First off, I am so very sorry that this has taken a ridiculously long time to finish and I'm incredibly grateful to anyone who still has an interest in it. Thank you again to everyone who has shown their support for this little fic. It means a tremendous amount to me and has kept me going. While this is the last chapter in this fic, I will certainly be writing more both in MCU Avengers-verse and for Loki/Sif as I continue my trope bingo challenge.
As it turns out, it doesn't matter if the library has information regarding their mysterious cup, because their mother is exactly as knowledgeable about it as she is insightful about them. She's also wise enough to realize that the hallway is a spectacularly terrible place to have a conversation that one might not want to be overheard.
"Not here," she'd told them crisply, immediately following her question to Loki.
She hadn't told them to follow her. She hadn't needed to. All three of them had trailed after her to her private sitting room in total silence. If it was somewhat reminiscent to the brothers, sheepishly squirming under Frigga's knowing gaze and awaiting punishment for some bit of mischief or tussle, well… that was probably Frigga's intent.
"Well?" She'd prompted the moment she'd secured the door behind them. "How is it that my sons have managed to switch their souls, Loki?"
"Why does everyone assume it's my doing?" Loki had asked petulantly.
Frigga had not indulged him with an answer, instead leveling him with a withering look that even Loki winced at. The story had tumbled from his lips rather quickly after that.
Now, with most of the tale selectively confessed - none of them are particularly keen to address why Sif is involved - Frigga seems less angry, perhaps, but substantially more exasperated.
"The cup," she begins, "I presume it to be thin and made of a translucent deep blue stone with etchings that look as though they might nearly go the whole way through the chalice?"
"You know it!" Thor exclaims with jubilance that frankly looks a bit silly on Loki's face.
"I should," Frigga tells them. "I watched my father craft it."
"He made it?" Thor asks. "Whatever for?"
"More importantly, did he create a way to reverse its effects?" Loki asks.
"It is a chalice, my sons," Frigga says, eyeing both of them as she jots something down on some parchment before sealing it with her stamp in wax. "How do you think its effects might be undone?"
Loki scoffs and shakes his head a little bit at his mother's words.
"We drink from it," he says, looking a little miffed that this idea hadn't occurred to him sooner.
"You drink from it," she confirms with a slight nod of her head.
"But how are we to obtain the chalice?" Thor puzzles. "For it resides beyond our reach on Alfheim and I cannot imagine the elves would simply hand it over with no explanation."
"Think you they would deny the Aesir queen the right to borrow her own father's creation?" Frigga asks.
"They would not," Loki says with great certainty.
"In truth, I should like very much to see it again," Frigga admits, a small smile gracing her lips and a far-away look living in her eyes. "Some of my earliest memories are of my father fashioning that cup as I sat at his feet with all of the impatience of youth, begging him to take me riding or swimming instead.
"'Tell me, ástin mín,' he said to me. 'How can the Dökkálfar and the Ljósálfar begin to find peace if they cannot even learn to see each other's points of views?" She recalls.
"He sought to unite the elves?" Loki questions skeptically. "His time would have been better served spending it as you had wanted. The Dark Elves were savage beasts."
"Be not so disbelieving, my son," Frigga smiles. "If you believe the worst in someone, they will prove you right more often than not. Yet, sometimes, faith and compassion can bring about the most miraculous of changes."
"But it didn't work," Thor says. "King Bor destroyed the dark elf menace for the good of the realms."
"It did work, actually… for a time," Frigga replies. "But that is a complicated tale for another time and we have more pressing issues at the moment. Lady Sif, might I impose upon you to deliver this missive to the Alfheim court with the greatest expediency? If all goes as I expect, I would hope for you to return with the cup in hand by this eve."
"I would be most honored, my queen," Sif says, taking the paper with a bow of her head.
She leaves immediately thereafter, but not without her eyes flicking toward the princes.
"Tell me," Frigga says to her sons as the door shuts behind Sif. "How did Lady Sif come to know of your situation?"
"Er… she recognized that we were not our true selves," Thor says shiftily.
"And however did she do that?" Frigga asks them.
"Fighting styles," Loki interjects before Thor can speak.
"Yes," Thor agrees, looking wholly relieved that Loki has stepped in.
"...Of course," Frigga muses in a tone that neither of her sons are fond of. "She is an observant woman and a true and loyal friend to the both of you."
If she focuses her gaze wholly on Loki as she speaks, that's just one more thing that neither of the princes will choose to acknowledge later.
Sif returns with the chalice before supper and delivers it directly to Frigga's hands. The queen looks at the cup with such reminiscence and affection that Sif dips her head in respect rather than watch.
"I thank you, Lady Sif," Frigga says after a moment, placing a hand on the shield maiden's shoulder. "Both on my own behalf and on behalf of my sons."
