"Mama, do I have to wear this? It's itchy." The last word, stretched out into more syllables than required, was accompanied by a petulant bouncing of shoulders and stomping of feet – the kind only a six year old child was truly capable of mastering.

"It's your grandmother's birthday celebration, my little prince," said Sigyn as she knelt before Ari, smoothing the sleeves of his overcoat. "I know you're happiest when covered in dust and filth, dearest, but I think you'll survive being forced to look presentable for a few hours' time."

"But Mama –"

"I wouldn't argue with her if I were you. You won't win."

Sigyn shot a glance at Loki over her shoulder. He was sitting on the edge of their bed, absently adjusting the overlapping fabric of his breeches; he kept his eyes down, but the grin on his face told her he was acutely aware she was scowling at him. She turned back to their son.

"Your papa's right, you know. If anyone knows just how persistent I can be, it's him. Now go," she said, shooing him away. "Get your boots on, and quickly. It won't do for us to be late."

"Yes, Mama," he said with a resigned frown, running out the door toward his chambers.

"Careful now," she called after him. "Don't slip and hurt yourself!"

Loki had silently sneaked up behind her, and two strong arms slipped around her waist, one hand splayed across her belly. "Always so worried about him," he said, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"And you're not?"

"No. He's my son. He's resilient."

"Correction," she said, turning in his arms to look up at him. "He's our son. And yes, he's resilient – but I'd rather not have him go to your mother's celebration sporting a bruise on that thick head of his."

"Like I said, he's your son. Obstinacy runs in the family."

"I don't think he inherited that from me, love."

"I'm certain he did," Loki said. She started to reply, but he stopped her with a kiss so passionate she forgot whatever it was she was going to say.

Her fingers wound their way into the hair at the nape of his neck. It was longer than it had ever been, nearly to the middle of his back, one of the many concessions he'd made to her since his release from prison. She loved the softness of it, the feel of it on her skin, the way it looked as it fell around his face like a curtain when he was perched over her, inside her, and by the heavens, Sigyn, you need to stop thinking about that right this minute before you get carried away –

She deepened the kiss, pulling him as flush to her as possible, and she swore she could feel him smirking…when Ari's voice interrupted.

"I think I need new boots," he said, standing in the doorway and staring at his feet. "These don't feel right."

"That's because you've got them on the wrong feet," said Loki, fixing the mistake with a wave of his hand. He pulled Sigyn close, whispering in her ear. "We'll continue this later."

Yes later, she thought, and then later again and then later once more. Her desire for him, already a near constant hum in her mind, had in recent days become a full symphony, nearly drowning out all else with its pervasiveness. She knew it would abate soon, but she feared she would go mad before it did.

Loki stepped away from her to scoop Ari up into his arms. "You look very handsome, my little prince."

"Papa, will you wear your blue skin tonight? So we can match?" Ari's face was cautiously earnest, but not fearful. Loki had taken great pains to make sure Ari was never afraid of him – not the way Loki had been of Odin.

"Would you like that?"

"Yes, Papa. No one else looks like me but you."

Loki shifted into his jotun form, grinning at Ari. "Well, no one looks as good as us, either. How sad for them."

"I'm sorry you don't look as good as us, Mama," said Ari.

Sigyn smiled at him; he was a near perfect miniature of his father in every way, right down to the matching outfits. Only Ari's blue eyes gave away his half-Aesir nature. "Well, I'm so grateful you tolerate me and my unsightliness," she said.

"Un..site..ness," said Ari, sounding it out slowly. "What does that mean?"

"It means she's a hideous troll who's fortunate to have a couple of attractive men like us who are so willing to put up with her."

"Papa! Mama's not hideous. She's beautiful."

"I suppose she's not bad for someone with pink skin."

He was laughing with Ari, the picture of contentment, but Sigyn was all too aware of just how difficult it still was for Loki to be in his jotun form, especially as he would be that evening…in a crowded banquet hall, surrounded by people who not-so-secretly mistrusted him for what he truly was. It was never spoken of aloud – he was still a prince of the realm, and powerful enough to demand severe punishment be meted out to anyone who was openly defiant to him – but Loki was far too observant to miss the looks, the sidelong glances, the whispers as he passed.

But for Ari, he would endure.

