Looking for Loki, but found his mother instead.

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Dear Diary,

So, update: I am still in Asgard. Still no sign of Loki. And now, I am completely lost.

I made it out of that fashion fever dream (barely), and I figured, hey, finding Loki can’t be that hard, right? He’s dramatic, loud, and probably lurking in some shadowy corner plotting something mildly concerning.

Wrong.

This palace is a labyrinth.

Every hallway looks the same—golden, massive, and unnecessarily shiny. At some point, I passed the same bored-looking suit of armor three times. Either the guards are identical, or I’m walking in circles. (Both are equally possible.)

Then, in my increasingly desperate attempt to locate a single Trickster God, I turned a corner too fast—

—and almost crashed into royalty.

---

Enter: Frigga.

Yes. Frigga. The Queen of Asgard. Loki’s actual mother.

I, a mere mortal with no business being here, had just almost bowled over a literal goddess.

Instant panic. Immediate regret.

“Oh! My deepest apologies, my lady, I—”

She just smiled. Warm, understanding, like she already knew everything.

“Don’t be afraid, child,” she said. “You are far from the first to get lost here.”

Somehow, that made me feel worse.

---

Tea with the Queen of Asgard

Before I could embarrass myself further, Frigga gently took my arm and led me away.

I should’ve been worried. I mean, the actual Queen of Asgard had just taken an interest in me. But she was… different. Not intimidating, not overwhelming. Just calm, patient, motherly.

She brought me to this beautiful balcony overlooking the city. The view? Breathtaking. The air? Crisp, cool, and filled with the sound of distant celebration. Asgard is truly stunning.

Then, out of nowhere, tea appeared. Like, actual tea. Magic is wild.

“Sit, child,” Frigga said, motioning to the seat beside her. “Tell me, how did you come to be here?”

Oh.

So, she knew.

Of course, she knew. She’s Frigga.

---

A Conversation with a Goddess

I told her (mostly) the truth. That I was looking for Loki. That I ended up here by accident. That I was very much out of my depth.

She listened. No judgment, no disbelief. Just understanding.

Then, she said something that made me freeze:

“You are worried for him.”

…Yeah. I was.

I mean, I complain about Loki a lot. But the truth is, he’s—well, he’s Loki. A liar, a trickster, a chaotic disaster. But also? Lonely. Misunderstood. Constantly trying to prove himself.

And if this really was that party—the one **before Thor’s banishment—**then Loki was about to… break.

Frigga sighed, watching the city below.

“He has always struggled to find his place,” she murmured. “He hides it well, but I see it in his eyes.”

I swallowed. Because, yeah. Same.

---

The Weight of Knowing

I don’t know how long we sat there, but eventually, Frigga turned to me and smiled again.

“You are a curious one,” she said. “Not Asgardian, yet not entirely out of place here.”

I… didn’t know what to say to that.

Then, softly, like she already knew the answer, she asked:

“Would you like to stay for the feast?”

Diary,

WHAT DO I SAY TO THAT?!