Chapter Text
Thor and Jane were engaged in discussion of Asgard’s more archaic laws that Jane simply could not wrap her mind around, and though she was definitely growing argumentative about the absurdity of a woman belonging to a man by betrothal contract alone, Thor was being remarkably patient in trying to explain about bride prices, and the process of creating such a contract when someone rapped on the door. He ran a large calloused hand over his face and sighed as he pushed away from the polished wood table.
Curious about who would be calling on them at such an early hour, Jane slipped off her chair to follow him, though she mentally bookmarked their discussion, he would not be let off the hook that easily on this one. He pulled the door open to reveal Hogun, as grim-faced as ever, but the wide smile Jane was so used to seeing on Thor, when one of his friends showed up, did not make its appearance.
“What has happened, my friend?” Thor’s voice low and concerned, apparently being able to tell the difference between Hogun’s usual expression and the one he wore when things were amiss.
Hogun’s sharp, dark eyes flicked to Jane before returning his friend. “I just came from the healing rooms,” he began before Thor’s brows pulled together.
“Are you well?”
He waved his hand dismissively. “Fandral over drank himself, I went to get him a draught, but, Thor, Sif is there.”
Thor shook his head. “Nay, Sif is on Nidavellir, I spoke to the Allfather of it just yesterday.” Even as he denied it, though, Jane was sure he knew it to be true, from what little she knew, Hogun wouldn’t make that kind of joke.
“Is she okay?” Jane interceded, stepping closer to the doorway. She saw it then, a pinching of his eyes as the warrior addressed them both.
“Eir tells that she came in near dawn, but has yet to regain consciousness. She would not elaborate, but suggested I speak with the Allfather if I wished for further information. I had hoped you would have known more.”
Remembering how upset Thor had been the day before to learn that Sif had been off on her own, Jane reached for his hand, he let her take it, and squeezed hers gently in return, but the look he gave her from the corner of his eye was a pained one. He had returned from seeing Odin distracted, and unhappy, but aside from one vague remark to the effect of not meaning to have hurt her, he had been unwilling to elaborate his thoughts. She knew he would tell her when he was ready, but now, it seemed, whatever had upset him yesterday was now hitting him with a full blown guilt trip.
“Lady Sif,” he suddenly turned back to her proper title, though why he suddenly felt the need, Jane would not pretend to know, “was on Nidavellir, alone, to complete a task for my father. That is all I know of it.”
“Alone?” Hogun asked, the surprise evident on even his hard to read features, and his eyes searched Thor’s face, knowing that there had to be more to it than that, though he did not push.
“Aye, alone.” He verified as his friend’s face almost seemed to soften in understanding that Jane, herself, did not have.
“She is preparing to join her sisters.”
Thor shook his head so violently that Jane almost stepped away, expecting a fight, his expression angry. “She swore to fight at my side until I would no longer have her, she would not break that oath.”
And Hogun did not so much as shift his weight at Thor’s behavior, but chastised him as Jane had never seen anyone of Asgard do. It should not have been so unexpected, but until then, aside from Loki, she had seen no one treat him with anything less than adoration. “Do not be so selfish as to deny her when she asks you to release her from that promise. The young warrior who offered it to you, is long gone, as is the prince who accepted it.” He spoke softly, but there was a weight to his words that Jane could only guess to the meaning of, and she wasn’t sure that she liked the direction her mind was taking.
He possessed a stillness that was almost disturbing, Jane decided as his gaze fell on her again, the very corner of his mouth twitching in something that might have been amusement. “Thor and Sif have always been the closest of friends, perhaps even as close as siblings, but that is where it ended.” It seemed a non-sequitur, but she knew why he said it, and was thankful. He turned back to Thor then before continuing. “Sif is not being allowed visitors yet, but you should tell Loki of her condition, he will deny caring, but he would wish to know regardless.”
And as a few pieces of the puzzle fell into place for her, Jane wondered if there was anything that Hogun did not see.
