The Last Days of Magic and Glory Chapter #11
In this chapter, Sif and Volstagg try to get to the bottom of Thor's strange behavior.
Chapter 11: Interlude: Sif Snoops
A/N: Since I have been breaking all my writer’s rules with this fic already, I might as well break another one and do a dramatic POV shift in the middle of a what is supposed to be limited omniscience single character POV story. So here’s one chapter from Sif and Volstagg’s POV. I’m pretending it’s a lower deck episode of a tv show instead of a horrible writing choice.
***
“I’m worried about Thor,”
“You’re always worried about Thor,” Volstagg complained. Volstagg had long lamented that Thor had the whole kingdom to spoil him and that Sif should worry less. “You are not his mother, you know. Sandwich?”
Sif rolled her eyes, pulling another sandwich out of her saddlebag to hand to Volstagg. They were on a quick mission to the southern marshes to check on the magic-folk there and make it known that distance from the Capital did not allow them the freedom to circumvent the kingdom’s laws. The sun was about to set and they were making camp on the grassy southern savannah.
“Don’t ruin your appetite,” Sif scolded. “Fandral and Hogun have no doubt caught us a magnificent beast for tonight’s supper.”
“My appetite is too grand to fall into ruin,” Volstagg replied, but settled down, helping Sif erect the tents. “But, even though I doubt there is anything wrong, what is it that has you concerned about the prince this time?”
“His behavior at court has changed.” Sif dug into the rich dirt with her dagger in order to prepare a fire pit for whatever it was Fandral and Hogun were hunting.
“Yes, he has not caused a disaster in a little over a moon,” Volstagg laughed. “Our prince is learning. Quick, warm the cannons and gather the troops; he must be stopped!”
Sif rolled her eyes. She preferred it when Volstagg was too busy shoveling food down his gullet for sarcastic commentary. But of their fighting unit, Volstagg was Sif’s closest friend. Fandral’s views on women, while somewhat tamed by Sif’s presence, still ranged from amusingly offensive to downright hurtful. And though Hogun and Sif were near undefeatable partners in battle, he was not much for company. Sif sensed a kinship in Thor, but despite his warm nature and the centuries they had fought together in the field, their station forced both princes to be aloof. They were not equals and their friendship had limits. No, Thor and Loki would always be closest to each other if for no reason other than the fact that their royal lineage divided them from everyone else.
Sif wondered if all of Thor’s strange behavior was simply because he missed his brother. That he ached for Loki was not in question, but the business with the horse was such a bizarre reaction to it that Sif couldn’t help but think there was more afoot. “Thor was gone a terribly long time without explanation. And he has been sneaking off ever since.”
Volstagg shrugged. “He is under a lot of pressure. Thor has always suffered from a kind of claustrophobia. He does not like to remain still and he rebels at being confined. Perhaps it is merely a way to escape court politics. But you said he had been acting strange only lately and the sneaking off has been happening since his return.”
Sif both appreciated and hated it when Volstagg turned his full focus on a problem. He was eerily perceptive. “It is not that he is suddenly making all the right decisions at court, though you must admit that the change has been abrupt.”
Volstagg grunted in acknowledgement.
“It is that his manner of making such decisions is so frightfully odd. He invited me to the Warriors Council.”
“I meant to ask, how is that?”
“Exhausting. I spend half my time fighting to be heard by those old bags of bones and the rest trying to ignore the way they stare at my chest as though they are checking their reflections in my breastplate. My presence is no doubt a purposeful distraction by Thor in order to keep them from noticing his odd behavior.”
Volstagg frowned. “What do you mean?”
“He never makes a decision the same day the discussion is brought up. Even simple things like how much battle gear to commission when we are presented with a new design. If it is near the end of the session, he says that we don’t have enough time to discuss it. If it is at the beginning, he will ask my opinion on something unrelated but controversial and the council will waste the meeting away arguing with me.”
Having finished digging the fire pit, Volstagg retrieved a long metal chain from his riding satchel. Years ago, when Thor and Volstagg had almost burned half the east plain down trying to cook dinner, Loki had enchanted the chain to contain fire. By arranging it in a circle around the fire pit, not a spark could escape into the dry grass that surrounded them.
“It’s a good strategy. It gains him time to think. I often do the same. If a difficult question is asked, I eat a sandwich and drink some mead. I cannot be expected to answer while I chew.”
“I knew there were hidden motives to your appetite!” Sif teased. “But surely Thor, of all people, does not need more than a sandwich of time to think on an issue. His actions rarely stop to consult his brain, let alone a whole night of contemplation.”
“You are right about how he acts always from the heart. And if his hand needs staying he relies on you or Loki to intervene. It is a training sword that enables his brashness. I wager that we have never actually seen Thor consider something deeply before,” Volstagg pointed out. “Perhaps he is so out of practice that it takes hours? We should be glad that he is learning the art of thought before action.”
“Or, alternatively,” Sif poked Volstagg in the belly for emphasis, “Thor is not contemplating anything at all, but rather sneaking away to find separate council.”
“So now you heed the wild theories of the weaving women?” Volstagg laughed. “I never thought I would see the day.”
Sif rolled her eyes, grabbing a hatchet from her saddle and walking towards the small grove of trees near their camp to search for firewood.
“I do not believe Thor is enchanted by some evil force. Especially now that he makes good decisions. But he is not clever enough for to carry on these machinations on his own and he remains a terrible liar.”
“How so?”
“The other day, we received word of suspicious activity on Jotunheim. It was not a matter that Tyr would ever allow Thor to pass on to the next meeting. We needed to decide whether to send a war party to investigate or to simply have the sentries do it. Tyr and I did not want to send more men, but the rest of the Council did. You know Thor; there is no way he would have allied with me on this. Even when we play Stratagem he never ignores an opportunity to send more warriors, despite how many times Loki beats him using practically the opposite strategy.”
Volstagg and Sif chuckled. The both remembered fondly the time that Thor had wagered Loki that he would climb one of the great fir trees naked and covered in the honey that attracted Jujubies that he could beat him at their current game of Stratagem. Despite the fact that Thor had been ahead when he made the wager, they all enjoyed Thor’s cursing as he climbed the tree the next day.
“I thought that Tyr and I would be easily overruled, but in the middle of Tyr’s impassioned speech on the matter, he stood up and claimed he needed to relieve himself and did not return until Tyr and Ve were settling the matter by fistfight, at which point he convinced us all to send a spymaster in the form of a Jotun beast instead. He was uncharacteristically eloquent. When I confronted him about it later, he dismissed me without a glance and went straight to the stables.”
“It is unlike Thor to be dismissive,” Volstagg acknowledged.
“And even more unlike him to keep secrets.”
“So what do you plan to do, Lady Sif? He may be our friend, but Thor is a prince and now acting as the sovereign. He is fully entitled to his eccentricities. Valhalla knows that Odin has eccentricities enough.”
“I plan to follow him and find out what he’s hiding.”
“And if he catches you?” Volstagg and every member of their unit had learned to fear Thor’s rage. It was as swift and uncontrollable as a bolt of lightning and no more so than when he felt betrayed.
“He won’t,” Sif replied. “You know as well as I that in the heat of battle, Thor can sense an enemy so much as thinking about drawing a weapon, but in everyday things he wanders around like a grassbear, completely oblivious and vulnerable to ambush. You and Loki have used it enough times to play tricks on him.”
“Ah, but if Thor is truly conspiring with someone smart enough to orchestrate these grand schemes as you are claiming, then it is that person you must look out for.”
Sif considered it a moment before nodding to herself decisively. “That is a good point, Volstagg. That is why you are going to help me.”
***
“I need to be less gullible,” Volstagg swore to himself as he stripped off his armor and began smearing the concealing paste Sif had purchased from a Vanir sorceress all over himself. “I need to be less affable. Less willing to help.” Less prone to give in when Sif’s wonderful meat pies were on offer. Sif couldn’t weave or sew and was more likely to smack a man that do anything remotely ladylike, but she was a fine cook when so inclined.
Whenever there was scheming afoot, Volstagg always got stuck doing the dirty work. Hogun was incorruptible, Fandral too much of a gossip to be trusted with a secret, and Loki and Sif were prone to be the schemers themselves. Thor also made a good partner in crime, but he was currently the target.
