Another Chance

Attack

Like everything else, the festivities surrounding Thor's celebration were the same and terribly different. The same people, but so changed that it was sometimes hard to see the similarities. The same festive atmosphere, but instead of mead in golden jugs, what was distributed among the guests was wine in elegant crystal glasses. The female dresses had lost fabric with the change (Loki would not complain about it) and the male capes and tunics had been replaced by suits in multiple shades of black and blue (he complained about that, what did the Midgardians have against diversity in life? male clothing).

But there was one thing that did remain the same: The looks and the whispers. Wherever he passed, they both followed him. At least now, with his human senses, he was unable to hear the darts that were no doubt thrown at him. He hadn't deluded himself into thinking that maybe in this world things would be different. Because if his past life and unlived future had shown him anything, it was that wherever he went he would be nothing more than the snake in the garden. And yet, each glance followed by a whisper was a dagger digging into his chest.

He made her way through the crowd that had gathered in the mansion's ballroom, until he joined her mother on the dais that had been set up at one end of the room. Frigga was there, not quite in a corner, but far from the center. As always, present and at the same time keeping herself out of the spotlight. Loki had never understood why. Was it something that Odin asked of her, or was it something personal of hers? In any case, he was sure that she would be as, or more capable than Odin himself of holding the reins. Of a kingdom, or a company. She wore a dress the same shade of golden yellow as in Asgard, and in a very similar style, discarding the cape that she had completed the other. Still, she looked as beautiful as he remembered her.

On the other side of the dais were Thor's four friends. Sif, Fandral, Hogun and Volstagg. They all wore suits, including Sif, although hers was much more stylish. Her shiny black hair fell in ringlets to her mid-back, with a few front strands tied back to keep them out of her face. Loki wondered if in that universe he too had cut the girl's hair. And if she also still hated him for it. The four of them saw him at that moment, and the look that Sif gave him was enough to confirm that he did. Loki couldn't help but smile at her, wishing he could remember her face (no doubt childish, unlike her home world) when she noticed the lack of her locks.

Beside him, Frigga sighed. Loki forgot about Sif, the Warriors Three and his home world and looked at her. There or wherever, that woman had been the only one who had not looked at him as if he were the biggest disappointment in the world.

"Is something wrong, mother?" He asked solicitly.

"Nothing to worry about, my son," she reassured him. "It's just a bit of maternal concern, if I may say so."

Loki frowned and tilted her head to one side, silently inviting her to continue.

"I may have acted like I didn't notice, but I see the animosity between you and your brother's friends," she said, taking one of his hands in hers. "And the lack of friendship with anyone else. And it worries me that... Well, that you might feel lonely."

Loki blinked a few times before finding the words. This Frigga was much more direct than the queen who had raised him had been. Perhaps it was his humanity, which gave her less time to avoid the problems of her children for centuries. Loki forced a smile.

"I have you. And my brother. And my books," he assured, patting his mother's hands, who still held his other hand.

Frigga raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Your brother? The one you keep pushing out of your room? Besides, I won't be around forever."

Something heavy settled on his stomach. Would Frigga suffer the same fate if he failed in his mission to prevent his own exile from the family? No, he couldn't let that happen.