belovedone | ideals, desires, and truths

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ideals, desires, and truths - for ofsilvertongue

As far as most subjects of the Realm Eternal believed, their queen’s concerns began and ended with bearing healthy royal heirs, standing staunchly by while her husband went off to war, and making certain she always looked presentable and elegant.

But there was more to being an effective queen than being a pretty bauble or a smiling silent supporter.

Or so Frigga thought. And far more good she could do for her realm otherwise.

While the All-Father crafted peace and prosperity with tools of war and power, his wife worked behind the scenes, sometimes entirely without his knowledge. And there, her tools were not magic or blades but diplomacy, tact and charm. They were words.

Words like those she had been sending out in letters for the last three centuries, secret correspondence with people her husband had no idea she even knew.

With a realm that most were forbidden to even communicate with directly.

‘Tis better, as many a wise man said, to ask for forgiveness than permission. If her husband knew what she proposed he would have stopped her before she even had a chance to begin, dismissing it angrily as a fool’s errand. Impossible, and thus never giving her opportunity to prove otherwise.

But the truce they had with Jotunheim was more a stranglehold than a partnership. And Frigga would much rather replace it with a better one. One forged, perhaps, through an old standby when it came to the shoring of nations and the building of empires: the ties of kinship and unity offered by an advantageous political marriage.

She had started the venture carefully. Waited until the wounds of defeat were no longer so raw, a hundred years and more after the last battle – when her children were still little more than that.

But Frigga had foresight, and she was looking to the future. And this plan if it came to fruition, she knew, would take a long time.

A very, very long time.

First she’d done her best to forge relationships, find those she thought she could rely on to provide her with honest and accurate information. With so much bitterness and lack of trust awaiting her, it seemed this step took the longest of all. Once the lines of communication were open she learnt everything she could of the current noble families among the Jotun.

Who had the most power, land, titles. Who was most connected to the throne; who was most loyal to the throne, not always the same thing.

Who had children of an age with her sons. And of these, what were their attributes, their temperaments?

From this list collected at last, through the years she winnowed her options down cannily and with a firm judicious hand.

Thor would be king one day. He was expected to be allowed his own choice of bride when that time came. And it would be unthinkable to most that their ruler be partnered to anything other than fellow Asgardian.

But the House of Odin was blessed with another child.

And it was a cynical but very true fact that in these particular types of schemes and negotiations, extra princes and princesses could be very…useful.

Now here was hoping the child that’d been used as a bartering chip without his knowledge could, once presented with the tale, somehow come to view it in that light.

It was a warm spring day on Asgard. The view outside the large arched window offered sights of flowering trees and chirping birds, and when the gentle breeze blew it carried a faint scent of natural perfume. Normally on a day like this, Frigga would have liked to move any visits or discussions onto the balcony, or maybe even the courtyard.

But she didn’t dare. Right now privacy was favored; it was vitally important there be not even the slightest chance anyone would overhear them.

And she had the nagging thought that for the conversation she planned, at some point after they began talking, there might end up being a raised voice or two.

Unable to remain seated she walked the floor slowly, anticipating her son at any moment.

She was still trying to organize her thoughts and plan her words, deciding how would be best to begin.

On a table near her sat a small chest made out of beautifully-forged silver metal, inlaid with dark stones. It was large enough it would have to be lifted with two hands, big enough it could hold something the size of a very thick leather-bound book inside. At a glance it was clearly very valuable. But it would look strange to most Asgardian eyes, for the craftsmanship was clearly foreign, and unfamiliar.

Frigga glanced at it while she waited for Loki’s arrival.

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It wasn't without reason that Loki steered the conversation so early towards the reason he'd been asked here. If there was going to be unsavory news to be had, he would rather avoid empty pleasantries while waiting to get there.

There was, however, only so much pushing he was willing to do with her for his respect of his mother was too great to not allow her to unfurl whatever settled heavily on her mind in something of her own time, and he did not see any reason to pull away from her touch when she offered it no matter how unsettled the look in her eye left him.

