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Loki was never one to sleep at night.
Even as an infant, he drove the nurses mad with incessant demands for their attention, but they endured until such an hour as he became inconsolable and only Frigga's direct intervention could quiet him. She nursed him then, in the silent hours, and he would finally sleep until late morning when he would wake again to goggle at everything with frank curiosity.
She never spoke of these late-night feedings and Odin did not know of them or, indeed, that his youngest son was not sleeping at night, until he discovered the fact for himself. This did not come until Loki had grown enough to toddle about on his own and make guileless mischief about the palace.
Odin himself preferred to work at night when the world was still and few people clamoured for his attention. It was the best time to go over charts, decrees, and documents, to consider foreign correspondence, and re-evaluate the information brought to him by his advisors. He used a council room to this purpose, for it offered space for maps, scrolls, and books while remaining fairly close and intimate.
It was a quiet time and this was why he could not fail to hear the gentle slap of bare feet on stone. He looked up from his charts to see the very top of a curly mop of dark hair making its way around the table. The two guards who kept silent vigil over the doors to his back stepped forward, but Odin lifted a hand to stay them and they resumed their positions even as Loki padded into view wearing only his nightshirt, one finger in his mouth. Every so often, he tilted his head to look up at the edge of the table. He nearly collided with Odin's seat, but stopped suddenly, almost as though he realized he was being watched.
"Hi," he said, popping the finger out of his mouth. "Find you!"
"So you did," Odin said as Loki reached one exploratory hand over the edge of the table to see what it could grab. Odin quietly brushed his papers out of the way. "Why aren't you in bed?"
Loki pulled back his hand and blinked at him owlishly. "Find you!" he said again and lifted up his arms.
Odin's initial thought was to scold him, have the nurse retrieved and scolded, and then send them both off to bed, but it seemed like too much effort. Instead he picked Loki up and settled the child on his lap.
"Where is your nurse, Loki?" he asked, not expecting much in the way of an answer, but curious nonetheless about how the child would respond.
"S'eep," Loki said. He sat huddled on Odin's lap with his little fists pulled up to his chest, either afraid to touch anything or overwhelmed by the number of destructible things now within his reach.
"Where is your brother?"
"T'or s'eep. Find you!" Loki insisted and then decided the papers were interesting enough to risk punishment and made a grab at the table. Odin, prepared for such a manoeuvre, quickly and gently brushed them out of reach.
"How did you get here?" he asked, knowing that, besides the nurse and his brother, Loki would have had to dodge a number of guards between the nursery and the council chamber.
"Walk," Loki said, squirming restlessly over the loss of a potential toy.
Odin let the answer stand. The boy was far too young to give him a proper explanation. He briefly considered calling someone to have Loki taken back to his bed, but if he had come all this way to find his father once, he would surely do so again. He was quiet enough and Odin was rather curious as to what he would do.
What Loki seemed to want to do was grab hold of his charts and maps. He curled in the hollows of his father's body, hands raised, fingers opening and closing as if waiting for a second opportunity to reach out and snatch one of them. With one arm wrapped around the boy to keep him from lunging forward, Odin drew the top-most map to them.
"Do you know what this is?" he said.
"Mm," Loki replied, an uncommitted answer that could suggest he knew, but could not explain, or did not know and wished to. Or simply that he would like to tear the paper, Odin allowed, although he felt it unlikely. Loki seemed drawn by the images.
"This is the World Tree, Yggdrasil," Odin explained. It was, in fact, a map of the many routes connecting the Nine Realms, but it described the image of the tree perfectly. He pointed to one realm near the top of the page. "This is Asgard. This is where we live."
"M'ma? T'or?"
"Your mother and brother live here too. Everyone you know lives here," Odin said. He moved his finger over. "This is Vanaheim."
"Vana'm!"
"Vanaheim," Odin repeated and moved his finger again. "This is Álfheim. This is Nidavellir…"
Loki pointed to the next realm, balanced in the middle of the chart.
"That is Midgard," Odin told him. "That is where the humans live."
Loki's finger moved again.
"That… That is Jötunheim, where the giants live."
"Yot'n!" Loki mimicked.
"Yes, the Jötun," Odin said, catching himself before he added "just like you".
