A/N: This is an expansion of the scene in Thor: The Dark World in which Loki is brought from Earth in chains. It is written from Frigga's POV.
Anything recognizable belongs to Marvel.
She had watched her boys grow... her boys, for that is what they both were, even though the younger was not of her flesh. He was dark haired, scholarly, with an inner strength belied by the outwardly delicate appearance he had possessed during his youth. Now that delicate appearance was gone, replaced by a hard face and a secretive smirk that hinted at the sinister plots brewing within.
What had gone wrong? She had poured her heart into this boy, now a young man, in an attempt to heal the wounds inflicted by the callous words of her husband, and the insensitive actions of her son.
But it had not been enough...
Now he stood before her, in chains, and she could not help him. Not this time, after what he had done. Those scores of people, innocent people, who had done nothing to deserve their fate but had received it nonetheless. It was for them that she stood there, silent, apprehensive, instead of pleading with her husband for leniency on the part of her son. She had already done so, and to little avail. His one concession was that the boy (her boy) would be imprisoned on Asgard, rather than on one of the many exile planets or high-security space prisons. That way, even though she would not be able to see him, she would know he was close by, and safe.
"Hello, mother. Have I made you proud?"
Those words, so innocent, brought back memories of a time when he had been happy, when their family had been happy. Memories of a time when he had actually cared if he made her proud, when, to his knowledge, she had still been his mother. Now, all he cared about was power, and despite this, she still loved him.
"Loki, please," she begged, sorrow filling her words, "don't make this worse."
"Define worse," he shot at her bitterly.
Opening her mouth to answer him, she stopped with a jolt when the voice of the All-Father cut through the air like a knife.
"Enough! I will speak to the prisoner alone."
Her heart filling with sorrow, she gave the boy (her boy) one last longing look, and turned away. Grief for the fate of her son filled her heart and spilled over to her eyes as she stepped hurriedly on her way out of the throne room, attempting, uselessly, to keep her emotions contained.
Standing outside the large doors, Frigga breathed slowly in an effort to calm herself. It was likely that she would never see him again, would never be able to talk to him in an attempt to thaw his frozen heart. Lifting her chin, courage sparking in her eyes, she resolved to work in other ways. If she could not bring her son to feel remorse for his actions, she could at least try to help the people affected by them.
No matter the cost.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this little one-shot.