"Loki, you must listen to your father."

Young, spry, and rebellious stood the teenage Loki, pacing angrily across the room. His green eyes were alit, his

"He does not understand, my dear mother. He doesn't listen to me," he argued, his deep tone shining through his words. He then widened his eyes in pleading, holding out his large, thin hands to Frigga. "My magic, mother, is powerful. I can do so many things, but he won't let me!" He then clenched his outspread hands and shouted in frustration.

Frigga stood and came gracefully to him, her golden dress flowing, her youngness still untapped. Loki looked into his mother's eyes with the same hope and sadness as he did when he was a fledgling. She lifted his chin, and his face grew ten years younger.

"My child," she spoke sweetly, "He doesn't understand, but you must understand, that your father is hard man. Magicians are but toilers to him, he cannot see you as he wants you to be when you perform your glorious talents. That is why he forbade it."

"I know, I know…" Loki whipped away from her, his green cape in a flurry, "I am not a king to him. I am just a magician. A worthless magician!" He threw a ball of wind at the wall, causing the room to tremble, and Frigga struggled for balance.

"Loki, do not let those who mind you matter so much," she spoke wisely, "You are worth the world to me. You worth a million kings."

"Yet am I not worthy of a father?" These words he directed not to Frigga, but to himself. She could see him questioning his own existence in the blackness of eyes.

"Be assured that existence is unjust," she tried to ease his pain, his rejection. But she felt helpless.

Loki smoothed back his ebony hair, thinking intently. He gave his mother one last look before he exited in a fit of pique.

Frigga was left hopeless, only thinking of Odin. How could he be so thoughtless? She loved Odin, but she hated the king he had become.

In mere minutes, Odin entered the bedroom, picking at his brown beard, which grew quickly gray at the roots. He didn't say a word, but shed his armor, washed his face in the basin, and sat across from Frigga.

"My queen, I hope you are not-"

"Stop," she interjected quickly, giving him the stare of a Queen whom all her years of wisdom had shown her greater things. "You are a father to only one of your sons. How you live loving half your own is beyond my knowledge."

"I simply ordered Loki to stop doing his foolish tricks in courtyard," he gave an encouraging smile, "It was harsh love, Frigga, you understand that?"

"It was for yourself, not for Loki," she replied sternly, "You care more about your own image than your son's livelihood."

"Maybe I do, I am the King of Asgard!"

"He is your son!" Frigga stated so still, that the words shook Odin's chest.

"He is not our son."

"Blood is nothing, you wretch. I raised him as my own child and I expected you to do the same. Did you bring in a foreign child to neglect him and betray him his father and family? If so, he would be all the better dying at that battle."

There were no more words that night. Odin had simply strolled into bed after Frigga poured out her heart and soul to her husband. Frigga stripped her dress as a Queen, and went to bed a mother.