Notes: Loki goes to Asgard, for some family time of his own.

Also, a video of someone hand-feeding chickadees can be seen at aYCn2ZG8_jY (Just take out the spaces.) Imagine how much Loki loved them!

Warnings: None needed.

Chapter Twenty

Loki closed the door behind himself, stepped onto the pavement, and stood for a moment with his shoulders hunched, thinking about what to do next.

"Psst! Loki!"

The call- which, really, sounded very much like the incantation uttered by humans attempting to drive cats from their flower beds- seemed to be uttered by Mitchell's car. Loki frowned at it, momentarily puzzled, but before he could think anything very silly Mitchell popped up over the bonnet and waved at him. George yanked him back down out of sight, and Loki went along to see what his friends were up to.

"What are you doing?" he asked, one eyebrow raised inquiringly, as he peered around the car.

"Waiting for you," Mitchell explained.

"We didn't want anyone to see us," George added.

Loki frowned at him. "You do realize that everyone on the other side of the street can see you perfectly well?" George looked flabbergasted, but the way Mitchell clamped both hands over his mouth, snorting with mirth, made it rather clear he had already grasped the point and had been patiently waiting for George to tumble to it.

"Well. Um," George muttered, with affronted dignity, as he got to his feet. Loki forbore from teasing, simply held out a hand in an offer of assistance and pulled him upright. George explained, "We were mostly thinking about Annie's family, anyway."

All amusement vanished as Loki glanced back at the house. "I feel sure they are not concerned with whether any of us are hanging about in the street."

Mitchell, by now leaning on the car, smiled kindly. "Well, we really are going down the pub for a bit. Come with us?"

Loki managed to smile back. "May I meet you there later? I would like to pay a visit to- " my parents- "Asgard," he compromised, still unwilling to flaunt relationships the other two no longer possessed.

Mitchell nodded as he and George started down the street to the pub on the corner. "Give them our love, yeah?" he called cheerfully.

"I will," Loki agreed sheepishly, and began to walk in the other direction. As he gathered a glamour about himself to fade into the darkness of the street, he also remembered his manners. "Heimdall," he called softly, "I wish to speak to the Queen, and so am paying a visit to the palace."

As he reached the corner of the street, he also reached out for Yggdrasil.

~oOo~

The queen's garden was quiet at this time of night, and there was no one to see Loki appear from between worlds. He stepped onto the soft grass, among flowering bushes that smelled sweetly. At this time of year in England, all flowers slept their winter sleep, but here in Asgard they bloomed yet. Loki enjoyed England's changing seasons: by the time one was really tired of one, it always seemed time for the next, and he thought he was fonder of flowers when he had had time to miss them.

Still, it was good to stand here for a moment, amid the scents of his mother's garden, while he gathered his courage to approach the palace.

This time, he did not glamour himself against the sight of the guards. He had every right to be here, to be in the living quarters of the palace. He was a prince of Asgard, the Allfather had said so, and if he wished to see his mother, it was his right to ask her for an audience.

It was not, of course, his right to simply walk into the queen's private quarters, but that was the courtesy owed by a son to his mother, and would be the same on any realm, among people of any rank.

The guards he encountered did not even look surprised at the sight of him, only nodded briefly and murmured, "my lord," in acknowledgement. Loki responded in kind, without inappropriate familiarity- such a display would probably embarrass the guards, and anyway he owed it to Father to maintain at least some of the dignity of the royal family as long as he was in Asgard- but certainly with the respect owed in turn to these loyal defenders of the realm. Apparently the palace staff had adjusted to these appearances and disappearances of the younger prince, and saw no threat in them. Perhaps at some point Loki would stop being relieved by this realization, but not today.

He stopped at the mouth of the corridor leading to the queen's chambers, and asked one of the guards posted there to take a message for him. The man was gone a short time, and returned with word the queen would be pleased to see her son immediately.

Loki smiled his thanks to the guard, and hoped his expression did not give away his sudden misgiving. He would not have been entirely disappointed to hear the queen had already retired for the night and was not to be disturbed.

Well, no time for anxiety. Hulda ushered him into the outer sitting room and left him waiting.

A moment later, his mother appeared, and she was not alone. Loki's heart jerked within his breast: it had not occurred to him that his father might be here also. Bad enough to speak to his mother of the matter than lay on his heart, and he had always been much less afraid of her. He had not admitted it to himself, but he would have much preferred to say what he had to say to his mother, and then let her relay it to his father.

