For the Love of A Child

The three years since my discovery of my daughter passed swifter than falcons in
flight. Before I knew it she was crawling, then a week later she was standing up, next thing
I knew she was toddling everywhere, getting into everything. She was an extremely bright
child, she talked before she was a year old, clearly and distinctly in full sentences. She had
the curiosity of ten cats and kept Ava and me busy answering all her questions and keeping
her from mischief.

She was fascinated with water, puddles, and mud. I never had to worry about her
taking a bath, she practically drowned herself in the tub. I taught her to swim, mindful of
all the stories I'd heard of kids drowning in bathtubs and lakes. She took to it like a dolphin.
Even so, I never left her alone during her bath. There was no telling what trouble she would
get into.

I made that mistake once, leaving her unattended for barely five minutes. I returned
to find her gleefully playing "sea monster" with her toy ships, "drowning" them with huge
splashing waves that lapped over the tub and created an ocean right in the kitchen. I was
ankle deep in water and bubbles, and the little brat was screaming at the top of her lungs,
"Reef the mainsail! A hurricane's a'coming!"

"Belle!" I shouted. "What the blazes are you doing?"

"Playing sea monster and shipwreck," she answered, giving me her best utterly
innocent look.

I wasn't fooled for an instant. She was about innocent as the wolf in sheep's
clothing. "Stop it right now, young lady. Look at the damn mess you made," I scolded. "I
feel like I'm living in Ran's sea palace." Ran was the self-styled Mistress of the Waves,
worshipped as a sea goddess by the Vikings.

"But if we live in a sea palace, Papa, then it's all right to have water on the floor,"
she pointed out with her child's logic.

"We don't and it isn't," I said, scowling. Then I muttered a spell to banish the water
and advanced on her. "Bath time's over, you wretched mermaid's child."

"No! Please, I'll be good." She begged, her eyes growing bright with tears.

I shook my head firmly. "Too late for that. Besides, you spend any more time in
there and you're going to grow fins." Then I vanished the water in the tub so she had no
choice but to obey me. I know, that's cheating, but I have to have some advantages as a
magician.

She sulked and glared at me, but her bad moods never last long, and by the time I've
got her dry and in her nightgown she'd forgiven me and was willing to sit on my lap and
listen to a bedtime story. Though not one with blood and ghosts in it.

She's a fey child, is my Belle. She has hair the color of moonbeams and spun gold
and her eyes are a shade of pure jade so rich they'd be worth millions of gold pieces if they
were jewels. She's small, like an elfin child, but not delicate. She's bold and inquisitive,
and when she wants something she can be stubborn as Olga. But she's not the type that
whines and cries if I tell her no, thank Yggdrasil. That I don't think I could put up with, I've
no patience for spoiled brats like Glut.

When she turned two, she suddenly became Miss Independent, wanting to do
everything herself. Dress herself, lace her own boots, brush her own hair. She did none of
it well, but I let her try anyhow. Then I went and fixed things afterward. She even wanted
to make her own breakfast and cut her own food, but I drew the line at that. "You never let
me do anything fun!" she sobbed when I took the bread knife from her.

"Here," I said, handing her the slice of bread.

"Don't want it," she said, stamping her foot on the floor.

"Fine. Starve," I said, shrugging. Sometimes the best approach to dealing with her
is to pretend you don't care.

Realizing she wasn't going to get her way, she wisely gave in and ate her bread and
butter. I had learned gradually that tempting as it was to give into every woebegone glance
and heartfelt plea, I had to be firm and set limits. Which was harder than I ever thought it'd
be, since I wasn't too fond of discipline myself. But I quickly realized that unless I wanted
to be walked all over, I'd better make rules and stick to them.

I had Nanna to thank for that tip. "Children need a routine to follow. If you let her
pick her own bedtime and mealtime, she'll think she gets to make all the decisions in the
house, and then you'll have real trouble later on. Remember, you're the adult, not her. You're in charge."

I followed her advice and found she was right. She also told me not to treat Belle
like an older child simply because she was advanced for her age. "She might be able to
recite the Song of the Valkyries, Loki, but for all of that she's still a two-year-old. Let her
be one, not some wonder child that doesn't know whether she's a kid or an adult."

