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The Princess Sif was in a foul mood. Her tiny kingdom’s coffers had been all but emptied ever since her mother had passed. Her father was very elegant and a lover of fine things and without his wife’s restraining hand, had appointed his friends and cronies to all the royal positions, giving land, titles and balls for all … and left the country near bankrupt. There were only two ways out of the debt they were in - be annexed or marry off his only child.
Annexation would never hold water with the people, they were fiercely independent and the Prince Consort would be more likely to lose his head for even suggesting it and the crown would pass out of his hands to the illegitimate FitzRoy line. No, it had to be Sif’s hand that saved the treasury, despite the fact that the crown would pass to her by law upon her majority and that she might come up with another solution. She tossed aside the pelisse that she had worn for walking off her irritation earlier in the gardens and smoothed down the dress out of habit and to give her hands something to do. She had started to have nagging suspicion that marrying her off would solve two problems. She could not inherit the crown as was her due if she was wed to the Crown Prince of another country due to ancient laws and yet she would provide a pipeline of gold to her father.
“My Lady, the Prince has sent his greetings. He has been detained by a difficulty in the road but has sent on a messenger.” Her lady-in-waiting told her quietly, obviously noting Sif’s annoyance and distress.
“Thank you, Miss Foster, that will be all,” she dismissed the girl and moved in to what had been her mother’s solar to receive the messenger. She glared out of the window at a rather knobbly tree that she had always loved to climb as a child, half certain it would burst in to flame at her scrutiny due to the force of her anger at her father. How dare he place her in such a situation?! She was more than just a girl, more than just a princess to be married off like chattel to pay her father’s debts - she was Sif, daughter of Gná, through whom the blood of the Ásynja ran through.
A slight cough drew her gaze to the door and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. Her angry glare gave way to astonishment until the next moment when she caught herself and gave him an impassive look despite struggling on the inside to retain her calm countenance. Standing before her in travel-stained clothing was the messenger - whose bright eyes danced with mirth and merriment and whose dark locks curled gently around his ears.
“I believe,” she began as coolly as she could manage “you have had a difficult road.” Yes, manners and politeness would save the day when confronted with the single most gorgeous specimen of the male side of the species that she had ever seen. He bowed to her before speaking, but his eyes did not leave her face.
“I have had an easy travel myself, I was on horseback so rode ahead of the party to inform you of the blockage in the road and to apologise for our Crown Prince’s lateness.” His voice was deeper than she might have guessed it to be and she was entranced by it.
“Has your steed been stabled for you?” She asked as she fumbled for something to say.
“It has.” If a frog could croak once right now, she thought, it would set off the awkwardness quite nicely.
“I will have your rooms prepared first - as you are the first of the party to arrive,” she found herself saying and she rang the bell for Miss Foster, who appeared quickly as the door had been left open. The princess was still a maiden after all and could not be left entirely alone with a male not closely related to her. “Please ensure that…”
“Loptr.” He added hastily.
“Please ensure that Loptr’s lodgings are settled so that he might retire before his party arrive.”
“My Lady.” Miss Foster bobbed in to a curtsey and disappeared again, leaving them more alone that propriety should really allow but there were plenty of staff milling around outside the window and busying themselves with the final preparations for the Crown Prince’s party.
“You have a very pretty countryside here,” Loptr offered, his lips curled up in a little smirk.
“Yes, I am very fond of it. As was my mother before me.”
“I expect you should be sad to leave it,” he said and she pursed her lips briefly at his penetration of her thoughts.
“I had thought never to leave. My mother has one other heir, so at least my country will be looked after well.” She admitted, then bit her own tongue to stop herself chattering on and on, awestruck by the newcomer. Compose yourself, you are a daughter of Gná, not some silly lovestruck maid.
“Heimdallr FitzRoy?” He asked, but not in such a manner that irritated her, many people looked down on her elder brother for being born out of wedlock, a more recent ideal and one Sif thought was ridiculous. For one thing, she would have not been sold off like chattel had Heimdallr been named King after their mother had passed giving Sif life instead of the title passing him over to the current Consort due to there being a ‘legitimate’ heir. Such practices had only been thought of in the last few generations and Sif had meant to abolish such idiocy. Heimdallr would have been infinitely better for the country than her own father, though it pained her to think it. She did not blame him for choosing to join the border patrols and keep their nation safe instead of dealing with courtiers in the heart of the palace.
“Yes. He is at the borders.”
“Our retinue made his acquaintance on the crossing.” Loptr told her and she noticed that either he was not as flustered as she was or he had a better way with words. The stateswoman in her hoped the latter, the girl just shy of her majority hoped the former.
