It was amazing to Sif how, on the one hand, looking up the drive at the palace of Jotunheim felt the same as the time she'd stood outside the enormous plantation house of one of the girls in her class to attend a party, aware of her cheap dress and her own apartment by the tracks. It was a feeling of looking at something so far out of her league it might as well be another planet that twisted under her ribs.
Yet, at the same time, she felt a little gleeful satisfaction because that girl wasn't here. Despite her snobbery, despite how hatefully she'd behaved, Genevieve was not the one sitting next to a prince.
When Sif entered the royal palace, she smiled to herself with no little vindictiveness, hoping Genevieve was saddled with three kids and a husband who'd gambled away all their money.
"Miss? the King wished to speak with you after he has greeted Prince Loki," a tall, polite blonde woman with eyes like a Husky dog told her. "If you would come this way, please?"
"Of course." Aware of the two guards following her, Sif made no sudden movements as she followed the woman. They were suspicious and careful of her, as they should be, and Sif wanted to be as cooperative as possible.
The bottom floor appeared to be administrative and security offices, nothing particularly special, but once they climbed a flight of stairs, the hall beyond was beautiful. Not as overwrought in gilt or splendor as Sif had expected, more simple but elegant with carved wood touches, a thick carpet runner over the marble floor, and paintings hanging on white walls.
The attendant brought Sif to open double doors, and she could glimpse the room beyond, flooded with light from the windows on the far side. Within, she saw Loki and his father embracing, and she looked away from the private moment.
The attendant reached for the door, intending to shut it, but the king looked up from Loki's shoulder and saw them there.
Eyes like Loki's but more deep-set in a face of sharp planes and angles - fixed on her and she took a step forward in reflex now that she'd been seen.
The attendant moved into the room ahead of her. "Your Majesty, may I present Sif Rowan."
Feeling extremely unprepared for this encounter, Sif froze and then remembering her dance lessons, made a little curtsy, looking down. "I, um, am honored. Your Majesty." She fought the urge to mumble then wondered if she was supposed to speak at all. What if he was supposed to speak first?
But protocol was not King Laufey's problem with her, as he approached a few measured strides and looked at her. He was impressively tall, even when she was standing upright. "You are the assassin who was planning to kill my son?" he asked in English, quite severely.
Sif opened her mouth to protest, shut it again, and nodded tightly. "I was. But not anymore." Then added belatedly, "Sir."
"And your intention in coming here? To Jotunheim?"
She tried to fold her hands together in front of her, without clutching them, and answer in a steady voice, "I've been to Thanos' compound. I know how it's laid out, the people there. I was going to tell Loki and Grundroth and whoever's actually going to do the operation what I know. So they maybe have a chance to succeed."
While the king pondered, Loki moved up. "Father, all she's done to me is save my life."
"And how do you know that, Loki?" Laufey demanded. "Perhaps this is a scheme! And even if it is not, you have brought this woman who admits that she had intention to murder you, here, inside our ancestral home!"
"She's not dangerous, at least not to us!" Loki protested. "She's here to help, Father. She threw herself at me to save me from the Chitauri, she stopped Barton and Romanova-"
"She is a felon, Loki. She deserves to be in prison, not here as my guest."
"She's not your guest, she's mine," Loki retorted.
Watching them argue was causing her pain after seeing them hug, and she couldn't help interrupting, "Please! I - I'll go somewhere else. If you want to put me in jail, I accept that."
"No! That is not acceptable!" Loki insisted.
She smiled at him, a little rueful twist of her lips. "Loki, he's right. I- I have done bad things." She lifted her head to address the king again, holding tight to her courage. "But I came here to help you against Thanos. And I will do that, whatever you choose to do."
The king snorted. "You came here because you want in my son's bed," he accused flatly.
"No!" she protested. "I mean, I'm not saying he's bad looking," she added hastily, realizing the denial could be insulting, "but I don't want him in that way. I just want him safe. And me safe, too," she added with a hollow laugh.
