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
Unlike previous affairs held at the Asgard mansion, only a portion of the house is open - the main hall and the former music room. In the main hall are a table of light foods, a table of wine, and a quartet of musicians playing subdued arrangements from Tevinter. The atmosphere is definitely far from cheerful, and the dimmer lighting reflects that. Servants in full black linger here to let people in and serve them.
The music room, on the other hand, has a marble platform in the middle of it, taking up a full half of the room. The perimeter of the platform is covered in runes. On top of it is a bed, and on it is laid the Lady of House Asgard, Frigga, looking for all the world like she’s just taking a nap.
Thor and Loki both stand near the bed, the former standing grim-faced with a glass of barely-touched wine in his hand, the latter looking like he may have had a glass or five already.
The worst of it is over, letting people come in and see their mother as is traditional, having to stand there and remain strong for the whole of it. Thor had thrown his glass at the wall as soon as the last guest was out, frustrated by the pointlessness. Thankfully Jim had been nearby with towels, and the mess was gone as Thor and Loki got ready for something that absolutely wouldn’t meet with Southern approval.
“I cannot think of a reason for her to be prepared for her death,” he grumbles. It had been so untimely, so needless, so wasteful, so wrong. And their father cannot even be here, having to shore up defenses on the estate thanks to the Venatori stirring up problems. It’s insults and injuries piled upon each other.
Thor spent the day hauling and stacking logs. As the sun fades off the Wounded Coast Loki escorts Frigga’s wrapped body, carried by slaves, to the pile. Jointly the brothers ease her up onto the top of the pile and then there’s a pause, a short wait. Only when sky and sea turn dark does Thor lift a hand to light the pyre with a massive fireball.
The atmosphere tonight is less serious and guarded. Tradition has been met, the ritual was at least attempted, and now it is time to remember Frigga for who she was in life before turning attention fully to revenge and making Corypheus regret everything.
Thor is shirtless and a lot more alert-looking than at the Vigil as he actually mingles, while Loki looks like he’s in a trance.
He had done it for his father, once. He had stood before the Magister of House Shimada, watching Sojiro as if he was just resting, as if he was taking a moment to himself in the afternoon, as if he was letting his sons take charge. He had stood and he had felt nothing - cold, barren, distant, as if he couldn't quite believe that his father was gone. It hadn't really been that, of course, but with the pressure on his shoulders and the weight of leadership bearing down on him...
Moving forward, Hanzo reaches and takes the wine from Thor's hand, placing it to one side. There are few people in the Inquisition who might be able to understand what the two brothers are going through, but Hanzo is one of them. He had done it himself already, and bearing witness is important. It's part of what he had left behind, but not something he had ever forgotten.
Thor startles as the glass is taken, feeling ashamed that he'd let grief rest so heavily upon him that he'd been distracted. Seeing that it's Hanzo alleviates some of that. The older Shimada has stood vigil too, been there through the long days and nights, watching and remembering.
After the briefest glance at Loki, Thor nods back to Hanzo. His brother will not notice, cannot, most likely.
"Thank you for coming," he says in a voice rough with emotions and a couple of days' disuse. The words are what's said at a time like this, but he means them. Hanzo may be the only one in Kirkwall who understands this tradition.
"My father will not be here. He cannot leave our lands at this time." To anyone else it might seem a non sequitur. To Hanzo he hopes it's a reassurance that his secret is safe.
It's not as if this is a situation that Hanzo would welcome anyone to. He might be hiding who he is under the weight and mantle of secrecy, might be pretending to be far, far less than he actually is, but the empathy is there. He can understand what Thor and Loki are feeling, even if the burden and uncertainty might be somewhat different. Hanzo cannot know what their family is like, but he can make a guess; if they're anything like his own it would be close to something miserable, at least at some points.
The wine is moved now, at least, and then it won't be there, like a blaring sign of pain.
In Tevinter, showing your sadness is not acceptable. It is a sign of weakness. Hanzo knows that Thor cannot give into his grief the way he wants to and that is enough. It's good enough to know that someone understands the depths of your pain, can recognise it, even if you can't voice it.
"Of course." Even if he wasn't hiding he would've come. It's appropriate for another Magister to come to these things, even if he's run from that part of his past. "You are here for him. I am sure your mother would understand." Nodding, Hanzo doesn't dare say more. He knows what Thor is saying, and he appreciates it - if his father were here... He would address Hanzo as Magister Shimada.
He never formally rescinded his post. He might have gone, but his place hasn't.
