(LOKI)

My heart wouldn't settle from the moment I awoke. Today would be the day. Of all the promises and vows I'd given Ginny since we bound together months ago, this was the one I fought the hardest for. If I could keep this, it would mean more than a gesture of intent for our family and our future. It would mean the many changes I'd made with my conduct weren't temporary.

She lived. She survived. I couldn't take her, or the children, for granted. Not when I felt them slip through my very fingers and wave me goodbye. It was too close. Too painful. I'd never make that mistake again.

Freyr met me on the southern edge of the fortress, as he did every morning for the past several weeks, to help me with final details. It was nearly complete. Not a moment too soon, as a fortnight was not guaranteed, and I couldn't very well ask Sigyn to fend for herself once they were born.

"Aye, you look like there's springs in your feet," Freyr said with a stifled laugh.

I grinned. "Know any spells to move time along?"

"If I did, I wouldn't dare use them now. You've no idea how quick these things can happen." He patted my back and walked with me to the home of the fortress's best carpenter where some of my final details were waiting. "Still planning to bring her in today?"

"Yes. I can't bear to see her sleep on those infernal cots anymore. I've owed her a proper bed. Among other things…"

"Don't fret. She'll probably be so grateful for what you've done already that she won't even notice how much of the place is empty." He cocked a brow at me, yet jest was written all over his face.

Ultimately, I was grateful not just for the opportunity to prove my worth to Sigyn. I mended my only trustworthy family bond in the universe, too.

We reached our destination and found my carpenter Tomas sliding grit over a few bowed strips of wood to polish them. His worn, callused hands shifted without any detectable effort, like the years that turned his hair white made every movement routine. He hummed a quiet tune as he worked, cheerfully satisfied with his skills and ability to make something of nothing. Unlike my illusions, his creations carried greater weight—more than practical. It was art. Even surrounded by sorcery, he chose to use his hands, which earned him my respect.

Tomas greeted us with a nod and stood from his workbench to shake our hands. "Aye, you're earlier than I expected."

"Not a problem, is it?" I asked, hopeful that he hadn't been delayed.

"No, no. Quite alright. I was just finishing this piece now." He pointed to the project below beside a series of smooth rungs that were equal in length and refined. "Can you manage the larger piece on your own? By the time you return, this one will be finished for you."

I glanced at Freyr. "Mind helping me move it? My shoulder's not as strong as it once was."

"Of course." He kicked his chin forward at Tomas, who led us behind his home to the piece I commissioned weeks before.

I gulped to calm the intermittent rushes in my belly. Almost there.

I stood before our tent and took a few deep breaths before trying to enter—not that Tiwaz would let me be alone for more than a few minutes. He sensed my presence and came out with a chirp, running his fluffy tail against my right calf.

I chuckled and picked him up, nuzzling into his neck. "Are you ready, Tee?"

He purred as an answer and didn't fight as I put him down. Certainly, he'd already sensed what was happening like the babies did. Had he told Ginny anything?

I pulled back the sheet of a door and leaned down to see her state before entering. "Are you busy?"

She immediately dropped her needlework and grinned. "Please tell me it's time for whatever this is."

I laughed openly, taking a few long strides to reach her and holding out my hand. "Alright, fine. Yes, it's time. Come with me."

"Do I need to bring anything but myself?"

"Not just yet. You alone will suffice." I pecked her cheek and let her thread her arm around my right elbow. With luck, she wouldn't be able to sense my nerves through the layers of fabric between our skin and my rushing blood.

Tiwaz didn't stay behind as he would normally. He followed us with his tail straight toward the sky, excitedly trailing behind us and ready for change.

The fortress itself was split into four quadrants, and we'd become accustomed to taking refuge in a temporary shelter near the center bonfire site. Sigyn was comfortable there, and it was close to the infirmary tent where I'd lived for several weeks long ago. She didn't want to stray too far from it in her current state. How could I blame her? Yet I had no doubt she'd see how better off we'd be in our new arrangements. When the time came, I would carry her back. My hurt shoulder was resting now so I'd have the strength to do so.

