Disclaimer - I do not own Frigga, Thor, Odin, Sif or Loki.
Valedico
by Harlequin Sequins
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This is a fond farewell to living with shadows. To walking with regret. To evading predatory loneliness. And the shame of never fitting, never fully filling up the potential that slips down at my feet in crumpled surrender cloth. Because I will never be the strength of Thor. The gentleness of Frigga. The wisdom of Odin. Never the ferocity of Sif. How could I ever measure against Heimdall?
For I am Loki.
Son of no one.
Beloved of the forgetful stars and the cunning silver moon who laughs because I ache. Who has ever claimed me but the cruelty of fate, the unexpected dealing of a hand that never should have been? Yes. I was an accident, a peasant in their eyes. But now I rise with purpose and become a king.
And this is farewell to the feeling of never feeling them at all. To the ghost sensation of their presence pressing weights against my chest. To the ache that they pour into me of never knowing how to belong. How to work it in my hands - and I am the clay of loneliness instead.
Farewell to treading water. Saying everything that is the wrong thing and never being in the right. What is right? I only know wrong. They will not be shaken by the darkness in me and I will not be sorry. For they have always expected it of me to wield fault as I wield the sword. And the anger. And the weaving of sorcery that they always feared shall be the muse of my creations. I shall be one of them for I will remake myself in my old image.
I am my own god and they shall see it. Oh will they see the ascent! For it will be a glory beyond reckoning the day that Thor will be eclipsed in greatness – and a new lord of thunder shall reign.
The only thing that may turn to bitterness and regret is the thought of forgetting. Of bidding farewell to might have been. For Thor had looked on me upon the first dawn of rebirth, when I plunged into the deep void and emerged Loki Odinson no more. He was not afraid. Where did the pity hide in him? Was it too deep for me to feel? For I remember the graze of fear against skin as I remember how to breathe.
No, Loki.
No!
I remember now the ringing panic in him that bursts forth now on solitude and asks of me - are you so certain you are alone? For where you were forgotten, never taken from that icy fortress, what if you are not alone in feeling? As if you will die beneath the weight of burden. As if the world expects too little - or too much?
Yes what if Thor had not looked on you in pity. But in understanding.
Farewell to what if
And what might have been
Yes, they are gone.
For there is no room in me for them anymore.