“Hello, Mother. Have I made you proud?”
There is a look of bitter disappointment in her eyes. The look that used to burn him, strike him to his very core. “Loki,” her voice is soft, but hurt. Begging. Pleading. “Please, don’t make this worse.”
“Define worse.” She has no hold over him. He will not feel guilt by the hurt in her eyes. He won’t.


He hears the commotion. The skirmish in the levels above. The Einherjar are running, shouting something about the throne having been destroyed. He smiles. Now where is the mighty All-Father to sit?
He hopes he doesn’t survive the battle.


“Then am not your mother?”
He hesitates. Of course she is. He wants to tell her so.
But he can’t. He has to shut them out, keep them out. No one can see his heart anymore. Feeling only brings pain, betrayal.
“You’re not.”
A hurt and slightly disappointed look flickers across her face. Then she smiles, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Always so perceptive,” she whispers. “Of everyone but yourself.”
He says nothing. He wants to take the words back. But he can’t. He has to keep himself hidden. No, not hidden. He’s not that way anymore. He is no longer Frigga’s son.


He knows something is wrong after the battle, but no one thinks to inform a prisoner of the latest news. The Einherjar are distressed, grief-stricken. Perhaps the All-Father did not survive. Or perhaps it was his son.
Either way, he hopes they suffered.

“The queen is dead.”
The shock nearly cripples him. The Einherjar had to be wrong; he meant to say the king or the prince. Not her. She can’t be dead.
He looks at him, nods to dismiss him. The guard leaves, and he’s alone again.
It’s wrong. It’s wrong. It can’t be real. It’s another nightmare.
He slowly rises, then as reality sinks in, he clenches his fists and a burst of light, energy and fury tears through the cell.


He falls back against the wall of the cell and slides to the floor, his body still trembling.
There is nothing left in the cell for him to further release his anger on.
Nothing but himself.
You let her die.
Stop. Please. Leave me alone.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shut out the voices, but then he saw her.
You let her die.
Her smile. The flash of her eyes when she was angry. The feel of her embrace. The look of disappointment.
The hurt in her eyes when he spoke his last lie to her.
His last words to her were a lie.
It’s not my fault. It’s Thor’s. He didn’t save her.
But you told it where to go. You led it to her. And she died.
You killed her.
The scream tears itself from his throat, so hard it hurts. He curls into himself, then falls back in exhaustion.


“Loki.”
He opens his eyes, shock and relief flooding through him similtaniously. “Mother! You’re alive.”
She stands in front of him, and her eyes holds the same disappointment as before, but this time there is no love to soften it. “No. I am not. Thanks to you.”
He scrambles to his feet, bracing himself against the wall. “No, Mother, please, I - I didn’t mean… please… I’m sorry.”
“You failed me, Loki.”
He tries to move forward, but he falls back against the wall, sliding back down to the floor. He can’t bear to look at her anymore, but he cannot tear his gaze away. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice quavering. “I’m sorry. Mother, please…”
She doesn’t move, her gaze piercing his soul. “I am not your mother.”
He squeezes his eyes closed, curling into himself, trying to make it go away. “No…” The words are barely audible now. “Please…”
“Loki.”
Her voice has changed. No longer does it hold contempt or blame. It is the voice he remembers, the voice of a mother. Of his mother.
He forces his eyes open. She kneels beside him, her eyes filled with kindness and forgiveness.
“Mother,” he breathes, reaching out a trembling hand to her.
She smiles, and reaches to take it. “Loki, I lo-”
Her eyes widen with shock and pain. She gasps, looking down as a growing patch of red spreads from her heart. Her hand grasps for his, falling short as she collapses.
He stares in horror, frozen to the spot, unable to do anything. He reaches for her, his dry lips unable to voice the desperate cry inside him. He touches her cheek and she vanishes.
A laugh.
He looks up, eyes widening.
He stares at an image himself, holding a dagger dripping with his mother’s blood.
“You killed her.”

He jolts out of the nightmare, gasping for breath. His muscles scream in protest and he falls back against the wall. He hasn’t stopped shaking.
He has woken from one nightmare to the next.
For he has killed his mother.

Notes

A/N: Yay more Loki angst. :P A bit similar to my other Loki story, Nightmare, but different enough, I believe.
Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel or any of the characters mentioned within.