Title: A mother's love (part 3).
Summary: A mother's love is a fearsome thing. Or, in which Frigga takes matters in her own hands.
Words: 4496.
Warnings, disclaimer, etc, are in the first post.
AN: Holy crap, this is almost as large as the first two parts combined, I counted.
Everyone has been so nice that I'm terrified of posting this and ruining everything. But well, this is it. The characters practically wrote themselves, basically stealing my fingers for their purposes. I blame Loki and his devious ways.
I hope you girls/guys can enjoy this!
"Father," Thor greeted as he entered the deserted balcony just outside of the Throne Room. They stood there, side by side, silently watching the awakening of a new day, slowly the sky lightened in the horizon and the countless stars dimmed and dissapeared form sight, one by one. This brought many memories to the surface for Thor; memories of standing shoulder to shoulder with his brother, watching and waiting for something that would never happen, for answers that were as intangible as Loki's illusions. This balcony was Loki's favourite place to think when he was feeling restless. Lately it had become Thor's favourite place to think about his little brother.
However, right now he didn't want to try to understand where everything had gone wrong, what part he had played in Loki's madness or what could've been prevented if he had been a better man earlier, if he had been a better brother. Now he wanted the answer to a question he hadn't dared to ask before but that had been gnawing at him since that eventful day Frigga had spectacularly chewed out and spit out her husband.
"Do you believe that mother will be able to bring Loki back to us?" He shouldn't doubt her, his mind told him, but his heart didn't listen and he couldn't help but being sick with worry for both of them.
He was surprised to see a smile on Odin's face, a little on the grim side but a smile nonetheless.
"If anyone can outthink Loki and make him come back on his volition that's your mother."
Thor's mind blanked at the information.
"Outthink Loki?" He parroted stupidly.
In his defence it can be said that in all his years of gallivanting around the nine realms with his friends and his brother Thor had never been witness to such a thing. It was Loki who always lied his way out of trouble, who tricked his enemies into doing what he wanted done or who came up with plans and back-up plans and back-up plans for the back-up plans. If Loki had ever been outwitted then he had covered his shame too well.
Odin directed an amused look at him.
"You are strong son and, as of now, wiser; but you are also very young in the great scheme of things and so is Loki." Odin's lone eye wandered over Asgard, not looking at anything in particular. "There are many things you have yet to learn."
"I know that! Well... I know that now," he amended after receiving a particularly heated glare. "But mother? Really?"
Odin sighed but his eye was still shinning with mild amusement.
"Every master once had a teacher. Even the God of Lies had to learn his craft from somewhere. And although you mother isn't particularly fond of lies, her sharp tongue and faster wit made a deadly combination to fight against, my son; many opponents had been forced to admit defeat in the political arena, least they be shamed even more by her."
Thor stared at his father. He opened his mouth to say something but ended up closing it again with a resounding snap of teeth. He turned his eyes at the rising sun, a pensive and slightly bewildered expression on his face.
"Mother, huh? Who would have thought of it?" Thor murmured to himself.
'Indeed,' thought Odin.
It was early morning in New Mexico. In the refurbished gas station that was Jane's lab and home, five people sat around a square table. One side was occupied by Loki and Frigga, on the other side the three humans, who introduced themselves as Jane Foster, Darcy Lewis and Erik Selvig, were huddled, half in awe at them and half terrified for their lives, the latter because of the closeness of Loki's presence, of course.
Loki took a cautious sip from the strange beverage he had been offered. Coffee, he reminded himself. It was hot and the bitterness picked at his tongue playfully; all in all it wasn't bad, especially as it dispelled the sleepiness that stubbornly clung to his eyes. He surveyed his surroundings, careful to conceal his distaste from his mother ever watchful eyes. The last thing his pride needed at present time was a public scolding for being ungrateful. His attention returned to the humans as yet another question was asked. Honestly! If his mother didn't mind the questioning or if she was merely being a thoughtful guest by answering Thor's woman questions, Loki couldn't say. His mother poker face could rival his own.
He set his empty cup on the table and decided that the distrustful glances sent his way had gotten old. He stood.
