The hot, yellow light of the sun warmed her skin. Her exposed arms were slightly browned from walking for so long. She had stopped only once to reset her ponytail higher. It was less to keep cool and more force of habit. So far, she had barely registered the heat. She was a warrior, hardened by centuries of battle, with more foes slain by her blade than the Warriors Three combined. This was nothing to her.
She just walked past a sign that read 'City Limits.' The lights were abrasive, but her eyes adjusted fast. The city was so bright, she had seen it for the first time barely an hour into her trek. Walking through it is an entirely different experience. Everywhere she turned, there was noise. Someone was shouting. Something was buzzing. Horns honking, doors slamming, music playing. The streets were crowded with people, pushing past her in both directions, sparing her not a second glance. Most of them were dressed well, those who weren't at least looked clean and presentable. There was a building under construction up the street. What remained of it's old design looked a dull gray, out of place with it's neighbors. Workers carried new, shining stones to build the structure back up. When it was done, it would be beautiful, like the rest.
Sif hated how much it reminded her of Asgard. Knowing that this was what Midgard had become under Loki's rule made it so much worse.
She never bothered counting the years before Thor fell. She could die tomorrow in a blaze of glory, or live another thousand years awaiting that day. It was all the same to her. After Thor's fall, every passing second seemed to resonate with her. It didn't even take effort.
51 years had passed since then. She could go into more specific detail, all the way down to the second. For 51 years, Asgard had mourned for Thor. Before that, they had spent a year mourning their second prince, until the day it was revealed that he lived, and that he had betrayed his home and taken over another world and killed his brother. Then the kingdom cried out for his blood. The Bifrost was shattered beyond use, but they didn't care. They had loved Thor, perhaps more than they should have, and there would be no peace until his killer's head was presented to them on a silver platter. The endless riots in the streets made that perfectly clear.
And yet, the All-Father would not hear their demands, would not bow to them. Petition after petition was made, until Odin simply stopped accepting audiences with anyone, barring his wife and most trusted advisers and friends. Sif herself happened to be on that list, but she never bothered to take advantage of the privilege. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd seen himup close. He spent his time quelling rivalries between noble families, who clammored for the vacant seat on the throne. They were a pack of ravenous jackals. They cared little for Asgard and much for the power and status that would come from one of their own as King. Through the constant battles, Odin remained mum. It went unspoken for the first few decades, but lately, everyone was becoming impatient. The most bold of the nobles forced their way passed the guards, stood before Odin, silent and gray in his magnificent armor that these days seemed too big for him, and demanded that a decision be made. He knew not how much longer it would be before another Odinsleep, and what then? His sons were either dead or traitorous. He couldn't keep putting this off.
Sif heard about it secondhand, felt a rush of indigence that anyone would dare speak to their king like that. Then she sat back down and continued sipping the whiskey she'd been warming.
When had she gone so soft? So compliant? In the old days, she'd never even set foot in that bar during the winter months. No, she'd be off with Thor and the Warriors Three, on month long hunting trips with only a sword and a half dozen campfire songs to keep her company. They would trade stories of missions long since past. Some Sif remembered vividly, others had been lost in time. Thor never seemed to forget anything. He was always happy to remind her of some embarrassing slip-up from two or three centuries ago that she'd successfully buried deep in the recesses of her mind. The idealistic side of her used to believe that it was only her he would commit to memory so thoroughly, the only one important enough to him. Then he'd laugh it off and begin relating the time Fandral drank too much mead and mistook a young billy goat for the woman he'd been trying to woo all night. That was 400 years ago.
In the 51 years since his death, there had been no hunting trips. She spent her time with the Warriors Three, sparring with no purpose other than to keep from growing rusty. Thor would never have forgiven them for that. Sif's blade was deadly as ever, or so Hogun had said one day when she had him on the ground with the tip of the blade to his jugular. There was a horrible moment then, when Hogun was speaking, and his bored drawl reminded her distinctly of another. A deep, smooth voice resonated in the back of her mind, and then her eyes were playing tricks on her. For a moment, she thought there was green in Hogun's eyes.
She almost ran him through right there.
