ideals, desires, and truths - for ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ofsilvertongue
Jan. 5th, 2014 09:40 pmbelovedoneAs 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.
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.
such sobs, many feels.
Date: 2014-01-29 12:00 am (UTC)She almost perversely wished she could somehow find it in herself to be angry at him, for coldly dismissing her so. Anger would at least feel useful. Anger would certainly hurt less.
But it had never been in her nature to let anger easily come to her. And she still had too much sympathy for the pain her son was feeling, alongside her own, to be able to launch at him any ire.
She hoped Loki at least found some shallow, empty comfort in the ire he was able to offer her.
"You have my permission," she returned, stiltedly regal. If he wanted the queen and not his mother, then that was exactly what he would get. May he be content with that outcome he had wrought thus on himself. "And also, you have my request that if you must leave my company, you retire to your chambers. Alone. To best take in all of what you have been told here."
Her polite wording could hardly mask what was intended as a firm, resolute command.
She did not want Loki to run off, and vent his upset in some unhealthy way. Or found himself embroiled in some other trouble. Much better he be confined to the safe familiarity of his rooms whilst he overturned his no doubt numerous new thoughts, after everything she had placed on him all at once.
no subject
Date: 2014-01-29 03:40 am (UTC)Her command--because it could be viewed as nothing but--left his anger flaring dangerously, building so hot and so swiftly that control of it nearly teetered out of his grasp. How dare she send him to his rooms like a child. How dare she confine him to solitude instead of letting him choose the ways he would grieve the outcome of this conversation. How dare she take more from him after everything she had already claimed from him.
His lip curled in the echo of a snarl, eyes flashing his outrage and his indignation. Loki almost demands of her do you think me an animal that you can cage just because you have sold my freedom? but stops himself just short.
No. No, he won't. He won't continue this further.
"As you wish." He said, his words dripping acid before he turned sharply on his heel to make a swift exit out of the room without looking back. He may have decided to seclude himself on his own, but that it came as an order left him considering doing just the opposite purely out of spite alone. What more could she do to him, after all, that would make an impact?
But he was in no state to tolerate the company of others and the cold silence of his chambers was a much better target to subject his anger and pain at than any who walk within the kingdom.
no subject
Date: 2014-01-29 05:02 am (UTC)But nothing came of it. He stormed out. She was able to let the tension out of body once more.
At least he could still see reason enough to know when this was done.
She didn't say farewell as he left. She didn't say anything. She only watched him go, heart in her throat, praying that however he demonstrated his rage is private afterward he would find at least some rest, and that in the morning perhaps he would feel...a little bit better.
She didn't dare hope that all of this, all that had been done, would be a storm that blew over for awhile.
Turning her back to the door, sparing only one last glance at the silver chest still waiting on the nearby table, Frigga went towards the window to look out over the gardens and to Asgard beyond them.
She would wait awhile. And then she would talk to her husband. And then one of them - possibly her as well - would have to talk to Thor. And then there would be preparations to begin making. Another letter, one of many, to write to Jotunheim.
There was so much left to be done today. And so even though her heart was aching, she couldn't let herself feel the sorrow or how tired she was yet.