Frigga drops her arm and lets go of Loki while giving Clint a serene yet apologetic smile, a gentle incline of her head. "Forgive me. I did not mean to cause any discomfort by my greeting. I'm afraid Loki has taken us all by surprise with the turn of events today." She gives her son a pointed look.
Loki has, for his part, moved back to stand at Clint's side but hasn't reached for the other boy's hand again just yet. Now feels like possibly the wrong time to make that gesture of declaration.
"It is no imposition; we will eat in the herb garden." She looks at one of the ladies-in-waiting, who nods in acquiescence, and the women split off -- one half of them toward the kitchen, the other half following behind Frigga as she leads Loki and Clint through the gardens toward the one she has in mind for this particular conversation.
Loki gives Clint a smile. He is fairly certain that his mother won't allow for Clint to be sent away, but that she also wants to understand why he's done... this in particular. He hadn't even wanted to go to Midgard, originally, and for him to come home early with a mortal in tow is doing a lot, even for the God of Mischief.
The herb garden is small, as Asgardian palace gardens go, with fragrant pockets of various blooms along a winding path with a pond in the very center. Still and yet, it's quite bigger than the parking lot the fair was being held in. There are benches at the pond and Frigga gestures for them to sit, each one in their own small bench in a sort of semi-circle around a larger table set with various foodstuffs; none of which, Clint might notice, that's processed. This is all food that's been cooked by hand or magic but none by a factory.
Loki sits on the center bench of the three, after his mother chooses the one closest to the pond's edge, because he'd rather be close to both of them and forcing Clint to be in the middle seems a little unfair. In the moment, anyway.
He expects to be questioned. What was he thinking, how does he imagine this will go? Instead, Frigga startles him by addressing her first question to Clint: "If my son hadn't convinced you to accompany him back home, tell me: what would the next month or so have looked like, for you? Please," she holds up a hand, "eat some, first, but do not lie to me. Either--" and this is with a pointed look at Loki, "of you."
It's no small amount of food, too. Reminds him of his first foster family, the way they tried to make a big traditional Thanksgiving meal, and he hadn't seen so much food just out in the open for him. He ate until he was sick.
He's a little more wary about it all this time, because he's still thinking somewhere in the back of his mind about fairies and how you shouldn't eat their food unless you want to be stuck with them. But he's stuck now, isn't he? Until he gets put back where he was from. Or maybe he's not stuck at all. Maybe he's somewhere he's going to have cool adventures and feel like he's worth something.
So he piles on his plate and digs in. Considers Frigga's question while he does so. Not lying is fine; he isn't about to try and pull any bullshit on--the queen, he guesses. Never dined with a queen before. Never met royalty before today. This is all a little much.
"I don't know." It's an honest answer, really. "Probably keep doing a lot of bow practice. Spend as much time away from the house as I can." He lowers his head closer to the plate, shoulders hunching up. "Get picked up by the cops and get taken back to the house. Have a social worker come by looking disappointed. Go to school, I guess, sometimes."
"I am told you are very skilled with a bow already." Frigga sounds appropriately impressed. "Perhaps you could give Loki here some pointers; he is usually much more interested in throwing his knives than bothering to notch a bow." The look she gives her son is pointed and full of some other subtext; Loki makes a slightly started face and decides that eating a pastry is better than addressing that aloud.
"Is there anything you would prefer to learn that the Midgardian educational system is lacking? If you're to stay here —" Another pointed look at Loki, "it would be in everyone's best interest, I believe, if it is an improvement over where you came from."
"Um. Practical skills, I think? I like working with my hands. I don't think I'm smart enough to ever be a chemist or a biologist or write essays about novels for a living. I could be military, with an aim like mine. Maybe I could build things. Or work on a farm? I don't know how practical a bow is for any kind of job, back there. Except teaching other people archery, I guess."
The kindly queen seems like she's talking like he really might stay. And that's just wild to think about. He looks up at her at last. "Can I ask, how did you know my name, and my mom's name?"
"I know your name from Heimdall, who was watching over Loki as soon as he slipped away from his father and brother; I know your mother's name because i asked the Norns about the safety of your being here, and that is the name they addressed you by.
Farmwork is easily found; there is someone in the guard, I believe, who might be a suitable fit for you. Aerik's family has a farm not far from here."
Loki opens his mouth to protest but Frigga cuts him off. "I know, darling, you would likely prefer if your new friend were to stay in the castle, and perhaps that can happen someday but in the meantime... this will have to be suitable, yes?"
Loki draws a breath. He understands what's not being said, here. Neither of them are considered adults just yet, and Loki will have to wait it seems, for just one more thing that is briefly out of his reach. He looks at Clint and then at his hands. "Yes, mother."