“Would you care for some refreshment?” She asked and rang the bell at his nod. It seemed the piles of fruit brought in and the little cakes and tea greatly revived her spirits and they were soon talking without any discomfort or awkwardness. Loptr was funny, clever and full of acerbic wit. She enjoyed him immensely and he gave her a little fluttering in her stomach when he smiled at her. She started to feel an annoyance at her father from somewhere she had not before and she was not entirely sure why.
“So then what happened?” She asked eagerly as she popped a de-stoned cherry in her mouth in the midst of a thrilling tale of when the Crown Prince had accidentally beheaded a farmer’s prized ewe when showing off in front of the man’s extremely pretty daughter.
“Well for one thing, the man was inundated with prize-winning livestock from the crown and a whole new barn to store them all and the daughter ended up marrying the seneschal sent to deliver the apology.” Loptr chuckled. “They are expecting their fourth child any day now and are very happy. So that is actually the origin of our Asgardian saying of ‘The ewe is as beloved as the child’, the prince beheaded a poor sheep that happened to walk past him at the wrong moment.”
Sif was glad she had swallowed the cherry as she giggled so much she might have risked choking on the little red fruit had she still been chewing. She had not had so much fun since the news of her betrothal was broken to her. She composed herself again and pondered aloud in a more somber mood.
“Do you think he will be distracted by pretty girls even when we are wed?” Then she blushed and hastily added “I mean, I should not have asked that.”
“I would be very surprised if he ever looked at another woman again after seeing one such as you.” She had never been complimented in such bald terms before and she had to fight to not gape at him in a very un-princesslike manner. “Of course, should His Highness ask, I never said such a thing.”
“You have quite the silver tongue,” she replied, feeling a little coquettish for the first time in her life even though she was still very new to the idea of flirting. A knock drew her attention and she flushed with embarrassment at being caught despite not actually doing anything but lightly flirting over a fruit platter.
“Miss Foster,” Sif greeted.
“I have been informed that Prince Thor and his retinue will be here shortly. Your honourable father requests your presence as there will be time to serve a late dinner.”
“That was quick,” she said, looking out of her windows and realising that actually, many hours had passed in Loptr’s company as the sun was setting and cold she had not noticed until now was settling in, so engrossed in his company she had been. “Or maybe not. I’m sorry for stealing so many hours from you when you could have been resting from your journey.”
“Not at all, I enjoyed your company,” he said as he stood and Miss Foster stepped back out of the door and discreetly gave them a moment “I hope to have the honour repeated many times when you come to the citadel.”
“Then I have something to look forward to when I leave this beloved land,” she told him, cheeks pinking with her words.
“As will I,” he lifted her hand and kissed it gently and she felt flutters in her stomach start up again. Then he was gone, whisked away to greet his prince and Sif followed her lady-in-waiting.
“Loptr seems very taken with you, ma’am, if I might be so bold.”
“You may not,” she replied, looking up and down the hall and then, once sure no one was listening “okay, you can just not with any prying ears about.” The two shared a little secretive smile and then they swept in to the throne room where Sif strode purposefully to the throne and took the smaller seat that had she been two months older would have been her father’s as her steward. Ignoring him pointedly she sat and arranged her skirts carefully, trying to settle her nerves as much. She did not want to see Prince Thor, she wanted to still be in her solar trying out flirting for the first time with the captivating Loptr.
The doors opened and in swept the most shining, golden man she had ever seen. His handsome face was dazzling and she was taken aback at the sight of her intended, he was almost too handsome - she was blinded by it, so her eyes turned aside and, to her shock, she saw Loptr standing just behind him. Was he so highly favoured?
“Princes Thor and Loki, of Asgard,” the seneschal announced and the two bowed slightly to her father and Sif’s eyes were wide in shock. Why was Loptr bowing? Where was Prince Loki? A discreet cough at her side from Miss Foster reminded her to stand and curtsey in reply, but her head came straight back up and scanned the faces around. Where was the second prince? “My King father pays his respects,” Thor was saying to her father and she heard no more of the pleasantries until “my younger brother, Loki Odinson.”
Loptr stepped forward and bowed to the King and then his eyes darted to her own and she scowled. She did not notice her father introduce Thor to her as her eyes were locked on Loki’s in sheer outrage.
The dinner happened in a daze and she was vaguely aware of her father’s disapproving glare at her snub of Prince Thor, but she was glaring holes in Loptr’s...no, Loki’s head as he entertained the court with his wit and charming them as he had done with her earlier in the day.
