WHO: Thor, Loki, and open WHAT: Funeral proceedings WHEN: Backdated to shortly after returning to Kirkwall WHERE: House Asgard, Wounded Coast NOTES: Grief and loss
He is quiet as she speaks, letting the words sink in and feeling them out. There's a silent stretch after, filled with the crackling of wood and waves lapping on the shore.
"I cannot disapprove," he finally says, quietly. "He is my brother, and I believe you make him happy."
She's lasted longer than any of Loki's other conquests, and Loki actually seems... fond of her. Thor would not name it love, not yet, but there is affection and real affection from his brother is rare. That being said, Loki has always been a schemer and Orlesian nobles are known for their scheming as well. It could be that there's a second snake now living in the house with him.
...granted, he loves snakes.
Thor looks over at Lexie. "Know that my Lord Father may disown him for staying with you." If he chooses to do so. "My mother has always softened his anger toward Loki. Now there will be no one at my father's side to do so. And we are in a land where we are seen as the enemy, even as we aid. You may be in for a very difficult time should you choose to stand beside Loki. But so long as he does not betray me," again, "I will not cast him aside, and so long as you stand beside him you will be welcome as well."
It is enough to lance the hurt she'd been so assiduously nursing since she'd left the estate. Thor spoke truly of it: there was not, save he and perhaps Gwenaëlle, a single acquaintance of hers within or without the Inquisition who was not given to expressing anything from light disapproval to overt hostility about her choice in companionship. Family included. Evie made faces and comments that were only half jest and looked concerned sometimes when she thought Lexie wasn't watching, her elder siblings expressed brief concerns in their letters, and her mother was only kept from vapors by the mild hand-patting assurances of her father that certainly this was only another of her brief and eccentric flings with inappropriate suitors and should soon be finished like the rest had been.
As unexpected as it had been, Frigga's brief approval—for it had been that, not simply acceptance—had stood unique and shining and had said near everything she had needed to know about the kind of woman, the kind of mother, she had been.
"I grieve," she says, finally proferring the bottle, should he wish it. "For your loss, and his. My own, much smaller in comparison, for what more I might have known of her."
"The painting you have, of the sea by Val Royeaux—if you remember it? The grove of trees in the background that run along the edge of the beach to frame the sand? They were cut down, the following summer." She folds her hands in her lap carefully, watches the pyre's flickering in the sea. "There are things that pass from this world and never come again, and that would be enough sorrow without loving them and being loved."
He accepts the bottle, intending to take a drink. Then her words hit just the right note that Thor swallows hard and tightens his jaw in an attempt to show nothing. Everything is acceptable here except showing said sorrow or grief.
After several slow breaths, Thor sips from the bottle and holds it back out. She's not looking at him. That small mercy does not go unnoticed; she likely does not know many of their ways at all yet, but that tears are a weakness seems to be universal. When he speaks his voice is rough.
"The things that are the most precious are the most fleeting, it seems. Perhaps that is why there is always war and hostility. We can only see what is lost to us." The Imperium saw their lost lands and lives, the South saw lost lives, the Dalish saw lost history... and if Corypheus was who the South said he was, he saw the loss of the Golden City and potential power.
"And we know that its like will not return." But that does not stop the pain of it. Corypheus has taken something from Thor, and there is no way to inflict a matching hurt on the creature.
The roughness of his voice means she will continue to watch the sea, rather than bear witness to what ought remain private. Sharing that manner of raw honesty with Loki had been difficult enough for the both of them, and they were lovers. Had been in private. Had still fumbled awkwardly with it. Whatever tears Thor sheds will remain his own.
"You are right," she says, "We remember the wounds we have taken far more than the wounds we have not. But such a thing is not too strange." And is is everywhere and always. After a moment, she speaks quietly.
"Whatever such things have passed between our countries, I do not suffer any to speak ill of the two of you in my presence. You have lost as much, have as much to lose, have as much desire to wreak vengeance and end his threat as whoever it is who opens their mouth. It is little, perhaps, but... do not count yourself entirely friendless."
