When Loki awakens the next morning, he smells a delicious smell. A mixture of sweets, spices and something more earthy, but still pleasant. As he blinks to open his eyes, he notices that the curtains are still drawn, leaving him to rest in the shadows. And then he notes that his body has been covered up with the soft blanket of the top, cozy and light, while giving the perfect amount of warmth to his body, which must have changed back into its Asgardian form by itself during his sleep. It should be a touching gesture, but the God of Mischief sits up in shock anew. He did not notice how someone came into his room to do these things. Had not woken up, to protect himself from another intruder. He curses at himself, thinking: 'Was I this beaten, that my senses could not function to save me? Am I becoming weak?' He crosses his arms to rub them, hugging himself for a minute, trying to remember if anything else had stirred last night. Apart from the terrifying ordeal he suffered by his brother's overflowing affection. He shivers again, remembering the lust he had seen in his eyes. And felt pulsing and pressing against his lower body. He quickly shakes his head, trying to shoo the memory from it.

He gets up, and hurries to grab one of the sturdier, armored outfits, to go freshen up in his private bathroom, and get dressed. Only thereafter does he move into the sitting room, to stand still in surprise. The whole room is stuffed with flowers, standing in tall vases, forming elaborate bouquets. It smells like a garden, and Loki almost feels like he is about to sit down for a picnic. And then he sees the breakfast that has been served for him. The table is again stuffed to the brim with most exquisite servings. And many are his favorite dishes, some held to be cold by bowls of ice, others held warm over a small flame, prepared and displayed to perfection. There is also a little golden tablecloth, marking the place where he would sit, holding another small crystal vase, housing a single red rose. Yet not any rose, but the extravagant 'Queen of Asgard', a breed that had been created to honor his late mother, a flower with a most enticing smell, and vibrant color, but very delicate indeed. Leaning on the vase is a small envelope, of the royal stationary, addressing him in delicate cursive: To his royal highness, king Loki. Even though Loki has a hunch what it might be about, and it sets him off a little, he risks a look, opening it. And sure enough, he recognizes his brother's handwriting. But as he reads the words, they move him all the same:

'My dearest, my love, my king!

I must once more apologize to thee! I shall not bore you with the motives of my actions, they do not matter. What counts is that I have hurt you, and for that I am eternally sorry! It shames me, that I harassed you to the point of shock, and whatever repercussions you would ask of me, I will gladly suffer them, as nothing could ever excuse my wrongdoing, or make it undone. I know you, my love, I understand your moods, and thus I hope, that at some point you can forgive my insolence! But should you stand with your words of last night, I will respect them, and not lay a finger on you again, for as long as I live! You know, you simply must know, that I would chop off my arms, before raising a hand against you! I wish of nothing but to make you happy, Loki! I love you, more than my own life, my darling, and you will forever be my priority! Please, if you can accept my humble apology, and wish to see me again, you can call on me, day and night. But I shall not burden you with my presence, until called for.

Forever yours, your devoted husband, Thor'

Loki has to sit down overwhelmed. This is too much. His brother is giving him carte blanche, surrendering to him, just because he had denied himself to him. Would Odin have reacted this way, if Frigga had thrown him out of her chambers? But it would not have happened anyways. The queen was devoted to her husband, even though she disagreed with him on a lot of things. Odin ruled not just Asgard, but his own family as well. Loki wonders. Could it be, that despite everything, it was in fact himself, who ruled in this world? If everyone bowed to Thor, but he bowed to him, was it not Loki who was in power, having the final word? 'You know, I am a slave to you!', Thor had told him on his first encounter. It looks like he was telling the truth. If this letter is not to be taken as a gross exaggeration to please a reluctant mistress, his brother really is devoted to him, willing to 'move the stars to right the wrong' he had done. The God of Mischief has to fight down his emotions and focus instead on facts. And those could not be more pleasing to his ego. Thor would not bother him with any more unwanted attention, and he could rule this kingdom as he saw fit, unchallenged!

Throwing the letter behind himself with a grin, he sits down to enjoy his breakfast, stuffing himself as before, although his round tummy does put him off a bit. But he still hasn't figured out, how safe he actually is from his alter egos wrath. Or the tragedy that might have befallen them, to render them unable to defend their place. So Loki adds some more sturdy food to his hidden bundle, and then rings for the servants, to start his research. But as the library and the garden would be too crowded, he demands that the books he wishes to study be brought to him. To his delight noone thinks anything of it, as the royal domestics hurry to fulfill his wish, even asking considerate whether he wishes to have some scrolls and writing quills brought up as well, which he confirms, pleased at their attention to his needs. He then orders for his table to be cleared and everything set up for his convenience, while he enjoys a short walk, once more using his illusions to spy a bit, though not gaining new insights.