Loki glanced at her and then away, mouth tightening.
Laufey's baleful look softened somewhat as he examined her face. "What made you change your mind?"
"Because... " she hesitated, knowing what she was about to say might make Loki reverse his support of her when he heard what sort of person she truly was and what she did. "Last year, something happened." She glanced aside and touched her tongue to her dry lips, as her voice sank to confess, "There was a boy, maybe eight years old. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He died because of me. And I knew all my high ideals of killing the bad ones were pathetic, wishful thinking. That innocent little boy was dead, and it was my fault. I had to get out. So I was going to take one more job, a high enough profile contract to start a new life. Thanos told me Loki was a… parasite, living this lavish lifestyle on wealth stolen from your people, and," she swallowed hard and couldn't look at either of them, "that he had a thing for hurting prostitutes and had forced one of them to abort his baby."
"What?" Loki blurted, sounded horrified. "I never-!"
She glanced at him, meaning reassurance. "I know. I know they were lies. But that's the sort of man Thanos is; he knew my standards, and he thought nothing of telling me what I wanted to hear to convince me you were awful. And even after I knew better, it was easy to convince myself there had to be some kind of truth to it, so I was planning to do it anyway. But in Stuttgart, I heard about the tesseract and I realized Loki was trying to do something good for the world, and I couldn't do it. That is the truth, I swear. And if you- if you want to arrest me, there's nothing I can do to stop you, but please let me help you take Thanos down," she said to Laufey, meaning every word. "He's an evil man, and he needs to be gone. Or none of us are safe."
Laufey listened to her story, not revealing what he thought of it, and at the end said, "I should have you arrested. Make no mistake, I do not trust you. But… my son granted you guest right and I will not be without manners and deny it. For now."
"Thank you. Your Highness. I promise you won't regret it," she said earnestly.
He grunted, "I pray that is true." He looked to Loki. "We must prepare. We depart in two hours."
Loki followed his father, promising Sif, "I'll see you soon." They left through the farther doors to another elegant room.
That left Sif there, feeling queasy that she'd revealed all of that and despite all of the truth, the king hadn't ordered her dragged away in handcuffs to be thrown in the dungeon. Of course, being Jotunheim, it was probably a very clean dungeon with plenty of light and a little garden.
"Ms Rowan?" a voice asked behind her, and she turned to see the assistant was still there. "My name is Nadine Seyversen. I have command of the house. Now that His Majesty has confirmed you are to stay, you have a room for your visit. I am to take you."
"Really? I could wait somewhere out of the way, I don't want to be any trouble…"
Nadine smiled. "It is well, Miss. You saved the Prince's life. We are all grateful. The king too, though he must be king and not only a father."
Sif followed her to the western wing of the palace, where there were numerous doors standing shut. "Many bedrooms," Nadine gestured down the hall. "For visitors." She picked the nearest one and pushed open the door. "This one I had cleaned for you this morning, when we heard there would be a guest."
Sif stepped inside, seeing that Pepper's case was already placed on the vanity. "Oh, it's beautiful." The ceiling was high with a beautiful painting of flowers in the middle, and the walls were a bright lemon-yellow with long blue velvet drapes held open from the window to let in the sunlight. The canopied bed continued the blue and yellow color scheme, and there was a pair of tall white doors.
"If there is anything you need, the telephone will connect you to the house operator," Nadine said and gestured to the small telephone without any buttons on the bedside table. With a nod of her head, she excused herself so smoothly she was gone before Sif thought to say goodbye.
First exploring the connecting doors, she found a restroom nearly the same size as the bedroom with a window of its own, and the other a large closet that would fit more clothes than Sif had probably ever owned. There were towels and soaps laid out in welcome, and Sif shook her head in amazement that this was even happening.
Opening Pepper's case, she was sure someone so meticulous had not left everything askew, which meant someone had searched it. Sif was profoundly glad they hadn't found anything, considering this was the first time Sif had looked inside.
