A/N: This one-shot was inspired by the gorgeous stories of FFN author ladymacbeth99, particularly her portrayal of Frigga and Loki's relationship in "The Prisoner." If you enjoy my story, I highly recommend that you visit her page!
This story is based almost entirely off the MCU, but in the third scene, I have used some content from Thor: the Junior Novelization, as I liked that it gave Frigga a more active role in helping Loki defeat Laufey and his Frost Giants.
Please enjoy!
Embrace
by Sauron Gorthaur
Frigga did not immediately know what had woken her. At first, all she knew was that she had wakened suddenly and was now keenly aware of the dark, quiet room around her. Odin's deep, steady breathing told her that it was not her husband who had disturbed her rest, yet all the same some instinct whispered that she had been deliberately called forth from her sleep.
Then it came a second time: a voice so small it was a wonder she had heard it at all, wrapped deep in her slumber as she had been, but the instincts of a mother are strong.
"Mama?"
It was then that she saw the shadow in the doorway, a darker patch against the darkness beyond, barely distinguishable. But when she peered closer, she could make out the pale face looking up at her pleadingly.
She slipped out of bed, wrapped a silken shawl around her shoulders, and approached the silent figure. Kneeling and reaching out, she stroked a shock of black hair that was nearly invisible in the pool of darkness that was the entrance to the royal chambers. "What do you need, Loki sweetheart?"
There was no verbal reply, but small fingers, cold and trembling, gripped her hand and pulled gently. Frigga understood and followed the little shadow of her son out into the hallway and away from the still slumbering form of the king. Loki's room was still only a short distance from his parent's chambers and she allowed him to guide her down the short passageway without questioning him further.
Loki's bedroom was softly lit by a pale blue orb of energy floating just below the ceiling in the center of his room. In its light, Frigga could see the meticulously ordered space of her son's chambers and the incongruously crumpled blankets on the bed. Only once the door was firmly shut and the child was curled on his pillows with the queen sitting on the edge beside him did he finally speak again.
"Mama, I'm afraid."
Frigga instinctively stroked his cheek in a calming, repetitive motion. "What has made you afraid, sweetheart?"
In the dim glow of the magical nightlight, Loki's eyes gleamed a strange combination of ghostly blue and fiery green. He wriggled deeper into the swathes of fluffy eiderdown, pressing his face into his pillow until all she could see of him were those bright eyes and the mop of black hair above them. His voice was muffled but she still clearly made out the single word. "Dream."
Frigga sighed inwardly and leaned in to recline into the pillows beside him. His cheek was cool underneath her fingers, as it always was. Even as a toddler, Loki had been prone to bad dreams, but she had hoped he would outgrow them. Still that day had yet to come, if it ever would. Though it was clear by now that Loki had no conscious memory of the days before he came to Asgard, perhaps no one, of any age, truly had the power to shake the ingrained horror of abandonment that Loki had experienced in his first days of existence.
She drew her fingers gently through his hair. "Do you want to tell me?"
He shook his head. "Will you read me a story, Mama?"
Frigga kept a stash of children's books by Loki's bed for this very purpose. She pulled them out and slowly sorted through them, giving Loki the chance to indicate any that caught his fancy. Finally, a small hand darted out from underneath the coverlets, tapping a single book before retreating just as swiftly. With a little smile, Frigga set aside the others and picked up the one Loki had chosen.
She turned over, putting her shoulders to the pillows, and propped the book open on her chest, giving Loki a clear view of the pictures and the sparkling golden runes inscribed on each page. She began to read in a soft, slow voice, running one finger lightly over the words as she read so that Loki could follow along if he wanted. She felt rather than saw him unburrow himself slightly. Over the next several pages, he melted into her side until his head rested fully on the front of her shoulder. His own hand inched out, mimicking hers as he followed the runes, even though he was not yet old enough to read them himself. His breath was light and quick on her neck.
They reached the end of the book together, and Frigga closed it and laid it to the side. Turning, she pressed a quick kiss to Loki's forehead then met his eyes. "Do you want another one or are we all right for now?"
Loki's eyes had been slipping closed to drowsy slits but at her words they instantly widened again. His body stiffened against hers. "Don't go yet! Please." It hurt to hear the plea in his voice, as if he was afraid she might truly ignore his request.
