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For once, Sif thought her disappearance from the great hall might not be noticed. To say Asgardians were known for their rousing and often legendary feasts would be a rather large understatement, but Yule was a particularly raucous celebration. It was in recent years that Sif had been able to recall exactly what had happened on a Yuletide Eve and Fandral had no way to tease her about it...
Her son was a rather good excuse to avoid that extra mug of mead. And perhaps in the past she would have been the first to snatch it from his hands, but motherhood is rather apt at adding perspective...
As it was she could find neither her husband nor her son at the moment.
Slipping into the shadows, she quickly rounded the corner and out of the whole, trending the worn path towards their chambers. She was sure she had seen him disappear early, probably the only one who did, always wary of his movements, eyes drawn to his lean figure even in the rabble that filled the great hall this eve.
A soft sobbing reached her ears and Sif knew instantly who it was. Speeding up as fast as her dress would allow her, she threw open the doors to their chambers... to find her husband cradling their son in his arms as he moaned into Loki's chest. It was only when Loki smiled, a spark in his eyes, that Sif relaxed, now more bemused than anything else.
“Surely you have not grown tired of the feast already?”
Ullr turned his head, trying with all his might to bury himself against his father even more, groaning softly as he sniffled.
“I believe,” said Loki, “that our son has imbibed too much mead for him to enjoy the festivities.”
Sif had to bite her lip to stop from sniggering. Perhaps it was a little unfair to laugh at their son's suffering but he was the child of two Gods, and the mead would not hurt him- save for the traditional.
Ullr's cry brought her out of her thoughts and she sat next to her husband, brushing her fingers through her son's hair.
“Do not fret, dear one. You will be well again by morning. Unless your father has already proposed to heal your suffering.”
“I had not. There is no punishment greater than a self inflicted one...”
Experience talking there, she knew, although his smile as he gazed down at his little boy told her his thoughts were far from the past.
They shouldn't have been. Sif smirked and placed a hand on her son's arm, waiting until he looked at her. “Do not listen to him, Ullr. Your father has no right to reprimand you for this for he has surely suffered this way himself at your age...”
Without missing a beat, Loki gazed at her with a raised brow. “I do believe, madam, that was your doing...”
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The first time the young princes and their band of friends have been permitted to stay at the feast. There is a sharp warning from mother not to cause trouble, to remember they are Princes of the Realm and they must act with dignity at all times...
Thor's third flagon of mead and Loki is not entirely sure he can even pronounce 'dignity'.
But that is no matter to Loki. For he has noticed there is one blonde head missing from the hall. He searches the room, unable to locate his quarry and he frowns. He's quick, even now, but so is she and if she chooses to disappear without being noticed he knows she can.
He's certain she's not at the feast; if she was, surely she'd be at Thor's side, throwing her head back and laughing at his poor wit; it is not normally so (although Loki would never admit it) but the mead addles his mind and makes him think he is better when he is in fact much, much worse...
Or perhaps it is the other maids that gather in his wake that has driven their friend away.
Loki frowns, and following an instinct, slips silently into one of the antechambers; almost as large as the great hall itself, three long tables set down it's length. It is dark and although Loki's eyes are sharp, he sees no sign of her and turns to continue his search... until the small 'hic' makes him reconsider.
He finds her under the middle table, four rather large flagons set in front if her and another in hand that is almost empty. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and sets him with her already legendary scowl. “What are you doing here?” she slurs, rocking ever so slightly.
He crawls under the table and joins her. “It isn't like you to run away, Sif...”
The glare intensifies. “I am not running [hic] running away. I am... I am...”
He raises a brow and he's certain if she did not intend to drink the contains of her cup it would be aimed directly at his head. As it was, she downed the remainder of her drink and proceeded to miss her target. He simply chuckles and it's a testament to how much she is affected by the fact she cannot retort.
Instead, she huffs, pouts, crosses her arms and looks very much like the little girl she is supposed to be. There's a long silence. Already, he has observed the best way to get anything out of Sif is to let her do it in her own time.
His patience is rewarded.
“They are still with him, aren't they?”
Loki does not need to ask who. He nods. Her gaze drops to the floor.
“I was a fool to think he would notice me tonight.”
He reaches across and picks up a flagon, sighing softly before taking a sip. It is rough on his tongue, bitter and it burns but he cannot help but want some more.
“Sif, I thought you would have learnt now- my brother is a clot head sometimes.” She giggles and he smiles at the sound. “And he is the fool for not keeping you by his side.”
He is rewarded then by a soft smile, one that reaches her eyes and they seem to glow even in the soft light...
“Although you must give him credit, Sif. How can he be expected to find you if you hide under here?”
This time, the cup hits it's mark and Loki laughs...
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“I do believe it was the next morning we were found, passed out under the table with your father snoring...”
Ullr laughed even as Loki raised a brow. He opened his mouth for some clever retort but his son beat him to it.
“That was when you knew, wasn't it, father?”
“Knew what?”
“That you loved mama?”
Sif smiled softly at her son, chuckling low; she admired his view of the world, young and innocent and naïve as it was.
“Yes...” came her husband's voice and she looked up at him with that same glow from all those years ago. He returned the same warm smile.
“Yes, it was...”