He rattled off the names of the other realms as Loki pointed them out, wondering, not for the first time, about the wisdom of his decision to raise Loki as an Aesir. Perhaps it would be best if he knew his true parentage, had time to adjust to it as he grew, but this assumed that everyone around him would be supportive. Odin knew the world could be cruel and, while he might be able to describe the Jötun in political terms, admitting they were enemies without denying their personhood, he could not control what others said about them or how they might react to the knowledge that Loki was one of them.
And there was the very real fear that Laufey would learn of it. True that Loki had been abandoned in that temple and left to die, but that would not prevent Laufey from using kidnapping as an excuse to move against Asgard. While Laufey held the throne, it was incautious to allow the truth of Loki's parentage to be made common knowledge. It was best kept until the child was old enough to be discreet.
Loki traced the course of little known passageways throughout the realms with his finger. They were next to useless for most, but for those touched with seidr or the knowledge of how to manipulate it, they were valuable portals that allowed travel without the benefit of the Bifrost.
"Do you like the map, Loki?" Odin asked the child as he traced the paths and hummed tunelessly to himself.
"I go," Loki told him, tracing a path to Midgard and, from there, to Hel. "Go!"
"I think you should avoid Hel, my son," Odin said, drawing Loki's hand back to the middle sphere. "It is not a place for little boys. But perhaps you and your brother will travel to Midgard one day."
"Go here," Loki agreed.
"When you're older."
A servant arrived with a tray of bread, fruit, cheese, and wine, a light meal that Odin was fond of taking when he had been awake for many hours. The servant looked quizzically at Loki and then turned his gaze away quickly lest he be found impudent. Odin requested a cup of water and dismissed him.
Loki made a noise of longing and tried to pull himself forward to see the tray, but Odin held him fast. However, it stood to reason that a child awake for many hours would be as hungry as a man.
"App'o," Loki whined and squirmed in Odin's grasp.
Odin picked up a wedge of apple, already cut and cored, and passed it to his son. He then cut a wedge of soft cheese and did the same. With a treat clutched happily in each hand, Loki was content to sit and eat while Odin took care of his affairs, pausing only long enough to pass his son another slice of apple, a piece of bread, or let him sip from the cup of water the servant brought him. He ate well for a child and, once satisfied, settled in quietly while Odin finished his business, applied his mark to the relevant documents, and prepared orders for the next day's assignments. By the time he finished, Loki was sleeping deeply in his embrace.
Odin debated sending him back to bed with a servant, but eventually decided to carry the boy himself, creeping into the nursery past the children's guardian, who woke as he passed and seemed shocked that Loki managed to slip by her. He admonished her, but gently, and put his son to bed. Thor, sleeping nearby, did not stir in spite of the exchange.
The next day, Loki showed no ill effects of his late night although he did sleep a little longer than usual.
Several nights later, the same thing occurred: Loki wandered in where Odin was working, looking around in wonderment, and Odin sat the child on his lap, talked about whatever was on the day's agenda, shared food with him, and returned him to his bed. It became an irregular part of Odin's routine that increased in frequency as Loki grew older and more sure of himself. No matter where he chose to work, Loki simply…found him, avoiding detection by his caretakers and the guards. When he was old enough to no longer need a nurse, the visits became an almost nightly affair, proof enough that the woman had been as effective a guardian as she could manage with a child of such natural stealth.
Odin often wondered if he should mention Loki's excursions to Frigga. He thought, perhaps, that she knew of them as she knew of so many other things, but she said nothing to him and so he said nothing to her. If pressed, he might have admitted that he wanted to keep the visits private, a secret between himself and his son. In the daytime, Loki was Frigga's child, studious and clever, while Odin busied himself with the politics of Asgard. At night he was Odin's to hold and instruct, devouring information about the Nine Realms with an appetite that Odin only wished Thor shared.
Eventually Loki grew too big to sit comfortably on his father's lap and was relegated to a seat raised with cushions. But what they lost in physical connection, they gained verbally. Loki was a well-spoken child and Odin often asked him his opinion on a bit of correspondence or local dispute. His answers were often simplistic and naïve – he was just a boy, after all – but Odin often found his directness refreshing.
"If it is their land, why not just give it back?" Loki said.