It didn't change the way his smile pulled a little wider, though, or the slightly dismissive way his eyebrows raise as if her words held little to be concerned about. "So ominous, Mother." It was far easier to undercut the heaviness of the situation than succumb to it entirely before he had to.

If he had to. It wouldn't be the first time a 'serious matter' had turned out to be anything but in Loki's opinion. "So foreboding. Why must it feel as if someone's head is for the chopping block?"

If anything Frigga was glad he had pressed to the heart of the matter so soon. She had no intention to waste much time dancing around it. She wasn't certain she could manage, and besides, it wouldn't be fair to Loki.

But at his intended quip her face underwent a sort of spasm, words intended in jest making her all but wince as he unknowingly came too close to the heart of the matter.

A betrothal and an execution were hardly the same thing...but. How many times had an undesired engagement caused a young man or woman to proclaim grievously 'My life is over'?

(And in a way it was, wasn't it? The journey from unattached to spouse meant the ending of one life, and the beginning of another. The loss of certain freedoms. And not always, such as in circumstances like the one she'd created, undertaken entirely of one's own accord.)

"It's hardly that," she said, pulling back from him slightly, hand falling. Her words were at war with her expression. She hesitated, choosing her next words with a heavy hand as she prepared herself. She breathed in.

"Loki...have you ever been in love?" She found herself facing away from him again, hands going together as if she would wring them. Her words spilled out of her in a murmur as she thought. "I know you've had your flirtations with a fair share of maidens in your father's court, and I'm certain there have been other dalliances hidden from my eyes. But, there has never been anything more serious, has there? You are not presently attached?"

Loki wasn't sure what to expect following his words. They were a jest, yes, but also his testing the waters to see how deeply the somber tone of the moment had rooted itself in. Her reaction was as telling as it wasn't, making his smile freeze on his lips as he regarded her.

His back straightened, shoulders squaring against whatever she was planning next after pulling away from him, still trying to sort all the meanings her reaction could mean. He didn't believe her for a liar when she denied his words, but there was something else there, something too near the subject that Loki was suddenly and quite decidedly against wanting to pursue. Curiosity be damned in the face of such reluctance from such a fearless woman.

"Love?" Whatever topic he could have anticipated, it was not this particular one and his sharp, incredulous scoff he received it with said as much. The number of flirtations and intimate engagements Frigga believes herself to know about were quite possibly grossly inaccurate--propriety did, after all, occasionally win out over stirring the pot--but it wasn't something he was eager to shed light on in any respect and, for the moment, the sheer surprise of having it brought around for discussion was distracting enough that Loki didn't immediately question why she was asking in the first place.

"Please tell me there is more to this conversation than discussing the ways in which I choose to spend my time or the integrity of those I have chosen to spend it on."

"I do not mean to engage in a lecture on honor. And I am not asking for any details. Frankly I'm certain it would be as uncomfortable for me to hear as it would be for you to share them."

She stayed where she was but moved her arms, crossing them lightly so she could rest hands at her opposite forearms. It painted an odd picture, almost as if she was bracing herself against a chill that did certainly not exist.

"It's not your conduct I have any interest in. It is, as I said, the state of your heart."

Her mouth set stiffly, though any distaste beginning to surface was reserved only for herself. She wanted to think herself capable of making objective and rational diplomatic choices while still having a care for the souls involved that were moved around like pieces on a gameboard.

But it was hard. So very, very hard.

"I'll be frank. I apologize. But as far as I've seen, I do not believe there has ever been anyone in your life over whom you have had...serious considerations. Certainly no one that you've exchanged promises with or made plans for." When she hesitated this time the weightiness came back into her voice as she made her next statement, nearly a pronouncement. "Which means that your future is as of now still entirely unspoken for."

It was entirely possible at this juncture that, if Loki really thought about it, he would realize where it was this was going.

