Prompt - "Do you regret it?"

Post-Ragnarok, Pre-IW. Taking place in an alternate timeline obvs were Sif was on Asgard during Ragnarok and is on the ship traveling back to Earth.


The knock on his door was unexpected, and the figure darkening his door at such a late hour was even more unexpected. Loki's first instinct was to run and hide, and that must have shown on his face.

"Relax," Sif huffed. "I'm not here to kill you, even though I have every right to."

Her fierce tone and vague threat did little to strip him of his impulse to flee, but he couldn't deny that he'd also secretly desired to see her face again. While wearing his own face, and not his father's mask. He shifted on his feet, unsure.

"I've actually brought you something," she held up a small decanter that sloshed with a golden colored liquid. "Consider it a peace offering?" Loki considered it for a moment.

"If I accept, do you promise to let me keep my head?"

"I promise." She crossed her arm over her chest to mark the sincerity of her words. And then pushed past him into the chambers he'd claimed as his own on the vessel, pushing the bottle into his chest.

"Oh please, do come in." Loki's sarcasm was ignored by the warrior. She dropped down on the edge of his bed. Loki tried his best to ignore the flashes of memory that intruded into his thoughts of all the other times Sif had been in his head. He shook his head to clear it. That was before, a lifetime ago. He pulled the stopper free from the bottle to keep his itching hands occupied.

"Drink up," Sif waved her hand in his direction. "Before I change my mind about the whole taking your head off issue. Unlike the dwarves, I'm less likely to be talked out of it."

Loki suppressed a smile at the old memory of his trickery and bowed low to the shieldmaiden and then took a large pull of the rich, almond-tasting liquor. That really was one of his best bluffs. But he knew better than to assume that if Sif really wanted him dead she wouldn't settle for simply sewing his mouth shut.

The liquid passed over his tongue pleasantly, smoothly. He was bringing the bottle back up to his lips to indulge a little more when he felt the fire in his stomach flare.

"What in the- What is this?" He looked at Sif. She was grinning smugly, leaned back casually on his bed.

"The Valkyrie told me all about the Grandmaster's many strange collections. Including a stash of potions." Sif sat upright and leaned towards him. "Now, tell me, Silvertongue, how does that one make you feel?"

"I feel like a snake is coiled in my belly, waiting to strike," the words feel from his lips easily. Too easily. Shit. Loki felt an overwhelming panic. And then he was livid. "A truth serum?!"

"Something like that, yes," Sif stood up and sauntered closer to him. Loki felt like a rabbit caught in a trap, utterly vulnerable but unable to move. His words had always been his best defense.

"You didn't have to give me a serum!" He growled through gritted teeth, trying not to let his alarm creep into his voice. "If you simply asked, I would have gladly told you everythi- Arghh!" Loki's lie was cut short, a venomous fire churned in his gut, revealing the falsehood of his words.

"Oh," Loki held his abdomen and looked away from Sif, his righteous anger fizzling out a bit when he was unable to hide behind his lies.

"Mmm," Sif leaned forward and cupped a hand to her ear. "What was that, darling?" Loki stood up straight again as the pain calmed in his stomach and he glared at her mask of faux-innocence. Her lovely, brutal face.

"I don't like this," he hissed. He had to stop himself from voicing all the other truths that rose in his head. He had many, many secrets that he wished to keep.

"No, I imagine you don't."

"I hate you," he seethed. And then the serum roiled and burned, stealing his breath in a wretched gasp. "Ah! I want to hate you, but I can't." He amended his words and felt the fire cool in his gut, but he couldn't stop from continuing. "Not when my heart still carries such affection for you." In a panic, Loki bit down on his lip, bruising the tender skin to stop the dangerous rush of truth.

She paused at that, her eyes going wide and something like pain and regret crossing her lovely features. It was utterly unbearable. Loki's eyes darted towards the door, he could still run.

"Truly, Loki," she squared her shoulders and faced him, her hand resting on his arm to keep him in place. "I only have one question for you, and then I will go."

He blinked in surprise at her words. What could she want to know so desperately that she would resort to this? His curiosity was nearly as overwhelming as his dread. He tensed, and waited. Sif seemed frozen for a moment as well, suddenly unsure as her eyes searched his face and then dropped to the floor. Her hand remained on his forearm.

"Do you regret it?" her voice was a barely above a whisper. The sorrow, the anguish in it sunk into his bones.

Did he regret leading them to Jotunheim and discovering his life was a lie? Undoubtedly. Did he regret letting go and tumbling from the Bifrost? In the moment the pain was too great for any other choice. Did he regret who found him after he fell? Certainly. Was he sorry for stealing his father's image? That was quite fun actually. Did he second guess pausing to take the blue cube from the vault? Did he regret telling that monster which stairway to take towards Frigga? Did he regret each and every lie and moment of deceit he'd ever forged?

The truth and lies warred within him, churning his insides and dancing on his tongue. His mouth twisted, gaped and snapped shut as he battled to keep it at bay.

"You'll have to be more specific," he choked and gripped the cursed bottle tighter in his hand. Sif's eyes lifted back up to his, watching the struggle straining his features. She tried again.

"Do you regret us? Me?"

This time, the vulnerability lived in her eyes. The sight made his heart clench with something delicate. She hungrily searched his face for the revelation of a lie. His stomach felt cool and calm. There was no lie to read in his face, in his answer. It was the truth.

"No." He brought his free hand up to cover her own, where it still gripped him. "I'll never regret that."

She blinked, once and then rapidly, and nodded in satisfaction. "I am glad. Thank you." She pulled her hand out from under his and stepped around him, heading for the door. He felt a sudden wave of relief; that she did not press further, that she shared his sentiment, that the truth was out and he was unburdened from keeping it hidden. His chest burned unrelated to the serum.

"Sif?" He called out to her suddenly, stilling her hand from pushing the door open. She turned to him in question. "How long will this last?" he waved a hand in front of himself.

"Brunnhilde's best guess was an hour, maybe more maybe less." She turned back towards the door.

"Will you stay?" His long fingers picked at his palm.

"Loki, I-" Sif looked unsure.

"I want you to stay," he clarified. The liquid creeping into his veins remained quiet. He lifted a hand toward her, palm up. "Please. I.. I have missed you terribly, and I want you to stay. I have some things I wish to tell you."

Slowly, Sif crossed back across his chambers and placed her hand in his. Her other darted out to take the decanter from his grasp and swiftly bring it to her lips. She smiled as she dragged the back of her hand across her mouth, her eyes bright and her face calm.

"As do I. I've missed you too."