Sif claimed that she could not do this because Thor always left for the stables immediately after the meeting of the War Council and she would not have time to apply the magical paste, but Volstagg suspected that it was just that she did not want to smear the gold-colored goop all over herself. It felt like boar grease and would most likely be impossible to wash out of his chest hair later.
After Volstagg had covered most of his body, he said the incantation as instructed. It didn’t cause invisibility, but rather discourage observation. There was no way to verify it worked other than ask another person. But without Sif there weren’t any other people around to ask. Volstagg supposed that he’d know when Thor showed up and if it didn’t work, Thor would probably forget to asks what Volstagg was doing because he’d be too busy laughing at Volstagg standing there naked and covered in golden grease that mismatched horribly with his red hair.
Volstagg wished, not for the first time this year, that Loki were around. Loki would have said a few words and flicked his hand in a way that rendered Volstagg invisible and grease-free.
Mission complete, Volstagg wandered out of the barn where Sif and the warriors three kept their horses and down the lane towards the royal stables. Thor’s horse and the eight-legged foal were in the main pasture with the retired horses and the nursing mares. Volstagg couldn’t help but smile at the way the dapple grey foal raced the other little ones, seemingly oblivious to the four extra legs he held in advantage over them. He kept stopping to look over his shoulder, surprised when they couldn’t keep up.
The little horse looked so confused that Volstagg had to chuckle. While there was no indication that the other horses heard him, the foal’s ears perked up and he swerved to look directly at Volstagg. The concealing paste was supposed to divert attention from sound as well, but there was no doubt the foal had heard him. It trotted over, trying to nudge at Volstagg through the beams of the fence.
Volstagg stepped back, eyeing the foal. They had all been down here to see it not long after the birth. Thor had beamed like a proud father when he introduced them. The foal had been shy then, hiding behind its mother or Thor, but now it had clearly grown curious at the world. Volstagg resisted the urge to reach out and pat the little guy, not wanting his concealing paste to rub off.
Volstagg’s hesitance did not stop the foal’s fascination or keep its mother from cantering over and staring Volstagg down with her intense green eyes. Thor had gone on for moons about how intelligent his horse was. Volstagg had dismissed it as prideful posturing at the time, but when he looked into the glaring eyes of the white horse, Volstagg saw a near Aesir intelligence there. He shuddered, stepping away from the pasture to wait for Thor’s arrival under a nearby oak tree.
He supposed the paste was not meant to work on animals.
It did not take long for Thor to come bounding down the lane looking carefree and happy - the way that he used to look during training or at a feast in the great hall. Thor rarely showed that look around his friends anymore. When he was in the palace, he was pensive and troubled by the myriad problems of rule and he spent all his time outside the palace with the awful horse that was still giving Volstagg a death glare.
Volstagg immediately dropped the apple he had been eating, not knowing if Thor would see a floating apple of if it would be shielded by the concealment magic. Volstagg’s job was to follow Thor and the horse, but not get close enough to whoever Thor’s contact was so that he might be seen. If the other person were skilled at magic, they would be able to see through the spell up close. A very skilled sorcerer would just see Volstagg covered in gold paste no matter how far away he was, so Volstagg needed to keep careful watch.
Thor walked right by Volstagg, but that wasn’t a surprise. They all knew that Thor could not manage the most basic of spells. Even Volstagg had a few under his belt. They mostly had to do with hunting, cooking, and putting on his armor quickly, but Volstagg took pride in his knowledge nonetheless.
Thor opened the gate to the pasture and the eight-legged foal ran to him immediately, running around him in circles and nuzzling him before Thor finally managed to catch it and scoop it up in a great pile of limbs.
“I have missed you much, Sleipnir!” Thor laughed before putting the foal back on the ground. It ran back and forth between its mother and Thor as the mare ambled over. Even though she walked to great Thor, her eyes stayed on Volstagg, glaring.
Volstagg forced himself to ignore the apprehension that her glare aroused in him. He was invisible to Thor, which was really the important part.
Thor was now petting his horse, gently detangling her long white mane and smoothing the dust from her coat in a manner that looked more like a caress than grooming. Point one for Fandral’s theory of secret bestial love. Volstagg sincerely hoped that would not be what he witnessed when they walked into the woods this day. He psychologically prepared himself for the possibility anyhow.
Nothing could have prepared him for what happened next, however. “Brother, you would not believe what happened in Royal Audience today.”
Did Thor say brother? Volstagg decided he must have misheard.
The horse did not acknowledge the statement. Of course she didn’t. She was a horse. She didn’t even follow Thor out of the pasture.
But then Thor nudged her. “Loki, come on.” Volstagg hoped that Thor has just decided to name the horse Loki due to some misplaced guilt about not finding his brother. “I have much to tell you. Sif returned from the sorcerers of Vanaheim this morning with our transformed spymaster. He is indistinguishable from one of those Jotun beasts that they keep in the palace there. He is to leave tomorrow and I am in need of your counsel . . .”
Thor was cut off by the horse biting him.
“Brother, I thought you had stopped that after you gave birth. There is no need to bite. We will be by our waterfall soon enough.”
The horse nudged Thor again and looked directly at Volstagg, who scrambled up and tried to hide behind a tree.
Thor followed the horse’s gaze, squinting. “There’s nothing there, Loki. Come on. We don’t have much time until sunset.”
As much as Volstagg hoped for another explanation, the evidence was irrefutable. Thor wasn’t in love with the horse - he thought the horse was his brother. Volstagg didn’t relish the thought of persuading the prince to get help from mindhealers. This whole spy business had been Sif’s idea. She’d just have to do it. No amount of meat pie would convince Volstagg on this occasion.
Volstagg made to follow Thor and his horse down the lane, but then the horse did the unexpected and nudged Thor towards the saddle racks.
“You want me to ride you?” Thor asked. “I thought you were still sore from the birth.”
The horse whinnied. It was definitely communicating with Thor and it had enough of a personality to scare Volstagg. He supposed he could see why Thor might decide that an unusually intelligent horse was his missing brother. It was crazier than a bag full of thraberbeasts, but slightly less insane than thinking that of an ordinary horse.
After more prodding by the horse, Thor had put the saddle on and was climbing onto the horse’s back. Volstagg cursed his lack of foresight, for when Thor and the horse galloped away, the foal not far behind, he had no means to follow them.
Volstagg trudged back to the castle and to their private training area where he could wash off the infernal golden grease. After far too long under the hot water, he emerged to find not only Sif, but Hogun and Fandral waiting for him in their gathering room.
Fandral laughed, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe some lingering gold grease from behind Volstagg’s ear.
“I thought we were going to keep this between the two of us,” Volstagg complained to Sif. If the whole group was involved, it only made sense to send Hogun to do the snooping. Other than Loki, he was the best at stealth. And Fandral probably would have relished wandering around the woods naked. Not to mention he had less hair to get the stupid grease stuck in.
“Well, the matter has become more urgent,” Sif replied. “Though our spymaster has not returned, the sentries have reported more disturbing news from Jotunheim. King Laufey has not been seen in the palace in some time and neither have his top lieutenants. The Council has proposed sending an investigation. Thor has suggested we sleep on the decision, as always, but if he is indeed being controlled by an external force, we must find out before he is allowed to make this decision. Sending additional troops, even a small group, could cripple our goodwill with the Jotuns.”
“It’s not an external force we should be worried about,” Volstagg mumbled. In truth, he felt uncomfortable bringing up Thor’s insanity to the entire group. Thor was like a brother to Volstagg and he deserved to have his dignity intact. But if what Sif said was true, he had no choice but to act. They couldn’t trust someone with such mental instability to lead.
“Then what did you discover?” Sif demanded.
“Thor thinks that his horse is Loki.”
“What?!” Fandral exclaimed, jumping out of his chair. “It cannot be.”
“I saw it with my own eyes. Thor called the horse both brother and Loki and talked to it as though it were a person.”
“I talk to my horse sometimes,” Fandral scoffed. “It’s natural. The beasts are soothed by it.” He looked to Hogun for support, who nodded. “I talk to my horse as well.”
“No, not like that,” Volstagg protested. “Thor did not just talk to the horse. He listened as though it had the authority to make decisions for him.”
“I refuse to believe it,” Fandral replied. “Maybe he was playing a prank on you. Maybe the concealment did not work and he knew you were there all along.”
