When Loki retreats into hiding, he does not expect to stay hidden for too long. Odin is powerful and will be searching for him. Thor is tenacious and will never give up, never accept that Loki is gone. Loki accepts both of these as fact; he is prepared to be found but he requires this brief period of solace.

For four months, a mere blink in his life, Loki is alone. He thinks a great deal. He mourns his previous life in a way he had not allowed himself before. He wallows in his pain, in his loss. And then he is found.

It is not Odin that comes for him, nor is it Thor. It is Frigga, small, sweet Frigga.

"Loki." She says, her voice a sigh. "My poor child, why did you not come to me?"

This is a new pain, one he had not before been exposed to. Before, he had been too caught up in his loss of father and brother to mourn the loss of his mother. Faced with her, however, it is as if his ribs have all been broken and shattered and he cannot breathe.

"I am no child of yours," he manages, though his voice is not as harsh or strong as he would wish it. To his own ears, he sounds very young and broken.

"Oh, Loki. Of course you are."

Frigga moves across the small cave Loki had hidden himself in. Loki cannot seem to move, frozen in place, as she places her small hand on his arm. Odin and Thor are both large men, their bodies taking up much space and dwarfing Loki, making him look small and weak. He has never been either, of course, but they make him appear as if he is. Frigga, however, is small and delicate and her hand on his arm makes him appear strong.

"I may not have birthed you, but I carried you. I rescued you from Thor when his playing grew to rough. I held you when your sleep was plagued with terrors, wiped the sweat from your brow when you were sick and with fever. I watched you grow and I have loved you dearly, as much as I have loved Thor, as much as I have loved Baldur. You are my son, Loki. The son of my heart and of my soul. Does it truly matter that you are not the son of my body?"

Frigga speaks with simple truth that Loki cannot help but hope is true. He stares into her eyes and sees no malice, no fear. They are the same eyes he has always seen, filled with the same emotions he has always known to come from her: pride, tenderness, and love.

Frigga smiles, though Loki has given her no answer.

"Good. Now come away from this place. It is so dark and dreary."

Loki holds his mother's hand and allows her to walk him away from his cave and the sanctuary he had claimed there. She calls forth the bifrost and he allows her to take him into its light and carry him home.

He does not call himself Loki Odinson any longer, for that feels a lie. He does not call himself Laufeyson, either. That, too, is a lie. Instead, he takes the name Loki Friggason. For that, at least, is a truth he can depend upon. He feels no shame in it, either.