He misses the empty comfort of the glass. There's no security to be found in wine, but there's an illusion of it. Back home there are cousins likely circling his father, trying to take advantage of Thor's failure to protect his mother and the pressure bearing down on Odin right now, here there are people who are fine with his people dying, and this is the first time he's lost someone deeply important to him.
Thor is exhausted.
But there is no time to dwell on it, no time to stop moving and simply be. Corypheus isn't going to take a break to give his enemies space to recover.
"As is my duty," he says quietly. Rather than trying to rest, he will stand and keep moving forward. He takes a slow breath to regather himself. "There is always more that duty demands, especially when our people are in peril." A beat, and then he looks at Hanzo, brows furrowed. That may need to be clarified, now that he thinks about it.
"The people of Tevinter are in peril." Now, as politics swirl about and all he wants to do is what he cannot - take time to mourn his mother - he can guess at what might push someone away from the Imperium. But it's still his nation, still his blood, still part and parcel of who he is.
The wine is a necessity for this occasion. Though he's been around to his share of society gatherings, Benedict hasn't attended a funeral since reaching adulthood, and only barely remembers that of his grandfather, Benedict Quartus. So there's a look on his face of veiled horror as he stares at the body, his wine undrunk in one hand, the sight of Frigga bringing back all the hardships of their journey home. It's not a good feeling.
Glad at least that she missed the wine glass incident, Fifi stands by in the doorway, looking vaguely uneasy (and very Southern), hands folded in front of her as she waits for direction. It doesn't help that Loki's here-- Thor is friendly enough, but his brother always makes her nervous.
There's nothing that makes this easier. The loss of a parent is a painful burden to bear, he thinks, even if they're not someone who was particularly close to you. Sojiro had been far more doting on Genji than he ever had with Hanzo himself and that's one of the things he carries with him; that the 'sparrow' had been the favourite, but he had been born first. Hanzo had never been the one that was loved most, but he had thought he had made his peace with it.
Sometimes it haunts him. He tries not to think about it.
At least he can understand duty, perhaps better than anyone else might. He had thought he was doing his duty when he had killed Genji. He had thought that he was doing his duty when he had taken the position of Magister from his father and stood in the circle of all his peers, stoney and proud. Duty is a messy, confused thing, and Hanzo wants to do what is best, now, to earn his redemption. The life of his spirits depends on it.
Thinking of Tevinter gives him pause, though, and Hanzo breathes out sharply before he nods his head.
"I was there. I saw the streets. I saw the people." He frowns, looking away. "It is no longer my place."
Alexandrie had been keeping herself distracted during the funeral itself gliding about as the lady of a residence ought to: quietly observing the greater ebb and flow of the guests and quietly marshaling the staff as necessary. Once the ebb had been the greater, she had thought to leave the brothers to their own time, to perhaps coordinate the return of the mansion from gathering place to home.
But then, tiredly and perhaps unthinkingly, Thor had looked at her with the same sort of expectation of her departure that might be rendered a guest who lagged behind. Loki had both remained in the music room and looked absent besides, and so, having been a great deal more than unprepared, she had murmured some manner of appropriate thing (or at least she trusted she had) and... left.
She wasn't going to leave Frigga's final farewell unattended, when the time came for it, but her attendance is thin-lipped and remote, and she will eventually slip away down the coast with a pilfered bottle of wine to sit straight-backed and in profile on a large piece of driftwood just at the edge of the pyrelight, watch the glittering reflection on the sea, and drink melancholically.
She is Being Alone, and making sure she can be seen doing it.
He breathes out, feeling the rejection as if it's personal rather than directed at the country. Hanzo is, was, a magister. Thor will be one day. It's a sacred obligation and service to the people. It's the status that demands a vigil like this for Magisters and their families. Hanzo isn't rejecting him, but he's rejecting everything Thor believes in and the look Thor gives him is confused and lost.
"Why?" It's asked feather-soft. Thor cannot afford to put too much emotion into anything right at this moment, as he cannot let the dam break. "We are what should protect them from this storm. They need us more than ever before, and you are already opposed to Corypheus, you are with the Inquisition. I..."
He trails off and looks away himself. "Forgive me. It is not right for House Asgard to pry into House Shimada. I forget myself."
The vigil feels insubstantial, like it is not enough to honor her, here. They're too far from home. She's too far from home. But the appearance of someone from House Artimaeus helps lend it weight, as did the presence of House Shimada. All three of the Houses represented in Kirkwall are present, and Thor feels like that matters.
