The Littlest Valkyrie
Title:The Littlest Valkyrie - And the Band Played On
Rating: PG-13
Warnings:Canon? What's that, an illness?
Summary: When Odin and Frigga arranged for a family breakfast to tell Loki of his origins - they certainly didn't expect things to turn out the way they did. Namely that Thor's been shirking the more 'boring' parts of his duties, Loki is in distress and Natasha - she's not feeling well.
Despite being the older brother, children were still a mystery to Thor. There was not much of an age gap between him and Loki, but as far back as his memory went, his little brother was present. So, his niece is somewhat of a mystery to him. He oddly didn't think of her as a Midgardian, even though that's what she is. Natasha Lokidóttir was a skittish little girl; and it was impossible to think of her ever being otherwise. It'd been nearly a whole season since Loki brought her home, and still; still he had no idea how to talk to her, how to treat her, or even how to bond with her.
Perhaps the primary reason behind that was the fact that he was often busy sparing and spending time with his friends; by the time he was done for the day, it was well past Natasha's bedtime. When he saw her at meals, the girl kept her focus on her food, and said next to nothing, other than a few 'pleases' and 'thank yous' - Thor got the feeling that she wasn't afraid; just nervous. Still nervous in her surroundings despite the passage of time. The girl's arrival had also marked the time when Thor started seeing even less of his brother. Well, he might see more of Loki if Loki didn't have to wait for his little girl to go to bed.
Thor knew that Volstagg hadn't spent as much time with his children as Loki seemed to spend with his, and his friend had two children, where his brother had only one. Mother told him that things would be different between the two of them now that Loki had a 'responsibility' that exceeded being his brother. It was a concept Thor couldn't understand at all. They were brothers. He wasn't asking for Loki to abandon the girl completely, just a few nights a week. Father hadn't spent this sort of time with the two of them, Thor knew that for certain. Perhaps it was different because Natasha was a girl; or the fact that Loki was a single parent, raising the child without a mother.
Was not Aja Mooriadóttir the girl's nanny? Certainly she could watch the girl more. That was her job was it not?
It was actually starting to become rather annoying. It'd been hard enough to drag Loki out for a night of fun before Natasha came to Asgard. Now it was next to impossible. Perhaps the two of them could remedy that today; both of them had been instructed to keep their schedules free of outside events. No training, no spending time with friends, and no whatever it was Loki usually did with his days. Thor had a feeling this was connected with Mother's upcoming name day; her four-thousandth one. Father no doubt meant for him and his brother to help with most of the planning so that Frigga would have to do little more than decide what to wear, show up, and enjoy herself.
That was all Thor ever had to do for his name days. And most of the time, he didn't even do the first of those three things.
The breakfast table was rather quiet for a family that should be planning a party.
“Have you finished reading the latest reports?” Odin finally broke the silence, looking from Thor to Loki. “The ones concerning Alfheim?”
“Yes, Father.” Loki replied, straightening his shoulders, not even glancing across the table at him. “However, I do not think there is any cause for concern. If they wish to trade with Jotunheim, that is their affair.”
“Why would anyone want to trade with frost giants?” Thor interjected.
“Did you not read the report?” Odin frowned, his brow furrowed. “This is not something you could just ignore, or wait for your brother to inform you of what was in it.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Loki duck his head slightly, suddenly intrigued with the eggs and steak on his plate. Thor cleared his throat. “I still want to know why...”
“Natasha!” Odin's sharp tone caused the girl to jump in her seat.
“Yes, Grandfather?” Her voice was barely audible, but free of any tremble.
“Do you know what the residents of Alfheim trade with the residents of Jotunheim for?” Father sounded angry and Thor was confused. All of this over forgetting one report? This wasn't something that would be tolerated for much longer. Trade? What business did the monsters have trading with other realms, with civilized beings?
Natasha set down her fork, still looking borderline terrified. “The elves trade wool and cotton for medicinal herbs from the jotun, Grandfather.”
“Correct. Eat your breakfast, like a good girl.” His voice softened a fraction, and then it was gone as he turned his attention back to Thor. “I strongly suggest that you spend the remainder of this day reading the reports from the nine realms that you should have been keeping up to date on. A king must always have as much information on what is happening as possible. Both within the borders of his kingdom, and without.”
Thor risked looking down the table at his mother, but she merely shook her head, not saying a word in his defense. Mother would have defended Loki in his place; but then again, Loki loved to read. Why should he have to read the reports if his brother could just tell him what was in them in the first place? Father hadn't needn't have had Natasha answer the question she did. It certainly didn't matter that she knew, but there was no place for frost giants in the Nine Realms, they were just monsters. When he was king, he'd be ridding the realms of their existence. Medicinal herbs, who cared? There were better cures for things on Vanaheim.
To Helheim with this.
He pushed back his chair and threw his napkin down onto the table.
“Where are you going, Thor?” Frigga's voice sounded shocked. Well, good.
“Apparently, I need to spend my day reading.” He stalked to the door and yanked it open.
“Thor!” Father's voice called after him, but he didn't turn around. Instead, he left the room, slamming the door behind him.
*
Loki had no idea what had just come over his brother. Breakfast with the entire family usually only happened on special occasions. It had been very strange, when he had come into the room with Natasha, the atmosphere had seemed tense. Now, with Thor's departure, it seemed doubly so. Before he walked into the room, he thought the breakfast would have something to do with his mother's impending name day celebration. It was either that, or he and Thor's parents had waited long enough for either of them to start courting and were going to be arranging a marriage for one of them before the year's end. It most likely wasn't his brother. Thor and Sif would be courting if Thor realized that one of his best friends was in love with him. Which most likely meant it was for him instead. He had a rather short list when it came to qualifications for a girl he'd marry under arranged circumstances; she wasn't in love with his brother and she didn't want him to get rid of Natasha. The rest of the details he didn't worry about; his mother no doubt had several volumes worth of qualifications for a daughter in law.
