When Tony entered the living room, he saw Thor standing beside a statuesque, golden-haired woman. She was wearing a flowing white gown and had a battered leather satchel slung over her shoulder. Tony went to greet them. He nodded at Thor and then held out his hand to the woman. She was beautiful, intimidatingly so. "Hello," he said, "I—"
"Man of Iron, I present to you the Allmother, her most Royal Highness, Queen of Asgard." Thor held himself proudly, and there was a moment of silence in which Tony kind of didn't know what to do; his hand was just hanging there like a dead fish. Thor frowned with an expectantly raised eyebrow, and he made a little gesture that Tony interpreted to mean he should, what? Curtsey? Genuflect? Kneel? Something, obviously. He dropped his hand and settled for a little bow, which seemed to satisfy Thor. But the queen just scoffed. "Thor, this is hardly the time for formalities." The queen turned to face Tony. "You're Tony Stark, yes?" she said in a warm tone.
"Yes, ma'am. Uh, I mean, your Highness."
"Please, call me Frigga." She now held out her hand and Tony tentatively took it, wondering if he was supposed to kiss it like he'd seen in the movies, but the regal lady simply gave it a firm shake, just as anyone would. Tony dared a glance directly at her face and she had a kind, friendly expression that immediately put him at ease. She smiled.
"Thor has told me much about you, and I hope we will have an opportunity to get to know one another, but right now, I must see my son. Can you take me to him?"
"Of course," Tony said. "This way, your Highness, uh, ma'am."
"Frigga," the queen repeated firmly. She allowed Tony to lead her to his bedroom.
"Loki? Your mom's here," Tony announced as they walked in. He smiled when he saw Loki's face light up at the sight of her.
"Mother!"
"Oh, Loki, I've missed you so, my darling." Frigga hurried to sit on his bedside and wrap her arms around him. Tony could see Loki weakly grab onto her. She turned and said to Tony, "Please, Mr. Stark, leave us. I need to speak to my son in private."
"Yes, ma'am. Oh, and, uh... You can call me Tony." He stood there a moment, but quickly grasped that he'd already been dismissed, as Frigga had eyes only for Loki. Reluctantly, Tony stepped out and closed the door behind him. He headed back to the living room to wait with Thor.
"My poor little boy." Frigga leaned back and gave Loki a critical once-over glance; his pale, drained appearance was indeed worrying, a testament to the blood loss he'd suffered—clearly, Thor hadn't been exaggerating. Still, he looked better than he had the time she'd seen him imprisoned in the dungeons of Asgard, battered and bruised and skinny to the point of his bones poking up beneath his flesh. At least now he looked as if he'd had regular meals and a warm place to sleep.
"What's wrong with me, Mother?" Loki asked plaintively. He didn't bother to hide the worry in his voice.
"Well, let's have a look at you." Frigga placed her hands on Loki's face, and then on his neck, feeling his pulse. She stared into his eyes.
Loki basked in the familiar touch, the look of concern. "I don't want to die," he said in a pitiful tone. He didn't mind being a bit melodramatic for his mother; she generally always indulged his self-pity, but only up to a point. She seemed to know just when to call his bluff. But now, he didn't think he was overdoing it, asking for a bit of motherly coddling. He was sure the gravity of the situation was plain to her.
Frigga clucked sympathetically, but she had what Loki thought was a rather inappropriately cheery manner about her, almost a twinkle in her eye. It was most perplexing.
"What a dreadful time you've had of it lately," she said. "I'm so sorry. But, I'm fairly certain that you're not going to die, my love."
Loki's lips twisted in irritation. Couldn't she see he was at death's door, or at least approaching its front lawn? Although, he was beginning to feel a tiny bit better... "Then, what manner of ailment is this? In case Thor didn't fully explain the situation, I'm bleeding and in a lot of pain. Not to put too fine a point on it, but this totally sucks."
Frigga chuckled. "Oh, dear, I see you've picked up some coarse Midgardian language, haven't you? Well, I think I know what's wrong, but I have to be sure. Lift your shirt, love, I need to lay hands on your belly."
Loki frowned, but obeyed. Frigga spread her fingers wide apart and lay them low on either side of Loki's flat stomach. She closed her eyes, and for a moment, Loki's mind drifted and everything felt liquid. Then, a sharp spark of energy coursed through his entire body, leaving him gasping for air. "M-Mother! What was that?" he sputtered when he could speak.
Frigga sat back and gave him a wry look. "It's just as I suspected. And, I'm afraid this is going to come as a bit of a shock. But, happily, I can assure you that your demise is hardly imminent."
