In her youth, Lady Sif had once been engaged.
Despite her lively attitude and general good spirits, it had been a shy, severe scholar that captured her affections. Their understanding had been so passionate, so closely beheld by both parties, that the young man had begged for her hand not a month after it began. And Sif had been weak to do anything but grant it.
However, the boy’s guardian was a proud, wealthy, cruel gentleman, who instantly voiced his intense disapproval of the match and demanded it be dissolved. After all, Sif was the daughter of a widowed seamstress, with hardly any money to her name. A most undeserving match for his youngest ward who was to inherit, not so much as his biological son, but still a considerable sum.
And so it was that on the day of their intended elopement Sif received a letter in her beloved's hand, calling off the engagement and apologizing for troubling her. Though she sent him several notes in reply to this, she never received any other correspondence.
That was the last she had heard from Loki Laufyson…
5 years later...
“You’re sure you don’t want to join us, Sif?” Mr. Volstagg asked kindly, “The Foster’s invitation did extend to all members of our party, not just me and my wife.”
She smiled at her friend, but shook her head decidedly. She had been staying with them for about two weeks at the invitation of Mrs. Volstagg. It had been the hope of her mother that this trip would result in a husband for her daughter, but Sif had decided long before she left home that that would not be the case. The note from Loki still hung like chain in her pocket, a grimm reminder of precisely why she was determined to be an old maid. “No indeed, thank you. I must decline. I’m feeling poorly.”
“Very well. But should you improve, have a servant fetch the carriage for you. For though the Foster’s estate is but a mile, it looks like rain.”
“I will bare that in mind. Have a pleasant evening.” She waved to her friends as they descended the steps of their cottage and made off for the manor.
In truth, she was not ill. Not in the least. But she was not without reason for staying behind. Lady Jane Foster had recently become engaged to a wealthy gentleman by the name of Thor Odinson, with whom Sif had formerly been acquainted. The nature of their acquaintance was this: Thor was the son of Loki’s guardian, and the two had been raised as brothers. Although it was not said whether the two young men would be among the party that evening, Sif had decided it wasn’t worth the risk.
For she knew that, should she see Loki again, the wound would open afresh and she would be done for.
So, she resigned to spend the evening reading in the Volstagg’s parlor.
Later that evening...
She was not halfway through her novel when a sudden knock at the door startled Sif.
Placing her book on the bench beside her, she listened for a moment. As it was raining angrily outside it was hard for her to believe any sane person would come calling.
But surely enough, another knock sounded. This time louder.
Pulling her shawl around her shoulders, she stood up and hurried to the foyer. Once there, she opened the door and peered out into the dark curtain of rain. And a surge of surprise pierced her chest.
Loki stood, soaked shirtsleeve clinging to his thin frame, black hair matted at the nape of his neck, looking equally shocked.
“Mr. Laufyson-” started Sif.
“You did not come to dinner.” He interrupted, voice strained.
“I…” Stepping back, she gestured inside. “Forgive me, would you care to come in?”
Nodding, he strode past her into the sitting room.
“You look well.” He said after a moment.
“Thank you, sir. I-”
“Your mother, is she in good health?” The words poured from his lips automatically, as though they needed to be said before he could speak his mind.
“Yes, excellent.”
“Glad to hear it.”
They stood in silence for a long moment, Loki’s eyes fixed on Sif’s face with a look of struggle.
Then, they both spoke at the same time.
“Miss...Sif-”
“Your brother has announced his engagement-”
“Forgive me, you may speak first.” Loki bowed his head.
“I...I simply wished to offer my congratulations.”
“Thank you, madam.”
“Lady Foster is from a very amiable family. I’m sure your father must be pleased.” Instantly, Sif cringed at herself. The words had come out far more bitter than she had intended.
Loki, however, took the sting better than expected. Breathing a rueful laugh through his nose, he nodded. “You know better than anyone that my guardian is incapable of being pleased.”
“And yet you strive to do so anyway.”
Face turning severe, his eyebrows knotted. “And you fault me for this?”
Sf sighed heavily, touching the letter in her pocket. It wasn’t worth it. “Forgive me-”
“No, I would like to hear more of this. You believe I should not try to honor the man who took me in when my own father passed on, the man who provided me with an inheritance, a family-”
“That is not what I meant.”
“Well then what did you mean?” His eyes narrowed.
“I only wanted to…” She trailed off, blood throbbing to her head. “I only think that perhaps one ought to consider their own happiness on occasion, rather than striving towards a goal they know will never be reached.”
Loki pondered this for a moment before turning to look out of the window, hands behind his back. “Thank you for your concern, but Thor is very taken with Lady Foster, so his happiness has not been sacrificed.”
