Archive of Our Own ^beta

Undoubtedly spurred on by Thor’s inability to commit to a thought, let alone a woman, the Allmother decided it was high time her sons and their friends put time into considering the qualities they wanted in a partner. Rather than being a mere thought experiment, Frigga had wrangled them all into an unused classroom, handed out parchment and quill, and set them to drafting a list of desired qualities.

Fandral, of course, finished his in mere moments (pillowy bosom and hips a man could get lost in), but one sharp look from the queen and he hastily scribbled out his thoughtless qualities and set about writing something of merit. 

So far he had alive, a rather important quality, he figured. 

Glancing about the room, he saw his friends in varying degrees of concentration. Thor was writing like he’d forgotten how to hold a quill, which he probably had, as his handwriting had fallen to the wayside as soon as he learned to dictate to the machines that recorded everything in Asgard. Thor was slightly too far away for Fandral to peek at his paper, which Fandral desperately wanted to do. What qualities did the crown prince want in his queen? If Thor was being honest, his list would look much like Fandral’s initial one did, but honesty wasn’t always the best policy when one’s mother was involved.

Hogun was making slow, deliberate strokes across his parchment, probably writing dull words such as valour and honour, qualities one wanted in a hunting partner, not a bedmate. His list was not one Fandral wanted to peek at. 

Volstagg—an unnecessary participant, considering he was already wed—was humming happily as he wrote in earnest, no doubt penning terrible verse describing his beloved Hildegund’s qualities, of which there were many, as any who spent more than five minutes with the gentle giant could attest. Also a list Fandral need not peruse. 

Sif’s arm was curled around her paper in such a way that Fandral could not see what she wrote, and her lips were pressed together in concentration as she considered what she had written. That was a list Fandral very much needed to see. 

But first, to his immediate right, was a parchment in full view, decorated with the elegant script of everyone’s favorite scholarly warrior, one Loki Odinson, second prince and second in line for the throne. 

Fandral grinned, shamelessly reading over his friend’s shoulder.

1. A beauty beyond measure
2. Wit and intelligence equal to mine
3. Gifted in the magical arts, enough to challenge me
4. Versed in the art of clothing as a tool to communicate
5. Mastery in the basics of cooking, and competency with the more exotic flavours
6.  

“Is your head full of stuffing?” Fandral demanded, breaking the quiet of the room. Frigga’s gaze snapped in his direction, so Fandral ducked his head and lowered his voice, though he did continue speaking. “What sort of rubbish is that? Wit and intelligence. What a thing to need in a partner!”

“Not all of us enjoy the conversation of the uneducated,” Loki said dryly.

“Who needs conversation?” Fandral said. “It interrupts the more pleasurable pursuits in life.”

With a glance at Fandral’s list, Loki rolled his eyes. “I see your heights are soaring, as usual.”

“I find it to be the most important aspect of anyone’s character,” Fandral said. Snatching Loki’s quill, he muscled his way in to scribble alive as Loki’s next point.

“Thank you for the clarification,” Loki said. “I hadn’t realized it needed specification.”

Cuffing the back of Loki’s head, Fandral said, “As the spellcaster, you of all people should understand the importance of specificity. One wrong move and you’re wed to the undead. I don’t think the Allmother would approve.”

“The Allfather might,” Loki muttered, taking his quill back from Fandral. “Return to your own list.”

Snatching the quill back again, Fandral also stole Loki’s list. “I must make some improvements first.”

Loki sighed, but allowed Fandral to proceed. 

1. A beauty beyond measure - this is a good one. Keep it
2. Wit and intelligence beyond measure - A keen eye and tactical prowess
3. Gifted in the magical arts, enough to challenge me - A great and glorious warrior 
4. Versed in the art of clothing as a tool to communicate - wears armour like she knows how to take a hit
5. Mastery in the basics of cooking, and competency with the more exotic flavours - great huntress
6. Alive - definitely want this

“You have issues with cooking?” Loki asked.

“No, you have issues with cooking,” Fandral replied. “You need a woman who can hunt. You’ll never starve!”

“But we will be eating it raw,” Loki said, reclaiming his quill to cross out great huntress.

Never one to be deterred, Fandral grabbed his own quill, pushed Loki aside, and wrote great huntress again. “You won’t starve,” he informed his friend. “With all your magic, you can conjure a fire and cook it yourself.”

“And if she were a cook, she could make it taste better than the charred husk I’d be offering.”

Pausing for a moment, Fandral considered this, then scribbled and can cook next to huntress. “See, between us we’ll craft the perfect mate!” he declared. Loki rolled his eyes again. 

“What do I need a great and glorious warrior for?” Loki asked. “I am more than capable of fulfilling that role.”

Fandral scoffed. “As if. You need someone to have your back when you get lost in your scrolls and forget to eat. A warrior will see you and your ancient tomes of drudgery safely protected. And should any dare mock your womanly pursuits, she’ll silence them with a well-placed fist to the jaw.”

Loki gave it due consideration before saying, “I hate to utter these words, but you may have a point.”

“I have all the points,” Fandral said proudly. 

“One point.”

“Five,” Fandral countered, tapping Loki’s list before handing it back.

Returning to his own list, Fandral considered a second point before adding with a flourish

2. Definitely not dead

He nodded in satisfaction. Point one naturally led to point two, and no one could argue that his requirements were unrealistic.

Glancing at the Allmother, who was watching him with an amused smirk, Fandral inched his chair closer to Sif. It was high time she moved that arm of hers and share with the world what she wanted in a mate. 

She was uncooperative, as always, so Fandral helpfully lifted her arm and slung it across his shoulders. She took a kidney shot with her free hand, but long association with Sif had taught Fandral how to handle her propensity for violence: with a wince and a wheeze. If she thought her blow well landed, she would not place a second. 

“I just want to see what you value in a man,” he whispered cheerfully, pretending Frigga wasn’t still eyeing him.

Sif’s list was thus:

1. Intelligent
2. Sharp of wit
3. Proficient with weapons (sneak attack to my melee)
4. Amusing of speech
5. Does not mind bucking tradition (or when I am dressed in blood)
6. Honours my kill
7. Glories when I glory
8. Loves Thor as much as I do
9. Honours the crown
10. Stands in defense of the Nine Realms
11. Enjoys my friends

That was a surprisingly specific list, tailored very nicely to everyone’s favorite second prince, yet generic enough that an unobservant mind might not note whom she was describing. “Anyone particular in mind?” Fandral said innocently. It was best not to antagonize Sif. If she thought he was mocking her choice, she’d offer him more than just a kidney blow.

However, confusion marred her brow. “No?” 

Fandral couldn’t tell if she was being sincere or was a brilliant actress. “Really?” he queried, determined to have her admit what he already knew. “Your list doesn’t remind you of anyone?”

“No,” she said flatly, catching on to what he was implying. “Most certainly not.”

Waggling his eyebrows, Fandral leaned in closer. “No one at all, fair shieldmaiden?”

“Absolutely not,” she said firmly, shoving him out of her space. “You are the last person I would consent to fasten myself to.”

Oh ho, so she thought he was implying himself as a suitable match, did she? It seemed she was being sincere in not realizing her list was point-for-point a description of Loki. No matter; Fandral was more than happy to convince her. 

Indirectly, of course, for a full-frontal assault would either result in his death or Sif’s adamant refusal to acquiesce to his brilliant suggestion. She never was one to take suggestion lightly. Things had been a little boring around the palace lately; playing matchmaker would liven the place up a bit. 

Retreating to his own seat, Fandral began scribbling across his parchment.

Step one: irrevocably bind them together.

**

Gone on vacay. Please mind my quarters in my absence. Take Loki with you; things have been a bit…perilous in my rooms of late. Take no unnecessary risks!

It was signed The Ever Glorious Fandral.

Sif frowned as she tugged the note off the nail Fandral had inserted into her door. Was this his newest title he was petitioning Thor to make official? It was far better than Fandral the Enbosomed, she supposed, though she was going to petition for death by duel if Thor granted it. 

(Fandral’s death, of course, by her hand. It would be a mercy to all.)

She wondered what sort of trouble he had gotten himself into that forced him into an unplanned vacation and required Loki’s presence by her side. Some unsavory spell cast by some jilted lover, most likely. 

Making her way to Loki’s rooms, Sif was surprised to find him making his way towards her rooms, a matching note clutched in his hands. Holding up hers, Sif smiled at her friend. “A missive from Fandral?” she guessed.

“From Fandral the Ever-Correct,” Loki said, showing her a note that said Watch my rooms. Take Sif, signed, as stated, by Fandral the Ever-Correct. “What on Asgard could he have in there that requires the pair of us?”

“Nothing benign, I’m sure,” Sif said, turning to lead Loki to their friend’s room. Her curiosity was spiked, and she wanted to know what sort of madness Fandral was up to now. And with Loki at her side, perhaps they could play a magical prank, the likes of which Sif could never pull off on her own. 

Loki said nothing as they strolled to Fandral’s rooms, whereupon he made Sif wait behind him as he inspected the door for a spelltrap. Declaring the entryway safe, they entered Fandral’s rooms—unlocked, as always, because he was “always open for business,” a proposition Sif intended to never make use of—and entered the dark interior. With a wave of his hand, Loki turned on the lights, and the pair of them jumped.

In the center of the room, sitting on an old mahogany stool, was a doll, bedecked in pink silk and white late, her brown hair curled in perfect ringlets that fell over her shoulders. Her head was tilted down, a white cap covering the top of her head. “Is that a Midgardian toy?” Loki murmured, moving closer to inspect the doll. Sif trailed behind him, eyeing the immobile thing, its lifeless green eyes staring vacantly into the distance.

“Is it supposed to be a guard-doll?” Sif asked. “Here to scare away any would-be intruders?”

“If so, it’s not very effective,” Loki said, circling the toy. The dress fluttered with Loki’s movement. It looked soft. Sif raised a finger to caress it and Loki shouted, “Sif, don’t—”

But it was too late, and their hands collided on the doll’s chest. A flash of light and a puff of smoke left Sif and Loki coughing, so they didn’t notice the doll lift its head. “Mama?” it said with an eerie voice adults thought children sounded like, but no child actually used. 

Sif let out an expletive as Loki’s fingers danced through the air, reading some magical residue Sif was too untrained to see. 

“You activated a homing spell,” Loki said curiously. “One centered on…us.”

“Us?” Sif asked, returning the doll’s stare. “What does that mean?”

“Let’s find out,” Loki said. His long fingers grasped Sif’s forearm, and he gently tugged her away, leading her out of Fandral’s rooms. He closed the door behind him, and they turned around to find the pink doll standing in front of them. 

“Mama?” It asked again, arms upraised. 

The doll was perfectly placed between Loki and Sif, so one arm extended toward each of them, making it unclear who was supposed to be Mama. “I think she wants you,” Sif said, hoping it was true. 

“I’m not the motherly type,” Loki said. “Missing a few anatomically necessary bits.” Rolling her eyes, Sif bent down to take the doll’s hand. There were no further explosions or bursts of color, but the doll did tilt its head towards Loki.

