I now have an AO3 account! LadyCharity, as always :3. I post drabbles not seen on this site and there is a strong 93% chance that I will be posting an alternate ending to this story on that site as well. I am torn between two endings, both which I equally like, and I still don't know which one to go with. So whichever is not chosen will end up on AO3. I'd be excited to write both either way.
Can I just say that I am floored by how much attention this story gets? It surpassed the number of reviews and alerts that my previously most popular story got, which is still two chapters longer and was around for a good two or so years to get to that number?! You guys are absolutely, positively wonderful. Thank you thank you thank you! You have no idea how much it means to me.
Crazy! I usually do not do very much heavy editing, but the latter half of this story was seriously made up as a last-minute addition because Thor needs some mother feels as well. Be prepared for an onslaught of feels for the next chapter, though. Thank you to all who read and/or review!
Frigga had never seen her son look so fragile in all his years since infancy until now. He was always more slender than Thor and the other boys his age, but he was energetic and had his own powerful strength disguised behind his pale visage, only revealing itself in the quirky grin after tricking Thor into wearing a dress all day or something just as mischievous.
But now, Loki was damaged, even more so than the last time she saw him. The sight of his starved limbs and sickly face were like daggers dragging down her back, and while she knew with her magic in due time she could heal his wounds, the hurt in his mind and heart were far deeper.
She placed a hand on his forehead once she felt her magic slowly rebuild. She had healed his battle wounds, but he starved for magic to sustain his life. She didn't want to think of what could happen if the Mind Gem sucked his magic dry. She felt his magic stir feebly within him, lukewarm. She breathed out slowly, letting her power flow into his veins for the Mind Gem to take. It was ravenous, greedily so, and she wished she could pull it out of him, but she knew it would not be so easy. The Mind Gem was digging its claws into Loki's life; should she tear it away, there was no telling what effect it would have on him.
She hummed an old lullaby; she liked to think that he could hear her, as Odin could hear and see all in his slumber. If he could have comfort in this trying time, she would do all to give it.
My strong, precious boy, won't you open your eyes again?
She remembered how broken he looked when Thanos threw him down before their feet and her heart nearly burst with sorrow. She hated herself, it was true—she hated herself for not saving her son right then and there, the rest of the Nine Realms be damned. But she was the queen of Asgard, and she had no right to be a mother if she would condemn the children of many for her own.
But it still hurt tremendously, horribly, guiltily, to see Loki in such pain.
Know that I'm here, my son, and I starve for the day you return.
She heard the doors open behind her and she turned around. The redhead woman, Natasha, was at the door, book faithfully in hand. When she saw Frigga, she stopped short, eyes wary and unsure. Frigga offered her a soft smile and gestured for Natasha to come in. Natasha hesitated but stiffly took a seat on the other side of Loki opposite of Frigga.
"I didn't mean to disturb you," said Natasha.
"You have done no such thing," said Frigga. The tips of her fingers still glowed as her magic flowed into Loki. "Do you come to him often?"
Natasha furrowed her eyebrows. "No," she said. "We're not—I mean, I don't know him that well at all. Honestly. I just read to him because…" She gave a short laugh in spite of herself. "There really is no good or logical reason."
"I'm glad that you do," said Frigga. "Loki loves stories. I used to do the same for him when he was ill. In his youth, when he fell ill it was always so serious that he would be bedridden for days. Thor wouldn't be allowed to be in his room in our fear that he too would fall ill, but I would be the one to keep him company and read him fairy tales."
"What kind of stories did he like?" said Natasha.
"The ones of magic and wit," said Frigga. "I would never tell him the war stories of past battles. He loved the stories of unexpected heroes and solving riddles."
"Did he really?" Natasha murmured. She set her book onto the nightstand. Frigga watched as Natasha studied Loki as if he were a piece of art whose meaning was beyond the surface. "What was he like? Back in the day?"
Frigga pursed her lips before smiling sadly. "Quietly mischievous. He enjoyed playing harmless tricks—at least, what he believed was harmless. He once snipped away a young lass's locks and replaced them with dark hair instead, and that caused a stir. But he was not a cruel child. He laughed easily, cried tenderly, and loved fully."
