West Wing, Valaskjalf, Asgard

The All-father stood on the balcony of his study, basking in the morning sun that filled the chamber with a warm glow. He gazed down as his children busied themselves below, darting back and forth as they attended to their duties in the stables.

Their punishment seemed less like discipline from the looks of their smiling faces and echoing laughter; Odin wondered if they even realized it was meant as such. The decision had come swiftly after he received the report from Squadron Commander Neptsdottir.

Despite Heimdall's expansive sight and Odin's own capabilities, there were always worlds—both within and outside The Nine Realms—that demanded the Gatekeeper's surveillance. They simply could not afford to monitor his children constantly. Consequently, their protection detail served a dual purpose: acting both as guards and as his own means of keeping an eye on the princes and the princess of Asgard.

Odin found their return from Nidavellir troubling, not merely because of their early dismissal from the realm but also because of the events that had unfolded during their mission.

From rearward, he sensed a familiar presence approach. Turning slightly, he saw his queen join him at the balcony, her sight also drawn to their children below. The same silence she often reserved for the children now enveloped him.

"You don't approve, my queen?" He asked, detecting a trace of something undefined in her countenance.

A half-smile formed at the corner of her mouth. "Quite the contrary, husband. I think the stablekeepers would welcome the extra help."

"Then there's something else on your thoughts."

"Is there?" Frigga drawled out her question with a little bit of mirth. "Perhaps I came to watch the children's punishment just as you do."

With his hands resting on the railings, Odin greeted his wife's response with an impassive expression, mirroring the calm composure she often used. He decided to employ her own tactic, a strategy Diana had also come to adopt as of late.

"You know my mind…" She paused and laid her hand on his. "…and my body. As I do yours. You have plans for the children. I would like to understand what they are."

Odin maintained his stoic demeanor. "Loki will not return to Nidavellir in the foreseeable future."

"Because of the girl?" Frigga's tone was more of a statement than a question.

The All-father nodded. "We cannot afford for them to grow closer now that they have been acquainted. Should their feelings deepen, everything might be revealed with a mere touch of desire."

"Then perhaps it is time to tell him of his origin before he finds it out by himself."

"We cannot reveal the truth to him, not like we did for Diana." Odin spoke with a heavy heart while he rotated his palm to hold hers. "Resentment could take root in his heart, turning him against Asgard and his siblings. The stakes are too high; it is simply out of the question."

Frigga's watch drifted back down to the children below as she addressed him. "No, husband, you are mistaken. Loki may indeed grow to hate us, perhaps even despise us. But not his brother. Not his sister. Not Asgard. Do you fear our child's hatred more than you dread his increasing heartbreak?"

"Do you think so little of me, swæs?" Odin did not flinch. He didn't so much as twitch. She might not have known, could not possibly understand, but Odin felt deeply the agony that loathing from one's own child could inflict. He was prepared to endure that pain, to throw himself upon that spear again if it meant protecting the realms and his family.

But hate had a tendency to spread, and Odin feared its progression: first, Loki would despise him, then it would extend to those around the All-father, and eventually, it would engulf the entirety of Asgard. He had seen such transformation in Hela and had himself harnessed such emotions. It was he who allowed Asgard's animosity towards King Laufey to escalate into widespread disdain for Jotunheim. He needed to ensure that the Jotnar could never again rise to threaten any realm, thereby providing the rest of The Nine a focal point for their apprehension. This was a strategic necessity for the security of all, even if it meant the eventual alienation of his second son.

While Odin harbored personal reservations about how Loki might perceive him, this retained no sway over the reasons he withheld the reality of Loki's origin. "His bond with Thor and Diana must be unbreakable." Odin maintained. "When Thor ascends to the throne of Asgard, Loki will likewise assume the throne over Jotunheim. Diana will serve as the bridge, maintaining their connections. Through this unity, peace will finally settle across The Nine Realms."

"A throne of a realm he never knew? A realm you've crippled and sown distrust against?" Frigga's voice rose, laden with clear skepticism, as she withdrew her hand from the king's grasp. "And what of Diana? Will she forever be confined to her brothers' shadows?"

