Rite of Passage

Within a long, dim hallway, lined by faintly lit torches, a lone pair of heavy footsteps could be heard as they broke the peaceful silence and echoed down the corridor. They were neither leisurely nor hurried, resounding instead with a calm cadence that spoke of steadfast purpose and clear intent.

Fyr's eyes remained locked on the large wooden doors at the end of the foyer as he secured a heavy fur cloak around his neck and draped it over his shoulder. He had been informed that the area he was headed to was located on a far colder world and had thus prepared accordingly.

He'd forgone his usual attire in favor of a full set of black and bronze fur lined leather armor, with the cloak being a last minute addition at the behest of his sister. It shared the same dark ebony coloring as the coat of the species Fenris belonged to, something the wolf seemingly had no issue with during their last encounter as she presented it to him with a hint of pride shining within her eyes.

For the last few weeks, Fyr had prepared extensively for anything they might throw at him on this day. Both his magic and martial arts were deemed satisfactory by Frigga and Tyr, while any deficiencies of his abilities in live combat were swiftly beaten out of him by Hela.

As he reached the doors, Fyr stopped and placed a hand on each of them. He took a deep breath, clearing his mind of all unnecessary thoughts. A fierce glint crossed his eyes as a look of determination settled on his face. Leaning into the wood, he exerted his full strength and pushed on both of them simultaneously.

The two, 2 ton doors opened easily before they caught another set and the weight doubled. The pair of 4 ton doors increased the entry gap slightly as they too opened, before catching on a third batch as well. 16 tons were moved, then 32, Fyr opened the doors all the way to the 64 ton threshold before stumbling forward as they slammed shut behind him.

It had taken years of training to get that far and he could still only slightly widen the gap on the fifth set. It was an impressive showing as evidenced by the nods of approval from those observing, but knowing his sister could open all seven levels effortlessly had his competitive side unwilling to accept them, it didn't matter how much older than him she was.

Fyr caught his breath from the previous exertion, recomposed himself, and walked towards the center of the rotunda. The domed chamber was not incredibly large, just over 30ft in diameter and two stories tall.

Raised platforms lined the walls that allowed participants in the ceremony to gaze down upon the ones summoned here. Fyr inwardly thought it looked like a Viking rendition of the Jedi council room.

"Father," Fyr announced as he arrived at the center of the chamber and kneeled. "I have come as requested."

Silence was all that answered him and for the next few moments, the weight of the gazes resting on his figure grew to the point where Fyr felt as if a mountain was resting over his shoulders. However, right as a bead of sweat dropped from his forehead and splashed atop the stone floor, the pressure disappeared like a calm breeze as a deep, commanding voice boomed from across the room.

"Fyr Odinson," it proclaimed, "the time has come for you to prove that you are worthy to stand with the Aesir and walk amongst the stars together as equals."

The voice paused as it allowed the words to echo throughout the chamber.

With his head bowed, an imperceptible grin was slowly growing on Fyr's lips as his heart pounded wildly within his chest. He couldn't help it, after so many years, finally this day had come.

"Are there any present who would deny the might of his body," the same voice asked once the reverberation of his previous statement had subsided.

"""Nay,""" resounded a cacophony of men and women in response.

The main speaker waited for silence to return to the chamber before continuing, "Are there any who would vouch for the strength of his mind?"

"Aye," a lone woman proudly announced from somewhere in the room.

"And are there any present on this day to attest to the staunchness of his will?"

""Aye,"" declared the same woman, this time echoed by several others.

Fyr clenched a fist as the last question was answered. He'd held no doubts on whether or not today would go smoothly, but hearing their audible approval of him had washed away any irrational thoughts that lingered at the back of his mind. Unknowingly, his tense body relaxed and upon observing his new state, a pair of feminine green eyes glowed with hidden amusement.

"So be it," boomed the first voice, slamming the butt of his spear to the ground with enough force that a small shockwave spread out from the impact and washed over all those present.

"Fyr Odinson," the speaker continued, now directing his words to said man. "Today you have been judged and deemed worthy by all those present."

Fyr didn't look up or respond to the statement as the voice paused once again. Rolling his eyes as he knelt, he instead waited for the-

"However," there it was, "as it is known that the opinions of men can become skewed by perspective, a final trial shall be issued to prove whether or not their endorsements are misplaced."

The trial, what he'd been eagerly waiting and preparing for all these years, the last step before being allowed to awaken his own domain! This time, he raised his head and finally met the eyes of the man he hadn't seen since he first awoke in this new world.