"I thank you for coming," he says quietly to Benedict's right. The amount of staring happening is odd, but he won't mention it. The little heir of House Artimaeus tends to seem a little odd.
The title of Magister is not one easily given up and Hanzo is aware of it. He had not passed it on to anyone nor was there someone truly of his blood to take his place - he had seen to that. Genji was never made to lead nor rule and the idea of his younger brother wearing the mantle of leadership like that was enough to encourage some discomfort in him, but he managed all the same. He's tight, tense, but he does what he can, his head turning to look over at Thor.
Now is not the time, surely, but what time will ever be good enough for such a conversation.
"House Shimada is not what it once was." His voice is quiet, soft. Sad, almost, because Hanzo had believed in his blood for a long time. "My family... It has never been what true Magisters should be. House Shimada, without a Magister to guide them, has chosen Corypheus as their friend."
A sad sigh.
"House Shimada cannot protect the people from those that they follow."
Maybe it's an Orlesian thing, sitting at a distance and drinking. Thor doesn't know. Or if he did, he's tired out enough that little cultural tidbits are being forgotten. Throughout most of the burning he stays near to the pyre, keeping an eye on it as if it could somehow go wrong, but as the end approaches he comes over to Alexandrie.
"Is this the way it is done in Orlais? I would think most would be closer so they can be seen and see. With masks on." No, he's fairly certain that his schooling did not cover Orlesian funerals.
And now the break makes sense. Venatori. They had made their choice, and Hanzo had chosen to oppose them. No doubt there were any number of cousins hoping to find both of the missing brothers and kill them to take over the seat, which is why Hanzo would be so deeply in hiding so as to pretend to not even be a mage anymore.
Thor reaches over and clasps Hanzo's shoulder. In Tevinter, this would be a gambit. People might read alliances or threats and there would be a political swirl around the gesture. But here, with no enemies present and likely no one else knowing who Hanzo is, it seems safe to offer him a small comfort.
"Those who have fallen can still be taught, and those who have traveled far may find they have an ally should they wish to return and set things right. There is always a chance for change, and for redemption." He glances over at Loki briefly. "I believe this with all that I am."
"We are not in Orlais, my lord," Alexandrie replies with the utmost propriety. A polite distance that had not been there when she had been pouring tea for him in her dressing gown in the small hours of the morning. "Nor would I disrespect the Lady Asgard or your custom by behaving as if we were."
It's not quite as simple as Hanzo disagreeing with their choice to follow the Venatori, of course. He had been away from Tevinter for ten years and this alliance could be called recent, in a way. It had come down to the loss of Genji, his shame, the dishonour and the pollution of his spirits - it had not been a moral choice in the sense of disagreeing with what his uncles had told him.
No, Hanzo could not claim that.
The touch to his shoulder does make him pause, though, a more outward sign of affection than he is used to receiving in public. His eyes drink Thor in for a moment, concerned and uncertain - he does not look the part of a Magister, as Tevinter as he might seem - but he accepts it all the same, nodding his head.
"I am not sure if I shall ever be able to return," he admits quietly. "I do not know what place there is for me after being gone for so long." It might change, of course, if the Inquisition demands a Magister ally, but until then... "Redemption is all I can hope for."
Barely seeming to hear Thor, Benedict immediately jumps in with: "she was dead the whole time, wasn't she." Sorry buddy it's time for an existential crisis over here.
He nods in return and drops his hand back down, turning to view the small gathering. Even at times like this it costs little to be encouraging. Or maybe it is that in times like this it's more important to reach out.
"There is a place, I am certain of it. Our country needs those who can bring it to a better place." To a place free of Corypheus and the Venatori, able to stand strong as other nations crumbled from within. Like Nevarra. And he would not deny that he wants something to come from her death, a legacy so that she'd be remembered by more than simply his family.
There are a lot of things that were socially expected at a Vigil. There are even more things that are socially accepted at one.
This is neither.
Thor stares at Benedict for several minutes, trying to wrap his mind around what's being said. Slowly it sinks in and he's forced to remember the awfulness of that day. Thor's jaw works before he finally speaks.
There were plenty of opportunities to be traumatized throughout their flight from Tevinter, and Frigga's presence was one of them. Bene didn't think it possible to be so viscerally upset in the retroactive sense, but when he thinks back on the journey, how limp and unresponsive she was-- she was a corpse the whole time. He'd sat with her, slept next to her. It.