"It is my honor, as always, my queen," Sif replies.
"I'm certain you are most tired from your travels today, but if you would not mind, might I ask you to send both of my sons to me before you retire for the day?" Frigga asks her.
"Of course," Sif agrees readily.
In all honesty, she is more restless than she is tired. The queen's missive certainly sped her through the process of the Alfheim court's formalities for receiving visitors, but there was still a fair bit of standing around waiting and inaction has never sat well with Sif. Regardless of that, however, Sif cannot imagine ever being tired enough to refuse a task bid her by the queen.
She seeks out Thor first. It's unintentional, really. Her feet just steer themselves towards Loki's rooms on their own, which is not surprising but is something she's going to try not to think about too closely. Thor is there, hair still untamed, and her lips twitch in amusement and thinly veiled affection at the sight.
"You have returned victorious, then!" Thor booms immediately upon opening Loki's door, ruining any possible illusion of him being Loki.
"It was hardly an epic quest worthy of song, Thor," she says disbelievingly.
"That all depends on how you tell it," Thor declares with a grin.
He's not entirely wrong. Fandral's stories alone are proof enough of that.
"And yet... " Thor continues, following her out of the room into the empty hall, "I much appreciate your discretion in refraining from sharing this particular tale."
"Believe me," she replies, "I have a greater want for discretion in all this than you do. You needn't worry about the looseness of my tongue."
"That is…" Thor begins before cutting himself off. "I will, of course, respect your want for privacy, but I must admit I wonder at it."
Sif huffs a little at his words. She ought have expected something like this, really. Ought have, but hadn't. Thor is refreshingly open. It's one of the things she adores about her friend, but he can't seem to understand why others don't live their lives in the same way - laid bare for all to see. There is no way in which he and Loki are more opposite than this.
"Court gossip is kinder to you than to I… or to Loki," Sif says, highlighting one of the many reasons she'd rather her relationship with Loki remain unknown. "And besides, I would scarcely have the words to define it anyhow."
"Hmm," Thor says pensively, brow furrowed as he nods. "And yet… after all this time, mayhap it would be to your benefit to at least sort that bit out between yourselves."
Her feet stop abruptly and she stares at him a bit agape.
"Truthfully, Thor? You think to offer me relationship advice?" She asks bewildered.
"I would not be so bold as that," Thor assures her. "I merely… I worry for you and for my brother, that perhaps you each have separate expectations for this attachment. Loki displays little, but it is evident to me that he feels much."
"And you worry that I do not," Sif says.
It's not a question.
"I admit… I do not know," Thor says plainly.
"What would you bid me say, Thor?" She demands. "Do you need to hear me say I love him?"
"Sif, I would not presume-" Thor begins.
"I do," she interrupts, chin held high but no small amount of vulnerability in her voice. "I love him madly. In truth perhaps that makes me mad, for he is not an easy man to love."
The words have sat upon her lips unsaid for so long that they tumble easily, desperate to be heard at last, by Loki's ears if not by Loki himself. And, oh, it is a strange thing to finally speak such things to Loki's face but have her admission go unheard by her lover. A look of deep sympathy softens Loki's eyes and if ever Sif had seriously entertained a notion of saying this to Loki himself, that look alone would have killed it. She cannot bear the pity worn upon his face. Not over this.
"You've not told him this in all the decades you've been together?" Thor asks too gently.
"How think you he would take such a confession?" Sif questions in challenge.
"I should think any man would be happy to hear such a thing from you. And Loki has more reason than most to desire it," Thor says kindly.
"Perhaps," Sif acknowledges. "If he believed me."
"You think he would not?" Thor asks in surprise.
"Thor… he is Loki," Sif sighs. "When does he take anything at face value?"
"He is suspicious by nature," Thor agrees. "But surely with all the history between you, he would have faith in such a notion."
His words are not quite a question but there is a lack of certainty in his voice that Sif feels in her bones.
"Loki believes best what he thinks himself to have discovered," Sif asserts. "I cannot tell him. But I will continue to show him. And, perhaps, one day he will see it for himself."
"I love my brother dearly, but I wonder if you are not better than he deserves," Thor says.
Sif snorts at that.
"On the contrary, my friend," she smiles, grateful for the lightness their conversation has twisted toward. "I am combative and hardheaded and bold to an unseemly degree. There are many who would argue I am precisely the sort of person Loki deserves."
Thor grins broadly.
"Well… when you put it that way…"
Sif grins back.
"Your mother awaits you, my friend," Sif tells him, still smiling. "I shall seek out Loki and send him in your wake. When next I see you, I hope for you to be in your own form."
"On that, dear friend, we most assuredly agree," he replies, giving a little bow of Loki's head and turning down the hall toward his mother's rooms.
