Chapter Text
Thor paced from one side of his balcony to the other for nearly an hour, still angry about the news he had received that morning. It seemed that the Congress of Worlds feared what may become of Asgard if and when Torov became the ruler of the Realm, being Thor’s successor. It was a very thinly veiled fact that their fears were rooted in the circumstances of Torov’s lineage. Or, more plainly, the fact that the boy was half mortal.
This was an unjust reason, Thor thought, because it was well known that Asgardians thought themselves to be above mortals in nearly every sense. But Torov had eaten one of Idunn’s golden apples, and so he was granted the long life of an Aesir. Torov had been learning the ways of the Aesir and of Asgard over the last three years, and if he was to succeed Thor, then he obviously had plenty of time to continue learning. As well, he was still a child, and so could not be judged too quickly on his apparent ability to be a good ruler. Thor himself had not been fit to be king even as a younger adult.
It angered Thor to no end that the Congress would doubt his son’s worth even to be a prince solely based upon his race. There were rumors circulating throughout the holds of Asgard of Torov’s recklessness and stupidity, even accusations affairs.
Someone at the council meeting (an advisor, Thor thought) had brought up the fact that the Allmother herself harbored Vanir blood, yet her intelligence and title had never been questioned. Odin himself had retorted that that was because it was well known that the Vanir were on an equal level of societal and racial progression as the Aesir, and so were just as worthy of a high status.
Thor had grown angry at his father’s statement and demanded to know if he, too, thought that Torov was ill-fit for the thrown. The answer to this was obvious, but Thor had simply wanted to know if Odin would dare say it to his face. To no one’s surprise, Odin had reluctantly said yes.
“And what of Volstagg’s mortal sons?” Thor had asked, rising from his seat, “Both have consumed Idunn’s apples and therefore possess the same strength and mental capacity as any Aesir. One is a fine warrior and the other a palace blacksmith. Would you say that they are not your equal? Are they not equal to their sister, who is born of Aesir Volstagg and Hildegund?”
“They are not.” Odin had snapped, and Frigga had grasped her husband’s arm tightly to prevent him from advancing on Thor. “They may be great warriors and serve Asgard well, but they can never prove equal to a pure Aesir. Nor can any mixed race being in all the Realms prove themselves equal to one of pure lineage.” He said, nodding and turning his attention away from his son.
What made Thor storm out of the meeting hall was the fact that after Odin’s awful spiel, which concerned not only Thor’s child, but the children of his closest friends as well, no one else in Congress had spoken in protest of Odin’s words, not even Frigga.
What had angered him even further was the term that the Congress had coined in reference to Torov’s lineage, and all those who harbored the genetics of two separate races.
Hybrid.