She wrapped him in her arms. "I'm right here."
Her touch and simple words seemed to ease some of the child's distress, for he relaxed again and his eyes darted downward. He kneaded the edge of his blankets though with some anxious energy. When his voice came again, it was the same small whisper that had drawn her from her sleep. "I dreamed I was all alone. And I was cold."
His eyes met hers, wide, frightened, filled with a dread she could only scarcely imagine. "I don't want to be alone, Mama."
"And you're not, sweetheart," she answered. "Father's down the hall, Thor's across from us, and I'm right here. None of us are going anywhere. You're not alone."
Loki shivered and pressed closer. His words tickled against her skin. "If I go back to sleep, I'll be alone again. I'm afraid to go back to sleep."
She stroked his hair, held him close. "You don't have to sleep if you don't want to. But remember that you're never alone, Loki. Your family is here with you always."
His arms snaked out and around her in an awkward, childish hug. She returned his embrace, pulling him close and tight, reassuring him of her presence and devotion with her touch. "I love you, Mama," he murmured in a voice muffled by her shoulder, but his arms squeezed tighter when he said it.
For not the first time, Frigga felt sick at the thought that anyone could have abandoned this sweet, affectionate child, her stomach lurching at the thought of how close Loki had come to never being given the chance to live, to love, to be loved.
She kissed the top of his head. "I love you too, dearest."
Eventually, he fell asleep, still clinging to her side. Frigga breathed a quiet prayer that wherever his dreams took him, his family would be there at his side so he would not be alone.
All the same, she remained with him until the morning.
~o~o~o~
Frigga had not dreamed it would be this difficult. It was not as if it had come as a surprise, after all. It was the way of the worlds; boys did not remain boys forever. But it was still hard to think that her little boy had now reached manhood in such a publicly acknowledged manner.
Thor had been so proud when Odin had given him this assignment: spending a full year in Vanaheim as the emissary of Asgard, tasked with keeping the neighboring realm safe, maintaining peaceful relations with their allies, and providing any assistance that Lord Njörd needed of him. Of course, Thor had been to many of the other realms on numerous occasions (and Vanaheim was not exactly the other end of the universe) but never alone or for such an extended period of time. Frigga had worried that he was not ready for the task, but now she ruefully reflected that perhaps it was she who was not ready.
It seemed as if a piece of her had journeyed far away to Vanaheim along with her son, leaving behind a hole that would not be filled again until the long days of this year had passed.
She leaned against the palace window sill, gazing out towards the sparkling path leading away to the Bifröst and beyond to the vast expanses of empty, star-spotted cosmos that stretched between the realms. Somewhere out there – far, far beyond her reach now – was her son, living a life that no longer involved her directly. She hoped he remembered to keep up on his studies and didn't fool around with his Vanir friend Hogun too much. She hoped he didn't offend anyone with that rash tongue and fist of his and start a new war. She hoped he remembered to wash his socks every few months. A heavy sigh, weighed with all the worries of a century of parenthood, fell away into the ether.
"Worrying already, Mother?"
The smooth voice had an edge of familiar, fond mockery. A long shadow fell across the wall beside her and she turned as Loki joined her at the window. He was still clad in his formal attire, a combination of fabric, leather, and metal, and the green and gold glistened like dragonfire in the high light of the afternoon sun. Only his golden helmet had been discarded after the appointing ceremony, leaving his dark head bare and softening his profile as he leaned beside Frigga and offered her a roguish smirk. "I wouldn't concern yourself. Surely in only a single hour the worst thing that oaf could have managed is to knock over a tree or two with that brick-on-a-stick he calls a weapon." His lips pursed in a teasing frown. "On the other hand, I suppose it did only take him a few seconds to cave in that passage on Nidavellir…"
Frigga tried to look severe but couldn't quite manage it. "Show some respect to your brother, Loki. He's the official Heir of Asgard now and the Protector of the Nine Realms."
Loki raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? I must have somehow missed the five thousand times he'd mentioned that fact over the last three weeks."
Frigga slapped his shoulder, not enough to sting but enough to let him know of her Motherly Disapproval. Loki just gave her a lazy grin.
