The Wrong Prince, Chapter 7 - A Sif/Loki Fanfiction
The Wrong Prince
Chapter 7
Fandom - Thor (2011 Film), Sif/Loki
Rating - Teenage
Summary - Sif has never done what everyone expects of her, so why should they be surprised when she chooses the wrong prince?
Genre - Romance/Angst
Status - Work in Progress, Chapter 7 of 12?
Word Count - 4, 073 words
Previous Chapters - Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 and Chapter 6.
Written for the prompt on LJ's Norsekink - Sif's the perfect Asgardian woman. She's of noble birth, she's beautiful, she's a great warrior. EVERYONE, from Odin Allfather to the lowliest servant, expects her to marry Thor. But then she and Loki elope.
NB - I only really know Thor from the movie, so a lot of the plot is my own ideas - I hope it doesn’t conflict too much with the myths.
Chapter 7
Sif rose early the next morning, the morning of her wedding, just as the sun was appearing above the horizon, when the sky was slowly turning from its bright star studded blackness to a fiery blue, the faint chinks of the early morning sunlight flittering through her curtains and spilling across her face. It did not wake her though, for she was already wide awake and had slept little that night. For how could she sleep, on this night before her wedding, when doubts and anxieties mingled with her joy and delight? When memories of the reason for their marriage and the need for secrecy weighed heavy on her heart and warred with her happiness that she was to be married to Loki? Maybe if Loki had stayed sleep may have found her, for she always found comfort sleeping in his arms, even though she often awoke now to find him gone. But he had insisted they spend the night apart. “It is tradition,” he had argued as she had narrowed her eyes at him, and “the mortals consider it bad luck!” Sif had conceded on this point, afraid at the real reason for his persistence. That he was giving her a chance to back out, to change her mind and not go through with their planned elopement. And so she had not seen him since dinner last night and even then he had maintained his distance, not quite meeting her eye across the banqueting table and excusing himself whenever she approached. It did little to settle Sif’s nerves and doubts, but then she suspected that was his intention.
Loki did not know when the Allfather’s plan was to unfurl, when his desire for her to marry his first and true born son would be announced, but Loki had been adamant they had time, there was no need to rush into anything. Sif, however, had disagreed venomously. She did not want to risk the chance of the Allfather catching them off guard, making her marry Thor before her elopement to Loki had taken place. She also worried that Loki was stalling deliberately, hoping she would reconsider or they would not marry in time. So she had insisted they travel the very next day to Alfheim, to visit the Elves and to be married. Loki knew better than to argue with her then and so it had been settled between them; they would meet at dawn, before any in the royal palace awoke, by their bench in the lost corner of the gardens.
The small bag she had packed last night lay against her dresser, beside her sword and shield, and Sif picked it up as she finished dressing, slinging it over her shoulder before holding her sword in her hands, staring down at it in thought. She did not suppose she would need it, not for her wedding and it felt strange to even be considering taking it. For if she were to be married in Asgard, it would be in the grand palace, in the great hall full of their friends and family, with the beautiful Asgardian sun streaming through the windows and making her dark hair shine like the spun gold it had once been. There would be a feast in their honour and guards in their finest ceremonial clothing to keep watch. But that marriage would no longer take place, for if it did it would not be to the one she’d chosen. Instead, they had no choice but to wed in secret, fleeing like cowards to a distant realm with no one there to share in their joy. Sif did not understand why this bothered her so much, why she should care that they had to elope rather than have a grand wedding in Asgard. For she had never been one for large celebrations and extravagant ceremonies and she had certainly never given much thought to her own wedding. When the young girls had been giggling over their plans and desires for their future weddings, Sif had been learning to wield sword and spear, fighting to the ground the very boys the girls would chatter about.
So it was with a surprisingly heavy heart that Sif quickly fixed her sword around her waist and her shield at her back. She would feel lost without its presence anyway, it was so much a part of her now, and it may be of use if they met with any trouble on their way. The Elves were not enemies of the Æsir, though the two races kept their distance, but Loki and Sif were not travelling to Alfheim on official Asgardian business and so would not be granted any safety or diplomatic immunity. Sif also could not help but wonder if it may come in useful to convince a certain prince who had proved so hesitant and unwilling to agree to this plan, even though it was of his own making. Sif knew she should not let this worry her, for Loki had always been wary of their relationship, keeping his distance emotionally as if always afraid he was about to lose her and preparing himself for the worst. Whilst it frustrated her and angered her no end, she did at least understand Loki’s uncertainties, for he was used to always being second best, living in his brother’s shadow and never being fully accepted. He had never really understood that Sif had chosen him, that she loved him in a way she could never love his brother, or anyone else. That she would never leave him or regret the times they had shared together, no matter how he may try to test her or push her away with his doubts. Perhaps now that she was to marry him, one of the deep wounds within their relationship would finally heal. Maybe now he would finally accept that she had made her choice and it was him, that it would always have been him, even if they had never been forced upon this present path.
