Author's Note: Hello! :) Welcome to this story and thank you for taking a look at it. I saw this fanart of Loki and Hela standing next to a younger Loki and was like "aww" and then this story was born (never underestimate the power of art)-as I'm sure all of you really wanted to know where this story came from. ;)

IMPORTANT FACTS TO BE AWARE OF:

1). This is an Alternate Universe

2). Thor Ragnarok spoilers ahead!

Sorry for any grammar/spelling errors!

Rated for some violence in a few of the chapters and heavy paranoia on my part. Language is all K, no smut, no slash or anything inappropriate. brother/sister relationship :)

Parings of the story: Jane/Thor, Frigga/Odin, Tony/Pepper

Disclaimer: I do not own this, if I did, Loki would be redeemed, a flippin' Avenger by now, and Pietro wouldn't be dead.

Just a personal note, if you could refrain from using cussing/strong language if you comment (no offense to how you speak! Promise! =) It just makes me uncomfortable) I would greatly appreciate that. ;)

For your information, this is cross-posted on Archive Of Our Own under the pen name of "GalaxyThreads".

Ages: Hela: 18; Thor: 3; Loki: Sixteen days.

Chapter Summary: Hela and Odin return from the battle between Asgard and Jotunheim, with an added addition to their family.

Edited on January 31, 2019.

Sister Of Two:

For the first time she can remember, Hela waits for her father on the Bifrost sight after a battle. It's not an occurrence that oft repeats itself, nor one that has ever really happened before; in every fight, every war they wage or defend against, she and Odin work side-by-side. A deadly, destructive pair that return to camp together, victorious, his arm swung over her shoulder; a king and heir returning to their people. Their efforts are known and feared everywhere, and justly so. The peace in the Nine Realms has been hard fought and cost many lives—it is only sheer luck or perhaps skill that herself and her father have both survived the centuries long war across the stars.

Exhaustion is not a feeling she often is privy towards, but today it is the only thing she is able to focus on. Her muscles ache with a pulse she hasn't felt in many years—at least since her training began. Her hair is slicked back with likely only frozen sweat, the ponytail she tugged it back into falling apart with large clumps of her hair sticking to her pale face, lightly frosted. The bitter wind is digging into her skin and despite her many layers of clothing and the spells cast to prevent her from feeling it. She honestly expects nothing less of Jotunheim, however, the Frost Giant's realm isn't exactly known for having a warm and sunny climate.

Or really sun at all.

The planet's people put up a far greater fight than Asgard was expecting, even as startling as the sudden counter attack was. Her father had called the defense for Midgard abruptly, so the army wasn't as prepared as it should have been. There has been a tense peace for some three? (maybe four) years before the Frost Giants attack on Midgard, but nonetheless they should have been prepared. Or seen something. The signs of the fraying peace treaty between the Frost Giants and the rest of the Realms has always been fairly obvious to those who were looking.

Asgard was not.

They had their hands pressed firmly over their eyes and refused to peak through the cracks.

The battle was long, much longer than Hela was intentionally expecting and neither side walked away unscathed. The rest of the army has already returned to Asgard via the Bifrost, but Hela is waiting for Odin to make a reappearance. He sent his people home some six hours previous and Hela was supposed to go with them (she didn't) as he sweeps the land for any more surviving Asgardians. He typically does it after every battle and Hela usually joins him (sensing for their life, a skill that she's possessed since a young age), but King Laufey got a good hit into her leg and she's having trouble walking and general movement as well as seeing straight from pain. Stubbornness is one of her main drives, however, and her family is famous for it.

And so, Hela sits on top of the Bifrost sight in butterfly position, her arms hanging loosely in her lap one hand occasionally straying to rub the bandages hastily covering her upper thigh. Her stepmother is going to lose her head about it, it's an ugly wound that bleeds sluggishly or rapidly whenever it feels like it. Even with her enhanced healing, it's taking a long time to close or really do anything but ache. The stab in itself was clean enough, just the frostbite that's making it worse; Laufey's ice dagger made certain of that. She hasn't looked at the wound closely yet, but she imagines that the skin around the initial bleed is a messy work of black and blue skin. It will not be a pleasant recovery. Leg wounds never are.