“Say you have a headache,” Miss Foster whispered in her ear to escape from the agony of the dinner and Sif nodded, then did as recommended and excused herself. She did notice Thor’s eyes dragged to her pretty friend as they left the room and once alone, she threw her ceremonial clothes on the floor, dressing in her plain training shirt and breeches, took up her knives and longsword before proceeding out of the window and down the ivy to the stables and out the back to her favourite haunt.
She threw her knives at the tree stump in the clearing with precision but blazing fury and they buried themselves deep in to the wood. Once she had thrown the last of her knives, she unsheathed her sword and proceeded to shred her training dummy to pieces and as the stars littered the night sky above her, she stepped in to a swing and decapitated it in one fierce blow.
“I do hope that was not intended for me,” came a voice she knew very well if she did not truly know the man behind it. She turned and flung her sword, glaring at his terrified face when it stuck fast in the tree not five inches to his right. The hilt wobbled as it stuck fast. “Nice aim.”
“Possibly. I might have been aiming for you and missed.” She retorted, stalking forward.
“I understand that you are angry with me.”
“You lied to me. Why? Was it to see if I was a silly girl or if my honour could be besmirched so your brother would not have to go through with this?” She demanded, fury radiating out of every inch of her body.
“None of those things,” He lifted his hands in a conciliatory gesture in case she tried to hit him. “Someone needed to ride on ahead and I offered. I have heard much of your beauty and I wanted to see it for myself and it seemed an opportunity to do so without my brother around. I am glad I did for you far surpass rumour.”
“I already know you are a liar, Loptr, now I can add ‘flatters insincerely’ to that list.”
“I did lie about my identity but the rest was truth,” he said, lowering his hands “I wanted to ride ahead as my brother's retinue were irking me, but my hiding my true identity was decided upon in the moment when I saw you. I did not want you to judge me as Thor’s younger brother. I wanted someone to know me for me for a change.”
“I suppose he does rather distract,” she admitted.
“So you see why I did what I did?” He asked.
“I … maybe.” She turned her back on him anyway, not liking that he was making so much sense.
“I saw you looking.” He stepped up closer to her, which made her wonder if he was brave or stupid and settled her agitated mind by deciding upon stupid. “I saw you looking for Loki. Even being confronted with Thor, you looked past him.”
“I was confused.” He gently put a hand on her shoulder and she did not move him. “I wondered why you were bowing.”
“Loptr is a nickname my mother called me as a child.” She turned to face him and he leaned in close. “So we are one and the same.”
“Step back, Sir, I am to marry your brother,” she protested but instead of doing as her own voice commanded them both to do, she stayed rooted to the spot.
“And yet.”
“And yet, what?”
“And yet I am also a prince of Asgard.” That did make her step back and she narrowed her eyes at him again.
“This is another trick isn’t it? First you make me flirt with you and now you try to steal my first kiss so that you can report that Sif of the Ásynja is not good enough for Asgard.”
“For possibly the first time in my life, you believe me of mischief when I have not the inclination.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“This is the one thing I would not joke about. If you wish to walk away and never speak to me again, I will breathe a word of this to none, but heed this if nought else - my brother will not make you happy. Already he is speaking pleasing words to your Miss Foster.”
“I did not expect that we would be a happy match anyway, thrown together as we were,” she replied, sitting down on a fallen tree trunk.”My country needs me to do it.”
“From what I gather, your country needs you Sif, not your father and not my father’s gold.”
“I will not meet my majority for two more months, I cannot even challenge his authority until then let alone break off his engagement plans for me.”
“Then I take it you have not seen the agreement?”
“No, why?”
“The agreement never mentions Thor by name. It only agrees that you should wed a prince of Asgard for all of the military and financial security it entails. Come away with me. If we are wed, you will be a woman wed and therefore your majority will not matter.”
“So soon?”
“You were about to marry a man you had only just met anyway.” She had to concede that point. “This way, you can stay with your country and still have all of the support of Asgard while remaining the head of a sovereign state in your own right.”
“How do I know this is not all some trick?” She asked.
“You don’t. It is up to you, I can either get back on my horse and ride away or we can go together.” She thought of her mother, how she had traveled to a distant country to strengthen political and merchant ties, had a child conceived out of wedlock with a man she had loved but who had perished before they could return to the palace and have their union acknowledged by Ásynja law. She had then married a man her court thought suitable and look what had happened.
She looked at him, all of this running through her mind and then she thought of the tingles he had produced just by simply kissing her hand.
