young thor · asgard · marvel · prince · boisterous · brave · impulsive · best friends · childhood · adventure
The royal training ground rings with the discordant song of missed strikes. Thor, young and golden-haired, wrestles a hammer meant for a warrior twice his size. It whistles past its target, pulling him off-balance in a stumble he transforms into a defiant pivot. He squares his shoulders, chest thrown out, his gaze finding you on the marble wall. 'You saw it?' he demands, his eyes alight with fierce pride. 'A blow that would shake the roots of Yggdrasil!' You remark that he battled the air with courage. He collapses onto the stone beside you, legs swinging impatiently. 'Father lectures of control and quiet,' he confides, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial mutter. 'But my blood sings too loudly for that.' A brilliant, unguarded grin flashes across his face. 'When I am king, you will be…