Frigga woke to the first hints of dawn peering through the curtains, and to the sound of her husband stirring from his makeshift bed on the sofa across the room. She yawned and rolled over, intending not to acknowledge him—she was, after all, still smarting from their spat and still rather ambivalent about his actions. But, seeing that she was awake, he approached her cautiously and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Frigga."

She smirked in satisfaction, hearing some hesitancy in his voice.

"My king," she acknowledged him coolly, sitting up.

"I return to Midgard today," Odin reminded her.

Frigga made a noncommittal sound.

"I cannot say when I will next see Asgard," he added.

Subtle, dear. Very subtle. Of course, you cannot simply swallow your pride and say you will miss me.

She sighed. In times of war, she did not have the luxury of stewing in anger. She could not let her last words to him be bitter, not when he could be wounded or killed in combat before they could reconcile.

Grudgingly, she leaned over and kissed him—if not passionately, at least sincerely. He held her and smoothed her long hair.

"Do not think this means I am finished being cross with you," she assured him.

"Understood."

"Come back to me safely, and then we may resume our quarrel."

"I look forward to it," he said dryly, and then they parted.


The queen brought Loki his morning meal and ate with him. As before, she spoke gently to him and tried not to startle him with any sudden moves, but he was too shy to speak very much. He wondered if she had told the cooks to send up the pastries drizzled in honey specifically because he liked it—for some reason, this thought made him feel as if he had a lump in his throat.

When their plates were cleared, the queen said she could not stay, but that she would return to check on him in the afternoon, and that if he needed anything, he should not hesitate to ask.

Timidly, he ventured, "My lady, is—is Thor ever coming back?"

You sound so desperate, he scolded himself. As if she needed another reason to mock you.

But Frigga smiled. "My son has lessons to attend in the morning. But after lunch, I'm sure he will come. In fact, he asked if he could see you."

Loki absorbed this information in a daze. He wants to see me? Thor wants to be around me, even though he does not have to?

For the rest of the morning, he tried to read his library books, but thoughts kept wandering in circles—disbelief, then fragile joy, followed by crushing doubt—to the point that the words blurred on the page and his insides were tangled in knots.

At long last, there was a knock on the door.

"Loki," sang a familiar voice. "Can I come in?"

Thor's mother accompanied him. She unlocked the door, and the prince of Asgard all but vaulted inside.

"Hello," Thor greeted him brightly.

"Hello, Thor," Loki returned, both amused and slightly puzzled by his enthusiasm.

The two princes stood in the middle of the room staring at each other for a moment, unsure what to do now that there was no longer a cell wall between them.

"You boys have a nice afternoon," said Frigga, starting to back out the room as if trying not to hinder their interaction with her presence. "I will be back in the evening with some supper. Don't get into any trouble now, Thor."

"Yes, Mother."

As soon as the door shut, Thor sat cross-legged on the rug, and Loki followed his example.

"So, will you tell me that story, Loki? The one about the Great Flood?"

"If you—if you want me to," Loki said.

He cleared his throat nervously. It was a simple story, really, but Thor seemed so eager to hear it and Loki would hate to disappoint him—now when they had finally reached a more comfortable truce—so he decided to invent details to fill in the gaps of his knowledge. After all, Thor would not know the difference.

"A few generations after Ymir," he began, "the population had grown so much that people began to settle in cities. Ymir's grandchildren went from wandering hunters to herders that stayed in one place—"

"Herders of what?" Thor interrupted.

"Snow oxen," Loki explained impatiently. When Thor still looked confused, Loki added, "Long white hair, curly horns, tusks…rather dim-witted creatures that eat everything in their paths…you do not have these in Asgard?"

"No," laughed Thor, "though they sound quite a strange sight. I never realized Frost Giants raised animals."

"What did you think we lived off of? Snow?"

"Um…" Thor turned pink.

Loki gave him a withering look. "We do eat food, you know. May I continue now?"

"Sorry," Thor said with a slightly sheepish grin. "Keep telling the story."

"Very well. As I was saying, people began to settle in one place. But property and ownership also meant that some people had more than others, and this sowed greed and envy in Jotuns' hearts. Wickedness increased. Neighbors stole from neighbors. Brother competed against brother, and longed for what he had. Sons killed their fathers for their inheritance."

Thor was leaning forward, obviously intrigued. Loki lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper.

"Then one day, disaster struck. Some said the magic of the Casket failed. Others said Ymir was angry with his children, and his spirit was punishing them for their wickedness. Whatever the cause, Jotunheim's climate suddenly began to warm, and the great glaciers surrounding the capital began to melt."

Thor frowned, puzzled. "But isn't that a good thing? That the ice was going away?"

"But it did not go away," Loki said grimly. "There was so much snow that when it melted, the water had nowhere to go, and formed a sea in what was once a valley. The city was flooded, and all its thousands of people swept away."

"They all died?" Thor asked in a hushed voice.

"Every man, woman, and child," emphasized Loki. He was drawing out the story and embellishing it some, reveling in Thor's rapt attention. "Except for one poor herdsman named Bergelmir, who had lived in a cave high up in the mountains with his family, high enough that the water did not reach them. Some say Ymir spared them because Bergelmir was just and humble, honored his ancestors and was content with what he had. He and his wife and his brother prayed for the cold to return, and in time it did. They emerged from the cave and founded a new capital atop the ruins of the old. And now we call it Utgard."

Thor's eyes widened. "You mean, there's a frozen city underneath where you live?"