In the end, it is far simpler than either Thor or Loki would have presumed to end this entire charade. With their grandfather's cup full of water from the Well of Urðr - something Loki seems positively stunned that their mother has readily on hand - it takes but two sips and a few moments of unconsciousness before Thor finds errant strands of blond hair once again impeding his vision.
Thank the Norns.
The itch of magic is gone from beneath his skin and the heat no longer bothers him so. And yet… and yet there is much of the experience that has stuck with him. This is, of course, the very point of the chalice. It has done its job well.
Immediately upon awakening, Loki conjures dozens of duplicates of himself. For the first time, Thor recognizes the look of relief that settles lightly upon his brother's face as the build-up of magic bleeds off of him.
"Was conjuring a ball of light really all that difficult?" Loki drawls as the duplicates dissolve around him.
"Anything is difficult when attempted for the first time," Thor reminds him, earning a small smile of agreement from their mother. "You've said for many a century that you are a master of the magical arts. Until this day, I had not known the truth of that."
Loki watches him warily, obviously waiting for some qualifying statement that waters down the compliment, but Thor gives none. Somehow this serves to make Loki all the more unsettled.
"I have much to do," Loki says after a long moment of silence. "Mother, you have my thanks."
"Of course," Frigga demures. "Do pass along my gratitude to Lady Sif… when next you see her."
Thor covers a chuckle with a coughing fit and Loki can't seem to decide which of them he wants more to glare at. In the end, he seems to settle for darting his narrowed eyes between them before nodding sharply and turning to leave the two of them alone in each other's company.
"You've learned much these past two days, my son," Frigga says knowingly, staring after the empty space where Loki had stood before turning to Thor.
"Aye," Thor agrees. "I must admit, in some ways I see Loki now in a new light."
"And he you, I am certain," Frigga smiles.
Thor is less sure of this. There is little for Loki to discover about him that he does not already know.
"Perhaps," he allows agreeably.
"For all the folly in your actions that led you to this little adventure, I cannot help but think it might foster a deeper, richer friendship between you," Frigga tells Thor watchfully. "And ensure a… better understanding of how your actions might affect each other."
Thor raises an eyebrow at his mother, for her comment lacks all of her usual subtlety.
"Indeed," says Thor. "And on that note, might you know where I can find father? I should like to provide him with a more decisive answer to his proposal."
He had never been of a mind to marry Sif, but he would not have discounted it so entirely were it not for Loki's now-obvious attachment to her. Perhaps Loki and Sif will remain stubbornly unclear with each other or perhaps they will end whatever semblance of a relationship they have, but - for love of them both - Thor will have no hand in.
Frigga's smile is broad and full of pride. She touches her palm to her elder son's cheek with motherly affection.
"I am glad at this choice," Frigga tells him. "And yet, your father was right in one aspect. She would make a mighty queen."
"Aye," Thor agrees. "She would… given the right king."
"Given the right king," Frigga echoes with a nod.
Thor might be the right king for Asgard one day - he believes he will with all of his conviction - and yet, he will never be the right king for Sif. Not as queen. And it is past time to end such notions in his father's mind.
She falls beside him on the bed, bare and breath heaving and skin slick with sweat. Undoubtedly, her pulse is slowly edging toward normal, as his still is. She is languorous, stretched out against his cool ivory sheets, at ease in a way he rarely sees her in public.
He is immeasurably glad to be back in his own body.
"Mmm," she hums, a contented little noise as she turns on her side to face him and lets her fingers drag through his still-untamed hair.
He did not leave it curly for her. He did not. He… merely hadn't had the time to rectify his brother's mistreatment of his locks. That is all.
That's his story and he's sticking to it.
"I am glad to have you back," Sif says.
"Had I gone somewhere?" Loki asks, trying not to groan or whimper or anything else wholly embarrassing but - by Yggdrasil - Thor was right about the feel of her fingers in his hair.
If he dips his head a little toward her to let her more easily drag her nails against his scalp, he will never admit to it.
"You had split in two and left me wanting for the whole," she tells him. "For I cannot imagine being satisfied having but half of you."
He cannot help but grin at her words, triumph or affection or something pulsing in his veins. It is so rare that he is chosen over Thor. For anything. And to think she prefers himself in his own body over either his mind in Thor's or Thor's mind in his… that is no small thing. Not to Loki.
"Well… far be it from me to leave the lady unsatisfied," he responds, tracing a finger lightly down her side and delighting at the shudder that follows in its wake.
"No such worries now, my prince," she says, breath catching as his thumb traces the inner curve of her hipbone.
"And yet, as prince, it is my obligation to see to the needs of my people, is it not?" He asks, dipping his mouth to nip at the skin of her collarbone.
"I… ah… I believe it is," she responds unevenly, draping a leg over his hip and pulling his body closer to hers.
