Three weeks later…

My ankle was healed, and it felt like a normal winter morning in Asgard. Mother and Father were sending spies and messengers.

The snow was lightly falling. The air was still. And the fog was heavy, but not so heavy to the point you couldn't see, but just enough to see ten feet in front of you.

I stood by the creek in the garden with flowers surrounding me and the waters a flow.

"Brother," Thor said sadly. "We need to go."

"I know," I replied. I turned around and looked at my brother. "What makes you so fearful? You have fought the Jotuns before."

"I know. But I haven't fought Laufey before."

I thought about it. My brother. Fearful. That was not right.

"I need to go put on my armor." I said finally.

I was walking back from putting on my armor when I walked past the throne room and started to eavesdrop on my parents' conversation.

"They may die out there!" Frigga cried.

"They may not," Odin replied. "I also love my sons, but this is a sacrifice that must be made."

"Putting your sons' lives at risk is a sacrifice that must be made? How could you?!"

"We have no choice! Besides, it was your idea."

"I thought about it and I must disagree!" She cried.

"Disagree?" Odin asked. "What other choices do we have?"

"We could send an army! Assassins! Something other than my boys!"

"Your boys?" Odin tempered. "They are my boys too!"

"I am their mother!" Frigga screamed.

Odin didn't reply.

I walked away, and at that point, Odin saw me. "Loki," he said calmly. "How long were you standing there? How much did you hear?"

"I just walked in." I said awkwardly. "I didn't hear a thing."

Odin raised his eyebrows and looked at Frigga.

"Why do you ask, father?" I asked.

He was silent. "Nothing," he said. "I ask for no reason."

"Of course." I replied. "… Well, I have to go to war now, so… I'll see you soon. Maybe." I mumbled. I turned around and began to walk away, when my mother interrupted.

"Loki," she said.

I turned around. Attention? Me? Okay! I don't have a problem with that!

She walked up to me, and gave me a hug. She kissed me on the cheek. "Don't die," she said harshly. "I love you, my son."

I was speechless. My mother was hugging me. Hugging. Yes, she does that, but usually they meant different things. Different things like, Oh my god, you're alive! And, I missed you!

But this time, it meant I love you! Don't die on me!

At that moment on, I felt like there was no favoritism. No anger. No jealousy. No envy. Just love between mother and son.