They both fell silent and Frigga returned her attention to the distant gatehouse from whence Thor had departed what already seemed like hours ago. The whole family had been there to see him off, along with Thor's closest friend, the Lady Sif, and the highest palace officials. Just as Heimdall activated the Bifröst portal, Thor had turned to all of them, lifting a lightning-studded Mjölnir above his head in a dramatic farewell, a broad smile on his face and his eyes dancing with the excitement of the unknown and adventure. In that moment, he had seemed so grown-up, a warrior and a prince of a great realm. Pride had swelled Frigga's heart, but at the same time, she could not help but wish that Thor had not been too grown-up to give his mother a final farewell hug.
Already Asgard seemed…different. Lacking somehow, as if Thor's physical presence lent an aura that made the golden city more beautiful, that made the encircling sea glint brighter, that made the whole realm stronger and prouder in her eyes. How could the absence of one person in her life make such a profound difference in everything? It seemed ludicrous that the child whose dirty face she had scrubbed a thousand times, who had sat squirming on the chair beside her as she taught him to read, whom she had instructed more times than she cared to count not to talk with his mouth full, was now a man living in an entirely different realm without her daily instruction and care to guide him. It was absurd to think that he did not need her, that he could live a perfectly fine and fulfilling life on his own, even if it was only for a year. Yet it was something she would need to grow accustomed to; the Protector of the Nine Realms would have duties in many places besides Asgard. But saying it to herself and accepting the reality of it in her heart were two entirely different matters.
A light hand descended on her shoulder and squeezed gently. When she met Loki's eyes, he gave her a reassuring smile which she did her best to return. Looking at Loki though, she could not help but think how much he had grown as well and how the Prince Regent of Asgard would soon enough have duties of his own to call him away from her side. Her two little boys had become handsome young men, each serving his realm in his own way, men of whom any mother should be proud. But for now, she was glad of the company of at least one of her sons as a familiar, comforting presence at her side. No need for both her sons to grow up too quickly…
"It will seem quiet here without him," she murmured. "It will be strange not hearing his voice at meals, not looking down into the palace grounds to watch him sparring with his friends, not seeing his lightning in the sky. I know he'll be all right. He's so like his father, so ready to live his life and change the worlds. He will do great things, Loki, and we will all be very proud of him. But part of me will always be the mother of that little boy who was forever dreaming of doing great things instead of actually doing them. How did it come to this, my son? How is it that those days have finally met their end and will never come again? When did all this happen, Loki?"
She pressed a hand to her lips. She had thought herself in full control of her emotions, capable of a steady voice and dry eyes, but now there was a knot in the back of her throat and the threatening tickle of moisture upon her cheeks.
She half-expected a jesting retort, but instead Loki gazed at her with keen, knowing eyes, perceptive of others' hearts as he always had been. Reaching up, he softly brushed the stray strands of golden hair that wisped over her cheeks and then he slipped his arms around her and pulled her into a close embrace. She sighed and held him back, resting her head on the front of his shoulder and squeezing him tightly. The threat of tears lingered in her eyes and throat, but the affectionate, reliable presence of her younger son was an anchor to cling to and find reassurance in when the world she had known for so many years was falling away at last. As if aware of the fragile state of his mother's emotions, Loki began rubbing her back with small circles that seemed to say I am here. You're not alone.
As a mother, she had comforted her son countless times, when he was sick, when he was upset, when he was scared; this role reversal was yet another odd sensation amongst many today. Awkward suddenly in this knowledge that she needed her boys as much as they had always needed her, she decided to brighten the mood – for Loki's sake of course, to show him that his mother was not completely losing it.
"I'm glad one of my sons is still not too old to give his mother a hug," she said, purposefully lightening her voice.
"Always, Mother," Loki said, his tone still serious, and he shifted so that a moment later his lips lightly pressed against her forehead. Then she felt him smile. "Thor will be all right. And just think how much more food and mead there will be to go around this place. And we'll all be able to finally get a good night's sleep without the disturbance of that infernal snoring of his. God of Thunder, hmph, God of Thunder, indeed. I wager it'll be less than a week before the Vanir send him back complaining that none of them are getting any sleep and that all their roast meat and mead has vanished."