“Papa?” It said. 

Sif’s eyebrows shot to her hairline as a grin slowly tugged at her lips. “Oh, I see where this is going,” she said. “Grab your daughter’s hand, Loki.”

Loki glanced disdainfully at the doll. “She is no such thing. I would never produce such a disappointment.”

“Not in front of the child,” Sif chided.

“Papa,” the doll repeated.

“She’s so precious,” Sif cooed, crouching down to smooth one of the doll’s curls. “I think we should name her.”

“I name her abomination,” Loki declared. 

It wasn’t the worst name a child could bear. It would certainly strike fear into her enemies. “Abomination it is,” Sif said. “Now take Abomination’s hand, Loki. She’s waiting for you.”

Loki backed up a step, his disdain morphing into annoyance as he glanced at Sif. “You are aware how ridiculous this is.”

“Certainly, but you know whatever mischief Fandral is up to won’t cease until we form a circle with the doll child.”

Loki muttered something under his breath before reaching out to close the circle. Nothing happened until he reached out to clasp Sif’s hand, truly closing the circle. A tingle ran through Sif, from fingertip to fingertip, leaving her shivering. They stayed connected for three seconds, then the doll disappeared without a sound. Loki dropped her hand, leaving Sif feeling oddly cold. 

“As far as pranks go, that one lacked ingenuity,” Loki said. 

“I don’t know,” Sif said, tapping her lip. “The doll was a new element.”

“An underutilized one. Fandral lacks creativity.”

At least it was harmless. The whole affair could have been far worse, or involved one of them nearly losing a limb. (It wouldn’t be the first time.)

Grabbing hold of Loki’s hand, Sif hauled herself up, then quickly released him. She durst not hold on longer than necessary. “See you tomorrow in the training yards?” she said. He acquiesced, and they parted ways.

*

They did not have to wait til the training yards to see each other again.

Sif woke just before dawn to find an intruder in her bed, green eyes staring into hers as Abomination cried, “Papa!”

With a scream Sif leapt from her bed, sword in hand and pointed at the doll before she fully processed what was happening. “Papa!” the doll cried again. 

Taking several deep breaths, Sif failed to calm her racing heart. “You are most unnerving,” she told Abomination fiercely. “Where did you come from? I thought you had vanished.”

“Papa,” the doll cried again.

“Not here,” Sif said firmly, bending to retrieve the sheath she’d dropped in her haste to end the intruder. With her weapon safely stored, she moved to turn on a light. She would find no more sleep this night. 

Returning to her bed, she picked up Abomination and made a closer inspection, searching under her clothes for a knob, gear, other physical object to turn the doll off. Failing to find one, she instead did her best to access her latent seidr and search for a magical off switch, or perhaps a thread of gold tying Abomination to her creator. Sif found nothing, though whether that was because there was nothing or because she lacked the skill, Sif could not tell. 

“Papa!” the doll cried yet again. 

If you want him, then let’s go get him, Sif thought. Tucking Abomination under her arm, she left her quarters and made for Loki’s rooms.

They were spelled shut, of course, but Sif hadn’t been close friends with Loki for centuries for nothing. Having long since been granted access to his rooms, Sif announced her presence with a palm pressed flat against the lintel of the door. Whatever spell Loki had placed to recognize her activated, and within seconds she slipped inside his darkened rooms. 

Leaving the lights off so as not to alert Loki to her presence, Sif tiptoed across his immaculate outer chamber. She hadn’t been here often enough to memorize the path from door to door, but she knew generally where the opening to his bedchamber was, and she knew enough to not put out her arm to feel along the wall. He had a precarious amount of magical artifacts shelved along every inch of his walls, and one did well to avoid disturbing spells unknown.

Coming at last to Loki’s bedchamber door, Sif trailed her hand along it until she found the handle. Twisting slightly, she pushed the door inward.

“PAPA!” Abomination cried. Sif dropped the doll with a yelp, stubbed her toe on the stone floor, and bounced off the door jamb. She expected to fall to the floor, but instead fell into a solid being, undoubtedly Loki, and knocked them both to the floor. 

With a great amount of cursing and one sharp object being inserted into Sif’s upper arm, they managed to untangle themselves. Loki snapped his fingers and light illuminated his bedchamber. Somehow Abomination had managed to avoid the chaos, sitting primly on the floor at the foot of Loki’s bed. “You’re bleeding,” Loki said by way of greeting.

“You stabbed me,” Sif returned. 

“A habit of mine, or so I’m told,” he said, sheathing the bloodied knife he was holding. “Will a bandage suffice, or is a trip to Eir required?”

She’d had worse tripping over her own swords, and informed him of thus. Retrieving a bandage, Loki made quick work of wrapping it around her bicep, tying it off in an unnecessarily extravagant bow. For hands so cool, they were surprisingly warm against her skin. “Now, to what do I owe this most unexpected and untimely visit?” Loki asked once her wound was tended.

Sif jabbed a finger at Abomination. “She wanted to see you.” Loki’s eyes trailed after her finger, a slight lifting of his eyebrows the only indication of his surprise. Abomination sat in perfect silence, her porcelain hands daintily resting in her silk-clad lap. 

“I thought we rid ourselves of this nuisance,” Loki said mildly. 

“And yet here we are,” Sif replied. “You do not know true terror until you waken with her eyes staring into your soul.”

“I imagine it feels much like having your wards warn you that Lady Sif and friend have crossed the threshold.”

“Truly? My presence is on par with that?”

“At this time of night, yes. One can only conclude that you have come to exact revenge for some perceived slight.”

Sif narrowed her eyes, wondering what prank he’d pulled on her that she had yet to discover. 

“In any event,” Sif said, “we are here at Abomination’s request. She is now your problem. I’m returning to my chambers and will see you after first light.”

And without another word, she left Loki alone with the doll, hoping to catch a few more minutes of sleep.

*

An hour later, Sif was pulled from her sad attempt at slumber by a sharp rapping at her door. She sighed and flung her arms over her eyes, recognizing Loki’s knock. If she ignored him, would he go away?

“Mama!”

A snort of laughter escaped from her lips. Had Fandral had the doll cursed? She wouldn’t put it past him. 

Exiting her blankets, Sif met Loki at her door. He looked haggard and weary, as if he’d been alone with Abomination for days instead of a mere hour. “I need sleep,” he rasped, his eyes begging her to offer relief. Shaking her head in amusement, she led him to her sitting area where they collapsed on the cushions and together fell into a blissfully silent slumber.

**

Poking at the doll’s underside, Loki let out a growl of frustration.

It was some time past noon, and though he felt well-rested after his nap with Sif, his ire was mounting. He had spent the past hour analyzing the doll with his physical senses as well as his magical senses, and he could not get a handle on what made it work, other than that it only fell silent when he and Sif were in relatively close proximity.

He did not mind that aspect, as he’d always admired the shieldmaiden and thoroughly enjoyed her company, but he had many solitary pursuits that he would like to be left to, and the doll’s constant cries of “Mama!” interfered greatly with that. He had considered throwing the thing at Sif and running away, but after that unfortunate hair incident in their youth, he had promised to work through problems with her instead of solving them in ways that injured only her.

He was currently having a lot of regrets about that.

“We’re supposed to go hunting tomorrow,” Sif said as she paced across the stone floor. “We can’t take the doll with us; she’ll interfere with the fun!”

“I’m not supposed to go with you,” Loki reminded her, tugging yet again on the doll’s hair. It produced no results. “Hogun uninvited me, if you remember.”

“But you’re coming now,” she said, not pausing her hurried pace. “I cannot leave the doll with you, and I will not take it with me. Therefore we must both go.”

It wasn’t quite the same as being re-invited by Sif, but it was close enough. Loki smiled at little Abomination; she might be good for something, after all. “You could stay with me instead,” he offered, knowing full well Sif would never accept, but at least she wouldn’t be able to throw this back in his face when things went sour on their journey, as they were sure to do. 

“Absolutely not,” she said firmly. “I have a responsibility to fulfill to my friends.” She stopped pacing abruptly, whirling to face Loki. He admired her long hair as it whipped around her face, tangling about her shoulders. “Fandral is supposed to go with us,” she said, excitement lighting up her eyes. “He will know what to do about Abomination!”

“You put great faith in our resident scoundrel. Though this is obviously his brainchild, I’ve no doubt he is not the one responsible for whatever is possessing this.” Lifting Abomination by her arm, Loki gave her a small shake. 

The idea was ingenious, really, and Loki wished he had thought of it first. To cast a homing spell on a verbal inanimate object and then connect it to his two unsuspecting people—why, the fun he could have had if he had done such a thing to Fandral and Hogun. The laughs it would have produced! Fandral would have been jolly about the whole thing, and Hogun would only hate Loki more. It was the perfect prank.

Of course, he wasn’t going to think so tonight when he retired to his chambers, separate from Sif. But in the light of day, it was most amusing.

“He will at least know where we can go to solve the problem,” Sif said, dropping onto the cushions next to Loki. Her scent hit Loki full-force, and he had to exert great effort not to deeply inhale. 

A spell like this would need to be counteracted by the caster, which they would need Fandral for. There were few on Asgard with the skill to cast it, but there were many in the wider universe who could do it. If Fandral had stepped outside of their home to acquire Abomination, then he alone knew precisely where to go to undo the curse. “Then I suppose we ought to pack,” Loki said. 

Sif opened her mouth, got halfway through vocalizing a syllable, and closed it again. She pursed her lips before saying, “I was going to suggest we get to it, but if we pack separately, Abomination here will be very vocal about it. Stay while I gather my things, and then I will accompany you to do the same?”

More time alone with Sif? Loki cheerfully agreed. 

*

They dined in Sif’s rooms, away from the rest of the court so as not to announce their predicament, but when night fell and bed beckoned, they faced a new conundrum: how to sleep. “My bed is off limits,” SIf told him fiercely.

Loki shrugged, unperturbed. “Mine is not,” he said. “There is always room there for my little Abomination and her mama.”

Sif inhaled through her nose and stared at the ceiling, invoking the Norns. Loki made sure to offer her his best grin when she looked at him once more. “I don’t like this,” Sif said.

Loki shrugged again. “It’s not about liking, Sif, it’s about sleep. I am offering you a solution. Unless you have a different solution, your options are to accept my offer or suffer through a night of crying.”

Sif shook her head. “That is not actually the issue,” she said. “I’m far more concerned about how many tongues we will set wagging when I am spotted entering your rooms for the night.”

Loki supposed he could be offended by that, but he knew Sif’s worry was not about him, but about how she would be perceived by those who supposed she slept her way to her position. However, he had little patience for foolishness. “Since when do you care about the opinions of others?”

Her back stiffened as she glared at him. “Since always. Perception is often just as important as reality. Not all of us have the luxury of the throne to back our unconventional choices.”