Edited 2014-01-09 01:32 (UTC)

His wry amusement and his disbelieving surprise were slowly but surely leeched out of his expression the longer she spoke. What he thought was the beginning of an all-together ridiculous exchange of words was turning into something exponentially worse.

"The state of my heart." He repeated slowly, questioningly, as if he didn't understand the context she was presenting it to him in.

It was true that he had no one to call his own. He never really had, though not for the lack of suitors who might like to have him. Loki had better things to do than look for someone to fall foolishly in love with, especially when he could hardly consider those around him his equals, much less anyone he would want to willingly sacrifice any large portion of his life to.

Apparently, and if he wasn't misconstruing her meaning, putting his attentions elsewhere had been a very big mistake.

"I don't know that I would be eager to consider either entirely unspoken for," he started carefully, his tone even despite the way his eyes narrowed, despite the degree to which his gaze darkened with every word that fell from his lips. "Although I had, perhaps foolishly, held to the expectation that they would be mine to do with as I see fit."

As certainly convenient as it made it for her schemes, Frigga's own feelings on reflecting over the fact Loki had indeed never found anyone to fawn over were, at best, bittersweet. And at their worst anything but.

Love could be trying but it was in her experience a wonderful thing; it brought a kind of joy into one's life that had no equal. Even foolish and mistaken childhood infatuations gave pleasure for a time and left memories to sigh and smile over.

So to know with almost certainty her son, already holding himself a step apart from most others, had never known anyone he felt connected to in such a way? It wasn't happy knowledge. If she focused too hard on it, it even threatened to be painful. And she tried not to divine at the cause of something which was in the end little of her business - if this absence was more purposeful on Loki's part, and if it came from his fear or his disdain.

It had never come to pass. She supposed the details, the how any why, didn't matter in the end.

But there was a hopeful spark inside of her, coming from the undeniably romantic and tender part of her nature, that backed what she was about to do as a way to actually somehow fix this 'problem'.

A well-matched pair of spouses could grow fond of each other after the fact, could even fall in love over time. It was an...optimistic notion, to be sure. But it did happen.

As he spoke she turned her body again at the waist and twisted her neck to look back at him. She had to frown at his words, but she did him the courtesy of meeting his eyes. Her manner was stern but not unsympathetic when she gave reply.

"In a perfect world, my child," she said softly, "such choices would be left entirely up to you. But I think we both know, unfortunately, that the reality is not quite that."

Loki would call it a woman's soft heart that fed her sorrow in the face of his attachments. He has little time for reminiscing over petty infatuations, no matter how enjoyable they may have been at the time. His nature, which at one time had been said to be as soft and sensitive as his mother's, had hardened with the callouses of his title, of his duties as a prince of Asgard. He was not meant to lose his head to the fancies of romance when there were much more important things to earn his focus and he was young enough that he had considered the complications of matrimony to yet to present itself as an obstacle in his path.

That he is wrong is jarring.

That the choice was never intended to be his own is infuriating.

And had Loki known where his mother's thoughts drifted, he would have answered her flicker of hope with a snarl of his scorn at the very notion that love could be born between two people who had no choice but to suffer the other's company.

"And what is my reality, then?" A sharpness had crept into his voice, his hands falling to his side to clench unconsciously into fists. He felt that this was a less of a suggestion to what his future may hold than something she was revealing to him to already be in motion and it left his anger beginning to simmer, snapping red hot in the pit of his stomach as he tried to maintain his composure. "What vision have you bared witness to regarding the illusion of my free will?"

His mother tilted her head askance at him, giving him a reproving look.

"Loki," she admonished him, wounded and a little taken aback at such swift animosity. Not surprised, or at least not entirely. But saddened by it all the same.

"Is this what you think of me? I had no intention of forcing you into anything. Indeed, how could I?"

Her words were guarded though and her anxiety surfaced one more. No, she could hardly force him into something of this nature entirely without his consent - but certainly she had every intention to try and persuade him into agreement. The problem with diplomacy, and he knew it as well, was that even when an actual promise had not yet been made going back on a deal in the midst of forging could be...awkward.