"I am going to be on the roof," Loki announced, more to his mother's benefit than the humans'. He honestly couldn't care less about any of them but he didn't want to say something regrettable either.
Frigga smiled at him and patted his washed hair fondly. He rolled his eyes at her mothering but returned the smile all the same, much to the humans' shock. Seriously, what did they take him for? He may be mischievous and a little evil... ok, maybe more than a little evil, but he wasn't heartless, not entirely.
Loki sat on the recliner with a sigh and had to tug his ill-fitting pants before being semi-comfortable. It took a great deal of self-restraint not to magic them into something better suited for him. Selvig had been gracious enough to lend him clothes and it would be a show of poor manners to transform them... Oh, who was he kidding? With a wave of his hand the brown pants were longer, black and looked new. They also fit. Happier, Loki reclined on the chair and let his gaze wander aimlessly.
Last night had been a roller coaster of emotions to Loki and he had spent a good portion of the day dreading the moment he was free to approach them. That moment was now, apparently. His anger and disappointment at being lied to for his entire life had not subsided at all, but it was, in certain way, tamer, less wild and less likely to drive him into another bout of madness. He could admit now that his actions since Thor's banishment had been fuelled first by his fury and later by a raging and all-encompassing madness as well as desperation. When he was crowned King of Asgard he had felt as if he was running out of time, he had felt that if he didn't do something drastic to prove himself worthy then everything would be lost to him; his family, his friends, his kingdom, his sense of self, everything, lost forever in the ether. He had been so disgusted with himself, he had hated what he was so much that he had thought... he had thought that by destroying Jotunheim then he wouldn't have to be one of them.
Loki snorted to himself. By destroying Jotunheim all he would've accomplished was to be the only remaining monster. Nothing would've changed for the better. He would've remained a monster and everyone would've hated him. Well, in a sense he had accomplished exactly that, he was hated and he obviously was a monster, by birth and now by his own actions. He could see all of that now, all the flaws in his thoughts, the gaps in his plans.
The second prince closed his eyes. There was another feeling there, a feeling just as strong as his hatred. It was... fear. He hated to admit to such a weakness but his actions had been greatly fuelled by fear; fear of never being able to belong, of being hated and scorned by everyone he held dear. Fear of being abandoned by his adoptive family, just like Laufey had abandoned him at birth for things out of his control. Fear of being alone.
It was no wonder he had exploded. Even now, with rationality reasserted, he felt as if he was walking next to a precipice or jumping in the tight rope that divided sanity from insanity, a rope that was as wide and strong as dental floss.
It was truly ironic that all his efforts to prevent all of that had ended exactly where he didn't want to end: in him being hated, feared and alone. Well, not exactly alone, he amended. His mother was here; she had followed him, found him and had managed to pull him out from that cold and dark hole he had dug for himself. Loki smiled softly at the memory before reality came crashing back.
He wasn't sure what was it that Frigga wanted or under what notions she was. He was sure of one thing, however, and it was that he couldn't, under any circumstance, set foot on Asgard again. He was a traitor and a criminal; there was no doubt about that in his mind. And he knew Odin; it would be a nicer fate to die that whatever punishment the All-Father would come up with for him.
Where did that left him then? He looked around himself, at the little town he had half-destroyed, at the reparation being made and the mortals who scurried around like ants, lifting materials, chatting with each other and laughing always laughing and smiling. He couldn't understand how they could laugh after what had happened to them, to their homes, their lives, their friends. He didn't understand them. He looked beyond this immediate place, at the world as a whole. Midgard. Such a lowly place but filled with so much unrealized potential. Barely a week and a half ago he would've loved nothing more than conquering this piece of rock, if only because it would make Thor hurt like Loki had been hurt. Now, now it suddenly didn't seem feasible. Kingship was not suited for him. Ruling was boring, a never ending and ungrateful task. He preferred chaos and mischief and none of those sat well with the responsibility and tedium that leadership required.
Well, it was good to know a bit more about himself, but that didn't dispel his doubts about his future.
"I will never stop wondering what happens inside in that head of yours." Loki blinked and focused in the bizarre picture of the regal queen of Asgard climbing the stairs like a commoner. Not that there were many ways to climb a stair but still.
