Chapter Text
Life, as it was wont to do, went on. She learned to hide the symptoms of Loki’s magic, masquerading as the Queen, wife and mother she had always been. There was no one left to notice that she wasn’t herself. The days were routine, careful and busy.
When she sat to dinner now, it was alone, each empty seat at the family table a reminder of what was broken. All her life, Frigga had counseled women, young and old, healed their families and made strong their marriages. What she wanted, more than anything, was for someone wiser to tell her what to do. Instead, she ate her solitary dinners with one hand pressed to her stomach to remind herself why she could not go to break bread with the man she had married.
There were dreams in the night, torn wispy visions that told her of things she couldn’t understand. Plagued, she walked down the Bifrost bridge.
“Heimdell.” She curtsied long, the white spill of her dress lapping over his steady feet. “You know what I would ask.”
“You know that he has bound me not to answer.” He frowned, “He is to be a blank spot in my sight to all, but the King.”
“Of course. Tell me this then, how fares my son?”
“Thor travels.” Heimdell blinked slowly and she knew she had asked the right question. “He seeks and has found.”
“Does his discovery please him?” Her heart raced.
“Yes, my lady. It does.”
“Oh...oh.” She wept and laughed. “Good. That is good.”
And it is all she knew of Loki for two more passings of the seasons. She nursed the small crumb of knowledge and hid it from Odin. Her fingers itched again and at last, she took up the complicated tapestry for good. She worked on nothing else for months. Each time she took up her spindle or her seat at the loom, the small piece of Loki steadied her. She could hear an echo of his voice in her ear asking his endless questions and the faint touch of his hand on her shoulder.
The night before she finished the great work, she stole into one of his dreams. She had not been sure entirely that it was his, but for a certain taste in the air and the way the shadows fell. There was a giant wolf, a sharp-toothed snake and a girl half gone to rot. Each she kissed on their foreheads in greeting. They led her threw the woods to an empty wooden cradle that had rocked both of her sons to sleep. The beasts sat at her side, gentle as lambs, while she sang every good song she knew over the cradle. When she woke, her throat was sore and her mind sharp. She ran to her work room without a care for the state of her hair and clothes.
She worked her fingers bloody and sang despite the rawness. When her ladies arrived to begin the morning work, she begged them to join in her songs until their voices echoed through the palace. They sang through the morning and well into the afternoon until finally she drew her sharp scissors from her pocket and freed the tapestry from it’s wooden prison.
“It’s beautiful.” Her ladies agreed, but none of them dared approach it.
“Send a message to Heimdell.” She instructed, smiling faintly. “Tell him that my son is to come directly to me when he arrives home. He is not to see his father or speak with anyone else.”
“Lady...”
“I do not speak in idleness.” She raised her left eyebrow in a careful arch, a borrowed expression, but the lender would not mind. “Do as I say.”
He came to her on the balcony not a week later.
“You asked for me, Mother?” He refused to come close, standing in the shadow of the doorway.
“Yes, little one.” She held her arms spread wide. “Are you too old to hug?”
“I had thought you thought so.” He came reluctantly, all hard edges and rough smells.
“Never.” She pulled back only enough to search his face and what she found there satisfied her. Uneasy in the moment, he was nonetheless suffused with joy. “Now show me.”
“Show you what?”
Exasperated, she grabbed up his arm and found under his skin the runes that had called to her even in sleep and across many realms. Their nature was foreign to her, but the meaning clear enough. With a soft sigh, she kissed the joining of their names.
“May you walk always in peace with each other.”
“How did you-”
“Why do you insist on imagining me blind?” She tsked. “I am not the Goddess of Marriage and Love for lack of a better title, my son. I know when two people have joined themselves together.”
“You cannot possibly approve.” His brow furrowed in confusion. “You reputed him. You stood by Father.”
“I failed you both then.” She agreed, releasing his arm. “I was not strong enough to stand against your father and I was too foolish to help you before that. Still though...this way was the right way. You would not have found each other, otherwise.”
