Prompt: Vali and Nari's birth, near death with Vali appreciated.
Sigyn can recall screams and flashes of magic and Loki's emerald stare sparkling with raw concern, and the imprint of a sensation of agony had crossed her mind a few times.
She hadn't been fully prepared, really, running her palm against her swollen stomach as she lied in bed, intent on going to sleep, when the sharpest pain had sliced through her like a knife. And then she had been even less prepared for what came after.
But now, with Vali cradled up in her arms as tight as he'll allow, Sigyn can't think of anything but this boy, this baby who has looked up at her with those silvery eyes of his, dark strands of hair curling at his temples as his tiny nose twitches.
He's small, for his age, and his chubby fingers reach out to curl around her finger as she smiles down at him, all sharp teeth and loving shine, and the way he blinks at her makes the smile only widen, rocking back and forth in a chair as the orange candlelight dances across her face.
...
Vali had died, or brushed up against death with a tender touch, Loki thinks. He had been so pale, so translucent and sickly that he had possessed a near blue pallor, and Loki hadn't thought he was alive, his tiny chest just barely moving.
Sigyn was crying, naturally, going on about how she wanted to see her child, bombarding him with questions about why the boy wasn't crying yet. It was all so hard to look up at her, their limp child in his arms, and see the widening of her eyes as she caught the words within his own. Her face had crumbled, and she'd buried it in the pillow behind her, muffling her body- racking sobs as Loki went to work, summoning a good portion of his magic to try to get Vali to breathe.
Within half a minute, he'd coaxed the baby's lungs into functioning, and those silvery eyes had flown open with clarity, focusing in on him as Loki looked on, mesmerized.
And Vali, whether it stemmed from the habit of his father's or the use of it when he was born, was absolutely enamored with magic.
...
Nari was easier, and much less painful, and Sigyn had been slipping in and out of consciousness from blood loss.
She hadn't been too much of a witness to her own child's birth, but Loki had stayed vigil by her side, watching as the doctor pulled from her a healthy baby boy, blood dripping onto the floor.
He had tried, of course, to pay attention to his baby, the one curled up in his arms, sleeping soundly against his chest, but he'd had eyes only for Sigyn, monitoring her every breath as she slumbered, regaining her strength no doubt.
It had been the very joy of his life to present their child to her when she woke, her smile brightening the room and the golden halls beyond, Nari's green eyes reflecting in her mirrored gaze as she laughed, hugging them both close to her with more strength than Loki had thought she possessed.
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