His hands were so cold, but Sif didn't care. As she felt her fingers slowly go numb, all she could think was, 'His skin is so beautiful when it's blue.'
She reached one hand up to touch his face and that's when she saw the frost bite. Her fingers were frozen, almost to the point of breaking from the cold; she still wanted to feel his skin, touch his cheeks, kiss his lips. But it was too late. The frost bite spread and it took all of what Loki had to let Sif go.
With the Tesseract safe in hand, Loki retreated.
With the help of his magic, he sent a message to his brother:
"This will be a sad season indeed if your future wife dies before the wedding."
With one last glance over his shoulder, Loki bid a final farewell to his childhood love, guilt eating at his heart.
It really was for the best.
If he did not deliver the Teseract by the Eve of the joyous holiday around the corner, his home would be in far worse condition than when the Dark Elves attacked.
"Merry Christmas," he whispered darkly while running out into the night, all traces of Sif's frost bite disappearing with him.