The only sound in the room now is the clink of silver on china as the family eats, not looking at one another.
It's a wretched silence; one that was familiar when Loki was younger, and quite frankly, he doesn't know why Thor is so upset about the Jotun trading. He might not be a fan of frost giants personally, and maybe, just maybe, if his brother had read the reports like he was supposed to, like he'd told Loki he was, then maybe he wouldn't have been so blindsided. Loki knew that his brother left a lot of things unread, but to be that unaware of the happenings of Jotunheim would mean he hadn't read a report concerning them in years.
“Odin...” His mother's voice broke the silence, and there was something in her tone - it was the same timbre she used when trying to get either him or his brother to confess to something.
The All-Father set down his fork and cleared his throat. “Leave us.”
Loki frowned as all the handful of servants in the room left, shutting the door firmly behind them. “Father, is something wrong?”
“No, Loki.” He straightened in his seat. “Perhaps it is better that Thor has left.”
That alone sends panic into Loki's mind. Father never speaks like this.
“Your mother and I have not been honest with you about your origins, my son.” His voice doesn't waver, but there seems to be a tone of regret in it; either from the dishonesty from the start, or the pain of having to tell him now.
“What do you mean?” He looked down the table at his mother, who is sitting just as still as her husband, but her face is softer, the barest hint of a smile on her lips.
“You came to live here in much the same fashion as Natasha did.” Here, Odin gave the girl a look that was almost - fond. For a man so often devoid of emotion, it was significant. And then the words sank in.
“What?” The word comes out like a hiss. Things suddenly start falling into place in his mind. All these years, all these years wondering why he was second best, why he couldn't earn his father's love the way Thor could; the slights of teachers, of acquaintances, all of it; he never quite understood; now he was starting to. “What do you mean?”
“It was near the end of the war with Jotunheim.” Odin seemed to be steeling himself up to speak. “After the last battle, I went into the temple, and I found a baby. I found you, Loki.”
Cold washed over him, a wretched, abandoned feeling that was edged in anger. Abandoned? He had been left? Why? He tried to find his voice. “I am... not...”
“You are our son, Loki.” His mother's voice was calm. “You always will be.”
“And what's that supposed to mean?” He snarled, standing up and knocking the chair to the floor - and then he heard a tiny whimper next to him.
Natasha was gripping the seat of her chair, looking up at him, her face half-hidden by her hair.
Keeping his temper in check, he closed his eyes, resolved to hear this to the very end. “How can I be a... Jotun? I am... I am too... small.”
“You were a small, helpless infant.” Odin's voice seemed to come from very far away. “I do not know if you were abandoned for your size, or if you were left in the temple for safety. I did not want to risk Laufey hurting you a second time by asking.”
“All these years.” He clenched his teeth. “You could have told me from the beginning, why didn't you?”
“It is complicated, Loki.” Frigga sounded as calm as ever. “And you are right, we should have told you this a long time ago.”
The air in the room was insufferable. The walls were closing in, everything seemed to press down on him. Frost giant. It was too much to take in, too much to absorb - and Loki knew his anger was starting to boil. Both of you were born to be kings. Well, that wasn't a total lie, but he knew what this meant. Thor, the great selfish idiot, was going to be king of Asgard one day. Well, that was just fine. In fact, that was just perfect. “Then I suppose it is a damn good thing I never wanted to be king anyway.” He spat. “I just wanted to be Thor's equal, but I suppose even that is impossible.”
With that, he turned on his heel and left the room, shutting the door forcefully behind him.
He needed to be alone for a little while.
*
“I hope you are satisfied, Frigga.” Grandfather's face was dark with rage.
“It had to be done. You know it did.” Grandmother looked ashen. “Before something happened; what if the boys took it into their heads to go to Jotunheim for a lark the same way they do on Vanaheim?”
“Come now...” Natasha couldn't tell what he meant by that tone.
“You know I am right!” Grandmother was angry. “It is better for Loki to be upset now, when things are relatively calm throughout the realms, the war on Midgard be damned!”
She sank down in her chair. There was a war on Midgard? Of course there was, the bad people had said there was. It must have grown worse. Clearly, whatever was going on between her grandparents right now was clearly not something she should be witnessing. “Grandfa..”
“Silence!” He barked and Natasha wanted to vanish into the wood. What had she done wrong? “I have more important matters to attend to than listen to....”
“Odin!” Grandmother's voice admonished. “Natasha, what did you want to ask?”
She swallowed, not certain who she was supposed to address. “May I please be excused, Grandmother?”
“Of course you may.” She smiled in response. “Have a nice day, and we will see you here for dinner, Natasha.”
Natasha stood, set her napkin on the table and pushed her chair in. “Good day, Grandfather. Good day, Grandmother.”
“Thank you.” Grandfather frowned. “Do not discuss our conversation with anyone who was not in the room, including your uncle. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Grandfather.” She replied stiffly and left her grandparents, doing her best not to run down the corridor to the safety of the nursery.