Hela drums her fingers over her knee absently, releasing a soft sigh of boredom and closes her eyes. She's never been good at peace or waiting around absently. Her veins thrive on the thrill of battle, the burn of her muscles as her hands toss weapon after weapon towards her targets. The rush of adrenaline that follows—she's shamelessly addicted to it. Sitting down and reading is nearly the death of her unless it's for tactical purposes (even then). She often grows bored at the beyond mundane parties and political dinners. Hela has always been incapable of sitting still, and is it a frequent annoyance to Frigga, but Hela doesn't mind to much. She was always running on energy that spanned from nowhere and her parents struggled to keep up with her.

Despite herself though, Hela is slightly dreading returning to Asgard—and it's not just because the war is over and they need to deal with the aftermath. She's thrilled to return to her stepmother and the palace with Asgard's soft hills and forests unlike the cold bitter wasteland of Jotunheim, but she doesn't want to put up with Thor, her younger brother. She...doesn't dislike Thor per say, but her brother drives her slightly crazy. If they were closer in age, Hela thinks that they would get along better, but there's a few centuries that just don't add up. He's just...argh.

He's not talking super well despite his age and has a lisp that makes his sentences nearly beyond understanding, but Hela can't help the slightly replaced feeling that succumbs her when she sees him. She knows (tries to assure herself, more accurately) that her stepmother and father love her, but everything seems to just be on Thor now—not that she loves attention or anything, but some of it would be nice. Thor walked today, he said this or did that—whatever. Hela exhales through her nose the chill air burning her lungs with a slight sting of metal and burning water. (Likely caused by the fact that she's sitting on the Bifrost sight).

Hela lifts her head up slightly as she hears the distinct sound of her father walking; she's trained herself to pick out the differences in strides (for keeping watch on battle sights) and she notes that it is just him. There are no following footsteps, which means he found no other survivors. The weight distribution of his feet indicates this as well.

He didn't find any others. It is only him and her.

As it has been for the last six hours since Asgard retreated. The re-written peace treaty has been in effect for perhaps a complete day now.

His boots make a crunch against the stiff, frozen snow and she allows a small smirk on the edge of her lips not opening her eyes as she asks, "Enjoying the sights, are we?"

Odin comes to a halt. "I told you to return with the others." His voice is stretched slightly, as though something else is on his mind. Perhaps it's his eye. The wound is terrible, bleeding openingly and will likely succumb to infection if they linger on Jotunheim any longer. It was delivered by Laufey after he stabbed her leg and the blood swept down to her feet and-best not to recall that, she thinks. Hela turns her head towards him and opens her eyes, eyebrow arching sarcastically as if he really believes she would do that. He isn't looking at her face however, eye focused elsewhere.

Odin is standing a few feet from her, Gungnir strapped to his back on a holster and a small bundle cradled close to his chest. A thin piece of fabric from his cape is wrapped around the...thing and it takes a second before both Hela's eyebrows shoot upwards in surprise when she hears a soft noise. Something like a tired cry.

"What is that?" She questions, rising to her feet.

Is he starting a rock collection? That's very unlike him.

The bundle is big enough that her father holds it with two hands, yet looks so small. Her father is quiet in answer and Hela's curiosity takes better hold of her. Instead of waiting for a verbal answer (that likely her father won't give), she staggers to her feet, pain pulsing through the burned wound and she clenches her teeth, but moves forward grasping her father's shoulder for support subconsciously as the pain increases. Odin takes the pressure easily and slowly extends the cradled cloth to her, with some reluctance. Her eyes widen considerably at the deep blue skin and red eyes staring up at her from the bundle blinking up at her.

A babe.

A Frost Giant baby.

What is he thinking!? Hela rips away from her father and summons a small knife from her hand the energy draining her already exhausted supply and she swings her hand forward to slash his throat, but is halted as Odin's free hand grabs her wrist halting the movement, pulling the child back towards him in protection. Is he insane? Did Laufey rip out more than just his eye? Hela jerks her head upwards towards him, frustrated and looking for an answer on why.

The Jotunn's have done nothing to merit their mercy.

They killed thousands on Midgard, and more in numbers of their own people.

This war has been bitter, and she has no intentions on starting another with this creature.

The child must have cursed him. Doesn't he understand that this is their enemy? That's why they're here, to drive them back. They aren't here to collect prisoners, or give quarter, they don't help the--oh.