One magister, himself, Loki, Benedict, some slaves-posing-as-servants, Resa, and Lexie. That is... Well. It is certainly more than nothing. There are a few others who might be more friendly than neutral as well, Gwenaelle, Galadriel, the necromancer who escaped Minrathous with them, he cannot count everyone out.
"Thank you." His voice is grave and back under control. "Being in hostile lands was easy, before. Now... We will teach them that the Imperium is not weak, despite how it looks, and that this is only temporary. Corypheus has sealed his fate with this attack."
Now his country is weakened. His house is hurting. He does not feel the strength that he's carried with him previously; the sense of conviction that they are right is feeling a little threadbare. But he is Thor of House Asgard, and he will find his strength again even in these cold lands.
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"I cannot disapprove," he finally says, quietly. "He is my brother, and I believe you make him happy."
She's lasted longer than any of Loki's other conquests, and Loki actually seems... fond of her. Thor would not name it love, not yet, but there is affection and real affection from his brother is rare. That being said, Loki has always been a schemer and Orlesian nobles are known for their scheming as well. It could be that there's a second snake now living in the house with him.
...granted, he loves snakes.
Thor looks over at Lexie. "Know that my Lord Father may disown him for staying with you." If he chooses to do so. "My mother has always softened his anger toward Loki. Now there will be no one at my father's side to do so. And we are in a land where we are seen as the enemy, even as we aid. You may be in for a very difficult time should you choose to stand beside Loki. But so long as he does not betray me," again, "I will not cast him aside, and so long as you stand beside him you will be welcome as well."
no subject
As unexpected as it had been, Frigga's brief approval—for it had been that, not simply acceptance—had stood unique and shining and had said near everything she had needed to know about the kind of woman, the kind of mother, she had been.
"I grieve," she says, finally proferring the bottle, should he wish it. "For your loss, and his. My own, much smaller in comparison, for what more I might have known of her."
"The painting you have, of the sea by Val Royeaux—if you remember it? The grove of trees in the background that run along the edge of the beach to frame the sand? They were cut down, the following summer." She folds her hands in her lap carefully, watches the pyre's flickering in the sea. "There are things that pass from this world and never come again, and that would be enough sorrow without loving them and being loved."
no subject
After several slow breaths, Thor sips from the bottle and holds it back out. She's not looking at him. That small mercy does not go unnoticed; she likely does not know many of their ways at all yet, but that tears are a weakness seems to be universal. When he speaks his voice is rough.
"The things that are the most precious are the most fleeting, it seems. Perhaps that is why there is always war and hostility. We can only see what is lost to us." The Imperium saw their lost lands and lives, the South saw lost lives, the Dalish saw lost history... and if Corypheus was who the South said he was, he saw the loss of the Golden City and potential power.
"And we know that its like will not return." But that does not stop the pain of it. Corypheus has taken something from Thor, and there is no way to inflict a matching hurt on the creature.
no subject
"You are right," she says, "We remember the wounds we have taken far more than the wounds we have not. But such a thing is not too strange." And is is everywhere and always. After a moment, she speaks quietly.
"Whatever such things have passed between our countries, I do not suffer any to speak ill of the two of you in my presence. You have lost as much, have as much to lose, have as much desire to wreak vengeance and end his threat as whoever it is who opens their mouth. It is little, perhaps, but... do not count yourself entirely friendless."
no subject
"Thank you." His voice is grave and back under control. "Being in hostile lands was easy, before. Now... We will teach them that the Imperium is not weak, despite how it looks, and that this is only temporary. Corypheus has sealed his fate with this attack."
Now his country is weakened. His house is hurting. He does not feel the strength that he's carried with him previously; the sense of conviction that they are right is feeling a little threadbare. But he is Thor of House Asgard, and he will find his strength again even in these cold lands.