Chapter 1
Loki had become fairly close-mouthed lately, his mother, Queen Frigga had noticed. The little boy had secrets from her, from all of them, really. Her youngest child was changing slowly, ever since his falling out with Thor three years before. The young brothers, eleven and ten years old, rarely hung out together anymore. In the past they would go hunting or camping. Loki would hunt to please Thor, even though Loki really hated hunting. They would spar together or play Jotnar versus the Aesir with Thor's friends. Loki avoided Thor's little group now.
Frigga's boys still spoke and even joked around some, but it wasn't the same. The two were not best friends any longer. It made Frigga sad.
The brothers had started fighting during that short window of time when they were both eight. Frigga still wasn't certain what it was all about. Loki's tender feelings had been badly hurt. He was a sensitive little soul.
Lately, Frigga felt bad for Thor. Often the queen would catch her oldest giving Loki wistful glances. Sometimes Thor would watch Loki leave a room and his shoulders would sag. There was that horrible night that Thor came to the queen's room, crying. She had held him and stroked his long, honey-blond hair. He'd cried for a couple of minutes. She didn't have to ask him what was wrong. She knew.
Wiping his wet face, Thor had pulled himself together.
"He hates me, Mother," the prince had mumbled.
"I'm sorry," was all Frigga could think to say. She wasn't going to deny Thor's statement. She didn't want to lie to her son.
Frigga saw Loki almost tiptoeing down a corridor, his hands protectively cupped around something. The slow way he moved practically screamed "secret," so naturally, Frigga followed him.
She expected Loki to go to his rooms, but instead he went to the library. The black-haired prince approached a large glass jar on a table in the corner. Frigga watched as Loki pulled off the lid and dropped something into the jar. He carefully replaced the lid, then waved his small hand. Frigga's eyebrows rose when the jar glowed golden.
Loki stepped back, staring at the jar. He jumped at the sound of his mother's voice and whirled to look at her.
"What are you doing, son?"
Guilt flashed in the child's green eyes. "Don't be mad."
"Why? Have you done something bad?" Frigga half teased. She walked over and looked at the jar.
Inside were two large blue and black butterflies sitting on a branch. The blue parts of their wings appeared to be green because of the golden glow around the jar. The butterflies were not moving. At all.
"Oh. Butterflies," said Frigga, touching the jar's lid. Magic tingled on her skin. "Are you collecting them?"
"Y...yes. Will you make me let them go?" Loki asked quietly.
Frigga smiled at him. "Of course not."
He sighed in relief.
"They're quite beautiful, Loki," she said, looking at them again. "I've never seen their like before. Why are you keeping them?"
Loki shrugged. "They're pretty. I like looking at them."
"Are they frozen?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"They're not for pets, Mother. They're just for looking at," said Loki with a child's logic. "I'll let them go when I get tired of them. If I didn't freeze them, I'd have to remember to feed and water them. This way, they won't die if I forget."
Frigga laughed. She bent and kissed her child's cheek. "As long as you're having fun, love. I'll see you at supper."
She turned to go. Loki murmured goodbye to his mother, then stared malignantly at the contents of the jar. He sneered at the frozen butterflies.
"I'll never let you go," he hissed. Then he turned and stomped out of the library.