~Sævor POV~
Darkness.Warmth.Silence.
Sævor floated in the void of the womb, calm and weightless, like a leaf on still water.
He had slept for so long. Letting the enhancements run their course. Letting Ælir work. Letting time shape him into something more.
But now… something changed.
The rhythm of Frigga's heartbeat quickened. The divine energy that had once flowed so calmly now surged, pulsing in waves.
"Ælir," he whispered through thought. "What's happening?"
[Alert: Delivery imminent. You are being born, host.]
Born?
Sævor's awareness expanded slowly as sensations he'd never known before flooded in.
Pressure.Movement.Light, faint and blurred through flesh.Sound—distant, muffled, but real.
Then he heard it.
A cry.
Not his.
It was her. Hela.
"Firstborn," Ælir stated. "She is out."
He waited.
Then it happened.
The pressure gripped his body like a giant hand. His thoughts stilled as he was pushed—slowly, rhythmically—into the unknown.
Cold air rushed across his skin. Blinding light seared what little vision he had. For a brief second, he panicked.
And then he felt it.
His father's hand.
Large. Strong. Steady.
Sævor's still-developing eyes barely opened—but he sensed the gaze. Odin's power brushed against his soul like a storm wind gently testing a mountain.
He's... scanning me, Sævor realized. He knows.
[Divinity detected.][Wisdom Domain: Active.]
He felt something shift in Odin's aura. Surprise? Interest? Maybe even caution.
Sævor didn't know what face Odin made—but the silence spoke volumes.
And then he was lowered into warmth again.Frigga.
Gentle fingers ran along his brow. A kiss. A whisper. A hum that made his soul relax like nothing else could.
"My little stars…"
That was the first time Sævor felt something deeper than awareness.
Love.
***
~Normal POV?~
The skies above Asgard shimmered with gold. The World Tree pulsed gently in the distance, and the towers of the shining realm stood proud beneath Bifröst's silent arc.
In the royal chamber of the Allfather, cries echoed. Not of battle, but of life.
Frigga lay on a bed of divine silk, her brow damp with effort, her hands clutching Odin's as she gave her final push.
Then—A cry rang out.Clear. Loud.
A daughter was born.
"She bears your fire," Frigga whispered, smiling with tears. "Our Hela…"
The second came only moments later. A softer cry—less rage, more… calm. Measured.
Odin stepped forward, cradling the newborn boy in one arm, the girl in the other. His single eye glowed faintly as he examined them both—not as a father, but as a king.
And then… his brow rose.
"… It is confirmed, he has awakened," Odin murmured, astonished. "In the womb"
"Impossible," said one healer in awe."Divinity stirs already?" said another, breathless.
Odin knew what he felt.
The boy's soul was active—calm, alert. A domain already blooming inside him. He had already taken his first step into power.
He looked down at Frigga. Her smile was warm, radiant.
"His energy," she said softly, "it stirred within me so early. I knew he was different."
She reached for them both. Odin gently lowered the twins into her arms. She kissed their foreheads, brushing her cheek to theirs, whispering soft Vanir blessings only a mother would know—old words of green hills, deep roots, and the magic of still waters.
She was not just queen of Asgard.
She was Vanir—firstborn of the Elder Grove, last daughter of Vanaheim's ruling bloodline.
She had given up much when she married Odin. Her name. Her throne. Her people's trust.
And for years, she had held her side of the alliance with grace. But without children, the whispers began.
"Even the Queen cannot bear the Allfather's heirs?""Has he taken our daughter only to bury the Vanir line?""The blood pact will wither. The balance will break."
It had pained her, deeply, quietly.But now—she held two in her arms.
And she knew.
The war they had once ended with love… would not begin again with blood.
***
Later that day, the Hall of Golden Triumph filled with thunderous cheer.
The entire realm had gathered. Einherjar stood in perfect rows, golden armor gleaming.
Lords of the Vanir arrived in ceremonial robes, their expressions a mix of joy and relief. The royal seers held runed staves, calling out the names in ceremony.
For decades, Vanir pride had endured the silence of Odin's house. They had waited for fruit, for proof that this union was more than strategy.
Some among them had begun to doubt.Others, to plot.
"We will not be swallowed by Asgard.""If no heir comes, then peace has failed."
But now, peace stood cradled in golden cloth.
Two heirs. Twin stars.
Odin raised his arms, voice firm yet solemn.
"Hear this day, all Nine Realms.From the womb of Frigga, Queen of Asgard and blood of the Elder Grove,are born to us the heirs of the Eternal Realm!"
"Hela Odindottir—firstborn, fierce and proud."
"Sævor Odinson—secondborn, quiet and wise."
The hall erupted.
"Glory to the royal twins!""Long live the House of Odin!""Balance returns to the realms!"
Golden light cascaded from the ceiling. Bifröst shimmered at the edge of the sky dome, sending gentle beams over the crowd.
Frigga stood with the twins, regal yet tender. She smiled as the Vanir lords approached, offering gifts of lightwood, moonsteel, and vine-crystal. The Vanir people had waited long for this. Not just for heirs—but for hope. Their eyes shone with approval.
"The bloodline lives," one whispered."She has kept the pact."
The birth of the twins meant more than lineage. It meant the alliance would hold.
The bloodline of both tribes would continue.
And war—ancient and terrible—was stayed once more.
.
.
.
The feast had ended, the toasts concluded, yet one final tradition remained.
At the foot of Ygg-Reign's throne, an ancient Vanir elder—High Sage Vali of the Silver Circle—stepped forward. His face was weathered like bark, and from his shoulders hung a cloak of moss-dyed threads. He bowed—not too low—and raised a carved staff.
The hall fell silent.
Even Odin inclined his head. Frigga watched closely, her expression unreadable.
Vali's voice rang out, slow and solemn.
"As agreed by grove and sky, by blood and root…The pact is sealed.The fruit of Aesir and Vanir shall bind the realms.But only if tended with truth, strength… and wisdom."
He stepped toward the twins, held in Frigga's arms.
To Hela, he gave a golden blossom—the flower of fire—a Vanir rite for warriors.
To Sævor, he pressed a finger gently to the infant's brow. A soft spark flickered—ancient, green, and old as mist.
"This one walks the path of knowing," he murmured."Let the winds part before him. Let lies flee.And may the forest remember his name."
Frigga's eyes shimmered—not with tears, but old memory. The Vanir present all bowed once in deep respect. Not just to the king—but to her.
"She has fulfilled her oath.""And our blood walks the halls of Asgard."
***
That night, Odin stood alone on a high balcony, the wind teasing his heavy cloak.
He stared at the sky—silent.
A small smile broke the stillness of his face.
"They are more than I expected," he thought.
"One, forged from storm and fury. The other… from silence and thought."
"May they never forget they are siblings. May they never forget… Asgard comes FIRST."
A warning, a caution, a lesson he will teach them, later, when they grow up.
And in the crib below, lit by moonlight, the twins slept soundly.
One hand clenched in a tiny fist.
The other… open, as if dreaming of reaching the stars.