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Once he returns, ready to read up on Asgard's current politics, he is however disturbed by the princess, bursting into his chambers, yelling at him: “Mother, mother, please help, Albor is hurt...” “I thought I had made myself clear, how I wish to be addressed!”, Loki screams back, before realizing, “Wait, your brother is hurt?” “Yes! Yes, please... father, please, there is something wrong with his magic, you have to help him, please!”, the girl quickly pleads, tugging on his hand already, trying to lead him away. Then he notices, that she has some scrapes and burns on her arms, which must hurt her, but she only pulls more eagerly on his hands, begging with teary eyes: “Please father, he is scared, and hurting, please come quickly!” “Did you have a fight?”, he thus asks, slowly making a move to follow her confused. If she is of Thor's blood, and the boy is of his, their sibling bond would be hardly strong enough to account for her concern. Being the true heir of the throne, she would not need to be mindful of her bastard brother, he thinks.

Or rather, that was the way Odin had raised them, even though the truth of him being of inferior birth was not openly shown. But Thor hardly got scolded for putting Loki beneath himself, and whenever they fought, he would be congratulated on his victories, while Loki would be blamed for his foul play, whenever he got the upper hand. Yet seeing how different these children are raised, perhaps the princess does feel remorse for harming her baby brother, and even cares for him. Or maybe she simply does not wish to be disciplined for beating him, Loki tells himself, but the child assures him: “No, we were playing, and tried to create an illusion, but then suddenly something went wrong, and now Albor is in pain! Please hurry!” He stays watchful, as he follows into his former room, fighting back surfacing memories of his own childhood, spend practicing in solitude in his chambers.

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“Wait, you tried to create illusions? Both of you?”, he wonders suddenly. But then his attention is caught by the mess presented before him. The private chambers of the little prince are covered in snow and ice, some of the furniture overturned, a bowl of fish transformed into a bizarre sculpture, trapping the poor beasts in delicate crystals, almost reaching up to the ceiling. “Oh my! What in Yggdrasil's name happened here?”, Loki asks concerned, although he has a suspicion. “Albor, come out, mo... Captain Loki is here! He'll help you!”, the little girl yells, searching the room with her eyes. “No! I can't! I'm a monster!”, they hear a little voice, coming from behind a pile of ice, covering what must have been a chair and some drapes. Loki puts his hand over his eyes. He can imagine what happened, and he doesn't want to deal with it. “Albor, come out, please!”, the girl still begs, moving towards the structure, but her brother yelps: “No! No, I'm cursed, I'll just hurt you again!” “But you didn't mean it, I know!”, Lanay coes, “Please come out, so father can help you!” “No! I'm a monster, I'll hurt him!”, Albor still cries. Loki would rather leave, but hearing the boy this distressed still touches him, and so he demands: “Albor, come out! Come here, that is an order by your king!”

The princess gives him a confused look, but finally something stirs, and the little prince slowly exits his hiding place. Lanay tries to encourage him, by extending a hand, but he replies ashamed: “No, don't touch me! I'm evil! I'll hurt you!” When Loki finally sees him, he has to pull himself together to remain calm. The little boy is completely blue, displaying all the features of the Frost Giants race, their markings, their claws, their red eyes. But he looks so tiny, cowering in shame, not meeting Loki's gaze, and apologizes: “I'm sorry, I'm so ugly... I just wanted to be more like you!” The God of Mischief stares at him in surprise, when the prince repeats: “And now I'm cursed and evil instead. I'm so sorry.”, and cries some more. Forming little snowflakes on his cheeks, that gently fall to the floor.

Loki is overwhelmed once more. So the prince really is of his blood. And now his true form is showing, perhaps triggered by his attempt to use a spell to be more like his idol, Captain Loki. He shouldn't concern himself with this. But the boy's agony touches the Frost Giant all the same, and so he calls him: “Come here Albor. Your sister said you were hurt, at least let me have a look.” “But I'll hurt you! I'll smudge you! I'm a monster!”, the prince insists, shying away when the princess tries to reach for his shoulder to comfort him. Loki attempts to calm him down: “I will be fine, just come here...” “But I'm ugly...”, the boy argues once more, but then Loki has had it, and changing into his own Jötunn form he scoffs: “You are not! Now stop dragging your heritage into the mud! You are my son, and you should be proud of who you are!” Now both children stare at him surprised, although the princess looks like she is realizing something. The trickster just moves closer to the prince, extending a hand: “Now come here! Where are you hurt?”

