Mothers tears
“No words describe a mothers tears
No words can heal a broken heart”
Phil Collins, “Two Worlds”
“No!” Frigga’s voice is raspy and full of such anguish, it’s almost unbearable to listen. She’s running down the Rainbow Bridge, golden hair sticking out in every direction and blue eyes glossy with tears. She can see her husband, her older son, Warriors Three and Lady Sif marching her way, their faces down and their footsteps slow. She knows what that means, because she can also see Loki, his body in Thor’s shaking arms, and the sight of him is making her breath hitch in her throat.
She runs even faster.
When she catches up to them, she can see that his face is snow-white, almost see-through, with a trace of blood running down his cheek. His lips are bloody and his eyes are closed. He’s cold and unmoving and Frigga feels numb, when the realization sinks in.
Her beloved boy is dead.
“My baby, my baby, my baby…,” she repeats like a mantra over and over again, stroking Loki’s cheek with trembling fingers. Odin wraps his arms around her and she hears him cry silently into her hair, but she doesn’t care.
All that’s important right now is that her child is dead.
She’ll never hear him laugh or talk. She’ll never see him smile. She’ll never have a chance to say just how much she loves him.
At her command, the thickest of fogs falls slowly upon Asgard and the Aesirs know what’s happening.
Their queen is in despair and the Royal family is mourning, because Prince Loki is no more.
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