Monday
Vanaheim’s twin moons kept asynchronous phases, and Loki could recall his mother telling him a story about them, but the details were lost somewhere in the intervening millennium. Two lovers, he thought, cursed to never see each other properly. Perhaps he could ask one of the locals.
Frigga’s family came to mind. He’d sent a letter ahead, asking whoever was left of them to gather so he could meet them. They knew of her death already. He’d made sure of that shortly after Thor’s abrupt but understandable announcement that rule of Asgard would now be left to a council. It had taken a while to work out the kinks, but it meant that Loki, having inherited the now-partly ceremonial role of King, could leave the business to someone else. Freedom was good; it was a basic necessity.
Had Odin gone mad from the pressures of the throne? The cycle had to be broken.
Loki crested one last hill, and finally in the valley below lay his goal. A giant house, grown from living wood, blazed like a sun with candles in every window. Much like on Asgard, the shining gold was a facade. Half of the rooms were bound to be empty.
The doors swung open as he neared, and a small crowd spilled out. Two he recognized, and after a moment, a third.
Frigga’s mother, Fulla, looking like a much older version of the mother Loki was trying not to forget. Frigga’s younger sister, Gna, had once cared for him while he was ill, Odin was Sleeping, and with Thor still too young the throne had fallen to Frigga. He remembered her as a friend, but that was so long ago.
Then there was Sigyn, Gna’s daughter. She’d come to visit a few times, back when they were children. They’d played hide-and-seek, he’d shown her a few magic tricks he’d just learned, she’d taught him archery. She’d changed so much since then, but that spark was still there. The one that on the few occasions he’d thought of her during adolescence had made him regret that they were related. After a moment, he remembered that wasn’t actually the case. For some reason (come on, it’s not that hard to figure out), that made him smile.
The trio he knew, and five children he did not, greeted him with open arms. They ushered him inside, where they’d laid out a feast, of warm bread and roasted birds and fresh vegetables. He ate what he could of it, sipped a little of the traditional guest cup, and joined in the laughter at the resulting grimace.
He tried to remember the names of the children, none of them old enough for weapons training were they Asgardian. Two young redheads who must have been twin sisters. An older boy who reminded him a little of Thor, dressed like a Vanir soldier and waving a toy sword. Another boy, carrying a stuffed bear and never speaking. The youngest, he thought a little girl, barely old enough to walk.
Once the “feast” ended, the exhausted children were tucked into their beds, and the adults settled down for a proper conversation. He told them all he knew of Frigga’s death, they told him all they could of her life. He told them the truth of his Jotun blood, they told him the name of his birth mother: Hela. Unlike Thor, she’d been pure Asgardian. She’d been a skilled warrior, but she preferred the healing rooms to the battlefield, comforting the dying in their final moments. That much, he could admire. At least he had two mothers he could be proud of.
They knew nothing of her “betrayal” to Laufey or her resulting death, or his own beginning. For that, he would need to visit Jotunheim, and he was not ready to take that step just yet.
Sigyn explained that she and her sister had been teaching a group of children how to garden when out of nowhere, half of their flock vanished into dust. Her sister, Skadi, had been among the last, and Loki realized they had that much in common. In a perverse way, he was almost glad. It was one more thing to bring them together.
He explained to them what he could of the battle, of the Infinity Stones, and they filled in a few gaps. The Power Stone had been abandoned on a long-dead planet called Morag, doubtless in an ultimately futile attempt to prevent it being used for some nefarious scheme. The Soul Stone had a legend about it, according to Fulla, but she refused to elaborate. Most likely, it was dangerous to have too many people knowing the details.
Brusquely, she tidied the rest of the group off to bed, with a promise that they would discuss it more tomorrow.
X
Tomorrow brought with it more devastation. Fulla was found dead in her bed, having drifted away in her sleep. Loki was shocked -she’d seemed completely healthy the night before- but was soon informed by Gna that Vanir usually retained full health and mental faculties up until the moment of death. He found that much to envy.
Gna also thought she may have been holding on only in hope of meeting her daughter’s beloved child. Loki was glad he’d given her that much.
In the days that followed, Gna spoke little. Sigyn, Loki, and even the children tried to draw her out of her shell, but with little result. Contrasted with Asgardian funerals, the Vanir buried their dead and planted a tree to stand guard. Fulla’s was a young cherry, blossoming for the first time. He liked that. Maybe he would have that done, when the time came.
Gna remained understandably withdrawn in the following days. With Sigyn occupied caring for her mother and preparing meals, it fell to Loki to mind the children. Lilja and Linnea, the twins, loved it when he read to them. The youngest, Kielo, wanted to be held and little else. Aster and his honorary brother Einros often played outside for hours on end, having adventures on the order of “You’ve been captured by [insert villain here] and I must rescue you.”
Those were the golden days of his childhood. There used to be others, of saving Asgard itself from the Frost Giant monsters, but those had been irrevocably tainted by horror the color of the ashen dust that used to be Thor, by a certain violent revelation.
