Surprisingly, her home become a go-to point for the Odinson's whenever Odin and Frigga had to leave the capital, which was quite often actually, for an Aesir. The children came around at least twice a year for at least a week at a time. Sif would play with Thor, and Loki would enjoy time with Fenris – Fang – down by the waters of the Sea of Jord. Unless she was busy or otherwise occupied, Elizabeth would join him, and they would spend time together.
Of course, that also meant, with Loki's very apparent aptitude later on, magic lessons.
Loki had most of his tuition with his own mother, but the magic that Elizabeth worked with was completely different – and finding Loki had that kind of magic was a welcome surprise. Sif herself cared more for her fighting lessons, which she took to with grace, even with her recent start at a Young Ladies School in the capital that she went to for the first three days of the week. Loki and Thor went to lessons as well, but as Princes they had private tutors, though the former liked telling Sif about the things she wasn't learning in Young Ladies School, like the politics and private histories of Asgard, which Elizabeth herself liked to eavesdrop on, on occasion. It was quite fascinating.
The highlight of Elizabeth's years though were the reports the teachers sent back with Sif every Yule. Apparently she was 'loud, boisterous, insensitive, incompetent, rebellious', and a few other adjectives. And each and every Yule, they seemed to forget who Elizabeth was on Asgard – it was quite amusing to face the stuttering, decrepit old crones who couldn't get a word out in her presence. According to Sif, everyone wanted to have her as a mother. Elizabeth felt very proud at that.
She started teaching Sif magic at that point. The little warrior was uneasy though, so didn't use it much, which Elizabeth found herself disappointed with, for some reason. She'd supported Sif in everything she chose, from her hair to her profession – but why did her daughter discriminating against magic make her feel so uneasy? Ill even?
Sif had more growths spurts as the decades went by. At age one hundred and fifty, she was the equivalent to a ten or eleven year old, or thereabouts. She was lithe, with fair, silky hair that all her peers admired, wielded the Sword of Gryffindor when she trained with her mother adequately for such a dangerous blade, and enjoyed treacle tart, which Elizabeth had perfected less than a decade earlier finally. She'd forayed into many arts, forgetting to keep her cooking skills up to scratch until one day she got served a pudding which reminded her of her original life as the Dursley's slave, and she forced half her golems into the cleaning business as she went into a twenty-year long cooking frenzy.
One day, Elizabeth was walking through the manor, her homemade equivalent to a custard cream in hand, when she heard the music coming from their ballroom. She went in, opening the door silently and watching as Sif tried to dance along to the Mozart piece and just not getting the hand of dancing without instruction, even her fun spins lacking that lustre in which a child spins. Her face was slowly filling with frustration and hurt, so Elizabeth decided to intervene.
"You need to place your feet quicker and lighter if you want to dance like that," she spoke up softly, catching her daughter's attention.
"Mama, oh, I'm sorry-" she went to turn it off, but Elizabeth made it keep on playing, finishing her custard cream and taking Sif's hands, helping her dance to the beat.
"It's a dance, just like your sword-fighting. Every move you make has to correspond to your partners – even if that partner is invisible. Watch me." She started to move, Sif watching her closely and trying to copy, only for Elizabeth to stop her. "No, you don't understand. Dance…it's like being on the training field with thousands of others, practicing the same move in sync with everybody else, to the beat of the drums. See, my foot goes back, and yours follows – see?"
Sif frowned, "I think so?"
Elizabeth went to speak more, only for the door to bang open.
"Sif! Lady Sága! You must come join us for sparring!" Thor came bounding in, Sif immediately stepping back from her mother, hands going to her side. Elizabeth eyed her before turning to the newcomer, seeing Loki just outside the door.
"Loki, come inside, and shut the door behind you." He did, both he and his brother seeming confused at this. "Thor, if you would come over here please – Loki, go to Sif." The two boys exchanged glances, before their eyes went to the music player. Thor made a dash for the door, but Elizabeth had already locked it with magic, smirking.
"I assume then, you have already had a foray into public dancing."
Thor turned, face panicked. "I-I-I order you to let me go! As Prince of Asgard!"
Elizabeth chuckled, rubbing her hands together, thanking Merlin she'd worn an Earth-styled summer dress today.
