A matter of days had passed under the skies of Asgard before Sif heard word from Thor or shared reports of their prisoner. He sent a guard with a note, summoning her to the palace late at night, during a time when the halls had fallen silent as the entire realm slept, save for a few Einherjar and the ever-watchful eyes of Heimdall. It seemed strange to her to keep their meeting so secretive, but much of what Thor did was questioned by his father and frowned on by the elders; she could sympathize with his desire to remain quiet and hidden from judgment.
He smiled when he saw her walk in and her heart lightly jumped at his expressive greeting. He had a way of making her feel welcome with his soft smile and bright eyes, even without an exchange of words. It made her feel like a child inside, but it also made her feel valued and desired.
"You called?" her voice echoed in the empty hall; he looked hesitant to match her volume.
As he leaned down to her ear, the bristly hairs on his chin tickled her cheek and neck. She resisted leaning into it. "Would you meet me in my quarters? I will be there momentarily."
The thought occurred to her that she should feel bothered by the request. Why would he summon her to the palace only to have her leave and move to his chambers? His living quarters were only a small toss of the mighty Mjolnir for him, but it was quite a walk for those without powers of flight, and her horse was already stabled at the palace entrance. She nodded in agreement, without a sound of protest. Perhaps summoning her to the wrong location was an effort to disguise their appointment.
She was relieved to find that he had left his chambers unlocked and unguarded so she didn't have to explain her late presence to anyone. The light scent of vanilla and cedar greeted her at the door. Firelight illuminated the red of his curtains and sheets, making them appear to glow against the dark color of his walls, and the gold elements around the room sparkled in reflection of its flame. His quarters were exactly the way she had remembered from spending the occasional late night there in her youth.
The familiarity of the room invited the temptation to reminisce, even though she had not allowed herself to experience the memories evoked by that space in a long time. She ran her hands over the soft, red blanket on his bed; this had certain nostalgia to it as well and her lips curled upward as she resisted the particular images the simple cloth brought to mind. She moved on and turned her sight towards his dresser. The shine of a small crystal case caught her eye. Resting on the corner was the small token he had once bestowed upon her - a symbol of his promise and Odin's approval. It was just a modest medallion with a jeweled center that hung from a silver chain. In Asgardian terms, it was an inconspicuous piece that hardly reflected the wearer's true station. However, as she felt the weight of the metal and its coolness on her fingertips, she wanted nothing more than to put it on again.
The door to his quarters opened and she quickly pulled her hand away, though she knew he would have noticed what had drawn her attention.
He cleared his throat awkwardly, choosing to let that particular matter be. "I am sorry I asked you to move our meeting."
"It's alright," she responded, "I remembered my way here."
He smiled softly, relieved she had silently agreed not to discuss the token. "I must also apologize for my secrecy. I've already heard rumors and theories regarding my intentions with the presence of the warriors in the dungeons."
Sif nodded. "Yes, I have heard them as well."
"Not much is hidden from the gossiping mouths of Asgard. Do you have any idea who may be spreading this information?"
"No, but it may be the elders; they often undermine you publically."
Thor crossed his arms and sighed. "I am sorry that Odin gave them any semblance of authority. They enjoy tearing me apart because they know I am likely to disband them when I have earned the throne; the more they work against me, the more likely this is true. It is a stalemate," he said. "I bitterly regret the day they act prematurely without the right information."
Sif nodded. "It is hoped Odin will see them in their true light before that happens - if he hasn't already."
Thor sat down on a chest in front of his bed, leaning back against the footboard behind him. "Asgard calls for Loki's head. The rumors I have heard only address the pity I've taken on him. They have ignored the fact that I've been sending you down on recognizance."
"Perhaps," Sif began, pausing shortly, "they believe recognizance is hopeless. In a manner of speaking, I do."
Thor leaned forward questioningly. "In what 'manner?' Loki's information on the Chitauri is essential to both Earth and Asgard's protection."
"I understand as long as hope for his redemption lives, there is also hope that he will volunteer his secrets, but day-by-day, that hope diminishes. I can see it in his eyes - and I believe you know as well as I do that he will not deliver his information accidentally, voluntarily, or by force. His control over his tongue has always been remarkable."
"You may be right," Thor said after some silence, "but I am not prepared to acquiesce to his stubbornness yet. The moment I do, his life becomes forfeit."
"I appreciate your feelings on the matter, but as long as you are content to pardon an undeserving man, I would expect your plan to garner further criticism."
He tilted his head slightly. "I am not pardoning an undeserving man - I am showing mercy to my brother and working for the betterment of Asgard's protection. I can see why the council and Earth wouldn't understand, but I am amazed that you wouldn't see this. It is not easy to turn one's back on one's kin."
Thor immediately began to feel a shade of guilt for his adamancy. She had healed Loki's back knowing that the pain of that sentence would weigh on Thor's shoulders. Her understanding of the situation was evidenced by her actions and her continued loyalty. She hadn't deserved the tone he'd taken.
Sif folded her arms in front of her and didn't reply for a moment. There were many areas in which she disagreed with Thor, a number of which had increased recently. She did not feel, however, that she had the right to argue with him about Loki. His pain was still too raw. Still, the circumstances of Loki's betrayal were too murky for her comfort, and her loyalty to Thor didn't mean that she was out of bounds to request clarification when his decisions were questionable.
"Is he - your kin?" she asked suddenly. Thor looked at her in confusion. "Odin called him 'Laufeyson' at the trial - and in my care, he made some odd remark under his breath."
"What are you implying, Sif?"
"He's always been so different than you in every way. I thought..." She bit her lip and pulled her eyes from his. "Never mind. It was not clever of me to allow one comment to cause such controversy in my own mind."
Thor's eyes dropped to the floor. During his discussion with the warriors, he had surmised that telling them of Loki's true heritage would only increase their bloodlust - and he needed someone to respect his decision to let him live. He wagered Sif would be affected the worst by this revelation, considering their history and the depth of Loki's treachery. "Odin's proclamation was symbolic," he lied. "Loki's betrayal against Asgard culminated in his abandonment of this world into the hands of the Jotuns. Odin was, in heart, handing Loki over to the Jotuns in retribution."
"He disowned him?" she asked with some surprise.
"In a manner of speaking," Thor said, hoping she wouldn't see past his outright lie. "Odin has taken distance from everything regarding Loki until his own pain ebbs. He is completely in my charge."
Once again, the pair was silent for a long moment. Something in Thor's story didn't equate well to the other elements of the situation. It made sense that Odin would take such a measure against Loki, but why did he feel the need to use covert language and symbolism? Odin was typically unapologetically direct with such issues. Her instinct told her that Thor had not disclosed everything, but she didn't inquire further.
