"There is little to be told, really. Or perhaps little I can tell, for I was not privy to it and the Thor with us here has not yet lived it." He considered where best to start the tale. "I do not know what had happened at all, beyond the invasion being defeated. I saw the Kursed one, of course, but he did not deign to free me."

His smile fell away then, because yes, he'd made his mischief. And he would not have cared, not even now, but for the harm he knew it had done.

Should he simply gloss past it? What good would it do? He felt as if his mother might have forgiven him for his words, but for this? She had been wounded by the words. This, she did not know and therefore it could not hurt her. And yet. There were few things in his life Loki truly regretted, and this had become one of them. It ate at him like a cancer still. He'd told Rogue of it, and she'd told him it wasn't his fault, but still it plagued him.

And now this was the chance, to confess, to beg forgiveness. Loki, admitting what wrong he had done. But it was not often he thought anything he did wrong in any sense. But his words had, to his thinking, ended his mother's life. And that, he could not escape. Caught in indecision, he fell silent, hand coming up to his mouth so he could worry at one knuckle with his teeth.