"You're always so perceptive about everyone but yourself." Frigga says and extends her hands to give her lost son an opportunity to reach for them.
Loki keeps his stare steady, a bit too steady Frigga notices, as if he was frightened that a mere breath may shatter his façade.
She does not push him.
She knows him too well.
Finally, the young god lowers his gaze and with a slight shake of his head while keeping his eyes closed as if he didn't want to even see himself making the small gesture, he approaches his mother. His body language and his expression portray his feelings without him having to say anything.
I didn't mean that, mother.
I did not want to say that.
But I am so angry all the time.
Father said he wanted me dead.
I cannot keep trying to impress the man who does not want to be impressed.
Admitting that he is my father hurts.
I cannot do that.
By simple logic, if he is not my father then you are not my mother.
It hurts so much to say that.
I didn't mean it.
Loki's fingers intertwine with Frigga's. He holds onto her as if his touch could convey the wave of regret that is sweeping over him. For the Queen, that is not necessary. The look in his eyes and his countenance have told her of his anguish already.
It was so long since he was allowed to feel the calming touch of his mother, to smell her gentle scent and to listen to her soothing voice.
Yet her words have made me so enraged. Because I tried to talk about Thor and Odin.
Why is everything about Thor and Odin?
Because they are the ones who put me here.
I don't want to be here.
I am utterly alone.
Condemned, despised and forgotten.
"You are not forgotten, Loki." Frigga says as if she could read his mind.
Loki keeps his eyes closed. He doesn't hope for them not to forsake his strength if he opens them.
He wants to say something. Anything. An apology. A penitence. An animosity. But he doesn't trust his tongue to let the carefully crafted words be spoken befittingly. Right now, he doesn't have faith in his silver tongue. He fears that his strongest weapon may prove to be a double-edged sword. Maybe it has always been. It can betray him so easily.
Loki keeps his fingers locked with his mother's.
I want to hug you. I want you to embrace me. I want you not to push me away if I try to take you in my arms.
I don't want to be pushing you away.
Yet he doesn't dare to move closer to his mother for the comfort of a hug. He feels too relieved that Frigga was willing to hold his hands. What if she pushed him back? He was a Frost Giant after all.
And then his silver tongue forms the words. They are sincere, and Loki knows that, but would Frigga understand their meaning? Should he try? Is it really worth it? Nothing he has tried to reach his family was worth it. It all backfired. Why should this be any different?
Yet he knows that if he says nothing, she will leave rather sooner than later. He knows too well that she is not supposed to be here. And he would never get the hug.
"You used to say…" He begins but stops himself. He is terrified of the way his voice shakes too much. But he would be a coward not to finish his thought. With his eyes still closed, as if it was less burdensome to talk to Frigga if he didn't see her, he forces himself to continue. "You used to say that I should not call you mother unless we were participating in a formal event. You said that it sounded too detached. You insisted that you are much more than a mother, that you are my…" Loki opened his eyes. The emerald irises were covered in tears that he was unable to shelter anymore. He knew his voice would tremble more than ever when he utters the last few words. They meant so much and he is terrified of them not being true anymore.
"You said you are my mum."
As if mum was the signal the tears were waiting for to spill out of his eyes, they began making their way down his cheeks.
"You are my mum." He repeats while the tears keep running.
Frigga doesn't say anything. She tries to reach up to wipe the tears from her son's beautiful face, but he holds onto her even more desperately.
Then his eyes flash with a hint of panic and sadness. He lets go of her hands.
I repel her. Of course she doesn't want me to touch her anymore.
And Frigga understands. Her broken son believes that she is disgusted by their touch and by his words.
Gently, as if a sudden move could startle him, she brings the palm of her hand onto his cheek. He doesn't react. She brushes the tears off his cheeks with the touch of her thumb. Involuntarily, he barely noticeably leans onto her touch.
"You are my son, Loki. And I am your mum. I will always be your mum. Remember, I chose you." Frigga says with determination.
"Why?" Loki whispers.
And the Queen understands that he does not pretend. He is showing his true colours. Loki truly does not understand why anyone would choose him. Why anyone would keep choosing him even now. It all makes sense now. Why he twisted her husband's words in the Vault so easily. To him, it was all true. That's why he too easily believed that he was nothing but a stolen relic. When Odin told her the words her son had spoken that day, she wept. She should have been there. The Allfather didn't manage to handle the situation. Loki didn't speak those words to attack. To him, they were utterly and devastatingly true. The blue was an epiphany for him. Finally, he understood what he never wished to be true. That he was less. Always been and always will be.
"Because I love you. I will always choose you. Choosing you was the best decision of my life." Frigga insisted.
"I don't understand." Loki whispered.
"One day you will. Until then, I will keep reminding you that you are loved, my son. And you always will be." Frigga said and finally she embraced her son. She expected him to tense at her touch, but instantly he melted into her arms as he would always do when he was just a child. The movement was the most natural one for both of them. He rested his forehead on her shoulder and calmed his breath. Finally, he was allowed a moment of serenity.
"I don't know who I am. Sometimes I get so lost in my thoughts that I feel as if I should drown in them, as if they could devour me. I don't know what I want and when I think I do, I don't know how to achieve it. And when I think I do, I understand that there is no hope for me anymore. I don't know what to do." Loki whispered, letting the burden off his shoulders.
"We all have light and darkness inside us, Loki. You never let the darkness win, my son. Mistake me not, it did win for a while, but not because you let it. It won because there was too much of it for anyone to handle. But you have a good heart, my boy. You will find yourself again. And when you do, I will be there to cherish it, to flourish it to help you become the best version of yourself. The Nine Realms do not need a second Thor. If we try to be like others, we can never be as good as them. Because they are already taken. But if we try to be the best versions of ourselves, that's when we can truly shine. You are strong and beautiful, my son. Be yourself. Because the Nine Realms need you. They need Loki. I need Loki. Just the way you are." Frigga breathes out, the tears rolling on her cheeks now as well.
Loki doesn't say anything. He didn't realise he was holding his breath while she was speaking.
She means it. I am not a disgusting monster. I am needed. I am wanted. She means it.
"I love you, mum."
I love the Dark World. It's the film that keeps on giving.