The rumors have spread quickly throughout the realm in the wake of the second Chitauri invasion of Midgard, word that the second Odinson is not Aesir at all, but a Frost Giant. Explanations run the gamut – from Loki being a prisoner of war, to the product of an illicit affair between the king and a jotun princess – until the din becomes too loud for Odin to continue to ignore. Loki finally approaches the Allfather himself.

"My king," he says, still unable yet to form the word father, "inform the realm of my origins. Put an end to the incessant gossip. Left to their own devices, your subjects will make their own stories, and they will grow in severity and absurdity until anything you say will be lost to them. Tell them the truth."

"Are you prepared for what will happen if I do?"

"I'll never be fully prepared. But it must be done, and soon. And also," he adds quickly, "I would have you remove the enchantment hiding Ari's jotun appearance permanently."

"He is an innocent child. His safety must come first –"

"I will keep him safe," Loki says, and he's never been more sincere. "In every way I can. But I will not have him grow any older behind a disguise. He will be a catalyst for change in Asgard, and in me. I would have him look upon me with trust, never with doubt that I love him exactly as he is." His words had been carefully chosen, sharp enough to cut Odin deeply.

"If that is what you wish, then I will make it so."

The celebration was spectacular; the food was plentiful, the wine and mead flowed freely, there was dancing, merriment, and fireworks conjured by Loki himself.

It was nearly impossible to keep Ari confined to his seat. Every time Sigyn would go looking for him, he was with another member of the family: turning his nose up at the roasted vegetables with his Uncle Thor; attempting to hide from her behind the Allfather's chair; play fighting against Fandral with a fork until the warrior "died" quite dramatically, praising the small boy's superior skills with his final breath.

She finally found him sitting with her mother – and her mother's new husband, Ambassador Bjornson. Ari was listening to Radi tell him a story, a tale of derring-do on a distant realm that had the boy so completely engrossed he didn't even notice Sigyn approaching.

"There you are, my little prince," she said. "I do hope you're behaving yourself for your Amma Dagmar and Afa Radi."

"Oh, he's the picture of good behavior," said Dagmar.

"Indeed," said Radi. "He says he wants to be an ambassador himself one day."

"That's a lot of work and responsibility, Ari," said Sigyn. "Would you be up to the challenge?"

"Yes, Mama. Then you and I can be ambassadors together, and travel to all the other realms."

"That would be wonderful, darling. But right now, you need to come wish your Amma Frigga a happy birthday."

She took his hand and led him back to the dais at the front of the room; the remaining members of the royal family had returned to their seats in anticipation of the cake being served. Frigga and Odin sat in the middle, with Thor on one side, and Loki on the other. He smiled broadly as they approached.

"Happy birthday, Your Majesty," said Ari to the queen, just as they'd practiced it. "Are we going to have cake soon?"

"Thank you, precious. And yes, I believe the cake is on its way –"

"Oh, good! Papa says I can have two pieces."

"He did?" asked Sigyn, perplexed. "Why would he tell you that?"

"He said I can have your piece, too, because the baby in your belly is making you sick."

Sigyn's eyes went wide, and she snapped her head her husband's direction. He looked back at her sheepishly; this was not how they'd discussed revealing the news.

"Wait – what did you say?" asked Frigga, trying but failing to hide her smile.

"Papa says I can have Mama's piece of cake."

"No…the other part, precious. Is there a baby in your mama's belly?"

"Uh huh, and it's making her sick. I don't think that's very nice. I asked Papa how it got in there, and he said he doesn't know."

Thor nearly choked on his tankard of mead.

Frigga raised an eyebrow and looked at her younger son. "Oh, I think he might have an idea. You should ask him about it again when you're older."

"I will. Is it time for the cake now? I really want cake."

"Aren't you happy about being a big brother?" asked Frigga.

"Um," said Ari, poking his lower lip out and trying desperately not to be rude – but he clearly had more pressing issues on his six-year-old mind than the still-abstract concept of a sibling. "I just want cake."

Frigga laughed. "Then cake you shall have, precious. As many pieces as you like."

Sigyn started to object, "Your Majesty, I don't know –" but the queen cut her off.

"Grandmother's prerogative," she said simply. "It seems we all have much to celebrate this evening."

An hour later, Ari was passed out on Loki's shoulder, his tiny boots and overcoat long since abandoned under one of the many enormous tables. His third piece of cake had finally done him in, and Sigyn had a sneaking suspicion it would be very difficult to get him to eat any sort of proper food the next day.