"It doesn't have to be farmwork, just...anything. That I can do physically. That I can do to be useful." He scrunches up his nose. "Because I'm pretty sure you don't need a pickpocket around. Dunno what kind of punishments go on here, but I'd like to keep my hands if at all possible."
Frigga blinks and then laughs, politely behind her hand at first, and glances at her son again. It's a look that suggests he certainly knows how to pick them if he brought home a nearly homeless thief to adore. "We certainly would like you to keep the hands that you care to work with, yes. And if you would like to increase your skill with your weapon of choice, we've warriors plenty who might take on a ward."
Which just makes him think 'ward of the state' but he tries not to make a face about it. "Who are the Norns?"
"The Norns weave the Fate of everyone, gods and mortals alike," Loki explains, though he frowns a little. Why did his mother consult them before she met Clint? What did they say, exactly? (Was it good, bad, or just... vagueness?) "They are gods to us, who are gods to Midgardians."
"Their names are Urðr, Verðandi, and Skuld." Frigga thinks perhaps names are important in this context, even if they are unfamiliar to Clint. "They water the tree at the center of all the cosmos, named Yggdrasil, which is how Asgard is connected to Midgard."
Clint looks skeptical. "I don't know about all that," he says, slowly. Is it actual religion if someone can also actually talk to their gods? And what's this about a tree? The universe isn't a tree.
"But there's a lot I don't know. I didn't think magic was real until Loki showed me." And he sure never dreamed he could see all this through a magical rainbow beam. Wild shit.
"Yggdrasil is not a literal tree..." Loki starts, but he's not sure how to explain it further. "Maybe we could go see it at some point. That'd be an adventure, though it would probably take a while."
Frigga nods. The boys will have to speak with the Norns eventually, that much she knows. "If you're interested in how it all works, in terms of physics, there are tutors for that."
"I'm not good at--" But he cuts himself off there. Frigga is probably not interested in the things he doesn't think he's good at. And he is interested in how things work, but he's so new he wouldn't know where to start, and maybe astrophysics is not...the best place to start. He mulls this over some meat.
Nods and swallows. "I do want to learn things, but I should start small first. This is all..." He looks around them at this massive herb garden. He can see the gold glinting from the spires above. "...It's a lot. If I stay. Ma'am." But he's also nosy, so he can't help but ask: "Are you really gods?"
"That depends on your definition of godhood, I would think." Frigga smiles. "We Asgardians are very different from Midgardians. We live longer. We are stronger, faster, our senses are more acute." A glance at Loki, whose ears are literally burning, thanks. However, he did hear Clint shooting arrows from some distance in an otherwise noisy and crowded venue. So.
"All Asgardians are not worthy of worship by others," Frigga continues. "Some are just regular, everyday citizens. Bakers and soldiers, craftspeople and artisans. Servants. But some of us are different, unique, and singled out by the Norns to receive powers beyond the average of our world. From the moment we can articulate ourselves, we are aware of this difference, this... weight. In this, we are considered gods."
Clint takes this in, the idea of long lives, better physically, the idea of specialness bestowed on certain people. Like Loki, he guesses. And Thor. And so on.
"Would anyone even want me here? An outsider who's not gonna live so long and who doesn't have super senses? Besides Loki, I mean. I don't exactly fit in." In any sense. Does he fit in back on Earth-Midgard? Not really either. So what exactly does it matter?
"The matter of a shorter lifetime is a problem easily solved, without any pain or effort on your part. Midgardians have lived amongst us before, though it has been quite some time..." Frigga sighs, and folds her hands together in her lap. "The rest can be trained for, honestly. What does fitting in look like, for you? What would you need to feel like you belong?"
He's never really...fit in before. So he doesn't know what that looks like. Never really belonged except with his mom. So he ignores the question, valid as it is. What really perks him up is what she said first. "Wait, are you gonna make me live a long time? Who else has been here before? Are they still here? Can I meet them? How long can I live? Wouldn't that be...dangerous for me?"
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Loki has, for his part, moved back to stand at Clint's side but hasn't reached for the other boy's hand again just yet. Now feels like possibly the wrong time to make that gesture of declaration.
"It is no imposition; we will eat in the herb garden." She looks at one of the ladies-in-waiting, who nods in acquiescence, and the women split off -- one half of them toward the kitchen, the other half following behind Frigga as she leads Loki and Clint through the gardens toward the one she has in mind for this particular conversation.
Loki gives Clint a smile. He is fairly certain that his mother won't allow for Clint to be sent away, but that she also wants to understand why he's done... this in particular. He hadn't even wanted to go to Midgard, originally, and for him to come home early with a mortal in tow is doing a lot, even for the God of Mischief.