For the subject to even come up, things were indeed already in motion. Far from set in stone perhaps, but whatever could be considered very close to that.

The degree to which Loki lifted his chin at her scolding was barely perceptible, but the defiance behind it was not. He would not apologize for his words and she could not expect him to. Not in the face of this new found knowledge.

"Of course not." The laugh the bubbled up out of him was dry and humorless, barely more than a soft exhale of air. "No, of course not. You would never dream of forcing me into anything I couldn't see the value of."

He did know the rules of diplomacy, as surly as he knew anything else and it was with those in mind that his mind sped through every option he could see at his disposal and all roads lead to the same conclusion:

There was nothing that he could truly do about it.

The quiet before the storm Frigga should know well was etched into every fiber of his being and he couldn't help the way his jaw clenched before he offered to her a hollow smile. "You must have quite the prize awaiting my judgment."

It was Frigga's turn to lift her chin up, with an air of stubborn determination to it. But they were, after all, family.

"A 'prize' that comes at the end of centuries' worth of long and hard negotiations," she informed him, matter of fact. "One of the best tools in forging alliances between nations is through marriage. A pact that both sides would be loath to turn back on."

She reminded him of these truths hoping it would emphasis she wasn't simply throwing him away on some curried favor, or whatever it was that might have entered his mind. This was a major undertaking. A duty he could serve for the good of all Asgard.

Facing him she at last walked over to the silver chest, absently running her fingers along the designs at the edge of it.

"This is for you," she told him, voice quieter for all her lack of shame. This next part would be even harder than what came before. "A gift to you from your intended future father-in-law. It came a very long way, Loki...all the way from Jotunheim."

"And it is such admirable effort on your part, I don't doubt." It was, perhaps, unfair of him to deliver to her such a whip-sharp retort, but he did not need her to explain the benefits of arranged unions to him and to have it laid so barely before him felt very much like being little more than a pawn to be cleverly played.

Arranged marriages weren't a rarity, of course, but it was something that he had put himself above experiencing. He was a prince and, should he want it, he had an entire kingdom to comb over for a match of his own. He wasn't blind to the idea that he would be expected to wed a maiden, to produce his own heir. In time, such expectations would have been fulfilled. For these plans to have been meticulously planned for so long and for it to be kept so carefully from his knowledge...

It felt like nothing short of the gravest betrayal of his trust.

His first instinct at the offering of the chest was to dismiss the gift in it's entirety, to insist that it be sent away because he had no plans to make use of it. He would not be swayed so easily by nothing more than a shiny bauble, no matter what may lay inside it.

Whatever ungrateful words he had intended to spit, however, fall apart before they reach his tongue when its origins register in his mind. Jotunheim.

Jotunheim.

The look that broke across his face was equal parts shocked and outraged. "What?"

A lifetime of practice had her never being the one that was quick to anger, not when she was blessed by such a family rich in emotion and strong in temperament. Yet she very near had to bite her tongue in response to his sardonic words, on the verge of an offended reply that yes, it had in fact taken a great deal of work on her part -- hard work and patience and secrecy. She was used to being the support structure; on the rare occasion her work was allowed to take the spotlight, having that acknowledgement still set aside stung.

But, no. She couldn't let him bait her into an argument so directly. Anyway, hadn't she already acknowledged, if only to herself, that he would have every right to be upset by this?

She held herself very still and kept a careful watch on his face. Waiting to see what came next, once he was able to absorb what she was telling him.

She was still waiting closely for his reaction. She knew that this was likely not even half of it.

"The betrothal I have arranged is with the Lord of Járnvid's last unmarried child. Járnvid is in the hilly forests near the southern plains of Jotunheim."

Edited 2014-01-09 07:32 (UTC)

Loki would never deny his mother's cleverness, her resourcefulness. He would never easily dismiss her strength and her fortitude and perseverance and any other time he would be eager to give her the praise her hard work deserved.

But not this time, not when Loki could feel whatever plans he had for his own future slipping from between his fingers.

