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Loki isn't sure of the last time he was here. He is sure that it was too long ago if he doesn't recall. He can't remember feeling so restful in a long time. Here in his mother's garden with the soft grass a mattress under his body and his mother's lap a pillow for his head Loki feels at peace, so much so he may actually fall asleep if there is nothing to prevent it. He's not sure quite why he is so weary. Perhaps it has something to do with what kept him from Frigga's company for so long, for it has been a long time. What was he doing? What was she? He can't conjure a single memory to fill the gap.
That should trouble him and in fact it does. The next moment however, he feels his mother's gentle fingers carding through his hair and the worry flees from his mind, replaced by the simple joy he derives from the action. Someone used to tease Frigga about that, he recalls. How she used to pet her children's heads the same way she did her cats. He can't think of who it was but he does know Thor always hated it as a boy and Loki pretended the same back then. He didn't want his brother to know how much he secretly enjoyed it. Loki was never one for grand displays of affection. It was always the small, simple ones that he craved. Even now, he can't think of anything he'd enjoy more than this.
"Loki, for how much longer do you intend to stay here?"
He doesn't open his eyes to answer. "Trying to be rid of me, Mother?"
"There is no one I would wish less to be parted from."
"That settles it then. I shall stay forever."
The fingers in his hair still. "I wish you could. If only it were so simple."
"But it is, isn't it?"
In place of an answer, there comes a silence that drags on for so long that Loki can no longer bear it and opens his eyes. His mother's face above him is filled with such sadness the sight makes something in his chest ache, as though an invisible foot is pressing down on his ribs.
"I had hoped you would realize the truth on your own by now," she says.
Loki sits up beside her. "What truth? What are you saying?"
"As much as I desire otherwise, you mustn't remain here, my son."
The ache in his chest becomes sharper, the foot turning into a knife piercing through him.
"Why?" he asks. The one word is filled with childish need and desperation.
"Because you must wake up."
"I am awake."
She shakes her head. "No, you aren't."
"I am," he repeats with none of the certainty of the first time.
"Are you sure?"
The sounds of birds fade away, along with the rustle of the breeze through the leaves on the trees. Even the water flowing from the fountain is eerily silent. None of this catches Loki's notice though, for all he can think on is his mother's enigmatic manner. It's not like her.
"Mother, I..." His famously gilded words, usually so easy on his tongue, desert him.
"It's all right," she assures him. "I know this must be confusing but please try to think. What is the last thing you remember?"
Images flow through his mind, rushed and disjointed.
Inside a skiff with Thor.
His cell in the dungeon.
Shackles on his wrists.
The barren wastes of Svartalfheim.
Then...
Dense blackness swallows him whole. He sees nothing, hears nothing. The darkness presses down on him from all sides, holding him place with crushing force. Agony tears through his body, setting his every nerve aflame. He screams only to have the sound vanish into the vast well of emptiness that surrounds him. He struggles, beating his fists against the blackness holding him and-
And it's gone. He's back in Frigga's garden where he was before, but something isn't right. Loki feels his hands throb and looks down. The flesh of his hands is red, his knuckles almost purple with broken blood vessels. They look as though he was beating them against a stone for hours. He tries to speak but his throat feels raw and torn the way it might if he had done nothing but scream for days. His heart pounds and his lungs burn from exertion. Every bone aches.
It's not only his body that is out of sorts. The garden itself has become too quiet, devoid of the usual sounds of life. There is light but there is no sun in the sky. The vivid colours of the flowers have faded, become washed out. Everything is as it was but just a little off, including Frigga. His mother now looks at him with eyes that tell him definitively that she knows something he does not and what she knows is not good.
He blinks once and the bruises and pain disappear. He blinks again and they return. At the edges of his sight, the borders of the garden have become blurred. Some other nameless thing, an uneasy sense of trepidation is niggling at the edges of his awareness.
"Mother?" he croaks.
"I know. I know, my boy."
She reaches out and pulls him forward, wrapping her arms about his trembling shoulders. When did he grow so cold? His arms wind about her torso in turn, fingers burying themselves in her dress.
"What is this?" he asks, terrified.
"You went through a horrid ordeal but it has passed," she tells him.
