So, sorry once again for the delay in writing this story. I haven't really got an excuse other than just being really busy with other things, but I definitely plan on updating this story more frequently now. I hope you enjoy reading and thank you for sticking with the story, even with such long waits between updates.
Once the chief of the village had uttered the words that she and Loki were to be wed, Sif felt a shiver of nervous excitement run through her. She could scarce believe it. Loki had actually succeeded in petitioning the Elves for help. He had not tried, this one last time, to scupper their endeavour and see their wedding never come to pass. And now, this was it. The moment would surely come. She was actually to be married to Loki, the second prince of Asgard. She was actually going to defy the future commands of the Allfather himself and marry the wrong prince. That was if they passed this test, of course, this mysterious test which she knew so little about, and even less what it was they were to face. And if they did fail this test, the Allfather would be able to break apart their marriage and would make her marry Thor…
Sif squeezed Loki's hand tighter at this thought. He turned towards her and his eyes were gentle, reassuring, asking her to trust him. She searched them for signs of any mischief or lies, but they were devoid of any false sentiments. Perhaps he was right, maybe all she needed to do was to trust him, maybe he was not quite so determined to see them fail this test as she feared. After all, if the test was to prove that they were right for each other, that their love was strong enough to withstand anything and last throughout time, then surely they were certain to succeed. For Sif knew that, despite everything they had been through, her feelings for the second prince of Asgard had only grown stronger. And she knew that Loki even being here, about to marry her under such circumstances, were testament to his own love for her. For it would only be a love strong enough that Loki would sacrifice himself so, suffer the scorn of all of Asgard and risk his father's anger when peace had only recently been achieved. And then suffer the weight on his shoulders of what their future might hold, and whether he may fall once again…
As the people gathered around started to approach them and Sif was gently pulled away by an older lady, she found herself gripping Loki's hand tighter. She was not afraid to go with the lady, far from it, but she was anxious that now, if she was parted from Loki, something would happen to keep them apart. She was concerned that away from her sight, Loki may change his mind, that yet another obstacle would present itself and he would remain forever lost to her.
The gentle hand on her shoulder was persistent though, holding a strength unexpected in the lady's small frame. Loki was also being pulled away and Sif had to hold on tight to keep her fingers entwined with Loki's, their arms stretched. "It's alright, Sif," Loki said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. She swallowed, squeezed his hand back, then nodded, finally pulling her hand away from his and standing up straighter, holding her head proud once more. She was a warrior from Asgard, she could face any test and Loki would surely not dare desert her now.
Sif let the older woman pull her away and she forced her head to turn away from Loki and face the way she was now travelling. She was being taken across the market square to the tall, grand house by the main hall. As Sif approached, she realised it was a home, for she could see elegant household furniture through the large, ornate iron framed windows.
"It is alright, m'Lady," the woman reassured her as she led her closer to the house. "We just need to prepare you for the wedding." She had stopped pulling on Sif's shoulder now, her hand resting gently on her arm, guiding her forwards. There was a weight, an ancient wisdom held within the ladies voice that gathered Sif's attention. She turned towards the lady again and examined her more closely. She may be small of frame and dressed in the same simple earthen clothes as her neighbours, but there was a power, a presence within her that she had seen in the Leader of the village. Despite the telling lines of age etched into her pale skin, she was beautiful; her eyes a deep rich blue and her hair as black as night itself. Unlike the other elves Sif had seen, she wore it completely loose, so the faint breeze stirred the long strands across her face.
