Loki had known about the four's attempt to meet his mother as soon as they stepped foot into the palace. He had eyes and ears everywhere, so long before they reached his father's room, he was already there, waiting for them.
He had hidden himself with magic and watched it all, heard every word spoken—and he had to admit, some of it did hurt, deep down.
At times, he had considered those four friends. Sure, they were primarily Thor's friends, but… surely after spending so much time together, they were also friends with him, no?
But clearly, he was wrong. They didn't trust him one bit, which wasn't unfair. They had clearly seen through him; they knew him well, that much he could admit. But that didn't mean he wasn't angered by their doubt.
Yet, his mother had supported him every step of the way. She had told them no, reaffirmed that she was indeed the only person who truly loved and understood him.
"Of course I did," he answered her question with a smile. "I had to know whether or not they were planning to do anything against my orders. After all, as much as they claim to know me, I know them even better."
Frigga still didn't look at him. "You heard them speak their hearts. And you're angry."
"I'm disappointed," Loki said, strolling idly toward the center of the room, boots silent against the rune-etched marble. "Though perhaps I shouldn't be. They've always seen me as Thor's shadow—a clever nuisance, barely tolerated."
He looked down at Odin's resting form.
"But even shadows can grow long," he said softly. "And here I stand."
Frigga looked at him with a gentle smile. "Indeed, here you stand—hero of Asgard, Regent of the Nine Realms. You truly have grown."
Loki was pleased; he felt proud and couldn't help but stand a bit straighter. "Indeed, I have long since outgrown them; they just don't realize it."
"It is a sad thing, outgrowing your friends. But it can happen, and when it does, it's important to make new friends. And you, Loki, can make as many friends as you want—as long as you are honest," she urged him.
Loki faltered slightly; he knew himself well enough to know that being honest wasn't really his strong suit. He was, after all, the god of tricksters. Not to mention the great big secret that weighed on his heart.
Frigga, as his mother, instantly saw through his thoughts.
"Loki, my son, before you are a hero, before prince, king, or Lord Regent—you are my son," she said, pulling him into a hug.
Loki stood still in her embrace for a moment, stiff and silent, as if unsure what to do with such tenderness.
Then, slowly, his arms moved. He held her.
He hadn't realized how cold he'd been until she warmed him.
"But it's not true… I'm a monster," he whispered, his voice suddenly weak and uncertain.
"No, Loki. You are my son. You have been that since the day Odin brought you home, and I have loved you since then," she affirmed.
"But everything is a lie. I was never meant to be king."
"No, my son. You were meant to be king—both you and Thor. Your father always said this. And he is many things, but while he is bad at expressing his feelings, he isn't a liar—even if he likes hiding things." She continued to hug him, doing her best to reassure him.
Frigga knew her son well. She understood his insecurities. And while he liked to pretend to be unbothered by everything, she saw right through all that.
Loki had many flaws, despite her best attempts at showing her love. As he grew up, he wanted nothing more than Odin's approval, and Odin… he didn't know the first thing about raising a child.
His best attempts at showing his own feelings… didn't always land. Neither Thor nor Loki turned out as well as he had hoped, and what did he do in response? Did he try to improve? Try to talk with her about it?
Oh no, the mighty Odin was far too clever for such things. Instead, he arranged complex schemes to try and fix his earlier mistakes. It was honestly a miracle it hadn't blown up in his face yet.
Maybe Thor would have learned something—but honestly, springing such news on Loki right before falling into Odin's Sleep, and expecting things to work themselves out?
Thankfully, she was there to slowly help him through things, and that Midgard Goddess had proven to be an excellent helper.
Loki pulled back slightly, enough to look into her eyes. There was a flicker of guilt there, but also something sharper—a familiar gleam of strategy forming behind the mask of vulnerability.
"I suppose," he said quietly, "that the measure of a king isn't how many love him, but how well he rules despite it."
Frigga raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Loki stepped away from her at last, his face settling back into the smooth, unreadable calm of the regent. His voice regained its composure, layered once again with regal poise.
"If they wish to see Thor, well… they will have to ask nicely," he huffed. And they both knew they wouldn't ask Loki for anything—so it was, in reality, an empty promise.
"That said," Frigga began, "shouldn't you meet your brother again? Heimdall tells me you haven't spoken with him on your trips to Midgard. I understand that he must remain there, but he is your brother."
Loki's expression didn't shift, but the air around him grew colder, stiffer—a tension beneath the surface that even his mother could feel.
"Father cast him out. Stripped him of his power. Wouldn't it be kinder to leave him alone?"
Frigga sighed and stepped back, looking down at the sleeping Odin. "He might have done that—he might have taken his title of prince, of god—but he remains your brother, even if not in blood. And there is no reason you can't speak with him."