And then he was deeply ashamed of himself, although he had not time to think very hard about that before he was being embraced by his mother. As she did so, his father also laid an affectionate hand on the back of his head.

Finally, Frigga stepped back, still holding his hands, and asked, "What brings you to us tonight?"

And, well, there seemed little point in delaying. Loki took a breath and blurted,

"Over the past weeks, I have spent a little time with my friend Annie's parents- I have helped her arrange to speak to them tonight, through a woman who is able to communicate with the dead." There was a faint, puzzled line between his mother's eyebrows, and Loki went on, "Every time I encounter them, I am made aware of how much it hurt them to lose her, how her loss still pains them. I do not think they will ever recover from it."

"Well, no," Frigga replied quietly. "Of course they will not."

"I did not think of that," Loki nearly whispered. "When I... when I let go. I wanted to die, but I did not... I did not think to hurt you. Really. Nearly everything I did then was motivated by madness, or spite, or both, but I did not deliberately seek to- " punish you- "hurt you by my death. All I wanted was... for it all to stop. I never considered... I... I understand a little better, now, how it must have felt for you to believe me dead. I would not have done that to you on purpose. Truly, I would not have."

There was more he could have said, but all of it would have been justifications or excuses he did not deserve to offer, and would only have made matters worse. Besides, his throat had closed, and attempting further speech would only lead to tears. He had not come here for comfort, at least not primarily. This apology was long owed, and the fact he had not until now realized he owed it was reason for further apologies, when he could speak them.

"Oh, my dear," Frigga murmured, and to his unutterable relief she embraced him again. He closed his eyes, knowing that was further cowardice, was hiding. He would have to face this, but it could be put off a little longer and he had not the courage to hurry.

And then his mother's soft voice in his ear said gently, "We knew you had no wish to hurt us in that way, that you would not deliberately cause us to suffer so. And that was what hurt, knowing you believed it would not, that you thought your life mattered so little to us. That was... I cannot tell you how much that knowledge pained your father and me."

Loki released his mother, nodding mutely. And there was the heart of every excuse he could have offered: I did not think to hurt you, because I did not believe you would care. In fact, it one of the reasons for his effort to end himself: the belief that, if they felt anything about it at all, his death would be a relief to his keepers. It had seemed the best thing for everyone, a way to release everyone from the pain and trouble of his continued existence.

And if there was anything worse he could say to people who had always loved him above nearly everything else, Loki could not think of it. Well, of course, it was also cruelty to tell them I never realized you loved me, but since he had already admitted as much, there was little point in worrying about that now.

His father stepped closer, laid a hand on his head once again, and for no reason Loki suddenly felt it as a cradling gesture, as one does when holding an infant too young to support its own head. It was a gesture of tenderness and protection, perhaps the action of a man taking up an abandoned baby out of an uncomplicated desire to protect it.

There was no accusation in Odin's voice as he said, "We know now that was not a new belief, and I should have suspected something long before then." Loki swallowed hard, and his father went on, "I would ask the librarian, sometimes, what sort of books you favoured. When he said you liked to read of faraway realms, I assumed you were gathering knowledge against the day you would be called upon to advise your brother. It was, of course, stupid on my part, to imagine that a child would think in such a way. I should have asked you what pleasure you took in such books, why they held your interest." Odin smiled faintly. "I have no doubt you would have lied, but I might have at least realized there was cause for concern." Loki felt a flush climb his throat, and his father went on gently,

"You told Thor, not long ago, that while you read those books you imagined a place where you would be wanted, and would belong. When he told me of that, it occurred to me that he did not add anything about you imagining us missing you, or coming to look for you. Was that ever part of the stories you told yourself?"

"Yes," Loki whispered. At his father's steady look, he dropped his eyes and amended, "At first." He did not remember when his fictions had ceased to focus on how his mother and father and brother would seek him out, would express joy and relief to see him again, but by the time the fantasies had worn out, and the brief comfort they offered with them, it had been years since he had even considered the idea. The fantasies then had always had the same shape: Loki would find somewhere to belong, and he would go there and be happy, and Asgard would never enter his mind.

He supposed he thought the realm would go along as it ever had, unconcerned by his absence. Perhaps, for a little while, he had tormented himself with mental pictures of his family getting along perfectly well without him, but before long those had lost their sting, had been accepted as reality, and so he had let them alone. Instead, he had concentrated on trying to imagine the things he wanted for himself, tried to believe in them, and leave aside what could never be altered.

