cloudspinner | (no subject)

Loki didn't pull his hand away from her, though he could not just accept the absolution to easily. Perhaps such forced honesty with Rogue had given him to bad habits. He wanted to be fully understood. He rested his other elbow on his leg, his face in his hand.

"It was spiteful," he agreed. "But a calculated risk. I wanted--needed out." He laughed sharply. "Out of my cage. You ought to have let Odin cut off my head. You'd still be alive and I would have had my freedom." He would have happily killed a thousand Asgardians with his bare hands for that escape, but not Frigga. Never Frigga. The one person he'd cared about, and the Kursed had gone unerringly for her.

She felt a layer of her heart calcify at his insistence. It was difficult enough, hearing this now for the first time. She couldn't help but be angry and disappointed - and now Loki was insisting he knew what he was doing? Insisting that it would have been better for him to have died? After all she had told him, how could he say that, how could he believe it?

"Death is not freedom," Frigga said. "And if I must trade my life for yours, do not doubt that I would do it, a thousand times. You are my son."

And it was wrong, painfully so, for a child to pass before the parent. But he seemed intent on some disapprobation, so Frigga glanced aside for a moment then looked back at him, trying to pick her words carefully. "I am sorry you were so hard-pressed. And I am -" disappointed? angered? frustrated? "-somewhat surprised to learn the part you played in this. And I am grieved. But I would not hold you to account for it. It was a bid for freedom, however ill-conceived, and not for my death. I'll not treat it as if that was your intention."

He let out a shuddering breath. "Will you then forgive me?" he asked quietly.

He shut his eyes tightly, expression twisting with grief and anger. "I didn't even know. No one told me. Not until you were sent down the river and--a guard told me." Pain and an insult and the refusal to ever let him even say goodbye. That perhaps was what had turned this so poisonous within him, what wrong he had done compounded by his imprisonment, by the way he was treated as if he was not Frigga's son at all. "I never saw you again."

Was it any wonder he'd nearly fallen apart when she'd arrived? He'd almost been bled to death by a creature that had worn her face? For all he knew, this was another illusion, and he no longer cared.

This time it was Frigga who gathered Loki into her embrace. She held him tightly and shut her eyes.

"Yes," she said. That Loki would ask for forgiveness at all was... telling, and she could not help but give it in word, deed, and truth. It was a matter for forgiveness, because there was no method of righting the wrong that had been done. She must forgive or she must see him bleed for it, and she would not demand blood from her son. Instead, she gave him the words. "I forgive you, Loki."

Her hand tightened in his, imagining that scene as he painted it for a moment. Her voice was thick with grief. "And you will see me again soon enough."

For just a moment, Loki allowed himself to fall wholly into that embrace, as if he was a child again. He pressed his face against her shoulder, one hand tangling in the fabric of her dress. She smelled the way she'd always smelled, earth and flowers and growing things.

Loki breathed out a long sigh against her shoulder. No tears; he refused to cry, still, always. But the words felt like absolution, and he'd thought himself long past needing such things. It felt like suddenly being able to breathe again. Mother was still gone, in Asgard, but at least she did not hate him for it.

He twitched, slightly at those words. You will see me again soon enough. Did she know, after all, of his supposed death? Had someone told her? But he said nothing about it, yet. Better to not speak at all, yet. He didn't trust his voice.

She did not hate him for it. She was angry. She was grieved. Those emotions could easily coil into hatred if Frigga allowed it, hatred even for a beloved son whose bitterness had cost her dearly. Frigga had been the gardener of her soul for too long to allow grief and anger to take root and morph into hatred. She would grieve, and she would be angry, and she would forgive. That was all.

She held her son fast as he shuddered in her arms and hoped that what she could not restore to him through her life would be restored to him through her death - the knowledge that he was loved, that he had a family, that he belonged.

Loki was silent for a long time before he finally uncoiled, sought to move back to a more normal distance. He did not wipe his eyes or anything like that; he was still for the most part composed.

No, he'd been telling her about the escape, everything that had happened after. A steadying breath and then he sought to continue on as if there had been no interruption. "Some short time later, Thor came to the dungeon to offer me a bargain. He would release me so I might help avenge you, but he swore to return me to my cage once we had succeeded at that task."

He shrugged. "Of course, I accepted." What son wouldn't? There was of course opportunity to be had, and he'd been very conscious of that. But foremost in his mind had been the purpose of revenge.

And so Loki shifted back and Frigga allowed it, allowed him to resume his story as if he had not interrupted. She realized that he could have easily not told her of the fault he bore. This was a sign of great growth or of great guilt... perhaps both. But she was at least comforted in this, that in whatever time they had together this wound would no longer fester in her son.

She maintained her hold on his hand, a loose grip, but constant as she ever had been.

What must it meant for Thor, who had for so long refused to see his brother, refused to recognize his brother in Loki, to seek his help? What had driven him to it? She did not think Loki would know, so she did not ask.

"He freed you, then?"

"He did." Loki smiled crookedly. "Though he put me in chains first. And came up with a serviceable enough plan to get us free of the palace, even, for Odin had no intention of letting Thor and Jane leave." He described the escape briefly to her, and their plan to use Malekith to coax the Aether from Jane so they could try to destroy it.

Frigga listened with true attention. Well, that was certainly... a cause for wonder. She wondered at the great extent Odin had gone to in order to make sure his own sons could not act. Must he have all things his own way? Did they not raise their sons to move, to act?

Still, Odin was king, and the king's rule must be obeyed.

"You planned to destroy the Aether with... what, exactly?"

"Thor's plan, really. He intended to use Mjolnir. I didn't particularly agree, but it did have a chance of working. Far more of a chance than waiting in Asgard."