It was one of many moments where Sif had to face the fire that had been raging in her heart for 51 years. The combined flames that burned in those hundreds of rioters were like a single match, compared to her inferno. Not even their rage at the All-Father held up.
At the same time, Sif understood his reasons, or at least, she thought she did. The All-Father's heart was ageless, full of turmoil that perhaps he himself couldn't fully comprehend. What had never been a secret to Sif was that he loved his sons, no matter where they came from. With Loki, he had made so many grave mistakes. It was a reminder that Odin, for all of his powers and years and wisdom, was not a God, as Midgard once believed. Now, he had lost both of his children, and perhaps he'd never had time to properly mourn them. Maybe that was where his silence came from, but it couldn't last. Everyone knew it.
Another thought hit Sif as she wandered through the Asgard-like Midgardian city, and saw another crowd of well dressed citizens walking down clean streets, looking like they hadn't a care in the world.
What if Odin didn't want to bring down Loki? What if against all odds, the All-Father thought Loki a good ruler?
Sif gripped the hilt of her sword, hard enough to snap it, so that she wouldn't scream out and cause a scene. Stealth was imperitive for a warrior. Never let your opponent know when you're going to strike. She was already getting stares as it was. Now that there were less people walking around, she was painfully visible in her armor, with her sword at her belt. She found she preferred the crowds that she could lose herself in. There were people inside buildings looking out at her too. One had walls made almost entirely of glass windows. It looked to be a bar on the inside, rows of liquor lined up behind an attractive female bartender. She walked up and down that line and traded winks with a man at the counter. Above her was a line of bright moving pictures, the likes of which Sif had never seen before.
She knew vaguely of this Midgardian invention, remembered the stories Thor told her of his time in this realm. He had fewer of these, and lacked his usual cheer when he told them. She saw Loki, looking just as she remembered him, right down to those gleaming green eyes she saw every night as she slept. There was no sound, but Sif could hear his voice in her head, 51 years later, as if they'd only just spoken yesterday. The picture changed, and now another face appeared. A female one. A female one Sif also knew automatically, and that was very strange. Where she had known Loki for centuries- perhaps without really knowing him at all- this woman she had met once, for all of an hour, and never conversed directly with.
Still, as she kneeled before a group of young children, a map of the stars splayed out between them, looking as youthful and beautiful as an Asgardian 51 years after the fact, Sif knew her. She knew her well.
Her hand found the sword again, though she didn't hold it tight. Several more Midgardians made sure to glance at her as they passed. One of them, a middle-aged woman with graying brown hair and soft brown eyes, even stopped, and came to stand beside her. At that point, Sif knew it wasn't really her that had gotten the newcomer's attention.
"She's a wonderful woman, our Queen," the woman said reverently. She gazed into the picture another second longer, then turned to Sif. She didn't go on speaking. She seemed to be waiting for Sif to agree with her.
"That's not what comes to mind."
The woman's smile faltered, but then she brushed it off with a wave.
"Well, you're still young," she said. "Someday, you'll understand."
There was something both humorous and disconcerting about a woman barely a tenth her age saying that, but Sif wasn't laughing. The woman lingered another moment before leaving around the corner. Sif hardly noticed. On the screen, Loki was walking along with his wife while crowds of Midgardians surrounded them. Fences kept them at bay, or else they might have mobbed the couple. Sif saw their smiling faces and eyes that shone with love- and maybe a twinge of fear- and it reminded her of 51 years ago, before the world fell apart around her. Asgard once looked upon the All-Father this way. They looked at Thor this way.
Sif may have broken the hilt in half, with how tightly she held it. Her other hand pressed on the glass, her handprint marring it's impeccably clean surface. There was that savage part of her that almost killed Hogun. It longed to break through the glass and drive her fist through Loki's face in the moving picture. She wouldn't care how many Midgardians she frightened. It might be exactly what they needed, to see someone stand up and defy the tyrant, to know that the one they worshipped as a God was really just a monster.
She walked away then, cold and determined and focused entirely on her mission. That was the most important rule for a warrior: never become distracted. Never stop until you've won, and your opponent is dead at your feet.