"The land was taken in an ancient war," Odin told him. "People live there now. They have been there all their lives and have nothing to do with the war, which was so long ago. They cannot be traded with the land, but, to them, the land is their home. It would be unfair to make them move. What if your mother had taken a toy from Thor when he was very small because he was naughty and then gave it to you? If it was your favourite toy, and you grew up thinking it was yours, how would you feel if Thor suddenly wanted it back?"
"Could we not share it?" Loki said, looking pained.
"What if he did not seem to have any interest in it and only wanted it to prove it belonged to him?"
"Then I would tell him that I knew it was his, but could I please, please borrow it because it was my favourite and if he wanted, he could borrow something of mine," Loki said.
"Do you think that would work?"
"Mm," Loki said, lost in thought. Then he nodded. "Thor is bossy, but he is good."
"Would that more people were like your brother," Odin said, noting the possibility of a proposed system of exchange in the margin of the missive.
The late-night meals now included meat more often than not in deference to Loki's age and rapid growth. He was sprouting like a weed and though he would never be quite as tall and broad as his brother, he was a strong and sturdy child in his own right. He had his first taste of ale, mead, and wine during these late-night sessions, sipping them cautiously from his father's cup and making appropriate faces of disgust before returning to his water and pressed cider.
In time, Loki was of age to begin weapons training in earnest. Combined with his book studies, it made for a full day and he was often too exhausted by the end of it to stay awake for long, especially when training demanded an early start. He complained of this bitterly, hating weapons work, but Odin assured him solemnly that it was necessary.
"You are a prince of the realm," he told his son. "You will one day be called upon to defend it. And if you prefer to use seidr against our enemies, that is fine, but you must have knowledge of the military arts to understand what those enemies bring against us."
"But I'm not very good and look a fool," Loki complained. "Thor is so much better. Can he not defend the realm?"
"You will both be needed," Odin insisted. "Your skill does not matter so much as your understanding. That is why Thor must study magical techniques with you, though he is not touched by seidr. Even if he cannot use them, he must understand what is happening if an enemy chooses to use them against us."
"But I miss you," Loki said, hugging him around the waist.
"And I miss you," Odin assured him, "but we are the keepers of this land and these are the sacrifices we must make to keep it safe. You will not have your studies forever. We can resume our regular visits then, if you like, and you can always come to me between times."
"Mm," Loki murmured, an uncommitted answer from an undecided child. Finally, he put on a brave face and smiled.
"Okay," he said.
Odin was not lying; he did miss their nightly visits. It was not that he spent no time with his sons, but they spoke, all three of them, together. He had a little more time alone with Thor, who demonstrated to him every new move he learned in training, much as Loki spent time with his mother, demonstrating new spells to her. Odin could appreciate the use of magic as easily as Frigga, but there seemed to be a division in Loki's mind that associated his mother with the bend and flow of magic and his father with the more formal realms of diplomacy and politics, which he studied together with Thor.
The shared time was not a bad thing; it brought the brothers closer together as they learned to rely on each other to bolster the strengths that they lacked. However, this did not make the nights any less silent and, while hard training served to make Thor ever broader, it only seemed to make Loki leaner. This was not unexpected, given that he was losing a full meal every night, and Odin encouraged both his sons to eat whenever they were hungry in spite of assurances that Loki was still a strong and healthy boy. Even so, he did not begin to fill out again until he was adept enough with a blade that training sessions no longer drained him and he began staying awake deep into the night, filching food from the kitchens as often as not.
Odin was not surprised when these nights were not spent in his company, although it saddened him. He missed those secret meetings, but he would not intrude on Loki's present life for all the riches of the Nine Realms. He was a happy boy – young man, now, Odin supposed – spending most of his time with his brother and their friends. He took time for himself, studying or reading, but mostly ventured out on hunting trips or other short excursions that took them away from the city and allowed them to explore the realm. When they stayed at home, it was the ale house to which they headed, chatting and laughing, and sharing food and drink until the early hours when they would all return and sleep deep into the morning.
Even so, Loki did drift in from time to time, when he was angry with Thor, or there was a girl he liked, or sometimes a boy -– an interest that made Odin uncomfortable although he had long ago adjusted to the fact that Loki was strangely mercurial in body, mood, and thought – or if there was something generally upsetting on his mind for which discussion and shared wine acted as a balm.
"You would really crown him king?" Loki said. He was flushed, more than a little drunk after a visit to the ale house, but still lucid enough for practical conversation.
