Loki is brought before the man he has considered his father all his life – in chains. Odin calls him "the prisoner", and it takes all the strength Loki has not to let Odin see how much that hurts. He'll get through this, and he'll get out of it. There must be a way. There is always a way.
"Frigga is the only reason you're still alive and you will never see her again. You'll spend the rest of your days in the dungeon."
He stumbles back, half dragged by the guard, struggling to keep his feet, and the bottom drops out of his stomach. He can't imagine that his fa – that Odin can be that cruel.
The plea is on the tip of his tongue already, pride be damned, but then he sees the look on the All-Father's face and he just knows, knows with absolute certainty, that there is nothing in the Nine Realms he can do to change Odin's mind. He will be fully and completely alone – for all of eternity. It's all he can do to keep his countenance until he's safely locked away behind the barrier, until he's brought up the veil he's perfected eons ago. And that's when he shatters.
He has no way of measuring how much time has passed when he hears soft footsteps that make him look up. What he sees must be an illusion, because it is forbidden.
"Mother", he breathes so softly it's barely audible, as if he's scared the glamour might dissolve if he speaks too loudly. She knows him well. She's taught him well.
"I'm here, son", she answers almost as low, but it's love, not fear that softens her voice, and he understands at once.
"But Odin", he swallows and looks beyond her, scared for her. She smiles gently and touches the energy barrier trapping him. Without conscious thought he raises his hand to mirror hers. Her smile widens.
"It's alright, Loki. He's given me permission. I'm here to say goodbye."
A pain so deep it takes his breath away races through him, and he can't stop the tears that come. He swallows around the lump in his throat and averts his eyes.
"So this is really goodbye", he whispers. "I will never see you again?"
Frigga gives him a sad little smile.
"Fear not, my beautiful son. There is always hope."
Loki huffs out a bitter laugh.
"For what?"
"I don't know. For redemption. For mercy. Maybe your father will eventually change his mind. You must hold on to hope, Loki."
"Why?"
"Because I love you, and so does your father."
"He's not my father", Loki spits.
Frigga sighs. They are so alike in their pride, and yet they can't see anything but their differences.
"Please, Loki. Give it time."
"Looks like time is the one thing I have plenty of."
And then, all of a sudden, for the duration of one heartbeat Loki can feel his mother's hand, really feel her touching him despite the barrier, and when it's over he realizes he's openly crying. Silent tears he can't do anything about, and he doesn't even try. She takes a step back and nods, giving him a wide smile – an image to behold when times are dark.
"Goodbye, my son. Do not forget, ever, for one moment in time, that you are loved."
And she vanishes into the dark, taking everything that has ever been warm and gentle and bright in his life with her, and he has never felt so alone in his whole life.
An hour later Loki still stands rooted to the spot, his palm an inch away from the barrier, trying to hold on to the memory of her touch. Not just now – all the times she has touched him. When he was sad or upset as a child. When she showed him a new spell. When she lightly brushed her hand over his forehead to cool his temper. Gone. He won't ever feel any of that again. He finally takes a step back and just stares into the darkness, not caring about putting up a veil, not actually seeing anything – and not noticing the figure standing in the dark, staring at him in shock.
When the person finally steps closer, out of the shadows, he does notice her. He forces his veil up, knowing full well that it's too late, that she's seen him weak and vulnerable, but he can't bring himself to care much. Sif doesn't speak. She just sits down in front of his cell and starts sharpening her sword. Long, slow motions, practiced a million times, over and over again. He starts wondering if the blade will eventually get too thin. When she chuckles he realizes he's said it out loud.
"What are you doing here, oh Lady Sif?"
His voice is dangerously low, with a hint of malice in it. She doesn't flinch.
"It looks like I'm sharpening my sword, oh Lord Loki", she gives back, absolutely no emotion in her voice.
"Yes, I can see that, but why are you doing it here? It's sort of annoying."
She stops and grins at him.
"Is it?"
Loki drops his veil with a growl. Sif's grin melts away and she tilts her head a little, trying to assess him.
"Tell me a story", he says, out of the blue. And she does, after a moment's hesitation. She talks about what's going on in the palace, careful not to reveal any sensitive information, and actually manages to make him laugh twice. When she's about to leave he asks her for a few of his books, describing exactly where she'd find them, and she promises to bring them to him the next day. He stares after her for a long time, and when he turns his back to the barrier he feels more alone than ever before.