"I am Íonait Fearghus," the lady answered Sif's questioning gaze, confirming what Sif had come to realise. She was the chieftain's wife and the head female of the village, though Sif wondered if she had come from another part of Alfheim entirely, so different was she from the other villagers. Her voice was kind, comforting and Sif felt the faint stirrings of magic sweeping along her skin. She looked again at this old woman and was surprised by the power she saw in the ladies eyes. It was akin to looking into her brother, Heimdall's eyes. Eyes that had seen many lifetimes across the ages, battles raging and nations destroyed as regular as the ebb and flow of the tide. Lives lost and saved, death and rebirth, countless tales of love and heartache. Eyes that made Sif feel every one of her own, young years and feel so achingly small and insignificant, so young and ignorant. Yet the ladies eyes were kind, soothing and Sif felt the fears and anxieties that had been plaguing her all day start to dissipate. Maybe it was the magic, maybe it was the deep compassion she saw in the woman, but Sif immediately felt herself relax as they entered this strange, grand house. Her dependable battle instincts were quiet, her questioning, methodical mind at peace.
The house and its white marbled floors and columns were cool and comforting and it was only then that Sif realised how hot and bright it had been outside in the dusty market square. She felt dirty and sweaty from the day spent travelling and she was very grateful when Íonait offered her a chance to bathe. The lady led Sif up the wide marbled staircase, every other step overflowing with the same, glowing flowers she had seen on the balconies around the square, each vase filled with a different coloured bloom. The curved staircase was lined with a rich mahogany banister, twisted into ornate figurines which held Sif's inquisitive gaze. They seemed to tell a story, perhaps that of the village itself, and Sif was determined to unlock its mysteries before she left. She was certainly not going to rely on her future husband to tell her the story. The thought of having to beseech Loki to tell all, and the smirk and teasing it would surely bring, made Sif smile. She had paused on a step, lost momentarily in her thoughts, and when she felt Íonait place a hand on her back and gently push her forwards, she suddenly realised she had been cradling one of the figurines. She looked down at it in surprise, seeing that it was of a man and a woman, the detail so minute she could see their elaborate dress, the bouquet held in the woman's arms and a veil cascading down her shoulders.
Íonait saw her shocked expression and the way Sif quickly pulled her hand away, as if touching something sacred, and merely smiled kindly at her. She seemed to be a woman of few words and Sif was pleased she would not be called upon to try and make polite conversation with this stranger, for that had always been more Loki's forte.
It was only when they entered the large, circular bathing room and Sif saw the extravagant bath, fancy enough to rival even Loki's at the palace, that a curious thought struck her. For the bathing water was already prepared, the air full of steam and fragrance, fresh cotton towels laid neatly on the table. "The preparations, for the wedding, will they be ready in time?"
"Yes, my Lady," the leader's wife answered, "For your coming was foretold and preparations have been underway a long time."
"Oh," was all the reply Sif could manage, suddenly woefully out of her depth. Prophecy, fortune telling and visions of the future had never been something Sif had truly understood. She was the Goddess of War; she lived for the day, the moment, the breath that would either be her last or her enemies. She had little time to contemplate the prophecies of mages, for they could help little on the battlefield, so vague and full of riddles they were, so full of different pathways and numerous outcomes. Loki had been the one to understand all that, to piece it together and explain it, put it into their strategy and tactics when they travelled on a new adventure or had a war to fight. It was beyond Sif's comprehension that these elves already knew they were coming, had already decided to help them and yet still thought to test them. It was even more wondrous that they had so predicted the exact day, for as Sif knelt down and traced her hand over the water lined with rose petals and orange blossom, she realised it was just the perfect temperature for bathing. Sif wondered if she should ask then, how they knew with such certainty her and Loki would come, that they would not stray off the path that would lead them here, but she was not sure if it would be polite, or whether she would even understand.
The woman must have seen Sif's confused expression though, for she answered her unspoken question. "My husband, Conn, he is a very powerful prophet," Íonait explained. "Yet so many of his visions are hazy, fragmented pieces not quite fitting together. Yet this day, the coming of the Jötunn Prince and the Æsir warrior, has long been clear to him. Long has he known the decision made here today will affect all of great Yggdrasil's children, perhaps even altering the course of Ragnarök itself."
