Sif and Frigga
A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. Duck and cover people. Epic shit ahead. This takes place the night before and the same day as last chapter.
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Sif sighed as she worked up a sweat against one of the practice dummies with her sword. It was getting late and she was working out more to wear herself out in hopes of getting some sleep, rather than actually practicing her swordsmanship out of a need for improvement.
If Thor were here, this would not have been needed. Thor had always kept herself and the Three on the move, all day every day. There had always been something to do, whether hunting for food for the table, defeating foul beasts marauding through the flocks, or defeating the odd imbecile that dared to challenge Odin's supremacy.
Unfortunately, Thor was now on Midgard. Likely to stay, if Sif had read the currents right. He had ever been the glue that kept their company together. Whenever he'd been drawn away for any length of time by his princely duties, the rest of them had gone their own ways. This was no different. Fandral was off wooing his latest conquest, and Hogun and Volstagg were with most of the other men in the feasting hall.
Sif had always been the odd one out in their group, there more by the grace of Thor's generous tolerance than because the Three approved of her. With Thor removed to Midgard, she was facing a long, lonely time on her own. She had known going in that it would be that way, even as a little girl. She'd never had any gift at all for the so-called 'womanly arts'. Magic still baffled her, and she looked upon housekeeping and birthing and raising children with something akin to horror.
It had been a very unpleasant struggle when she was little. She'd hidden in her father's barn in the depths of the night, imitating the sword drills she'd seen the boys do during the day with and old, forgotten, rusty dagger. She'd been so frightened she'd been shaking when she finally got up the nerve to try her luck in the training salle against the boys. And then her first opponent had been *Thor*. To this day, she was convinced that the instructor had done that on purpose, convinced that Sif would back down rather than attack the prince. He'd come to within a whisker of being right. It had only been the openly mocking expressions of the other boys that had kept her from turning tail and running.
When she'd knocked Thor on his ass, she'd fully expected ... well, her childish imagination had never been all that clear on the consequences, but she'd been sure they'd be dire. Instead, Thor had laughed, picked himself up off the floor, and clapped her on the back like she was one of them. From then on, she'd operated more or less under Thor's benevolent protection - more or less. She'd come in for a terrific thrashing by her father when she got home, but that had not swayed her from her course. Neither had any of the myriad punishments her father had devised over the years.
She didn't pay any real mind to the salle door opening and closing. She was aware of the person in the room, and where they were at, she just didn't bother focusing her full attention on them. That proved to be a bit of a mistake. The person walked over towards where she was at and then gave a low laugh.
"Children's exercises? I always knew Thor was lying about your skill with a blade."
Sif rolled her eyes and ignored the idiot. It wasn't anything she hadn't heard a million times. When he tried to get closer, within grabbing distance, she danced away from him instinctively. She'd learned that particular lesson a long, long time ago. She didn't have a prayer in hell of matching any Asgardian male in sheer brute strength, and knew better than to try. She'd learned to compensate by being faster and more flexible than they could ever be with all that muscle in the way.
The guy made a growling noise and Sif finally turned more attention to him. Oh, hell. It was Daufin. The idiot had been pursuing her for ... well over a hundred years now. He was thoroughly convinced that his manly charms would cure her of her aberrations and turn her into a proper Asgardian woman. Fat chance of that. Unfortunately, this was one particular would-be-suitor that Thor hadn't threatened with his hammer. Sadly, Daufin was bright enough to approach her only when Thor was not there to glower and start idly swinging his hammer in a very unsubtle threat.
There had been a time when Sif objected to Thor's protectiveness, but she'd eventually gotten over it and started viewing it with amused tolerance. Thor was what he was, and would never truly change. And he was, above all else, a chivalrous soul. He would never tolerate a man mistreating a woman.
"Really, Sif darling, you are so poorly suited to the warrior's life. It must be so taxing, to pretend you are something you are not." Daufin said, half-circling her like he was trying to get close enough to touch her.
Sif, of course, was having none of that and kept her sword between herself and Daufin. "Begone, Daufin. I have no interest in you or anything you say."
Daufin made a frustrated noise. "I tire of your willfulness, woman. You need to learn your place."
"And you're the one to teach it to me?" Sif mocked. "I think not, Daufin. Go." She poked at him with her sword, not actually trying to connect so much as warning him.
Daufin scowled at her. "Mayhap there is a reason you resist me." He growled. "Mayhap it is that you serve another purpose to Thor and the Three."
Oh, hell. He did not just go there. Sif gave Daufin a death-glare. Then, before he knew what she was doing, she lunged, adjusting her grip on her sword so that the pommel connected solidly with Daufin's skull. He went down in a heap at her feet, and she spat on him in disgust. She stalked out of the salle, storming towards the rainbow bridge. She needed a few moments away from idiots, and Heimdall was quiet, solid, nonjudgmental company.
Legends say that Queen Frigga can see the future, but tells no one, save a loyal servant sworn to silence. This was both true, and inaccurate.