"What ordeal?" he gasps into her shoulder. "I don't understand."
"You will, in time. Someone cast a spell on you, a working so black you nearly died."
That explains his discomfort but not the rest, not why the wounds appeared and vanished, or why everything else feels so wrong. It doesn't explain the gaps in his recollection.
"Why don't I remember?"
Frigga rubs on hand in circles on his shivering back. "The spell left... scars of a sort, ones that will be a long time in healing."
That bodes ill. For a working to accomplish such a thing it would have to be done by a mage of unparalleled power and damage done by seiðr is not easily overcome.
"What sort of spell could do this?"
"One that trapped a part of you and made the rest into something else."
A shudder rattles through Loki's entire body. "Why?"
When no answer comes, he pulls back enough to see her face. Never before has he seen such anguish in her eyes.
"I cannot tell you. I promise you will receive answers in time but you are unable to bear them at present. You will need all your strength for what lay ahead."
A sense of foreboding curls in his guts. He's never seen her so afraid for him, not even as he stood before Odin's judgement. And that unnamed dread scratching at the edges of his understanding grows ever more intense.
The prisons are once again quiet. Evidence of the carnage abounds but Loki cares little. He thumbs through one of his books and tries to ignore disquiet which has nagged him these past several hours. Something is wrong with the calm after the riot, though he can't decide what. It is nothing specific but there is a heaviness in the air that feels out of place in a land of warriors after a battle. He is so wrapped up in unravelling the mystery that he doesn't notice an approaching Einherjar until he is close enough to speak.
"I have a message from the king."
Loki's entire body jerks. The flash of memory fades from his mind but not its significance.
"You died," he blurts.
Frigga says nothing but her pained expression tells him enough. All at once, Loki wants to hold her tighter and cast her off and run away. Now he knows the source of his nameless dread. Of all the things not right, that his mother is here is foremost.
"Is this... are you real?"
"Yes."
"Then am I... did I..."
"No," she answers his unfinished question. "No, you haven't died. You are alive on Midgard but you are in a very precarious state. Your body is on the mend but your mind hasn't begun to. The spell fractured your mind and the greater part of your consciousness was locked away by the spell. Though the spell was removed you remain here, somewhere between life and death. That is the only reason I can reach you."
He hears the words but for all he takes them in the All-Tongue may as well have failed him. He doesn't understand how what she says is possible. Those in Valhalla's halls can have no dealings with the living. What could this spell have done to him to leave him in a state close enough to death for her to bridge that divide?
"I know this is puzzling but I cannot burden you with matters of the afterlife," she goes on. "It is not something for the minds of the living. Loki, you are in grave danger. The longer you remain here, the less of your true consciousness remains. If you linger too long in this in-between existence your conscious self will cease to be and only the remnants that are now awake in your body will remain."
The implications take time to understand but once he does, he balks at the idea. Just as the dead can have no dealings with the living, those yet outside Valhalla may have nothing to do with those inside.
"I'll never see you again."
"And if you stay, you will fade from existence forever."
"I don't care!" Loki exclaims, rising to his feet. "I'd sooner enjoy what little time we have here than live out my days knowing that I-"
He cuts himself off but not so soon that the abrupt halt isn't conspicuous.
"That you what, Loki?"
His mother regards him with worry and it's more than he can stand. Loki turns his back to her, unable to look at the kind concern in her face knowing how little he deserves it. If she hasn't guessed yet, she will soon.
"...I ...I helped him," he struggles to admit. "I told him how to evade capture."
"Who?"
"I didn't care," he goes on, voice sounding hollow. "I wanted the chaos. I didn't care who was hurt. I never dreamed..."
Loki's voice fails him, or perhaps it is just that he lacks both the courage and the strength to speak the rest.
I didn't stop him. I killed you.
From behind him the is a rustling of silk, followed by a hand slipping into his at his side.
"Loki, listen to me and listen well. I knew the risk I was taking and I took it alone. You are no more to blame for actions that were my own than are Odin or Thor."
He tries to remove his hand from her grasp but she holds him fast. "But I-"
"No, Loki." Her voice has an edge of steel, which he finds oddly reassuring. "Malekith and his thirst for vengeance were responsible. Not you."