~
It was the smell that hit her first, the sharp tang of healing ointments, so strong that you can almost taste them on your tongue, but when she tried to open her eyes, it was simply too difficult, her eyelids refused to obey. Sif had woken up in the healing rooms often enough that it did not immediately disturb her to realize where she was, if anything, it was a comfort in light of the fractured memories that she was trying to put in order to see what led her here. Attempting to roll onto her side, her body protested as a thousand hot needles seemed to prick her skin, eliciting a whimper, the sound so pathetic to her own ears that she cursed herself.
The bed dipped, and a cool hand laid over her forehead causing Sif to force her eyes open to look into the familiar face of Eir, smiling softly. “Do you remember what happened to you, Lady Sif?” She asked her, and not for the first time, she marveled at just how quietly a commanding tone could be.
“N-“ She attempted to speak, but the word caught in her dry throat, and she cleared it, shaking her head.
The healer, left for a moment, returning quickly with a glass of water, and helped Sif into a propped up position as the warrior gritted her teeth at the pain of moving. She found herself thirstier than she’d thought she might be, however, and drank greedily, draining the cup.
“I was in a fight.” She said, finally. “That is the last thing I remember.”
“You were.” The thin blonde woman, nodded, watching Sif critically with sharp blue-grey eyes. “One of the dwarves you fought caught you with a poisoned blade. The injury was easy to heal, but it was a strong poison. You will likely be weak for a few days more.”
She struggled to sit up more, jaw flexing with the effort. “I wish to return to my rooms.”
Eir arched an eyebrow, giving the warrior goddess a level look that told her the answer before it was uttered. “Perhaps tomorrow, but you need watching.” The healer got to her feet. “Thor is waiting outside, shall I let him in?”
A small shake of her head, she hadn’t the energy to pretend that everything was alright, and even the thought of being faced with his concern made her want to curl up and cry. Since reaching adulthood, she could count on her fingers the number of times that she had been weak in front of Thor, the most recent being when they’d faced down the destroyer, and if she had her way, that would be the last.
Moving toward the door, Eir’s delicate brow creased in concern, for as long as she’d been treating Sif, Thor had always been there, the two of them nearly inseparable at times, but she merely nodded, heading into the main room of the healing wing.
Sif watched the door shut firmly behind her before carefully settling back onto the bed, ignoring the discomfort as best she could as she tried to find a decent way to lay. Through the door, she could hear Thor’s protest, and the murmur of Eir’s voice as she held firm in denying him entry, and she closed her eyes to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. She needed sleep, and healing, and then she could regain control of herself. Then, she could go about making the necessary preparations to leave this realm, and everything on it.
Her lip curled in disgust for herself as her emotions won out, and she felt the first hot tear burn a trail over her cheekbone. Coward.
~
Someone was knocking at the door, Loki realized as he rolled over in bed, cursing, elegant hands coming up to rub his face before sliding to the edge of the bed. He yanked his trousers on, pulling them over his hips as he walked, and tugging at the laces, snugging them around his waist when he reached the door, swinging it open. The sharp barb he had prepared to hurl at he who dared disturb him, at so early an hour, died on his tongue when the opened door revealed Frigga, his mother, the only one he simply could not bring himself to forsake.
He had not seen her since being released, and at this unexpected visit, his silvertongue failed him, forcing him to settle for a simple greeting. “Frigga.”
The Queen took it in stride, she hadn’t expected a warm reception, nor would she wish for one. False sincerity would be more painful than the true conflict she could see in his honest reaction. “May I come in?”
Silently, Loki stepped aside, granting her entrance to his quarters, and closing the door once she was clear, only then did he address her. “What brings you into the presence of a traitor?” The words were hard and sharp, though they were spoken so quietly, that the pain of that question was more readily heard than the razor’s edge.
A gentle smile quirked her lips while she reached up, cupping Loki’s cheek with an elegant hand. “I came to see my son with news of Lady Sif.” Though she was careful not to show a reaction, her heart stuttered in her chest as he leaned into her touch for a fraction of a moment before jerking away as if he’d been suddenly burned.