Frigga tenderly drew the sheets tighter around Loki's slight form. She was not blind to the blood on her younger son's hands, but no amount of blood could turn her heart away from him or hide his face from her until she would not recognize him. His crimes still weighed heavily in her heart, but as she looked upon his sleeping face that looked so sad, she never wanted to let him go.
"I know you would not believe me," said Frigga. "But Loki was never so vindictive or violent. He had his heart broken and the wounds infected with bitterness and harshness. But he has not completely succumbed to his dark desires, or else my eldest would not be with me today."
"Will you take him back to Asgard after he gets better?" said Natasha.
"I believe he will still be too weak to make the travel," said Frigga. "Until there is a way to end the Mind Gem's power inside him, his abilities are bound. Not unless he kills himself along the way. I can only heal his physical wounds and buy time for his own magic to rebuild."
Natasha nodded slowly.
"You must love him a lot," she said.
"With all my heart," said Frigga, a lump forming in her throat. "He is my child, my little boy, no matter what has ever come between us. Even if he rejects me and curses me, I can never let him go."
Natasha watched Frigga carefully. Frigga could see Natasha's conflicting thoughts pass through her clear eyes; few could get past the queen of Asgard.
"You are doubtful," Frigga said.
Natasha dropped her gaze to the floor.
"Not of you," she said. "If you didn't love him as much as you claimed, you wouldn't be here. You'd feign ignorance."
"Then what is it that concerns you, if I may ask?" said Frigga.
"Just surprised by the level of love you show," said Natasha. "Even among humans with milder situations, it's rare."
"But something else is on your mind," said Frigga. "Something beyond that."
When Natasha kept her silence, Frigga's voice softened. "You do not have to be afraid of telling the truth."
"I think Loki finds that kind of love to be impossible," said Natasha, gazing into Frigga's eyes. Frigga sighed; she knew that she ought to expect it, but it hurt to hear this all the same. "When Thor was telling him the same, Loki seemed like he didn't believe that Thor was telling the truth."
"Loki's actions are his own," said Frigga, "but we are not guiltless in his downfall. And considering what had transpired on Asgard…" She swallowed and traced the hollow of Loki's cheek with her fingers. His bones were sharp against his skin. She wondered if he ever ate at all.
"There's still hope for him," said Natasha. She picked at the loose threads on the edge of the blanket near Loki's shoulder.
"Of course," Frigga said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Of course. I know my son. Even now, I still do. He is indignant, he is betrayed, he is angry—but he feels all this because he still knows love. He knows love because it has hurt him so."
"Have you already forgiven him?" said Natasha. "For all he's done? To Earth—to Asgard?"
Frigga exhaled heavily. Loki felt so slight underneath her soothing hand that she was afraid she would break him.
"I hate what he has done," said Frigga. "I hate what his broken heart has led him to do I hate what his envy and bitterness has corrupted his thoughts into. But I will never hate him."
But oh, my child, you hate yourself so endlessly it kills me slowly.
Frigga bent low and kissed Loki on the forehead, on his cheek, on his closed eye. He did not stir, and she wondered if he was there at all.
When Frigga left to rest, Natasha stayed in her place. She ought to leave—it was time for her duty soon—but she felt drawn, as if thread tied her back.
She wished Loki was awake, or conscious enough to have heard everything.
She wished she could hold out her hand and feel the love that poured from Frigga and see if it felt as warm as it sounded.
Natasha reached out her hand and hesitated, her fingers curled above his head where Frigga placed her healing hand not too long ago. She felt as if she was invading upon something fragile, sacred—something she never knew and never deserved to know.
She caved, and let her white fingers graze his smooth forehead. She wondered if she could feel Frigga's magic thrumming against his skin, feel what apparently Loki's family could sense within each other—the magic, the connection, maybe even the love they shared even if Loki buried it deep, deep, deep within him.
She felt nothing but cool skin. She drew her hand away and could feel the dried blood of her past on her hands all over again.
Did he believe?
Did he know?
She asked herself if someone so wretched (not wretched) deserved that love, or could love, for what was love unless it was pure?
Love was pure, and pure was holy, and she hadn't gone to the bejeweled Orthodox church of her childhood in a long time.
Is it really so strange?
