Chapter 4 – A Rainbow's Light

By SaintClaire

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The bridge was beautiful in the early light, the sun splitting the essence of the rainbows in the glass into a myriad of gleaming colours that shone softly over Sif's armour as she walked.

Heimdall was waiting for her at the end of the bridge, silently observing the heavens that filled his visions. Like a small child, Sif wanted nothing more than to run to her brother, through herself into his arms, and have him reassure her that she was not a bad person for wanting to give in to Loki.

But the time for childishness was long gone, and instead she came to silent halt at his side, observing what of the world around her that she could see. So beautiful. So peaceful. Under Loki's hand, it could flourish or fall, and she had the horrible feeling that it would come down to her to make up his mind.

Loki's plans were only half formed. The decision would fall to her choice before he decided upon the rest of actions. Her armour clanked quietly, as she came to a halt beside Heimdall, she had lost a buckle that bound her breastplate to the plates that guarded her ribs. She stood there, in the colourful light for some minutes, observing the birds that flew, in the space above the ocean's end, the jumbled symphony of songs in perfect accordance with her tangled nerves.

Heimdall cleared his throat and shifted, finally turning to look at her. The rumbling baritone was comforting and familiar, but the words spoken were filled with unease.

"He plans something." She met his eyes, staring back at her brother with the same intensity he viewed her with.

"Yes, he does. And he wants my help with it."

Heimdall nodded, crossing his arms more firmly as his gaze shifted back to the sights in front of him. They knew each other well. To well to pretend they didn't know the other's intentions, or to lie with half-truths and indecision. He knew roughly of the tangled history Loki and Sif had kept, turning a blind eye to many of her decisions in respect. But at the moment, she didn't need respect, she needed his opinion. His honest opinion, not that there was much difference.

He glanced back at her for a moment, giving a slight half-smile, which gave her some comfort, though his next words did not. "You do not need my council. The King and Trickster both hold your loyalty."

Sif's expression was one of horrified dismay, her face falling further as he continued. "I will not judge you, whatever you decide."

Her brother's words were kind, but they did not help her come to a decision. Loki had given a choice to Sif, she couldn't expect to pass the burden onto her brother, it was not honourable. She would have to decide by herself. Heimdall had sworn his loyalty to Odin, she couldn't expect him to betray his leigelord for her sake.

Heimdall seemed to be on track with her thoughts, he shifted uncomfortable, face clouding over in concern. Steeling herself, she waited for the next words. She didn't have to wait long.

"I cannot allow a branded traitor to the realm to slip past my King." His gaze shifted, eyes flicking back and forth between Sif and the ocean. He sighed, continuing, "But I will not betray you. I must warn Odin that Loki is in danger of escaping, but I will not give your name over."

Her shoulders slumped in release, she was suddenly able to stand tall, able to face her brother again. "Thank you. I know how much it means to you."

He hummed in response, and the pair went back to standing in silence, watching the birds, until Heimdalls voice split the air again, like an axe through rock, rough and gravelling. "But you will have to make a choice. I cannot make it for you."

Voice close to cracking, tears pricked behind her eyes, though they did not fall. "But what if I make the wrong choice?"

Heimdall did not answer right away, continuing to observe the heavens around him while he considered what she said. When at last the rumbling baritone rang out, she felt something burn, in the pit of her belly.

"Then you will have the loyalty of the one that you did choose. And you will have mine, however much it is worth."

Slipping her hand into his, they stood together, as brother and sister above the peak of the abyss that the sea fell into. Birds shrieked overhead, calling their shrill cries out to ocean, which pounded into the cliffs and statues it surrounded. When Sif finally worked up the will to speak, she knew she was not just answering his blessing of loyalty, but another's.

"It is worth everything."


Frigga was sitting in her rooms reading when Odin came stomping in. He roared, his anger booming around the rooms as he paced back and forth, shouting half-formed oaths and curses against Loki's name. From what she was finally able to gather, Loki was about to gather an ally, though Heimdall was not able to be sure of who it was.

The Queen had learned the value of patience well over the centuries, she used it now, waiting quietly until her husband finally calmed down enough for him to through down his weapons and approach her.