An eyebrow arched condescendingly. “Support?” he scoffed. “You know my father better than that. The only reason I haven’t been publicly shamed for my magical prowess is my competence with weapons. It keeps me on the lighter side of acceptable.”

“Odin has praised your work with sorcery in front of the whole court!”

“When bribed to do so by my mother. You should hear the tirades he throws my way behind closed doors.” Actually, Loki would prefer if she didn’t. He liked that she still had a modicum of respect for him. Hurrying on before she could dwell on that admission, Loki offered, “I can whisk us away to my rooms without a soul seeing, so no one will know how you spent your night.”

A look of hope flittered across her face, but then Sif shook it off. “Unnecessary,” she said. “If I am to sleep in your chambers, then I will own my actions. Let the bystanders gawk.”

And that was precisely why Loki liked her so much. “Such dignity,” he murmured appreciatively. It must be his imagination, or perhaps the lighting, casting a faint pinkish tinge to her cheeks. Plucking Abomination off the cushions with one hand, Loki offered Sif the other to pull her to her feet. She hesitated only a moment before accepting. His hand tingled at her touch, and he mourned the loss when she quickly retracted her hand. “To bed, my fair shieldmaiden,” he said, leading the way out.

*

It was the best sleep Loki had ever had.

**

It was not the best sleep for Sif.

Though Abomination separated the two occupants of the bed, the doll did nothing to disrupt how aware of Loki Sif was. They weren’t touching—were barely close enough to touch—yet the air felt electrified with his presence. Every breath, every twitch, every minuscule movement of his body sent a jolt through her. Every time she felt on the verge of sleep, Loki moved, and Sif was suddenly wide awake, struggling to keep her breathing even.

This was ridiculous. Yes, the second prince was attractive, but Sif wasn’t attracted to him. He was the reason for her raven hair! And could she forget the time he chopped off the left side of her locks, leaving her with an uneven cut that even the most stunning of women couldn’t pull off? Then of course there was the time he stabbed her. 

(Though she would be the first to admit that his competency with weapons made her blood heat in a most pleasant way. Any man who could wield a knife with such precision made her short of breath. That was nothing unique to Loki.)

After two hours of sleep eluding her, Sif gave up on the notion and moved to Loki’s sitting room. Surely one of the many scrolls or texts he had decorating his walls and table would catch her eye. Or at least be dull enough to send her into a forced slumber. Either would do.

Turning on his lights, she dimmed them to match the mood of the evening, then began rifling through Loki’s things, beginning with the loose papers scattered across his table. Most of them were notes relating to spells, too boring for her purposes. She lost interest before she even began, precluding them from being good sleep aids. 

Pushing aside one particularly thick stack, she caught sight of Loki’s list for qualities in a mate. It was terribly intrusive to read it without his permission, but many of his words were scribbled out and written over in Fandral’s handwriting. If Fandral could read it, then surely she could, too.

The last quality written was alive. Sif had to clap a hand over her mouth to hold in her laugh. Was that a concern for him? Too much time dabbling in necromancy? Grinning between her fingers, she couldn’t wait for the perfect opportunity to mock him over this.

Scanning the rest of the list, an odd feeling settled in the bottom of her stomach. Many of his desires were for a domestic goddess, but they’d been scratched out to make way for descriptions of a warrior. She did not fit Loki’s ideal for a woman, but she did fit Fandral’s ideal woman for Loki. 

She was beginning to wonder how intentional Abomination had been.

Speaking of the doll, Sif happened to look up and see her doll-daughter standing in the doorway between Loki’s sitting room and his bedchamber. Swallowing an oath, Sif jumped. “Mama,” Abomination cried, her voice much quieter than usual. 

“Leave me be, nightmare child,” Sif said. 

“Mama,” Abomination said again, marginally louder.

“Hush. I’m reading.”

“Mama,” she again repeated, increasing in volume yet again.

Sif sighed. So she was not to find peace in her insomnia. “All right, Abomination. I’ll leave Loki his privacy and come to bed.” Moving to pick up the doll, Sif wondered how mobile it was. She seemed incapable of moving on her own, yet she kept showing up at unwanted moments. How intricate was this spell?

What had seemed amusing earlier in the day suddenly seemed a great annoyance. Next time she saw Fandral, she was going to break something of his in retaliation.

*

When Sif awoke, she found Loki staring into her eyes. With a yelp, she leaped out of bed and reached for the sword that wasn’t present as these were not her chambers.

It was uncanny how much this morning’s wake up call was reminiscent of Abonimation’s wake up call yesterday. If it weren’t physically impossible, Sif would not be surprised to find out the doll was actually Loki’s daughter. 

“Good morning,” Loki greeted her, his voice rough with sleep. Sif’s heart definitely did not accelerate at the intimacy of the moment. She scowled at him to make sure he understood that.

“If it is good, which I doubt,” she retorted, miming sheathing her sword. If this was going to become a regular occurrence, she would need to store several weapons about Loki’s chamber for ease of access.

Realizing what she just thought, Sif froze in horror. Nothing about this was going to become regular!

Snatching Abomination from the bed, Sif hid her scarlet face in the doll’s hair. “I’ll meet you at the stables!” she shouted, hastily retreating from Loki’s bedchamber. Abomination immediately started calling for Loki, but Sif ran for the door, willing to tolerate the doll’s cries as long as she was away from Loki’s rooms.

She wondered what he thought of her now, and hoped to never find out.

*

Loki met her in the stables a short while later, shouldering both of their travel packs plus her armour. In her haste to leave, Sif had forgotten her things. Her face flamed anew as she accepted her possessions with a muttered, “Thanks,” then ducked into a stall to properly dress.

Putting her armour in place returned Sif to equilibrium, and she exited the stall with her head held high. Loki was waiting, his pack already attached to his saddled mount. He looked strange, and it took Sif a moment to realize he had a sling across his chest where Abomination was safely nestled. She was torn between the need to laugh and the need to do something about her progeny-making bits. She could not remember the last time she saw a male holding a small child, and it was having effects on her body.

This was most disturbing. She needed to slaughter something.

Hogun appeared at her right, staring at Loki with ill-concealed derision. “What is that?” he queried, pointing at Abomination. “Did you take up with dolls when our backs were turned?”

“Doll, singular,” Loki corrected. “Meet my little Abomination.”

It should not have annoyed Sif that he said my instead of our. 

“You do know we are here to hunt and not play dolls,” Hogun said dryly.

“Is that so?” Loki asked. “I must have misread the invitation.”

Volstagg appeared next, his wide smile taking up most of his face. He always looked jolly; Sif couldn’t remember if she’d ever seen him upset. “Greetings, friends,” he rumbled, thumping everyone on the back. “Are we ready to take down whatever mythical creature Thor has found for us to hunt today?”

“Where is my oaf of a brother?” Loki asked, looking around as if Thor could be found in a horse’s stall. 

Hogun answered, still eyeing Abomination askance. “He sent a message that he would meet us on Secundus Prime. He and Fandral are running late.”

“Then let us away to our destination,” Volstagg rumbled. “Perhaps we can get a head start and defeat our beloved prince for once.”

“To do that, we would need to know what we are hunting,” Loki pointed out as he gracefully mounted his horse. Sif made it a point not to watch how lithe his limbs were as they moved. She certainly didn’t notice how he mounted the house without disturbing Abomination. “But perhaps we can select a base camp that isn’t riddled with rocks.”

“Or find one that has rocks precisely where Thor and Fandral are to lay their heads,” Volstagg said, voice merry. “Come, friends; let’s away!”

They rode to Heimdall’s lookout where the watchman activated the Bifrost to their destination. The Rainbow Bridge was Sif’s favourite part of any journey; she loved the multi-colored road they traveled, and mourned that its magical efficiency was so short-lived. She would love to spend hours galloping down its length. 

Secundus Prime was, of course, a rocky planet, the paths and fields between the forests littered with boulders and stones. It took some work to find a camping spot that was sufficiently clear of rocks and trees to set up bedrolls and tents, but they managed to snag enough space for the four of them. Volstagg whistled cheerfully as they took up all the available cleared space, pleased his plan was working out so nicely. His mood was contagious, and Sif forgot her frustrations with Abomination and Loki and even ventured to whistle along side her friend. 

An unspoken agreement between her and Loki led to their tents not only being side by side, but facing each other. She hoped being so close would appease Abomination’s curse, but in case it did not, opening their tent doors should take care of the doll’s cries.

Neither Thor nor Fandral made it before nightfall, so the four friends started a fire and roasted the slab of pig Volstagg had packed. Sif put great effort into engaging with Volstagg and Hogun so she would not dwell on how enticing Loki looked as he performed chores with what looked like a baby attached to his chest. He offered no word of complaint and never so much as hinted that Sif should take a turn with the child. He would make an excellent father, Sif did not think, and would not mind a wife who hunted and quested, she definitely did not think.

Volstagg was fascinated by Loki’s passenger, and queried endlessly about Abomination’s presence. Loki, never one to share the truth lightly, made up a dozen different scenarios explaining her presence, which only further piqued Vosltagg’s interest. 

“An orphan from Knowhere, you say?” Volstagg clarified after Loki’s most recent lie. “Very considerate of you to adopt her. The Allfather and Allmother must be thrilled.”

“So proud,” Hogun deadpanned. Sif picked up a pebble and threw it at his left temple. He shot her an annoyed glance, but she just grinned.

“A bit disappointed I have not wed her mother, but content to finally have a grandchild,” Loki said, softly stroking Abomination’s hair. 

Sif wondered how Loki’s parents would actually react if he claimed to have adopted a doll. Odin might drag him to Eir to have his head examined. Frigga would either assist in the endeavour, or, understanding it for the joke that it was, would have an entire wardrobe commissioned for her beloved granddaughter. 

It was comforting to know Frigga would be there to provide the feminine side since Sif was sorely lacking in that area.

Shaking her head fiercely, Sif dislodged that thought. 

“I will wash the dishes,” Sif announced when they finished their repast. Glancing at Loki, she asked, “May Abomination join me? It is a most useful skill to learn.”

“Alas, her immobile hands will prove quite the detriment,” Loki said regretfully. “I think I shall keep her close instead.”

Volstagg chortled merrily. “What a great father you are turning out to be, Loki,” he announced. “When you find your bride, I will attest to as much.”

Sif frowned, trying to not let that bother her. 

Making quick work of the after-dinner clean up, the four friends spent several hours recounting past glories and expounding on anticipated future ones. The moon had long since risen by the time they retired to bed, Thor and Fandral still nowhere in sight. Bidding her friends a fond goodnight, Sif slipped into her tent and set about removing her armour. She longed for the shores of sleep.

“Mama!” 

Sif froze, her breastplate dangling from her hands. A hurried shushing sound came from Loki’s tent, but Abomination would not be deterred. “Mama!” she cried again. 

“What is that infernal noise?” Hogun demanded form his tent. “Did someone bring a small child and hide it in their tent?”

“Loki, is your child speaking already? What milestones she’s accomplished!” Volstagg called from his tent.

“Mama!” Abomination cried again.