Loki nodded.

"Bergelmir's five children would found the five great clans of Jotunheim, and they scattered across the realm. Only the eldest stayed to rule Utgard, as her descendants have ever since. See, that is what these markings mean"—he gestured to the lines on his face—"that I am of the first queen's bloodline. And these tell my mother's house," he added, indicating the patterns on his arms.

Thor studied them curiously. "I always wondered what they were for."

Before Loki realized what he was doing, Thor reached out and touched his index finger to Loki's exposed wrist. Immediately, Thor yelped and jerked back. He cradled his hand against his body, but Loki still glimpsed his fingertip blackening with frostbite already.

"What did you do that for?" Loki demanded, his voice higher than usual.

"I just wanted to know what it would feel like," grumbled Thor, his face contorted with pain. "I was curious."

Thor's words were casual, but his eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

"You are an idiot," Loki snapped. Panic trickled like ice through his veins. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew his anger was really fear—but if he did not blame Thor, he would have to confront his own guilt and horror.

"I can repair it, Thor," he said, "if you let me see it. I—I have a little magic."

It amazed Loki that, mere moments after Thor had been burned, he extended his hand once again in undeserved trust. The golden prince obviously did not learn.

Loki did not touch Thor's hand again. Instead, he closed his eyes and imagined the deadened tissue springing to life, blood flowing through the vessels, a rosy hue overtaking the hideous grey. He imagined energy flowing from his body to warm Thor's.

Please be alright, please be alright, please do not be hurt…

When he opened his eyes, he sighed in relief—it was working—golden threads of magic passed from his hand to Thor's, and slowly, ever so slowly, the blackened spot turned red.

Loki broke the magic connection, feeling light-headed. Fortunately, the frostbitten patch had been small, or else he may not have been able to heal it himself. It was a simple, clumsy enchantment, but he had no proper training, just a fragment of a spell book that he had nearly memorized.

Thor's mouth fell open in awe as he studied his newly-regenerated flesh.

"Where did you learn to do that?"

"I…taught myself," Loki mumbled, averting his eyes. Of course he had had to learn a healing spell to knit skin back together, to clear the blood away from a bruise, even if it drained his energy. He could not ask the royal physicians for help—it was his own fault for being so small and weak and fragile, it was his own fault for igniting Father's temper—

"It does not even hurt anymore," said Thor, grinning. His amazed tone morphed into something gentler. "Do not be worried, Loki. It's as if it was never burned at all."

Why should he reassure me? I am the one that burned him. My very nature is harmful to him.

And then Father's voice added, See what you have done, simply by being? Your mere existence ruins others. You thought you could befriend this creature, and you repay him with pain—

Loki realized there was a tear running down his face. Mortified, he swiped it away. But he could not restrain himself from asking a fearful question.

"Do you hate me now, Thor?"

"Of course not. It was my own fault," said Thor with an untroubled laugh. "Besides, your magic healed it."

Carefully, Thor put a hand on Loki's shoulder, where several layers of cloth would protect his skin from the cold. Loki trembled. No one had ever shown him a gesture of goodwill in this way. They remained that way for a moment—Loki hardly daring to breathe, as if he might do something wrong and scare Thor away.

Why is he doing this? Why is he being kind after I hurt him? Why should he want to be around me at all?

"It's alright, Loki," Thor said earnestly. "I'm tough. It takes more than that to hurt me."

Loki smiled weakly. It was difficult to resist Thor's sunny attitude, especially when that warmth was being directed at him. The anxious knot in his stomach began to uncurl.

Suddenly, Thor gasped theatrically—making Loki jump—and looked around himself in feigned alarm. "Look! The water is rising. We must move to higher ground!"

Loki goggled at him. "What are you talking about, Thor? There's no water in here."

"Yes there is, brother," Thor emphasized slowly, "and my name is not Thor, it's Bergelmir. We must move quickly before all the ice is melted. Our family might be the only one left in Jotunheim."

Catching on, Loki started to smile. He had invented plenty of imaginary playmates by himself, pretended to be other people, and created worlds of his own to inhabit, but he had not realized that Asgardian children did the same thing.

"Of course," Loki agreed, "the flood is coming. Look, it's almost to your knees."

Thor pointed to the bed. "We must travel up that mountain to find shelter!"

Loki snickered. "Such a perilous journey, yes."

"But look—now a vicious snow beast stands in our way." Thor took one of the wooden chairs from the table and brandished it as if staving off a wild animal. "Do not fear, brother, I will fight it off for you!"

Loki rolled his eyes. "Those do not live in the mountains, Thor—sorry, Bergelmir."

"This one is trying to escape the water, like us."

"I see."


When Frigga returned at suppertime, she was startled to see that the boys had constructed some kind of fortress out of bed sheets, and were huddled inside, whispering.

"Thor, Loki, I hope your adventures have given you an appetite, because it is suppertime," she said.

"I am not Thor," came her son's muffled voice from inside. "I am Bergelmir the giant! My brother and I are hiding in this cave until the terrible flood is over. What sort of creature are you, fair maiden, that you can survive these deep waters?"

She chuckled, shaking her head.

"I see. Well, if Bergelmir and his brother need any rations for their cave," she told him gravely, gesturing to the tray on the table, "there is an island here with abundant food that might be reached by boat."

Inside the tent, she distinctly heard a sound that made her heart light. It was a timid, soft sound, but unmistakable: Loki laughed.