(LOKI)

The Vanir made quick work of resettling, somehow managing to find or make shelter before the sun disappeared. Grid and Freyr, ever mindful of my needs and Sigyn's, didn't claim the first structure they built for themselves and gave it to us. Back to a handmade, folding string cot and a tent barely big enough for us to stand while hunched over, but it was familiar enough to ease the inevitable homesickness plaguing everyone.

Sigyn had barely moved from her place on the ground where she'd hugged Vali earlier, still wide-eyed and staring into the distance while Tiwaz occupied her lap. She sat on her knees and had to have lost all sensation in her feet long ago. A tear or two would paint her face now and then—enough for me to notice, but not enough for her to bother wiping away—and I told Vali to let her be until she was ready.

What that meant, I wasn't sure, yet it seemed the wisest advice I could give him.

Vali surprised us all by doing everything he was asked without question. When the Vanir found a spring of safe water to distribute, he volunteered to carry vessels back to the Aesir, earning their respect and learning their names one by one. Just like I'd taught him. A wolf, but a leader. He seemed to understand that I had reduced capacity for keeping him busy, so he defaulted to going to Grid and Freyr for new tasks, leaving me to ready the tent for Sigyn.

I couldn't bear to see Narvi's name every time I looked at my left vambrace, so I changed into my simple tunic which was thankfully rescued from Asgard along with our other most prized keepsakes from home. We didn't have much, but what we did have was more valuable than anything that could make the circumstances cozy. Dressing in simple clothing reminded me that, with the exception of Thor's position, the rest of us were equal. Orphans and refugees. It was how Sigyn always preferred to see me, and now, it was how I preferred myself.

It was past dusk when I was ready to take her in. I gently squeezed her shoulder from above. "Gin, can you hear me?"

She nodded with slow precision. A metronome with no words.

"You need to rest. Hold me here." I knelt and directed her right arm around my neck. She was barely more rigid than raw dough and weighed more because of it. I scooped her against my chest and brought her between the drapes closing our tent, gently resting her on her left side. I already prepared a small bundle to place between her knees so she'd be comfortable and lay behind her. Just the two of us.

I removed and re-weaved her small plait over and over again while sobbing against her. She simply wept. If I could've kept my vow—the one to sacrifice my life in exchange for the lives of my children—I would've done so without a moment of hesitation. Sigyn likely felt the same, though I couldn't bear to hear her say such a thing or even entertain the possibility. Her heart could very well break and end her life, and Hela's, if we weren't careful.

The only thing she actually said, over and over, was a muttered, "I'm sorry," deep into the night. She wouldn't hold my hands at all, and clutched her right fingertips in her left palm even when fast asleep. Whatever happened in the palace, whether physical or emotional, she couldn't let go.

Morning brought with it news that human survivors were discovered, and they soon joined our growing civilization, though it took more than simple explanations for them to truly grasp what had taken place. As I predicted, they witnessed a complete transformation of their world, and our magic, language, and customs were comical to them. Those who made it through the disaster weren't simpletons, though, and they had ideas of their own to share.

After all, candlelight and torches were antiquated and deficient in their eyes. Their very hearts relied on predictable electricity; with their knowledge and our gumption, we'd integrate that which we knew with their modern contributions. Science and magic would re-root New Yggdrasil in equal measure.

Vali slept beside Sigyn and me for almost two months until his sister took up too much space for him to stay. I worried he would struggle to adjust to his own small space—we expanded the tent to erect his own cot behind a curtain—but Vali never ceased to surprise me by being brave and requesting more privileges alone. He wasn't crippled by trauma the way we feared. For a twin who was missing his other half, he never claimed to suffer from loneliness and became heavy laden with so many friendships, we hardly remembered half of their names.

A miracle for all of us—Vali even helped prepare for Hela's imminent arrival, smiling ever wider at the prospect of being charged with her protection. The thought of helping her learn magic made him a stronger pupil in all arenas, simply blossoming with every goal set for him. As long as he had a purpose, he would continue to grow.

Sigyn grew, too, physically and in her heart. She no longer wept every night in her sleep. Stopped choking up every time she called for both boys on accident and developed new habits. I imagined, if I could see within her soul, the place where Narvi lived would always be wrapped in tight vines and thorns, impenetrable and indestructible; yet instead of destroying her capacity to love, she simply made more room. The pain would never go away, but she would change, so it would, too.

Thor treated me like more than a brother. An advisor. Second in command. Theoric and his surviving soldiers never argued over my position and even learned to speak with me about things not related to the rebuilding of Asgard. We discussed our children, our spouses, our plans for the future. We drank ale—bitter, but it would do until more crops came in—and Heimdall banded with human engineers to create a grand telescope and seek whatever branches might make up future realms.

It was then that I saw it: a tiny grey planet, not too far away from New Asgard at all, but thriving with atmosphere, water, and light. A place with a slightly purplish hue. It called to me.