"Believe me mother, you do not want to know," Loki commented wryly, watching her as she took the other seat.
"I always want to know," she said with no hesitation, like it should be the most obvious thing in the world and to her it was, a mother always wanted to know what was happening to her children, what ailed them, what scared them, what made them happy or sad or angry, everything. A long time ago Loki had told her everything but that time was in the past. Nowadays Loki's mind was a labyrinth wrapped into a riddle and where the only key was an illusion.
Loki looked away.
"I was just thinking," at that Frigga's smile turned indulgent and something suspiciously like a blush blossomed in his cheeks.
"About what?" She encouraged when it was obvious that he didn't plan to keep the conversation alive.
"A bit of everything," was the noncommittal answer but it wasn't a dismissal so she waited. He tried to organize his thoughts; he had never had so much trouble in finding words to explain something. Then again, he had never been in a situation quite like this one. "I was thinking of the possibilities that lay ahead in my path. They are not very promising," he added with a sardonic smile on his face.
Frigga looked at him for what seemed like an eternity, gauging both his words and the minute expressions that betrayed his inner conflict.
"They are not as bad as they seem, though."
Loki's head whipped around to look at her incredulously.
"How could they not? I am an enemy of Asgard, whatever remains of Jotunheim surely is out for my blood, not that I don't deserve it, and I wasn't very subtle here on Midgard either," he waved his arms around, pointing at the scars his attack had left behind. "They aren't as bad as they seem, they are worse."
"Son," she put a hand on a trembling arm, forcing his attention to focus on her, "I wouldn't dream of making such a statement without being sure. Things at home are tense but you haven't been branded as an enemy. Few people know exactly what really happened at the bridge. There are rumours, of course, but they are just that, rumours," she assured. "Besides, your brother and father miss you terribly."
Loki's mouth worked silently for a while until he finally managed to find his voice.
"They want me back?" The question was barely a whisper, wobbly and incredulous but its tone betrayed a grudging kind of hope.
"Asgard it's not the same without its trickster to keep all of us in our toes."
Loki looked at her smile in disbelief. What happened next was like an avalanche. First it was a quiet chuckle, then another one but louder and then a torrent of laugher tore itself from his throat. He laughed and laughed until his sides hurt and his eyes were full of tears that were a mixture of relief and a by-product of his sudden attack. Finally the laugher died out into quiet chucked and random giggles.
And then reality reared its ugly mug again.
"That may be true," and he was smiling again, "but Father is still King. He can't let my actions slide unpunished."
His mother sighed. "That is true, but you can make amends beforehand. Actions made in good-will will lessen your punishment a great deal."
"Supposing that father lets me make those amends," drawled the black-haired god.
Here Frigga's sweet smile turned positively evil. "He will."
Loki didn't doubt it. Just as he didn't doubt that right about now a full-body shudder would be wracking Heimdall's body.
A sigh escaped Loki and he lowered his gaze; he flexed his hands and green sparks exploded form his fingertips, without any effort at all he made them dance between his fingers, changing its colour to reflect the colours of the Rainbow Bridge. He really, really wanted to believe in her words and all that they implied: that he was loved in spite of how abnormal he was, that he would be accepted back and eventually forgiven, that he had a home and Asgard was it. He wanted to believe it so badly that it physically hurt him to deny himself the option. He had acted on his emotions before and look where it brought him, no, he had to consider his next step rationally and from every angle before even thinking of acting. It didn't matter that he longed to take her hand and let her guide him home like the child he wasn't anymore. Nothing was ever that simple, much less his life. He didn't notice the moment his magic hissed in defeat and disappeared.
The sun was high in the sky, the temperature going up to match the brightness of the star. Midgard was a lot hotter than Asgard, Frigga noted absently as she gave Loki the space he had wordlessly requested although she kept her eyes trained on him, as if afraid he would disappear in a whiff of smoke. When Loki was concerned it was entirely possible. She watched sparks lit and arch from fingertip to fingertip in a mesmerizing dance that lighted his sharp features and thoughtful expression. The goddess couldn't help but smile at the sight. That was a beginner trick for aspiring sorcerers, one that she had personally taught him long ago. It took months for his eyebrows to grow back after his first attempt, she remembered that Thor had teased him mercilessly for years afterwards, until Loki soundlessly defeated him with his sorcery, that's it. She had been surprised that the incident hadn't scared Loki off, at least temporally, from magic of any kind; instead it only fuelled his determination to wrestle his gift into submission.