Once more the ladies countenance filled with an ancient wisdom and understanding that made Sif all too aware of her own youth and inadequacies. The weight of her words sent a flicker of apprehension through Sif's veins. All the Æsir knew of Ragnarök, the end of great Yggdrasil and time itself. When all that was known would die, only to be reborn once again, anew. Yet the deeper, detailed secrets and visions were known to only a select few, kept locked safely away by the Allfather and the powerful Norns themselves. That her marriage to Loki could affect such a powerful event as Ragnarök scared even Sif's warrior hardened soul. For she could not understand what part her and Loki could play in the coming Twilight of the Gods and the end of all things.
Íonait must have seen the way Sif's hand clenched around her sword, for the thrum of magic in the air increased, tickling along Sif's skin and calming her instincts once more. She continued to explain, her voice also laced with the same comfort held within her magic. "He did not understand the reason behind your marriage, or whether we should aid you or not. The visions are rarely so detailed. Yet we knew we must prepare, regardless. That should you pass the initial test, we must waste no time in seeing you married. Now we understand the importance of haste, for your marriage will be forbidden by the Allfather, who has his own visions of the future, as do those he welcomes in his court."
Sif nodded, things starting to fall into place. So it had been a test, their meeting with the leader, perhaps even the Gatekeeper, and at least this was one they had passed. "But if the details are imprecise, how could you know the day we were to arrive?"
"Because, my Lady, you come on a great day for our people, when we celebrate the anniversary of our village's humble beginnings." Íonait smiled again and motioned to the glowing flowers also adorning many of the spare spaces in the large bathing room. "The flowers you see before you, they only glow on this one day of the year. My husband saw them in his vision and so we knew we would see you this day, a day most blessed and joyful."
"But your people, they seemed so surprised to see us?" Sif asked, remembering the wary faces of those in the fields, the children hiding as they approached the village and the disquiet murmurings as the crowd gathered within the square.
The wise woman's voice was touched with a hint of bitterness as she answered, "There are many in the village who do not trust in prophecy or vision, who scorn at the use of magic, though it has for generations kept our village safe from harm and free from discovery."
A pang of guilt shot through Sif at the woman's words, for many a time in their youth had they mocked Loki's magic, belittled his own skill as a sorcerer, for it was not one born of steel and strength.
"And of course," Íonait continued, "the visions warned us of how important your coming would be and that secrecy was essential. Only those most necessary and trusted have been told." She paused, gesturing to the great bath and gently urging Sif forward. "Now, enough talk, you must begin to prepare for your wedding, my Lady." She reached out to take Sif's sword, shield and pack and Sif handed them over wearily, measuring the sword's comforting weight for a few moments before she relinquished it.
"Please, call me Sif." It was not right, that such a kind lady, so much her superior in wisdom and experience, should defer to a rank below her.
"As you wish, Lady Sif. Though you will soon be a Princess, of both Jotenheim and Asgard, and must get used to being referred to as such."
"That is if we pass this test," Sif muttered, more to herself than the woman, though her words were not lost on the lady.
"You must not fear the test, my dear, for fear itself can cloud your judgement and lessen your chances." She gently reached forwards and squeezed Sif's arm reassuringly. "If you truly love this man with a pure heart then the magic will find you worthy."
Sif nodded, but the words did not comfort her like the lady intended. So much had already befallen her and Loki, so many doubts and questions and misgivings had always plagued them, so much worse since his fall... These things they would not be able to hide if the magic was as powerful as it seemed and Sif did not know whether it could be enough to destroy their chance of victory.
The lady seemed to read Sif's dark thoughts, for she continued on, carefully. "Would it be so bad, Lady Sif, if you were to marry Thor and become Queen of Asgard?"