The tiny Jötunn walks up to him, still timid, but then bends his head a little, pointing to the space above his right ear. Loki notices a little bump there, hardly something to cry over, and he wonders why the weakling would complain about this, when his sister holds her tongue concerning her much greater injuries. But then Lanay explains: “We tried to create a ship, and play pirates. But then Albor stepped on a plank that wasn't real, and fell, so he hit his head on the chair. And then suddenly everything burst into ice when he cried!” The God of Mischief rolls his eyes. So some little fright caused his true self to form protective barriers, awakening his Jötunn form. And when this scared the boy even more, it wouldn't stop, scarring his sister when she came to help. What an unspectacular way to find out the truth about one's heritage. At least Loki first noticed his own in the heat of battle, to have it confirmed by touching a most sacred and powerful artifact. Then again, his feeling of betrayal after all the years of misconception, was so immense it nearly suffocated him. Whereas little Albor mostly seems just frightened at his uncontrolled, new body, and simply ashamed for hurting his sister. Not devastated at discovering the lie his fathers have told him about his true self.

Or maybe they haven't, because as Loki's touch comforts the child, getting him to calm down, he asks shy: “Captain Loki? Does this mean, I'm really a Frost Giant, like you? Will I be able to make it snow?” The trickster is a bit confused at this. Why would he be able to summon snow? Was that a trick his other self had mastered? Since now both children look at him with anticipation, Loki confidently lies: “You are a halfling, so your powers will unfold differently. But I have no doubt that you will be able to master bountiful skills, if you practice from now on.” “Will he be able to change back and forth like you, too?”, Lanay asks wide eyed, and with some concern in her voice. And her brother leans in, begging: “Oh yes, please, can I change back? Can you help me? Please, I don't want to hurt people!” The God of Lies scolds himself, for getting involved like this, but then thinks, it couldn't hurt to study the youngling's magic this way, so he offers: “Well, we might as well try. But do not expect too much, the result is up to you, and since this is the first time you changed, it might take you some time to go back.” 'If you can do it at all!', he adds in his mind.

After all, it was due to the allfather's strong magic, that Loki's true heritage was hidden from the world. And perhaps, it still affected him to this day, as it takes him more magic and energy to become a Frost Giant, than to change back, even though he was born of pure blood. Yet he is able to control his appearance more and more, so seeing how the boy had looked Asgardian before, it might be possible for him to learn it too, and thus Loki takes his hands, trying to regulate the flow of magic that surrounds him, the way his mother had done with himself, when she had taught him her craft. It strikes Loki as strange, thinking how he now takes on the role of his mother, trying to teach a little boy, looking up to him, how to summon and direct the mystical elements.

He takes a deep breath to disperse of the thought, and focus instead on his task. And lo and behold, as if the forces of the universe wanted to bring order to their midst, when Loki renews his old appearance, Albor follows suit: the pale Asgardian skin reclaiming his hands, moving towards the torso, and there spreading into his entire body, clearing his face, and his eyes, which rest on his own with a thankful sparkle, making Loki uncomfortable from the feelings it evokes once more. And when the children both throw themselves at him to hug him, thanking him relieved, he has to fight his urge to run from it all, as much as the urge to hug back with compassion, to give them both a condescending pat on the head instead, while gently pushing them away.

⭐⭐⭐

Loki wonders how to gracefully take his leave after this interaction, but jolts up like the prince and princess, when the door is opened with a bang, and the Lady Sif quickly rushes inside, shouting in distress: “Loki! Loki are you here? My lady...” The trickster turns to her in anger, drawing in his breath to scold her, but as soon as she sees him, she runs up to pull at his hands, the way the princess had done, demanding: “There you are! My lady, you must come at once!” But he retracts his hands, fuming: “How dare you! Did I not make it clear, what title you are to use with me? And what makes you approach me in such a familiar manner?! I am your king!” However, the shield maiden just gives him an appalled look, and yells back: “Loki, this is not the time for one of your moods! Slepnir is rampaging through the stables, he already injured some of the guards! If you will not calm him down, he is going to kill someone!”

Baffled by her boldness, Loki steps back a foot, but tries to deflect: “And why is that my concern?!” But she stares at him wide eyed, and returns: “He is your steed!? You insist on caring for him, and now you act ignorant? What is wrong with you, Loki?” Still taken aback by her familiarity towards him, but also intimidated by her confidence, the God of Lies dares not reprimand her again. So instead, he rubs over his temples, as if suffering from a migraine, claiming: “Please... I am not feeling well, you must forgive me...”, hoping to buy time, but the warrior just grabs his hand once more, now pulling vigorously to guide him away, while she yells back at the royal offspring: “Stay here! You cannot help and it is very dangerous!” “Good luck, father!”, Lanay calls after them, as the shield maiden pulls Loki away.

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