Chapter 11

Everywhere was white. A vast landscape of white. Loki could see nothing but white. It was both disconcerting and fascinating. But preferable to darkness.

Was he dead? He must be. What other explanation was there? But it didn't look much like Helheim and he was so certain that would be his destination. Then again, it didn't look much like Valhala either.

He frowned.

"No, you're not dead..."

Loki's breath hitched.

Mother?

He could not see her at first, though he searched his surroundings frantically. And then she slowly materialised from the white nothingness, looking so beautiful and so radiant that she snatched his breath away all over again.

"Mother?"

"So I am still your mother?" she teased playfully as she approached him, and when she smiled he felt the closest to happiness he had ever known. When she reached out her hands he mirrored her actions unashamedly, hurrying towards her.

When they embraced, the strange landscape blurred, and time seemed to suspend, almost to cease existing altogether, as he held her tighter than he had ever held anyone before.

"I'm sorry," he murmured into the sweet softness of her hair. "I'm so sorry."

"I know," she soothed, her hands gently caressing his back. "I know you are."

For several long blissful moments they remained locked, but then, to Loki's dismay, she suddenly pulled away. "Loki, you do not have much time."

He struggled to compose himself, to rein back his emotions. "What do you mean? Have I not all the time in the world now?" His frown returned. "Is this not Valhala?"

"No, my son. It is the realm that lies between life and death. Where souls linger when destinies are still uncertain."

"But the incantation...did it not...kill me?"

"Not quite..."

He reached out to tenderly caress her arm, though there was urgency in his actions. "Explain, mother. Please."

She smiled sadly. "You did not fight it, Loki."

He flinched back, searching her face in confusion. "What?"

"You simply accepted it."

He stared at her in shock, guessing what she was talking about. The side effects of the incantation. "But...but my magic...was gone...I tried..I tried to summon it."

"Your magic never left you. The intensity of the incantation simply suppressed it. You couldn't summon it...because a part of you chose not to."

He blinked at her in disbelief. "That is ludicrous."

"Is it, Loki? Is it really?" She cocked her head sympathetically and though he hated being pitied, she was the only person he would tolerate it from. "What have I said before...Always so perceptive -"

He swallowed guiltily as she repeated her words, not wanting to be reminded of his cruelty towards her. "...about everyone but yourself," he finished reluctantly.

"You were grief-stricken. Broken." She looked distressed by the knowledge. "You didn't put up a fight. You gave up."

"I do not give up. On anything," he quickly protested, though his objection sounded weak even to his own ears. "I could not fight. I had no strength. The pain was too great."

But at the same time a battle began raging inside his turbulent mind as he wondered wildly, had he? Had he given up? Surely not. He had wanted to live.

Hadn't he?

She seemed to sense his dilemma and reached down to clasp his hand. Loki's conflicted eyes sought out hers desperately. "Your magic has retreated. Deep inside. You need to draw it back out. Use it to restore your life-force. Else you will die."

She looked so different in death, Loki thought, a heartbeat of calm amidst his bewilderment. Brighter, more vibrant. There was a wonderful aura about her. He still couldn't believe he would willingly choose to die, but now that it had happened, there was a certain appeal to...staying dead.

Besides, what was there to go back to, he thought miserably. Odin despised him. Thor tolerated him. There were few, if any, worlds he was welcome upon. Nowhere to call...home. And time after time he failed.

That exhaustion was back, a debilitating straining of his mind, not just physical. Dragging him down. Always down. He was tired of failing. Tired of despair. Tired of anger and rage and terrible dreams that woke him at night in a cold sweat.

He shuddered at the thought of Thanos, knowing that those initial tortures he had endured to persuade him to bend to their will, would be nothing compared to those he would receive after failing to deliver the Tesseract.

He could be free of it all, all the wretched emotions that plagued his mind, all threat of Thanos, if he stayed dead.

He could finally stop...falling.

"What if I choose not to go back?" he blurted irrationally. "What if I choose to stay." He swallowed hesitantly. "With you." Though he still held his mother's hand, the other clenched tightly at his cowardice, nails digging into his palms. He felt disgusted with himself. The fact he was even contemplating running away.

But he did not know which way to turn. He felt wrenched in so many different directions. And so forcefully he feared he might just tear apart completely.

