Rage
His head spins. His heart breaks. He watches in disbelief as the guard moves away from the front of his cell and fights to contain himself until he hears the heavy dungeon doors slam shut.
She was the only thing I had left…
The words course through his mind as his nerves slowly start to unravel. As pieces of furniture are pushed across the room by powerful flashes of green. As he sinks to his knees, his screams begging for an answer to the questions reeling through his decrepit mind.
She was the only thing I had left…
The sharp stinging knife of realization stabs at his heart as it whispers the phrase to him. As it withdraws itself and knocks him to the ground. As a glass tabletop erupts into a shower of shards.
She was the only thing I had left…
If only he'd realize she wasn't. If only he'd realize that there are people that worry after and care for him every bit as much as she had. That love, yes, love him as unconditionally as she did.
She was the only thing I had left. And now, like everything else, she too has been ripped from me…
He growls as a few hot tears spill down his icy cheeks. Falls to the ground as they blind him. His body rocks with sob after painful sob; the air is pierced with cry after desperate cry.
He feels utterly alone. He isutterly alone.
And he has never been more furious in his life.
He can hear the crowds' muffled sobs and howling laments from above. He can all but see his brother, that oaf, standing solemnly next to his fa—
He is not my father!
He had roared the words with such ferocity.
And that same unadulterated ferocity now surges through him and bashes his insides, a wild animal fighting to break out of its cage.
The image of the Allfather and the god of thunder standing side by side, watching a small boat go up in flames in the distance flashes before him.
He should be there with them.
The hate he feels towards them may seep deep into the marrow of his bones, but he feels he should be there to say goodbye.
"I didn't even get to say goodbye…"
The hollow words hang stagnant in the air and fade into the screaming silence. He's vaguely aware of a mass of something strewn out behind him. Vertigo harshly shaking his body, he slowly stands and inches across the room before he sinks to the ground beside them, his back sliding down the cold, ivory walls of his enclosure.
It's a pile of books.
Meant to bring some sense of sanity and comfort to a broken, bleeding soul. Now they threaten to maim it even more.
Hesitantly, he reaches forward and picks one up, the soft crinkle of the pages deafening in the stale quietness. He attempts to turn it over, maybe even go so far as to read a few words, but he just can't do it. At the moment, he can't process anything. He's barely even aware that a piece of glass found a home between his toes, plunging deep into his skin like the grief that has plunged deep into his heart.
He tries to picture her smiling face, the one thing that could pacify the deep disquiet that rages through his spirit.
But now, even that rains a flaming hail of suffering upon him.
He can bear it no longer.
The book he was holding flies from his hand.
And a long, heart-wrenching scream of despair punctures the silence, his body curling frontward as it belts through the empty halls.
Exhausted, he throws his shoulders back onto the wall, ramrod straight posture folding forward into a heap of porcelain, raven and forest green.
She was the only thing I had left…
The words hiss into his ears, beating his already broken soul, over and over and over. And he cannot deny them.
Because they are undeniably true.
Frigga is gone.
And Loki knows that there is nothing he can do about it.