When Loki's magic waned with a hiss of discontent that mirrored his demeanour Frigga knew it was time to pull him back from the downwards spiral of his overactive thoughts. She abandoned her recliner and kneeled on the hard surface of the roof next to his tense form. He didn't seem to notice her but she knew otherwise, he was always alert, even, or especially, around family. She rested her left hand on his cheek and was greeted by the emotionless mask Loki had masterfully crafted in his childhood to prevent the taunts and hurtful words of the court to reach him. She knew that they hurt anyway. The return of the emotionless visage after all that had already been said told her more about his inner turmoil than any words he could utter or any lie he could spin.
"Son," the word left her lips like a blessing but said no more. Instead she waited for him to meet her midway, for she hadn't come here to force him into anything, she had come to help and to build new and sturdier bridges between them. With light touches she brushed his long hair out of the way of his gleaming eyes. They were so green, greener than the leaves of her plants under the summer sun. He wore his skin so well that it was hard to imagine that none of it was his natural colour, just as it was easy to forget that he was no more an Æsir than she was a dwarf.
"How can I make any of this better? Let's be real mother, I won't be welcomed back, I'm not a good man, I will never be a good man and I have done too much damage, a million words won't be enough to erase it, a gesture of good-will won't repair Jotunheim or the Bifröst or this little town." He spoke passionately but there was an undercurrent of defeat in his tone that made Frigga bristle internally. Yes, his mistakes had been great, his actions terrible but it shouldn't have been enough to topple her proud trickster, and it shouldn't be enough to defeat him. With a start she realized that it wasn't the tangible consequences of his madness that were weighting him down so greatly but the intangible damage made by centuries of lies, of words not spoken, of hurt.
Frigga almost growled out loud. If she couldn't mend this chasm somehow she was going to strangle her dear husband into an early Odinsleep for this.
"Then do more, still your silver tongue and forget your honeyed words, take action instead, show the Nine Realms, show Odin that you regret what your hasty actions caused. Do not speak, do not over think everything, act for once and allow those actions to tell the true of your intentions."
If she hadn't been so close to her son she would've missed the flicker of emotion in those hard emeralds, the spark that her words ignited. When he spoke his voice was so soft that she had to strain her ears to hear it.
"Do you... do you really think..." he gulped and looked away embarrassed by his sudden lack of eloquence, his long hair like an imprenetrable wall between them. "How can I make this better?" He repeated.
Exasperated at last Frigga grabbed his hair -it had always been the easiest way to still him as a child- and forced him to look at her in the eyes. Under any other circumstances his wide eyes would've made her smile, but not today. When she spoke nothing but conviction left her mouth.
"You can because you are Loki, son of Odin All-Father and brother to the Almighty Thor, prince of Asgard and Jotunheim, God of Mischief and God of Lies, Loki Silvertongue, Loki the Sly One," as the list grew, green eyes gained a new sheen, a fire that had been all but extinguished this past day roared anew as each title was mentioned; no matter how painful some of them were to his ears, they were his, he had gained them, some of them fairly and some of them had been bestowed to him in mockery. But no matter the cause, he had lived up to all of them at some point or another. Comprehension finally dawned on his green eyes.
"I am also the son of Laufey the Cruel," and how he hated that fact. Carefully he disentangled her hands from his abused hair, not before his mother gave him another reproachful tug though, and kept them trapped in his larger ones for comfort as much as for the safety of his poor scalp, "and son of Frigga the All-Mother, Queen of Asgard."
"Yes, you are my precious son and I know you will find a solution. I have faith in you Loki."