Why was Papochka so upset? If Grandfather had brought him to Asgard the same way Papochka had brought her, had he been with bad people too? And Papochka had been just a baby! She didn't really understand why Jotunheim was such a bad place. Uncle Thor said that was where the monsters were from, but she knew better. She had already seen monsters. Whatever a Jotun was, they couldn't possibly be as bad as the monsters of the Red Room.
If Papochka was a Jotun, then they definitely weren't monsters.
She let herself into the nursery, heading for the work table and sat down with one of her textbooks. Since her tutor, Master Siry, wasn't here, she would just reread yesterday's lessons until he came.
*
Loki was furious.
His parents had lied to him. His entire life, his entire history was nothing but a lie. He was no prince of Asgard, he wasn't an Æsir, he was nothing but some unwanted, abandoned frost giant. He wanted to scream, he wanted to rage, he wanted to throw things and watch them shatter under impact.
And yet, Loki couldn't.
All he could do was sit in one of the comfortable chairs of his room, clasping his knees, trying to understand what the Hel just happened at breakfast. If they had told him when he was younger, maybe it wouldn't be as bad, but to wait so long - over a thousand years to tell him, that somehow made it worse.
He rose to his feet and headed for his dressing room. He couldn't stay here. He had to get out of Asgard, had to go for a walk and think for a while. A few weeks, maybe a season... something. He'd no sooner pulled his thick, fur lined coat out of one of the wardrobes when he remembered the last time he'd worn it.
Natasha.
Loki slumped down onto the padded bench in the center of the room, the cloak falling from his fingers. He couldn't just leave the way he used to. While she had a nanny, a tutor and servants to look after her, he couldn't just abandon his little girl for that length of time.
His little girl.
A broken giggle escaped his lips.
Norns, the reason he'd found Natasha; it wasn't just a coincidence. He'd been meant to find her. To save her, bring her home; he had brought her home the same way Odin - Father - brought him home.
It still didn't mean he couldn't be angry over the lie.
“When I'm king, I'll hunt the monsters down and slay them all!”
Thor's deceleration on the matter of frost giants all those years ago suddenly terrified him.
“Why would anyone want to trade with frost giants?”
If frost giants were monsters and nothing more to Thor, then what was his opinion of Midgardians? Did he think them stupid, silly or worse? And was it his imagination or was his older brother rather resentful of Natasha's presence in their lives? Oh, he'd protect her; but that was duty.
Loki rose and put his cloak away. He would not be leaving today. No, he would wait. Wait until Natasha was a little older; wait until the war on Midgard was over. He'd come up with a reason between now and then. The two of them would just go away for a little while.
Maybe his idiot brother would grow up and start doing something other than sparing and training for war.
He hadn't been lying to his Father when he said he never wanted to be king.
But one thing was certain; Thor was still laboring under the delusion of being a great war hero, of leading armies and vanquishing foes was the best possible thing for a king.
Loki snorted.
A good king never seeks out war; but he is always ready for it.
“Let's see how well the mighty Thor does once his sorcerer-healer-reading brother takes off and leaves him alone.” He smirked and headed for his study. On the way there, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He backtracked and went into the bedchamber.
His bed was just as he left it; normally the servants would have had the room in order before he returned from breakfast. Going into the bathing chamber, he also found the things he'd left out exactly where he'd left them. “Odd...” Rather than ringing for one of the servants to come clean the room, he left the bathing chamber as it was and went to his study. There was a small stack of notes from the last council meeting he wanted to look over.
*
Thor told himself for the umpteenth time that he was not pouting.
After reading a few of the reports on the conditions of the crops in the western part of Asgard and nearly falling asleep doing it, he decided he'd had enough school-boy work for one day. He didn't need to know all of this, that was what council members were for. This was the sort of thing that Loki liked to do anyway.
He changed into his riding clothes, frowning at the few garments that were still scattered around his dressing chamber. Perhaps the servants were occupied elsewhere at the moment. Then again, he hadn't spent the morning in his room in a great while. Perhaps they would clean things up while he was gone.
The hallway was empty, save for a few guards. The doors were all shut; good.
He just needed a break from reading, that was all. He'd finish the reports from Vanaheim after lunch.
*
Natasha was halfway through the chapter when it occurred to her just how quiet it was. Normally, there was the sounds of servants cleaning, people below in the courtyard, and general city noise. Also, Aja wasn't back from breakfast in the servant's hall. She looked behind her towards the balcony and could make out one of the Einherjar slowly walking the area.
She rose from the table and went to the door that led into the hallway and opened it. Just as she did, an unfamiliar servant ran past, heading for her grandparent's room. A moment later, Grandfather came rushing out of it, racing down the corridor with Grandmother and the servant in his wake. Grandmother noticed her as she passed.
“Stay in your room, Natasha.”
She nodded in reply and shut the door. Something was wrong, and well, staying where she was told would keep her safe. Natasha went back to the table and began to read again, but after a few moments, her head started to hurt. She pushed the book away, got up and slowly walked around the room, the ache starting to grow worse. It would help if Aja was here. Why wasn't Aja here? She should have been back by now. Her or Master Siry. She didn't feel sick, she just hurt. She stumbled towards the balcony, whimpering. “He...help...”
*
Loki decided to check on Natasha purely out of what happened at breakfast. One of the last things he should have done was leave his little girl alone in the room when his parents were angry. He frowned at the lack of servants in the corridor; that was unusual for this time of the day. He pushed the door of the nursery open just in time to see his daughter crumple to the floor. He ran over to where she was, helping her sit up. “Sasha?”
Her green eyes blinked up at him, slightly unfocused. “Papochka, I don't feel good.”
He picked her up and carried her over to the bed. “It's all right, you're not going to be sick, are you?”