Frigga's face mirrored his turmoil. Touched that he wanted to stay with her, but also heavyhearted. "It is not your time to die, Loki. Your destiny is to mend. To find peace. There is still much you need to live for. Important things."

He rolled his eyes. "Peace?" he baulked. "I am not a man of peace."

"No, you are a man of chaos. That cannot be denied. It is in your nature. It runs through your veins. But life is neither one nor the other. There is a balance. There always has been."

He raised an eyebrow sceptically.

She moved in closer, whispering into his ear. "Ordered chaos, Loki," she pointed out light-heartedly. "I am sure you have heard of it."

He snorted. "Seriously, mother?"

"It cannot hurt to try." She drew back, amusement in her eyes. "Besides, you would quickly become bored in Valhala. And it is no place for your shenanigans."

"I assumed I would end up in Helheim," he returned dryly.

A shadow passed across her face. "Please do not jest, Loki. That outcome still hangs by a hairsbreadth."

Seeing her distress and concern, he was overwhelmed with guilt. And so much regret. He wished with all that was left of his shattered heart that he could take back those fatal words.

You might want to take the stairs to the left.

His head felt heavy as he shook it remorsefully. "I'm sorry," he repeated hoarsely, fearing he could never say it enough. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be, my sweet boy," she smiled reassuringly "It was my time."

His anger flared. He wanted to scream out that it shouldn't have been. And wouldn't have been. If not for him. "I will avenge you."

She sighed, as if that somehow disappointed her, but there was a resigned look in her eyes. "I know you will. And so will Thor."

Thor? he thought bitterly. He would not give him the satisfaction of avenging Frigga. Besides, he would be too swift, too sparing, and Loki wanted the murderer to suffer, to feel an eternity of pain.

He took a deep breath, accepting now that his mother was right. He had to go back. Running away was not the answer. How could he avenge her if he were dead?

"I will miss you."

He would miss her so much. She was the only one who had truly loved him, unconditionally. And despite what she said, he would never stop regretting, never stop feeling guilty.

"And I, you." She smirked in a way that reminded him so much of himself that he found it hard to believe that she wasn't his real mother. "But I will be watching."

"Like Heimdall?" he tried to joke but he hurt too much inside for it to carry any real humour.

"Like a concerned mother," she amended.

But apprehension flooded her face again. "You must go. Go back. Now, Loki."

He nodded compliantly. "How?"

"Your magic. Wield it. It is waiting. You just need to summon it forth."

She reached across to embrace him one final time. "Promise me you will at least try to behave."

He smiled mournfully into her hair. "I promise." Though he couldn't resist adding: "Give or take a few...shenanigans."

Her laugh, warm as sunshine, tore at his heart as they parted, because he knew it would be the last time he heard it. At least for some time.

He would miss her. But she had ignited a new determination inside him, a fortitude that was already beginning to grow stronger. He wasn't quite sure whether it was the confirmation that he hadn't lost his magic after all, but he suddenly wanted to go back. Wanted this second chance.

Wanted to make her proud.

Or at least try to...her terms were vexing to say the least. Surely now that they had made their peace, she would relent. "I still have to endure Midgard for a whole year?"

She gave him a stern look. "Not a day less."

"But am I not forgiven?" he implored, though the mischief had returned, for he already knew she would not compromise. In truth, she would have disappointed him if she had.

"It is not me you need to seek forgiveness from. You know that."

Loki smarted. He hated the thought of fawning to any mortal. He was a god. It would be beneath him.

But he found himself hesitating, remembering fire-red hair and small tentative smiles.

And the smell of lilies as she had leaned in close.

This chain of thought perplexed him so he quickly focussed back upon his mother.

Her eyes were glistening. "You will make me proud," she encouraged, as if she had read his mind. "Do not fret, Loki."

He smiled cheerlessly. "I will try."

But I will not be denied my revenge. He vowed to himself. I will slit the throat of the monster that did this to you.

"I love you..."

"I love you too, mother."

As she began to fade, the world of white turned dark and he swiftly focussed inwards, upon his magic, with every shred of intent he could muster.

I hope that made sense. Basically, Loki had given up but didn't realise it! Though I'm sure he'll still remain in denial when he returns! :D

Reviews always appreciated, pweety please.