Lunch
Taking a look at yourself in the mirror, finally dropping the spell you had cast earlier to cover up your body, you take a deep breath as relief overcomes you, dropping to your knees as you begin to pant for breath.
You hadn’t realized exactly how much energy was being expended in order to cover your scars.
Picking yourself up off of the floor, you take in your true form in the mirror, your skin slightly paled from the morning of exertion...your sunken in eyes even more prominent with the loss of calories that it took to fool even the greatest of seidrs this morning.
I can’t go to lunch looking this way.
Sighing, you close your eyes and mutter under your breath, sucking in a sharp bout of air as the spell vibrates back up, your body...for a split second...buckling under the exhaustion as you catch yourself on the corner of your vanity.
“Y/N!”
Hearing Sif behind you as she puts her arms up under yours, she steadies you to your feet as she looks at you with concerned eyes.
“Are you alright?” she asks, her eyes searching yours.
“I forgot to eat breakfast,” you lie, rolling your eyes as you try to brush it off.
“Well, then let us feast on a big lunch!” Sif exclaims, holding her arms out to you to aid in the steadying of your body, “After all, I have many questions.”
“As long as I am returned to get ready and accompany Loki to dinner at 5, you can have me as long as you wish,” you say, smiling at her as she flashes you a happily surprised shock.
“So you are staying after all!” she exclaims, excitement in her voice as the two of you start down the hall.
“Yep, you’re stuck with me for a little while longer,” you say, winking playfully at her as you turn the corner in to the eating quarters, your mouth salivating with the smells of chilled fruits and warmed sandwiches.
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“So, how much of the stories are true?” Sif asks with a mouthful of cucumber sandwich.
“How about you break down the story and I will confirm or deny,” you say, your eyes widening as a light chuckle escapes your lips at the abrupt start to the conversation.
“Alright. Well, is it true that, since your family has been taken from you, that you will transform in a couple of months on your 29th birthday?”
Nodding your head as you take a sip of cider, Sif asks the all-looming question: “Does Loki know?”
Casting your gaze downward, you swallow hard, your eyes giving away your answer as Sif reaches out and grabs your hand.
“You need to tell him,” she implores.
“He will get rid of me if he finds out,” you whimper.
“He will find out either way. It is best if it comes from you, my friend.”
“That’s what Mrs. Frigga said...”
After a brief moment of silence, Sif continues to throw questions your way.
“So, how many guardians are there exactly?”
“9 for each of the realms, and then 1 that overlooks them all. Each guardian has a particular color that defines them, so to speak. Like Thor with his red and Loki with his green. The guardian that overlooks them all...that one is white,” you finish, your gaze thrown behind Sif as another chef brings out a plate of fruits.
“So, which are you?” she asks as she grabs an apple.
Sighing as you close your eyes, you pinch the bridge of your nose as she squeals.
“You’re white!?”
“Sif!” you whisper harshly, picking up a roll as you toss it at her face, “Keep it down,” you mutter between clenched teeth.
“Y/N, you are the most powerful being in the galaxy,” she emphasizes, leaning forward on her hands as if whispering you a secret.
“Yeah, thanks for the reminder,” you mutter, leaning back in your chair as you pop a cherry into your mouth.
“Has there ever been a woman guardian? All of the stories reference men,” Sif inquires as she picks at a slice of watermelon.
“No. I will be the first,” you admit.
As Sif shakes her head and laughs incredulously, a smile plays across your cheeks as the realization of your life finally sinks in. “It’s a bit...much...isn’t it?”
“Yes. Yes it is,” Sif concurs, her giggles growing into laughter.
“Oh, my god...Sif, stop!” you yelp, holding your stomach as you lean over and put your forehead to the table.
“It’s just so outlandish!” Sif yells, her body curling in to itself as the laughter starts to hurt her abs.
“Little ol’ me!” you exclaim, lobbing back into your chair as your guffawing gives way to silent laughter.
“Oh, my stomach!” she roars.
“Oh, god,” you breathe, tears streaming down your face, both from hilarity and fear.
Wiping your tears away as the laughter finally dies down, your reddened face of hilarity finally gives way to a pale face of uncertainty.
"The story about the fighter...is it true?”
You had a feeling she would hone in on that part.
“You mean where a warrior is designated to fight alongside a guardian in glorious battle until the day that guardian passes?” you ask mockingly, rolling your eyes as you flop back into your seat and cross your legs.
“Yes,” you say as you watch Sif’s eyes light up, “But there is a detail of that story that is left out.”
“Oh?” Sif asks, her eyebrows raised.
“Yes. A guardian doesn’t just get a warrior, a guardian can also designate a healer.”
“A healer...” she drifts off.
“Yes. Someone to come in to battle with the guardian and the guardian’s warrior and heal their wounds...and, sometimes, fight for their lives on the battlefield, or during whatever torrential war might be waged at that particular moment in time.”
As a moment of silence once again falls between the two of you, you find yourself wanting to reach for another sandwich, but second-guess yourself by wanting to keep your facade spell a secret...
Even from Sif.
“Well, how does one go about picking a warrior?” Sif asks, her eyes studying you as you raise your gaze to hers.
“It is, first and foremost, based on trust. If a guardian comes to trust someone with their life, then that is usually the first person that is asked. It is not necessary to have the skills to fight before a guardian picks you. Those are given during the warrior’s own transformation,” you say as you take another sip of your drink.
“And...if a particular friend were to, say, express interest in the roll...” she says, drifting off.
“Then it would be much accepted,” you say as a smile crosses your face.
Hearing Sif squeal, she reaches for your hands across the table as your face becomes stern.
“Under one condition,” you say.
“Anything, my friend,” Sif responds.
“You are to be the future Allmother of this kingdom, and an addition like this to a position such as that is not to be taken lightly,” you say, squeezing her hands. “Talk it over with Thor. If Thor is on board, then so am I.”
“As you wish, my friend,” she says, standing up as she helps you to your feet to embrace you in a hug.
“For I will always protect my best friend,” you whisper in to her ear.
“And I, you,” Sif returns the sentiment.
And as you hold her close in the middle of the grand eating quarters, your eyes gaze out at the sun, clocking its position as a sigh emanates from between your lips.
“I must be off to make myself presentable for dinner,” you say, breaking the embrace and taking Sif’s hands in yours.
“Do me a favor? Let me know when you have informed Thor. That will let me know when to talk with Loki. Because once Thor knows...”
“It’s only a matter of time before he says something,” Sif finishes your sentiment.
“Exactly,” you whisper, a weak smile crossing your face as Sif continues to study you.
“You care for him, do you not?” she asks.
“I haven’t quite sorted out how I feel about any of this,” you sigh.
“All I know,” you start, “Is that even as I close my eyes, I thank my stars that I am here, and not there,” you say, nodding out towards the realms.
“Then that is a start,” Sif says, embracing you in one last hug before starting with you back to your room.