Odin’s eye. Hurriedly undoing the ties on her tent front, Sif met Loki’s eyes, his own tent open. “It seems we are sleeping with our tents open the elements tonight,” he said with a sigh. “See, doll child? Sif is right here. There is no further need to disturb the night.”

“Mama!” Abomination cried again.

“I am right here,” Sif growled. “Stop being so demanding.” 

“Mama!”

With a a growl of his own, Loki removed Abomination from her sling and handed her to Sif, clearly hoping it would silence the doll. “Papa!” she cried instead. 

“By the Norns,” Loki barked. A light sprang to life in his hands, illuminating their faces. “What more do you want from us, doll?”

“Papa!”

Hogun appeared between their two tents, his eyes landing on Sif holding what he had previously thought was Loki’s doll. Volstagg followed behind, his brows creased in confusion. When he spotted Abomination in Sif’s arms, his face cleared and a smile spread from ear to ear. “Have you two adopted a child together?” he exclaimed. “O, glorious day!”

Holding Abomination by the arm, Sif shook the doll in his direction. “You know this is just a toy, yes? Not an actual child?”

Volstagg shrugged. “Consider it a practice run. When you two have successfully mastered raising the doll, you will be ready for progeny of your own!”

“Absolutely not,” Sif said, voice tinged with horror. Loki frowned at her, but for once kept his own counsel. 

“I’m willing to wager on it,” Volstagg said. 

“Absolutely not!” Sif repeated, more emphatically.

“I’ll take that wager,” Hogun said.

“As will I!” a third voice added. Fandral materialized out of the dark, Thor at his side. 

“You,” Loki growled. 

“Yes, ‘tis I, Fandral the Enlarged,” Fandral said, performing a sweeping bow. 

“No,” Sif, Hogun, and Loki said in unison. 

Fandral frowned. “I thought that was a most fitting title,” he pouted. “Why are you so dismissive of my efforts to increase my notoriety?”

“You know why,” Loki said. “Now tell us how to remove the curse from this doll.”

As if on cue, Abomination cried out, “Papa!”

Thor’s face lit up with delight. He shouldered past the Warriors Three to get a better look at Abomination. “Loki, have you procreated at last? Mother will be ecstatic, and perhaps Father will stop pestering me to wed. Come, let us celebrate this momentous occasion!”

“Stop being intentionally obtuse,” Loki said sourly. He stuck out a foot so Thor tripped, which did not seem to disturb Thor at all. “Even if I had reproduced, Father would never be satisfied with any child of mine. You are his heir, and all he cares about is your progeny.”

Turning his back on his brother, Thor reached for Sif’s empty hand. “Sif, beloved, my foul brother has so casually dismissed you as the mother of his child. Will you instead accept my hand and allow me to assist you in raising your child? She will be treated and loved as if she were mine, and my father will welcome you into the family with open arms.”

For a brief moment, Sif found it difficult to draw in breath. A decade or so in the past, an offer like this from Thor, even made in jest, would have secured her happiness and fulfilled her heart’s desire. Now, however, it felt a hollow victory, and she struggled to find an amusing rejection.

Abomination took care of that, however. For the first time since her animation, she uttered a word other than mama or papa. In a voice better suited for the halls of Hel, she growled a fierce, “No,” and some unseen force shoved Thor backward. He toppled into Loki’s tent, knocking the second prince down with him as they became entangled in a wall of canvas. 

Silence reigned as the Warriors Three and Sif stared at the two princes disentangling themselves. Sif wanted to mock the brothers for their inelegance, but she couldn’t find the words, or indeed do anything other than gape in horror. 

It was Loki who finally broke the silence. Having removed himself from the wreckage of his tent, he glared so fiercely at Fandral that Sif feared her friend would burn to a crisp from the intensity of Loki’s ire. “Just what did you do to this doll?” Loki demanded. 

“Me?” Fandral asked faintly. “I’ve never even seen this doll before.”

“What?” Sif’s and Loki’s twin cries of outrage rang into the night. Loki raised a hand to his brow as he growled a string of increasingly foul expletives. Sif hesitated only a moment before echoing him.

Hogun cut them off. “As delightful as it is to hear you two in sync, has anyone noticed that the doll is no longer crying for her parents?”

“Because she’s become a creepy little revenge monster,” Thor muttered. He, too, was out of the tent wreckage, though he remained on the ground. 

“That, or she’s thrilled we’re occupying the same space again,” Sif said. She raised her eyes to meet Loki’s. “We’re going to have to share a tent, aren’t we?”

“I’m sleeping by the fire,” Loki said by way of answer, and stalked over to it, the orange glow illuminating his figure to great advantage. Immediately Abomination cried out after him.

Fantastic. Sif was going to have to sleep by the fire, too, wasn’t she? Jabbing a finger toward Fandral, she made a threatening gesture before disappearing into her tent to retrieve her bedroll.

She hated sleeping under the stars.

*

Breakfast was a silent affair. 

Several attempts were made to begin a conversation, but Sif silenced them all with a look. She had slept poorly. Despite their late bedtime, she was up with the sun as there was no tent covering her head to block the light. Loki, too, awoke early, and all they had done so far was exchange glares directed at their doll child, sitting complacently on the ground in between them. 

Sif wanted to break the thing, but she knew enough about spells and curses to know that breaking an object before the curse was properly removed could prove detrimental to the spell. There was no telling what sort of repercussions they might face, or how severe they would be. 

As their friends rose and joined them, Sif settled for glaring at Fandral. Despite his claim that he had never seen the doll before, this must be his fault. He had invited her and Loki to his chambers; it was unreasonable to assume he had no hand in this affair. He kept shooting her half-formed grins, but it was not enough to soothe her ire. 

Thor went to sit as far away from Abomination as he could, but that put him directly across the fire from her. Before his backside hit the ground, he scurried to the side, moving to sit next to Loki. On any other day, Sif would have laughed at him, but now she glared at him, too. How dare he insinuate her little Abomination was somehow at fault for this.

She needed sleep. 

Hogun cooked up a pile of flat cakes, tossing each finished cake at his friends. Sif caught hers without looking, stuffing each one directly into her mouth. They were less appetizing than if she had poured sauce over top, but suffering through her breakfast fit her mood. Hunting involved stealth, and unless Loki stayed by her side, Abomination would not allow for stealth. And Sif did not want Loki by her side; she did her best hunting with Hogun or Fandral. Loki’s style was better suited to working with Volstagg or Thor. But there was little chance of that happening. She did not even know what Thor had gathered them here to hunt, and already she knew she would not be enjoying the experience. 

“We can’t keep our silence forever,” Thor said as breakfast was being finished. “No amount of targeted glares will remedy the situation. Sif, you—”

“I know,” she snapped, glaring at the ground. “I either need to partner with Loki or we need to sit this one out.”

She expected a snide reply from Loki, but he maintained his silence. Twisting slightly to look at him, she saw his frown directed at the dirt. He looked…unhappy. It softened her heart and she lost her glower. “We’ll stay here,” she decided. A collective sigh of relief from the others returned her glower. They could at least pretend to be disappointed.

With that decided, quick work was made of cleanup and then Thor and the Warriors Three were on their way, leaving Sif behind with Loki.

And Abomination.

“We have to do something about her,” Sif said, looking down at the doll sitting complacently in front of the fire.

“And what do you propose?” Loki asked from his seat next to her. “With Fandral unaware of her origins, I’m not sure how to go about finding the source of the curse. Mother, Eir, and I all have the power to place such a curse, but it was not me, Eir is not interested in a union between us, and Mother has more discretion than that. Any one else who has the power would not dare place such a curse on a member of the royal family. Odin is not known for his mercy. That indicates someone off-realm, which leaves the entire universe to search. Do tell, Lady Sif: where should we start?”

Her stomach sank as Loki continued to speak. She had assumed he would know whom to approach next. Where did one start when facing the universe? “What are our options?” she asked. “Besides searching out the origin of this curse. Is it an indefinite spell, or can we bring it to completion? Is there a way we can remove the curse? Can we fling her into a black hole? Or ourselves?” she added for a touch of levity. His lips twitched upwards. Success. 

“Without knowing the parameters to the spell, it is all but impossible to know how to end it,” Loki informed her. She had feared as much. “Our easiest options are to get married or find a battle to prematurely end our lives. Other than that, it will be difficult and lengthy.”

Anticipation gripped Sif, and she had to work to keep her voice level. “We could do both,” she said. “Get married first, then throw ourselves into a losing battle.”

Loki let out a bark of laughter. “A built in escape system. Efficient.”

She hadn’t meant it that way, but couldn’t find it within herself to correct him. “We need a plan.”

Standing up, Loki stretched his back. Sif watched the line of his body with admiration as it arched. She swallowed. “My first plan is to adjust our tents so we can sleep comfortably tonight,” Loki said. 

She snapped her eyes up to his. “What? We’re not returning to Asgard?”

He raised a brow and pointed at Abomination. “With her in tow? I don’t mind being the center of wagging tongues, but only when I have set events into motion to place me there. There is no telling what the fallout of this would be.” He hesitated, then added, “And I would not face my father.”

Sif couldn’t argue with that. Facing Odin took a great deal of courage when things were going in his favor. She did not want to face the Allfather as an accidental romantic companion to his son. “Let’s adjust our tents.”

Neither were gifted with sewing, but with a touch of magic and a great deal of perseverance (and an expletive or two) they managed to remove the fronts of both tents and reconnect them to make one larger room. Sif mourned the destruction of her tent; it was a well-crafted piece of gear, and she had paid dearly for a spell to be woven into the seams to keep out water and resist unravelling. Altering it thus destroyed the spell and ruined her favourite piece of gear. When she found who was responsible for Abomination, she was going to make him pay.

Staring at the finished product, Sif realized that in their fervour to fix the tent, they had neglected to account for an opening. 

“We are officially adolescents,” Loki announced. 

“Too green to be let off our mother’s apron strings,” Sif agreed. “I’m sure we will laugh about this in years to come.”

“I am mere seconds from lighting our tent on fire,” Loki said, lifting his hand and conjuring a ball of fire. “There is no laughter here.”

Grabbing his arm, Sif redirected it towards Fandral’s tent. “Aim there, please,” she said. Loki laughed, a deep, pleasing sound that echoed in her belly. She grinned, and squeezed his forearm. He turned to look at her, and they shared a smile that lifted both of their spirits. 

It took some finagling (and further wielding of a needle), but they added an entrance that mostly closed. With their newly enlarged tent (she winced, thinking of Fandral’s latest attempt at a title), Loki set up his bedroll on his tent side while Sif set up her bedroll on hers. She thought about making a bed in the middle for Abomination, but decided the cursed doll didn’t warrant such kindness. 

Satisfied with the placement of their belongings, Sif and Loki reconvened at the fire. “I’m going out to gather firewood,” she announced. “And before you tell me you can magically sustain our fire far better than a bundle of wood can, I am also checking to see how far I can wander from your side before Abomination interferes.”

