[Finally finished my piece for ladyofmidgard's Marvel Secret Valentine's Day exchange on tumblr! This is for iamhisgloriouspurpose. And it kind of turned out a bit darker than I expected. Whoopsies. :P)
Based on the extended scene of Frigga's death from Thor: The Dark World. ( Which I would recommend watching first for anyone who hasn't and wants to read this.)]
[And yes, I know I haven't updated On Shadow's Edge in a long time. I honestly don't know when I will. I haven't been writing much; it's been hard. So I just ask not to get a ton of requests for it even though I'm posting this. Thanks guys. :) ]
The dungeons had quieted again. Only a few murmurs and sounds of dissent came from the other end of the hall as the Einherjar jostled the surviving marauders into an unbroken cell. They would be packed tight whilst the other barriers were repaired, but the prisoners' comfort was hardly a priority at this point. Asgard had been wounded, and everyone was shaken by it.
Loki could hear his brother giving low, stony orders to Fandral and the guards, but Thor's voice soon faded; he would be needed elsewhere, to pursue the ones that had escaped before the reinforcements arrived. The prisoners would not get far in these passages. And yet there was one, that one...
With a tight breath, Loki flipped his book shut and rose; he had only made a pretense of reading, anyway, as a meagre distraction for his too-active mind. He could still recall the look on that creature's face: an odd expression behind the pain, unexpectedly calculating. Perhaps, Loki thought, he had shown himself a tad too eager to make his own escape, and that was what had made the creature back down again before it had broken the forcefield. Too eager, too dangerous... his mask of complacency had slipped in his hunger to taste freedom. He would have to be more careful about that in future.
He paced a slow, precise circle around the bright floor, forcing his eyes not to flicker too often to the passage outside the cell. He was only deluding himself now; his chance had passed. Better to once again resign himself to his tedious prison existence rather than hold onto a thread of hope.
"Loki."
A hissed curse of surprise fell from his lips, and he stopped abruptly mid-step, his muscles tightening in automatic defense. Mother?
He did not turn around, not yet, attempting in a few short seconds to summon all the stammered apologies that had occurred to him after her last departure. He hadn't meant to deny her, not really-he was just trying to make a point, damn it, without having it turned against him-she always seemed to make him slip when he least expected it-
"Loki."
Frigga's voice was sharper now, underlain with an urgency Loki did not understand. He whirled around, smoothing his expression to one of quiet curiosity-and yet alarm was searing through his mind without any true source. He suspected it showed in his eyes.
She was watching him with her hands twisted in front of her, and Loki thought something about her face was paler than usual; certainly her features were tight and set, the lines around her mouth and eyes more visible. Loki suddenly realised he had seen that look before, in the throne room months ago right before his sentencing. Don't make this worse, she had said. But what could it possibly mean now?
"I hardly expected you again so soon," he said lightly, in a tone that defied the wisp of dread that had curled in his stomach. "Has Odin managed quell his little rebellion yet?" He gestured absently with one hand. "Everyone seems to think that I was somehow the perpetrator, but I assure you, I would not still be here if I were-"
"Be silent and listen to me." Frigga's voice was so sharp that Loki flinched and fell quiet, confusion furrowing his brow. The mockery around his lips faded.
"It is not a rebellion," Frigga went on in a low, urgent voice. "Asgard has been breached by a darkness long thought dead." She glanced behind her, though at what, or whom, Loki could not see. "Loki, promise me-"
"What are you talking about?" Loki hissed, taking a quick step nearer her projection. "What darkness-"
Frigga cut him off again without answering. "Promise me you will stand by Asgard when the time comes-"
"By Odin?" Loki broke in, an incredulous laugh edging into his voice. "Surely you jest. I would lend a hand gladly to watch him fall."
"By your brother."
Frigga's eyes were holding his now, boring into him with such urgency and intensity that even his cynicism seemed to shrivel beneath their gaze. He clenched his jaw. "I am outside all of this-or had you forgotten?" he reminded her tersely. It was an avoidance, and she would see it, but was instinctive to him now. But why did it not feel true? "I am here, and I will stay here, tucked away in this little nook of Odin's choosing." He spread his hands again. "What you ask is not even relevant-"
"It will be."
Loki's eyes narrowed. "I don't understand-"
"Promise me."