Victory awaited her.
Finding a way to Midgard hadn't been easy. With no BiFrost, Sif was forced to look into other methods, all of them of the darkest form of magic, forbidden for centuries. She didn't care. After 51 years, no set of morals was going to stop her. Her guide was the voice of Thor in her mind, whispering endlessly to her, 'Avenge me.'
She had feared that only Odin had the power to harness the necessary magic, and in the end, her fears were unwarranted. Dark magic was out of practice for all but the most ancient denizens of Asgard, many of whom had been ousted from society ages ago. Sif traveled in secret, tracking down the closest one and all but begging for his help. He had been an old man, even by Asgardian standards. A blood red cloak covered his face from view, but his hands were bony and emaciated. His voice was a raspy whisper that made Sif shiver whenever she heard it. He wouldn't work for cheap either. He would do nothing for her until he received his payment: almost all the money Sif had saved away. She returned the next day with it all. He took great glee in informing her that this was a one way trip only. He hadn't the power to bring her back.
"Good enough," Sif had told him, and he was only mildly surprised. He must have known Sif would never return anyway, she certainly knew it.
Loki's home was a grand palace that put Odin's to shame. It was three times as large, unnecessarily so. This was how far Loki would go to surpass the All-Father, it seemed. The pillars were pure gold, the floors inside alabaster. There were decorative painting and statues in abundance, and the ceiling was painted with constellations and galaxies. They glimmered like they were real, even moved a little. It seemed out of place, until Sif remembered that Loki's Queen was a lover of the cosmos. This was his little gift to her. Surely, she loved it.
The pair of guardsmen Sif had slain were bleeding out behind her, their blood pooling and dirtying the floor at her feet. It had seeped into Sif's heels. When she moved, she left a trail of red.
She found only human guards the further in she got. Either Loki had abandoned his otherworldly army, or he was just arrogant enough to think he didn't need them in his home. It couldn't be he had faith in these humans, they were as powerless as ever. Sif was not out of practice, twenty fell to her blade by the time she made it to the throne room. She didn't pity them, they were all soldiers and they knew the risks it carried.
After taking out the guards at the double doors, Sif threw them open. She found herself in a room with high ceilings and a deafening echo. Loki sat on the throne opposite her. A small group of humans stood before him, none of them in uniforms. Most looked like servants; two near the center wore business suits and were clearly too old to fight. They gasped at the sight of her, covered in the blood of their peers with the murder weapon in hand. A woman screamed and pointed at the bodies, before fainting into another woman's arms. Loki got to his feet. The humans parted for Sif as she passed, getting as far from her red coated blade as possible. Sif had to hand it to them for not running. They were braver than she would have thought, though hopefully, they weren't foolish enough to attack her.
Loki looked taller than he was, standing three short steps above her. Sif gazed into his eyes, and he returned it. There was no shock to be found; no surprise or amazement at seeing her here, on Midgard, her intentions clear. He looked like he'd always known she would come and had simply been waiting for her to get there already. Sif could have done the job right then and there, but instead she bowed, deeply and exaggeratedly. Venom dripped from her lips.
"Your Majesty."
And he smiled. His teeth peeked out from under his barely parted lips. They were white and almost sharp in the light. He gave a soft chuckle and acknowledged his subjects.
"Leave us," he said.
A sense of unsurety went though the humans, but they raised no objections and quickly left out a second, smaller door off to the side. One maid carried her unconscious friend, at the same time trying to rouse her. When they left, the door clicked shut behind them, and even that soft little sound echoed long after. Even when it was gone, Sif could hear it in her ears. It sounded final.
Loki watched them go out the corner of his eye. He waited until all was silent before dropping back down in his throne. Sif gripped her sword tighter and resisting the urge to swing. Just what was he playing at now?
"You don't seem surprised to see me," she said. She absolutely needed to have the first word. "Almost as if you were expecting me."
"Well, aren't you full of yourself," Loki drawled, smooth as silk. He sat back, one leg crossed over the other. "You haven't changed at all, Sif."