The herb garden is small, as Asgardian palace gardens go, with fragrant pockets of various blooms along a winding path with a pond in the very center. Still and yet, it's quite bigger than the parking lot the fair was being held in. There are benches at the pond and Frigga gestures for them to sit, each one in their own small bench in a sort of semi-circle around a larger table set with various foodstuffs; none of which, Clint might notice, that's processed. This is all food that's been cooked by hand or magic but none by a factory.
Loki sits on the center bench of the three, after his mother chooses the one closest to the pond's edge, because he'd rather be close to both of them and forcing Clint to be in the middle seems a little unfair. In the moment, anyway.
He expects to be questioned. What was he thinking, how does he imagine this will go? Instead, Frigga startles him by addressing her first question to Clint: "If my son hadn't convinced you to accompany him back home, tell me: what would the next month or so have looked like, for you? Please," she holds up a hand, "eat some, first, but do not lie to me. Either--" and this is with a pointed look at Loki, "of you."
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He's a little more wary about it all this time, because he's still thinking somewhere in the back of his mind about fairies and how you shouldn't eat their food unless you want to be stuck with them. But he's stuck now, isn't he? Until he gets put back where he was from. Or maybe he's not stuck at all. Maybe he's somewhere he's going to have cool adventures and feel like he's worth something.
So he piles on his plate and digs in. Considers Frigga's question while he does so. Not lying is fine; he isn't about to try and pull any bullshit on--the queen, he guesses. Never dined with a queen before. Never met royalty before today. This is all a little much.
"I don't know." It's an honest answer, really. "Probably keep doing a lot of bow practice. Spend as much time away from the house as I can." He lowers his head closer to the plate, shoulders hunching up. "Get picked up by the cops and get taken back to the house. Have a social worker come by looking disappointed. Go to school, I guess, sometimes."
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"Is there anything you would prefer to learn that the Midgardian educational system is lacking? If you're to stay here —" Another pointed look at Loki, "it would be in everyone's best interest, I believe, if it is an improvement over where you came from."
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The kindly queen seems like she's talking like he really might stay. And that's just wild to think about. He looks up at her at last. "Can I ask, how did you know my name, and my mom's name?"
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Farmwork is easily found; there is someone in the guard, I believe, who might be a suitable fit for you. Aerik's family has a farm not far from here."
Loki opens his mouth to protest but Frigga cuts him off. "I know, darling, you would likely prefer if your new friend were to stay in the castle, and perhaps that can happen someday but in the meantime... this will have to be suitable, yes?"
Loki draws a breath. He understands what's not being said, here. Neither of them are considered adults just yet, and Loki will have to wait it seems, for just one more thing that is briefly out of his reach. He looks at Clint and then at his hands. "Yes, mother."
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Frigga blinks and then laughs, politely behind her hand at first, and glances at her son again. It's a look that suggests he certainly knows how to pick them if he brought home a nearly homeless thief to adore. "We certainly would like you to keep the hands that you care to work with, yes. And if you would like to increase your skill with your weapon of choice, we've warriors plenty who might take on a ward."
Which just makes him think 'ward of the state' but he tries not to make a face about it. "Who are the Norns?"
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"Their names are Urðr, Verðandi, and Skuld." Frigga thinks perhaps names are important in this context, even if they are unfamiliar to Clint. "They water the tree at the center of all the cosmos, named Yggdrasil, which is how Asgard is connected to Midgard."
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"But there's a lot I don't know. I didn't think magic was real until Loki showed me." And he sure never dreamed he could see all this through a magical rainbow beam. Wild shit.
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Frigga nods. The boys will have to speak with the Norns eventually, that much she knows. "If you're interested in how it all works, in terms of physics, there are tutors for that."
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Nods and swallows. "I do want to learn things, but I should start small first. This is all..." He looks around them at this massive herb garden. He can see the gold glinting from the spires above. "...It's a lot. If I stay. Ma'am." But he's also nosy, so he can't help but ask: "Are you really gods?"
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"All Asgardians are not worthy of worship by others," Frigga continues. "Some are just regular, everyday citizens. Bakers and soldiers, craftspeople and artisans. Servants. But some of us are different, unique, and singled out by the Norns to receive powers beyond the average of our world. From the moment we can articulate ourselves, we are aware of this difference, this... weight. In this, we are considered gods."
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"Would anyone even want me here? An outsider who's not gonna live so long and who doesn't have super senses? Besides Loki, I mean. I don't exactly fit in." In any sense. Does he fit in back on Earth-Midgard? Not really either. So what exactly does it matter?
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