“I married Loki.” He pronounced each word with its own solid weight as if to ensure the meaning would not be lost on her. “I will not be parted from him again. Nor he from me.”
“Good...that is good. Tell me of him. Please.”
They sat in the open air. It spilled out of Thor like a lanced wound, years of stories. Things she could understand like love, betrayal and care. Things she did not like pancakes, cars and university. What she heard was that where she had failed, others had succeeded. While she was shamed, Loki had made her proud.
“I have something for you both.” She said when Thor was out of stories and could only smile so broadly it must have hurt his face. “Wait here.”
She bundled the tapestry into her arms, undoing it’s careful folds as she stepped back outside.
“Tell him that he asked once if I knew who this was for. I lied.” She shook away her shame, lest it sully the message, “I always knew it was intended for him, but the weight of it frightened me. I knew his marriage would be a complicated one, hard to reach and difficult to live. I should have known it was yours too. It would take both of my boys to make an easy thing so hard.”
With a deft snap of her wrist, it floated out, settling between them. Thor sucked in a breath,
“How could you know?” He reached out, caressing the design. “This...this is what he bares on his back.”
Yggdrasil in all its glory spread dark branches across a cloudless blue sky. Each limb was laden heavy with runes, songs, blessings and her blood.
“You bare it together now.” Tenderly, she began to fold it back up. “You are children of three realms. Midgard has given you both suck when I had no succor left to give. Carry it well, my son.”
“I only came home to get a few things for him.” Thor accepted the heavy bundle. “Gifts for a Midgard holiday. This will be...more than either of us had planned for. Thank you, Mother.”
“You are welcome, always.” She reached up and tucked a strand of golden hair behind his ear. “But there is something I want in return.”
“Name it.”
“I cannot welcome Loki as my son ever again, my word is truth and binding. But I can call him son in law with more pride than any woman as ever said those words before.” She clasped Thor’s rough hand. “Please, bring him home to me.”
“He does not want to return.” Grief colored his voice, but he offered no compromise.
“I do not blame him. But tell him...please, that if he does, he will have all of my love and support. I will not fail either of you again.” With care, she lifted her fingertips to her mouth and blew softly on them until fire came to life searing her skin. “And I can give him back what he may need.”
“You...” He shook his head as she extinguished the flames. “I have underestimated you.”
“And I you. We have all made too many mistakes.” Rising to the tips of her toes, she pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Give that to him from me as well. A present for a Midgard holiday.”
“Yes, Mama.” He hugged her close and she almost could not bare to part from him. But he had other arms to fill now, so she set him free.
On a whim she set her hand again to her stomach. The key danced under her attentions, full of power. Someday, Loki would return for what was rightfully his and for better or ill, Thor would be set upon the throne. Together they would be a force impossible to fight against. Her sons then were settled, her husband a stranger to her and the vexing work that occupied her for so many years was finished.
What she craved was another child. One that she would not make the same mistakes with again. A new life for a new beginning. She could not go to Odin, could not imagine taking him to her bed. Nor would she take a lover, having pledged fidelity to him.
Something rebellious...something terribly horribly mischievous occurred to her. Maybe this time, she should take what she wanted. Create it from whole cloth. After all, she was good at that.
“Would you mind if I used only a little of you?” She asked the key. It pulsed warm in her and seemed to laugh. “Thank you.”
It took only a thought and a careful song for her to do the work. One moment, there was Frigga and the key. The next: Frigga, the key and the first fluttering pulse of new life. A child of two worlds like Loki, a child of her womb like Thor. A son, she knew almost immediately, a son born in reconciliation.
“What shall I name you?” She asked, laughing as the key and the small life danced with each other. “What are you called?”
“You will call me Balder.” Whispered the first soft breeze of summer. “And I will bring you joy and sorrow.”
“I am your mother, Balder. That is only to be expected.”