Chapter Text
The frozen battlefield on Jotunheim was littered with bodies of the slain, and the sickening smell of fresh blood tainted the air. Silence now fell where sounds of rage, cries of pain, and the clashing of weaponry had been heard moments before. The battle with the Frost Giants was finally won but barely. There was rejoicing, bitterness, and sadness mixed. The war might have come to an end but not without taking its share. Both sides suffered great loss among their armies, as did the humans on Midgard. As a result, many loved ones were not going to be returning home to their families that day. That was always the risk when it came to war. A high price was always paid for peace and freedom, a reminder that one should never take them for granted. Freedom isn’t a gift. It has to be paid for, and the price is a high one.
Warriors of both Frost Giants and Asgardians gathered what was left of their armies and trudged back to their homes. Odin led the way for the Asgardians while carrying the precious casket in one hand and a baby in the other. Now that the king of Asgard held the giants’ source of power a truce had been set in place and peace was established. The grounds on which it stood were shaky and Odin knew deep within him that this would not be the final battle with the Frost Giants. It was a touchy situation, one that could easily turn for the worse if they didn’t tread lightly. Even though there was a sense of peace now, there was still an uneasiness lying just below it like a sleeping monster ready to be awakened at the drop of a pin. The giants would rise again someday and threaten the other realms like they had done this time. It was only a matter of time before they would try reclaiming the casket. He knew he would have to keep it well guarded or suffer dire consequences.
The beautiful golden walls inside the gate of the Bifrost became visible as Odin materialized from his trip through the part of the Rainbow Bridge that connected the realms. He never thought much about the interior of the gate before, but at this moment it came as a comforting and welcoming sight. It was good to be able to rest his eye on something Asgardian again. The warmth of the realm engulfed him and chased away the remaining chill in his bones that had been put there by the frigid Jotunheim air. He was finally home, and it felt good. A much-earned rest was in store for all of them.
As requested, horses were waiting to take Odin and his men into Asgard so they wouldn’t have to make the long trip on foot. Being battle worn and weary, it was doubtful any of them would have made it halfway across the bridge. The All-Father’s personal steed, Sleipnir, caught sight of his master and trotted up and nickered while nudging at Odin’s shoulder with his nose. The eight-legged horse was larger than normal horses and carried a sort of dignity about him. Created by an ancient magic, Sleipnir was truly a one-of-a-kind creature and a marvel to see—forever a faithful mount and companion to the King of Asgard.
“I missed you, too, Sleipnir,” said Odin. He laughed as the steed nuzzled his face. He moved around to the saddle and slipped the casket into a large sack hanging there and secured it in place. Then he moved his free hand to rub and pat the animal’s thick neck. Sleipnir bobbed his head, snorted, and pawed at the ground in response.
The weary Asgardian king looked around him with pride at the remaining members of his army as each one came into view and filled up the small enclosure to overflowing. There was a mixture of emotions and sounds in the air, making the moment almost feel surreal. Some of his warriors were already in the first stages of celebrating the victory, hugging and clapping each other on the shoulders and erupting in joyous song. They were more than ready for a traditional celebration feast in the halls of Valhalla, where they will eat and drink and sing and tell stories of the battle until they tire. Others nursed wounds. Some were helping the badly injured make their way to the healing room. Then there were those who carried the bodies of the deceased wrapped in tattered, bloody cloth. They gently laid them in one corner where they would await the funeral ceremony that would take place before the celebration.
When he saw that all was well, Odin turned to face Heimdall, the all-seeing sentry that stood watch on the Bifrost. Blood continued to flow from the gaping, empty eye socket on Odin’s face. It would stand as a permanent reminder of the battle over which he reigned victorious. The sight didn’t alarm Heimdall. He approached Odin as if everything was normal and showed the slightest hint of a smile and nodded in acknowledgment when his eyes met that of his king. Then he looked down at the naked baby curled in the crook of Odin’s arm. It was an unusual sight to see in light of what had just taken place. It was like seeing a beautiful flower blooming in the midst of ruined buildings. Bright, curious green eyes peered back at the gold eyes of the ancient guardian. The baby cooed and sucked on a thumb, completely oblivious to the bittersweet events going on around him. His eyes moved from Heimdall’s face to the shiny gold helmet that rested on the guardian’s head, emitting a happy squeal and lifting a hand toward it. It was so pretty!