"So, perhaps I owe some additional recompense for my earlier inattention to your needs," he speaks against her skin as his lips work their way downward to her breast.
"That was understandably out of your control, my prince, and I would not have wanted the attentions of half of you. But… who am I to refuse a favour from the crown?" She asks with something between a laugh and a moan.
He rolls atop her, settling himself between her thighs and dipping down to kiss her lips. The press of his mouth to hers is long and cherishing. When he finally pulls back he takes in the dazed, happy look in her eyes as he brushes a stray lock of dark hair away from her cheek.
"Who, indeed," he echoes softly.
It is scarcely two weeks before their next adventure begins. Goblins on Vanaheim have been ransacking some of the smaller villages, stealing and slaughtering their way through the Vanir old country. It is an honorable and pleasurable quest to seek out such beasts and bring the villages back to their normal peaceful state.
Loki, Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three set out together on their campaign for honor and glory and recovering of stolen riches. Thor's mostly in it for the songs they will sing of his victory; Loki's mostly in it for the magical relics they might recover. But, regardless of that, it's an honorable quest and Odin has happily bid them forth to defend the Vanir.
And, anyhow, it feels good for things to finally be back to normal.
The goblins are easy enough to find, having built themselves a series of tunnels and caves through the nearby mountainside. They are brutal things, small with sharp, poisonous teeth and long razor-like claws. But they are no match for Asgard's finest and it takes but a few hours for the menace to be exterminated.
"Are there no more?" Sif asks with a huff of frustration as she yanks her glaive free of the last goblin's corpse.
"Has the battle in your blood not yet been sated, my lady?" Loki smirks toward her. "Need you more adventure? Perhaps you ought find a healthier outlet for such aggressions."
Fandral and Volstagg shake their heads a bit at Loki's baiting but Thor shudders a little because after their last adventure he's pretty sure this is their version of foreplay and he'd really rather not know that.
"Tempting her into a duel here, while likely entertaining, is perhaps not the best idea," Fandral counsels Loki. "And besides! There is treasure to be found!"
Sif stares at Loki hard enough and long enough that he's certain securing the stolen relics and making their way back to camp will be infinitely more entertaining than a duel.
"Goblins would keep their loot in the lowest point of their tunnels," Loki says by way of agreement.
"Then downward we shall go!" Volstagg declares, thumping Hogun on the back and ducking to make his way through the tunnels.
"They shall know if you continue to be so obvious," Thor says in a hushed voice to Loki as the two of them keep toward the back of their small group.
"Sixty years of such comments and they've not noticed before," Loki reminds him, both of them hunched awkwardly to fit through the goblin tunnels.
Thor wonders at that. Have they always been so blatant? Has he truly missed the underlying current of their banter for decades? It seems so obvious to him now.
"Look at all of this!" Fandral's voice rings out and Thor shakes off his thoughts to look around the small cavern they've tumbled into.
It is clear that the goblins have been stashing their treasures here for many years. Forever craving anything shiny, the goblins have piles of coin and jewelry and ceremonial relics that far surpass Thor's expectations.
"What a tremendous find," Fandral says with a bit of awe as he reaches toward the pile.
But it is not jewelry or coin he reaches towards. No, it is a finely crafted, paper-thin chalice with detailed etchings. For a long moment, Thor's breath catches in his throat and his eyes go wide.
"No!" He cries, his voice in concert with Sif and Loki's as Fandral's fingers wrap around the stem of the cup and his eyes roll back up into his head.
Hogun and Volstagg crouch worriedly next to their friend, each of them touching his unconscious form before immediately passing out themselves. Thor sighs and looks to Sif who is rolling her eyes and Loki who seems entirely too amused given the circumstances.
"Well, Sif," says Loki with a clever smile. "You wanted more adventure."
"And yet, this is not quite what I had in mind," she counters.
"Perhaps, in the future, you ought be more specific," Loki says, staring down at the prone forms of the Warriors Three.
"What are we to do with them?" Sif questions, eyeing the warriors.
"Leave them?" Loki suggests, earning malice-filled glares. "A jest… merely a jest."
"Let us wait for them to awaken and see what this chalice has done, for whilst its maker is clearly familiar it may yet prove to have unique properties," Thor says.
"True," Loki admits. "T'would be a pity, though. I'd rather like to see Fandral deal with Volstagg's beard and Volstagg's appetite in Hogun's body."
"Of course you would find this amusing," Sif berates him lightly. "Now that its not happening to you."
"I've no idea what you're talking about, Sif," Loki says loftily. "For surely such a fate would never befall a prince of Asgard. Right, Thor?"
"My brother speaks the truth, Lady Sif," Thor nods. "We know not of what you speak and we shall deny such an experience until our dying days."
"Of course you will."
