Months passed and the time since the conflict on Midgard had been nearly a year.
Once again, Frigga went to visit her son in his cell beneath the city.
He was lying on the bed, with one arm extended languidly above the headboard, staring unseeingly up at the ceiling.
At her entrance he rolled to a seated position. He didn't quite meet her eyes.
"What today?" he asked.
Frigga took her accustomed seat. "Hello Loki," she said. She gave him a smile that was only a little strained. "How have you been?"
He shot her a suspicious glance.
"I have a headache that won't go away," he said, finally.
He was fidgeting. Uneasy. It did not escape her.
"I am sorry to hear that," she said. "I could bring something…"
He shrugged and his eyes flickered up to meet hers. "Don't bother." He got to his feet, going to look out of the glowing barriers, putting his back towards her. "It will go away on its own eventually," he gave her a quick glance from behind his shoulder, "everything does."
Ignoring his sullen tone, Frigga smoothed her skirts. "You have not seen your father recently," she said.
"No," Loki murmured. "I'm sure he's busy. He sent three prisoners to cells further down, which tells me the more conveniently located cells are full. I'd imagine his wars go very well. It's all been very diverting for me. Sometimes," he almost looked at her then, his mouth tilted sarcastically, "the guards turn left, instead of merely turning about and coming straight back."
Watching him with her head tipped a little to one side, Frigga sighed.
Loki's hand came up slowly, like he didn't notice it, and pushed at a place in his chest. He took a long breath.
Frigga waited, to see if he might speak, but he did not. He didn't so much as turn from the barrier.
Then, straightening her skirt again, Frigga said, "What purpose did you have, Loki? In all that you did."
"Oh," he gave a breathy laugh, "this again? Can we talk of nothing else?"
She eyed the hard set of his shoulders coolly. "Is there anything of equal importance?"
His head dipped down, "You'd know better than I," he straightened.
"Well?"
"I did it," he turned around, his mouth quirked in a smile that was all angles, "to make you as proud," he caught his breath, "as you were of Thor."
The smile was not in his eyes, but she had come to expect that.
"Your father believes it so," she said. "He claims that your hunger is insatiable and that it is useless for me to placate you with visits."
"Oh," he purred lowly, his back to her again, "But you don't?"
Even with his back to her, she could see he was out of breath.
More out of breath than he ought to be.
Frigga rose to her feet. "Loki," she said, "What's wrong?"
Dragging an awful breath, he looked at her. His skin was white and covered with a sheen of sweat. "What's wrong?" he rasped. Breathlessly, he started to laugh. His hand pressed against the center of his chest, his fingers fisting unconsciously in the material.
"Come here," she said, "You need to sit down." She took his arm and led him to the bed.
Tripping over his foot, he complied, folding double on the bed over his arm. The hand that shielded his face was shaking.
Frigga sat beside him. Finding the hand that fisted against his side, she worked it gently open and took it.
Loki's hand closed around hers.
"Just breathe," she said. "Just breathe, Loki."
Finally, the tension began to ease out of him. His breaths became easier.
He did not let go of her hand, and she didn't know if it was because he did not remember taking it, or if he was only feigning that slip.
Either way, she gave it no attention.
When he had been quiet some time, she asked, "Are you all right?"
Drawing a long, shuddering breath, Loki lifted his face out of his hand and only half-covered his chin with it. "Fantastic," he drawled.
Heartened, Frigga almost smiled. "Has," she thought about the question and at length decided, "that, happened before?"
Loki rubbed his eyes. "Does it matter?"
"It matters to me," she said. Unconsciously, her hand had tightened on his, and he drew his away.
Finally, he looked at her over his folded hands. "A few times."
Looking at him, her head tilted a little to one side. The place behind her eyes pricked. "And your headache?" Unconsciously, she raised one hand, brushing a lock of hair from his face.
Drawing a breath he looked away and he rose to his feet. "I'm fine," he said roughly.
Getting to her feet, Frigga went one step after him before she stopped herself. "I've always been proud of you," she said. His head turned sharply away from her so she could see none of his face. "Why," she whispered, "won't you come back to me?"
He didn't say anything, and he didn't turn.
She waited until her voice was hers once again.
She lifted her head.
In all that time, he had not moved.
Lifting her skirts, she took her leave.