Avengers Age Regression Oneshots

Mischief-maker

Frigga had been sitting quietly in her chambers, enjoying the rare moment of stillness while Loki napped. She had just started stitching a delicate embroidery piece when a palace guard entered, his expression hesitant.

"My Queen," he said carefully, "Prince Loki has been spotted near the throne room."

Frigga sighed softly, setting down her needlework. It seemed her little mischief-maker was at it again. She rose gracefully, her gown trailing behind her as she walked toward the grand halls of the palace.

When she reached the throne room, the sight before her was both endearing and exasperating. Little Loki, barefoot and dressed in his soft green tunic, was toddling around the room, his tiny hands reaching up toward Odin's throne.

"Loki," Frigga called gently, stepping into the room.

The toddler froze, his eyes wide as he turned to see his mother. His tiny lips quivered for a moment before he broke into a sheepish grin. "Mama!"

Frigga couldn't help but smile back, despite her attempt to look stern. "What are you doing in here, my little one? You're supposed to be napping."

Loki clutched a small wooden horse he had brought with him, his little feet shuffling. "Wanted to see big chair," he said in his soft, toddler-like voice.

Frigga walked over and knelt in front of him, brushing a stray strand of dark hair from his face. "The big chair is for Papa, darling. It's not a toy."

"Not a toy," Loki repeated seriously, though his small hand reached out to pat the throne as if testing its truth.

Frigga chuckled softly and scooped him up into her arms. "Come now, little prince. Let's go back to your room. You need to rest if you want to play with Mama later."

Loki pouted, his tiny arms wrapping around her neck. "No sleepy," he insisted, though his eyes were already drooping.

Frigga pressed a kiss to his forehead, cradling him close as she walked back toward his chambers. "I know, my love, but even princes need their rest."

She carried him back to his room, humming softly as his head nestled against her shoulder. By the time she laid him down in his crib, Loki was fast asleep, clutching his wooden horse tightly.

Frigga lingered for a moment, brushing her fingers gently over his dark curls. "My sweet little mischief-maker," she murmured.

And as she left the room, she instructed the guards to keep a closer watch—but couldn't help smiling to herself. Loki's spirit might be wild, but his heart was so very precious.