Much as I would have liked to boast to my relatives that I was raising a child prodigy
right under their noses, I knew Nanna was right. I never wanted Belle to suffer the fate of
so many child genius' (myself included) and become a social outcast. So while I nurtured
her mind with word games and books, I also made sure she knew how to play like a normal
child. We played tag and hide and go seek and guess what animal I am and sang silly songs
and a toned down version of growling bear. I loved to hear her laugh and I had a whole
repertoire of tricks and such designed to make her giggle.

She was a naturally demonstrative child, easily moved to laughter and tears, always
running to me for a hug or snuggle. And I always obliged her, never wanting her to know
the terrible coldness of my own childhood. There had been no hugs and kisses in my
childhood, no one to tell me they loved me. Always I had been made to feel like a burden,
endured rather than adored. It had hurt me more than I ever realized.

But my daughter not only provided me with a chance to give love, but also to receive
it. She loved me with her whole heart, unconditionally, the way no one had ever done in my
whole life. And I loved her back the same way, without fear that she would reject me.
Gradually, as I played and taught her, I regained a bit of the childhood I'd lost, and healed
my damaged heart. It was an unexpected gift, and all the more precious for being unlooked
for.

She slept in a trundle bed next to mine, despite her newfound insistence on being a
big girl, she was not yet ready to sleep alone. Every night before bed I'd take her on my lap
and sit in the window seat across from the bed and we'd play a game called Count the Stars.
"Star light, star bright, how many stars do I see tonight?" she would sing softly and I would
echo her. Then she would count all the stars she could see and I'd do the same. After a time
she would stop and say, "I see a hundred stars that means I love you a hundred times, Papa."

"And I love you back a hundred times two," I'd answer, and kiss her on the cheek.
"Now good night, sleep tight, sweetheart." By then she would be sleepy and I could tuck her
in bed.

One night she surprised me though and answered me, "I love you a hundred times
infinity."

I laughed. "Do you even know what that means?"

"Yes. It means I love you always and forever," she answered, then she hugged me.

I was close to tears then, and I hugged her back, whispering, "Just the way I love you,
sunshine." Silently I thanked whatever Power had seen fit to send her to me, because I
needed her as much as she needed me.

In spite of her mortal heritage, Belle was rarely sick, her immortal blood acting as
a natural defense against the childhood diseases that killed so many mortal children. She
suffered the occasional cold, summer fevers, and stomach flu, but on the whole she was
voraciously healthy. I had prepared myself to deal with a whole host of diseases, from
chicken pox to mumps, but she had inherited the constitution of one of us, which relieved
me immensely, for as a parent there is nothing worse than having to deal with a sick child.
The first time she ran a fever I was nearly as frantic as Frigga had been the night of Baldur's
poisoning for all my medical knowledge. I gave her willowbark and pennyroyal mixed with
honey, which she spit out at first. But I at last managed to get it down her, then I sat there
holding her hand all night, listening to her breathe. The next morning she was fine, but I
made her take an extra dose of medicine as insurance. Then I made her stay indoors for the
day, over her protests. I can look back now and laugh at my ridiculous behavior, but back
then I was a nervous wreck. I cast the same protective spell wards against disease and
poison on my daughter as I had on Baldur, comprehending at last Frigga's insistence on
safeguarding her baby.

Because of the incident following Baldur's poisoning, I had almost no contact with
my relatives during this time, except for Baldur and his family. Belle and I visited their
home regularly and she played with Vali and Hilda while I talked with Baldur and Nanna.
Those visits provided me with news of the doings at Valhalla as well as a respite from
entertaining my daughter for a time. Baldur's kids were close enough in age to Bella to not
mind playing with her and yet old enough to be trusted to watch her. They were also not
intimidated by her intellect and taught her how to behave like a normal kid, so I need never
fear her being a social outcast.