Loki dropped to the ground and leaned against a stump, crossing his arms over his chest. “By all means,” he said. “I wager a fist of gold that you can’t make it past the clearing.”

Stakes. Sif smirked. “Double says I can make it five ells past the tree line.”

“Agreed.” 

Sif strode from their small clearing without incident, then entered the forest. It took only moments to pass the five ell mark, and still Abomination remained silent. Sif took a cautious step forward, then another, and then she was running away from camp, her firewood forgotten. She heard nothing, even when she turned her ear back toward camp. Had they done it? Was the curse over?

Looking forward, Sif let out a yelp and stumbled over Abomination who was abruptly in her path. Bumping into a tree, Sif scraped the right side of her face as she went down. “Mama,” Abomination said. 

“Are you sent by the Norns to ruin my equanimity?” Sif asked the doll. It, of course, said nothing. Bringing a hand to her face, Sif pulled away bloody fingers. She sighed. She would need Loki’s help to bandage this wound, minor though it was. 

Standing up, Sif elected to leave Abomination behind. Clearly, the doll was capable of movement on its own and would no doubt find its own way back to the camp.

Loki was still leaning against his stump. A frown marred his face and he caught sight of Sif’s bloody cheek, and he was up and at her side before she could blink. “What happened to you?” he murmured, bringing cool fingers to her face. There had been no discomfort associated with the wound until his cool fingers trailed a wake of goosebumps along her skin, in contrast with the throbbing she suddenly felt. 

“I ran into a tree,” she said. “Tell me: when did you notice Abomination leave?”

Loki leaned back, though his fingers remained on her face. “I didn’t.” He glanced behind him to where Abomination was sitting beside the fire. His brows drew down. “Are you saying you saw her in the woods?”

“Yes,” Sif said, staring in wonder at Abomination. How was she moving about in such a way that a sorcerer as powerful as Loki didn’t notice anything? “I tripped right over her.”

“Fascinating,” Loki murmured. “I have a theory…” he trailed off, staring at he doll. “I will tend to your cheek, and then we have some experiments to run.”

Sif had the feeling these “experiments” would involve her running into more trees.

Loki led her back to his stump before disappearing into their tent to retrieve something. He came back with a small medical bag and crouched before her. “I have not Eir’s skill in the healing arts,” he murmured, “but I think I can manage such a small scratch, if you’ll allow me.” 

She swallowed at his proximity, but refused to let him see her affected. “The worst you can do is leave a scar, which I’ll allow. Should that happen, I will lord it over you for the rest of eternity.”

“As you do the hair incident,” he said, moving his hand to touch her tresses. Sif could not hold back a soft inhale; it had been long since she allowed another to touch her so intimately, and she had forgotten how so small a touch could provoke so much feeling. She knocked his hand aside and pointed at her cheek. 

Concentration flooded his face as Loki once again put his hands on her skin. There was a tingling sensation as his fingers moved around, and it was as if Sif could feel her skin mending itself, so different from Eir’s soft touch which could not be felt at all. “Have you considered putting more effort into learning healing?” she asked, voice low.

“No,” he answered, matching her tone. “To do so would involve putting my friends in mortal peril so I could practice, and while I might not mind the odd spear sticking out of Hogun, I’d rather not subject you and Volstagg to such incidents.”

“Mortal peril?” she said. “Eir has healing huts where you can practice without injuring us!”

Loki scoffed. “As if I would submit myself to her tutelage.”

“She’s the best in the realm!”

“And I’ve been on the wrong side of her tongue far too often to bow under its authority now.”

Sif rolled her eyes. “Set aside your pride and learn something new.”

“All right, I will,” Loki said, leaning back a hair to look her in the eyes, “but only if you set aside your pride and join me.”

He had her there. Sif, like all Aesir, could learn magic if she so chose, but to devote time to it would detract from her training. She had chosen the sword intentionally, and had no desire to learn paltry magic tricks. “Point taken,” she said. Loki smirked in satisfaction, and she had the sudden urge to kiss it off.

Drawing back from his hand, Sif stared at Loki, aghast. Where had that come from? “Sif?” he asked, concerned. “Are you all right? Did I manage to botch so simple a spell?”

She could not answer, her tongue frozen as she considered the implications of wanting to kiss Loki.

She was not entirely sure he’d welcome the gesture, but also not sure that he would rebuff her. Loki was fickle, and he could go either way. What concerned her more was how he would react after. 

Would he look at her as much of the court already did, as one currying favour with the princes to improve her situation? Would he welcome whatever it was she initiated? Would he mockingly ask her if she was satisfied as he stared down his nose at her?

Would he kiss her back?

Would his mother approve?

It was that thought which stayed her hand (and her lips). She could not disappoint Frigga, especially not after that exercise where she had them all list what they wanted in a companion. Frigga expected great things for her boys, and though Sif thought she was great, she did not know if she met Frigga’s definition of great. 

(She certainly didn’t meet Loki’s definition of great, going by the list he had written, though Fandral’s improvements to it described her perfectly.)

She had been quiet for too long. Drawing back, Sif abruptly stood. “Let’s run those experiments, shall we?” 

Loki gave her a long, considering look before saying, “Yes. Let’s.”

**

The experiment was simple. Sif was to run as far into the woods as she could until Abomination cut her off. Loki, meanwhile, would stare at Abomination until she disappeared, and then they would measure the distance Sif ran. They would repeat it to get a baseline of how far Abomination allowed Sif to go, before adjusting where Loki sat to see if it affected the distance. 

There were a few other variables he intended to test, but first things first. 

Sif took off running, and Loki turned to look at Abomination, though he let his mind wander.  

He was fairly certain Sif had been about to kiss him. 

He could read the intent in every line of her body, the desire in her eyes. He had gone perfectly still, waiting to see if she would follow through, anticipation sending a thrill through his veins. To be kissed by the Lady Sif… he had fantasized of such a thing upon occasion, though only in the dark of night when he was certain no one (Mother) was around to read his thoughts. 

To have her so close, then decide against it… It stung, of course, as Loki had never handled rejection well, but considering she hadn’t looked at him with disgust, he had to give credence to the thought that she was unsure of her reception. A perfectly fair and valid point as he had made sure to never show her any sort of preference, but perhaps that was working against him now. 

Which led him to wonder…if he showed her preference, would she try again, and this time follow through?

Abomination disappeared. 

Determined not to appear too eager, Loki leisurely strolled through the forest, following Abomination’s distant cries. By the time he found Sif, he had travelled nearly a full kilometer. “Fascinating, considering she cries when we’re separated by the thin walls of our tents,” Loki said by way of greeting. He appreciated the faint flush across Sif’s cheeks, brought on by her brief jog.

“I would say it’s related to line of sight, but the trees interfere with that almost immediately,” Sif said. “Could it be she senses intent?”

“Did you intend to run away from me?”

“Yes.” 

“Don’t be so literal, Sif.”

“Then no.”

The wonderful thing about experimenting was they need not have all the answers immediately. Loki offered Sif his hand to lead her back to camp, but before she saw it, she turned away to retrieve Abomination. “Leave her,” Loki said. “I expect she’ll meet us back there.”

They cut a notch into one of the trees to mark how far Sif had run, then hiked back to camp. As anticipated, Abomination was sitting there, waiting for them. “I don’t know whether to be creeped out or amused,” Sif said.

“No reason you can’t be both,” Loki said. “Now let’s do this again.”

Sif left with a nod, leaving Loki once again with their little Abomination. “At least I know there aren’t two of you,” he told the doll, “which also rules out demonic multiplying, thank the Norns.” Abomination remained silent, for which he supposed he was grateful. He didn’t need her to suddenly become loquacious. “How far will you let Mama get this time, nightmare child?”

The same distance, as it turned out. When Abomination disappeared, Loki found her and Sif in the exact same location. With a twitch of his fingers, Loki measured and mapped the distance. He made Sif run that way twice more to ensure it was not a fluke, then had her run in the opposite direction, where he found Sif exactly the same distance away. 

“What is the meaning of it?” Sif asked. “As you said, she won’t even let tent flaps separate us. So why can I go so far into the woods?”

“No idea,” Loki said with a shake of his head. “I want to try something. Run back to camp.” Wordlessy she ran off. Loki picked up Abomination and followed at a walk.

He had nearly made it back to camp before Abomination disappeared out of his arms. Immediately Loki found a flaw in his plan. He had no doubt Sif would be just shy of one kilometer away from him. Unfortunately, he had no idea which direction she ran to after passing camp. “Not my brightest idea,” he murmured to himself.

Walking the rest of the way to camp, he decided to wait there for Sif. It took a bit longer, but she finally arrived, Abomination dangling from her fingertips. It was rather comical, and served to make Sif look like the child she once was instead of the warrior she currently was. Loki wished he had something with which to capture the image.

Sif tossed the doll at him. “I waited for you here, but once it became apparent Abomination wasn’t going to arrive, I kept going,” she said, “and I ran until she did appear. I thought that perhaps we had expanded our radius, but,” and she gestured at him, “I’m beginning to think not.”

“We did not,” Loki confirmed. “I walked after you, curious to see if you could get farther away from me if I was mobile. Abomination disappeared from my arm just before I reached camp.”

Sif nodded. “That tracks. I didn’t quite make it to my notched tree, but if you weren’t quite at camp, that makes sense.”

Moving to the fire pit, Loki squatted, indicating for Sif to join him. She did, leaning against one of the rocks. “I’d like to try something else,” he said, “if I may have your permission to touch you.”

Sif granted him leave, so Loki reached over and took her hand, clasping it between his two much cooler ones. He made no other move, simply holding her hand. It felt…good. Loki did not spend much time touching anyone, making it a point to keep to himself, so he could not say with certainty that the tingling sensation he felt at her touch was unique to her, but it was unique to him. 

Looking into her eyes, Loki felt that tug again, the pull to kiss her. A new awareness entered her eyes, as if she felt it, too, so he leaned forward by just a hair—

“Yay,” a tiny voice said, breaking the moment. 

There was no mistaking that little voice coming from their Abomination. Loki dropped Sif’s hand and scooted back, but no further sound came from the doll. Looking back at Sif, Loki scooted forward again and reclaimed her hand. It took a bit longer, but eventually there did come a tiny yay from the doll. 

“Are you serious,” Sif said flatly. 

He was half-tempted to ask to kiss her, just to see what Abomination would do, but Loki was not so desperate to kiss Sif that he would do it under such pretenses. Dropping Sif’s hand again (and feeling the lack to his bones), Loki turned his attention to Abomination. “I have a new theory,” he said, picking up the doll. Tapping into his seidr, he dug past the homing spell to see what lay underneath. There, glittering red in his mind’s eye, Loki saw a primary, far subtler spell. He sighed; Sif was not going to be happy about this. 

“What is it?” Sif asked, moving forward to peer over his shoulder. She placed a hand on his shoulder to steady herself, and Loki allowed himself a moment to enjoy it before he ruined whatever wasn’t blossoming betwixt them. “A love spell,” he said. 

