(Loki)

Sigyn woke early to fetch breakfast with the children, and I took my time getting ready to attend war council with Odin and Thor upstairs. I wasn't familiar with the layout of the chambers given to us, and the whole place felt backward, with everything on the opposite side compared to Frigga's room and the space I once called my own as a prince.

Wasting time was also strategic—would any of the soldiers present in the palace know I'd been allowed to return, or was it some grand secret I should keep? I considered attending in disguise, perhaps looking like Freyr to be ignored.

But I was no coward. If they hated me, they hated me, and hiding wouldn't change their hearts any more than all the good deeds I'd done in Odin's place. Tucking my dagger into the back of my right boot for surreptitious safety, I chose to leave the chamber as myself and make a point to acknowledge all the people I passed.

Yesterday, when we traipsed through the city, no one gave us even a second glance—our Vanir tunics and the children kept others away. Asgardians were always wary of foreigners, which likely explained a lot of why my origins had been kept secret. Even Odin couldn't excuse or convince the citizens to accept my presence. Now that I could step back and examine his motivations as a father, it made more sense to raise me as his own than as a tool to unite our kingdom with Jotunheim's. Even I could understand that, as much as it pained me to admit.

The first to notice me was the servant girl who brought us our dinner the night before. I smiled at her as she passed me on the stairs, likely returning to the kitchens after fetching something for a noble in the higher floors. She gently nodded in my direction, but stopped when an older woman following her gasped at my sight.

"Y-you...it's you!" The older woman hugged the wall and didn't blink. Acid filled the air between us from her fear.

In the past, I would've reveled in it. Savored it. But now, it nauseated me. I stepped closer to the wall on the opposite side and put my hands up. "Good lady, I mean no harm."

The younger servant girl looked me up and down and snickered. "What's wrong, Anna?" she asked, reaching for her.

"You don't know?" she snapped, quickly darting her eyes back to me. "It's the king's false son. A monster. A Jotun. It's—"

"Loki. I am Loki. Please, I've come to uphold my oath to Asgard and defend her against what's to come." I swallowed hard and hoped Anna would hear me, since the younger of the two must not have known much of what I'd done wrong. She represented the hope I had in the new generation's ability to see me anew. "Whatever wrong I've done, I've paid for it. Though if you require a personal apology, I beg you to accept it now." I relaxed my face and let my hands slowly drop to my sides. "I'm sorry for any pain I've caused you. Truly."

Anna furrowed her brow and reflexively put a hand over her heart. "I...I-I-I..."

"Please excuse me. I have duties upstairs." I nodded to both of them and continued on my way, though the urge to cast a spell over myself to look like another young guard was strong.

Here's hoping they spread stories of these new words instead of inflated tales of my indiscretions...

Thor welcomed me at his side through the war council and encouraged me to speak up when Odin asked about our best defenses. Of all the soldiers present, I was the only one who'd stepped foot on Vigrid within the past decade, even though it was with Pluto and an army of ghosts. I still recalled it well enough to draw a new map of the portal from Vanaheim, where we would expect more allies to join us when the time came. My brother's presence helped me forget the many eyes of judgmental men and women who likely saw my involvement as some kind of entertainment. Surely they searched for and wanted to see my failure.

I kept my eyes on the plans in front of us. Hearing their biting whispers, even though they weren't intelligible, was enough to know I'd receive glares if I raised my face. It was a small prayer to hope my actions would help us reach victory. Perhaps in doing so, I'd earn an iota of respect.

"You are all dismissed," Odin said as the sun dipped below the horizon and painted everything a menacing orange. Whether it was smoke from the lower realms or simply an omen of what was to come, Asgard's blue skies were tainted and warned of destruction.

"Are you coming to banquet?" Thor asked as the other soldiers slowly flowed away.

"I think it's best if I lay low. Fraternizing with others was never my strong suit."

"Loki, the rest of Asgard knows you're here now. You won't surprise anyone."

"Are you so certain of that?" I squeezed the bridge of my nose, fighting off the headache that nagged from the heavier atmosphere since we arrived. "I was called a monster just this morning. In the army, I'm only a pawn—none of the soldiers would follow me."

"They might." Thor's annoying optimism was too pure. Too shiny. A lacquer that made things unnaturally smooth and didn't reflect the actual order of things.

"Well, whether they will or not, I've made up my mind about tonight. You go." I smiled with closed lips and hoped he wouldn't fight harder to convince me. "I'm going to review this map one more time before heading downstairs."