"Let me give you a wager, Thor. If you can pull off one dance with either me or my daughter without a single mistake, then I will let you go." He looked relieved at this. "However…if you get one step wrong, you will be required to stay here until you and Sif can both dance one of my favourite traditional dances from Midguard."
"Mama, you don't mean-" Sif sounded relieved.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "No, I do not mean the simple Waltz I've had you know how to do blindfolded since you were old enough to speak. I mean the St Bernard's Waltz. It is still quite simple – easier than even a normal Waltz at times. You know it, Sif – forward, forward, forward, up-down; back, back, step inwards, step inwards-"
Thor looked terrified, though Loki was only frowning lightly. Sif, who knew this one, though hadn't a lot of experience with it, only made a slightly disgruntled face. Seeing Loki's expression, Elizabeth looked at him.
"The offer stands for you as well, Loki."
Loki came forward slowly, glancing at the gramophone as it changed to the appropriate music. He came up to Sif, bowing stiffly before holding out his hand. Sif took it graciously, curtseying in her dress. She was wearing one of her nicer, colourful peasant dresses today – green, mostly, with blue silk sleeves and light purple and blue silk over-skirts. Obviously made for a child, with no real embellishments – it was probably perfect for practice in dancing. Loki himself was in his usual tunic, green shirt and trousers, shoes having vacated his feet at the front door, as was the rule for children who ventured further into the house. Sif had no shoes or stockings on, feet bare, her soft blonde hair pulled up in a low, loose bun.
"So it goes like this – just follow my lead," Sif ordered quietly, Loki nodding as she led him through the dance. It really was quite simple, Elizabeth only having to correct her once before they stopped and looked at her.
"I'll restart the music, and then you have to dance your way in a decent-sized oval around the room." The two nodded in unison, and Elizabeth was struck by the similarities in their appearances before she blinked and shook her head, restarting the music. As they danced, she kept half an eye on them, before she went over to the stiff Thor.
"Are you really that bad?" She asked in good humour, but he scowled at her. "Oh, come on – you can't be that bad. Come on." She held her hands out, but he only glared at them. "Come on, is the mighty Thor really going to be defeated by a measly dance?"
Thor, at the insult, puffed up, just like his father, stepping forward and taking her hands tight.
"Ah ah-" she pulled away, spinning and changing her summer dress into a simple ball-gown, curtseying deeply. "The Crown Prince does not steal pretty women for dancing – he asks like a gentleman. Remember Thor, if you were not of high station and grabbed a women's hand, she would be entitled to do anything she wished to you – including castration," she warned darkly, causing the blonde to falter before he picked himself up and straightening, bowing.
"Milady, if you could do me the honour?" He held out his hand, and Elizabeth nodded.
"Very good. Now, which dance are we doing? Would you like to do what Sif and Loki are doing, or something else?" She glanced over at the pair, smiling at seeing they were smiling widely, laughing as they played around, doing silly pirouettes and turns.
Thor smiled at their exuberance. "I want to do the Berands Waltz too!"
Elizabeth chuckled, "First of all, get the name right. St Bernard's Waltz. Second, do you know where your hands go?"
Thor paused, before blushing slightly, shaking his head. Elizabeth smiled, before taking his right hand, coming closer and pressing it to her waist.
"No lower, and no higher, ever," she said in a serious voice, getting a solemn nod. "Usually on a woman, where you put your hand would be in the curve of her waist, and unless she is taller than you, like I am, if you get it wrong your hand should either drift into place naturally, or drift downwards, which is very improper." Her eyes sparkled before she clasped his other hand. "Always up and straight, unless you're doing a lift and turn, or something else silly. Got it?" Another nod came. "Good, now, nod to the beat so I know you aren't tone-deaf."
It seemed that was when they had the problem, as he didn't know what a beat was, but she soon fixed that right up.
"What's this?" Came an unfamiliar voice later on, when Thor was prancing around the room with Sif, Loki dancing with Elizabeth. Upon hearing the voice, all looked up, Thor and Loki dropping their partners and exclaiming.
"Mother!" They then proceeded to run over, barrelling into her as Sif came up to grab Elizabeth's hand.