"You must speak to all his friends. Anyone, anyone you can think of!" He ranted on, swearing against anyone foolish enough to help Loki, leaving Frigga's head reeling. She grew deaf to Odin's rant's, her mind focusing on one thought - someone wanted to help her son. Heimdall had sworn that the person who might help Loki would not do so at the expense at bringing Asgard down. Someone wanted to help her son. He would not accept help from her, nor comfort, nor anything else she was desperate to give. Whoever this person was - she would not allow Odin to throw them in cells for helping Loki. If she couldn't help her son, she would make sure whoever would was able to.

In a sudden movement, Odin surprised her by swiftly kneeling by her feet, taking both her hands in his. "I know you have not yet been able to cast Loki out of your heart as your son. But my dear, there is nothing more important than keeping the realm safe from Loki. Nothing. If there is anyone you can think of who mode side with him, friends, allies, women, anyone, you must tell me. We must keep them away, make an example of what happens to those who are traitor's to their King."

Outwardly Frigga smiled, cupping his face and assuring him that she would be aware. At Odin's prompting of women, a name had occurred to her, a name that not many people would couple with Loki's. She knew who Heimdall's 'threat' was, and this would explain why he hadn't been able to give a name. She promised her husband she would not compromise Asgard's safety, and Thor's future kingdom for Loki. But inwardly, her nerves became steel, her resolve became iron. Someone wanted to help her son. Wether her husband wanted it or not, she would do everything she could to help them. She would not abandon him again.


Wine flowed freely across the table, drunken laughter ringing across the hall. Sif fidgeted uncomfortably in her dress, feeling vulnerable in the thin silk. She would have far preferred to wear armour to the celebrations, even ceremonial armour, but it was not acceptable for a women to dress as such for a special occasion.

The celebration was not particularly a momentous one, merely an acknowledgement of a great battle that had taken place several decades ago. Tonight marked the 50th year from the end of the battle, when Thor had slain the great chief and the rebellion crumbled around them.

Sif had been at the battle. She, with the warriors three had fought at Thor's flanks, slaughtering countless monsters that had been foolish enough to cross their path's. Loki had fought alone, at the tree line, raising dead vines from the dirt, restoring them green and full of vigour, and the vines had flown high into the air, to the very tops of the trees and hung the rebels by their ankles until the battle ended.

His name was not mentioned once during the celebratory speeches.

Thor was praised time and time again, she and the Warriors Three were congratulated and spoken of, their personal triumphs of the battle spoken sung for every one to hear. No-one mentioned the dark haired prince who had hung the men from the tree-tops.

Since her conversation with Heimdall, Sif had been oddly quiet, unsure of what to do and what to say. She had a great deal to think about, and was nowhere near a decision. Thinking about loyalty lead to circles within circles, also spiralling off into the murky regions of morals, ethics and other untold or little-known truths. Thinking of Loki's possible plans for Asgard for was a vast landscape of terrifying and glorious possibilities, that she was almost scared to let herself think. And thinking of Loki's plans for her… was too terrible to even consider. It was a line of thinking that led nowhere, absolutely nowhere, the God of Mischief being too unpredictable for her to so much as take a guess at what might take his fancy to eat for breakfast.

It was as such, completely lost in a snared entanglement of thoughts, that she completely missed the Queen as she sat down next to her. It took Frigga's gentle hand on her arm and a murmured question about her welfare for Sif to jump nearly a foot in the air. Embarrassed, she returned to her seat, somewhat flustered. It had been years since she was taken by surprise, and even then, it had been in the warm privacy of her rooms and usually by - …

She couldn't go there.

"Sif, my dearest are you alright?" Frigga repeated, noting in concern the pale skin and still-glassy eyes that had prompted her to come over in the first place. Sif's gown was exquisite – she should know, she had given it as a gift to the warrior herself, but the thin silk did nothing to hide the pale skin and quaking limbs of the wearer.

Sif opened her mouth, about to thank the queen kindly for her concern, but to her horror instead, tears started to prick at the back of her eyes. Desperately, she tried to say something, but the words could not leave her throat, she was mute. She put her head in her hands, rubbing at her face angrily, trying to return to normal, but she couldn't do it. There was a hot, heavy mass lodged deep in her throat, her stomach was writhing and twisting with guilt.

Frigga laid a gentle arm across the girl's shoulders, waiting for her to regain her composure. She guessed at her thoughts, trying to think what she could possibly be so upset about. It didn't take her long to think up an answer, especially due to her earlier conversation. Whatever his birth right, Loki had been her son. There had been secrets he had kept from her, some she knew about and some she was sure that she would never know as long as she lived, but the tangled and messy relationship between him and Lady Sif had not been one of them. She didn't know the details, but she knew enough. Seeing Sif's head slowly rise again, the girl tried to say something but Frigga cut in before her.