Sif felt a sigh escape her lips, for it was a question she had asked herself countless times since Loki had first informed her of the Allfather's wishes. She was just as determined in her answer now as she was every time she asked it of herself. "It is not through fear that I do not wish to marry Thor, for I know he would make a kind husband. And whilst I do not seek the throne, I would accept a destiny as Queen if it was so written." She paused for a moment, trying to think how best to phrase her words. "It is being separated from Loki that I fear, for I could not be untrue to Thor."
The woman smiled at her, a rich, warm smile that filled her whole face. A knowing smile, though Sif noticed a touch of melancholy in her eyes. It reminded her of the same she had seen in the village leader's gaze. "Then, my dear Lady Sif, you have nothing to fear." She motioned to the bath again and bowed slightly, before she moved towards the door. Before leaving, she turned to Sif and said lightly, "Take your time, Lady Sif, for it is your wedding day and everyone must wait for the bride." Her smile broadened and then she was gone.
For a moment Sif felt lost, left in this strange, cavernous room with its deep marbled bath filled with flower petals and fragrant water. She had been moving all day, ever unable to settle with the anxieties and worries plaguing her mind, her muscles tense and her veins filled with the thrum and anticipation of a coming battle. She slipped into the water, enchanted to maintain the perfect temperature, and breathed in the heady scent of the flowers and oils mixed within. But her mind and body would not calm. Her body was filled with the adrenaline and movement of the day and her mind was heavy with the prophecy the lady had spoken of. Her words echoed around Sif's thoughts, the idea that her and Loki's marriage could actually affect the coming of great Ragnarök itself. It had all seemed so simple at first, her marrying Loki rather than Thor. But then they had been forced to journey to this strange corner of Alfheim, to petition these outcast Elves for aid. And now it seemed even the fate of great Yggdrasil and the nine realms rested on the outcome of this day, on this test her and Loki must face. A test she still had no understanding or knowledge of.
Sif quickly bathed, anxious for action now to overtake her thoughts and unable to stay long in the enchanted water, as luxuriant as it was. She quickly dressed in the small robe laid out for her and slipped out of the door. A different lady was just leaving another room and Sif stopped suddenly, unsure of who this lady was or whether she may pose a threat. Her hand automatically went to her waist, but there was no sword there for her to hold, for Íonait had already taken her things. The woman seemed surprised to see Sif, but she bowed her head and smiled. "My Lady Sif, would you care to come this way, please?"
Sif paused a moment, sizing the lady up. She was short of frame and large of width, her arms did not look used to fighting and she did not seem to possess any magic. Sure that she would have no trouble overcoming her should this lady prove a foe, Sif nodded and began to follow. They returned to the room the lady had recently left and Sif found herself in a large sleeping chamber, as grand as either of the prince's in Asgard's golden palace walls. Íonait was waiting in the room and she seemed surprised to see Sif so soon, though she made no comment. There were two other ladies in the room, along with the lady she had followed inside, and they all smiled at her warmly, introducing themselves. They were of different weight and stature, but all had a calming presence about them, or at least seemed to, for Sif could still feel the faint thrum of magic vibrating through the air.
The ladies helped her dress, all but Íonait cooing and gushing over the brilliant ivory coloured silk and the intricate lace and beading decorating the wedding gown. Sif was glad of the help, for the lacing on the back was particularly difficult to fasten, though she did not care for the constant stream of compliments. Sif tried to brush them off, though even without any feminine interest in the particulars of fashion, Sif did agree her mother's wedding dress was exquisite. She was only disappointed Loki had already seen the gown.
Once the dress had been fitted and adjusted, for Sif's frame was more slender than her mother's, Sif began walking towards the door, thinking the preparations were over. The ladies soon stopped her, talking about things like hair styles and facial make-up. Sif's blank expression led to a number of knowing looks between the ladies. She was eager to leave now, to get the marriage and whatever this fearful test was over with, before any more obstacles presented themselves. Yet when they insisted it would not only take a moment, but was extremely important, Sif allowed the ladies to lead her to a pretty wooden chair next to a fine dressing table. And so Sif remained seated whilst the ladies fiddled with her hair, though her toes and fingers kept on tapping to a nervous rhythm. It had been many a year since Sif was last decorated up in this way, forced to by her mother in her youth. Then she would fidget so and only comply when her mother threatened to stop her from going to weapons training. For so many centuries now, Sif had always been able to get away with minimal decoration and simple gowns at the many banquets and festivals within the palace.
