"Oh? But you're not afraid of them?" That's probably a good thing, but he's a little surprised. Then again, Frost Giants in his universe might be different from what Loki's familiar with. "Physically I'm not the most typical example. I'm a shapeshifter and I can be a little taller, but even at that rate I'm a runt, and far less craggy and pointy than most Jotnar. Long story."

There's a hint of underlying discomfort there. His trauma is healing, but it's still there. It's a lot easier to be casual about his heritage among people who have no frame of reference for it, or who have more innate sympathy with the Frost Giants than with the Aesir.

"You can just call me Loki if you like. Or Master Loki, if you're more comfortable with formality. I've answered to worse things."

The cottage is a little bigger on the inside than it looks. There are actually three floors, but the main floor is where Loki and the three smallest children sleep, and it has the living room, kitchen, and a half-bath. The kitchen is where they've entered, and it's big enough for three people to move about it, lit by warm yellow lamps. There are a lot of childish drawings tacked onto the refrigerator, and what looks like a clockwork cat on the floor. Loki picks it up gently and sets it on the table lest it get stepped on.

If Fjord peers through into the next room, he may see some scattered toys, as well as the gleam of embers in the fireplace.

"Here," Loki says. "Sit on one of the wooden chairs, I'd rather not get the sofa wet. I'll use magic to dry your clothes out."