26. Secret
She curses Frigga's attention to detail, how the woman seems to notice every minute detail. So she sits there, smiling and attempting to devise an answer to the so innocently posed question without revealing her agitation.
"Are you quite well dear? You don't look well. Is something wrong?"
They had done well for several months, neither of them had breathed a word of it. She had done whatever she could to hide it, going so far as to talk down the sudden behavior change that had overtaken her husband. His newfound protectiveness, his inability to allow her to be alone had drawn some attention, but she had dismissed it. She had downplayed it all, made it seem as though it were a simple turn in their marriage, not her husband's worries getting the better of him. They had done so well, she thinks, forcing a smile.
"I'm quite well," Sigyn says.
She pales when Frigga raises a suspicious eyebrow. "If you say so." And then she relaxes, assuming that she's ended that. They continue casually talking, the queen turning the conversation to be about the children. This makes Sigyn tense. "And how are they managing with their studies?"
"Quite well. Hel is intrigued by the healing arts while Fenrir and Jormagandr have already decided that they intend to master magic." She laughs. "They challenged that they will be better than Loki in no time. And his response was to temporarily debilitate their magic."
The two women share smiles. "That explains their sulking."
"It was only for a day but to them it was forever."
She's wondered if their child will be inclined toward magic. The odds, she thinks, should be high. They are both skilled somehow with sorcery so it would be natural to assume that their child will be too. Yet, Hel and the boys have proven to be an example of how wrong she may be. While Hel has not shown a sign of having skills in that area, the boys have it as almost second nature to them.
"They rely too much on it," Frigga says, fingers curling around the goblet with wine in it. Her voice is quiet when she bridges topics. "Have you considered having other children?" She takes a sip of wine, meeting Sigyn's eyes.
And Sigyn threatens to pale. There is knowing in those blue eyes, she realizes, and why shouldn't there be? She is talking to a woman who has had her own children, who has assisted those who have born children before. Of course she would notice, Sigyn thinks.
"We have." Her fingers trace the designs on the table, her gaze keeping Frigga's. "And we are," she squeaks, just barely saying it. Her mind, already running down the ways she'll explain this to Loki.
The queen lays her hand on Sigyn's, her blue eyes sparkling. "That's wonderful, Dear."
"They are?"
"Yes," Frigga says, staring at her husband.
He frowns. "Why do you look so concerned? Women have had children before."
"What are the chances that the child will," she says, letting the sentence trail away. She doesn't want to say it. It was something they pushed so far from their minds, something she couldn't accept anymore. No, Loki was her son, completely and utterly. The circumstances of his birth were forgettable and unimportant. But, they weren't, not when it directly concerned others.
"You're afraid the child will bear a resemblance to the fro-"
"Yes," she says quickly, cutting him off. "What are the chances of this? Surely you must have known when you suggested the idea of Loki providing heirs."
"The chances should be quite low."
"Should be?" Frigga leans forward. "I thought you knew."
"Not for certain," he says shrugging off the idea.
And she cannot see how he can be so calm about the matter. It was his idea to never tell Loki, that there was no reason that the matter should come out at all about his origins. Yet, she thinks, here is a great threat to their secret. If the child is born bearing any blue tinge, anything that even remotely resembles a frost giant, it could be a disaster. Frigga fears that this possibility. She can already imagine the outcomes, her son breaking at the news, hating his own child. Her only reassurance is Sigyn who she knows will not falter, who has never faltered. She will love him and their child no matter what. Or, at least, Frigga prays she will.