Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Royal Gardens, 2011 (Pronouns used for Loki: he/him)
"My time has come, my sons," Frigga whispered, her voice soft but steady. She looked at Loki with a gaze full of affection and sorrow. "You're ready to be on your own. Your father is calling me. My journey is ending here, but yours is just beginning."
Loki’s bottom lip quivered, his chest tightening in that suffocating way he had feared for so long. His eyes watered, his heart aching in a way he couldn’t put into words. "W-what? No! You can't leave us. You can't leave me, mother!" The tears that had threatened to fall before now spilled down his face. He couldn’t imagine a world without her, not after everything she had done for him, not after all the years they had shared.
Frigga smiled softly, a bittersweet expression that conveyed a love beyond words. "People will come and go, Loki. Even your most cherished loved ones. It’s a part of life. It takes time, yes, but eventually you will accept it. You will heal, and in time, you'll be okay. And Loki... I have faith in you. You will make a great king. I’m certain of it." Her voice was calm, a reassuring lull in the storm of emotions that surrounded them.
With a final, lingering gaze, Frigga held both her sons’ hands in hers, her fingers warm and steady, grounding them in that fleeting moment of peace. "We will meet again someday. I know it. But for now, my time here is done."
And with those words, Frigga slowly dissolved into a cascade of golden dust, blown away by a gentle breeze that stirred through the garden. The dust scattered into the wind, as if the very earth had taken her away, leaving nothing behind but the memory of her touch, the warmth of her love.
Thor’s fist struck the bench with a violent force, his anger radiating in waves. "Damn it!" he shouted, his voice breaking with the weight of the loss. His face was flushed with grief, his eyes glossed over with unshed tears. Loki, too, stared at the spot where his mother had vanished, his breath shallow, as his tears fell silently, uncontrollably. The wind whispered through the trees, but it was no longer the same. It felt empty, hollow, without her presence.
People say there are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Thor and Loki were both trapped in the first stage, unable to fully comprehend what had just happened. It was as though the world had been ripped from beneath their feet, and the floor was no longer solid. But time—time would heal, they hoped. It would have to.
Two Years Later
The sun was setting over the royal gardens, casting a golden glow on everything it touched. Inside the castle, a far more chaotic scene was unfolding.
"WHY DID I EVER WANT TO HAVE CHILDREN? DAMN IT!" Sylvie screamed, her face contorted in pain as she clutched Loki’s hand, squeezing it with every ounce of strength she had. Her hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat, her breathing labored, but her focus was sharp as the labor raged on.
"Focus, Your Highness, you’re doing great!" The healer's voice was steady, a calming presence in the midst of the storm. "Just a little more. That’s it, push!"
Loki, sweating from the tension of the moment, felt as though he might pass out from the intensity of it all. He squeezed Sylvie’s hand in return, offering as much comfort as he could through his own nervousness. His eyes were wide with shock and awe, the weight of the moment settling in.
"And it’s a boy!" the healer declared with a sense of pride, and in that instant, Loki’s heart swelled. His eyes immediately filled with tears as he gazed down at his newborn son, swaddled and cradled in his arms. The baby’s blue skin—shimmering faintly under the dimmed light—and his dark, spiky hair made Loki’s heart soar with pride.
Loki chuckled, a sound laced with both relief and joy. "Narfi," he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "His name will be Narfi."
But before they could take in the full weight of the moment, Sylvie gasped again, another contraction overtaking her.
"SHIT!" Loki turned to her in shock. "You’re kidding me!"
"Seems like there’s another one, Your Highness," the healer said with an amused grin.
And in what felt like an eternity later, another cry filled the room. A second son. Sylvie let out a mixture of relief and exasperation as the baby was placed into her arms. Loki couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of her exhausted but smiling face.
"I hope this is the last one," Sylvie muttered, her voice thick with exhaustion, but there was a flicker of humor in her tone.
Loki smiled softly, gazing at his sons with pride. "Vali," Sylvie whispered, naming their second son. "That’s his name."
"Vali," Loki repeated, his voice thick with emotion. "Narfi and Vali. Perfect."
Tears filled Loki’s eyes as he looked at them, two perfect boys—his boys. His heart swelled as he saw them for the first time, knowing that they were a part of him and Sylvie. His life had been forever changed. And in that moment, in the soft light of the chamber, Loki realized that he had healed. Everything he had lost—his mother, his father, the weight of his past—had been replaced by something greater. His family. His future.
Sylvie’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Your mother would have been so proud, Loki."
Loki swallowed hard, a tear slipping from his eye. "I know. I wish she could have seen this."
And somewhere, beyond the stars, Frigga’s spirit smiled. She watched over her sons from Valhalla, proud of the men they had become, and of the legacies they were now building. Odin, too, watched over them from the halls of Valhalla, a silent presence that lingered, guiding them even from beyond death’s reach.
As Narfi and Vali grew, so too did the family that surrounded them. Three years later, their little sister, Iona, came into the world, her laughter echoing through the halls of Asgard. And soon after, Thor and Jane of Midgard brought their son, Magni, into the fold, followed by their daughter, Amora, a year later.
And so, in the grand halls of Asgard, the next generation flourished. The pain of the past remained, but with it came the promise of the future. Together, they would weather any storm, together, they would find happiness—just as they deserved.
In the end, they had all found their happy ending, for no matter the trials they faced, love was the one thing that remained unshaken, eternal. And as long as their family stood together, Asgard would endure, just as it always had.