"When Odin brought my son back to Asgard, as a baby, I was so thrilled. Thor was my only child." She drew circles on the surface of the table absentmindedly before continuing. "As they grew older, it was obvious the type of boys they would be. Thor wanted nothing more than to be a great warrior like his father, and spent all his time trying to sneak into the training grounds." She laughed, remembering a particular time when a guard had bodily carried the small prince back to his nursery for the umpteenth time before depositing him on the floor and stomping back out. "Loki was very different. He loved to learn things. He loved magic, loved the beautiful things it could create."

Her sons favourite trick when he had been small was to make the rain coloured. No sooner that it would start raining than Loki would appear in the gardens, getting thoroughly soaked, but laughing and smiling in an endearing childish glee as the rain turned gold. The golden rain had mixed with the beginnings of the silver water in the puddles, and the gardens had looked as though the ground itself was studded with precious metals, the trees and plants dripping droplets of gold. She had used to go out and stand with him, happy to be there in his rare joyous presence, but when he grew older, Loki had stopped turning the rain to gold. She knew he might have still done it, but only deep in the forests, for his own amusement when he was sure no-one else was around. When she had last stood there and held the hand of her little boy, - that had been a long time ago.

Frigga was a Queen in her own right, but her husband, as a man did the ruling. However, that did not deny the fact that Frigga was a shrewd women, something she had learned to be with a husband and sons like she had. When she had gone to the dungeons to give Loki a book, she had found a buckle in the hallway, a simple leather buckle that looked like it had been ripped away by accident as someone had put on armour in great haste, and missed the leather strip, leaving it to fall away from the person as they had sped away. The look on Loki's face had confirmed it. When he heard footsteps, he had looked up rather quickly, his face rippling before settling into a disinterested mask. She had not been who he wanted to see, and now, sitting beside the girl next to her, she was rather sure she knew who he did want.

Sif finally spoke, her voice a little rusty, but not as hoarse as one would expect from a person who had been seconds away from bursting into tears. "Do you believe people can be forgiven? For… whatever they have done?"

The Queen smiled sadly, laying a gentle hand over hers. "Oh Sif. Where would I be if I had not forgiven my sons and husband countless times over the years? " She could see Sif's face as her words struck her, conveying a far deeper meaning than one could read into the surface value of her words.

Frigga continued, eyeing Sif carefully, knowing how important her next words could be. "We have all done terrible things. Each and every one of us. We have all kept secrets from each other, and done things that we're not proud of. Nobility never meant that a person was better than another." She continued, with a deep breath. "Something to think of, my dear. We have lived for centuries. We have centuries left to go. " She smiled now. Patting the side of Sif's face as she made to stand up. "Whatever you decide – you will have decade after decade to live with your decision. Choose the one you can live with. Choose the one that makes you happy." She was about to go, turning away from the Shieldmaiden before a particular thought struck her, one she thought Sif might badly need to hear. "We're a family Sif. You, Me, Thor, Loki and the rest. Whatever happens, whoever we commit offences against – we are family. We can forgive each other."

"And if you cannot decide who to turn to… look to yourself Sif. You know better than almost anyone else, save perhaps one, what is best for you." And with her final message, Frigga walked away, wondering if a particular son of hers would be granted another visit in the dungeon tonight. Whatever it was worth, whatever the consequences might be, she was glad she had said what she did. She had a faint inkling that it might have tipped Sif toward the direction, that deep down, they both knew she wanted to go. Whatever the cost, her son needed someone. He could not have his father, he could not have his brother, and he could not even bring himself to accept his mother. If Sif was what he wanted, what he needed, then no price would be too high to pay for that, particularly if it meant that one day, her baby son, who had held her hand as they had danced in the rain would call her mother once again.

Sif was still sitting at the table in a dream, repeating the Queen's words over and over in her head when Thor came to her side, and asked her in a state of drunken merriment to accompany him for a dance.

She did so, accompanying him in the lively waltz in a rather graceless manner, head still spinning, from the Queen's… Permission? It was though the Allmother had guessed exactly what was in her head, and tried to tell her as discreetly as possible that she, like Heimdall would not condemn her for her choice, whatever it was. Two of the most important people to her had given her their support and their love, promising they would not cast her away whatever she decided.