He takes a step back, hands shaking slightly, mind racing. "Why?" he repeats, his voice pitched higher than usual, shakier. Because one of their traveling companions was a dead body, bringing the horror of those memories to a whole new and exciting level? "Mm," he whimpers, and simply turns to go, because he's certain that trying to engage with Thor on the matter will result in a Scene. Bene likes his theatrics, but even he knows when not to act out.
The boy seems broken. Thor should just let him go. Too many emotions at the Vigil are unseemly, but this is already very far from a typical Vigil. After longer than he should, Thor steps forward.
"Wait. Have a drink of wine and breathe." Three houses. Four messes. They may not be doing Tevinter proud here. He's certainly not done his mother proud.
There really is nothing so frustrating as being in a purposefully palpable sulk and having someone notice and not ask why. Especially when that person is the cause of it. Coming in close second is being forced to remember by their presence that you know very well how tired they are, know that they just lit their mother's funeral pyre, which still burns, casting its flickering shadows about the beach so that it cannot be forgotten, and know that perhaps they also feel alone and cut adrift, so that you are forced to recognize you are perhaps being unreasonable.
(Of course she was being unreasonable. That was half the point of indulging in such things as this.) There is else to it, though, and things she wishes to say, and she cannot game Thor into inquiring after them at the moment. So after he takes a few steps, she gives over and speaks.
"I have cast my lot in with your family's, my lord. To the disapproval ranging from mild to rather severe of my own and those I have made acquaintance of since arriving. I do not find fond welcome among the families of Hightown, and perhaps due to my willful disregard of that as time progresses my mother the Comtesse De La Fontaine may very well prevail upon my Lord Father that it is truly in the best interest of my future happiness and that of the family to make arrangements for an ...appropriate marriage, regardless of my feelings on the matter."
She'll drink to that. The bottle sloshes along with the sea as she lowers it again.
"I think I would refuse it and risk their displeasure, even knowing neither they, nor the Empress, nor your Lord Father would readily allow any else. I risk everything I have ever known for him. Do you yet disapprove?"
Bene has experienced panic before, but never in such a calm and stately atmosphere, and never in front of anyone like this. He accepts the wine but doesn't drink it right away, at a bit of a loss for how to react to this while his mind is racing. What's even wrong with him? "I'm--" he stammers, taking a sip of the wine, and then a longer drink, "--I'm sorry about your mother."
It's a difficult situation to be sure. Hanzo is stuck here in the Inquistion until he finds a way to get back to whatever it is he wants to do, and it is what he has chosen to do to try and earn his redemption, to earn his place, to try and feel as though he is making amends. It is not good enough, he thinks, and he can feel the weight of that uncertainty like something heavy on his chest, something coiled ready to burst from him.
At least this is familiar enough that it gives him some comfort. He feels more at ease with it, admittedly, than he might like to admit otherwise.
"I am not sure I am one who would bring that." His regrets cloud him. Few know about the truth of Genji Shimada's death slash disappearance and he would prefer to keep it that way, but it is a ghost that haunts him even now. He frowns, staring out at the crowd. "But there are others. People who will make our home strong again."
Resa hadn't ventured near during the Vigil, save what felt absolutely mandatory, standing in their general direction, faced somewhat near the body, muttering something that sounded like condolences, and then leaving.
Mortality is ever a stranger to her, as is the celebration of death. Celebrating something inevitable is such a human thing to do, really. She knows death, she's aware of it, but it's not something her people celebrated--and when she left to live amongst humans, she rarely became friends with anyone long enough to care whether they lived or died.
But now she's here, and while she never met Frigga, and doesn't particularly care about her any more than any of the others, here she is, anyway. Wine glass in hand, and still looking a little lost about the whole thing. But she ought to do something, so she finally approaches Thor.
"Are you...doing okay?" A stupid question, but the only one she can think of.
"Yes," he says automatically. It's the answer one gives. Especially the heir. He's in territory that is hostile to his people, under the command of one who would casually murder civilians, with no idea who may be spies or enemies. Yes is the answer he has to give.
But he's not good at that sort of thing. Misleading has always been his brother's art form, constant suspicion Loki's garb, and it does not sit well on Thor's shoulders. Thor exhales heavily after a few moments and looks down at her.
"Would you look down on me, my lady, if that was not my answer?"
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."
That is far more like it. The ground is familiar here, something Thor needs badly in this land where everyone hates them and their ways.
"She was a good woman," he says solemnly. That is also what one is supposed to say. He has spent much of his life knowing what one was supposed to do and say and doing and saying it, and yet here he is, mourning the premature death of his mother in a hostile land as his own is overrun.