With a final kiss to the top of his head, Loki passed Ari off to his faithful nursemaid, Dalla, for her to see him to bed.

"He's not going to be very happy, having to share her with the new baby," said Sigyn, watching as she carried him away.

"No, he isn't," said Loki. "We've got a little time to prepare him, at least." He looked down at his wife. "Stay a little longer, and then meet me on the terrace. I have some business to take care of first."

"Business? What kind of business?"

"Nothing important. Just some books I promised to gather for Father."

It still made Sigyn enormously happy to hear Loki call Odin father. "All right. But don't keep me waiting too long."

"You'll barely miss me."

The dungeons were unusually quiet that night. Half the guards were at the queen's celebration; those who remained behind were unsurprised to see Loki when he appeared, very late even for him.

They never questioned why he was there, or whom he was there to see.

Loki walked the well-worn path to the farthest cell, the one he himself used to call home.

Its more recent occupant was right where Loki had left him – chained to the wall at a height that allowed for neither standing nor lying down. Exactly as Loki had been all those years ago.

Loki was a changed man in all the ways that mattered. But some things about him would never change – especially his thirst for vengeance against those who had hurt him.

He let himself into the cell and approached the creature, lifting his head to regard him coldly.

The Other's vocal cords had long been ruined from screaming, but even if he'd had the ability to make a sound, he would have been unable to open his mouth to form words. They had been slowly and thoroughly sewn shut by Loki himself, and would remain so until he had nearly succumbed to starvation.

Nearly, but not quite.

Only then would Loki rip the threads from his lips, force him to eat until he was brought back from the brink of death, and start again.

But he had no plans for any of this that night. This…this was a night for celebration.

Loki crouched before him, to look him directly in the eye. He wanted to see his victory in the creature's gaze.

"You thought you'd beaten me. That you'd destroyed me, destroyed my wife. But you were wrong, you inconsequential maggot. I live. She lives, and she carries my child within her. And long after I'm done with you, I will live on. My children, my grandchildren – they will live on. And you…you will be a memory to no one."

Loki ran a finger across the creatures sealed lips and smiled.

"Enjoy your reprieve for the night. I'll be back soon to resume our talks."

Sigyn was waiting for him on their favorite terrace, just as he'd instructed her to.

She was leaning against the balustrade, her woolen shawl – the one he'd given her so long ago – draped across her shoulders to keep away the chill.

"Seeing you there, I'm reminded of night much like this one," he said as he came closer. "A different birthday celebration…a dance…a kiss. That was you, wasn't it? Or am I thinking of a different girl? There've been so many."

"That's very funny, Your Highness."

"Now what did I say about you calling me that?"

She pulls him close, wrapping the two of them up in her shawl. "I don't recall. Remind me."

"I believe I said to call me Loki. Just Loki. And that I would make you scream it until you were hoarse if you needed help remembering."

"That was much later. Not that night."

"Oh, that's right. That night I was being a gentleman. Quite reluctantly, I might add."

"Reluctantly?"

"Oh, yes. I would have bedded you that very night if my morals had allowed it."

"You have a very interesting concept of morals, Loki. And had you bedded me that night, Ari would be that much older, and without my mother's intervention."

He tilts his head, his brow furrowed. "Then I should have done just that. How much better would everything have been for us?"

"Not better. Just different. Everything happened the way it was meant to happen, love. I wouldn't change a thing."

"I would."

"Well, thinking on that for too long is just an exercise in futility. We're here now, together. Just as we were all those years ago…with one particularly important difference."

"And what's that?"

"You have no need to be a gentleman with me tonight. In fact, I'm going to demand your most ungentlemanly behavior. Here's what I want you to do…" She put her lips close to his ear, whispering in detail just exactly what she wanted.

Loki's eyes grew steadily wider at her instructions, until finally he leaned back to take her in. "Do you have any idea what it does to me when you talk like that?"

"Mmmhmm," she said, nodding slowly.

"Well then, unless you mean for me to start out here, I suggest we go back to our chambers at once."

"I thought you'd never ask."

The months passed; it felt even faster to Sigyn the second time.

Loki's protective behavior over her grew in direct proportion to her girth, until he was almost a constant fixture at her side, one hand on her back and one on her belly.

