Don't own The Avengers, Thor or any of the characters.

This is set after The Avengers, with Loki's return to Asgard.

This is my first attempt at writing for The Avengers/Thor, so I apologise if anything seems a bit off; I was rewatching Thor and liked the idea of Frigga being the only one who was able to get through to Loki after everything, and this came out of it.

Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Silver and Gold

Silver-tongued Loki was silent.

His muzzle had long been removed, his visitors ranging from healers to servants to Odin himself, yet his mouth remained unwaveringly shut, his gaze baleful whenever anyone dared enter his prison-even if he was being held in his old chambers, it would forever be a prison to him now, trapping him in the one place he strove to escape-and never straying until they left, all sighing with relief to have his eyes off them at last.

Food came from the glorious feasts happening without him, arriving sizzling and delicious, leaving cold and untouched.

Much like myself, Loki thought to himself with a smirk.

Thor would arrive soon; he had taken to sitting with Loki daily, sometimes talking, sometimes not, but always watching Loki with hurt, heartbroken eyes, clearly wondering if his brother was still there.

He's gone, Loki wanted to snarl, he's dead, he let go, he fell and died, you killed him, you and your father.

He was no longer Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard; he was Loki Laufeyson, destroyer of worlds, killer of the innocent, brotherless, fatherless, the living embodiment of hatred and fury.

But instead of spitting the words he so desperately wanted to at his adoptive brother, he would remain silent and glare, and another day would pass.

Odin had not visited in seventeen days. He had been trapped for thirty-two. His muzzle had been removed thirty days ago, his magic bound twenty-eight days ago after an incident with his guards. His trial-to which he had not been invited-had been ongoing for twenty-five days. He expected a decision within the next ten, meaning that in just over a week he would either be dead or incarcerated beneath Asgard for the rest of his eternal life.

He didn't know which he would prefer.

Glancing out at the all-too familiar Asgardian sky, he realised it was time for Thor's visit. With a grimace, he rose from his seat beside the window, but hesitated once he was on his feet.

He always sat facing Thor at the table, he glaring, Thor pouting, but never once would he turn away from his brother's face.

But today…today he wanted to stay here, to look out at Asgard rather than stare at his brother's pathetic expression. He wanted to see the beauty and splendour of his home-for whilst he hated it at the moment, it was all he had ever know, and deep down he would always love it for that-for he knew soon he would never see it again.

His days were numbered; he would spend them as he wished.

He sat slowly, lost in thought, wondering if his continued love of Asgard was defiance or weakness.

He heard his door swing open, and rolled his eyes, preparing for Thor's dramatic show of brotherly love.

"Oh, Loki," a voice said softly from the door. "My lost son."

His head turned so fast he was sure he would break his neck, eyes wide with surprise.

"Mother," he said hoarsely, realising with a jolt that only she could make him talk. His chest constricted at the sight of her, the woman he had loved more than anything.

Thor had been Odin's golden boy, but Frigga had always lavished the same attention on Loki, nursing him personally whenever he was sick, teaching him as only a mother could, praising his growing magical abilities rather than scorning them out of fear and doubt and ignorance.

Of all the people on Asgard who had come to his prison, it was her he had most wanted to see.

She smiled at him, though her expression was pained, concern etched into every line on her face.

"Thor says you never speak. You father says your face is set in a glare. Yet I see both lied to me," she said lightly, closing the door behind her.

He turned away from her, his eyes once again on the sky.

"I would speak to none other than you," he said carefully, desperate to appear nonchalant, though he felt himself begin to relax in her presence, his mind more at rest having her close by than it had been since the first journey to Jotunheim so very long ago. "But it would seem that only now have you seen fit to visit me."

She moved over to him, taking the seat opposite and gazing out at her kingdom.

My kingdom, he thought bitterly. It was mine once too.

"The moment you returned to Asgard, I made for your chambers. Your father-"

"He is not my father," Loki hissed. "He was never my father."

"Then am I not your mother?" she asked in a neutral tone, turning away from the window, her questioning gaze boring into him.

He bowed his head, before turning to face her, and he realised with horror that there were tears in his eyes.

"I wish more than anything that you were," he said in a hushed tone, "but by blood you are nothing to me."

"Loki, you may not be born of my body but I have loved you from the moment you were placed in my arms," she said fervently, and Loki saw tears fall from her own eyes.

He wanted to hurt her, to drive her away so that he would never see her again, so that she would hate him forever, for even that wouldn't be as painful as seeing his mother cry.

Am I cursed? he had asked once, and only now did he see that it was a blessing, that it all made sense knowing what he was.

