Disclaimer: I own nothing

Yes, I have an original canon. I needed it in order to keep this story from getting boring.

So, what lies in store for our widowed king?

Sit back and find out!

Love always,

Avoline

Loki smiled as Jane encouraged the young prince to walk. It had only been three months, but Miekall was already standing on his own. The king had woke up numerous times to see his son standing and laughing.

The pain was starting to fade. He could go to bed without being paralyzed by sorrow, but his heart still ached when he awoke. He longed for her still, and wished that she could be here to watch their son grow. He had so many of her qualities, and it hurt Loki that he would never get to know his mother.

"He is growing quickly, brother," Thor's voice thundered. The black head smiled.

"That he is," he replied. "He's looking so much like his mother. I only wish she were here." A small lump formed in his throat. "As well as Mother."

"I still mourn for both of them as well," the blond murmured. "It is odd knowing that they are not here. Mother would have quite adored your son." The younger man managed a smile.

"She would have taught him how to wield a blade," he mused softly.

"Much like she did you," Thor added.

Loki decided then that he would have to teach Miekall what was taught to him.

The king blinked awake as the sound of laughter reached his ears. He turned over before he could feel the pain of the empty bed. He couldn't understand why he still mourned every day for Meeka. She had been gone for three months, and though he had accepted his fate, he could not bear to let her go.

"Miekall," he cooed, slowly rising to his feet. "Are you ready to start the day so soon?" The young prince laughed, bringing a smile to Loki's face. "So much like your mother."

So much so...

He barely shook his head as he lifted his son from the crib. He needed to stay focused. He had his moment to grieve, and he could never thank Thor enough for giving him that moment. But now it was time to move forward.

"Good morning, my liege," a voice greeted, and he turned to see one of the servants- Ilka- standing in the door. "Do you require any help with the young prince?" He smiled at the soft-spoken girl.

"Did my father send you," he inquired. She nodded curtly.

"He wishes to speak with you in private," she answered. He sighed inwardly. Odin was probably going to try and force him to find a new queen.

Or maybe not. He had not even paid much attention to the women his age since Frigga's death. How could he force Loki to do what he himself would not?

"If you could, care for him while I speak with my father," he requested. She nodded, and he stepped into the wash room to get dressed. She was rather cute.

But she would never be Meeka.

"You wished to speak to me," the raven-headed man stated as he entered the courtyard. He could see Volstragg and Fandrall sparring, probably practicing for the next attack, whenever that would be. His gaze settled on Odin, the older man feeding his beloved ravens.

"You have done well with my grandson," Odin began. "He is thriving well. And you are doing well." Loki managed a smile.

"My son needs me," he added thoughtfully. "He does not yet understand what is going on." The gray-haired man nodded.

"He also needs a mother," he continued. "Just as you did when I found you all those years ago." Loki sighed. "I understand that you still mourn for your queen, but you need to focus on what is best for your son." The mischief-maker's gaze focused on the space before him.

"I understand," he replied. "But I would rather he see his parents as I saw you and Mother than for him to see them in a loveless marriage." The ravens flew away, and Odin turned to his youngest son.

"You are wiser than I previously thought," he countered. "Your love for your queen has made you into a wiser man." The duo turned to watch the mock battles. "Think about it for a while. Whatever your decision will be, I trust it will be best for your son." Loki smiled as he turned back to the palace.

"The servant girl was cute," he commented. "Not quite the Valkyrie my queen was, though."

And she never will be.