“Thor keep a serious face when I was standing there naked and painted gold? I think not.”
“Maybe it’s a special horse,” Hogun offered.
“Of maybe it is Thor that’s special,” Volstagg argued. “Maybe it’s all just getting to him - the Odinsleep, palace responsibilities, the fact that he couldn’t find Loki in a whole season of searching.”
“Are you suggesting that he has somehow lost his mind?” Hogun asked, frowning and disdainful.
Volstagg stiffened. “I’m suggesting that maybe Thor, at the moment, does not have the . . . facilities to lead us into a potential conflict with Jotunheim.”
Fandral stood, hand on his sword. Of all the warriors, Fandral had always been the most loyal to Thor. Volstagg suspected it was because Thor and Fandral had once been lovers, or it could just be the strange sense of ‘chivalry’ that Fandral had picked up while mucking around on Midgard. He’d also picked up a strange hat and a love of wearing tights at the time. “What you speak of is treason.”
Volstagg shrugged. “Report me to the queen, then. Half the kingdom is already worried about his behavior. She will take my side.”
“There should be no taking sides!” Fandral spat. “You swore an oath to the crown and to your prince.”
“I did not swear an oath to follow into battle a man who thinks his horse to be his brother. Thor is my prince and my friend and what we need to do is to help him recover from this foolishness, not pretend all is normal.”
Fandral withdrew his hand from the hilt of his sword in order to pace nervously. “As Thor’s First Guardians and his close council, we have been afforded privileges. But don’t think for a second that if you act against him, Thor or anyone at court will suffer you. Sif, back me up on this.”
It was then that Volstagg realized how quiet the normally outspoken Sif had been. Her eyes bore into Volstagg in a way that many others found intimidating, but Volstagg was accustomed to it.
“Sif?” he asked. “You must believe me. He was treating the horse as his brother.”
Sif raised an eyebrow. “And how do you know that Loki is not the horse.”
“The horse gave birth to a foal, Sif,” Fandral jumped in, seeming to forget that Sif was on his side of this particular argument.
“It is an eight-legged foal,” Hogun pointed out. “It was produced of magic.”
“So you’re telling me that Loki submitted to being pregnant with a horse? And he let Thor ride him around for a whole year?” Fandral scoffed. “I’d sooner believe that Thor is insane.”
“Maybe it was an accident,” Sif replied. “Remember that I used to be a blonde before Loki said he knew a spell to help smooth my hair?”
“We were young then,” Fandral said. “He was less developed in his magic.”
“Or what about that giant crater on Fliag Hill? Or the big scar on Thor’s rear from when Loki made Hogun’s dagar come alive? Loki experiments with magic and sometimes his experiments do not end in glory. It does not matter his motivation. It may even be that the real horse is somewhere else and Loki is pretending to be the horse for now. Thor’s odd behavior only started after the foal’s birth. Irregardless, the excuses to leave, the suggestion about transforming the spymaster - they all stink of Loki’s influence.”
“Fine,” Fandral admitted. “What do you suggest we do about it?”
Sif grinned. “Confront him, of course.”
Volstagg shuddered. “I’m not certain I would like Thor to know that I was spying on him.”
Sif rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to confront Thor. If it turns out he really is having a mental crisis, I don’t want to show my hand. And if Loki is manipulating him, confronting Thor will only make him stubborn and defensive.”
“Thor is always stubborn,” Volstagg pointed out.
“True. Tomorrow, I’m going to confront Loki. You will all keep Thor busy in training while I’m down at the stables.”
Volstagg groaned. Tomorrow they would either have Loki back or Sif would be the second crazy person talking to a horse.
***
Sif had bowed out of sparring practice, easily bewildering a disappointed Thor with talk of her female cycle and how she felt like eating cacapo fruit instead of beating his face to a pulp. Now, she approached the stables, determined to finally understand everything that had been happening with Thor recently.
The horse was in the pasture with the herd when she arrived. It gave her a long look before returning to the grass it had been eating. The foal showed more interest, but Sif did not have time to do much more than give it a few pats on the head before she walked back around the stables to the small house that served as quarters for the stable hands.
A young stable boy with blond hair and freckles answer the door almost immediately upon hearing Sif’s strong knock.
“Lady Sif!” he stammered, bowing awkwardly, “what is it you require today?”
“I have need of a horse.”
“Of course!” the boy squeaked, quickly retrieving his muddy stable shoes. “I will saddle one for you right away.”
Sif smirked. “I’m afraid I will need more than just you for this task. Please assemble your fellows and meet me by main pasture.”
“But those horses are retired or nursing, Lady Sif.”
“That may be, but I have a particular horse in mind.”
The boy’s bright green eyes widened. “You do not mean . . .”
“Yes, I mean to ride the white mare that Prince Thor brought here to foal.”
“But, that horse belongs to the prince. He would not have you ride it.”
Sif put on her most intimidating glare, narrowing her eyes at the poor trembling boy. “You would dare presume to know the wishes of the prince above one of his First Guardians? You know I serve as Prince Thor’s lieutenant in battle and I am in need of a special horse.”
“But . . . but . . . Prince Thor said . . .”
“Oh, shall we interrupt the Court then, so a stable boy can explain to Prince Thor why he has not carried out the orders sent with his second? Is the word of one war councilor not enough? Should I ask Sir Tyr to call for a vote?”
“No, Lady Sif,” the boy panted in terror. “I will call my fellow stable hands and we will retrieve the white mare for you. Though I must warn you - she does not take the bit even with Prince Thor and she has never permitted anyone else to ride her.”
Sif did not need the headache of being thrown from a horse or bitten. “I require a harness and a lead. No saddle for the moment.”
Luckily the boy was so overwhelmed by Sif’s presence that he had forgotten that she had been determined to ride the horse only moments ago. He scurried off, returning with four other boys. Not one of them could be a day over 500.
“I apologize, my lady, but the head stable hand, the healer, and two of the others are at market.”
“This will do,” Sif said stiffly, making it seem as though she was not pleased with their showing.
Each of the boys grabbed a length of rope, and one of them the halter and lead. Sif led them behind the barn and down the road so they could approach from behind the trees that formed a natural fence by the roadside. If the horse really was Loki, she didn’t want to give him the chance to escape.
She was glad for the precaution when they all broke through the trees and rushed at the side-gate to the pasture. The horse gave them one look before running at the fence, clearly preparing to leap it.
“Stop!” Sif shouted. “You would run away and leave your child here?”
The horse stopped and turned abruptly, rushing them. A few of the stable boys dove to the side, but Sif stood her ground. “You know he still needs nursing,” Sif replied. “There is no guarantee that he will take milk from another horse or from a bottle.”
The horse stopped in front of her, staring. The eyes were a familiar shade of green, coated in a familiar cold anger. Sif began to doubt less and less that this horse was, in fact, Loki or that Loki had born the foal from his own body.
Sif motioned to one of the boys to try with the halter, but the horse reared up, knocking him back and kicking Sif in her breastplate with one of its powerful legs. Sif choked on her breath, but remained standing.
“I know what you are and I am stubborn. You know that I will expose you.” She pulled out the enchanted skystone dagar she had stolen from Thor earlier this morning. It would cut through any enchantment. “So you can either come with me willingly, or have me cut you now and we can see how you bleed in your true form.”
“Lady Sif!” one of the stable boys protested. “You cannot threaten the Prince’s horse.”
If it were an ordinary horse it could hardly be threatened at all. Sif lowered her voice, deadlier than a shout. “I see not how the affairs of the First Guardians are of concern to you.”
“I will tell Prince Thor! He loves his horse dearly. He will not be pleased.”
“Tell him, then. For now, hand me the halter and take your leave!”
The boy obeyed with shaking hands. The group backed away, but none left to report to Thor as vowed.
Sif returned her attention to the horse. “You will let me put this on you and you will follow me.”
The horse snorted and made Sif stand on her toes in order to secure the halter, but did not otherwise resist, even when she tugged hard on the lead. When they made to leave, the foal tried to follow, but Sif motioned for the stable boys to restrain it. It whinnied in distress, but Sif ignored it. She needed her full attention on Loki and whatever tricks he might pull.
“There’s no use in resisting,” Sif pointed out as she lead the horse down the lane towards the small pasture and barn where Sif and the warriors three left their horses if they were going to stay in the palace overnight. “I know what you are doing, trickster, and I think you will find me more forgiving when I have an explanation.”
