Choices

Chapter 25
She knew that scent, that strong smell of lavender and mint. It made her belly do backflips as her nerves set in. It was always that way when her mother came calling. Sif's mother, a woman renowned for her dedication to the tranquility of the temples of Valhalla, was not just a vain woman, but also a woman you didn't argue with. In fact, to cross the woman in any manner was not for the faint of heart. It was only because Sif was her daughter that Gaea gave her an inch of leniency.
Sif hadn't seen her mother in four years now. She spent more time at the temple than home. Sif grew up in the care of her grandmother, though the woman was becoming old and weary as she was nearing her 4901 year of life. Sif inhaled deeply and noticed the sweet scent of freshly baked pies, her mothers favorite treat. Exhaling in a nervous sigh she strolled though the parlor room and further in until she reached a small kitchenette. An old stone hearth crackled and the pies sat stemming on a long wooden table.
Their quarters within the palace had not been redecorated or upgraded since Sif's great-grandfather took them over as his own. Gaining the favor of Odin as Captian of his army and through his hard work and dedication he made his family an honourable name and station among the higher nobles, and so secured a place within the palace walls.
"Greetings mother," Sif said to the greying woman sat in one of the chairs. Though her mother was turning grey her face still remained lean and supple. Fierce blue eyes and strong jaw. She remained the beauty Sif always admired about her. Her mothers gaze swept over Sif from head to toe and settled back up on Sif's hair.
"A travesty what that brat did to your beautiful blonde locks." She remarked. Sif frowned, but chose not to caution her mother on her tone. There were plenty of ears in the palace to relay anything said about the royals to the person in question. Still, Sif doubted Odin would care much for anyone calling Loki a brat. In fact, Odin might very well secretly agree. "At least you still have your pretty face." She added after creasing her forehead in thought.
"Thor doesn't seem to mind the black hair." Sif told her mother. She shifted uncomfortably, more aware of her attire now than she had been when she'd come home. Another look from her mother told Sif the woman hadn't failed to noticed the men's training clothes and armor she wore and it was clear she didn't approve.
"If you keep dressing like that I wouldn't blame the elder prince for turning his eyes elsewhere." Sif's face burned hot with both embarrassment and anger; two things her mother often caused her to feel. It didn't surprise Sif that her mother knew about the incident with her hair or her new courtship with Thor. She always seemed to know more than she should. Sif had hoped her relationship with Thor would finally make her mother say a kind word to convey proudness, but as always her mother sat with that stern face and condescending tone.
"Thor is glad I am taking precautions to learn to protect myself." Sif countered, her voice careful to not convey her agitation.
Her mother snorted. "A man will tell you anything as long as he gets to keep you warming his bed. Mark my words if you were wed he wouldn't allow it. Fighting is not for noble women, but for those prudes, the Valkyrie." Sif clenched her fists together. The Valkyrie were a group of warrior woman who housed themselves high in the mountains. They shunned and despised men, most were celibate their entire lives though some came from unhappy homes, giving up their families to take the pledge. Sif admired the women for their prowess, but had no passion to become one.
"If you knew him, you wouldn't say such things. He loves me for all that I am." Again her mother snorted, this time shaking her head.
"I suppose all that matters is that you keep your claim on the prince," she finally said. "Come here." She motioned Sif to her. Not just to stand closer, but to sit near her feet like she once would when Sif was just a girl. To play and shape Sif's hair into pretty coifs. Most would think this to be a sentimental action, but Sif knew better. Her mother was about to land a blow of sensitive information to Sif that would either shock the girl or instil fear into her. Sif didn't deny her mother, she sat at her feet crossing her legs as her mother released her daughters hair from the crude piece of leather holding it back in its ponytail.
"I'm not trying to be mean Sif, but men are simple creatures. You must always feed their basic of needs, but never create an ounce of boredom within them. Has he proposed marriage?" Sif turned her head fast enough to cause her mother's fingers to catch in the knots in her hair.
"Mother!" She exclaimed. "We've naught known each other long enough for such a thing." Sif looked up astounded at her mother. Had she gone senile?
"Oh Sif. What does time matter? When you snag a catch such as Thor, the eldest son of a king and first heir to the throne, you don't just let time make the decisions for you. You must plant the seed of thought and get such a ball rolling. Would you not like to be a queen someday, All-Mother of Asgard, mother to the future heirs and of course lifetime companion to the man you love?" Sif was speechless. She hadn't dared think of such things, but now a small light blossomed inside her mind. Would she like those things?
