Chapter Ten/ Kapittel Ti:
A stressed Loki paced back and forth in front of the blazing fire that burned brightly in the hearth. Upon learning Thor's fate since he returned to the palace, Loki's skin had automatically changed to its Æsir colouring. The Jötun man didn't dwell on it but he assumed it was because of his distressed state. As he paced, his inky midnight hair fell forward around his shoulders and he anxiously bit his fingernails. Frigga sat motionless in the wooden rocking chair beside the fire, concerned beyond belief and Hlín sat on the green and blue quilt which covered Loki's bed, almost as tense as the other queen in the room.
"That's it," Loki suddenly declared, unable to patiently wait any longer. "I'm going out after him, that stupid oaf is going to get himself killed!"
Frigga felt a tiny smile pull at her lips at Loki's words – his words and his worry showed that, no matter how much Loki denied their relationship, he still loved his older brother. It gave Frigga cause to hope that perhaps Loki would one day accept them all again; perhaps he would even call her 'mother' again one day. She didn't dare hope that he would forgive them – least of all her husband, Odin – but maybe he would at least accept them again one day. However, the hope she felt was quickly snatched away again when she recalled her other son.
"Loki, you cannot!" Hlín jumped up as her youngest son started towards the entrance of his chambers. Hurrying over to him, she grabbed his wrist and he spun around furiously before she put a hand on his chest. "You following after your brother will only get you both killed."
Looking up into her son's eyes, Hlín conveyed her strain. "Please Loki, what good would it do…? What if you do not find him in time?"
Loki softened and removing her hands from his wrist and chest, he took them in his own. "Mother… this is something I have to do…"
Hlín shook her head frantically but Loki silenced any of her protests. "Please Mother, you may not understand but…" Loki took a moment and spared a glance towards Frigga. "He's my brother... he's my family."
"And you're my son!" Hlín countered imploringly. "You're my son and I only just got you back. I… I cannot bear to lose you again Loki. You don't know what it feels like… to have your son ripped from your arms so that you can fight a war you know you will not win. To have to hide your children, for if you don't they will all be slain. Loki, I will never forgive you if you die this way!"
Loki smiled softly, happy that his mother whom had only known him less than six months cared so deeply for him already. He'd spent his entire life trying to please the man he'd once called father and Loki wasn't sure if Odin even cared half as much about him as Hlín already did.
"I won't die out there mother. I promise I will return to you." He gave her hands a little squeeze and he looked into her deep red iris's which held only worry. With a trembling lip and a twitch of her hands, Hlín reluctantly let go, but not before planting a kiss atop Loki's forehead.
"Come back to me, my son."
Loki gave a swift nod before turning on his heel, snatching his Fenir wolf coat from where it hung on his coat rack.
"Loki!" An unexpected shout came from behind him. He turned around once more and was suddenly assaulted by Frigga's hair.
The blonde Æsir woman had her arms around his neck and she'd buried his face in his neck. She was hugging him tightly, holding him like a mother would her child and Loki found himself unintentionally returning her embrace – holding and being held by his mother was something he could never refuse. Something wet suddenly landed on his shoulder and he quickly realised that she was crying.
"Fri –"
"Bring him home, please." She whispered almost inaudibly in his ear. "Loki, please return Thor to me."
Loki gave a little nod, his heart suddenly constricting in his chest at Frigga's words. "I will mother." He answered, dashing out the door before realising his mistake.
After the wooden doors slammed behind Loki, there was a different kind of stale atmosphere in the room. Both women chose to take up seats close to the fire, but it was Frigga who spoke first.
"I'm sorry," She apologised as she stared into the flickering flames of the fire, surprising Hlín with her words. "He is your son… I – I should not have… I should not have spoken to him as if he were mine."
Hlín turned her gaze to the blazing heat that caused her to feel as if the room was on fire.
"It is alright," the Jötun assured. "I understand entirely."
"You are not angry at me?" Frigga lifted her eyes and fixed her gaze upon the woman across from her. In all honesty, Frigga could not see this woman being engaged in a mighty battle upon the snowy fields of Jötunheimr. Her figure was petite and the Æsir queen finally understood where Loki's fragile physical condition came from – Hlín looked as though she would be snapped like a twig during a battle. However, Frigga knew how cunning Loki was and how quick with a blade he could be and she wondered if this woman's talents lay in a similar area.
"I am not angry at you Queen Frigga." Hlín replied softly, watching as the flames licked the grate of the fireplace. "After all, it was your husband, not you, that stole my Loki-child from me."
Frigga felt her gut twist as she watched the pain spill out across the woman's face. However, before Frigga could apologise or make any other movement, Hlín's words stayed her.
