Status: Active: three chapters to come.
Bedtime Stories
Night One
“You’ll be regularly checked on by myself, and if you need anything don’t hesitate to call for me.” Frigga smiled as she led Loki down the quiet hall that resided in the west wing of the palace.
“Right.” His reply was breathy, nervous as his mother managed to break down the façade he had built up around himself during the early evening.
“Don’t worry, darling.” She turned to look back at her son, her eyes glowing with pride. “I have complete faith in you.”
The door that they came to was far too vast for its purpose, just days after his birth and already the child was being spoiled. It opened quietly under Frigga’s palm to reveal a quaint nursery dressed in scarlet: the crib against the west window with a mobile rotating above, a rocking chair in the corner next to it, heavily burdened bookshelves that sat along the north paired with a matching chaise lounge, and then a large bed that offered views out the east facing window to the courtyard below. A quiet cooing radiated from the crib as Loki entered, nervous behind his mother.
Frigga practically glided over to the crib side, letting her son make his own way at his own pace, and beamed when she saw the child within. He was laying on his back marveling at the mobile above in the gold rays of early sundown. Gently she reached down to lift him into her arms, his weight lacking in her arms.
“See?” She gestured to Loki with the child, still smiling. “He’s fine.”
Still, Loki kept recluse to himself choosing instead to play with his thumbs than to pay attention to the small bundle in Frigga’s arms. Even when she brought the child to him he looked down his nose at the ground. What if he broke it?
“You’re not going to hurt Modi, Loki. What you’re going to do is the best possible thing that anyone can do for him.” Frigga’s words were supportive enough to build kingdoms on and Loki looked up at her for them, his chin still pointed down.
“Are…are you sure?”
“Of course.” Frigga bounced he child lightly in her arms, prompting his laughter. “Do you remember how I instructed you to do this?”
Loki nodded and bit his lip as his mother escorted him to the edge of the bed. After a few seconds of counting the threads of the quilt to build up his courage he curled his fingers under the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, draping it over the headboard.
“Sometimes healing magic is less of magic and more of true care.” The words were softly spoken as Frigga moved a small tuft of hair from Modi’s vision. “But just to be safe, you do remember your mantras, correct?”
“Yes.” Loki could feel himself begin to shake as the impending moment came into being.
“Well. Shall you hold him, then?”
With his eyes closed Loki nodded and held out his arms, searching for the child’s weight hard against his forearms. It never came.
“Look at you two.” Frigga beamed, her hands stereotypically close to her chin.
When he finally opened his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste iron against his tongue, he found that the child was indeed curled comfortably into his arms. Modi was light, dangerously so. With every breathe Loki could feel his own heart rate increase until it was fluttering like a hummingbird, his face flushed with the heat that nervousness brought with its presence.
“Loki, you’re doing just fine. Now, I’ll check in on you in a few hours, okay?” Frigga brought her son into a light hug around Modi before heading towards the door. “Go ahead and lay down with him, darling, you’re already doing perfect.”
And she was gone, the door shut behind her with barely a sound. Loki sighed shakily looked down at Modi; the child’s sapphire eyes caught his own as he smiled up at the older holding him. It wasn’t remotely reassuring. The warmth of the tiny baby against him wasn’t reassuring. The pastel colors of twilight weren’t reassuring. There was nothing reassuring about holding the tiny heir.
Carefully Loki sat on the edge of the bed behind him, the soft mattress bowing to his weight atop it in a comfortable slump. After a moment of careful repositioning Loki leaned back against the pillows of the bed until his back was flat against it, Modi resting on his chest. Unwrapping the blankets from around the child proved to be a challenge with the shaking of his hands but if the child were ever to get better, and it simply had to or surely Loki would lose his sanity after being placed with such a responsibility, the blankets had to go. Skin to skin contact was absolutely necessary.
The child was even smaller on the vast plane of Loki’s chest. Butterflies of nervousness still clouded him, it was scarcely impossible to not break such a tiny, frail creature. How fragile must his bones be, how easy would it be to change the beating pattern of his heart? To freeze him? To overheat him? Readily Loki’s hands began to jitter on the mattress beside him, terrified to touch Modi, his mind swirling with his fears for the child and his brow covered in a fine cold sweat.