Hela's hand goes lax in surprise as the baby switches his appearance to a Aesir, wrapping his small arms around his body and staring at Hela's blade with...fright something close to fright and desperation, the wide green eyes are staring up at her pleadingly. The green is begging, but holds no hope of her choice. Even so young, the child has accepted it's fate.

"I…" Hela draws out slowly, unsure. The unsteadiness of this seems unright. She's split in between kicking the child into the snow without looking back and demanding answers from her father, or taking the child from his arms and holding it until he's not afraid anymore. Where is this coming from? Hela has never felt such an instinct with children before, she's awful with anyone under the age of ten.

Hela lifts her gaze to meet with her father. His gaze is soft as he gazes down on the child, his thumb slowly stroking across the babes head in soothing manner to keep the infants tears at bay. This mercy is something she wouldn't have recognized in him two centuries ago, but now...Hela watches him closely, then comes to a sick realization.

Surely...surely he doesn't plan to keep the Frost Giant child, and by that same token, where did he even get the thing? Why would he take it?

Odin still has a grip on Hela's forearm, preventing the small knife from impaling the babe, not that she has plans to anyway. Not anymore.

How did he even change his appearance like that? The skill (from what she understands from her stepmother) is extremely hard to learn—even if a person is gifted in sorcery. His magical skills are either amazing or Odin did it. But why? It doesn't seem like him, and the child reacted to her, not Odin, he was to busy pulling the blade back that performing sorcery—Why is she even thinking about this?

Hela's pale blue eyes lift towards her father's, waiting for explanation.

"I found him in Kri's Temple; left to die," Her father explains softly, his voice is gentle with the barest edge of fondness laced to it. Fondness? "He has been there for days at least. I believe it was the father's intent to let him die," his voice is hard at this, before he adds in a bare tone: "He is Laufey's son."

Hela's breath catches slightly. "Oh."

Laufey left his child—his blood—in Kri's Temple to die. He left a baby to die. What kind of sick twisted mind does the man have? It's war, yes, but Hela wouldn't leave a child to die. Especially not her own.

She doesn't feel this...fondness that Odin apparently has stretched to the child, just the barest form of sympathy. Her father meets her eyes earnestly with his single one, "We're taking him to your mother, she should know what to do with him." He says and Hela nods slightly. Her stepmother will find the abandoned child a home, probably with a rich family on Alfheim or some other.

Hela draws the blade back and Odin releases her arm tucking the bundle closer to him, carefully shielding the babe from view before turning his head towards the sky, "Heimdall—open the Bifrost!"

000o000

She and her father meet her stepmother in her parents chambers some twenty minutes later after Odin refuses to receive medical help for his eye until the child is safely tucked away with Frigga. Hela goes slightly for the same reason, but mostly because she hates the official healers in Asgard and always goes to her stepmother first, then drags herself down to them if her stepmother forces her too.

As soon as the two of them step into the quarters, Frigga throws herself on them, squishing them together in a tight hug. Hela's leg jerks and she bites back a groan of pain, digging her teeth into her tongue painfully as her father has to balance the babe precariously to not be smashed by Frigga's relief and love. After a moment, she pulls back and stares at Hela first giving a warm smile that soothes down the rest of Hela's nerves.

"Welcome home, my family." She says softly. Loud enough to be heard by both of them, but not enough to stray much further. "I trust your travels went well."

No, not really.

Hela and her father share a balanced look before returning their gaze to Frigga. Her stepmother looks more stressed than Hela remembers when they went off to war five—six?—months ago. Her golden blonde hair is messy at best, and a tattered knot in the most. She looks a tad bit paler than Hela recalls and her shoulders hang the weight of exhaustion between them, but the brightness in her eyes assures Hela that she is not unwelcome here.

Frigga's eyes stray to her off-balance then to her leg after a moment and her forehead creases with concern. She gestures vagually towards the sitting room on the far side of the room, "Go sit down." She commands. There's a roaring hearth placed against the wall and three couches lined around the hearth with a small table in the center. The flame is burning brightly and, with the ache of cold in her bones, it's immediately appealing. Hela staggers towards the couch, but stops as Frigga inhales sharply and her hands fly towards her mouth, turning her head to glance back at her parents for a moment.

