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When his children were born Loki tried not to shape shift so they could grow used to his presence in one set form. It would do him no good if they were constantly confused by new faces, never quite able to get used to one which they recognized as their father. Yet the situation with his son, the one he bore…that was a different story.
All the other children were born seeing his bipedal form; pale face, green eyes, lean and tall body of a god. Sleipnir, instead, had seen him as not a father, but a mother. The young foal also only knew him as a mare; powdered white with big black eyes and a dark mane and tail. Unlike his son he had only four legs, yet the extra four on the young foal had never seemed to bother him.
Loki knew he couldn’t stay in his altered form forever. Yet he waited until Sleipnir could at least run and was showing his overwhelming amounts of curiosity before allowing himself a few hours in his ‘true’ form. The form of an Asgardian, the one he’d grown up in himself.
They’d stopped for water at a stream when he dared try. Not once had he gone anywhere close to home after that day he had been forced to resort to desperate measures to lure the powerful horse Svadilfari away from his master. At first it was more the shame, but soon after he had noticed the difference in his body when he tried to return to his bipedal form.
It had hurt for the brief hour he’d been back in that form. Instantly he’d collapsed, clutching his abdomen and unable suppress the whimpers of pain as his magic was forced to change him to hold the new life that had been formed. Before it could be completed he simply changed back, realizing then and there he would need to remain a mare until the foal was born or he killed the potential offspring.
Killing Sleipnir, of course, had never been an option. The trickster held every child dear to him and simply the fact that this was one he was carrying himself, regardless of origins…well, he was never going to be rid of the son.
Now, as his shape changed and he soon stood on two legs, Loki wondered how bad of an idea this was. His son’s ears had perked up, his head jerking up when his mother had first began to move in a strange fashion until finally there was a new creature standing in her place.
Loki’s legs were actually shaky in this form and he stumbled a few steps into the cool stream before sitting down in the shallow water. He was bare of clothes and didn’t have the will to form the illusions of covering when no one else was around.
Sleipnir followed curiously, the splashing plenty of indication before the god felt the familiar muzzle against his back. He chuckled, still amazed at his son’s curiosity as the young horse sniffed at his hair and then nudged at his shoulder. The other could still smell that he was indeed his mother, but this sudden decrease in size and change in shape was confusing him.
Turning his head, the green yes locked with the young stallion’s larger black. Sleipnir’s reaction was rather comical; the foal froze up, legs shoved out as he braced himself, ears turned up and head held high as he started. Loki actually laughed. “Come here my son.” The coaxing was reinforced with a motion of his arm, beckoning closer.
First call there was no reaction. The second time Loki had turned his body and summoned him again. “Come on. Sleipnir do not be afraid.” The named garnered some attention. Sleipnir knew his own name, even if it had never been spoken in English before.
Again the young horse approached and this time Loki opened his arms to wrap around the other’s neck. Still young, yet already the boy was so strong. “No matter my form you are still my son.” Not a word was understood, but Loki hummed in comfort all the same as he brushed Sleipnir’s mane with his fingers a few times. The young horse tried groom the god’s hair as a way to return the favor, but Loki stopped him, shaking his head before pressing his forehead against the larger muzzle.
“You will understand someday. But I am glad you can still tell I am your mother even in this form.”
That was the last Loki said before he shifted back into the mare. Again his son had taken that tense stance, eyes fixed, ears straight up and legs out. But a huff from his mother and a gentle shove that sent the foal into the shallow water ended that shock spell. Sleipnir turned into flailing mess until he was soaked and just sitting in the water as if pouting. Loki nudged him again once he’d calmed down before walking from the stream and turning to wait for the young stallion. When Sleipnir didn’t move he stamped a hoof against the dirt, dragging it back a little each time it hit the ground. Almost mimicking the beckoning motion of his bipedal form.
Sleipnir shot up when he saw it, shaking off before he trot to his mother. Side by side they ran from the stream together, an ease settling over the trickster now that another hurtle of this choice was almost passed.
His son still accepted him in his other form so far. That was all the assurance he needed for when he finally had to return to Asgard with the boy. He would not, after all, give up his son. Never in his immortal life would anyone truly separate him from that boy.