He stepped back away from her, adopting the arrogant tilt to his chin that constituted his default expression. “Why would I have any interest in news of Sif?”
“A mother often sees too much.” Frigga replied in that no-nonsense sort of way that a woman of her rank quickly learns to use. The words were true, though. She had seen the truth in her weavings, spoken with her husband about his decision to allow the warrior goddess leave to perform his tasks on her own, and knew what Sif was being pushed into a decision, but she did not agree with any of it.
“What is it, you believe yourself to have seen?”
“I see a man, who was once a boy who was the greatest friend a girl could have. He was the one that she always went to when she was unhappy, and one who always managed to change that. I watched that girl grow, and fight, and push herself, and against all tradition, swear herself to Asgard.” She paused, settling herself into Loki’s armchair, and pointed at the couch, a silent request that he sit. Loki shook his head, but found himself obeying anyway, smoothly resting on plush cushions.
“I watched a woman, follow one man, and love another, and I saw what happened when she was forced to choose between what she wanted, and what she thought was best for Asgard.” Frigga’s lips pressed together in a stern line as she regarded her youngest son. “I watched her mourn silently, and have seen her withdraw a little at a time, until I saw her break from the realization of what it truly means to swear oneself to a realm. Most recently I have seen a King and a Gatekeeper push her ever so gently toward the sisterhood that she left because her heart was here, and I cannot help but wonder where her heart is now.”
The trickster sat back, struggling to hide behind his mask of indifference, but no matter how he searched for words, his silvertongue failed him yet again.
“I cannot imagine that you would wish her to leave without having the chance to bid her farewell. I fear your time to do so is getting short.” The Queen rose to leave.
“She is healing well, I gather.” Loki finally managed softly.
She nodded. “Eir is keeping her until the final effects of the poison have passed, otherwise, she is fine.”
The hands that he had carefully folded in his lap, balled into fists at the mention of poison, but he nodded to her in return, remaining in his seat until she had let herself out, then he jumped to his feet beginning to pace like a caged animal, caught in a web of indecision.
~
Another night passed, and Sif managed to convince Eir to allow her to return to her own rooms where she would be more comfortable, promising to rest for at least another day before trying to be up and about. In truth, she was still exhausted. For once she had no need to lie in order to gain leave from the healing wing. She dressed slowly, the burning sensation from the poison was gone, but it had been replaced with the ache of overused muscles. The warrior had staunchly refused visitors, and Eir had dutifully denied everyone entry to her room, and Sif hoped that would have been enough to send everyone back to their own rooms.
Unfortunately, that was not the case, and as she slipped out of the room, she was met by Thor who stepped into her path, his face reflecting all of the hurt of a kicked puppy, and were she feeling more up to it, she might have kicked him for turning such an expression on her. She raised her hand to silence him, shaking her head. “Not now, Thor. I promise that I shall speak with you later, but I have not the energy to do it now.”
He reached out to clasp her shoulders, and she ground her teeth together, recoiling from him. Pulling his hands back in surprise, he looked at them as if they were alien before letting them drop back to his sides. “I have wronged you, Sif, but I know not how….” Thor ducked his head, worrying his lip with his teeth in a way that she had not seen since he was young. “I wish only to make it up to you.”
“You put your lover first.” She shook her head at his incredulous expression, the confusion as he tried to settle on betrayal or anger at her words. “Do not mistake me, Odinson.” She warned, feeling far too tired to be doing this now. “You simply made me realize that I built my life around a lie, and in doing so lost the only thing that ever made me truly happy.” Sif frowned, rubbing her hands over her face, the movement bringing Thor’s attention to just how pale and tired she looked. “And I do not have the… wherewithal to watch you have all that I cannot, at this point.”
The confusion was back, but the anger was gone, replaced with bewilderment. “We have always been close, Sif, but you enjoyed the company of the Warrior’s Three, and just because much of my time is spent with Jane, it does not mean that you have lost me.”