Thoughts several hundred feet below her, down the left corridor to the dungeon, she was taken sharply back to the present as Thor lifted her and spun her in wide circle, her skirts flaring out and hair flying behind her. Almost tripping over her feet as she regained her balance, her thoughts flew away from her again, bringing her memories she couldn't keep at bay, of the last time she had danced in a Prince's arms.

Loki had never done anything graceless in his life. Dancing was no exception, his feet gliding across the floor with an unpractised ease that put every other man to shame. She would have looked ridiculous dancing with him, but he danced with such precision and skill that even her clumsy steps looked balanced with his.

They had never danced in front of people. After some man had accidently dropped her one day, letting her fall to the floor and disgrace herself in front of the court, Loki had found her outside in the gardens, where she was too embarrassed to go back inside. She had barely been able to look at him, but the music still swung from every window, billowing in the outside air, and Loki needed no permission from her to swing her into his arms. After she got over the surprise, and the fear of embarrassing herself again before him, she had begun to enjoy herself. Spinning in circles around the flowers, Loki had spun her and held her with such care that she didn't need to worry about what she looked like. As the tempo inside increased so did they, flying around the garden paths, twisting and whirling in circles as they danced through the garden, just visible by the half-moon's light. Finally, out of breath with the pace and Loki's refusal to let her go, she had started to laugh, breathlessly unable to stop as he joined in, their chuckling unheard of over the beating drums inside. When they had at last stopped, bowing to each other, she found they had circled back to where he had found her, outside the doors that led back to the palace. As he released her hands, warm and still in his own, Loki had smiled, a true, gentle smile, and slipped back indoors to where the people waited.

It had been the only time Sif ever remembered enjoying herself beyond all thought while dancing. Thor was an adequate partner, even in a somewhat drunken state, but he would never compare to his brother. When the music stopped and the couples bowed to each other, she was glad to step away, thanking him for the dance and slipping outside the ballroom to the relative quiet of the corridor.

With a dull ache in her chest, she noted the rising half-moon in the garden outside, and though she stood at the window, she couldn't bring herself to leave the hall and actually enter the garden. Some memories were worth too much to spoil by trying to return to them.

But the half-moon's light, while not giving her back old memories gave her something else.

Resolution.

At the end of the day, it all came down to choices. Which she could live with, which she couldn't. It would hurt her, more than she could say to betray the Allfather and help Loki, for whatever he might want. The Allfather was her sovereign, her King, the man she had pledged her loyalty to as a Shieldmaiden of Asgard. But while it may hurt her to turn against him, it might kill her to turn her back on Loki, and leave him to rot for centuries onwards in a stark white room where there was no rain, no music and no-one to even indulge him in a conversation for conversation's sake. No-one deserved that. No-one deserved a slow death, succumbing to madness after years of being thrown down by the people whom had called you family. Loki had betrayed the Allfather. But wether he meant to or not, the Allfather had betrayed Loki.

A father did not tell the man he had called his son, honoured as his son, and loved as his son that his very birth right had been to die. A father did not keep secrets as important as his for centuries, duping his family into secrecy so that Odin's life would be easier. A father did not turn his back on his children, casting them aside, cruelly and harshly, to be left in a position where no-one wanted anything to do with them, leaving them alone. He had done so to Thor, wether for his own good or Odin's pride, and he had done so to Loki, not even prepared to give his once-son a funeral when the Prince fell to the abyss beneath the bridge. Odin may have been her King, but to Sif's hardening opinion, he was no father.

She would not leave Loki to die in misery, without help, forgiveness or mercy for his once-father's pride. Between the two crimes, both men had committed countless murders, some necessary some not. They were equal in that score. But only one, in cold and callous deliberate decision, had left his son at the mercy of the abyss, which held no mercy at all.

Whatever it took, whatever it cost her, she would side with Loki.

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AN - Yeah the chapters are late :) We've both been studying, so forgive us. The ball will really start to roll in the next couple of chapters, so they will probably be a bit on the late side as well. Please review, and can I ask that the nice people who do review might do so to both our chapters? The feedback helps us both. Mythology will make a bit of an appearance soon hopefully, but it will be a bit on the subjective side. Love and left over easter eggs to all who review :)

SaintClaire