Fic: A Paler Shade of Grey (Thor, Frigga-centric, G)
Title: A Paler Shade of Grey
Fandom: Thor (2011 film)
Characters: Frigga, Heimdall, Sif, talk of Thor/Jane and Loki/Sif
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Frigga has lost both of her sons. She sees the possibilities that could happen and wishes for more. She talks with Heimdall and with Sif and keeps her wheel spinning.
Frigga’s wheel spun. It seemed louder now. Or perhaps Asgard was quieter. Thor certainly was.
Loki had always been quiet.
Frigga had seen the way he had looked sometimes, how his expressive face had twisted at Thor’s behaviour. It had spoken of what had been growing within him, creeping into his bones more each day. Her gift of foresight had shown her the path that he could take. But her gift was cursed - she could not speak of what she saw. So she did what she could instead.
They had often talked. She possessed the same inner stillness that he did. Both of them benefited from the other's presence. Like so often called to like. And of all the family, Loki’s attributes most closely matched her own.
She had always enjoyed his company and encouraged him to ignore his brother’s jests and his father’s dismissal of his magical gifts. He was just as valuable and worthy as Thor, she had told him, he had to believe that. She did.
Now he was gone.
The wheel kept spinning.
Thor was almost gone too. His relationship with Odin was stronger and he had grown in wisdom. She could foresee a much brighter future for him and for the Asgard that he would rule. But even as he trained the warriors and learned lessons at his father’s side, his eyes remained fixed on a place and a woman that were out of his reach.
So much had happened - both wonderful and terrible. And Frigga could only see the fruits of this, not the roots.
The wheel paused with a delicate touch of her hand. It was time to begin digging.
The Biofrost’s guardian stood at what remained of his post. Frigga wore dove grey silks and furs to greet him. She had been wearing greys since Thor's banishment. It was the only colour that felt right against her skin. Heimdall inclined his head. Frigga returned the gesture. She had visited him many times recently. Today though, she would be asking him a new question.
“Can you see her?”
Heimdall was silent for a while. He saw deeper than words and gestures. How else could he judge who would be granted permission to use the Biofrost? Frigga was not offended that he weighed her words carefully.
Heimdall spoke. “She is working to find your son.”
Jane Foster. Asgard owed her a great debt. Frigga yearned to meet her, the extraordinary Midgardian who had beguiled her hot-headed son. Thor was still deeply bewitched by her, despite knowing that seeing her again should now be an impossibility. Jane continued to work on reconstructing the Biofrost, something that had never been done before. They were fighting against all reason. And yet, they continued, battling towards each other. How well they were suited. Thor believed that Jane could succeed in her impossible task. Frigga had seen that possibility come to pass in one of her visions.
“I saw them together,” Heimdall spoke again. “Your son has chosen well.”
Frigga smiled. So Heimdall did not dismiss Jane's efforts. The possibility grew stronger. For her son's sake, Frigga hoped that it would continue to do so. And that the possibility she had seen of dark emptiness with realms burning would diminish and disappear.
She asked one more question, a question that she had asked Heimdall many times before.
“Loki?”
Heimdall concentrated his gaze. He had never liked Loki, but he always looked when Frigga asked.
“I see only traces. He is there. He is hiding.”
Frigga closed her eyes. A coolness gripped her heart. Loki lived, but he was lost to them. One lost son had returned to her before. Perhaps the miracle would happen again. Frigga’s heart shuddered. Perhaps.
Today was a day for doing what needed to be done.
Sif was sparring with Fandral. Frigga watched, content in the familiar moment, wheels spinning in her mind. When Sif noticed her presence, she dropped to a knee, her breathing heavy from exercise. Frigga smiled. Little Sif, who Loki had teased by changing her hair colour and stealing her knives. She had been the first to beat Thor in sparring and the only one to kiss Loki behind the cold smooth marble of the feasting hall. Frigga tucked that knowledge into her smile and inclined her head.
“Will you walk with me?”
Sif’s eyes widened, but she fell into step as Frigga headed towards the gardens. Sif had been carefully avoiding her since returning to Asgard, only appearing when commanded to. Frigga did not blame her and had given Sif time to grieve and rage alone. But now that time was over. Frigga pulled a shawl over her head. The sundowns were cooler now and left dew in their wake. Sif always smelled like dew and saplings. For a while, Loki had too.
If any understood Frigga’s heart pain, it was the warrior who walked with her. But to speak of it would fracture them both. So instead, Frigga asked another question.
“What is she like?”
The tension in Sif’s face smoothed out and her expression transformed into a small knowing smile that suited her well. It looked like something she had stolen from Loki. “Small and strong. Her heart is big enough for your son.”
Frigga's hope grew again. She reached and squeezed Sif’s hand, cradling it between both of her own. She could not touch Loki, but she could touch Sif. Sif looked startled, then tortured understanding blossomed in her eyes and Frigga let her go.
Sif would approach her when she was ready to spend time with the one who was as still and cool as Loki. And Frigga would feel her heartbeat and offer salty herring broth and honeyed breads and comfort and quiet from the endless drills that Sif had been running herself through.
It could soothe them both. It could make their pain worse. Now was the time to find out.
Heimdall was keeping watch. Odin’s ravens were winging over the realm, garnering information and overseeing. Jane Foster was forging an impossible path that was keeping Thor’s heart beating.
Frigga had her wheel and she had love letters to spin, for her children and for those that waited for them. Clouds, that smoked into existence and kissed her skin, the perfect shades of grey.