Gently Modi repositioned himself so his blue eyes reflected the purple tones of the setting sun that shone through the window and his hands were entangled in the inky strands of his uncle’s hair. Loki froze, ceasing even his own breathing. With all the precision of a newborn the child began to play with the older’s hair, shaking and throwing it—grabbing relentlessly in the swirling puddle it created around Loki’s shoulders. A smile began to shine from the Trickster’s lips and he laughed, bouncing the baby just slightly with the rise-fall motions of his chest. Modi squealed with his uncle’s example and lightly thrashed his arms and legs with the joy he felt radiate through him from the older: he was certainly a child of Thor’s.
You can do this, he’ll be alright. Loki encouraged himself in a parameter similar to a mantra as he finally put his hand firm on the child’s back, terrified that the weight of it would crush him into a mangled mess. But Modi persisted, shifting under Loki’s weight, and seemed to welcome the comfort of his palm.
“Circles are best,” Frigga had advised him earlier in the day once Thor had departed, “be sure to maintain the fluidity of a positive outlook as to not startle him: all children are intuitive, even those who grow out of it, he’ll be able to sense your every particle.”
So he began by rubbing full, narrow, and warm ovals into Modi’s back, focusing on the diminishing of feathery light that still trickled in through the curtains. Even as darkness fell Loki kept his focus on the child below his hand instead of providing the room with light: Thor’s happiness was of utmost importance, and therefore, so was the underweight child on his chest. After a while he changed the pattern that he traced into Modi’s back to light, circular streams that ran from his fingertips, pulsating up and down the small nook of his back. Modi squirmed at the new sensation, seeming to prefer the previous one, but variation played a key role into the child’s health.
It took less than four patterns into the child’s back, no more than a few hours after night had fallen, for Modi to fall into a heavy sleep upon Loki, the child’s breathing deep and involving his every muscle. At his sleep Loki finally felt a small twitch of relaxation fall over him. The room was saturated in a thick darkness and for all he cared it was to stay that way until Thor returned, nothing was more precious than the child upon his chest.
But rest never came for Loki.
“Right.” His reply was breathy, nervous as his mother managed to break down the façade he had built up around himself during the early evening.
“Don’t worry, darling.” She turned to look back at her son, her eyes glowing with pride. “I have complete faith in you.”
The door that they came to was far too vast for its purpose, just days after his birth and already the child was being spoiled. It opened quietly under Frigga’s palm to reveal a quaint nursery dressed in scarlet: the crib against the west window with a mobile rotating above, a rocking chair in the corner next to it, heavily burdened bookshelves that sat along the north paired with a matching chaise lounge, and then a large bed that offered views out the east facing window to the courtyard below. A quiet cooing radiated from the crib as Loki entered, nervous behind his mother.
Frigga practically glided over to the crib side, letting her son make his own way at his own pace, and beamed when she saw the child within. He was laying on his back marveling at the mobile above in the gold rays of early sundown. Gently she reached down to lift him into her arms, his weight lacking in her arms.
“See?” She gestured to Loki with the child, still smiling. “He’s fine.”
Still, Loki kept recluse to himself choosing instead to play with his thumbs than to pay attention to the small bundle in Frigga’s arms. Even when she brought the child to him he looked down his nose at the ground. What if he broke it?
“You’re not going to hurt Modi, Loki. What you’re going to do is the best possible thing that anyone can do for him.” Frigga’s words were supportive enough to build kingdoms on and Loki looked up at her for them, his chin still pointed down.
“Are…are you sure?”
“Of course.” Frigga bounced he child lightly in her arms, prompting his laughter. “Do you remember how I instructed you to do this?”
Loki nodded and bit his lip as his mother escorted him to the edge of the bed. After a few seconds of counting the threads of the quilt to build up his courage he curled his fingers under the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, draping it over the headboard.
“Sometimes healing magic is less of magic and more of true care.” The words were softly spoken as Frigga moved a small tuft of hair from Modi’s vision. “But just to be safe, you do remember your mantras, correct?”