"Mama, that's Queen Frigga!" She bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, seeming both terribly excited and nervous beyond comprehension. Elizabeth nodded quickly, recognising her from likenesses sold around Asgard as they slowly approached.
"You must be the Lady Sága," Frigga smiled at her, prompting both Elizabeth and Sif to curtsey. "Oh, enough formalities – you are a good friend to my husband, and your daughter a confidence of both my sons. We should have met long ago – and every time you see our dear acquaintance, Iðunn, I seem to miss you."
Elizabeth stood, smiling, "You are friends with Iðunn?" Elizabeth took to visiting the Goddess of Immortality regularly after Sif started going to school, Iðunn having lived longer than anyone else ever in the history of Asgard.
"Indeed," the Queen nodded, before looking at her sons, "So what did I stumble in upon? Is that music I hear?"
Loki gave an infectious grin, "We were dancing, Mother! Völva taught us how to do a Midguardian dance! May we dance it at the next ball?"
Thor nodded, "Yes Mother! Tis a great dance that would honour the halls of Asgard!" He nodded along, making Frigga glance up to look at the proud Elizabeth.
"You seem to be a strong influence on my boys, Lady Sága. How would you like to join me for afternoon tea? Your daughter could join Thor and Loki around the palace if she wished."
Sif, Thor and Loki looked thrilled at the prospect, "Mama, please can we go?" Sif pleaded, widening her eyes. Elizabeth immediately caved, not even bothering to put up a resistance. She'd been itching to meet the Queen anyway after all of Odin's drinks and meals here with her. It was almost as if she were a friend of the Royal Family – but that would only happen if she got Frigga's seal of approval.
"You'll have to change, and so will I, I believe," she replied lightly, causing Sif to light up. Looking to Frigga, she smiled, "I'd be honoured to come, and I'm sure Sif will enjoy exploring unknown territory. If you could wait maybe, in the entrance hall, or one of the neighbouring sitting rooms-"
But that was when Morag came in, screeching.
Elizabeth didn't fail to catch the dropping bird, connecting with her as she saw images of pirates and assassins about to attack the cove, the large vessel which Frigga had travelled in, based outside of the wards on fire, the Royal Guard dead. Morag let out a pitiful caw, and she felt blood soak her dress as she returned it to normal.
"Sif, take Their Highnesses to the bunker, now!" She commanded, healing her raven just as her kneazle-leopards came prancing in, Fenris – Fang- oh what the hell Fenris – loping in behind them, by now almost as big as a bear, but silent as a breeze. Frigga seemed shocked by their appearances, but gladly took it in her stride – most Aesir nowadays called Fenris an abomination, and they'd never liked her big cats. "Loki! Tell Fenris he's to protect you with his life – Saria, Ronan, with me!" She looked up, sending out a mental wave of calm to the now-panicking fairies that lit the ballroom. "Sweethearts, calm down, I'm not going to let them hurt you. Shh, shh…" they quieted, before Sif got the Royals to grab her bracelet as it glowed blue from the emergency portkey, Loki gripping Fenris' fur tightly as they disappeared.
Looking down at Morgan, she placed the raven on the ground, healing him again. He got up, immediately flying off. Looking at her kneazle-leopard's, she changed her summer dress into a tunic and leggings, summoning the Sword of Gryffindor to her hand from Sif's room and shutting her eyes, focusing.
All those years ago, during those two years on Jotunheim, Laufey hadn't left her undefended.
A grin spread across her face as she felt the dimensional armour snap into place over her skin. A glance down saw the icy star-metal strapped over her skin like a second-skin, only tightening as she magically removed her tunic and leggings. Quickly, the engraved, blood-splattered metal covered her entire body, going all the way up to her neck before an icy crown wrapped itself around her head, hair tumbling around her face as she ran for the door, speaking in a hush to her kneazle-leopards.
"Saria, Ronan – basically, we've got pirate assassins after Frigga and the boys. We kill all but one, then search their ship. Let's go!" And then she slammed her front doors open, running across the sand, reaching deep inside, turning Jotun blue and freezing the Sea of Jord as she ran across towards the invaders, slamming the sword of Gryffindor into the stomach of a rower.
The attack lasted barely five minutes.