She should have expected such an answer from him. Despite the changes he had experienced during his short banishment, he was ever self-centered. Sif snorted in a most un-ladylike manner and moved past him, headed for the door. “Believe it or not, Thor, not everything is about you.” This was exactly why she had to leave, it was exhausting always trying to make a place for yourself, and she was tired of being among those who touted themselves her friends, and yet finding herself forever alone.
Only one man had ever seemed to look at her and really see who she was without rejecting her for that, and she had walked away from him.
Thor thought to stop her again as she left him standing there, but even he could see that she was not yet recovered from her ordeal. He let her go, trying to wrap his mind around what all of that actually meant.
The healing wing was not so far away from the warrior’s wing of the palace, but the walk back to her rooms seemed to take an eternity when all Sif wanted to do was curl up in a pile of warm furs and actually sleep. Sleep and, hopefully, not dream. She didn’t want to sift through old memories, or look for a reason to stay because she feared that any reason might be enough to keep her there. After all, she did not fit in all that perfectly with the Valkyrie either, it was why she had not remained with them, but at least there she could be herself. She was allowed to be a warrior and a woman and everything that came with it.
Her pace was much slower than usual, and the satisfying echo caused by the ringing of her boots against marble, was almost entirely absent as she carried herself to her door, slipping into her rooms, still cast in shadow as the heavy curtains over the open balcony were shut. For that she was grateful, and she wondered idly if one of the servants had done that specifically. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she busied herself with removing her clothing, each item dropped haphazardly on the floor in rough semblance of a pile.
She pulled her tunic over her head, and paused, the soft material still encasing her forearms as she dropped them into her lap, hazel eyes falling on the side table where she had kept a broken throwing knife. The knife, nothing special to look at, shoddy workmanship with a plain wooden handle, and short blade, broken off to a jagged edge a few finger widths from its hilt, was conspicuously missing. She peeled the shirt off her arms and balled it up, as her heart froze in her chest, and she willed herself to move, to look for it. Surely it had only fallen on the floor.
Norns, she was overreacting, nothing could have happened to it, knives, even broken ones – especially broken ones -- did not simply walk away.
Pale fingers tightened around a wooden knife hilt as he melted back into the shadows, trying not to be seen. Sif wasn’t supposed to return yet, Loki did not even know for sure why he had come, but it wasn’t to confront her, and he did not look forward to being caught here like this. The longer he watched, the more uncomfortable he became as he tried not to focus on her stripping out of her clothes, and if he’d still had use of his magic, he would have already vanished. At that thought his other hand came up to scratch against his collar, willing himself to make a move one way or the other, and just as he was going to try and slip over to a better concealed position, Sif jumped to her feet, searching frantically for something.
His teeth met as he hissed a curse under his breath, emerald irises dropping to the knife he clenched in his hand. Loki knew he shouldn’t have picked it up, and he wondered what memories specifically prompted her to keep it by her bed, even after everything that had happened.
The little girl who had wielded that knife had still been blonde, with a scraped knee, and a torn dress, her unruly hair pulled back in a messy tie, the strands tangled with twigs and dead leaves. The scent of fall had been in the air, and Sif had been standing determinedly in front of the target she had made from a dead branch. Loki had watched from the shadows, much as he was now as she tried, and failed, over, and over again to land the knife true. He could still remember the way she held her tongue between her teeth as she concentrated, and the excitement on her face when, finally, it made its mark.
He could also remember her cry of anguish when she realized that it had broken upon impact, much like the sound that she was making now as she flipped over her side table searching for what remained of that day. The day he had given her one of his knives and promised he would teach her to throw it.
Sentiment.
The emotion that was eating at him right now as he watched her sit heavily back on the bed, and drop her face into her hands. The emotion that nearly gave away his position when he saw that her shoulders shook with another sentiment, not so different from his, but one that she so rarely allowed herself to show. It was all going to get him killed, he decided as he stepped out of the shadows, moving near-silently across the floor before he grasped her wrist, pulling her hand down away from her face and placing the worn knife into her palm.
She surprised them both when she looped her arms around his waist, and leaned her cheek against his leather-clad abdomen.
