When Sif heard him say he already had a wife, the color drained from her face.
Frigga's smile faltered, but only for a breath. She recovered with queenly grace.
"Asgard is not bound by monogamy," she said gently. "Whether you have a wife or not, there is no conflict."
Lock froze. "This…"
Truthfully, it would be a lie to say he wasn't tempted. Sif was radiant, a warrior-goddess in silk, offering herself without shame. What man wouldn't be moved?
But how could he explain this to Natasha when he returned to Midgard? Only weeks ago, he had mocked SHIELD for deploying her beauty as a weapon. If he then turned around and brought another beauty home… well, that was hypocrisy of the highest order.
Before he could answer, Thor spoke up.
"Mother, I fear this is difficult for Brother Lock. He loves his wife dearly."
All three of them turned to him in surprise—including Lock himself. Wait. Did I ever tell Thor about Natasha? I don't think I did.
Thor tossed his golden hair proudly. "Jane has a student named Darcy. A fierce little mortal, bold as fire. She all but pounced on Lock. Jane and I even discussed ways to match them up, to keep Darcy from becoming a nuisance. But the chaos on Earth gave us no chance to act."
"Yet Lock didn't even look at her. He never so much as touched her hand." Thor's voice carried conviction now, ringing across the table. "At first I thought perhaps he preferred… handsome men—"
Frigga slapped the back of his head with regal precision.
"Ahem! I mean, I thought perhaps Darcy was simply not to his taste. But now I see the truth. Lock has a wife, and he is loyal. Even in the face of temptation, he chose fidelity. That is why I know he loves her deeply."
Thor leaned back, smug, as if he'd just delivered the wisdom of the ages.
Lock was stunned. That's what you think of me? Noble? Loyal? Untouchable?
The truth was far less flattering. He'd simply been too busy fighting the Destroyer to deal with Darcy's flirtations.
Frigga sighed softly. "Then we have been presumptuous."
Her eyes fell to Sif, whose hands clutched her skirt tight. Her face was pale, but her voice was steady.
"Tell me, Lock. Is your wife of the Eastern pantheon? Or someone else?"
"No," he said quietly. "She's… an ordinary human."
Natasha Romanoff—Black Widow—might be extraordinary on Earth. But in Asgard, she was just another mortal.
Frigga's voice gentled further. "Then you know, mortals live only a hundred years. When her time ends, you will still stand. And Sif will still be here. Waiting. A hundred years is but a heartbeat for us."
The words hung in the air. To Asgardians, centuries passed like seasons. A thousand years was the measure of their lives. To wait a century was nothing.
Sif lifted her eyes at last, red-rimmed but unwavering. "Lock… I have three thousand years yet to live. I am willing to wait a hundred, if it means I may stand at your side after."
The conviction in her voice cut through him.
Even Lock's hardened heart wavered. Here she was, the most dazzling warrior of Asgard, offering eternity—yet promising patience. What man alive wouldn't falter?
For once, he decided to be selfish. "No need to wait—"
Thor interrupted, voice booming. "Brother is right. There is no need to wait. For if he were to eat from one bowl while gazing into another, his bond with his wife would lose all purity. And you, Sif—if you waste a hundred years of your youth, what if in that time another comes along who steals your heart? Love demands freedom. True love is to wish the other happiness, even if it is not with you."
Thor tossed his hair again, the picture of romantic revelation. Since meeting Jane, he fancied himself a sage in matters of love.
Frigga sighed. "Prince Lock, your wife is fortunate indeed. Such loyalty is rare, even among gods."
Lock sat frozen, caught between irritation and disbelief. Come on. This isn't me at all. I'm not half the saint you think I am.
Frigga turned to Sif. "And you, child? What say you?"
Sif's voice was low, trembling but firm. "Don't worry about me. Whether he loves me now or later, I will wait. After a hundred years, whatever his choice, I will respect it."
Her eyes glistened. She turned sharply and fled the hall.
Frigga rose. "Let the young decide for themselves." She, too, departed, her robes trailing behind her.
The match was broken. For now.
Yet the Queen left satisfied. The plan had not succeeded, but she had confirmed one thing: the newest prince of Asgard held to a code of love and loyalty she could admire.
Lock sat there in a daze, his jaw tight. The second half of what I meant to say was: "A hundred years is too long—why not now?"
But no one had let him finish.
Sif should have pushed, tempted, coaxed. Instead, Thor—damn him—had swooped in and wrapped Lock in a shining cloak of nobility, a cage of honor so bright that even Sif believed it.
Now he couldn't turn back.
Thor clapped his shoulder heartily. "Come, brother! Drink! I know it was hard for you to refuse Mother so directly. But I did it for you. You needn't be embarrassed."
Lock ground his teeth. You blocked my one chance at being a scoundrel, and you want me to thank you?
Aloud, he muttered, "I thank your whole family."
Thor grinned, missing the venom entirely. "No need to thank Loki, though. Just Father, Mother, and me."
Lock drowned his annoyance in wine, wondering bitterly if he might have truly accepted Frigga's offer, had Thor not meddled. Human nature falters under temptation. And beastly nature? Even more so.
After a few rounds, his thoughts cleared. That ripple of strange energy he'd sensed earlier—it hadn't vanished. Better to investigate before drink dulled his edge.
He slipped from the hall. Courtiers bowed as he passed.
In the square beyond the palace, a translucent cube shimmered faintly, glowing with yellow light. Before it stood a plump, middle-aged woman in a black tactical suit, folder in hand. The guards and courtiers walked past her as though she were invisible.
Lock stopped cold.
The woman smiled. "Mr. Lock. At last, you came out."
His stomach sank. No. Not them.
This was the TVA—the Time Variance Authority.
He remembered what had become of Loki in their hands. Tortured, broken, stripped of choice. Lock had tried to keep the timeline stable, but he knew too much had already shifted.
"Are you here to arrest me?" His voice was low.
The woman shook her head quickly. "Not at all. You misunderstand, sir. Your stature is far above my authority. I am here only to deliver a message."
Lock's eyes narrowed. "What message?"
---
A/N: Advanced Chapters Have Been Uploaded On My Patreon
Support: patreon.com/Narrator_San