The Great Hall of Asgard was as crowded and noisy as it just could be, filled with men and women, tall and short, young and old, all wearing the most colourful garments which were decorated richly, hiding their faces under the most exquisite masks laughing when one guessed their identity wrong.
Sif lifted her own wooden mask, crafted into an air nymph's likeness with pale blue and misty grey gems scattered across it and sipped into her drink, frowning at the taste.
The wine was a gift of the elves of Alfheim, in whose honour all the people in the Realm Eternal appeared in the hall that day; at least the ones who could move. In itself it wasn't, bad, not really; only the elves always put one spoon too much honey for her taste in the already sweet beverage.
A hand slid down on her back.
"Hey," somebody whispered into her ear. Sif closed her eyes, trying to fight down the urge to gag from the man's breath filled with the scent of too much alcohol and vomit, even though the feast started not two hours ago. "You came alone?"
"That I did."
"Then I believe you won't mind if I join you."
"Actually," she said, smiling, as she pulled her mask back in place. "I would."
And so she raised her goblet high, then poured the stick wine all over the drunkard. Laughter erupted as the man broke out in curses, a few which were not nice at all to her gender, but by that time she had already slipped away into the crowd. She made her way towards the royal family's table where the queen were laughing at something one of her handmaidens said before she was almost shoved aside by a huge man with an even greater belly wearing a roaring lion's face made from gold and bronze, holding the leg of a roasted boar.
"My apologies," Volstagg murmured and pulled his shoulders up in fear when a rather angry looking lady made her way towards him, her scarf out of place, then grabbed him by the ear, forcing the huge warrior to follow her.
"Never in my life have I been so ashamed..."
"My love..."
"You be silent Volstagg Olekson! How can I look into the eye of Freya from this day on? Huh?! You tell me!"
The Hall was starting to grow hotter and hotter by every passing moment. Or was that the wine in work?
Sif stopped in her tracks as she spied Thor dancing in the middle of the room dancing with a woman dressed in white and silver silk, half her face hidden by a crescent moon. He didn't really bother with a costume, or he had already grown weary of it, for nothing covered an inch of his face save for his hair matted by sweat, which implied he had already been dancing for at least an hour.
She didn't like the fair-haired woman, Sif decided as she grabbed another goblet filled with something green this time from the tray of a passing servant.
"Sif?" asked a voice behind her.
"Hogun," she nodded, "How did you know it's me?"
"I saw you back at the small table during that little... Incident. When did you arrive?"
"Just a few hours ago. Midgard looked the most beautiful, her people rather kind, but nor she, neither the people are match to anything Asgard can offer. Well. Mostly. But you know what's Brynnhylde like - I rarely had time to catch my breath."
They were silent for a moment.
"It had been two and a half centuries ago since I left. I only ever got to hear about the lot of you when Thor came to visit me."
"Indeed. That's why I'm surprised you recognised me."
"There is no mistaking you or Volstagg. Fandrall was a little bit harder. And now I hear you are leaving as well."
"Yes. I'm going back to Vanaheim. To visit my family."
"Have a good time. I wish you luck."
"Thank you," he nodded, "And welcome back."
With that he left her alone, but by that time the shieldmaiden's head was ready to burst, so the relative solitude and silence of the balcony was a welcome change.
Looking at the purple sky she realised what is the only thing she will ever likely miss about Midgard - the nights. The real ones when the sun hides and millions of smaller ones replace it. And when clouds cover the sky the darkness is complete and a sort of serenity sits on the world and yet the humming, overwhelming sense that some much greater power is working all around you.
Indeed. Midgard can be just as much a place of magic as Asgard, only of a different sort. A refreshing change if one grows weary of Asgard.
Suddenly the doors opened and music filled the dusk. It was a man, who, judging from his stance, was slightly surprised at finding someone outside.
"I'm sorry," he said finally, "I wasn't aware that somebody is already here."
He made to leave, but she waved.
"It's fine. Stay. All the others are... Otherwise occupied."
"So they are," he nodded, "Only there were indications that they were... Used." With that he took a rigid stance, hands clasped behind his back. Even though the demon mask he wore gave no signs away, Sif felt the uncertainty rolling off him in waves.
"Come closer. You are here for air, aren't you? You won't get much standing there. You are not used to women's presence are you? At least, not this close."
He gave a quick laugh.
"Is it so easy to tell? And I thought it was not that obvious."
"Awfully easy. You would make a terrible liar, it seems."
A tremble ran through his body. Only a second later did she realise that he was laughing.
"That's not something I'm often accused of."
"And what is that you're often accused of?"
"The list is rather long, I assure you. It'd be shorter to say what I'm not, so I'd rather not bore you with it."
"Oh, you wouldn't." He waved, signaling that he found the matters settled.
"It matters not. What are you doing here, instead of enjoying the fine company of those inside?"
"Catching my breath."
"Obviously. Other than that?"
"Escaping the one-night suitors. And you?"
"Escaping stupidity and women. Ofttimes the two come in pairs."
Anger sparkled inside her.
"Oh, really?"
"Would you claim otherwise? Most care about nothing but how their hair sits, whether the Prince," he almost spat that word, "will like their new robes made especially for this event."
