Notes: I think I had more fun writing this little quartet than I should. :3
Chapter Two: An Unwelcome Revelation
Loki teleported back to Asgard and locked himself in his chambers for the better part of a month. Once he was certain that he had his emotions in back check, he announced his return. He apologized for taking so long, that he had gotten lost in the highlands while he lured Svadlifari away. He refused to say how he did it, of course. Odin, Frigga and Thor all bought the story easily enough. Only Frigga seemed to sense something amiss, but she said nothing. He learned that Thor had killed the giant to get out of their debt, and that the Aesir finished construction of the wall themselves. Loki wondered if that meant the walls would forever have a weak, vulnerable place. Of course they would, there was no way their construction would be as solid as the giant's.
Even after announcing his return, Loki kept to his chambers or the libraries. He found it hard to face anyone after having been defiled by Svadlifari. Perhaps because it was the result of his own stupidity. It tormented him enough, without having to see that shame in his family's eyes. He was miserable and felt isolated like never before. But isolation was preferable to Thor's overzealous joyous attitude, or the worry in his mother's eyes. Frigga noticed almost immediately that Loki had become far more withdrawn than usual, secretive even. He did his best to convince her that her concerns were unfounded, even though he couldn't convince himself.
About three months after his return to Asgard, Loki knew something was seriously wrong with him. He woke from a horrible, reoccurring nightmare of being raped by the ambassadors from Vanaheim with the taste of bile in his throat. He only just made it to the terrace as nausea overwhelmed him, and he vomited over the edge. He distantly hoped there wasn't some poor sod walking underneath, but he had a headache far too powerful for any more thoughts. He slumped against the the stone railing, his body was was sweaty and shaking. The only time he could remember being this miserable was the one time he foolishly agreed to have a drinking contest with Thor. Obviously, the trickster had lost. Loki tried to ignore the taste of vomit in his mouth as he tried to imagine what could put him in such a state. He knew enough about the arts of healing from studying in Alfheim in his younger days to have a few guesses.
A bad reaction to mead, a food intolerance, excessive anxiety, or pregnancy. He almost chuckled at the last one, that was not possible. Why would he even think of it? He had not touched any mead or whiskey in some time, and he had only eaten some fruit the day before. Anxiety was a possibility, but not probable. Instinctively, he rested his hand against his stomach. Surely that is not possible... He mused, trying not to think of the fact that yes, his clothes did feel a bit tight. Well, he had been a mare when Svadlifari attacked him. Because yes, 'attacked' was the word for it. Miserably, he rose to his feet and asked one of the guards to please send for his mother. He took a drink of water to get the sour taste out of his mouth and curled up pathetically in his bed. He ached all over and if he didn't know better, he would honestly think he might be dying.
When Frigga arrived with one of her handmaidens, Loki demanded the poor girl leave. He wanted to be alone with Frigga. Having to admit this, or his fear that it was a possibility, was embarrassing enough without her there. Frigga was the only one he trusted not mock him, and possibly to offer him some form of compassion.
"What is it, Loki? Are you ill?" She asked worriedly as she shooed her handmaiden away and told her to go back to her duties. She sat on the edge of the bed and urged Loki to speak. Refusing to look at her, or to remove himself from his sad little cocoon of blankets, Loki told his story. He told Frigga everything – how he had to transform into a mare to lure Svadlifari away, and how the stallion managed to rape him while still in that form. There was silence then as Frigga processed the information. She touched the bit of shoulder that Loki didn't covered in a protective shell of blankets in a soothing manner.
"I b-believe I may be with child." Loki murmured, feeling his face heat in shame as he stumbled over the words.
"Oh, Loki!" Frigga gasped. "I do not believe that is possible. Not in this form." The queen said trying to reassure him.
"Neither did I but... Somehow I just know." He choked in reply, closing his eyes tightly to hide the tears he could feel stinging them. After some motherly wheedling, Loki allowed Frigga to call for her own personal healer – mostly to prove to her son that surely he had just eaten something that did not agree with him. She trusted the woman to keep the whole affair a secret. Frigga agreed not to mention the father, even if she did intend to have a good, long talk with Loki about it all later. Keeping such painful secrets surely could only only hurt him.
Frigga left the room when the healer arrived. She was a tall, slender creature with curly blonde hair and sparkling green eyes. Loki would have no problem imaging Thor chasing her down holding a bouquet of roses, only to have his hopes shattered. It took him some time to disentangle himself from his blankets, luckily the young woman seemed to be patient. She spoke little while examining Loki, other than to ask him a few questions about how he had been feeling. He answered in a subdued manner that was very much unlike him. After about half an hour of being prodded, the healer stepped back from Loki and gently tossed his blankets back over him in a sympathetic manner.
"I have no idea how this is possible." She said, frowning. "You are with child, my Prince." Loki tried futility to hold back the tears as the healer left him.
"He should go to Alfheim, the healers there may know better how to handle this." He heard her say to Frigga in the open doorway.
"No one here could care for him? Discreetly, of course." Frigga asked, undeniable worry in her voice.
"Possibly, but he would better off in more experienced hands." The healer answered as she turned to leave. Loki's breath was ragged as he tried to reign in his emotions when he heard the close and Frigga's slowly approaching footsteps.