The second Sif had closed the barn door behind her, the form of the horse seemed to flicker for a moment. It was impossible to gaze at or perhaps impossible to comprehend, but a moment later, it was not the horse standing there, but Loki, holding the halter in his hands and naked as the day he was born.
Sif did not blush. She had seen Loki naked on many an occasion - bathing in a stream after a long day’s ride or stripping out of bloodstained clothes or even on a few occasions, drunkenly indulging himself with a maiden or an attractive man while the group celebrated in the back room of a tavern. She just rolled her eyes and tossed him one of the stable blankets. It no doubt smelled of the barn, but if Loki was now spending his days as a horse, he should not complain.
“So, Lady Sif, you have unmasked me.” Loki grinned that grin that was not a grin at all, but rather a slightly unhinged threat. “What is of such importance that drives you to do so?”
Loki always knew how to push Sif to the limit of her patience and that grin combined with his loose, apathetic demeanour were enough to drive her to it. She drew her fist back and punched Loki hard in the shoulder. “That’s for lying.” She followed up with a punch to the stomach. “That’s for making your poor mother and brother worry.” She slapped him hard in the face. “And that’s for whatever you are currently scheming.” None of the punches were hard enough that Loki couldn’t easily heal the damage, but Sif felt satisfied nonetheless.
After he was sure that Sif was finished, Loki straightened, arm still clasped to his stomach. “Who says I am scheming?”
“The fact that you are controlling Thor’s every move on the War Council, sending spies to Jotunheim, hiding here as a horse!”
“I have been, yes, but I assure you that there is no scheming. Can I not simply be helping my brother to rule?”
“No,” Sif snapped. “You are Loki Silvertongue and you have never simply helped without motive in your life.” Loki had always been jealous of Thor and had always enjoyed manipulation and chaos for the sake of it. He coveted the throne and Sif would not see him lead Thor into destroying his own chances at the kingship.
After a moment glaring at each other, Loki said, “Fine. If you cannot trust my altruism, trust that it is in my best interest to remain in the favor of the man who will sit on the throne.”
“Thor is not king yet. You have time to put in your bid for the title.”
Loki sighed. “It is not a title I want.”
“Then what do you want,” Sif pleaded. “Why stay away from court so long when you knew it would cost you Odin’s favor? Why chew grass and pull Thor around like a puppet when you could be a powerful force in the Royal Court of your own right?”
Loki paused, clearly contemplating his answer, when they heard hoofbeats and a scratching at the barn door. Ignoring Sif’s protests, Loki opened it. A small grey blur on eight legs tumbled into the barn and knocked Loki off his feet in its anxiety to get to him.
To Sif’s surprise, Loki indulged the little horse, letting it settle, legs akimbo, in his lap, while he stoked and soothed it. “It’s alright, little one. I’m here. I would not leave you. You’re safe.” After the foal had calmed and was happily chewing on Loki’s hair, the trickster looked up to glare at Sif. “That was the first time we have been separated.”
Sif nodded, blankly. It was a horse and yet Loki clearly loved the thing.
“To answer your question,” Loki replied. “I left the court because I was with child,” he indicated the foal. “And I have remained away because I cannot leave him.”
It was a difficult answer to accept, but Sif believed him. “And Thor? How long has he known.”
Loki laughed. “Thor can be remarkably obtuse. He did not know until after I gave birth. I could not shapeshift before then.”
“So, you just decided that you wanted to try life as a pregnant horse?” Sif asked. There were tales told about Loki’s strange proclivities, but Sif has always put faith in her companion over the rumors.
“No,” Loki hissed. “I did a service to the Allfather and as a result, I was violently taken by a preternaturally strong stallion. Sleipnir,” he gestured to the foal now dozing in his lap, “was the result.”
Sif gulped. A part of her disliked Loki and mistrusted him, but as a woman, she had always feared exactly what Loki described. Sif could hold her own in armed battle against the toughest warriors in the kingdom, but in a contest of strength they could still overpower her and it only took a single unfocused moment for a man to get enough advantage that strength would be all that mattered. The men of Asgard were great warriors, but they were bawdy and not as enlightened at those of many realms and Sif spent most of her time walking among them at their worst. Sif fought constantly to prove that to be a woman was not a weakness, but the deep-buried fear of being violated was a weakness she could not purge.
She knelt down next to Loki and after a long moment to give him time to reject the touch, put her arm around him. “I am sorry, Loki.”
He looked at her with watery eyes that still refused to shed a tear. “Do you regret your accusations?”
Sif shook her head. “Would you respect me if I were so naive as to not suspect you, of all people, when your behavior invites suspicion?”
Loki sighed. “I suppose you are right. But, Sif, I swear to you it is not a plot. You must not tell anyone what I have done.”
“I’m afraid telling the warriors three will be unavoidable. After Volstagg spied on you and Thor . . .”
Loki smiled. “Yes, that was amusing. Volstagg prowling around naked and covered in gold paste like a fool.”
“I suppose concealment paste does not work on you?”
“No. I hope you did not pay much for it.” In truth, Sif had bartered a few fine tapestries that had been gifted to her for her strength in battle. She blushed. “Even those with the weakest of magic would have seen through that spell. Of course, any magic imbedded in physical objects is weaker than magic performed by a sorceror.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sif replied. “But what concerns me is that last night we decided that either you were masquerading as a horse or Thor had gone insane. If you do not show yourself to the warriors three they will probably try to have Thor sent to the mindhealers.”
“Which is exactly the wrong thing to have happen when we are edging into hostilities with Jotunheim.” Loki spent a moment stroking Sleipnir’s big ears, lost in contemplation. “You may tell them. Perhaps we can all go for a ride for a few days. The Jotun situation will keep and even though Thor is less insane than you imagine, he needs a respite from the affairs of court. But Sif,” he grabbed her wrist, pleading, “you must not tell anyone else, especially my parents. I . . . it is a shameful thing I have allowed to be done to me. I cannot have them know.”
Sif thought about the palace maidens and the serving girls who had been violated and how they blamed themselves for the vices of horrible men. Loki’s situation was different - he had taunted as stallion as a mare in heat, which knowingly invited violent ends. But Sif knew that the girls who blamed themselves sunk deep into places of darkness. Sif usually solved problems by punching or stabbing something or at least threatening to do so, but even if she had the skill, this was a problem without an easy solution. A man as clever as Loki would never believe that what happened was not his fault, but nonetheless it was not something he ever deserved.
“It is not shameful to do what you did for Asgard. If you had not, the builder would have taken Lady Freya and title to Midgard’s sun and the moon as recompense.”
Loki laughed. “There’s not much he could do with title to those things,” Loki replied. “Without the magic of the Casket of Ancient Winters, there is no way for the Jotun to reach Midgard without Heimdall’s permission. And even so, there is no way to move the sun or the moon or change them without magic stronger than the Jotun possess.”
“He had magic,” Sif argued. “Magic enough to disguise himself as an Aesir before he was exposed and killed.”
“There are many ways for the Jotun to conceal themselves and he was a hill-giant so would find it easier than most. But even the frost-giants have access to magics that can transform their toxic skin. The easiest is to gain the love-bond of an Aesir. And no love is strong enough to make magic on the sun and the moon.”
“Still,” Sif argued, “if he had completed the wall, such a structure built of Jotun hands could serve as a portal from Jotunheim into Asgard.”
“It’s good to see that I was not the only one paying attention to the spellmaster’s lessons.”
Sif ignored his praise, needing Loki to see that there was nothing shameful in what he did. “And if you had not acted as you did, the Jotun would have a portal and a disgusting giant would be doing to the Lady Freya what the stallion did to you.”
Loki did not meet Sif’s eyes. His gaze was still haunted and distant, his rhythmic petting of Sleipnir soothing more to himself than the horse. After a long moment, he pushed the foal from his lap and stood, grabbing Sif’s hand to kiss. “Congratulations on uncovering my secret. You are, of course, the cleverest of the lot.”
Sif smiled. “I’m afraid there is not much competition.”
They laughed and looked into each other’s eyes. Loki, for once, looked honestly grateful. And though Sif, much more than the warriors three, only really tolerated Loki for Thor’s sake, she could not help herself. She drew Loki into a tight hug. “We will keep your secret, but remember that Thor is not the only one who has missed you.”
