Hic.
Loki groaned in exasperation. Could he not have a moment's peace? Tossing and turning in his bed, every time he was just about to dose off, he'd hiccup.
"Rrrrrr…" He growled, and sat up. No use trying to sleep until he could breathe normally, again, so he made his way into his wash room. How would one stop hiccups? He could always try water… or holding his breath, or some other Midgardian nonsense, like that.
Hic.
Not that it would hurt anything.
For the reader to understand what happened next, one must understand what, exactly hiccups are.
For reasons no one quite knows, a person's diaphragm, the muscle you use to control your breath, along the bottom of your lungs, will sometimes randomly convulse. This causes the lungs to expand quickly, and a dramatic, quick intake of breath. Thus, a hiccup.
Loki's sedir, or, his magical core, happened to be rather near to his diaphragm. Magic was as easy and natural as the breath in his lungs. That is, unless his lungs were conspiring against him. In that case, whenever he hiccupped, his sedir, not just his diaphragm would convulse, causing random mayhem around his surroundings.
So, as Loki picked a glass out of the cabinet, and carried it to the tap, he hiccupped, again, and it exploded in his hand.
There was a moment of startled silence as Loki surveyed the broken glass across the tiles of the washroom, and the teensy cut, leaking blood from the palm of his hand.
"Why must everything happen – hic – to me?" He demanded of the wash basin, picked out another glass, and carefully filled it with water, stepping over the sea of sharp shards, and he sipped the water. It seemed to help… he couldn't be sure, however. He raised the glass to his lips, again,
Hic.
He choked and sputtered on the water that had randomly turned into fine wine.
With a groan of exasperation, he flicked his wrist, and teleported the broken glass on the floor into the garbage bin. Despondently, he sat down on the tiles, determined to wait out the hiccupping fit.
Hic.
Irritably, he picked up the end of the wash towel that hadn't spontaneously combusted, and dropped it into the sink, running cold water over it until it was extinguished.
Hic.
Loki opened his eyes to find himself on the floor. And… very small. What had he done, turned himself into a borrower? Rolling his eyes, he struggled to his feet, and… fell backward onto his tail.
Wait… tail?
In confusion, he looked down at his hands, to find… they weren't hands at all. They were tiny black Paws.
He'd transformed himself into a kitten.
After a moment of disbelief, he pattered forward, back to his bed. Whatever enchantment he'd done, it would probably wear off by morning. The snores rumbling from Thor's bedroom on the other side of the hall told him the Thunderer was still asleep, so he couldn't notify him that he was, well… a cat.
He reentered his room, and hopped up onto his bed. At least the hiccups were gone, he told himself, and curled up against one of the pillows, and drifted off to sleep.
"Brother! Brother, wake up! It is morning, and the sun is up, and I've made you breakfast!"
"Go away, Thor. Leave me alone." Loki wanted to say. What came out of his mouth was a particularly grumpy caterwaul. He blearily opened his eyes in confusion.
Right.
He was a cat.
"Hello…" Thor's bright, cheerful face came into view. "Aren't you an adorable little thing?" Loki attempted to struggle to his feet, but he was rather tangled in the sheets. Thor had no trouble lifting him up in his hands, and ran a thick, calloused finger gently over his head. "Do you know where Loki's gotten to?"
Loki gave his brother a very unamused stare. "Meow."
Thor smirked, and held the soft kitten's fur up to his cheek. Loki promptly scratched him.
"Oh, come on, brother!" Thor protested, holding a hand to his wounded cheekbone. "It was in jest!"
Of course, this type of thing happened all the time, for Loki, being stuck as some creature or another, so Thor walking in on him being a kitten wasn't really a strange thing. Loki rolled his eyes, and hopped off Thor's table, back onto his bed. And bounced. With a tiny startled mewl, Loki tumbled off the edge of the bed, and landed on his feet on the carpet. Nervously, he sent a glance upward, ensuring Thor hadn't seen that, and, in a dignified fashion, strutted towards the door.
Thor grumbled, and picked Loki up by his scruff in a highly undignified manner, and carried him into the hall.
Loki found himself unable to protest, unable to move, actually, until Thor gently set him down on the breakfast table.