He stays still, unable to move or even speak. She comes around to stand before him but he averts his eyes, fixing them upon the ground. One of her hands stays in his and the other comes up to cradle his cheek.
"I know you believe yourself at fault and perhaps you always will, but know that you deserve no blame for what happened. Even if you did, you have suffered more than enough. You don't need to go on punishing yourself."
Loki cannot help but shiver as the memory of that oppressive darkness crawls over his skin, his body still throbbing with the phantom ache left by what he knows now was a spell. He yet has no real memory of it or the suffering she spoke of but he doesn't truly need the memories to believe it. He feels rather than knows it was agony.
Frigga gently raises his chin so that their eyes must meet. "I want nothing more than to be at your side to help you heal but it isn't possible. I cannot follow you where you must go and you will perish if you stay."
"Then... then do it," he says. "Send me back. You brought me here..." he trails off as she shakes her head.
"I can't. This place is your creation, a refuge you fled to when freed from the spell. You choose to come here and you must choose to leave."
Her image blurs behind the tears gathering in his eyes. "Do you know what it is you ask? That I should willingly walk away from you and toward an existence of uncertainty and pain."
"It is no easier for me, Loki. But I simply cannot bear to lose you forever and watch a shell continue living in your stead."
"I... I don't know if I can."
"You are stronger than you know, my son. You always were. And you will not be alone. Thor will be by your side."
A grimace twists Loki's features. Frigga tuts at him before he can speak.
"He has risked much to keep you safe, Loki."
"Why should he care so much now? I seemed easy enough to disregard while I was in chains-"
The sound of a clap rings in his ears. Something about it shocks him and it is not until he feels the hot sting on his cheek that he understands why. Frigga's eyes are swirling both with anger at him and horror that she struck him. Her hand, the one she slapped him with, covers her mouth, endeavouring to conceal her loss of composure. Loki merely stares at her, dumbfounded.
Frigga drops her hand, expression turning into something familiar to Loki because he saw it so many times as a boy. It is the look she always gave him prior to his receiving a lecture. This time though there is an intensity to her manner that he hasn't seen before.
"I make no excuses for Thor's past treatment of you," she begins, her voice a restrained storm. "But he has sacrificed and suffered much on your behalf. He deserves none of your scorn."
Loki can't make himself speak an apology. Not for a lack of desire but because it all still makes so little sense to him that he can't think of what to say. He hates it more than anything when he is the one who knows the least.
"Will you at least tell me what happened?" he pleads. "Tell me something that explains all this."
"I can't. You may not feel it yet but your mind was pushed to the breaking point. Revealing too much before you've had a chance to recover your strength will shatter it beyond all ability to heal. The memories should return in their own time when you are better able to bear them."
"Should?"
Frigga shrugs. "Seiðr is unpredictable, you know that. There is no way to know for certain what effects will linger."
He shakes his head in disbelief. "So I am to throw myself at the mercy of Thor and this unknown existence of misery and being but a shadow of my former self."
"A walk in the park, as they say."
"Don't jest, Mother. Not in this."
One corner of her mouth turns up. "Just a bit of fun, my little trickster."
Loki smiles in spite of himself. Frigga raises her hand to his cheek again and strokes it with her thumb.
"There you are. I knew my mischievous boy was in there somewhere. Hold onto him as hard as you can. I fear he's lost is way a bit but I think if he trusts his brother he can find it again."
"And if I'm not so sure?"
"That's all right," she promises. "I am."
Loki reaches up, takes her hand from his face and holds it. By now the borders of the garden have vanished completely and what is left is slowly going the same way. He wonders if his mother will be next to fade.
"I don't want you to go," he tells her with a wavering voice.
His mother squeezes his hand. Her smile is a mournful thing. "I know, but there always comes a time when we must do that which we do not wish to. Know this, Loki, I will always be watching over you. When the time comes we will be reunited."
Oh how he wishes that were true. Even if he were to devote the rest of his life to the doing of good the way Thor has, Loki knows his destiny is not Valhalla. His crimes are too numerous. More than that, the Norns have ever denied him any true and lasting happiness. His place at the end will not be among the honoured dead where his mother's soul resides.