The hand on his shoulder clenched. 

“Repeat that?”

“A love spell,” Loki repeated. “Unusual to attach it to an object and not something we must ingest, but it functions the same. The effects are far weaker, but still present.”

There was a long silence as Sif stared at Abomination. The hand clenching Loki’s shoulder did not remove, though it did increase in intensity. If he left it unchecked much longer, he was going to have to pry her fingers out of his muscle. But to do so would remove what might be the last point of physical contact they had (aside from sparring touches, but those were mostly punches and leg sweeps intended to hurt and take down, not to show affection). He decided he would accept holes in his person before removing her hand.

“Origin?” Sif asked in a tight voice. 

Loki shrugged. “Any idea who would want us to fall in love?”

“You mean besides Fandral?” she growled. 

“Yes, besides the great oaf who claims to have never seen this doll before.”

Sif’s arm went limp and her hand finally fell from Loki’s shoulder. He mourned the lack of contact, though he said nothing. “I have no idea,” she said at last. “I don’t even know what to make of this situation.” She sat next to Loki and leaned against him, dropping her head against the shoulder she had just been clutching. Loki went very still, afraid to so much as breathe lest she move. “Have you ever heard of such a thing, cursing a doll just to bring two people together?” 

Loki had to swallow before he could speak. “I admit I have not spent much time studying love curses,” he said, grateful that his voice did not squeak. 

“A new topic of study to pick up when we return home,” Sif said. The word home did things to Loki’s insides. “If we ever return. Perhaps we should build a hut in the forest to hide in so no one will bear witness to Abomination.”

“Yay,” a little voice interrupted their conversation. 

“Are you for real?” Sif demanded, leaping to her feet. “Can we not even enjoy a conversation in peace?” And she stormed away to the forest, though presumably not too far as Abomination did not disappear.

Loki turned back to the doll and tapped her once on the head. “You are a very naughty doll to interrupt Mama and Papa like that,” he scolded. “Next time, keep your peace!”

Abomination, of course, said nothing.

**

Sif spent some time stomping around the perimeter of the camp, safely hidden behind the trees. She was irritated that it had taken a doll to get her to act, even in such a minor way, on her growing feelings, and it made her even more irritated that said doll had interrupted her tiny attempt to demonstrate interest.

Loki was a finicky being, and it took careful handling to prevent him from bolting. It might be an unwise choice to pursue the second prince when Frigga had not granted her blessing, but after spending the day with him, Sif decided to hel with it, she was going to go after what she wanted. Worst thing that could happen was Loki rejected her, but she was sure he would not.

Reasonably sure.

At least, she hoped he wouldn’t. And that was more encouragement than she’d ever received from Thor. 

Regardless, it was bloody difficult to establish any sort of affection if Abomination kept interrupting. Sif had half a mind to bury the bloody thing and be done with it. Only witnessing Abomination transporting about at will stayed her hand. The stupid doll probably wouldn’t even stay underground.

A love spell! Of all the foolish, ludicrous ideas—when she found out who was responsible for this, heads were going to roll. 

By the time Sif calmed down enough to return to camp, twilight was settling over the land. Loki still sat in front of the fire, now with a stewpot cooking over the coals. Whatever was in there smelled delicious. Sif briefly considered asking Loki to feed it to her, but it was a bit soon for that.

He had a bowl for her ready and waiting, which Sif accepted with a dignified “Thank you.” Collapsing on the ground next to him, she shot a glare at Abomination before thanking the Norns for her meal and shoveling it into her mouth. She loved it when Loki cooked; he managed to keep things warm without being too hot, and his meat was always tender. It far surpassed anything she had ever been able to make. Edible was perhaps the kindest thing anyone said about her cooking.

The others still had not returned, and might not that night. The hunt went where it went, and it was not always convenient to return to base camp—which was more of a gathering place than a necessary spot to rest one’s head. Sif didn’t mind, though; this whole farce was ridiculous enough without an audience. 

Especially since it was nearly time for bed, and that meant crawling into the tent she shared with Loki. 

And Abomination.

Sif stabbed at her stew, wishing she had a fork instead of a spoon. 

“I’m going to sit out here for a bit and enjoy the stars,” Loki said, busying his hands with cleaning his dishes and storing the remainder of the stew. “Would you care to join me, or has all that running about the forest made you tired?”

She was tired, though running through the forest had little to do with it. “If I went to bed, do you think our interfering doll would leave me be, or would she cry the whole time?”

They both looked at Abomination, and they both knew the answer. Stargazing it was. 

After scarfing down her stew, they made quick work of clean up and moved away from the fire so its light would not interfere with their stargazing. They left Abomination behind, but did not go so far that she would have to join them—mostly because their small clearing wasn’t big enough to go far, and Sif did not want to wander the forest looking for another clearing. 

Nudging Fandral’s tent aside (all, right, fine, she knocked it down and kicked it askew), Sif sprawled on the ground, propping her head up with her hands. Loki sat next to her, leaning back on his arms. He was close enough that she could reach out and touch him, but he felt unbearably far away. Sif tried to calculate how long it would take her to inch her way to his side without being obvious about it, but she didn’t know how to be subtle. She was either going to stay where she was or plaster herself to his side. 

“The stars are beautiful, are they not?” Loki commented. Sif grunted in reply. “Beautiful, but cold. They are lovely to look at, but they offer little by way of comfort.”

“Are you in need of comfort?” Sif asked. 

“Not tonight, no. But sometimes I look up in hopes of finding answers, and instead find tiny spheres of gas staring mockingly down at me.”

Removing one hand from behind her head, Sif reached over to place it on top of his. “Do you often seek comfort from the stars?”

Loki did not answer, but she could tell from the twist of his lips that he was thinking of Odin. A great Allfather, Odin was someone Sif deeply respected, yet she knew Loki felt his father’s admiration was lacking. Odin did tend to skew in favour of Thor, but that was natural as he was destined to be the next Allfather. Still, perhaps he could spare a bit more affection for his younger son.

Sif wanted to wrap her arms around Loki and tug him close. Whatever affection he felt was lacking from his father, she wanted to make up for.

Twisting his hand so he was leaning on the back of it, Loki twined their fingers together. Once again, Sif felt the urge to kiss him. 

Did this urge come from within, or was it some sort of bizarre side effect of the love spell attached to Abomination?

Did she really care either way?

Loki might. She knew he engaged in romantic endeavours, but unlike the rest of their friends, he did not parade his paramours about the court for all to see. It was not uncommon to discover he’d been spending significant time in the company of one lady, only to realize he had been spotted alone often enough to indicate the affair was at an end. Kissing him because Sif wanted to would likely go over well, but kissing him because Abomination was spurring her on in some spell-induced haze would only bring hurt. 

But that was an easy problem to solve. “I want to kiss you,” she announced, and was pleased by how fast his head jerked around to face her, his eyes wide. “I just don’t know if I want to kiss you because I want to kiss you, or if I want to kiss you because of some lingering love spell side effect.”

He blinked once, twice, before saying, “I don’t think I care either way,” and he tugged her up by their linked hands to press his mouth to hers.

What followed was an explosion of intensity. 

Sif had been kissed before, of course, and done her fair share of initiating, but kissing Loki had a different quality, a sort of rightness to it that she couldn’t quite explain. Bringing her free hand to the back of his neck, she tugged him closer until they were pressed together, then ran her hand through his hair. 

His spare hand found the small of her back and splayed out, lighting every nerve ending she had on fire. Their joined hands were pressed between them, and she could feel the rapid pulsing of his heart beating a frenzied tattoo in time with hers. 

When Loki at last pulled back, his wild eyes stared into hers, dark and full of something that made her belly squirm. Sif was having a hard time catching her breath, and forming words was beyond her at the moment. 

“Yay,” a little voice sounded behind them, and the moment broke as they shared a laugh. 

“She’s still there, yes?” Sif asked, knowing Loki had better night vision than she did. 

“Yes,” he said, still breathing hard. “Whatever is powering her spells was not discharged by that spectacular kiss.” He grinned, and it transformed his face from a thing of beauty to a thing of beauty. Sif couldn’t stop herself as she leaned forward to kiss his smiling mouth. Oh. What a delight that was.

“If this is a mistake, it’s one I’m happy to keep making,” she murmured against his mouth. 

“By all means,” he replied, and returned his attentions to her lips.

Which didn’t last long, for at that moment a loud crashing announced the return of Thor and Hogun. Sif and Loki sprang apart, straightening hair and smoothing clothes in a futile attempt to pretend they were not just doing what they had been doing. “Brother, aid me,” Thor boomed, and held out his damaged breastplate. “I found myself on the wrong side of a local sorcerer and he has ruined the enchantment I just purchased.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Then take it back to the vendor. I am not your personal spell corrector.”

“Yes, you are,” Thor said. “None is more skilled than you, and I trust you implicitly.” He paused for the briefest of moments before adding, “Unless you are indicating you are not up to the task?”

That was a challenge Loki could never refuse, and it was a matter of moments for him to leave Sif’s side to inspect the breastplate. 

It was for the best, for the increase in distance gave Sif a chance to catch her breath and rethink her actions. By the Norns, she had just kissed the second prince, and not only did he return the favour, he returned it most enthusiastically. 

She was having a hard time breathing again.

Hogun joined Sif in her patch of darkness, his eyes taking in Fandral’s toppled tent. “How was your day of tending the doll child?” he asked.

“Informative, but ultimately useless,” she said—insofar as Abomination was concerned. Her most recent activities were certainly not useless. “We’re no closer to identifying the source of the spells or identifying a way to overcome them.”

“I see your tent has grown in size,” he commented. 

“A necessary precaution,” Sif said. 

“Why not return to Asgard instead? If you cannot hunt, surely being home would be preferable. Your rooms provide a much better bed than any bedroll.”

Both of her eyebrows rose. “And spent another night in Loki’s bed? We’re trying to avoid tongues wagging, not provide them with more ammunition.”

“...Another night?” Hogun clarified.

Oh, right. They hadn’t shared that particular detail with anyone yet. She gestured in Abomination’s direction. “We tried sleeping separately, but it did not go over well,” she said. Hogun’s eyes followed where she pointed, and he made a vague noise of acknowledgment. “In fact, we were about to retire to bed when you two lumbered into camp. I am tired; I think I shall carry out that plan.” Hogun did not stop her from standing, so she moved to Loki’s side, where he was busy inspecting Thor’s breastplate. “I will be inside the tent,” she said, hoping he might say something about joining her, but Loki simply waved her away.

“Goodnight, Lady Sif!” Thor said, his voice carrying in the night. “May your slumber be deep and restful!” 

Personally, she was hoping it would be interrupted by cool lips, but merely gave a backwards wave as she entered into the hobbled-together tent and slipped into her bedroll.

Though she had expected to be kept awake by ruminations over what had just transpired betwixt her and Loki, Sif fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

**

“Mama,” Abomination said, mere moments after Sif disappeared into their tent. 

