During her time at the palace, Sif had taken to helping out with the horses. She loved them. She could ride very well and enjoyed every minute of her time caring for the animals. It reminded her of her home. She had her group of horses, and the stable hands knew to leave them for her. Though she often came at odd hours to work by herself, she always came.

Today, although it was late, she was not alone. A white gander had met her at the entrance to the stables. He'd been standing regally at the door as she walked up, and followed her as she went in, for all the world as though he'd been waiting for her. He watched her as she worked through her group. Standing there, in all his pompous solemnity, keeping an eye on her as though to make sure she had done the job to his satisfaction.

As she left, he followed her all the way to the edge of the stable-yard.

That evening, when she came again, her escort was waiting for her once more.

"You again," she greeted him at the doorway, "Well, come on."

She bent down to check on the dark mare's hoof – she'd noticed something odd about it earlier – and when she straightened, her gander had been joined by a goose.

Again they followed her to the edge of the yard. And the next day she was met there by three of them.

Altogether by the end of it, she was followed by five. On the third morning – the second time the fifth had shown himself – they did not halt at their usual point, but followed her in a wavering procession. She tried to shoo them off, but they wouldn't go. Nothing she could do would stop them from following her. If she darted into a building very fast and snapped the door closed behind her, sometimes she could escape, but not always. The geese were surprisingly agile creatures and often she would slip through a doorway only to turn her back to it and find an expectant guest.

That afternoon, they were executing cavalry maneuvers. Sif leapt onto her mount, to the great consternation of her flock. Thor, only just arriving, leading his horse, looked at her with raised eyebrows, "New friends?" he asked.

"They're a nuisance. I don't know what I did to gain such devotion."

As they began to ride toward the field where they would begin their training, the geese fell in line behind her, hissing menacingly at the horses who stepped too close. The horses took the threat quite seriously and kept clear.

Thor laughed, "I've never met anyone with such a loyal following among the animal kind," he shrugged, then turning said over his shoulder, "Well, except for Loki. Remember when Father's horse was young, and how devotedly it followed you?"

"I do indeed."

Sif turned around and found Loki mounted with some others who were following behind. He was smirking at her, guiding his horse around the geese.

She narrowed her eyes at him, which made him laugh and only strengthened her suspicions. She turned away, "I didn't expect to see you here today," she said, in lieu of mentioning it.

"Father thought it good I should come," he shrugged carelessly, "So here I am."

"Here you are," she muttered, barely audible, and spurred her horse forward.

Behind her, she heard Thor ask his brother dubiously, "Well? What now?"

"I haven't the foggiest idea what you mean."

~.~

They only followed her for another day or two after that, and only in full strength that one day. Gradually, they began to wander off. Sif was glad to see them go. It made her life much more simple. Having no official task, she helped where she could, and often, that would be in the kitchens. It was a welcome appointment. She had been mistress of the kitchens in her parents' home ever since her mother had become sick all those years ago. It was familiar work, and pleasant to her. Geese – well, live geese – were not allowed.

She could guess where the 'goose plague' had come from and – although it had been amusing – she had to find a way to pay him back. Nothing too harmful or humiliating. It was always best with these things to return in kind…She was musing on her problem as she walked toward the stables, when she found a nest. It was tucked against the stable walls in a place barely discernable behind the great door that always stood open. There was no hen or goose about, so Sif crouched down and slid her arm into the slit between door and wall. The eggs were warm to her touch. Glancing about to make sure that no one was watching, she plucked one from the nest and slipped it carefully into her pocket.

Loki would be getting an extra special surprise on his plate this night.

~.~

Loki had slipped and left the note under the wrong door. That was what had started all of this. The funny thing was that he hadn't known a thing about it until a few days later when Thor had asked him if he'd been sending love letters to an Einheriar guard.

At first he was shocked that Sif had dared say such a thing. He was a prince, and beyond that, he was her accomplice – or – what was more the case – she, his. After a moment though, this wore off.

"Did she?"

It was a game that two could play.

Geese were simple creatures, and it was easy enough to charm them to his whims. It was fun to watch them chase after her while it held, gaining more and more control over them, and then gradually less and less. Father had just happened to ask Thor about the progress of their training, and upon hearing what it was they were to be doing, had told Loki that it would be a lesson most beneficial to him as well. Knowing better than to argue, Loki had complied. He'd never been happier for one of his father's veiled orders.

The way she looked at him, he knew she had guessed, but she offered no attempt at vengeance, and made no mention of his agency in the game. He wondered what was going on inside her blond head.

He found out when Sif invited him to sit with her and the others at a feast a few days later. They had all trained together that day, and it had been enjoyable, even for him.

The raw egg that burst all over his plate was less pleasant.

Between tasks over the next day or two, Loki found his answer.

Sif found an egg on her plate, that hatched.

The look on her face was gratifyingly astonished.

When he found a large, hairy spider hiding on his plate the next night, and Sif grinning at him across the others at the table, it was his turn.

Over the papers splayed across the desk in his room that night, he wondered about it. He'd never had someone match him play-for-play. If he played a trick on Thor, Thor would match him back ten-fold. Sif wasn't trying to make him stop, or to humiliate him.

She made him wonder.

~.~

It was barely morning when Sif woke to care for the horses. Quickly she rose and dressed. Once she was satisfied with herself, she went through the door and found she was coated with sticky, stringy cobwebs that had been strung up all across her doorway.

Once the surprise wore off, she wasn't sure if she was more angry or amused. After twenty minutes of attempting to pull the sticky threads off of her, she was sure. Giving up, she brushed herself off as best she could and headed out.

The webbing had been on the inside of the door. She must have some kind of magic to blame for it. Both for its existence and the fact that she hadn't managed to feel it when she reached through for the doorknob. He must have come while she was asleep – maybe he had climbed through her window. She was fairly sure that she distinctly did not like that – that he could sneak in to her room to jape her while she was asleep.

Plucking a stray strand of web that had floated down her forehead out of her eye she remembered once hearing Thor teasing his little brother, 'Ragnarok could be come and gone during the night and he'd be none the wiser,' She hoped that it was true.

~.~

Getting the paints from Gerda was easier than Sif had expected, though the fond way the woman had looked at her made her uneasy. She didn't like people having daft ideas about her, she wasn't that kind of girl, but it couldn't be helped.

It was very late – better early morning than late night – when she eased herself to the floor of the balcony just outside of his rooms. There was no sound but for her own breathing and the soft night insects.

He kept the balcony door open – which was lucky for her – she hadn't even thought to worry about that – and crept in. She found him, twisted in a snarl of blankets on his bed. Seeing his face – peaceful and still as he slept – she remembered her brothers, and how one night she had given them war paint with the berries she had picked too late in their season. How her father had laughed!

Thinking of her father made her chest hurt, so she shook her head, unslung the bag from her shoulder, took one last look at her sleeping victim, and began.