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Sif and the Warriors Three watched as Loki strode through the hallway on the other side of the courtyard, cloak billowing out behind him as several courtiers walked alongside him, holding papers and seemingly talking all at once.
“He seems troubled,” said Hogun.
Sif nodded in agreement. “He does.”
“If he wasn’t troubled, I would be more worried,” said Fandral. “Given everything that has happened, he could hardly not be troubled.”
It was more than that. Sif felt it was so. She just could not put her finger on what it was that seemed to be different and seemed to be troubling Loki much more than he would admit to them.
“He should at least attempt to look less solemn,” continued Fandral. “It is such a waste of his looks for him to go around with that severe concentration on his face. But then I suppose that means less competition for me with the court ladies. Ow! Volstagg, my man, what was that for?”
“Sometimes your jokes are not funny,” said Volstagg. “Our friend has something on his mind, and he has taken on a heavy burden out of the blue. It isn’t a laughing matter.”
Fandral rubbed his shoulder where Volstagg had smacked him. “I know. I was merely trying to lighten the mood. Everyone is so solemn. We’re all upset – what with Thor getting banished, and then the Allfather falling into his Sleep. But we can’t go on like this. It isn’t good. The court feels the weight, and what the court feels eventually Asgard feels.”
Hogun said, “You are right. What can we do? He does not wish to speak of whatever is on his mind.”
“Perhaps we should sneak him out to a tavern for a night of drinking until he mellows enough to spill it all to us? Find the loveliest dancing girls in Asgard and send them to his rooms to coax the truth out of him?”
Sif gave Fandral a look. “You would say that.”
“Or, we could send you to his rooms,” said Fandral to Sif.
“That could work,” murmured Volstagg.
If looks could kill, they would both have dropped dead. Sif cried, “You will do no such thing!”
“I don’t know what you’re thinking,” said Fandral in a tone that suggested otherwise. “I wasn’t suggesting we deliver you to him in a box. That would be cruel! I merely meant that he is more likely to confide in you than in the rest of us. He is often more inclined to talk to you about… Delicate topics. Remember Ingrid?”
“Only because I don’t immediately begin to tease him like you do.”
Sif did remember the debacle with Lady Ingrid, and she both liked and disliked the memory. She had not enjoyed watching Loki court Lady Ingrid, but she had felt pleased that he chose to confide in her about it. Loki did sometimes show a preference for telling her things that he certainly did not tell Thor or the Warriors Three – or at least not until much later. She did not mind being his sounding board. Not at all. It was pleasant, actually. Sif preferred not to interrogate her own thoughts on this matter.
“If Loki wishes to speak to me about anything, he is free to do so,” said Sif. “But I will not press him to say things he does not want to.”
She did not truly expect him to tell her what was on his mind, though she wished he would. So it was a great surprise when, several nights later, she was jolted awake by a prickling sensation on her skin and found a small glowing note on her bed. The note was in Loki’s hand, and it asked that she come down to the garden.
Opening her window, she peered into the moonlit garden. She discerned a tall, familiar figure in the shadows of the trees at the other end. Sif put on her dressing gown and threw a cloak over her shoulders for extra warmth before hurrying down as quietly as she could so as not to wake her parents or the servants.
She found Loki standing in the same spot. He smiled slightly at her.
“Loki! What is the matter?” she asked in a low voice. “How did you come here?”
“I rode. Magnus is beyond your gates. I apologise for bothering you at this hour. I – I felt like I wanted to talk to someone.”
That gave her a small, happy flutter inside. But she wondered at the wisdom of leaving the prince’s - no, the king ’s - horse outside the gate to her home in the middle of the night.
“If anyone sees Magnus there –”
“Spell of illusion,” he said shortly. “No one will notice.”
“Alright… You should come into the house. It is a cold night.”
He shook his head. “I hardly feel it. My clothes are warm. I would prefer not to make a fuss in the house. May we speak out here?”
“Of course, if you prefer. We could sit?” She pointed towards a bench a little farther off.
Loki nodded and gestured for her to lead the way. She walked over to the bench, sat down and patted the spot beside her. He took his seat and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. After staring into nothingness for a few moments, he gave a heavy sigh and let his head drop.
“I am tired,” he said.
“You have been working hard.”
“I am trying.”
He sighed again. Sif waited, fighting a longing to give him a comforting pat on the back. Would that be inappropriate? They were friends, after all. But he was the king... Her fingers itched.
Loki drew a deep breath. “What does one do when confronted by many awful truths all at once?”
“Awful truths?”
He turned his head up to the starless night sky, saying, “Thor is banished, gone to Midgard. My father is as good as dead. Sunk deep into Odinsleep. And it is all my fault.”