He was a glass prince with a shattered pearl heart, filled to the brim with love until it hurt him. Until it overflowed.
She wished to catch the droplets of the remains. To cut her finger along the edges of his jagged brokenness and watch herself bleed red.
Was love a line of white flowers?
Was it half-closed eyes and fading breath?
Love is for children, I owe a debt.
She never felt so naïve.
"And this—" Frigga pulled open a satchel and spilled the contents on the coffee table. Many stones of varying sizes piled on the marble. "—is something you ought to have brought more of before you ran off without saying a single word to us."
"Mother, you are never going to forgive me, are you?" said Thor, picking up a healing stone and tossing it gently from one hand to the other.
Frigga gave Thor a wry smile. "Of course I have forgiven you already, Thor. But you mustn't deny me the time to run off some steam, will you?"
"You can be frightening even when you are making a jest," said Thor. He dropped the healing stone back into the pile. "You've brought so many."
"Heaven knows if Midgardian healing has at least improved enough to not do more damage than good nowadays," said Frigga. "It will not heal Loki now, for they are internal wounds than physical...but I have known too many instances when you two hurt yourselves in the strangest of situations. And if Loki tries healing anything in his state again, do me a favor and hit him across the head for me."
"Come now, Mother, we are not children," said Thor. "Don't tell me that you've brought rieska along with the stones in that satchel of yours for our mid-afternoon snacking."
Frigga raised her eyes reproachfully to Thor. "Let a mother do her doting. I've been denied of it for so long."
Thor cracked a smile. "And I have missed it for so long."
Frigga brushed Thor's hair back, her fingers trailing his face. Her eyes searched his and she pursed her lips.
"You've grown," she said. "In both mind and body. I can feel the weariness in both your mind and your skin."
Thor hesitated before giving an indifferent shrug and setting the healing stones back in their pile. "It has been a tiring many months, Mother."
"Many months?" said Frigga. "I feel years burdening you, Thor. Years that I know I would have noticed if I had spent them alongside you."
Thor shifted in his seat. He was never one to lie, nor was he adept at not telling the truth, as Loki was so prone to do. But how was he supposed to tell his mother that he had spent ten years in darkness lying in wait for Loki, when she had already been so distraught to find out he had run off without telling a soul save Heimdall about his quest?
"I've been on Midgard a long while, after all," said Thor.
"Not so long that Huginn and Muninn could find you," said Frigga. "Your father had sent them to search for you and your brother here, in the desperate hope that perhaps you two were somehow on Midgard, and they never brought us back news."
Thor felt a pang of guilt. "That was my own offense, Mother. Huginn and Muninn had found Loki and me—perhaps a month or so ago, even. I had requested that they would not give you word."
Frigga's eyes widened. "Why on earth would you ask of such a thing?"
"It is difficult to explain," said Thor. "But Loki...I do not think he was ready to be in contact with you or Father."
Frigga's face fell and she averted her gaze to Thor's hands. Thor bit down on his bottom lip and took her hands.
"You mustn't blame yourself," said Thor. "It is Thanos and his cruel antics."
"But I let Loki be taken away," said Frigga. "I would rather have tried to strike Thanos and die instead of what I've chosen."
"No!" said Thor. "Loki would not want such a thing. His heart is hardened, but he would never ask that of you."
"What if he cried out for me in his worst pain?" said Frigga. "What if he begged for me to come and I was never there to hear him, never there to hold him?"
"But he is here now, Mother," said Thor. "And so are you and I, and that is what matters. We cannot change what has already happened. What has changed in Asgard, Mother? What news?"
Frigga brushed her thumb over Thor's calloused fingers. "News I wished to escape."
"Is Asgard safe? Is she all right?"
"Only just," said Frigga. "Danger lurks underneath. There are attacks, from both outside and in. Treachery breaks out within our own castle, and your father fights to keep order in Asgard, to keep our people safe. No doubt the threat is from Thanos."
"Is the Gauntlet heavily guarded?"
"As heavily as we can, but I remember Thanos well. He would not let such a defense stop him, whether with battle or deceit."
"Does Thanos make a move that we are certain of?" said Thor. "Has he revealed his ploys?"
"Not for Asgard. Not yet," said Frigga. "But there are signs that his army makes plans to infiltrate Jotunheim."