New Asgard would always be Midgard to me—somewhere I needed to get away from to resolve my past. The as-yet-unnamed realm to the east might just be far enough to let us start again.

Thor greeted me with the same wide smile he was known for; the kind of grin that reflected his innocence and overactive pride. Yet it suited him well; if anyone had qualms about him being King, they weren't vocal enough about it to catch my ears. He found me in the morning outside the in-progress palace, intended to be a shorter replica of the one we grew up in. "You should wear your armor around the people," he said, shaking my shoulder. "Helps them know you at first glance."

"Somehow I doubt they struggle to recognize me like this." I gestured over myself, clad in a dark green tunic with brown leather details that emphasized my shoulders and were pleated over my hips. Not quite Vanir style and not quite Aesir, either. Something else all my own. "Do you have time to meet with me?"

He sensed the business in my tone and let his eyes relax a bit. Dread or worry looked the same. "Of course. Yes. What is it?"

I led him to a bench that looked out to the city. It was constantly moving; people cleared broken debris and lay new foundation at amazing speeds. Resiliency was the strong suit of all who survived Ragnarok, regardless of race or creed.

"The sky's clear now," I said, glancing at the few wisps of cloud that crossed us overhead. Earth's moon was closer than it used to be and in a new position—a fact that made some of the humans positively giddy—and it shined down on us as much as the sun did. "When we arrived, I wasn't sure the smoke would ever really go away."

"Loki..." Thor brought my attention back to him with a stern side-eye. "Stop stalling."

"I'm not stalling. I'm...trying to decide what to say first." I sighed and flexed my hands. One of the green stones of my ring glimmered brightly, like it egged me on to speak my piece. "Ginny's due very soon. She and Grid are convinced we have at least a few more weeks, but the last time she said that, the twins were born the following day."

"And the two of you? Still improving?"

"It's better now, yes." I debated with myself just how much to divulge, as our private life had always been just that. Private. But if I couldn't tell my brother, was it worth mentioning at all? I lowered my voice only to keep the details between us. "She's let me near her again. Though I doubt you want details on lovemaking in my household, Thor."

He rolled his eyes. "Obviously. You're still stalling, by the way."

"I know." I looked to the sky again. "Heimdall's found more than one new realm. Have you seen them yet?"

"Truthfully, I haven't taken the time for it. Making plans for the new city, looking after Modi without an extra hand to guide him...other realms don't concern me quite yet."

I nodded and exhaled from my nose. "There's one east of here. Sigyn and I both have a good feeling about it."

"A good feeling?" His eyes narrowed. "Loki, are you thinking about leaving?"

"This isn't my home, Thor. It never was. It's not my wife's home, my son's...and I don't want my daughter to have any other reasons to feel different from the rest of us. We don't belong here any more than you might have belonged in Vanaheim. I now crave peace, not power." I pointed to the sky. "But that place...it's a blank slate. One ripe to have any culture written into it. One of magic. One of family. One of acceptance for all. Mother would've wanted that."

He deflated beside me and shook his head. "I'm ready for change to come to an end."

I laughed. "Now, brother, you know change never ends. If it did, would have to have a different name, wouldn't it?"

He chuckled along with me, but the disappointment in his eyes remained. "As a defender of Asgard and her interests, I will grant you this realm, Loki. Mjolnir can be used to take you there. Will you invite others to go with you?"

"Of course. The Vanir crave somewhere with a less intense sun, just like Sigyn yearns for less gravity. Vali needs open space to run and hone his skills; not sure if you've noticed, but he's somewhat of a sponge for language. First he picked up Vanir habits, and now he has some human ones. A few Sigyn is less than thrilled about."

He smirked. "Picked up a few choice curses, did he?"

"Shit, yes," I said with an answering simper.

Thor stood and invited me to do the same, uncomfortable with sitting still for too long in uncomfortable conversation. "You've the right to rule if you wish, Loki. The people here would surely say you've earned it. No one would take it from you if you wish to call your world a Gard."

I rested my hand on his shoulder and met his eyes with high brows. "Thor, please listen. I have no wish for that. You missed so much of what Father tried to teach you, yet I hope you will come into it here when Asgard grows. Should the people of the realm find me worthy of respect, I will accept it. I do not want a throne to doom my children's lives by forcing them into positions they might not want or be ready for. The pressure is too great, and such pressure can corrupt long before the office in question is ready to be filled. I only wish for my family to be happy, to live in peace, and be free of worry for war. It will be a home, not a kingdom."

"I'm not sure if I should be insulted or grateful, so I'll choose the latter." Thor gave me a careful, admonishing glance. "Well, then, what will you call your new home?"

I recalled the look on Sigyn's face when I suggested it the night before. Vali had a similar expression—reverence and acceptance. But, ultimately, it would mean my son could never be forgotten.

"My dear brother. We shall call it Narvlheim."