With her sword raised, Sif ascended, looming over him as he considered her with disinterest. He templed his fingers.
"You know why I'm here," she said.
"I do," he answered.
"And you are not afraid."
"I am not."
Sif inhaled deeply through her nose. It sounded like the snarl of a beast. Now, it was her turn to smile.
"Don't tell me you're going to fight," she said. "I have beaten you countless times, Loki, and I'm prepared to do it again."
Loki rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, definitely full of yourself."
He stood, and Sif unconsciously backed away to let him walk by her and down the stairs. She waited patiently. He would not try to run or hide from her, Sif knew better than that. Loki was many things, but he wasn't a coward.
"And you speak far too lightly," Loki went on. "You didn't come here for a friendly match. We both know that."
"I have come for your life," Sif confirmed with a nod. Then she raised her sword again to point at him, provoking him. "Now, face me."
His smiled widened into a grin. "What if I refuse?"
"You can't."
"Says your silly Warrior's code," Loki countered. He walked in a circle around her. Sif did the same. "Things have changed since we were children, Sif. I am not some bookish little boy you can push in the mud and take food from anymore. We have grown. I have responsibilities bow, to my subjects and my family."
"You have enslaved this realm."
"If that's what you call saving it from itself, then I'd say the people are very happy in slavery."
"You are a killer," Sif seethed.
"And how many of my men did you slay to get this far?"
With an enraged cry, Sif charged. She forgot about her weapon for a moment and grabbed Loki by the neck. His face didn't change even as she pushed him against the wall. It cracked from the force with which she threw him, but Loki gave no sign of being in pain beyond a tiny wince.
"Don't you dare equate yourself to me," she said in a deadly whisper. "You are filth. Lower than filth. You killed your own brother."
"Oh," he said between snorts of laughter. It was all he could manage while she was crushing his windpipe. "That's just adorable. You still pine for him, don't you? After all these years..."
She shoved him further back into the marble. How dare he mock her. Even worse, her fury still wasn't phasing him. What was she to him? Just a child throwing a tantrum? Did he not see that she was one clench of her fist away from beheading him?
"You know, the mortals used to believe you his wife," he said. "The Goddess of War and the God of Thunder, what an incredible pair. Even they could see how you longed for him. I supposed everyone could except for Thor himself, but then he was always a fool."
"Don't say that," Sif snapped. She dragged her sword up and to his neck. "Don't even think about speaking his name. After what you did-"
"And what did I do?" Loki shot back. His eyes flashed, and for the first time, there was anger. "You come here decades later with your bleeding heart on your sleeve, wanting petty revenge only to sooth your own pain and end your suffering. You really think yourself so noble?"
"Be silent."
"If you knew anything at all, you'd know that he came to me as you did: challenging me to battle, ready to die for a pointless cause. It was his choice, his foolishness that wouldn't allow him to just give up and return home to the people who truly needed him. He hung on to this world and wouldn't accept that they had accepted me. It was over! He should have seen that. Do you think I wanted to kill him?"
He stopped there, frozen in place and breathing heavily. His mouth hung open, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just said and couldn't find a way to cover it up. To make up for it, he bowed his head. Long hair covered his face from view, but Sif wasn't fooled. If he thought he could gain even a shred of something resembling sympathy from her, he was sorely mistaken. It didn't matter what he said, intentionally or otherwise. The most she could say was that it was interesting to see his carefully held control slip ever so slightly.
He followed with a deep sigh that was almost sad. "I've lied to and betrayed so many to get where I am today. Forces you cannot even comprehend. I've always known the day would come when they'd find me, make me pay for all that I've done. You coming here today is mere confirmation of that fact."
Silenced followed, with Loki unmoving and Sif just waiting for him to try again to appeal to her. After a time, he raised his head, and he wasn't crying. He was expressionless.
"You may not believe it, but in a way, I'm happy that you're here, Sif." He smiled again, and before her eyes, his body took on an unearthly sheen. "I know now that today is not that day."
