We Built These Paper Mountains

Prologue

            Odin winced, dabbing at his right eye.  He couldn’t see out of it at the moment and, with each gust of freezing wind, he was concerned he’d never see out of it again.  At least the war with Johtanheim was over for the moment -- he doubted it would ever be completely settled.  He’d have time to heal, or to at least assess, before Laufey rose up against him again.

            He walked through the shattered throne room.  For the most part, goods had either been broken or ransacked.  Stuttering to a halt, he held his breath.  He thought he’d heard a sound.  He was in no danger -- the Frost Giants were incapable of sneaking, what with their size -- but it could be an injured soldier of either side.

            There! The sound echoes through the otherwise empty throne room.  It sounded like… A baby’s cries? His heavy boots boomed in the large room, further upsetting the baby.  Next to the abandoned and potentially forgotten throne, there was an overturned bassinet.  There, still wrapped up in blankets, was a baby.  With a start, Odin realized it was indeed a Johtan baby; the blue skin, red eyes, and raised runes on the skin left no question.  The sheer size of the poor thing, though.  He was a runt, only the size of an Asgardian baby.  His own son was just a bit older than the baby.

            Odin bent over and picked up the baby.  Almost immediately, his cries softened until he was merely pouting as he looked up at the All Father.  Perhaps because of his small size, he was no colder than the tolerable weather.  The tiny thing just reminded him so much of his own son Thor.  Focusing on the blue skin, Odin willed his -- albeit limited range of -- magic to flow into the babe.  Like cloth drinking up wet ink, the blue skin gently gave way to alabaster.  With a blink, the red eyes became green.  Even a light dusting of black hair appeared atop his head.  With his lower temperature barely noticeable, the Johtan now passed for an Asgardian.  Holding the bundle close to his chest, Odin turned for home.

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            As Odin entered the throne room, his knees were attacked.  Thor, just barely walking on his own, strongly attached himself to his father’s leg.  With his one free hand, he ruffled his son’s blond hair.  Curious, Frigga rose from her perch beside Odin’s throne and approached him.  Just then, the baby gurgled and readjusted himself to try and take in his new surroundings.  Frigga gasped.

            “Left behind in the war,” Odin whispered, careful to not let Thor overhear.  Frigga caressed the baby’s cheek, whose skin pulsed blue for a moment under her strong magic.  She looked up at her husband with wide eyes.  “Another son,” Odin murmured, “if you’ll have him.”

            Without any hesitation, Frigga took the baby from Odin’s arms and nuzzled noses with her new son.  The baby gurgled and giggled, gently grasping at her nose, lips, and hair.  “Oh, he’s precious,” she cooed, stroking his cheek.  She looked back up at her husband.  “What’s his name?”

            “He had no name,” Odin explained in a still hushed voice, aware of an increasingly impatient Thor tugging on his bootstraps.

            Frigga smiled down at her new son.  “My magic darling.  We will be a real family, luka.  We shall name you Loki.  Loki Odinson.”  Odin bent down and gathered Thor into his arms, lifting him up so he could see the bundle of baby Frigga had already fallen in love with.  “Meet your brother,” Frigga smiled, tilting Loki to face Thor.  The two boys froze, assessing the other before both breaking into wide smiles.  Thor laughed and babbled, identifiable words including “Mama” and “Da,” and even now “Loki.”

            And in the aftermath of a war, a new family is born.