“Stomach doesn't hurt. Everything else does.” She looked up at him, shivering slightly. “Cold.”
Loki wasn't fooled; the girl's skin had been burning hot. “Don't you worry, Sasha.”
Aja came into the room, breathless. “Sorry, I'm sorry...”
“It's all right.” Loki wasn't concerned with the fact that the woman hadn't been here; the nanny thought she had the majority of the morning off. “Tell one of the guards to fetch Eir. Natasha is ill.”
“Yes, your grace.” The woman replied, heading for the hallway.
*
Thor was almost finished saddling his horse when his father strode into the stables. Perfect. Now his temporary escape was over before it began. Then he noticed the look on his father's face. Something was wrong. He came out of the stall just as Odin caught sight of him.
“Good. You're here. Ride out to the Observatory and tell Heimdall to close the Bifrost. No one leaves or enters Asgard.” Odin turned.
“What? Why?” Wasn't this a task for a servant?
“Asgard is under quarantine until further notice. The Fever has returned.” With that, the All-Father left the stables.
“The Fever?” Thor led his horse from the stable and mounted up, kicking the horse's flanks, setting off to the obey his father.
*
The universe still turned while Asgard remained isolated; and while parents worried over their children and other loved ones, Heimdall watched as a madman stole the Tesseract from its hiding place. With the Æsir occupied with matters close to home, there was no one to stop him. No one to reclaim the lost gem. And all the lone being in the observatory could do was stand guard.
*
Loki had been an infant the last time the Fever was in Asgard. The illness didn't even have a proper name, it was just known simply as 'the Fever' and anyone would know instantly what you were speaking about. It had an incubation period of several days and then it struck, unleashing its symptoms of muscle aches, headaches, chills - and fever.
The reason for many of the absent servants was explained; many of their children had come down with the Fever, and several of the servants had become ill as well. Natasha's tutor, Master Siry, was among the ill adults. The healing wing of the palace was full of the sick - and dying - but Natasha was not among them.
Loki kept her in her room, tucked safely in bed. There was nothing to be done other than give cooling elixirs, keep the patient comfortable, and pray. He rung the cloth out over the bowl of herbs and water, before setting it back upon his daughter's forehead. The girl let out a soft wheeze and whimpered. “Cold, isn't it?”
She nodded. “Smells.”
“Good smell?” He smiled when she nodded. “You just rest.” He settled the blankets around her. “Comfortable?” Loki picked up the book off the bedside table and opened it. Natasha had been sick for the past four days and only now had started to show signs of improvement. “Now, if you fall asleep while I am reading, do not worry. I will simply read the same chapters again tomorrow.”
She let out a very tiny laugh and then closed her eyes. “Tired of staying in bed.”
“I suspect you are.” He adjusted the cloth. “But bed is where sick little girls stay until they are told they are well enough to get up.” He flipped through a few pages. “Let me see, where were we.” He gave her another smile. “Ah yes...” He cleared his throat. “Chapter Four, Madame Fidola and the Dancing Class. The Children’s Academy of Dancing and Stage Training was in Bloomsbury. It was three large houses joined inside by passages.” He glanced over the top of the book at Natasha, who was half awake, her eyes just barely open.
She was going to get better. Eir and his mother had assured him of that. It would just take time.
*
The whole of Asgard was subdued. Thor couldn't remember it being so quiet or empty. He has not seen Volstagg in over a week; both of his children have the Fever. Fandral and Sif had split the man's duties between them, so he has not seen them either. Hogun was ill with a mild form of the Fever, the same as Natasha. The best that could be determined was that the illness had returned to Asgard unknowingly from a band of traders from Alfheim. Thor supposed it was a good thing that they hadn't left Asgard when the epidemic started; thus they were prevented from spreading the illness to other realms.
The Fever was only raging in one part of Alfheim, according to Heimdall, the rest of Yggdrasil was safe. The guardian told him that twenty-four years ago, the Fever made its way to Midgard where it mutated with an influenza virus that turned lethal and killed millions. The last time the Fever came to Asgard, eight-seven citizens, mostly children, had perished. Thor had a vague memory of a mass funeral and his mother weeping.
Thor, for his part, seems to be playing messenger between his parents and brother. Mother is always with Eir, Father is usually in the throne room, and Loki is at Natasha's bedside.
Looking back, he's rather ashamed of himself for storming out of the breakfast that marked the last time his family was together.
It didn't mean he wanted to start reading reports though.
*
The hand that pushed the comic towards him was thin, but with finely manicured fingernails. Steve Rogers looked up into the face of a little girl of about six, with copper-colored ringlets, a nervous smile on her face. Despite the ginger hair, almost no freckles adorned her face and she has the air of someone who had recently overcome an illness, judging from the way her dark blue utility coat hung off of her frame. “And what's your name, Miss?”
“Natasha.” The girl replied, offering him a smile.
He quickly signed his name and handed the comic back. “There you go.”
“Thank you.” She hugged the small book to her, and her green eyes suddenly took on a mischievous look. “Are you going to go over to Germany and punch the real Hitler, Captain America?”
“I think I just might.” Steve smiled and winked at her. “But don't tell anyone, or there might be more danger if he finds out I'm coming to arrest him.”
What the girl said next is something he never forgets. “If you do arrest him, make sure you break his leg. That way, he can't run.” She waved. “Bye.”
He was so stunned at her statement, he can't even return the words to her and instead watched her head over to a tall dark haired man in a black coat and green scarf. He inwardly sighed and turned his attention to signing autographs. This wasn't how he expected to serve his country.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings:Canon? What's that, an illness?
