Loki Laufeyson, son of the deceased frost giant Laufey and long-since adopted into the Odinson clan of Asgard, looks broadly upon his home in Vanaheim. He is out with his young sons, Narvi and Vali, twins with his wife Sigyn, spending the day teaching them about the local plant life and some basic spells. They are just over a few years old now, grown enough to run on their own and come into their own personalities in much the same way Loki once did with his adopted mother, Frigga, at this age.
The boys are rowdy but proper, and walk straight like their father on formal occasions and when company arrives. But here in the field, they are playing together as any set of young boys would, tossing one another about in the grass and getting their brown tunics dirty. Loki is standing on the hill watching them, smiling. His hair is tied behind his neck as it has been for many years now, no longer flowing in his face to show his dominance.
As he watches the boys, Loki can't help but remember times with Thor in Asgard, running through the palace halls and even in the green fields after horse riding lessons. When they were young, they were truly brothers, always concerned that their mother would come out and catch them roughhousing. Thor was much stronger than Loki even then, but Loki was much less affected by losing a game; Thor would often cry and quit if he thought that the ending would not be in his favor. While playing hide and seek, Loki learned fast that Thor was impatient. As Loki began to learn magic, he would project himself in several areas to guarantee his older brother as the victor. The two were quite a pair, clashing in so many ways, yet bonded together until their adulthood. It was a shame that their kinship did not last.
"Alright, boys, that's enough, we have much to do today," Loki yells out to them, his arms crossed but a pleasant expression on his face. Narvi and Vali turn to see him, and giggle quietly while standing. The two are not identical. Vali is much darker than Narvi, looking much like Loki did in his youth, and is more slender and sharp than his brother. This young boy's hair is stark black, and ends at his ears; Loki keeps the boys' hair short like the rest of the young children in Vanaheim. Narvi, on the other hand, is darker skinned like their mother, and has her lighter, chocolate hair. His mannerisms are much more gentle, forgiving, and patient. He is the more mature of the two, and favors time spent with Sigyn over long walks and magic lessons with his father.
After a long day spent in the fields, examining berries and digging in the soil for good roots for potions, Loki leads the boys back to their home in the small mountain fortress of Vanaheim. Though Loki honestly prefers the bustling Don City to this small place, Sigyn insisted on keeping the boys secluded for a few years before exposing them to their potential notoriety with the people. After all, when the Vanaheim people honored Loki for his sorcery and named him an elected king three years prior, his boys had been given unofficial stance as well. Loki has kept much of his old nature bottled up since last battling Thor several years ago; despite denying a few urges here and there to invade or make allies with other worlds, he is genuinely happy raising a family.
The boys enter their fur-covered dwelling first and are greeted by their mother, who is preparing a meal for them. Sigyn's hair has grown long, reaching halfway down her back, and she is dressed in her usual brown frock. Since giving birth, her figure has finally returned, but time has etched small lines across her face that are particularly noticeable in the dim light. She smiles widely at her sons, and embraces them with open arms.
"Narvi, what has gotten on your face, my dear child?" She wipes her fingers down his nose, leaving a clean swipe beneath. "And you too, Vali, you both are just covered in dust!" The boys are smiling and laughing, and Sigyn swipes at them to go wash up. When she stands, Loki is standing behind her in silence, with his arms behind his back. She turns to look at him, and his eyes reflect the smile that covers his face.
"And you, my dear husband, are no less dirty yourself," Sigyn says as she touches his face, and tucks a strand of hair that has fallen in front of his ear.
"Ah, but my love, what fun would learning be if there were no games afoot?" He strokes his index finger down her nose in the same way she did to Narvi, leaving a streak on her face from his soiled hands. Sigyn notices and swats at Loki's shoulder in jest, laughing. Loki leans in and kisses her gently and quickly, now a routine motion, before walking to the back of the tent to the washbasin.
A knock on the door of their home disrupts the family's gathering; Loki and Sigyn look at each other, and their smiles fade. No one in the village would knock and not announce him or herself. Loki stands straight and walks with purpose to the door, with conviction. He is afraid, but not surprised.
It has been years, but they knew this day would come.