"Suit yourself. I'll be there if you change your mind." Thor patted my shoulder and gave me a strong nod. With him heading back to the main judgment hall and Odin disappearing behind his inner chamber door, I was alone in the foyer.

The projection of Yggdrasil was certainly a fancy trick, and I wondered if it was partially Heimdall's sight that made such a thing possible. Either way, it was impressive. The skies outside, stained with dusk, matched the color of the aura around Asgard in the model. Vanaheim, on the same plane, appeared untouched by any of the drama happening below, thank goodness; maybe it would be spared in the end. Alfheim was darker than it was yesterday, making my heart fall. Midgard, once worthy of my presence to conquer it, was scorched beyond recognition. Its vast oceans were no longer separated by recognizable landmarks; the only solid ground appeared as a singular island, surrounded by water that washed away the ash.

Ragnarok itself, really, was no end. It was a beginning. If any humans survived, they'd see how their precious Earth remade itself.

The realms further south weren't worthy of my attention. Focusing on them would only fuel the worry I had for our chances of survival. I made a quick copy of the map I'd drawn during council and rolled the parchment to take with me as a project to wile away the night's hours. After the children went to sleep, Sigyn might have some appetite for me as she did more frequently of late—a welcome development of her growing condition—but I couldn't count on it, not could I presume I wouldn't still have time to burn.

I shut Odin's foyer behind me as I left, but before I could turn to see the open judgment hall again, someone slammed me against the golden doors, all but completely emptying my lungs and leaving me gasping.

His face was darker than I recalled. Perhaps his hair was longer, or was it just the light? Or could it have been the visible pulsing in my eyes since his forearm squeezed against my throat that made everything fade?

"You," he hissed through bare teeth. "No one to answer to but me. And answer, you will."

I fought all instinct to harm him and escape; I had nowhere to hide. If he killed me where I stood, only Sigyn and the children would mourn. It couldn't end so easily after everything I'd been through.

Calm. Try to breathe...

"Your presence here confuses me. It hurts me. I hate it." He snarled his upper lip and twisted his face back and forth.

How did he become so spiteful and cold? Where was the obedient soldier I knew?

With a touch of mercy, he pulled his arm back. I barely stayed on my feet before him. "I-Ivanson," I said, quickly resuming my back against the wall so I could look him in the eye. "I don't believe—"

"No, no. You won't speak until I've said my piece." Theoric wasn't touching me, but he invaded my space more than if he was. His hot breath, while not exactly unpleasant, would've set me ablaze if he could. His armor wasn't the bright red distinction of a Crimson Hawk; he'd been given his own armor. Personalized. A bear was etched into the silver breastplate and a short cape of orangey vermillion cascaded over his right shoulder, which was the closest thing to his old attire. He had some higher rank I didn't know about, and by all likelihood, had every right to end my life as Odin did for how I'd slighted him.

Surtur could've come and gone in how much time we spent staring at one another. I didn't speak, and neither did he. He tried to read my mind somehow; either that, or years of fake conversations with me were muddied in his mind and he couldn't decide which way to start.

My pounding heart deafened me. If he made any sound beyond breathing, I didn't hear it.

"I can't believe I followed you into war." He shook his head slowly—a patient admonishment, as if I were a child. "I can't believe you were under my nose for months, and it didn't occur to me that you weren't who you seemed until you challenged me. Most of all, when given the choice to have a comfortable life, I can't believe Sigyn gave up everything for you. You made a fool out of me, humiliated me, both as a soldier and a man. Did you enjoy it, hm? All your lies?"

I swallowed hard. No better time for the truth, though it complicated things. "I...I don't think I did, actually."

He glared at me. "Say again?"

He frightened me with his proximity and felt far more dangerous than Thor, simply because he had a reason to hate me that Thor lacked. Appealing to his—potentially dormant—faith in the good of all people was my only chance. "I never wanted to lie to anyone. But one lie led to another. Another. Another. It became a web. You know better than most how fast it came undone."

"Working a pity angle, are you?"

"No. No angle. There's too much for me to lose by lying now." My brows were arched so high and eyes so open, I prayed he saw through me enough to know it was the truth. "I am sorry for everything I did in those days. Sorry for the pain it caused both her and me. I was forced to change and am now a better man for it."

