She knew that voice. She'd know that voice anywhere. And to hear it call her 'Mother' still sent a jolt of joy through her, considering her youngest son had all but denied her. But it was impossible. Loki wasn't here. Not on Midgard. He was safe, albeit angry and cold, in the prisons back home.
Unless he'd escaped. Or this was a trap spurred by someone as skilled as herself.
Her projection's head whipped around to meet the dark eyes of her son. In those eyes, she still saw the baby she'd held the moment Odin had brought him back from Jotunheim. The one she'd sworn at the time to raise and love as her own. The one she had sensed greatness and sadness in, but could not have been sure at the time how that would play out.
She was wary, and she eyed him closely. If it was a trap, if the Loki in front of her was as fake as the Frigga in front of him was, it was a very good effort. He looked so much like him that she longed to take him in her arms and shield him from whatever madness had brought them here.
But he was also a trickster, manipulative, and had only recently told her she was not his mother. Or, at least, had implied as much. And Frigga herself had been lied to and tricked far too much for her to simply trust.
"Mother, now, is it?" Her voice was low, but even with the sarcasm in it, it was also kind and perhaps even a little afraid. Though her physical form was currently safe and tucked away, anyone who knew what she could do would be able to find her with some effort. She held her breath, waiting.