“Wretched creature, let me work,” Loki muttered, his hands tracing the invisible runes burned into Thor’s breastplate. The original spell was easy enough to detect, even with the damaged inverted rune, but with three others smeared out of existence, it was going to take a bit of guesswork to return Thor’s armour to its former glory. A thrill ran down Loki’s spine: he did enjoy a challenge. 

“Mama,” Abomination cried again. 

“She’s sleeping; go check on her,” Loki said, irritation starting to creep into his voice. He needed complete concentration when working with runes, lest he make a disastrous misstep; being constantly interrupted by Abomination was going to interfere with that. 

“Would playing with Uncle Thor suffice?” Thor asked, bending down to face the doll. “Though I am wary of your intensity, little immobile one, considering what happened just this morning.”

“I would not risk it,” Loki murmured. “She’s been imbued with a homing spell specific to myself and Sif. She already has a grudge against you; I’d hate to find out what happens if you try to touch her.” He glanced at Thor, amusement growing. “Then again, give it a try, brother; I’m very curious to see what would happen.”

Thor scrambled backward, a comical sight. “Perhaps I won’t,” he said.

“Mama,” Abomination cried. 

Loki was tempted to kick her into silence, though he knew it would not work. He was saved the effort, however, as Hogun approached and kicked a spray of dirt over the doll. She did not react. “Mind your actions near my daughter,” Loki said huffily.

“Can’t get a real woman, so you have to resort to crafting a porcelain one to ensnare—”

Loki dropped the breastplate in a whirl of motion that ended with one of his sleeve daggers pressed against Hogun’s throat. “Mind how you end that sentence,” Loki said softly. Hogun said nothing further, though there was challenge still in his eyes. 

“Peace, brother, friend,” Thor said. “No need to result in bloodshed. Ours, anyway. Save it for the beast we hunt." 

“You hunt,” Loki corrected. He pressed against Hogun’s throat just hard enough to draw a drop of blood, then wiped his blade on his thigh and slid it up his sleeve. “I am otherwise occupied.” Bending to retrieve Thor’s breastplate and Abomination, Loki made for his tent. “I will finish this where I can get some peace and quiet. It will be waiting for you outside my tent by morning.”

Ducking into his tent, Loki saw immediately that Sif was already lost to dreamland. Softly he placed Abomination in the center of the tent so she could clearly see both of them, then conjured up a spot of light to illuminate his runic work. 

He had a difficult time remaining focused, however, with Sif’s soft breathing in the background. His eyes kept straying to her, tracing her features, softened in the seidr light. She was breathtakingly beautiful. Subjectively, of course, as Loki had been attracted to her for as long as he could remember, but he had it on good authority that she was objectively beautiful as well. He’d overhead too many idle comments to believe otherwise.

Was it possible she could actually be his? The string of kisses they’d shared earlier certainly hinted that she shared his regard, but she had brought up a good point about the love spell. The only way to know for certain that she fancied him appropriately was to break Abomination’s enchantment. If her feelings remained, he would pursue a courtship with her.

And if her feelings dissipated along with the magic, well, he was going to make certain he had nothing to regret about what time they did have together.

*

They were awoken in the middle of the night by a loud cry.

Loki was slumped over the breastplate he had finished mending, having fallen asleep where he worked. His light had long since gone out, leaving them plunged in darkness, but there was a hint of moonlight seeping through the material of the tent to outline Sif’s erect figure, hand grasping about for her weapon. 

The sound came gain, and this time Loki identified it as Fandral crying out in agony. “Injured, or discovering the state of his tent?” Loki asked, voice heavy with sleep. 

“Not my problem either way,” Sif said, collapsing back into her blankets. Loki blinked. She usually had more compassion than this, leaving the casual disinterest to him. Perhaps she, too, did not entirely believe Fandral’s claim that he had nothing to do with Abomination.

Poking his head out of the tent, it took Loki only a moment to discern Fandral’s source of distress was, indeed, his demolished tent. Grinning in satisfaction, Loki couldn’t help casting a small enchantment over the tent, hoping to attract an unnatural amount of spiders. Fandral was no coward, but did have a small hesitation when it came to the eight-legged creatures. Ducking back inside, Loki shucked his outerwear and crawled into his blankets, first scooting them closer to Sif’s. He had just nestled in when an arm shot out and smacked him in the chest. “‘Mere,” Sif muttered. Loki stared at her prone form. Had she just…? “C’mere,” she said again, grasping at his chest to get a handful of his shirt and tug him towards her.

Well. 

It was unclear if she was awake enough to be aware of her actions, but Loki saw no harm in following her command. After all, who knew how long she would want him close; he might as well enjoy it. 

Shuffling his bedroll closer to hers, Loki settled into sleep with her arm draped across his chest. 

**

The next four days were spent running experiments, testing the limits of Abomination’s radius. No matter who did the running or in what direction they went, they could never make it a full kilometer before Abomination appeared. When one of them ducked into a tent, Abomination immediately started crying. Walls, even pseudo-walls like the tents, activated some proximity alarm, and nothing, not even standing on opposite sides of the tent wall, touching through the canvas, convinced the doll that both Loki and Sif were there. 

They tried blindfolding her to see if that had an effect, but it did not. Sif finally got so frustrated she made good on her threat to bury the doll, but that did not seem to matter, either. All it did was make Abomination a little worse for the wear. 

The only good bit was how much time Sif was spending with Loki. Though they were lifelong friends, she hadn’t spent nearly enough time alone with him, always surrounded by members of the court, his family, or their friends. Being constantly alone with him felt…delicious, like a secret treat she wasn’t supposed to have. After that first night, their friends did not return, the hunt keeping them busy and away, so their only observer was a sometimes inanimate doll. Sif had put a moratorium on kissing while they worked with Abomination, because otherwise they got no work done, but when evening hit and the light waned, dinner became an afterthought as they enjoyed exploring each other, fingers tracing patterns and breaths mingling. 

Even if these emotions were a byproduct of a spell, Sif was fairly certain they were cementing their place inside her heart. She couldn’t care less if their little doll cracked her head, but if Loki walked away from her now, she was sure to be devastated. She wanted to solve the case of the mysterious spells quickly just to ensure that their growing feelings could continue blooming. 

On the morning of the fifth day, Sif sat before the dying fire as she watched Loki’s long, elegant fingers traipse an intricate path along Abomination’s being. She wasn’t sure if he was searching for something physical or dancing a path of magic she couldn’t see, but it was mesmerizing to witness. 

(And if she wanted his fingers to dance the same path along her skin, well, that was only to expected. How could anyone watch him move with such grace and not have such thoughts?)

“I think I love you,” she breathed out of nowhere. It took a moment for her words to reach her own ears, but when they did, she went rigid, hardly daring to breathe. 

If the Norns had ever cared for her, then this was the moment to show it by making sure Loki had not heard her unfortunate confession. 

Abomination, however, had heard Sif’s words. Her little head turned in Loki’s hands until her eyes were locked with Sif’s, and Sif could swear the doll smiled, though her tiny painted lips did not move. 

Loki yelped as Abomination moved, promptly dropping her in a pile of ash. Sif darted forward to save the doll from a fiery death (which would surely do nothing to end her annoying cries of “Mama!” and “Papa!”), brushing ash off her dress and putting out the two cinders that were threatening to become flames. “Did you see that?” Loki demanded, pointing one long finger at Abomination’s turned head. 

“Yes,” Sif simply said, not trusting herself to utter any more words.

“She turned. By herself. That is unnatural.”

Considering Abomination had been following them around for more than a week, Sif would hardly call this incident unnatural, but she understood what Loki meant. “Yes,” she repeated, still wary of forming words. 

“What did you do?” Loki demanded. “Something had to have altered for her to change behaviour so abruptly. Did you say something? Think something? Attempt some half-baked magic?”

Falling in love with Loki felt like half-baked magic to her, but she was not about to admit it. “Your guess is as good as mine,” Sif lied. “Or perhaps this is a new development in the progression of her spells.”

Loki snatched the doll back from Sif, his fingers resuming their search. “It could be,” he muttered, intensely focused on the doll. “Something definitely altered. If I could only find out what…” he trailed off, intent on his task, and Sif let the silence settle, unwilling to say anything that could out her.

Her heart was racing, pounding so loudly in her ears she was surprised Loki could not hear it. It felt as if it would leap right out of her chest. 

He found nothing, of course, and came to no conclusions as to the reason behind Abomination’s head turn. Sif kept her lips sealed, but Loki did not seem to need her contribution to the conversation. At last he gave up, gently placing the doll before the fire, though not so close that she would get singed. It was surprisingly tender, and Sif had to remind her lady bits that she was not ready to procreate. 

“I have no idea what to do,” Loki said, slumping against Sif. She dropped a kiss against his crown. “Nothing we’ve tried has had an effect, I can’t pinpoint the origin or parameters of the spell, Abomination seems to have her own one-track mind, and I’m ready to split someone in half out of frustration.”

“It could be worse,” Sif said. “You could be facing this conundrum with one of our other friends.”

He laughed, the sound deep and throaty. “Yes, having you by my side has been the one good thing.” He went quiet, and Sif took the moment to enjoy the feel of him pressed up against her. She enjoyed the tranquility of their companionship; it was a nice counterpoint to the chaos her life usually was, particularly when she was with the Warriors Three. And though Loki was known for his mischief, he could also enjoy the silence of a moment. Sif could feel herself think when she was around him.

Really, it was no surprise she fancied herself in love. 

Carding a hand through his hair, she hummed an old Norse lullaby. Loki joined in, humming in harmony, wrapping her in threads of childhood. Would Loki sing this to their baby, should they have one?

“Yay,” Abomination said, and both Loki and Sif started.

“Stay out of my head,” they said in unison, then turned to look at each other. What had Loki been thinking…? Clearly not what she had been thinking, but that still left plenty of options that would result in Abomination cheering in her little voice.

She could just ask him, but the way Loki was staring at her had her thinking other things, so she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into a kiss, pressing her feelings into his now familiar mouth. He pressed his thoughts back into her, and for a brief, glorious moment they felt unified in heart and mind. 

She could have this to keep. She but needed to speak the words of her heart, lay her soul bare, and hope he felt as she did. 

Their kisses softened and melted into one another. His hands came up to trace her cheekbones, his cool fingers leaving a trail of gooseflesh behind. It was so achingly beautiful she was almost surprised a tear didn’t slip out. “Sif,” Loki murmured, his lips ghosting over hers. “Beautiful, brave, magnificent Sif.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and it took a moment before she could respond in kind. “Glorious, clever, indispensable Loki,” she said softly. 

He pulled back slightly, an amused glint in his eyes. “Indispensable?” he half demanded, half teased. “I call you beautiful, but I am indispensable?”

“Beautiful, pretty, stunning Loki,” she amended. 

“Pretty?” he demanded, the teasing tone vanished. “I’m pretty?”

“So pretty,” Sif said, bopping him on the nose. “I could call you ugly, if you’d prefer.”