To agree to such a match would put the throne of Asgard forever out of his reach. The first claim to the kingdom may not be his to take, but with a Frost Giant claiming her right as his betrothed, any claim at all would be a thing of the past. The people of Asgard would never accept such a Queen, much less a King who tried to ascend the throne with one of the monsters they had been taught to hate.

He blinked, trying to clear his thoughts enough to sort the surge of emotions that rolled though his body like the most violent of waves, unable to stop his feet from the step backward they decided to take away from her. "Do you truly think so little of me?" He asked, his voice etched so deeply with the betrayal he felt that it would be a wonder if he could ever shake it again. "Do you wish to make a mockery of me through the entirety of the realms?"

It took her a moment to reply -- well, half a moment, maybe. She didn't need time at all to think on her words. She had only to catch her breath after it was taken away by the betrayed hostility his words revealed. The horror he felt at what she offered him.

She knew the way things were in Asgard. She was no fool. She knew the stories the children of Loki's generation, raised after the wartime, would grow up hearing. But she had somehow entertained the desperate notion that maybe it wouldn't be this bad.

That somehow Loki, with his heart, with his cleverness, would have looked past the stories to the truth.

Of course it seemed that had not happened at all.

And now it was up to her to try and fix damage that might well be past mending.

"No," she replied in a soft murmur that grew stronger all the while as she spoke, and all of it shot through with deepest earnest. "Not at all. That is the furthest thing from what I intended. I am truly and deeply sorry if that's what my plans have made you think."

The Jotun were hardly a race that Loki had grown to view with anything but a distant distaste. Their world was glaringly different to that of Asgard, a civilization more primitive than refined. His knowledge of it, while limited, was still enough to tell him he wanted no part of such an affiliation.

"Does Father know?" He doesn't want her apologies. He doesn't want her mending the situation to soothe his emotions at what could only be considered a most offensive offer. "Is he aware of the allies you are trying to win?"

Loki would bet that the All-Father had been kept as much in the dark as he himself was. The war won was not done so easily and Odin felt no love that Loki could see for the inhabitants of Jotunheim.

"Or were you intending to educate him on the nature of your plans only after my bride had already departed Jotunheim?"

"He has no idea." Her words came calmly, her posture unbroken, unbowed. She laced her fingers in front of her, arms hanging straight. "I chose to keep my king in the dark for all this, until my attempt at negotiations could be finalized. He doesn't even know of any of the communications I've had with the people on that realm. Your father is a wise man...but he fought the Jotun as a soldier. He is used to them being unwilling to communicate through any language but war."

Odin had both his pride and his suspicions. The only truce he thought could be trusted was the one that'd been forged with his boot at Laufey's throat.

She couldn't entirely fault his wisdom. It was a dangerous game she dabbled in here. But neither realm could grow if all that passed between them was hostility. She thought it well worth the risk for the chance at better peace.

She finished, "I thought it best to wait until the proof was already in hand before I told him. It would make it...easier to accept." She couldn't help it that the look she gave him turned faintly hopeful. "I was going to go to him, after first I spoke to you."

There was a knot in her throat she had to swallow around, both at Loki's assumption his intended would be coming to Asgard, and that what he was being offered was a bride. But she would let it sit a moment before she corrected him.

"Easier to accept or harder to dismiss?" The meaning behind her words was not hard to decipher, after all. Frigga had ensured that with all of her planning that this would not be a decision to be turned down lightly. To do so would be paramount to spitting in the face of all the trust she had fought for and would damage further the already weak understanding of peace between the two realms. She would like him to believe that this was not a contract she could force him into, but he knew as well as she did that he was virtually powerless to deny it.

The beginnings of a sneer on his mouth was unavoidable. "Was it your hope, by chance, that you would be able to ply him with my agreement should you be so lucky to gain it? Was I to help you persuade him of the soundness of your proposal?"

