Author's note: This chapter was something a lot of you apparently wanted to see some time ago, judging by your comments, though lately it's only been about one person asking for it (you know who you are ;)). So I do hope you guys still want it… ;)
Lazily, he flips through the magazine in his hands, eyes skimming over the glossy, shiny pictures of the newest and flashiest car models just out on the market. Maybe a new Jaguar would be nice, or a Porsche, or…
Nah, maybe not.
He yawns, sliding further down in the couch into a position that would have most physiotherapists cry tears of blood could they see him. With a flick of his wrist, he throws the magazine back onto the table, and it skids across the surface and comes to a halt just before tipping over the edge and falling onto the floor. Perhaps he should go get some actual work done instead of dozing around here.
Before he can get up, though, there's a sharp buzz on the doorbell.
Visitor, huh? Well, if he's lucky it's that new lab-tech he ordered the other day, although such a speedy delivery seems rather unlikely.
"Who is it, Jarvis?" he asks, hoping it's not someone he can't stand.
"It's a woman, but my facial scan yields no matches, sir," comes the answer.
Alright, then.
He saunters off to the nearest monitor and turns it on, connecting it to the live feed from the camera hanging over the front door. The facial image of a perhaps forty-something woman he doesn't recognize pops up a second later and he sure hopes it's not some nosy reporter or an old one-night stand here to tell him that he owes her fifteen years' worth of child support.
"Tony Stark's door answering service," he says through the speaker. "How may I help you, madam?" Better to ask before admitting entrance, he's had enough weirdos come knocking on his door to take any chances.
The woman blinks a couple of times at the sound of his voice, looking around with furrowed brows as if she isn't quite sure where to rest her eyes before speaking.
"My name is Frigga and I come from Asgard," she answers in a polite bur decisive voice. "May I come inside?"
Asgard? His eyes widen in surprise. To his knowledge, there are no newspapers or dingy nightclubs going by that name, so it's pretty safe to say he's got another alien visitor right outside his door.
He winces, chewing on his lower lip. Granted, the woman is alone and doesn't look dangerous, but he's learned all about looks and deceit the hard way by now. Then again, if she wanted to enter his tower, she could probably do so anyway, courtesy of her freaky magic powers and all. At least he assumes she has them in spades, or she probably wouldn't have travelled alone to another realm without any armed guards in tow to protect her from possibly hostile natives.
Did Odin send her? Or did she come here by her own volition? Is she here to see him, or Loki? And what does she even want in the first place? There are a million questions dancing in his head, but having a question-and-answer session with an alien standing outside his door doesn't seem like a terribly swell idea.
He shuts the speaker off for a few moments. "Jarvis, where is Loki at?"
"He's in the library reading, sir," the AI dutifully supplies.
Alright, good. He decides not to inform Loki of the visitor before he's found out what she wants and has assessed her threat level. Not that he really thinks she's dangerous or anything, but it never hurts to be careful, in case the woman isn't one of Loki's fans.
He turns the speaker function back on. "You're welcome inside… uh, my lady."
Not even a minute later, he's standing face to face with the visitor in his living room, as they quietly assess each other for a couple of heartbeats. The name 'Frigga' does ring a bell somewhere, but he can't quite place it, so he studies her physical appearance instead, looking for clues to her identity.
The woman before him is clearly not a warrior, unlike his previous Asgardian visitors-slash-intruders, but looks regal in her bearings, proud and dignified. She isn't carrying any weapons – not that he can see anyway – and is wearing a dress with long, flowing skirts. Not that he'd lay any claims to being an expert on Asgardian fashion and clothing customs, but it does look fancy and expensive, no doubt something only a woman on the higher echelons of society would be wearing, with fine gold threads woven into the fabric. She's not exactly young, but attractive nonetheless.
MILF, his mind supplies, and he quickly pushes the thought away. There's no way to know if this woman is equipped with freaky mind-reading powers, and he'd rather not offend powerful aliens with unknown agendas.
He is acutely aware of how the woman is regarding him in turn, her eyes not leaving his face for a second, scrutinizing him as if her gaze is able to tell her more truths about him than straight-forward asking ever could.
Then, as the silence is on the verge of getting uncomfortable, the woman finally speaks.
"I apologize for intruding in your home like this without prior notification," she says, polite to a fault, "but I had to come here. I hope you do not have any objections to my visit." She makes a pause, obviously expecting him to say something.
"Oookay, I don't mean to be rude here," he replies, holding up his hands palms out, hoping he won't come off like a dolt, "but it seems you already know who I am, but I'm not quite sure… who you are. I mean, besides being 'Frigga of Asgard'?"
