It had been a long time since he had thought of that first, failed plan to take over the throne of Asgard.
When he entered the realm, the cold of Jotunheim had made him think that he had used his little passageway incorrectly and made his way to Nifiheim instead. It was only after his body started to adapt to its surroundings, his true nature as a frost giant coming to the fore, that he had realised that he was exactly where he wanted to be.
Even as he bartered with Laufey, a part of him was well aware of the fact that of the matter was that no matter how much he liked to pretend otherwise, there was a good chance that this would fail. Quite frankly, he didn't care. Odin was no father of his.
The only thing he made sure of was that the frost giants would leave Frigga out of it. He was sure that they would try and double-cross him, but Odin would be their main target – he would make sure they were dead before they could ever turn their eyes towards the Queen of Asgard.
Frigga was not his mother. He had no illusions about that fact – he may have been the elder prince, but he was prince of Jotunheim, not Asgard, and having been raised at Frigga's breast could not change that fact.
But oh, how he wished.
Frigga was everything a mother was supposed to be. Supportive and kind, offering her children unconditional love – he wished that she truly was his mother as much as he was glad that Odin was not his father. Because Odin could say what he wanted, but Loki knew that there was never any chance that the Allfather would allow a frost giant on the throne of Asgard. Frigga, on the other hand, would be happy to see him on the throne as long as it made both him and Thor happy.
Frigga may not have been his mother, but she had never cared about that fact. And for that, he loved her in a way that he would never be able to love Odin or Thor.
Even when Odin passed his sham of a sentence – and he might have claimed that it was mercy, but they both knew that it was just another type of death sentence – she found a loophole for him. The books she collected for him were the only things that kept him sane, sometimes.
And, of course, there were her visits.
She never changed from the woman who had raised him – the same upswept hair and indulgent smile. Every time he lashed out at Odin and Thor and even her, she would just look at him, wide eyed and knowing.
She was perhaps the only being in the nine realms who truly knew him, even going so far as to know him better than he knew himself.
And then – and then and then and then. That cursed day.
How Heimdall let them through the Bifrost without realizing who they truly were, he would never know. What he did know, however, was that he would curse the Gatekeeper's name until Ragnarok came and the world turned to dust.
Even imprisoned the way he was, he was still royalty. As Asgard prepared to bury its Queen and so many of its warriors, one of those who had survived came to give him the news.
His cell did not survive.
The last words he ever said to her haunted him. She had known that he hadn't meant them – she had told him as much – but still. She had died, and the last thing he had ever said to was a denial of the fact that she was his mother.
For the first time, he wished he could turn back time. If nothing else, he would make sure not to be Loki Silvertongue during those precious moments, but be Loki, the child she had loved and raised. It would have made her happy, and he would give anything to see her happy because of something he did, just one last time.
She would call his anger nothing but a tantrum. She would tell him to put it towards a more constructive use, but she wasn't here right now.
Frigga, Queen of Asgard, was dead. All hail the Queen.
He did not believe it was possible to tear his hair out. He managed to prove himself wrong.
The woman who had been all but his mother by blood was gone. (Dead dead dead, the voice in his head reminded him. He wouldn't have been surprised if he found out that Thanos had somehow managed to get inside his head and was taking great pleasure in taunting him.) He had a right to mourn, even if no one else would ever see it. There was nothing he could do to avenge her, but he could remember the life she had still had to live. He would be the only one to do that – Asgardians remembered their warrior dead with feasts and celebrations, not broken-hearted tears.
Thor was standing in front of him, talking about betrayal and treason and being a reminder that the only person he had ever thought of as family was gone.
But- oaf though he may have been, Thor's presence presented him with the opportunity he needed.
"Tell me brother – did she suffer?" he asked in a hoarse whisper. If she had, his revenge would be all the more dreadful. He needed to know just how much Malekith had to suffer.
He was going to walk out of the cell, dagger in hand, and do what even Bor had never managed to do – he would sink it into his back, and take the power of Aether for himself. As the Power Stone, it was so much more powerful than the Tesseract could ever hope to be – powerful enough to turn back time.
And Loki would rule, and the nine realms would weep. But this time, he would have his mother by his side.
A/N: So of the two Infinity Stones that have been introduced, the Aether is the Power Stone and the Tesseract is the Space Stone.
I hope you guys liked it! Please don't forget to drop a review on your way out - this is my first time writing Loki, or anything for this fandom, so I'd love to hear your thoughts on this piece! :)