If nothing else it was that last part that did it. Loki's eyes widened in surprise, taken off-guard by her candid words as well as their alien nature for him, his breath caught in his throat and for a painful second he thought he was dying, but no, the pain in his chest didn't come from any kind of physical injury. For once the mortifying warmth that blossomed in his cheeks was welcomed because it encompassed his entire body and chased the constant threat of the frost away. It took him a couple of seconds but Loki once more demonstrated that there was more strength in him than what his lean body reflected. Loki's spirit may've been doused by Odin's thoughtless words and his difficult travel through the In Between, but it hadn't been extinguished. It was impossible to extinguish that which cannot be contained, for Loki was made of untamable fire to his core, as unlikely as that statement seemed, he was volatile and destructive yet new and better things grew where he once set everything ablaze. At the same time he was cold, hard and unmovable and for that he was susceptible of breaking, as recent experience proved. It was a difficult combination and one that worked perfectly, never ending fire turning unforgivable ice into flowing water, slippery and adaptable.
It was like a switch somewhere in Loki's mind had been flipped, although Frigga knew that the truth was nowhere near that simple for her son rarely was simple. It's enough for now, thought Frigga, as a mischievous smile started to form on his son's face, growing more exited as ideas started to flow and take shape in the never ending labyrinth of his mind.
Three days later Frigga was ready to start the travel back to Asgard although Loki would not be coming with her. As much as it pained her to leave without him it was for the best. She needed time to wear Odin out, blunt force had worked once but it wouldn't work twice, the work ahead of her required a softer touch and even sweeter words. There was no doubt in Frigga's mind that she would make it work.
Unsurprisingly, Loki agreed with her, both of them knew that it was because he wasn't ready quite yet for the inevitable meeting with his adoptive father. It came as a surprise that he decided to stay on Midgard for a little longer, to recover completely he had said; she suspected that it had more to do with the vast destruction he had been eyeing with a contemplative frown for the past days but chose not to mention it. More than anything Frigga was worried about his destination after the business in Midgard was concluded. Jotunheim was not a kind world, it had never been, and she could only imagine how much worse it would be now, half destroyed and full of desperate and enraged frost giants. Regardless of what she felt she was confident in his abilities, physical and otherwise.
"Be careful on your way, mother."
If she wasn't such a refined lady Frigga would've rolled her eyes. Instead he drew her son into a crushing hug he returned, hesitantly at first, until it was obvious that she was not going to push him away so he relaxed and tightened his hold.
"It is me who should be saying that to you, Loki."
He huffed a laugh. "I am always careful."
Frigga pulled back just enough to glare at him. "Only when it suits you." Loki had the gall to haughtily raise an eyebrow at her. "I want you back in one piece and still breathing, do you understand young man?"
"Yes, mother," came the mocking response from the trickster, which gained him a swat to the head and a chiding look, both of them went ignored by him as per usual. "Worry not my Queen, for I seem to remember an appointment with a certain bridge to get to, after all."
"That too." Frigga tried to keep a stern visage but was soon overcome by emotion. She freed him from her embrace but retained one of his hands in a too tight grip for being casual. Loki caught her distraught expression and his eyes softened, he gently squeezed her hand in response hoping that his own expression was reassuring.
"I will be back," and that was a promise he would keep even if it killed him, but preferably if it didn't.
No extra words were exchanged, they had said enough in the past days and more words would only spoil the moment. He walked with her until they were out of sight and with a last hug, which he returned maybe a bit more tightly than required.
"Farewell son," with a last squeeze of his hand the goddess slipped from this realm and into the mysterious paths of Yggdrasil.
"Farewell mother," Loki's voice was softer than his already soft tones and it followed after her like magical fireflies and into the hungry darkness of the void.
For what seemed like an eternity Loki stayed rooted to that spot, mind blissfully silent for the first time in... forever really, now that he thought about it. Slowly and almost timidly a real smile formed on his lips until it practically lit his entire face, and for once he didn't bother to hide it nor did he try to stifle it, for once he didn't care if it was seen as a weakness, for once in a long time he was, dare he say it, content. Not quite happy but far from falling into that dark pool of emotion that had defined his existence for so long.
As he stood alone in the desert, as he looked up towards the glaring sun and beyond, mindless of the sting its glare caused to his eyes, Loki dared to hope.
The End.
Uploaded: 12/05/2012.
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