His words did not bring him enjoyment to say and they left behind a lingering bitterness on his tongue that would not be done away with easily, but they weren't, he felt, unnecessary either. Loki was sure that Frigga had grossly overestimated the benefits to this idea of hers and he refused to be silent about it.

"Or are you only hoping he would be relieved enough that you have planned this for me and not Thor that he wouldn't be hard-pressed to agree?"

Frigga's mouth twisted sourly at his challenge to her thinking, but she decided to yield some ground rather than fight him on every level.

"Both," she admitted. "I couldn't go against him if he directly forbid me, after all." It shows in much subtler colors but the truth is there's something of the 'trickster' in her nature as well. Working behind the scenes and pretending to know and think less than she does have always borne out in her favor. She is proud of being able to find her clever ways around things that she has. She couldn't help but wish Loki was in better vantage to appreciate it.

But at his continuing tirade she started to shake her head in unhappy protest.

"My intention, as most always, was that you could leave your father to me. I know I am asking a lot of you in this. I certainly wasn't going to ask for any more."

And then, when he brought Thor into it her breath caught once again. Now this, this could be truly dangerous. The rivalry between the two of them, the unfavorable comparisons Loki drew, they had risen to a peak during the past centuries as they pushed further and further into their youth and left their times of easy boyhood far behind.

"What do you want me to say to that, Loki?" she demanded, not hiding that she was both frustrated and left at a loss. "You know what as firstborn is likely to be in your brother's destiny, and that it makes him unsuited for this marriage in a way that you are not. You each have your own burdens to bear."

"And how terrible the weight of his burden must be upon his shoulders knowing he'll be handed the life he's always yearned for," He spit like venom from a viper, his building anger all but radiating off of him. Thor would be given a golden kingdom and the admiration from the people in it while Loki was to be used as a token to bargain with.

He would like for her to recant the offer entirely. He would like to hear her say that it had clearly been a mistake. He would like to hear that his brother wasn't disgustingly favored above him and believe it.

But today is not the day of good fortune, clearly, and he cannot ask of her anything that would require a lie to deliver. She would not give it to him and he would not want to hear it even if she could.

He had half a mind to leave altogether. What more could she have to say to him? Singing the praises of his intended now wouldn't do her any favors, nor would pressing upon him the importance of the union she had spent so long manipulating into place. Suddenly even holding her gaze felt like too much effort and he looked away from her, his jaw tight and his silence stretching.

When he found it in him to speak again, his voice was icy and devoid of even the barest sliver of warmth. "Send it back," He gestured dismissively to the chest on the table before turning his back to her, his arms crossing defensive over his chest. "Send it back to the wasteland it was borne from. I'm required many things, but I will not accept their gifts."

Frigga kept her face still, her voice silent. Inwardly she sighed. She might even have felt inclined to roll her eyes. Though Loki's envy towards Thor still concerned her to see when he chose to reveal it, she still considered it more spiteful than truly dangerous.

He was still young, after all. Many behaviors were easy to brush off as growing pains. A lot of young men tended to be angry -- fewer of them stayed that way forever.

It was the nature of brothers, she had long decided. Each would covet and resent what the other had, and fail at times to see the different problems that plagued them.

She cast her own gaze down, staring distractedly at her hands as Loki turned his back to her. She decided that unwilling as he was to listen she had to keep going. After all the unpleasant revelations of this discussion were far from over.

"I will not," she stated, flatly. "It would be an insult." If she had to pretend to accept the gift on his behalf than so be it. "And, I think there are some other things that I need to make clear to you. Regarding the heir of Járnvid, first of all."

"Then let them be insulted. It matters little to me." It was an answer born of spite and anger and Loki cared not that it was, at it's root, nothing more than childishly sullen. He didn't expect a response to his behavior or for her to do as he asked--she never would willingly bring around such offense, not even at her child's wish--but he would be damned if he would smile through this all while his hand was being forced.

He would not, he knew, be so lucky as to be dismissed from the conversation to sort things in his own way(which is to say, angrily and sullenly and with quite a bit of drink in the solitude of his own rooms). He would get there eventually, to be sure, and with his back still to her he sensed more than witnessed with his own eyes that she was preparing to continue.