Grabbing her cloak and opening the door, Sif took a last look around her chambers. She felt a strange sense of loss then, for she would be leaving this old life behind her now. She would return of course, but she would no longer be Lady Sif, Warrior Maiden, but Princess Sif, wife of Loki Odinson and daughter in law to the king. She wondered how long she would even be able to stay here, once she was married; if she would be moved to the royal chambers and into Loki’s rooms. If they were even allowed to stay at all, once the treachery of their secret elopement became known. She shut her door quickly and only paused outside for a few moments; it would do no good focusing on the past, or how things might have been. The path that lay ahead of her was the only option now and she quickly pushed her resurgent fears and nerves aside. She walked hastily away, her footsteps quick and determined, though light on the floor as she avoided the more heavily guarded of the corridors.
Once she’d stepped outside into the palace gardens, Sif paused for a moment, breathing in the fresh, dawn air deeply, and feeling the cold anxiety fade slightly from her heart. She had not been seen, the guards had not stopped her and questioned where she was going at so early an hour. There was now nothing preventing her from heading towards the dilapidated bench hidden beneath the weeping willow on the outskirts of the garden. Loki had insisted they meet here, away from the palace walls and any guards patrolling the grounds. For he was not able to find the secret paths between the realms within the palace; the strong and ancient magic that had been built within its walls for protection shut out the energy of the Bifrost that was needed. Of course, the Bifrost itself was not accessible to them; Heimdall would not allow them to travel without express permission from the king, and they had no excuses for travelling to Alfheim. Whether Heimdall himself was aware of their plans, Sif did not know, though she hoped her half brother would not interfere if he did. He was the only person Sif knew who was aware of her relationship with the trickster god and, though he did not approve and made his displeasure of the second prince well known, he had kept their secret and shared with her his visions of the fallen god when Loki had remained on Midgard. For it was the great Guardian of the Nine Realms who had first become aware of Loki’s presence after his fall, who had first confirmed to them all that he still lived. Whilst Loki’s skill of remaining hidden from the Guardian’s sight had meant his location was unknown, it was a comfort for Sif to know that he was alive on Midgard, even though she feared for his wellbeing and craved every day to track him down and convince him to return home.
She had still felt anger and betrayal at his actions, not just towards her, but towards his family and all of Asgard, but stronger than that was how much she had simply missed him. She missed the annoying smirk that danced across his lips, missed the twinkle in his eyes and the teasing in his voice when he had been up to some trick or game. Missed the feel of his arms wrapped around her, the warmth of his body as she slept beside him and the feel of his lips pressed tight against hers. She knew she would forgive him for what he had done, that she would do anything to bring him home and begin again whatever had once existed between them.
She had offered, of course, on behalf of the Warriors Three and Thor’s friends, to return to Midgard and seek out the second prince. But Thor would not allow it, had only shaken his head, insisting that Loki would return home when he was ready. And what could Sif say to that? How could she explain to Thor that there was so much more between herself and his brother than friendship? That out of any of them, it was Sif who would be most able to change Loki’s mind, to extend the forgiveness of Asgard and to convince him to return home? So Sif had no choice but to wait; wait until Thor was next able to return to Midgard and hope with all her heart that this time he would return with the prodigal prince. And each time he had not, Sif had felt the knife of pain and betrayal dig further into her heart, until she did not know how it carried on beating, how the world carried on turning around her. But it did and Sif had to let it, had to throw herself into her daily tasks of fighting and feasting and playing merriment with her friends. For they did not know, they did not understand how deeply the fall of Loki had pierced her soul, broken her heart and shattered her dreams.
Then, one trip many months after the Bifrost had first been repaired, Thor had returned, with his brother and his mortal woman in tow and Sif had once again been able to look upon the God of Mischief. The Allfather had insisted celebrations run into the night and the people of Asgard were never one to turn down an occasion for feasting, no matter how much their resentment towards the prodigal prince still remained. Yet, as much as Sif had longed to celebrate and as overjoyed as she was to see Loki again, she could not join in the exuberant festivities. Instead, she had found herself both dreading and longing for the moment when she would be able to speak to him alone, to find out what he still felt for her and whether they could rebuild the bridges between them. But apart from the official meetings, where Sif had to bow her head and shake his hand in greeting like the comrade she was meant to be, she did not have a moment to talk to Loki for many days. She did not have the freedom of Thor or the Queen, she could not wrap her arms around him and embrace him fiercely in front of all of Asgard.