They were lying in bed the first time Loki felt the baby move, and in his joy, he unwittingly released a pulse of unrestrained magic strong enough to knock over an entire shelf of books in their chambers. She'd never seen him wear such a beautiful smile; it made her heart swell to see him so happy.

Much to Sigyn's relief and delight, Loki's physical desire for her never waned as the months wore on. She'd hoped he wouldn't be repulsed by the changes in her body; but she was pleasantly surprised to find that if anything, he was even more fascinated with her, gentler even, more willing to find positions that were comfortable and pleasing for both of them in their lovemaking – which was a frequent as it had ever been.

Loki was also more than happy to have Thor procure all the strange Midgardian foods she craved; boxes of sweet biscuits called Jaffa Cakes from England, a revolting concoction called "pimiento cheese" from the Southern United States, and above all, any and all kinds of curry, the spicier the better – but thankfully, never all at once. He didn't know exactly who had introduced her to all of these foods, but he was more than willing to lay the blame at Stark's feet.

One afternoon late in her pregnancy, Thor found Loki in the queen's garden, watching as Ari and Sigyn gathered flowers.

"You know, brother, you are just as intolerable an expectant father as I knew you would be. Do you ever let her out of your sight?"

"Not if I can help it. It's fortunate she hasn't had a reason to travel to Midgard recently. I'm not sure they'd want me back there just yet."

"Likely not," said Thor, settling into a chair next to Loki. "I have news brother, and I wanted you to be the first to know."

"Stark finally met a painful and untimely end?"

"Ha, no." His face turned serious. "I mean to ask Sif for her hand in marriage."

"Hm. So she has finally forgiven you for that dalliance with Dr. Foster?"

"It was more than a dalliance, Loki. You know this. But as painful as it was, it was a mutual agreement to part ways. Jane is very happy now with her new husband."

"And is that why you now wish to settle down yourself?"

"Perhaps it's part of it. But if I'm to be entirely honest, I have to admit I'm more than a little envious of you and your family."

"The mighty Thor, envious? Of me? You've no idea how happy that makes me."

"I'm glad it pleases you, Loki."

"And Sif…do you think she will accept your offer of marriage?"

"I believe she will. And one day she will make a fine queen for Asgard."

"But not as good as Mother."

"No. Never as good as her."

They sat in silence for a moment before Thor spoke again. "When I am king, Loki, I would have you by my side as my advisor."

"You trust me now, do you?"

"I trust your judgment," he said, nodding toward Sigyn. "And I trust that you will make difficult decisions when I cannot. I need no answer today. I need only for you to think on it."

"That, brother, is the least I can do."

"Papa. Papa. Papa!"

Loki could feel Ari's small cold hand on his cheek, gently prodding him to wakefulness. He opened his eyes to find his son at his bedside, eyes wide with worry in the early morning light. Instinctively, Loki reached for Sigyn, wondering why Ari hasn't gone to her side of the bed instead, but his hand hit an empty pillow. He sat up quickly.

"What is it? Is it your mother?"

Ari rubbed his eyes with the heel of one hand, nodding in the affirmative. "She said she couldn't sleep, and I couldn't either, so we were walking around for a little bit. She was taking me back to my room and then –", he leaned in closely, as if sharing a particularly horrifying secret, "- she wet herself. She told me to come get you."

Loki was up and out of the bed before Ari had finished the last sentence. He reached down and swung Ari up into his arms, noting with sadness that he wouldn't be small enough to carry easily for much longer. "Will you take me to her?"

"Yes, Papa," said Ari, laying his head on Loki's shoulder with a yawn.

Sigyn had collapsed next to an alcove in the corridor, her eyes clamped shut and her hand gripping a column so tightly Loki could almost hear the stone cracking under her fingers. Her voluminous sleeping gown did nothing to hide her enormous belly. Ari's nursemaid was crouched beside her.

"Mama, I brought Papa for you."

"Oh, Ari, thank you darling," she said, smiling weakly. "Will you do one last favor for me? Dalla will help you get dressed and take you to your Amma's chambers. I need you to tell her it's time for the baby."

"But I'm really sleepy, Mama. I want to go back to bed."

"You'll do as you're told," said Loki, his nerves making his voice come out much harsher than intended. He backtracked at the hurt look in Ari's eyes and tried again. "We need you to be a good helper, all right?"