"Thank you for looking after my Loki-child," Hlín murmured, a twitch of a soft smile playing at her lips. "He has grown into a fine young man and he obviously trusts you far more so than me. You raised him to be a gentle soul and a kind spirit and I must thank you indeed for this. I am most grateful that he did not know a life of slavery or spite. To think that he was once a prince of Ásgard, well… I'd hardly believe it knowing what animosity there is between our two peoples."
Frigga's mouth was left agape at the words confessed to her by the queen of the Jötun people. She was amazed at how forgiving she was towards her enemy. She'd thanked Frigga for raising Loki to be the man he was.
"Honestly," Frigga chuckled softly as something dawned upon her. "I now know where Loki get's his heart from. I've never known a more innocent child than him – though it has been hardened over the years. You are truly a remarkable woman Queen Hlín, I am grateful that we have met."
Hlín looked up at Frigga, seeming startled for a moment before regaining her composure.
"I too am glad we met Queen Frigga. Perhaps…. this may even lead to the beginning of new relations between our two peoples."
Frigga grasped the woman's hand and replied without a trace of hesitation.
"I dearly hope so."
"Take him! Take the child!" Bestla cried, pushing the blue baby into the hands of its confused father.
"How can I take him? I have no wife – how would I explain this child to my people? I am a prince Bestla, or did you forget this fact!?" Þrymr tried to push the child back into the arms of his mother, but was rewarded with little success.
"SHUT UP!" Bestla silenced the man as she once again hustled her precious bundle into Þrymr's arms. "I don't think you quite realise what will happen if he returns to Ásgard with me – Börr will kill him Þrymr! He will kill this infant, and this is your son!"
Þrymr carefully cradled the child to his chest and rocked him gently, attempting to calm the babe as it was becoming distressed.
"You have no wife and no children, but you do have an heir. I don't care how you explain this to your people, I simply care for my baby's life!" She yelled angrily, tears pouring down her face as her stress started to show.
How had things ended up like this for her? She had never foreseen this in her future when she'd married the future king of Ásgard, she'd known then that it was her duty to play her role. All she needed to do was play her part – she was supposed to be the peace between the two peoples, but all it seemed now, was that she had become the wedge.
"I… I will take him." Þrymr finally answered, looking down at the sleepy boy he held. "If everything is as you say, I will take him, my love."
Bestla released a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding and then sighed with relief.
"Thank you, Þrymr. I am so sorry for everything."
Þrymr nodded and slowly his lips parted, a growing expression of sorrow spreading across his face. "This… this will be the last time I ever see you, won't it?"
Bestla clenched her jaw, guiltily looking down at the snow beneath her feet. "Yes," she whispered. "This… is the last time we shall meet."
Þrymr grabbed her with his one free arm and pulled her to his chest. "Then, let us three stay here for a moment. It will be the last time that our family will ever be completely whole."
Bestla held onto her lover and she slowly began to weep as the realisation that her tiny newborn family was soon to be ripped away from her forever.
"Please Bestla, do not cry." Þrymr wiped away her tears with the pad of his thumb. "I promise I will look after our child, he will know nothing but happiness and he will know his mother to be a brave warrior who died valiantly upon the battle field."
"No!" Bestla protested almost violently, shaking her head in denial. "I do not want my son to remember me as a warrior. I do not want him to lust after blood – there has been too much spilt between our peoples before."
Þrymr held her tightly and planted a soft kiss to her lips. "Then, how do you wish it to be, my beloved?"
Bestla thought for a moment and rested her head against Þrymr's shoulder. Eventually she spoke once again.
"I want him to believe I died of a simple illness. That is all. I want him to take care of himself as he grows up and I never want him to think of war as something men must go into in order to prove themselves. I want him to know that no one would think him a coward if he were to arrange peace between Æsir and Jötun – if I cannot bring peace to our lands then let this be something for him to aspire to."
Þrymr nodded silently and after three minutes of silence he suddenly remembered something. "Oh, that is right. We must name our child Bestla. What shall we call our beautiful boy?"
The two parents thought together, but it was Þrymr who first came up with a suitable name.
"How about… Laufey?" He asked his lover who was still held in his arms.
"L – Laufey…" she whispered the name before eventually, a small smile spread across her face and quickly morphed into a grin. "It's lovely… do you know what it means Þrymr?"
The Jötun prince shook his head, not knowing that the name had had a meaning at all.
"It's perfect. It means 'sensitive idealistic one'," she enlightened him before looking down at the child cradled in his arms. "…my perfect little Laufey…"
Hi... Sorrrrryyyyyyyy.Should we all just accept now that these updates are probably going to come... whenever? Well, at least I'm still pushing them out there and I absolutely 100% promise never to leave you hanging for a year (unlike some authors I know). Anyways, I hope you enjoyed and please leave a review - they do actually help me publish these faster you know. Reviews = motivation = writing = more chapters! Sorry, I'm being pushy again... I love you guys though and thanks for reading!
Much Love,
Soulhearts