Sif turned to look at him from across the room, but his back was facing her, his head in his hands. She couldn't see the expression he wore, but she knew she didn't have to. Suddenly, his behavior made perfect sense. She had no idea how he knew, Magnus maybe, but she was too tired and too disheartened by his actions to confront him about something she was clearly not meant to hear.

She turned again and made her way to the washroom, sobbing silently to herself as she removed her tunic and stripped down to her undergarments. Focusing on one step at a time, one breath at a time, she methodically made her way over to the bath and turned on the water until it was temperate. She stared at herself momentarily in the full length mirror, crossing her arms over her stomach and closing her eyes as she held on tightly to the rune still hanging around her neck.

Footsteps sounded quietly behind her, but she kept her eyes close, too tired to open them, too afraid to see the disappointment in his eyes. Familiar fingers came softly to remove the pins in her hair, letting her locks fall around her bare shoulders. His hands moved carefully to sweep the hair in one motion behind her back, his fingertips making her shiver as they brushed delicately against her skin.

She opened her eyes as he walked over to the bath to check the rising water. She moved carefully towards him, avoiding his eyes and proceeded to remove the rest of her clothes. When she looked up, he was gazing at her, his eyes heavy with fatigue and sadness, his expression apologetic. Loki said nothing yet held out a hand which she took hesitantly. He helped her up the steps to the wash basin and she lowered herself with the help of his grip.

Sinking down into the warmth of the water, Sif leaned back against the wall, sighing heavily. She looked over at him as he sat on the steps, his head and crossed arms draped over the edge of the tub, the water just barely touching the tips of his long black locks as they fell over the side. Her fingers reached for them, and he looked up at her as she gently tugged on his long, soft curls.

"Join me?" she blinked, asking hopefully, though she need not ask him twice.

He leisurely removed his briefs, letting them fall to his feet as he stepped out of them. She gawked at him in the rays of the moonlight. He truly was not of this realm she thought to herself, but in a way, she always knew that. Skin as pale and as beautiful as the Jotun snow, hair as black as Odin's ravens, Huginn and Muninn. His eyes changed from blue to grey to green (depending on his mood, she was convinced), but no matter the color, they were always his most prominent feature. Those eyes, those beautifully forlorn eyes that searched endlessly for love and acceptance. She didn't hate him for the way he acted. Not even a little. For as much as she didn't understand him sometimes, there were some things she could.

Loki sank down into the deep, warm waters of the basin, submerging his head as he did so. When he came back up he took a deep breath, perfectly slicking his hair back and leaning against the opposite wall from her. She suddenly noticed scars she hadn't before – indentations around his wrists and neck – undoubtedly from his time in the dungeons. The more she looked at him, the more wounds she saw. She suddenly felt sick. No doubt he had committed heinous acts, no doubt he was a troubled soul… but in treating him the way they did, the way everyone did – it was no wonder he had gone so far down the wrong path. She partly blamed herself for that.

He noticed her looking at him, knew she was eyeing his scars and suddenly, he felt ashamed. He knew she was reiterating the events of Midgard in her head – something he knew he would never be free of. He grabbed a washrag and a vial of cleansing oils off the side of the tub and began to scrub vigorously at himself, wishing the scars would come off along with the dirt.

Sif swam across the tub and took the cloth gingerly from him. He had scrubbed so hard his pale skin was turning bright pink in certain areas. He didn't seem to sense pain in the way everyone else did, she thought to herself. Either that or he just didn't care.

"By the Allfather, what were you doing today? Rolling around in the mud?" Her hands touched the side of his face as she straddled him, the wet warmth of her bare body pressing against his hard torso.

He looked up at her sheepishly, placing his hands softly at the base of her hips. "I guess you could say that," he nodded.

Sif gently wiped his face clean with the rag then moved to do the same to his arms and chest. She pulled him up against her and continued to wash his back, holding his neck in her hand as he rested his head on her shoulder. Loki breathed deeply, secretly taking in the scent of her hair as it fell across his face. His rough hands moved gently to the velvety skin of her back and he embraced her, holding her tightly against him. For the first time since his mother died, despite all the horror he had felt today, he felt safe. Protected. Loved.

"What is it, my darling…,"she asked quietly, placing the towel down and returning the fervor of his embrace.

"I will never deserve you," he whispered, smiling faintly against her skin. "I think I must somehow make peace with that."

"You know that isn't the truth," she replied earnestly, breaking their hold on one another. She looked up into his eyes, but he looked away. She knew wherever his mind was now was far from where she currently sat beside him.

Loki said nothing but slowly came to and turned her around until her back faced his chest. He took her soft, thick locks between his fingertips and began to pull gently against them, forming one long single braid down the middle of her back. Sif smiled to herself as he began to do so, and proceeded to question him amusedly despite knowing the answer.

"Where did you learn to braid hair so well, Silvertongue?" she said teasingly, looking down at her fingers as they made ripples in the water.

"Thor," Loki said bluntly, laughing to himself. "He was always such a woman."

Sif laughed loudly and leaned back into his chest, wrapping her arms around his head and gently pulling his hair down so his lips met the nape of her neck.

"No," Loki whispered into her skin, firmly yet tenderly pulling her braid down so her chin lifted up to him. He softly wrapped his hand around her neck and tilted her head back so their eyes met. "As I remember it," Loki said quietly, his eyes burning into hers, "a beautiful young shield maiden threatened to assault me if I didn't learn."

She closed her eyes as his fingers closed in around her throat, a warm desire suddenly spreading throughout her body and between her legs. The power he held over her was exasperating. He was the one person that could break her in half, both physically and mentally, and she knew it. They both knew it. Sif could bring Thor to his knees at times during their skirmishes, but Loki's quick wit and cunning temperament always held the upper hand when it came to the two of them. He was intelligent, yes, but most underestimated his physical prowess in comparison to Thor's. Sif knew better.

Quickly gathering her thoughts, she spoke, glaring up at him slyly. "So you cut off her hair…"

"I was so tired of braiding," he rolled his eyes sarcastically, beaming at her. His smile quickly faded as his gaze fell upon the rune. He hadn't quite noticed it until now.

"Ah," he sighed, eyeing the stone carefully. "It seems as though you have protection from me after all."

Sif swallowed. Certainly she hadn't forgotten her current state or the extreme events of the day, but she was enjoying pretending as if, for once, everything was normal between them.

"I don't need protection from you," she spoke frankly, suddenly breaking free of his grasp and moving to the opposite end of the tub to distance herself.

"Sif, I don't have a very good track record of keeping those I love safe from harm. In fact, I'm usually the damaging force."

"You weren't in your right mind. You haven't been. And those who claim to love you haven't done a proper job of keeping you safe from harm either."

"Don't make excuses for me," Loki snapped. "There are none for the things I have done. And tonight- I could have-"

"Stop it," she interrupted angrily, quickly standing and stepping out of the tub. "You didn't hurt me. You wouldn't hurt me. You haven't hurt me."

She looked back and could tell by the look he gave her now that he was angry, but a heavy fear and sadness in his eyes was much more apparent. He had no idea how to inform her of the pregnancy, no idea how she would react to the news that her life was in danger, never mind the lives of her unborn children – CHILDREN! By the Gods! The thought made him weak. Certainly she would leave him now, or find a way to. He knew he didn't want to tell her – the fear of her leaving him – he felt like a child afraid of abandonment. But he knew he must tell her, as much as it broke him.

"I told you I don't need protection from you," she said, practically reading his thoughts. Her hands moved slowly down to her stomach as she looked down.

"But I do need protection… for them."