Next Chapter: Fire and Ice
Chapter 11: Interlude: Sif Snoops
A/N: Since I have been breaking all my writer’s rules with this fic already, I might as well break another one and do a dramatic POV shift in the middle of a what is supposed to be limited omniscience single character POV story. So here’s one chapter from Sif and Volstagg’s POV. I’m pretending it’s a lower deck episode of a tv show instead of a horrible writing choice.
***
“I’m worried about Thor,”
“You’re always worried about Thor,” Volstagg complained. Volstagg had long lamented that Thor had the whole kingdom to spoil him and that Sif should worry less. “You are not his mother, you know. Sandwich?”
Sif rolled her eyes, pulling another sandwich out of her saddlebag to hand to Volstagg. They were on a quick mission to the southern marshes to check on the magic-folk there and make it known that distance from the Capital did not allow them the freedom to circumvent the kingdom’s laws. The sun was about to set and they were making camp on the grassy southern savannah.
“Don’t ruin your appetite,” Sif scolded. “Fandral and Hogun have no doubt caught us a magnificent beast for tonight’s supper.”
“My appetite is too grand to fall into ruin,” Volstagg replied, but settled down, helping Sif erect the tents. “But, even though I doubt there is anything wrong, what is it that has you concerned about the prince this time?”
“His behavior at court has changed.” Sif dug into the rich dirt with her dagger in order to prepare a fire pit for whatever it was Fandral and Hogun were hunting.
“Yes, he has not caused a disaster in a little over a moon,” Volstagg laughed. “Our prince is learning. Quick, warm the cannons and gather the troops; he must be stopped!”
Sif rolled her eyes. She preferred it when Volstagg was too busy shoveling food down his gullet for sarcastic commentary. But of their fighting unit, Volstagg was Sif’s closest friend. Fandral’s views on women, while somewhat tamed by Sif’s presence, still ranged from amusingly offensive to downright hurtful. And though Hogun and Sif were near undefeatable partners in battle, he was not much for company. Sif sensed a kinship in Thor, but despite his warm nature and the centuries they had fought together in the field, their station forced both princes to be aloof. They were not equals and their friendship had limits. No, Thor and Loki would always be closest to each other if for no reason other than the fact that their royal lineage divided them from everyone else.
Sif wondered if all of Thor’s strange behavior was simply because he missed his brother. That he ached for Loki was not in question, but the business with the horse was such a bizarre reaction to it that Sif couldn’t help but think there was more afoot. “Thor was gone a terribly long time without explanation. And he has been sneaking off ever since.”
Volstagg shrugged. “He is under a lot of pressure. Thor has always suffered from a kind of claustrophobia. He does not like to remain still and he rebels at being confined. Perhaps it is merely a way to escape court politics. But you said he had been acting strange only lately and the sneaking off has been happening since his return.”
Sif both appreciated and hated it when Volstagg turned his full focus on a problem. He was eerily perceptive. “It is not that he is suddenly making all the right decisions at court, though you must admit that the change has been abrupt.”
Volstagg grunted in acknowledgement.
“It is that his manner of making such decisions is so frightfully odd. He invited me to the Warriors Council.”
“I meant to ask, how is that?”
“Exhausting. I spend half my time fighting to be heard by those old bags of bones and the rest trying to ignore the way they stare at my chest as though they are checking their reflections in my breastplate. My presence is no doubt a purposeful distraction by Thor in order to keep them from noticing his odd behavior.”
Volstagg frowned. “What do you mean?”
“He never makes a decision the same day the discussion is brought up. Even simple things like how much battle gear to commission when we are presented with a new design. If it is near the end of the session, he says that we don’t have enough time to discuss it. If it is at the beginning, he will ask my opinion on something unrelated but controversial and the council will waste the meeting away arguing with me.”
Having finished digging the fire pit, Volstagg retrieved a long metal chain from his riding satchel. Years ago, when Thor and Volstagg had almost burned half the east plain down trying to cook dinner, Loki had enchanted the chain to contain fire. By arranging it in a circle around the fire pit, not a spark could escape into the dry grass that surrounded them.
“It’s a good strategy. It gains him time to think. I often do the same. If a difficult question is asked, I eat a sandwich and drink some mead. I cannot be expected to answer while I chew.”
“I knew there were hidden motives to your appetite!” Sif teased. “But surely Thor, of all people, does not need more than a sandwich of time to think on an issue. His actions rarely stop to consult his brain, let alone a whole night of contemplation.”
“You are right about how he acts always from the heart. And if his hand needs staying he relies on you or Loki to intervene. It is a training sword that enables his brashness. I wager that we have never actually seen Thor consider something deeply before,” Volstagg pointed out. “Perhaps he is so out of practice that it takes hours? We should be glad that he is learning the art of thought before action.”
“Or, alternatively,” Sif poked Volstagg in the belly for emphasis, “Thor is not contemplating anything at all, but rather sneaking away to find separate council.”
“So now you heed the wild theories of the weaving women?” Volstagg laughed. “I never thought I would see the day.”
Sif rolled her eyes, grabbing a hatchet from her saddle and walking towards the small grove of trees near their camp to search for firewood.
“I do not believe Thor is enchanted by some evil force. Especially now that he makes good decisions. But he is not clever enough for to carry on these machinations on his own and he remains a terrible liar.”
“How so?”
“The other day, we received word of suspicious activity on Jotunheim. It was not a matter that Tyr would ever allow Thor to pass on to the next meeting. We needed to decide whether to send a war party to investigate or to simply have the sentries do it. Tyr and I did not want to send more men, but the rest of the Council did. You know Thor; there is no way he would have allied with me on this. Even when we play Stratagem he never ignores an opportunity to send more warriors, despite how many times Loki beats him using practically the opposite strategy.”
Volstagg and Sif chuckled. The both remembered fondly the time that Thor had wagered Loki that he would climb one of the great fir trees naked and covered in the honey that attracted Jujubies that he could beat him at their current game of Stratagem. Despite the fact that Thor had been ahead when he made the wager, they all enjoyed Thor’s cursing as he climbed the tree the next day.
“I thought that Tyr and I would be easily overruled, but in the middle of Tyr’s impassioned speech on the matter, he stood up and claimed he needed to relieve himself and did not return until Tyr and Ve were settling the matter by fistfight, at which point he convinced us all to send a spymaster in the form of a Jotun beast instead. He was uncharacteristically eloquent. When I confronted him about it later, he dismissed me without a glance and went straight to the stables.”
“It is unlike Thor to be dismissive,” Volstagg acknowledged.
“And even more unlike him to keep secrets.”
“So what do you plan to do, Lady Sif? He may be our friend, but Thor is a prince and now acting as the sovereign. He is fully entitled to his eccentricities. Valhalla knows that Odin has eccentricities enough.”
“I plan to follow him and find out what he’s hiding.”
“And if he catches you?” Volstagg and every member of their unit had learned to fear Thor’s rage. It was as swift and uncontrollable as a bolt of lightning and no more so than when he felt betrayed.
“He won’t,” Sif replied. “You know as well as I that in the heat of battle, Thor can sense an enemy so much as thinking about drawing a weapon, but in everyday things he wanders around like a grassbear, completely oblivious and vulnerable to ambush. You and Loki have used it enough times to play tricks on him.”
“Ah, but if Thor is truly conspiring with someone smart enough to orchestrate these grand schemes as you are claiming, then it is that person you must look out for.”
Sif considered it a moment before nodding to herself decisively. “That is a good point, Volstagg. That is why you are going to help me.”
***
“I need to be less gullible,” Volstagg swore to himself as he stripped off his armor and began smearing the concealing paste Sif had purchased from a Vanir sorceress all over himself. “I need to be less affable. Less willing to help.” Less prone to give in when Sif’s wonderful meat pies were on offer. Sif couldn’t weave or sew and was more likely to smack a man that do anything remotely ladylike, but she was a fine cook when so inclined.
Whenever there was scheming afoot, Volstagg always got stuck doing the dirty work. Hogun was incorruptible, Fandral too much of a gossip to be trusted with a secret, and Loki and Sif were prone to be the schemers themselves. Thor also made a good partner in crime, but he was currently the target.