“How is any of that your fault?” Sif was astonished. “Do not say such ridiculous things.”
“You don’t know – you couldn’t know. You would hate me.”
“What couldn’t I know? If you’d tell me, I’d know. And I wouldn’t hate you. We have been friends for so long; it would take a great deal for me to hate you.” Though if you don't tell me, I might be very offended.
“Such kind words," he said absently, still gazing at the sky.
“You are keeping too much to yourself,” said Sif. “We have all seen it. You seem careworn, and it is not good for you. Will you not unburden yourself to me? Or, if you will not tell me or the others, will you not tell the Queen, your mother?”
“I opened the way for the frost giants to enter Asgard.”
Sif's jaw dropped.
Loki looked straight at her. “I told you you would hate me.”
He rose abruptly and left.
Sif did not sleep any more that night.
It took her a day to overcome the surprise of that one line, but when she had, she was left with a mixture of anger and curiosity and bewilderment. Had he really done that? Why? When? What was the point?
She requested an audience with Loki at his earliest convenience and was only half surprised to receive an invitation to ride with the king the following evening.
So she met him on horseback at the back gates of the palace. Loki dismissed his guard, saying the Lady Sif would be enough if he needed any guarding at all. Sif observed aloud that it was fortunate that she was already known and respected for her skill, or tongues would wag immediately about the king going for a ride alone with her in the evening.
“That would bother you,” said Loki.
Sif noticed that it was a statement, not a question. She merely replied, “It is never quite pleasant to be talked about in that way.”
“I suppose not.”
“But I would not be one to care about what people say if a friend needs my help.”
Loki cast her a sidelong glance but said nothing.
They were quiet for a long while, apart from when Sif challenged him to a short race across the plains before the sun went down. He won, which annoyed Sif a little until she saw the colour in his face and his hair tousled from the wind. For a moment there, he looked as though he had forgotten his cares – grinning and praising his horse for a job well done. She had said he looked careworn, but now that she saw him more like his old self, she realised how true those words were.
They settled down by the river, allowing the horses to rest and drink. Loki raised two glowing orbs out of nothing, giving them more light as the sky changed from orange to dark blue. Sif couldn't help a momentary look of admiration (which she hoped he hadn't noticed since he wasn't looking her way). The ease with which he used magic was often... Very attractive.
Loki skipped a stone across the water and said, “You want to know why.”
“Of course I do.” Sif picked up a stone and tossed it into the river. It flew up in a graceful arc and landed with a soft "plop" in the water. She looked around for another stone.
“I thought it would knock Thor down a peg or two.”
Sif almost dropped the stone she had found. Incredulously, she said, “That’s it? That ’s your reason?”
“Mostly.”
“I cannot believe it. You let in Asgard’s enemies just to knock your brother down a peg?”
Loki lay back on the grass and threw his arm over his eyes. “I know.”
“I refuse to believe that is the only reason you would have done such a stupid – such an incredibly foolish thing. Oh, I do feel like hitting you right now. Or throwing this stone at you.”
“You would be well justified in killing me right now.”
That was going a bit far, Sif thought (even as she clenched and unclenched her fingers around the stone).
When Loki finally chose to continue, she learned more. He had been jealous, and had thought it a way to show that Thor was unsuited for leadership. He had guessed – accurately – that Thor would retaliate and that their father would be highly displeased. He had not guessed that it would result in Thor’s banishment.
“Do you hate me now?”
“I’m still fighting the inclination to punch you in the face but… I do not think I hate you. Not yet, at least.”
With a grim half-smile, he said, “I thank you.”
As they rode back to the palace, Sif asked why he had turned up in her garden in the dead of night.
“Surely you could have simply summoned me for an audience during the day? And if you didn’t have magic, what would you have done – thrown a stone at my window to wake me up?”
“Surely summoning you for a private audience out of the blue would have resulted in more gossip,” replied Loki. “I don’t know about the window. Perhaps I might have done that. Or I might have climbed up and knocked on your window.”
“If I woke up to a dark figure clinging to my window in the middle of the night, I would have cried out and woken everyone else and that would have been the end of that.”
“You wouldn’t have tried to stab me first?”
“The window is not close enough to my bed for that. If you got in and I woke up to a dark figure next to my bed, then yes, I certainly would have attempted to stab you first. But if you were at the window? I might have thrown something at the window as I screamed. Perhaps that would have knocked you off balance. And then everyone would wake up to find the king in an ignominious heap on the ground.”
“Formidable lady!”
“That I am. But not so formidable that I would not listen if you needed someone to talk to.” She saw the palace gates in the distance and felt almost sad that the morning ride was at an end. “You need not carry all your burdens alone. I am your friend, and so is Fandral, and Hogun and Volstagg. Send another note along if you need to speak to me again in the middle of the night. Though having prior notice would be preferable.”