The woman inclines her head in apology. "Forgive me for my lack of proper introduction. I forget that unlike the other eight realms, Midgard is not generally familiar with the names of Asgard's royal family. But to answer your question, I am the wife of Odin and… the mother of Loki."
Tony's eyes grow wide. Oh, that Frigga. That neatly answers his question why he recognized the name from somewhere but still didn't make the connection, because even though Loki did mention her name to him at some point, whenever he would talk about her he had always referred to her as 'Mother', not 'Frigga'. So he had simply thought of her as 'Loki's Mom'. And he makes sure to banish the MILF designation suddenly popping up again to a very, very far corner of his mind.
"Oh, well of course I know who you are, I just kinda… forgot," he manages, feeling like a total dumbass. Loki's freaking mom is standing here before him and he didn't even realize it until just now. "I really didn't expect you to be quite so…" his hand makes a vague gesture but he lets it fall again as the words die on his tongue. Shut up, Tony.
Frigga doesn't seem offended by his remark, though, despite being the High and Mighty Queen of the Realm of Almighty Gods, but there is what looks suspiciously like a faint smile on her face. It disappears as quickly as it came, though.
"I cannot stay very long," she says, a hand going up to her neck, fingers wrapping around the necklace hanging there. "No one from Asgard is allowed to visit here, except for Thor, so to shield me from Heimdall's gaze, I am wearing an enchanted amulet. Its protection will only last for a short time in this realm, though." Her chin juts out minutely, as if in defiance. "But I wish to see my son, if you will allow him a visitor."
"Of course," he says, feeling vaguely uneasy at being asked to oblige a request that should have been a given, and by a goddess no less. "Just follow me, your… uh, Highness."
He leads her on through the hallway towards the library, wondering what she would have done if he had refused her request – if she would have remained as polite and composed, or brandished the metaphorical sharp steel that he senses is lurking beneath the agreeable surface. Something is telling him that this woman is not one to be trifled with, pleasant appearance notwithstanding.
"Alrighty," he says, coming to a halt as he points down the hallway. "You'll find him in the library, first door to the left."
Frigga gives him a curt nod. "Thank you," she says as she strides past him with a rustle of skirts, hems sweeping softly over the floor.
A part of him would really have liked to stay and listen in on the conversation ahead, but he doesn't want to intrude on a private moment like that, so instead he turns and walks back, letting mother and son have their little moment shielded from eavesdropping ears. He can be a nosy bastard some other time.
He's crawled up in a leather armchair, one of the books that Bruce has lent to him flipped open in his lap. Next to him on the tabletop, there is a whole little pile of them, books picked out by he doctor himself.
Because he had indeed called Bruce, after a few days of initial hesitance, during which Tony had rolled his eyes and told him to stop his ridiculous fretting. Still, he'd been anxious, because what if it turned out that the doctor didn't have the time to – or didn't particularly want to – meet with him again? But, to his relief, Bruce had been friendly and forthcoming once Loki had finally given in and called, assuring him that he'd be happy to see him and help him with his studies.
And when Bruce had arrived at Tony's tower again, it had been with his car to pick Loki up and drive him back to his own apartment, saying it would probably do Loki some good to get a change in scenery. It had been a nice afternoon, too, with Bruce patiently explaining the foundations of Midgardian medicine to him in the peculiar serenity of his living room, as Loki had curiously eyed the odd little trinkets and decorations on display. Apparently, they were from a Midgardian place called India, where Bruce had spent considerable time helping the poor and the desolate.
He had enjoyed listening to Bruce's stories about his stay in India, especially those related to how he had been using his healing skills for those in need. It made him feel all the more inspired to excel in his own studies, so he could one day do the same.
And after having spent so much time in Tony's tower, he had been certain that he knew all there was to know about Midgardian food. But, it turned out, he did not. Tofu, Bruce had called it. It was… a strange dish, something he doubted that Tony would have liked, but it was interesting nonetheless, and made him realize how much he still has to learn regarding Midgard. But he's looking forward to it.
As Bruce had taken him home again, he'd told Loki to call him back when he was finished with the first stash of books and needed more. Or if he just wanted to talk to someone who wasn't Tony. Or for whatever reason. No, in fact Loki didn't even need a reason. He could just call.
The thought makes him smile.
And then, he's brought out of his pleasant reverie by the sound of soft footfalls approaching. At first he assumes it's Tony, but they are far too light to belong to him. Surprised, he's about to turn his head to see who the unexpected visitor is, but a familiar voice reaches his ears first.
"Loki?"
