Disclaimer: I do not own Thor 2 or any of the characters. This is purely non-profit.

Info: This is a short one-shot based on the scene after Frigga's death in Thor 2. Hurt/comfort and angst! A possible insight into Loki's mind at that moment. Enjoy!

-ooo-

"I am sorry to inform you, Mr. Odinson," the guard told me while I feigned interest in the book I wasn't reading. "Frigga has been killed in the battle.

My heart froze. I felt myself unable to take in a breath, shock, denial, horror threatening to overload my senses. With what little control I had left I forced my face to remain calm as I turned my head to look at him and gave him a short nod to dismiss him. Then I closed the book, placed it down on the table, and stood. Before the uncontrollable tears started to fall, I turned away, looking at the wall. My body was stiff, and all I could see was my mother - yes, my mother, dead on the floor because those creatures I had helped had killed her. They had killed her. And I had helped them.

I lost my composure in a burst of magick energy, which radiated from my body and threw the furnishings of my cell into the energy fields that kept me trapped in the dungeons. I felt the hate, the pain, the guilt, everything that I had struggled to keep down so long suddenly rush out of me.

I wanted to scream my grief into the sky, to drag myself out of this cell and brutally beat to death the monster that had killed her. Instead, I laid waste to my cell, destroying everything I could. The tables, the chairs, the bookshelves, the books themselves. Sent as a gift to me from my mother who had never lost hope in me like my "father" and Thor had. She had always loved me in a way they never had. And I had, to her hologram, lied. Why had I lied to her? Why had I pretended she meant nothing to me, that she had never been anything? A pitiful, strangled mewling sound choked its way from my chest and I collapsed to the ground, weeping for the first time in years. I allowed myself to feel. I allowed the self-hate to break the barrier I had made to keep myself "happy". I never wanted to face the truth of my own nature. But the crying came fast and vengeful.

Was the spirit setting tonight? I would miss them laying my mother on her casket, setting her sailing down the water where she would make her last voyage... I would miss them setting her vessel on fire, miss the honourable arrow rain. I would not be able to pay her my final respects, or see her spirit rise into the stars.

All because of my own foolish ambitious.

I held myself around my middle and chest, aching from the sobs, but unable to stop.

Why had I told her those evil things that I did not believe? I was unworthy to ever have been her son, and the truth of it made me grab onto my hair and tear at it in anger like I was going to rip it from my scalp. I wept onto the bloodstains where I had cut my foot on the broken glass, but hardly felt the pain. All I really felt was the impossible grief in my heart and the knowledge that nothing would ever be the same again.

At long last I dragged myself to the edge of my cell and sat there, holding my knees to myself and trying hard not to lose my last grip of sanity. Everything I had ever done seemed so insignificant. Because I had forgotten what really mattered.

And now she was gone.

I lay like that, hiding the embarrassment that I was behind an illusion until Thor came down to see me. I already knew what he wanted. My help to seek vengeance. To save the world I had once plotted to destroy. I would kill them for what they had done. I would prove to my mother that I loved her, despite what I had led her to believe.

Perhaps only then would this suffocating pain be at an end.