Sif claimed that she could not do this because Thor always left for the stables immediately after the meeting of the War Council and she would not have time to apply the magical paste, but Volstagg suspected that it was just that she did not want to smear the gold-colored goop all over herself. It felt like boar grease and would most likely be impossible to wash out of his chest hair later.
After Volstagg had covered most of his body, he said the incantation as instructed. It didn’t cause invisibility, but rather discourage observation. There was no way to verify it worked other than ask another person. But without Sif there weren’t any other people around to ask. Volstagg supposed that he’d know when Thor showed up and if it didn’t work, Thor would probably forget to asks what Volstagg was doing because he’d be too busy laughing at Volstagg standing there naked and covered in golden grease that mismatched horribly with his red hair.
Volstagg wished, not for the first time this year, that Loki were around. Loki would have said a few words and flicked his hand in a way that rendered Volstagg invisible and grease-free.
Mission complete, Volstagg wandered out of the barn where Sif and the warriors three kept their horses and down the lane towards the royal stables. Thor’s horse and the eight-legged foal were in the main pasture with the retired horses and the nursing mares. Volstagg couldn’t help but smile at the way the dapple grey foal raced the other little ones, seemingly oblivious to the four extra legs he held in advantage over them. He kept stopping to look over his shoulder, surprised when they couldn’t keep up.
The little horse looked so confused that Volstagg had to chuckle. While there was no indication that the other horses heard him, the foal’s ears perked up and he swerved to look directly at Volstagg. The concealing paste was supposed to divert attention from sound as well, but there was no doubt the foal had heard him. It trotted over, trying to nudge at Volstagg through the beams of the fence.
Volstagg stepped back, eyeing the foal. They had all been down here to see it not long after the birth. Thor had beamed like a proud father when he introduced them. The foal had been shy then, hiding behind its mother or Thor, but now it had clearly grown curious at the world. Volstagg resisted the urge to reach out and pat the little guy, not wanting his concealing paste to rub off.
Volstagg’s hesitance did not stop the foal’s fascination or keep its mother from cantering over and staring Volstagg down with her intense green eyes. Thor had gone on for moons about how intelligent his horse was. Volstagg had dismissed it as prideful posturing at the time, but when he looked into the glaring eyes of the white horse, Volstagg saw a near Aesir intelligence there. He shuddered, stepping away from the pasture to wait for Thor’s arrival under a nearby oak tree.
He supposed the paste was not meant to work on animals.
It did not take long for Thor to come bounding down the lane looking carefree and happy - the way that he used to look during training or at a feast in the great hall. Thor rarely showed that look around his friends anymore. When he was in the palace, he was pensive and troubled by the myriad problems of rule and he spent all his time outside the palace with the awful horse that was still giving Volstagg a death glare.
Volstagg immediately dropped the apple he had been eating, not knowing if Thor would see a floating apple of if it would be shielded by the concealment magic. Volstagg’s job was to follow Thor and the horse, but not get close enough to whoever Thor’s contact was so that he might be seen. If the other person were skilled at magic, they would be able to see through the spell up close. A very skilled sorcerer would just see Volstagg covered in gold paste no matter how far away he was, so Volstagg needed to keep careful watch.
Thor walked right by Volstagg, but that wasn’t a surprise. They all knew that Thor could not manage the most basic of spells. Even Volstagg had a few under his belt. They mostly had to do with hunting, cooking, and putting on his armor quickly, but Volstagg took pride in his knowledge nonetheless.
Thor opened the gate to the pasture and the eight-legged foal ran to him immediately, running around him in circles and nuzzling him before Thor finally managed to catch it and scoop it up in a great pile of limbs.
“I have missed you much, Sleipnir!” Thor laughed before putting the foal back on the ground. It ran back and forth between its mother and Thor as the mare ambled over. Even though she walked to great Thor, her eyes stayed on Volstagg, glaring.
Volstagg forced himself to ignore the apprehension that her glare aroused in him. He was invisible to Thor, which was really the important part.
Thor was now petting his horse, gently detangling her long white mane and smoothing the dust from her coat in a manner that looked more like a caress than grooming. Point one for Fandral’s theory of secret bestial love. Volstagg sincerely hoped that would not be what he witnessed when they walked into the woods this day. He psychologically prepared himself for the possibility anyhow.
Nothing could have prepared him for what happened next, however. “Brother, you would not believe what happened in Royal Audience today.”
Did Thor say brother? Volstagg decided he must have misheard.
The horse did not acknowledge the statement. Of course she didn’t. She was a horse. She didn’t even follow Thor out of the pasture.
But then Thor nudged her. “Loki, come on.” Volstagg hoped that Thor has just decided to name the horse Loki due to some misplaced guilt about not finding his brother. “I have much to tell you. Sif returned from the sorcerers of Vanaheim this morning with our transformed spymaster. He is indistinguishable from one of those Jotun beasts that they keep in the palace there. He is to leave tomorrow and I am in need of your counsel . . .”
Thor was cut off by the horse biting him.
“Brother, I thought you had stopped that after you gave birth. There is no need to bite. We will be by our waterfall soon enough.”
The horse nudged Thor again and looked directly at Volstagg, who scrambled up and tried to hide behind a tree.
Thor followed the horse’s gaze, squinting. “There’s nothing there, Loki. Come on. We don’t have much time until sunset.”
As much as Volstagg hoped for another explanation, the evidence was irrefutable. Thor wasn’t in love with the horse - he thought the horse was his brother. Volstagg didn’t relish the thought of persuading the prince to get help from mindhealers. This whole spy business had been Sif’s idea. She’d just have to do it. No amount of meat pie would convince Volstagg on this occasion.
Volstagg made to follow Thor and his horse down the lane, but then the horse did the unexpected and nudged Thor towards the saddle racks.
“You want me to ride you?” Thor asked. “I thought you were still sore from the birth.”
The horse whinnied. It was definitely communicating with Thor and it had enough of a personality to scare Volstagg. He supposed he could see why Thor might decide that an unusually intelligent horse was his missing brother. It was crazier than a bag full of thraberbeasts, but slightly less insane than thinking that of an ordinary horse.
After more prodding by the horse, Thor had put the saddle on and was climbing onto the horse’s back. Volstagg cursed his lack of foresight, for when Thor and the horse galloped away, the foal not far behind, he had no means to follow them.
Volstagg trudged back to the castle and to their private training area where he could wash off the infernal golden grease. After far too long under the hot water, he emerged to find not only Sif, but Hogun and Fandral waiting for him in their gathering room.
Fandral laughed, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe some lingering gold grease from behind Volstagg’s ear.
“I thought we were going to keep this between the two of us,” Volstagg complained to Sif. If the whole group was involved, it only made sense to send Hogun to do the snooping. Other than Loki, he was the best at stealth. And Fandral probably would have relished wandering around the woods naked. Not to mention he had less hair to get the stupid grease stuck in.
“Well, the matter has become more urgent,” Sif replied. “Though our spymaster has not returned, the sentries have reported more disturbing news from Jotunheim. King Laufey has not been seen in the palace in some time and neither have his top lieutenants. The Council has proposed sending an investigation. Thor has suggested we sleep on the decision, as always, but if he is indeed being controlled by an external force, we must find out before he is allowed to make this decision. Sending additional troops, even a small group, could cripple our goodwill with the Jotuns.”
“It’s not an external force we should be worried about,” Volstagg mumbled. In truth, he felt uncomfortable bringing up Thor’s insanity to the entire group. Thor was like a brother to Volstagg and he deserved to have his dignity intact. But if what Sif said was true, he had no choice but to act. They couldn’t trust someone with such mental instability to lead.
“Then what did you discover?” Sif demanded.
“Thor thinks that his horse is Loki.”
“What?!” Fandral exclaimed, jumping out of his chair. “It cannot be.”
“I saw it with my own eyes. Thor called the horse both brother and Loki and talked to it as though it were a person.”
“I talk to my horse sometimes,” Fandral scoffed. “It’s natural. The beasts are soothed by it.” He looked to Hogun for support, who nodded. “I talk to my horse as well.”
“No, not like that,” Volstagg protested. “Thor did not just talk to the horse. He listened as though it had the authority to make decisions for him.”
“I refuse to believe it,” Fandral replied. “Maybe he was playing a prank on you. Maybe the concealment did not work and he knew you were there all along.”
“Thor keep a serious face when I was standing there naked and painted gold? I think not.”