"Has Loki said anything else to you?" his question snapped her out of her thoughts unexpectedly.
"Excuse me?"
"The reason I wanted to discuss this matter with you in private is because of what I've heard from the captain of the Einherjar. One of his subordinates reported that you looked distressed - nervous, even - when he had come to relieve you."
"What?" she said incredulously, even though what he spoke was the truth. "No, I was - I was fine. Loki has a way with words that can make one feel uncomfortable. He knows all of our weak points and - he got under my skin. From what I understand, he has done the same to Fandral."
"Do you mind if I ask what he said that diminished your fortitude?"
She shook her head, hesitant to admit the truth. The strength of a warrior had more to do than their physical body; she felt her cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment over the situation. "He plays on one's doubts and insecurities. I shouldn't have let him affect me as he did. I assure you it won't happen again"
"This isn't a performance issue, Sif. I was concerned about you," he explained. He stood up and walked closer to her. "Is that all?"
"He has gained a small amount of color and weight back. Other than that, I have nothing to report."
"No, I meant - is that all that he did to you?"
Sif did not answer his question directly. The truth was more than a little humiliating; it preyed on her security in her position and her devotion to her prince. Previously, she had been content to remain loyal to Thor's leadership and set her personal feelings regarding their history aside. Loki made her doubt this in the worst way possible - simply by emphasizing the truth around Thor's actions on Earth and the fact he had sacrificed himself for the sake of a mortal. She had spent the last couple of days reconciling Thor's actions in New Mexico with her loyalty to him, but there was doubt in her mind that she would ever fully understand his reasoning.
When Sif didn't respond, Thor continued, "I've said this before, but I cannot and will not force anyone to take this duty. If you wish to discontinue, I shall think no less of you."
"Loki is nothing I cannot handle," she said firmly. Out of reflex, she looked back towards the necklace.
Thor didn't miss this brief glance, or its meaning. He had already connected the report of her hesitation in the prison with Loki's usual games; his gift to her in the days of their union supplied the missing piece to this mystery. "Is that the injury on which he preyed?"
Sif turned around so he couldn't see her face. She confirmed his suspicions with her silence. "He only asked me a question - but I haven't thought of those times in a while, and I suppose it put it to mind." She spoke uneasily, but continued. "I still remember the day you gave this to me."
Thor's face began to turn red in discomfort. "And I remember the day you gave it back," he said. His voice was soft, but he could not hide the bitterness in his tone, or the rebuke to her assertion.
"For safekeeping..." she added argumentatively.
He ran his hand through his hair and laughed wryly. "Loki is still a master of manipulation. Just one question and he..."
"Shall we bury the issue for a few more centuries, then?" she asked.
He took a deep breath, but his impatience swelled. "You explicitly stated it was choking you. How was I supposed to interpret that?"
"It was," she answered. "The day it was given to me, your father was discussing when it would be appropriate to have children as my mother measured the palace for curtains. I was stifled - less than a year out of the academy and every aspect of my life was being planned for me. None of it - except my marriage to you, was anything I wanted for myself."
"That is part of the role; you were aware of this."
"I was aware," she answered, "but I was immature and unprepared for the reality of it. Are you still angry with me?"
He crossed his arms. She could see his expression in the mirror and the uncertainty in his azure depths. "Of course not," he answered, "but your timing - on the precipice of war with an unknown enemy; Loki's involvement in the destruction on Earth; Jane... I cannot guess what other reason you would have for addressing this now. This reeks of Loki."
Sif stiffened and abruptly turned towards him. Her eyes narrowed sharply and her lips curled into a frown. "You give Loki too much credit, and me, too little," she argued. "And when, pray tell, would have been a better time? When you were in the midst of intensive training for your coronation? While you were jumping woman to woman simply because I told you I wasn't ready for marriage? While you were banished to Earth?"
Several arguments came to his mind, including the fact that the list of suitors she had entertained during this time was also very lengthy, and that they had spent quite a while apart for the purposes of her own training. However, he knew these would only assign blame and worsen the argument, and so he chose, instead, to reframe his words. "I'm not capable of giving you what I believe you seek. What would you have me do, then?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion and unspent anger.
She bit her lip, desperately trying to hide her indignation. "Does the promise still stand?"
"Officially, yes. It was broken in private, so the arrangement intact," he paused and furrowed his brow. "Do you intend to hold me to it?"
"What needs to be done to break it?"
His expression softened as guilt regarding his previous accusation welled in his stomach. "You need only declare it to Odin."
"Then he shall have my letter soon," she said. Her face was partially hidden from his view. She made her way past him to the door before her embarrassment deepened and she said something else she would regret.
"Sif..." he started. She halted. "I am sorry - for thinking you weak against Loki's influence - and I'm sorry that things turned out this way. I sincerely hope these circumstances don't diminish our friendship."
She lowered her shoulders; her expression softened to one of sadness as her anger left her. She nodded her acknowledgment, and though she smiled subtly, made no effort to reply.
Sif left a very confused and distraught Thor behind in his quarters that night. He had not called her there to discuss their betrothal, an agreement that had unofficially ended many years before, but had summoned her to check in on her welfare as a friend and to discuss his brother. She had not planned on addressing that particular subject, but now that she had, she regretted it, and her cheeks burned hot with embarrassment.
She had gambled at the wrong time, while knowing that his heart belonged to another. To make matters worse, she had cornered them both, creating a situation where the subject could not be avoided. There were things that had gone unexpressed for years that should have remained buried in time. Instead, she forced the issue, and created a barrier in their friendship that had never been there before, despite the turbulent nature of their relationship.
Her heart was troubled when she returned to her quarters. She felt wearied by the confrontation, the feeling worsened by the very late hour. She stripped of her clothes and skipped much of her nightly routine, choosing the comfort of her bed over freshly-brushed hair and moisturizer. Sleep claimed her quickly and deeply; the moment her mind began to calm, she started to dream.
Thor's vigilance and the warriors' supervision had ensured the Einherjar were much more dependable than they had been in their guard of the prison. The fact that Loki had stopped utilizing what illusion spells he could muster to unnerve them for the purposes of his own entertainment had also ameliorated his circumstances. Additionally, he had ceased his efforts to infiltrate their subconscious; there was only one target in his sights now, and much of his focus and energy was directed towards her.
Due the increased regularity of his guard's shifts, he was able to develop a sense of the time and time's passing. At the very least, he could tell the general times of day, and although his internal clock was inaccurate without being able to see the sky, it came close enough for his satisfaction. He figured his supper to be around dusk. The guards would change shifts three to four hours afterward. On that particular evening, it meant counting at least four hours after the Einherjar changed shifts to reach a window of midnight to three in the morning. This was a large margin of error, but he knew it would land during a time when she would most likely be at rest.