Or so I thought. Until the afternoon she came running into Baldur's cottage crying,
saying that some boy had called her a half-mortal bastard not fit to play with decent children.
Vali and Hilda followed a moment later, panting and indignant, like they'd been involved
in a scuffle.

"He said what?" I snarled, my eyes blazing with all the fires of Muspelheim. I felt
as if the specter of my childhood had come back to haunt me. I was holding my daughter
on my lap, stroking her hair, while she sobbed into my shirt. "Vali, do you know who he
was?"

"Yeah. It was my cousin Grim, Thor's son. He's twelve and mean as Fenris. I told
him to shut up, but he told me if I kept defending useless mortal bastards he'd give me a
black eye. He's bigger than me, Loki, so I couldn't do anything else. Sorry."

"And I told him Belle was worth a hundred of him, and I'd rather have her as my
friend than him any day of the week," Hilda said loyally. "And if I was bigger I'd give him
a bloody nose. " She was six and Vali seven that year, both of them skinny as saplings. No
way they could have stood up to one of Thor's big louts.

"And what'd he say to that?" her mother asked.

"He laughed and said if I knew what was good for me I'd go on home quick, and I
said he wasn't the boss of me and I kicked him in shin."

"Then he looked like he was going to hit Hilda, so I told him if he hit a girl I'd get
you to put a curse on him, Papa," continued Belle. "And he laughed and said he wasn't
afraid of no sneaking coward warlock or his witch-brat."

"Oh, he did, did he?"

"That kid needs a good whipping," Baldur said heatedly. "My brother lets him get
away with too much. He's a little terror."

"Not this time," I said grimly. I set my daughter back on her feet and stood up.
"C'mon Baldur. We're going to pay a little visit to Mr. I'm-Not-Afraid-of-Warlocks and
teach him some manners."

"Can we come and watch?" the three children chorused.

"No. But I promise I'll tell you all about it later," I promised.

They groaned, but Nanna told them to hush and sit down and eat lunch. When we
left they were discussing all the various punishments I could mete out, from beating Grim
senseless, turning him into a worm, putting red ants on his tongue, ripping out his toenails,
to making him kneel at Belle's feet, kiss her shoe, and apologize ten hundred times. Clearly
there was no love lost between the cousins.

"What are you going to do to him?" Baldur asked curiously as we strode down the
track leading to Thor's farmstead. The children had been playing near the boundary
between the two properties, according to Vali.

"I'm going to scare the snot out of him." I answered shortly, trying to rein in my
temper. "That's why I want you there, as a witness. The nerve of the little snot, saying my
daughter's not fit to play with decent children! Who the blazes is he, crown prince of
Asgard?"

"You know where he gets that from, don't you? His father. Thor's obsessed with
being a pure-blooded Aesir and the son of Asgard's leader. He's taught all his kids that
they're better than anyone else because of it, and so they strut around acting like they're
lords of the universe. Last month, Grim knocked Vali in the dirt because he wouldn't get
out of his way quick enough when Grim was crossing the road with Thor's goats. Told him
Vali wasn't the same rank as he was, since I was only Odin's younger son." Baldur shook
his head angrily. "Made me mad enough to spit nails. So I went right to his father and told
him what when on, and Thor just shrugs and said I should let them settle it on their own.
You're turning your boy into a sissy, interfering like you do, he sneers. Let 'em fight it out
and see who comes out on top. It always worked when we were kids. Like hell, I said. You
used to beat me up all the time until I got big enough to hit back. I'll be damned if I'm
going to let your bully of a son do that to Vali. I told him if I caught Grim pounding on Vali
again, I'd give him the thrashing of his life. I'd be within rights, since I'm his uncle, and as
kin I can mete out punishments if necessary. I never had any problems since." Baldur gave
me a speculative look, grinning slowly. "Hey, I just realized you're his uncle too, since
you've sworn blood-oath with my father. Which means you don't have to worry about Thor
claiming you assaulted a minor."

"I know. But I still want you there, because then Thor can't say I used dark magic
on his precious little prince. Not that I care for myself, but I don't want Belle's reputation
to suffer because of me."

"Have no fear, my friend. I can't wait to see the little brat get what's coming to
him," Baldur said, smirking like a ten-year-old.