There was a change of clothes, including a white blouse, navy suit, and underwear, silk pajamas, and a separate case with toiletry items and makeup. She was grateful to see ordinary things like shampoo and a toothbrush so she didn't have to ask her hosts for any of it.
Feeling more refreshed after a shower, she slipped back into her own black skirt and Pepper's blouse that was a bit tight across the shoulders but otherwise wearable and without the plunging neckline of her own blouse, dried her hair, and used the mascara and lip gloss. Leaving her room, there was one of the uniformed guards waiting there, and he escorted her to a different room. This one was not as fancy as the first, and was empty as she entered. There was a beverage service on the side table, and she poured some water before checking out the room. The most interesting thing of what she'd call a sitting room, was that the mantel of the fireplace displayed numerous photographs. Some photos looked old, black and white of previous generations, but some were more modern. One large photo in the middle showed a blonde woman smiling at the camera, her hair all wind-blown and a beautiful fjord behind her, as she held a black-haired toddler in short pants in her arms. Loki and his mother, Sif thought, and smiled; he'd been a cute little boy. There were other photos of Loki's mother on the mantel, but that one was clearly someone's favorite.
"Ah Sif, there you are," she heard Loki's voice behind her, and she jumped, a guilty spike in her chest for looking at the photos.
Turning to see him, she froze and stared, and her heart beat seemed to echo in her ears. She had expected a suit for his appearance before the parliament; she had not expected him in the quasi-military look of the princely uniform. He wore slim-cut black trousers, and over that a coat in deep forest green, closed with tiny buttons all the way to the high collar, edged in black and gold braid at the epaulets and cuffs, with another arc of golden braid across his chest hanging from shoulder to shoulder. The coat was short across the front, but hung to long tails in back, cut away like a morning coat.
"That's, uh..." Her voice failed her as she looked at him.
He gestured with both hands down his front and raised his eyebrows. "Silly?" he suggested. "Old-fashioned? I know. I won't be offended if you laugh."
Knowing he didn't like the outfit helped her relax. "I'm not going to laugh," she reassured him.
"Really? Because I always feel like a circus monkey." He tugged the lower hem of the coat, as if wishing it were longer.
"You're not. You look... like a prince." Then, trying to lighten things up, she teased, "Do you put on the tiara now?"
He snickered. "No, no tiara. Thank heaven." But his humor died as his gaze flicked to the photograph collection, reminders of a proud and ancient lineage. Sif was glad she didn't have that sort of legacy to worry about, watching his jaw clench and his thumb rub the back of his opposite hand. He said, sort of to her, but sort of no one also, "This is my first official address." He inhaled a deep breath and grimaced. "I might be sick."
Her smile widened. "You spoke well at Stuttgart. You'll do fine." Then, more because her fingers wanted to touch it than it needed fixing, she smoothed the golden rope across his chest. "Nice bling." The fabric of the coat felt like soft wool under her fingers, but thick like felt. "Do you have the armor on?"
"Of course. It is a wonder I can breathe."
Her hand tapped his chest. "A little discomfort is better than being dead."
His hand caught hers against his chest, cool fingers curling around hers. He'd slicked back his hair from his face, giving emphasis to his high forehead and the angles of his cheekbones, while the coat made his eyes very green as they met hers.
"I wanted to-" he said, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. He dropped her hand like she was on fire, as the door opened.
Wearing an actual military uniform and looking particularly hardcore now, Grundroth stood there.
Loki stepped back from Sif, not as if he'd been caught doing anything but as if he'd finished what he was going to say, even though he'd said nothing. He beckoned Grundroth inside and asked, "What is it?"
Grundroth looked reluctant but answered, "We have word from Asgard: a small plane landed in Goeteborg this morning, with three passengers. Their police were lax and didn't catch that the passports were false until it was too late."