"Shh, it will be all right, dear." She said soothingly and gathered Loki up in her arms. In spite of himself, he just cried like a child and buried his face in her shoulder. All right? How? How would he ever get through this?
The next morning, Loki was standing in the gatehouse with Frigga and some bags containing some of his books and clothes. He was dressed in a loosely fitting dark green satin robe with his long ebony locks tied back with a bit of matching ribbon. He hated wearing such clothes, but Frigga had insisted. She said it would be more comfortable for both him and the child. Even if said child was no more than a small bulge, unnoticeable beneath even his normal tight-fitting leathers. He looked to her pleadingly as Heimdall opened the bifrost for him to travel to Alfheim. She had already informed the healers there of his condition, and they were more than willing to accommodate him.
"I wish you could come." He said meekly. He meant it, Frigga made him feel safe. If she was there, he would have nothing to worry about it. What if the elves found his state as hilarious as the Aesir would if they discovered it? What then?
"I will visit, I promise. And I will be there when your child is born. You have my word." Frigga assured him. "You will be cared for, and will want for nothing. Do not fret. The elves are not so judgmental as the Aesir. I know this, I grew up amongst them after all." Loki nodded solemnly and made his way to the bifrost, feeling Frigga and Heimdall's eyes upon him.
"You will tell no one of this, Heimdall. He would not deserve the outcome of all of Asgard knowing of his situation." Frigga said sternly to the stoic dark-skinned gatekeeper.
"Of course I will tell no one. Not even Loki deserves such shame." He answered pensively. "But you will not be able to hide it forever if he chooses to keep the child."
"That is his choice to make." Frigga replied and left without another word.
When Loki arrived in Alfheim, he found himself at the famed academy where the healing arts were studied in depth by ancient masters of the art – and taught to their apprentices with great care. He had been there before, as an apprentice himself in his younger days. He was the only student at the time that wasn't an elf. He had only been taken as an apprentice by the recommendation of his mother, and his uncle Frey, the king of Alfheim. He was overcome by nostalgia at first, at the sight of the grand entry hall. In some ways, this place could put Asgard to shame. The immense foyer was filled with beautiful white statuary and carvings, all of the designs taking their inspiration from nature. Vines twisted above the large ached doorways and two expertly carved oak trees framed the entrance to stairs leading to the upper floors. He liked that most about the elves, their love and respect for nature above all things.
He couldn't help but recall a long-forgotten memory of his younger self nervously entering the academy for the first time. Frey was with him, ushering him forward encouragingly to meet his mentor, an elven master of healing by the name of Taure. Taure was old, even for an elf. He had seen many millennia come and go. Loki immediately felt drawn to him, and they worked very well together. When they parted ways some years later, Loki was known to be very skilled in the healing arts. But it was the magic of enchanting that really drew him in, and he knew that his place was elsewhere.
It was with some trepidation that his eyes fell upon none other than Taure, and two female elves wearing the robes of master healers standing at his sides as they waited for him. Even several hundred years later, Taure looked much as he always had. His long auburn locks were pulled back and braided neatly, and his robes, as always, were spotless. One thing Loki remembered about the kind old elf, was that he hated dirt and every little thing had to be neat and immaculately clean at all times. After so many years of studying under him, the trickster had been unable to to avoid picking up those habits himself. The two women nodded quietly and left them alone.
Loki swallowed nervously and greeted Taure. He smiled sadly and pulled the Aesir into a warm embrace. Another thing he had forgotten about the elves, was how tactile they were. No greeting went without at least a handshake.
"How long it has been since last we met. I only wish it were under better circumstances." Taure said, letting go of Loki. His voice was soft and almost musical in quality. Loki recalled fondly the way that Taure could calm even the most nervous patients by merely speaking to them in that special tone. It irritated the other healers to no end, but in reality they were just jealous that he was able to handle such things so well.
"As do I." Loki said with a sigh. "I suppose my mother has told you everything."
"Everything I need to know, probably. I will leave it to your discretion if you wish to tell me more." The master healer said reassuringly. "Mostly I will look after you, but the others healers may as well, if I am busy elsewhere."
"Has something like this ever happened to anyone else?" Loki asked awkwardly as he followed Taure up the elegant spiraling white marble stairs. He narrowly avoided being trampled by a group of apprentices that were probably late for a class. Ah, some things never changed.
"There is nothing in the official records. But, after staying up last night and going through what I know about shapeshifters, I would assume that it probably has happened in the past. I am not sure why you were able to become male again, but perhaps that is only the outside?" Taure suggested, pushing open the door to his rooms. "I thought you might prefer your old room. This all has to be distressing enough, without being in unfamiliar territory."
"Thank you." Loki said, eyes wide. He could have kissed the master healer for that. He was also glad that Taure would be looking after him, and not some uppity midwife. Most them were rather annoying and overbearing if he remembered them well enough. Taure was the total opposite of that. He was soft-spoken and very gentle in his work. Loki knew he wouldn't spend any more time prodding at him than absolutely necessary. After a few short words with Taure over a cup of chamomile tea, Loki found his way to his old room and curled up in the bed that had been made for him. He hadn't even noticed how tired he was and fell asleep almost instantly.