-the end
Fandom: Thor (2011 film)
Characters: Frigga, Heimdall, Sif, talk of Thor/Jane and Loki/Sif
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Frigga has lost both of her sons. She sees the possibilities that could happen and wishes for more. She talks with Heimdall and with Sif and keeps her wheel spinning.
Frigga’s wheel spun. It seemed louder now. Or perhaps Asgard was quieter. Thor certainly was.
Loki had always been quiet.
Frigga had seen the way he had looked sometimes, how his expressive face had twisted at Thor’s behaviour. It had spoken of what had been growing within him, creeping into his bones more each day. Her gift of foresight had shown her the path that he could take. But her gift was cursed - she could not speak of what she saw. So she did what she could instead.
They had often talked. She possessed the same inner stillness that he did. Both of them benefited from the other's presence. Like so often called to like. And of all the family, Loki’s attributes most closely matched her own.
She had always enjoyed his company and encouraged him to ignore his brother’s jests and his father’s dismissal of his magical gifts. He was just as valuable and worthy as Thor, she had told him, he had to believe that. She did.
Now he was gone.
The wheel kept spinning.
Thor was almost gone too. His relationship with Odin was stronger and he had grown in wisdom. She could foresee a much brighter future for him and for the Asgard that he would rule. But even as he trained the warriors and learned lessons at his father’s side, his eyes remained fixed on a place and a woman that were out of his reach.
So much had happened - both wonderful and terrible. And Frigga could only see the fruits of this, not the roots.
The wheel paused with a delicate touch of her hand. It was time to begin digging.
The Biofrost’s guardian stood at what remained of his post. Frigga wore dove grey silks and furs to greet him. She had been wearing greys since Thor's banishment. It was the only colour that felt right against her skin. Heimdall inclined his head. Frigga returned the gesture. She had visited him many times recently. Today though, she would be asking him a new question.
“Can you see her?”
Heimdall was silent for a while. He saw deeper than words and gestures. How else could he judge who would be granted permission to use the Biofrost? Frigga was not offended that he weighed her words carefully.
Heimdall spoke. “She is working to find your son.”
Jane Foster. Asgard owed her a great debt. Frigga yearned to meet her, the extraordinary Midgardian who had beguiled her hot-headed son. Thor was still deeply bewitched by her, despite knowing that seeing her again should now be an impossibility. Jane continued to work on reconstructing the Biofrost, something that had never been done before. They were fighting against all reason. And yet, they continued, battling towards each other. How well they were suited. Thor believed that Jane could succeed in her impossible task. Frigga had seen that possibility come to pass in one of her visions.
“I saw them together,” Heimdall spoke again. “Your son has chosen well.”
Frigga smiled. So Heimdall did not dismiss Jane's efforts. The possibility grew stronger. For her son's sake, Frigga hoped that it would continue to do so. And that the possibility she had seen of dark emptiness with realms burning would diminish and disappear.
She asked one more question, a question that she had asked Heimdall many times before.
“Loki?”
Heimdall concentrated his gaze. He had never liked Loki, but he always looked when Frigga asked.
“I see only traces. He is there. He is hiding.”
Frigga closed her eyes. A coolness gripped her heart. Loki lived, but he was lost to them. One lost son had returned to her before. Perhaps the miracle would happen again. Frigga’s heart shuddered. Perhaps.
Today was a day for doing what needed to be done.
Sif was sparring with Fandral. Frigga watched, content in the familiar moment, wheels spinning in her mind. When Sif noticed her presence, she dropped to a knee, her breathing heavy from exercise. Frigga smiled. Little Sif, who Loki had teased by changing her hair colour and stealing her knives. She had been the first to beat Thor in sparring and the only one to kiss Loki behind the cold smooth marble of the feasting hall. Frigga tucked that knowledge into her smile and inclined her head.
“Will you walk with me?”
Sif’s eyes widened, but she fell into step as Frigga headed towards the gardens. Sif had been carefully avoiding her since returning to Asgard, only appearing when commanded to. Frigga did not blame her and had given Sif time to grieve and rage alone. But now that time was over. Frigga pulled a shawl over her head. The sundowns were cooler now and left dew in their wake. Sif always smelled like dew and saplings. For a while, Loki had too.
If any understood Frigga’s heart pain, it was the warrior who walked with her. But to speak of it would fracture them both. So instead, Frigga asked another question.
“What is she like?”
The tension in Sif’s face smoothed out and her expression transformed into a small knowing smile that suited her well. It looked like something she had stolen from Loki. “Small and strong. Her heart is big enough for your son.”
Frigga's hope grew again. She reached and squeezed Sif’s hand, cradling it between both of her own. She could not touch Loki, but she could touch Sif. Sif looked startled, then tortured understanding blossomed in her eyes and Frigga let her go.
Sif would approach her when she was ready to spend time with the one who was as still and cool as Loki. And Frigga would feel her heartbeat and offer salty herring broth and honeyed breads and comfort and quiet from the endless drills that Sif had been running herself through.
It could soothe them both. It could make their pain worse. Now was the time to find out.
Heimdall was keeping watch. Odin’s ravens were winging over the realm, garnering information and overseeing. Jane Foster was forging an impossible path that was keeping Thor’s heart beating.
Frigga had her wheel and she had love letters to spin, for her children and for those that waited for them. Clouds, that smoked into existence and kissed her skin, the perfect shades of grey.
-the end