(SIGYN)

Home. A real home. Loki kept his word and then some, housing us in Vanaheim and making a real effort to show me his loyalty. I might've been the Goddess of Fidelity, but he was determined to share my title.

Father and Mother didn't know him. But they would've been proud and happy with my circumstance, of that I was sure.

He clung to me after I told him about the children—suddenly, his rush to run back to the tent for all our belongings became irrelevant until Freyr arrived yet again with an armful. Not too unlike when we were ushered out of the court hall the day after our binding, the Vanir had no patience for loitering in spaces that could go to others. Loki grumbled before he left to fetch the rest.

As much as I wanted to stretch on our new bed, the rocking chair was more appealing since my belly was so large and uncomfortable. Sitting upright helped reduce the nausea and pain in my chest. Tiwaz climbed into the crib and yowled from the other side of the bars, complaining that I had no room left on my lap for him. He flicked his tail playfully and turned in circles.

"It won't get better after they arrive, Tee. If they're not within me, they'll be on me, surely."

He chirruped in his usual manner. Wishful thinking, probably.

I grinned and patted his head. My more boisterous son, Vali, demanded more attention on himself and swiftly kicked me. His feet were evident through my clothing.

"Careful," I said, tapping back at him. "Much more than that, and you'll greet us before you're ready."

Narvi, my quiet child, hardly made much of a fuss, but he made himself known with a slow tumble.

I hummed a repetitive tune and rocked until Loki returned. The house was quiet now, but before long, it would be filled to the brim with noise. I needed to appreciate the emptiness. If what the elders of the fortress told me was true, I wouldn't be prepared for my sons to leave my roof and pursue their own adventures. Not a moment could be taken for granted or wasted.

Nevertheless, I was in a rush to meet them, get my body back, and feel like myself. With my belly stretched, my knees ached, and my feet barely fit into any soft shoes. My back complained nonstop. My breasts leaked with the slightest movement—a good sign, according to Grid—but it was an embarrassing inconvenience. Motherhood wasn't supposed to make me feel so undesirable. Loki certainly didn't treat me any differently, yet there was always a nag at the back of my mind that he would want me less if my form didn't return to what it was before our marriage. The sooner the boys arrived, the better.

Loki entered with the final load of items. He dropped them on the wood floor of the first room and groaned.

I hoisted myself out of the seat and came around the corner. "You alright?"

He grimaced and clutched his left shoulder, which hadn't healed completely since his run-in with Pluto in Asgard. More than a displaced joint, now he had bits of bone loose within his muscles; at least, that was Björn's assessment. As far as Loki was concerned, it was a small price to pay and proof to the other sorcerers that he hadn't abused the power of the river.

"Oh, I wish you would ask Freyr if there's something more he can do," I said, stroking up his right arm in an attempt to distract him. "After this long, you should've fully healed."

"I prefer it this way," he said. "Reminders of how much trouble I was in can only help me avoid the same pitfalls in the future."

I sighed. "You're too hard on yourself. Always have been. No need with me."

He took a few deep breaths to let his face's color return to a cool-toned normal and changed the subject. "Are you and the boys ready for our celebration?"

"As ready as we can expect to be. But we should leave now so we can return here as soon as things quiet down."

Loki took the twine out of his hair and ran his fingers through the loose waves of his locks to spread them out. He bent over to kiss my belly, then presented his elbow to me. "When we retire for the night, there's one more thing I'd like to show you before we come to bed. Don't let me forget."

I gave him a half-smile and took his arm. Surprises are never done with you, are they?

Grid placed me in a chair at the center of a wide half-circle, and women came to give their blessings. In all, it was uncanny how the ritual felt rehearsed and not unlike the night before the binding, except there were no girls younger than childbearing age present. Because of the isolation of fortress, there weren't many young families to begin with, so there were only three women even close to my age who had children that could be playmates to the twins. It had the potential to be very lonely. The secondhand sadness at such a possibility made me tear up.

An older woman with peppered hair at my side handed me a piece of cloth to compose myself. "Now is the time to weep, child," she said. "But if this doesn't wane after they're born, ask us for help. Have no shame in that."

I sniffed. "Thank you." The reminder was welcome. Our fortress was greater than any one family—we were a community, hand in hand. Asgard felt disconnected by comparison.

"She's ready to proceed," Grid said, signaling to the next woman in the group whose turn it was to share wisdom. "Any gifts may be passed forward as well."

As if on cue, they all produced items for the children—some were homemade clothes, some blankets, teethers and small wooden toys. I swelled with gratitude.

"When the child will not rest, hold him like this," one said, holding a bundled blanket to mime the position. "Bounce on your ankles, and the fussing will stop."

"A trick worth knowing. Thank you." I was hopeful Grid would have a better memory than I did since I could hardly recall what the previous person said.

Another stepped up and gave a stern instruction. "Never wake a sleeping baby."