"And Minrathous a good city," he finally adds, heavily. "We have lost much."
He has motivated men before, but they were warriors under his command, not his equals. It was also when he was not quite so tired. As Hanzo looks at the crowd, Thor looks back at the body of his mother. What would she have done here? Probably smiled, laughed, and then brought up something from Hanzo's past that painted him in a good light. Thor can't do that.
"We can fight for it from here for now," he offers. It's not an alliance offer, the 'we,' but he can test the waters. His house is weakened, but it still stands and the people can see from their loss that they are not bending knee to Corypheus. House Shimada, if it survives after Corypheus is defeated, may need House Asgard.
Or maybe it won't. He needs to speak with Loki and see what his brother thinks of all of this. His insight could help.
What does he want? That's a difficult question for him to answer because the truth is that he doesn't really know. He doesn't know what his place here truly is, despite his recent promotion, and he doesn't know what the future is going to hold for him. He is constantly trying to find his place, trying to earn his redemption, and being mixed up with more and more people from Tevinter who know who he truly is... It's discomforting.
He appreciates the fact that Thor has been trying, and he's a far kinder ally than Hanzo had imagined he should be. He has kept his secrets better than Hanzo had anticipated, too, and he feels more comfortable with him than he had thought. It makes some of the tension bleed out of him, the uncertainty of the situation settling a little before he breathes out softly, just enough.
If there is a home for him to return to... Perhaps it would be worth having a friend.
"Perhaps we can," he admits quietly. "But I do not know what I want. For now... I wish to earn a place."
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.
He nods. Birth is not earning on its own. There are plenty of firstborn who have... vanished... when it was clear they could not handle the responsibility of the Magisterum. Likely it is much the same story in other lands. And perhaps that is what came to place in the Shimada clan - Hanzo departed, the younger was found unsatisfactory, and there is guilt there that makes Hanzo feel unworthy.
"If there was ever an opportunity to earn a place, it seems to be the Inquisition." There's enough ambition in this place to create five Magisterums. "And perhaps to find a direction on one's life."
Selfishly, if Hanzo proves as solid a man as he's appearing to be, Thor hopes the Shimada's direction parallels his own. Tevinter will need it.
Hanzo is glad, at least, that the truth of what happened in the Shimada family is something that has been kept secret. If anyone in the Inquisition found out the truth of what had happened to Genji, what had happened when Sojiro had died and left the seat of Magister to his eldest son... He is sure his welcome here would be thin, that it would not take long for him to find his welcome wearing thin. They might accept an assassin, but a man who murdered his brother seeking power?
He breathes out, sharp and unsure, staring forward in front of him as he tries to think of what to do, what to say. Perhaps the Shimada family would be better with him, but he cannot imagine that they would not get worse with him back at the helm.
"That is all that can be hoped for," he admits. Hanzo seeks, more than anything else, his own redemption. He seeks to find a means to prove himself, to earn the right to say that he has been forgiven for his misdeeds.
He only hopes that, somewhere, in whatever afterlife there is waiting for them, Genji can see that he is trying.
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.
A quick nod, staring into the glass, and then Bene finally takes a sip. The taste is grounding, but he's still nervous, especially when Thor mentions Minrathous. Is there anything that hasn't completely fallen apart in the last few months?
He nods numbly, looking at the floor. Mother would know what to say next, but she isn't here.
"As we will ever be," Loki replies to Thor. His tone is cold but not combative, his own participation in the evening had been lacking. Limited to drink and scowling and, as he moves past the last elven servant in the room, he abandons both by shoving his empty wineglass into her hands and freeing up his own.
By mutual agreement this is to be Loki's task. It was not discussed but, between the both of them, one of them was clearly more gifted in this arena. Loki moves to the dais but his purposeful, sharp steps slow as he approaches. When he arrives at her side he is almost hesitant. He has not been this close to her since they returned.
He stares down at his mother and his expression falls; for the moment his sorrow is palpable. It shifts, quickly enough, and he swallows it back.
"Girl," he snaps at Fifi from his place at Frigga's side. "I require the tools."
His gesture is offhanded and the table he motions at only has a silvered tray covered over with a cloth. One of the items on it is clearly a cup, but there is no telling what the folds of the fabric hide.
A squeak of surprise is Fifi's response to the wine glass, and she stands there holding it like a fool for several long moments until Loki calls for something else. Knowing that to hesitate would be unwise, she goes to the indicated table, sets the glass down, and picks up the tools instead, eyeing them briefly and casting an uncertain glance to Thor before bringing them to Loki. It's fine that he doesn't remember name. Probably better that way, actually.
