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The scent of roasted pheasant wafted through the halls of the palace. Loki licked his lips. Sneaking into the kitchen was easy enough, sneaking past the cook was a different matter.
“No, Prince Loki!” the old woman scolded, swatting at his long nose with a spoon. “This is for Prince Thor’s birthday celebration tonight! You can’t have any, I’m afraid.”
”Are you certain, m’lady? The smell is so enchanting, so alluring. It surely speaks to skills of a woman who is so talented in her trade,” Loki said, employing his most flattering tone.
The cook shifted uneasily. She never had been able to decipher what any of the young prince’s growls and hisses meant, instead relying on the few who could interpret his words and moods. Currently there was no one around who knew, and she was at a loss he wanted as he sat there and blinked with his mouth slightly open.
At last he gave up his quest for a piece of the pheasant and slunk out of the kitchen, sulking as he crawled away and down the gilded hallways.
Presently, Frigga came along from the opposite direction. She straightened up as she saw her son coming towards her. He was deeply upset by something, she could tell. She knew why, too, and her heart sank. She’d never wanted this day to come, but unfortunately it had.
She’d been turning it over on her mind ever since the visiting delegation from Alfenhiem had accidentally made mention of it the previous night. The fact that Prince Loki was adopted was not exactly common knowledge far and wide, but those who knew were good at never mentioning it, as per Frigga’s request. The visiting elf, however, was not aware that she preferred it not be brought up, and had let slip a comment about the adopted son from Midgard in earshot of Loki. Frigga hadn’t slept well that night, and now her worst fears were realized.
“My son, you seem troubled. Is all well?” she asked as they approached each other.
Loki huffed and looked away, tail drooping.
“I’m afraid we need to have a talk,” she said with a sigh. “Come with me.”
Loki followed his mother into a more private room. He figured this was about Thor’s birthday. He hasn’t gotten him a gift yet. Or rather, he had. He was choosing to not bite Thor, on his birthday. That was a worthy gift, was it not? The Prince should be happy. If not, he could bite him twice, and then every day he didn’t bite him more than once would seem like a gift!
Frigga knelt down next to him, her eyes serious and sad.
“Loki, you know that I love you, right?”
Loki rumbled happily.
“And you know that your father loves you too?”
Loki blinked his eyes and turned his face away, thinking. Not even a week ago Odin had thrown his shoe at him. And all because he had tried to eat one of the soldier’s cats! Really, now. Would Odin throw a shoe at Thor if Thor tried to eat a cat? Yeah, he didn’t think so.
“I’m sure you heard what the ambassador said last,” she continued.
Loki narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out what this was about.
“The truth is, Loki, that you are adopted. Odin found you lost and alone when he was on a visit to Midgard, and he brought you back. We raised you from a tiny hatchling, and we loved you like you were own. You are just as important to us, just as much our beloved child, as Thor is. We never meant to keep such knowledge from you, but we never wanted it to become something that hung over you, either. You are our son, regardless, and we love you.”
Loki stared up at her.
He’d known for ages that he was adopted, but apparently she hadn’t known that he knew. He didn’t mind. Frigga was his mother as far as he was concerned.
Frigga began to fidget at Loki’s silence.
“Are you okay?” she asked nervously. “Do you need anything, can I get you anything?”
An idea formed in his mind.
He began to cry, great sobs wracking his scaly body, fat tears rolling down his long face.
“Oh!” Frigga’s hands flew up in surprise. “I’m so sorry, Loki! I didn’t mean to upset you! Please, don’t cry!”
Still Loki wailed inconsolably, thrashing his tail about, his claws scratching the floor in his tantrum, tears still flowing from his eyes.
Frigga was a loss.
Suddenly, she smelled a delicious scent coming from the kitchens. She picked up the hem of her skirt and hurried there, knowing Loki always appreciated snacks.
“Cook!” she cried as she stood in the doorway. “Please, I need some of that, right away!”
The cool hesitated. She was not one to disobey the order of her queen, but—
“Are you very certain? It was for the feast tonight, for Thor—“
“I’m quite certain!” Frigga held her hands out expectantly, and the cook shrugged.
A moment later Frigga returned to the room where Loki was, triumphantly carrying the entire pheasant on a platter. Loki brightened at this sight.
“Here, this is for you,” she said soothing as she placed the platter in front of him.
He snuggled a little, still needing to keep up the act.
”Thank you… Mother.”
Frigga smiled and patted his head as he began to eat the pheasant.
And what a pheasant! Juicy inside, crispy outside, seasoned just right. He laughed to himself, thinking about how Thor wouldn’t even get to taste it.
It was a slightly strange birthday celebration that night. Thor looked confused as to where, exactly, the pheasant had gone. He’d been looking forward to it for months. But there was fruit and cake and he was finally old enough to drink ale and mead, and he supposed he couldn’t complain too much.
Loki, his dear brother, had even gotten him two gifts—no biting, and a tree branch he’d found while going for a walk. Thor was appreciative of both of these. One more than the other.
Frigga and Loki exchanged a glance over dinner, and small smiles. Loki had taken her revelation in stride, it seemed, especially after the pheasant. She knew everything was going to be okay, and she was happy to enjoy an evening with her beloved family—a family that included Loki.