The royal nursery of Asgard was quiet—filled only with soft light and the distant hum of magic woven into the palace walls.
Three cradles rested side by side.
In the first, Thor Odinson slept soundly, fists clenched even in infancy, golden hair already bright beneath the light. Every so often, he let out a tiny huff, as if dreaming of battle he did not yet understand.
In the second, Loki Odinson lay far more still. His blue skin shimmered faintly beneath Asgardian enchantments, sharp little fingers flexing as though grasping at thoughts instead of air. His eyes fluttered beneath closed lids, restless even in sleep.
And in the third—
Alexander Ashborn Odinson rested quietly, platinum-silver hair soft against silk cushions. His presence was… calm. The room itself seemed gentler around him, as if the magic of Asgard had decided not to disturb his rest.
The First Stirring
Thor was the first to wake.
With a small grunt, he shifted, tiny arms waving clumsily. His eyes opened—bright, unfocused blue—and immediately locked onto movement beside him.
Alexander had stirred.
Alexander yawned softly, stretching one small hand toward the air… and then his eyes opened.
Molten gold, circled by silver.
Thor stared.
Then, without hesitation, Thor let out a delighted little laugh—a loud, unrestrained baby sound that echoed through the nursery.
He reached out.
His chubby fingers brushed Alexander's sleeve.
Alexander blinked… then smiled.
The smile was slow, warm, and strangely knowing for a newborn.
The moment their fingers touched, a faint spark of golden light flickered between them—gone before it could be noticed.
Loki Wakes
The sound of Thor's laughter stirred the third cradle.
Loki's eyes snapped open.
Sharp. Observant. Too aware.
His gaze drifted first to Thor—then to Alexander.
Something about the platinum-haired baby made Loki pause.
The air around Alexander felt different. Warm… yet deep. Like a quiet fire buried beneath ash.
Loki frowned.
Tiny fingers curled tightly around his blanket as he stared.
Alexander turned his head slowly—almost deliberately—and met Loki's gaze.
Gold met green.
For a brief moment, Loki stopped moving entirely.
Alexander tilted his head, studying him the same way he had once studied Odin.
Then Alexander reached out.
Loki hesitated… then, almost against his own instincts, extended his finger.
Their hands touched.
Loki's frost magic flared faintly—then settled, soothed, as if wrapped in something older and calmer.
Loki blinked.
And then—unexpectedly—he smiled.
Small. Soft. Real.
Three Brothers
Thor laughed again, kicking happily.
Alexander let out a tiny, content sound and drifted back toward sleep, his hand still loosely touching Loki's.
Loki watched him for a long moment before relaxing, eyelids growing heavy.
Three cradles.
Three children.
Three paths yet unwritten.
Above them, unseen, fate paused—
and then smiled.