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Vigil - Open
The music room, on the other hand, has a marble platform in the middle of it, taking up a full half of the room. The perimeter of the platform is covered in runes. On top of it is a bed, and on it is laid the Lady of House Asgard, Frigga, looking for all the world like she’s just taking a nap.
Thor and Loki both stand near the bed, the former standing grim-faced with a glass of barely-touched wine in his hand, the latter looking like he may have had a glass or five already.
Ritual - Closed to Loki, Fifi, and Thor
“I cannot think of a reason for her to be prepared for her death,” he grumbles. It had been so untimely, so needless, so wasteful, so wrong. And their father cannot even be here, having to shore up defenses on the estate thanks to the Venatori stirring up problems. It’s insults and injuries piled upon each other.
“Are we ready?”
Fire - Open
The atmosphere tonight is less serious and guarded. Tradition has been met, the ritual was at least attempted, and now it is time to remember Frigga for who she was in life before turning attention fully to revenge and making Corypheus regret everything.
Thor is shirtless and a lot more alert-looking than at the Vigil as he actually mingles, while Loki looks like he’s in a trance.
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He had done it for his father, once. He had stood before the Magister of House Shimada, watching Sojiro as if he was just resting, as if he was taking a moment to himself in the afternoon, as if he was letting his sons take charge. He had stood and he had felt nothing - cold, barren, distant, as if he couldn't quite believe that his father was gone. It hadn't really been that, of course, but with the pressure on his shoulders and the weight of leadership bearing down on him...
Moving forward, Hanzo reaches and takes the wine from Thor's hand, placing it to one side. There are few people in the Inquisition who might be able to understand what the two brothers are going through, but Hanzo is one of them. He had done it himself already, and bearing witness is important. It's part of what he had left behind, but not something he had ever forgotten.
The wine is put to one side. He nods his head.
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After the briefest glance at Loki, Thor nods back to Hanzo. His brother will not notice, cannot, most likely.
"Thank you for coming," he says in a voice rough with emotions and a couple of days' disuse. The words are what's said at a time like this, but he means them. Hanzo may be the only one in Kirkwall who understands this tradition.
"My father will not be here. He cannot leave our lands at this time." To anyone else it might seem a non sequitur. To Hanzo he hopes it's a reassurance that his secret is safe.
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The wine is moved now, at least, and then it won't be there, like a blaring sign of pain.
In Tevinter, showing your sadness is not acceptable. It is a sign of weakness. Hanzo knows that Thor cannot give into his grief the way he wants to and that is enough. It's good enough to know that someone understands the depths of your pain, can recognise it, even if you can't voice it.
"Of course." Even if he wasn't hiding he would've come. It's appropriate for another Magister to come to these things, even if he's run from that part of his past. "You are here for him. I am sure your mother would understand." Nodding, Hanzo doesn't dare say more. He knows what Thor is saying, and he appreciates it - if his father were here... He would address Hanzo as Magister Shimada.
He never formally rescinded his post. He might have gone, but his place hasn't.
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Thor is exhausted.
But there is no time to dwell on it, no time to stop moving and simply be. Corypheus isn't going to take a break to give his enemies space to recover.
"As is my duty," he says quietly. Rather than trying to rest, he will stand and keep moving forward. He takes a slow breath to regather himself. "There is always more that duty demands, especially when our people are in peril." A beat, and then he looks at Hanzo, brows furrowed. That may need to be clarified, now that he thinks about it.
"The people of Tevinter are in peril." Now, as politics swirl about and all he wants to do is what he cannot - take time to mourn his mother - he can guess at what might push someone away from the Imperium. But it's still his nation, still his blood, still part and parcel of who he is.
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So there's a look on his face of veiled horror as he stares at the body, his wine undrunk in one hand, the sight of Frigga bringing back all the hardships of their journey home. It's not a good feeling.
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Sometimes it haunts him. He tries not to think about it.
At least he can understand duty, perhaps better than anyone else might. He had thought he was doing his duty when he had killed Genji. He had thought that he was doing his duty when he had taken the position of Magister from his father and stood in the circle of all his peers, stoney and proud. Duty is a messy, confused thing, and Hanzo wants to do what is best, now, to earn his redemption. The life of his spirits depends on it.
Thinking of Tevinter gives him pause, though, and Hanzo breathes out sharply before he nods his head.
"I was there. I saw the streets. I saw the people." He frowns, looking away. "It is no longer my place."
