Agowilt: Unnecessary fear.
Apparently Jory is going through a bit of a wicked streak, and had convinced Modi that one day his parents would shut him up in a room at the top of the castle because of his seidr, like in Frozen. Of course, Jory didn't point out the fact that, out of the three Loki-spawn currently residing in Asgard, Modi was by far the most normal. He also didn't point out the fact that Modi's seidr was nothing too concerning; after all, Loki too possessed magical powers, unlike the parents in Frozen.
Jory, when prodded to answer a few days later, had hissed and told Loki in little sibilant syllables that it wasn't his fault Modi took after that blonde buffoon of a father in terms of intelligence. Loki had eyed Jory, trying to stifle his laughter and failing miserably, before telling the little snake that it really was not very nice to tease his brother.
But at the present moment, Modi has hidden himself in the pile of toys in the wardrobe, cowering in a corner of the armoire in the nursery as Loki looks behind curtains and underneath rugs and even inside the giant teddy bear Thor had procured at a Midgardian amusement park in search of his son.
"Modi?" Loki calls, and Modi stuffs his fist into his mouth to keep from crying. "Where are you? It's time for breakfast. They've even got strawberries and cream today. You like those."
At this, Modi almost tumbles out of the closet - he really did enjoy strawberries and cream, almost as much as potatoes, but the cooks positively refused to serve potatoes and cream - but manages to regain his balance just in time. His mama wasn't going to lure him out of his hiding place with delicious treats, only to shut him up in a room in a tower far far away. No, sir.
A pair of beady eyes and a cool, leathery object slithers past his leg, and Modi screams and bolts out of the closet, flailing and kicking, Jory wrapped loosely around his ankle.
"My goodness, what's gotten into you two?" Loki asks after a moment, scooping up his sons and checking for injuries. There are none, but Modi is still screaming bloody murder and Loki has to drag him out of the nursery, Modi's nails leaving gouges in the floor all the way down the hall.
Modi snuffles into his breakfast, so much so that Frigga has to tell him that strawberries and cream really do not taste very good with salty tears, and Odin even makes silly faces at his grandson to try to get him to laugh. He produces nothing so much as a giggle.
After breakfast is over, Modi sobs his way into an early, unscheduled midmorning nap, and Loki vaguely wonders as he puts his son down to sleep if Modi had, overnight, developed a terrifying fear of red fruits. Thor, back in the 9th century, had had a fundamental distrust of cherries, a fear that had recently come back stronger upon being presented with a Midgardian jar of cherries, bright and fluorescent red and sweet. Loki loved them. Thor had flung the jar far away, setting off three car alarms in the process, and Loki had mourned the loss of his new sweet.
He looks at his sleeping son, chewing at his lip thoughtfully, and decides to place a tomato in the corner of the crib. Just as a test.