"Loki," she calls him from his thoughts, squeezing his hand once more. He refuses the think about how it feels less tangible this time. "We will be reunited. Of this above all things I am sure."
"Know something I don't?" he asks, that shameful trembling still in his voice even though he is repeating one of their oldest private jokes.
Her reply is the same as ever. "Many, many things."
"Then I shall believe it," he lies.
"No, you won't, but that's all right. I'll believe enough for the both of us and in time I will again have the chance to tell you, 'I told you so'."
Loki puts forth a valiant effort to smile. "Your favourite words."
"You only believe that because you heard them so often," she chides him gently. "I yet wonder when you will learn not to doubt me."
Their interchange is so normal, so similar to hundreds of past conversations that Loki forgets for just one torturous moment why this one is different. Remembering sends another knife through him, this one piercing straight through his heart.
"I'm sorry, Mother. I'm so sorry."
"Don't," she silences him. "I'll not have our parting be full of needless apologies."
Loki looks at her, helpless. There is only one other thing he can think to offer. "I love you."
"Now those are my favourite words," she replies with a genuine smile.
She wraps her arms around him one last time and he does the same to her. Loki closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see the last of the garden disappear, so he won't have to see her disappear. Already he feels her becoming less substantial than before and yet he doesn't let go. He's not even sure he can.
"I don't... I don't know what to do. How do I go back?"
Her arms tighten around his back but he hardly feels it. "It won't be long now."
"What won't be?" he says, confused.
"I love you, my clever, clever boy." Her voice sounds far away.
The words are the rock he clings to when a tidal wave crashes over him.
~~~|~~~
He's drowning. The dim diffused light on the surface only seems to get the tiniest increment closer the longer he swims. With every stroke of his arms he reaches for it and every time he feels nothing but more water rushing through his fingers.
He risks a glance down and sees nothing but blackness behind him, like the great gaping maw of a giant beast set to devour him whole. He can't let it take him.
His lungs burn and so does his every muscle, but he pushes on. Arms stroke and legs kick without ceasing. He must reach the surface before his strength fails.
The light looks closer at last and none too soon. He can't hold out much longer. Black spots are clouding his vision and his body is on the verge of giving out. But the surface is right there. He can make it. He must. For her.
Just one more push...
~~~|~~~
Loki awoke with a start, his chest heaving and heart pounding. Acting on instinct he froze in place, only trying to decide afterwards why he had the impulse. With eyes only opened to slits, he scanned as much of his surroundings as he could and what he saw was darkness. The sight of all that black sent a spike of panic through him before he caught a glimpse of a soft shaft of light coming through a window somewhere he couldn't see. It was nighttime, nothing more. Not the darkness that trapped him.
The quickening of his pulse from the fear of the dark caused a throbbing in his... everywhere. His whole body ached as though he'd been trampled by bilgesnipe. And something was wrong with his hands. Both arms felt strange but the hands were the worst. They were at once numb and burning. He couldn't seem to feel much with his fingers but the pain when he tried to flex them was unmistakable.
With another jolt of panic, Loki realized there was something heavy draped across his back. At first he did nothing, waiting to discern if whatever it was knew he was awake or not. After a minute or so, he realized that his prior movement would have already given him away and there was no consequence, so he deliberately shifted a little to see if it would provoke a reaction. The weight moved slightly. Loki shifted again but the second time there was no response.
Before he could think of trying anything else, a thunderous noise assaulted his ears. Loki's mind blanked for a moment, but then he placed the sound, one he heard all too often in his life, having lost many a night's sleep because of it. Though he still didn't know where he was, the sound told him he was safe. It was his brother's deafening snore.
Thor. Thor is here.
Though the pain still troubled him, the realization of who was beside him calmed Loki. The weight on his back, which could only be Thor's arm, became reassuring rather than oppressive. If Thor was there and asleep then there was no danger, at least none that was immediate. If only Loki could figure out where he was or how he came to be there...
Frigga's distant voice in his ear.
"I love you, my clever, clever boy."
Oh.
Loki forgot Thor slumbering next to him, forgot that he was in a strange place and had injuries he couldn't account for. He forgot everything else but how for a brief time he was with his mother again. A brief time that was over and would likely never come again.
Loki buried his face in the pillow and unseen by all, he wept.