Chapter 2
The Plan
Hyperspace sang as the last of the rearguard set foot in the Bifrost chamber: Odin, his senior commander Njord, and their housecarls with them. Njord carried the Casket of Ancient Winters, the Frost Giants' most sacred relic and the source of their power. The rest of the army had already returned under the command of Freyr Njordson and Tyr.
Njord marched straight out of the chamber with most of the housecarls, under orders to deliver the Casket directly to the vault beneath the palace for safekeeping. Odin watched him go as the remaining guards took up positions outside the chamber. He had entrusted the Casket to Njord for two reasons. First, as one of the oldest and greatest in Asgard, he was the most trustworthy, as well as the least likely to be harmed by the Casket's power. The second, less obvious reason was that Odin couldn't carry both it and the infant at the same time. The child was tucked securely beneath his cloak for the time being, sleeping fitfully and out of sight. Odin had thought it best to keep him hidden, if only because the chaos of the withdrawal was not the ideal time to announce an heir to the throne. A more opportune time would come, and until then he didn't want tongues wagging.
Heimdall the Gatekeeper stepped down from his dais, taking in the king's appearance: grime, battered armor, the bloody mess that was the right side of his face, the faint whimpers from beneath his cloak. The gatekeeper hesitated, as if wondering what to address first.
"My king, you are hurt," he said. "Shall I send for a healer?"
"In good time, Heimdall," Odin replied. "It looks worse than it is. I have matters to attend to first."
Heimdall glanced at the king's side.
"The child?" he said. Odin nodded; he hadn't expected to keep it from Heimdall anyway.
"I found him in the temple. When I spoke to the Jotun captives none of them seemed to recognize him except one very old one. He told me the boy was the son of Laufey by one..." He struggled to remember the name. "...Faurbodi. One of the royal concubines, no doubt..."
"The foremost of his wives, and the only one so far to have given him a child," Heimdall interjected. "The Jotun told you truly. This child is the firstborn of Laufey."
Better and better! Odin decided to tell Heimdall his plan.
"... The old Jotun told me that the child had been left behind because they considered him a cripple of sorts, because he was small. As if slight build precludes an able mind!" Odin finished. "He said the boy was called Loki, 'since mischief was all Laufey ever got from Faurbodi.' Well, Laufey's loss will be my gain."
Heimdall frowned. "You are sure of the wisdom of this?"
"You think it unwise?" Odin scowled. He hadn't expected to be gainsaid by the gatekeeper.
"I think he is Laufey's son."
"Laufey is defeated and is my subject. I want to make peace, and what better way than this? Besides, I have no son of my own."
For a moment Heimdall looked like he might say something, but changed his mind and bowed in submission.
"I tell you these things because I know I can I trust you, Heimdall," Odin continued. "No one else must know, not until the time is ripe. I want you to swear to me that you will tell no one what you have heard here."
Without hesitation Heimdall knelt, raised his great sword, and turned it hilt-first toward Odin, who laid a hand on the pommel.
"You have my silence, my king," he said.
"Good," Odin said. "When the time comes, I will release you from your oath. Now I must return to my house. The time has come for me to sleep, and I must speak to my wife before I rest."
A horse was brought for him and he proceeded down the Rainbow Bridge through the streets of Asgard. No crowds greeted him; news of his return had not been broadcast until the last minute. The triumphal procession would be later, when he would appear to his people, strong, hale and smiling. Right now, bloodied and exhausted, it would be best if he arrived quietly.
Frigga greeted him on the steps of the palace, holding out the welcome cup. Odin drank, said a few words to his assembled household, and retired with Frigga to their private chambers.
How good to be home! Odin hadn't even seen his wife since before the final campaign began, nearly five months ago. The doors to their chambers closed behind them and Frigga turned to her husband.
"I brought you a gift from Jotunheim," he said, drawing the baby from beneath his cloak. "I brought you a son to be our own."
Frigga gave a cry of mingled delight and concern, rushing forward to gather the child up in her arms.
"He looks so ill," she said. "I'm going to send for a wet nurse."
"No one else knows of him but Heimdall," Odin said as she went to the door. Frigga nodded, then opened the door and called to one of her handmaidens. When the woman had gone on her errand, with instructions not to speak of it to anyone, Frigga turned back to her husband.
"Where did he come from?" she asked.
"He is the son of Laufey, king of the Jotuns. I intend to make him my heir, and as Laufey's firstborn, he is already heir to the throne of Jotunheim. When he is grown, he will unite our kingdoms and bring an end to these wars."
Frigga sat on the edge of the bed, cradling the infant while she listened. When Odin finished, he noticed a crease forming between her brows.
"What is it, wife?"
"Husband," she began. "There's something I must tell you. We're not without a child of our own, not anymore." She stood and smoothed the front of her gown, smiling shyly. Odin looked at her, uncomprehending for a moment; then it hit him and he felt a little faint.
"When...?" he said.
"The last time you were home," she said. "I didn't find out until late."
Odin sat down on the edge of the bed, finally overwhelmed. Frigga came to sit by him.
"Our baby," he breathed. "A child of our own."
Frigga smiled and took his hand. "Now we have two," she said.