“My king, what have you done?” asked Heimdall in a low voice, looking from the baby to Odin. Of course, Heimdall already knew of Odin’s actions before he arrived back on the Bifrost. He had seen everything—the war on Midgard that eventually ended in Jotunheim, the fall of Laufey, Odin taking the casket, and the events leading up to Odin taking the child. Needless to say, he was taken back by his king’s choice of actions. He would never have guessed Odin, the All-Father, would do something like this.
“Nothing,” Odin replied, looking at the baby with a smile and then turning his eye back to Heimdall. “I’ve done absolutely nothing. You saw nothing.”
Heimdall studied Odin’s face, not entirely sure what to think of the command. Even though he disagreed with the whole thing, he still had to obey his king.
Finally, he sighed and nodded. “You know this is dangerous. Won’t they come looking for him and rage war on Asgard for what you’ve done?”
“They won’t. You forget the giants are now powerless.” Odin turned and patted the casket hanging on his saddle. “It is highly unlikely they will be raging war on anyone in the Nine Realms again unless they somehow retrieve that which they’ve lost this day. As the All-Father, I will see to it that will never happen.” Odin looked down at the baby again. “This baby could be of great use to us in the future—a means of uniting our worlds and bringing about permanent peace with the giants. There’s something special about this child. He isn’t like any other giant I’ve seen.”
“What if he makes trouble for us later on? With him being a—”
The All-Father held up a hand and lowered his voice. “No one has to know what he is or where he came from. It’ll be a secret between you, me, and my good wife Frigga. If we raise him to be one of us, I’m sure he won’t be any trouble at all.”
“What about them?” Heimdall nodded toward the warriors surrounding them.
Odin waved them off. “They’re too excited about winning the war to notice. It’ll be fine.”
“If you say so, my lord.” Heimdall watched as Odin walked past, leading Sleipnir by the reins with one hand while he held the baby in the other arm. “You should know that I am against this whole thing. I don’t like it.”
Odin nodded that he had heard Heimdall’s final opinions but continued walking. He walked to the bridge and stopped to pull a piece of cloth from the back of Sleipnir to wrap around the baby, covering the baby’s face with a loose corner. He would give the child to Frigga once he arrived at the castle, but he wanted to break the news to her gently. He also wasn’t sure how he would look riding back to Asgard after the war with a baby in one arm. He wanted to avoid any inquisitive questions as much as possible until he was able to break the news to Frigga first, not to mention avoid being the center of the gossip that would surely spread through the whole of the realm.
When Odin made sure he and the baby were secure in the saddle, he turned Sleipnir around and waited for his men to gather their weapons and take their places on their own horses. The All-Father looked ahead and saw the glorious sight of Asgard spread before him at the other end of the bridge. The final stages of the setting sun cast a warm orange and pink glow over the glittering columns and spires of his palace and the surrounding buildings. It was a very welcomed sight indeed after the many long years spent in battle. Since the passage of time was different in each realm, Asgard looked the same as it did the day he left with his army to go to Midgard. Nothing had changed. Well, almost nothing. All of them had aged to a certain degree. The minds of the warriors involved in the war had changed a great deal as well. All of them had seen and heard things that would remain with them for the rest of their lives. There was no erasing the horrors they had witnessed.
A soft coo came from the baby nestled in Odin’s arm, bringing the old king out of his thoughts to look down at the wriggling bundle of cloth. He shifted the baby to a more comfortable position and looked over his shoulder to see that the majority of his soldiers were ready to begin their final journey. Odin gave Sleipnir a gentle kick and they were soon galloping off down the Rainbow Bridge toward home, followed closely by the rest of his warriors.
There was great excitement to be shared when they reached the tall golden gates that would lead them directly into the palace. The gates opened and the thundering sound of hundreds of hooves rattled the bridge and everything around it as Odin and his army passed through.
Word of Asgard winning the battle had already spread quickly like wildfire throughout the Nine Realms and was working its way to becoming both a part of history and legend. Those threatened by the giants rejoiced to hear the news that Odin had been the victor. The stories of the great battle would surely be passed down from generation to generation for years to come.