"What is it?" Loki asked anxiously.
"First, I have a question for you, and I want the truth, none of your artful lies," Frigga said crisply as she fixed him with a steely gaze. "Have you recently lain with a man?"
Loki's eyes widened comically. He'd never made much of an attempt to hide his proclivities toward a rich and varied sex life from his mother, but neither was it something he felt comfortable... discussing. "What the hell does that have to do with anything?" he asked balefully.
"Answer me, please. Have you?"
Now Loki had the expression of a recalcitrant teenager. He crossed his arms and looked away before giving the barest of nods, and then shrugged. "So?"
Frigga picked up his hand and squeezed. "Well, my dear... It seems you are with child."
Loki blinked, and the energy drained from the room. It was dead silent until a slow chuckle came out of him and he shook his head at her slyly. "Mother... And here I thought I was the trickster. Clever, but your humor is a bit misplaced, this really isn't funny. Please, just tell me what's wrong."
"Open your mind to me, Loki." Frigga took Loki's hand and placed it where one of hers had been on his stomach. She put hers on top of his and again, that liquid feeling came over him. This time, his consciousness seemed to make a connection with his body and he felt... a stirring. Sparks seemed to flow effortlessly from his hand to his brain, not an unpleasant feeling, but... strange. For a moment, time was irrelevant and there was no sound in the room but their breathing. Shuddering waves of knowledge washed over him and he finally raised his eyes to his mother's.
"Ye gods," he whispered.
Frigga smiled slowly and nodded. "Yes. There's a life growing inside you, Loki."
Loki dropped his hand limply onto the bed; Frigga sat back. Loki's eyes closed and Frigga watched his expression harden. When his eyes opened again, they were flashing fire, and when he spoke, it was from between clenched teeth. "This cannot be happening. I'm a man!"
"You are Jotun," Frigga said gently.
It broke Frigga's heart to see Loki's face go from wild fury to hurt bewilderment. "Wha... What?" he asked. "Why would that... What do you mean?"
Frigga took a deep breath and leaned down to open her satchel. She brought out a large, ancient-looking book, the worn leather cover tooled with flowers, entwined serpents and runes. She laid it open on her lap and pondered a moment before speaking.
"My great-great grandfather travelled the nine realms back in the days when Asgard's king ruled all. He spent time in each of them, learning their ways. He became a great healer and he wrote it all down." She turned a few pages of the volume and showed Loki a series of drawings, depicting every aspect of Jotun anatomy, including the external sex organs.
He stared. "I do not look like that."
"I know. When Odin placed a glamour spell on you as an infant, your body became Aesir, appearing and functioning just like any other. But when you... discovered your true heritage... When you learned to transform at will, the thin fabric of that glamour began to wear away. Oh, it will never disappear completely, you will always bear the same external appearance you have now, but inside... There was a breakdown."
Frigga bit her lip and smoothed a lock of hair away from Loki's brow. "Somehow, when you became... intimate with a man, the seed found its way to your womb. It took root." She smiled, wishing the fiery look in her son's eyes would fade.
"Then, what is this pain? This blood?" Loki snapped harshly.
Frigga turned a page in the book. She pointed at one of the drawings and at the ancient runes scratched in beside it. "The Jotun body contains both male and female organs, but inside, the womb is very compressed, it's tiny, but it does contain an egg. If it goes unfertilized for long enough, it and the organ itself will wither away. However, if a Jotun mates and receives his partner's spend, the seed joins the egg, but typically remains dormant for some time, for weeks or even months. It stays protected in the harsh Jotun climate until the, uh, mother is in a safe and comfortable environment.
"At that point, the womb begins to expand and take shape. Apparently, this is a very sudden—and painful—process, taking place over a few hours. Blood flows, cleansing the passage. But then the little seedling begins to grow, and from there, the pregnancy will progress much like any other." Frigga looked searchingly at her son. "I know this is a lot to grasp all at once, dear. But, surely, it is a blessing."
Loki stared back for a long moment before snarling, "A blessing? A BLESSING? Are you insane? Why did you never tell me this could happen? What else do I not know about my monstrous heritage, am I to one day begin spewing lava like a volcano, develop tentacles like a squid? Tell me, Mother! What else do I not know?"
Taken aback by his fierceness, Frigga forced a crooked smile. "I think this is about it," she said mildly.