Frigga's eyes are staring at the bloody wound across Odin's face with concern, the bandages in her other hand.

"It is not as bad as it appears." Odin assures.

That is a lie; it's worse.

"Odin…" Frigga breathes as she stares up at the messy eye wound, wrapped as best as they could in the heat of battle, which wasn't much. They had healers with them, but most were killed before they could return to Asgard. Sorcery is not a common skill among Asgardians anymore and the sedir-wielding healers they could send weren't many. Hela releases a soft breath and resists the urge to laugh. Yeah, if she thinks that is the biggest surprise, wow is she in for a treat.

Assuredly, her stepmother takes a step backwards as she sees the bundle tucked in Odin's arms, Hela turns back to the couch.

"Oh, Norns," Frigga moans quietly, "That's a child." She states obviously.

Once again, Hela holds her tongue from a sarcastic state-the-obvious-tone that wants to escape. Hela purses her lips together as her parents begin to talk in a hushed tone behind her, Frigga closing the door to her parent's bedchamber that she and her father left open when they entered for privacy and begin to speak in hushed, but sharp tones to each other. Hela shakes of the pang of longing at their ignorance of her and as directed by her stepmother previously sits on the couch, stiffly.

The warmth immediately embraces her from the flames and just the very act of sitting on something soft is relieving, the hard ice of Jotunheim has not exactly been comforting. She glances towards the other end and bites the inside of her lip and barely manages to not tug at all her messy hair-which she should brush. Soon.

Sitting on the other end of the couch, valiantly staring at a book, but obviously not reading much of anything is Thor. The young Asgardian is on his back, his head resting against the couch blond hair in front of his wide blue, innocent eyes. It's close to the middle of the night so Hela's pretty sure that their mother let him stay up long enough to welcome them home when they didn't arrive with the rest of the army.

As soon as she sits on the couch though, Thor perks instantly from his still, undead-like state. He gives a wide smile that shows off his (admittedly little) teeth and tosses the book towards the ground where it skids along the rug towards the magically protected flames and scrambles across the couch towards her. "Sist'r!" He cries with strong enthusiasm and wraps his small arms around her.

Hela's bruises and exhausted muscles groan in protest and she feels her expression grow tight, but nonetheless pats her younger brother's arm with very little affection. "Thor." She says, less enthusiastically. The younger is oblivious to it, however, and pulls back sitting cross legged to her right wiggling with excitement, eyes staring at her with a large smile.

Hela casts an irritated expression towards the ceiling. The willingness she has to deal with children is close to nothing and draining quickly. Hela purses her lips together and drums her fingers along her uninjured leg, fully aware that Thor is staring at her expectantly. Why? She has no idea. Children thrive on attention and Hela isn't willing to give him any. After a moment she removes her boots and rests them to the side of the couch purposefully ignoring Thor's look of absolute wonder, as though he's never seen anyone do it before in his life.

She's exhausted, tired, dirty, in pain and his innocent attitude isn't helping.

All she wants is sleep and Thor to go away so she can talk to her stepmother and father without him just being there taking some of Frigga's attention. Somewhere close to five minutes later (in the which Hela has a rising suspicion that Thor didn't blink once) Frigga walks around the couch, the Frost Giant child in her arms. Hela's eyebrows raise slightly at just how natural it looks for him to be there. The babe is finally asleep, but resting against Frigga's chest as if she were his mother.

Frigga is holding him the same way.

Oh, Norns…

Her stepmother would never turn down a child in need of assistance and apparently this one, for whatever reason, has struck her stepmother and now she plans on keeping him. Hela releases a stream of mental curses. Two siblings? To younger brothers? Is she not enough for her parents anymore? Thor stopped Odin's conquest for war and denied her the high ranking position of executioner. Thor rewrote the history of Asgard as she stood lamely to the sides trying to figure out her role now. What more can this one take from her?

She's nowhere near ready to be queen, barely out of her Midgardian teenagehood, but still the pang of replacement is strong. Frigga gives her a soft smile and Hela stares at the babe with something close to hate. "Father left for the healers then?" She asks, more so of a statement than a question, but Frigga nods anyway.

"Yes, after a bit of fighting; I sent General Tyr with him. Your father and I have agreed to keep the child." She says, as if it wasn't already obvious. "His name is to be Loki."