Frigga could not help the smile that worked its way across her face. It was just like Loki to find his way into her heart to lighten it in such a manner. "You should not say such things, my son. He is your brother."
Loki just snickered and squeezed her shoulders.
~o~o~o~
Everything had happened so quickly that Frigga's mind was still trying to catch up. What felt like mere moments ago, she had been sitting at Odin's bedside, keeping her constant vigil over her husband's enchanted sleep. Beneath the trembling golden veil of magic, the Allfather's face was peaceful, yet so, so distant. These times had always been a trial in the past; when the king of Asgard slipped into his Odinsleep, it had fallen upon the queen to rule in his name. The last time it happened, Thor had been seven and Loki five, and Frigga had discovered that keeping a kingdom running and simultaneously managing two energetic boys was a stressful task at best. She could not count how many times during those months she had glared at that peaceful face of her husband and wished he would hurry up and return to the waking world to resume his duties.
This time was different, but this situation brought ample worries of its own. Odin was no longer a young man, and the enchantments took their toll more and more upon him as the years passed. Often enough, she had cursed the bargain Odin had struck with the magicians of Nornheim in his youth – the gift of foresight in exchange for these months he lay inert. During his sleep, he saw glimpses of many things, past, present, and future, but the price was being powerless to act upon anything he saw until he woke, weeks and sometimes months later, oftentimes ironically too late to change what he had foreseen. Such powerlessness grated upon a warrior king like Odin, but the less obvious price was the one Frigga paid during each of those long and lonely hours.
And this occasion, the Odinsleep could not have come during a worse time, could not have left Frigga feeling less confident or more desolate. Thor's sudden banishment to Midgard had left her disconsolate, even as she understood the importance of the lesson her husband sought to teach their son. But with Odin now cast deep into his enchanted slumber and the newly awoken threat of Jotunheim stirring again, never had Frigga more greatly desired the presence of her confident and courageous (if rash) older son.
At least this time she was not left to rule Asgard utterly alone. Despite the circumstances, she could not help but feel some measure of pride to see her son take up his father's spear. Yet, Loki's ascension to the throne of Asgard was another source of worry during this time of many worries. She loved her youngest, yet she feared he was not ready for this burden; Loki had not been trained to take the Asgardian throne as Thor had. Though there was no doubt that Loki was the more level-headed of the two princes, she worried he did not have the fortitude and confidence in himself that a king needed during a troubled time like this. Especially in light of what Loki had told her.
As the two of them had kept their devoted watch at Odin's side, Loki had revealed to her the story of his discovery on Jotunheim and Odin's subsequent unveiling of their long-held family secret. He seemed to have accepted the nature of his heritage well, Frigga thought, for he spoke of the revelation calmly, yet a twinge of unease lurked on the edge of her consciousness. As his mother, she was all too aware of Loki's skill at cloaking that which he did not want others to see. And even if he had truly made peace with his newfound identity, she feared such an abrupt change in his self-perception – coupled with his brother's banishment – would distract him from kingly duties which required a clear and undiverted mind.
All this had been going through Frigga's mind as she gazed down into Odin's face, silently wishing for him to wake. But then the Jotuns came.
Three of them, twice her height, their red eyes blazing in their patterned, blue faces. Long it had been since she had seen a Frost Giant in person – save for her son, of course – and the blast of cold that bit deep through her skin and froze her breath caught her initially off guard. Yet still her chilled fingers closed around the hilt of her sword as she stationed herself between Odin and the most ancient of Asgard's enemies. For there was no doubt why they were here, here in the inmost chambers of the palace of Asgard, here seeking out the helpless Allfather. Frigga would die, her heart frozen within her, before she allowed any of them to touch her loved ones. Yet she knew that fate might very well be what awaited her.
Confusion. Her blade piercing through thick, leathery skin. A shock of freezing pain. The world spun around her. Voices. The flash of Gungnir's brilliant light. A cry. Of triumph? Anger? Fear? She shook her head, trying to clear it, and realized she was slumped upon the floor. She heard Loki's voice, saw the second blast of Gungnir's light, heard the bellow of the third and last Jotun as he charged her son. Fighting back the cold dizziness, she cast aside reason and moved instead with the swift and strong instinct of a mother protecting her child. Loki spun around, one second too late, as the Jotun raised his icy dagger, but Frigga's blade was swifter. The final Jotun collapsed, and she and Loki stood across from one another, both breathing hard.