Summary: When Odin and Frigga arranged for a family breakfast to tell Loki of his origins - they certainly didn't expect things to turn out the way they did. Namely that Thor's been shirking the more 'boring' parts of his duties, Loki is in distress and Natasha - she's not feeling well.
Despite being the older brother, children were still a mystery to Thor. There was not much of an age gap between him and Loki, but as far back as his memory went, his little brother was present. So, his niece is somewhat of a mystery to him. He oddly didn't think of her as a Midgardian, even though that's what she is. Natasha Lokidóttir was a skittish little girl; and it was impossible to think of her ever being otherwise. It'd been nearly a whole season since Loki brought her home, and still; still he had no idea how to talk to her, how to treat her, or even how to bond with her.
Perhaps the primary reason behind that was the fact that he was often busy sparing and spending time with his friends; by the time he was done for the day, it was well past Natasha's bedtime. When he saw her at meals, the girl kept her focus on her food, and said next to nothing, other than a few 'pleases' and 'thank yous' - Thor got the feeling that she wasn't afraid; just nervous. Still nervous in her surroundings despite the passage of time. The girl's arrival had also marked the time when Thor started seeing even less of his brother. Well, he might see more of Loki if Loki didn't have to wait for his little girl to go to bed.
Thor knew that Volstagg hadn't spent as much time with his children as Loki seemed to spend with his, and his friend had two children, where his brother had only one. Mother told him that things would be different between the two of them now that Loki had a 'responsibility' that exceeded being his brother. It was a concept Thor couldn't understand at all. They were brothers. He wasn't asking for Loki to abandon the girl completely, just a few nights a week. Father hadn't spent this sort of time with the two of them, Thor knew that for certain. Perhaps it was different because Natasha was a girl; or the fact that Loki was a single parent, raising the child without a mother.
Was not Aja Mooriadóttir the girl's nanny? Certainly she could watch the girl more. That was her job was it not?
It was actually starting to become rather annoying. It'd been hard enough to drag Loki out for a night of fun before Natasha came to Asgard. Now it was next to impossible. Perhaps the two of them could remedy that today; both of them had been instructed to keep their schedules free of outside events. No training, no spending time with friends, and no whatever it was Loki usually did with his days. Thor had a feeling this was connected with Mother's upcoming name day; her four-thousandth one. Father no doubt meant for him and his brother to help with most of the planning so that Frigga would have to do little more than decide what to wear, show up, and enjoy herself.
That was all Thor ever had to do for his name days. And most of the time, he didn't even do the first of those three things.
The breakfast table was rather quiet for a family that should be planning a party.
“Have you finished reading the latest reports?” Odin finally broke the silence, looking from Thor to Loki. “The ones concerning Alfheim?”
“Yes, Father.” Loki replied, straightening his shoulders, not even glancing across the table at him. “However, I do not think there is any cause for concern. If they wish to trade with Jotunheim, that is their affair.”
“Why would anyone want to trade with frost giants?” Thor interjected.
“Did you not read the report?” Odin frowned, his brow furrowed. “This is not something you could just ignore, or wait for your brother to inform you of what was in it.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Loki duck his head slightly, suddenly intrigued with the eggs and steak on his plate. Thor cleared his throat. “I still want to know why...”
“Natasha!” Odin's sharp tone caused the girl to jump in her seat.
“Yes, Grandfather?” Her voice was barely audible, but free of any tremble.
“Do you know what the residents of Alfheim trade with the residents of Jotunheim for?” Father sounded angry and Thor was confused. All of this over forgetting one report? This wasn't something that would be tolerated for much longer. Trade? What business did the monsters have trading with other realms, with civilized beings?
Natasha set down her fork, still looking borderline terrified. “The elves trade wool and cotton for medicinal herbs from the jotun, Grandfather.”
“Correct. Eat your breakfast, like a good girl.” His voice softened a fraction, and then it was gone as he turned his attention back to Thor. “I strongly suggest that you spend the remainder of this day reading the reports from the nine realms that you should have been keeping up to date on. A king must always have as much information on what is happening as possible. Both within the borders of his kingdom, and without.”
Thor risked looking down the table at his mother, but she merely shook her head, not saying a word in his defense. Mother would have defended Loki in his place; but then again, Loki loved to read. Why should he have to read the reports if his brother could just tell him what was in them in the first place? Father hadn't needn't have had Natasha answer the question she did. It certainly didn't matter that she knew, but there was no place for frost giants in the Nine Realms, they were just monsters. When he was king, he'd be ridding the realms of their existence. Medicinal herbs, who cared? There were better cures for things on Vanaheim.
To Helheim with this.
He pushed back his chair and threw his napkin down onto the table.
“Where are you going, Thor?” Frigga's voice sounded shocked. Well, good.
“Apparently, I need to spend my day reading.” He stalked to the door and yanked it open.
“Thor!” Father's voice called after him, but he didn't turn around. Instead, he left the room, slamming the door behind him.
*
Loki had no idea what had just come over his brother. Breakfast with the entire family usually only happened on special occasions. It had been very strange, when he had come into the room with Natasha, the atmosphere had seemed tense. Now, with Thor's departure, it seemed doubly so. Before he walked into the room, he thought the breakfast would have something to do with his mother's impending name day celebration. It was either that, or he and Thor's parents had waited long enough for either of them to start courting and were going to be arranging a marriage for one of them before the year's end. It most likely wasn't his brother. Thor and Sif would be courting if Thor realized that one of his best friends was in love with him. Which most likely meant it was for him instead. He had a rather short list when it came to qualifications for a girl he'd marry under arranged circumstances; she wasn't in love with his brother and she didn't want him to get rid of Natasha. The rest of the details he didn't worry about; his mother no doubt had several volumes worth of qualifications for a daughter in law.