Thor turns away from her (finally) and his eyes rest on the small child—Loki—curiously. Frigga's smile widens, "Meet your little brother, Thor." She whispers and kneels down in front of the couch to let Thor see the baby. Thor smiles encouragingly, though it's clear the meaning is lost to him. Frigga smiles softly and rests a hand on his leg, "You're going to take care of each other, see, brother." She repeats the word and Thor looks up at her.

"He's small." He says simply, Frigga's eyes tighten around the edges. Thor seems to catch this and rests a hand on her forearm. "Don't worry, Amma, I protect him."

"Yes, you will," Frigga agrees softly. She smooths down some of Thor's hair, "For now why don't you go get some sleep? I can have Freya-"

"No." Thor disagrees, "I stay here. With sistr till she feels better."

Hela rather wishes he'd go away, but keeps the thought private.

Her stepmother's shoulders slump with defeat and Frigga turns to her, "Will you hold him as I patch your leg?"

Her first response is surprise because Frigga rarely let her hold Thor (though she didn't volunteer much, anyway), and the second is immediate rejection because she wants little to do with this child that has just stolen her parents, again.

After a moment of hesitation Hela finally nods softly, anyway. Frigga beams happily and gently hands Loki to her. The baby twitches slightly at her touch, but after a moment settles himself. He's so cold, Hela realizes after a second. Even with his Asgardian skin covering his true form he doesn't feel like Thor or she does. He's much lighter than she expected as well and in this moment it becomes painfully clear to her just how much of a runt he truly is.

So trusting though.

Loki has no hair and can't be more than a few weeks old, if that. She's heard stories from ladies in the court about children who scream for hours on end after birth and don't quite for months. Beyond a few noises of discomfort, Loki has only been quiet. His eyelids are fluttering slightly as if he's trying to wake, and Hela stares at him trying to find any other emotion beyond antipathy and pity for him. Frigga unwraps the hastily bandages around her wound then rolls up Hela's pant leg and gives a hum of protest and concern as she sees the wound.

The skin is indeed blackened at the edges and blistered around the initial stab.

"You were walking on this?" Frigga looks flabbergasted, "This looks bad, Hela." She says after a second and twists her hand, yellow magic seeping from her fingers. As the healing spell works its way into the burned stab Hela gives a sigh of relief and closes her eyes in contentment. Numbing is never her favorite thing, but healing spells are usually aggravatingly painful and she'd rather be numb that in further agony.

"I know," Hela says after a second in response to her mother's comment, gently lifting a finger up to shift Loki's hand, his fingers make a grab for her finger, but she pulls it back before he can clench his hold. "I can feel it."

"I would assume you can." Frigga says softly. "You walked on this. You rode a horse back to the palace on this." She shakes her head several times.

Hela shrugs, "I've had worse."

"That doesn't make it better." Frigga says firmly, "I'll contact Madame Lize about bringing up some food, I don't think that sorcery will be enough for this. You were away from Asgard for to long."

Hela nods with agreement. Even now she can feel Asgard's life slowly filling up her exhausted energy supplies, refueling what was empty and releasing a weight on her chest. Without connection to Asgard and lack of supplies from army rationing, her healing has been slower and less effective. It's just the way the Nine is, the further away you get from your Realm of birth, the weaker healing becomes without substance to keep it up to speed.

Time passes slowly in silence as Frigga concentrates on binding her skin back together and healing the burns. Hela keeps her eyes pinched firmly closed, her body tilted back and head resting against the couch. Loki's small form rests against her chest almost as if he's trying to get as close to her as possible; his weight doesn't bother her, it's merely there.

Thor falls asleep after a little while his soft snores echoing up into the open air. Somewhere close to an hour later from when Frigga started the healing, Hela can no longer bite back the question that's been burning within her: "Why did you keep him, Mother?" She asks, still not opening her eyes. It's not too hard to guess what it is she's referring to, but Hela still adds: "The Frost Giant."

Frigga's soothing magic falters for a moment before she sighs softly. She's quiet for a few more seconds, gathering her thoughts, Hela assumes. "Hela," she says softly. She draws her name sweetly, so gently, like she used to do when she and Hela didn't know each other well after she had just married her father. "I think that you will not truly understand a mother's bond until you are one."