"Loki, you saved him."
She ran to him and flung herself into his arms and he caught her tightly, burying his face into her golden hair. Against her back, she could feel the cold shaft of Gungnir that Loki still grasped, and the cheekguard of his helmet pressed smooth against her forehead. She clung to him like a child seeking escape from a nightmare, reassuring herself that she had truly survived these last few moments and that those she loved were safe. Loki was shaking too – she sensed it deep in his chest, in his breathing, even though his hand was steady and soothing on her back.
"I swear to you, Mother, that they will pay for what they've done today."
She brushed aside his oath. It did not matter, not to her, not right now. Asgard had found the path to reconciliation and recompense with their foes for greater grievances than this in the past. Surely, it would be so again. And it seemed this time Odin's foresight in raising the prince of the Frost Giants as his own flesh and blood was worth the price of his long sleep. Laufey was now dead, the throne of Jotunheim empty, and the Heir a child of Asgard as much as of Jotunheim. Both her sons would take the thrones they were born to claim and Odin's dream of a united people would at last blossom into reality.
It had been foolish and unfair of her to doubt Loki's abilities. Both her sons were leaders, and surely that had been proven today. Asgard's king had bravely faced a threat to his people and to his mother and father and he had protected them all. Her son had been there for her and for the Allfather when they needed him the most. She could have asked no more of him.
Yet as she gazed deep into his eyes, a single concern flickered in the back of her thoughts. Given the circumstances, it was a foolish doubt she knew, nevertheless she could not shake it. There was something frightening in the fact that her quiet, pensive son had so readily struck down those whom he now knew to be of his own race, even the one who was his own biological father, notwithstanding the truth that Laufey certainly deserved no ounce of compassion from the child he had once forsaken to die all alone in the cold and dark. What it signified was doubtlessly that Loki's loyalty lay with the father and mother who had raised and loved him, not with the race and family who had abandoned him, but the worry persisted. Even if Laufey had been the aggressor, it did not sit entirely well with her that Loki would take a throne that he had received by slaying its predecessor. Moreover, there had been a cold gleam in Loki's eyes as he took Laufey's life and as he had stood in the aftermath of the fight looking across at her, a dark frost that she still could sense beneath his intense gaze. Frigga was unsure what that gleam signified, but it touched her heart with icy fingers of some unknown dread.
She shook the thought away. It did not matter. Today, her son was a hero, worthy to hold his father's scepter. Soon Odin would awaken, Thor would return, and everything would be well, a royal family united and strong once again.
Together.
~o~o~o~
Odin would not approve, but Frigga was not in the mood to care. She had faced the Allfather's wrath before and it had little power to daunt her after all these years. Odin's displeasure she could live with, but if she did not do this, she would never forgive herself for it.
There were two guards standing outside the door, waiting. It had taken a little persuading to convince them to delay the king's orders, but they had finally realized that facing the queen's wrath would be much worse than anything with which Odin could threaten them.
Frigga stopped when she reached the door, frozen for a moment with gnawing fear. These next minutes were likely to be excruciating, and in the end what good would such a visit really do? But no. This was something she needed, for her sake or his, she was not sure, but she could not simply walk away and pretend as if she had never had a second son.
She opened the door and walked in.
It was a simple room, unadorned and small, with a single, narrow window opposite to her, through which was a clear view of the Golden City and the sea beyond. And standing by the window, gazing outwards, was the man whom she had once called her son.
He still wore the chains he'd had on when the guards brought him before Odin. The purpose of those chains was three-fold: they hindered his movement, but they also were woven with powerful magic that counter-acted any illusions their wearer might attempt. But there was a further reason still. The collar clasped about the prisoner's throat had no practical purpose; it was simply a symbol of domination and humiliation, an uncomfortable and degrading reminder that the wearer was a traitor and enemy of the highest rank, a message that you are a disgrace to Asgard.