They spoke sometimes of the dusting, of where those vanished could have possibly gone, how they might be brought back. Loki mentioned the Space Stone, locked away safely in Asgard’s vault, and made a humorless quip about “only five more”. At that, Gna went quiet again, and he quickly apologized before changing the subject.
The next morning, the house was eerily silent. The children had yet to awaken, but there should have been the sounds of Gna preparing breakfast, of Sigyn tending the fires, maybe even the occasional patient seeking their assistance. Instead, there was only birdsong.
Throwing on some clothing, Loki dashed around the house to check on everyone. The twins slept in their bed, quiet as they ever were. Aster dozed likewise, but Einros sat on the windowsill clutching his bear. Kielo stood up in her crib, arms outstretched. Never able to resist a baby’s charms, Loki lifted her gently and took her downstairs with him.
The only sign of life was a note on the kitchen table. With a growing sense of alarm, Loki picked it up and read it.
Dear Loki,
I’m sorry to leave without a goodbye, but you would have asked too many questions. I’ve brought Sigyn with me, but don’t worry; she will be safe, I promise.
Look after the children. I trust you with them. Consider that a compliment to your skills with them.
I will admit to some concern if a medical crisis strikes, but perhaps you could have a healer sent over from Asgard if the need arises.
I cannot tell you where we are going, but we should be back within the week. Good luck.
~Gna
Well then.
A cacophony from upstairs told him the other children had arisen. Odds were good, they would each want a different, very specific breakfast. Loki had overnight gone from being King to being royally screwed.
Can I go back to fighting Thanos now?
X
Sigyn had gone to sleep expecting a normal tomorrow, and woken up on a spaceship heading to Valhalla-only-knows-where. Gna refused to tell her. Had to be outside of the Nine Realms though, or they would have taken the Bifrost.
Mundane interplanetary travel was unusual for the Vanir, but it was far more interesting to watch the stars go by. A purple gas cloud here, a hexagonal portal there -has to be a hexagon, because that tessellates the plane- and eventually, there they were.
A lifeless grey planet, mountains and a dusky sky. No signs of life. Wordlessly, Gna landed the ship and stormed out, leaving Sigyn to follow around a growing apprehension.
“Mother, where are we? What are we doing?”
Gna didn’t answer, only picked a specific mountain and began to climb it. Sigyn toyed with the idea of staying with the ship or, as the darker side of her suggested, just hopping in and setting of for back home. And yet, something in her told her to follow. Besides, it was something of an adventure, absent from her life since the children showed up.
At least twice, the trail ended completely, leaving them to scramble up a sheer cliff. By the time they finally reached their apparent destination, Sigyn was painfully short on breath. Gna took full advantage, tackling her daughter to the ground and tying her down. Or up.
She would have to tell Loki that one later.
Then the fog of hypoxia cleared, and she thought to ask Gna what was going on. “Mother? Why are y-”
Gna kissed her on the forehead. “I love you. When you’re done, just climb in the ship; it’ll take you home. And take care of everyone.”
“Mother!”
A red figure, robed in black, floated over the clifftop towards them.
“Gna, daughter of Fulla. Sigyn, daughter of Gna. You have come in search of the Soul Stone. It comes with a price-”
“I know that. I came prepared. Oh, and here.”
She slipped a strange metal box into Sigyn’s coat pocket without another word. Terror shot through Sigyn.
“Mother, you’re all I’ve got. Don’t leave me. I can’t-”
“You have Loki, and the children. You’ll be fine.”
Without another word, Gna flung herself over the edge of the cliff, and Sigyn could do nothing but watch, tears already streaming down her face.
Orange blasted across the landscape, knocking her to the ground.
X
When Sigyn awoke, she found herself lying in a small, dark lake. Something hard and small burned her hand as she sat up, coughing. Without even looking, she shoved it into the box. It shone orange as she closed the lid.
Somehow, she’d ended up at the bottom of the mountain. Gna’s body had to be around here somewhere, but Sigyn knew without looking that she would never find it.
Utterly and completely numb, she trudged back to the ship. Take me home, she somehow ordered it, and it obliged, sealing itself off and leaving behind the planet of death.
Except it wasn’t home anymore.
X
“Hello? Gna? Are you around here somewhere?”
Loki suppressed the urge to let out a string of biologically and anatomically unfeasible suggestions and went to check the door. One look, and all of the humor and irritation vanished like there’d been another Snap.
The woman in front of him, brown-haired and green-eyed, clutched at her extremely swollen belly with both arms. Below that, her skirt was soaked with what looked like half-diluted blood. Drawing on a millennium of tagging along with Frigga, assisting with that sort of thing, Loki concluded she was about to give birth.
“Come in. Gna and Sigyn aren’t here, but I’ll do what I can.”
The woman, who later gave her name as Astrid, did not seem particularly satisfied with him of all people as a midwife, but there really weren’t any other options. He put Kielo down for a nap with a quick charm and sent the others to play outside.