Sif keeps her promise and he buries himself in the books as soon as they are cleared by the guards.
When she comes back the next day she finds him obviously frustrated. She knows the books are about magic. He's a sorcerer after all. But she knows Odin well enough to know that he'd make sure Loki can't do much inside that barrier. The veils and illusions are probably a small mercy – or maybe Odin just didn't consider them dangerous. Or maybe they weren't supposed to work and Loki found a way around it. Anyway, none of the spells in his books would work inside the cell. He must have known that. And still he's very, very angry.
"Not working?", she asks him, her voice neutral. He throws the book he was holding into the barrier and it drops to the floor with an odd sound. That's actually painful to watch, knowing that he usually treats books with an almost religious respect. His shoulders slump.
"I can't. Illusions are all that will work inside this damn cage. Nothing that would convert energy, because I can't pull anything through the barrier, and there's nothing in here that I can draw energy from -" And then all of a sudden he goes so perfectly still that Sif isn't sure if he's even breathing, and he won't react to anything she says.
The next five days, whenever Sif goes to see him, all there is to see is a perfect veil. Loki sitting and reading, and it's so perfect that it screams illusion. Not even illusory Loki reacts to her though. She reports it to Odin, but he's not overly concerned.
On the sixth day she can't make herself go visit.
On the seventh day she does go, standing at the barrier for quite a while. She's about to turn on her heel as the veil suddenly shatters. Real Loki's on the floor, curled up in a fetal position, his face so close to the barrier that she could touch him, and he looks awful. His usually pale skin is gray, with an ugly blue tinge that sends shudders down her spine. There are dark shadows under his eyes, dried blood at the corners, and his nose is still bleeding. His cheeks are so hollow that his cheekbones look razor sharp. Sif stares at him for a whole minute before she starts yelling orders:
"Guards! Over here at once! Notify the King! The Prince is injured!"
Frigga is standing inside Loki's now empty cell, staring at his open books. The spells are completely random, they have nothing in common. What in the Nine Realms did he hope to accomplish? And then realization dawns and she sinks to the floor. It's never been about what the spells would do. It was about what they would cost him. Those spells are the most energy demanding he could possibly choose, and there is nothing inside this cell to draw that energy from – nothing but himself. Her beautiful, gifted son, Lord of Lies and God of Mischief, deliberately worked on exhausting himself. This – was a suicide attempt.
When he opens his eyes, he's in his bedroom, and his mother is there. He closes them again, shutting her out. She brushes his hand with her fingertips. He doesn't react. Frigga takes a deep breath.
"You scared me."
He's very still, his eyes closed, barely breathing. So fragile, so weak. Frigga tries again.
"Please give me your word you won't try this again."
Still no reaction.
"Where there's life there's hope, my son."
Finally, he reacts. He still doesn't look at her though. It's just the setting of his jaw, and a change in his aura. She's able to read that as clearly as if he was shouting.
"I've always been your mother and I always will be."
That finally does it. He turns his head and looks at her, and the pain in his eyes takes her breath away. He's desperate. She moves a little closer, smiling at him, gently touching his forehead.
"I might not have given birth to you – but I've shaped you."
He considers that for a moment.
"Who did you model me after?", he finally says, his voice rough.
She smiles, lost in memories.
"A dream."
He raises an eyebrow. She takes his hand, and he lets her.
"When I was pregnant, I had a dream. I dreamed of the child I would have – or so I thought. But when Thor was born he was nothing like the boy I had seen in my dream...so when your father brought you back to Asgard and we realized we'd need a disguise – I turned you into the son -
the son I had seen."
The son that Thor hadn't been. That Thor couldn't be. He's something his mother wanted, something she made. It warms his aching heart like a single beam of sunlight. It takes him a moment to realize that he's smiling. Frigga returns it.
"Odin altered your sentence. I have his permission to visit you, and I will."
The moment he's better he's brought back to his cell. Frigga is there when the barrier goes up. Loki takes a deep breath and relaxes. With her, this might be bearable. And who knows. Maybe she's right and there is hope.
Little does he know that he'll never lay eyes on his mother again.