"What is this?" Odin barked, as Loki the teensy furball scrambled to find his footing, and accidentally tumbled face-first into a dish of peach slices. Thor chuckled, and helped him out, and Loki irritably shook out his whiskers of peach juice. He was sticky all over, and stiffly, he made his way to go sit on the china plate that had been set for him.
"Meow." He informed Odin.
"Get that animal out of here!" The Allfather roared, but Thor only laughed, as Loki began licking his fur free of the peach juice.
"Not at the table, dear." Frigga corrected him, without looking up from her breakfast.
Loki sighed, and sulked a bit, as Odin stared in confusion between Loki and his mother. "What?" Was all the old king could find to say.
Frigga nodded towards Loki. "Don't you remember the last time Loki did this?" She enquired. "This is not news."
"Basically, every time he gets hiccups, he turns into something or other." Thor agreed, calmly helping himself to some bacon.
"But… but…" Odin protested.
"Meow?" Loki enquired.
Thor kindly poured some milk into a saucer for his brother, but Loki only stared at him, unamused. He did not want milk. Milk was baby food, so he stole a slice of his brother's bacon.
"Hey!" Thor protested, immediately snatching the bacon back, but Loki's tiny jaws were too strong. His little paws bracing against the edge of Thor's plate, he heaved with all his might, and managed to rip off a tiny piece of meat from Thor's fingers. With a smug look, he returned to his plate, and began nibbling cheerfully.
Odin was very quiet.
"So, what are you boys up to, today?" Frigga enquired, cheerfully buttering her toast.
"Just a bit of training with the warriors." Thor shrugged.
Honestly, Loki had been hoping to research a new magical theorem he'd discovered, but, as a kitten, he couldn't exactly turn pages. He supposed he'd have to stay with his brother.
Glumly, he hopped up onto Thor's shoulder, and flicked his still-sticky ears, flinging peach juice.
"Ew!" Thor protested, wiping the liquid off his face, but he didn't make Loki get off. "Father, may we be excused?" Thor enquired eagerly, and, at his approval, bounded away, while Loki dug his claws into Thor's tunic, and clung in terror as the Thunderer bolted down the halls. When they got out to the training yard, Loki took the opportunity to clean himself off, as Thor changed into his armor and waited for his friends.
Fandral, as he came in, almost tripped over the Trickster.
"Awww!" The warrior cooed, once he realized the object of obstruction was a tiny, frustrated fuzzball. "It's so cute!"
"I wouldn't say that, if I were you…" Thor advised, as he strolled over, tossing Mjolnir up in the air. "That's Loki."
"What?" Fandral looked up. "You named him after your brother? That's weird…"
"No, he is Loki." Thor corrected, knelt down, and picked Loki up in his hands. "Hiccups."
"Oh, I see…" Fandral looked far too disappointed for his own good, and Loki reminded himself that stabbing people was generally considered rude. Tentatively, the warrior reached out a single finger towards Loki's head, and stroked gently just behind Loki's ear.
Without realizing it, Loki released a loud purr, and tilted his head to allow higher quality petting. A moment later, he mentally kicked himself. What kind of prince wanted to be petted like a cat? Despite the fact that he was, at present, a cat, it was undignified. But, as Fandral continued cooing over him and his adorableness, and gently petting his ears, Loki sighed contentedly, and began vibrating like a tiny motor.
It was nice to be appreciated, even if it was simply because he happened to be in an adorable form.
Eventually the rest of the warriors arrived, and they split up in pairs and began sparring. Loki was left to his own devices, and began staling through the underbrush, looking for who-knows-what. Eventually he crawled his way up the trunk of a tree, to watch the proceedings from above. Settling himself in a crook of a branch, he bemusedly watched Thor and the warriors beat each other up, in the sun.
The heat wasn't unbearable, only a little uncomfortable, and as Loki watched them tumble around, together, he felt his eyelids getting heavier and heavier. The birds were singing, the water burbled cheerfully in the stream below, and Loki drifted off to sleep, up in the tree.
He was awoken by an insistent twittering next to his ear. The sun was now high overhead, and decidedly harsh against Loki's hair. For half a second, he didn't remember why he was a cat, and what he was doing up in the tree.
Peeling his wide, green eyes open, he fixed his gaze on the source of the chirping. A bird.
