A/N: I know I should be working on my NaNo project, but I couldn't get this out of my head. While this is part of my series (takes place after Drown the Echoes and right before Breath of Life) it's stemming from that scene in Thor: The Dark World where Loki and Odin speak at the beginning. I was telling GreenLoki while we were talking about it that I feel like Odin in this little head-cannon series that Gabrielle Day and I have developed is sort of a best-case Odin where he is a terrible father, but not necessarily because he's an evil creature, but because he just doesn't quite know what to do. Seeing the fantastic Anthony Hopkins back on the screen reminded me just how much I hated that SOB (not Anthony Hopkins, he's amazing), so I wanted to write something earlier in our series that could give a nod to that. Let me know what you think.

Towers

I walk then I crawl, I'm thankful to be moving at all

Considering all the places, I've been on the way

Some people build towers, I just dig holes

On my way down again

~ Towers, Young Guns

He'd agreed to it, though not of his own wishes. Thor had wanted it and, above all, their mother had wanted it. Loki had no wish to repair his shattered relationship with his would-be father. And why should he? The man had lied to him and betrayed him in the cruelest of manners. And then when he'd needed answers, needed reassurances, Odin had slipped off to sleep, entirely free of the responsibility that he should have taken. He'd voiced the irritation to Thor in a fit of rage when his brother had brought up his promise to at least try to find something akin to common ground with the Allfather, and the thunderer had shook his head, asking how Loki might be able to hold that against him, of all things. It was silly, perhaps petty, the trickster knew, but Thor had not been able to defend the old king when Loki had brought up their short exchange on the Rainbow Bridge as the adopted son hung out over the abyss.

"He wants to try," Thor had murmured, voice rumbling quietly and he pointed out that Loki had promised him.

So that was how the god of mischief had turned up outside of the huge, ornate doors that led to the throne room. Guards stood on either side, never blinking or shifting weight. In opposite hands they gripped their weapons as they stared ahead. They didn't acknowledge him in any way as he stood there, an inner war waging as to if he should take the final few steps to push open the doors and move inside.

The decision was taken out of his hands as the doors opened on their own and Loki suddenly felt very small next to them, not unlike a child readying himself for the scolding he knew was coming. Well, no use in allowing Odin the intimidation factor, he thought and straightened his back so that he stood tall and proud.

The Allfather looked worn in his seat, single eye watching his adopted son carefully. "I didn't think you'd come," he said at last, never rising.

"I'm not here for you," Loki snapped, voice sounding bitter even to his own ears.

"So this is how you approach a gesture of kindness?"

This pulled a laugh from him, bubbling up his throat and tumbling from thin lips. "Kindness? What do you know of kindness, Allfather? You that sit upon your throne and think that-"

"Enough," Odin cut him off, waving a hand in dismissal. "If you choose to act childishly in this then it should be ended here."

"You arrogant, condescending old fool," Loki growled, green eyes narrowed. How dare he, summon him here as he would some servant and then wave him off as if he were even less.

"I am a fool," Odin conceded roughly, "for thinking that the bitterness that has so consumed you has left anything of my youngest child behind. There is nothing left of the boy I raised it would seem."

"Then what? Only Laufey's spawn? A monster in replace of a child? And whose fault is that?"

"You were left for dead on a block of ice," Odin boomed, finally rising. "And death was all you would have known without me. You would do well to remember that."

"Perhaps you should have left me there and saved yourself the trouble," Loki spat angrily.

"Perhaps I should have."

The weight of the words, voiced now and unable to be withdrawn, hung in the air. The Allfather sank back to his seat, a long sigh escaping him. He didn't dare look at his adopted son, lest he see the quickly masked pain shoot through those green eyes. "That is enough today," he managed in a gruff voice.

Loki didn't wait, but was gone so quickly that Odin might have thought he simply disappeared had the doors not closed more sluggishly behind him. When he was sure that he was alone, his shoulders drooped and he pressed his palm to his face, waiting for the inevitable visit his wife would make.

He was stronger than most gave him credit for. That was why she had looked for him when he fell, and why she had clung to hope even when she had found him and he pushed her away. She had been one of the first to see him when he'd returned - bruised in more ways than one - and she had been the one that believed enough in him to break him free when he was convinced his brother's life had been in danger.

