Months had passed since Eirlys had left Asgard. For Loki, time had become something almost meaningless. The dungeons remained the same each day, cold stone, dim light and the distant sounds of Asgard carrying faintly through the walls. He had stopped asking when he would be released. He had stopped asking whether Thor would come. Even Frigga's visits had become less frequent, and Odin had not appeared at all. But Eirlys remained the thought he could never silence. He had no idea how she was doing.
The last time he had seen her, she had looked exhausted from Vanaheim, pale and visibly thinner after weeks spent among the sick. Then she had stood before his cell and looked at him as though she barely recognized the man she had trusted. Loki often wondered whether she had recovered, has she been eating properly. Sometimes his mind became cruel enough to imagine her forgetting him completely. Other times, he imagined her returning, those were worse. Because he never knew which version of her he would rather face.
Thor had not visited him either. The silence between the brothers had stretched until Loki could no longer remember their last proper conversation. Then, one day, something changed. The sound reached the dungeon before anyone came. A distant disturbance, shouting, and metal striking stone. Loki lifted his head. The palace above him had erupted into chaos. He could hear guards rushing through corridors, their footsteps multiplying as alarms spread through Asgard. Loki moved closer to the bars, listening. Something was happening but no one came to tell him what.
Above the dungeons, the realm was already under attack. Jane had arrived in Asgard carrying the Aether, an ancient force that had awakened Malekith's interest. The Dark Elves descended upon the realm, attacking the city with terrifying force. Frigga had been protecting Jane, always willing to put herself between danger and the people she loved, even now. The battle reached deeper into the palace. Loki heard another crash, he stood completely still. A strange uneasiness settled over him. He knew that sound. War.
The attack had left Asgard bleeding. Loki had watched the first signs of it from behind his cell, unable to do anything except listen. When Kurse appeared in the dungeons and shattered the other prisoners' cells, Loki had immediately understood that the creature was not there to rescue him. Yet, consumed by his own bitterness, he had still given him directions toward the palace. It had seemed like a small act of spite.
The doors of the dungeon corridor suddenly burst open, Loki stepped back instinctively. A figure entered through the smoke, it was not a guard, but something far more monstrous. Kurse. Loki stared at him through the bars as the creature stopped. For one strange moment, the two simply looked at one another. Then Kurse approached the cell. Loki's mind moved rapidly.
The Dark Elves tore through Asgard's defenses, and Frigga fought to keep Jane hidden. She created an illusion of the mortal woman to draw Malekith away, meeting him herself with a sword in hand. She fought fiercely, refusing to reveal where Jane was, but Kurse intervened. Frigga was mortally wounded before Thor could reach her. By the time Loki heard what had happened, the realization struck him with devastating clarity. His mother was dead. He remained in his cell, staring at nothing, while the sounds of battle slowly faded above him. The rage came first, followed by grief so overwhelming that he could barely breathe. He had helped point the very creature responsible toward the palace.
He had not known but ignorance did not make the guilt disappear. Elsewhere, Jane's condition had become increasingly dangerous. The Aether inside her was draining her strength, while Malekith's forces continued their attempt to reclaim it. With the palace damaged and casualties mounting, Asgard was forced to gather itself around the loss of its queen. Frigga's death was mourned throughout the realm. The fallen warriors were laid to rest beside her, and the palace that had once echoed with celebration became almost unbearably quiet.
Loki remained alone in the dungeon. He could hear distant preparations for the funeral, but he was not permitted to attend. Frigga's body was carried to the water in solemn silence. Odin walked beside her, devastated beyond words. Thor followed, his grief written plainly across his face. Loki watched from afar, unable to see the ceremony properly from his prison, but somehow he knew exactly what was happening.
Her body was placed upon the funeral vessel. The ship drifted slowly across the water while Asgard gathered along the shore. For once, there were no arguments or rivalry about the throne between the brothers, only grief. Odin stood motionless as the vessel was set alight, watching the flames consume the woman who had been the heart of their family. Thor remained beside him until the last light disappeared into the distance. Loki, alone in his cell, lowered his head.
Frigga was gone, the sight stopped him completely. Loki had no illusion or scheme, nothing, only pure shock. His mother had been killed. The woman who had always found something worth loving in him was no longer there. He stood among the destruction, staring at the place where she had fallen, and something inside him broke open. All the resentment he had carried, all the anger, all the ambition that had once seemed so important suddenly felt meaningless. His breathing became uneven as his hands curled into fists. He wanted someone to blame. Malekith, the Dark Elves, Odin, Thor but especially himself. He wanted to blame everyone.
Beneath the rage came another thought, Eirlys, if she were here, she would have understood what this loss meant. She would have known what Frigga had meant to him but Eirlys was not here. She was in Vanaheim, far away from the palace and completely unaware that Asgard had just lost its queen. Loki looked toward the ruined corridor, his eyes burning. For months, he had believed his greatest punishment was being forgotten by Eirlys. Now, with his mother dead and Asgard under attack, he finally understood that there were losses far greater than his own loneliness. And somewhere beyond the walls of the palace, the war was still raging.