To the southeast, we walked, bumping hips every few steps on purpose to jibe one another.

"Where are you taking me?" She glanced with the side of her face.

"Already so impatient? You know, on second thought, perhaps it's best if we wait—" I pretended to turn around.

"No, don't you dare!" The chime of her voice was a song I knew well, and it lifted me to hear it, even in a short burst. "Alright, I promise I'll be quiet."

"We're nearly there. You see that stable ahead? When we reach it, I'll have you close your eyes, then I'll lead you the rest of the way."

She took a long, audible breath and bit her lower lip. Her cheeks flushed with a rosy glow.

My stomach rushed like it did in the morning. This time, I didn't fight it. I wanted to remember every uncomfortable confirmation of euphoria.

At the stables, she paused and arched her brows. "Well?"

"You must trust me enough to follow and not peek. Understand?"

"Are you going to get me into trouble?" she asked with a simper.

"No more than we're already in."

"Then I suppose I have no choice." She held her left hand out for me and closed her eyes, cupping her belly with her right hand, like it belonged there. "Onward."

Slowly, at only half our previous pace, I tugged her to the east, closer to the fortress wall. The path that my feet now knew well was foreign to her, but it would soon become routine. No more temporary placements. No more dread for where we might stay once our family grew. We'd now have walls and a proper roof to see us through the next great age.

"Almost there," I said, teasing her with a few errant steps to the right, then the left again.

"Oh, stop it," she sighed. Any other time, and she would've rolled her eyes.

"Sorry." I looked ahead at the round structure, which mimicked the other homes surrounding us except it had a newly fashioned black-stained door. "Okay. Are you ready?"

"Yes—may I open my eyes now?"

I kissed her irresistible cheek first. "You may."

She gaped expectantly, but her expression fell quickly. "Do…do we know someone who lives here?"

"Yes. Come in." I pushed open the door and stayed where I was, directing her to pass.

Sigyn ducked a bit to cross the threshold, which was shorter than the otherwise domed ceiling, and stepped into the first room of the house. The floorboards complained under our weight. The room was roughly the same size of our tent now, though the farther half was lit with a large window and a hearth for cooking. The wall to the right was lined with empty shelves—places I hoped would someday be filled with volumes upon volumes of our mutual secrets.

There were no words as she investigated. The kitchen was small, but functional. Behind the fireplace, which was at the very center of the home, the round footprint split into a few separate chambers.

She dragged her fingers over the stone chimney as she walked, peering into the first room around the corner. It was nearly bare, save for a chair with bowed feet for rocking and a crib with a barrier in the center, fit for two.

"Lo…" she whispered, tearing up at the view. "This place, it's—"

"It's for us. All of us." I brought her face over to me. "I know it isn't much. Certainly not what I ever expected, but—"

"Don't you dare make this seem less than it is." She didn't raise her voice or even truly admonish me. Instead, she gestured silently toward the nursery and kept going.

The next room, closed behind an unlocked door, belonged to us alone. She pushed it open gingerly and deflated somewhat with surprise. "A bed. A real bed. Goodness…where did you get this?"

"Some people in this world understand simple comforts. It's made to suspend the sleepers so their backs aren't flat on the ground or a board. More like an Asgardian setup than Vanir cots. Had to be made specifically for us because we are too tall for anything already fabricated."

She wiped under her eyes one at a time. "Alright. I must see what's last, and then I fully intend to collapse in here." Brushing past me gently, she peered into the final corner behind the kitchen and the heart of the home. A washroom, complete with a bathing vessel large enough to submerge her, beckoned to us both for its size. A small chair made of the same material sat against the wall beside it.

"You've even thought of how…how I might bathe the children," she said, pointing to the stool.

"Actually, I was thinking more about how I might worship you the way you once did me." I tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned down to kiss her, though Tiwaz yet again interrupted my plans. He rubbed against both our legs and stood on his hind feet to stretch up and beg for attention.

"Oh, Tee," Sigyn said, patting his head and pushing him to leave us alone.

"You've got a space in our room," I said to him. While he never answered in our language, he seemed to understand it, as he promptly trotted in and rolled belly-up on the floor.