"I'm sorry," he murmured again, and this time Odin embraced him, wordlessly. Speaking into his father's shoulder, Loki repeated, "I am sorry I hurt you so by that action, and sorry I did not realize how much it would hurt you. And I am especially sorry it took me so long to recognize the need for this apology." His father cradled his head again, briefly, and then released him.

Loki stepped back, shifting uneasily. In addition to feeling rather inclined to cry, Loki found himself embarrassed. And he was still worried about Annie, wondering whether she was even now still talking to her family, how their conversation had gone, how she was feeling. At the same time, even Loki knew it would be impossibly selfish for him to broach such a subject and then simply run away.

His mother was eying him cautiously, as though flight was to her a distinct possibility. Loki made himself take a careful breath and let it out, force his shoulders down and stand flat-footed as his mother took his hand. Annie was surely settling in for a long session with her family, and he would not be needed for some time yet. The very least he could do was stay here long enough to have a proper conversation with his mother and father.

He opened his mouth to say something innocuous, reassuring.

Instead, what came out was, "Was there another baby?"

"What?" his mother asked, blankly, but her fingers tightened coldly around his. Loki could feel heat rush through his body, but he clarified,

"Thor has said... he has told me that he remembers, before I was, before I became part of our family... he remembers... your appearance. As one who is with child." It crossed his mind that it was ridiculous for him to be so embarrassed at broaching this subject with his parents. On the other hand, since Tyr as weapons trainer had been given the responsibility for instruction and explanations about all matters related to becoming men, it was not as if he had ever attempted to speak of anything like this with them before.

Embarrassment would have silenced him now, except for the expressions on his parents' faces. His father looked startled and guilty, while his mother... his mother wore an expression of remembered pain.

And both of them were visibly thinking as fast as they could, each looking sideways at the other as though they wanted to ask him for a moment of privacy, so they could decide together what story they were going to tell him.

"The truth," Loki heard himself say, the embarrassed flush receding, to be replaced by... something else. "Please- " You owe me this much- "tell me the truth. Thor believes he created the memory. Is it a real one after all?"

For a moment, in spite of everything that had happened between them, Loki really thought his parents were going to fall back into denials and lies. He could actually see the decision being made as he looked from his mother to his father and back.

And then, abruptly, Frigga nodded, obviously distressed. She gestured at a chair and Loki sat, his stomach twisting in anxiety as he realized he had bullied his mother into admitting something she would otherwise never have told him. He started to take it back, to apologize for asking, for upsetting her, but his mother raised a hand and he closed his mouth, clasping his hands before him. His father brought two chairs close to his, and his parents also sat.

In spite of his instinctive fear, when his mother spoke her voice was not angry. "Yes. It was a real memory," she said quietly. "I confess, I am surprised he would remember anything about it. He was very small, hardly speaking in sentences yet. But he is correct: there was another baby."

It was wrong for Loki to hear this and not Thor. They should both be here, should both hear the story. Loki did not even know whether his brother was in Asgard at the moment, and he would have asked her to stop, to wait- except that he had asked, and had no right to make further demands around a subject so obviously painful.

Instead of speaking, Loki tightened his hands around each other, and his mother said quietly,

"It was near the end of the war. The Jotnar had been driven from Midgard, and the Aesir troops were moving to pin them on Jotunheim, so they could not launch any further aggression against other realms. Your father had scarcely been in Asgard since I told him I was sure about the baby. There was no reason for him to concern himself, birth is a matter among women- mothers and midwives and healers. Everything was going well. I had tried to tell Thor he would soon have a baby brother or sister, but he was too young to be very interested. At his age he would not have known what brother meant, until there was a baby for him to call by that name." She paused, gazing straight ahead at nothing.

At the past. Loki had seen that look before, and he wondered what was there, what his mother retreated to.

"Everything was going well," she repeated. "I sent your father letters, when a messenger was available, so he would know what he had to come home to when the fighting was over."

She stopped again, and Loki finally prompted, as gently as he could, "What happened?"

Frigga blinked, jerked her head as if trying to dislodge a painful memory. "When he was born... the cord that connects the child to the mother, it was out of position. Instead of the baby coming first, the cord did. And this caused it to be... to be compressed, so all the tasks the cord does for an unborn baby were stopped. I had never heard of such a thing. I did not know it could happen. He was a fine big child, and by the time... The midwife sent for Eir, but it was too late, by the time he was born. He never drew breath."