"You do not seem to be thinking highly of women. Maybe that's why you have no experience with them."
"Was that the image I created? Pardon me. Of course not all of them are like that .Three of the Five Great Scholars are female, the healers are only to be praised, not to mention the brave valkyries and the Queen. But you cannot deny the rightness of what I said."
"Because the oh-so-mighty men are entirely without fault, yes?"
She could tell he was smirking from the voice.
"Quite the contrary. All say the women are the ones whose thinking is influenced largely by emotions, yet it is the men who would mindlessly rush into battle for a drop of glory. In the former case at least some thinking is done."
"And you think it is wrong to long for glory?"
He was silent for a moment, mask turned downwards.
"One thinks falsely if he seeks glory on battlefield. Nothing is found there only death, blood and pain and the one who claims the true victory and the glory with it is Death. All we get is a reminiscent of it. A cheap sword in place of the finest craftmanship if you wish."
"You have strange ideas."
He shrugged, the leather coat rustling softly.
"I'm more usually blamed for that."
She laughed.
"Anyway. Why do you dislike everybody so?"
"I do not dislike everybody. Only those not worthy of my time."
"Oh? Aren't you a little bit full of yourself?"
"Might be. Yet, wouldn't you find talking about silks and other fabrics all day long a bit dull? Or hammers, for that matter."
"I must admit I would. Hammers are rather barbaric; I'd rather have a good sword, anytime, add in a small shield and you won't find any person happier than I am."
"Well look at that. A shieldmaiden."
"I still have one oath to take."
"Which still makes you a shieldmaiden. Shall I count myself lucky that I have yet to be decapitated for all I said?"
"That you shall. So why don't you go inside and seek the company of the less bloodthirsty maidens?"
"Surely you don't expect me to after all I just told you."
"Stupid company is better than none at all. Or mine, who is your opposite in almost every possible way."
"I beg to differ. I find the company of someone whose mind is not even relatively bright much more frustrating and tiring than if I would be alone."
"You have point there."
The doors slammed open and in fell a drunken laughing pair. The demon-masked stranger made a noise of dissatisfaction before offering her his hand.
"Come; I believe the Norns are working against me and force us to return to that Helhole."
"Indeed. I'd like to disappear before they fall over and we will be accused of murdering them."
"However that is not an unlikely scenario," the man murmured as the pair started laughing pointing at him. Sif quickly tightened her grasp on his hand, pulling him after herself.
"So now that we have returned to the Chamber of Suffering, what would your ladyship like to do?"
"Dance," she blurted out, surprising him, but herself even more. "I mean, is there anything else we can do?" she tried to explain, "Getting drunk is not on the top of my priority list, and it would seem that the more we talk the more likely one will murder the other. Midnight's feast. But of course we don't have to if you don't..." She shut her mouth abruptly. He waved.
"That's fine. I cannot think of anything better either. At least not something which wouldn't include a little bit of chaos or my mother yelling for an hour afterwards for being antisocial." He scoffed. "And then she would be replaced by my father yelling at me for not fulfilling my duty."
"Let me pity you," she said, as she put a hand on his shoulder, "Oh wait. I don't."
"You wound me."
"Trust me, you would notice that. It would include a lot more pain and blood and a sharp piece of metal."
"Wonderful."
Not another word passed between the two as they turned around again and again, to the rhythm of the flute. He even chose to ignore the moments when she, due to lack of experience, stepped on his feet.
But he was rather good.
Scratch that.
He must have been the best in the Hall, leading her through the dancing masses without problem, never missing a beat, moving with the gracefulness of a nightcat.
It was a childhood dream came true.
But like all the best dreams, this ended as well.
It came in the form of five fat cooks and the largest boar eye had ever seen.
"Move it," growled the one who wasn't carrying the tray, tearing the dancing pairs apart including him, angered cries filling the room. She had lost sight of him.
Loki frowned at the ring in his hand. The ring itself was silver, with a ruby sitting in the middle, elegant, but surprisingly powerful looking.
He sighed.
He paid good money for his new pair of gloves.
And he didn't even get her name.
"Sif!" exclaimed Thor loudly when she entered the training area. She put her fist across her chest as customary and bowed.
"My prince. It is good to see you again."
"No need for that, and you know it," laughed the blonde, before grabbing her hand like when they were children and pulled her across the field to a black-haired man twirling a dagger in his hand with a book in the other.
"Brother!" he yelled, overflowing with excitement. "Look who came to join us! I'm sure we will see her more often than you."
Loki snapped his book closed and sighed standing up.
"Do not yell, you great oaf, I'm right next to you. Lady Sif." he said, bowing his head slightly. "Welcome back to Asgard. It's a pleasure to see you again."
"The pleasure is mine," she replied, returning the bow. Loki froze for a moment, then barely visibly shook his head, his eyes fixed on her.
"Do I have something on my face?"
"No. Not at all."
"Come on Sif," said the crown prince, "I still have many people to introduce to you."
Yaaay, it's up! Written in August, it only took like... Three and a half? Four months? To update it.
Does the Sif - Loki pairing have an official name? If not, I want it to be SwordTricks. Or Swords&Tricks. Or whatever.