Eirlys still did not know, she had been gone for months. She had not seen the attack, the destruction, Jane's condition, or the funeral. She did not know what Loki had done and what it cost him. While Thor knew all of this. After the funeral, Thor made a decision without telling anyone. He did not remain in Asgard to explain where he was going, he simply left. He told no one that he was heading toward Vanaheim. Because after losing his mother and watching Loki destroy himself with guilt, he needed Eirlys. He remembered seeing her return home wrecked from the Rot only to leave again, he had finally realized that he needed to see her and ask her to hold him if he broke. And perhaps, somewhere within the chaos of everything they had lost, she was the only person who could understand what remained of their family.
It was already evening when the news reached Vanaheim. The Vanirs had gathered quietly when Thor arrived, and the moment Eirlys heard what had happened, the colour drained from her face. For several seconds she simply stared at Thor, as though refusing to understand the words that had been spoken. Frigga was dead. Her lips parted in a small gasp, and tears immediately gathered in her eyes. Frigga had never treated her merely as the daughter of a neighbouring realm or her daughter-in-law. She had welcomed Eirlys into the family with a warmth that had made Asgard feel like another home, had spoken to her with the affection of a mother and had always made room for her beside her sons. Eirlys pressed a trembling hand over her mouth.
Thor stood before her, unusually still. She knew him well enough to understand why he was not crying. Asgardian custom taught them to face death with composure, to honour the departed without surrendering themselves to visible grief. Thor had always carried that expectation more heavily than most. But Eirlys could see through him. His jaw was clenched, eyes wet, and his breathing was carefully controlled, as though allowing himself one careless breath might break whatever remained of his composure. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. It was not really to comfort him. She needed someone to hold too.
Her face pressed against his shoulder, and the tears she had been trying to restrain finally escaped. "It is all right," she whispered through them. "If you cannot cry, Thor… I will." Her voice broke. "I'll cry for both of us."
Thor closed his eyes and held her tightly without saying anything. They simply stood there, grieving for the woman who had been loved by both of them in different ways. Far away in Asgard, Loki had been trying to do something he had no right to hope would work.
The Palantír had remained within his reach, though using it from inside the dungeons had become increasingly difficult. His body had not recovered fully from the battle, and weeks of imprisonment had left him weaker than he would ever admit. His meals had been sparse, his strength diminished, and even summoning enough magic to activate the stone left him breathing heavily. But he tried anyway. He did not want to speak to Eirlys because he knew she would not forgive him easily. Perhaps she would never forgive him.
He only wanted to see her, to know that she was safe. His fingers tightened around the stone as he forced his magic through it. The surface shimmered, slowly, an image emerged. Eirlys. Loki's breath caught because she looked different, thinner than he remembered, still carrying the exhaustion of everything she had endured in Vanaheim, but she was there. Alive.
His gaze immediately fell to her wrist, the bracelet, she had kept it. Something inside him loosened. She had taken it with her and not thrown it away. For one fragile moment, Loki allowed himself to feel relieved. Then Thor appeared beside her, Loki's expression changed immediately. He watched as Eirlys turned toward his brother and threw her arms around him. He could not hear what she was saying. He did not know why she was crying, he only saw her clinging to Thor. His exhausted mind supplied the rest. Perhaps she had never truly wanted Loki, Thor had always been the person she trusted more. And finally after months apart, she had finally found someone she could lean on without fear of betrayal.
Loki's grip tightened around the stone. He knew, somewhere beneath the jealousy, that there could be another explanation, there had to be. But grief had already distorted the image before him. The woman whom he called his mother was gone. Eirlys was crying in his brother's arms. And watching through the Palantír with weakened eyes and a wounded heart, allowed himself to believe the cruelest interpretation possible. To him, that simple embrace began to look like something far more intimate than it truly was. His expression hardened as the vision flickered. He released the stone, breathing heavily as darkness returned to its surface and closed his eyes. He had only wanted to see Eirlys. Instead, he had found another reason to hurt.
Thor eventually loosened his arms, looking down at Eirlys with concern that he made little effort to hide. Up close, the difference in her was even more obvious. She looked thinner than he remembered, her face still pale from the weeks she had spent in Vanaheim, and there was a tiredness in her eyes that no amount of rest seemed to have erased.
"You look weaker," he said softly. "You need to take better care of yourself."
Eirlys gave him a small, tired smile and nodded. "I will." She wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks before looking at him again. "You should go back to Jane."
Thor hesitated.
"She needs you too," Eirlys continued gently. "And, whether you admit it or not, you need her." There was no accusation in her voice, only quiet certainty. "So go," she added. "Take care of her."
Thor looked at her for a long moment before giving a faint nod, he had come to Vanaheim because he needed Eirlys. Instead, she had reminded him that someone else was waiting for him too. He squeezed her shoulder gently before turning away, carrying his grief with him. Eirlys watched him leave, unaware that somewhere far away, another pair of eyes had already seen the embrace and misunderstood it completely.