I laughed at her seriousness. "I don't think that will be a problem."

"It can be. Remember, if they're hungry, they'll wake. Your routine means nothing. If they're sleeping, let them." She bowed slightly and went on her way, refusing to hear another word on the matter.

The next handed me a bottle filled with bluish liquid. She cocked her brow. "For after they arrive."

"What is it?" I asked, popping open the clasped lid to breathe it in. A waft of acidic undertones made my mouth and eyes water.

"An elixir to reignite your desires. Wait until you're well enough to receive him."

"Receive…receive Loki?" I felt flush. "Goodness. I hadn't considered this."

She took my empty hand. "Your progeny holds the highest importance. But do not neglect your binding. A happy home is balanced."

I thanked her with a closed-lip smile. Our intimate life was private, yet no one treated sex with shame here. It was refreshing against Asgard's culture, which often celebrated celibacy. Odin's orders with the Crimson Hawks proved that. It was a relief to know something existed to stir passion anew.

Björn's wife Mariana handed me a pile of clean, beige cloths and a collection of pins. "For early days."

I held up a few and tipped my head. "A bit large for a child's tailclout, yes?"

"Not for them. For you." She patted my shoulder. "One cannot expect to bear children and return to normal quickly. Take care. We will be present to do what you cannot in the beginning."

I gulped. "I…I appreciate that. Thank you."

Grid took Mariana's hand. "You are good to remind us all that the work is not done when the babes take their breath." She kissed her knuckle and sent her along.

The older women on all sides nodded at me. Whatever I was in store for, they knew better than to tell me now. Fear alone might make me too anxious to do what was needed when the time came. It was better to remain ignorant—but prepared—with the cryptic cloths and looks of pity for my future.

"Can anyone advise me on what to expect with two so young?" I asked, hoping the change in subject would make me feel less uneasy. "Loki's done a fine job making sure we have duplicates of everything."

"Pity you cannot duplicate your arms," a young redhead said three chairs down from me, to much laughter.

"Aye, we haven't had twins in the fortress in an age. You'll have to pray hard to Valhalla that they agree to sleep at the same time."

"And eat. And bathe."

The women laughed, but I could do little but gape at them and twist my hands together. The thought of having two raucous children at all times was exhausting already, especially since I couldn't remember the last time I achieved a full night of sleep. They were already keeping me awake. The prospect of even less autonomy made the sky drop and walls surround me, even in the open air.

Unaware of my panic, their stories continued; it didn't matter from whom. "Do you remember when my little one got into the seeds? Threw them in the air like rain. Took ages to find most of them between the floorboards, and I swear I still find some with my bare feet."

"Oh yes!" they laughed, erupting into juxtaposed joy against the horror. "My daughter once begged to have her hair put into an intricate plait from her crown to the end. Woke up from an afternoon rest only to find she had taken a set of shears straight down the center!"

My stomach tightened with every new account. I remembered the trouble I caused as a child, even the fire that brought me to Loki—what if my children were foolish and hurt, only they had no hero to save them?

I closed my eyes and rubbed the bump. Vali kicked hard, making me groan, though no one paid me any mind. Narvi kicked this time, too—a rare treat from that side—and after he did, I took a deep breath.

Sweetness poured over me. My shoulders relaxed, as did my jaw, which I wasn't even aware was clenched tightly. The worry that wound me into a spring was let go, clipped short, without sending me in spirals. It was as if every paranoid possibility simply melted away. I hummed through my exhale, satisfied with what I could only call intuition for the souls of my sons.

They were sure to be impish, as it was their blood, but my love for them would be enough. And they gave me a gift as well as the women—assurance that their love for me would help me forget any trouble they caused.

"Excuse me, ladies," Loki said, bringing me out of my trance. He interrupted their chittering stories. Behind him, a din of drums kicked up. Whatever the men had done for him, it finished and warranted a grand party.

The women never failed to surprise me by how reverently they treated him. He was viewed as more than foreign—he wasn't Asgardian, which they were familiar with, but his Jotun status made him special. His height and lack of beard were oddities; not that they didn't look upon me with the same quiet fascination. Unlike Loki, however, I blended in while sitting down.

"Might I ask my wife to join me in a dance?" He extended his right hand to me, folding his left behind his lower back in a slight bow.

Our audience cooed with charm, and I blushed at his offer, taking his grasp tightly to help me stand.

Loki tipped his head at everyone while leading me toward the central bonfire. When we were out of earshot, he pulled me closer so no one would hear. "Have you heard enough tonight to make you certain this was a terrible idea?"

I laughed. "Gods, yes. I could swear all my life I'd heard nothing but people raving about the joys of parenthood. Now that it's too late to turn back, I feel like it's a sadistic trap in some ways. We're destined to struggle."

"No, no. Our children will, of course, be perfect in every way. Surely, they'll never get into any mischief." The bright glimmer in his eye was more than sarcastic—it was a wish of sorts.