A very stupid bird, who apparently didn't realize that cats ate birds. Or, perhaps, one that wasn't intimidated. He was, after all, a relatively young kitten. Blinking sleepily, Loki got to his feet, and yawned. Stupid birds…
He looked around for his brother, only to realize…
Thor was gone.
The warriors were gone.
Loki was hungry, and hot, and he'd been forgotten.
The ground suddenly seemed very far away. Could he get down?
Tentatively, he stepped closer to the trunk of the tree. It would be difficult, but he might be able to do it.
Might. His heart thumping wildly, he dug his claws into the bark, and began shifting around to lower himself, tail-first, down the trunk, when the bird took off, shaking the limb ever so slightly, and with a terrified scream, Loki plummeted from the branch. With a plop, he landed in the middle of the stream, and the rushing water disoriented him. In his human form, the water didn't even reach his knees, but, as tiny as he was, he couldn't stand on the bottom with his head out of the water.
The current tossed him head over tail, his mouth and nose filled with water, and for a terrifying few seconds, Loki didn't even know which way was up. In terror, he floundered, trying to get his bearings, but he couldn't swim, even in his human form, and cats were not built for water.
He was thrown against a hard surface, and he clung to it, hoping it was land, and his lungs screamed for air, but it was simple a rock, jutting out from the current. Desperately, pathetically, he clung to the stone, coughing and gasping for oxygen. He was too far from the bank to even attempt to get over, and he was cold, and miserable.
Once he could breathe enough, he let out a pathetic, shaken scream for help, but… he was a kitten. A half-drowned kitten. His caterwauls couldn't reach the ears of anyone, and there was no one around, even if he could scream loud enough.
It seemed an eternity passed, as he clung to the rock, weak, exhausted, hungry, and freezing, uselessly calling for help, before he caught sight of Fandral, returning to the training field for some reason or other. It seemed he left his pack on the bench.
Would Thor's friend even notice him? Pitifully, he let out a half-broken mewl, shaking in terror. He couldn't hold on very much longer. (Curse his lack of opposable thumbs) If Fandral didn't hear him, he would drown. And out of all the ways Loki thought he would die, drowning in a foot-deep stream as a baby kitten was not one of them.
Once more, he summoned his strength, and yowled.
Fandral looked up, his brow furrowing in confusion. After a quick glance around, he caught sight of Loki, the sodden, wretched kitten clinging sadly to the rock in the middle of the stream. Within seconds, the warrior had crashed through the underbrush, waded into the stream, and scooped Loki up off the rock.
"How in the nine…?" He breathed, taking in Loki's dripping, shaking form.
Loki shot him a shaky glare, that spelled, Never talk to this about anyone, ever.
Fandral smiled softly, and gently cradled Loki to his warm body as he cheerfully went to find Thor, wherever the Trickster's brother had wandered off to.
Thor was, needless to say, extremely apologetic, and immediately brought Loki back to his chambers to dry him off, and gave him milk. Loki did not object to the milk, this time, and quietly lapped it up without complaint. He was already humiliated, and too tired and hungry to be picky. After he was done, Thor had sat down to speed through his lessons, and Lok shakily crept across the couch to him, and rested his tiny head wearily on Thor's knee.
Thor's strong, reassuring hand patted him, and brushed down his spine comfortingly. It was calm, peaceful, and Loki was grateful to be alive. He quietly yawned, and blinked heavily, as Thor's comforting fingers massaged tiny circles just behind his ears, and he released a contented purr.
Watching as Thor wrote down three blatantly wrong answers in a row on his homework, Loki drifted off to sleep, again. He was exhausted, and didn't even have the strength to raise his head. Thor smiled softly down at his now-tiny brother, and patted him gently on his head, again. Just as he was about to pick him, and carry him to bed, a green glow enveloped his little body, and when the luminosity cleared, there was Loki. Still entirely knocked out, his head on Thor's knee, clothed in his sleepwear.
"And that couldn't have happened in the middle of the stream?" Thor chuckled, tucking a piece of hair behind his brother's ear tenderly.
The incident was never spoken of, again. But every night for a month, Fandral would go into his room to find a basket of his favorite sweet cakes on the end of his bed.
TheOnlyHuman.