Loki wanted to take her hand again, but it seemed wrong. After a moment, to his relief, his father reached out and did so.

Frigga's eyes were dry- she must long ago have shed all her tears for this child - as she went on, "My attendants spoke of it to no one, of course, not with the king absent- it was his right as father to know before any, what had become of his second heir. He had already sent word that he expected to return very soon, and in fact he came back within days.

"And... when he came, he brought you." She looked directly at Loki, focused on him. "It was late when he arrived in my chambers, having come straight to me. My ladies had gone to bed, I was asleep. His head was all bandaged, but before I could ask about his injury he pushed his cloak aside and, and set you before me."

Loki found himself holding his breath. His mother's frozen face softened, her eyes going somewhere else again. "You were asleep- you must have been exhausted with crying and hunger and thirst. And when you could not see your father, your magic must have forgotten to make you look like him, look Aesir. You were all blue. You were... " She fell silent, and Loki wondered what a baby looks like, who dies without ever breathing. Was that other baby blue, also?

His mother went on, her voice faraway and reflective: "You woke, when your father set you upon the counterpane, opened your crimson eyes and let out the saddest little wail, as though you had been miserable for so long you no longer hoped for anyone to help you. I picked you up and held you to my shoulder- " Apparently unconsciously, Frigga mimed the gesture, as though holding an invisible baby, one hand cupping its tiny head. "You huddled against me as if comforted, and when I looked down you were all pink, with one little fist pressed into your mouth. It was as if I had dreamed the blue, dreamed everything, the loss and heartbreak and... failure. I still had milk, and you were just strong enough to take it. Your father asked if I would have you- " she laughed a little, shaking her head in dreamy disbelief- "there was no question. I could no more have refused you than I could have given Thor away to tinkers. From the moment I saw you..." She pressed her free hand to her mouth for a moment, before going on, "The next day we engaged a wet nurse, and your father... laid a few charms on the memories of my household. We found a good nursery maid to look after you, ensure you were well-cared for and… safe, you and Thor both. And he learned a brother was someone to love."

Loki realized he was still holding his breath, exhaled quietly. You took me for a purpose, he had said to his father, that night in the weapons vault. What was it? He wondered why his father had been unable to confess to this, to stealing a baby- not even stealing, not when it had been discarded- to comfort his grieving wife. That was not so bad, surely. It could not be uncommon, to try to replace a lost child with another. Surely that happened all the time, although admittedly not in quite this way.

And what if that other baby had not died?

Loki tried not to hear the voice asking that question. It was not the mad voice, the dangerous one. It was only the voice that had always told him his brother was right to prefer other playmates, his parents wise to favour Thor, that none of his hopes and wishes and fantasies would ever come true because such things happened only to the deserving. The voice had gone quiet of late, but he recognized it.

Do not ask questions that have no answers.

But what would have happened? What if that other child had lived?

Father would still have saved him. Surely, even had he not found himself in need of a baby, he would have taken up the foundling, and… given him to someone. He would not have left him behind in the cold, or offered only the mercy of a swift death-

Stop that!

But what would have happened- ?

"Loki." It took him a moment to recognize his father's voice. He did not respond until the word was repeated, sharply. "Loki!"

Loki blinked, his own mind coming back from far away, to see both his parents looking at him in what seemed to be alarm. A jolt of unreasoning panic coursed through his body. Nonono, say something, do not let them see-

"I apologize," he began, trying to smooth out his voice. "I was only imaging- " He smiled, the smile that had always fooled everyone into thinking all was well, the extra prince only distracted by inconsequential thoughts, nothing to be concerned about, no reason to bother.

Odin leaned forward a little and spoke deliberately. "I did not know about your brother."

Loki could not hide his confusion. "About Thor?" he asked stupidly. "What about him?"

Odin looked patient, the expression of a father helping his backward but beloved son toS grasp concepts that were beyond him. "Not Thor. I did not know your brother had died. I thought... you would have been a twin. I supposed you to be a little older than the baby waiting to meet me in Asgard, but by the time you were both formally presented it would have been difficult to see a different of two or three weeks at most. You would have seemed the more advanced, perhaps, but not enough to cause suspicion. I did not know your brother had died until... Your mother wept so, when she held you, I knew there was something wrong. But I had not, until then."