"Yes. Surely." I returned a similarly naïve gaze, though it made both of us laugh again. "Gods, we're in for a real bit of trouble, aren't we?"

"Afraid so, my love." He wiped my eye, which teared up from our chuckling. "Well, if this night was good for anything, it was the gifts."

"I agree. A few of mine make me even more nervous, but the bulk will be quite useful. Receive anything we hadn't considered?"

"Oy, yes. Freyr gave me a leatherbound book to write down lessons for them, and a rather new acquaintance, Tomas, made me a sling that can be used to carry both boys at once. Should come in handy around here." He beamed this time. The slight wrinkles around his eyes were genuine and deep. No tricks, no illusions. Pride to say he had sons. "And yourself?"

"We now have more clothes than we know what to do with. Balms and blankets galore. I've heard enough horror stories to last us a lifetime. There's only one thing I wish we received but didn't." I paused before we stepped even closer to the rattling drums and jovial flutes.

He arched his brows. "What's that?"

"I feel it is easy to forget they won't be children forever. How are we to make sure they turn into good men?"

Loki closed his eyes and grinned. "That…I have no concern over." He brought me close, wrapping me in his arms and squeezing tightly. "All it takes is truth, support, and real love. Our sons will have it all, because they'll have you."

"You flatter me. I like it," I said with a quiet snicker. "Though I'm afraid wishful thinking only goes so far."

"It's not wishful thinking. The proof is before you." He pulled back to look me squarely in the eyes. "You made me a good man. That's your power, Ginny."

"Aye, come join us!" Freyr yelled, rushing to Loki's side. His nose was rosy with drink, and the men in the background were humming a low note that vibrated the air. He took both our hands and tugged us toward the fire.

It was a night worth celebrating—first day in our new home, so close to our children, ready to begin another adventure that wasn't dependent on tears and an enemy. The group of women wasn't far behind us as a grand raucous erupted for the party. The music kicked up louder, competing with the sparkling lights thrown into the air by all who could do so.

Loki smiled at and shook the hands of those who greeted us as a couple, even if he'd already heard their congratulations privately. He wasn't shy about holding me close with gentle affection. In our fortress, he no longer felt a need to keep an eye open behind his head to make sure none were judging him; instead, he trusted that the Vanir meant us no harm. If he wasn't afraid, then I needn't be afraid, either.

Once the crowd became too preoccupied with filling their ale horns and conversing with old friends, Loki turned so his right side and mine were against one another. He raised his right arm to a square, inviting me the same way he did on the bell tower ages ago. "Do you recall the steps?"

"I could never forget." I pressed my inner forearm against his, admiring the strong vein that crested the top of his hand to his elbow, highlighting his effortless, masculine form. Despite how regal he was in his armor, it was a treat to dance without the barriers of metal keeping me from feeling his cool skin.

He turned us in a simple circle while I embellished what I could with my feet. A few of the Vanir chuckled at our form. Since their dances often involved six or more people, our coupling was odd to them. Loki paid them no mind. The longer we danced, the more his countenance glowed, as did his cheerful conversation.

"I believe this dance was designed for people like us," he said, smugly pursing his lips to point at my belly. "There's always room for them."

Indeed, it wasn't an obstacle between us, since we faced opposite directions unless my back was to his chest. "Perhaps you're right—though something tells me this was far from your mind the first time we danced."

"Hmm…" Loki aimed his face to the sky, not losing the rhythm of our movement one bit. "Let's see if I can recall."

With a single wink, we were covered in a kaleidoscope of sparkling greens and emerged as if we'd traveled back in time, dressed as we were the night of his Chitauri victory. Crisp air and sharp stars set the scene of the tower as well. The music remained the same, yet it was far away. He loomed above me in his horned helmet. His expression matched his mature self, though, kind and familiar. My black gown appropriately matched his golden armor. It felt like a blend of our night in the sky and the day of our binding.

"Wow," I mumbled, in awe of his power all the more.

"Look at me." He stopped our dance and brushed my hair from my face. His every move was choreography in its own right.

I took in his features and embraced how my body felt like fuzz below the surface. This moment was one I wanted to remember. "Yes?"

"This night replays in my mind often. I regret not finishing our dance this way." Loki barely pressed his lips into mine, but this ghosted touch sent a shockwave through me that I was grateful the babies ignored. It was a tease. I fought against my instant to demand more, too aware that we only appeared to be alone. My heart sang anyway. He squeezed my arms tightly and released. "Hmm…if I had, we'd have found our happiness that much sooner."

I kept my eyes shut and trailed through his hair, which wasn't hidden by the helmet illusion anymore. He'd already dissipated the vision. "As much as I wished for it back then, I'd much rather have the certainty you give me now."

Vali thrust himself so hard against my abdomen, Loki felt him, too. Narvi made a fuss, too.

Loki kissed my forehead through a sigh. "Come now; I still have something to show you. Let us go home."