This is the first submission in my Fanfiction series. There are plenty more to follow, but this one was finished first. Enjoy and please review!

Asgard

500 Years Ago

Drunken revelries could be heard throughout the Capitol at all hours of the day and night. Aesir, men and women alike, celebrated the victory over the Skrulls on Vanaheim alongside their noble defenders. Petals from seemingly every flowerbed in the realm streamed down from the skies and ribbons fluttered from the arms of women in their finest garments.

From a particular tavern, one where the loudest revelries sounded from, the doors were locked to the outside world and guarded by golden helmeted Einherjar. From within, the princes Thor and Loki, The Warriors' Three, and Lady Sif danced, sang, and celebrated with casks of ale in hand. Sif was dressed in a sweeping mint gown with bracers of gold and hair ornaments fashioned like ships sailing in her ebony hair. Fandrall, hair gleaming in the firelight, shimmering silver armor hugging his chest, arms, and legs, laughed alongside four women that fawned over his every jest and smile. Volstagg, with a mane of reddish brown hair covering seemingly all his upper torso, could barely be seen over his feasting of his favorite style of pheasant, silver armor that once was gleaming was now covered in ale and bits of food. Finally, Hogun the Grim sat with his arm around a beautiful woman from his native Vanaheim, a circlet of flowers around her brow, giving him kisses as he toyed with a ring on her left hand, a soft smile on his lips. His armor was unlike the rest as it consisted mainly of black leather with silver accents.

But, of course, the main attraction in the tavern were the two men standing atop two conjoined tables, the food and drinks pulled away so that they couldn't knock it over with their singing and dancing. Thor, mighty in his silver armor, majestic cape of the brightest scarlet to be seen, black trousers, and ale wet boots, danced with wide arms a ditty that he had just made up, sending his brother, Loki, into a fit of laughs as he tried to tell a story beside Thor. Loki wore black armor with gold accents and emerald green cape as an ivy leaf.

Loki regained his composure somewhat, laughing and clapping as his brother made his final twirl. "And! Eheh!" Loki was gripped with a fit of laughs before continuing. "With such a dance of swords, Thor swung Miljonir about the Skrulls so that they watched with delight, their death coming so quickly to them!"

The crowd erupted into cheers and claps as the brothers grasped arms and swept bows to all corners of the table. "The Princes of Asgard!" Fandrall toasted.

"THE PRINCES OF ASGARD!"

Loki took a goblet of ale Sif held out to him and he clinked goblets with his brother. "A great victory, indeed!" Thor laughed, turning to his brother.

They drank, allowing their ale to fall back onto their faces and douse their hair. "Another!" They shouted in unison, slamming their goblets to the ground and sending their audience into a cheering frenzy.

"Come, Loki!" Thor bellowed, "Tell us another story!"

"I'm going to call my position as a prince and call Volstagg up here!"

Volstagg lifted his head, chicken bone caught in his beard. "My fern?"

The brothers laughed and crouched at the knees. "Ready brother?" Thor taunted.

"Sober enough, brother?" Loki grinned.

Thor threw his golden mane back and laughed, then faced forward. In one dazzling leap, the brothers jumped over the crowd, somersaulted over their seated friends, and landed on their boots, spinning back to an enthralled audience.

Loki, grinning from ear to ear, grabbed his brother's wrist and lifted it above their heads. "Princes and Brothers of Asgard until the end of time!"

Jotunheim

Present Day

The moon over Jotunheim was hidden by snow clouds, releasing clean stuffing from the skies. Through the soft cascade, the wind played like a flute, stirring minute snow twisters around the trees and shoots of ice. Through this serene night, the sounds of fast paced hoof beats interrupted the natural music.

The snowbirds perked their heads at the sound, and silhouettes of enormous, sapphire skinned Frost Giants peered around the trees to glimpse the sound of the speedy rider. What they saw was a peculiar sight of a grey horse with small black spots across his frame and eight legs, ridden by a man covered in a black cloak trimmed with jet black fur, wearing leather trousers and black boots made for dealing with heavy snow.

This man thundered on his steed through the night, not letting anything or anyone stop his progression. He cantered through the music, unable to be seen through his speed, on a path only he seemed to know about. On and on he rode, jumping over fallen logs, and through thick clusters of snow that fell from branches above his head. A patch of snow landed upon his head, causing his hood to fall back and reveal a face almost as white as the snow around him, chapel high cheekbones, emerald eyes that glowed cold like rocks left in ice, and thin lips that looked like a line on his face in his determination to get to his destination.

Loki didn't care about his hood, only with the road ahead.

