Loki had been missing for the better part of three days, and Frigga had worried herself sick. She couldn't imagine what had happened. He was still so young.

But now Lin had told her that the prince had been found, he'd been brought home. He was unhurt; speaking with his father.

Frigga finished her task with the utmost speed and fairly flew to the hall, where Odin sat, speaking angrily to the small figure that stood before him. Frigga hardly noticed.

"Loki!" The boy started and turned around, barely registering her presence before he was engulfed in her robes, "Loki, we were so worried, are you unhurt? What happened?" She knew she was speaking too fast, but she couldn't help herself.

"Frigga," Odin's voice was low and menacing. She raised herself, keeping one hand to the boy's thin shoulder, "Leave him for the moment."

"Our son has been returned to us, unharmed –"

"After willfully running away."

Frigga looked to her son, but he refused to meet her eyes.

"Leave him, Frigga."

Giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze, Frigga went to stand beside her husband. As she went, Loki did meet her eyes. He was sorry for what he had done. Frigga, though, did not understand. She had no idea what could have caused her son to leave her. And Odin – continuing his tirade – was not helping matters.

"But Father, I –"

"Silence!"

She saw the way Loki's shoulders came up and how he shrunk away. He didn't meet her eyes again, but couldn't quite manage to keep them on his father either, darting sidelong glances at the floor by his foot as Odin spoke.

"I am your father and your king and I will have your attention when I speak to you. Do you understand?"

"Yes Father."

"Look at me!"

Obediently, Loki dragged his eyes from the ground, his hands twisted into knots behind him.

What Loki had done was wrong, but how Odin disciplined was equally improper.

It was only several minutes later that Odin finally questioned him, "What have you to say in defense of your actions?"

Loki went to speak, but then clamped his mouth fiercely shut.

"You have nothing to say?"

Loki made no move to answer, but watched the ground beside him like he thought it might hurt him if he looked away.

"Loki, is this proper behavior for a prince?"

The boy caught his breath, shaking his head.

Odin was not pleased with this, "I want words Loki!"

"No."

It was a desperate answer, almost a whimper, and Frigga laid a hand on her husband's arm. He turned an irate eye on her and she gestured silently toward her boy, where he stood shaking and tense like an over-drawn bow-string.

Only then, it seemed, did Odin see how she'd seen. He relented, loosing some of his fury.

"You may go," he said, much quieter, "I expect you to keep to your chambers until I can contrive a fitting punishment."

Loki's eyes flicked to him for a second, desperate and relieved, before he jerked a bow and all but fled the room.

It was only after the child was good and gone that Odin spoke, "You will say that I am too hard on him." He shifted in his seat.

"He is only a child,"

"A child who will one day grow to be a man."

"But would you rather have that man's allegiance out of love or fear?"

"He will obey me. Whichever road we must take. I will not tolerate his willful behavior –"

"If we are discussing willful behavior, may I remind you of our elder son?"

"Thor is not a part of this discussion."

"Mayhap he should be, my king. Were you ever so critical of him?"

"I will raise my sons as I see fit."

"They are mine as well."

"Frigga, I am your husband and I will be obeyed."

She gave a frustrated breath, raising her hands, "Do you even know why he ran?"

"That is beside the point."

"I fail to see how. If we do not know why the first time, how can we prevent the second?"

"There will be no second time. He will do as he is bid or he will suffer the consequences."

"That is how you train soldiers, not raise sons."

Odin sat back in his seat, smiling as though she had won him the argument, "What are they meant to be Frigga, if not – more than soldiers, but warriors and kings?"

Frigga raised her chin, "If that be the case, let warriors and kings make my argument for me," she gave him a bow, her fist over her heart, "my king."

~.~

She found Loki much as she had expected to. He was sprawled at his desk, papers and books carelessly shoved to the floor beside him, face hidden in his arms. He was very still. She knew he had heard her come in, though he gave no sign of it until she had closed the door behind her. Then he raised his head, "What?"

She didn't answer, but came across the room and seated herself on the low bench facing him.

He wouldn't look at her, but focused on his hands first, and then something on the far wall to his left. His face was streaked with tear tracks, but he stolidly ignored them, suddenly preoccupied with some imperfection of his sleeve. Finally, just as the silence was really beginning to wear on him, Frigga broke it.

"Loki,"

His eyes flicked quickly to her, then away.

"What happened?"

"Didn't Father tell you?" he gave an almost-laugh, "I ran away."

She let the silence hang again for a long moment before she answered him, "I think that that's not the whole story, is it?"

He didn't answer, but looked away again.

"Loki, what happened?"

He took a long breath, "I went after the skalds."

The careful way he said it, she knew it couldn't be the innocent tomfoolery it at first seemed. She waited patiently, but when no further answer seemed forthcoming she pressed, "Why?"

"No reason," he mumbled.

"Loki," she raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. He gave her a nervous half-smile and looked down. He knew it was a poor lie, and he was trying to find the words to tell her the truth.

"I wanted," he stopped and held his breath for a long moment before finally letting it out and saying lowly, "I was going to ask them to take my magic."

Frigga felt as though she'd been slapped. She wasn't at all sure that she'd heard him right, "What?"

