Loki was six years old. He was a trickster, always running around, making havoc. It was the only way he could make anyone spare him a second glance. No matter that his Father would smack him, or even hit him with his riding crop. At least he was paying attention.
One day, Loki was walking through the garden, cooking up a new scheme of his, and clutching his stuffed bear to his chest. He had gotten the bear from one of the older servants, whose grandchildren had outgrown it. It was tattered, and very worn, but Loki called it Ragnar, and loved it with all his heart. Happily, the young prince skipped down the pathway, until he heard cheerful voices around a corner. Thor, and the warriors four. He peered around the edge of the shrubbery, trying to see what the five older children were doing, and found them to be occupied playing a game of tag together. Hesitantly, he crept closer, watching them at their play. Eventually, he set Ragnar down on a bench, and crept forward to Thor.
"Hello, Brother!" He smiled up at the older boy. Thor was nine, and in Loki's eyes, perfect. Recently, he hadn't been wanting to play with Loki very much, but Loki would still tag along behind him and his friends on their little adventures. "Can I play?"
"No." The nine-year-old replied, turning away from his little brother. "Go away, Loki."
Loki pulled on Thor's sleeve persistently. "Please, Thor? I won't get in the way! I promise!"
"I said no, Loki!" Thor broke away from Loki's grip. "Go play with the women!"
"I…" Loki trailed off, staring at his bare feet in the dirt. "I just wanted to play…"
Volstagg ran up behind Thor, touching him lightly on the shoulder. "You're it!" He hesitated, spotting Loki standing there. "Loki, go inside. You're too little to play with us."
"But…" Loki started, but just then, Fandral, Sif, and Hogun ran up.
"Thor!" Sif began. "You're it! What are you waiting for?"
"Go inside, Loki!" Thor ordered. Loki shuffled his feet in the dirt.
"But, I…"
Fandral rolled his eyes impatiently. "Why do you always have to ruin everything, Loki? Go… play by yourself."
Loki sniffled. "I just…"
"Holy Norns, he's going to cry." Sif jeered. "What a baby!"
"I'm not a b-baby!" Loki protested indignantly, tears starting to sting the backs of his eyes.
"Always whining," Fandral agreed. "And dragging around that moth-eaten animal."
Loki bit his lip nervously, glancing over at the bench. Hogun bolted over, snatching the stuffed bear from where it had lain.
"Hey!" Loki protested. "That's mine! Give it back!"
"Look how much of an infant he is!" Hogun grinned, tossing the bear to Volstagg as Loki ran to rescue it from his hands.
"No! He's mine! Stop it!" Loki bleated, and ran over to Volstagg, who threw it to Sif. Sif tauntingly held it over the dark-haired prince's head, as he desperately jumped to reach it.
"Pathetic." Fandral scoffed.
"Thor!" Loki pleaded. "Tell them to give him back!"
Thor crossed his arms impatiently. "Well, you were the one who ruined our game!"
"How did I…" Loki wondered, until Sif thew the bear down into the dirt, placing a foot on it.
"Ragnar!" Loki screamed, trying to pull it out from under her foot. "Please! Stop it!"
They were all laughing at him. Sif picked up the bear, and ripped off its head.
"NO!" Loki screamed, as Sif flung the pieces down at their feet. "You… you big… meanie!" Loki couldn't come up with a better insult, he was too upset.
"You should've gone away, Loki." Thor scorned his younger brother, who now had tears running down his face.
"Brother!" Loki protested, but Thor only shoved him down into the dirt, and walked away, his friends trailing behind him. Loki reached for the two broken pieces of his only friend, hugging them close to his chest. "Ragnar…" He sobbed, brushing dust off his toy.
As he sat there, legs curled under him, tears running down his cheeks, a shadow passed over him. "Your majesty…" A kind, yet thickly accented voice softly spoke up. "Why are you upset?"
Loki looked up, his eyes stained with tears, lips trembling. Standing over him was one of the new servants… a Frost Giant. She was nearly seven feet tall, yet slender, with a certain grace about her that commanded respect, yet seemed strikingly familiar. Loki's eyes widened in fright, and he clutched the pieces of his damaged bear to his chest.
"Hey, are you alright?" She knelt down next to him, a kind smile on her face. "Is there anything I can do?"
Loki's eyes flicked down to the ripped stitching of Ragnar's neck. This was a servant, no matter how monstrous. Servants could sew. Was having his beloved bear fixed worth talking to… her? Mutely, he held out Ragnar, displaying the obvious wound.
"How did that happen?" She shook her head, gently taking the bear from his small hands, and turned over in her own thin, delicate blue ones.
"My friends…" Loki hesitated. Were they really his friends? They rarely even sent him a second glance… maybe not. "Thor's friends were being mean." He quietly corrected himself.
The servant sent him a sympathetic glance, her crimson eyes holding something akin to understanding. "Well that was just cruel of them. Here, I can fix it." She stood up, and offered a hand to Loki. The young prince hesitated, then slipped his own pale hand into hers. Without a word, they walked down the garden paths, and into the servant's quarters in the palace. Loki had many friends among the servants, so he had been here often. She opened a door near the end of the hall, and led him into a cool, quiet room, simple, yet obviously a home. The furniture was sparse, and the hearth unlit, but the bright colors, blues and purples, and little bits of red all around the room had their own calming effect.