"Jotunheim?" said Thor.
"Aye," said Frigga. "The queen had sent messengers to us, demanding to know if the occasional attacks on her people were from us. When she realized we too struggled with the same enemy, we realized then the dire implications."
"And what of Alfheim?"
"Silent as always. They denied entrance to our messengers."
"As per usual," said Thor. "Father must be up to his neck with distress."
"And what of you, Thor?" said Frigga.
"What do you mean?" said Thor.
"How are you?" she said. "Do not pretend that you did not suffer in the time you were far from home. I am your mother; I know you are hiding things from me."
"It is truly nothing," said Thor.
"A likely story," said Frigga. "Shadows haunt behind your eyes, Thor. Do not think me so foolish. Will you not at least tell me what had transpired with you, if I could not have been there with you?"
Thor stiffened. He did not want to be on the spotlight, not like this, not when his brother had suffered far worse and was still in poor health. But his mother held on to him so desperately and deep inside, a primal desire begged him to speak, to just let everything out.
"What is it, then, that you would like to hear?" said Thor.
"Everything," said Frigga.
Thor exhaled softly. It was a story of one of his escapades, a quest for the greater good, one that his younger self would have been dying to pursue, much like the stories of valor that they spun in songs—but it was the story that he wished would dissolve into silence.
"Heimdall took me to where I needed to go," said Thor. "I broke out of the Bifrost's path midway, so I could be lost within Yggdrasil's branches. It was...like nothing I've experienced before, the Void. It was colder than the deepest pit in Jotunheim, and yet the stars burned until I thought my bones would melt. And the sounds...there was no sound at all. Not a stir of wind, not a drop of water. Just my own breathing within my chest, until in my ears it grew louder than horns and I thought I would grow mad."
He felt nervous speaking of this—he had little trouble telling the truth, but to speak of his fears, his suffering, the moments he felt most lost? To reveal that he was far from the strong warrior all of Asgard thought him to be, expected him to be, needed him to be? He could not afford fear.
But couldn't he be safe with his own mother?
"I could only move where Mjolnir could take me," said Thor. "And even then the folds of the universe was not so willing to let me move so easily. I felt it take me by the ankles sometimes, where I caught a snag in Yggdrasil, and crumple me into a ball and toss me aside, far from where I wanted to go. Sometimes it blinded the stars until I was in absolute darkness for—for what must have been four years, and I could only let the Norns take me where they wanted me to go. It would be so dark that my mind would play tricks and..."
(And how Thor would howl just to fill his emptied self, to remind himself that he was still alive, still existing, that he would not let himself be swallowed by the darkness. How his mind would mold monsters from the shadows until he felt safe nowhere, until every turn made his heart cower because there was nothing, and within nothing was every fear, every possibility of horror, the pain of waiting to be frightened...)
"Four years?" said Frigga, her voice faint.
Thor tentatively nodded. "Thanos manipulated Time within his realm—or lack thereof—so that three months in Midgard would have been my ten years."
"Ten years you were lost in the Void," she said, blanching.
"It is not as bad as it could be," said Thor.
"Not as bad? Thor, any time in the Void is awful. Do not brush aside your own suffering as if it never affected you when you have yet to heal," said Frigga.
"I do not need to ponder on my tribulations," said Thor. "You only asked that I speak of them."
Frigga opened her mouth to protest, but she eventually retracted her words. "What else have you gone through?"
"Hardly anything," said Thor. "Just silence and darkness and...loneliness. I saw not another living soul, only mirages of when I thought I found Loki, only to be stranded on a broken moon. No, the Chitauri did not find me, nor did Thanos ever look upon me. I was just...very alone."
He suppressed a shudder at the memory. Loneliness was not something he was accustomed to, much less solitude, and then he was locked in ten years in absolute isolation. Listening to nothing else's breathing except his own, seeing no real faces in the black, just pure and intangible nothingness. He wondered that if he lingered longer, if he did not by chance find Loki after the ten years, if it would have driven him mad.
"When I finally found Loki and freed him from the Chitauri, I brought him to Midgard, as it was the closest realm," said Thor. "Actually, he led me here. To Scandinavia, where our people once dwelt. He was...unwell, but my companions later found us and—after some miscommunication and compromise—aided us. I am forever in their debt."
