Chapter 2- Greta

Greta had been the one who discovered the awful scene in Prince Loki's room. In truth, she had felt a stirring in her stomach akin to nausea when she had gone that morning to change his bedding and noticed the door to his room was slightly ajar.

Prince Loki never left his door open. In fact, he had enchanted the handle several years ago to only allow in those he trusted, and he trusted few. Greta could count number on one hand.

Yet, she was among that small number and she felt honored for it.

She is not a person of high standing. Her immortal years have given her a chance to try several different jobs: a healer, cook, nanny, servant, seamstress and so many more that she has trouble keeping track.

Greta had first come to serve the Royal Family at the end of Bor's reign. The times were slowly becoming darker as skirmishes with Jotunheim became more violent and bloody by the day. War had not been declared but Asgard's army was gathering and she had been recruited on as an apprentice by the Healers as many young maidens had.

T'was smart thinking on whoever thought it up; Asgard had been plunged into war shortly after Odin became king and she had been up to her elbows in blood trying to hold onto souls desperate for Valhalla.

That war was devastating even for a society that loved fighting. Their warriors, ever lustful for battle, were becoming weary and after being considered skilled enough to heal on the battlefield, Greta knew why.

So many bodies. . .all mutilated in one way or another, both blue and pink. So many sobbing in pain, asking for someone to save them; so many others snarling in agony, demanding entrance into Valhalla.

She couldn't remember how many fool warriors she had knocked unconscious because they preferred death over the loss of a body part.

Thor's birth near the end of the war had been the bright spot everyone needed to trudge on. No one wanted the prince to grow up in war and none wanted the king to be parted from his family more than he needed to be. Thor had been Asgard's hope renewed and with that hope, the war ended in two short years.

Which was why it was perplexing when Odin announced Frigga had given birth to another son not long after.

Asgard was still reveling in its victory over Jotunheim, so most of the population had been drunk when the King revealed he had another son but a few citizens remained sharp witted (someone had to keep those drinks coming!) and had sent questioning looks to one another.

How could the Queen have given birth when Odin had been gone for so long? The babe's black locks and shocking green eyes did not help when he was presented to the court.

Whispers and tittering's of the Queen's infidelity started making rounds with the palace staff but the Senior Healers had been quick to silence those wagging tongues with sharp retorts that left many with their heads hung and ears burning.

Then, someone made the speculation that the child was that of a fallen warrior. Maybe his mother had died bringing him into this world and the Royal Family had taken him as a sign of goodwill and honor for those who have given their lives for Asgard?

It was a romantic notion that silly serving girls had made up, but those that suspected Loki was not of royal blood took it at face value and let it be. If the King and Queen took an orphan in out of pity, they would not question it.

Greta knew better.

Frigga may be a new mother but she was still a queen and she had responsibilities she could not abandon. It pained her to leave her children with a nanny so soon in life but she had no choice; a newborn and a toddler with a perchance for crying had no place in court.

Incidentally, Thor had been a very loud baby; his screams boomed like the thunder he would one day command when he wanted something. The nanny assigned to him and Loki had spent most her attention on him and, when she finally quieted him and checked on Loki, became horrified when she discovered the infant had stopped breathing.

She had rushed him to the healing rooms, tears streaming down her young face, certain she had killed him with her neglect. An apprentice was swift to remove her from the room and calm her while the healers focused on putting the breath of life back into the frail body of the babe.

It took much magic and the juice of Indunn's apples before the tiny baby finally began to fill his lungs with air and let loose a small cry just as a frantic Frigga and Odin scrambled through the doorway.

The servants could say whatever they wanted about Loki's parentage; gazing upon the King and Queen holding Loki between them, both caring little for the tears careening down their faces, Greta knew they already cherished him as their own.

Unfortunately, that would not be the last time little Loki would be in the healing chambers.

His small body was often fraught with fever and his lungs were undeveloped, leaving him struggling to breath.

As much as Frigga and Odin wanted to be by his side, they had a kingdom to run. Always though, the moment their duties were finished for the day, they made their way back to the sick child.

Greta watched Frigga spend many sleepless nights holding Loki, no doubt wondering if it would be the last, Odin by her side, always caressing a small hand with his war hardened one.

It took many trials but the healers finally developed a serum that would help Loki's lungs grow and stabilize while a mild freeze spell helped keep his temperature down.

He was still a very quiet baby, one could barely hear him whimper when he wanted fed, but he was on the mend and that was enough.

The Queen was not about to take any chances though and assigned Greta the job of watching Loki.

So that is what she did.

She spent many days singing old lullabies and soothing him with a cooling spell when he overheated. At nights, she stayed nearby with a spell invoked to inform her if he came to harm.

It was how, one moonless night, she discovered a blue tinted child in place of the pale one she was acquainted with. Raised scars crisscrossed over the body and sweet cherry eyes left no way for denial- he was one that belonged the frost.

For a brief-shameful-moment, her hand strayed to the dagger strapped to her thigh.

His face flickered in her head, of a moment when a barely there smile painted his face, and her hand fell away.

Jotun or no, she could not raise a hand to this child, let alone kill him. Looking at him, she chuckled wearily and took a step closer; this certainly explained why he was fevered so much.

Hesitantly, she touched the sniffling infant's forehead and snatched her hand back in shock- not because she was burned as she had feared, but because the blue of his skin was slowly overtaken by the white she knew so well.

A shape shifter was rare even for a race immersed in magic as the Jotuns.