A single flick of Frigga's hand was all it took and the chains fell from Loki's body to clatter to the floor at his feet. She did not fear him. She had taught him his magic, and the queen of Asgard was more than a match for anything he might attempt.
Loki turned to her slowly, his face betraying nothing of what was happening behind his glinting eyes. He inclined his head to her and when he spoke, his voice was smooth. "Mother."
She stared at him. Now that she was here, she did not know if she had any words to speak. What words could possibly suffice? She had thought him dead for over a year, mourned both his treachery and his fall, only to have rumors surface mere months ago, rumors which quickly turned so terrible that any joy Frigga might have felt at learning that her son lived was rapidly crushed by the knowledge that her child had become something monstrous.
She looked at him and tried to make some sense of the agonizing turmoil in her heart. Who was this man with his long, loose hair and sneering lips, with his accusing eyes and biting words? Surely, he was not her son. This man was more mature than the child she had lost, but not in a way that suited him. Loki had always had a caustic edge, but what radiated from him now was a raging cynicism and a deep bitterness against the world, boiling poisonously underneath the smooth face and thin, quirked lips. The fire in his eyes made Frigga shudder deep inside. Before she had seen him, she had hoped the rumors were over-exaggerated. Thor had informed them otherwise, but it was her own eyes that had to confirm the awful truth once and for all that she no longer knew her son.
"Why?" Why had he done this to them? Why had he thrown away everything he had? Why have you made me lose you yet again?
Loki pursed his lips. There was no sign now of that mocking young man who had greeted her so flippantly in the throne room only an hour or so earlier, making a cruel jest of both his own misdeeds and her pain. He drew his brows together pensively. "Why," he said slowly, as if tasting the word on his tongue. "Why. Such a simple word, a simple question, yet there are so many answers. Where to start?"
His eyes flickered up to hers, his gaze piercing. "It seems to be the question on everyone's mind recently when they look at me. Why, why, why, Loki? But what about you, Mother dearest? I would think you and the Allfather deserve at least a few whys of your own. But if I should ask, would I ever get an answer? And if I am unworthy of receiving an answer, is there any reason I should feel compelled to give one?"
Frigga's limbs felt frozen and heavy, as if in a nightmare of ice and pursuing wolves. "You know we loved–"
"No!" Loki interrupted her in a harsh voice. "No, I don't want to hear your sentimentalities. I want to know why I am cast as the villain when you were the ones who made me what I am."
Frigga straightened, refusing to let herself be intimidated. "We make ourselves, Loki. We gave you many tools to make your own life, and a good life at that. But if this is what you have chosen to make of our instruction and your gifts, then you must accept the consequences of your own actions. That is the truth."
Loki smiled then, but it was a bitter smile on a face Frigga did not know. "But do you truly believe that? You and the Allfather have always played with words to suit your purposes. You speak of truth, ah, but you lied to me, Mother, you and the Allfather both. You told me I was destined for something. You told me you cared, that you were my family, that I would always have someone. Am I to be blamed for stripping the lies away, for revealing the monster that you hid so carefully for so many years? Am I to be blamed for the truth?"
"I will not play word games with you," Frigga answered sharply. "You have conjured up a truth in your mind as false as your illusions."
Loki's smile was razor sharp. "Ah, are we mincing words now? 'False as my illusions'? And yet, who was it who taught me those illusions? And if mine are false, then what shall we say of yours? Who was it who wrought the greatest illusion of all, the one that deceived me for nine hundred years: the illusion that I was ever part of Asgard?"
"Say what you will, but we both know that was no illusion until you made it one."
"Do you deny it then? That you lied to me? That you deceived me?"
"We told you what we truly believed," Frigga said. "And we kept from you what we feared would bring harm. We only ever sought to protect you."
A ghost of his smile still flickered around Loki's lips though now there was a deadly cold in his eyes. He linked his hands behind his back. "I see," he replied, pensive and frighteningly calm once again. He furrowed his brow. "How odd. If you wish to tell a lie or two, it is of little consequence, beneficial even – something to protect – yet upon my lips, a lie becomes something vile. Odd indeed."
