loki sat elegantly in the shade. Bor joined Sif at the railing.
"Another day, another dozen broken bones?" Sif asked.
"Mostly his bones," Bor said.
"It builds character," Sif said dryly.
Down below, Thor pointed his hammer at a trainee.
"YOU! Face the Prince of Thunder!"
The poor soul trembled. The duel lasted twenty seconds the trainee launched, Thor countered, sand burst, applause erupted. Then Thor challenged three more. And then a group of five.
Bor watched, attentive not to study Thor, but to ensure no one was hurt too badly. Old habits died hard. Finally, Thor looked up at him.
"BOR! DOWN HERE!"
"No," Bor said.
"Fight me!"
"No."
"Brother, do not deny me this! The crowd demands it!"
"No."
"He's right," Sif said. "They do."
"Traitor," Bor muttered.
She grinned. With a sigh fit for a world-weary veteran which he technically was Bor stepped over the railing and gently drifted down to the sand.
The crowd cheered. Thor raised his hammer triumphantly.
"This time," he declared, "I shall triumph!"
Bor simply blinked.
---
Bor vs. Thor. The duel began with Thor charging like a falling mountain. Bor sidestepped. Thor skidded past, nearly eating sand. The crowd laughed. Loki cackled. Bor kept his hands clasped behind his back. Thor swung again Bor ducked. Thor feinted left Bor moved right. Thor attempted a grapple Bor stepped aside so smoothly it was almost rude. Thor's movements too slow and easily predictable.
"STOP DODGING!" Thor cried.
"You're very predictable," Bor said.
"I AM NOT!"
Thor tackled. This time Bor allowed himself to be hit they fell together, a controlled roll. Bor used minimal force and simply redirected Thor's weight; Thor ended up flat on his back again. Groaning, but laughing.
Sif clapped politely. "You lasted longer this time."
Thor squinted at her. "That was NOT polite, Sif."
"It was very polite," Loki called. "For Sif."
Bor offered his hand to Thor, helping him up.
"You grow stronger," Bor said truthfully.
Thor brightened. "Do I?! Truly?!"
"Yes. Your stance is better."
Thor beamed, pride swelling so brightly it felt like sunshine.
---
As the crowd regained order, Loki stood with a casual stretch.
"I must be off. A prince has duties, you know."
"You mean plots," Thor growled.
"I mean productive use of my time," Loki corrected.
He gave Bor an unreadable look not unkind, but piercing then turned and left the arena. Bor watched him go, wary. Loki's absence was never idle.
He knew the look of men planning something. Jacob had known it well.
---
After Thor's last bout, the group filtered out of the Arena. Thor walked ahead humming triumphantly; Sif rolled her eyes; Bor walked quietly, mind wandering. Then Thor suddenly froze, spun, and grabbed both of them by the shoulders.
"I HAVE A PLAN."
Sif groaned. "Your plans always end with something collapsing."
Thor puffed. "Not always! Sometimes they end with glorious victory."
"Or detention from Frigga," Bor muttered.
"This time," Thor whispered dramatically, "we sneak into the Trophy Room."
Bor blinked. Sif gasped.
"You can't be serious," she said.
Thor leaned in. "I wish to try lifting Mjolnir again."
Bor stared. "You failed last time."
"I ALMOST succeeded!"
"No," Bor corrected, "you strained your shoulder."
Thor ignored him. "This time, I shall prove myself WORTHY. Odin will see! The realm will see! All will see!"
Sif looked torn between admiration and horror.
"Thor… that room has wards."
"Wards that I have memorized!" Thor declared.
Bor rubbed his forehead. "That is very concerning."
Thor clasped his hands together, pleading. "Come! Help me! For glory! For brotherhood! For Asgard!"
Sif rolled her eyes but relented. "Fine. If only to stop you from sneaking in alone."
Thor turned to Bor.
"Brother. Please."
Bor exhaled. He remembered his daughter as Jacob Walker's. He remembered bending the rules for her, sneaking her sweets when nurses weren't looking, letting her sit on his shoulders though regulations forbade it. Helping Thor felt… familiar.
"Fine," Bor said.
Thor pumped his fist. "YES! THIS IS A DAY FOR SONGS!"
"It's a day for poor decisions," Sif muttered.
---
They made their way through the palace corridors. Thor marched with confidence. Sif tried to appear invisible. Bor simply walked, hyper-aware of every guard's position, every window, every potential escape route habits he'd never unlearned. They reached the great doors.
"I shall handle the wards," Thor whispered.
"Should we—" Bor began.
"NO! Let me have this," Thor said, shooing him aside.
Thor tapped the first rune. A spark. A hum. A swirl of golden light.
Sif held her breath. Then—Click. The door unlocked.
"HA!" Thor cried triumphantly.
"I'm genuinely impressed," Bor admitted.
Sif whispered, "So am I… this time."
Thor swung the door open.
---
The room was vast and quiet. Relics of ages past lined the walls—ancient weapons, dragon bones, rune-forged armor, trophies of a thousand wars.
And at the center, resting on a dais of pure stone—Mjolnir. The hammer gleamed with a light that seemed to pulse gently.
Thor approached reverently.
Bor and Sif stood behind him, silent. Thor placed both hands on the handle.
He breathed.
He braced.
He pulled.
Nothing.
He strained harder. Muscles bulged. Veins stood out. A soft crack came from his shoulder.
"Gnnnnh—COME ON—!!"
Nothing.
Sif winced.
Bor swallowed.
Thor collapsed backward in a heap. After a long moment, he spoke.
"…I almost had it."
"No," Sif said gently, "you did not."
"What do you know?!" Thor barked.
Bor crouched beside him. "Thor… you will lift it one day."
Thor looked up, eyes wide. "You believe that?"
"Yes," Bor said.
Because he had seen war and worth in his past life. He knew what Mjolnir demanded, and from what little he remembers of Norse mythology, Thor is the wielder of Mjolnir.
"You have the heart for it," Bor continued softly. "Your time just isn't now."
Sif nodded. "He's right."
Thor rubbed his shoulder. "You two are good friends."
Bor and Sif exchanged a glance.
Then Thor broke into a grin. "Let's go before we are caught!"
They hurried toward the door. Bor lingered for a heartbeat, staring at Mjolnir.
His Kryptonian strength meant nothing to that hammer. His past life meant nothing. Even Sunshine meant nothing. Mjolnir judged only the soul.
Bor respected that.
He left the room quietly behind the others.