His body freezes in shock, because surely it can't be…? Not here, not in Midgard, how could it ever possibly be?
But it is, he sees as he can finally bring his head to move and face the visitor who is standing there a few steps inside the room, like a golden apparition, a beautiful but impossible mirage.
"Mother?" he says, but it comes out as a croak more than anything else as he stands up, the book falling to the floor without his barely even noticing. For a fleeting second, he's afraid – afraid that her face will cloud over, that she will no longer acknowledge him as her son. And it would have been so ironic, when she was the only one he had never denied his familial ties to, like he had done with Odin and Thor; she had always remained 'Mother' in his mind.
But he has not had the chance to talk to her since his fall from the Bifrost, or find out what she thinks of him now that she knows of all he has done. He does remember how she had cried at his trial as the sentence was read out, but maybe those were the tears of a mother grieving for the loss of a son she could no longer acknowledge as hers, who was no longer worthy to be called her son?
He feels a lump of ice in his stomach at that, but it dissolves as Frigga quickly covers the few steps between them much quicker than it behoves a queen and a pair of arms wrap themselves around his frame. He lifts his own arms to return her embrace, hesitantly at first and then more insistently, pulling her close.
"My son," she says, her voice like a caress in his ears. "I am so glad to see you alive and well."
And there are so many things he could have said, that he wants to say, but it all solidifies into two small words.
"I'm sorry," he whispers. And he could give a very long list of all the things he's sorry for, but any further expansion is halted by Frigga's voice.
"It's alright; let's not speak of that now. I only wanted to come and see you, to make sure you were well." A hand reaches up to stroke his hair. "Unfortunately, I cannot stay for long. Freyja provided me with an enchanted amulet to shield me from Heimdall's view, but its spell will not last for long this far removed from Asgard's branch on Yggdrasil. If I had known that you were coming back home that time on Odin's behest, I would not have left for Vanaheim, and I was grievous to hear that you were already in Midgard again upon my return. So I had to come here instead, now that I couldn't see you in Asgard."
"I'm glad you did," he murmurs, the previous lump nestling in his stomach having now moved up to settle in his throat. "I've missed you."
The grip around him loosens as Frigga takes a step back to look him in the eyes, hands coming up to rest at his shoulders. The gaze is long and searching, as if she's looking into his very soul, and he can't help but squirm a little at the sharp scrutiny. Then she seems to relax and gives him a slight smile. "I'm glad to see you back, my son, after your fall from the Bifrost. Odin said you had returned, but I wanted to see it with my own eyes."
And Loki knows that she isn't taking about his return in the flesh.
"I will make up for everything," he promises, and he really means it too.
"I'm sure you will," Frigga replies, her smile widening a little as she ruffles his hear, just like she used to do when he was a little boy. "I understand that Man of Iron has treated you kindly during your stay here?"
He only nods, not really finding any words to express all that Tony has done for him.
"Your sentence truly terrified me at first, but now I'm only glad not to have to see you languish in some dreary prison cell," she continues. "As much as I was certain of the contrary at first, I realize this punishment is much preferable to the alternatives."
Then there's a flicker from the necklace around her neck and she sighs wistfully. "The spell is fading, being so far removed from its source. I must take my leave, much as I would have liked to stay longer."
"I'm glad you came, Mother," he says as they hug each other again. "Thank you."
"Take care, Loki," she says and then, with a final smile, she turns and walks out the door, leaving him with the lump still in his throat.
But at least it's a happy lump, and not a sad one.
Tony is waiting outside, out of hearing distance, when the door to the library opens and Frigga walks out. He doesn't know what the two of them have been talking about in there, but at least she looks content and happy enough, so he relaxes a bit.
"Everything alright?" he says, feeling he should probably say something.
He doesn't get a reply to that as Frigga strides up to him, and he startles as she places her hands on his shoulders and then leans forward to kiss his cheeks, first his right, then his left.
"Thank you, Man of Iron."
"Whoa, what was that for?" he asks, eyes widening in surprise as one of his hands goes up to his cheek.
"For bringing my son back."
Before he can reply, the light from the amulet around Frigga's neck makes a weak little flutter, and her hand goes up to close around it. "I must make my return to Asgard at once," she says. "I bid you farewell, and may the blessings of the Norns be upon you."
And with that, she takes a couple of steps back and closes her eyes.
"Okay, well, feel free to come back and visit any time," he says just as a blue light envelopes her from head to foot, and a moment later she is gone, leaving only a faint shimmer. And all he can think is, damn, did he just get kissed by a goddess?
Then again, given what he's been doing with a certain god residing in his tower, perhaps it's really not much to write home about.
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