Frigga had always known.
Not because she was queen of Asgard.
Not because she was a master of seiðr.
But because she was a mother.
She saw it in the way Hera's gaze lingered when Alexander laughed.
In how Aphrodite's teasing softened whenever his name was spoken.
In the silence that followed whenever he left.
So when Hera and Aphrodite requested an audience—not as goddesses, not as Olympians, but as women—Frigga welcomed them without surprise.
They sat in the garden where the light filtered through golden leaves, tea steaming gently between them.
For a long while, no one spoke.
Then Hera broke.
"I thought I was free," she said quietly. "When I left Olympus… I thought the chains were gone."
Her hands trembled.
Frigga noticed. Said nothing.
"But now," Hera continued, voice tight, "I'm afraid again. Not of cruelty. Not of betrayal."
She looked up, eyes sharp yet wounded.
"I'm afraid of hoping."
Aphrodite lowered her gaze.
"I am love itself," she said softly. "Or so the universe calls me. And yet… I've never felt this."
She laughed, bitter and small.
"He doesn't look at us like prizes. Or conquests. Or even miracles."
Frigga smiled gently.
"He looks at you like people."
The words struck deeper than any spell.
Hera inhaled sharply.
Aphrodite's lips parted, then pressed together.
Frigga set her cup aside.
"Alexander is dangerous," she said calmly.
Both goddesses stiffened.
"Not because of his power," Frigga continued. "But because he allows you to be yourselves without demanding anything in return."
She leaned closer, eyes warm and knowing.
"If you choose him, you must understand this: he will never cage you. Never command your heart."
Hera whispered, "And if he doesn't choose us?"
Frigga smiled—soft, proud, unmistakably maternal.
"Then he will let you walk away with dignity intact."
Silence.
Aphrodite covered her face.
"…That's worse than rejection."
Frigga laughed quietly.
"Yes. That's how you know it's real."
Beyond All Things
Far beyond realms and dimensions, where concepts rested like idle thoughts, Alexander sat across from a familiar presence.
Two cups.
One table.
No throne.
TOAA lifted his glass.
"You changed the future," he said casually.
Alexander leaned back, relaxed. "Did I break it?"
TOAA chuckled.
"No. Bent it. Slightly."
He swirled the drink.
"New variables. A few new births. Some outcomes altered."
Alexander frowned mildly.
"Anyone important?"
"Everyone thinks they are," TOAA replied dryly.
Alexander laughed.
"As long as the timeline didn't collapse."
"It didn't," TOAA confirmed. "You know the path. It's just… less lonely now."
Alexander nodded slowly.
Then he reached into space and produced a dish, steam rising, scent sharp and rich.
TOAA raised an eyebrow.
"What's this?"
"Mapo Tofu," Alexander said. "Earth food. From China."
TOAA took a bite.
Paused.
Then laughed—genuinely.
"Spicy," he said. "But… quite good."
Alexander grinned.
"Told you."
They ate in comfortable silence, two beings who needed no pretense.
When the dish was empty, Alexander stood.
"I'll check in again," he said.
TOAA waved him off.
"I'll be watching anyway."
Alexander smiled—already fading from existence.
Threads Converging
Back in Asgard, Frigga watched Hera and Aphrodite leave the garden side by side.
They walked slower than before.
More grounded.
Somewhere between fear and resolve.
Frigga looked up at the sky.
"My son," she murmured softly, "you change hearts without trying."
And far away, as Alexander returned—unaware of the confessions forming in quiet corners of fate—
The universe held its breath.