Chapter Text
It is well known that there are two great powers in the Yggdrasil Galaxy: the Æsir of Ásgarðr and the Jötnar of Jötunheimr. It is also well known that the two factions rather regard the other as a waste of space and time, and only the most severe of threats could even possibly bring them together.
They are opposites in all things, and all others in the galaxy fall between them and around them, trying to be neutral in a universe where it very much matters whose ideology you value more.
The Menn of Miðgarðr tend to stay out of the fights, minding their own business of farming and mining, a hard-working species that forms the backbone of the economy. They long ago signed a treaty with all planets that they would never take sides in a conflict, so long as they were left to their planet and their own devices.
The Vanir of Vanaheimr, though long ago conquered by the Æsir, are still loyal to them, no matter the atrocities of the war that was fought. The Álfar, like the Menn, stay neutral but the whole of Yggdrasil knows that Álfheimr will support the Æsir when pressed. Those that live on Svartálfaheimr are migrants from Álfheimr, so their loyalty, too, remains.
But the Jötnar have developed their own allegiances that equal that which the Æsir have laid down. The Hrímthurs of Niflheimr and the Eldjötnar of Múspellsheimr have no choice but to align with Jötunheimr; they are descended, distantly, from the same ruling family and thus cannot but stay loyal. The Náir of Hęl have always hated the Æsir, for numerous reasons; why, then, would they find power elsewhere?
The Ratatoskr flies between the planets, delivering cargo, mail, people, war declarations, peace declarations, prisoners of war: they are the true neutrals in the system, everywhere at once, trying to keep things running.
For eons, the galaxy has lived in relative peace – a few wars and skirmishes here and there, but then again, things are never perfect. Other species come and go, new places discovered, new alliances made and lost.
There are hints that begin to arrive – hints that tell the Yggdrasil Galaxy that there is something coming, something that has come from beyond Ginnungagap, something that that doesn’t care about alliances or hatred or anything, really. They will take what they wish, intergalaxy strife or not.
It is this whisper of coming catastrophe that changes things.
Odin Alföðr reaches out first, sending an emissary to Jötunheimr to negotiate a peace treaty (or an armistice, depending on the mood of the Jötnar at the time). What surprises the Allfather is that the youngest son of Fárbauti King, Helblindi, comes with the next Ratatoskr ship, bringing with him an invitation to the Mjødhall on Jötunheimr. Odin, though wary, accepts the offer because what else could it be? Sending a son is a sign of good faith and has always been as such, and to see it as anything else – well, even Odin cannot do that to his enemy.
So he accepts, and the Allfather makes the trip from Ásgarðr to Jötunheimr but, of course, he cannot arrive alone. He brings most of the court; after all, if this is to be a peace conference, Fárbauti King will have his councilors in attendance, so why not the Allfathers’? The crowning glory is that he can bring his son with him, finally, who has proven himself in battle and wields the hammer Mjölnir. Thor Odinson is the apple of his father’s eye.
Thor, however, is not thrilled about this escapade into the airspace above Jötunheimr. He has never heard anything positive about the Jötnar and has never actually met a Jötunn; the tales make them monsters, savages, beings not fit to have an entire planet and claim the name of king of anything. The trip seems to be folly.
Thor sees this as happening: the two groups will meet, someone will say something to offend the other, a fight will break out, and they will be right back where they started but with some mysterious force bearing down on them, trying to tear their galaxy to shreds. It is not, in Thor’s mind, a good time.
He’d rather be back home, chasing harts around the forest and teasing Sif and trying to figure out how soon his mother is going to try to make him figure out who, exactly, it is that he wants to marry. That is also not something that is a good time for him – he’s not even sure that he wants to get married. Kings don’t have to be married. That’s not written anywhere. At least, not where Thor’s been looking.
As they hover above the planet, Thor has never seen anything so blue, so cold; Ásgarðr has many seasons, all of them unique, and to live on a planet where it is just cold, just ice and snow, makes Thor shiver with dislike. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy winter, no, but never-ending winter? He loves the sun and the trees and the forest, and he wouldn’t give that up for anything.
He is a summer child, and the Jötnar are the winter children; Thor doesn’t see any way that this will go according to Odin’s plans.