Sif had never sought out Thor to gain a higher title or a throne, but the thought of baring Thor children excited her. To help him rule and be the confidant to her husband as Frigga was to Odin. To become a beacon of inspiration to all the subjects of Asgard. It certainly wasn't the most unlikeable thought. "I... I would certainly not turn my nose up at the possibility." Sif replied. Such an honor that would place on her family. A heritage continued and high even beyond what her great-grandfather had achieved.
"Things like that don't just happen Sif. You plant the seed." Sif swallowed as her mother pulled on her hair and began to braid pieces of it.
"I'm not sure I follow you." Her mother sighed.
"You must secure Thor's heart. He is young, and he is moldable. If even a small amount of boredom weaves it's way into his head his eyes will begin to wander. You must secure your place at his side and the only way to do that is marriage." Sif nodded. "You cannot allow some tramp to sweep in and show Thor what other pleasures he is missing, at least not while he is still free to blatantly toss you aside. At least, as his wife he would always have to come back to you. If you marry Thor and secure him a son, he will forever be bound to you in ways other women cannot provide."
"But mother, if Thor has children with others he could still seat them on the throne." Sif frowned. She didn't like the thought of Thor with another woman ever, but should it happen Sif knew the complications of bastard children. If Thor decided to still claim them as his own they would have claim to the throne.
"Not if you give him a son first. Above all other children he might sire and accept as legitimate, your's would be the first in line... and long may he reign. I must caution you though Sif, do not become pregnant before marriage. Such a thing may frighten Thor as he is young and may fear losing his freedom as that young man. Only after you secure your place at his side do you allow such a consequence." Sif glanced over her shoulder and her mother gave a smile.
"How would I plant such a seed?" Sif couldn't help herself. The thought of having Thor for the rest of her eternity was all too tempting.
"By watching. You must mold yourself into the kind of woman he expects to have at his side. He may not even realize what it is he wants, but it's up to you to read into his emotions. If he seems to be uneasy about something you've done, cease doing it and never do it again. Always aim to please him in everything." Sif's mind flashed to the fight that caused her to stay behind in Asgard while he left and went to Mechanova.
Thor had impatiently asked how long Sif planned to continue her battle training. He claimed her soft hands were becoming calloused and outright told her he didn't enjoy the feel of her hands against his skin. They reminded him of a mans. The thought of that fight instantly made Sif stiffen and a knot to form in her belly. What if she had already ruined her relationship with Thor?
"I have to change who I am?" Sif responded not wishing to tell her mother about the fight.
"No, you must suppress who you are. Until you are united in matrimony you must become a vision of perfection, the makings of a queen in his eyes. After you are married feel free to be whomever you like. Odin does not sanction divorce, but take caution, if you change too drastically before baring a male child then you risk pushing Thor from your bed and into the beds of others." Sif nodded again.
"Is this why you've come home?" Sif asked just as her mother pulled apart the braid. She was satisfied to have played with her hair and now left it hanging about her shoulders.
"Of course. Your happiness, is the happiness of us all." She told her. "Now...," her mother began as she drew Sif to stand. "Go change into a proper dress and join me for some pie." Sif turned to go, but her mother snatched her wrist and kept a firm grip surprising Sif to turn and stare at her again. "Forget about this fighting fantasy of yours. No man wants a manly women as his queen. Until you've secured your spot you are to never put that armor on again." Her mothers voice had grown low and it's warning was clear. All her life Sif feared her mother, this was not something she would argue with. Like her mother had said she could do whatever she liked as queen, she just had to be patient.
When her mother let her go Sif retreated to her room. She pulled off the armor and fighting clothes and tossed is aside carelessly. She yanked out a long sapphire dress and fitted herself into. As she tied it up her fingers stopped midway along the strings and she glanced at her discarded clothes. A deep sense of sadness welled inside her that she willed to go away. This was temporary. She mentally chided the reminder several times but it didn't silence her mourning. Finishing the dress in haste she grabbed the old garments off the floor and threw them in the basket for washing. She took her small pieces of armor and buried them as far in her wardrobe as possible. The old saying was not true, though the items were no longer in sight they still haunted her mind.
Could she do this? Give up her desire to learn to battle. Sif took in a heavy breath. To be with Thor she had to do this. She'd lied to herself on more than one occasion that Thor was okay with her learning to fight. She knew he was anything but comfortable. He wanted a lady, not a warrior. Perhaps over time she could plant a new seed in his mind that equality for women was needed regarding battle, but for now she needed to focus on what her mother suggested.

Notes