Dalla took Ari's hand. "I'll let you choose your own clothes if you come without a fuss," she said; this was all the incentive Ari needed to follow her away.

Loki lifted Sigyn gently, not caring that the bottom of her gown was soaked.

"Forgive me, love," she said. "It didn't happen like this with Ari…ah!"

"There's nothing to forgive," he said, carrying her back to their chambers as swiftly as he dared. Once there, he put her back in the bed and began pacing, anxious for someone to show up and tell him what to do next.

What seemed like an eternity later, there was a soft knock on the door; it opened before Loki could get to it.

"Your Highness?" said the healer as she peeked her head around the door. "May we come in?"

We? He had been expecting the healer alone – instead, when she walked in she was followed immediately by Frigga, her handmaiden, and Dagmar.

Frigga and Dagmar didn't even acknowledge Loki's presence, instead going straight to Sigyn, helping her change into a clean, dry gown and arranging her better in the bed where Loki had so unceremoniously dropped her.

The healer began preparing for the birth, laying out her instruments and settling at the foot of the bed. Loki looked around the room at the gathering crowd and decided he'd had enough.

"Thank you for your help – but as excited as we all are, I need to ask all of you to wait outside. Other than you, of course," he added, nodding at the healer.

Everyone stopped in their tracks, turning to look at him with mouths agape.

Sigyn spoke up. "Can't my mother at least stay?"

"No. I'm staying in here with you."

"Your Highness," said the healer, the condescension in her voice not lost on Loki. "This is highly unusual. I've never birthed a child with the father present."

Loki whirled on her. "Well this will be your first time, then, won't it?"

"I'm not sure that's a good idea –"

"Find someone willing and capable of physically removing me, and I'll go. Until then, I'm not leaving."

The healer looked at the queen, wordlessly begging for her help in wrangling Loki out the door, but Frigga merely smiled at her and turned to Dagmar.

"Lady Sigmundsdottir, there's a sitting room just down the hall. Why don't we await the new arrival there? I'll have Helga here arrange for refreshments from the kitchens."

Dagmar looked at Sigyn. "Well, I suppose that will be all right, if you agree, dearest."

"It's fine, Mother," said Sigyn. "The healer will take good care of me."

"So will I," said Loki, with just a tinge of petulance.

Sigyn flicked her eyes his direction before turning back to her mother. "The healer knows what she's doing, Mother. We'll be fine. Would you mind checking on Ari for me? He'll be wondering what's going on."

"Absolutely," said Dagmar, kissing Sigyn's forehead. "I'll see you in a bit, then." She turned to follow Frigga and Helga, stopping just as she neared Loki.

"Good luck, Your Highness. Please, try to be helpful."

She was gone before Loki could form a decent reply.

Several hours later, Loki's patience had run its course.

"What's taking so long?" he asked the healer. "Isn't there something you can do to move things along?"

"Your Highness, if I may be so bold," said the healer, trying to disguise the rolling of her eyes, "perhaps you can put your considerable verbal skills to better use, and instead of berating me, you can encourage your wife to breathe."

"Breathe? I doubt very highly that she's forgotten how to breathe –" He turned to his wife as he spoke, dismayed to find her clutching the sheets, her face twisted in a grimace and her chest utterly still. He rushed to the bed.

"Oh, for pity's sake, Sigyn…breathe," he said, gently pushing a few stray hairs from her face.

She took a great gulp of air, expelling it with force before going completely still once more.

"By the Norns," said Loki, removing his boots and climbing into the bed with her. "Keep breathing, love. Let me help." He settled in behind her, his back against the headboard and her body caged between his legs.

He put his hands on her belly and conjured a basic spell to help ease her pain; he considered it nearly primitive in its simplicity, but its effect was immediate. Her body relaxed at once, her breath becoming more frequent, more even. Her head fell back onto his shoulder, her eyes shut…and after a moment, she slumped to the side.

Panic clawed at Loki's gut. For one terrible moment, he feared he'd gone too far, done too much and hurt her or the baby. "Sigyn? Sigyn, darling…" He looked despairingly at the healer for guidance, and she put him at ease.

"She's only asleep, Your Highness. I suggest you let her…she's going to need her strength."

Loki's legs were completely numb by the time Sigyn stirred some time later; he hadn't dared move for fear of disturbing her.