Fake passports, small plane - that was a common set up for illicit operations. Smaller airports often didn't bother with proper procedure or had outdated equipment, unlike the main airports.
His voice too controlled, Loki asked, "And you think they're coming here? After me?"
"I hope they stayed in Asgard for some other criminal purpose, but if that's true, it's not my problem. The border stations have been reinforced, and we're pulling the video from the toll booths, but it'll take time to analyze. We're going to be very careful." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a printed photo. "This is from the airport office camera. Do you recognize any of them?" he asked Sif.
Hoping to help, Sif peered at the picture. It was pixelated, and worse, the three men wore coats with the collars turned up and hats, one with dark glasses. But she tried, trying to place the three, until admitting defeat with a shake of her head. "No. That one is familiar, maybe from a photo, but the others I don't think I've seen before."
Grundroth plucked the sheet from her hand. "It was worth a try." Pausing he looked at Loki's face, reading the stillness in it, and offered quietly, "My lord, we will stop them and end this. And I promise, all of us in your detail will protect you to our last breath."
"I know. And I appreciate the thought. But that's… what I would like to avoid," Loki told him, voice a little ragged, as he bit his lip. "I don't want anyone to die for me."
"We are volunteers, Your Highness. It is our choice to make, for Jotunheim and for you. It is an honor." Grundroth put his fist to his chest and bowed his head, before he went out and shut the door behind him.
Loki moved to mantel to look at the photos, but Sif doubted he saw anything until he touched the photo of his mother, clearly seeking comfort from her image and memories.
Sif watched, wishing she knew what she could say. But what comfort could there be, after being told that more assassins might be coming, and his bodyguard was willing to give his life? Which was of course, a bodyguard's job, but Sif doubted anyone had told Loki so plainly that he was doing it freely.
"Is there anything I can say to help?" she asked finally when the silence lingered.
He pulled his hand away and turned, forcing a smile on his lips. "No, it's all right. Nothing's changed. I still have to give this speech."
But despite a valiant effort, she could see it for the pretense it was. "If - if it'll help at all, I really am happy to move to a hotel. I don't want to be more of a bother to you, when you've got enough already."
That offer seemed to recall him to some more primal instinct of hospitality, and he straightened. "Certainly not. I invited you and you are not a bother."
"I'm making things worse between you and your father."
"Going to a hotel wouldn't help that. And it's my doing, not yours. As soon as the address is over, he'll relax and realize you mean to help."
She hoped so, but Laufey had a point that Loki was taking a very serious risk with her. Even if Sif genuinely wasn't going to do anything, the fact was, she could, Loki couldn't know with certainty that she wouldn't. "Well, I'll try to be unobtrusive and as helpful as I can."
"Will you still come watch the address?" he asked.
She was a bit startled. "Of course, if I can. Why wouldn't I?"
"Oh, I don't know, more assassins?" he joked weakly.
"All the more reason to come. I miss tackling you to the floor."
That made him smile more genuinely. "Me, too." He gestured in the direction of the door. "My father's assistant will escort you to the parliament building and act as your translator in the viewing gallery. I would like to escort you myself, but..."
"That's okay," she intervened. "I understand."
Reaching up, he pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. "I need to stop thinking in English," he muttered. "This is going to be terrible in my own language..."
"Imagine you're dancing again," she advised him. "With all those eyes on us, you were dancing with someone you thought might want you dead, and you were so calm and cool."
He gave a short laugh. "You thought I was calm and cool? No, not a bit. That was only an illusion."
"Well, I bought it. So do it again."
Taking her hand, he lifted it to his lips again, brushing the back lightly, and she shivered.
"I shall," he said, and flicked his eyes up to meet hers. "And later, this evening, perhaps we might dance again? I promised you another dance."
Neither of them looked away, and the smile grew on her lips. "Yes, you did."
It was with renewed confidence, he let go of her hand and straightened, chin getting a bit more stubborn. "Then shall we?"
He strode to the door and flung it open.
tbc...