Sif fell forward, straight through Loki's body as it turned transparent. She crawled away on her behind. The double gave a devilish smirk as it blinked out of existence. Somewhere in the air, the real Loki's maniacal laughter echoed. Sif screamed and struck the ground with her sword. It went in halfway. She pulled it out, the fire deep within her burning so hot, she could have set the whole room ablaze.
She barreled out the door, Midgardians scrambling to escape her wrath. A chorus of slamming doors preceded her steps. Voices rang out, screaming and pleading for help. Eventually, they all must have found sanctuary, because the only sounds left were her footsteps and Loki's lingering laughter that seemed to come from all directions. She didn't try to follow it anymore, he was just trying to throw her off track. She followed her nose instead. She sensed that he wasn't nearby, neither him nor one of his infuriating clones.
Several times, she thought she had found him. He'd be there in the corner of her eye, or as a shadow on the wall, but whenever she looked, he was gone. His laughter rang out louder. Just another one of his games.
She broke into a run at some point. It was that, or stab at the wall some more and scare a few more humans. Any guards who tried to bum rush her, she took care of in seconds. Admittedly, some of them put up a fair fight, but their few years of training couldn't match her experience. They were like lambs to slaughter. Soon, their Puppetmaster would join them.
She heard another voice, soft and feminine. Whoever it was was scared, from the way their words wavered, but trying to keep a degree of composure. She addressed two more women, both completely frantic. The closer Sif got, the clearer they became.
"...just go and hide, everything will be alright."
"But, Milady-"
"Please don't argue with me. We'll be fine, I promise you, but you two can't be out in the open right now."
"Agnes, listen to her."
"...o-okay. Alright. Please be safe, Your Majesty."
Two sets of feet ran off to the left. Sif paid them no mind. The remaining woman let out a sigh and then a door clicked open. Sif turned the corner at once. She saw the woman's back as she prepared to step inside. Sif struck her sword once on the ground and smiled.
"Greetings, Queen Jane."
Jane Foster's body seized up. Her hand slipped from the door as if in slow motion, and she turned even slower. She looked a more well-kept, regal version of the woman Thor had been infatuated with 51 years ago. She wore a dark red dressing gown over a lighter red silk nightgown. Her hair was in ringlets, only a little mussed from sleep. Her brown eyes were wide and so was her mouth. She pressed herself against the doors, closing them again and spreading her arms across what her body didn't cover.
"S-Sif!" she said loudly. "Wow... it's been a while, hasn't it?"
"51 years," Sif answered. "I've kept count."
Jane nodded. "Yeah, so have I. Feels like only yesterday."
She grinned anxiously, her arms going a little higher when Sif took a step.
"What's the matter, my Queen?" Sif asked innocuously. "You seem tense. Are you unwell?"
Jane didn't answer. Sif came closer.
"I don't she why you would be." She adopted and easy pace, completely casual with her sword in hand and death in her eyes. "You have it all, don't you? This castle is incredible, a masterwork. So many rooms that you can get lost in. So many people revering you and treating you like a Goddess. The best part is that it will last forever! Eternity is a wonderful thing when you're young and beautiful and powerful, don't you agree, Jane? I mean, you should know, right?"
Sif bared down on her. Jane was even tinier from close up. Her body shook terribly and her lip quivered like she longed to scream. She maintained her position though, wrapped around that door like it was a lifeline.
"I'm sure Thor would be so happy for you."
Jane closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Something like a sob emitted from her throat. Whatever she was thinking right now or whatever insipid response she thought of giving, Sif was ready to laugh in her face and then let her sword fly. Some part of her thought this was wrong. Jane may well be just as much a pawn in Loki's game as anyone else. But why, then, would he grant her the longevity of the Aesir, her bloodthirsty side retorted, if he didn't care. The thought of Loki actually loving this woman, loving anyone, was absurd, but it was there now, and it was keeping Jane alive.
"You're right," Jane said after a long pause. Sif blinked, somewhat taken aback. Blubbering and begging for her life, she had expected fully, not this.
"I mean it," Jane said, as if sensing Sif's weariness. "You're absolutely right. I betrayed Thor, I betrayed my race when I married Loki. I- I did so willingly, and I shouldn't have. I should have fought him, I should have disobeyed and if he killed me, then so be it. I know that now. If you want to take me hostage or kill me, you'd be justified."