“Don’t let me regret this,” she muttered and leaned in to kiss him. Her first kiss was more than the fairy tales ever hinted at as she felt those same tingles intensify and sweep through her entire body. He gently cupped her head and she let him guide her in the kiss. He pulled back gently and she smiled at him.
“How could I regret this? You threw a sword at me and I still proposed.” She chuckled at that and they indulged themselves in another kiss on the tree trunk under the stars.
Some time later, they had ridden fairly hard and had to change horses at an inn, riding as Loptr and Rowan until they got to the border by morning light. She demanded to be admitted to the sight of Heimdallr and as they prepared her demands, she and Loki snatched a few hours of much-needed sleep. She woke and brushed the accumulated dirt from her breeches and wove flowers in to her hair by herself. She pulled some rowan twigs and berries from a nearby tree and used them as her bouquet. The troops were behind Heimdallr and Heimdallr was firmly behind his beloved sister. He had squinted at Loki in instant dislike, but the shining sparkle in Sif’s eyes had won him over.
The Captain of the Guard spoke the words as Heimdallr bound their hands with flowers and then they were led in to the stream, dunked under together and when their heads broke the surface, they were pronounced man and wife. Having been bathed in the waters, symbolising the blood of the Ásynja blessing them, they could not be torn asunder.
“We march on the palace and take it back!” Sif yelled to her troops and makeshift wedding guests. As the camp was packed up, the newlyweds sneaked off to the captain’s rooms to seal their union. It was not the most romantic of weddings, of places to consummate their newly pledged love but they had not time - nor the inclination for anything more court-approved. This was just them and their future, noting else mattered right now.
Sif had pulled her sword from the tree before setting off (but not the knives as they were too deeply embedded) and she raised it as the signal to go. The flight of the princess was being talked of all over the land and she rode to the palace, the horses able to take the pace. They reached it by dusk and she settled in front of her own seat of power and saw her father, his retinue and Prince Thor and his retinue amass on the balcony and front steps.
“I, Sif, daughter of Gná and heir of the blood of the Ásynja demand you step down.” She called in a decided tone.
“You are not yet of your majority and unable to inherit your mother’s crown.” Her father called back and she glared at him, seeing him quail a little caused her very conflicted feelings.
“I am nearly there, but I am also a wife, wedded and bedded under the sight of the river!” She yelled back so that every single person there could hear her. She saw her brother flinch at that, he had been unaware of the bedding aspect. “Therefore I am a woman by law and the rightful heir to the throne.”
“I, Heimdallr FitzRoy can attest to this, I bound the hands of bride and groom myself.”
“And who is this groom who pretends to be worthy of the hand of Princess Sif? Strike down the pretender!” Her father demanded and a bank of archers swept up arrows to nock to their bowstring. Loki swept back his hood dramatically and the archers lowered their weapons at the sight of him.
“Brother?” Thor asked and stepped forward, breaking the tension by laughing. “So that is where you sneaked off to! May I congratulate you on winning the hand of such a fine bride.”
“This... This is…”
“Your treaty is bound and I, Thor of Asgard, ratify it in the name of my father, King Odin Börson, Allfather of Asgard. The Princess Sif was to wed and pledge her troth to a prince of my realm - and she has done so. Come, I wish to embrace my brother - and my new sister.”
No blood was shed, the hangers-on of her father’s court were summarily dismissed and her father was retired to a small country manor under guard to prevent his making mischief. She had not wanted to punish him further as he was still of her blood regardless of what his selfishness had driven him to.
The hardest parting had been with Jane Foster, when she had released her from service and sent her off back to Asgard with Thor. The two were clearly smitten with one another and Sif was not about to stand in the way of true love.
“Our father might actually forgive me the cheekiness of twisting the treaty to get myself the brightest bride of the realms when Thor turns up with a Lady-In-Waiting to be the next Queen of Asgard.” Her husband joked as the carriages pulled away - a husband who had not yet in their first month caused her any regret in her choice that night.
“You mean to get yourself a silly young thing who fumbled over her first attempt at flirting and fell in love with what she thought was a serving boy,” she reminded as they walked back to her solar.
“Yes, your flirting had a very natural and unstudied air.”
“You mean I was terrible at it.”
“Only if by ‘terrible’ you mean charming and enough to win my affections, then yes. You were terrible. No one had ever looked at me the way you did.” She shut and locked the door behind them and sat down on her chaise.
“So, are you happy with your lot in my tiny little country?”
“I chose well.”
“Flatterer.”