When Odin and his army entered the palace, he was a bit overwhelmed, but not surprised, at the activity that went on around him. Cheering crowds gathered along the sides of the center path in hopes of getting the first glances of the returning heroes. Some waved flags and carried banners. A few people pointed at Odin’s lost eye and either shook their head in pity or clapped a hand over their mouth to suppress their shock at the unexpected sight. One group of people followed alongside the horses, playing lively victory music on a variety of musical instruments. There were women and children who pushed their way to the front of the crowds to greet their returning husbands and fathers with open arms. Several of the warriors jumped from the backs of their horses and scooped up their wives to spin around and hug and to smother their children with kisses, grateful to be alive and back home and in the arms of their loved ones.
The baby in Odin’s arm wiggled and kicked in frustration, the deafening noise of the crowd being too much for him to bear. He wanted to see what was making all of that noise, too! Tiny fingers grasped the cloth flap and worked to pull it off. Feeling what was happening and what was about to happen, Odin quickly readjusted the infant and pulled the flap of cloth back in place with fumbling fingers, which succeeded in getting an irritated whine out of the baby. Odin was thankful that the crowd’s cheering and the band blaring in his left ear was loud enough to drown it out. The baby continued to emit high-pitched squeals and kicked furiously and made unusual and abnormal mounds and lumps in the cloth he was wrapped in. Odin only hoped that he would make it to a private place before his secret was revealed in plain sight of Asgard.
Nudging Sleipnir forward, Odin led the way down the stone path that lay between two rows of enormous statues until he entered the courtyard. Here he dismounted, grabbing the sack the casket was in and allowing a nearby servant to take Sleipnir back to the stables. The crowd of people and his warriors and guards were fast filling up the area. He supposed they were waiting for some kind of speech. Odin wearily looked around him at the expectant faces that had, by this time, grown silent. Even the annoying band had ceased its music. All Odin cared about was bathing, food, and a good night’s sleep so he planned on making it short and sweet. The wiggling bundle in his arm reminded him that he wasn’t the only one who wanted food and sleep.
The All-Father held aloft the sack containing the casket for the crowd to see. “Citizens of Asgard, behold the Casket of Ancient Winters, the source of the Frost Giants’ power. It is now in my possession. Laufey has been defeated, and Asgard and Jotunheim are from this day forth in a state of truce. It is a time of peace and prosperity for both of our realms. Let us rejoice and celebrate the dawning of this new age and a new chapter in our history as we strive to make the peace stronger!”
When Odin finished, a roaring cheer erupted all over and everyone began to celebrate right then and there. The speech could have been better Odin admitted, but at least he gave the crowd what they wanted. For now, he didn’t care what the rest of Asgard did or what else happened. He made use of the moment and slipped away, through a huge door that led to the great hall and his throne room.
The great hall was in an uproar with just as much activity and noise as the outside was. The servants ran in all directions as they prepared the celebration feast and festivities that would undoubtedly go on for several days or weeks. Much concern was made over the loss of Odin’s eye as each servant, in turn, expressed their deepest sympathy when they walked by him. The All-Father acknowledged each one as politely as possible, not especially caring. All he wanted was that relaxing bath and long rest, and he viewed everyone and everything going on around him as being annoying obstacles that kept getting between him and the prize that waited for him.
Frigga came out of the surrounding confusion to throw loving arms around her husband, kissing him and welcoming him home. Well, not everyone was an obstacle.
“I’ve missed you so much!” she said, planting yet another kiss on the scruffy cheek.
“It’s good to see you too, my dear.” Odin smiled brightly as he threw his free arm around her. The bustling servants had been forgotten the moment he laid his eye on the beautiful All-Mother. “So good to be in your arms once again. It’s been far, far too long.”
“Oh, Odin, your eye…” Frigga lifted a hand but hesitated, not exactly sure what to do. “Those dreadful monsters; what did they do to you?”
“Tis nothing.” Odin sighed. “One of the casualties of war. I’ll be fine. Some have it a lot worse than me. At least I’m standing here in front of you. There are many families in Asgard that will be mourning the loss of their loved ones this night.”
Frigga hugged her husband tightly, helping him as they turned to walk down one of the side hallways. She stopped to tell one of the passing servants to bring water and bandages to their bedroom before joining her husband again.
“Thor will be so happy to see you,” she said, taking her place beside Odin. “He won’t stop talking about you and keeps asking me daily when Father is coming home.”
