A/N: Sorry about the delay ._. My exams and internship got in the way of my plot bunnies. Hopefully you can forgive me!

Thank you for the positive response to the Loki/Sif question. I kinda ended up writing this whole chapter about them, though. Ahem. *hides* Sorry, really… Elsred and Thor will have the spotlight next time, I promise!

Thanks to anyone who favorited/followed and to Argetaie, Alliprince and Isabella Greengrass for the amazing reviews! It means a lot to me and it helps to keep me motivated^^ Please let me know what you think of this new story angle, I really want to know!

On with the chapter.

Shame

Loki stood against a column, his invisibility illusions shadowing him from any sight, provided no one who bypassed him was gifted in sorcery. His skills had evolved at a hallucinating pace since his early infancy, he mused, smiling as a servant looked directly at where he was leaning against the stone without seeing him.

Frigga had taken Loki's innate propensity to magic and instructed him under rigorous training, sometimes allowing him to visit her own mentors or summoning guests who could add something to his education that she herself could not.

Odin indulged her, although he clearly disapproved. In Odin's mind, Loki had to be out with Thor, building up muscle and raw talent for battle, instead of wasting time with such things. He thought the ingenious ways in which Loki used his magic in the battlefield were nothing but child's play, merely something that ought to be frowned upon.

Frigga's passion for magic, which was something that Loki obviously shared, binded them close together. She had always been his source of comfort, when Odin's harsh condescending comments made him feel displaced.

One day he would prove his father wrong. Loki would show him that a powerful sorcerer could be as good as a bulky warrior in a time of need. All he had to do was keep improving his abilities to a point of flawlessness and the time to prove his worth would surely present itself.

"I will not wear that, Mother!" a familiar voice broke him away from his thoughts and brought a smile to his lips.

Ah, Sif and her tantrums. He decided to sneak in and have a closer look, still cloaked by his invisibility.

If possible, he always liked to make matters worse for Sif, in a playful way. Teasing her was his personal favorite pastime, because it was always oh so amusing to watch her light brown eyes ignite with that spark only she possessed.

The other girls always reacted to his antics with controlled and poised anger, gracefully accepting the apologies his mother made him pay them (when there was evidence he was behind said antics, which was seldom), but always ended up resenting him and treating him with cold indifference, as if he did not matter.

Sif, however, could shout her head off at him or smack him in the face, but the next day all would be well and their companionship, even if a bit dysfunctional, would remain intact. Loki could then resume his torture on her, without so much as a twinge of guilt and knowing she would challenge him back.

It took so little to make Sif snap, that it never failed to amuse him to do it. He caused her to tear the hair from her head, sometimes quite literally, which made him feel smug, for some reason.

When Loki stepped into the room, she was having a shouting match with her mother, Lady Ravdna, who was unrelentingly unsupportive of Sif's decision to pursue a warrior life.

"The summer solstice feast is an important social event, Sif. I will not have you dressed as a commoner, dishonoring your father and I. You will wear this!" Ravdna had one of her hands in the air and she held a light yellow dress in the other. It had far too much embroidery and frilly elements to suit her daughter's taste.

Sif stood a few inches away, a deep frown embbed in her features and a look of disgust directed at the object in her mother's hand.

"I will not, it's hideous and it takes away my dignity as a warrior!" Sif sneered.

"Insolent child! Mark my words, you will one day come begging your father to find you someone suitable to wed and no one will be willing. They will know all you ever did was toy around, never learning the proper skills of a Lady. They will know you won't fulfill the duties of a wife or stand behind them like you should. Leave such foolishness behind, before it's too late!"

Loki watched, for once not finding the situation humorous in the slightest. Sif tensed at Ravdna's words, determination setting into her eyes as she spoke.

"I will never beg for such a thing, Mother. I would sooner leave Asgard, than beg to be chained to a man I do not love and accomplish nothing on my own, like you!"

Sif's eyes widened when her mother's hand connected roughly with her face, a red mark emerging almost immediately on her fair skin. Tears prickled her eyes, but she clenched her jaw, deciding not to yield to the hurt she felt at her mother's lack of support and belief in her.

"You are my shame," Ravdna told her, discarding the dress on the floor before she stormed out of the room. Tears were running down her face, but Loki felt no compassion after what she had said and done.

No sooner had Ravdna left, Sif sunk down onto a chair, lips wobbling in her continued effort not to cry, even now that she was alone. Or at least, thought herself to be alone. Sif put her face in her hands, sliding them into her hair and a choked sound escaped her, but no tears fell.

Loki didn't know what to do, except admire her strenght. He knew Sif would not like it if he were to try to comfort her. He knew the best thing to do was probably leave and pretend he hadn't witnessed just how frail Sif's relationship with her mother was.

For some reason, though, his feet remained rooted to the spot and wouldn't allow him to leave her in the state she was in.

Loki suddenly realized why. The same way Ravdna was unable to understand Sif's goals and recognize her skills, Odin despised his.

He undid the spell that kept his illusion in place and soundlessly made his way towards her. Loki hesitated for a second, pondering what to say or do. Before he had the chance, Sif turned her face upwards, glaring at him.

"What are you doing here?" her voice sounded strained.

Loki opened his mouth, but closed it almost immediately.

He wanted to tell her that he thought she would be a great warrior someday. That he knew what she was feeling like and that he thought any man who ended up marrying such a fierce girl could count himself lucky, whether or not she knew how to sow. He wanted to say he'd seen her fighting in the fields and knew she would make it, if anything with sheer determination and wit, rather than brute force.

But all he said instead was: "That dress truly is hideous."

There was silence for a few seconds as she studied him, now aware that he had been in the room the entire time. The fact that Loki did not take to being cruel and was trying to comfort her in the only way he knew how made her stand up and do the one thing he hadn't anticipated Sif would ever do: she kissed his cheek.

Her lips connected with his face for only brief seconds and it was a rather clumsy kiss, seeing as Loki was taller than her and Sif had to get on her tiptoes. Regardless, Loki's skin tingled where her lips had touched his face and he reflexively put his hand on the spot.

"Thank you," Sif's smile was lopsided and a tiny blush covered her cheeks, despite the sadness in her eyes. She left the room half jogging, leaving him to stand there too dumbfounded to do anything but hold on to the feeling of warmth that crept into him the moment she reached out to plant that kiss on his cheek.