A Bang and a Whimper

19

It has been a few weeks since Midsummer's Eve and Loki is making a great effort to at least say hello to the few servants he sees on a regular basis. He is also trying to find ways to keep Jenna from sinking back into her sadness and he knows he is failing at this. She sleeps long hours, rarely eating. She has dark circles under her young eyes and he cannot help but think that she should leave the palace. He suggests this to Thor. But Thor does not think he can spend so much time away from her and his kingly duties require him to be at the palace.

They still have not finished "Neverwhere"- Jenna refuses to resume reading with Loki, though he has offered. She will not visit the library, and Thor reports that she does not want to listen to her mother's music, either. This distance frightens Loki. He feels her slipping away from him when all he wants to do is hold her close.

When he arrives at Thor's door, he brings one final idea. He carries with him a bundle wrapped in fine silk. It is something he has treasured for years, something that came into his possession during his years as king, but was precious to him long before then. He considered placing it in the vault, but realized that the vault is not the place for something this valuable. It has to be loved.

Thor calls to Jenna and she staggers out of her room still wearing her nightdress, "Hello, Uncle."

"I have brought something I think you might enjoy."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Please, come sit with me." He settles on one of Thor's couches. She plops down beside him.

"That's pretty silk."

"Some of the finest silk in the realm." This intrigues her. She leans toward him as he unwraps his bundle, his hands slow and reverent.

"What is it?"

"You will see. Patience." When the last of the silk falls aside, she sees a beautiful leatherbound volume, intricate designs stamped in the skin.

"A book."

"Not just any book."

Thor has been watching from a distance and knows what is in his brother's hands the moment that the silk reveals it. His breath catches in his throat and he watches Loki gently brush his hands along the designs.

"Brother, how did you get this?"

"When I was Odin.... And I kept it."

"Uncle, what is it?"

"It is my mother's storybook." His voice is soft, as though this is a holy relic. In a way, it is, "Your father and I spent many hours beside her as she read us these tales. I learned to read from it. I believe he did as well." He opens the cover and turned the thick pages to the first story. He does not need the book, in truth- most of the stories are so familiar that he can recite them from heart. But there is a magic to her book and he has read to himself from it so many times, even as an adult, that he honestly and earnestly believes that the stories sound somehow better, more true, when the book is in front of him.

He opens himself to the stories and allows both Thor and Jenna to get a far closer glimpse at his heart than he has given to anyone, even himself, since Frigga. They hear the catches in his voice when the stories are ones that evoke her spirit. He forces himself to read the stories that have hurt him the most deeply, the stories of monsters of Jotunheim, vicious giants threatening warriors and villagers alike, demons of ice as vicious as the fire creatures of Muspelheim. Jenna curls under his arm as his voice trembles. He reads for hours, every story. When he turns the last page, he stops and places his hand on the turned leaves and says a silent prayer of thanks to his mother. Then he closes the cover.

Jenna laces her fingers through his, his hand resting on the book, "Wow. Thank you."

"You are ever welcome, my dearest child."

"I love you, Uncle. It doesn't matter what the stories say about Jotunheim. You are you, and that is wonderful."

"Bless you, Jenna."

"Uncle?"

"Yes?"

"I think I want to go get dressed now. Can we go for a walk in the gardens?"

"Of course."

"But first, let's go raid the kitchens. I'm hungry."

"Have you not eaten today?"

"No, I haven't."

"Then certainly, let us go on a quest to the kitchens."

She hands him the silk, "But very first, we need to make sure that book stays safe."

He lets her help him wrap it. It is the first time anyone else has touched it in years.

********

Late that evening, long after Jenna has fallen asleep, Thor pours tea for Loki, the book secure in Thor's desk, "How did you know reading it would help? She has not wanted to be read to in so long."

"It is a beautiful book. And I have never brought one of my own books to her. She has brought many books to me, and we have read them in many ways, but I thought perhaps sharing my own mother's book would draw her."

"I was surprised to hear you read the entire thing. Some stories in particular."

"They were not easy to read. But she needed to hear what I heard. To understand what it was that we grew up with and why it hurt so dearly when I discovered what I am."

"And also to hear which stories caused your voice to catch- the stories she loved the most."

"I hoped it would help her somehow."

"It did. She has not been so active in many weeks. And she ate. Willingly."

"There will still be dark days, Thor. Do not think this is entirely over. But I think we have reached a turning point."

"I had hoped it would have ended with Midsummer's Eve."

"Midsummer's Eve was delightful. But not quite what she needed."

"And what is it she needed?"

"A reminder that stories are what shape us and that our own stories are up to us to write."

"Did you speak of such things in the gardens?"

"Yes."

"I hope you are right. I hope this lasts."

"It will."

"How do you know?"

"Because she told me it would."

Thor cannot help but be wary, but he knows his brother has felt far more like Jenna does than he ever has. So he trusts him and pours more tea. They say little more, only their goodbyes at the end of the evening. Loki retrieves Frigga's book and returns to his chambers. He carefully places it on his own desk and smiles. Some of the stories he knows he will likely never read aloud again and for the first time in many years, he feels that there is something in him that is at peace with what he is.