His eyes were glued to the snow ahead, knowing that his horse, Sleipnir, would get him there safely. Suddenly, the forest around him cleared, revealing a longhouse two stories tall in the middle of the space, a river at it's rear. Six Frost Giants were posted around the house with stones and mortar, building a massive fortress worthy of a castle. Loki slowed Sleipnir to a trot as a smaller Frost Giant looking to be about fifteen, rushed to take the reins. "Where is she?" Loki demanded, looking down to the sapphire face.

The young Frost Giant looked up at him revealing scarlet eyes and beautiful lines across his face that seemed to have begun at his nose. "The Queen is inside, my lord." His deep baritone uttered. "Her contractions have begun."

Loki swung his leg over Sleipnir and jumped down, the fall making flecks of snow jump away from his boots. "How far along is she?"

"I don't know, sire. The midwife has never delivered a Halfling before."

Loki nodded and strode into the longhouse, making surrounding Frost Giants drop to their knees in reverence. Inside of the longhouse was a lush reception and dining hall, complete with tables and benches intricately carved with Celtic weave designs, moveable stone fire pit carved with the seal of the House of Laufeyson on all four sides, and medium sized dais of fine mahogany and fur carpet. To the right of this dais, hidden behind an intricately woven tapestry, was a door that lead to the living quarters.

Through this door was a wide open lounge with chairs, sofas, and woven rugs from throughout Jotunheim. This room's main centerpiece, one with two Frost Giant women armed with ice swords posted on either side, was a majestic staircase with a long, elegant, emerald carpet and gold enchanted seal of the House of Laufeyson in the center. The women saluted Loki by crossing their chests with their right arms and kneeling before him, but he paid them no heed. Instead, he ran up the staircase, his long legs taking two at a time, and cleared the landing where a Frost Giantess in an emerald dress greeted him.

"My king," She cooed, dipping her sapphire head. "I have grave news."

Loki, though significantly smaller than her, stepped close, making her flinch. "What is it?"

Her scarlet eyes met his. "My lord, she is carrying twins."

Loki leaned back suddenly, his face contorting to sheer anger. "I told you that before!"

Silence fell throughout the house. "My king," The Frost Giantess continued, "I do not see a way for her majesty the queen to survive the birth."

Loki froze, his anger replaced by fear. "What?"

She hung her head and spread her palms, revealing circles in the centers. "There is nothing I can do, my king."

Tears stabbed at his eyes, but Loki held them back. "There must be something!"

The Frost Giantess shook her head. "She is too small, and the sack too big. The potion you gave her to survive the birth went to your sons, sire. They will be born full bred Jotun Frost Giants. One could possibly allow our queen to survive. Two…" She trailed off, avoiding his gaze.

Slowly, he turned to the left, his ears detecting the sounds of his wife groaning in their bed. Was this going to be the last time he held her?

"I might not be able to do something, my king."

Loki turned back to the Frost Giantess. "What?"

"I might not, but… Asgard might."

He frowned. "What is your name, midwife?"

The Frost Giantess paused. "Fárbauti, my king."

"Fárbauti, you know that my relations with my brother are not in the slightest bit the best, don't you?"

She nodded. "I know, my lord. I just thought-"

"Thought what, servant?!"

Fárbauti was silent. "Forgive me, my king."

There was a sudden gasp in the master chamber and a short moan that sounded like "Loki!"

And suddenly he was in the master chamber.

A bed the width of a full grown Frost Giant spread eagle took up most of the room, backed by a cherry wood backboard carved with an image of Yggdrasil whose leaves mimicked the Jotun seasons by magic. Centered in this bed was a pale woman with thick hair like painted mahogany, eyes the color of mead, olive skin, perfectly formed lips, and the largest midriff Loki had ever seen. Around this woman were other Frost Giant midwives wearing sapphire silk gloves that they touched to her forehead to help keep her cool without burning her skin with frost.

"I'm here, my love." Loki breathed, rushing to her side.

Sigyn arched her back and ground her teeth, taking his awaiting hand and squeezing it. Loki readjusted the pillows behind her, pushing her back onto the soft fabric. "Will these boys never come out!" She cried, digging her hair into the pillows before turning to her husband. "Do you know a spell to rid me of the pain?"

He caught the look the midwives shot to each other before answering. "It is dangerous giving you a pain spell, alskling." He said slowly, "If you cannot feel pain, you do not know what is wrong."

"Not even a little one?"

He leaned forward and kissed her neck. "I'm so sorry, alskling."

She swallowed, her lips pursing with pain. "It's alright, alskling. I'm sure it'll be over soon."

Fárbauti slipped into the chamber, her eyes sweeping from ailing queen to tortured king. Loki looked at her, his fingers curling around Sigyn's nightgown as he fought a snarl. "How long until she…?"

The Frost Giantess met his gaze and inhaled. "The Queen has until next sunset."

