"Better that than rotting in a cage," he said quietly. It had driven him near to madness. "But for the exercise of being told my birthright is death without the following kindness of the ax's fall." His hand twitched, though he didn't quite spill the wine; he set his glass down carefully after that.


He crossed his hands carefully over his stomach. "I've so many birthrights I can't keep track of them all any longer. Blood-drinking monster, corpse, king of blasted, hated wasteland, king of Asgard, shadow of Thor. No wonder I'm so confused." For a moment he pursed his lips, trying to swallow down the words that came next, but he'd never been good at keeping anything from Frigga. "I'm as insubstantial as air. As light. There are an infinite number of Lokis, depending upon whom you ask, all crammed into one little shell. And I'm so bloody tired of it, mother. I'm so tired sometimes. I wish it would just stop, only I do insist on surviving even when everyone would rather I didn't."