"Sit down." The servant gestured to the end of her bed, where she sat next to him, and gathered a needle and thread from her sewing basket. In silence, she began the first stitches, and there was a sort of hypnotic quality in the quick movements of her fingers as she sewed.
"What's your name?" Loki queried politely, his eyes large and round as he watched her concentrated face.
"Farbauti." She replied simply, not looking up from her work, but a faraway look came into her eyes, as she continued the stitches.
Loki glanced down at his hands in confusion. "How come you're so kind to me?" He wondered. "I thought Frost Giants were savage, brutish creatures."
Farbauti didn't seem offended, only amused as her lips quirked up halfway. "Some of us are. Am I?" she turned her wide eyes to him expectantly.
"I guess not…" Loki admitted, fiddling with the buckles on his boots.
"You know…" She mused thoughtfully. "Before I came to Asgard, I thought all Asgardians were warlike, boorish creatures with no manners. But you've quite proved that wrong." She sent him a soft smile. "Perhaps our realms have simply had the wrong ambassadors toward each other."
Loki grinned from the praise. He tilted his head slightly. "Why did you come to Asgard?"
"I was captured." Farbauti admitted sadly. "I never would have left, had I the choice. I left behind two sons, that day."
"Tell me about them?" Loki requested, scooting closer to her for the story.
Farbauti chuckled softly. "Well, there was the older, Helbindi. A little rascal, always getting into trouble. Hot-headed little fellow, he can never take an insult. And then, the baby, Bylestir. He's only two years old, but such a sweet, caring little thing."
"Who cares for them while you're away?" Loki wondered, brow furrowed in concern.
Farbauti smiled sadly, her red eyes filling with tears. "I don't know."
"You mean, they're alone?" Loki gasped, horror-stricken. She nodded, again, and finished up the stitching on Ragnar's neck. "You're a lot like them, you know." She smiled sadly, blinking rapidly to clear them of moisture. "Here you go. Good as new."
Loki gratefully hugged Ragnar to his chest, his eyes sympathetically fixed on Farbauti's face. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Well… I do miss them terribly…" Farbauti gave him another smile, and laid a hand softly on his cheek. "Perhaps you could be my little friend?"
Loki nodded eagerly, happy to help.
From that day forward, Loki and Farbauti were the best of friends. She was a garden servant, so they would have long conversations while she was working on Queen Frigga's flowerbeds and herb gardens. When Loki began showing in interest in the art of sedir, Farbauti was the only one who encouraged him to pursue it, and she was always willing to have him demonstrate his newfound talent.
As he grew, she told him more of her past. How she had been Queen of Jotunheim, until they had lost the war, and Laufey had cast her out of the royal house under charges of treason. She had raised her two sons for half a year, until the Asgardian raiding parties had taken her.
At first, Loki was alarmed to learn that his friend was, not only a frost giant, but the wife of Laufey, but then realized. He'd known her this whole time, and she'd never shown any sign of being anywhere near as evil as her husband. Nothing had changed with the knowledge, so Loki continued to trust her. She was basically a second mother for him.
When Loki found out he was a Frost Giant, himself, he knew there was only one place to go. Distraught, he rushed to Farbauti's chambers, fighting tears, and flopped face-down on her rug.
"Well, that was dramatic." She mused, a tiny smile on her face as she got up, and put the kettle on. "Is it Thor, again, liebling?" That was her nickname for him. She told him it meant "darling" in her own language, and Loki didn't really mind.
With a sigh, Loki turned face-up in despair. "Farbauti…" He groaned. "I'm… I'm…"
"Ill?" She kneeled down next to him worriedly, her cold hands checking his forehead for a temperature.
"No, nothing like that." Loki sat up, looking her dead in the eye. "You won't believe me."
"Try me." She suggested softly.
With a deep, shuddering breath, the whole story spilled out. How he had gone to Jotunheim with Thor, and the Frost Giant that had gripped his arm, turning it blue. How he had returned, and sought answers with the casket of ancient winters, and how Odin had fallen under the Odinsleep, making him the rightful king of Asgard.
Throughout the whole narration, Farbauti didn't say a word, only listened quietly, until he got to the part about being Laufey's son. Quietly, she took his hand, a quiet smile across her face. "My son."
Loki's eyes widened in shock. "Your…"
Farbauti was Laufey's wife.
Loki was Laufey's son.
Therefore, he was Farbauti's son, too.
"You knew." He accused, narrowing his eyes.
"I did." She nodded remorsefully. "And I assumed you did, too. Otherwise I would have told you far sooner."
"You knew…" Loki breathed. "All this time… you treated me as a son, because… because…"
"Because you are."
Loki fidgeted with his fingers fretfully. It was one thing to be the son of Laufey, the cruel, barbaric king of the Jotnar, but being the son of kind, compassionate Farbauti was another thing, entirely.
"Mother…" He whispered, trying the name out on his tongue. Somehow, it fit.
With a smile, Farbauti leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, and it felt… right. He'd never felt like belonged in the royal family. He had always stood out, and not in a good way. Farbauti, however, had always made him feel welcome, special, loved, when no one else would. His own chambers felt less like home than hers did.
He belonged with her.
Bit of a story behind this one. Originally, the first half of this, (the part before where Farbauti comes in) was going to be the opening to another I had... then deleted... yeah. But it's one of two pieces of my writing that have ever literally made my brother cry.
TheOnlyHuman.