Sif entered the hall transformed.
No gleaming armor, no bloodied sword, no warrior's swagger. Today she wore a gown of blue and white silk, a lace belt cinched at her waist. Her hair was gathered into a simple shawl-knot, softening the steel of her presence into something altogether gentler.
Lock's eyes lit up despite himself. He had never seen her like this—not in Asgard, nor even in the memories of his past life. The Sif he knew was all iron and leather, fearless in battle but unremarkable in figure beneath the armor. This—this was something else.
He leaned toward Thor. "Tell me, you've truly no thoughts about Sif?"
Thor blinked. "What thoughts? She is my brother."
Lock almost choked. "She is a woman, Thor. A beautiful one. You've noticed this, surely?"
"Can't a woman be a brother?" Thor countered, utterly guileless.
Lock stared. "Their bodies differ, their minds differ. You treat her as a brother, but do you think she sees you the same way?"
Thor shrugged, unconcerned. "It matters not whether she has breasts or a beard. If we fight side by side, she is my brother!"
Unfortunately, Sif arrived just in time to hear that. Her face darkened. She shot Lock a glare sharp enough to cut steel, as though the entire mess were his fault.
Lock raised his hands helplessly. Don't look at me—those were his words, not mine.
Sif smoothed her dress, suppressing her irritation. This was not the battlefield; this was the palace. She bent gracefully, offering a courtly bow. "Your Highness Thor, the Queen requests your presence. The banquet is about to begin."
Thor nodded cheerfully. "Very well."
The banquet hall of Asgard was a cathedral of gold.
Vaulted ceilings soared tens of meters overhead, impossibly suspended without columns. Murals stretched across the dome—peaceful scenes of feasts, harvests, blessings. Not a trace of blood or conquest marred the surface.
But Lock knew better. He could feel the shadow of a second history buried beneath the paint: a hidden tapestry of war, slaughter, and dominion. The true story of Asgard, whitewashed for eternity.
On the throne, Odin sat tall and radiant. Only yesterday, he had been frail, trapped in Odinsleep, nearly slain by Laufey in a dream. Now he spoke with vigor, his voice filling the hall.
"While I was ill, Loki bore the burden of Asgard. He thwarted the Frost Giants' scheme and slew their king within our walls. To Loki, who proved the majesty of Asgard!"
"TO LOKI!" the crowd thundered, goblets raised high.
Odin's gaze swept the hall, steady and commanding. "Yet Loki, in pursuit of victory, sought to wipe out Jotunheim entirely. Thor, merciful and wise, shattered the Bifrost rather than let genocide stain our kingdom. With his brother Tang Lock, he stood against destruction. For such a son, rent your glasses! To Thor!"
"TO THOR!" The hall shook with the roar.
Neither Odin nor Frigga so much as hinted at Lock's hand upon the Bifrost's controls. Loki bore the blame, while Lock's name was gilded in praise, his loyalty to Thor emphasized again and again.
Subtle, but devastating. The Frost Giants who survived would not curse Thor. They would damn Loki for eternity.
Lock sipped his wine in silence, unease curling in his gut. Odin and Frigga were weaving a narrative—reshaping history as deftly as any sorcerer. Thor might never see it, but Lock did.
Strength won wars. Conspiracy kept thrones.
Then Odin rose again, Frigga at his side. Their voices rang as one:
"With the counsel and consent of the Elders, we name Tang Lock, sworn brother of Thor and hero of Asgard, a Prince of the Realm!"
The hall erupted in applause.
Lock froze. A prince?
That was no honorary bauble. A prince stood just beneath the heirs. Should Thor and Loki fall, the crown could even pass to him.
Sif's brow furrowed, her doubt plain. She had fought alongside him, yes. But a title of this weight? It stank of calculation.
Yet with Odin, Frigga, and the Elders united, no voice dared question. The decree was law.
Thor clapped him on the shoulder, beaming. "Brother, it is your turn. Go on."
Lock eyed him, exasperated. Did the fool truly not see the trap? Thor would one day abdicate his throne to a Valkyrie out of simple goodwill—wisdom born of ignorance.
But now, the hall clamored, every eye fixed on him.
Refusal would brand him ungrateful, even treasonous. Acceptance would chain him to Asgard forever, his fate tethered to Odin's schemes.
Lock exhaled slowly. Very well. If this were a snare, then let him wear it like armor.
He stepped forward, took the scepter of office, and let the cheers wash over him. Beneath the roar, a pulse of foreign energy breached against his senses—an anomaly beyond the palace walls. No one else seemed to notice. Not Odin, not Frigga. Curious.
Later, the feast rang with laughter and song. Thor bellowed across the tables, flagon in hand: "Tang! Last time, when I was mortal, you struck me down. Now my strength has returned—let us test it again!"
His challenge was cut short as Frigga approached. Thor's booming tone softened instantly. "Mother…"
The Queen sat beside Lock, her eyes warm, her smile shrewd. "Prince Tang. Now that you are of Asgard, let us speak plainly. What do you think of Lady Sif?"
Lock blinked. Was this the moment Odin had once reserved for Thor? "Strong and beautiful," he answered carefully.
Frigga's smile deepened. "Then what say you, if I betroth her to you?"
Lock nearly dropped his cup. "Me?"
Thor leaned back, wholly unconcerned, waiting to see the spectacle.
"Wait," Lock said quickly. "I thought Asgard prized free choice in such matters?"
"Indeed," Frigga replied smoothly. "Our lives span millennia. Without love, no bond could endure so long. I have asked her already. Only your word remains."
Lock turned to Sif.
She sat demurely, hands folded in her lap, eyes downcast. But her cheeks burned red, betraying her calm facade.
Her feelings for Thor had been more admiration than love—an idol's glow, not a lover's flame. And Thor, oblivious, had snuffed that spark with brotherly dismissal.
Lock, though… his strength, his defiance, his difference from the gods of Asgard—these had drawn her without her realizing. Last night, carried in his arms before the Queen, her heart had already betrayed her.
Odin and Frigga had seen it. They wasted nothing.
And so the trap tightened. Title. Alliance. Marriage.
Lock gave a wry smile. "You may not know this, but… I already have a wife."
The hall stilled.
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