Greta fretted that night and stayed vigilant at Loki's crib. Would he change back? How would the people react if this got out? Odin knew his youngest son was a Jotun, didn't he? Did Frigga? Should she say something?

No. She would keep her silence. Odin and Frigga had to know what Loki was. Odin would not bring home a child unaware of its origins and he was never good at keeping truths from Frigga.

On a rare day when the Royal Family had a day off and decided to spend it in the gardens, Greta took it upon herself to spend the day in the library reading up all she could on Jotuns. From these texts, she learned that Loki had most likely returned to his Jotun form in an effort to ward off the heat. The Asgardian skin he had hadn't worn off from lack of magic; it simply hadn't been strong enough to withstand the heat.

As long as he was kept cool, he would be safe.

She made sure to cast the cooling spell on him several times a day to be safe.

Over the years her station as his nanny never changed and soon Thor became her ward when it was clear he did not wish to be parted from Loki.

Honestly, she preferred Loki. Thor had his charms but she had not spent her days making sure he lived through the night as she had his brother. She had not sang to him and looked upon him with pride as he grew stronger every day, little by little, because Thor had always been strong. And now, Loki was strong too.

Watching over those two children was a task worthy for entrance into Valhalla but Greta would be lying if she said she had not enjoyed it. Their innocence helped combat the nightmares she still suffered from due to the war; visions of warriors she could not save were washed away by children's laughter, desperate pleas and agonized faces were replaced with inquisitive little eyes that looked at everything in gleeful wonder.

In minding the two princes, Greta found herself being healed when she hadn't even known she was hurt.

Yet, childhood has to end even for gods and as the centuries passed Thor and Loki no longer needed her. It hurt but it was true. Loki must have seen something in her expression because instead of being ordered back to the healing chambers, she found herself assigned as his new chamber maid.

Greta could not hold his hand as she did when he was a toddler but she watched him grow up strong and that was all she could ask for.

Of course she was aware that most of Asgard found him to be an oddity. He had been rejected by most of his peers but with Thor's help Loki managed through it all right. Regrettably, Thor's protection soon became a problem in itself; others admired the older prince for defending his brother while simultaneously chiding Loki for needing protection. The Golden Prince's efforts to help his brother simply casted the Silver Prince farther into the shadows.

Greta watched sadly as Loki began to slowly resent his brother, stalking into his room and slamming his door a little harsher each day, bruises and hurts from others already healing as he fell into a fitful sleep.

She would never admit it, but sometimes she casted that old cooling charm on him. He was no longer weak but it seemed to calm him.

No, he was no longer the struggling infant. His lungs had grown but that damage had been done and he simply did not have the same endurance as others. He had strength but he tired quicker than others. He tried, she knows he tried because there were nights when he would not come to his room and she would find him relentlessly practicing his sword play. Greta had heard whispers of the Weapons Master's hash treatment of Loki but she had not believed it until Vidar of the South Wall had stopped by Loki's room. He looked startled to see her there but after a moment of fumbling, gave her a set of daggers and a book and asked her to make sure Prince Loki received them. Greta, surprised at the thoughtfulness of the guard, just nodded dumbly. After he left, she checked the weapons and book over with several detection spells just to make sure they had not been tampered with. Once satisfied, she set them in Loki's room and hoped he would see them as the gift they were and not spurn them.

Several days later she heard through others of Loki's vast improvement in the ring and the Weapons Master's sudden move to Vanaheim.

She made sure the South Wall guards had the finest mead when they feasted that night.

Loki's interest in magic did not bother her either. Perhaps it was because she knew what he really was and knew it came naturally to him. Maybe it was because she herself casted magic and wanted him to show others that it could be wielded in battle and not be cowardly. When she caught others laughing and mocking him behind his back, she dutifully reminded them that the All Father used magic from time to time and that Mjolnir was infused with magic as well. That shut the busy bodies up well enough even if it did not change their minds.

She knew Loki would hate the fact that she was defending him; Thor had been defending him all his life and he wanted to prove his independence. But then Greta thinks of that small, blue infant and she can't help herself.

So when she discovers his room destroyed and him missing, she immediately alerts the All Father. It does not take long to deduce Loki had been kidnapped by the party from Nidavellir and a rescue party begins to form immediately with Vidar and his men volunteering. Greta is next to offer her services and almost scoffs out loud when Thor says battle is no place for an old woman.

The urge to put him in timeout was powerful but she resisted. Instead, she calmly reminded all who were near that she had been on the ice covered fields of Jotunheim as battles were fought and that she knew more healing spells than any other servant after watching over Thor and Loki as children. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Thor had the grace to look embarrassed and mumbled that she might be needed after all.

As the men prepared and gathered others to join in the rescue, Greta retreated to her rooms and changed into clothing better suited for travel. She packed several herbs that could both heal and poison depending on how they were used and enough bandages for a small army. Then, she walked over to a drawer that she had not opened in years.

The wood creaked in protest as it was pulled out. Inside sat a silver dagger that gleamed in the dull light. Picking it up, she tossed it in the air a few times and did a few fancy moves to reacquaint herself with the weapon. The dagger had been given to her as a means of defense when she had been sent to Jotunheim. Greta never thought she would be using it again. She was a healer, not a fighter but there was a first time for everything.

Loki's pale face came to the front of her mind; he wore a rare smile that showed how happy he was.

Then, the image changed. He morphed back into that small infant that had fought so vivaciously to live. Only this time, he stops breathing and she can do nothing.

The dagger tightened in her hand.

Yes, there was a first time for everything.