The compliments continued to grow thick and fast once more, this time the compliments were on how fine her hair was, how the dark colour matched her skin tone perfectly. Sif was half tempted to tell them that it had only been through a cruel trick of Loki's in their youth that Sif's hair was no longer the colour of spun gold. She couldn't quite hide her smile at the memory though, how her anger had raged at the second prince for many a month and it had been even longer before Sif had finally acknowledged that the dark colour of her hair, now a perfect match for Loki's, suited her far better. Something she had never found the courage to tell Loki himself, though he knew she had forgiven him. She was not sure she would be able to stand the smirks and the teasing from the trickster if he knew how much she admired their matching colour now.
Decorating her for the wedding took far longer than Sif's patience wanted to bear, but when the ladies finally stepped backwards and Sif was allowed to stand to look in the ornate mirror, she realised it was worth it. Sif had never been one for vanity, for what did beautiful locks and pretty eyes help when covered in blood and mud and facing the enemy on the battlefield. But when she looked in the mirror then, she gasped at the vision before her. It was not just the beautiful wedding dress, or the intricate plaits within her hair the ladies had twisted into a striking bun. It was not the gentle curls which swung down and framed her face, or the pretty glowing flowers tucked within the knots. Nor was it the fancy colours painted around her shining eyes and smiling lips or the light powder dusting her cheeks. It was the combined effect of all, her radiant smile and each part of the ladies handiwork and the fitted dress accentuating all her proudest features, turning her into a goddess fit to rival Sol the sun goddess herself.
"A princess fit to marry her prince." Íonait smiled at her as she fixed the flowing lace veil to her hair.
Sif did feel like a princess then, a beautiful maiden the ancient songs told many a tale about, their dreams coming true as they married their true loves. And today, Sif had become one of them, the heroine of her own fairytale and maybe one day even songs would be sung of her story, her marriage to her handsome prince of Asgard.
There were just a few final touches and Sif rooted deep within her pack. Loki had been so distracted by her dress, he had not noticed the few other items remaining and she fished them out eagerly. Firstly were a pair of ivory ballet pumps, covered in the same beautiful beading and lace work of her dress and as she slipped them on, they raised her height by several inches. The other item she drew from her pack was a necklace and she held it reverently in her fingers for a moment before allowing Íonait to fasten it around her neck.
Sif turned towards the expectant ladies and reached out to take the beautiful floral bouquet handed to her.
"My Lady Sif, are you ready for your wedding?" Ionait asked her kindly.
Sif felt herself clutch her bouquet tighter, her hands trembling though she answered honestly from the depths of her heart, "I do not think I have been more ready for anything in my life."
As Íonait smiled and gently took her arm, leading her down the great stairs and towards the open doorway, Sif could only wish she was as confident about this test they must pass. And that she was not so afraid of what would befall them all should she fail.
Hope you enjoyed the chapter and it wasn't too long, my muse does run away with me sometimes!
If you're not too clear on Norse mythology, then Ragnarök is basically the Norse version of the apocalypse, when a final battle will rage and many of the great gods will fall, only to be reborn anew. One side of the battle, against Odin and the Æsir, is said to be led by Loki, who commands the souls from Hel's domain. His sons, the wolf Fenrir and the world serpent Jörmungandr by a Jötunn called Angrboða, is said to kill Odin and Thor respectively.
I really liked the idea that by Loki marrying Sif, it would alter his future and so alter Ragnarok itself, which is what the leader saw in his visions.
Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter. As ever, I'd love to know what you think and more is definitely on its way soon!