“Hasn’t stopped talking about me? I’m surprised that he even knows me. He was but a babe when I left.”
“I’ve filled his head with stories about you while you were away.” Frigga smiled, her eyes catching sight of the bundle in Odin’s arm for the first time.
“Good ones, I hope.”
“Nothing but the best.” Frigga beamed. “I can already tell that he has a lot of his father in him. I swear that if I didn’t keep him in check he would have gone off to join you in battle, never minding that his helmet is the fruit bowl from the dining-hall table and his sword made of wood. He’s so young, but yet he already wants to fight. That’s an Odinson if I ever saw one.”
Odin’s face shone with pride, a twinkle in his one good eye. “Aye, that’s my boy all right; idolizing his old man even before he sees him.”
“He has every right to be proud of his father, as are the rest of us.” Frigga again couldn’t help but be curious over the bundles Odin carried in his hand and arm. She knew of the casket and suspected that one had to be it, but why was it that he carried two parcels? Her eyes glanced at both and then back at her husband, never once letting her smile drop.
When they arrived at their bedroom and walked inside, Frigga reached to take the bundles from Odin, more or less an excuse to quench her curiosity.
“Here let me help you with those,” she said, pulling on the bag in Odin’s hand.
“Thank you, dear, but I’ll hold on to this one a little bit longer,” he said, protectively shielding the one in the crook of his left arm. She looked at it and then to Odin, the curiosity growing inside her. She nodded that she understood and took the sack containing the casket and placed it in a corner by the door. Odin removed his helmet and handed it to her and made his way across the room to plop himself down in one of the chairs by the window. It felt good to finally rest his aching body in something plump and soft.
“I’ll tell the guards to take that and put it in a safe place later, once I’ve rested,” said Odin, gesturing toward the casket.
After setting the helmet on the bed, Frigga approached her husband, concern evident on her beautiful face.
“Odin, your eye… It looks awful.”
“I said I’m fine,” Odin replied, waving her concern off.
“You should go to the healing room.”
“It’s too late for that now, dear. It’s gone. There’s no getting it back. Besides, the healing room is currently filled with people who need it more than I. Just wrap some cloth around it and I’ll adjust and manage. It’ll heal in time.”
The baby in his arms started to kick and cry. Frigga perked at the sound and slowly came closer to her husband.
“Odin, what do you have in your arm?” She craned her neck to the side. Her voice sounded halfway between stern and concerned. “If I didn’t know better, I could have sworn it sounded like a…baby…”
Odin gave a brief smile. “Ah! I do believe our little guest is both tired and hungry. As well he should be since he’s had quite the adventure.”
“Little guest?”
The All-Father placed one large hand on the kicking bundle and pulled the flap of cloth away to reveal the source of the screaming. Frigga’s eyes doubled in size, and she turned a questioning look to her husband. He shrugged before leaning forward to deposit the squirming baby in Frigga’s arms.
“Take him.” Odin gestured at the child with his hand. “You know I’m not good with those things, especially when they start making noise louder than my poor old ears can stand.”
Frigga, dumbfounded by the turn of events, gently took the child and held him tightly to her chest. She whispered soothing words and gently patted his bottom in an attempt to quiet the piercing cries.
“I thought you went to war,” Frigga said in a hardened tone, looking at her husband once the baby hushed the screaming to whimpers.
“I did,” Odin replied, his voice sounding tired. “And as you already know, I won.”
“Then how is it that you bring home a baby?” Frigga’s voiced was teetering on dangerous and was laced with a hint of jealousy. To her, at that moment, a baby could mean only one thing and she hoped she was wrong. If she wasn’t, then there was another woman somewhere in the Nine Realms who was going to know the wrath of Frigga, right after Odin tasted it first. She looked down at the small naked form in her arms, wrapping him in part of her dress. “The casket I can understand, but this? Odin, what have you been up to?”
“Frigga, my good wife, it is nothing like that!” Odin threw up his hands, fearing where the conversation was quickly leading. “You know me better than that. I found the baby abandoned, alone, and dying in Jotunheim once the war was over.”
Relief washed over Frigga at hearing the explanation.
“You found a baby abandoned…in Jotunheim? Mercy…what have those monsters done?” She ran her hand over the baby’s head and allowed the infant to wrap tiny fingers around one of her fingers. “You poor thing,” she whispered as she started rocking the baby gently.