Confident that his math was correct, Loki leaned back against the wall of his cell and dropped his head to his chest as he began his normal process. He slowed his breathing and relaxed his muscles. As his heart rate dropped, he expanded himself. With much practice and with a clear destination, he was able to reach his target. However, this hadn't been difficult to master; he knew his way to her chambers well enough due to some discreet visits during a more curious point in his life.
As his consciousness drove through space and into her thoughts, he began to see vague, shapeless images and shadows. The matrices between her conscious and subconscious, at first, presented a mesh of random memories, mostly of faces and specific events. After a moment, these began to began to focus into the form of a dream as she entered her deepest level of sleep.
The environment came into a clear view first. He found himself standing in her quarters, though the space was shrouded in darkness and seemed much larger than it was in reality. A single light on her dresser illuminated the area. She sat in front of her dresser on a small stool, gazing at her own reflection as she brushed her long hair.
Although that cycle of sleep often did not last long, Loki stood back in the distance, watching and allowing himself to enjoy her vision for small moment before he acted. He mentally chided himself for allowing her to distract him, but it had been a long time since he had enjoyed her beauty for what it was. The desire he had held for her in his youth had cooled over time for various reasons, the largest of which was her engagement to Thor. Despite the fact that the prince had touched and tasted all she had to offer, it hadn't completely decimated the appreciation Loki once felt for her when they were children.
He smiled, noticing the braids in her hair that she had worn throughout her school years. It was interesting to him that the projection of herself within her dream would include that specific element from her youth, but it did not include the golden hair she had been so heartbroken to lose. Instead, the image her mind had constructed of herself owned the jet black hair of her elder years.
A twisted sense of pleasure rose in his chest. He had never been allowed to forget his actions on the day he had lashed out at her, costing her the blonde locks that had won her the attention of men throughout several realms. Although he had made an attempt to make it up to her, his selfishness and impatience had gotten the better of him. He rarely regretted his actions and decisions, even when they were unsuccessful at furthering his goals, but he wasn't particularly proud of what he had done to her. It brought him a kind of relief to see that her perception of herself included her dark hair, as it meant that she accepted it as a part of who she was. Maybe a small part of her actually preferred it.
She stopped combing and placed the horsehair brush on her lap. For a moment, he wondered if she had reached the end of her sleep cycle, but instead of the dream fading into nothing, it cleared and became more vibrant. From his distance, he could see a silver light gleaming from her hand. He couldn't determine what it was, but he could make out the silver chain wrapped around her fingers. Curiosity got the better of him and he stepped forward to improve his view. Though he was silent in his movement, she looked up in alarm. She had sensed his presence. Loki cursed and stepped back into the shadows. If she learned of his intrusion, it would ruin this attempt and make future ones far more difficult.
After a moment, her posture relaxed and she returned her attention to the item in her hand. Disappointment swept over him. He couldn't get closer without her detection and progress with his plan was impossible unless he was nearer to her. Her figure represented the center, and his final barrier.
The necklace in her hand shined as she hung it by its chain in the air in order to inspect the center jewel. It was her betrothal necklace, the token Thor had given her when they were promised to each other in front of king and council. An idea slithered its way into Loki's mind. Sneaking around her subconscious would not work for long; her instincts had been sharpened by battle and were too keen to fail in detecting him. Perhaps a disguise would be a better method for concealing himself.
Step by cautious step, he slowly emerged from the shadows. However, instead of his black, stringy hair, what she saw was blonde and soft; instead of green robes, she saw the iconic red cape of Thor; and instead of the mischievousness and malice contained in Loki's grin, she saw the warm and jovial smile of the man she loved. Her smile broadened and simultaneously, the light in her chambers became brighter.
Loki's disguise had worked. She hadn't shown a hint of suspicion or tentativeness as she welcomed him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. Loki hesitated, his intentions interrupted by the warmth and softness of her form against his. She pulled away momentarily, taking one small moment to examine his eyes, his face, and his lips as her hand moved to his cheek. With another smile, she pressed her lips to his.
He couldn't "feel" her in the truest sense of the word, but his mind constructed elements in his perception similar to those her dream conveyed to her. The softness of her mouth, the taste of her skin - these components were a mixture of his memories of her and her mental projection of herself. As his hands travelled around her waist, this fact was forgotten; logic was drowned in this sweet distraction. He tightened his embrace as he nearly abandoned his objective.
After a long moment of pleasurable contact, she pulled away, completely breathless and flushed in her cheeks. "Thor..." she whispered in a throaty tone.
At the sound of his brother's name, his expression dropped slightly, but imperceptibly. He reached up and cupped her cheek, tenderly running his thumb across her jaw line, and touching her smooth, pink lips. His sense returned. "Would you surrender a part of yourself - if I told you it would lead to a greater good?"
She smiled. "Of course."
Loki kept himself from scoffing audibly. Such a strong creature, she was; it was almost disappointing to him to learn that she would so easily submit to Thor's whims.
"But I feel as though I have already given much of myself to you. What more do you need?" she said with a soft laugh as she leaned in to kiss him again.
He gently pushed her away so he could maintain eye contact. "Indeed, you have," he said, trying very hard not to sound bitter or denigrate her response, "but for the good of Asgard, I need just a little more."
She moaned and locked her eyes on his, content to give him anything he asked for, but hoping he would request something in particular. "Then take all of me."
He smirked viciously, forgetting that such mannerisms were not at all characteristic of Thor. He ran his fingers over the straps of the golden gown she wore as his eyes travelled from her lips, down to her collar bone, and followed the flowing material as it hugged her body. "A very tempting offer, but it's not necessary," he said in a deep voice, fighting the temptation to continue his illusion, though he didn't think he could stand touching, kissing, and taking her while she saw only the face of his brother.
She took his hand in hers and held it to her chest. "Tell me what you want."
"Close your eyes," he ordered.
She did as requested. He turned her so she was facing her mirror and her back was to him. Her dark hair cascaded down her back in a river of ebony. He combed his fingers through the soft strands, reminding himself that this was merely a facsimile. No matter what signals his mind sent him, it wasn't the true feel or smell of Sif's real hair. These thoughts reminded him of his objective. He gently moved his hand up the back of her neck, lightly grabbing the back of her skull as he prepared to take over her body.
She gasped and her face contorted in pain. "Thor? What are you...? "As soon as the words left her lips, she opened her eyes. The muscles on her neck tensed, and she gasped loudly. As Loki looked up to assess what had gone wrong, he saw only the image of his true appearance reflecting back in the mirror. The illusion had vanished as soon as her mind had worked through it.
