Heartbreaking and heartwarming moments in the life of the mother of the Master of Thunder and the Maker of Mischief. Companion to "Fallen Star" Dedicated to all of our mothers.

The song in this portion is "Norse Lullaby" by Eugene Field.

Cover art by RaaiSesshyFan.

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Mother's Day

"A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness,

and cause peace to return to our hearts."

~Washington Irving

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ONE

"There is an instinct in a woman to love most her own child - and an instinct to make any child who needs her love, her own."

~Robert Brault

Frigg let out a deep, deep sigh as she lay her aching body down on the bed and closed her eyes. Thor had just stopped screaming and fallen into an uneasy slumber. He had been born not long ago, and he was a tyrant—always hungry, always uncomfortable, always inconsolable. She could almost swear that the large, angel-faced, golden-headed babe had not made a single happy expression or sound in the whole of his short existence. Neither of them had slept a full night for what seemed like an eternity, she never managed to eat at the usual times, and her worry at her child's constant shrieking had flayed her nerves raw. To compound it all, Frigg had been forced to bear the burden of a newborn all on her own—her husband Odin was gone, swallowed by the uncertainty and distance of the war with Jotunheim.

She opened her eyes and gazed up at the tall, dark ceiling of her chambers. A single candle far off to the right, on her vanity, glimmered. She knew she would be rising up and lying down repeatedly during the night, as she had every night before—and last night she had stumbled over a pair of shoes in the dark and almost fallen into the crib. She dared not risk that again.

She took another deep sigh, hearing Thor give a thin grunt—then another. Frigg's face twisted as a headache throbbed through her.

"Please, go to sleep," she whispered, covering her eyes with her hand. "Please…please…"

Thor took a breath, and began to whimper in a nearly angry tone, and Frigg now pressed her hand over her mouth. She did not know how much longer she could take this—how much further she could be pushed before she just tore apart at the seams—

A knock came at her door.

Her eyes went wide. She sat up. Thor burst into a wail.

She got up, her long nightgown swishing around her ankles, and hurried to the door, her heartbeat racing. Someone at her door in the middle of the night—that could not be good. It had to be news from the front, from the war—it had to be that her husband…

No, no, no…

With shaking hands, she worked her latch and opened the door…

To a familiar silhouette in the doorway.

And the sight of it made her forget her baby's crying.

"Odin!"

She sang his name and threw her arms around his neck. Her hands took fistfuls of his soft tunic.

"Oh, my dearest," Odin whispered, wrapping his arm tight around her.

"You're alive—oh, you're home…You're home…" Frigg gasped. Her mouth found his, and she kissed him over and over, cradling his dear face in her hands—

And then she felt that something was terribly wrong.

She pulled back. The glimmer of her candle caught his countenance.

"Oh, my love!" she yelped, her hand fluttering up to his rugged face again, then withdrawing. "Your eye!"

For indeed, he only looked back at her with one of his infinite blue eyes. The other was covered in a bandage.

"Yes," he sighed, sounding infinitely tired as he stepped into the room. "Laufey took it." He turned, and shut the door behind him with his left hand. "But I have taken something of his, in return—though he seemed to have wanted it less than I wanted my eye."

And it was then, when Frigg fully saw her husband's tall, broad form clothed in dark garments given him by Eir the healer, that she realized he held a small bundle in the crook of his right arm, wrapped in black cloth. She went still. Slowly, her brow furrowed.

"What is it?" she murmured.

"Look," Odin urged, stepping up very close to her. Absently, she put out her right hand and rested it on his shoulder, then stretched out her left and moved aside a fold of the thick cloth…

To see a pair of glittering emerald eyes gazing right back at her.

Her mouth fell open.

"A baby…?" she breathed.

"Yes," Odin said. "I found him abandoned to die—I heard talk amongst the captives that he is Laufey's boy, but the King did not want him. Thought he was too small."

"Abandoned…" A pang ran straight through Frigg. She stepped even closer, pushing the cloth further aside. It was a beautifully-formed, pale little boy, his eyes large, green and bright. He was quiet, and very awake, but oddly still. She touched his forehead and cheeks with her fingertips. He had very soft skin—even softer than Thor's. The little Jotun baby watched her every move, seeming to focus on her face in a way that Aesir babies of the same age were incapable.

"He does not look like a Frost Giant," she mused.

"I changed the look of him—and he did not object to it," Odin replied. "For I knew as soon as I picked him up that I would not leave him there to his fate. I knew I would bring him back here, and see if any of the courtiers wished to give him a home. I did not think it impossible for at least one couple to feel a touch of compassion. After all, there has already been so much pain…so much loss, suffering…"

"Oh, sweetheart," Frigg said, suddenly overcome with pity for her husband, and she leaned her forehead against his throat.

Just then, Thor began to shriek in even more ear-shattering tones.

Frigg jerked.