Frigga did not actually see the future. She got occasional premonitions, both of good news and bad. She did tell a loyal servant about these premonitions, and the servant was sworn to silence about them. Frigga also rarely did anything about the premonitions. Only with the worst ones did she intervene in any way.
So when that cold, crawling sensation wriggled up her spine and spiked into her brain, driving her to gasp her sons' names and driving her to her feet, she did not hesitate. Something horrible was about to happen, and it was focused around Thor and Loki.
That, Frigga could not, would not, allow.
She raced for the Bridge and Heimdall, all pretense at royal dignity forgotten. Some bright servant had seen her pelting through the palace hell bent for leather and summoned the horsemaster to bring her horse. That saved her a lot of time she knew she couldn't afford. She leaped aboard and raced for Heimdall.
When she was most of the way there, she was met by a frantic-looking Sif. "My lady! The king ... he means to ... " Sif stopped long enough to catch her breath. "He is starting the renouncement ritual."
Frigga spared only a half-second for the abject horror that Sif's report demanded. She drove her heels into her horse's flanks and urged it faster for the last few lengths before she leaped off and stormed up to her husband.
"You DARE!" She bellowed.
What Odin was starting to do was an order of magnitude more severe than mere temporary banishment and removal of powers, as he had done with Thor a year ago. Renouncing Thor and Loki was permanent. It would strip them of not only their immortality and powers forever, but also Thor's blood relation to Odin and herself, and make it impossible for either of them to ever again set foot in Asgard. Even if they were holding onto someone else who was making use of the soon-to-be fully repaired Rainbow Bridge, they would not be brought along. Even if Odin rethought his actions at a later date, it could not be undone.
It was something that only the kings and queens of the Realms could do, and was normally reserved for the worst of criminals. It had been done once before by six of the Realms to Thanos. Unfortunately, he had since somehow regained his powers. He had been driven from the Realms after his bid for power, and renounced so that he could not step foot in those six realms ever again. Only Midgard, Niflheim and Helheim had not renounced him. Midgard had been a volcanic wasteland at the time, devoid of any life form at all. Niflheim and Helheim had been uninhabited, their native populations long since gone. They were useless to Thanos, as they were frozen wastelands stripped of all resources, which made Jotunheim look like a tropical paradise.
Each of the Realms had two objects of power. One of these could be used as a weapon or energy source. The other was an item that held within it the wisdom and power to rule its Realm. Asgard's items were Heimdall's sword and Gungnir, respectively. Jotunheim's had been the Tesseract and the Casket, again respectively.
Frigga knew what Midgard's items were, but they yet remained hidden. One of the requirements for the objects to appear was that the Realm must be close to being united under one banner. Midgard, with its dozens of fiefs, wasn't anywhere close to that stage yet. Nevertheless, the items had been found (and swiftly lost) a few times in history. Midgard's power item was a casket. Hence the reason for multiple legends regarding boxes of varying descriptions, from Pandora's Box to the Ark of the Covenant. Its king-maker was a sword, one that had been encountered only once, but had made quite the impression: Excalibur, the sword in the stone. It would remain lodged there until such time as Midgard was united and someone worthy took it up.
The bad news was that, once taken up, the king-maker passed from person to person in the newly made royal family. The king-maker could not be taken up by a commoner. The King, once made, could not be unmade. In the normal course of events, that wasn't a problem. The kingmakers did not choose idly, and could not be passed to an unworthy successor. Which really should have been everyone's biggest hint about Loki. If he had not been worthy, Gungnir would not have permitted him to touch it. Not even with Odin in his sleep and unable to sit the throne at the moment. Temporary bad decision making didn't exempt you from being King. Unfortunately, even if Thor and Loki were here, Frigga doubted they would challenge Odin for Gungnir. And there was no one else who could.
Except for her. While not of the Asgardian royal line (marrying into the royal family didn't count) Frigga was royal in her own right, as the youngest daughter of the King of Vanaheim. As such, she was capable of taking up Gungnir, if it found her worthy. Which she fully intended to do ... once she'd stopped this madness.
There was one thing about Frigga that everyone, even Odin, tended to forget. Frigga encouraged that forgetting by being quiet and self-effacing much of the time. Loki was widely acknowledged (if with a sneer) as a formidable magician. But everyone tended to forget from whom Loki had taken his lessons. Frigga had taught him everything he knew. But she hadn't taught him everything SHE knew. Not by a long shot. Not for lack of Loki trying, either. He simply hadn't been alive long enough to absorb all she had to teach him yet.
Frigga flicked one hand at Odin and a small fireball raced the distance between them, exploding in Odin's face. It was neither hot nor explosive. It was merely meant to distract Odin, which it did in spades. Odin reared back, stumbling over his own feet in shock and losing his place in the ritual. The magic that had been building to do his bidding promptly dissipated, achieving the most important goal, insofar as Frigga was concerned. She kept one eye on Heimdall, uncertain as to whether or not he would intervene as she flicked another fireball at her husband, this one with some warmth behind it, though not enough to burn him. Yet. Then she hit him a third time, for the symmetry of it and to give vent to a bit more of her rage.