She moved away from the door, close enough that Sif could grab her and drag her off. The way she flicked her eyes to Sif's empty hand, that was exactly what she wanted. Sif made no move, not to take up Jane on her offer or to leave her. Jane wrung her hands in her gown, the quiet fast getting to her.
"I said you can take me," she said firmly. "Whatever you want to do, I deserve it."
This wasn't right. Sif had spent most of her life around royalty, both in blood and in marriage, and this wasn't how a Queen would ever act. It would have been easy to just write it off as Jane being a Midgardian at heart, weak willed and submissive. The city she had seen, and the loving way that woman had spoken of Jane, it all said much different. In the face of death, a Queen would stand tall, showing no fear, ready to either die for her people or fight for her life. What little Sif remembered of the woman who had run into certain death to be by Thor's side when he seemed on the threshold of Valhalla, said this wasn't the same woman. This was a rouse.
But why?
Jane waited, sweating and fidgeting. She was shifting her weight from one foot to the next. As a result, she was inching herself back little by little to the door.
Wait...
"What is in there?"
Sif hadn't moved before Jane slammed herself back against it reflexively. She realized her mistake just as Sif was, going pale while Sif smiled. She hadn't heard Loki's laughter since she found Jane. Now she knew why.
"Who is in there?" she amended.
"There's nothing," Jane said. She was shaking worse than ever now. "No one. Let's just go. You can do what you want, but please, I don't want anyone else to get hurt."
"Including your beloved husband?" Sif hissed. She grabbed Jane by the shoulders, squeezing hurt and relishing Jane's yelp of pain.
"No," she said with tears in her eyes. "Please, I'm the one you want. Just take me."
Sif grinned evilly. She pressed down harder, until Jane was outright sobbing in pain and her bones threatened to snap in half. "You don't share Loki's talent for lying, Jane Foster."
She threw Jane aside, so hard that she hit the opposite wall with a sickening crunch and slid to the ground with blood in her hair. Pitiful moans of pain mingled with her tears.
"Please... please don't..."
Her words fell on deaf ears. Sif started to turn the knob. The anticipation was making her tremble now. Just another second...
The air grew cold.
Sif felt it on her skin and in the hairs on her neck that stood on end. Jane had ceased sniffling, she felt it too. The entire hall seemed to turn an icy blue. When she exhaled, Sif could see it. Long after she felt his presence at her back, and knew that this was really him and not just another trick, she saw his as well.
A hand closed over her forearm, applying no pressure. The sword fell between her fingers anyway. He removed his hand, and Sif tried to bend slowly and pick it back up, before he could make a move. Her legs would not obey her, nor would her arms. With a sick feeling, Sif realized he had made his move. Straining to look out the corner of her eye, she saw Loki all dressed up in the darkest black. He kneeled over his wife, fingers running through her hair to find the wound. Silent tears streaming down her face, and when she cried again, he shushed her. He whispered calming words in her ear as his hand flattened against her skull. The warm light of magic rose, and Jane let out a relaxed sigh, her pain and her fear eased. Loki helped her to her feet and held her to him, kissing her forehead, and then her lips. On the latter, he lingered just a little longer.
"Go check her," he said.
Jane nodded and walked to the door. She steadfastly refused to looked the paralyzed Sif's way. She opened the door and slipped inside. Sif saw a well lit room painted in bright colors. A bassinet sat by the open window, and an infant's cry was cut off when Jane closed the door behind her.
The hall melted away into darkness. The next thing Sif knew, she was in a field surrounded by trees. The sun hung high in the air, but it's rays were blocked out by the impossible chill of Loki's hand back on her. Her body went limp, tired out from the unbreakable hold of Loki's magic. When had he gained such power?
"I thought you'd like to see this place," he said. "It's where I duelled Thor that fateful day. You should be honored to spend your final moments in the same spot."
Sif noticed then that she had her sword back, and she definitely hadn't picked it up herself. The thought of Loki's hands on it reviled her. He would get an extra hit just for that.