“He’s a Frost Giant, Frigga.” Odin chuckled.
Frigga stopped rocking the baby and quickly turned her gaze to her husband. “What?” she got out barely above a whisper. “A Frost Giant?” Frigga slowly looked from Odin to the baby and back again, failing to understand. “How can he be a giant? He’s much too small and his coloring is all wrong. He looks like one of us.”
“My guess is that he’s a runt or a midget. As for his coloring…” Odin shrugged. “He was blue when I found him. I watched him change as I held him in my hands. It appears that Frost Giants have secrets that even we cannot hope to understand.”
“Isn’t this…dangerous? I mean, bringing a Frost Giant into Asgard. What if the other Frost Giants find out about it and come here looking for him? Then what?—Another war? They could easily claim you stole him and took him hostage.” Frigga noticed that her husband moved uneasily in his seat.
“You and Heimdall worry too much.” Odin laughed. “He was abandoned, unwanted. No one’s going to come after him. He’s a runt and considered worthless to them. They’re too upset about the casket I took and losing the war to be concerned over a tiny babe they probably think perished in battle. This baby is ours now. We’ll train him in our ways and raise him to be one of us. When he’s older, he’ll prove to be a valuable asset that we can use to bring unity and permanent peace between us and the giants.”
Frigga’s eyes worriedly searched her husband’s face for some time. “Is that the only reason you took him?” she breathed.
Odin’s eye met Frigga’s eyes for a moment, the question hanging in the air and silence falling between them except for occasional gurgles and coos coming from the baby.
“Why else would I take him?”
“Why else?” Frigga stepped closer, a bit miffed. “This is a baby—a child. He’s a living, breathing being. He’s not some object that you can pick up and tuck away for later use. He needs parents, a family, and guidance. Most of all he needs love.”
“Yes, I know all of that!” Odin snapped, feeling his temper flair slightly.
“Do you?” Frigga took a deep breath, preparing herself to say something else. Odin spoke next, however.
“If you must know, I also took him because it was obvious no one else was going to care for him. What else could I do? Leave him there to starve and die in the cold? Even though he’s a giant, it would still be murder.” Odin and Frigga stared at each other, a smile eventually forming on Frigga’s lips. “There, I said it. I’m giving the child to you. You may care for him however you wish.”
The All-Mother was taken back by the words. Don’t get her wrong. She was thrilled that she had another baby to care for, but she was somewhat perplexed that her husband apparently wanted nothing to do with it all.
“Listen here, dear husband. If this child is going to be raised here in Asgard, it will be by both of us. We will do it properly, and that means adopting him and raising him as our son. We will be his parents, he will be a part of this family, and he will be treated like a person with worth. I will not have him growing up believing that he’s some tool to end a war that he isn’t even part of.”
Frigga was pretty sure that her words had struck a nerve with the king of Asgard. Sweat trickled down her forehead as she watched Odin sit silently in his chair, contemplating her words. What came next surprised her.
“So be it then,” Odin replied with a shrug. “Thor shall have a new brother and Asgard shall have a new prince.”
“And?” Frigga raised an eyebrow.
“I shall have a new son.” Odin forced a tired smile. Frigga returned the smile, glancing down at the baby snuggled in her arms.
“You had me worried there for a minute.” Frigga came closer, allowing Odin to wrap an arm around her. She lowered the baby down for both of them to see. “I thought you stayed in Jotunheim so long that you had grown cold.”
“I am weary from the war, dear, and my face is numb. I can’t say that I’m in the best mood right now to discuss such matters as this.”
“Of course; I’m sorry.” Frigga pulled the baby close to her when it started whining.
“Frigga,” Odin took hold of his wife’s hand and fondled it, “no one is to know what this baby is or where he came from or that he’s adopted. Only you, I, and Heimdall know. We need to keep all of this low-key and a secret for right now.”
“Keep it a secret?” Frigga’s eyebrows rose. “Something like this is going to be hard keeping secret. No one’s going to believe I gave birth a few hours after you came home.”