"This is an old dance, Frigga." Odin replied with none of the hurt he felt. "I see the pattern laid before us, and it requires sacrifice—one we must all make."

"And what of their desires, Odin? Can peace truly last if it is built on secrets and sacrifices they did not choose? You seek to shape the cosmos, but remember, even the stars must follow their own paths." Frigga retorted.

"Perhaps." Odin admitted. "Yet, that does not alter the fact that our children must embrace the roles set for them. For the greater good of all."

"Once again, I cannot change your mind. But, this discussion is far from over, husband. You know my stance." Frigga stated firmly. "What else? What other plans do you have for them?"

Odin looked at his wife with a wary expression, knowing his next words might be interpreted unfavorably.

"There will be a need for separation between the three." Odin spoke, which caused Frigga to react with visible shock and fury. He continued nevertheless. "Their lesson schedules should be staggered so they spend less time together. No longer will they be sent on tasks to other realms as a group. Loki and Thor believe we are unaware of their swapping roles, and they yield too readily to Diana's impulses of kindness. The incident in Nidavellir could have been avoided if the dwarven boy had been left to confront his own errors or the Jotuns to King Ivaldi's investigation."

Frigga turned fully and harshly to the All-father. "You would drive them away from each other? So, they become strangers to their own brother and sister? After all your talk on unity and peace?"

"They simply rely on each other too greatly." Odin replied in a measured tone, fully aware of the precarious balance he was maintaining. "While it amplifies their strengths, it also feeds on their weaknesses, entangling them in a web of folly."

"As they should. They are children not even in their third century. In the end, was that not your aim? That they grow together, and if they must fall, they do so together."

"And if they all fall, who will be left to lift them up when we are gone?" He argued. "Their bond blinds them to their own flaws. Distance will make their hearts fonder and allow them to prosper as individuals."

"Distance will make their hearts fonder." Frigga echoed softly in a whisper. "Is that what you truly believe? Can it not be said the same between Loki and the Jotun girl, Angrboda?"

"It is not the same, and you know it." He affirmed. His fingers now strangling the railing between his grips. "I must do what is required of me as their father."

"As their father or as their king?" She pressed.

Odin fell quiet for a moment, and he knew his silence was telling to his wife. "As both." He finally answered. "Thor wielded his might at a foreign feast without pausing to grasp the situation; Loki employed his wits not just to cover for his brother but also to infiltrate a lord's residence; and Diana gave her kindness freely and flaunted the truth without contemplating the ramifications. They act with impunity, confident that their siblings' presence will ensure that everything means well and ends well. We cannot allow this to continue without oversight."

"Why?" Frigga challenged. "Because they choose to use their strengths to support one another and help others, rather than advancing your agendas? It is their right to bestow their might, wit, and kindness on whom they choose. Not who we choose."

"There must be a balance between the needs of the realms and their own personal wants."

"They are learning. Let them find their way without forcing your will upon them any further. Can you not see the paradoxical nature of what you are doing? You push and pull at their ideals and their bonds only to hope that they will not shatter."

"You would continue to oppose me on this?"

"I, too, must do what is required of me as their mother." Frigga responded resolutely. "If they are to grow, let it be through compassion and understanding, not through separation and manipulation."

"I cannot compromise with you on this. My decision will remain unchanged." Odin declared.

"Then I will do everything within my power to ensure they do not lose each other." She replied sharply with the blunt of her disapproval at Odin. "Remember, husband, you may be the All-father, but you are also their father. Do not let your designs for the realms lead our children to destruction."

Frigga turned on her heel, her movements brisk as she always moved when their discussions about the children's future grew heated.

"So be it," Odin stated, watching her leave.

______________________________

And so the sands of time pursued their endless flow,

Days into years, and years into decades grow.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Unaware, the princess blossomed, tender and fair,

Oblivious to the labyrinth of schemes laid bare.