But Frigga looked no closer to relief than she was before. Her eyes were colored with concern for her eldest, and Thor wished to shift away from her intense gaze.
"I wish you did not have to suffer so," she said.
"Nonsense," said Thor. "Loki suffered far worse than I did—"
"And you certainly did not experience a blissful walk in the gardens either," said Frigga. "You are so, so good to your brother, Thor, and I am endlessly thankful and proud for it. But do not deny yourself concern for your own well-being."
"There is nothing wrong with me," said Thor. "I have no scars, no injuries, no need for healing. Do you think Asgard would want a king that quaked at mere shadows and lack of company?"
"Do you think that you do not have the right to have fear? To have suffering?" said Frigga. "Yes, Thor, someday you shall be king, but you are a man, a person with just as much heart and hurt as any other. A king should not sacrifice the privilege of admitting his weaknesses."
"How will my people ever trust such a person?" said Thor.
"How will your people trust he who hides everything?" said Frigga. "No one is close to perfection. Not you, not me, not Odin, not Loki, no one. And Asgard should understand this. A good leader is not one who stands fearless and reckless. A leader fears—fears for his people, for his kingdom. He fears what dangers lurk in the shadows that could hurt anyone. He fears, but that does not make him a coward. It can make him wise, if he faces it with good heart."
Thor took in a deep breath. His raw, inner self squirmed from the scrutiny. They were wise words, his mother's—but to embrace them would not be so easy.
"I wonder if I would even make a decent king," said Thor.
Frigga lifted Thor's chin so that he would look up to her. "Of course you will, Thor," she said. "And you will grow to be all the better as you live."
She kissed Thor on the cheek, and Thor's face burned in bashfulness.
"You can be embarrassingly affectionate," said Thor.
"I nearly lost my sons, how could I not? I wish to have an eternity with you two, and will take every advantage of it."
"I'm sure even mortal mothers know when to stop treating her children like porcelain dolls," said Thor.
"A strange idea, since she has so little time with her children!"
Frigga swept the healing stones back into the satchel. Thor watched her, watched her gold hands move gracefully across the marble, a symbol of familiarity.
"Mother?"
"Yes, child?"
"What was it like for you when Father brought Loki home?"
Frigga raised her head to Thor.
"Father already told you, did he not?" she said. "He found Loki in an ice temple, brought him back to the castle—"
"Yes, that is his story," said Thor. "What is yours?"
A small smile flitted across her lips. "I fell in love with him the moment I saw him."
"Was he in AEsir form, or Jotun form?" said Thor.
She blinked before pressing her lips together as if in understanding. "Your Father had shown me his Jotun form when he brought Loki to me."
"And?" said Thor.
"And I was ashamed."
"What do you mean?"
"I was ashamed, because my first thoughts when I saw him as a Jotun babe was that he looked so much like an AEsir child. And I realized that very moment that I had unconsciously believed the Jotun to look like gruesome, emotionless creatures as war would have shaped them to be, even when they were at such an innocent age. The aged are never always wise, Thor. But when I held Loki for the first time, I loved him, and when I looked upon him the first time, I loved him even more, for he proved me wrong. He showed me there was nothing—nothing different between a Jotun and an AEsir besides the hue of their bodies and their preference of weather. Even the youngest of children could teach you the greatest lessons in life."
Thor smiled softly. "And I? When I first met him, what did I do?"
"Oh, you were no older than a toddler," said Frigga. "Full of curiosity for your little brother, you were! And so full of excitement. I do not think you truly comprehended what a brother was in the first place, but you learned so quickly and you loved him so dearly. I brought him to you, still swaddled in cloth, and you demanded to hold him and you wouldn't let go of him until the both of you were fast asleep."
Thor couldn't stop smiling just at the thought of it, even if he could not remember such an early memory. "If only he would put aside his pride and let us return to those days, aye?"
"Both of you have the pride of a lion," said Frigga. "But in due time...yes, he will find his path to healing."
She pulled open the satchel at her waist and pulled out a loaf of her homemade rieska. Thor gave a shout of laughter at the sight of it. Sitting together, and for the first time in a while, they both broke the bread and gave thanks.