"Oh." Loki looked from one parent to the other. Not needed, then. Only wanted. His father looked understanding, while his mother was... bewildered. Loki suddenly felt desperate to prevent her from realizing what he had been thinking. He grasped at the first idea that came to mind, heard himself blurt, "But you said... what of your plans for, for peace? You said you discarded those later."

Do you want to be disowned, idiot?

Odin sighed. "You may recall, child, that I also told you I thought of the plans after I had already taken you. As it happens, I also thought of the plans after I realized you would not be a twin, and began to worry about what would happen if the memory charm ever failed."

Loki stared at him, thinking through the makeshift plans and hasty decisions and all the things that could have gone terribly wrong.

And then he heard himself blurt, "Really, Father, that sounds like a plan Thor would come up with." As soon as the words were out he was horrified- of all times to choose to speak candidly-

Odin gave him a look that, perhaps ironically, briefly promised thunderbolts- and then, to Loki's relief, his mother laughed, and his father reluctantly chuckled. The Allfather was not all-wise, but he had wisdom enough to be self-aware. And surely he understood that to be compared to Thor was not really an insult.

"I admit," Odin said, "it was not one of my better-considered ideas. Still, you must recall I was rather weary at the time. And also, as I have said, I felt... obligated, perhaps, to at least consider..." Odin shook his head, as though to drive the idea away. "What I told you was, in every vital sense, the truth. I found you, and took you up, and from that time you have been my son." He glanced at Frigga. "Our son. Nothing has ever changed that. I simply left out- "

Left out the part that Mother could not bear to think of.

He looked at Frigga, pale and not quite composed. She had spoken of the nursery attendant keeping them safe, had spoken of failure-

This time Loki did lean out of his seat, reached for his mother's free hand, and held it tightly in both of his own as he smiled at her. "And I could not be more fortunate, than to be your son." He hesitated, then added awkwardly, "I am sorry about... our brother."

Just for a moment, Loki let himself wonder how it would have been, if there had been three of them instead of two. He might have found himself ignored by two golden brothers instead of one. Or perhaps, maybe, the "twins" would have been together in all things, and allowed Thor to come and go, to be independent, without the desperate clinging that had nearly suffocated their relationship.

Perhaps, if the third brother had lived, Mother would have been less distant. Less... afraid.

He wondered, too, what their lost brother would have been like.

"What was his name?" Loki asked suddenly. Frigga's fingers tightened on his.

"His... name?" she repeated, slowly. Odin suddenly looked as though he was about to make the noise, and Loki avoided his eyes, trying not to cower.

And then Frigga's eyes cleared, softened, as she looked at him with a smile. "Just between ourselves, he and I, I called him Kjartan." Out of the corner of his eye, Loki could see Odin look startled. He had perhaps never thought to ask, and so she had never told him.

"Kjartan," Loki echoed, and was obscurely grateful his mother had not said Balder. "A good name. I am sure we would have loved each other."

His mother leaned over, kissed his cheek, and now her eyes were wet. "I know you would have," she said quietly. " And I was thankful for you then, as I am even more thankful now."

It was a little time before Loki trusted himself to speak.

"Thor should know of this," he said, finally. Both his parents winced and Loki heard himself hurry on, "I could speak to him, if you gave me leave. I will say nothing unless you agree, but he should know." There should be no secrets in families, his mother had told him once- but, like his father, she had kept secrets, had lied, and would have continued to lie if Loki had not learned the truth for himself.

Loki wrenched his mind away from that memory, reminding himself that in a very real way there had been no lies at all, except by omission. He was their son, whatever the circumstances of his birth. (Unconsciously he flexed his right hand, remembering the panicky horror when he saw the blue, hoping to learn he had only been cursed. It was strange indeed, how the memory of the terror itself could live on, even after he had come to understand there was nothing to be afraid of.)

This was different. There was no way Thor could possibly be harmed, if this matter remained secret between himself and his parents. Try as he might- and Loki was very good at seeing disasters all around him- he could not see how his brother could actually be injured.

Except, of course, in the matter of confidence in his family. Except in the matter of trust. It was one thing to conceal the lost brother from both sons, another entirely to tell one and not the other. Dimly, Loki remembered his belief that Thor must have known of Loki's origins, and what that had led to-

And that was neither here nor there, nothing he would think of now.

Loki glanced at his mother and knew she would wish to keep silent, to swear him to secrecy. He also knew that her protests, before, when she claimed that she had tried to make Father tell the truth, were self-protective lies.