And she had been the one to push him to speak to Odin.

Frigga felt her heart break when she saw him. He was sitting on the bottom-most step, arms curled around bent knees, facing the pond in the middle of her favourite garden. She'd begged Thor to let her speak to him first, as she'd been the driving force behind the disaster that had happened in the throne room. She'd given him his time, let him sort through his own thoughts, and she was sure that he would pull himself back together, but when she saw him now, the Allmother thought perhaps he had been shattered one too many times.

"You needn't stand back. I'm not a rabid dog," he murmured, voice flat.

"May I?" she asked and he nodded. Frigga took a seat on the stone step next to her second born, pushing back her own tears. She hadn't seen him weep once since he'd returned, even when others might have fallen to their knees. Her son, once so sensitive to everything, had hidden behind a shell of indifference and anger. It was a well-cast illusion, like he'd built a fortress out of it, a tower to withstand all the pain that had come crashing down against him. He was hiding there now, but she could see through in a way only a mother can. "My sweet boy," she said at last, reaching to where his long fingers were interlocked around his legs, chin propped on his knees. "I am so sorry."

"Why?" Loki asked, tilting his head very slightly but never looking at her. "They weren't your words."

"Nor were they really his."

The trickster snorted, unfolding himself as if to stand and leave, but his mother caught his wrist, holding tighter than it might have appeared she could.

"You know he has trouble putting his pride aside. It is a trait you and Thor both took from him."

"I'm nothing like him," Loki growled, wrenching his hand free.

"I blamed him, you know, when you left us." She stood and retook his hand, not giving him the opportunity to pull away again. "Please, my dear boy, my sweet child, I will not let his thoughtless pride drive you away again. I will not be responsible for having forced you into that place." Her voice was wavering now and she hadn't realized how afraid she was. Loki was free. If he chose to he could disappear into the night and no one, not even she, could find him if he didn't wish it.

She gripped his hand as if he were falling again and Loki found himself squeezing back. They were alone in that garden with no guards and even Thor had not sought him out yet. He could feel himself slipping and he turned at last, eyes brimmed red with unshed and he saw the silent ones streaking down her face. She didn't pause then, but reached forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into the embrace and he felt the emotions breaking through.

"I hate him," her son rasped.

Frigga made no attempt to tell him otherwise as they sank back to the step, both holding on to each other.

"He should have left me there," Loki continued, voice broken and hitched. "It would have been better."

"No," Frigga said sternly, pulling back so that he had to look her in the eye. "Never say that. Where would you have even..." She paused, realizing striking. "Did he say that?"

Loki snorted softly. "He was only speaking the truth that he's held close to his heart all these years. He's always hated me, and now I hate him as well. What a perfect circle that is."

"Oh my son," Frigga breathed. "I fear you've been lied to for so long that you won't accept your mother's truths. He fought to bring you home as his own child. He fought words and terrible advice, and even a sword or two from what I heard. He fought to save you, Loki. To bring you home to me and to Thor because though we didn't know it until you were here you were ours. You've always been ours and you always will be. You are my son and you are his even if the oaf doesn't always know how to speak those truths to you."

Thin lips perked and a forced chuckle left them, cold and bitter. "How can one tell his truths amongst all his lies?"

"Am I your mother, if I bore you or not?"

"Yes," he answered softly. "You are the only mother I should ever want."

She smiled and kissed his hands. "And is Thor your brother?"

This brought a smirk to the trickster's lips. "It does depend on the day and what foolish thing he's gone to do." He moved to avoid the swat aimed at him. "Yes, Thor is my brother."

"And we are a family. Those are your truths, Loki, no matter what else has happened. How Odin fits into that is something for another day." Her smile broadened and she tilted her head to where a certain blond was standing just inside the outer halls, watching at a distance and waiting for a cue that he might be allowed to join. "As for today, my two sons are all I need in all the Nine and the Allfather may sulk on his own and think on what truly matters in the end."

Loki followed her, feeling a bit of the weight lifted, if not all as they met an overly enthusiastic Thor at the top of the steps. He grinned and laughed as he swung an arm around his brother's shoulders and the trickster hardly listened to the words themselves. Things would likely never be as they were, but they could be well between the people that mattered and, in time, perhaps he could begin to pull at the walls he'd built and remember that there were two that he could trust in it all.

END.