A warning for any readers this might be a problem for - I did write out the scene of Loki getting his lips sewn shut, and some of the imagery became...rather evocative of rape even if no actual rape takes place. I understand this might be upsetting to some, so please proceed with caution.

Beyond that, well...beyond that, writing pre-Thor Loki and Thor was *weird*. I always try to keep character development in mind to see where a character would be or how they would have changed from the story so far. At this point, though, there *is* no story so far. I had to remind myself that, at this point in time, Thor is kind of a jackass. Well meaning, but oblivious to what a jackass he can be, and that isn't going to change for a while yet.

On the other hand, well, I figured that even if Thor isn't the greatest brother at this stage in the game, seeing your little brother in the state Loki winds up in during this fic would bring the protective, worried, caring side out of anyone. But in the end, I just tried to portray those failing as subtly as I could, because I think they would have had to be subtle for everyone around him to either not notice or overlook them that long until that trip to Jotunheim.

At the least, it was certainly a mental exercise for me. This story still wound up being way more centered around Loki and Frigga, which was probably inevitable given the canon point.

This story is messed up, bloody, and twisted, but I hope you guys enjoy anyway!

It wasn't the first time they'd been separated from Loki on a quest, especially when a quest ended with them fleeing for their lives. Normally, it didn't worry them much when Thor's younger brother disappeared. His illusions were becoming so good that they had fooled even Thor on occasion. If he vanished when things went south, he always reappeared after the dust settled. He was never far behind, he never actually abandoned them, he just wasn't a warrior. He fought from the shadows, and resorted to trickery and magic when his strength was lacking, as it so often was.

They teased him about it, about his weakness and his cowardice, but Loki was still an ally and a teammate, he was still one of them even if only because he was Thor's brother. He was a potent fighter, in his own, unconventional way. And when it came to the arena of words, there was no one better. Loki had talked his way out of trouble so many times that it nearly defied description. Surely, he could sway even the dwarves if they'd caught him. And that was if they caught the man with all his illusions at all.

So for a few hours after Thor and his friends returned in a mad dash from Nidavellir, they thought nothing of it. Loki was probably the reason the dwarves had abandoned their pursuit long enough for the others to have a clear path back to the Bifrost. He was good at diversions and misdirection. He would appear in due time, as he always did.

Hours passed, hours of waiting and restless pacing and reassurances that grew more and more halfhearted as time ticked on. Ordinarily, they might have gone their own ways to rest and recover, with only Thor waiting by the palace gates for any sign of his wayward brother.

They didn't, this time. Something was wrong, and they could all feel it. And just as night had fallen with nothing to show for it, Thor prepared to lead his friends back to Nidavellir for a rescue attempt.

Just as night had fallen, Thor saw the light of the Bifrost activating in the distance, bringing someone in to Asgard. He didn't dare entertain the idea that it could be anyone else. He didn't wait for news before dashing off to meet Loki, unsure whether he'd hit his little brother or hug him when they met but desperate to see for himself that Loki was home and all right.

Sif followed him, and with the state they found Loki in, that proved just as well.

Her children lived dangerous lives. Frigga knew and accepted this. All warriors lived dangerous lives, and all warriors had mothers who cared for them and worried for them no matter how old and strong they got.

Her boys were fast becoming brave and mighty warriors. And, perhaps more importantly, they looked out for one another. They could not have been more different, but all that had to mean was that they could better complement one another's weaknesses. If they came back injured and hurt, it wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last, and they always came back.

All the same, when she opened the doors of her chambers at the frantic pounding outside to find a wild-eyed Sif standing there, Frigga briefly feared the worst.

"My Queen," said Sif, a little breathlessly, looking as though she'd run a great distance. "I am sorry to disturb you, but…" She wavered, proud, fierce warrior that she was; she was at a loss for words for whatever she'd just come from. "…it's Loki. He's returned, but he's been hurt. Thor and I were trying to help him, but he won't stop fighting us," she finally finished, frustration evident in her voice. "We cannot get him to the healers this way. He was threatening Thor with one of his knives!"

The brief fluttering of relief in her heart at the news that Loki was alive were stifled by cold dread as Sif continued. All the same, she was resolved. If Loki was here and back and conscious enough to fight, for whatever reason, that probably meant he was in no immediate danger.