"A better man? You, a better man? That's not much of an accomplishment in my eyes. You already had your belly on the ground. A miracle if you've ever risen to two feet and faced real consequences. I somehow doubt you have in any real way." Theoric grabbed my shoulders and pushed back again, slightly lifting my feet from the floor. "I want to know what happened to her now that you're back here. Did you abandon her? Kill her? Whatever you've done, I will gladly inflict the same punishment on you."

"What happened to her?" I blinked quickly. "Do you...do you truly not know?"

"How could I? She disappeared along with all mention of you, Odin's orders. She wasn't my wife, but I loved her enough to be horrified that she ran into your arms to heal from me."

My laughter was involuntary; a poor time to be out of control, but I couldn't help myself. "Gods, you have things so wrong—"

"Do not mock me, Loki. Tell me the truth."

I slowly raised my left hand and nodded toward my ring. "Ivanson, I married her."

His grip relaxed, and I couldn't read if the way his face fell was relief or jealousy. "You what?"

"She saved me from Odin's punishment and followed me to Vanaheim. Hasn't left my side since." I pulled the small plait from the back of my hair over my shoulder and twisted it in my fingers. "Sigyn is the only match for me. She has been since the moment she found out who I really was, which truthfully came months before you even knew her name."

Theoric's well-practiced imaginary conversations with me must've been derailed by the truth, since he lost the fire in his voice. "So she really knew about you as long as they said? Before the war?"

I fully deflated my lungs and tipped my face to the side. "Our affair began when the war did. Its end became your beginning."

He stepped away from me and the wall, giving space between us that lifted the suffocation of the past.

"The truth is, I thought well enough of you that I let it continue. For months, I watched you charm and woo her. But she didn't come to me to escape you; she ran to you to heal from me."

"So she's alive?" His clear blue eyes looked familiar again. What relief. "Didn't die a painful death in vain?"

"She's downstairs right now. Probably chasing our sons and exhausting herself." I smiled at him with closed lips like I always did when talking about the boys. "As I predicted, she didn't want to be a fighter. I tried to force her hand the same way you did, and I nearly lost her because of it. Now I trust her more than I ever trusted myself. Our home might bear my name, but she's by far the head of it."

Theoric smiled in an unexpected mirror to me. "Sons?"

I nodded slowly. "Twins. With a daughter on the way. Though it seems your life has changed as much in the meantime given this new armor."

"It has." He stood at attention and presented himself properly. "Captain of Combat."

"Well, I'm certainly grateful you gave me a chance to speak before breaking me, Ivanson."

He chuckled against his wishes to stay stoic, but if I remembered anything about him, it was his forgivability that made him easy to work with. "I suppose there is a part of me that's grateful for the trouble you caused. Without it, I wouldn't be where I am." Theoric mimicked my gesture from earlier and held up his left hand, displaying a solid steel band on his finger. "And I wouldn't have her."

Maybe it wasn't impossible to change my fate, fix my reputation, and earn respect. Maybe it could be done one man at a time. Maybe it could start now. "And who is she?"

"My Thyra." His cheeks flushed as he said her name.

"Thyra?" I openly smiled now, genuinely glad he hadn't confessed years of pining for nothing. "A sweet girl, I recall."

"Yes, on the surface. She's fierce deep down. More deadly than most with a blade if she gets the chance. Our daughter Astrid advances by the day and hopes to be a Valkyrie." He grinned with pride. "The only young girl her age who surpasses her is Heimdall's own daughter. A plucky one with a bow. But my Astrid will be written in these stars someday, I'm sure of it."

"I'm sure she will." His confrontation didn't end the way either of us expected, but maturity shaped both of us through pain and love and parenthood. If we were lucky, both of us would see the other side of the oncoming battle and live to laugh about the misfortunes that made us who we were.

I cleared my throat and presented my right hand to him. "Theoric, Son of Ivan, I ask for your forgiveness. Your allegiance. And your company tomorrow to review your expectations on Vigrid. My strong suit is defense, and we will all need strength in combat to defeat Surtur and the coming onslaught."

He hesitated, but not for long. Took my hand, squeezing hard, but not enough to harm me. "Forgiveness is...a peculiar currency, isn't it?"

"Much like a promise." I smirked. So he remembered.

"It will take more than this to earn trust from me. But if you lead in any way like you once did, I believe we have a chance." Theoric released me with a slight bow and plodded through the judgment hall toward the stairs, which were now cast in blue from the quickening sunset.

Redemption wouldn't come quickly. But with one man at a time, it was possible.