“Maybe it’s a special horse,” Hogun offered.
“Of maybe it is Thor that’s special,” Volstagg argued. “Maybe it’s all just getting to him - the Odinsleep, palace responsibilities, the fact that he couldn’t find Loki in a whole season of searching.”
“Are you suggesting that he has somehow lost his mind?” Hogun asked, frowning and disdainful.
Volstagg stiffened. “I’m suggesting that maybe Thor, at the moment, does not have the . . . facilities to lead us into a potential conflict with Jotunheim.”
Fandral stood, hand on his sword. Of all the warriors, Fandral had always been the most loyal to Thor. Volstagg suspected it was because Thor and Fandral had once been lovers, or it could just be the strange sense of ‘chivalry’ that Fandral had picked up while mucking around on Midgard. He’d also picked up a strange hat and a love of wearing tights at the time. “What you speak of is treason.”
Volstagg shrugged. “Report me to the queen, then. Half the kingdom is already worried about his behavior. She will take my side.”
“There should be no taking sides!” Fandral spat. “You swore an oath to the crown and to your prince.”
“I did not swear an oath to follow into battle a man who thinks his horse to be his brother. Thor is my prince and my friend and what we need to do is to help him recover from this foolishness, not pretend all is normal.”
Fandral withdrew his hand from the hilt of his sword in order to pace nervously. “As Thor’s First Guardians and his close council, we have been afforded privileges. But don’t think for a second that if you act against him, Thor or anyone at court will suffer you. Sif, back me up on this.”
It was then that Volstagg realized how quiet the normally outspoken Sif had been. Her eyes bore into Volstagg in a way that many others found intimidating, but Volstagg was accustomed to it.
“Sif?” he asked. “You must believe me. He was treating the horse as his brother.”
Sif raised an eyebrow. “And how do you know that Loki is not the horse.”
“The horse gave birth to a foal, Sif,” Fandral jumped in, seeming to forget that Sif was on his side of this particular argument.
“It is an eight-legged foal,” Hogun pointed out. “It was produced of magic.”
“So you’re telling me that Loki submitted to being pregnant with a horse? And he let Thor ride him around for a whole year?” Fandral scoffed. “I’d sooner believe that Thor is insane.”
“Maybe it was an accident,” Sif replied. “Remember that I used to be a blonde before Loki said he knew a spell to help smooth my hair?”
“We were young then,” Fandral said. “He was less developed in his magic.”
“Or what about that giant crater on Fliag Hill? Or the big scar on Thor’s rear from when Loki made Hogun’s dagar come alive? Loki experiments with magic and sometimes his experiments do not end in glory. It does not matter his motivation. It may even be that the real horse is somewhere else and Loki is pretending to be the horse for now. Thor’s odd behavior only started after the foal’s birth. Irregardless, the excuses to leave, the suggestion about transforming the spymaster - they all stink of Loki’s influence.”
“Fine,” Fandral admitted. “What do you suggest we do about it?”
Sif grinned. “Confront him, of course.”
Volstagg shuddered. “I’m not certain I would like Thor to know that I was spying on him.”
Sif rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to confront Thor. If it turns out he really is having a mental crisis, I don’t want to show my hand. And if Loki is manipulating him, confronting Thor will only make him stubborn and defensive.”
“Thor is always stubborn,” Volstagg pointed out.
“True. Tomorrow, I’m going to confront Loki. You will all keep Thor busy in training while I’m down at the stables.”
Volstagg groaned. Tomorrow they would either have Loki back or Sif would be the second crazy person talking to a horse.
***
Sif had bowed out of sparring practice, easily bewildering a disappointed Thor with talk of her female cycle and how she felt like eating cacapo fruit instead of beating his face to a pulp. Now, she approached the stables, determined to finally understand everything that had been happening with Thor recently.
The horse was in the pasture with the herd when she arrived. It gave her a long look before returning to the grass it had been eating. The foal showed more interest, but Sif did not have time to do much more than give it a few pats on the head before she walked back around the stables to the small house that served as quarters for the stable hands.
A young stable boy with blond hair and freckles answer the door almost immediately upon hearing Sif’s strong knock.
“Lady Sif!” he stammered, bowing awkwardly, “what is it you require today?”
“I have need of a horse.”
“Of course!” the boy squeaked, quickly retrieving his muddy stable shoes. “I will saddle one for you right away.”
Sif smirked. “I’m afraid I will need more than just you for this task. Please assemble your fellows and meet me by main pasture.”
“But those horses are retired or nursing, Lady Sif.”
“That may be, but I have a particular horse in mind.”
The boy’s bright green eyes widened. “You do not mean . . .”
“Yes, I mean to ride the white mare that Prince Thor brought here to foal.”
“But, that horse belongs to the prince. He would not have you ride it.”
Sif put on her most intimidating glare, narrowing her eyes at the poor trembling boy. “You would dare presume to know the wishes of the prince above one of his First Guardians? You know I serve as Prince Thor’s lieutenant in battle and I am in need of a special horse.”
“But . . . but . . . Prince Thor said . . .”
“Oh, shall we interrupt the Court then, so a stable boy can explain to Prince Thor why he has not carried out the orders sent with his second? Is the word of one war councilor not enough? Should I ask Sir Tyr to call for a vote?”
“No, Lady Sif,” the boy panted in terror. “I will call my fellow stable hands and we will retrieve the white mare for you. Though I must warn you - she does not take the bit even with Prince Thor and she has never permitted anyone else to ride her.”
Sif did not need the headache of being thrown from a horse or bitten. “I require a harness and a lead. No saddle for the moment.”
Luckily the boy was so overwhelmed by Sif’s presence that he had forgotten that she had been determined to ride the horse only moments ago. He scurried off, returning with four other boys. Not one of them could be a day over 500.
“I apologize, my lady, but the head stable hand, the healer, and two of the others are at market.”
“This will do,” Sif said stiffly, making it seem as though she was not pleased with their showing.
Each of the boys grabbed a length of rope, and one of them the halter and lead. Sif led them behind the barn and down the road so they could approach from behind the trees that formed a natural fence by the roadside. If the horse really was Loki, she didn’t want to give him the chance to escape.
She was glad for the precaution when they all broke through the trees and rushed at the side-gate to the pasture. The horse gave them one look before running at the fence, clearly preparing to leap it.
“Stop!” Sif shouted. “You would run away and leave your child here?”
The horse stopped and turned abruptly, rushing them. A few of the stable boys dove to the side, but Sif stood her ground. “You know he still needs nursing,” Sif replied. “There is no guarantee that he will take milk from another horse or from a bottle.”
The horse stopped in front of her, staring. The eyes were a familiar shade of green, coated in a familiar cold anger. Sif began to doubt less and less that this horse was, in fact, Loki or that Loki had born the foal from his own body.
Sif motioned to one of the boys to try with the halter, but the horse reared up, knocking him back and kicking Sif in her breastplate with one of its powerful legs. Sif choked on her breath, but remained standing.
“I know what you are and I am stubborn. You know that I will expose you.” She pulled out the enchanted skystone dagar she had stolen from Thor earlier this morning. It would cut through any enchantment. “So you can either come with me willingly, or have me cut you now and we can see how you bleed in your true form.”
“Lady Sif!” one of the stable boys protested. “You cannot threaten the Prince’s horse.”
If it were an ordinary horse it could hardly be threatened at all. Sif lowered her voice, deadlier than a shout. “I see not how the affairs of the First Guardians are of concern to you.”
“I will tell Prince Thor! He loves his horse dearly. He will not be pleased.”
“Tell him, then. For now, hand me the halter and take your leave!”
The boy obeyed with shaking hands. The group backed away, but none left to report to Thor as vowed.
Sif returned her attention to the horse. “You will let me put this on you and you will follow me.”
The horse snorted and made Sif stand on her toes in order to secure the halter, but did not otherwise resist, even when she tugged hard on the lead. When they made to leave, the foal tried to follow, but Sif motioned for the stable boys to restrain it. It whinnied in distress, but Sif ignored it. She needed her full attention on Loki and whatever tricks he might pull.
“There’s no use in resisting,” Sif pointed out as she lead the horse down the lane towards the small pasture and barn where Sif and the warriors three left their horses if they were going to stay in the palace overnight. “I know what you are doing, trickster, and I think you will find me more forgiving when I have an explanation.”