The only sound in the room now is the clink of silver on china as the family eats, not looking at one another.
It's a wretched silence; one that was familiar when Loki was younger, and quite frankly, he doesn't know why Thor is so upset about the Jotun trading. He might not be a fan of frost giants personally, and maybe, just maybe, if his brother had read the reports like he was supposed to, like he'd told Loki he was, then maybe he wouldn't have been so blindsided. Loki knew that his brother left a lot of things unread, but to be that unaware of the happenings of Jotunheim would mean he hadn't read a report concerning them in years.
“Odin...” His mother's voice broke the silence, and there was something in her tone - it was the same timbre she used when trying to get either him or his brother to confess to something.
The All-Father set down his fork and cleared his throat. “Leave us.”
Loki frowned as all the handful of servants in the room left, shutting the door firmly behind them. “Father, is something wrong?”
“No, Loki.” He straightened in his seat. “Perhaps it is better that Thor has left.”
That alone sends panic into Loki's mind. Father never speaks like this.
“Your mother and I have not been honest with you about your origins, my son.” His voice doesn't waver, but there seems to be a tone of regret in it; either from the dishonesty from the start, or the pain of having to tell him now.
“What do you mean?” He looked down the table at his mother, who is sitting just as still as her husband, but her face is softer, the barest hint of a smile on her lips.
“You came to live here in much the same fashion as Natasha did.” Here, Odin gave the girl a look that was almost - fond. For a man so often devoid of emotion, it was significant. And then the words sank in.
“What?” The word comes out like a hiss. Things suddenly start falling into place in his mind. All these years, all these years wondering why he was second best, why he couldn't earn his father's love the way Thor could; the slights of teachers, of acquaintances, all of it; he never quite understood; now he was starting to. “What do you mean?”
“It was near the end of the war with Jotunheim.” Odin seemed to be steeling himself up to speak. “After the last battle, I went into the temple, and I found a baby. I found you, Loki.”
Cold washed over him, a wretched, abandoned feeling that was edged in anger. Abandoned? He had been left? Why? He tried to find his voice. “I am... not...”
“You are our son, Loki.” His mother's voice was calm. “You always will be.”
“And what's that supposed to mean?” He snarled, standing up and knocking the chair to the floor - and then he heard a tiny whimper next to him.
Natasha was gripping the seat of her chair, looking up at him, her face half-hidden by her hair.
Keeping his temper in check, he closed his eyes, resolved to hear this to the very end. “How can I be a... Jotun? I am... I am too... small.”
“You were a small, helpless infant.” Odin's voice seemed to come from very far away. “I do not know if you were abandoned for your size, or if you were left in the temple for safety. I did not want to risk Laufey hurting you a second time by asking.”
“All these years.” He clenched his teeth. “You could have told me from the beginning, why didn't you?”
“It is complicated, Loki.” Frigga sounded as calm as ever. “And you are right, we should have told you this a long time ago.”
The air in the room was insufferable. The walls were closing in, everything seemed to press down on him. Frost giant. It was too much to take in, too much to absorb - and Loki knew his anger was starting to boil. Both of you were born to be kings. Well, that wasn't a total lie, but he knew what this meant. Thor, the great selfish idiot, was going to be king of Asgard one day. Well, that was just fine. In fact, that was just perfect. “Then I suppose it is a damn good thing I never wanted to be king anyway.” He spat. “I just wanted to be Thor's equal, but I suppose even that is impossible.”
With that, he turned on his heel and left the room, shutting the door forcefully behind him.
He needed to be alone for a little while.
*
“I hope you are satisfied, Frigga.” Grandfather's face was dark with rage.
“It had to be done. You know it did.” Grandmother looked ashen. “Before something happened; what if the boys took it into their heads to go to Jotunheim for a lark the same way they do on Vanaheim?”
“Come now...” Natasha couldn't tell what he meant by that tone.
“You know I am right!” Grandmother was angry. “It is better for Loki to be upset now, when things are relatively calm throughout the realms, the war on Midgard be damned!”
She sank down in her chair. There was a war on Midgard? Of course there was, the bad people had said there was. It must have grown worse. Clearly, whatever was going on between her grandparents right now was clearly not something she should be witnessing. “Grandfa..”
“Silence!” He barked and Natasha wanted to vanish into the wood. What had she done wrong? “I have more important matters to attend to than listen to....”
“Odin!” Grandmother's voice admonished. “Natasha, what did you want to ask?”
She swallowed, not certain who she was supposed to address. “May I please be excused, Grandmother?”
“Of course you may.” She smiled in response. “Have a nice day, and we will see you here for dinner, Natasha.”
Natasha stood, set her napkin on the table and pushed her chair in. “Good day, Grandfather. Good day, Grandmother.”
“Thank you.” Grandfather frowned. “Do not discuss our conversation with anyone who was not in the room, including your uncle. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Grandfather.” She replied stiffly and left her grandparents, doing her best not to run down the corridor to the safety of the nursery.
Why was Papochka so upset? If Grandfather had brought him to Asgard the same way Papochka had brought her, had he been with bad people too? And Papochka had been just a baby! She didn't really understand why Jotunheim was such a bad place. Uncle Thor said that was where the monsters were from, but she knew better. She had already seen monsters. Whatever a Jotun was, they couldn't possibly be as bad as the monsters of the Red Room.
