1938

Loki fidgeted at the table, poking the vegetables on his plate and looking to the window that overlooked the city.

"Loki", his mother, Frigga, warned him, peering at him.

"Yes mother," his eyes still on the window.

"Eyes towards me," she set her cutlery down.

Loki turned to look at his mother, her smile resembling as if she knew something.

"You've barely eaten anything!", she took a sip from the goblet.

"I'm not so hungry," he muttered.

"Are you meeting someone?", she pressed him, her eyes focused on him.

Loki shyly turned his face down, twiddling his thumbs, showing the faces of his palms.

"Loki," his mother's voice rose, "Is it a girl?"

He suddenly lifted his head, eyes wide, "Mother!"

"It is!", Frigga laughed, clasping her hands together. "It's Vili's descendant isn't it?"

Loki nodded, trying to hide the shy smile on his face, his heart quickening at the thought of the girl.

"Geneviève?"

"She likes to be called Anya."

"It's a very pretty name.", her eyes soft on her son.

With hesitation Loki stammered, "Can I...go?"

Frigga set her napkin down, "Oh goodness, of course you can!"

His legs went first before his body as he sped to run to the stairs to the front door of the palace.

"Not so fast, Loki! Only if I get to meet her finally." Frigga caught his arm just as he tried to run past her.

"Fine, mother. But will father say?", Loki rolled his eyes. His mother rested a hand on his face.

"Are you happy?"

He nodded again. Frigga could see her son change over time, a twinkle in his eyes.

"Then father doesn't need to know. Unless the two of you are getting married anytime soon!"

"Mother!" Loki stepped back, bewildered before he started laughing.

"Loki, my dear. I only wish you to be happy."

He hugged her tightly, "Go, she must be waiting for you in the courtyard."

He ran down the staircase, hallway looking up to Frigga.

"I'll come see you soon. Now go!", she encouraged him as he ran past the guards into the city.

Anya was already sitting under the tree, looking out to the rest of the city, people going about their day.

"Anya!", Loki ran up to her, breathless.

"You knew I'd come!", she got up, her eyes bright.

"You're very predictable, always sleeping at the same time and falling back to Asgard," he cheekily smirked.

"So where to today?", she beamed, standing on her tiptoes and twirling on the spot.

"Well, mother wants to meet you. Father and Thor aren't in Asgard right now, so this might just be the best time."

"I was not prepared for this, Loki!", Anya protested.

"Come on," he took her arm through his, "It can't be so bad!"

"In Midgard, when someone meets a parent, it's a big matter!", she huffed.

"A big matter for what?" he asked, trying to press her with the question they had both been avoiding.

"It's...", her voice shaky.

"When will we ever admit we have a connection, Anya?" he halted, his face in the shadow. He looked at Anya, her eyes to the ground.

"Does it need to be justified?" she muttered.

"The words would help a lot.", he sighed.

Anya closed her eyes, mustering all the courage she could. Never in her life had she ever merely ever had feelings for another boy. The boys in Paris back in Midgard were flirtatious and fun to be around, but they were friends, nothing more.

She opened her eyes again, taking a deep breath, "Loki!" she shouted out.

Loki froze at the sudden raise of voice.

"I like you. There, I said it.", she huffed again before marching past him.

He turned to her, whispering, "I like you too.", before pulling her in closer to him.

Anya felt her cheeks prickle, blushing a rosy pink, her insides doing flips and turns.

Frigga could see them come up the palace steps from the window, keeping an eye on her son. Her fingers quickly went through the pages of a thick golden book, her hand resting on a page.

A picture drawn showed Anya in armor, fighting soldiers from Midgard. The caption underneath in Old Norse:

Geneviève Anya, daughter of Maria Andersen. Midgard year - 1944.

Seeing Loki almost glow with happiness, holding a girl beside him, his smile carefree. She wished it could only last forever. She wished, the fates had not permanently drawn Anya's future just yet.