It was a hardened pair of deep sapphires, so similar to his own, that met his stare. Whether they appeared that way because of the ceremony or due to a lack of familiarity, Fyr didn't know. He didn't retain any memories of his previous father to compare them with, but despite how much Fyr searched, he couldn't find any traces of warmth within that gaze.

It was an odd feeling, knowing that your father felt that way about you. He could imagine how Loki must've felt seeing eyes such as those looking down at him as a child, it wasn't hard to connect some dots. Fortunately, Fyr had somewhat expected this and thus didn't give a damn how the bastard viewed him.

"As has been the case with previous trials undertaken during this war, it has been decided that yours shall take place on the battlefield as well," Odin proclaimed as he waved forward the two men carrying a large case containing various weapons, that had stood behind him all this time. "Your task is to venture to the realm of Jotunheim, slay no less than five frost giants, and return with proof of your victory."

As Odin indicated for him to stand, Fyr did so as his thoughts raced at the man's words. While he'd expected a mission along these lines as the customary beast hunts simply weren't practical at this time, 'five frost giants' was on an entirely different level.

He wasn't concerned with the idea of killing, growing up within a warrior society presently engaged in a galaxy spanning conflict often numbs one's opinion on the matter. While he hadn't performed the act yet, he'd long since prepared for the day he'd be required to do so. No, what his mind was mulling over again and again was the unnaturally high difficulty of this task.

Unknown to him, an eager smirk fought to emerge on his lips and break his carefully composed mask of indifference. Over the many years, he had sparred with an untold amount of Asgard's warriors fresh from the front lines. Fyr knew all those that he could best, be able to best within a few years, and had no hope of besting anytime soon. It had honestly gotten quite stale.

But now? As his heart started pounding in his chest again, his mask finally cracked. A snort from his left told him where Hela stood without needing to look, it was her fault for making him this way.

He wasn't originally like this, but moving on from Tyr's systematic training to her systematic beatings, had forced a younger Fyr into someone who absolutely hated losing. After his first few victories against some of the stronger soldiers, his mindset had then slowly evolved into one who loved winning. By this point, it had grown into an addiction nearly rivaling his one for magic and repeatedly defeating the same warriors could never scratch the itch.

Odin looked at his son stoically, ignoring his shifting expression. The king waited until the men had reached Fyr before he continued, "You are allowed to choose one weapon from this selection to aid you in this task and they are the only ones you are permitted to take with you. The use of any other during your trial will result in an immediate failure."

Fyr briefly glanced at the weapons before choosing a small blackened steel dagger. He wouldn't be using it but it was always better to have and not need, than need and not have. He wasn't under any delusions of this being a game and an unexpected stab might save his life out there.

The two men took back the large case as Fyr strapped the knife to his boot. Odin's impassive gaze remained unchanged at his selection, most likely already knowing of Fyr's preferences.

On the edges of his vision Fyr noticed Frigga and Heimdall moving to encircle him, with his honed senses catching someone else moving at his back. He didn't turn to see who it was, instead opting to close his eyes and calm his mind.

He'd been told of what came next in his lessons, it was why the rite of passage took place within this old domed building and not within the palace, an ancient ritual from the time before Asgard created the Bifrost. It was highly inefficient, could only be performed within this building, and required the input of multiple masters of magic, but well traditions are traditions. Who was he to argue with millions of years of culture, especially when they looked like Stargate transportation rings.

Odin raised Gungnir and slammed it down three times as the others raised their arms. Rings of flowing runic script Fyr couldn't recognize at the speeds they were rotating, rose from the ground and surrounded the prince.

As they began to converge and block his sight of the chamber, Odin's voice could be heard from within the magic, "You will be observed at all times by Heimdall. When you have completed your task or if you come across anything you can't handle, call out his name and he'll bring you back. Good luck and stay safe, my son."

As Fyr's silhouette faded within beams of light, a spectral figure was revealed in the spot previously behind him. It flickered for a moment as it's gaze lingered on the now empty space.

Odin, seeing that the figure was ignoring him, briefly hesitated before turning around and making his way out the building, the others following closely behind. Frigga however, glanced at the apparition and smiled before walking over.

"He'll be fine," she said. "He's worked harder than most would in the entirety of their first hundred years, all in order to prepare for this day."

The specter turned its head towards her and a bit of pride flashed in their eyes as it responded, "I know."

Frigga watched on as they disappeared in a tongue of flames, their final words echoing within the now empty chamber, "He's my son as well."

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Fyr appeared within a large ice cavern with a rather conflicted expression across his face. While the last words of his father would be considered normal in almost any other family, they were at odds with every experience he'd had with the man up till now.

