Disclaimer: This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. Unbeta-ed, so all mistakes are mine. This is a companion piece to my other story "The Language of Knots."
THE FROST CHILD
The first time she hears it crying Frigga refuses to go to it.
It's past midnight in the palace, the fires a-dying and the candles having long since been tamped out. The servants lie in their beds, their families beside them, while the Queen of Asgard, All-Mother to her realm, walks the empty hallways of her palace and weeps. Sobs. Grieves. Her hand going to her empty belly, her heart lurching along with it. Dreams of what might have been, of the life the war with Laufey has taken from her, keeping her from resting. Keeping her from her husband. And why should she sleep? Odin goes tomorrow, running back to the Norns on Jotunheim, brokering a peace between himself and murdering monarch who caused all this. Putting aside the fears of a husband to shoulder the burdens of a king. Her sisters are long since dead, all taken by old-age or battle or sometimes heartbreak, their bodies turning to ash in the ground, their names nothing but memories and dust. And there is nobody else to speak to Frigga, nobody to hold her hand and nurse her through her grief as she walks the palace like a ghost-in-waiting-
And so she does not sleep. Cannot. Will not even attempt it.
All she can do listen to the little monster her husband brought home from Jotunheim howl his lungs out, his cries higher and thinner than those of a normal Asgardian child.
And perhaps that is why she will not answer the baby's crying. Perhaps that is why she will not turn her heart to pitying and see what the infant wants. She will not be so weak to one of the race who have taken so much from her. As she thinks this she turns the corner into the throne room, squeezing her eyes shut. The massive ceremonial doors swing closed and for a moment she thinks she will know peace. Thinks she might even know rest. For here all is silence, the walls thick enough to drown out any battle. The golden throne which has defined her life glowing before her, its raised dais making it look far away and frail. And yet, though she knows it to be impossible, Frigga swears she can still hear the little Jotunn screaming. His wails should not travel this far into the palace and yet they clearly do. For a moment she thinks that perhaps it's magic, perhaps the child is reaching out to her-
But she pushes that thought away as quickly as it comes, disgust at such notions hissing through her.
She cannot have anything to do with that creature, she tells herself sternly. The will to breathe is all that she'll admit they share.
And so, in an effort to drown him out she climbs the steps to her throne, sits down on it. For some reason she cannot fathom it seems enormous to her now, seems far too big for one Asgardian woman to fill. She draws her knees up against her chest as she used to do when she was a girl, the press of her limbs reminding her of her empty belly. There's so much emptiness in her life now she's not sure whether she can bear it at all. And as she thinks that, she swears the child stops crying. She strains her ears despite herself but cannot hear its pitiful wails. And so in its silence she finally lets herself fall asleep, curled up against the sound of its silence, curled up against the knowledge of her own heartbreak-
She sleeps until one of her ladies-in-waiting wakes her in the morning.
But she swears she heard the child crying in every one of her dreams.
Its name is apparently Loki Laufeyson.
At least, that's what her husband calls the creature when he finally returns home from Jotunheim, having acquitted himself of the Norns. A new peace made, an old war over. No consequences apparently for the Jotunn who has taken all from her. Odin sees no reason to give the creature another name or call it by something else whilst it resides with them: The name is attached to the creature, he says, a part of its destiny and Frigga honestly has too little energy left in her to protest.
But though she says little of it, the creature's presence still worries her. She's seen the way her son Thor looks at it, seen the way he smiles and coos over it as if he thinks it a permanent addition to their home. And why should he not? She wonders irritably as her son drags little Sif to meet the interloper. Odin refuses to tell Thor that his expectant sibling was lost, refuses to explain why his wife- Thor's mother's- belly no longer waxes full and round. So can it be any surprise that the boy dotes on the little pale-skinned poppy-child he sees in that cradle? Is it so surprising that he treats the… the thing like it's part of his family now? For Thor is too young to understand the death of adults, let alone the death of an unborn child, Frigga knows this-
Her belly clenches in phantom pain as she remembers losing her youngest daughter and despite herself, despite all the people watching, the All-Mother finds she must run from the throne-room.