He gently removed her arms and sat next to her on the bed, watching her warily as she held the knife in her hand, flipping it over as her hair curtained around her face, blocking it from his view.
“Why are you here?” She asked, softly, though her voice rasped from the expression of her misery.
Loki rolled his shoulders in a noncommittal shrug, trying not to fall into the trap that was waiting to be tripped beneath his proverbial feet. “Rumor has it that you wish to leave Asgard.” He stated cooly, the quirk at the corner of his mouth the only tell that he was struggling with masking his emotions.
The warrior turned toward him abruptly, her eyes blazing as she flipped the knife toward the wall with an accuracy that would have been deadly had there been enough blade to pierce the paneling, he had taught her well, after all. “Does this amuse you?! Did you wish to introduce me to every reason why you will be happy to watch me depart? Or were you simply hoping to watch me fall apart?” Her eyes were bright as she shoved him, pushed him again, and the third time her hands connected with his chest, they were curled into fists.
He had seen Sif break down, but never like this, and Loki reacted the only way he knew how, the way he always did when she needed someone. He hooked his arms around her and pulled her against himself, shaking his head as he buried his nose in her hair, breathing her scent. “I want you to stay.”
“I want to stay.” She murmured against his shoulder before shaking her head as well. “I want this, you. I want everything I cannot have…. I wish this was not a dream, and you would actually hold me again.”
The hand that was trailing down her bare back froze, and Loki pushed her back to meet her eyes. “You think this is a dream?” He chuckled, paused to look at her, and chuckled again. “Sif, this is not a dream.”
She chuckled resentfully, shaking her head again. “If this were not a dream, you would not be here, and if you were… well, the meeting would go nothing like this. You hate me.”
“You presume much, Swordhand.” Loki growled, but did not move away. “It was you who turned your back on me, if you recall.”
“Exactly!” She exclaimed. “I turned my back on you. Can you remember the last time I’ve turned my back on anyone I did not trust not to harm me? I had not forsaken you, but you made me choose between my best friend, and the lover I could barely recognize! You were not yourself, and I hold no hope of ever seeing that man again.”
Loki scoffed. “That man died when he fell from the Bifrost.”
“You mean when he let go of the Bifrost, but, no, that it is not true either. He died sometime before that, I was just uninformed of it.” She said bitterly, sliding back away from him, and laying down. “Not that any of it matters, Thor may miss me on occasion, and the Warrior’s Three will likely note my absence, but there is no reason left for me to stay.”
Verdant eyes trailed over her naked body, and he almost felt guilty for it, but before his eyes could travel back up to her eyes, they landed on the pale pink line of a fresh scar. He bent over her, tracing the new scar with a fingertip. “I want you to stay.”
“Of course you do, you are a figment of my fevered imagination.” She muttered, rolling onto her side and tucking one of her pillows beneath her head.
“You do not have a fever, Sif.” He pointed out, finding himself amused at her denial.
“I spent the last two days fighting off poison, same difference. It all comes down to the same thing.”
He rolled his eyes, brushing his thumb over her hipbone, well-aware that he should not be touching her at all. “What would it take to convince you that I am, indeed here? That I wish for you to stay?”
“You cannot, you are not here.” She said stubbornly.
“Name it.”
“Since you insist, fine… Stay, if you are still here when I wake, which you will not be, I will not go.” Sif reached behind herself and pulled one of the soft furs over her body.
“Promise me, Sif. I want your word that you will stay here, with me, when I am still here in the morning.”
“I swear it, Loki. If you are still here when I wake, I will stay here, with you.”
~
Thor was still not sure how he so blatantly missed all of the signs, and even Hogun’s alluding to Sif’s relationship with Loki, but it had taken a conversation with Jane, who patiently explained to him what was going on, to finally see the truth. Now it was so obvious as to be almost painful. He was good at reading people, very good in fact, but he had somehow turned a blind eye to his brother and his best friend. Sif’s words to him the day before made perfect sense, and he suddenly felt very guilty for disregarding Hogun’s recommendation to inform Loki of Sif’s injury.