That may have been the first time he'd actually met Odin, not counting their brief interaction during his reincarnation that he barely remembered, but even through their correspondence the man had never attempted to appear 'fatherly'. If he was being honest with himself, Fyr would have rather never heard those words. It would make hating the bastard more difficult if he ends up walking the same path as canon.

Banishing the distracting thoughts from his mind and swiftly examining his surroundings, Fyr cursed himself for getting so lost in thought that he forgot where he was at the moment. He performed a brief inspection of his gear and confirmed what Hela had warned him about before all this. They hadn't sent him with any supplies.

That could set an arbitrary time limit on his task. While the Aesir were far more suited to an environment lacking in resources than humans, going so far as being able to survive within a vacuum with little issue, eventually even their bodies needed fuel.

Tyr had taught him how to sustain himself solely on his reserves of divine power, but it was more of an art form used for self reflection and meditation than a survival technique. Essentially, an Asgardian can rely on their divine power practically indefinitely as long as they're in a situation where it can be refilled. The problem is that on top of the weakness felt by continuously running on low reserves, the sensations of starvation and dehydration are always present. You may survive, but is a life of constant torture really worth it?

"No, I just need to finish up here as quickly as possible. Then I won't even need to worry about that," Fyr muttered to himself as he brushed back his hair and flipped the hood of his cloak over his head.

A layer of loose snow under his feet muffled Fyr's steps as he made his way towards the cavern's opening. The fur lining in his armor served a dual purpose in both keeping him warm and decreasing his noise pollution, once he was away from these echoing caves, stealth could become a viable option.

As he exited the cavern, Fyr caught his first glimpse of the frozen world and it was truly one to remember. The mouth of the cave had spit him out atop a small plateau raised a few hundred feet above the surface with a panoramic view of the clear night sky.

Jotunheim was far enough away from it's star that the realm received less sunlight than the average inhabited planet, leading to a stunning view of a land presently draped in twilight. With barely a water cycle to speak of, the cloudless night sky was filled with an infinite number of stars and nebulas that appeared more beautiful than any piece of artwork you could find.

Fyr didn't allow himself to get enraptured by the sights however and forcefully lowered his gaze back to the surface where the picture presented to him was far darker. Towers of ice and rock jutted out of the ground casting long shadows, sheltering an unknown number of hidden dangers. A myriad of crags and canyons scattered randomly across the frosty terrain, promising no escape from their depths. The world held many dangers beneath the veil of beauty and it would be his home for the foreseeable future.

Not wanting to expose himself to possible hostiles for any longer and seeing no threats below, Fyr hopped over the edge, plummeting to the surface. While falling, Fyr made extensive use of telekinesis spells to both speed up his descent and cushion his landing to the point where only the flapping of his cloak could be heard on the winds.

Having no idea where on the planet he was located, Fyr decided on the simplest solution and proceeded to walk in the direction of the sun until he found some evidence of life. There were no obvious landmarks and to his inexperienced eye, everything just looked the same.

After hours of seeing nothing but frost, ice, snow, and rocks, Fyr picked up his pace to a light jog. A few more and stealth was thrown out the window as he entered into a full sprint.

He was beginning to hate this world after the first few days of running. The emptiness in his stomach had his nerves on edge, evidenced by a few toppled spires marked by fist indents along his path. The lack of any signs of life so far had hampered any thoughts of hunting for his food and Fyr was receiving a crash course on sustaining himself off divine power far earlier than he'd ever wished for.

His only reprieve on this barren world was that he never ran out of water. In fact on one occasion he wasn't entirely proud of, especially knowing Heimdall was likely watching him at the time, he'd taken to carving ice into the image of steaks with his dagger, only to shed tears of sorrow once it melted back to water in his mouth.

Weeks had long passed by now, Fyr walked the world with dead eyes as he swore in his heart to make the frost giants pay for avoiding him for so long. He didn't remember the exact quota for his task anymore but deep within his frozen heart, he vowed to make sure he retrieved more than enough when the time came.

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Author Note:

With this chapter we've finally reached into the rankings!

I squeezed in a few references in this chapter, some more obvious than others, let me know if you spotted them all in the comments.

With the winter holidays coming to an end, from now on expect a chapter a week. I'm just writing this for fun and need to earn some money for myself out there so sorry if that leaves you all dissatisfied, nothing I can do. That's not saying it'll always be just one chap a week, just don't expect more and then extra will be happy surprises.

And lastly, sorry about the lack of the action scenes I promised last chapter, the whole ritual situation kind of kept pouring out until I looked up and the chap was sitting at like 2/3rds done already. Anyways.. next chapter will have them!

Thanks for reading, if your enjoying the story let me know with your reviews and comments. The more they pour in, the more I'm inspired to write!