"That long?" Sigyn whined, suddenly constricting her husband's palm.

A block of ice settled into Loki's stomach. "Have you told her?"

Fárbauti shook her head, revealing long black hair that was tied into a tight bun. "We thought it best she heard it from you, my king."

Sigyn panted, trying not to bite her lip. "Tell me what?"

Loki looked at her, those mead eyes growing with fear for their children.

Little monsters.

He inhaled. "Tell you that…" He looked to Fárbauti and exhaled, "That a messenger is being sent to Asgard as we speak. We need their expertise on this matter."

Fárbauti did little to conceal her gratitude.

"Really?" Sigyn almost smiled. "You're going to talk to your brother?"

He swallowed, and forced a smile. "For your sake, I would talk to Hel herself."

A tight, warm smile spread across her features, heating him to his core. "Thank you, alskling." She kicked her leg and winced, clamping down on his hand once more. "When will the messenger come back with news?" She begged, a tear sliding down her temple.

Loki stood. "I'll go check."

Sigyn squeezed his hand for moments, trying to regain her composure for him before letting go. Gently, she brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. "Come back soon." She smiled, "I don't want you to miss the birth."

He smiled down at her, feeling his heart shatter as he did so. "I wouldn't miss it for all the realms of Yggdrasil."

With that, he turned his heel and rushed from the master chamber, the sound of Fárbauti's heavy footsteps behind him thudding mysteriously quiet compared to her frame. No sooner had the silk tapestry covered the entry from the master chamber to the upper lounge was Loki on his knees, gripping his chest and doing his best not to cry. It felt like he had been punched in the gut by a Frost Monster, eaten by a dragon, and defecated on Helheim. Sigyn, his true love, his queen, was in all likelihood going to die birthing his children.

She, like Frigga, was going to leave him before he was ready to let go.

He convulsed on the carpet and wood floor in the fetal position, trying to recall the drops of tears that escaped his eyes. "My king," Fárbauti's deep, soft voice cooed, "My king, Asgard might be able to save your queen."

Thor would soon as rather let her die because I love her so much.

Loki turned to her, studying her face. This giantess had chapel high cheekbones, lines across her forehead similar to him in his Jotun form, and a loving presence about her that reminded him faintly of Frigga. Loki stood, coming to just below her chin. Slowly, he nodded. Thor, for all of their disagreements, had enough love left for his brother that he wouldn't allow his queen to die.

If Loki was desperate enough to come to him for help.

Loki inhaled. "Go back to my wife," He commanded Fárbauti, "See to it that she is as comfortable as possible."

Fárbauti nodded. "Yes, my king."

Loki waited until she had turned to her task before gliding downstairs, mind focused on breathing, and took a backdoor out to the river. The snow fell thickly now in flakes half the size of his palm, but that did not deter him. Dreading every step, Loki strode to the river's edge and sat down upon a log that he had felled a few weeks before so that he and Sigyn could cuddle while watching the stream. Immediately, his head fell into his hands and the feeling he had in the lounge slammed back into his chest.

Why would Thor want to help me after all we've done to him?

Loki lifted his head, shaking off the small flakes that clumped on his hair. He exhaled, causing his breath to freeze before him. He couldn't leave Sigyn. He couldn't leave her now that any moment he could lose her.

Slowly, he turned his emerald gaze to the sky, letting flakes fall onto his cheekbones and regal nose. In a move he had only done as a prince on Asgard, he let his concealing spell disintegrate around him like sugar in a hot cup of water. He inhaled.

"Heimdall?" Silence was all that could be heard around him aside from the Frost Giants building his fortress. "Heimdall, it is Loki, King of Jotunheim." He inhaled and exhaled slowly. "I wish for a formal parlay with Thor, King of Asgard."

Nothing stirred around him.

Loki gripped the bark of the log until his anger passed. "Heimdall, Queen Sigyn is dying. I request a formal parlay with my brother to request Eir, Head of Healing to come and possibly save her. Please, I know you hate me, but please do this for my wife's sake."

He paused, looking to the skies for any signs of the bifrost splitting the clouds with light and thunder bringing his brother in all his glory and Eir, stern and focused with a warmth she only bestowed on her favorites.

But all remained still.

"Heimdall!" Loki roared, jumping to his boots and onto the log. "Heimdall! Damn you, Gatekeeper!"

Footsteps ran to him.

Loki whirled around to see the boy who took Sliepnir run full speed to him. "My king!" He cried, "My king! News from the Capitol!"

"What is it?" Loki barked.

Don't tell me another turret has fallen on your stupid heads.

The boy halted before him, chest heaving. "My king, a royal envoy bearing the seal of the King of Asgard has landed in the Capitol and requests permission to seek a formal parlay with your majesties the king and queen."