A/N: Sorry about the delay, darlings, but I have just spent the last two nights in Sydney seeing TOM HIDDLESTON! I was lucky enough to get entrance to the Popcorn Taxi Q & A with him on Tuesday night (we sat riiiight at the front), and on Wednesday night I stood in the crowd and watched him sign things for 150 lucky people (I was thirty people away from being one of them!). I actually stood in the same room as Tom Hiddleston. Please excuse me while I die. If you're interested in reading my account of the whole thing, my tumblr account is also keeperofthenine :D

And to express the feels I am overwhelmed with at the moment, have some Loki/Frigga feels :D

Chapter Seventeen

Listen My Son

"Do not answer it."

His voice was orchestrated as a soft purr, as though verbal seduction would be enough to keep her in place. He knew it was foolish. His Midgardian whore would never leave the door unanswered. Her entire body screamed panic: panic at missing whoever it was, at being caught in such a nefarious situation. Her inner walls tensed up around him, rousing his cock into a stage of semi-arousal, destined to bloom to full. He did not want her to leave.

"Because that wouldn't look suspicious."

Her sarcastic drawl was irritating to say the least, and he silenced any further rebuke with his lips and tongue. Her lips bruised beneath his onslaught, her tongue shying from his. Fists bunched at his chest in a seemingly futile attempt to push him off.

The knocking intensified: louder, quicker, annoying.

Loki finally allowed the girl to slip from beneath him, awkward even with the size of the tub. His breath hitched as she leant over the tub, stretching to get out, her plump arse so very inviting. His cock stirred as he recalled the sensation of the soft flesh beneath his fingers, how hot it felt after each slap. His Alexandra had enjoyed it too.

Within seconds the luxuriousness of her curves were hidden beneath a loose fitting bathrobe, a fluffy monstrosity she had clearly brought back from Midgard. Despite her whorish nature, his Alexandra still held on to far too much of her modesty for his liking. He wanted it gone.

"Stay," she cautioned, rubbing a towel through her damp tresses, now the colour of rich caramel.

Loki rubbed his thumb against the head of his erection. "Make them go, quickly."

As his fingers traced the familiar ground of his own cock, Loki's mind wandered to the lascivious roads down which he wished to explore. Had his incarceration not taking such a negative turn, he may have enjoyed the ministrations of both Alexandra and Darcy. Even now a smile curled his lips at the thought. He would taste his Alexandra, causing her to scream his name just with a snap of his tongue. The rude little brunette would put her mouth to better use on his cock.

Perhaps his mind would be better spent on other pursuits: magic, his experiences, reformation. He had thought of them all while enduring his three weeks of permanent punishment. Many times he wondered what life may have held for him if Odin had revealed his true parentage from the beginning. What if Laufey had come looking for him? What if Odin's eldest son had never died? But these questions did him little good now. All he wanted was his Alexandra: her voice, her fingers, her hair, her eyes, her laughter, her moans, her wet quim. That was all he needed.

And it truly terrified him.

oOoOoOo

The person at the door was clearly persistent.

Alex could not help but wonder who it was. Thor's knocks were usually louder; their intensity giving way to an illusion that he would slam the door down. The servants were meek, their knocks polite and short.

Her damp fingers slipped against the handle, making it difficult to find grip, but the door soon fell open. The figure on the other side smiled softly, and Alex knew she should fall to her knees, but her legs did not give way. Shock overwhelmed her, followed by a dose of pure, unadulterated panic.

"Queen Frigga, I apologise for my tardiness."

Her voice was weak, but Frigga did not seem to notice or care. Instead, she lifted the large tray clutched in her hands. "The servants were bringing this to you. I thought I would instead."

The queen bringing me dinner? Alex fought back the urge to pinch herself. Surely this was some kind of weird dream roused in the aftermath of rampant bathtub sex?

"Your Majesty, that is very kind of you." Alex stood back, letting the queen enter, thankful that her chambers were relatively tidy. The bathroom door was, thank Odin, closed. "How can I help you?"

Frigga placed the tray on Alex's desk, and it was only now that Alex noticed that it contained three goblets and an extra large flagon of wine.

"My son is here, is he not?"

Alex's blood ran cold. "Your Majesty?"

"Loki. He was not in his chambers. I assume he came to you?"

Alex could not nothing but nod.

The queen's gaze turned to the bathroom door. "Is he well?"

"No, your majesty. His punishment has left him weak."

Frigga shot her a small, kind smile. "Not too weak for some pursuits, it seems."

Alex blushed.

"I will not condemn you, Agent Beckett. I see now that my son's redemption can only come at the hands of Midgard. You are helping him." Frigga's gaze did not wander from the closed bathroom door. Alex could see the yearning there. On the one hand, the queen desperately wanted to open the door. On the other, she feared what she would find on the other side.