"As you will," he said thinly, dread already settling even heavier in his stomach for what could be coming for him.

Her sigh was outward this time, although it was disguised as slow and soft exhale.

Of course Loki would react in such a manner. She couldn't find it in her to be really surprised by this, either - nor was she left in the least mystified. Another situation she might have considered gently upbraiding him for expressing his unhappiness in such an undignified way; but this time he would be granted a reprieve.

And not only because if she pressed too hard he might snap and fully unleash his temper. She was aware that the longer this conversation went on, piece by piece, Loki would have things that were taken from him.

His ability to react the way he wanted, to not have to hide even his emotions behind his station and his duty, was something she could spare to allow him. So let him at least be granted the space and right to do that.

As she breathed back in again she looked towards the ceiling as if there'd be advice hiding there for her somehow, or at least inspiration. Weighing her options as she sorted through the heavy truths she had yet to unveil.

Deciding at last, her words started out slightly hurried; she strove to maintain an even and calm tone despite the way she was already bracing herself once more, "Obviously you know little of Jotunheim and its people. Even less than I might have hoped. Because...well, there are no women among the Jotun. There are no men, either. The Jotun are simply...themselves. Nothing more and nothing less. But to us, to other races that are so divided: they do appear as men. Mostly."

The only thing keeping his fury at bay was his respect for her and, while he hadn't thus far been as presentable as he might have been otherwise, it was the most he could manage given the circumstances. It was still there, snapping under the surface and held at bay with the strength of his will not to break in front of her.

That will, however, could only absorb so many blows and remain intact. To not be rebuffed for his flippancy still left him fairing only slightly better for her next delivery, though the first thing that registered was confusion rather than anger.

His knowledge of Jotunheim and it's inhabitants was woefully sparse, reduced down to only the practical information needed to survive them. He knew their customs only well enough to successfully enter political negotiations, their land enough to lead a party to battle. Of their biology, Loki could apply the ways he knew to kill them most efficiently or in which ways they needed to be avoided lest one be interested in a fatal wound. Practical knowledge. Useful knowledge.

Of their populace and the ways in which they conducted themselves in their privacy, Loki knew nothing and Frigga's words only serve to muddle the waters of understanding further. "Mostly?"

He twists enough to view her, his narrowed and his brow creased as he tried to make sense of what she had said. "Mostly?

She had to bite her lower lip in consternation. It was very difficult to find a way to explain this without being...crude. Without having to use language that had no place between a parent and grown child of completely different genders.

"There is only one gender among their race," she tried again, more factually. "There are no differences among them, no separate types, as we have men and women. Each can be either a father or a mother. Oftentimes both."

She made a few purposeless, fluttering gestures with her hands.

"But, outwardly, they present themselves as men. They address each other as men. And so, what I have arranged for you...isn't a bride, Loki. It is a bridegroom. A husband."

Loki, who had never made a point to follow the rules or suggestions of others when they failed to suit his wants, couldn't say that he was entirely unfamiliar with the touch of another man. It was not knowledge he ever intended someone like his mother to learn, but he can't help the irrational thought that, despite his discretion, she had found out anyway and that it had solidified her decision in matching him with someone from Jotunheim.

"A husband." There was no way that she could know of his indiscretions, but she could have her assumptions(and, knowing her, she just might).

Still, past experience with his variety of lovers or not, a man was not a suitable partner. Certainly not one with biology clearly beyond the scope of what Loki was prepared to deal with. "A husband who can...no."

He shook his head, his lip curling back. "No. I refuse. I refuse this." An arranged marriage was one thing. An arranged marriage such as this? It was laughable. It was cruel. "You cannot expect me to take part in this. This is absurd. This is unnatural. I will not subject myself to the whims of those heathens!"

ideals, desires, and truths - for ofsilvertongue

Isn't it? I think I should stage a protest

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