And it had gotten him out of the dungeon.

"Thor needed me to take us to Svartalfheim. But also, ultimately, in order to get close to Malekith, and to fight. He trusted me enough to free me of my chains, then, and give me one of my daggers back. And yes, mother, I served his trust well. Malekith did take the Aether from Jane as we'd expected. And I protected her."

She was glad to hear him say it, and a bit sad that he needed to say it, that he'd served Thor's trust well.

"Good," she said quietly, able to say now what she would never be able to say in truth in proper order. "I am proud of you for that, Loki."

"Mjolnir could not destroy the Aether when it hung in the air, free of Jane. Malekith took it into himself and left for Midgard whilst Thor and I fought many of his soldiers and the Kursed one. We slew them all."

Hm. This was where the story was going to be tricky.

Frigga nodded, remembering now some of her earlier arcane studies - in the foundational elements of the world... infinity stones. It wouldn't be so easy to destroy them.

"Well done," she said quietly.

"The battle continued on to Midgard. There, Thor slew Malekith and... captured the Aether." This he knew in fact, but also plausibly knew from what Steve Rogers had told him. But he was also hoping to skate around the issue entirely. "At least that is what I have been told. I come from a time between those two battles."

And who was it that had told him then... ah.

"Jane, then, is from a time after Malekith's defeat," Frigga said. "It must be a comfort to you to know how that story will end."

Her grip subconsciously tightened on his hand in the face of the inevitability of the fact that she must and will let him go, never to be seen otherwise in her life.

How kind of mother to provide that excuse for him and allow him to skip over that part without prevaricating. "It is, indeed. I was rather disquieted not knowing."

As her hand tightened, he wondered if she knew, somehow. He'd asked everyone to keep the unfortunate fact from her. He squeezed her hand back.

"That is all the story I have to tell you, then." Otherwise, he has been in Luceti. And...

What a mess. Why did he bring these things up?

Frigga's heart, meanwhile, was still echoing with the realization that her son had been an indirect participant in her murder. Thor, she realized, must never know of this. He would not understand, and he would know all too well how it had been a matter of moments. Though of course, she realized a moment later, Thor did not carry that burden here. That was well, then, since the son of her blood had always been all-too-canny when it came to reading her heart's shadows.

And now... now Loki's face was still clouded.

"Is it?" she said quietly, lightly. "I note you have spoken not of what plagues you so in your 'personal life.' Your expression is still distraught, my son. I would help you clear it, if I could."

Loki was already so aware of what he'd told her that day; he'd killed her. She had said she'd forgiven him but... it was already difficult enough. And then to add on top of it, the far more petty troubles he'd faced here? His inadequacies in opposition to the strange way humans conducted themselves? What had been done to him that he still could not escape? Hah, and Frigga as someone who had never had other lovers. And then on top of that, to reveal other, far more personal things?

I killed you, mother. And by the way, I'm a pervert.

No. He was a cruel man at times, but this seemed just unnecessary and pointless.

He shook his head. "Of no account now, mother. Perhaps some other time. Today has already been weighted down quite heavily."

Frigga was silent for a moment. She reached out and picked up her wine glass again, the movement easy and graceful. She watched Loki, considering.

"For a mother," she said finally, picking her words with care and gentle emphasis, "and for any that loves, it is easier to bend down and take on more weight than it is to watch the son that you love struggle alone. I would not seek to compel you to speak with me, but I would much prefer the burden of knowledge than of worry."

That's right - 'loves,' present tense.

Loki was silent for a long moment, then fumbled to find her hand, give it a soft squeeze. "There is no need to worry, mother. All is all right."

The only person he never lied to, after all, was Rogue.

"I would fain speak of lighter things."

But Frigga didn't need a giant flashing neon sign to tell her when her son was lying. She sighed a little and then went with the change in topic. She had raised her sons as best as she was able; they were now men fully grown by the standards of Asgard, whatever their relative age. She could advise, would suggest, would even question their suppositions and assumptions in order to lead them on the path she believed to be correct, but in the end Frigga would allow them to chart their own course. She would not seek to interfere.

"Lighter things, then," Frigga said. She glanced around her living room and sought a change in topic. But she was only a goddess, after all, and subject to the same curiosity as every mother. "Will you tell me how you first came to decide upon your lady, or shall we abandon the topic of relationships all together?"

Talking about their meeting seemed light enough. It had been difficult at times, but was generally positive, and a fun story. "Nay, it is all right. It seems the sort of thing a mother ought to know."

He squeezed her hand again. "I met Rogue upon my arrival here. We did not particularly like each other. Well... I did not care in the slightest about her, and she rather despised me I think." He shrugged. Something something invading Midgard something something. "We were compelled to work together a bit on a mission, and... hm. Rogue is what mortals call a... mutant. She has a power she has yet to gain full control of, which hurts others who touch her bare skin. I discovered on the mission that I could create a shield for myself. She still disliked me immensely, however, and I had little patience for her beyond a bit of curiosity."

Edited 2014-09-08 00:53 (UTC)

Not only was a mother likely entitled to know such things, but Frigga had the same unfortunate love of drama and melodrama that infected the entirety of her people. This time, she squeezed his hand back and leaned forward with interest as he continued.

She raised her eyebrows, "That seems an inauspicious start."

"What could be worse than mutual loathing?" He laughed, squeezing her hand. "There wasn't anyone here that I liked at all, really. I was treated with appropriate wariness. Though A few, such as Billy, decided they would befriend me, and... a few children I watched over. At any rate, I had not been here at all long when a village-wide shift occurred. I woke up one morning, and like nearly everyone else, I had no memories at all."