The golden gates of Asgard opened to welcome the All-Father home.
Odin walked through the palace halls carrying two infants, the echoes of war still clinging to his armor. Servants knelt. Einherjar bowed. Yet Odin did not slow.
Inside the royal chamber, Queen Frigga rested, a newborn cradled gently in her arms.
She looked up—and froze.
"Odin?" she asked softly, eyes moving from the child she held… to the two more in her husband's arms.
A slow smile touched her lips, equal parts confusion and amusement.
"My love," she said, "have you returned from war… or adopted the battlefield?"
Odin huffed, something dangerously close to a laugh.
Odin's Explanation
He stepped closer and spoke calmly.
"The blue child is Laufey's son," Odin said. "I found him abandoned within the palace of Jotunheim."
Frigga's expression softened immediately.
"And the other?" she asked, gaze drawn to the infant with platinum-silver hair.
Odin hesitated—rare for the All-Father.
"He was hidden… sealed in a box," Odin said. "When I touched him, he did not cry. He smiled at me… tilted his head as if amused."
Frigga laughed, warm and musical.
"Oh, Odin," she teased, "the terror of the Nine Realms, undone by a smiling infant."
Odin allowed the smallest smile.
"I inspected him with magic," he continued. "I could not trace his bloodline. Only… a black egg, fire, and something dark yet dormant."
Frigga raised a brow. "And you brought him home anyway."
"Yes."
She nodded. "Good."
The Queen Meets Alexander
Frigga reached for the platinum-haired child, and Odin gently placed him in her arms.
At that moment, the baby stirred.
He yawned—tiny, slow, and utterly adorable—before his eyes fluttered open.
Molten gold, encircled by a thin silver ring.
Frigga inhaled sharply.
"…Oh," she whispered.
The child blinked at her, then wrapped his tiny fingers around hers. His grip was warm, steady. Curious.
Frigga felt something shift in her chest.
The baby lifted his free hand, brushing it clumsily against her cheek before nestling closer, sighing softly… and falling asleep again.
Frigga stared down at him, utterly defeated.
"Oh no," she murmured. "I am ruined."
Odin raised a brow. "Already?"
She shot him a look. "I will pamper him endlessly, and you will do nothing to stop me."
Naming the Princes
Frigga adjusted the children carefully and looked up at Odin.
"They must have names."
Odin nodded.
"The Frost Giant child shall be called Loki Odinson."
Frigga accepted this without hesitation.
"And our son," Odin continued, glancing at the newborn she had birthed, "is Thor Odinson."
Frigga smiled and nodded.
Her gaze then returned to the sleeping child in her arms—the one who had claimed her heart without effort.
"And him?" she asked.
Odin watched them for a long moment.
"Alexander Ashborn Odinson."
Frigga repeated it softly, as if tasting fate itself.
"…Then Alexander Ashborn Odinson shall be our youngest son."
Odin inclined his head.
A Family Forged
Satisfied, Frigga settled the children comfortably.
Odin turned toward the door, pausing only once.
"Asgard has gained three princes today," Frigga said gently. "And I will love them all as my own."
Odin nodded.
Then the All-Father left the chamber—
unaware that destiny had already begun weaving around the smallest of them.