"Loki..." she said in surprise and dismay.
He panicked momentarily, thinking she would lash out against him, or that the connection would be abruptly severed. However, Sif did not react the way he feared she would. Her expression remained one of shock, but she did not move from beneath his grasp.
"Interesting," he said curiously, "you saw through my disguise much more quickly than I believed you would."
"What are you doing here?" Her disorientation was evident in her eyes. The mirage around them began fading as her mind slowly began to recognize the situation as only a vision. Concurrently, it caused her great confusion.
"Just visiting," he said wryly. Loki felt a light pull, recognizing the sensation as what would happen when the person began to reject his presence.
She turned around to face him, her eyes filled with puzzlement. "Where is Thor?"
He smiled and placed his cool hand on her neck, running his thumb very lightly over her bottom lip. It was a moment of blatant self-indulgence, he knew, but she would think it only a dream and a figment of her own imagination. She wrinkled her brow and looked perturbed as though the motion bothered her, but she did not pull away from his touch. He mustered the most sympathetic expression he could and coyly replied, "it has only ever been me."
The pull against him became stronger. "No, he..." she started, trailing off as she wondered, in her dreamful haze, if it was actually true and if she remembered Thor leaving the room or Loki entering.
"Is your hate for me so strong?"
The pull intensified once again, but she did not verbally respond. He would be pushed out very soon; he could feel the intrusion of her conscious thought. Before he would leave, he indulged himself one more time. Slowly, he closed the distance between them, and leaned down. His nose brushed against her cheek, but just when he could feel the stirrings of her breath against his mouth, he was abruptly pulled back. The dream was over.
Sif awoke with a gasp, sitting up sharply from her bed. Her night gown was soaked through, and beads of sweat rolled down her face. Her dream had been mild in comparison to the nightmares and memories of battle she often experienced while she was asleep, but it had a different kind of intensity to it. She felt as though she'd been through a war of a different sort against herself - or something unlike any enemy she'd ever faced before.
As her memory began to fill in images from the dream, she touched her hand to her lips. Anger suddenly welled up inside of her, though she wasn't sure of whom it was directed towards - herself for imagining such a strange scenario, or Thor, as her argument with him was most likely the cause of her disturbing vision. Her stomach turned; the memory of nearly kissing Asgard's Betrayer was not one she cared to repeat in another dream. Resigning herself to a near-sleepless night, she rose to take a bath and wash the image from her mind.
Loki opened his eyes slowly. Both a failure and a victory, he wasn't sure of what to think of his latest attempt. He hadn't accomplished anything. In fact, there was a possibility he had only succeeded in increasing the guard around her subconscious. He also lost control of his own faculties - something that didn't happen to him often, and never so pleasantly.
He chided himself for indulging in the circumstances of her dream. It had been a long time since he'd felt the touch of a woman, or tasted the sweetness of another's lips on his. Granted, nothing that had occurred in her vision was real, but it was more than he had ever imagined he would share with Thor's most loyal subject, friend, and betrothed. Unknowingly, she had easily seduced him away from his goal.
Conversely, the distraction had not been entirely detrimental to his experiment. He now knew the approximate amount of time before her mind worked through his plot. Now that he had appeared to her in one dream, he also felt confident he could reappear without having to use Thor's image as a disguise. In theory, she would accept him as merely a figment of a reoccurring dream. Perhaps their connection would be even stronger in the future because of this factor.
Loki put the dream out of him mind and began planning out the details of what would happen once his efforts were successful. Having the possessed Sif free him first may be a bit of a risk if there were Einherjar or one of his special attendants present, particularly since it would take a while for him to make the transition from her mind back to his own body. However, Sif's procurement of the Tesseract portal device would also surely raise alarms prematurely.
It would be best for her to obtain the artifact he had promised his benefactor first and have her deliver it to him when she freed him. This would make him nearly invincible during his run for the Tesseract, and since Asgard was under the impression they had defeated him, their vault lacked sufficient guard. Their false sense of victory secured his plan, as long as he still owned the element of surprise.
Loki smiled. He loved it when one of his plans began to come to its fruition - and this one had been slowly maturing for a long time. Soon, his benefactor would have his wish, and as his reward, Loki would finally rule Asgard.
The sound of horseshoes on pavement echoed dramatically off the high walls of the structures on the palace grounds and the sunshine was warm on the back of her neck. However, the pleasant day went unnoticed as her mind was monopolized with memories from her youth - and from her short spell as Thor's intended and the future queen of Asgard. The first time he kissed her; the first time he touched her, as no man had before; the moment he had suggested they formally court; these memories had haunted her since their argument on the night before, and plagued her as she rode back to Thor's chambers to deliver her official abdication of her betrothal.
Sif felt foolish for allowing Loki's slimy words to work on her as they had, foolish for broaching such an old and sore subject, and foolish for allowing herself to regress to an emotional state in such a small length of time. She felt as though every ounce of respect and honor she had built up in his eyes had been compromised by one poorly-worded and poorly-timed argument she had no place raising to begin with. She couldn't comprehend what it would take to make this up to him, or what she would have to do to reestablish his perception of her strength and character.
When she arrived at his quarters, she tied her horse and stood at the threshold of his door. She did not knock, and it became increasingly difficult to do so the longer she stood there. The paper envelope crunched in her hand as she clenched her fists in frustration. Inside was a letter to Odin, in which she released his son from his promise of marriage. It had been a difficult letter to write, particularly as she knew that Odin and Frigga both approved of her as a warrior and as Thor's choice. Her tumultuous relationship with him had never spoiled their warm reception of her within the palace walls. However, she acknowledged that it was her fault the letter had been difficult; it should have been written a long time ago, but she had put it off hoping for a change in their circumstances.
As she hit the wood of his door with her fist, she vowed that she would show none of her insecurities or her tentativeness that day. She would not sweeten Loki's small victory. It was hoped that Thor would not think too much of the previous night, and that he would consider it a fluke and an abnormal moment.
The door opened abruptly with a loud creak, causing her to jump lightly. She cursed herself for being startled. This was not the manner in which she wanted the conversation to begin.
"Sif," he greeted in surprise. "I didn't expect..."
"I've prepared my letter to Odin. I believe it will sufficiently serve its purpose," she spoke in an interruption, handing him the now creased envelope that held her official seal.
He smiled softly. "I have no doubts. Thank you - for this."
She nodded and began to turn away.
"Sif, wait..."
She looked back to see him outwardly struggling with finding the words to say. "Regarding our conversation..." he started, trailing off.