He kissed her with a growl, swallowing her teasing words. 

“Yay,” a tiny voice interrupted. This time, they ignored it. 

**

In an effort to prevent Abomination from ruining the peace of the night, Loki and Sif had taken to preparing for and going to bed at the same time. As they clambered into their separate bedrolls, Loki reflected on the domesticity of it. Though he had had many paramours before, Loki had never played house with one. His rooms were his rooms, and he’d be stabbed through by a weapon of Hogun’s choosing before allowing some wench to interfere with his place of refuge. However, after five days of sharing a tent with Sif, he was seriously considering allowing her to disrupt his routine.

There was something pleasant about ending his evening with her. If this was how it felt to share his life with someone, he was starting to understand why his mother was so insistent he look for a wife. 

(He didn’t have to look very far. He was confident he had found the one he wanted.)

Now if he could just end that abominable spell and ensure Sif truly felt the same way…

He longed to take her hand, place a kiss in her open palm, and declare his love for her in overly flowery words. She didn’t need them, and would probably find them to be overdramatic and stupid, but Loki could not adequately express what he felt for her in words devoid of ornament. I love you seemed so small, so trite, in comparison to your very presence ignites my soul on fire or this cold heart of mine never felt truly alive until it thumped in time with yours. 

If Thor could hear him now…

But he needed her to know his heart beat for her, his breath brought life into his lungs because she was near, his lips curled upward in anticipation of her presence. He was bereft when she took her leave, and the mere thought of returning to Asgard to live separate lives made his heart constrict in unpleasant ways. 

He desperately needed to find out if her affections were sincere. His soul longed to breathe I love yous into her skin.

“Mama! Papa!” Abomination cried out, startling Loki out of his reverie. What now? He and Sif were in the same tent, blast it all!

“Of all the infernal—” Sif started to curse, but she cut off as Abomination levitated two handspans off the ground. “Well, if that isn’t a thing of nightmares,” she said instead, her wide eyes mirroring Loki’s as they watched the little doll begin a midair rotation. “What did you do, Loki?”

“Do not place the blame for this spectacle on me,” he said, eyes riveted to Abomination’s form. “What did you do?”

“I was thinking how lovely your hair looks in the tent light,” she said, surprisingly honest for one usually so reticent to share her feelings. Then again, these last few days Sif had been anything but reticent. 

“And I was thinking I—” Loki started, then cut off before he could offer an ill-worded confession. 

“Yes?” Sif said, turning from the rotating doll to catch his eye. She was lovely in the moonlight. Sif sparkled, an internal glow making her radiant. Loki swallowed, attempting to control his reaction to her. 

He didn’t mean to say it. Part of playing the role of Silvertongue meant paying scrupulous attention to every word that passed his lips, oft times crafting a poisonous insult or flowery compliment weeks, even months, in advance. Though he spoke often, he rarely spoke without purpose, even if his audience could not discern that purpose—which, to be honest, he preferred. He enjoyed their confusion. It was rare that words sprang unbidden from his lips, as he had long since trained verbal spontaneity out of himself. So it was with utmost surprise that he uttered, “I do believe I love you.”

And there was no unsaying those words, not as Sif’s lips formed a perfect O , her eyes widening until they were nearly as round as her silent exclamation. 

There was no chance for further conversation as Abomination burst into light, illuminating even the darkest corner of the tent. It was blinding; Loki had to shield his eyes to protect them from the luminescence emanating from his little doll child. It was a short-lived phenomena, however, and Abomination collapsed to the ground and did not move. 

There was a strange quality about the tent, and Loki knew before he picked up the doll that whatever spells had possessed her were no longer in effect. He ran a finger down the side of her face, and did not pick up the slightest trace of seidr. The spells were completely vanished. 

“Was she seriously spelled to await a love confession?” he said to no one. “And a one-sided one at that?”

“Not one-sided,” Sif said. “I accidentally confessed earlier today. You did not hear, but Abomination did.” And her words made the large tent suddenly feel much smaller. Loki cleared his throat. 

“Did you, now,” Loki said with great affected casualness. 

“Indeed,” she said, matching his tone.

“And have your feelings vanished along with the soul of our doll child?” he asked. 

“Only if yours have,” she said, and Loki detected a hint of nerves tugging as her tone.

He smiled. 

“They have not,” he said, casual affectations melting away to be replaced by warm sincerity. Goodness, was this what it felt like to be genuine? He’d rather forgotten the sensation. 

“Oh,” she answered. A pause, a breath, a heartbeat, and then—

Sif launched herself in his direction. Her lips melded into Loki’s, and this kiss put every other kiss they’d shared this past week to shame. 

If this was what it felt like to kiss when filled with genuine emotion, then Loki would rather be stabbed straight through than experience another kiss without it. As her mouth came alive beneath his, he did his best to press his regard and passion into her lips, to stain it and seal it so she would never forget. 

One of her hands slipped into his hair, the other sliding along his back. Loki responded in kind, one hand tracing circles on her hip as the other ruined the braid she wore—

They were once again interrupted, not by their little Abomination, but by the raucous and off-key singing of their friends. Loki was content to ignore the disruption as he put little value in the presence of said friends, but Sif pulled back and glared fiercely as the tent door. “They’re gone most of the week, and choose now to return?” she growled. Loki pressed another kiss to her lips in hopes of retaining her attention, but his efforts were in vain as their tent flap was flung open and Fandral fell inward, followed by the rest of their friends, jostling for position. As soon as Fandral opened the tent slit, Sif sprang back, hurriedly undoing her braid so she could hide how Loki had mussed it.

“Cheers!” Fandral cried, offering an invisible toast. “For we have ridden to success and slayed the mighty theagor beast! Come, friends, and celebrate! We shall spend this night in raucous feasting and drink until we cannot remember our own names.”

“Go away,” Loki growled, but no one paid him any mind, Fandral least of all. Reaching forward, Fandral wrapped his hand around SIf’s wrist and tugged her toward the tent’s opening, where they promptly became entangled with the rest of their friends. Loki gave serious consideration to cursing the lot of them, but Sif standing in their midst stayed his hand. He held little regard for Thor and his cronies, but he would not harm his new love. With an irritated sigh, he pushed everyone out into the night, resigned to suffering through unwanted company for the next several hours. 

The night was not a complete waste, however, as Sif attached herself to his side and remained there. Loki supposed he could stand his brother’s inane boasting so long as Sif kept her hand on his back, tracing mindless patterns along his spine. He could even stand eating the meat of whatever foul beast Fandral had slain, especially when he dribbled juice on his chin and Sif assisted him in removing it.

It was early morning before they finally retired to their tent, moving their bedrolls to be next to one another. Loki crawled into his blankets, then contented himself with watching Sif as she struggled to arrange her bedding to her liking. Every move she made sent a flash of heat to his belly. Could he really call her his?

Once Sif was settled on her side, her eyes met Loki’s and her hand reached out to trace his features. “You are real?” she asked, voice as soft as the night. “I have not imagined this whole thing?”

“Real,” Loki confirmed. 

A slow smile stretched her lips. “I am happy,” she said.

“Deliriously so,” Loki agreed.

“Do you think your mother will mind?”

He barked a laugh. No, Mother would not mind at all. Odin might be a bit put out in Sif’s choice of princes, but Frigga would try and throw a feast in their honour. He might just let her. “No, she will not mind at all,” Loki said. “Might have even been planning for this.”

“I’m not sure I believe you,” she said, her brow drawing in concern. Loki leaned forward so he could kiss her nose.

“She will confirm it, I guarantee it. Until then, can we just enjoy this?”

Sif smiled in response, her eyes closing with sleep. Loki closed his, too, and joined her in slumber.

**

With a merry whistle, Fandral vacated his quarters and made his way toward the royal wing. He made sure to share rakish winks with all who crossed his path, and blew a kiss toward any raised brows at the item he was cradling in his arms. 

He had waited a full three hours upon their return before searching out the Allmother to ensure neither of her sons would still be in attendance. Verbose though Loki was, he was not particularly fond of reporting back to his parents and always kept his briefings short. Thor, more interested in glory than in story, could be counted on to succinctly sum up their journey in what amounted to a short paragraph. His words were best saved for the feast, where an audience could hear a detailed exploration of his prowess.

At the entrance to the royal family wing, the Einherjar waved Fandral through, used to seeing Thor’s and Loki’s friends come and go. They did eye his package, but that was to be expected. Grandiose things always attracted attention.

Frigga Allmother was in her apartments, as expected, and granted Fandral immediate entrance. He bowed low over her hand, kissing her many fine rings. She removed her hand from his and tweaked his nose. “Enough of that,” she said fondly. “I see you have returned with the object. All was a success? Thor and Loki said so little, I could not discern anything.”

“I find that difficult to believe,” Fandral said cheerfully, “as you always see so much more than you let on.” Frigga smiled lightly, but neither confirmed nor denied his words. “But yes, our little trap worked like a charm.” Hefting the dark haired doll nestled in his arm, Fandral tossed it to the Allmother, who deftly caught it. “Our Loki and Sif have found happiness in each other—rather disgustingly, I might add. They have admitted to nothing, but they can’t keep their hands to themselves, making their connection rather obvious.”

Frigga smoothed the doll’s hair, her movements slow and soft. “And they suspect nothing?” she queried. 

“Not about you,” Fandral said. “Me, I straight up lied when they asked if she was my doing, and I think they believed me. Hope they believed me. Mostly I am counting on them being so into each other they don’t even notice how obvious it is that I am the originator of the doll and her crafty spells.” Only partly true—the doll had been his idea, but he lacked the magic to light a candle, let alone attach such detailed and specific spells to an inanimate object. Really, it was lucky Frigga had shown her hand with the lists about their partners, making Fandral reasonably sure she would assist him in love spelling his friends. 

It was for their own good, of course. Those two idiots would have danced around each other for another few decades before owning their feelings. This was an act of charity; it saved Fandral, and everyone else, from witnessing their idiocy for years on end. Service! That’s what he was about.

“I saw Loki’s list,” Frigga said idly, now smoothing the doll’s dress. “Interesting adjustments.”

“Weren’t they?” Fandral said cheekily. 

“Convenient, how his updated requirements described Sif so perfectly,” she said with a knowing smile. 

“Fascinating how these things work out,” Fandral agreed. 

She dismissed him with a flick of her fingers. Fandral bowed himself out, then waltzed his way to the training yards. 

His first foray into matchmaking, and it had been a smashing success! Perhaps he and the Allmother should go into business together. Clearly they were extraordinarily gifted at bringing lovers together. Entering the yards, Fandral spotted Hogun at the other end, honing his sword, recently damaged in their exuberant hunt. Now there was a lost soul in need of a solid match. Fandral wondered what it would take to procure Hogun’s undoubtedly dull list of desired qualities in a mate. He’d probably need to add alive to it. It was amazing how short-sighted his friends could be when it came to describing their perfect partner. Wandering over, Fandral call, “Ho, Hogun! What a fine day we’re experiencing…”

*
End
*