Of Golden Thread and Ivory Claws

• Two: Of Bar Maidens and Beastly Men •

Just as her mother had predicted, young Sifrina would become quite the beauty. The evidence could specifically be seen just over seventeen years later.... well, that was only if the lass allowed it to be so. On this particular night, as she crept through the alleyways of the glowing, royal town, she was veiled with a dark cloak - her feminine form hidden from wandering eyes, head to toe.

Her destination was near enough that she could already hear the evidence of it's closeness. So close was she, that she was soon grasping a worn handle and pushing into a dark and familiar room. As always, the smell of musk and mead saturated the air, even there, at the opposite end of the building. But instead of filling her with distaste, like it would to both of her wedded sisters, she felt at ease, almost comforted by its atmosphere.

Sifrina passed by several stored barrels of mead and ale, each of a different variety or quality of brew. Depending on how much coin the customer had or wished to pay, they could purchase either general or higher grade alcohols. Her uncle received customers who bought from each grade - for the man was a known, but well thought of, pub owner. He, unlike others who tried to raise similar establishments, was favored by the people who lived within the city as well as those who lived outside of it. Not only did he descend from the bloodline of her father, but he was also a very successful individual and she looked up to him, for unlike her many other cousins and various family members, he did not solely rely on his lineage for his wealth and neither was he a weak. Actually, there was a bit of uproar when he opened the secondary mead hall, as they were usually used for special events - not social, everyday drinking. He had then explained that it was something interesting the southerners did and that he had no interest in challenging his brother - Sifrina's father. 

After that, the establishment became quite popular and since Nords liked to drink, there was always some set of business from the townsfolk. 

Walking into the changing room, she discarded her cloak and hung it on one of the provided hangers. Side glancing, she stepped in front of the rough metal plate hanging upon the boarded wall. As she took in her reflection, she sighed wiping a smudge of dirt from her face. She wore baggy trousers and a roughly tucked shirt that swallowed her figure. Something else her sisters wouldn't approve of, but she just shrugged her shoulders in disregard. Even now, though she wasn't physically in their presence, she was sure that (even if they weren't together) they were griping about her somewhere anyways. Add it to the list. They needed something to talk about anyway. She did not care, her brothers understood her more than they ever would.

Honestly, she found her state of dress quite fitting. She physically chuckled at the irony. If she were married, it would be a divorceable offense - dressing as a man, that is. It made her smile - the prospects of her sisters finding out about her rather frequent habit of crossdressing would be positively hilarious.

Ever since she somehow managed to wile her father into postponing the selection of her marriage partner and ultimately the ceremony, her sisters had become quite bitter. Both of them had been married at the ages of fifteen and sixteen. Even those ages were rather late by Viking marital standard; however, Mother and Father met much later in their relationship, so Mother would never allow her children to marry as early as twelve, even at Father's protests of tradition. Sifrina knew they probably argued quite a bit about it before Father eventually conceded, for in his growing age, he had much more trouble telling his darling wife no. However, Sifrina was an even greater case, because her father had set strict ground rules. His daughters were to all be married off shortly after their sixteenth name days, that's what her father had agreed upon with her mother.

Sifrina was now a month into her seventeenth year and still unbound to any man, just as she preferred and had planned. With her almost boyish way of going about things, she was always her brothers' favorite sister to jest and fool around with, even into her young, adolescent years, especially in Snorre's case. He was always considered the wild child of the family, so to combine Sifrina's refusal to turn down any challenge with his recklessness... it was not a good mixture to say the least.