"There is nothing more to say," she said firmly. For a moment, Thor believed her anger was still raw, but she continued and disproved his presuppositions. "I behaved like a love-scorn teenager last night, and I am sorry. It was utterly foolish of me to allow Loki to arouse my old insecurities and you did not deserve to be the target of that anger."
Thor dropped his shoulders and sighed in relief. "We were both foolish. We should have cleared this matter long ago instead of attempting to bury it in the past. It has only festered during these years of silence and I can hardly blame Loki for utilizing it as a foothold against us."
"I agree," Sif said. Her tone had lost some of its weight, and for that, Thor was grateful. "I never should have thought ill of you for taking advantage of your eligibility after I had returned your token. I've had some of my own suitors since that time and it was hypocritical of me to expect you to remain unattached."
"Our timing was never quite right, was it?" he asked with a sad smile.
Her lips twitched. It was the truth, though she did not want to resume the argument by pointing out the fact that he would have won if he had even tried to challenge any of her suitors. "No. That was a large part of it, I suppose."
Heavy silence spread between them, but as the memories surrounding some of their history resurfaced in his mind, Thor chuckled and began, "To be honest, some of those women were wooed and entertained only as an effort to foster jealousy while you were focused on your training. I was trying to get your attention, but you were too proud and strong to admit when I had it."
"Really?" she asked in genuine surprise. A confident smile graced her features. "Exactly which ones were those?"
Thor chortled dryly, enjoying the return of her smile, though he knew her inquiry courted trouble. "I feel I can only endanger myself further by answering that question," he joked.
She laughed. "Depending on your answer, you are most likely correct. However, I may grant you mercy since you were willing to admit it."
He remained silent, allowing both of them to enjoy the moment. "We're friends again, then?" he asked after some pause.
"We've always been friends. That will not change easily - and certainly not over one of Loki's schemes or matters of the past."
"Then," he started, phrasing his next words carefully, "do I have your approval to continue seeing Jane Foster of Midgard if the circumstances allow?"
She furrowed her brow, dropping her smile. "Is my approval so necessary for your happiness?"
He shook his head. "Not necessary, but important. I will respect your opinion, as you often know what is best for Asgard, and what is best for me."
She sighed and lowered her eyes to the ground, crossing her arms in front of her as she fought herself over the possible variations in her response. "I'm at a loss as to why you would pursue a relationship that will not last. She is a mortal - stubborn and short-lived, from a world that teaches its people never to believe in anything beyond themselves and what they can immediately see and touch. They are a volatile and violent race bent on destroying themselves, and they have, until recently, dismissed the idea that there is more to this universe than their realm. In this sense, they are selfish and vain, and I do not wish to see Asgard diminished through an alliance with them."
Thor frowned. He had asked for her opinion, but did not expect one so thoroughly negative. He prepared several arguments in his mind, but Sif was not finished.
"That being said, from what I've seen of her, she is quite courageous and intelligent, and I owe her much for giving you aid while you were stranded there. You have only known her a short time, but she seems to be an extraordinary human - one worthy of getting to know better."
"Thank you," he said with a soft smile. That was much of an approval as he was going to obtain considering the obstacles he faced within his relationship with Jane.
She nodded in acknowledgement. "It would be a shame if your visits to Earth were limited to crises. Have you thought of a return visit?"
"Yes," he said. "In fact, now that the Tesseract has been returned, I suppose it will be much easier to travel there, as we will not need to gather the dark energy for the trip in the future."
"So circumstances will allow..." she said, referring to his earlier statement.
"Potentially. I don't believe it would be prudent to leave Asgard on a personal holiday while things are so unsettled here. If Loki would provide some enlightenment regarding the Chitauri and their commander, maybe the opportunity would present itself, but for now, I will remain here."
She did not voice it, but she was grateful to hear him reaffirm his dedication to Asgard in his words. Her convictions regarding Thor's acts on Earth seemed almost comical now. She was ashamed to believe he had done any wrong.
"Are you feeling well?" Thor suddenly asked.
She knew why the he was inquiring. As she had passed the mirror that morning, she had seen it too, the swelling under her eyes as well as shadows that had not been there the day before. "I'm fine. I had some disturbing dreams last night. I'm afraid much of my rest was stolen."
"Were they anything you wish to discuss?"
She shook her head. The images from her vision had caused her great distress the night before, but as the morning progressed, they had faded into light and haze. "It's silly, really," she said dismissively. "Loki had disguised himself as you - and I failed to recognize his trick, at least - as quickly as I should have."
"And once you knew..?"
She could hardly say the words and suddenly wished she hadn't told him anything about the dream itself. The next part was certainly the most absurd element of any dream she'd ever had. "I almost ki..." she cut herself off. She could not bring herself to say it, regardless of whether or not it was only a silly nightmare. "...killed him."
"Interesting," Thor started. "Our dreams can be power interpretations of our waking life. Have you considered if your mind was trying to warn you about him? He is crafty - give him an inch of freedom and he will somehow win much more."
Sif laughed lightly. Thor looked at her questioningly. "I don't think this dream had any basis in reality - but I will keep your advice in mind." She stepped over to her horse and untied it before mounting its back.
He gingerly rubbed her horse's nose and was rewarded with a pleased huff from the animal. "Sif, the offer from last night still stands. If you feel the position in the dungeon has compromised you in any way, you need only to say something. I will not take it to count against you."
"Thank you, Thor, but I'm fine," she said confidently. "I will talk to you if I have discovered more information from Loki."
She gave her horse a light tap on its hindquarters and rode off. Thor looked down at the envelope she had given him and her seal over its flap. She continued to swear to him that she was alright. Her behavior and appearance, however, said differently. Part of him hoped, but doubted, she was telling the complete truth.
Time slowed as a ball of silver whistled through the air by her ear. The clash of metal resounded across the nearly empty, grassy field on which she fought. Her sword blocked her enemy's strike, but she saw, in her peripheral vision, the blade of his partner swing towards her. The end of his blade made contact against the edge of her armor, but despite her protection, she could feel the sting of an open wound on her hip. By chance, he landed his blade in the small gap between her cuirass and her lower body armor.
He swung again nearer her head, oblivious of the fact he had wounded her. She ducked, the end of her dark hair brushing the sharpened edge as it missed the rest of her by mere centimeters. Her legs moved quickly as she spun around him to his blind spot, dealing a blow to the back of his knees before he could move. He fell to the ground.
The third, his less than subtle conspirator, came behind her with a yell and a swing of his heavy ax. She lifted her blade above her, blocking the strong blow from landing. Her arms shook from effort as she fought his downward inertia and stood. She turned in her spot, moving her sword in a circle so that is grabbed the edge of the ax and she was able to twist it out of his hands. He was disarmed.