For a moment, she was disoriented, but Loki reassured her. "You're fine, Sigyn. I've got you."

"I think it's time," was her only reply.

The healer checked her once more. "Yes, my lady. Not long now."

Loki thought he might vomit. Instead, he took a deep breath and buried his face in Sigyn's neck, resuming his pain-easing spell. If he couldn't see the agony on her face, then he could more easily pretend she wasn't hurting.

Minutes – hours? – later, somewhere in the middle of Sigyn's pained cries and right after he had been instructed to pull her legs out and back to ease the process, he realized the healer was asking him a question.

"Your Highness, the baby is crowning. Would you like to see?"

He kept his forehead on Sigyn's shoulder, hoping the healer would take that as answer enough, but she mistakenly thought he didn't hear her the first time. She asked again.

He raised his head momentarily, intending to make sure she understood in no uncertain terms that under no circumstances did he wish to see anything of the sort, when he unintentionally glanced down just long enough see Sigyn's body stretched impossibly wide, the very top of a head visible, covered with hair the exact shade of the fire currently burning in their hearth. He was simultaneously horrified and utterly transfixed.

"That's it, Sigyn," he said, and his voice sounded very far away. "You're nearly finished. You're doing so well, beloved, so well."

She bore down once more – making a sound Loki was fairly certain he'd never heard anyone make in his life, not even on a battlefield – and the head became shoulders and arms and body and legs, and the healer was suddenly holding a squirming, wailing, absolutely perfect blue baby in her arms.

"It's a boy. You have another son."

The healer wiped him down quickly, wrapping him in a clean towel before passing him up to his breathless mother. Sigyn shakily cradled him to her chest, and Loki enfolded the two of them in his long arms. If either Sigyn or the healer took notice of him openly weeping, they had the kindness not to say anything.

It was late in the evening when Loki brought Ari to meet the newest member of the family.

Sigyn was reclined on a pile of pillows in the middle of their bed, their new son sleeping peacefully on her chest. "Come here, my love," she said, holding her hand out to Ari. "Come meet your baby brother."

Loki put him gently on the bed, and he scooted as closely as he dared.

"What's his name, Mama?"

"His name is Eiðr, darling. It means 'oath'. Kind of like a promise." The name had been Loki's one and only choice, and Sigyn had not tried to dissuade him from it.

"He's blue like me. That makes me happy."

"It makes me happy, too."

Ari reached tentatively to touch Eiðr's head, just as gently as his father had instructed him to be. "His hair is different, though. It's really bright."

"It is, isn't it? My grandmother had red hair, too. I think it suits him."

"Can he play with me tomorrow? I can show him my favorite toys."

"Maybe not tomorrow, love, but soon. I promise."

"Come here, little prince," said Loki, lifting him from the bed and back to the floor. "It's past time you were asleep…but I think there's a special treat waiting for you in the kitchens, something they only make for big brothers. What do you say we leave these two to rest for now and go see what it is?"

Loki brushed his fingers across Eiðr's tiny head before taking Sigyn's hand in his. "Thank you," he said simply, hoping she understood everything he was really trying to say.

"I love you," she said. "Please don't let him stay up too late. Dalla will never forgive you if you do."

"Come on, Papa," said Ari, tugging at his hand.

They walked down the corridor, hand in hand.

"Do you think I'll be a good big brother, Papa?"

"Oh, I think you'll be the best big brother in all the nine realms."

"Even better than Uncle Thor?"

"Infinitely better. But you must promise me something."

"Promise you what?"

Loki stopped walking, kneeling down to look Ari in the eyes. "Promise me that you'll always look after your baby brother. That no matter what happens, no matter what he does or says, that you will always love him and care for him. That you will always be there for him. It's the most important thing a big brother can do."

Ari nodded solemnly. "I promise, Papa."

"Excellent. Now let's go get your treat."

A/N: I'm pretty sure I gave myself several cavities with this chapter. :D

And yeah, yeah - I know their mythological kids' names are different. I'm not going to defend my choice about it again (and my reasons will be more clear after the epilogue). BTW - Eiðr is pronounced "Ay-ther", emphasis on the "Ay". :)

Epilogue will be posted this Thursday, with a super special bonus to be posted next Monday. Then it will be finished. And I will probably cry.