"He is my first-born son," Odin said. "It is time for him to prepare for such a role."
Loki huffed. "I love my brother very much, but he is arrogant and vain and will play with your armies like wooden soldiers."
"Perhaps," Odin admitted, "but any thought of coronation is years in the future. With instruction, Thor might change his views. Is it a role you wanted for yourself?"
The colour in Loki's cheeks deepened, suggesting he had thought of it, but daydreams and reality were often in conflict.
"Not really," he said at last. "It is simply that… Thor lords himself over our circle as it is and, though they love him for it, he often brings them grief. Small things, for a small group, but I cannot see that attitude as beneficial to Asgard."
"And that is why he will need you more as time goes on," Odin said. "A king is nothing without his advisors. If I could name you both as heir, I would, for you are stronger together, but there is only one crown. Let him be the face of the kingdom so that you may keep your secrets and your plans without coming under scrutiny."
"Do you have such a one?" Loki said, uncertain.
"None I trust as much as you and Thor trust one another," Odin admitted. "You and your brother will fare better together than I alone."
"I suppose," Loki said, crossing his arms and pillowing his head on the table. He seemed sulky and it struck Odin that Loki was no less arrogant or vain than Thor; he was simply quieter about it.
"You are welcome to join him for instruction," Odin said. "It will do you both good to know about the kingdom. And do not fall asleep here tonight. You are far too big to carry to bed and I am far too old to carry you."
"Mm," Loki replied, suggesting that the warning had come far too late and he was already half undone. "Will you read aloud as you once did? I would hear of the other realms."
Odin obliged him and read light correspondence until Loki's breathing deepened and evened out, and then he resumed his work in silence. When he had finished, he nudged Loki gently, but the boy did not seem inclined to wake, so Odin took his cloak and draped it around his son's shoulders, posting a guard at the door on his way out.
He wondered, as he had so many times before, if he had not just missed an opportunity to speak seriously with Loki about his parentage and what it might mean to Asgard, but he seemed so morose and unsure of himself that Odin had not wanted to add to his worries, not when Thor, his main source of support, was so eager to view all Jötun as enemies and relations between the two realms were strained.
Odin knew he should not wait much longer, but it was a difficult subject to broach, one that did not come naturally in conversation, and one that could have damaging consequences if it was not properly introduced. There were also selfish reasons for the delay: he had raised Loki from infanthood, loved him as greatly as Thor, and could not bring himself to introduce the child to this element of strangeness lest it be thought a sign that he was being excluded from the family.
Now, more than ever, with Thor coming into his heritage and Odin himself growing older, he wanted Loki to feel he was a part of things, in blood as much as in thought. And so, although he feared it might not be the wisest course of action in the long term, Odin put off the revelation a little longer.
He had cause to regret it in the end, when Loki's nature asserted itself at the worst possible time, when Asgard was in crisis and his brother was gone, when Odin himself collapsed from exhaustion, leaving his son in a twisting storm of fear, anger, and confusion.
Later, he wondered exactly what he could have done differently to change their fates, but too much time had passed, there were too many variables.
Should he have told Loki about his heritage when he was a tiny child, allowed him to grow into it, let his subjects grow into it, risked Laufey's wrath, and allowed his children to grow up in a state of war? Should he have told Loki when he was a young child and had already heard the stories being told in the marketplace of the Jötun monsters that snatched children in the night and allowed him to taste hate and rejection by his peers? At what moment in time would the difference have been made?
Or, perhaps, it was not a matter of Loki's parentage at all. Perhaps he should have tried harder to stem the hatred of frost giants that ran through his people like a current. Perhaps he should have tried to form closer ties with Jötunheim. Perhaps he should not have allowed Thor to think of war as glory and the enemy as vile, regardless of who was on the other side.
Perhaps he should have confronted Loki after an attempt was made to secure the Casket of Ancient Winters, brought forward the knowledge he felt in his heart instead of looking for absolute proof, for who else in the Nine Realms had, since childhood, padded silently past the guardians of Asgard without once being caught? Who else had known, since childhood, of the secret passages between realms and had power enough to exploit them?
Perhaps he should have put swifter guards on the gate. Perhaps he should have exiled the brothers together, that they might learn humility together, that they might come to trust one another more closely. Perhaps he should have shared his thoughts more freely with Frigga so that she would have stood as Queen Regent beside her son instead of placing the heavy mantle of kingship on the back of a broken child.