She could see the truth of the matter, in Sif's eyes, beneath the frustration and the fear. The warrior felt precious little affection for Loki, and after some of the tricks he'd played on her, Frigga couldn't hold that against her. But they'd passed the point of wishing harm on one another. She wanted to help, of that Frigga had no doubt. But the words were there, unspoken but no less true.

We don't know what to do.

"I will go to him," Frigga said firmly. Even as she worried and wondered at what could have left her youngest son in such a state as to disquiet two brave warriors, she kept that fear buried deep in her heart, and showed nothing but calm for Sif. She was Loki's mother, yes, but she was also the queen of Asgard, its greatest sorcerer, and a warrior in her own right. She had almost forgotten how to show fear where anyone could see. "I will do what I can."

She lingered just long enough for Frigga to gather some rudimentary healing supplies, and then hurried back to the Bifrost.

Somehow, they'd at least managed to get Loki moved onto the Bifrost proper. Or perhaps he'd just tried to move himself. The sorcerer was proud and stubborn, all the more when he was hurt.

But getting out into the open air seemed to have been all Loki was capable of. They found him curled up on the bridge, his knees drawn up to his chest and his head pressed against them. His arms were wrapped around his legs, one hand holding a bloody dagger. His knuckles were white, and his breathing was labored, and maybe it was just the cold open air of the Void around them, but he she saw that he was shivering badly as well.

Thor sat nearby, more worried than Frigga could remember seeing him in a very long time. His earlier attempts to soothe his brother that she was in no doubt he'd made had not been well received, however, because Thor was also bleeding. It was a shallow cut to his arm, it would heal neatly enough, but it explained the blood on Loki's dagger.

She knew that of course Thor would never leave Loki here when he was in pain, even if his younger brother had made him bleed for getting close. But she could also tell that Thor was at a loss for what to do, just as Sif was. He looked up at the sound of her approach, and his face split into a smile of utter relief. "Mother!" he cried, getting to his feet.

It was like flipping a switch. Loki looked up at her as well, reflexively, but it was enough for her to get a proper look at him. He realized this as well, after a beat, and hastily looked away. He actually tried to get to his feet, then, whether to escape her gaze or prove to all of them that he wasn't so badly hurt, Frigga neither knew nor cared there and then. It didn't matter.

She'd gotten a look at the tormented storm in his eyes, and the heavy brown cord stitching his lips tightly shut.

"Loki, wait," Thor protested, drawing near, and then drawing back sharply as Loki slashed the knife at him and growled through his horrific gag.

Frigga saw the pretense for what it was. She stepped forward, and she spoke, keeping her voice calm and firm, reaching out to Loki with something steady in this midst of his shaken world. "You have nothing to be ashamed of," she said.

"Of course he doesn't!" Thor looked horrified and even angry at the very idea that anyone might feel differently.

Loki, however, did feel differently. He stopped where he was, his back to all of them. He bowed his head, and Frigga heard something like a hiss, or like several faint exhalations in quick succession. It was the closest thing he could manage to a laugh right now.

Her youngest son looked back at her, looked her in the eye, clearly believing that the sight of him as he was now would horrify her and drive her back. It didn't. Frigga had seen so much worse in all her many years, and she met his hazy gaze without flinching, met it and held it.

"You are here," she said calmly, trying to draw her son back by words alone, not daring to touch him as he was now. "You are home. And if you will allow me, I will make this right. What they stole from you can be given back. It…it will be a difficult task, and there will be pain. But I will not let you suffer a moment longer, Loki. If you will trust me, I will set this right."

Several seconds passed, as she and her oldest son and perhaps the world itself held their breath.

But then, with what was obviously a supreme effort of will, Loki turned back to face her. He nodded, and Frigga let out her breath in a small, soft sigh of relief that was all she could allow herself, there and then. When she drew near, her youngest son did not pull away.

"Thor," she said, slow and careful and, most importantly, calm. "I need you to hold him."

Loki tensed immediately, and as she turned her head just a bit to regard her oldest son, she saw that he looked just as upset. "Mother, I…before, he…"

"He understands, now. He understands that he is with family, he is safe. Whatever pain comes next is only to bring it all to an end." She looked into Loki's eyes, letting him see and maybe draw on a little of her strength. She allowed herself to reach out and stroke his head in a soothing gesture. Loki whimpered, just softly enough for her to hear, and tilted his head slightly against her hand. And then, after a long moment, he nodded once more. "We cannot ask him to stay still for this," Frigga continued.

Thor let out his breath in a long, shuddering sigh. "No," he agreed. "I suppose we can't."