Astrid settled into a bed in one of the empty bedrooms and undressed. Loki fetched some towels, a clean kitchen knife, and a bucket of water, trying to avoid thinking about seeing far more than he would have liked of a complete stranger.
He laid a blanket over her for what modesty he could give her, and she seemed grateful although she couldn’t speak through a violent contraction. Bracing himself, he gritted his teeth and examined her, hoping this wouldn’t last long. His blood ran cold.
Already, a tiny foot could be seen through a mess of fluids. Breech, then. Risky, but manageable. Loki seized a towel and made to catch the newborn as another contraction pushed both legs out completely. He glanced up at Astrid.
“It’s a little girl.”
Astrid tried to sit up, but fell back. “Is she okay?”
“Backwards. Just keep like you’ve been doing. It won’t be long.”
He could taste the lie, or lie of implication, but Astrid had no idea. Under the mess, the baby’s skin had swollen and become discolored. He flicked her feet a few times, but she gave no response whatsoever.
She couldn’t, he realized. She’d been dead for a while. He wrapped her in the towel as she came away completely, revealing the problem. Her umbilical cord had coiled around her chest and twice around her neck, so tight it was cutting through her skin. He cut it loose, untangled everything, and went through the motions of trying to revive her, but to little purpose.
The placenta put in its appearance, accompanied by Astrid’s quiet sobs, before he finally had to admit defeat. He cleaned the little one gently, just to make her presentable, before at Astrid’s request placing the tiny bundle in her arms.
No one spoke. No words would have eased their mutual and utter devastation.
X
The sun had just dropped below the horizon when Sigyn finally arrived at her home, although she took one look at it and knew instantly that it could never be that again. Outside, next to Fulla’s tree, Loki, the children, and a woman she didn’t recognize stood solemnly around another, much smaller tree, this one too young for blossoms.
What was left of Sigyn’s broken heart sank. She stood at a distance, not wanting to intrude, until Loki saw her and waved her over. At the concern on Loki’s face, she blurted out, “Mother’s dead.”
With an air of “I see that, and raise you-”, Loki dully replied, “Astrid’s daughter was stillborn.”
They said nothing at all after that. Equal and opposite condolences would have been so much meaningless noise.
X
In the following days, Astrid told them her story. She’d been happily raising three sons while her husband farmed. On one particular day, all four of them vanished into piles of dust. She’d tried to kill herself twice before realizing she was pregnant with the child she’d named Hope.
Now, of course, she had nothing.
Sigyn had the grace to offer Astrid a place to stay, instead of going back to an empty home surrounded by ghosts. She even framed it as a request for help caring for the children, allowing Astrid to have a purpose rather than feeling like a charity case.
Sigyn would make an excellent queen, part of him whispered, and a wonderful mother. He was finding less and less of a reason to resist.
X
Astrid bonded quickly with Kielo, who promptly began to speak by calling her “Amma”. The boys followed suit, but Lilja and Linnea insisted on playing only with Loki and sometimes Sigyn. Before long, he lacked the heart to discourage them.
Weeks passed with no concerns other than the garden, the children, the quit moments when Loki and Sigyn stole out to the lake, or the tiny clifftop in the forest. He would have liked to stay there forever.
The knock on the door sounded a death knell for the halcyon days on Vanaheim. It came from a messenger sent by Asgard’s ruling council, politely requesting he return. Of course, that was understandable. He was, still, the King. No one else in the Nine Realms would he trust with that burden.
X
“Who was that man earlier?”
Sigyn hated to broach a topic she knew would upset Loki, but it had to be done. The two had packed a picnic lunch and were lounging on a beach, watching the girls swim. Loki sighed.
“I have to go back to Asgard. Back to the throne and all the responsibilities that it requires. I’d better leave tomorrow.”
Well. This had to happen sooner or later. Summer love couldn’t last forever. What she said next was supposed to be the right thing, but it darn hurt.
“We’ll be fine, you know. You don’t need to worry about us.”
“Actually-” Loki took her hand and spun to face her, suddenly awkward, then burst out, “Come with me.” At the look on her face, he pressed on. “We can bring the twins if you like. The others will be fine with Astrid.”
Sigyn considered it for a moment. The house- full of ghosts of the dead and the gone. The garden- the surrounding villagers would care for and harvest it. The box Loki had instantly identified as containing the Soul Stone- it would go to Asgard anyway. There was nowhere good to store it, so they’d been keeping it with them at all times.
To go with Loki, to build a life with him, be his Queen, have a family of her own...
She thought for a moment of Frulla, of Gna, but they were gone and not coming back. This was her life now, and her former home. She could do with them what she wished. And what she wished...
She rolled to her feet, hand still in Loki’s.
“Say it.”
“Marry me?”
X
The moons are both full this night, and Loki hopes it is a sign. He pictures taking Sigyn back to Asgard with him, teaching her the wonders of his home. The girls will come, too, and become theirs in full.
Monday is the day of the moon, and in that light, his new companion glows like a werelight, guiding him to a new future. Fair of face is Monday’s child.