Hold me like you used to
When he awoke, he found himself lying on his bed in his room, a damp cloth on his forehead and wrists, the lights turned down by magic.
As he remembered what had happened, he shot up, ignoring the dizziness making his head throb and looked around him, just to see his mother sitting next to him at the edge of his bed, eyes closed, breathing slowly and steadily.
Seeing her like this made him uncomfortable somehow. He wasn’t used to seeing her sleep, and she looked vulnerable and old – and worried. Guilt suddenly washed over him, and he shifted his position.
Frigga, woken by him moving, opened her eyes and her gentle gaze fell on Loki who looked away after some seconds, unable to bear the worry in her eyes any longer. Shortly after, he felt her hand on his arm, then on his cheek, checking his temperature. She then put the damp cloth that had slipped down a bit back to its rightful place on his forehead.
Hadn’t it been for the unusual state he had found his mother in, he would have probably just thrown it off, scoffing and hissing that he “didn’t need it” because he wasn’t “a child anymore”. But why then, dammit, did he feel like it just now?
“How are you feeling, Loki?” Her voice was so tender, so gentle and he was reminded of the many times they used to sit like that, he himself no more than a young boy, once more unable to join the others playing outside. She had always been the only one who had asked him this question with genuine interest in his answer, and it had been only with her that he had allowed himself to reveal how he really felt.
But that had been before he knew what he really was.
Now, he just shrugged, and then asked, his voice cold: “How did you get me here?”
“Thor helped me.” He knew she had chosen her words carefully and said Thor instead of ‘your brother’ in order not to get him agitated again. He appreciated the effort, even if it didn’t help at all.
“Thor?” His voice had adopted a dangerously calm undertone, but Frigga didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. On the contrary. She put a hand on his, squeezing it firmly. “He is worried about you. Just like I am.” Her thumb drew little circles on the back of his hand.
“Loki only scoffed, suddenly not sure if his voice would obey if he spoke. When had been the last time she had held his hand like that? And why had he never realized how much he still needed her?
“You are my son, Loki, no matter if the same blood flows in you or not. I love you, I need you to believe me. Do you believe me?”
He nodded, wordlessly, feeling tears prick in the back of his eyes and a lump forming in his throat. He unsuccessfully tried to swallow, tried to make it go away. This was humiliating. He wasn’t a child anymore after all, he shouldn’t…
“Do you need some time alone? Just a word and I will give you the space you need, alright? But please, talk to me.”
He wanted to send her away, to just pretend he wanted to be alone, as he feared he couldn’t keep his composure much longer, but the thought of her leaving made him sick. So he shook his head, looking down at his hands to hide his embarrassment as he said: “No, please stay.” He hated himself for the fact that his voice broke.
“Alright. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” She moved further up on the bed until she was sitting next to him and then pulled him close, wrapping her arms around his body so that his head was resting on her shoulder. He let it happen, suddenly utterly exhausted.
He didn’t even realize he had started crying until she gently wiped away his tears and he probably would have felt even more embarrassed if he hadn’t been tired, so tired… his head was killing him and he had to admit it was calming to have his mother near. He felt safe with her, he felt home. And just for now, it didn’t bother him thinking of her as his mother, because she, of all the people here on Asgard, had never – not once – judged or called him out for being different.
She had always been there for him, had taught him, had believed in him.
And as his gaze fell on his golden helmet shimmering in a solemn ray of sunlight that had made its way through the black curtains shielding his room from the summer heat, and as Frigga followed his eyes, he knew that they were both thinking the same.
“Remember”, his mother began silently, suddenly chuckling to herself, “when you and Thor were both only boys – he around that age that would equal a nine-year-old mortal and you nothing more than what would be a four-year-old human?”
He nodded, hoping she would continue telling him the story he knew all too well because he had been there when it had happened. But he just wanted to hear her voice, although he could feel himself drifting off to sleep.
And Frigga did him the favour.