The snow fell gently over Asgard, blanketing the golden halls and soaring towers in a quiet stillness.
Thor skipped down the long corridors, his youthful energy undeterred by the weight that had settled over the palace. He stopped before Loki's door, his small hand knocking eagerly.
"Loki!" Thor called. "Do you want to build a snowman?"
There was no answer. Thor knelt, peeking under the door's edge.
"Please, brother," Thor said softly. "It's been so long since I've seen you. We used to be so close. Don't you remember? Come out and play."
His voice echoed in the empty hall. Thor sighed, pulling back and picking up a pair of daggers he'd brought with him. He twirled them absentmindedly, hoping for a response, but none came. Finally, his shoulders sagged, and he turned away.
"You're my best friend, Loki," Thor said, his voice breaking. "Please."
He tried once more, pressing his eye to the keyhole. "Do you want to build a snowman?"
A muffled voice answered from within. "Go away, Thor."
Thor's heart sank. He stood silently for a moment before whispering, "Okay… bye."
Inside the room, Loki sat by the frosted window, his head resting on his knees. He watched the snow fall beyond the glass, his longing etched into every line of his face. He reached out, touching the windowsill. Frost spread beneath his fingertips, crackling faintly. Loki pulled his hand back as though burned, staring at it with a mix of frustration and fear.
XXX
Later, Frigga sat beside Loki in his room, the warm glow of a nearby lantern casting soft light over their quiet sanctuary.
"Breathe," she said gently, holding Loki's trembling hands in her own. She slipped a pair of leather gloves over his fingers, her touch deliberate and comforting.
Loki's shoulders tensed, his eyes fixed on his gloved hands. "What if I lose control again?" he whispered.
Frigga smiled softly, her blue eyes filled with patience. "Then we try again. You are not your mistakes, my son. Magic is like the wind—it can be wild and untamed, but with time and effort, you can guide it."
She raised her own hands, conjuring an orb of golden light. It floated between them, flickering and warm. "Feel it," she said. "Magic isn't just power; it's a part of you. Don't fear it. Embrace it."
Loki hesitated, then raised his hands. A faint shimmer of frost appeared, delicate and hesitant, hovering in the air before him.
"That's it," Frigga encouraged. "You're doing it."
But Loki's breathing hitched as the frost flared, spiraling into sharp shards. He recoiled, and the magic exploded outward, coating the walls and floor in ice.
"No!" he cried, pulling his hands back. "I can't control it. I'll hurt you."
Frigga reached out, but Loki stumbled away, his back pressed against the frozen wall. "Don't touch me," he said, his voice breaking. "I don't want to hurt you, Mother."
Frigga's expression softened as she lowered her hands. "Loki, listen to me. Your magic is not a curse—it's a gift. But like all gifts, it must be nurtured."
"It doesn't feel like a gift," Loki muttered, staring at his gloved hands.
Frigga reached for him again, this time resting a hand on his shoulder. "You are my son," she said softly. "And I love every part of you. Even this."
Loki's lips trembled, but he didn't pull away this time. Slowly, hesitantly, he allowed her to guide him back to the center of the room, where they tried again.
XXX
The years passed, and Frigga's lessons continued.
Every day, she taught Loki to control his magic, weaving lessons in both power and restraint. She showed him how to create illusions, how to weave light and frost together into shapes and patterns that dazzled the eye.
One evening, she conjured a small image of a wolf made of golden light. It padded across the table before turning into a raven, its wings spreading wide. Loki watched, transfixed, then raised his own hands. A snowflake appeared, its intricate design shimmering in the air before fracturing into a flurry of frost.
"You're getting better," Frigga said, smiling.
XXX
But every step forward seemed to come with setbacks. When his emotions overwhelmed him, his magic grew wild, and he would retreat to his room, locking himself away.
The ice behind him would linger, creeping up the walls and crystallizing over the windows. Thor, now older, would always knock, asking the same question.
"Do you want to build a snowman?"
But Loki never answered.
Thor tried everything to coax his brother out. He rode a two-person chariot down the halls, calling for Loki to join him. He sketched silly faces on the portraits, declaring, "Joan of Arc needs a beard, brother!" He even built snowmen himself, placing them outside Loki's door in silent hope.
But Loki stayed hidden.
When Thor came of age, he ventured into the Nine Realms to fight monsters and trolls. Each time he returned, triumphant and battered, he knocked on Loki's door.
"Loki, you should have seen it!" Thor would call. "The troll was thrice my size! Come out, and I'll tell you all about it."
When Loki stayed silent, Thor would sigh and ask, "Do you want to build a snowman?"
But the answer never came.
XXX
The palace grew quieter as Odin and Frigga prepared for their journey to Jotunheim. On the day of their departure, Thor embraced them warmly, his enthusiasm masking any worry.
"See you in two weeks," he said cheerfully.
Frigga stood beside Odin, her hands resting lightly on Loki's shoulders as they prepared to leave for Jotunheim.
"You'll be fine, Loki," she said, her voice calm and reassuring. "I'll see you soon."
Loki looked up at her, his green eyes filled with unspoken fear. "Must you go?"
Frigga smiled, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "Sometimes, answers are worth seeking, even in the coldest places."
Loki watched as the ship disappeared into the mist, his heart heavy with unease.
"Loki," Frigga assured him, brushing a hand over his cheek. "You are stronger than you know."
Loki flinched from her touch but nodded.
XXX
The storm on Jotunheim was fierce, lightning illuminating the ship as it fought against the waves towards Laufey's castle. Odin and Frigga stood together on the deck, their faces grim as Jotunheim's icy cliffs rose in the distance. They had come seeking answers for Loki's powers—but Laufey's wrath was swift and merciless.
They never returned.
XXX
In Asgard, the golden halls were draped in mourning. A great pyre burned in the fjord, the flames reaching toward the heavens. Thor stood alone before the gathered crowd, his grief barely concealed by his warrior's composure.
The Viking funeral was resplendent, with Odin's and Frigga's ashes scattered across the winds, their spirits sent to join the stars.
Thor's gaze lingered on the horizon, but his brother was absent. Loki had not come.
XXX
In his frozen room, Loki sat motionless, his hands trembling in his lap. The walls were coated in ice, the floor covered in frost, and snowflakes hung suspended in the air. His mind raced, replaying the moment Frigga had left him, the last touch of her hand, the warmth of her words.
And now she was gone.
His breath hitched as the grief surged uncontrollably. The frost exploded outward, icicles shooting from the walls, snow billowing around him in a violent storm. The entire room froze, the magic wild and untamed.
"NO!" Loki screamed, his voice breaking. His hands gripped the edge of his chair, ice crackling beneath his fingers. The storm raged around him, the snowflakes shimmering like tears suspended in the air.
Later, Thor stood outside Loki's door, still dressed in his mourning clothes. His knuckles rapped softly against the frozen wood.
"Loki?" Thor said, his voice hoarse. "Please let me in. It's just us now. You don't have to shut me out."
He pressed his forehead against the door, his voice breaking. "I've always been here for you. I always will be. Just… come out. Please."
He slid down to the floor, sitting with his back against the door. "Do you want to build a snowman?"
Inside, Loki sat in the same position, his back pressed to the other side of the door. The frost around him glittered in the faint light, but the silence between the brothers remained unbroken.