As he stood and examined his fallen weapon, he grinned sheepishly. "I should have seen that coming."
"Yes, you should have," she said, out of breath and in pain, but with a jovial smile on her face.
"I put a lot of power into that swing," he said with a congratulatory wink. "You've gotten stronger."
"Yes, I have," she answered confidently.
"Stronger, but slower," Hogan spoke with his typical grim expression. "I nearly struck you."
"'Nearly' isn't close enough, my friend." She smirked.
Hogan put his mace back in its holder and nodded. "Perhaps, but I doubt you would have been satisfied with such a performance last time."
She scoffed quietly at his criticism, but accepted the truth to his statement. She held her side as she carefully sat down on the grass and groaned when she finally hit the ground. It was not a deep wound, but it was bleeding, and her warm blood was beginning to soak through the thick material of her tunic. The moves she had performed after she had been wounded had aggravated the injury as well; she could feel the tear enlarge when she had fought Volstagg's ax.
"You're hurt," Volstagg said with some surprise.
"It was Fandral's blow to her side. It glanced off of her armor and hit her hip," Hogan explained.
Fandral looked on in concern and bowed in apology. "I'm sorry, Sif."
"It is senseless to apologize for a legitimate move," she said, "and it isn't bad."
"Where are your healing stones?" asked Hogan.
"I don't have any left."
Fandral started, "I'll get some from my…"
"You don't have any either," she interrupted. "I - borrowed yours some time ago."
He raised a questioning eyebrow. "We were just given that batch. What kind of injury could possibly have used so many stones?"
"A serious one," she said without elaboration. She didn't believe Fandral would appreciate knowing exactly who had received the benefit of his ration.
He respected her desire for privacy and stuck out his hand to help her up. "Then come; I will help you to the healing rooms. We can use their supply."
Sif accepted his hand and his help as she slowly stood. Hogan and Volstagg had both offered to accompany them, but she declined and ordered them to stay. There was no reason why training that day had to be cut short for everyone.
The trip back to the healing rooms was long, but not unpleasant, considering her condition. The distance from their usual training grounds was too short for horseback, but it was also smooth and flat. She supported her side with a spare cloth, holding it tightly to stem the bleeding; she was able to travel at a reasonable pace this way.
"You pushed yourself too hard," Fandral said once they were out of earshot from the others.
"It isn't as bad as it seems," she argued.
"If Hogan's assessment was correct, you fought injured for quite a while. Why didn't you call for us to stop? There's no sense in carrying a wound like this for a mere sparring session."
She smiled. "I may have overdone it, but aside from my pain, I was enjoying myself. A long, difficult spar was exactly what I needed today."
He nodded and was silent for a moment, hoping she would volunteer the answer to the question plaguing him before he asked for it. "You know I am hardly one to pry into the personal lives of my compeers…" he began.
"Usually because you're too busy bragging about your own," she interjected coyly.
He chuckled. "You speak truth," he said in a humored tone. "You seem very distracted today. Despite your victory against us, Hogan was accurate in his criticisms. You were slow to react and at times, you appeared to be mentally distant from the fight; unfocused, even."
She looked at the ground; a soft smile was on her lips. "Your vision is sharp."
"Would it be out of line to ask what is troubling you? I have never witnessed a moment when you were distracted by your emotions in battle. You are usually the rock of all of us."
She felt a sense of pride at the implied compliment. She had to be a rock. If she wasn't, the success she had built may be jeopardized. However, achieving emotional fortitude was easier said than done, and it was nice that her closest friends recognized it as one of her assets.
"You are a close and trusted friend, Fandral, and one of my most valued colleagues. It's a logical and pragmatic request, but I trust I can be confident that this will remain between us."
"Absolutely," he said, "my lips are sealed."
"Thor and I had an - enlightening discussion about our past and our future."
Fandral stopped in his tracks along the trail they were following.
"What's wrong?" she asked when she realized he was no longer matching her pace.
He looked at the sky uneasily. "Did this have something to do with your betrothal?"
She turned and put a hand on her uninjured hip. "Why?" she asked in suspicion of his tone.
"And was this instigated via any effort of Loki's?" Sif did not respond, but her brow wrinkled in puzzlement. Fandral had his answer. "Damn," he said bluntly, "I am sorry, Sif."
Her expression softened, but it still showed her displeasure. "Yes, he mentioned he had a small chat with you. It seems he has had an easier time procuring information from us than we have from him."
"I was overconfident and needlessly talkative. Next time, I will improve the guard over my own mouth before so carefully monitoring his."
"I don't count it against you, Fandral. Loki is clever and quick-witted," she said, though her tone indicated she may not have been entirely sincere in saying it.
He examined the features of her face, her downward-curved lips, and the wrinkle that appeared on the inside of her left brow when she was angry. "Whatever damage he'd hoped to cause, he was successful. What exactly did your 'enlightening' conversation entail? What happened?"
"Something that should have happened years ago." She began walking slowly again, passing him by. He resumed his position slightly behind her, respecting her inferential request for distance.
"I'm sorry," he said lowly. It was something he saw coming and everyone in their circle had already accepted, but hearing that it was official seemed like the death of something very important.
"Don't be," she argued. "This was only a formality."
"But you are grieved for him. I can see it from here," he retorted. "If you love him still, why surrender him so readily to a Midgardian mortal?"
Red-faced, she once again stopped walking and turned towards him. "It is because of my love for him that I am willing to give him to another. My friendship and loyalty for him is deeper than any desire to be his wife."
Fandral arched his brow in sympathy and placed a gentle hand supportively on her shoulder "If there's anything…"
"Fandral," she interrupted. "Showing me pity will only worsen my despondency - and I will throw you down if I hear you say 'sorry' again."
He smiled slightly as the confident spark returned to her eye. "Right - not with that wound, you won't," he chided.
They walked in silence for a moment before Fandral began again. "The advantage to this situation is knowing you're officially back on the market," he said. His tone contained that certain inflection and she knew its meaning well.
"Don't even put it to mind," she said with a laugh. "I am not your common harlot. I'm wise to your tricks and games."
The comment was harsh, but it was met with a laugh from Fandral. "Of course not, Lady Sif; I wouldn't dream of it. You're more like a little sister to me."
"And you, the elder brother I never asked for," she joked, punching him lightly on the arm.
He rubbed the now sore spot gingerly. Even in jest and while injured, she could make it hurt. His concern for her waned. If there was one woman who would be strong enough to handle losing the second mightiest man in the nine realms, it would be her.
