I'm tired, Loki. Why are you coming in so late in the night?

What is it that you want from me, my son? An apology?

Oh, that's what you want, then? An apology for my actions so many years ago?

There is no way I can apologize for what happened. You were already torn from my arms. You were already stolen off. You were already reared by another. No mere words I speak now will be able to undo that. Nothing I can do will bring you back into my arms.
How could I ever apologize for doing something so egregiously wrong?

I left you behind.

I left you behind!

I didn't mean to. Of course I didn't mean to! You were our boy who would grow into our son. Our precious baby.

Once the Great War started, once the blood of our brothers began to guise our true purpose, my priorities began to shift in the wrong direction. I could not think evenly when our-my-people, those whom I had sworn to protect until my dying breath, were being slaughtered. They became the priority.

I had to evacuate them. You need to understand that I could do nothing else. As royalty, I am shackled to my people. When I ascended to the throne, I made an unbreakable contract between myself and my people. I promised them safety and security and comfort, everything that I have to protect them-even if that meant my family did not come first.

When our enemies invaded, I could not protect them. I couldn't keep them safe. The shackles-they weren't strong enough. There were so many flaws in the metal, so many chinks and imperfections. It was far too easy to break out of the shackles. Now I lost my family and my people.
It wasn't until I was marching my people outside of the walls that I realized you weren't in my arms. Trying to usher out all of the people from our homeland, parting them from their own treasures and memories-somewhere I had lost my own. And, I couldn't find you again.

But don't you ever think that I hated you. No, you were my son! You are my son. You are a part of me. I lo-

What? You don't want to hear this?
As your parent, I am obliged to tell you the truth. And, the truth was-is-that I love you. I really do.
But I know. Words aren't going to mean anything to you right now. Those three small words are nothing but an ant underneath a boot.

Overcome by rage, nothing seems to be big enough.

Hear me out when I say this, though. Years from now, when you have grown older and wiser in the world, these words will mean so much more than they do right now. As empty and hollow as they may seem, I mean them. In time, it will all make sense. When you have your own children running around your home, bustling and crying, you will understand.
So, remember. If there is one thing that I want from you, I want you to remember. Please.

I do love you. More than you can ever know. That accident was not supposed to happen. And I regret it to this day. I had prayed that we would find you eventually, that maybe one of ours had picked you up. But it was not to be.

You have grown up to be such a handsome man. I only wish that I could have been there to see you grow into your boots.

I am proud of you, my son.