A Child of Two Worlds [Marvel | Loki]

Frigga

A/N: I finally managed it! Another instalment. I hope you all enjoy! 

Also, if you haven't yet, I do recommend giving Odin's entry another read. I went back and polished and changed a few things. ;)

Just a brief reminder: I have ONLY drawn from the Films for reference. NOT the comics and not the source myths.

Oh, and I'm still ignoring the ridiculous tidbit from Infinity War that suggests Thor is ~500 years older than Loki...

So, the dialogue and events in this scene is lifted from both the Scene that made it into the move as well as the Alternate/Extended scene that was (obviously) cut/reworked for the final film since it didn't fit the sequence of events they finally went with. And since there were aspects of both that I not only liked but felt worked in the context of this story, I have made use of them both.

And as with the first instalment and my expansion on Jotunn culture, my interpretation of Asgardian culture and sequence of events surrounding Hela and her imprisonment and so on is built mostly on what I consider reasonable interpretation, inference and creative license based on details from the movies told us (deleted scenes included save where they contradict with final cuts) with a wee bit of wiki dabbling where I felt it suited the story.

Enjoy, Lovelies!

***

Frigga

Her elder son was banished. Her husband had fallen into the Odinsleep.

And her younger son was in pain. So much pain.

He'd finally learned the truth of who—of what—he was. And yet...there was still so much he didn't know. And for all that Frigga hated keeping the truth from Loki, her dark-haired boy, there were still some truths she hoped he would never learn.

***

"I never get used to seeing him like this."

At Loki's hushed, nearly whispered words, Frigga looked up from Odin's still features—they were almost, but not quite peaceful...as though he too worried and regretted about how he'd left things—to study Loki's drawn expression as he looked down at his father. He sounded so...adrift. Lost, even. Uncertain.

His entire life had been turned upside down.

If there was one thing Frigga hated above all else, it was seeing pain and sorrow written on the faces of the men she loved, on the faces of her husband and her sons. And right now? Pain and sorrow seemed far too mild to describe what she could see in her younger son no matter that he hid it well with a stoic, nearly emotionless mien.

Nearly.

For all that he hadn't been a child for many, many hundreds of years, in moments like this? In many ways, Frigga couldn't help but feel her grown son was still very much a boy.

He might be the god of lies and deceptions, but she was his mother. He could hide very little from her.

Loki was in pain. He'd been wounded down to his very soul.

And he was trying so valiantly to hide it.

Frigga's soul ached in concert with his. If she could take her beloved son's pain unto herself, to spare him from it, she would do so in a heartbeat. For he was her son, in every way that mattered.

And finding out the truth of his heritage—the partial truth, she amended privately with sorrow and regret of her own—was a pain she could easily imagine threatened to crush him. Even now, she could see the cracks, the splinters, digging into him, threatening to fester.