Yet wonder never ceases, she never stood still,

Her spirit wandered free, beyond the window sill.

Future ever bright, even with their shadows long,

The past of ruin grows beyond their mellows' song.

______________________________

80 Years Later.

Themyscira, Midgard.

1000 A.D.

Diana had often dreamed of this day, both in her sleep and during her waking hours. The best dreams featured her arrival, walking through the unfamiliar yet storied halls of a home known only through tales, books, and scrolls. Her first garden.

There, she would find the few remaining Olympians and Themyscirians. They had been laboring tirelessly, piecing together the fragments of what was lost. They would welcome her with open arms, offering a foundation from which she could explore the past she had never known and connect with the heritage that whispered in her blood.

The worst ones, however, were steeped in death and decay. They unfolded as visions of shadows and silence, haunting traces of a glorious past now inhabited only by the ghosts of those who once lived here. Everywhere she turned, the land torched with the flame of His corruption. Every step she took revealed ground littered with charred bones and remnants of rotten flesh.

Those nightmares would jump her from sleep into a state of cold dread, her body shaking as tears and whimpers escaped her in the quiet of the night. She would reassure herself, trembling, that it could not be true. Asgard had seen to it that those lost were laid to rest and the Paradise Island free of His taint. The people, her people, were now at peace in Elysium, where all was as it should be.

As she learned almost a century ago, reality was different from anything she could have imagined. The land was not burnt with corruption. It grew and expanded unkempt of plant life and flora like nature often did. There were no carcasses or flames to greet her, but neither were there people. Maybe animals. But no, not people.

Diana slowly rose from her kneeling position, her fingers brushing against the grass as she gathered her thoughts.

Unlike the Asgardian traditions of pyres and ship burials, her other lineage practiced earthen rites. Yet, the battlefield had been too disarrayed for proper and, more importantly, separate graves. In response, her father had constructed a marble monument at the epicenter of the carnage, a towering spire adorned with intricate stone murals depicting gods and mortals intertwined.

Etched below these carvings were the words. "αιώνια τους η μνήμη." May their memories be eternal.

Diana stood with her head hung low, and her palms clasped neatly together before her. With eyes gently closed, she prayed.

To you, the family I never had the chance to know.

To you, the people I never had the chance to meet.

I stand here amidst your resting place, feeling both your absence and your presence.

Though I never heard your voices, or felt your warmth, I carry a part of you within me.

You are the roots of my being, the source that nourished my seedling to flourish.

Here, in this sacred place, I pledge to keep your memory eternal.

Rest knowing you are remembered, and your legacy shall lives on.

Even after finishing her prayer, Diana remained motionless, stilling her muscles and silently hoping that, by some miracle, her heartfelt words would be heard and answered. Yet, the only response was a comforting gush of wind that swept past her. Perhaps it was a sign, or perhaps it was nothing at all. Regardless, she found a strange sense of peace in the uncertainty.

A short distance away, her brothers stood side by side in a sort of solemn vigil, granting her the silence she needed to honor the fallen.

"She's been standing there for a long time. Should we do something?" Thor murmured.

Or at least, they did.

"Be quiet, Thor. Leave her be." Loki chided gently in whispers.

"I'm just excited, that's all. How long has it been since we all left Asgard together?"

Too long. The reasons provided long ago for why they were no longer allowed to accompany each other on diplomatic missions had been sparse. None were things that she and her brothers couldn't alter or promise never to repeat. Even now, as adults, the restrictions remained unchanged. She was surprised that she hadn't needed to persuade her father more to allow Thor and Loki to join her on the trip to Themyscira. Though his reasons were kept to himself, their father at least recognized the importance of this journey to her.

"Since my first task away from the realm." Diana sighed and turned to meet her eldest brother. Thor now embodied the very image of an Asgardian warrior.

His frame was tall and robust, with broad shoulders as sturdy as Yggdrasil itself. His hair, golden and untamed, cascaded past his shoulders and highlighted a face that many called handsome, but Diana had another word to describe it at the moment. Annoying.