He wondered how someone not hers by blood, and raised largely by servants, could be so much her son.

Loki was so focused on his mother that for a moment he did not notice his father remaining quiet, letting Frigga make the choice. When he did, however, Loki also held his peace and let her decide.

And at length, she nodded. "Of course he must be told."

Loki did not miss the significance of her words. "Would you have me do it?" he asked. This had been terribly painful for his mother, to remember not only the loss, but also that unreasonable feeling of being at fault for it. For her to tell the story again would be to revisit the same pain. Loki had not lived with the memory of the lost child, had only just learned of his existence, would not be hurt to speak of him. He could warn Thor that this was a matter that called for tender handling, when next he saw their mother. It was not that Thor was insensitive, he would rather do anything than cause their mother grief, but it was always easier to be considerate when one was properly warned. "Let me do this for you," he coaxed.

Frigga's lips tightened, and her hand on his. "Would you?" She looked ashamed to ask him to spare her this, a woman who had struck down armed intruders twice her size. Intruders whose presence was all his fault.

"Of course," Loki assured her. I owe you much more than this. "It is fitting, for the two of us to talk of the brother who might have been. Anything more... can be spoken of at another time."

Frigga leaned forward to embrace him, whispered in his ear, "I do not say it enough, but you are a good son to me, and always have been."

"As you are a good mother, to all your children," Loki whispered back.

He had, it turned out, one last clean tissue in his pocket to offer.

~oOo~

The visit lasted much longer than Loki had anticipated, by the time he kissed his mother goodnight and walked back out to the gardens. To his surprise- but not displeasure- Odin accompanied him. Loki had never world-walked in his father's presence before, had hidden the skill for as long as he could out of an obscure fear it would be forbidden simply on the grounds it was Loki who did it.

Well, when one considered the uses to which he had put the ability…

As they stepped from the stone terrace onto the grass of the garden, Loki gathered all the courage he had and turned to his father.

"Is this, at last, the end of secrets between us?"

There was an unnervingly long pause before Odin nodded. "Between parents and sons, yes. This is the end."

It took a moment more for Loki to understand. "But the king may still have secrets to keep. I understand." For once he spoke truth: the secrets of kings were a different matter, to be shared between Odin and Thor when the time came, and nothing to do with Loki.

It would have been easy to take the reminder as a rebuke. Before Loki could do so, his father added,

"I never thought to ask her if he had a name. I believe it was of comfort to her that you did. That was well thought."

Loki shrugged uneasily. "I am told there was no naming ceremony for me on Jotunheim, but I thought, perhaps… my mother would have called me something, just between ourselves. And so…"

"Yes," Odin said heavily. And then, "I expected you would be warlike, with Laufey's blood. I confess, it surprised me when I finally realized that, as well as you conducted yourself in your brother's company, your tastes and talents lay elsewhere."

Loki stayed quiet: of course he knew, now, that his efforts to be a seemly prince had not been as thoroughly overlooked as he had always believed. He was no longer sorry to fall short in warrior's prowess- though really, when the measure was Thor, who would not?- but the idea that, had he lived up to the standards of Asgard, he would only have been seen as more the son of Laufey made him wish for a moment he had rejected the warrior's arts entirely in favour of… of poetry. And cooking.

And then he thought of Thor, working pastry in his floury hands, and he nearly laughed out loud.

"I suppose I overlooked the fact you also had a mother on Jotunheim," Odin was saying. "You do her honour- both your mothers. And your father."

"My only father," Loki murmured, embraced him, and was gone.

He emerged beside the dustbins in the garden behind the pink house, with no clear idea how long he had been gone, whether Annie and her family might still be talking together. Peering through the kitchen window, he could see no lights in the lounge. The little one over the stove was lit, however. That was a sign the house was waiting for its occupants to return.

Loki let himself quietly into the house through the kitchen door, to be greeted by the kittens. He knelt on the floor to rub their heads and let them climb on his lap.

Then he went through the house to let himself out at the front door, and walked down the street to join his friends in the pub.

Notes: I just didn't have the nerve, in a universe where mythology is non-existent, to name the third baby Balder. But I've been thinking that Frigga's problems as a mother probably had part of their roots in something real, and so I indulged myself in this little fancy. Umbilical prolapse, which is what happened here, is a real obstetric emergency.

I think Odin is finally telling the truth, and they've run out of secrets kept from each other. Except, I suppose, Loki still has to tell his parents about his plans for the future.