It had not helped that Sif had been certain Loki was avoiding her those few, early days. He was forced by his brother and father to attend the celebrations and feasting, but he would always drop his gaze whenever she caught his eye, or move away whenever she approached the group he was part of. He never once visited his usual haunts, the places she knew to find him, instead remaining in his chambers or that of the royal household. Sif had let him avoid her at first, it was easier that way, but as the longing to make amends and start afresh began to outweigh her fear of rejection, Sif made an effort to track him down. Even when she cornered him in one of the balconies, even when she had forced him to talk about their relationship and how things stood between them, many important things remained unsaid. It was too easy to ignore small yet significant words like sorry and forgive, love and hope. It was far easier to just let themselves fall back into the familiar routine of many years, of stealing glances and kisses when no one was watching, of sneaking out of the other’s chambers before the palace awoke and hiding themselves away from prying eyes. But as Sif stalked across the damp manicured lawns of the palace gardens that day, she knew they could no longer continue in this secretive denial, could no longer pretend to all the world and to themselves that there was nothing between them. And so she walked determinedly on, every step she took taking her one step further from her old life and one step nearer to her new.
As she approached the bench, she felt her heart skip a few beats as she caught sight of Loki, feeling a sudden, inexplicable relief that he was there, waiting for her, for she had not been aware she had feared the alternative. But then perhaps Loki knew that Sif pounding her fists hard against his doors would have only brought unwanted attention and decided this was the preferred option.
He was sitting on the back of the bench, his heavy black boots on the seat and his rich green cloak cascading behind him. He was dressed in his full ceremonial armour and his golden horned helmet and a small pack sat beside his feet on the bench. He looked especially handsome in his resplendent robes, but that was not what stilled Sif in her tracks and made her breath catch in her throat. He had clearly not seen her yet, for he was staring off into the distance, allowing her a perfect view of his profile. He looked weary, tired, as if the weight of the whole nine realms rested on his shoulders. Not like a man who was to be married that day and Sif felt her panic rise within her. He does not want to marry me, Sif thought, her hand clutching tighter at the bag she held across her shoulder, her other hand reaching defensively for her sword. Before she had chance to decide how to act though, Loki sensed her presence and turned towards her.
“You came.” He sounded surprised, awed almost, hints of childlike wonder spilling into his voice. The glimmer of delight and joy that flickered across his face for a brief moment was enough to make Sif push her doubts aside once more.
“Of course I came.” She rolled her eyes and stepped further towards him, hoping her nonchalance would hide the hesitation that had clouded her mind a moment ago. Cocking her head to one side, she deliberately ran her eyes over him, before crossing her arms and saying mockingly, “You are looking rather dressed up, Loki.”
Loki just shrugged, but Sif saw the faint smirk that danced across his lips. “It seemed appropriate.” He took the opportunity to look her once over himself, his eyes moving slowly, burning into her and Sif tried to ignore the way it made her skin tingle and her heart beat a little faster. “I see the same cannot be said for you.”
Her only response was to glare at him further, especially when the smirk widened across his lips. He got down off the bench top, picking up his helmet and pack as he stood up.
“You are not bringing that thing along, are you?”
“But of course, it would be a shame to not wear the full outfit. Besides,” his smirk only grew as he looked at her coyly, “I know how fond of it you really are.”
Sif tried to keep her scowl, but it was threatening to break into a smirk of her own as she heard his words. She had teased him almost incessantly over the years about his helmet, with its stupid pretentious horns and fancy sparkling gold base. Whenever he had to wear it at a formal event she would always point at his horns and roll her eyes, breaking out into a smile as he glowered at her. It was as much a part of Loki as her shield and sword were to her and she could not imagine Loki in his ceremonial armour without his horned helmet.
Narrowing her eyes at him and hiding her smile, she said with a lot less annoyance in her voice than she intended, “Just as long as you only wear it when you have to.”
Looking her directly in the eyes, his own dancing with merriment, he slowly put his helmet on and smiled brightly at her. Sif stepped towards him and reached to knock it off, but Loki quickly dodged and instead grabbed her arm lightly, pulling her towards him so fast Sif lost her step and fell against him. She looked up to see Loki’s face so close to hers and tilted her head as he leaned in, about to kiss her, but then he suddenly stilled. Another moment later he stepped away and Sif did her best to recover her composure and still her pounding heart.
“Are you sure about this, Sif?” He asked, his voice now full of uncertainty and weariness once more.