"Are you that confident that you can beat me?"
As soon as the words left her mouth, Sif regretted them. The cold grew stronger. It was unbearable. He would freeze them both if he didn't stop soon. Instead, he faced her. His jotunn heritage was never more apparent than when he stared down at her, so very very tall. His skin remained pink, but only just. Raised markings appeared every so often, like it was taking all he had to keep them at bay. He couldn't be bothered with his eyes, though. They were the purest red she'd ever seen and filled with malice. She had heard of demons before, and never thought they could be real. Now, she believed they just might be.
"This is no duel, Sif." She couldn't move again. "You've lost your chance to fight, Breaking into my home and killing my man? Well, that's just you, isn't it? But then you attacked my wife, and you threatened our child."
The weight of the sword lifted. Sif's fingers curled around air helplessly as she tried to figure out what had happened. She saw something shining in the sun, and watched in horror as Loki raised her sword to her face.
"The moment you touched her, you were on borrowed time."
Then there was pain. Sif felt it everywhere. She tried to fight it, tried to punch, kick, bite, everything she'd been trained to do in hand to hand combat. She couldn't even see Loki anymore, he was either invisible or fast as lightning. Her sword in his hand flies true and strong, just as it had been made to.
When it was over, Sif was on the ground with Loki above her. She couldn't feel her arms and legs again, and when she looked to the sides and saw nothing but air, she knew it wasn't magic. She suddenly felt like something was pressing down on her chest.
"With my own sword..." she gasped.
Loki said nothing.
"You can't even kill me on your own, can you?"
"You're not dead yet, Sif," he said, and he threw the sword aside.
There came a hissing, first low, and then loud in Sif's ears, which already rang horribly. The massive black snake slithered at her side, it's slimy scales rubbing against her skin and stumps. Pain exploded anew from the contact. Sif bit her tongue hard enough to bleed. If it was the last thing she did, she would never let him see her scream. The monstrous thing settled itself at her other end. Sif struggled to raise her head. Every time she wanted to pull herself up on her legs, she could only wiggle about. She managed to see the snake, it's tongue flicking at where her left leg used to be. It open it's jaw wide, wider than any snake should be capable of. It covered Loki completely from view, and then clamped down on her. It started moving forward, and the further it got, the more of Sif's remaining body slipped down it's throat. She watched as long as she could, and then relaxed. She rested her head on the grass, it was so soft and comfortable. Her eyes fell forward, and for a moment, she thought she could see a pair of shadows locked in battle. One ran the other through with a spear, and he fell to his knees, dead before he hit the ground. Sif blinked away tears that couldn't be held back anymore.
'Thor... forgive me... I've failed...'
"You'll see him soon," Loki said, as if reading her mind. "You fought valiantly even when it was hopeless. You die as Thor did. Valhalla will welcome you."
She forced her head up again, just enough that she could look him in the eyes. The snake was just below her breasts now.
"As Helheim will you," she spat.
Loki frowned. If Sif were a fool, she might think the regret flashing across his face was real.
"Doubtlessly," he said.
Sif shook her head violently. Her collarbone was engulfed.
"Don't you dare," she hissed. "Don't ever say that again. Don't you dare tell me that you regret it. All the atrocities, all the murders, killing your brother! DON'T YOU TELL ME THAT!"
Loki looked deep into her eyes. His mouth was closed tight, no more words passed between them, and the snake kept moving up. Only her head was free now; it's fangs scratched at her chin. Sif felt nothing, not even when the acid like qualities of it's throat dissolved her skin to the bone. That, she could feel, but the excruciating pain that had plagued her was gone. Perhaps she was beyond it.
"Alright," Loki said. "I won't."
And he turned on a heel and walked away. The last thing Sif ever saw was his back, framed by a dark green cape hung limp on his shoulders. The snake groaned deep and pulled her head inside.
All was darkness.
