Magic & Mead

Chapter Two: Ladies & Lies, Wars & Why's

When their afternoon classes ended, and their last tutor departed, Thor dawdled, collecting each book one by one. Loki waited at the door for him, and grasped his hand when he finally got there. In childhood their hands had been almost permanently clasped, and though the gesture had become much less common as they'd grown older it was still occasionally a natural and welcome mark of affection and encouragement. Thor squeezed Loki's hand and stepped out of the classroom and into the corridor that, twists and turns and two flights of stairs later, would bring him to their father's official study directly off the throne room.

Loki watched him go, admiring his strength and hoping it wouldn't be anything too bad. When Thor disappeared around the corner, he decided to go see his mother.

He checked first in his parents' chambers, but a guard told him she had gone to her receiving room. When he arrived there, Loki pushed the door open slowly and entered hesitantly. Mother's receiving room was not used for particularly formal occasions, but still Loki did not wish to intrude.

"Who's there?" his mother called from the far right side of the room, not visible from his position, at the sound of the door as it closed behind him.

He stepped further into the room, past the polished marble columns and into view of his mother, sitting on a small cushioned wooden settee carved with ancient patterns and runic inscriptions. A woman vaguely familiar to him sat in a similarly styled chair opposite, her neck straining to see who had entered.

"Loki, come in. Do you remember Lady Halla of Vanaheim? She is an old friend."

"I beseech you, Frigga, mind your turn of speech," Halla chided with a stern expression.

Not used to hearing people address the queen in such a way, Loki glanced nervously at his mother, but she merely smiled.

"Come on in, dear, I don't bite. I'm sure you don't remember me, it's been years."

Loki recovered his manners and approached the visitor, who stood and curtsied when he reached her. In turn he took her hand and kissed it.

"My, my, Frigga, such a lovely young man you've raised," she said, her eyes never leaving Loki. She ruffled his hair and Loki fought to maintain his smile; he hated being treated like a child.

"Actually, Lady Halla, I do remember you. I'm glad you could come visit my mother."

"Why, thank you, so am I. And where is your eldest?" Halla asked, taking her seat again and turning to Frigga.

"If he's done as he was told, he's with his father," she said, then beckoned to Loki. "Come sit here by me."

Loki settled beside his mother, careful to keep his back straight, his feet still, and his hands crossed over one leg. The women chatted for several more minutes about a mutual friend he had never heard of, before Lady Halla declared she wanted to rest before dinner and excused herself, insisting Frigga keep her seat.

When they were alone, Frigga looked down at Loki and he up at her, and she smiled warmly. She shifted her position a little to her left and pulled Loki into her, wrapping her left arm around him and squeezing his chest. Loki sighed and leaned against her.

"You were perfectly behaved, Loki. I'm very proud of you."

"Thank you, Mother."

She put her right hand underneath his chin, nudging it upward as she bent down to look closely into his eyes from above him. "Do you really remember Halla?"

"No. She looked familiar."

Frigga released his chin and stroked his cheek twice before letting her right hand rest on his shoulder. She breathed into his dark hair light, quiet laughter that could melt the iciest of hearts, then kissed the top of his head. "Don't lie, Loki. Sometimes it seems the easier path, but there are often consequences. It would have been embarrassing for you if she'd discovered you were lying."

"Yes, Mother. I'm sorry," he said, but he could tell she wasn't really upset and he felt too warm and safe in her arms to think much about some hypothetical consequences or embarrassment. His mother and Lady Halla both had been pleased with his behavior and that was all that mattered.

"She was here for Thor's tenth birthday celebration."

Her and half the Nine Realms, Loki thought, not at all surprised then that he couldn't really remember her.

"What did you do today?" she asked a few minutes later.

"We recited our poems that we had to do for homework."

"Yours was on the Grand Falls?"

He nodded.

"And how did you do?"

He shrugged. "Ulfid wants me to work on the rhyme some more and present it again tomorrow." Poetry wasn't his best subject. He was good with language, but he didn't see the point to all the associated formalisms of poetry – rhyme and meter and symbolism and parallelism and all the other isms.

"What else?"

"Thor and I practiced with rods during our lunch break."

"Hands!" Frigga exclaimed, straightening up and bumping Loki forward.