Hela can't help the bitter snort that escaped her, "Bond?" She repeats dubiously, "Is that what you call it? Why is it that you had to have Thor to replace me, then? I know I am not your birth child, but what have I done so wrong that I wasn't enough for you anymore?" The sharp questions slide off her tongue before Hela has any time to filter them. Frigga's magic comes to an abrupt halt (though she was done anyway and just numbing the most severe pains) and Hela feels the guilt start to build at the bottom of her stomach.

She should have kept that private.

Hela snaps her jaw shut.

"Oh, dearheart," Frigga says softly, more like a breath being released than a real statement. Hela keeps her eyes shut and hears Frigga shift before she sits down next to her on the couch, Thor releasing a slight noise as the weight is disrupted differently. Hela slowly opens her eyes and turns to look at her stepmother whose expression is knitted into worry. "Is that how you truly feel?"

Hela remains quiet, staring at Loki as he brings his hands up towards his face, small fist tucked under his nose.

"We didn't replace you." Frigga says.

Hela smiles thinly.

"Hela," her mother grasps her shoulder, "You will always be my first child. You are important to me. People think that just because I love another I don't have room for more—but this isn't true. I love Odin with my whole heart, just I do you, though his love is different unique to both of you. I know that Thor has been taking my time and that Loki will as well, but I love each of you differently—but none less than the other. You and I share a bond that Thor, Loki or even your father will understand."

Hela feels her expression softening with every word and the relief that crashes through her is intense.

Her stepmother glances at Thor resting on the other end of the couch on his back, legs sticking straight out. She looks back at Hela earnestly, "I promise you that Thor wasn't meant to be your replacement."

Hela sighs and nods, she knows this, deep within her and it always kept the bitterness at bay if only for a little while. "I know," she admits quietly, "but at times I wonder, everything changed because of him."

"Asgard is in need of switching our ways, we have grown arrogant and power hungry these last few years. Your father is looking for a way to change that." Frigga assures, "This change is not because of Thor."

Hela ignores the silent protesting in the back of her mind that denies what Frigga just said that Asgard isn't power thirsty because she feels the same as her people and wouldn't that make her lust after the same thirst?

A good king never seeks out war, but he must always be ready for it.

What does that make her then? She agrees with Asgard's ways and was bitter at the change. Why didn't her father tell her why he was changing them? She often feels he gives more half truths than he does anything else. At least her stepmother is always honest with her, even if the truth is sometimes brutal. Hela purses her lips together and looks down at Loki again. The name suits him, she decides after a moment. Just as Thor suits Thor. "I am sorry." Frigga says after a few seconds of silence. Hela turns to look at her mother and shakes her head.

"It is alright, I apologize as well. I will try harder with Thor, after all he has to deal with this little nightmare." Hela says and glances down at Loki. The baby looks in utter defiance of her statement with his peaceful expression and utter innocence that screams off of him in waves. He's leaning against her in a show of trust that Hela doesn't understand how he does so without knowing her much.

Frigga gives her shoulder a squeeze, "Thank you."

Hela gives a small smirk in answer before contenting herself on the couch. "Do you intend to tell him of his heritage?" Hela asks looking down at Loki again. Her mother hesitates looking unsure and bites her lip.

"I do not think so, your father thought it would be for the best if we wait." She says and looks conflicted. Hela hums slightly, not sure where she stands. On the one hand, it could be better for him to grow up normally and tell him when he's older and the Frost Giants aren't quite as hated yet on the other...secrets aren't free.

"I see." Hela says at last and Frigga gives a small nod before wrapping her arm around Hela's shoulders and pulling her close to her.

"Sleep, my child, you are weary." She says. Hela is. She's exhausted physically, mentally, and any other way exhaustion can creep inwards. The addition to her family is strange, but yet seems normal from a distance viewpoint. Hela tucks Loki close to her and leans against Frigga's shoulder allowing herself to accept the rest and the love easily.

Frigga kisses the top of her forehead after nearly a minute and runs a hand through her dark tangles. The feeling of her fingers running across her long hair is soothing and Hela realizes with a pang just how much she missed her stepmother on the battlefield. She loves the thrill of war but tranquility has it's moments. Hela feels herself slip lower into sleep through her mother's soft persuasion and before she slides completely quietly whispers, "Goodnight, little brothers."