"Loki, what in nine worlds were you thinking, bringing that creature back here?"
The young prince stood downcast, staring at his toes with his hands linked behind his back, refusing to look up at the golden throne and his father. A few feet away, the wolf cub, whom he'd named Skól, was making loud lapping sounds as it drank greedily from a bowl of milk that Queen Frigga had brought at her two sons' begging requests. The queen herself stood quietly to the right side of the steps leading up to Odin's seat, while Thor stood over Skól, holding an impromptu rope leash and making sure the cub didn't get into trouble while simultaneously trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of listening to his brother getting scolded.
"He was hungry," Loki said quietly. "Look, he obviously needed food." He pointed to the cub as it emitted a satisfied growl while still lapping furiously at its milk.
Odin barely glanced at the wolf. Instead, he leaned forward in his throne and narrowed his eye at his son. "And that, you think, was justification for bringing it here? What exactly do you think we are going to do with a wolf in the palace of Asgard?"
"I can keep him for a pet," Loki said, lifting his eyes. "It's no different than Thor's dog."
"It's a wolf, Loki," Odin barked. "It's a wild animal."
Loki's eyes immediately fell back to his feet and his thin shoulders visibly slumped.
Odin sighed and leaned back. "If you wanted a pet, all you needed to do was tell us. I am sure your mother and I could have found you a perfectly suitable dog in Asgard."
"But Skól's done nothing wrong," Loki protested. Even with his downcast expression, his eyes still gleamed. "Why can't you give him a chance? I'll take good care of him, I'll train him, I'll do everything that needs to be done. He's only a wild animal if you throw him back out into the wild."
Odin fingered the golden shaft of Gungnir, shook his head, then beckoned his younger son forward. Loki slowly plodded up the steps to stand directly in front of the throne, then stood kicking at the floor. The Allfather leaned forward again and put his free hand on Loki's arm, causing the young prince to look up and into his eye. "Loki," Odin said softly, "it was born to run and hunt in the woods of Vanaheim, not to sit cooped up in the palace of Asgard. It will not be happy here, my son. It will be best for it, and for you, if it goes back to Vanaheim. Where it belongs."
Anger flashed green through Loki's eyes, and he stepped back, out of his father's reach. "Then I should have let him die?" Loki demanded. "You don't understand. He had nothing in Vanaheim. I found his mother full of arrows, and if I hadn't heard him crying, he would starved to death or worse." He took another step back, glaring at both his parents in turn. "No one else was going to take care of him. How did he belong there?" He glared back at his father. "You're just mean. Maybe you would have done so, but I wasn't going to just ignore him and let him die!"
As Loki spoke, his voice rising in volume, he was surprised to see that it was not anger that crossed Odin's face. The Allfather's face tightened, his mouth becoming a thin line, and his hand on Gungnir tightened until his knuckles were white. But there was no anger on his face, but something that almost reminded Loki of sorrow. Odin's eye flickered to Frigga and a look passed between them that Loki would not understand until many, many years later. Odin closed his eye, sighed deeply, then looked back up at his impulsive son.
"No, Loki, I would not," Odin said in a soft voice that resonated gently through the golden hall.
He took a deep breath, as if not completely sure that what he was about to say was a good thing. "You may keep the wolf, my son, as long as you care for it and make sure that it causes no problems about the palace or anywhere in Asgard. No problems, do you understand? Now, you may go."
Loki stared up at him in stunned silence for a second before a huge grin broke out over his face and he raced down to where his new pet had finished its milk and greeted its rescuer's approach with an appreciative whine. The prince dropped to his knees and grinned as the wolf put its front paws on his lap and strained up to lick at his face.
After the two princes, along with Skól, had departed, Queen Frigga exchanged a second look with the Allfather. Odin shook his head slowly, staring at the door through which his sons had departed. "Why do I already have a feeling I'm going to regret this?" he said grimly, standing.
Frigga put her hand on his arm as he came to stand beside her. "You can't blame him for having the same compassion you had, and surely you cannot regret your own compassion over all these years." She slipped her hand over his. "If he can turn out like you, why can we not hope the same for his pursuit?"
"It's a wolf," said Odin. "It's not tame, and it never will be."
Frigga's mouth tightened. "If that is true, then what must we say of our son?"
Odin's eye took on a distant look. "As a father, I have never regretted for a moment what I did that day in Jotunheim. But as the Allfather…" He shook his head and leaned on Gungnir. "Only time can tell, Frigga. Only time can tell."
~o~o~o~
"Here, Skól, bring it to me."
Skól trotted up to his new master, a lamb leg bone from last night's supper clamped between his teeth, growling cheerfully and wagging his tail. Loki knelt and took hold of one end of the bone, giving it a tug. Skól growled and tugged back, his little paws digging into the grass to find a good foothold and his tail stretched out straight behind him as he strained backward. Loki laughed, wiggling the bone back and forth. In his determination to win, Skól's entire head and front half wiggled back and forth as well as the wolf kept his teeth firmly clamped around his play thing.
Finally, Loki pried it loose and stood up while Skól yelped and jumped up at his knees in excitement. Smiling widely, Loki threw the bone across the palace gardens and watched as Skól streaked after it like a grey comet.
Seconds later, the wolf was back, the bone once more between its teeth, and Loki dropped back down to his knees, ruffling the floppy, oversized ears and stroking underneath its downy grey chin. The boy stretched out in the grass, propped up by one elbow, continuing to grin and pet the wolf as it gnawed on its bone and finally settled in the grass next to him where it placed a huge awkward paw on the lamb leg to keep it steady while it tried to get at the marrow.
Loki congratulated himself mentally at his success, but he was still somewhat surprised and puzzled by Odin's reactions. Despite his cool confidence in front of Thor and Freyr, he had not been fully convinced that he could persuade his parents. In the Vanaheim field, the task had seemed much easier and simpler, and it was always less daunting to picture a confrontation with his father in his mind than it was to do so in real life. Once he had actually been standing before the Allfather's throne, his confidence in his success had diminished dramatically – he had already started thinking about what spells might work to sneak the wolf into his room and keep it there without anyone knowing.
But the Allfather had changed his mind. Loki frowned. Thor might not have noticed the subtle look that had passed between Odin and Frigga, but Loki had always been observant. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the wisps of shredded cloud drifting low in the sky. It was almost like his father and mother had suddenly felt sorry, that they almost pitied him.
But that did not matter, he told himself. He'd gotten what he wanted, and as Skól nuzzled up against his side, Loki felt his smile returning.
What mattered was that he now had a companion to keep him company when Thor and all his friends disappeared for their afternoon and evening jaunts, leaving him alone in a dark, quiet palace. What mattered was that he had someone to talk to and play with when he was taken by his dark moods (the ones he was ashamed to tell his mother and father about) and he felt as if he simply did not belong with the others, that he could never fit in beside his handsome, strong older brother, that he was somehow, irrevocably, out of place.
What mattered was that he had found a friend.