“We’ll figure out something,” said Odin. “I don’t think Asgard is ready to hear that their new prince is a giant. There are a lot of ill feelings as well as fear and prejudice among our people right now, especially among those who have lost loved ones at the hands of the Frost Giants. We must take care that they never find out about this baby’s true identity, for his sake as well as ours. When the day comes that I use him to establish a stronger peace, everyone will know then.”
Frigga nodded that she understood, although she still didn’t see how they were going to succeed in keeping it all a secret. People were bound to ask questions eventually. If they didn’t, then there would still be those that would wonder, whisper behind their backs, and start rumors.
A sudden knock at the door interrupted the moment, and Odin placed a finger to his lips as a gesture to hush the conversation.
“Come in,” Odin gave the order, not bothering to look away from his wife. A servant girl opened the door and walked into the room. She was a short, heavyset woman with graying hair. A bright, cheerful smile spread across her rosy face as she placed a bowl of hot water on the table and dipped a rag in it. She wrung it out and walked over to begin work on cleaning Odin’s face. The All-Father hissed when the rag came in contact with his skin and grumbled something in a low voice. The woman shook her head and pulled his hand away from the wound, only to have Odin put it back. She placed her hands on her hips and glared at the king.
“Mi’ Lord, how do ye expect me to clean and dress your eye if ye won’t take your hand away?”
“It hurts!” Odin griped, peering at the servant with his one good eye as if he could actually bore a hole through her with his gaze alone.
“It’s going to hurt, your majesty. What can ye expect?—your eyeball has been ripped clean out of th’ socket. You’re lucky them monsters didn’t take your head with it. It amazes me how ye can sit there as calm as ye are. If it had been me, th’ whole Nine Realms woulda known by now.”
“If you keep on touching me like that, the whole Nine Realms WILL know!”
“T’ain’t nothin’ but water, mi’ Lord.” The servant showed the rag to the All-Father.
“It feels like snake venom!”
“Oh, tish tosh,” the servant said, waving the king off and placing the rag on his face again. Gently, she wiped the blood off so that she could see the real damage underneath. Odin yelped and griped the entire time, hissing at the pain. Frigga chuckled at her husband’s grousing. With a huff, he eventually sat back and relaxed, allowing the servant to finish cleaning and to apply ointment and bandages to the wound. The event didn’t go without more protesting and loud outbursts from the All-Father. When the procedure was finally over, the servant left through the door while grumbling and mumbling that she should have been a cook so she could hide herself away in the kitchen.
“Feisty old woman, isn’t she?” Odin breathed once the servant had disappeared.
“Oh? Says the king who threw a fit over simply having a wound dressed.” Frigga’s voice was tinged with amusement. She did her best to hide her laughter. The moment was interrupted when the baby in her arms began voicing his discomfort in very loud ways once again.
“Awwww, it’s okay, my little one. We haven’t forgotten you.” Frigga kissed the baby’s cheek, putting his head to her shoulder. “He’s a cute one,” she said happily. “You have no idea how happy it makes me feel to have a baby in my arms again.”
“I thought you would have had enough with Thor.”
“I could never have enough.” Frigga kissed the baby again.
Odin smiled and was about to say something else when the same servant woman came bursting through the door again.
“What is it this time?” Odin bellowed. “Are you back to cause me more pain?!”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, mi’ Lord. I forgot th’ bowl of water.”
“Alwilda,” Frigga called after the servant, trying to hide her laughter.
“Yes, your majesty?” Alwilda turned to face her queen.
“Have some warm water, soap, clean linens, and a bottle of milk brought to the nursery.”
“Yes, ma’am, right away.” She curtsied and turned to walk out of the room, stopping to address the queen again. “May I ask whose baby it is?”
Frigga threw a quick, nervous glance at Odin and smiled. “He’s mine.”
Alwilda’s eyes grew large and her mouth fell open, momentarily forgetting her manners. “It’s a he! I didn’t know you was expectin’, ma’am. Congratulations to the both of ye. Why that would mean…” Her mouth fell open again. “Bless my soul! Asgard ‘as a new prince!” With that, she turned and left in an excited hurry.
“You just wait and see.” Odin huffed. “The whole Nine Realms will know about him by morning, thanks to the Asgard gossip chain. It reminds me of a bunch of hens cackling and squawking.”
“Oh, Odin...” Frigga chuckled, swatting her husband’s knee as she passed by.
“Where are you going?”