Firelight flickered in the stairwell leading down to the dungeon; a light, tentative gait could be heard against the stone as someone descended. He cared not who it was; his entertainment for the evening would not reside in his daily visitors, but in the company he would be keeping that night. The guard at the first set of wooden doors raised his voice suddenly. However, its volume was matched by another's. A distinctly feminine voice rose over the Einherjar's and he recognized its angry tone immediately. He was surprised that she was there, and although he knew what her futile objective was, a part of him he wished to deny would be happy to see her face.
Frigga walked briskly into the room with no less than three sentries on her heels, all of whom were attempting to convince her to go back up to the palace. "My Lady, this is no place for a queen," one of them desperately argued, knowing the Allfather would be wroth against whoever had allowed her to pass.
"Nonsense," she said flatly. "One who has argued against Odin on his worst days would not be afraid of the shadows and sounds of Asgard's dungeons."
"But Lady, Loki has the ability to make mere shadows appear as monsters. Even our bravest…"
She turned towards the guard, granting him the sharpest look in her arsenal. Loki did not envy him. As a child, he'd been on the receiving end of that stare many times. In fact, he had once believed it was the origin of his own icy gaze. Although it was disappointing to realize that it was not inherited through genetics, it still humored him that it could cause three, highly-trained Einherjar to shrink back with their tails between their legs.
"He will do no such thing in my presence," she said confidently.
The head guard looked back at Loki uneasily, but the trickster made no argument; she was right. His mother was, perhaps, the only person in Asgard who had no reason to fear him. Even he was not enough of a monster to try his new trick on the woman who had raised him.
"Very well, My Queen, but we will remain here…"
"No," she replied sharply, "I want a few moments of privacy with my son. You will leave us." The guard appeared to think it over, but he did not move. "As I recall, the queen is still above the Einherjar except in times of war. This was not a request."
He sighed in defeat - a dangerous sign of defiance, even in its quiet simplicity. However, he acquiesced and left the room with the other guards, calming Frigga's anger.
Her satisfied smile faded when she turned towards the cell and saw Loki for the first time. He was sitting in the same position he had been since he was first incarcerated. His arms were chained tightly to his chest. He was slumped over, unable to move more than a few inches in any direction. His unwashed hair draped in strings over his face, but even in the shadows of his cell, she could see the toll his stay had taken on his health.
He lifted his head to greet her in some snide manner, but before he could say a word, she released a small sob, covering her mouth immediately to prevent it from happening again. Her heart broke for his circumstances, but in her position, it was not appropriate for her to exhibit this outwardly. "Loki…" she started, unable to find words. Her eyes filled with pity. "Thor assured us you were cared for, but this…"
"This is nothing," he said with a sneer.
She walked up to the dirty, black bars of his cell for a closer look. Hesitantly, he met her eyes; his blue orbs almost seemed to warm and soften as familiarity swept over him. "You…" he started, a weakness evidenced in his voice that he hated hearing. He cleared his throat. "You shouldn't be here," he said, recovering his strength. "Odin would not be pleased."
"Neither would Thor," she said, "but my love for you outweighs my concern for whatever agenda they may have regarding your imprisonment. I am your mother."
He chortled wryly at her last statement and looked away from her. She frowned deeply as moisture filled her eyes. However, she did not allow her tears to fall. Instead, she turned towards a particularly dark corner of the dungeon, focusing her intense stare into the blackness. "You're one of the soldiers Thor hired?"
A figure slowly emerged from the shadows. Loki was perturbed, at best. He hadn't been aware of the man's presence. Frigga, trained for self defense, but never battle-hardened, had sensed him first, despite her lack of instincts. Loki feared what such a slip might mean about his mental acuity, which would also affect his particular skill set.
"Yes, Ma'am," the man replied. In the faint light of the room, she could just make out the bow in his hand and the quiver of arrows on his back.
"I don't suppose you're charged with following my orders since you're not one of the Einherjar…"
He bowed. "You are still my queen," he answered vaguely, "and I remain loyal to you, always."
"Then I request that you open the cell for me."
He showed some trepidation with her request, but the cell's enchantments were intact and Loki's mask and chains were well-fastened. He obeyed without argument. The door opened with a heavy clank, but her eyes did not leave the archer.
"Thank you," she said, "and I will also need you to remove his restraints."
"Your Highness…" he started in argument before she interrupted.
"You're the one named Garik, correct?" He nodded affirmatively. "I believe his mask cannot be removed except by one of you."
"No, My Queen, it cannot be removed except by the hand of one of the Einherjar or warriors that have been charged with his guard."
"And the enchantments are still in place?"
"Yes."
"Then giving him the freedom to move his arms and legs will not harm anything," she argued.
"Odin's sentence…"
"Odin's sentence did not include such manner of restraint. This was a measure taken by a fearful and paranoid captain of the Einherjar."
"Then your complaint should be logged with him," he stated.
"It will be, but as he's one of the Einherjar, his decision is subject to my will; in effect, it doesn't matter whether you release his chains now, or it is done later."
Garik scratched his head. It was evident that he was trying to figure out how to argue with her without making it look like an argument. The queen crossed her arms in front of her chest, the same withering look crossing her features that she had given the guards moments before.
"Be careful," Loki said. "He is an archer; their sharp vision makes them rather good at being two-faced when it suits them."
"Shush, Loki," she scolded. "Archer, you may keep an arrow trained on his neck, if you wish."
Garik nodded and bowed in respect to his queen. "Yes, Ma'am."
The cuffs and chains that held Loki were part of a system and somewhat difficult to remove, as they were designed on a pulley track that would enable the guards to loosen them without taking them off completely. He started at the ankles first, but it would take a moment.
"Are you familiar with many archers?" Garik asked as he worked. Loki's comment had been strangely direct, and as he didn't know the man, he was curious where this stereotype had originated from.
"Just one," Loki replied snidely. "He caused me quite a headache on Midgard. I'm guessing that's why Thor asked you to be a part of this little team of his, so excuse me if I don't seem overly fond of your presence."
Garik smiled subtly as he freed his feet and moved up to remove the chains around his upper body. "I've never seen you on the battlefield, but my instinct tells me you're not the type that would be vulnerable to long-range projectiles. If a mortal archer can create a headache for you, he sounds like someone I'd like to meet." Loki rolled his eyes.
The cuffs that had been around his wrists had been in place and tightened for so long, that they pulled at his skin as they fell off, causing him to grimace in pain. His arms ached as he relaxed and tried to straighten them; he almost feared what his legs would feel like, as he had only been permitted to stand a few times a day for short periods.
Garik, a normally stoic man, seemed to smirk at his pain. At least, that's how Loki interpreted it. At that moment, he felt how weak his body had become and suddenly became very defensive. "How is your wife doing?" Garik looked up abruptly in alarm. "I understand she's staying in the palace until she delivers your child."