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But then, tiredly and perhaps unthinkingly, Thor had looked at her with the same sort of expectation of her departure that might be rendered a guest who lagged behind. Loki had both remained in the music room and looked absent besides, and so, having been a great deal more than unprepared, she had murmured some manner of appropriate thing (or at least she trusted she had) and... left.
She wasn't going to leave Frigga's final farewell unattended, when the time came for it, but her attendance is thin-lipped and remote, and she will eventually slip away down the coast with a pilfered bottle of wine to sit straight-backed and in profile on a large piece of driftwood just at the edge of the pyrelight, watch the glittering reflection on the sea, and drink melancholically.
She is Being Alone, and making sure she can be seen doing it.
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"Why?" It's asked feather-soft. Thor cannot afford to put too much emotion into anything right at this moment, as he cannot let the dam break. "We are what should protect them from this storm. They need us more than ever before, and you are already opposed to Corypheus, you are with the Inquisition. I..."
He trails off and looks away himself. "Forgive me. It is not right for House Asgard to pry into House Shimada. I forget myself."
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"I thank you for coming," he says quietly to Benedict's right. The amount of staring happening is odd, but he won't mention it. The little heir of House Artimaeus tends to seem a little odd.
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Now is not the time, surely, but what time will ever be good enough for such a conversation.
"House Shimada is not what it once was." His voice is quiet, soft. Sad, almost, because Hanzo had believed in his blood for a long time. "My family... It has never been what true Magisters should be. House Shimada, without a Magister to guide them, has chosen Corypheus as their friend."
A sad sigh.
"House Shimada cannot protect the people from those that they follow."
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"Is this the way it is done in Orlais? I would think most would be closer so they can be seen and see. With masks on." No, he's fairly certain that his schooling did not cover Orlesian funerals.
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Thor reaches over and clasps Hanzo's shoulder. In Tevinter, this would be a gambit. People might read alliances or threats and there would be a political swirl around the gesture. But here, with no enemies present and likely no one else knowing who Hanzo is, it seems safe to offer him a small comfort.
"Those who have fallen can still be taught, and those who have traveled far may find they have an ally should they wish to return and set things right. There is always a chance for change, and for redemption." He glances over at Loki briefly. "I believe this with all that I am."
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She does not offer him the bottle.
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No, Hanzo could not claim that.
The touch to his shoulder does make him pause, though, a more outward sign of affection than he is used to receiving in public. His eyes drink Thor in for a moment, concerned and uncertain - he does not look the part of a Magister, as Tevinter as he might seem - but he accepts it all the same, nodding his head.
"I am not sure if I shall ever be able to return," he admits quietly. "I do not know what place there is for me after being gone for so long." It might change, of course, if the Inquisition demands a Magister ally, but until then... "Redemption is all I can hope for."
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"There is a place, I am certain of it. Our country needs those who can bring it to a better place." To a place free of Corypheus and the Venatori, able to stand strong as other nations crumbled from within. Like Nevarra. And he would not deny that he wants something to come from her death, a legacy so that she'd be remembered by more than simply his family.
It is the greatest comfort he can have right now.
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This is neither.
Thor stares at Benedict for several minutes, trying to wrap his mind around what's being said. Slowly it sinks in and he's forced to remember the awfulness of that day. Thor's jaw works before he finally speaks.
"Yes. Why."
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"All right." And with that he starts to walk away.
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He takes a step back, hands shaking slightly, mind racing. "Why?" he repeats, his voice pitched higher than usual, shakier. Because one of their traveling companions was a dead body, bringing the horror of those memories to a whole new and exciting level?
"Mm," he whimpers, and simply turns to go, because he's certain that trying to engage with Thor on the matter will result in a Scene. Bene likes his theatrics, but even he knows when not to act out.
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"Wait. Have a drink of wine and breathe." Three houses. Four messes. They may not be doing Tevinter proud here. He's certainly not done his mother proud.
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(Of course she was being unreasonable. That was half the point of indulging in such things as this.) There is else to it, though, and things she wishes to say, and she cannot game Thor into inquiring after them at the moment. So after he takes a few steps, she gives over and speaks.
"I have cast my lot in with your family's, my lord. To the disapproval ranging from mild to rather severe of my own and those I have made acquaintance of since arriving. I do not find fond welcome among the families of Hightown, and perhaps due to my willful disregard of that as time progresses my mother the Comtesse De La Fontaine may very well prevail upon my Lord Father that it is truly in the best interest of my future happiness and that of the family to make arrangements for an ...appropriate marriage, regardless of my feelings on the matter."