He tilted his head, his expression one of mock curiosity. "And herein lies the great irony, Mother. You had my trust, you know, always. Yet it was lies that won you that trust and finally it was the truths that drove me away." He shook his head. "I must say, hardly a commendable incentive for me to feel any love for this tricky little sentiment you call truth."
Who was this new Loki? This Loki who still knew how to find his way into her heart, but now only to break it?
That false smile flickered across his face again, wide yet mirthless, bitter as pain. "Do you know what I told the Midgardians? I told them Freedom is life's great lie. None of us are free, are we, not you, not me? We all find ourselves bound by something in the end, our dreams wrenched out of our clutching fists by some greater power or another. Some of us are just more obviously prisoners than others."
Frigga stepped towards him, her hands quivering to reach out to him yet terrified of how he might respond to any sign of affection from her. "If that is what you believe, then I fear there is even less hope than I thought."
"Hope?" Loki raised his eyebrows, his lips twisting. "Oh Mother, did you truly come here to me thinking there was hope? There is nothing left for me, only the cell that your husband has condemned me to for as long as the realms can stand to have me in them."
He stared out the window, as if devouring the last sight of the outside world he would ever receive. When he looked at her again, his eyes had softened, almost imperceptibly, but for a moment, she thought she glimpsed her son. "You always believed in me, didn't you?" he said in a voice that was little more than a whisper. "At the very least, you always thought there was something in me that was worth more than pity. And at the very least, I suppose I should thank you for that. Yet, I find gratitude is a difficult sentiment for me to come by these days."
It was the most she would ever receive from him, she knew. Yet she could not let him go without an answer of her own, the truth, whether he believed it or not. She reached out and took his hands. "You were my son from the moment I first held you," she whispered. "I have loved you, Loki, always. And I will always love you."
Loki looked down at their linked hands and she could not see his expression, but he did not recoil from her as she had feared he might. She looked down too and squeezed those hands, hoping that if he did not trust the truth of her words, he would trust the truth of her touch. For a moment, she could not help but linger on the innocent blood those hands had shed, on the destruction they had wrought, those same hands that had brought her bouquets of flowers on her birthday, that had traced the runes of countless books along with her, that had rubbed comforting circles into her back that had seemed so much like promises once upon a time. It was only then that she saw the falsehood her heart had been trying to weave to ensnare her all this time – the lie that this strange man before her had returned in place of her beloved son who was dead. But it was not true, and as she gazed down upon their joined hands, she knew that no, he was hers, forever and ever, her child, her little boy, until the worlds ended, and what he had done could never undo that truth…
A knock sounded on the door. The guards had come to take her son to the cell that was to be his home the rest of his life. It was over.
She did not expect it, but when it came she realized how much she had been longing for it. Loki embraced her suddenly and fiercely, clasping her to himself as if she was the air he breathed. He buried his face in her hair, and his breath against her neck was hot and quick. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, felt his silky hair against her cheek, pressed her face to him, and held him as if he was the hope that made life worth living. His heartbeat was a frantic flutter in his chest, and she realized how carefully he'd been concealing his terror from her these last few minutes. For a moment, she half-expected to hear a small, frightened voice (Mama, I'm afraid) but it did not come. Inside her, something broke that would never quite be the same again.
He dragged himself away from her at last and turned as the door opened to admit the guards. For a last second as he turned, she met his eyes and they were wide with the dread of one haunted by dreams darker than she dared imagine. But he met the guards with shoulders squared and head held high, and despite the crippling pain from that newly broken part of her, Frigga was proud that at the very least her son was meeting his fate with all the dignity of a prince of Asgard.
It was only as she watched the tall, straight shadow of her son, flanked by two grim guards as he faded down the dark hallway, that she realized the full import of the desperateness of that last embrace. Loki's sentence was such that he would never again know the touch of another person. She had been the recipient of the last time he could ever show another being whatever remnant of love still lingered in his damaged heart. At that thought, she knew that last moment with him would burn with torment in her forever, yet she also knew she would treasure the memory of his last embrace always.
As Frigga finally lost sight of them, it seemed as if some piece of her would be imprisoned in that cell alongside her son where it would dwell until the end of her life, leaving behind a hole that would never again be filled.
Her son was alone and her family was broken forever.