His face softened. “I will remember that.”
Loki did indeed turn up in her garden again a few nights later. Sif found him pacing around the bench. She knew he had had a particularly difficult day with the ministers, and she had been half expecting him that night.
“They do not trust me,” he sighed. “And I do not know how to make them trust me.”
She attempted to console him. “They are not accustomed to you yet. But they will be soon. And they will trust you too in time. You cannot force them to trust you immediately.”
“Perhaps they are right to not trust me.”
Sif frowned. “That’s not true.”
“I’m not who you think I am.”
“What in the Nine Realms does that mean? Don’t be silly. You are Loki.”
“And who is it that you think I am?” he shot back with a vehemence that startled her.
“Who..? Son of Odin and Frigga? Brother of Thor. You are my friend and have been so for years upon years now.”
Loki shook his head. He held up his hands and looked at them, muttering, “You will not believe me. But I cannot show you now. I should – the Casket – that’s the only way… Or…”
“Loki, what are you talking about?”
“I am Jotun.”
Sif rolled her eyes. “Am I supposed to believe that? Come now.”
“I am . But I cannot show you – I cannot transform. It is only when I touch the Casket of Ancient Winters or when I am touched by another Jotun…”
“Loki –”
Loki tilted his head, as though suddenly struck by an idea. “Speak to my mother. Go and see her tomorrow. She will tell you.”
It was a much bewildered Sif that received a summons to the queen the next day, and what the queen told her was most discomfiting.
Loki spoke the truth, Frigga said. He was a Jotun – a son of Laufey. Odin had found him abandoned in a temple and brought him to Asgard. He had been raised as their own. Indeed, he was their own, as much as Thor was, for they loved him just as much.
“But it was our mistake not to tell him early on,” admitted Frigga. “We thought it would protect him. We didn’t think he would learn the truth the way he did. When you were in Jotunheim, a Jotun grabbed his arm – it changed colour.”
Sif listened with amazement and horror to all that Frigga said. So shocked was she that she hardly noticed Loki’s arrival in the room later, despite the servant announcing him.
Frigga brought her attention to his presence, and she turned in her seat to see him standing there stiffly. She saw the trepidation in his face, the tension in his shoulders. And she understood that he feared rejection. So she did the first thing that came to mind: she got up and threw her arms around him in a hug.
“I don’t really know if I’m angrier or sadder or simply confused, and I think there is much more I want to know. But… I am sorry you have had to carry this alone.”
She did not see Frigga clasping her hands to her chest and giving Loki a fond, reassuring look. She also did not see Loki blinking back tears that threatened to come forth. She only felt him return the hug and nod.
Loki’s midnight visits became more frequent. He seemed to find solace in unburdening himself to her, which pleased her greatly though it cost her some sleep. Most often it was talk about the ministers’ lack of trust, or their machinations. Sometimes it was about how confused and hurt he felt about not being Odin and Frigga’s trueborn son. Sometimes it was about how he missed practising magic; he was often too busy for that now.
And then, one night, after a particularly trying day with visiting diplomats from other realms, he came to her and said, “I have a proposition for you.”
“Oh? Do you want me to go to Alfheim?” She had gotten along rather well with the princess of Alfheim. She wondered if Loki wished her to go as an emissary.
“Marry me.”
She stared at him.
He gazed at her.
Sif blinked. “I thought I heard you say, ‘Marry me.’ But that can’t be right. What did you say?”
“You didn’t mishear. That is what I said.”
Sif’s stare grew incredulous. She felt as if she was in a strange, unreal dream world. “What is this about? Why this all of a sudden? Why me ?”
“They say I am unstable. Marrying might show them that I am not. And I cannot in good faith marry someone who – who has no idea… About… me.”
Disappointment cut through Sif’s heart. All at once she understood several things: one – she was disappointed that Loki’s wishing to marry her was rooted in pure pragmatism; two – she wished him to marry her for love; three – she had definite romantic feelings for him, which made the other two facts hurt even more.
“If you are amenable to the idea, I will speak to your father and mother tomorrow. And my mother as well.”
“I…” She trailed off, uncertain how to respond.
“It will not change anything for you. I will ensure that you can still go into the battlefield, that you will still have the freedom to fight and do as you wish. I have no expectations, and you will not have to deal with the court. I – we need not consummate the marriage. It would be a marriage in name only. No one ever needs to know. I would not compel you in anything. If you wished to take a lover, I would not object.”