"Mother-"
"Promise-"
Loki's lips parted again-to protest, he thought, or to demand answers, anything but agree blindly-but Frigga's form suddenly wavered and began to dissolve. No--! he cried out silently, taking a step forward again as though that might somehow help-and then he stopped.
Something had happened; she had done something just now to the projection path between them, something she never had before. She had vanished, but the illusion itself was growing, expanding until it filled half the cell and he could see almost the entire chamber she had been standing in. And there she was again, further away, ushering another woman behind her and into the shadows by the wall. Loki stared in disbelief. That woman... he knew her...
"What are you doing?" he demanded sharply-or tried to. The words died so close to his lips that even he barely heard them. But why? Was his own sound now failing to penetrate the illusion field? It should have reached her, unless...
The hollow feeling of dread rose in his chest again, tightening his throat. Unless you meant to do this...
And still only a few seconds had passed since she had withdrawn. But something was coming. Loki suddenly felt more trapped looking across this distance than he ever had staring out of his cell. His heart was thudding erratically in his chest, his breath hurried and rasping in his ears, and that same, low dread was twisting knots in his insides. He would have stretched a hand towards the illusion if he were not afraid of shattering it; instead, his fingers remained at his side, clenched and trembling and marking red welts into his palm.
What are you doing?
As though from a great distance, he heard the sound of doors opening. He was too focussed on Frigga to wonder more than briefly what Jane Foster was doing on Asgard, but his attention was definitely caught by the figure that next strode into view. Loki took in the dark armour and mask-like face with a feeling of disbelief. That figure had stepped right off the pages of a centuries-old manuscript. A darkness long thought dead...
"Stand down, creature, and you may still survive this."
Only a few times in his life had Loki heard such icy contempt from his mother's lips. Her thin fingers were wrapped around the hilt of a sword now, firm and unshaking, a stark contrast to Loki's own.
"I have survived worse, woman." It was an elf, Loki knew, a dark elf, an impossible creature, and it spoke with the sound of many voices contained in one, as though it had swallowed a host of others to maintain itself. It was circling around towards Frigga, trying to intimidate her, though she showed no flicker of fear.
"Who are you?" she asked. A command far more than a question. Loki felt something oddly like pride at Frigga's cool composure. She had always been stronger than anyone gave her credit for.
The elf kept coming. "I am Malekith," it said steadily, "and I would have what is mine."
Frigga's eyes darted to Jane, who had backed as far as she could against the wall. The elf saw, too; it started forward-Loki tried to give a shout of warning-but Frigga had already brought her blade up in a vicious strike that sent Malekith reeling. The message was clear: You want her? Get past me.
Malekith recovered, lunged back, and suddenly they were locked in whirling combat across the chamber. For all its boasts, the elf did not seem able to hold its own; it was disarmed in seconds, left to duck the whip of Frigga's blade as best it could, and in another few moments, the fight was over. Loki's heart was hammering, but his fear had lessened, for Frigga had her sword against Malekith's throat, daring another move that did not come.
It was over. Loki shut his eyes in relief. It was over-
And then Frigga let out a sudden gasp of pain, and his eyes flashed open again. Mother-
Frigga's sword clattered to the stones with a ringing sound that deafened Loki's ears. For an instant, he was sure his breath-and his heart-had stopped. He felt the blood drain from his face as he watched Frigga struggle uselessly against the monster (where had it come from? Where?), which held her dangling just off the floor, and suddenly Loki's own words were ringing back at him with a dark, malicious irony-
You might want to take the stairs to the left.
Kill them! he spat soundlessly, his mind's voice thin with fear. Kill them! She had a dagger on her, surely-a throwing knife, something-
He had eyes only for her, his gaze locked desperately onto her face, so much so that he barely saw Malekith stalking towards Jane Foster on the other side of the chamber. He did not care-she was nothing-the elf could have her and then he would have no reason to remain, and Frigga, Frigga would be spared...
All of this was running through his head with a speed and desperation he could not quite comprehend. Control. He had to find control. He was suddenly dizzy and out of breath, his throat and lungs closing up; and he pressed his hands to his head, trying to clear the spots, trying to focus-
He had a sickening feeling that something terrible would happen if he did not keep his eyes open.
The elf turned back with a shout of fury, advancing on Frigga again, and a sudden rage flooded Loki. Don't touch her-don't you touch her-I will tear you apart-
"Release her!"
Loki was entirely convinced he had spoken aloud, until reason caught up with him. That had not been his voice. His thoughts, yes, but not his voice. A powerful and very mixed jumble of emotions assaulted him, throwing him off even further.
