A mini-fic as a late birthday present for LC (I was too busy earlier in this week to sit down and write anything, sorry mate). I just decided to stick with what I new and did another 'why Loki didn't die on Svartalfheim...or did he?' fics. Because angst.

Loki knew he was a dead man. That much had never been contested in his mind. He was dead from the moment he'd released his grip on Gungir and let himself fall into the void. Everything that had happened since then, from his unfortunate fall into the hands of the Mad Titan, to the failed invasion of Midgard, to his time in the cells of Asgard were nothing more than the actions of a dead man walking.

Like a mechanical puppet, with a cold beating heart fueled by the resentment and hatred that remained.

He had thought at first that Thanos would free him, but instead he'd been reforged into a weapon and made to lead. Then, he had thought that the Avengers would take their well-deserved revenge, but instead they had proven themselves capable of mercy he would not have bequeathed on his most hated enemies. He had been certain that Odin would swing the axe, and almost agreed that it was the most appropriate end.

Instead, he had been thrown into a dungeon, a living ghost inhabiting a puppet that could put on displays for all of Asgard. Another stolen relic to be locked away until needed.

(But the way the queen looked at him had almost reminded him that he was not dead yet. That there may yet be a chance, may yet be another way...

And then the queen had died, and Loki knew that he had driven a knife into the one part of his soul that had still lived.)

He was a dead man, a puppet waiting to make a spectacular exit with the hopes of at least drawing an applause. And oh, how he had gotten one.

Thor was there, holding him as he lay bleeding out on the poison earth. Words were tumbling out, from one to another. Confession and apology, a fitting end for the monstrous weapon and puppet king.

He lay back, expecting a dark and cold that rivaled the void to wash over his senses, and for death to make her long-overdue claim.

Instead, Loki felt his breathing ease, lungs filling with air as though he had not been drowning in his blood only moments before. The sky above, gray and stormy with the clouds that had gathered as Thor wept for his wayward brother, shifted into a calm blue like he'd never expected to see again. Beneath him, the poison earth became soft with lush grass, the smell of rich earth and sweet blossoms filling the air.

Somebody was stroking his hair, tugging gently at the tangles of battle and blood.

"Amma?" he breathed, hardly able to believe this fortune, and afraid to look lest it turn into a cruel vision.

"Yes, my boy," Frigga said, gently caressing his face her hand. She looked younger than he ever remembered, wearing her blue battle dress. "I did not expect to see you so soon."

"I did not get to say goodbye." A smile graced his lips, for a moment, before the next words worked their way free. "And...and to apologize. For what I said."

"I knew you never meant it."

"But it should never have been said, regardless." For a moment, Loki fell into silence, letting the feeling wash over him and relishing the peace of the moment.

"Loki," Frigga said at length, her hand stilling slightly. "Why did you never speak of the titan?"

"Why do you speak of him now?" Loki countered, "We are both free of him here, even if you can still see his scars that score my soul. But just as your king cannot bind me here, neither can he bind me to silence."

"Is that really what you think?" Frigga asked, worry sounding for those who still lived. The answer was no, but Loki was not strong enough to think it. Not after having finally achieved this end after so, so long.

"My boy," she said at length, "Would you do a favor for your mother? If nothing more than as recompense to set your soul at ease?"

Loki did not hesitate. "Anything."

"The Nine Realms still need you...to lead them and protect them, be it from sun or shadows. Your brother is greatly in need of you."

"I fear there is little I can do, my queen. The dead have no business with the living."

"But you are not dead yet, Loki." Frigga smiled gently down at her son. "You lie dying, but are not dead yet. A moment is coming, and if you so choose, you may return to life."

"How?"

"As you said, I can see the scars that the servants of Thanos have left on your soul. They tie you to him, so that you would never escape so long as the sorcerer who did this to you lives. Very shortly, however, he no longer will."

"I do not understand."

"Loki, Loki, you have forgotten the first laws of magic," she chided, "For everything earned, something must be sacrificed. To put that binding on your soul took a great deal of power-most of it your power. And when that bond breaks, it will return to you."

There was a moment of silence as Loki thought this over. Then, in a voice smaller than he had expected, he whispered, "But I don't want to leave you again, Amma."

"I know you don't." She was pulling him into sitting position, into an embrace that would carry him through eternity. At last, she placed a kiss on his forehead. "Take that, with my blessing. Be brave, and protect them in whatever way you can. Know that I am with you, watching you always, and you will not lose your way again."

"Will you, the great warrior queen be relegated to a bystander of the fates?" asked Loki with a grim smile.

"Of course not. As I said, there will soon be another visitor to the land of the dead. And I intend to be waiting to greet it, to...thank it for all the kindnesses that were bestowed upon you in the void."

Frigga's smile turned terrifying and sharp, somehow both warming and freezing Loki at the same time. He laughed out loud then. The Other thought he knew pain. It would not be long before he wished for something as sweet.

Somewhere, on the far end of the galaxy, Ronan the Accuser confronts the Mad Titan. Thanos and Nebula watch on as the Other spends its last breaths trying to intervening. With a wave of the Accuser's hands, the creature falls dead.

Unseen, unheard by all present, a bond has been broken.

The Trickster God, who lay dead in the sands of Svartalfheim only moments before, opens his eyes.

(I know I brought Loki back to life. Oh well. Hopefully there's enough angst and Mama Frigga to make up for that.)