We found Grim on his side of the boundary stones, chucking rocks at a man-shaped
wooden target, probably practicing for the day he'd go into battle and knock some poor
guy's head off. Or maybe he was considering a career in highway robbery. Either way his
aim was terrible.

I walked right up to the boundary stones that marked the beginning of Thor's
property, canceling out the ward magic with a flick of my fingers. The wards were clumsily
set anyway and wouldn't have kept out a wandering troll, much less a master magician.
"Grim Thorsson," I called out sternly. "You and I seem to have a score to settle."

He turned to see who dared to address him in such a fashion, one hand still clutching
a rock. When he saw me, he went white as a ghost and started to back away. "Keep out of
here, Loki!" he blustered. "If you set one foot on my property, the wards will fry you."

"Think again, boy," I growled and hopped over the knee-high white rocks with ease.
Then I grinned my most provocative grin. "Do you see any smoke? I don't. What are you
going to do now, tough guy? Not so brave now, are you?"

He backed away further, the rock forgotten in his hand. "Stay away from me, I'm
warning you. You try to magic me and my father will bash your brains in."

"Oh? But that would be kinslaying, Grim. A niding's deed."

"You ain't no kin to us, Loki!" Grim sneered. "You're nothing but a jumped up half-
Vanir bastard that tricked his way into my grandfather's good graces. You don't even know
who sired you."

I clucked my tongue at him reprovingly. "Such disrespect, little nephew. Blood-oath
is as binding as true kinship. You'd know that if you ever bothered to study Aesir law. That
being so, I'm perfectly within my rights to punish you for your nasty mouth." I snapped my
fingers, summoning a tiny globe of bluish fire to hover on my palm. I tossed it idly into the
air while I talked, walking forward, my eyes hard as agates. "I don't like the way you've
been talking about my little daughter, Grim. Calling her a half-mortal bastard not fit to play
with decent children."

"I-I never said that!" he sputtered, his eyes riveted on the fireball. "My father did."

"The words came out of your mouth, didn't they?" I said silkily.

"I . . .I . . ." Grim had backed right up against the target now, his eyes glassy with
fear. Abruptly he remembered the stone in his hand and lifted it threateningly. "Get back,
or else I'll knock your head off, I swear it."

"Are you threatening me, child?" I growled, using my magic to make myself seem
bigger than I was. "Is this how you treat a relative that comes to your house? Such a pity
your father never taught you any better manners. Because now I'm going to." I gave him my
wickedest smile.

"My father'll kill you!" he whimpered.

"I'm not afraid of your father, boy," I said menacingly. "I could snuff him out like
this!" and I pinched out the fireball between my fingers. His eyes were bugging out now.

"D-don't hurt me! Please!" he whined. "I didn't mean it, sir."

"Oh, but you did. Never lie to a liar, boy." I purred. "You meant every last nasty
word, you conceited little pig. You like beating up kids weaker than you, don't you? Makes
you feel big and strong, right, Your Highness? You think it's funny making little girls cry.
What a warrior you're turning into, Grim. A bullying coward just like your father."

"I'm no coward!"

"No? Prove it then. We'll have a little contest. I'm going to stand here and let you
throw that rock at me the way you said you would. If I move, you win. But if I don't, then
you get to stand there and face whatever I throw at you without moving. Sounds fair, right?
I mean, what's a brave warrior like you have to fear from a two-bit magician like me? If I
lose, I go away and let you off your punishment. But if you lose, then you take whatever I
dish out. Fair enough?"

He bit his lip. "And if I win you won't punish me?"

"No. And all you have to do is face me down. Agreed?"

"Agreed. Now go stand over there a ways," he ordered, smirking nastily.

I did as he had said, fighting back a grin. I wasn't afraid he'd hit me with his little
stone. I'd seen for myself he couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. Why was I going through
this elaborate charade, you ask? Sheer shock value. I wanted to drive my point home so hard
he'd never forget it. He was as thickheaded as his sire, and he needed a lesson like this to
make him mend his ways. Plus, it was fun watching the little beast squirm.