"My son…!" Odin said, shuddering in sudden emotion. Gently, he passed the little Jotun babe to Frigg, and stepped across the chamber to the crib. He lifted his hand, and two wall lamps leaped to life, illuminating the corner where Thor's broad wooden cradle stood. Odin bent over the white cushions and blankets, gazing with incandescent, rapturous joy down at the child within. Frigg's heart swelled to bursting just looking at them—even though Thor was weeping with the force of a hurricane.

"Oh, Frigg…" Odin gasped, swiping at his eye. "You did wonderful work."

Frigg laughed, tears welling up in her own eyes.

"Thank you, my king."

He lifted his face and gazed at her.

"I am so sorry I was not here," he whispered. She shrugged one shoulder.

"You are here now," she managed, pulling one hand free and dashing away a tear. "That is all that matters."

He gave her a very long look, then turned and reached down into the crib, to stroke Thor's curly, golden head. But Thor hardly noticed—he was still bawling at the top of his lungs.

"What troubles him?" Odin asked.

"What always troubles him," Frigg said. "Everything." She stepped forward, absently bouncing the other baby as she did. She glanced down. The strange little baby still watched her, though a faint, odd frown had formed on his delicate brow. Then, he blinked slowly. He was sleepy.

"So he cries often?" Odin asked, straightening.

"Constantly," Frigg replied over the racket. "And I cannot discover why, or what to do about it." Sighing, but not knowing what else to do at the moment, she bent down and gently laid the little Jotun down in the soft blankets next to Thor. She stood up and glanced at Odin, rubbing her sore lower back with both hands. "I have asked the nurses, and the other ladies of the court—they have given me advice that I have followed to the letter, and still I can do nothing that will calm him down, or keep him from fussing or…"

She stopped. She stared at Odin. He stared back.

Thor had stopped crying.

As one, Odin and Frigg turned to the crib.

Thor was staring at the Jotun. And the Jotun was looking back. Thor's pout had transformed into a look of deepest concentration, his tears glistening on his cheeks, but forgotten. His brilliant blue eyes fixed on the other baby, his mouth was closed, and he was breathing so carefully it was almost like he was holding his breath. Then, he swallowed, and squirmed slightly.

The Jotun's lips tightened, his green eyes wandering over Thor's face. He wiggled, and his right arm flailed out and his little fingers hit Thor's nose.

Instantly, the two went still. Their eyes locked again. This time, it was the Jotun's gaze that sharpened in intensity—though both of their delicate brows had formed focused frowns.

Frigg watched with bated breath, not daring to move. Slowly, the little Jotun's unpracticed fingers spread out, and rested on Thor's face, right on his forehead and bridge of his tiny nose.

"Da," he said, as if pronouncing something very grave.

And Thor laughed.

It was the purest sound of delight that Frigg had ever heard. It rang through the room, sending thrills all through her veins—fresh as a morning after rain, and brilliant as the sun that cuts through as storm cloud. Frigg's hand came up and inadvertently pressed to her heart.

"Ha," Odin murmured, an awed smile crossing his face. "Perhaps that is what he needed."

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Deep in the night, Frigg opened her eyes. She heard slight rustling movement inside the crib next to her. No fussing—just restlessness. She took a deep breath, and reluctantly pulled away from her husband's warmth. She slid out from beneath the heavy covers and set her feet on the floor, glancing back to make sure that Odin still slept. He did. She took two steps, and knelt on the rug before the crib, and rested her elbows on its railing.

Thor and the little Jotun lay close together, and the fingers of Thor's right hand were wrapped snugly around the Jotun's thumb. Thor was completely asleep, breathing evenly, his eyes motionless beneath his soft lids.

The Jotun was awake. Though the side of his forehead rested against Thor's, his face was tilted up, and he gazed back at Frigg steadily, as if he had been waiting for her. She smiled down at him. He did not smile in return—but his intense look softened, and the frown relaxed from his brow. Frigg took a quiet breath, and sang very softly to him.

"The sky is dark and the hills are white
As the storm-king speeds from the north to-night;
And this is the song the storm-king sings,
As over the world his cloak he flings:
'Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;'
He rustles his wings and gruffly sings:
'Sleep, little one, sleep."'

The Jotun blinked slowly, but still studied her, marveling at her. And she found that she gazed back at him with equal fascination.

"On yonder mountain-side a vine
Clings at the foot of a mother pine;
The tree bends over the trembling thing,
And only the vine can hear her sing:
'Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;
What shall you fear when I am here?
Sleep, little one, sleep.'

The king may sing in his bitter flight,
The pine may croon to the vine to-night,
But the little snowflake at my breast
Liketh the song I sing the best, -
'Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;
Weary thou art, anext my heart;
Sleep, little one, sleep.'"

He blinked again. The smile gradually left Frigg's face, and she tilted her head, gazing deeply into the babe's fathomless eyes.

"I think I will keep you, Loki."

She paused, her breath stilling—but she registered no surprise. Loki. That was his name. She just knew it. Knew it as surely as she saw him there.

This was where he belonged—right there, next to Thor, forever. And she also knew that, from this day forward, no matter where he had come from or where he would go—he would belong to her.

TO BE CONTINUED

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