Odin follows her though, as she knew he would do. Theirs has been a happy marriage previous to this and she knows he worries about her- He can fool the others in this court but he cannot fool his wife. And yet there is nothing he can do for her, no way he can repair this damage. If he had had the power to prevent this she never would have lost their child. Though they may play-act at being gods for the Men of Midgard, Frigga knows that is but trickery. In matters of life and death- in matters of heartache- Odin and his family are as deeply at the mercy of fortune as any short-lived mortal. And like any mortal, mercy has been a stranger to them this year; They have lost a child in battle and no amount of peace made in that battle's wake will ever cancel out that loss-
So when Odin finally catches up to her, Frigga wraps her arms around her husband and weeps. Murmurs over and over again how much she misses a child she never even held. Idunn, her Idunn. Her little girl. A child in her image as Thor has been in Odin's, a hope for the future that has now been lost.Her husband tries to sooth her, tries to help her. Weeps along with her, keens for their shared loss. And as they cling together, Frigga tells herself that this will be enough for her. Tells herself that she will not show her grief. That from this day she will be its mistress and not its slave. But even as she thinks that she hears weeping. Even as she holds her husband, some sound of sorrow calls her back. For the interloper- the child- Loki is crying again-
And though she may not like to admit it, Frigga hears every sound of her grief in that youthful voice.
Just as she hears every moment of the absence of the child she lost.
The first night she touches the creature, the moon is rising.
She sees it glittering like a jewel in the night sky above her, throwing pale white light into the interloper's nursery as she steals into the room. The creature- Loki- is wailing, his thin arms shaking. His howls enough to make the Norns themselves weep, his cradle shaking with his distress. Though he will take Asgardian food he refuses all the comforts of a nurse-maid's touch and the lack of care is starting to take its toll. Doctors have come to examine the creature, to check it is hale and hearty- Odin plans to give it back to its father, the better to secure the fragile peace between his and Laufey's realms, and for that it must be well, must show no sign of torture or misuse. And yet…
It never seems happy, no matter what is given to it. The fact that it can continue weeping seeming a miracle in itself. For if it were hungry, Frigga finds herself wondering, why does it weep even after its feeding? If it is cold- Can a frost-giant even be harmed by coldness?- why does it not calm when it is wrapped in more blankets or those blankets are taken away? The All-Mother knows that she was blessed with Thor, a laughing, happy child who has never known a day's ill health his entire life. Bad luck seems to bounce off Thor as easily as a mistletoe dart. But this child, this child is not made of that same metal. It has already known more upheaval than Thor ever will do, the Norns willing, and the price of its survival seems written on its skin. Frigga knows little of Jotunn infants, has only ever encountered the adults up close and that always in the heat of battle: She cannot judge the creature's health by its pallor, can tell only that if it were an Asgardian child it would look both underfed and spindle-limbed.
And so- to check its health, merely to check- she picks the child up.
And in that moment, as the little interloper comes into contact with the one person in this palace who has absolutely no use for him, it- he- stops crying.
For a second they stare at one another, mourning queen and unwanted interloper. The little one's red eyes unsettling in their innocence, staring up at Frigga as if she is the most important being in all the Nine Realms. And then-Using a motion which comes so easily to her Frigga bounces on her heels, rocking the little one gently. Its skin feels cold and its bones delicate beneath her hands, and despite her best intentions she shifts the creature to settled it more warmly against her breast. It likes that, for she sees it smile, the first time it has done so. One podgy, blue hand snaking out to take a tress of her hair inside a shaking, unruly fist. As is often the case with infants it tugs and Frigga laughs a little. The sound is so unexpected that she gasps at it; When she first lost her Idunn she thought she would never laugh again. And as if he understands what he has done, little Loki laughs in time with her. Yanks her hair a little harder, giggling as if they are playing a game to which only they the rules. Frigga stares down at the child she has not welcomed into her palace, something suddenly occurring to her, something which should have been obvious. The reason for the little one's tears and howls, the reason neither food nor comfort have brought him comfort.
For he misses his mother, Frigga realises.
Of course he misses his mother.
He was abandoned in the snow, left to die, and in that situation there is no child yet living who would not scream to have their mother back.
The realisation hits her then, sharp and true as an arrow. The impact of it settling through her bones, making her eyes water with tears. For she cannot have her Idunn back; Her daughter is lost to her. A terrible battle in an even more terrible war robbed her child and it cannot be fetched back from death by any magic or technology known. But this child, this child is here and this child needs her. This child wants a mother and for all they know he lost her in the same war which claimed Frigga's Idunn. And so the All-Mother coos at little Loki, settling him more firmly against her. She begins to hum a lullaby, one she often sang for Thor, and the baby settled even more. By the time she's reached the song's final verse little Loki is asleep, snoring gently, his weeping finally ceasing-
When Odin comes seeking his wife on the morrow he finds her in a stranger's nursery, a stranger's child held tight against her breast. And though he suspects that this event will one day bring him sorrow, the All-Father presses kisses mother and infant and smiles.
A/N There now, hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading and hobbits away, hey!