I stood in front of him, about ten feet away. "All right. On the count of ten, you can
try and hit me." Then I froze into immobility.

He began counting, and as he did so his smile grew wider and I could tell he was
relishing the way that the rock was going to slam me. He was one of those pathetic people
who take pleasure in the suffering of others.

He wound up his arm and threw. If the rock had hit me it would have hurt like hell,
maybe even broken something. But it missed me by a mile, landing somewhere in the field
behind me. And I had remained still as a statue.

He cursed softly, he'd really been looking forward to nailing me. Even worse
though, I hadn't flinched.

"Looks like I'm no coward, wouldn't you say?" I drawled.

"Guess so."

"Your turn. Stand just where I'm standing now."

"Wait. What if we both pass the test?"

"Then we both do it again till someone moves. Now get over there. I don't have all
day."

We traded places. Then I revealed my secret weapon. I summoned back the little
blue ball of witchfire. Witchfire is an apprentice trick, it looks like fire, but it's actually
only a ball of light. Perfectly harmless. But it served its purpose.

"That's no rock. That's a fireball!" Grim wailed. "You can't throw that at me."

"Why not? It's only a little witchfire. Hardly enough to singe your eyebrows off.
Besides, I never said I had to use a rock. The deal was to throw something at you and see
if you moved. You're a warrior, you chose a rock. I'm a magician. I choose magic. All's
fair in love and war, boy. Now quit whining and act like a man." I began counting.

The ball of witchfire sputtered and crackled in my hand, just like a real fireball.

Grim went utterly to pieces. "Nooo! It's not fair!" He covered his face with his
hands, weeping.

"What's this?" I mocked. "I haven't even thrown anything at you and you're crying
like a little girl. I want my mama!" I made my voice high and shrill, like a little child's.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself."

I drew back my arm.

He fell to the ground, curling into a ball, shivering and crying.

I snuffed the witchfire and stalked over to him. I grabbed the back of his tunic and
hauled him to his feet. "Stand up, you big baby!" I ordered coldly. "Guess now we know
who's the real coward, don't we, Grim?" I shook him sharply. He nodded miserably. "You
lost. Now take your punishment like a man, boy." I conjured a switch from the air.

His eyes widened and he cringed. "You're gonna beat me?"

"Not me, boy. My punishment is this. You're going to go up to the next three people
you see and tell them that you are a gutless coward and a bully who likes to torment little
children and needs a lesson in manners. Then you're going to hand them this switch and tell
them to beat you." As I spoke I put the power of command into my voice, setting the curse
in motion. "Then you're going to go home and tell your father that you've been punished
properly for your behavior and you'll never hurt another child as long as you live. And if
you ever break your word, the curse will become active again and you'll be made to get a
stick and ask three people to punish you." I added slyly, though in fact that wasn't true.

But I figured the mere thought of it would serve to keep him on the straight and narrow. And
there'd be one less bully in Asgard. "Now go, Grim Thorsson and receive the punishment
you so richly deserve."

I handed him the switch and stepped back, though the magic wouldn't have worked
upon me anyhow, since I'd cast it.

Grim walked across the field, switch in hand, sniveling. And the first person he saw
was Baldur. My friend was quite happy to do as he'd been asked, giving the little snot a
sound thrashing. Whimpering and bawling, Grim limped off down the road to seek out two
more people to punish him, one for each of the children he'd tormented that day.

I dusted off my hands and rejoined Baldur. "I don't think we'll have any more
problems."

He whistled. "Remind me never to get you mad, Loki." Then he chuckled. "But I
have to admit, that was damn clever. Thor won't be able to call anyone into account over
this, since Grim asked for it, literally. Hopefully, the lesson will stick."

"Oh, I think it will. He'll never forget it either, because every gossip in Asgard will
be talking about it and that's going to hurt worse than any switch."

"Right. And now I can twit my brother over his son the coward," Baldur said
happily. "Serves him right too, for raising such a little monster in the first place."

Well, what did you think of Loki's solution?

Next: A treacherous nixie tries to eat Belle.