Chapter Two - O Mother Dearest
Loki sat on his bed, legs crossed and his nose buried in another book, this particular one on apparitions. His brow furrowed, he held his hand out, focusing so hard that he had a headache, trying to will an apple to appear. After several minutes of attempting to produce the fruit, he gave up in frustration, roaring loudly and hurling the book across his bedroom. There was a dainty knock and he almost spat furiously.
"Go away!"
Whoever was at the door ignored him and as he heard the door creak open he whirled around furiously. "I said go- oh."
Frigga smiled at him and quirked an eyebrow.
"You are troubled, my son." Loki sighed and flopped back down on his bed like a child.
"I have a headache." Frigga's brows knitted together.
"Shall I fetch a healer?" He waved his hand in the air, dismissing her response.
"Oh, Mother, such melodramatics." Frigga would have barked with laughter if she hadn't been such a lady.
"I do believe you are the one being melodramatic." She spotted the book and waltzed over gracefully. If there was one thing Frigga never did, it was walked. She waltzed, she danced, she glided. She did not walk.
Scooping the book up in her hands, she neatened the crumpled pages and closed it, and a small smile graced her lips at the title. "Apparitions." She murmured, moving back towards his bed and perching on the edge of it. "I struggled with these, too." That statement peaked Loki's interest and he sat up quickly.
"You can apparate?" She smiled at the childlike wonder in her youngest sons eyes and before he knew what was happening, there was another Frigga by his side. His jaw dropped as her double vanished the moment he laid eyes on it, and he, for once, was lost for words.
"There are many things I can do, my dear. Where do you think you get your love of magic from? You are not the only mischief maker in this family." She laughed. Loki liked her laugh, it was musical and light, like the first sounds of spring. "Just don't tell your Father." She giggled cheekily. He grinned and then her face became more serious. "Something else ails you, Loki, I can sense it." His grin faltered and he sighed.
"It is nothing of importance."
"I would not call the maiden girl 'nothing of importance.'"
"Mother-"
"Do not dare to lie to me, Loki. I have often observed the way you gaze upon her. You are in love with Eir-Iðunn Asksdóttir, are you not?" Loki groaned loudly.
"She is wonderful, it is true, but what place has she with I? I, a Prince of Asgard, and she a Maidservant. How can we ever be?"
"She is the daughter of a nobleman-"
A dead nobleman, Mother. Her Father died for Odin and she is reduced to nothing but a slave."
"She has had her freedom for two years, my son, you saw to that."
"And yet Borghildr and Erling wishes her bound, I can do nothing." Frigga's lips pressed into a thin line and she stood calmly and moved to leave. "Where are you going?"
"I have business with Erling of Fyrisvellir." She opened the door and turned back one last time. "Fear not, my son." The door closed softly behind her, and Loki found himself smiling, feeling at peace. He chewed his lip thoughtfully, and then picked up the book on apparitions, another book of Midgardian flowers resting at his side.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"Mother-"
"Do not 'Mother' me, girl!" Borghildr shrieked, hurling the book at Eir-Iðunn's head, missing narrowly. "What is this filth he has indoctrinated you with? You wish to live in another realm? Do you? You wish to run away to Midgard with that dirty rodent of a man?"
"How dare you speak that way of your Prince!" Iðunn sobbed, tears seeping down her face.
"My Prince?! My Prince?! You ungrateful child! You disgust me, you wretched girl, fawning over him like the harlot you are." Eir-Iðunn heard the slap before she felt it, her face jerking to one side at the contact. "He is no Prince of mine. Erling was right, he is poisoning you."
"What has Erling to do with this?" She heaved, her skin turning red and burning where her Mother's hand had made it's connection.
"Erling has treated us kindly and you throw that in his face, running around with that inbred." She spat. "You will not go near him again, do you hear me? Never again!"
"You cannot do this!" Her daughter sobbed, her fists clenched at her side. "He won't stand for it, Frigga will not-"
"Don't you dare speak to me of Frigga!" Borghildr's voice rose to a colossal shriek that pierced the air and caused Iðunn to wince. "It is because of her wretched son that your Father is dead and we rot here in this squalor!"
Eir-Iðunn felt that it would be unwise to point out that their living quarters were far better than their old home, and so she remained silent. "If your Father were here, he would not stand for this insolence!"
"If Father were here he would tell you to quiet your tongue!" Iðunn slapped her hand over her mouth and her eyes widened as Borghildr's face turned a shade of beetroot, her eyes bulged and her nostrils flared like an Ox'.
"What did you just say to me?!"
"Mother, I- I'm sorry, I was not thinking-"
"No, you were thinking. Thinking of him."
Iðunn did not sleep that night, because there was not one part of her body that did not scream with pain.