A/N: Frigga being kinda hardcore.
Frigga came down to the dungeons in person for once, not as an illusion, and shooed away all the guards. "I have something to show you," she said, patting the sack she had brought.
Loki wasn't sure he had ever in his life been this grateful for a present. He tried not to bounce around and ask what is it, but as she conjured a table and a candlestick to see by he couldn't help saying just that – about a dozen times.
"This," she said at last, and opened the sack to reveal his spellbook.
Loki couldn't breathe. His spellbook, his, the enormous volume that he had been writing in since childhood. The book where he had recorded all of his research, his experiments and improvements and triumphs. He privately believed that no sorcerer in any realm, ever, had had a compilation like this. He'd had the best libraries to study from, excellent teachers, excellent talent. He'd done work on magics from across the universe. Written everything down and kept it secret. His private stash of knowledge, which even Odin didn't know how to open.
"How did you get that?" he whispered. She had told him, early on, that his rooms had been sealed up and all access forbidden.
She sighed. "Your father has finally decided to clear out your chambers, and I can guess what he plans to do with your things. I slipped in while the guards were working and spirited this away."
She had run a terrible risk, he knew that at once. Odin would be furious if he found out that such a dangerous artifact had escaped the purge.
Still, he was glad she'd done it. If anything had happened to it... It was his greatest pride, the sum total of his life's work. Irreplaceable.
Frigga was running her hand over the heavy cover. "May I?" she said softly.
"Of course." He spoke the words to open it – it would open for none but him – and watched as she bent to read.
"You've done fantastic work, Loki," she said, turning pages.
"I know." The cage's barriers shimmered the air, which meant he couldn't really read along with her – only watch the candlelight flicker over the text, watch as his frenzied cramped handwriting gave way to smoother, more flowing penmanship as he grew older and more confident. "I don't believe there's any finer spellbook in all the realms."
At that, Frigga looked up with arched eyebrows. "You have never seen mine." Then she smiled and bent her head to read more. "No, you're right. You've made a much more thorough study than I have of certain fields. Although…" He caught a glimpse of an illustration and realized she was reading through a sex spell. "It seems they are not all fields whose study I would have advised and encouraged."
"Ah… sorry."
She was still flipping through sex pages. "Don't apologize. It seems your research was quite, ahem, thorough. I applaud your sense of dedication."
"Mother." He gestured for her to turn to another section. Cheeks burning. "Please."
"Oh, very well." She moved on, reading through some of his other work. "You would have been devastated if this were destroyed."
He nodded. Even the idea hurt. "I miss it," he admitted. "I wouldn't complain about Father's sentence at all, if he'd only let me have my book and a couple of pens. I could be… doing something."
He wondered whether Frigga had any way of sneaking it in to him. If she would dare.
"Well, that's out of the question," she said bluntly, and he tried not to feel disappointed. "I assume, as a second choice, you would want me to take charge of it?"
"Yes." He'd always meant it to go to her if something happened to him. She was the one who would appreciate it, would honor everything he'd done. His work should be passed on to those who could use it. "In the event I'm not able to keep it myself… I would want you to have it."
She sighed. "I'm sorry, Loki. But your father wouldn't take kindly to my passing it in to you. And he doesn't seem about to release you anytime soon."
"I know." He found himself pacing. "For some reason I cannot fathom, Odin seems to have taken issue with my behaving exactly the way he does."
He glanced up and saw Frigga looking at him full on, pained and sorrowful. "He's right," she said slowly – as if believing it for the first time. "You refuse to understand what you've done."
"I know what I've done," he spat. Not in the mood to argue. "I've killed a few people. How very sad; the poor mortals were people too. Yes yes, I understand."
She bit her lip. "Those were people's children, Loki," she said quietly. "People's loves, people's families. Some mortals died, yes, and their troubles are over. But what of the ones you left behind? The ones whose lives you destroyed?" He couldn't look at her sadness – he turned and paced slowly in the other direction. "You took from them – took everything," she went on. "All that mattered to them, all they've loved and worked for, all they meant to leave behind. I truly don't think you appreciate what you did."
There was a moment of silence. Then, a sudden discordant tearing sound echoed off the walls and he whipped around to see Frigga holding a fistful of pages – pages – over the candle flame. "Perhaps this will help show you."
Loki took it about as hard as she'd expected. He screamed and bellowed and burned himself on the barrier, shrieking nothing but no and stop at first, and then, as more pages went up in smoke and her intent became apparent, wailing for mercy, pleading with her. He tried invoking her love. He tried reasoning, bargaining, promises.
After a while he began to threaten. Not I'll kill you, as he might have said to anyone else, but I'll hate you, which was probably true and was quite painful. But she had been braced for it, and she didn't stop.
She tore the pages out a few at a time, sometimes reading off the title of the spell or section, listened to Loki moan in misery and gasp out what effort that part had cost him. But she knew it was more than that. He was also thinking of how much pride he'd taken, how happy the magics had made him. He was weeping as it was all ripped away.
She understood that he would never have it again. Even if he got out of the cage someday, the spellbook would never be recreated. It represented too much experimentation over too much time; Loki wouldn't be able to bear trying to reconstruct it, knowing the project would inevitably be a failure. The best he'd be able to do would be scraps, half a collection, and it would drive home all over again how much was missing. Knowing that, he wouldn't try to rebuild his work (even if Odin would ever consider letting him!). He would mourn its loss forever.
There were thousands of pages, and the burning took a long time. She had to spell new candles twice, and her voice grew hoarse from speaking over Loki's demented roaring and noisy sobs. But she kept at it, with steady determination. By the time she was done, she was confident that enough had been taken from him, enough lost and wasted, that he would be able to understand his crimes if ever he chose to try.
She stepped up to the barrier. Loki was huddled on the floor. He had been pleading Mother enough, please, no more, leave me the rest I beg you almost until the end, but now that there was no hope left he was just crying.
His voice had mostly gone, too, so that it was a little easier for her to be heard now. "I understand exactly what I've done to you," she said over his whimpers. "I grieve for it. Now you need to understand what you've done to others. It needs to hurt you as this has hurt me. Or you will never again see the world outside of this cell."
Loki's eyes were red and swollen. He gave no indication he'd heard her.
"Loki? Get some rest. I'll return next week, and we will talk." She didn't like to rush him, but Odin had not given her much time. If Loki didn't have a change of heart by the end of the summer...
She didn't tell him that yet, though. She thought he had had more than enough harshness from her for the day.
The End.
Sorry guys! I wanted to see how non-softie Frigga would play. Let me know what you think!