He drew slowly near, and moved to wipe his palms on the front of his shirt. As he did so, Frigga saw that his hands were shaking. Her son, Asgard's mightiest warrior, and his hands were shaking. Just as Loki's were.

Her hands were steady. Here and now, she could be here for her children when perhaps no one else could be.

"Come," she said gently to Loki. "Sit." She guided him carefully down to sit right there on the surface of the Bifrost, and he let her. Thor drew nearer, slow and hesitant, before finally sitting down behind Loki.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. Loki only nodded, vibrating with tension, eyes screwed tightly shut. But it was enough for Thor to take hold of him, pinning Loki's legs with his, wrapping his arms around the sorcerer's chest. His grip was strong and unmoving as a mountain, holding his injured brother firmly in place. Maybe by accident, maybe on purpose, his hands met at Loki's chest, well within reach for Loki to reach up and take hold of. This his younger brother did, with a grip tight and fierce enough to make Thor wince. But he didn't pull away, he just murmured softly, and the hold was an embrace as well as a restraint. "It's all right now, Mother will fix it, it will be over soon, just try and relax…"

His eyes were closed. He obviously couldn't bear to watch. But there was already more purpose to him, and his voice shook less, and Frigga knew that Thor was just glad to finally have the chance to do something to help.

Loki's eyes were closed as well, screwed up tight in anticipation of pain. He was breathing heavily through his nose, and his mouth was just a bit open as well, seeking air to calm his racing heart and surge of fear. Frigga delicately rested a hand beneath his chin and pushed his mouth fully closed. She needed the stitches as loose as possible.

"Loki," she said softly. "I'm about to unbind the knot."

He nodded, just once, and then held as still as he could when he felt the slight pressure that was Frigga taking hold of the cord where it was knotted at one end. She whispered a few words of magic, reaching out to unbind the enchantment laid on the twine. It was powerful magic, but she was stronger, and at her will, she felt the magic leave the hateful binding. The knot came loose in her fingers, and she undid it the rest of the way.

Frigga took a breath, finding that even she needed to steady herself just a bit in the face of the task ahead. Especially when Loki let out a very quiet sob, as much as he was able, as she started to draw the cord through the first needle mark, she felt her heart break for her son. It was a sound of humiliation and pain and shame, silenced by force rather than by choice, nothing he should be feeling but everything he was. Thor shook his head and whispered to his brother: "Ssh, Loki, it's all right, hush…"

Loki responded to this by digging his nails into Thor's arm hard enough to make his brother cry out, although almost certainly in surprise more than pain. They both recognized an active attempt to attack, to hurt, even if Thor almost certainly didn't know the reason why. "I'm sorry, Loki, I can't let you go yet, Mother is nearly done, it's all right…"

Frigga understood that Loki had reacted so violently to being told to be quiet, even with good intentions behind the attempt. Her youngest son had had enough of silence, of being denied the voice that was in so many ways his greatest strength. Silence was what they were trying to free him from. When they did, she planned to let Loki cry as long and as loudly as he needed to.

But not now. Now she needed him to stay still and as quiet as he could, because if he tore at the stitches now, even the healers might not be able to help. So Frigga lightly pressed his lips together once more, before softly stroking his hair as she drew out the next stitch. Loki reached up and held her hand with such desperate strength that she fully understood how he'd managed to cause his brother pain, there and then. But like Thor, she didn't flinch away or pull back.

Even as the sensations and impressions she'd been getting from Loki's mind suddenly grew clear as a mirror.

Loki's mental defenses were normally all but impregnable, and he kept them that way at every turn. For years, Frigga had never known him not to have his mind shielded from all sorts of attacks, of the sort that she'd always prayed he would never have to endure. She had never tried to see inside his mind, of course, not without his express permission, never outside of the lessons she'd once given him that had helped him hone these defenses. But Frigga had watched, every so often, just to check, just to see that those walls were still standing.

They had crumbled, now. She felt that, but trusted that Loki knew as well. She had to trust that he was consciously letting her see what she suddenly found herself seeing, reaching out to her as the only one who had any way to hear him.

Frigga weathered the storm of darkness and horror for him, even as her heart broke and she wished for nothing more than to draw him into her arms. Until she could, until he was free, she only tried to take some of that trauma into herself, so it was weighing a little less heavily on Loki's mind.