Loki took one look at her face and was on his feet, the chair tumbled behind him, "Don't look at me like that!" he nearly howled. In the suddenness of his movement and emotion, a burst came off of his up-thrown hand and knocked a lamp so that it fell to the floor and shattered with a clatter that sounded like thunder to both of them. Loki just looked at it blankly for a second before jerking his hand back against himself, "I'm sorry, Mother, I'm sorry, I didn't –"

He looked at her imploringly and Frigga found herself holding him tightly against her. She could feel his trembling and pulled him closer, "It's only a lamp, my love,"

After several minutes, she crouched down to look in his eyes. He was too tall for that now, and she laughed, "You've gotten too tall for me," She lead him across the room and sat down so that he was facing her.

Looking at him, she didn't know what to say. Ever since she had discovered her own magic she had regarded it as a precious ability, and had treasured it. But, she considered, she had never faced the complications he did, of royalty and the pressure to keep up with a sibling such as Thor. And she had never had the kind of power he possessed while so young. Her ability to control it had grown at pace with the power to be controlled. With Loki it was not so easy.

She sighed, letting her hands slip down to hold both of his. She looked up and saw the new dampness on his face. "Shh," she squeezed his hands and he met her eyes, "Oh Loki, don't you understand what a gift you have?"

He still didn't speak, but dropped his eyes to the ground.

"What made you think to go to them, Loki?"

He took a long breath, "I found a story about an elf king whose magic was making him sick. A skald came and took it out of him and I thought…"

"But why, Loki? Your magic is strong and beautiful," He wasn't looking at her, but at the shattered pieces of the lamp and she fell silent.

"What if I hurt someone?" he finally whispered, "So far I've only broken things…"

She stroked the back of his hand with her thumb, "It has grown very strong, very quickly, hasn't it?"

He nodded.

"Did something happen that frightened you?"

He shook his head. Frigga was skeptical, but decided not to press.

"In time you will learn to control it. You know this."
"But I don't want to do magic," he burst out, "I want to be brave and strong like-" and fell silent, his face flushing a deep scarlet.

"Like Thor."

He didn't affirm her guess, but he didn't need to. He had always adored his older brother, but he was old enough now that the hero-worship was beginning to embarrass him.

"Look at that lamp, Loki."

Obediently, he turned again toward the shards on the floor.

"Is magic weak?"

He sighed, "No,"

"And you will find, as you grow older, that often it takes more bravery to meet a foe with your skill and knowledge alone, than with any weapon. Follow me."

Only when she reached the main archives did she turn to see that she had been followed. "Do you know where magic comes from?"

Reluctantly, Loki shook his head.

She gestured toward the image of Yggdrasil that rose from the middle of the floor, "It comes from the World Tree, Loki. The reason it is so much stronger when your emotions are strong is because they both come from your spirit – the part of you that is most especially you, the part that will last forever. So magic is not something you do, Loki, its part of what you are."

He was looking at her, eyes glowing in growing wonder and excitement, even as he breathed, "So they couldn't have taken it out of me even if I did find them, could they?"

She shook her head, "No. The king in your story must have had a different kind of magic, the kind that is found or forced."

"Forced?"

"Magical ability can be learned through much study or by charms. It can also come upon one through a curse. Yours is like mine. It is part of what makes you you. If they had tried to take it away," she tipped his chin toward her, "they may have killed you."

"Oh,"

Frigga laid a hand on his shoulder, gesturing again toward the glowing tree, "Before you were born, the idea of you was put into the head of the Norns. It was they who fashioned your spirit, giving you your special gifts. They're too big for you now, but you'll grow into them."

"When?"

She laughed, running her fingers through his dark hair, "In time, my patient one. The feelings of your heart and your magic are like two threads. Just now, they're too long and they get tangled. You must learn to untangle them."

He nodded, still watching the tree.

Frigga took his chin and turned his to face her, "And you must never run away from me again. Do you understand?" his gaze faltered but she held him still, "You frightened me, Loki. I didn't know what could have become of you. You must never do so again."

"Yes Mother,"

His voice wavered and she pulled him to her, "Oh Loki, never forget what a gift you have."

He pushed away, "But what if I never learn to control it?"

"You will,"

"How do you know?"
"Because I will teach you," brushing his hair back, she kissed his forehead, "And I have never once yet set out and failed."

~.~

"He will only disappoint you."

Frigga turned away from the fire. So focused had she been that the approach of her elder son had startled her. She would much rather he had not caught her just then, but there was no helping it now.

"Why indulge him?" Thor continued, "the gifts? The visits?"

Gathering up the folds of her garments, Frigga came around the fire and took his arm, leading him away, "I think if you consult his guards they will tell you I was never there."

"Do you ever regret sharing your magic with him?"

It was neither that simple, nor worth arguing, "No. You and your father cast long shadows. I had hoped that by sharing my gifts with him he might find some sun for himself."

"You still see good in him."

"I see glimmers of light that I had thought long extinguished," she smiled slyly in Thor's direction, "and I never gave up on my sons," she said quietly, "even when one of them was banished."

He stiffened, "That was different."

"Not so different."

Thor was stubborn, and he would not be persuaded by words alone. But Frigga knew that – even for all his harsh words to her – her younger son was not lost to her. Not yet.

And she had never once yet set out and failed.