Outcast, creature, insane, mischievous, brother-

"I am a monster," he said through gritted teeth, his eyes alight with malevolence, his lips curling as he bared his teeth at her, revelling in his words and the destruction they could cause.

She stared back at him calmly, her face impassive though her eyes danced with emotion, stray tears still clinging to her pale cheeks. Leaning towards him slowly, she reached out to him, ignoring him as he flinched away, and rested her hand lightly against his cool cheek.

"No you are not," she murmured, and he was transported back to his childhood, to when her voice meant comfort and love. "You are my son, as you have always been."

And before he could even think to stop her, she pulled him close and hugged him, her arms strong and warm around him, as they had always been.

"And you are my mother," he whispered, a lone tear escaping his eye. "As you always have been."

"I have missed you, Loki," she said quietly. "As have we all."

"And I you," he admitted, closing his eyes against the onslaught of memories hugging her brought.

She sat back, taking his hands in her own as he knelt before her, having been pulled out of his chair by her hug.

"I will not allow you to be executed," she said firmly, and he knew that even Odin himself couldn't change her mind now. "If they find you guilty-"

"I am guilty," he reminded her delicately, wondering if she would repel him for his admittance of his crimes; it was one thing to hear about it, another to be told by him that it was true. "I did all they say."

"Then we shall come to some arrangement," she replied briskly. "Thor will stand with me, even if your father shall not."

"And will he?" he asked softly, and he found that for all his malice and hatred, the thought of his father wanting him dead filled him with grief and pain and betrayal.

"I should think not. You are his son, Loki, as much as you are mine, and he loves you just the same," she said gently.

He nodded, twisting his legs beneath him and sitting at her feet, the way he used to when she would read to him as a child.

She kept their hands connected, holding his tightly in her smaller ones, as though she would lose him all over again if she let go.

"Will you visit me again?" he asked hesitantly.

"Of course," she said, her tone surprised. "Did you think I had any intention of leaving you? I sat by your father's bedside all through his Odinsleep, I shall stay by your side all through your trial. That is what families do, Loki; they support one another."

"Will Thor still visit me?"

She was silent for a moment, her lips pursed.

"Your refusal to speak has wounded him. He has taken it as a personal slight, as opposed to you acting like a sullen adolescent because you failed to get what you wanted."

He rolled his eyes, smiling slightly as she nudged him.

"I saw that," she warned lightly, though she continued in a more serious tone. "Your brother believed you dead, mourned for you, travelled to another world to save you. All he asks is that you speak with him, so you can return to the way you used to be."

He frowned, not knowing what exactly he wanted.

"I will speak with him tomorrow," he said slowly, wondering just how much he was agreeing to. "Though I make no guarantees that we shall return to the way we once were. Perhaps slowly we could rebuild our friendship, though again I make no promises."

She nodded once, clearly pleased.

"It is progress, and that is all we can ask for. Your brother shall be glad to hear of it."

"Good," he said shortly, filled with apprehension and anticipation at speaking to Thor as a brother, not an enemy or villain.

It had been so long; what if he couldn't fix it? Did he even want to fix it?

He lost himself again in his troubled thoughts, his doubts whirling around his mind.

Frigga pulled him out of his ruminations abruptly.

"He also asks that you meet with your father," she said hurriedly, and all his thoughts shuddered to a halt.

"Why?" he asked confusedly. "I stand on trial for-"

"Your father wishes it too."

"He stopped visiting me, he clearly doesn't want-"

She cut him off again. "Yes he does. He wants more than anything to put right what he feels he has wronged. And letting you go, watching you-" She paused, the feeling of loss still too raw, even with her son sat before her. "He needs this, Loki, just as much as Thor and I. He missed his son just as much as I did," she whispered, squeezing his hands.

"Very well. I shall meet with both Thor and O-and my father tomorrow. Rather than dealing with them separately, we shall discuss this as a family for it involves all of us. And when the verdict is given then we shall deal with that. I shall ask Thor's forgiveness, apologise to my father, begin to make amends to all of you, and together we shall rebuild our family," he murmured, and he realised how much he wanted it.

He was done with revenge; now he would move onto rectifying his past mistakes.

Blood meant nothing; his blood had left him to die. His family was built on love, and perhaps over time trust.

And despite everything, hidden beneath those layers of hatred and anger and hurt, he still loved his father and brother.

He opened his mouth to say so, and to tell her that he had never stopped loving her, even in his darkest moments when she spoke first.

"You always did have a silver tongue," his mother said with a smile, "but that only makes your silences all the more golden."

She knows, she's always known, he told himself, closing his mouth and smiling, content to be silent for a little while longer.

And sitting side-by-side with his mother, Loki watched the sun set on Asgard, ending another day.