Odin.
He could not see the All-Father, for Odin must have entered beyond the scope of the illusion field, but he could hear him-and for a heartbeat, Loki felt his enmity buried. Save her. That was all he asked now. Save her. He could sort out the war within him later. Norns, just save her-
Malekith, however, did not seem remotely swayed by Odin's shouted command. "Are you the new king?" The elf bowed its head in a gesture of dark, amused deference. And then it twisted around to look at Frigga, and Loki cursed in silent frustration, for it had made the connection now- "Is this your queen, then?"
"If it is revenge against Asgard that you seek-"
"Revenge?" There was such a tone of surprise and contempt in the elf's voice that even in his barely-breathing state, Loki began to wonder just what it was the creature was after. But he did not have time to dwell on it now. "Do you truly believe I care about Asgard?"
"It was my father who put an end to your kind," Odin answered quietly. Loki nearly broke the illusion in a sudden, clawing movement of furious disbelief-the old man seemed to be just standing there, out of Loki's sight but clearly content to hold a conversation with this creature instead of incinerating him on the spot. How dare you? How dare you do nothing when she is in peril?
A ghost of a smile flitted over the elf's mask-like features. "Is that what he told you?" it asked softly.
"I said: release her, elf."
But to Loki's ears, the quiet of Odin's voice was only weakness, and his repetition merely proof that he held not the power over Malekith that he pretended.
Malekith knew it, too. "You know what I want! Give it to me-or watch your queen die."
An agonising silence followed, in which Loki waited for the elf to be obliterated, and waited in vain. Tremors kept running down his spine. He did not know whether rage or fear was more potent within him, and his teeth were bared slightly, his eyes flickering constantly between the elf and Frigga. He dreaded every hint of movement.
"You must ask yourself, as I once did..." Malekith strode forward-towards Odin, Loki knew in the back of his mind, but he felt as though the elf were looking elsewhere this time-at him. He went utterly still, his eyes widening.
"...What are you prepared to sacrifice for what you believe?"
Odin made no answer. Loki wished he could see what was happening on the All-Father's face; at least then he might be able to read his thoughts, and judge through his panic whether Odin thought Asgard or his queen more worthy of saving. Because right now, in his heart, Loki did not know.
Very faintly, he thought he heard Frigga's voice, and he tore his eyes from Malekith in time to see his mother's lips form a whispered, "Kill them-"
Kill them-kill them-!
But though Loki waited in fearful agony for Odin to surrender-just this once, please, give in this one time, you fool, don't let her die!-the All-Father remained silent. Loki still could not see him, and all he could hear was that terrible, terrible silence.
Father, please-
Malekith's expression did not even change.
"Kill her."
And Loki saw it. He saw the monster's arm draw back, saw the way Frigga was looking straight at him-at him, she was looking at him-and he saw the Asgardian blade drive sharply into her side, sliding smoothly between the links of her armour and deep into her torso.
It would pierce her heart, Loki knew. But it was so quick. It already had.
He saw nothing more. The illusion burst open, its fabric tearing and shattering to fragments. He would never know later whether it was his own anguish that had ripped it apart, or if it had been destroyed along with its maker. All he knew now was that a scream was rasping from his throat, waves of energy flaring unchecked from his hands, and he fell to his knees as the prison cell broke around him.
Loki tightened his hand beneath the gleaming spearpoint. Its tip was levelled, unwavering, at Odin's heart.
Odin lay on the floor at Loki's feet. He was weak and weary, gasping for breath. It had not taken much to subdue him, after all; he was long overdue for the Odinsleep, and grief had sapped his strength even further. It was almost a pity, Loki thought; he would not have minded if the fight had lasted longer.
As it was, Odin could barely speak. "You... will gain nothing by this, Loki," he whispered hoarsely.
Loki's eyes were flat, and dark with loathing. "You killed her."
"I...did not..." Odin held up a trembling hand. His face was weary with pain and a sadness Loki pretended not to notice, and with a vicious swipe of the spear, Loki struck the hand aside. Blood flashed suddenly on the All-Father's palm.
"You did nothing," Loki hissed, aiming Gungnir at the the Odin's chest again. "And, therefore, you let her die."
"Loki... listen to me..."
Loki locked his gaze along the spear.
"Never again."
But his eyes closed, and he did not see as he drove the blade deep into Odin's heart.