Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/246793. Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: F/M Fandom: Thor (2011) Relationship: Loki/Sif, Jane Foster/Thor Character: Loki (Marvel), Sif (Marvel), Frigga (Marvel), Odin (Marvel), Warriors Three, Erik Selvig, Jane Foster, Darcy Lewis Additional Tags: Regency, Alternate Universe - Regency, matrilineal society Stats: Published: 2011-08-29 Words: 15275 Sif & Sensibility by newredshoes Summary The fact of the matter is that Mrs. Aesir has too many sons and no one to inherit the estate. Someone must marry Thor, particularly if that someone is Lady Sif, recently returned to Asgardshire, and Loki will ensure that it happens by any means necessary — even at the cost of his own heart. Yet forces are at play to ensure no one inherits Mjolnir Manor at all. Will Mrs. and Mr. Aesir's past ruin any prospects of a future for their sons? Notes See the end of the work for notes When scandals grew tired and news from around the realms tapered to nothing at all, the finer families of Asgardshire could, with gratitude, always rely upon the status of the Aesirs’ offspring to keep their minds and tongues occupied. Though they were, each in their way, fine of form and a credit to their family, the fact remained that Mrs. Aesir had birthed but two sons, neither of whom could, in the eyes of the law, inherit Mjolnir Manor without a wife to sign the deed. It was a truth that grieved Mr. Aesir daily, and while Thor, the firstborn, was so good-natured that no one begrudged him his sex, Loki, the younger and last child, nursed a suspicion that his father blamed him for not being born a girl. There was much Loki felt was unfairly heaped upon his head. He had a reputation for moods and sullenness, but only, he felt, because he was not bright, fair, lively Thor. In any case, his mother loved and valued his wit, and while Mr. Aesir traded war stories and advice with his elder boy, Mrs. Aesir spent hours with Loki dissecting books and debating the nature of the world. Besides, the brothers adored each other and each was privately certain that Thor, at least, would find a wife willing to inherit Mjolnir and secure their place in the county. The law, however, in its wisdom, had imposed a deadline on these proceedings, and Thor was fast approaching his five-and-twentieth birthday. Though he was a delight to his parents, he had little interest in matters outside the regiment, just as Loki could hardly be coaxed from the library (save by his brother), virtually guaranteeing that neither would encounter a lady of suitable stature in time. More and more, this weighed on Mr. Aesir’s mind, and the day finally came when he could not help bringing it up at breakfast. “Mrs. Aesir,” he said, as he slathered marmalade on his third piece of toast, “I wonder, have you heard the news that is about town this week?” Mrs. Aesir did not look up from her paper. “I daresay, Mr. Aesir, that there is quite a bit of news about, much of which, I am sure, I have not heard.” “Let me be the first, then, to assure you this is no rumor, my dear, for I heard it from none other than Heimdall himself. The Lady Sif is returned to her mother’s house.” “Lady Sif?” Thor swallowed the substantial lump of buttered scone he had diligently packed into one cheek. “The same gangly Sif whose hair Loki snipped when we were children?” “Let us hope she does not remember our family by that incident alone,” Mr. Aesir said. “Yes; she is, I imagine, quite as grown as you two are, and quite eligible, now that she has come into her majority.” Mrs. Aesir made a small noise of interest and sipped her tea. Thor remembered to speak before filling his mouth again, and kept his fork in hand. “Where has she been all this while?” “Abroad with a wealthy aunt, I believe, though Heimdall was somewhat more circumspect on that account. I have it on good authority that she comes with an eye toward putting down strong roots.” “Congratulations, Thor, you’ve been conscripted to marry a tree.” Mr. Aesir’s one eye looked across the table to his wife. “Though it would, of course, be proper for the elder to marry before the younger, we are increasingly open to whatever solution best presents itself.” Loki, discomfited by this early morning direness, turned to his mother, still blithely scanning the farm report. “We cannot be the first to know of her coming, though. Nor would our aims be unique.” Mrs. Aesir shook