If Papochka was a Jotun, then they definitely weren't monsters.
She let herself into the nursery, heading for the work table and sat down with one of her textbooks. Since her tutor, Master Siry, wasn't here, she would just reread yesterday's lessons until he came.
*
Loki was furious.
His parents had lied to him. His entire life, his entire history was nothing but a lie. He was no prince of Asgard, he wasn't an Æsir, he was nothing but some unwanted, abandoned frost giant. He wanted to scream, he wanted to rage, he wanted to throw things and watch them shatter under impact.
And yet, Loki couldn't.
All he could do was sit in one of the comfortable chairs of his room, clasping his knees, trying to understand what the Hel just happened at breakfast. If they had told him when he was younger, maybe it wouldn't be as bad, but to wait so long - over a thousand years to tell him, that somehow made it worse.
He rose to his feet and headed for his dressing room. He couldn't stay here. He had to get out of Asgard, had to go for a walk and think for a while. A few weeks, maybe a season... something. He'd no sooner pulled his thick, fur lined coat out of one of the wardrobes when he remembered the last time he'd worn it.
Natasha.
Loki slumped down onto the padded bench in the center of the room, the cloak falling from his fingers. He couldn't just leave the way he used to. While she had a nanny, a tutor and servants to look after her, he couldn't just abandon his little girl for that length of time.
His little girl.
A broken giggle escaped his lips.
Norns, the reason he'd found Natasha; it wasn't just a coincidence. He'd been meant to find her. To save her, bring her home; he had brought her home the same way Odin - Father - brought him home.
It still didn't mean he couldn't be angry over the lie.
“When I'm king, I'll hunt the monsters down and slay them all!”
Thor's deceleration on the matter of frost giants all those years ago suddenly terrified him.
“Why would anyone want to trade with frost giants?”
If frost giants were monsters and nothing more to Thor, then what was his opinion of Midgardians? Did he think them stupid, silly or worse? And was it his imagination or was his older brother rather resentful of Natasha's presence in their lives? Oh, he'd protect her; but that was duty.
Loki rose and put his cloak away. He would not be leaving today. No, he would wait. Wait until Natasha was a little older; wait until the war on Midgard was over. He'd come up with a reason between now and then. The two of them would just go away for a little while.
Maybe his idiot brother would grow up and start doing something other than sparing and training for war.
He hadn't been lying to his Father when he said he never wanted to be king.
But one thing was certain; Thor was still laboring under the delusion of being a great war hero, of leading armies and vanquishing foes was the best possible thing for a king.
Loki snorted.
A good king never seeks out war; but he is always ready for it.
“Let's see how well the mighty Thor does once his sorcerer-healer-reading brother takes off and leaves him alone.” He smirked and headed for his study. On the way there, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He backtracked and went into the bedchamber.
His bed was just as he left it; normally the servants would have had the room in order before he returned from breakfast. Going into the bathing chamber, he also found the things he'd left out exactly where he'd left them. “Odd...” Rather than ringing for one of the servants to come clean the room, he left the bathing chamber as it was and went to his study. There was a small stack of notes from the last council meeting he wanted to look over.
*
Thor told himself for the umpteenth time that he was not pouting.
After reading a few of the reports on the conditions of the crops in the western part of Asgard and nearly falling asleep doing it, he decided he'd had enough school-boy work for one day. He didn't need to know all of this, that was what council members were for. This was the sort of thing that Loki liked to do anyway.
He changed into his riding clothes, frowning at the few garments that were still scattered around his dressing chamber. Perhaps the servants were occupied elsewhere at the moment. Then again, he hadn't spent the morning in his room in a great while. Perhaps they would clean things up while he was gone.
The hallway was empty, save for a few guards. The doors were all shut; good.
He just needed a break from reading, that was all. He'd finish the reports from Vanaheim after lunch.
*
Natasha was halfway through the chapter when it occurred to her just how quiet it was. Normally, there was the sounds of servants cleaning, people below in the courtyard, and general city noise. Also, Aja wasn't back from breakfast in the servant's hall. She looked behind her towards the balcony and could make out one of the Einherjar slowly walking the area.
She rose from the table and went to the door that led into the hallway and opened it. Just as she did, an unfamiliar servant ran past, heading for her grandparent's room. A moment later, Grandfather came rushing out of it, racing down the corridor with Grandmother and the servant in his wake. Grandmother noticed her as she passed.
“Stay in your room, Natasha.”
She nodded in reply and shut the door. Something was wrong, and well, staying where she was told would keep her safe. Natasha went back to the table and began to read again, but after a few moments, her head started to hurt. She pushed the book away, got up and slowly walked around the room, the ache starting to grow worse. It would help if Aja was here. Why wasn't Aja here? She should have been back by now. Her or Master Siry. She didn't feel sick, she just hurt. She stumbled towards the balcony, whimpering. “He...help...”
*
Loki decided to check on Natasha purely out of what happened at breakfast. One of the last things he should have done was leave his little girl alone in the room when his parents were angry. He frowned at the lack of servants in the corridor; that was unusual for this time of the day. He pushed the door of the nursery open just in time to see his daughter crumple to the floor. He ran over to where she was, helping her sit up. “Sasha?”
Her green eyes blinked up at him, slightly unfocused. “Papochka, I don't feel good.”
He picked her up and carried her over to the bed. “It's all right, you're not going to be sick, are you?”