She'll drink to that. The bottle sloshes along with the sea as she lowers it again.
"I think I would refuse it and risk their displeasure, even knowing neither they, nor the Empress, nor your Lord Father would readily allow any else. I risk everything I have ever known for him. Do you yet disapprove?"
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"I'm--" he stammers, taking a sip of the wine, and then a longer drink, "--I'm sorry about your mother."
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At least this is familiar enough that it gives him some comfort. He feels more at ease with it, admittedly, than he might like to admit otherwise.
"I am not sure I am one who would bring that." His regrets cloud him. Few know about the truth of Genji Shimada's death slash disappearance and he would prefer to keep it that way, but it is a ghost that haunts him even now. He frowns, staring out at the crowd. "But there are others. People who will make our home strong again."
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Mortality is ever a stranger to her, as is the celebration of death. Celebrating something inevitable is such a human thing to do, really. She knows death, she's aware of it, but it's not something her people celebrated--and when she left to live amongst humans, she rarely became friends with anyone long enough to care whether they lived or died.
But now she's here, and while she never met Frigga, and doesn't particularly care about her any more than any of the others, here she is, anyway. Wine glass in hand, and still looking a little lost about the whole thing. But she ought to do something, so she finally approaches Thor.
"Are you...doing okay?" A stupid question, but the only one she can think of.
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But he's not good at that sort of thing. Misleading has always been his brother's art form, constant suspicion Loki's garb, and it does not sit well on Thor's shoulders. Thor exhales heavily after a few moments and looks down at her.
"Would you look down on me, my lady, if that was not my answer?"
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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."
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"She was a good woman," he says solemnly. That is also what one is supposed to say. He has spent much of his life knowing what one was supposed to do and say and doing and saying it, and yet here he is, mourning the premature death of his mother in a hostile land as his own is overrun.
"And Minrathous a good city," he finally adds, heavily. "We have lost much."
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"We can fight for it from here for now," he offers. It's not an alliance offer, the 'we,' but he can test the waters. His house is weakened, but it still stands and the people can see from their loss that they are not bending knee to Corypheus. House Shimada, if it survives after Corypheus is defeated, may need House Asgard.
Or maybe it won't. He needs to speak with Loki and see what his brother thinks of all of this. His insight could help.
"What is it you want, Hanzo Shimada?"
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He appreciates the fact that Thor has been trying, and he's a far kinder ally than Hanzo had imagined he should be. He has kept his secrets better than Hanzo had anticipated, too, and he feels more comfortable with him than he had thought. It makes some of the tension bleed out of him, the uncertainty of the situation settling a little before he breathes out softly, just enough.
If there is a home for him to return to... Perhaps it would be worth having a friend.
"Perhaps we can," he admits quietly. "But I do not know what I want. For now... I wish to earn a place."
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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."
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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.
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"If there was ever an opportunity to earn a place, it seems to be the Inquisition." There's enough ambition in this place to create five Magisterums. "And perhaps to find a direction on one's life."
Selfishly, if Hanzo proves as solid a man as he's appearing to be, Thor hopes the Shimada's direction parallels his own. Tevinter will need it.
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He breathes out, sharp and unsure, staring forward in front of him as he tries to think of what to do, what to say. Perhaps the Shimada family would be better with him, but he cannot imagine that they would not get worse with him back at the helm.
"That is all that can be hoped for," he admits. Hanzo seeks, more than anything else, his own redemption. He seeks to find a means to prove himself, to earn the right to say that he has been forgiven for his misdeeds.
He only hopes that, somewhere, in whatever afterlife there is waiting for them, Genji can see that he is trying.
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"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."
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"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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He nods numbly, looking at the floor. Mother would know what to say next, but she isn't here.
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By mutual agreement this is to be Loki's task. It was not discussed but, between the both of them, one of them was clearly more gifted in this arena. Loki moves to the dais but his purposeful, sharp steps slow as he approaches. When he arrives at her side he is almost hesitant. He has not been this close to her since they returned.
He stares down at his mother and his expression falls; for the moment his sorrow is palpable. It shifts, quickly enough, and he swallows it back.
"Girl," he snaps at Fifi from his place at Frigga's side. "I require the tools."
His gesture is offhanded and the table he motions at only has a silvered tray covered over with a cloth. One of the items on it is clearly a cup, but there is no telling what the folds of the fabric hide.
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It's fine that he doesn't remember name. Probably better that way, actually.