“Yes.” Loki could feel himself begin to shake as the impending moment came into being.
“Well. Shall you hold him, then?”
With his eyes closed Loki nodded and held out his arms, searching for the child’s weight hard against his forearms. It never came.
“Look at you two.” Frigga beamed, her hands stereotypically close to her chin.
When he finally opened his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste iron against his tongue, he found that the child was indeed curled comfortably into his arms. Modi was light, dangerously so. With every breathe Loki could feel his own heart rate increase until it was fluttering like a hummingbird, his face flushed with the heat that nervousness brought with its presence.
“Loki, you’re doing just fine. Now, I’ll check in on you in a few hours, okay?” Frigga brought her son into a light hug around Modi before heading towards the door. “Go ahead and lay down with him, darling, you’re already doing perfect.”
And she was gone, the door shut behind her with barely a sound. Loki sighed shakily looked down at Modi; the child’s sapphire eyes caught his own as he smiled up at the older holding him. It wasn’t remotely reassuring. The warmth of the tiny baby against him wasn’t reassuring. The pastel colors of twilight weren’t reassuring. There was nothing reassuring about holding the tiny heir.
Carefully Loki sat on the edge of the bed behind him, the soft mattress bowing to his weight atop it in a comfortable slump. After a moment of careful repositioning Loki leaned back against the pillows of the bed until his back was flat against it, Modi resting on his chest. Unwrapping the blankets from around the child proved to be a challenge with the shaking of his hands but if the child were ever to get better, and it simply had to or surely Loki would lose his sanity after being placed with such a responsibility, the blankets had to go. Skin to skin contact was absolutely necessary.
The child was even smaller on the vast plane of Loki’s chest. Butterflies of nervousness still clouded him, it was scarcely impossible to not break such a tiny, frail creature. How fragile must his bones be, how easy would it be to change the beating pattern of his heart? To freeze him? To overheat him? Readily Loki’s hands began to jitter on the mattress beside him, terrified to touch Modi, his mind swirling with his fears for the child and his brow covered in a fine cold sweat.
Gently Modi repositioned himself so his blue eyes reflected the purple tones of the setting sun that shone through the window and his hands were entangled in the inky strands of his uncle’s hair. Loki froze, ceasing even his own breathing. With all the precision of a newborn the child began to play with the older’s hair, shaking and throwing it—grabbing relentlessly in the swirling puddle it created around Loki’s shoulders. A smile began to shine from the Trickster’s lips and he laughed, bouncing the baby just slightly with the rise-fall motions of his chest. Modi squealed with his uncle’s example and lightly thrashed his arms and legs with the joy he felt radiate through him from the older: he was certainly a child of Thor’s.
You can do this, he’ll be alright. Loki encouraged himself in a parameter similar to a mantra as he finally put his hand firm on the child’s back, terrified that the weight of it would crush him into a mangled mess. But Modi persisted, shifting under Loki’s weight, and seemed to welcome the comfort of his palm.
“Circles are best,” Frigga had advised him earlier in the day once Thor had departed, “be sure to maintain the fluidity of a positive outlook as to not startle him: all children are intuitive, even those who grow out of it, he’ll be able to sense your every particle.”
So he began by rubbing full, narrow, and warm ovals into Modi’s back, focusing on the diminishing of feathery light that still trickled in through the curtains. Even as darkness fell Loki kept his focus on the child below his hand instead of providing the room with light: Thor’s happiness was of utmost importance, and therefore, so was the underweight child on his chest. After a while he changed the pattern that he traced into Modi’s back to light, circular streams that ran from his fingertips, pulsating up and down the small nook of his back. Modi squirmed at the new sensation, seeming to prefer the previous one, but variation played a key role into the child’s health.
It took less than four patterns into the child’s back, no more than a few hours after night had fallen, for Modi to fall into a heavy sleep upon Loki, the child’s breathing deep and involving his every muscle. At his sleep Loki finally felt a small twitch of relaxation fall over him. The room was saturated in a thick darkness and for all he cared it was to stay that way until Thor returned, nothing was more precious than the child upon his chest.
But rest never came for Loki.