She glanced up at me again and let her jaw hang open. The cheeks that were a flowery pink outside were now blotched from happy tears. It didn't tarnish her beauty at all—if anything, it served as confirmation that she was genuinely impressed.

"I hope you don't mind that I did this without you," I whispered. "Perhaps someday, I'll do enough to prove I deserve you. It's a start."

"Nonsense." She blinked away a few tears. "How did this even happen?"

"Been planning it since we left Asgard, truthfully. I swore I'd build you a home. Now I have done so. Freyr agreed to help me get this place in line—no one's lived here in ages, so most everything made from timber is new."

"It was simply given to you? To us?"

"Not quite. Freyr agreed to help me broker arrangements in trade. I'm exchanging services for instructions in magic. Debt here is so peculiar."

She dipped her head the other way, searching my face for something. Her eyes flashed with clarity; the same kind of joy she had whenever she mastered something new or caught me doing the unexpected. "A teacher?"

I hummed. "It surprises you?"

"Well, I don't believe your nature suits a proper diplomat." Her smile slowly dropped with sincerity. "But a teacher…yes. That suits you. Fitting for the smartest man I've ever met."

"Not smart enough to bargain for a larger space, I'm afraid." I pointed to our bedroom again. "But this will suffice while you rest. I'll fetch the rest of our things, and then you'll have free reign to decorate or change things as you please."

She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me down, pushing my forehead into hers. "Thank you, Lo. It's perfect."

While her belly kept us apart a bit, it wasn't enough to prevent me from kissing her. Gently at first, but she responded with growing ferocity and shoved me against the wall between our room and the nursery. Even though I could isolate the sound within our tent for intimate moments, there was something freeing about knowing this space belonged to us. She felt it, too. Standing while touching one another was a rarity that I didn't know how much I missed until I tasted it again.

She tugged at my hair and whined softly with every new press of our lips. It sent goosebumps up my spine. I wrapped her in my arms and traded sides from right to left, maneuvering around her nose to capture more. Her hands dropped to my shoulders and pushed against me while she trailed southward, stopping when she reached the bottom hem of my tunic.

"How long has it been since you felt bliss, husband? Has it been weeks? Days? Or mere hours?" She reached beneath to the top of my trousers and tugged at my belt.

"Ginny…" I tried to cool my own blood, but her teasing kept me at a steady boil. "Give me bliss until I overflow with it."

Tiwaz wasn't the only trespasser on our privacy. Freyr knocked on our front door with a few heavy bangs. "Loki? Are you home yet?"

Sigyn growled, and so did I. But it was likely for the best, as we'd be expected to attend the celebration in our honor at moonrise, and that left little time to move our belongings across the fortress.

I gazed into her eyes and said, "To be continued," then stepped aside to answer our visitor, having to adjust my clothes to hide how she'd awakened me.

Freyr had turned away from the house by the time I opened the door.

"Uncle? Were you seeking me?"

"Ah." He returned with a bright smile and presented a small bundle. "Grid gave me this for you. She didn't want to wait until this evening."

I nodded in thanks. "Is that all?"

He waved without giving me a formal answer, which was just as well. We'd moved beyond the formalities that made our conversations awkward after I returned from Asgard. No need to say goodbye when time apart did not truly exist.

"It's a gift," I called through the house when I returned and closed the door. The front room was still empty, and I expected to find her resting on our new bed. Yet I found my wife sitting in the rocking chair, tapping away at her belly while wistfully looking at the dual crib at her side.

She raised her face to me when I came in. "Well?"

I passed the parcel to her with a smile. "From Grid."

"Ah. Should've known." She unraveled the tie atop the sack and pulled out two small, beige smocks for the children. They looked like miniature versions of what we wore daily, save for the color. Sigyn hummed and placed them over the edge of the crib side by side. "She keeps making them larger and larger. Apparently, she believes they'll take after both of us and be quite tall."

"A fair assumption, I would think," I said with a grin.

She held her hand out for me to help her rise from the chair, which she did with a grunt. "Take me outside. I want to know where we are."

