Chapter 2
Supper that night was a quiet affair for the most part. Frigga watched Loki push his food around on his plate. The child rested his cheek on his fist, looking more tired than Frigga had ever seen him.
"Loki," said King Odin out of the blue after about ten minutes of this, "sit up and eat your meal."
Loki jumped at Odin's deep voice and dropped his fork on the floor. He gave the king a guilty look, then bent to search for his fork while Thor snickered. There was a servant there to take the fork from the youngest prince while handing him a new one. He mumbled his thanks and she bowed and took her place by the wall. Loki glanced at his father who was glaring at him, then cut his roast venison into small pieces. He was obviously stalling about eating it.
"What is wrong, boy?" Odin grumbled.
Frigga saw Loki's shoulders tense. Sometimes she wondered if the boy was afraid of his father. Loki stopped cutting his food and stared at his plate.
"Loki," snapped Odin. He waited until the green eyes met his one eye. "Answer your father! What has gotten into you this week? You barely speak, you're twitchy. You hide in your chambers, you hardly eat...what's going on?"
Frigga's eyebrows rose. How had she not noticed any of those things? Well, Loki had been avoiding her lately. She saw how upset Loki was getting. He bit his bottom lip.
"Well?" Odin demanded.
"I don't know," Loki whispered.
"You don't?" asked Odin unkindly. "Are you ill, boy?"
Thor was gaping at his father. Loki hadn't done anything wrong. Father was being kind of mean for no reason.
Loki glanced away and shook his head. Father never called Thor "boy" like that. Loki hated to be called boy.
"Odin, please," Frigga chided gently.
"Try to eat," said the king softly.
Nodding, Loki managed to eat about half of his food. It was hard to swallow past the lump in his throat that wouldn't go away.
After the meal, Frigga caught up with her precious son in the corridor. He glanced over his shoulder at her when he heard her footsteps. He waited for her to come to him.
The forlorn expression on his little face twisted Frigga's heart. He looked so upset and worried! Poor baby. She loved him so much.
Frigga stroked her baby's long hair. He had recently started to tie it back since it had grown to a few inches below his shoulders. The queen thought how very handsome the boy was, how sweet and thoughtful a young man he was becoming. She smiled at him.
"I wish to speak with you, son," she said.
He smiled sadly. "I thought you might, Mother."
She bent and kissed the top of his head, causing him to blush a bit.
"You are troubled," she stated.
He nodded. "I just don't understand why Father is so...mean sometimes."
Frigga huffed, stroking his cheek. "I don't know, child. He gets frustrated. But he loves you both. You know that don't you?"
His big eyes filled with tears and he glanced away, shrugging. "Maybe. You say that a lot."
"You worry too much, precious one."
"I just don't want my brother to be sad anymore."
"You think he's sad?" Frigga asked, surprised.
"Yes."
The queen frowned. What was the matter with her? Lately she had been missing things, important things.
"I'll check on him, sweetie," promised Frigga.
"He prob'ly won't talk to you."
"He will. Run along."
She watched the boy take a few quick steps, then called out, "I love you, Thor."
The blond boy turned and beamed brightly, then ran off. Amused, Frigga shook her auburn head.