Loki rolled his eyes and lay back, exhausted from the storm of emotions he'd just experienced. Then Frigga sadly bowed her head. "We never told you because we never thought... We never thought you would discover your true form. Never thought something like this was possible, with your Aesir body. Until Thor told me of what was happening with your seidr... It never even occurred to me. I'm so sorry, Loki, I'm so very sorry."
Loki clamped his hands over his eyes, and again the room fell silent. Finally, Loki spoke, his voice low and gravelly.
"All right. There must be... some sort of potion... a cure for this dilemma. Yes?"
Frigga looked up. "You mean...?"
Loki nodded. "I want it out of me. Now. Make it go away, make it die."
"Loki, please—"
"No, Mother. It's my body, I make this choice. Where can I get it? How? Tell me now, or I'll find someone who will."
When Frigga didn't answer, Loki leaned over and roughly grabbed her arm. "I will not hesitate to cut the thing out of my belly myself. You know that I will, if it comes to that. Will you help me or not?"
Frigga sighed tiredly. "There is a plant that grows wild on Asgard, it's quite easy to find... It's a simple potion, I've made it often for the servant girls. According to the book, it will work on the Jotun, too. I'll go home and make it and bring it back as soon as possible." Her lips were pressed in a thin line and she looked gravely at her son. "If that is what you truly want."
Loki dropped her arm, his eyes burning emerald smoke. "It is." He lay back, his breath coming hard and fast.
Frigga's imagined grandchild, a beautiful giggling chubby little thing with Loki's dark hair, seemed to vanish to dust inside her mind. She pushed aside her grief; this was hardly unexpected. She didn't blame Loki for his feelings. But, she wasn't quite ready to give up. She had to try.
"Who is your mate?" she asked softly.
"My what?"
"The man who... The other father," she settled.
Loki laughed bitterly. "He's not my mate."
"He's no longer in your life?"
"No, he's... It's Stark, if you must know."
Frigga's brows shot up. "I see..." She stifled a laugh. Her son had chosen well, if he was going to pick from among the mortals for someone to mate with. Tony Stark was certainly a fine specimen, if a bit on the short side. But the odds of him accepting this situation... Mortals were notoriously small-minded about the differences between themselves and other species when it came to mating. Still… "Will you tell him?"
A fresh wave of horror came over Loki. Tell Stark? Oh, gods. How he would laugh, once he got over his revulsion. But, what would it matter. Loki never expected anything long term with the man—this would simply force things to their logical conclusion that much faster. It was fine. Once the demon was expunged from his body, his magic would return to normal and he could be on his way, just as he'd always intended. It was fine. But, he couldn't quite bear the thought of Tony's face when he told him, the humiliation of his mockery, the pain of his rejection...
"Ah, and what shall I say, dear Mother? That his seed has been hijacked by a blue-fleshed monster and his progeny will be some freakish, hapless creature, belonging to no world, despised by all? At the moment, I'd rather not."
"He should know."
"Then, you tell him. But, not Thor. Or Odin. It's none of their concern."
Frigga nodded. "All right." She sat quietly for a moment. "You have time, Loki. Sleep on it, you may feel differently tomorrow, and—"
"I won't."
"Very well." She stood up, leaned down and kissed Loki's forehead. "I'm so sorry. I love you. Please don't doubt that." She pressed a small vial into his hand. "If the pain returns, take this. But, it's likely over with, and the bleeding too. You should begin to feel much better in a very short time." She gently tilted Loki's chin up, seeking his stormy gaze. "I'll return as soon as possible with the potion. And, I'll tell no one but Mr. Stark." She ran her hand over his hair. "I think you underestimate him, Loki. But, it is as you say—it's your right to make this decision. I just truly hope you will have no regrets." She gave him another kiss and then turned and walked to the door.
Loki didn't respond. He had nothing more to say. But after Frigga left the room, he lay there unmoving, his mind swirling. Suddenly, he sat upright, raised his hand, and sent a bolt of energy hurtling toward a harmless overstuffed chair at the opposite end of the room. It was almost a reflex, just an unthinking release of pent-up tension, like slamming a door or tossing a book across the room.
He only meant to throw the damn thing over on its side in a private display of pique. But the chair lifted itself into the air, turned two complete revolutions so quickly it created a little air tunnel, and then the upholstery split wide open and every bit of the poly-fiber filling so firmly held within spewed out, covering most of the contents of that side of the room with a blanket of white.
Loki stared in bewildered horror at first the scene, and then at his shaking hand.
The energy from somewhere deep inside his gut seemed to laugh.
He lay back on the pillow and wept.