"Have you run mad?" She demanded. "Why in the name of the Void are you renouncing our sons?"
Odin snarled at her. "Our sons." He spat the words. "Are no more worthy to stand in this Realm than those upstart peasants they have befriended." He growled.
Frigga frowned at him. She'd been aware he'd been ... testy, to put it mildly, since Thor and Loki's return to Asgard. Tony and Darcy's verbal and physical attacks had NOT gone over well. Loki's subsequent renouncement of the Odinson name had been salt on the wound for reasons Frigga could not begin to comprehend.
"You will not do this, Husband." She snapped. "And do you try, I will show you why Loki is only the second-best magician in the Realm." Because fireballs were a toddler's trick to her.
Odin snapped and snarled and frothed. He, quite frankly, was not making a damn bit of sense. He was acting very much like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Well and well.
"It would seem, Husband, that you are in dire need of the same lesson bestowed on Thor a year ago." Frigga growled. "For you are acting the spoiled brat who is not getting his way. Lady Darcy was right. You played a game with Loki and you lost, badly. And now you are whining about it."
Disgusted, she flicked her hand again, and Gungnir wrested itself out of Odin's hand and flew to hers. Odin howled in rage, but Frigga paid him no mind. She flicked her hand again, almost lazily, stripping Odin of his royal garb and replacing it with servant's garb. Another flick bound his powers until she said otherwise.
"You are sentenced to banishment in Svartalfheim until such time as you learn humility, empathy, and restraint." She snapped. Then she looked over at Heimdall, who had been thankfully silent and stayed out of the argument. "Send him." She commanded.
Heimdall took up the container holding the Tesseract and manipulated it. Seconds later, Odin was swallowed up in a wash of white light.
Once he was gone, she regarded Heimdall. "What set him off?" She wanted to know.
"He came down for his usual report." Heimdall rumbled. "I had to tell him about a discussion Thor had with Loki yesterday morning. Thor has resumed his childhood plans for the throne."
Frigga actually laughed, thoroughly delighted by that news, despite the situation. "The both of them ruling side by side as equals." She said, thoroughly pleased. She'd been grieved to see that particular childhood dream die. Then she sighed. "And Odin refused to allow a Jotun on the throne under any circumstances." She shook her head.
Fortunately for Thor and his plans, it would be possible. Loki was, after all, a son of Laufey, who, despite not having the Casket, had still been the rightful king of Jotunheim. Come to think on it ... perhaps she could attempt to speak reason with Laufey's successor. Odin had been foredoomed to failure, thanks to the Asgardian male's views on magic use. She, however, was far more open-minded about dealing with magic-users in general, as Vanaheim had not had those prejudices. Perhaps she would be able to succeed where Odin had failed.
She truly hoped Odin learned the lessons he needed to learn. Unfortunately, she didn't think he would. He was old, and set in his ways. She had a feeling he would spend the rest of his days in Svartalfheim among the dwarves. It wasn't a huge problem. She was younger than he was, and fully capable of holding the throne until her sons were willing to take up the mantle.
That would not be for some time yet. They both were rather invested in Midgard at the moment, and would likely stay until the friends they'd made had gone on to Valhalla. Beyond that, both of them were still very young, barely out of their teens by Midgardian measures. They would not be willing to settle down and rule Asgard for as much as another millennium yet. Frigga spared an amused thought for what Lady Jane would think if she found out she was technically older than Thor.
At that point, Sif finally approached after having made herself scarce while Frigga and Odin were arguing.
"My thanks, Lady Sif, for trying to stop Odin." Frigga said, as that was clearly what Sif had been thinking of doing by running for the palace, and the one person who could talk Odin out of his insane move. "Though I do wonder why you were out here?"
"Daufin." Sif said with a growl. "He accused me of being a ... " She spat, "leman to Thor and the Three."
Frigga's eyes went wide. "Does he breathe still?" She asked, rightfully assuming that Sif would have punished him for his temerity.
"Yes, though he will have a frightful headache come the morning." Sif said. "Among other ailments. I left him in a heap on the salle floor. His body will not thank him for it."
Frigga let out a snort. "I will deal with him come the morning." She said, then shook her head. "And if he has any intelligence whatsoever, he will ensure that Thor never hears of it."
Sif laughed. "Aye, Thor takes a dim view to that sort of thing."
"He is more perceptive than many credit him for." Frigga said. "He may not have been consciously aware of what Loki was being put through, but he acted as Loki's shield and buckler all the same. And took up the same mantle with you, for much the same reasons."
Sif scowled. "I am not ... " She started.
Frigga just looked at her. Then watched as Sif started to actually think about it. About the similarities between herself and Loki. Both of them so different from what they 'ought' to be. She knew the moment it sunk in, because Sif suddenly looked distressed.
"Why did I never ... ?" Sif started, then gave herself a shake. "I need to go." And without saying another word, she headed back towards the palace.
Frigga smiled quietly, one down. Now that she realized the similarities, Sif would join forces with Thor and Loki. And unless Frigga much missed her guess, drag the Three along with her, giving Thor and Loki that much more support. So much the better.