Supporting her the same way I did when we came in, I led her through the front and displayed our neighboring homes with an open hand. Most of the houses had a small plume of smoke rising from their chimneys, and the aroma of char floated over us. Someone nearby was preparing a mouthwatering feast, and I predicted she would ask me to find the culprit and bring her a plate of whatever they had.

Instead, she turned to look at our home and closed the door. "How will we mark it as ours?"

"Mark it?" I folded my arms and leaned back as I stood beside her.

"It's a family house. Appropriate to put a name on the door, wouldn't you say?"

"Well, yes. Should it be both of us? Yours or mine alone? I don't have much of a preference to be honest. Never really thought about it."

She pursed her lips—the way she did whenever she was stifling a grin. Wherever her mind was, it made her cheeks flush again.

"Are you thinking more like a symbol?" I asked, trying to decode her silent suggestions.

"I believe it would be appropriate to label it House Lokison." She touched the door and mimed an imaginary straight line across the top third. "Simple and short. Won't matter if I'm included in the name. It's the one our children will carry."

"A fine name. Lokison." I absently considered how large it would be and what medium I might use to put it on the door. Perhaps white. Or even green. Lined in gold.

Wait.

As I looked straight ahead, the weight of the realm pulled my shoulders to the ground. "Lokison?" I snapped my face toward her. "Both of them?"

She beamed. "Both of them."

"Sons. I…I have two sons." The dizzying joy and delirium made my ears ring. I pulled her against me quickly, strongly, enough that she protested weakly by tapping my arms. Instead of releasing her, I dropped to my knees and put both hands on either side of her swollen midsection and kissed over it in small pecks.

Sigyn laughed through a few happy tears, which she shed more frequently of late. She rubbed the top of my head while I was below her. "Grid told me some time ago. I wanted to keep it a surprise like you kept this one. I'm glad we'll have an opportunity to name them before they arrive."

"Names. So many names. My sons." I paused and merely wept silently against her tunic.

The more raucous of the two answered my tears and affection strongly, kicking and rolling against my face and making Sigyn jump. The other side, subdued and gentle, tapped in return as well, though he waited his turn. His louder brother craved more attention.

"He's thumping against me. Reminds me of something." I pulled back and rubbed my palm against the right side, welcoming the lively soul to keep going. He did, not too unlike an animal with too much energy—a playful creature begging to be played with and entertained, with a fiercely loyal soul. The one like me.

His brother barely moved at all. Enough to worry all of us. Enough to make me doubt I would be blessed with two children at all. Yet his answers now were strong in their own right. Overpowered by his sibling, sure, but not absent in any way. He moved as if he'd lived before and wasn't in a hurry to waste energy at all. He simply wished to live.

Sigyn squeezed my hands to make me look at her. "Have you already considered this?"

"I have. Though they've told me their own names." I sniffed and closed my eyes. "The child who feels most like me…he wants to be chased and challenged. He's excitable, but kind. Humble where I've held my pride. A great beast of a spirit." After a deep breath, I pictured him in my mind and saw a wolf and not a man.

"His name…is Vali."

The instant I said it, he thumped against my hand again. Sigyn laughed and held me in place.

"And the other?"

My heart pounded. They'd need to go together. The twins would need each other. "He's not new somehow. He's lived before. An age, a dozen, perhaps from the future. Something about him is wise beyond measure. Like a soul who has already been to Valhalla and chosen to return another time."

I didn't want to tell Sigyn precisely where the name came from. It mattered little. All that mattered was that he now lived.

"Narvi," I whispered, tearing up more to say this than I had the one before. My soul blossomed within my chest. And, on cue, he answered me by turning slowly in approval.

"Narvi and Vali Lokison," Sigyn said, trembling to say it the same way I did. "It feels more real."

My legs wobbled when I stood, but I had to hold her. It wasn't a moment like the one in the house before Freyr came—this was far more intimate. She'd yet to cease with giving me the answers to lost dreams, and her surprise solidified my primal need to know my line would rise above my many indiscretions.

"It is more real," I said, doing nothing more than envelop her. "Thank you, Ginny. Thank you."