"Mo-ther," he whined.

"Hands," she repeated, and put her hands out in front of him, palms toward them.

He sighed and placed his palms against hers. She ran her thumbs gently over his fingers, and he knew she was looking as well as feeling for broken bones. She squeezed his uninjured hands, then settled back into her previous semi-reclining position, Loki again relaxing against her.

"We started studying the Ice War," Loki said, the words tumbling out before she could attempt any more babying of non-existent injuries. He and Thor brought home plenty of wounds, and while she fretted over them both it seemed she thought every scratch on her younger son's body could spell his doom. Even now, though, when he protested the coddling, a part of him secretly relished the extra attention and concern.

"Hmm," she said. "You and Thor should both excel in those lessons."

Loki nodded. "I already knew most of what Vigulf told us. And we have to memorize the first verse of Bragi's Ice Saga for tomorrow, but we both already know it by heart. At least I think Thor already knows it, too."

"I imagine so," she said with a laugh. "You've both grown up hearing Bragi sing it at plenty of feasts."

"Mother…do you know much about the war?"

"As much as anyone who didn't fight in it, I suppose. Why do you ask?"

"Well, when Vigulf started telling us about the beginning of the war, he jumped right to Jotunheim's first attack on Midgard, and he showed us maps and pictures of what Midgard looks like and how the Frost Giants used the Ice Casket to freeze the land and everything on it. How they killed the people and destroyed their towns."

"That sounds accurate," his mother said, her right hand sliding down his arm to take hold of his hand.

"But that's not the beginning."

"What do you mean?"

"That's the what. And the where and the who and the how. But it's not the beginning. There has to be a why in the beginning. Why did the Frost Giants attack Midgard?" He had asked Vigulf, but Vigulf had prevaricated and evaded the question, whether because he did not know or because he was unwilling to discuss it, Loki could not tell.

Behind him, Loki could feel his mother take a deep breath, leaning as he was against her chest. He knew she didn't like talking about the war, but he didn't know how he was supposed to understand a war without understanding why it started. Everyone knew the Frost Giants were monsters, but even monsters had to have a reason to launch an attack one day rather than the next, he figured.

"Mother? Don't you know?"

She sighed into his hair. "I'm sorry, Son. I suppose I don't. But you are truly wise beyond your years to ask. Perhaps your father knows the answer. I only know that the Frost Giants…the Jotuns…they were always troublesome. Mischievous and mysterious. A long time ago, before the Vanir and the Aesir became the allies that we are today, before even the Vanir-Aesir War, I remember that the Frost Giants destroyed vast tracts of fertile land in Vanaheim. They withdrew before it could turn to all-out war. And after that, they would appear from time to time, in different places, different realms, but always bringing trickery and chaos, and ultimately destruction. When they turned their eyes upon Midgard, where the people had no means of defending themselves, Odin had had enough. But I never knew why they did what they did. I'm not sure I ever even asked myself. I suppose we…we always simply assumed it was their nature."

Loki sat up and twisted around, having heard something change in his mother's voice. Her left hand fell away from his chest but her right remained clutching his. He stared up at her with wide eyes.

"That was wrong of us. We shouldn't have done that. We should have asked about the why. I'm sorry."

"Why are you crying?"

She quickly released his hand and dabbed at her eyes, glancing away as she did so. Then she leaned into him and pulled him into a fierce hug; he struggled to expand his lungs.

"Oh, my Loki. My sweet, sweet, darling boy. You cannot possibly understand how my heart nearly bursts with love for you, how much joy you bring me, how proud you make me. You know it's difficult for me to talk about that war. I didn't mean to get so emotional." She paused and released him from her crushing embrace; Loki gulped in air. Her arms were around his, still holding him close, her nose nearly touching his. "But I'm so glad you asked. I'm so proud of you for asking the things the rest of us don't. With wisdom like that you will do great things in life, my son."

She threw her arms around him again, and this time Loki sucked in a deep breath before her arms got all the way around him. Mothers were strange creatures, he thought. But he loved his desperately.

/

Thanks for reading! I would love to hear from you. (Yes, you!)

In the next chapter, Loki is really kind of naughty. Well, he didn't get that reputation for mischief for nothing!