Chapter Text
The feast was in full swing as the musicians entered the grand feasting hall. Yuletide was once again upon Asgard and in the wake of the wild hunt, with blood thirst and the need for adventure sated, now came the time for the time-honoured tradition of revelry and dancing. The dances were a tradition tracing back all the way to the first first wild-hunts, created to bring together the communities of Asgard and remind all that irrespective of hunting ability, all were welcome to partake in dances led by the King himself. It was thus that the central area of the feasting hall which was usually bedecked in long tables and succulent meats had been removed, clearing a large lane for all to assemble if their interest was piqued.
Odin Allfather walked down from the dais to the centre of the hall first, hand in hand with Queen Frigga. They sparkled golden as the flames from the torches lining the walls danced off the King’s polished ceremonial armour and the Queen’s resplendent jewels. They walked slowly, the gait of the victorious who knew that regardless of their pace they could never be late. All eyes followed them with wonder and reverence, for few could command attention like the warrior-king and the shrewd queen.
Next came crown prince Thor and princess Jane, spectres of shimmering reds and blues. Tall and small, burly and lithe, Asgardian and Midgardian. They were as different as fire and ice in their temperaments, their ways, and in their statures, and yet harmony and love bloomed in their wake. Theirs was a union that ought not to have lasted according to many, but two centuries past the inception of their joint lives proved their sceptics wrong.
The last to come down were Prince Loki and the fearsome Lady Sif. Though some might argue that she did not look particularly fierce in a slinking floor-length dress with silver accents which waved about her form like rivulets in a stream. But those people simply didn’t know her, if history was any indication. They both looked ahead as they traversed down the dais, hands clasped in a courtly manner as they sought their positions for the commencement of the dance. But little about them had the air of courtly coolness as the mischievous glimmer in his eyes, and the poorly suppressed smile on her lips were filled with far too much warmth for anything less than adoration. Though this was to be expected as it had not been too long since the pair had wed. If the union of Thor and Jane was deemed unlikely, then the union of Loki and Sif would have been considered ludicrous. Why would the sullen dark prince, a scholar and mage of dubious repute, and the brave shield maiden, favoured by the house of Odin (to the extent that many had considered her the next Queen by the hand of Thor), ever consider a union? It was inconceivable.
And yet it was the truth.
Though everyone looked regal and beautiful in the torchlight, Volstagg’s eldest, Astrid, who sat wedged between her parents, and was surrounded by her siblings who were running wild, and her parents' friends, spent all her time watching Uncle Loki and Auntie Sif sweep across the dancefloor. They looked like her favourite dolls as they twirled and went about the carefully practised Yule dance steps. They whispered and laughed together as his green cape and her red dress billowed and swirled around them. The perfect picture of joy.
She squinted her eyes for a moment and held up her hands, willing the two figures to move closer like her dolls, but no amount of willpower seemed to mash their faces together. She sighed, her shoulders sagging with the high drama that only young children could muster. Why couldn’t real people be like in fairytales? With excitement and danger? Where was the gallant prince riding in on a beautiful steed to save a lady in distress with true love’s kiss before living happily ever after?
She eyed Uncle Loki and Auntie Sif. She had heard that he rode a beautiful white steed with eight legs, and if the way he smiled at Auntie Sif meant anything he did have a gallant sort of air, she supposed…
“Father?” Astrid asked, tugging on Volstagg’s maroon ceremonial clothes as he bit down on a succulent leg of lamb. His eyebrows shot up, and he chewed vigorously, downing the food quickly with a gulp of mead.
“What is it, my little fireball?” he asked, stroking her fiery red hair back. Her wild locks would not be tamed and sprung back as quickly as they'd gone down.
She screwed up her face for a moment, oscillating between courage and cowardice, but a glance at the couple which was now grinning wolfishly at one another settled her inner turmoil.
“You travel a lot with the royal family, right?”
“Verily, I do,” he grinned. “It is a great honour to be amongst the greatest and most trusted warriors in the realm. Isn’t that right?”
“Sure is,” Fandral grinned, raising his flagon of mead and taking a long sip before giving a significant look to one of his female companions.
“And you’re very good friends with them?”
“The closest of friends, with the fiercest of loyalty. Oh, I could tell you for hours how many times I have been in the path of great dangers and great adventures protecting them all!”
“Then you must know all their secrets?” Astrid needled, getting a wry smile from her father.
“Such pointed curiosity from a little one," Hogun remarked, only his eyes peeking out at her beyond the goblet in his hand. "Do you wish to uncover a secret so well-kept that you must pry it from your father’s mouth?”
She smiled sheepishly.
“Or anyone else who will tell me,” she smiled innocently.
Volstagg roared with laughter slapping Hildegard's back.
"What a wily child we have. How ever did we make that?"
"Who's to say she's yours?" Hilde teased, bouncing their toddler, Einar, on her lap.
"Because those cheeks are all mine, my love cushion," Volstagg chuckled and pinched Astrid's cheek.
"No, no, no!" Astrid whined, earning another round of laughter from around the table.
Volstagg chuckled. Another one of the children, Rolfe, came running to him and climbed onto his lap, grabbing at his buckles, adornments and beard in his quest to climb his father.
"What secret do you wish to know?" Volstagg asked, shifting anxiously to prevent Rolfe from stepping on parts of his lap. "Perhaps your old father can share a few little bits after all."
Astrid's eyes grew wide.
"Really?"
"Really."
She kicked her little legs in excitement and beamed, quickly composing herself as she saw more glances coming her way.
"Father?"
"Yes, Astrid?"
She took a deep breath.
"How did prince Loki and lady Sif fall in love?"
A startled laugh escaped him.
"Well, there's a good question if I've ever heard one," Fandral remarked as the warriors exchanged looks. "But the answer is quite obvious if you're close to them-"
"- which we are," Volstagg said.
"I believe," Hogun said, "it all began when-"
"-We fought a spirit."
"-Loki made a bad potion."
"-Sif’s hair was cut."
The three froze.
"Wha' happen?" Little Rolfe asked, peering up at his mother through Volstagg's beard which he'd draped over his head.
"It seems it wasn't so obvious after all," Hilde remarked, hiding a grin behind her goblet.
Astrid giggled.
"What madness is this? It obviously wasn't when we fought that spirit, they were already in love by then!" Fandral said with a dismissive shake of his head.
"Well, it certainly wasn't the haircut," Hogun said. "Sif was seething and they avoided one another for weeks-"
"That's what you think-"
"Well, it certainly wasn't the potion," Volstagg snorted. "They were awfully quiet in the aftermath, let alone madly in love."
"Naturally a man lacking subtlety would not recognise finesse-"
"I promise you that no woman would ever agree that I lack finesse," Fandral said winking at his companion who giggled.
Hogun sighed.
"What good is arguing like small children? It is all speculation," Hilde interjected.
"You are right, my beloved," Volstagg grinned. "Let us not argue, for it does indeed solve nothing. Instead, let us regale the children with all these tales!"
Astrid gasped.
"Really?"
"Really!" Volstagg exclaimed.
"Now that is an excellent idea," Fandral grinned. "Let me begin:"