The suggestions lit the fire of indignation within her. “How would that help? If you wish to marry to show all and sundry that you are stable and settled, how would having a wife who goes on fighting missions help that? What good is a queen of Asgard who is only present on the battlefield and who only does as she wishes? What good is a queen of Asgard who takes lovers apart from her husband? Do you think that would go unnoticed for long? The royal house cannot, should not be so. It would be horribly selfish in a partner, and it would do nothing except convince those who are against you already that you lack judgement and chose a partner who could not be a true helpmeet. It would be unfair to you as well – what good is a wife in name only? And what of me? Do you think I would be happy being little more than a wife in name only?”
Loki stammered out a response. “You would have freedom that way. It would be an exchange for your having to marry me.”
“I do not understand your reasoning. This is almost insulting. You should be glad that I did not come out here tonight with a sharp weapon.”
“I do not assume in the least that you would wish to marry me!" said Loki. He ran his fingers through his hair in an agitated fashion. "You would be taking on shackles you cannot easily escape from. That freedom is the least I could do in exchange for your – for your assistance.”
The cracks in Sif's heart widened. She felt like crying and that made her even angrier. “So the only reason you are asking me – besides the fact that you seem to think that the court would look more favourably on you if you were married – is that I am a convenient choice. You think I would feel chained down, yet you ask me because I am the logical, convenient choice. Because you like me just well enough and you would not need to explain or hide your secrets from another woman.” Sif heard her voice tremble on the words "convenient choice."
“That is not –”
“Is it not?” said Sif fiercely.
Loki looked distressed. His right hand picked at the palm of his left – something he did when he was unnerved. But Sif did not feel an ounce of pity for him. Her wounded heart whispered, Good. Let him feel it.
“It is true that I am proposing marriage for a pragmatic reason. But I am not asking you for that same reason.”
Her tone was icy. “I do not comprehend your meaning. Speak plainly.”
“If I was not king – if I was still merely the second prince, and if Thor was still here and Odin not asleep, I would still wish to marry you. No other.”
That was not what Sif had expected.
“Foolish, perhaps. I know it is not what you would want to do.” He stood, seeming to come out of a daze. “This was a mistake. Pay me no heed and forget all this, I pray.”
He was gone before Sif had time to collect her wits and do or say anything.
Once again, Sif got no more sleep after he had left.
In the morning, Loki found Sif standing outside his rooms, waiting with folded arms.
“A moment, if you please, Your Majesty,” she said.
Loki raised an eyebrow, but told the guard to inform his mother that he would be late for breakfast, then stood aside for Sif to enter his drawing room.
When he closed the door, Sif said, “You really should have begun with the truth, and not with all that rubbish about shackles and giving me freedom and no expectations and marriage in name only.”
“I –”
She held up a hand to stop him. “I have one question. Several questions, actually.”
There was apprehension in his face. “All right.”
“Do you truly want to marry me?”
Loki opened his mouth to answer, but Sif interrupted him once more.
“The truth, please. The unvarnished, unembellished, plain truth.”
His shoulders sagged slightly. He drew a deep breath, covered his face with one hand, let the hand drop, and said, “Yes.”
A happy wave washed over her, but she tamped it down and went on with her questioning. She needed more answers first.
“Why do you want to marry me?”
“I… Because I love you. Because I want no one else by my side.”
“Since when?”
“Longer than I have been consciously aware of it.”
Sif regarded him thoughtfully. “Not a fully satisfactory answer, but I will accept that for now. What makes you think the court would accept me as the new queen?”
He frowned. “They don’t have a choice in this matter. I am not a child whose choice needs their approval.”
Now it was Sif's turn to raise an eyebrow. “That is a very unconcerned response for someone who first proposed marriage out of concern that the court and others think him unstable.”
Loki rubbed the back of his neck and looked at anything but her. “I admit – that particular thought did not cross my mind when I thought of asking you to marry me last night.”
Sif now allowed herself to feel the happiness that had been growing since his answer to her first question.
“That was a terrible proposal.”
He hung his head. “I am aware.”
“You can try again. Tonight. Or tomorrow night. Choose a nice place.”
Loki’s head came up.
“With a better proposal – more honesty and more effort, I hope – I would say yes.”
She allowed herself one moment to appreciate the brightness and life that leapt into his face, before drawing near to him and pressing her lips to his. His immediate response was immensely gratifying. He cupped her face in his hands, groaned when she moved to allow him to deepen the kiss, held her tightly and traced abstract patterns on her back with his fingers.
“It will be the best proposal,” he promised while dropping kisses on her neck that sent delightful shivers down her spine.
“Mm. I expect it to be.”
“Unforgettable.”
Was he talking about the proposal or about this moment? Sif didn’t know, and wasn’t sure she cared which it was. His lips made their way up to her cheek and back to her mouth and then she definitely didn’t care which one he was talking about.