Loki scoffed. "As far as I know, he is happy down there—spending every day fighting and drinking with his mortal friends, all while I work to clean up after him. I think he is better off as he is."
Frigga just looked back at him with a gentle smile. "Oh, Loki, Lord Regent of the Nine Realms… you can't trick your mother that easily. I know you aren't honest with me, and I know you have your differences with Thor, but… I worry about him. All alone, so far from home, with some strange goddess. Surely you can understand that, right?"
"Arthuria is trustworthy. She will protect Thor and respects Asgard—and me—as the Regent. So you need not worry about him," Loki said quickly.
In response to her son's quick defense of the mysterious Arthuria, Frigga smiled. "It seems you trust her a great deal, despite not spending much time with her."
Loki hesitated, his expression flickering ever so slightly.
"I trust competence," he said. "And Arthuria has demonstrated it tenfold. She commands respect from mortals and immortals alike—even Heimdall holds her in regard. She does not bluster, does not posture—she acts."
Frigga tilted her head, studying him closely. "You admire her."
He blinked. "I respect her. There's a difference."
"Perhaps. But I do wonder," she mused, turning back toward Odin with a wistful look, "what that difference means, when it's spoken with such conviction."
Loki frowned, already sensing the direction of her thoughts. "Don't start matchmaking, Mother."
Frigga chuckled softly. "Too late. I have already started. It's a mother's duty, after all."
He rolled his eyes but said nothing.
Frigga let the moment breathe before speaking again. "I do so wish to speak with her—to thank her for looking after Thor. But I cannot leave your father alone. So please, Loki, why don't you go down and thank her in person? And maybe even speak with your brother? It would reassure me if you did."
Loki did not answer. Not right away.
"I will consider it. But as you know, I am busy preparing for the war against Jotunheim. And while your ideas about bringing all the realms together for this have proven to be good, it is also proving to be difficult; many realms do not desire war at all," Loki finally conceded.
"War is never easy, my son. Something Thor never learned. But you did—which is why I can proudly say that you have grown, and entrust you with Asgard's throne." Frigga really was proud of him.
When he first sat upon the throne, he had boldly declared himself king. He had been arrogant and full of himself—yet she didn't blame him.
She understood that his entire life had just been turned upside down. Learning that he was a Jötunn couldn't have been easy. Everything that happened weighed heavily on him.
Yet now, he no longer called himself king all the time, but had chosen to accept the role and responsibility of being the Regent of the Nine Realms—and he was happy with it.
Loki had gone to Midgard to sneak around; she knew that. Yet he returned with his head held high.
He had always wanted to be recognized—and he had been. He had been given respect, all on his own merit, and he grew from it. As a mother, she was proud. But she still knew that he needed to get over his brother; only then would his transformation be complete.
"Yes, war is troublesome. Everyone has their own opinions. Not just war—being a king is hard. I do not understand why Father ever believed Thor ready for the throne. That fool wouldn't have lasted a day."
"My son," Frigga placed a hand on his shoulder, "that is because your father knew Thor wasn't alone—but had you by his side. You could have helped him. But now… perhaps it is he who will help you instead?"
Loki didn't answer right away. His eyes flicked down to Odin again—the All-Father slumbering in a peace he had never managed while awake.
Perhaps he envied that.
"I don't need Thor," Loki said at last, his voice quieter now. "Not anymore."
Frigga smiled—not in mockery, but in that soft, knowing way only a mother could. She gave his shoulder a final squeeze.
"Then it won't hurt to speak with him, will it?"
Loki's lips twitched—not quite a smirk, not quite a frown. "You play the long game well, Mother."
"I had to. I raised you."
He inclined his head, brushing invisible dust from his robes. "Very well. I shall visit Midgard soon. Under the pretense of diplomacy, of course. I'm certain Arthuria would appreciate a… personal emissary."
Frigga said nothing, merely watching him with eyes full of old love and patient faith.
And this time, as he shimmered into emerald mist and vanished from the chamber, she allowed herself a smile that reached her eyes.
"Go on, my son," she whispered. "Let yourself be known."
She turned back to Odin and resumed her quiet vigil. The room was still again.
But in that stillness, something had shifted. To the world, the All-Father might be sleeping—but she knew that while his body did rest, his mind rarely did.
Loki wasn't the only one who had been listening in on what happened here today. No—someone else had, too. And she hoped that what he did learn pleased him… just as much as it hurt him, to know that it was only while he was sleeping that his children could grow.
"It's only a matter of time before you have to wake up… things in the universe are stirring. But for now… you can sleep a little longer. You might need it," she whispered softly as she brushed her fingers over his face.
(End of chapter)
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