"Do you wish to speak with him, your Majesty?"

Frigga nodded, her eyes hopeful. "If he will let me?"

oOoOoOo

Alex did not realise she had been rendered momentarily numb until her back was thrust against the closed bathroom door. The pain was inconsequential, her body reacting instantly to the slick wetness of his undried skin. The pair of men's pyjama pants clutched in her hands slipped to the floor, the ties of her gown coming undone through the ferocity of his embrace.

"Loki! No," she hissed against his onslaught, trying to fight off his roving hands, the probing length of his cock. "This is not the time."

He laughed. "My dear girl, this is as good a time as any."

Her hands pressed against his chest. "Your mother is waiting outside."

Loki pulled back, letting her slide down the smooth wood. His emerald eyes fell to the bath which he had hastily emptied, the tilt of his lips a clear indication that he wished to be able to sick back into the lost water, hide from the world.

"I have no mother."

Alex rolled her eyes, snatching the pants and throwing them at him. He caught them without thinking.

"Stop being a dick and put these on. She wants to talk to you."

"And if I do not wish to speak to her?"

"Then you're an idiot."

Loki slipped his long legs into the pants. It was fortunate that Alex had a fondness for wearing oversized men's pyjamas, for the pants fit him perfectly. When the knot at the waist was tied, he turned to her. "Will you be there?"

"You're in my chambers, of course I will be there."

oOoOoOo

Loki did not know how to react to the woman currently sitting on Alexandra's bed. She looked as though she had aged a century. Wrinkles cracked the skin around her eyes, where before there had been only lines of laughter. Her hair of spun-straw seemed lank and lifeless. Periwinkle eyes were damp with tears.

"Loki?"

"Queen Frigga."

More tears fell, pain staining her expression. "My son, please."

Loki's lips would not move. They couldn't. It was as though Odin's stitches had webbed their way through his soft flesh, restricting his tongue.

The Queen attempted a different tactic, handing him a goblet of wine. The dark liquid within emitted a heavenly odour. It reminded him of Asgardian summers spent fighting and fucking: the days of his youth. The queen must have ordered this straight from Odin's cellar. The goblet remained still within his hands.

"Why are you here?"

The queen, while evidently hurt at his question, spoke steadily. "Does a mother need an excuse to speak with her son?"

"You have not come to me earlier."

"Your father-"

Loki sipped the wine, trying to ignore how delicious it was. "Odin's orders still stand as far as I know. You should not be here."

"Loki-" Alexandra's voice emerged from the corner of the room, disembodied, as though she were naught more than a ghost.

Loki lifted a finger. "This is none of your concern, Alexandra."

"Do not be cruel, Loki," the queen murmured. "Agent Beckett is one of your few advocates here in Asgard."

Loki could not constrain the dark smirk that tilted his lips. "That is exactly what she said about you. Tell me, mother, is this some plan the two of you concocted? A chance to get me at my weakest?" He threw the goblet against the floor, watching as the crimson flood within splashed the boards and nearby wall. "Do you think I will tell you everything? Beg for your forgiveness? Perhaps you think that together you can reform me, make me better, like Thor?"

Once more the disembodied voice came from the corner. "Loki, I-"

"SILENCE!"

Alexandra fell silent, but the queen stood from the bed. She was determined, he would give her that much. "I never agreed with your punishment, Loki. I just wanted you back, I wanted you home. It hurt, seeing you every day but being able to talk to you, to hold you. You are my son."

"I am not your son, woman. I do not even know who my mother is."

The queen reached for his arm. "Why do you have to be so cruel, Loki. I always loved you. I never treated you differently. What has happened to you?"

Loki pulled away, backing toward Alexandra's corner. "Should you not be off comforting Thor?"

"Thor is beyond reproach," the queen whispered. "We are losing him, as we lost you. I do not want to lose either of my sons, Loki. Not again."

Not again.

Loki did not know what it was that clicked, what snatched away his anger and replaced it with empathy. Perhaps it was the sadness in the queen's eyes, the sudden onslaught of memories regarding her love. Unlike Odin, she had never treated him differently to Thor. Even as the scandals surrounding him in court had escalated, she had supported him.

Without a word, he took the soiled goblet from the floor, refilling it to the brim. The wine really was too fine to waste, and he regretted discarding his previous morsel. The queen was watching with wary eyes, her own cup barely stable between shaking fingers.

"I never blamed you, mother."

His words were clearly all she wished to hear, the goblet falling from her fingers as she came toward him. He knelt in the embrace, allowing her to cacoon him, arms tight around her waist. For a millisecond he felt as though he were a boy once more, the timid victim of his brother's foolish bravado. He did not even realise that, he too, was sobbing.