Would that she could tell him it hadn't made any difference, but the seconds had mattered. If the Kursed had been delayed for just sixty of them, Thor would have come to her in time. If the Kursed had been delayed for minutes, she would have killed Malekith and it would have not come up behind her. She would have faced it down, fought it to a standstill, and Thor would have come in time.
It hurt to know that. It infuriated to know that. And yet it was done. It was done and now they must all bear the brunt of it. It was more than evident that Loki had not intended harm to come to her. She could picture it; Loki stewing in his anger, hatred, and pain, seeing the opportunity for mischief, for escape, and taking what he could, caring not for those who might be hurt around him...
"That was spiteful, Loki," Frigga said after a time. "And a foolish risk." That was said in the tone of a teacher; he had meddled with forces he did not understand. He must now bear the consequences, and this was far worse than dyed hair or a wounded hand. For she could not come back, she could not make this right. She could forgive him, she thought, but she could not wipe it out. "Yet do not think I would cut you off for a thoughtless moment. We have all born a heavy price for a foolish word. I fear you will go on bearing it long after I have."
Her hand, which had slackened in his grip, tightened once again. "You are my son. I love you. That does not change."
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Would that she could tell him it hadn't made any difference, but the seconds had mattered. If the Kursed had been delayed for just sixty of them, Thor would have come to her in time. If the Kursed had been delayed for minutes, she would have killed Malekith and it would have not come up behind her. She would have faced it down, fought it to a standstill, and Thor would have come in time.
It hurt to know that. It infuriated to know that. And yet it was done. It was done and now they must all bear the brunt of it. It was more than evident that Loki had not intended harm to come to her. She could picture it; Loki stewing in his anger, hatred, and pain, seeing the opportunity for mischief, for escape, and taking what he could, caring not for those who might be hurt around him...
"That was spiteful, Loki," Frigga said after a time. "And a foolish risk." That was said in the tone of a teacher; he had meddled with forces he did not understand. He must now bear the consequences, and this was far worse than dyed hair or a wounded hand. For she could not come back, she could not make this right. She could forgive him, she thought, but she could not wipe it out. "Yet do not think I would cut you off for a thoughtless moment. We have all born a heavy price for a foolish word. I fear you will go on bearing it long after I have."
Her hand, which had slackened in his grip, tightened once again. "You are my son. I love you. That does not change."