His eyes were a striking shade of blue that reflected the ferocity and bravery of a thunderstorm, which is well-suited for the so-called God of Thunder. He adopted this moniker after his Warrior Rite, when he received Mjolnir from their father, a nod to her birth father, Zeus, which she couldn't help but appreciate.

She supposed she couldn't fault him too much; he wielded his jovial spirit like a weapon, his loud and hearty behavior often serving to lift everyone's spirits. Sir Ratatoskr once mentioned that Thor reminded him greatly of a young Master Throyo. She could see it in many aspects of his demeanor.

"When you roped us into trouble, that ensured father would never send us out together again. You mean." Loki clarified with a nod.

"What?" She directed a frown at her other brother.

Loki, on the other hand, was lean, not as burly as Thor, with a grace that suggested he was well-versed in dancing and dueling. His shoulder-length, sleek black hair contrasted with his pale skin, serving to accentuate his piercing emerald eyes, which radiated a sharp elegance.

That same elegance often fooled those who didn't know him, and sometimes even those who did, into his numerous schemes. Behind his back, many referred to him as the God of Mischief—a title Diana didn't have much taste for. Loki was more than that. Diana couldn't change the fact that her brother lied often. She recognized that she couldn't impose her belief in truth on others as she did on herself, and she had come to terms with that. Nonetheless, she remained committed to nudging them towards honesty if she could.

What she earnestly hoped to change, however, was the constant smirk that seemed permanently plastered on Loki's face, wishing that just once, he might show a hint of remorse for his misdeeds. Diana knew he occasionally felt regret, but expressing it was just as important. At least it would somewhat appease his targets.

"Ah" Thor took in a breath. "Those were simpler times when I could rely on Loki's assistance with my princely duties."

Loki raised an eyebrow. "Assistance is an interesting choice of words, brother."

Diana interjected with a none-too-pleased expression to bring them back to what was said before. "I clearly remember that it was more of a joint decision."

"You remembered it wrong." Loki countered.

"You know, brother." She shot back playfully. "When I meet Angrboda again, I'll tell her you never actually wanted to help her then"

"You wouldn't dare. That would be lying," Loki retorted.

"But is it though? You certainly wanted me to believe so." She nudged Thor with her elbow for his support.

Thor chuckled. "Looks like she caught you there, Loki."

Loki, with a theatrical sigh, responded. "O, Goddess of Truth, you would betray your very nature so easily just to spite me?"

Imitating him, Diana said. "Who, me? No, I am Loki Odinson, God of Being Dramatic, and I am burdened with amazing siblings who delivered my love letters for me."

Thor, eager to join in, added. "Allow me, sister!" Thor buzzed in delight and looked up and down at Loki's attire. "I am Loki Odinson, God of Black Leather, and I am burdened with sweating orbs in the heat of summer days."

Diana made a face. "Gross."

Loki looked at his two siblings with mock indignation. "For your information, I am perfectly comfortable with the way I dress. My Seidr sees to that." Then, a smirk grew on his face as he threatened. "Just as it will see to my sweet revenge when the time comes. To the both of you."

Diana's eyes widened. "Wait, brother, I was only jesting."

"So was I!" Thor chimed in quickly.

Loki grinned. "Count your days, my dearest brother and sister."

Diana smiled at them both, recognizing their playful efforts to distract her from her sorrow. Loki's words were probably have been in jest—deciphering his true intent was always a challenge. Either way, she was grateful that they had come along and that their father had allowed it. Her brothers consistently found ways to lighten her spirits, a cherished trait that never failed to bring her solace.

Thor turned toward her, his broad grin momentarily brightening his face. Noticing her distant mind, he asked. "So where to next, sister?"

She looked beyond Thor and Loki to the devastated city in the distance. That was their destination, a chaotic nexus where the fragments of two worlds had collided and collapsed. She needed to see it in person, to walk among the ruins that whispered of their past. Diana had uncovered the final chapter of their story; now, she sought to piece together the narrative of their lives.