Sif was uncomfortable. She was never particularly fond of wearing dresses, but the fabrics of Midgard greatly perplexed her. They were so thin and soft that she couldn't image they provided much protection from anything. Midgard was not full of warriors as Asgard was, she knew this, but surely a mere gust of wind or a splash of water would bring this garment to ruin? It wasn't her place to judge Midgard, at least not out loud, but being stuffed into a flimsy, strangely tailored dress was not improving her already sour mood.

She was staring at herself in the mirror, practicing her smiles so that they looked less strained and fake, when she saw Loki enter the room behind her.

"The Midgardians have a saying," Loki told her. "Always a bridesmaid, never a bride. It seemed fitting for you."

Sif clenched her fist tightly, wishing that she had her sword to cut that smile off of his face. She met his eyes in the mirror when she answered. "I have a saying. Always a prince, never a king."

Loki's frown came immediately and Sif felt her smile become more genuine as she turned to face him.

"Did you want something, Loki? Other than to make a nuisance of yourself?" She asked.

"The bell tolls, my lady," Loki said as he swept into a bow. "Time to pick up the hatchet."

"You mean bury the hatchet," She corrected.

Loki grinned at her with a raised eyebrow. "Do I?"

Sif laughed, despite herself. She shook her head as she went to his side. "Are you ready to watch your brother get married?"

Loki laughed mirthlessly. "Are you?"

"Well, stalling will not do either of us any favors."

Loki sighed deeply. "As you say." He held out his arm to her and she took it with less reluctance than she felt. "If nothing else, I can always hope that Thor will make a fool of himself and amuse me."

"That's your first hope, Loki."

"I must have some joy, mustn't I?" He responded.

The wedding was no where as awful as Sif expected, nor as Loki had hoped. There was no mischief and no mistakes by Thor. Jane was lovely and Odin was polite. It was, in fact, much more bland than she was expecting. The fact that Loki didn't do anything to embarrass Thor was the real kicker, but Thor's romance with Jane had set as ill with him as it did with her, as it did with Odin. No one had been thrilled that the next queen of Asgard, potentially, was to be a mortal. Not even Frigga, who could pretend with the best of them.

It was less, than a year later that found her repeating the ritual. The clothes were not ill-fitting this time, the fabric was to her liking, the quality astounding, and her nerves worse for wear. She didn't have anything as mundane and distracting as fabric protection to lose her thoughts in this time. All she could focus on were the ceremonial trappings that adorned her person, the ritual rites that she had long since memorized, the anticipation that she had put to bed a year previous now mixed with the dread of abandoned responsibility come back to haunt her.

"Once a bride, never a bridesmaid." Loki's voice appeared before he did. He stepped out of the shadows and into her sight, so reminiscent of the last time and yet so different.

"That's not a saying," She told him, her voice hoarse with her nervousness.

"No, it is not." He answered. He placed two glasses on the vanity before her, pouring a small amount of silver colored spirits. He lifted the glass and held it out to her. "If you feel anything like I do, you could use the artificial strength."

She could. A good drink would settle her nerves, or the pretense of it would. She sipped the whole thing down in one go, slow and steady. They placed their glasses down at the same time. The synchronicity struck her as odd.

"Are you ready for this?" She didn't know what compelled her to ask, but the question was out before she could rethink it.

Loki let out a short laugh. "Oh yes! I have always been prepared to be mailed off as a trophy to appease some well off neighbor. I just did not expect to be mailed off to you."

Sif grimaced. "You're not the one being mailed off, Loki. I thought I would be queen, now they're making me marry just because my parents made a fuss about it."

"We are all pawns in the All-father's game, Sif, your role has just been changed."

"And you're okay with this?" She asked him.

Loki shrugged one shoulder and turned away from her. "I have always known my place, and when I didn't, Thor was quick to remind me. You and the three, were quick to remind me. 'Always a prince, never a king.' Why should this come a surprise or a shock to me?"

Sif cringed at the reminder of how she had often behaved. It wasn't something she was proud of. Her behavior toward Loki had been much different since Thor married Jane, and his behavior toward her, but the thought still brought her shame. "Loki…" She meant to apologize, had already opened her mouth to form the words, but Loki covered her words with his hand.

"Now, now, Sif. You go feeling remorseful, I will have to as well. Let's save it for the honeymoon, shall we?"

That got a reluctant smile from her. Loki was easy to get along with, as much he had been easy to hate and easy to envy in the past. Loki was good at being whatever you needed him to be, when he desired to appease, and whatever you most despised when he was angered. She shook her head at him fondly.

Loki held out his arm to her, much as he had last time. "Well, my dear, what do you say we go become each other's trophy?"

Sif's smile was much more genuine than she could have ever hoped for a year ago. "I say, I'd be glad to have you on display, my prince."

"Time to pick up the hatchet!" He said cheerfully as she thread her arm through his.

"Bury the hatchet, Loki." She reminded him.

"But think how more we get done if we had a hatchet!" Loki insisted.

Sif laughed again. "No hatchets on our wedding day."

"As you say, my lady."