I do not own anything in the Avengers universe, though I probably should if ownership were granted based on how many times I've watched the movies. Well, the ones that are on Netflix: Avengers, Thor, and Captain America, and Iron Man 3 in theaters. So please don't post a bunch of spoilers for the rest.
For all of that, I do not have a real grasp of all the ins and outs of what exactly happened before the events of Thor, so I have cobbled together what I do know, what I've heard, what's on Wikipedia, what seems a logical extension thereof, what other people have said, what I remember from Norse mythology, and a few things I just wanted to put in because that's how I roll. If you see an inaccuracy, or something you disagree with, I will be more than glad to discuss it with you. I freely admit that on some occasions, I do lose my mind, so feel free to call me out on it if I do. Just please be polite and articulate.
I was going to put the entire "incident" with baby Loki in one chapter, but then I started branching off and going all kinds of crazy places and it's just way too much for one chapter. So I'm putting the rest into at least one more, possibly two. If there's one thing I've learned from writing, it's that you, and by "you" I mean "I", can't plan ahead. I might have a vague idea of where the next chapter's going, but half the time it ends up unrecognizable from that. A little like my life at the moment…
Okay, one last note: I've found that disclaimers/author's notes at the beginning/end of chapters tend to kill the mood, so from this chapter forward I will be posting any relevant information on my profile. You are welcome to check it out/pm me if you need clarification on anything. For being a (tentative) communications major, I can really screw it up sometimes, so let me know if I'm completely losing you guys.
On with the show!
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For one brief moment there, Odin felt some small measure of sympathy for the Jotuns.
Key words: one, brief.
Until he and the warriors of Asgard had driven them back not only from Earth, onto their own planet, but into hiding in the ice caves invisible in the eternal gloom, and he could spare a moment to truly study the planet around him, Odin had not realized how much anyone would want to live anywhere else -be it Asgard or even Midgard.
Climate aside, the sinkholes, cliffs, and overhangs must have claimed untold thousands of Jotuns, he realized. What world is it to live on where one can't even walk from here to there without risking death?
For that brief moment until he realized it was no fit world to live on for anyone where mythical giants from another planet could appear out of nowhere and freeze everything and everyone in their path.
Enough, Odin. That's why you're here, to make certain that this will not happen again for as long as possible, and that if it does, you can stop it.
Right. Take the Casket, get it back to Asgard, put it somewhere the Frost Giants will never get to it, and leave them and the mortals to sort themselves out.
Heimdall said the Casket is in the temple…
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"Keep trying, little one. You've almost got it."
Frigga had to stifle her laughter at the expression on Thor's face: stubborn concentration. He grabbed at her hand again, trying once more to master the art of bipedal locomotion.
Standing worked well enough, it seemed. It had worked well enough for long enough that it only seemed reasonable that walking would soon follow.
Key word: seemed.
Every time little Thor lifted one foot, he would lose his balance and land flat on his stomach, hands outstretched to catch himself. He would lie there, dejected, for a few minutes, before he completely forgot what had just happened, and try again.
Frigga sometimes worried about how long it was taking him, but without any significant experience with another child, she decided to let him figure it out and stop agonizing over something she really had no control over.
Sometimes, Frigga, you have to just let children happen.
Children-
Pain lanced through the half-healed wound in her abdomen. Poisoned, the healers said. Cleaned out and left to heal at its own pace. But it could never go away.
She would never carry a child again.
There was a hole in her heart the exact size and shape of a lost baby.
She could still hear him crying.
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It was quite the morning, actually. Clear blue skies, bright sunshine, the two often coinciding, light breezes that would have been freezing if everyone hadn't gotten used to the literally icy blasts of winter. Odin couldn't fathom how the mortals endured it so often. As it was, the winds carried with them the scent of spring, of new life, of revival, of growing. A beautiful day all around. A perfect day.
"Odin, what have I told you about daydreaming? Get your head out of the clouds! We are on a mission. Act like it."
Odin resisted the urge to make an impertinent remark along the lines of "Actually, my head was in the wind…"
He was, after all, falling behind Bor. His father was never pleased by anything less than perfection. He grabbed the reins tighter and was about to pick up his horse's pace when he heard it.
The unmistakable cry of a newborn child.
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Laufey hated this. Just sitting there, like children playing hide-and-seek, not quite wanting to be found, yet longing to show off one's skills in finding the ideal place to hide. This was hardly fitting behavior for the crown prince. And his family. The one good thing about so many of his warriors having been killed or scattered was that hardly anyone was left to see his dishonor. Only a handful of refugees cowering in the shadows of the sanctuary.
No, not the crown prince. Not anymore.
He had with his own eyes witnessed the king of Asgard, blood streaming from his now-empty eye socket, killing the king of Jotunheim. Laufey's father.
Senseless deed, that.
Odin could have just as easily subdued the enemy king, ensured that the two realms would never clash again, and left it at that.
But no, that just wouldn't satisfy your craving for blood, now would it? You long to kill. It-
Laufey's thoughts were interrupted mid-vitriol by one of the warriors running up to him and whispering into his ear. "Sire- I mean, your majesty-"
Laufey cut him off with a half-drawn weapon and a "Get to the point."
"We've opened the passage. If we can just get out of the temple without them noticing-"
"Enough. Get them going."
"Yes sir."
The whispering faded away into the icy caves, only to be replaced by a quiet scurrying, the murmur of a crowd trying to move silently. Crowd? That's a bit generous. There aren't more than a dozen warriors here, maybe that many again in their families. This isn't going to work. If the Asgardians notice us, they'll kill-
A thin wail cut through the hushed silence.
Already knowing the source of the sound, Laufey glanced over anyway. His wife was trying to comfort the fussing bundle in her arms.
Useless runt is going to get us all killed.
He snatched the baby away from her and shoved her after the others. She obeyed by reflex, glancing back at her husband and infant son just the once.
As soon as she was out of sight, Laufey clapped his hand over the baby's mouth, silencing his cries. Everyone else had already gone, but the army of Aesir was rapidly closing in on the temple. Laufey quickly verified that the way out was clear before glancing back at the now-quiet baby-
That's not what- I didn't mean-
His son hadn't just stopped crying. He'd stopped breathing altogether.
Laufey stared in horror at the motionless infant for a split second before the rational, emotionless side of him took over. Why not? It's not like he would ever have amounted to much, or for that matter, anything. Weakling should have died already.
Resolved, he shoved the nameless, lifeless child into one of the alcoves in the temple's ice walls. It seemed fitting, in a perverse way.
With as much dignity as he could still muster, Laufey turned and dashed toward the exit. Just before he escaped the temple, however, a flash of movement caught his eye.
He ignored it. It's- it's just one of the Aesir, looking for the Casket. They'll never find it, so why on earth are you worried about it?
It's definitely not your "son", come back to life.
Somewhere in the back of his head, a voice chimed in with a few well-placed snarky comments about priorities, about fooling himself. It was right, of course, but was it truly so strange to value keeping the Casket of Ancient Winters out of the hands of their enemies? To consider the safety of his new kingdom more important than the useless child lying dead in the temple?
Except-
Not quite dead.
Laufey would later manage to convince himself that it was just a trick of the light, that his son was indeed dead. In fact, he would never have thought about the matter of the child again were it not for his wife. But in that moment, he knew the truth.
One of the baby's hands was waving about, searching for help, for comfort.
For salvation.
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