Hoping to make up for his oversights, and talk to the trickster about Sif with the thought that maybe they could convince her to stay, he headed straight for Loki’s rooms. When he knocked on his brother’s door, however, he found him to be absent, and a search of his usual haunts did not turn him up either. He didn’t dwell on, there would be time to talk to Loki later. Changing directions, he headed toward the warrior’s wing, the late morning sunshine shining through the high windows and open balconies to reflect off the walls, bathing the hallways in golden light. Thor paid no attention to such details seen so many times as to have become mundane, he was preoccupied with thoughts of how to breech such a sensitive subject with Sif.
The knock to Sif’s door did not wake her, she had been slowly rousing for a while, but her body was still recovering, and the feel of a body pressed against her back was enough to keep her put. The knock did, however, bring her to lucidity, and she suddenly really realized that there was a body pressed against her back. She turned a bit to look over her shoulder as Loki leaned over, her breath catching at the sudden proximity of him.
“I believe this qualifies as a victory on my part.” He purred before slipping off the bed. “Shall I get the door?”
Another hard rapping, this time accompanied by Thor’s low rumble. “Sif?”
Loki froze, looking to Sif as this was the part where he usually vanished, but that was no longer an option. He was caught, and he had no idea what to do about it.
Sif sat up, her mind still struggling to process the fact that Loki was still here with her. Which also meant that he had held her, and asked her to stay, and she wanted to pull him back into bed with her, and figure out if they could fix things. That couldn’t happen with Thor here, he would ruin everything, and she found herself staring back at Loki with a thousand things swirling about her mind and not a single word on her tongue.
He pulled his trousers on over his hips and headed for the door, shooting Sif one last look, a final opportunity to stop him, but she did not, and he pulled the door open.
Whatever Thor had prepared himself to say to Sif was lost as he stared at Loki, half-dressed, his mouth opening comically, and closing again before he finally seemed to get a grip. “May I come in?”
Loki stepped back, inviting him in with a sweeping gesture, and looked back at Sif was now mostly dressed, padding in from the bed chamber on bare feet.
Thor looked between Loki and Sif warily. “I was looking for you, Loki, but I suppose that it is good that you are here.” He cleared his throat awkwardly and addressed Sif softly. “I do owe you an apology, my friend. I had no idea that I was leaning on you when you needed someone to lean on as well. I should have been more considerate, but please, let me try and make it up to you before you leave.”
“She is not leaving.” Loki said silkily, looking pointedly at the warrior goddess who stared back silently.
“You are not leaving? You have decided to stay?”
“Lady Sif promised me that she would not leave, and she would never break such an oath.” His eyes had not left hers.
Blonde brows furrowed deeply as Thor realized that he was somewhat superfluous in this discussion.
“It would seem that my requirements were met, I will stay.” She replied carefully, completely unsure what all of this meant for her and the man who’s eyes currently held the entirely of her attention.
“…. I am glad to hear that.” Thor stated lamely while he was ignored.
Loki’s palm cupped Sif’s jaw, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone as he closed the distance between them, and brought his mouth against hers, kissing her deeply. She returned the kiss in kind, her hand hooking around the back of his neck, slipping into his hair, and his free arm slipped around her waist, pulling her against him.
Thor cleared his throat loudly, intending to remind them of his presence as he found himself thinking that he might be present for much more than he was interested in watching, but he found himself grinning at them. “No more secrecy, then?”
Breaking the kiss, Sif looked up at Loki questioningly.
“No secrecy, and no ambiguity. I am yours shield-maiden.”
“As I am surely yours, trickster.”
Thor laughed, clapping them each on the shoulder. “Perhaps an announcement is in order? A double wedding?”
Loki scoffed. “Surely you jest, when Sif and I wed, it will be a much… nicer affair than yours.” He smiled at Sif. “That is, of course, after she is finished making me pay for all the slights I have made since last we were alone together.”
A grin spread across her face. “This is the way of things.” She agreed, pulling him down for another kiss.