“To the nursery.” Frigga stopped halfway to the door. “I’m going to bathe and feed our new little member before putting him to bed.”
“The nursemaid can do that, dear.”
Frigga shook her head. “No, I want to.”
“Suit yourself.” Odin hefted himself out of the chair and stood. “I think I’ll take a hot bath myself, right after I take the casket to a safer place.”
Frigga left the bedroom and walked a little piece down the hall until she approached the nursery. She quietly pushed open the door and walked in, taking care not to wake up Thor. Inside she could see the contents of the room from the dim glow that radiated from a nightlight burning on a nearby table. It was smaller than most rooms in the palace but still spacious with one large window across from the door. The ceiling was high and painted in blue with yellow stars.
One corner of the room was fixed up for the nursemaid, Lífdís, who slept there so she could be available if Thor needed her assistance during the night. Frigga had almost forgotten about her when she entered and made an effort to be as quiet as possible as she crept across the room to a table setting to the right of the window. It was a difficult task since the floor between the door and window was littered with an obstacle course of books, pillows, clothes, blankets, and various toys—the typical disarray common to a nursery. Once or twice Frigga’s foot caught on a wooden animal or other such toy, nearly tripping her. She would have to talk to Thor in the morning about picking up his toys when he’s done with them.
When she finally made it to the table, she saw that the servants had already come and gone, leaving behind the items she had requested. Immediately she set to work preparing the small tub that sat in front of her by pouring the jug of warm water into it. The baby started to whimper and mewl and move uncomfortably in Frigga’s hold.
“It’s okay. I’m almost done,” she said softly, testing the temperature of the water before easing the baby down into the tub. “There you go.”
The baby wasn’t sure about the new sensation. He sat there in the water and whimpered pitifully like a confused and frightened puppy before crying softly. He clutched the side of the tub in a firm grip and looked for some way out. Frigga shushed him and offered the bar of soap in an attempt to divert his attention. It worked momentarily. The baby silenced his crying and grabbed the soap, digging small fingernails into it and pulling it toward his mouth. Taking one taste, he made a disgusted face and pulled away, restarting his crying.
“Shhhh,” said Frigga, gently placing a hand over the baby’s mouth. She took the soap away and began applying it to a piece of cloth she had dipped in the water. The ripples left by the dip caught the little giant’s attention and hushed his crying into soft burbles and sounds of curiosity. He giggled and made feeble attempts to grab hold of the water, not understanding why the liquid seeped through his tiny fingers so easily. The candlelight glistened and danced on the water, adding to the attraction. Again, the little giant grabbed at the ripples and smacked the water with the palm of his hand. Frigga smiled at the reaction and began to gently rub the soapy cloth over the baby’s delicate form. The infant recoiled, pulling his arms up around his face and emitting pitiful cries of annoyance, but Frigga continued on.
“Aw, it’s okay. It’s not going to hurt you. See? It’s just soapy water.” Frigga held the cloth out for the baby to finger and squeeze. “Don’t tell me this is the first time you’ve had a bath.”
The infant grabbed hold of the soapy cloth and squeezed it tightly, watching in utter fascination as bubbles made their way out of it and into the tub water. He turned a surprised face to Frigga and then back to the bubbles and cloth, still trying to figure it out.
“What did you do?” Frigga asked in playful surprise. As if to reply to her question, a happy squeal escaped his mouth and he leaned forward to chew the cloth. He pulled back at the bitter taste of the soap, though, uttering a disgruntled cry. “Such beautiful emeralds,” Frigga breathed, studying the child’s eyes.
When the bath was over and the baby was properly dried and diapered, Frigga pulled some small, yellow footed pajamas from the dresser and held them out for the infant to see. He eyed them, not entirely sure what they were for. They were pretty, but he didn’t know what they were.
“This is all I have right now, sweetie. It’ll have to do until I can get you your own clothes.” She dressed the baby, all the time humming a soft tune. The baby watched with curious eyes as the woman tucked each of his legs and arms into the strange garment and pulled it around him and snapped it closed. So that’s what that thing was for. It felt snug and comfy anyway. “There we go. Now you look and smell like somebody.”
Frigga picked the baby up and moved to sit down in a rocking chair. She tipped the bottle she held and pushed the nipple close to the infant’s mouth. Much to Frigga’s surprise, the baby immediately locked hands around it and greedily gulped down as much of the milk as the bottle’s nipple would allow, getting choked in the process.