It was dark, too dark to see anything but shadows among shadows and eyes shining in the darkness, and he was in pain. He'd made them work to catch him, and they'd made him pay for the long run he'd given them, held nothing back to subdue him and drag him back.

Strong hands, too many hands, holding tight, forcing him down, forcing him to kneel. Too many, too close, too much, get away get away get away don't touch me. A hand taking hold of his jaw, forcing him to look up, to meet the cold, delighted gaze of the dwarf leader. "One is better than none at all, his head will make a fine warning…"

Loki smiled bravely and swallowed back his fear, feeling some small shred of hope even outnumbered and alone and overpowered. I am not beaten. "I said you could have my head, but you have no claim to any other part of me. If you chop through my neck, then you will have broken our deal."

Sounds of surprise and whispers in the dark, starting off with a tone of incredulity and disbelief before slowly growing more heated as they realized he was right. Anger in their voices, contempt. One of his captors struck him hard across the face, snapping his head to the side and making his world explode in a violent riot of pain and the taste of blood. But Loki only smiled, waiting. I am not beaten.

"Hold him fast." There was something decided in the leader's voice. And when Loki looked up in alarm, he saw something gleaming in the darkness. Bone shone like the moon.

This was all Loki had time to see before they were on him, throwing him to the ground, holding him fast, pinning him down. Loki kicked and struggled and squirmed, desperate, feeling himself growing maddened with fear and unable to stop it, stop any of whatever was about to happen.

"Hold his head! Get him still! No point in making this any messier than it has to be."

"Traitors!" Loki snarled. "Oathbreakers! Asgard will know you for liars and thieves, they will destroy you, they…"

The breath was driven out of him as the big dwarf straddled him. Loki's heart was racing, his breath coming in strangled gasps of fear and pain, because there were too many enemies and they were too strong, their grip was bruising him, every inch, his arms his legs his chest his sides his shoulders his hair his face. Their eyes stared down at him mockingly and their laughter was in his ears and it was too much, he couldn't move, they were too strong, whatever they intended to do to him, he was helpless and weak…

"Very well then, Silvertongue. I still have claim o your head. And I believe all the Nine Worlds would be a better place if that tongue of yours' was silenced for a time."

And this close, Loki saw that what the dwarf was wielding was an awl. And he was fitting a length of leather cord onto it.

There was no pride in this. Alone in the dark and overpowered and helpless, there was no bravery. Loki twisted madly in their grip, struggling with animal desperation, but he was weak and they were strong and they laughed. Panic made all the spells he knew fly away from him as he reached desperately for any help. The only thoughts in his mind chased themselves desperately like sick dogs. Let go let go let go please don't do this! And then the awl pierced his lip and his cry of pain echoed in the dark chamber, blood filled his mouth and trickled down his chin, no no no no no this can't be happening…

Loki screamed, as he felt the first stitch drawn tight. "That's right, Silvertongue, scream now while you still can!"

And all he could do was scream, feeling tears torn from his eyes to mingle with the blood on his face and on his tongue. It hurt too much not to. And for all that he struggled, all he could do was feel it happen, feel the cord being pulled through the holes in his face, feel his lips being drawn tight together bit by bit, feel himself silenced while he was helpless to stop it.

Words were impossible, there and then, but Loki still cried out for help. For father, for mother, for Thor…

No one came. No one knew to come.

Until, finally, it hurt too much to scream anymore, hurt as it pulled tight the stitches in his face. Loki went limp beneath them, limp and defeated and crying and exhausted and hurting and violated. And the dwarf only smiled and pulled the stitches as tight as they would go, sealing his lips together entirely so that Loki found himself nearly suffocated until he remembered to breathe through his nose. Let it end, let it stop, finish it, stop it, no more…

He did, after an eternity, and tied off the knot on the other side of his mouth with visible satisfaction stretching his ugly face.

The dwarves released him, then, and Loki found that he could only curl onto his side, drawing in on himself in a vain attempt to defend himself from more pain. He felt himself shaking from pain and shock, felt agony rip through him at every breath as his mutilated face throbbed…

Loki didn't know how much time had passed before a kick to his ribs brought him forcibly back to reality. "Go on, then! Get back to your home! And I'm sure someone as clever as you, princeling, will find some way to tell them of this day. Or else stay, and we'll find something else to stitch!"

He was shaking badly enough, with pain and shock and fear, that getting up was a humiliating trial. But they let him, even as they laughed at his efforts.