her head. “No indeed.” “So, we must act quickly,” Mr. Aesir announced, “and expose our family to her affections as soon as can be arranged.” “I quite agree,” said Mrs. Aesir. “The county is full of young men in want of a rich wife.” Mr. Aesir gripped his knife, still glistening with marmalade. “You are teasing us, Mrs. Aesir. Surely you of all people share my deep concern.” Mrs. Aesir folded the newspaper and set it aside. “Of course, Mr. Aesir. Which is why I have already invited the Lady Sif to dine with us at six o’clock this evening.” “Here?” said Thor, at the same time Loki exclaimed, “Six?” “As I have said,” replied Mrs. Aesir, and Mr. Aesir allowed himself, at last, a smile and a bite of his toast. * “I hope at least she is interesting,” Thor grumbled as they marched toward the front hall. “It is the least “I hope at least she is interesting,” Thor grumbled as they marched toward the front hall. “It is the least courtesy she could afford us for cutting short my falconing.” “She is unmarried with twelve thousand a year,” said Loki mildly. “I believe she will be exquisite and fascinating.” They joined their parents in the foyer, whereupon Mr. Aesir fussed over the state of Thor’s hair and Mrs. Aesir told Loki to save his more charming quips for after dessert, if not later. Their timing was quite precise, for not a minute after, the footman announced the Lady Sif’s arrival. True to Mr. Aesir’s prediction, Lady Sif had matured into a very fine specimen. Gangly had become tall, and the sharp, awkward features Loki remembered now fit together quite handsomely. Her lavender gown did not mask the strong line of her shoulders. Loki also noted that she wore her black hair long and down. Their eyes met as she approached, and he might have sworn he saw her eyebrows twitch. “Mrs. Aesir, Mr. Aesir.” She smiled wide and bowed. “It delights me no end to be in your home after so many years away. Thank you both for your very kind invitation.” “My dear Lady Sif, we are all of us delighted that you have joined us, and so soon after returning to town.” Mrs. Aesir nodded toward her sons, who straightened where they stood. “You may remember my elder boy, Thor, and my younger, Loki.” “I do, fondly,” said Lady Sif. She surveyed them with an air of approval. “Gentlemen, a pleasure to see you again.” Thor, though he could be unkept, and boisterous, and prone to rash decisions, stubbornness and spoiled behavior, could also, given proper stimulus and incentive, exhibit remarkable charm. Lady Sif was treated, at close range, to his winningest smile, and a well-executed bow. “Likewise,” he said, and Loki fought with every fiber of his being not to let a smirk betray him. Lady Sif, perhaps expecting a complement to Thor’s efforts, eyed Loki. “I hope the years haven’t made you shy, Mr. Odinson.” “My lady, not in the slightest,” he replied, and dipped his head. “Mannered, then.” Her mouth curled. “How refreshing.” At Mrs. Aesir’s urging, they repaired to the dining room, though Mr. Aesir made a cursory effort to engage Lady Sif on a tour of Mjolnir Manor first. “Now that you are old enough, you must see our trophy room,” he exclaimed during the soup course. “All the wild armaments of our youth, put away for gentler times.” “I should find that very agreeable.” Lady Sif glanced at her hosts. “My aunt and mother have recommended I ply you both for tales of your exploits in Jotunham.” “They were not very great adventures at the time,” Mrs. Aesir remarked, somewhat wryly. “And we have spent years vetting those stories,” Loki interjected. “We must have some new talk, now that you are here.” “I enjoy them!” Thor made an impassioned gesture. “Father lost an eye, after all.” “In a duel,” Mr. Aesir concurred. “He did not lose the eye so we might hear of it over supper,” Mrs. Aesir said. “And Loki is quite right, we must not bore Lady Sif by talking all over her.” “I shall be very glad to hear them all the same.” She smiled. “I have never met a frost giant, or any inhabitants of the cold counties.” Thor snorted. “You cannot be missing much. Brutes and savages. I daresay you’ll meet none here.” “Thor.” Mrs. Aesir’s voice was warning enough. “Respect is the first rule of engagement.” “Still, she must see Gungnir,” said Mr. Aesir, half to himself. “We have a beautiful collection.” The conversation veered again into inquiries after Lady Sif’s family, during which she promised to deliver Mrs. Aesir’s regards to her mother.