Loki entered the nursery to find Jane by the window. Her hair was messier than before, but not a trace of blood marred it's golden brown. She held a tiny green bundle in her arms, humming a lullaby. He recognized it as a Midgardian one she was fond of. She told him once that her mother used to sing it to her. He leaned against the door, watching the scene fondly. Her soft voice filled with love calmed the storm within him. He breathed deeply, feeling his heartbeat go back to normal and his hands cease their shaking. She turned her head slightly, catching sight of him. Loki wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and placed his chin atop her head. Jane leaned into him.
"How is she?" he asked, rocking them slowly back and forth.
"Fine," Jane answered. "She only just woke up."
She brushed wisps of black hair out of their daughter's face. Wide, green eyes stared up at her father, examining him. Loki brushed a finger across her cheek, his touch featherlight. The baby smiled and laughed, and Loki couldn't help but smile back.
"What happened to Sif?"
Loki frowned. He'd been expecting the question, maybe not so soon.
"Gone," he answered easily. "We reached an understanding and she returned to Asgard. She won't bother us again."
Jane went stiff against him. She didn't pull away, but her healing warmth was receding just a little.
"Oh?" she asked weakly. "Great! I'm glad it all worked out."
He didn't know why she bothered to lie to him like that. He could see right through her, just as she could always see through him. He let her pull away. She held the baby tight to her chest, almost protective. She might not have even been fully aware that she was doing it, but Loki was painfully so.
"I think I'm going to take her outside for a bit. We both could use some fresh air."
Loki forced a nod. "Of course."
She reached up for a kiss, pressing her lips lightly to his. He savored the taste of her long after she'd gone. She didn't look back, walked a little faster than was needed. He watched her go while telling himself again that she loved him. She loved him as he loved her and one day, there would be no more fear to taint it. Loki stood at the window. When she came outside, she walked into the gardens, directly underneath the nursery. She stopped at a little stone bench and sat. The baby pointed at the flowers, squealing in the kind of pure joy only an infant could manage. Jane answered by taking a little flower and holding it in the baby's face, tickling her nose so she'd laugh harder. Loki could have watched them all day, his two beautiful girls...
He looked to the sky. The sun would start to go down soon. Sometimes, when it was dark, it reminded him of Thanos' realm and he couldn't sleep a wink. Tonight, he already knew, would be one of those nights. Not even holding Jane in his arms and feeling her heartbeat against his chest would help.
He imagined Sif's absence had been noticed by now. If not yet, then soon enough. There would be a Kingdom wide search, led by the Warriors Three, who would be desperate not to lose another valued friend. Eventually, they would put the pieces together. Whatever method Sif had used to get here would be discovered, and there would be one more body on his hands and one more person to be avenged.
Someday.
Someday, another warrior of Asgard would find another crack to slip through. Someday, the many fortifications he'd put around his realm over the years would be broken, and his greatest enemies would return for their revenge. Someday, Loki would have to stand before them all, without any regrets except that his family might have been harmed in the process.
Someday, Loki would pay for his crimes. So he'd just have to keep putting that day off for as long as he could.
Until then, he thought he might go and join his wife later on, after she'd had time to calm down. They could walk through the gardens with their child in their arms, showing her all the beautiful colors she loved so much. And Loki would have a single moment's peace, knowing at least right now, 'Someday' was a long way off.
A/N: So, this will be the last story in this little series. By Candlelight was meant to be a standalone, until someone suggested that I do another in Loki's POV. The result was The World Is Yours, and in the middle of writing that, I suddenly came up with the idea for this.
Now, it's possible I don't have to say it, but I just wanted to clear something up just in case people get the wrong idea. I do NOT hate Sif. Not at all. I actually this she's pretty awesome and part of the reason I wanted to write this was because I wanted to do something from her perspective. It's kind of funny, because I honestly didn't see much romantic chemistry between her and Thor in the movie. I've heard that they're canon in the comics, and obviously in the mythology, but they just seemed like close friends and nothing more in the movie. I don't know, maybe it's just me.
All I know is that if they're going to try and hook her and Thor up in the movies at some point, they'd better A.) not fuck up Jane's character to do it, B.) give them some scenes together that makes it clear that there is something more than friendship there, and most importantly, make sure it's after Loki steals Jane away from Thor.
I'm only kidding on that last one (no I'm not).
Thanks for reading!