And they let him go, stumbling his way through the dark, trying to remember the path he'd first tried to take on his escape and wondering if it wouldn't just be better to die down here…

Frigga felt tears on her cheeks. Loki was looking at her, now, with hollow, shining eyes, and she knew that he'd meant for her to see all of that. For what reason, she did not know. Perhaps so she would understand, perhaps because he expected her to scorn him for his weakness, perhaps because the silence had become too much.

"Oh, my son," Frigga whispered. Only two stitches left, now, and she drew them free with steady fingers. "Oh, my Loki. No, you have no reason to be ashamed. What was done to you should never have to be endured, but you endured it, and you returned to us. My strong, brave child, you are safe now…"

Loki stared at her almost hungrily, drinking in her words of comfort like a starving man might take in food. There was blood smeared around his mouth, dripping down his chin, onto Thor's clasped hands, staining her fingers as she freed him.

At first, he didn't seem to understand, when she finally pulled that hateful, bloodstained cord fully free and set it aside. Not until Thor spoke, relief making his voice break. "Breathe, brother. You can breathe, it's all right." And then Loki drew in a long, shuddering gasp that left him as a choked sob. "You're going to be all right," Thor murmured soothingly, and his hold became less restraint and more embrace, now that the danger was safely past. "Mother is right, there are so few who could have endured what you have today. And if I ever hear anyone call you a coward again after today, I will see to them myself. I am proud of you, brother, we both are."

Loki smiled, even if he immediately winced, even if he bowed his head so Thor couldn't see the attempt. Speech would likely still be beyond Loki for a long while yet, until the pain had time to fade a little, but he expressed his gratitude for Thor's words by holding tightly to Thor's hands again, his blood making their fingers slick.

But Frigga saw that there was one thing Loki needed, needed and would not allow himself in Thor's presence, especially not after being given such praise from his beloved brother. "Thor," she said gently. "You must return to the palace. Tell them Loki has returned, and…that he is well."

Thor looked up at her, startled and troubled. "Alone? But why can't you both come with me? Loki can tell them himself."

"We will follow." The way Loki was looking at her now told Frigga that she was making the right decision. "In a while. But first…I would have him tell me what has happened, before he is forced to tell others."

"He will say only what he wishes to say of what happened," said Thor firmly. "Anyone who insists otherwise will have me to contend with." But even if her oldest son did not know the true intention behind his mother's words, he did not press the matter. He released Loki, and almost immediately laid a steadying hand on his younger brother's back as Loki swayed slightly without the support. "…I will see you in a while, Loki," he added quietly to his younger brother.

Loki nodded, and did not look up at Thor, too afraid to let his older brother see him now. Thor was at times insensitive, at times even cruel, but in this, he did not push. He merely got to his feet as soon as Loki seemed steady enough to sit up on his own, and started alone back to the palace.

Loki sat, curled in on himself, breathing in long, deep gasps, trying to hold himself together. Of course his pride would be the first thing to return to him. Frigga, in turn, waited until she was sure Thor had gone and would not be able to hear them.

Then, and only then, did she move close enough to gather Loki into her arms in a soft, warm embrace. And then, and only then, did Loki let a proper sob tear free from his ruined lips.

"Mother..."

They had a relationship that was beyond pride. It was something that had always gratified Frigga to know, because otherwise she had no doubt that Loki had grown into the sort of man who would have bled to death rather than admit to being hurt. She wondered more than once how it had come to that. In times like this, she contented herself with knowing that he would still turn to someone, and resolved to always be here for him when he did.

Loki wept in her arms, he cried hard enough that he shook and trembled, finally free to give voice to the trauma and pain of the last long while and unable to keep it back any longer. Frigga held him close and safe, running a hand through his hair, over his back, rubbing lightly and humming softly just to remind him that she was still here for him. The front of her gown was soon soaked in tears and blood. For a moment, Loki recovered himself enough to press a hand to his mouth, likely out of shame for staining her clothes in such a way. Frigga gently pulled his bloodied hand away and held it lightly, shaking her head. "Even the bravest warrior bleeds, Loki," she whispered softly to him. "There is no shame or weakness in bleeding when you are hurt."

She thought she felt him nod against her, maybe in understanding or maybe just in acceptance of her words. After that, for a long time, there were no words, only tears and sobs finally free to be heard.

But neither was there silence, and that was what mattered most.

Reviews are lovely, but if you enjoyed this dark little tale, that's what matters most to me!