"I would not rather that," she said, quietly passionate. Frigga knew that darkness too well to wish it on her son. "There is no joy in stopping, Loki. There is no light, nor hope of light."
Her voice was tightly controlled. She did not like to think of what waited her when she left this place. She could only hope that Luceti had been an interruption, and that her soul would find its path among the stars, to the banqueting hall of her mothers.
Her heart hurt at Loki's outpouring, and she wished they had discussed this long ago. She only hoped that he would be able to take hold of all she had to offer for the cold comfort that it was, it was what she believed. Their people believed in Fate, in the tapestry woven before time, and Frigga had taken some comfort from this in her youth. As she grew older, however, she had begun to believe that things were not so simple.
"Oh, my son." Her voice was filled with love and compassion. "With so many titles clamoring for your attention, there is no wonder at such confusion indeed. I know not who told you your birthright is death, but so it is for all of us. We are born to live and we are born to die, that is our fate; that is the end of it. I have never been one to believe that all our actions between that birthright are determined and yet I am aware of the defining power of words. Our choice, then, is in what words we will accept and what words we will deny. Just as our power comes in manipulating that which we understand, we create ourselves by accepting who we are and within that understanding, moving toward that which we would become."
no subject
Her voice was tightly controlled. She did not like to think of what waited her when she left this place. She could only hope that Luceti had been an interruption, and that her soul would find its path among the stars, to the banqueting hall of her mothers.
Her heart hurt at Loki's outpouring, and she wished they had discussed this long ago. She only hoped that he would be able to take hold of all she had to offer for the cold comfort that it was, it was what she believed. Their people believed in Fate, in the tapestry woven before time, and Frigga had taken some comfort from this in her youth. As she grew older, however, she had begun to believe that things were not so simple.
"Oh, my son." Her voice was filled with love and compassion. "With so many titles clamoring for your attention, there is no wonder at such confusion indeed. I know not who told you your birthright is death, but so it is for all of us. We are born to live and we are born to die, that is our fate; that is the end of it. I have never been one to believe that all our actions between that birthright are determined and yet I am aware of the defining power of words. Our choice, then, is in what words we will accept and what words we will deny. Just as our power comes in manipulating that which we understand, we create ourselves by accepting who we are and within that understanding, moving toward that which we would become."