The Shield-Maiden
Disclaimer: Thor, Sif and any other characters and locations in this story, belong to Marvel.
The clash of dulled blades echoed through the air. Drops of perspiration rolled off the two combatants in the bright sunlight. The duel had gone on for some time, even though they both knew they would be in trouble if caught. They had slipped out of their individual lessons to make time for their weapons practice. Thankfully, the secluded glade where they alway met to practice was not accessible by the general population, only the royal family had authority to go there, and some higher-ranking members of Odin and Frigga's court. The golden-haired combatant seemed to gain the upper hand, as the slimmer, black-haired figure fell back a few steps. The blond pressed his advantage, bearing down on his opponent...
"Oof!" Thor cried out as he fell to the ground, the wind knocked out of him.
Sif was having difficulty supressing laughter as she offered her hand to pull him to his feet.
Thor dusted himself off, trying to look annoyed, but he could never stay angry at his best friend for long.
"Another bout?" He asked, unwilling to admit that he had lost. "I lost my balance a moment ago, it will not happen again!"
Sif rolled her eyes. "It happens every time I use that move on you, Thor. Whenever you think you're winning, you let your guard down."
Thor shrugged. "At least I am not going against my parents' wishes by training in the first place!" He smiled, to show Sif his words were only a jest. She frowned nonetheless.
Her parents had been willing to let her 'play' at being a warrior when she was younger, but for the past year, they had become very insistent about her becoming more ladylike, all but forcing her to take lessons in dancing and sewing, and other 'suitable' pastimes for a fourteen-year old maiden. The problem was, she didn't want to be a young lady! Her ambition was to be a warrior, not some hearth-goddess, but her parents refused to understand that. So she had taken to sneaking off with Thor to practice, whenever he wasn't in his own lessons, or spending time with his younger brother, Loki. Sif tended to borrow his old tunics and trousers to practise in. They never truly fitted her- Thor was too tall, but they were more suitable than the delicate gowns her mother insisted she wear. (These borrowed garments were hidden under a loose floorboard in her chambers when they weren't being worn.)
Women in Asgard, especially those born of nobility, were never permitted to learn to use weapons, so her training- and ambitions- had to be kept secret until she found a way to make her dreams reality. Thor had been her best friend for as long as either of them could remember, so she knew that, Crown Prince or not, he wouldn't betray her. (She shuddered to think of the trouble he would get into with his parents if it was discovered that he had encouraged her.) The only other person who might know of her secret was her much-older brother, Heimdall, but as he rarely came into Asgard proper, she thought she was safe enough.
"Sif?" Thor's face developed its own frown when she did not answer him. She smirked slightly at his expression, and without warning, tackled him.
"Why, you little...!"
An impromptu wrestling match began, both of them grappling for the upper hand, trying to pin the other to the floor. After several minutes, amid much laughter, they decided to call it a draw. They got to their feet slowly, trying to brush dried mud and blades of grass from their clothes and hair, without much success. Sif laughed at Thor- his hair was a birds' nest, and he didn't even know he had a huge smear of mud on his face!
"Don't know what you're laughing at." Thor smirked. "You have twigs in your hair, and your tunic is torn!"
Sif gasped, beginning to pull twigs out of her black braid. "I have to go home for lunch in a few minutes! How am I going to explain how my clothes got torn?"
"You will need to explain far more than that, young lady."
Sif went pale upon hearing the furious, feminine voice. She looked at Thor desperately. He shook his head, an apologetic expression on his face. Sif steeled herself, and turned around.
"Hello, Mother."