“Stomach doesn't hurt. Everything else does.” She looked up at him, shivering slightly. “Cold.”
Loki wasn't fooled; the girl's skin had been burning hot. “Don't you worry, Sasha.”
Aja came into the room, breathless. “Sorry, I'm sorry...”
“It's all right.” Loki wasn't concerned with the fact that the woman hadn't been here; the nanny thought she had the majority of the morning off. “Tell one of the guards to fetch Eir. Natasha is ill.”
“Yes, your grace.” The woman replied, heading for the hallway.
*
Thor was almost finished saddling his horse when his father strode into the stables. Perfect. Now his temporary escape was over before it began. Then he noticed the look on his father's face. Something was wrong. He came out of the stall just as Odin caught sight of him.
“Good. You're here. Ride out to the Observatory and tell Heimdall to close the Bifrost. No one leaves or enters Asgard.” Odin turned.
“What? Why?” Wasn't this a task for a servant?
“Asgard is under quarantine until further notice. The Fever has returned.” With that, the All-Father left the stables.
“The Fever?” Thor led his horse from the stable and mounted up, kicking the horse's flanks, setting off to the obey his father.
*
The universe still turned while Asgard remained isolated; and while parents worried over their children and other loved ones, Heimdall watched as a madman stole the Tesseract from its hiding place. With the Æsir occupied with matters close to home, there was no one to stop him. No one to reclaim the lost gem. And all the lone being in the observatory could do was stand guard.
*
Loki had been an infant the last time the Fever was in Asgard. The illness didn't even have a proper name, it was just known simply as 'the Fever' and anyone would know instantly what you were speaking about. It had an incubation period of several days and then it struck, unleashing its symptoms of muscle aches, headaches, chills - and fever.
The reason for many of the absent servants was explained; many of their children had come down with the Fever, and several of the servants had become ill as well. Natasha's tutor, Master Siry, was among the ill adults. The healing wing of the palace was full of the sick - and dying - but Natasha was not among them.
Loki kept her in her room, tucked safely in bed. There was nothing to be done other than give cooling elixirs, keep the patient comfortable, and pray. He rung the cloth out over the bowl of herbs and water, before setting it back upon his daughter's forehead. The girl let out a soft wheeze and whimpered. “Cold, isn't it?”
She nodded. “Smells.”
“Good smell?” He smiled when she nodded. “You just rest.” He settled the blankets around her. “Comfortable?” Loki picked up the book off the bedside table and opened it. Natasha had been sick for the past four days and only now had started to show signs of improvement. “Now, if you fall asleep while I am reading, do not worry. I will simply read the same chapters again tomorrow.”
She let out a very tiny laugh and then closed her eyes. “Tired of staying in bed.”
“I suspect you are.” He adjusted the cloth. “But bed is where sick little girls stay until they are told they are well enough to get up.” He flipped through a few pages. “Let me see, where were we.” He gave her another smile. “Ah yes...” He cleared his throat. “Chapter Four, Madame Fidola and the Dancing Class. The Children’s Academy of Dancing and Stage Training was in Bloomsbury. It was three large houses joined inside by passages.” He glanced over the top of the book at Natasha, who was half awake, her eyes just barely open.
She was going to get better. Eir and his mother had assured him of that. It would just take time.
*
The whole of Asgard was subdued. Thor couldn't remember it being so quiet or empty. He has not seen Volstagg in over a week; both of his children have the Fever. Fandral and Sif had split the man's duties between them, so he has not seen them either. Hogun was ill with a mild form of the Fever, the same as Natasha. The best that could be determined was that the illness had returned to Asgard unknowingly from a band of traders from Alfheim. Thor supposed it was a good thing that they hadn't left Asgard when the epidemic started; thus they were prevented from spreading the illness to other realms.
The Fever was only raging in one part of Alfheim, according to Heimdall, the rest of Yggdrasil was safe. The guardian told him that twenty-four years ago, the Fever made its way to Midgard where it mutated with an influenza virus that turned lethal and killed millions. The last time the Fever came to Asgard, eight-seven citizens, mostly children, had perished. Thor had a vague memory of a mass funeral and his mother weeping.
Thor, for his part, seems to be playing messenger between his parents and brother. Mother is always with Eir, Father is usually in the throne room, and Loki is at Natasha's bedside.
Looking back, he's rather ashamed of himself for storming out of the breakfast that marked the last time his family was together.
It didn't mean he wanted to start reading reports though.
*
The hand that pushed the comic towards him was thin, but with finely manicured fingernails. Steve Rogers looked up into the face of a little girl of about six, with copper-colored ringlets, a nervous smile on her face. Despite the ginger hair, almost no freckles adorned her face and she has the air of someone who had recently overcome an illness, judging from the way her dark blue utility coat hung off of her frame. “And what's your name, Miss?”
“Natasha.” The girl replied, offering him a smile.
He quickly signed his name and handed the comic back. “There you go.”
“Thank you.” She hugged the small book to her, and her green eyes suddenly took on a mischievous look. “Are you going to go over to Germany and punch the real Hitler, Captain America?”
“I think I just might.” Steve smiled and winked at her. “But don't tell anyone, or there might be more danger if he finds out I'm coming to arrest him.”
What the girl said next is something he never forgets. “If you do arrest him, make sure you break his leg. That way, he can't run.” She waved. “Bye.”
He was so stunned at her statement, he can't even return the words to her and instead watched her head over to a tall dark haired man in a black coat and green scarf. He inwardly sighed and turned his attention to signing autographs. This wasn't how he expected to serve his country.