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The day after the battle Throne Room, 2011 (Pronouns used for Loki: he/him)
Once again, the Asgardians and the Jotuns gathered in the great throne room of Asgard, their faces somber, but filled with hope. The battle had been won, Hela defeated, and yet Asgard was left in mourning. The realms had been torn, the death of Odin still too raw to be fully accepted. But now, the time had come for Asgard to look ahead. And that meant a new king had to be crowned.
"Do you, Loki Odinson, King of Asgard, take Sylvie Laufeydottir as your wife and queen?" The officiator’s voice echoed throughout the vast chamber, filling the air with a sense of gravity.
Yes, Loki had ascended to the throne, though not under the circumstances he had ever envisioned. There had been no time for celebration in the wake of their hard-won victory over Hela. The kingdom needed a ruler—now. Odin’s death had left Asgard without a leader, and Loki had been thrust into this role, whether he was prepared or not.
"I do," Loki answered firmly, his gaze unwavering as he caressed Sylvie’s knuckles, his touch tender but steady, grounding himself in the moment. Despite everything, he felt a deep sense of peace with Sylvie at his side.
"Do you, Sylvie Laufeydottir, take Loki Odinson as your husband, and do you accept the responsibility of being Queen of this realm?" The officiator’s words rang out again, and Sylvie took a moment to steady herself. Her hand trembled slightly as she gripped Loki’s, her mind racing with the gravity of the decision she was about to make.
Sylvie took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the weight of the question. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, she nodded, her voice soft yet resolute, "I do."
The officiator smiled, raising his hand in finality. "I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."
The room erupted in cheers as Loki leaned forward, his lips pressing against Sylvie’s in a kiss that was both passionate and full of promise. It was a kiss that spoke of the future they would build together, despite the tumultuous past. When they finally pulled away, Loki took Sylvie’s hand, and together they made their way from the throne room, the path before them lined with well-wishers and friends.
The feast hall was alive with celebration. Music filled the air, and the tables were laden with food, drink, and sweet treats. People sang and danced, their joy contagious, as they celebrated the union of their new king and queen. The couple joined in, their laughter echoing through the hall as they danced, ate, and drank in celebration. It was a rare moment of happiness amidst the darkness that had clouded their lives, and they soaked in every second of it. Finally, after all the trials, after the loss, everything felt as it should. For once, it seemed that the fates had aligned in their favor.
The evening air was cool, the scent of roses mingling with the faint trace of wine still on their breath. Loki and Thor stumbled through the moonlit gardens, their steps unsteady as they shared memories of their childhood, their laughter cutting through the stillness of the night.
"You remember when we were eight?" Loki said, slurring the words slightly, a grin spreading across his face. "You were obsessed with snakes. I still remember the time you picked me up, and then when I turned around… 'bleughhhh'—I nearly stabbed you with that stick!"
Thor laughed loudly, a deep sound that echoed in the night. "You were always the troublemaker. Always getting us into trouble, and always acting like you knew what you were doing."
"Come on, admit it, you loved it. You just couldn't resist the chaos I brought," Loki teased, nudging his brother with his shoulder.
But as the laughter faded, they both noticed a presence behind them. Their mother, Frigga, had silently approached, her graceful steps quiet against the garden's earth. Her gaze was soft, but her eyes held a quiet sadness. "My sons," she said, her voice warm and filled with a mother’s love. "Let’s sit."
Loki and Thor collapsed onto the nearby bench, leaning against Frigga as they caught their breath, still recovering from their drunken antics. They looked up at her, their faces concerned as they sensed the change in her tone.
"Is something wrong, mother?" Thor asked, his voice full of worry. Frigga had always been a steady force in their lives, but tonight, something felt different.
Frigga smiled, though there was an undeniable weariness in her eyes. She looked down at her hands, clasped together in her lap, and for a long moment, she didn’t speak. It was as if she was gathering the strength to say the words that weighed heavily on her heart.
Finally, she spoke, her voice barely a whisper. "Your father… he calls me."
Loki and Thor exchanged a glance, their faces filling with confusion. The mention of Odin’s name was enough to make the air around them grow tense, as if the very mention of him could bring the past back to life. "What do you mean, mother?" Loki asked, his voice soft.
Frigga closed her eyes, her face suddenly etched with pain. "I feel his presence, still. It’s like a pull, a connection I can’t ignore. Sometimes… I hear him calling me. As though he’s waiting for me."
Thor stiffened beside her, his brow furrowing in concern. "You don’t mean…"
Frigga nodded slowly, the tears finally slipping free from her eyes. "I’m not sure how much time I have left. I can feel the pull of Hel. It calls to me, as though my time here is drawing to an end."
Loki’s heart sank, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. He had always known that they would all have to face mortality eventually, but hearing it from his mother—hearing that she was so close to joining Odin in the afterlife—made the weight of it unbearable.
"Mother, no," Loki whispered, his voice cracking. He reached for her hand, clutching it tightly as if holding onto her would stop time itself. "Please, don’t leave us."
Frigga gently placed her other hand on top of his. "I don’t want to leave you, my son. But sometimes… sometimes the bonds that tie us to this world are stronger than even we can fight. Odin and I were always bound together, and I can feel that call growing stronger. It’s not that I want to go… but I think I must."
Thor was silent, the weight of her words settling over him like a dark cloud. He reached out to place his hand on hers as well, his fingers trembling slightly. "We’ll fight for you, mother. We won’t let you go so easily."
Frigga shook her head, a soft smile on her lips. "You can’t stop fate, my sons. But know this: I’m proud of you both. Proud of the men you’ve become. Proud of what you’ve achieved." She squeezed their hands in turn, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "And remember, no matter what happens, you’re never truly alone. You carry a part of me with you, always."
Loki's chest tightened, the emotion in his throat too heavy to express. He could feel the heaviness of his mother's words, and he knew deep down that nothing would ever be the same again. She was slipping away from them, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
As the night continued to stretch on, the stars above seemed to grow dimmer, the moon casting its pale light over them as if to bid them goodbye. Loki and Thor remained by Frigga's side, neither of them willing to leave her alone in this moment. Time was running out, and all they could do was hold onto her for as long as they could, knowing that the inevitable would come for them all.