With a moment of hesitation, Sif replied. “You know that is not what I speak of.”
Instantly, the muscles of his back tensed. Then, he looked back at her, eyes pained. “Yes, I know.”
The urge to hold him in her arms overtook the young woman with such intensity that she almost gave in to it. But the weight of the letter in her pocket reminded her of what that risked.
“Sif…” He breathed, taking a step closer.
“Yes?”
“I need to tell you...although you must already assume. My reason for coming here despite the rain and-”
“No, you...you need not continue.”
“Please, let me speak.” Reaching out, he gripped her hand. “I have had no peace since I ended our understanding-”
“Understanding? So that’s what it was! Not an engagement, simply a childish affair.” Angry sarcasm bled from her words as she pulled back her hand. “Thank you for clarifying.”
“You know full well that is not what I meant.”
“Do I? Perhaps I do not know you so well as you think.”
“I know that I deserve this ridicule after what I did, but will you please hear my piece?’
“Have you not said enough already? You have come to gain closure, to receive my forgiveness so that you will once again have peace. But I will not grant it to you-”
“Sif, I love you!” He shouted suddenly, interrupting her. “Still!”
A strained silence settled over the room.
Then, Loki drew a bundle of letters from his pocket.
The letters Sif had sent him following their separation.
Her heart leapt.
Through a clenched jaw, Loki hissed. “You think that you alone were wounded in the breaking off of our engagement? I have read your letters every day, carrying them with me wherever I go, knowing that I have ruined my chance of matrimonial happiness. And for what? To appease a man who took me in simply to improve his local image.” Nervously, he reached out and touched her cheek. “But my own happiness is not the sacrifice that I regret most. No indeed, beautiful...strong...faithful Sif. I would suffer a thousand lifetimes if I could but undo causing you pain.”
“Loki…” She started, voice thick with tears. Placing her hand over his, she stared back. She had memorized his face long ago, each scar, line, and sharp feature. But time had changed him slightly. The innocent, amused, smooth face of the boy she had fallen in love with now gave way to that of a wounded man.
After a long moment of silently gazing at one another, Loki breathed, “I cannot do this.”
Lunging forward, his other hand was suddenly on her waist and his lips were against hers.
The surprising nature of the action caused Sif to stumble backwards until her body pressed against the wall. And although she knew this was not proper, she could find no reason to stop herself from running her fingers through his rain soaked hair.
She had not felt this sensation, an electric, urgent need to be close to someone, since before they had ended their engagement five years ago. And Sif feared implications of that. She knew not whether she would be able to go through the pain of parting with him again.
So, the minute he pulled away a bit, she spoke hoarsely, “Loki, this is not the way of a gentleman-”
“Damn the ways of gentlemen.” He breathed, leaning down to kiss her again.
“Loki, please.” Eyebrows creasing, she placed her hands on his chest and pushed him back slightly. She could feel his rapid heartbeat beneath her fingers. “We are no longer engaged.”
After staring at her for a moment with disappointment in his eyes, he released a sigh. “You are right. This is not proper.”
She shook her head, silently hoping he would not move away from her despite this.
He did, however, just enough to reach into his pocket. “I meant to give you this years ago. I purchased it before I allowed the man whom I call father to manipulate our relationship. And...I have not brought myself to get rid of it.”
Sif let out a shaky breath when she saw the item between his fingers. A ring. A gorgeous, sparkling ring. “Loki, what are you doing?”
“I am considering my own happiness.” He smiled, a nervous, tearful, smile.
“Your father-”
“-no longer has the same sway over me he did five years ago.” Taking her hand, he slid the ring onto her finger. Then, he added, “Besides, now that Thor is married well I dare say he will be less invested in my own affairs.”
For a long moment Sif stared at him, unsure of what to say.
Then, she suddenly became very aware of the weight of the letter in her pocket. The letter that she had claimed was a reminder of past mistakes; a warning. Only then did she realize how much she had deceived herself. The brittle, wrinkled pages were a beacon of hope. A final tether to the happy days of past.
And now, perhaps, the happy days of future.
Reaching into her pocket, she ran her fingers along the rough paper.
“Loki, despite the turmoil and heartache I have experienced these past years, I have never once stopped yearning for the mere fantasy of this day,” beamed the young woman. “And though I will admit there were times I believed I was a fool to hope...I have loved none but you.”
Loki’s face brightened to a boyish grin, renewing some of the youthful glow Sif remembered.
“I believe it is proper for you to kiss me now.” She blushed at her own boldness.
But Loki was more than happy to oblige.