"Loki - enough," Frigga said in a warning tone.
"How do you know about that?" Garik asked, changing the position of his bow within his grip as though he was getting ready to arm it.
"You may have extraordinary eyesight, but my hearing is quite keen, especially when the guards speak so openly around their prisoners," Loki said. "It would be a shame if your involvement here were to draw any unfortunate attention to your family."
It wasn't that Loki held any desire to strike out in retribution against any of the guards or warriors because of his incarceration. He doubted he would even have the time to focus on individuals when the moment came. However, he had, so far, been treated with more respect by making them think this was a possibility. Fear could be a powerful motivator, but it could also cause panic and anger, which could foster additional weaknesses and vulnerabilities in the normally strong warriors of Asgard.
Before the situation could escalate further, Frigga walked between them. She gave Garik a reassuring nod and he walked out of the cell, closing the door behind him. He hoped that the queen's confidence in her personal safety was accurate, but he armed his bow regardless and pointed it towards Loki's left eye.
Frigga took a step closer to where Loki sat and brushed a strand of his hair behind his left ear. She kept a hand on his cheek, a protective measure, even though she had given the archer permission to arm his bow against Loki; no Asgardian would risk hurting the queen, even if it meant deservedly harming their enemy as well. Loki's brow furrowed in confusion. Once again, he felt a great dissonance between his hate and anger and the love he felt towards this woman. She could see the battle in his eyes, but she resisted the urge to attempt to sway him towards either side. Instead, she only looked down at him, love and sympathy filling her soft smile in a way words could not express.
Despite his pride and the disparate thoughts and feelings battling within him, Loki conceded to her motherly touch. He groaned in his defeat and leaned forward, resting his forehead against her stomach and wrapping his arms around her hips. Tears that had been previously held back fell down her cheeks as she ran her fingers through his hair and hugged him around his neck. For a short moment, he was a child again, a mere boy who was in need of his mother's arms and the comfort and reassurance found within.
After only a minute, he pulled away; his eyes were fixed on the floor. Once again, the boy was replaced by a man, his features hardened with a pain deeper than anything that affected his body. Her heart tore in two. There was nothing she could do to take this pain from him, for he had mostly invited it upon himself.
She kneeled in front of him, taking his hands in hers as she fought to meet his eyes. "Thor is right; you make this difficult on yourself."
The warmth and comfort her presence had brought him dissipated at the sound of his brother's name. "Have you come to convince me of the error of my ways?"
"I've come because I love you - and I miss you," she said.
For a moment, his expression softened. It had been a long time she he'd seen her - and the last image of him she had was not a pleasant one.
"I am certain your father does as well. He just hasn't been allowed to express it yet - not until his temper has cooled."
Loki shifted uncomfortably and took his gaze elsewhere. "Must we have this conversation?" he asked in a low voice. Frigga did not respond, but her brow furrowed in a questioning manner. "He is not my father."
She sighed and took a seat next to him on the wooden bench. "I wish you wouldn't say that."
"It is the truth," he spat.
"But if you do not regard him as you father simply because you didn't come from his body, then you must not regard me as your mother either - and that is something I cannot accept." He looked down at his lap as she took one of his larger hands in hers and held it delicately. "I may not have given birth to you, but I read to you bedtime stories, cleaned your cuts and scrapes, nursed you, and bathed you. I am still your mother; a blood relation - is such a small part of that role."
Loki's brow arched sourly as conflict continued to stir within him. "I once asked Odin why he took me - for what purpose a Jotun's offspring could possibly have in his kingdom. Surely, the lion's share of the burden would have fallen on you, so I ask you the same. Why did you receive me? You already had a son - you could've given me to a lesser family, any family within the court."
She took a deep breath before answering. "I shared many of Odin's ideals for you and what you might bring to Asgard. He believed he could take an abandoned prince of a dying race and grow him into something great - a symbol of peace; I agreed," she explained.
"So you saw me as something banausic - merely a tool for the purpose…"
"When I first received word that he was bringing you here, yes - perhaps. That changed the moment I first held you in my arms. I fell in love with you instantly."
"Of course, I looked like a normal Asgardian child once 'Odin's Gift…'"
She interrupted him by taking her hand and softly placing it on his opposite cheek, pulling with just enough to force him to meet her eyes. "I knew what you were; it was always in the back of my mind, but that did not diminish my love for you, nor the pride I had for you as my son."
Loki did not speak as she rested her head on his shoulder. He was confused, and for the first time, he felt a small amount of regret knowing the plans of his new allies. His role was not something towards which she would feel pride.
"I told Odin it would have been better for you to learn the truth from our own mouths, when you were younger. This wasn't the way I wanted you to find out," she said. Her voice dropped to almost a whisper as she continued, "I don't suppose it would've made much of a difference, though…"
"What would you have me do?" he asked abruptly.
She sat up and released his hand. "I wish you would come back home…"
"I am…"
"No," she said, "I meant come back to your family. I long to return to the days when you missed your father when he was away, and looked forward to playing games with your brother. The most I ever had to worry about back then was the possibility of you playing pranks on the chefs and the elders." She chuckled lightly at a particular memory of snakes in the palace kitchen's cupboards, though her smile soon fell. "But you are no longer a boy. I wish that you would at least try. Your father's capacity for forgiveness is…"
"You ask too much," he said sharply.
"I know," she responded dejectedly. She stood from her seat. "You wouldn't have returned here without a plan - and it was foolish of me to believe that seeking your family's love and forgiveness had anything to do with your intentions here."
"Mother…" he started, trailing off.
She smiled at the simple name and leaned down to place a long kiss on his forehead. "I only ask one thing, then. When the time comes, remember those who love you - even now."
When he didn't respond, she turned towards the cell door. Garik was waiting for her, his bow still at the ready and pointed towards Loki's left eye. As she stepped away, however, Loki grabbed the hem of her robes, his dirty hands leaving a streak of black on her flawless gown.
"Wait," he started. She moved closer to him again. His eyes flashed on the eavesdropping archer and he dropped his voice to nearly a whisper. "I know you've rarely left Asgard, but if the opportunity arises soon, take it. Leave and remain gone for a while."
"And when, exactly, should I plan on leaving?"
Loki sighed; he loathed the idea of sharing this information, but at the moment, his heart could not bear to think of her getting caught in the inevitable crossfire. "Watch the Tesseract. It may give you an indication."
He released the folds of her garment and she nodded in acknowledgment of his request. With a creak of the hinges, the door to the cell opened and she left. He felt the judgmental stare of the archer on him, knowing that he had just surrendered valuable information for the sake of sentimentality. Loki did not need the distain of Garik to make matters worse. He already thought himself a fool.