“I am!” Sif replied, crossing her arms and facing him defiantly, trying to push away the doubts that tried to penetrate once more into her thoughts. “But answer me truthfully, Loki, are you?”
When he gave no reply and turned away from her, Sif’s panic and anger broke through her control. She was sick of this talking, these fears and Loki’s frustrating ability to dance around the problem. She craved action, a fight, facing the problem head on and forcing a final resolution. Moving as fast as her centuries of battle training permitted, she quickly drew her sword and stepped towards Loki. He was too surprised to react and Sif easily spun him around, wrapping her arm around his chest and crushing his hands down beside him. She pressed his back against her front in a strong hold and held her sword against his neck in warning.
“Answer me, Loki! Do you want to marry me?” She tried to keep her voice firm as she spoke against his ear, but it trembled and caught on the words, though her arms remained strong and her sword did not waver.
She watched him intently as he swallowed, his eyes taking in the sword pressed tight against his neck, not quite breaking the skin, and her steadfast arm allowing him no option of movement. “Yes.”
Such a simple word to be forced out of him, but one that held so much meaning and significance, so much emotion and feeling for them both. His voice sounded sincere, but it was Sif’s turn to doubt his regard for her and she did not drop her grip or her sword. He swallowed once more and continued, “But not like this, Sif.”
She watched him a moment more, twisting his face around so she could look into his eyes, look for any hint of lies or trickery. But there were none, she could see only the truth within them and she dropped her hand and stepped away from him, her sword falling to the ground though she did not sheath it. “No, not like this,” Sif finally replied, her voice weak, heavy, weighed down by so many conflicting emotions within her, within him. “But we have no choice, Loki.”
“There is always a choice, Sif.” Loki said softly, his words so quiet Sif had to strain her ears to hear them.
“If you mean between you and Thor, then I have already made that choice, many years ago,” Sif countered, her voice bitter as her frustration simmered again within her. She narrowed her eyes at him, stepping forwards and raising her sword again in warning. She felt a measure of satisfaction as she saw him flinch briefly, though his stance remained firm. “And I have never regretted that decision, Loki.”
“But you may live to regret it, Sif, and then it will be too late.”
Sif stepped closer towards him, but dropped her sword by her side, lifting her head towards his so she was close enough to feel his breath on her cheek and stare intently into his eyes. “Is that what you are afraid of, Loki? That I will live to regret marrying you?”
Loki flinched again under her fierce gaze, turning away from her a moment later and stepping back. “Yes.”
“Then you have nothing to fear, Loki, for you have no reason to doubt me.” Sif raised her head high and sheathed her sword in surrender, she would threaten him no more, now that she finally understood his fears and misgivings. They were unwarranted, of course, but were no surprise and Sif finally laid her own doubts to rest about Loki’s reluctance.
He turned towards her again, though still kept his distance. “But you will be bound to me for all eternity, Sif! The magic within the marriage will punish you if you should ever seek comfort elsewhere. There is no going back, Sif, an Elfin marriage is unbreakable.”
“As is my love for you, Loki. And it has held fast and weathered the many storms thrown upon it.” Sif refused to drop Loki’s gaze, holding it firmly and defiantly, daring him to challenge her. She was not afraid to speak the truth anymore, to reveal to him how much she loved him, she could only hope now he would accept her words, that they would be enough.
Loki suddenly looked away and Sif wondered if he believed her. She saw his mind working, saw his fingers clench repeatedly at his side as he worked hard to keep his expression composed. Finally she saw his body relax, saw the tension leave him as he reached his decision. When he turned to face her once more, he was smiling, though it failed to quite meet his eyes. “Then it is settled. You will travel with me to Alfheim? To elope?”
“Yes.” Sif stated simply. “Though if you question me again, Loki Odinson, I swear I will run you through with my sword.” She gripped the hilt threateningly, fixing her fierce, warrior eyes upon him so he understood this was no empty threat.
“But of course, Lady Sif.” His smirk returned and he bowed mockingly at her, earning him a venomous glare. He picked up his small travel pack that had fallen to the floor and flung it over his shoulder. “I see no reason for any delay then.”
He held out his hand towards her and Sif glared at it for a moment, before reaching forward and taking it, wrapping her fingers tightly around his. Loki immediately pulled her closer, wrapping one arm around her waist as the other moved to conjure the shadows around them. Asgard, and the thick dewed grass and weeds beneath her feet, slipped away as Loki found a secret path between the branches of Yggdrasil that would take them to Alfheim.
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Thanks so much for still reading. I hope you're still enjoying it. More chapters will definitely be on their way soon.