The second Sif had closed the barn door behind her, the form of the horse seemed to flicker for a moment. It was impossible to gaze at or perhaps impossible to comprehend, but a moment later, it was not the horse standing there, but Loki, holding the halter in his hands and naked as the day he was born.
Sif did not blush. She had seen Loki naked on many an occasion - bathing in a stream after a long day’s ride or stripping out of bloodstained clothes or even on a few occasions, drunkenly indulging himself with a maiden or an attractive man while the group celebrated in the back room of a tavern. She just rolled her eyes and tossed him one of the stable blankets. It no doubt smelled of the barn, but if Loki was now spending his days as a horse, he should not complain.
“So, Lady Sif, you have unmasked me.” Loki grinned that grin that was not a grin at all, but rather a slightly unhinged threat. “What is of such importance that drives you to do so?”
Loki always knew how to push Sif to the limit of her patience and that grin combined with his loose, apathetic demeanour were enough to drive her to it. She drew her fist back and punched Loki hard in the shoulder. “That’s for lying.” She followed up with a punch to the stomach. “That’s for making your poor mother and brother worry.” She slapped him hard in the face. “And that’s for whatever you are currently scheming.” None of the punches were hard enough that Loki couldn’t easily heal the damage, but Sif felt satisfied nonetheless.
After he was sure that Sif was finished, Loki straightened, arm still clasped to his stomach. “Who says I am scheming?”
“The fact that you are controlling Thor’s every move on the War Council, sending spies to Jotunheim, hiding here as a horse!”
“I have been, yes, but I assure you that there is no scheming. Can I not simply be helping my brother to rule?”
“No,” Sif snapped. “You are Loki Silvertongue and you have never simply helped without motive in your life.” Loki had always been jealous of Thor and had always enjoyed manipulation and chaos for the sake of it. He coveted the throne and Sif would not see him lead Thor into destroying his own chances at the kingship.
After a moment glaring at each other, Loki said, “Fine. If you cannot trust my altruism, trust that it is in my best interest to remain in the favor of the man who will sit on the throne.”
“Thor is not king yet. You have time to put in your bid for the title.”
Loki sighed. “It is not a title I want.”
“Then what do you want,” Sif pleaded. “Why stay away from court so long when you knew it would cost you Odin’s favor? Why chew grass and pull Thor around like a puppet when you could be a powerful force in the Royal Court of your own right?”
Loki paused, clearly contemplating his answer, when they heard hoofbeats and a scratching at the barn door. Ignoring Sif’s protests, Loki opened it. A small grey blur on eight legs tumbled into the barn and knocked Loki off his feet in its anxiety to get to him.
To Sif’s surprise, Loki indulged the little horse, letting it settle, legs akimbo, in his lap, while he stoked and soothed it. “It’s alright, little one. I’m here. I would not leave you. You’re safe.” After the foal had calmed and was happily chewing on Loki’s hair, the trickster looked up to glare at Sif. “That was the first time we have been separated.”
Sif nodded, blankly. It was a horse and yet Loki clearly loved the thing.
“To answer your question,” Loki replied. “I left the court because I was with child,” he indicated the foal. “And I have remained away because I cannot leave him.”
It was a difficult answer to accept, but Sif believed him. “And Thor? How long has he known.”
Loki laughed. “Thor can be remarkably obtuse. He did not know until after I gave birth. I could not shapeshift before then.”
“So, you just decided that you wanted to try life as a pregnant horse?” Sif asked. There were tales told about Loki’s strange proclivities, but Sif has always put faith in her companion over the rumors.
“No,” Loki hissed. “I did a service to the Allfather and as a result, I was violently taken by a preternaturally strong stallion. Sleipnir,” he gestured to the foal now dozing in his lap, “was the result.”
Sif gulped. A part of her disliked Loki and mistrusted him, but as a woman, she had always feared exactly what Loki described. Sif could hold her own in armed battle against the toughest warriors in the kingdom, but in a contest of strength they could still overpower her and it only took a single unfocused moment for a man to get enough advantage that strength would be all that mattered. The men of Asgard were great warriors, but they were bawdy and not as enlightened at those of many realms and Sif spent most of her time walking among them at their worst. Sif fought constantly to prove that to be a woman was not a weakness, but the deep-buried fear of being violated was a weakness she could not purge.
She knelt down next to Loki and after a long moment to give him time to reject the touch, put her arm around him. “I am sorry, Loki.”
He looked at her with watery eyes that still refused to shed a tear. “Do you regret your accusations?”
Sif shook her head. “Would you respect me if I were so naive as to not suspect you, of all people, when your behavior invites suspicion?”
Loki sighed. “I suppose you are right. But, Sif, I swear to you it is not a plot. You must not tell anyone what I have done.”
“I’m afraid telling the warriors three will be unavoidable. After Volstagg spied on you and Thor . . .”
Loki smiled. “Yes, that was amusing. Volstagg prowling around naked and covered in gold paste like a fool.”
“I suppose concealment paste does not work on you?”
“No. I hope you did not pay much for it.” In truth, Sif had bartered a few fine tapestries that had been gifted to her for her strength in battle. She blushed. “Even those with the weakest of magic would have seen through that spell. Of course, any magic imbedded in physical objects is weaker than magic performed by a sorceror.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sif replied. “But what concerns me is that last night we decided that either you were masquerading as a horse or Thor had gone insane. If you do not show yourself to the warriors three they will probably try to have Thor sent to the mindhealers.”
“Which is exactly the wrong thing to have happen when we are edging into hostilities with Jotunheim.” Loki spent a moment stroking Sleipnir’s big ears, lost in contemplation. “You may tell them. Perhaps we can all go for a ride for a few days. The Jotun situation will keep and even though Thor is less insane than you imagine, he needs a respite from the affairs of court. But Sif,” he grabbed her wrist, pleading, “you must not tell anyone else, especially my parents. I . . . it is a shameful thing I have allowed to be done to me. I cannot have them know.”
Sif thought about the palace maidens and the serving girls who had been violated and how they blamed themselves for the vices of horrible men. Loki’s situation was different - he had taunted as stallion as a mare in heat, which knowingly invited violent ends. But Sif knew that the girls who blamed themselves sunk deep into places of darkness. Sif usually solved problems by punching or stabbing something or at least threatening to do so, but even if she had the skill, this was a problem without an easy solution. A man as clever as Loki would never believe that what happened was not his fault, but nonetheless it was not something he ever deserved.
“It is not shameful to do what you did for Asgard. If you had not, the builder would have taken Lady Freya and title to Midgard’s sun and the moon as recompense.”
Loki laughed. “There’s not much he could do with title to those things,” Loki replied. “Without the magic of the Casket of Ancient Winters, there is no way for the Jotun to reach Midgard without Heimdall’s permission. And even so, there is no way to move the sun or the moon or change them without magic stronger than the Jotun possess.”
“He had magic,” Sif argued. “Magic enough to disguise himself as an Aesir before he was exposed and killed.”
“There are many ways for the Jotun to conceal themselves and he was a hill-giant so would find it easier than most. But even the frost-giants have access to magics that can transform their toxic skin. The easiest is to gain the love-bond of an Aesir. And no love is strong enough to make magic on the sun and the moon.”
“Still,” Sif argued, “if he had completed the wall, such a structure built of Jotun hands could serve as a portal from Jotunheim into Asgard.”
“It’s good to see that I was not the only one paying attention to the spellmaster’s lessons.”
Sif ignored his praise, needing Loki to see that there was nothing shameful in what he did. “And if you had not acted as you did, the Jotun would have a portal and a disgusting giant would be doing to the Lady Freya what the stallion did to you.”
Loki did not meet Sif’s eyes. His gaze was still haunted and distant, his rhythmic petting of Sleipnir soothing more to himself than the horse. After a long moment, he pushed the foal from his lap and stood, grabbing Sif’s hand to kiss. “Congratulations on uncovering my secret. You are, of course, the cleverest of the lot.”
Sif smiled. “I’m afraid there is not much competition.”
They laughed and looked into each other’s eyes. Loki, for once, looked honestly grateful. And though Sif, much more than the warriors three, only really tolerated Loki for Thor’s sake, she could not help herself. She drew Loki into a tight hug. “We will keep your secret, but remember that Thor is not the only one who has missed you.”
Next Chapter: Fire and Ice