“Easy, easy,” Frigga whispered, taking the bottle away until the baby was finished coughing. “Slowly, little one, it’s not going anywhere.”
The baby reached and grabbed onto the bottle again with both hands and began sucking down huge intakes of milk, the excess spilling over and dribbling down his chin. He jerked and pulled on the bottle until it broke free of Frigga’s hold. The All-Mother watched with great interest and concern as the baby wrapped both legs around it and hugged it tightly to his body as if it was a precious piece of treasure. She tried taking the bottle back, but her hand was gently pushed away by one little foot. Her heart was filled with compassion while she watched the feeding frenzy taking place in her arms. She occasionally moved a cloth to wipe the milk from the little giant’s chin. It was obvious the baby was starving. She couldn’t help but wonder if he had ever been fed.
“Those monsters…” Frigga whispered under her breath. “No one’s going to harm you again.” She leaned over and kissed the head of her new little son. The baby reflexively jerked his bottle away as if expecting Frigga to take it from him, holding up a foot in defense. She smiled. “Don’t worry, it’s yours.”
The baby continued to suck contentedly while slowly drifting off to sleep. Frigga felt the small form finally relax and emit a small sigh. The All-Mother wrapped her arms tighter around the baby and nestled him next to her breast to make him feel more secure and began to gently rock. She found herself humming a lullaby that she sometimes sang to Thor. It was one her mother used to sing to her when she was a little girl.
By now the nursemaid was awake and busied herself with preparing a rather large cradle beside where Frigga sat. She folded freshly cleaned blankets and positioned them inside the bed so that it would be ready for the baby as soon as he was asleep. The cradle was originally Thor’s and was decorated on all sides with elaborate carvings of goats, ravens, winged horses, wolves, squirrels, and intricate Nordic symbols and designs. It was made from the finest wood and overlaid in gold. Odin told Frigga that it had been specially made by the dwarfs of Nidavellir and given to him as a gift when Thor was born.
“Whose baby is he?” Lífdís whispered to Frigga, nodding her head to the baby while folding a blanket.
“Naturally, he’s mine,” she answered. “This is the royal nursery.”
“I’m sorry, my lady, I had no intention of offending. It’s just that I didn’t know you were…”
“It was…sudden.”
Lífdís studied Frigga a few minutes, struggling to understand how her queen could suddenly give birth to a baby in such a short length of time. Giving a slight shrug, she set about finishing her task, not bothering to ask any more questions. Frigga felt awkward and uncomfortable at the short conversation and was more than glad when the nursemaid showed no signs of continuing it. She watched as Lífdís finished in silence and left to return to her own bed. It was going to be hard keeping the baby’s true form and where he had come from a secret, especially since everyone in the kingdom knew that she had never been pregnant. She just knew that he would go down as the baby who appeared overnight forcing her to have to reveal that he’s adopted just to avoid any unnerving rumors that might come about that would ruin her reputation and dignity.
Frigga sighed. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions too soon. Was it right to keep it all a secret? Something in her said no, but another part of her said yes. She understood Odin’s concern since the baby was a Frost Giant. He was right. Asgard wasn’t ready to hear that their new prince was a Jotun, especially this soon after the war. There was still sensitivity among the people as well as ill feelings towards the giants. Too many families were mourning the loss of loved ones that had been killed by the Frost Giants. It would be dangerous for her and Odin and especially the child for Asgard to know of his true form. She could imagine the uproar if Asgard discovered that she and Odin were harboring and raising an orphaned giant as their own son. She knew and accepted the fact that he would never become king. That right fell to Thor, since he was the first born. He would still be a prince, though, and the thought of what would happen if the realm ever found out what he was frightened her. There would be those who would accept it, but there would also be those who would be against it. She didn’t relish the thought of her son being assassinated by some fanatic over political reasons or because they couldn’t handle the thought of someone different being a prince of Asgard.
Frigga gently removed the empty bottle from the sleeping baby’s hold, gave him a hug, and moved her face closer to nuzzle the little bundle. “We’ll make this work out somehow, little one.” She lifted the child and placed him to her shoulder and began to pat his back. She continued to think over the current situation while waiting for the baby to burp.