Perhaps he should have stood differently on the Bifrost, to catch the son who would let go.
Odin had sacrificed an eye to Mimir's well and hanged dead for nine days upon Yggdrasil to gain knowledge and wisdom. It was not perfect, he was not omniscient, but the spring and the tree were symbols of life, the gifts they bestowed meant to grow and change those they touched. Yet all things had their counter-parts, their dark and twisted shadows.
The opposite of life was not death, as some imagined, for death was natural and good and allowed new life to form. The opposite of life was oblivion. Nothingness. The void. It offered its own knowledge and wisdom, cold, dark, and devouring. It ate the spirit of those who sought it, turned their soul to dust.
Odin walked through the darkened corridors and came to stand before the glass window, putting the tray down on the topmost step with a gentle chink. He was one of the few who could affect this barrier and he did so now, creating a small door through which the tray could be pushed, sealing the glass once the object had passed.
Sprawled against the far wall, Loki watched him warily, tracking his movements like a wild animal. His eyes were narrowed, but clear, open doorways on a mind like shattered glass: sharp, brilliant, and ultimately broken.
He drew himself up, half-crawling across the floor in long, sinuous stretches before he was on his feet and walking to the window where he pressed his hands against the partition and peered out at his audience.
"I did not expect you," he said, voice pleasant and even. He was smiling, just a little, but his eyes spit venom and hate. "What's all this, then?"
"The guards say you aren't sleeping well," Odin replied, unslinging his bag and sitting on a stone bench brought in at his insistence. "You were always hungry at this time of night. I wondered if it might be related."
"Oh?" Loki said, feigning surprise. "Is it night time already? I'm afraid I couldn't tell…"
The cell was constantly lit with a diffused light so that nothing cast a shadow, leaving no place for Loki to hide and plot and scheme. The light was not so bright, but must seem so against the darkened corridors beyond the cell. It must be a terrible feeling, one of constant observation, and, as a father, it angered him, but, as a king, he had to bind his prisoner as best he was able.
"Even so, the body does not soon forget certain rhythms," Odin said.
"And why do you linger?"
"To speak, if you wish to speak. To work, if you do not," Odin replied. "This is not a scheduled meal. I must return the tray. If you are not hungry, say so, and you will be rid of us both."
Loki said nothing to this, so Odin returned to his work, pulling out a scroll and looking it over carefully. From the corner of his eye he saw Loki drop gracefully to the ground, cross-legged, and begin poking through the items offered to him.
There was nothing fancy: sliced apples and wedges of cheese, a heel of bread, a little meat, and a small, sealed jar of mead that received particular interest. Loki was not permitted alcohol normally and Odin suspected he had not drunk real mead in quite some time. It was the first item selected and the first item sampled as Loki sat hunched against the glass so that he might watch Odin closely as though he suspected a trick.
When the mead proved sound, Loki moved on to a slice of apple, and then some cheese and bread. He ate cautiously, but steadily, pausing only to offer Odin a twisted grin.
"Read out loud," he dared. "I would know what is happening in Asgard."
Odin obliged him, reading the list of taxes and tithes received by the palace. Loki shifted impatiently, focused on his food a while, and then changed position again until he could no longer stand it.
"What is this?" he interrupted.
"Merchant accounts," Odin told him. "How much is being produced and by whom. How much is being given over to the palace. How much must be parceled out to feed soldiers and servants. All the small things a king must be aware of, even if he does not do the distribution himself."
"Mm?" Loki murmured, unconvinced. Either he understood the necessity and found it boring or could not imagine why anyone would need to know the details at all.
Even so, he listened, leaning up against the glass to better hear the sound of Odin's voice.
In truth, he had no other choice.
Odin read each list of accounts and proposed distributions, marking those with which he agreed, annotating those he wished revised, and thinking that perhaps this was something he should have done from the start: underlined the small things, the minutia of daily life, instead of telling grand stories about Yggdrasil and the Nine Realms. If they had been taught the importance of the peasantry, perhaps his sons would not have grown to be as proud and arrogant as they did. Perhaps Loki would not have attacked Midgard, viewing its people as insignificant. Perhaps Thor would not have stormed Jötunheim. Perhaps there would have been no jealousy between them…
Perhaps, it was not too late to start.