Sif trained with the warriors three until the sun was high in the heavens, tanning her limbs and causing sweat to drip from her body. None of the warriors questioned the whereabouts of the second prince, as it had long passed the days when he used to train with them. When the warriors broke for lunch, much to Volstagg's delight, Sif took her leave, heading to the forest past the sparring grounds. It was about a half hour trek to the spot she sought, for she knew once she arrived she would find the second prince sprawled by the hidden lake, and surrounded with his books and scrolls.

She could tell when she was close by the concealment spell that tingled through her skin, allowing her passage but sparking her with static and filling the air with the faint current of magic. She wasn't sure if she was the only one allowed through the barrier he had erected, but as she had never seen anyone else here with Loki, she assumed so.

He was where she had presumed him to be, sitting in the shade surrounded by his books on spells and ancient history. He didn't turn to look at her, though she was sure he had detected her presence ever since she set off into the forest. However, he was more concentrated on his books than usual, his naturally stoic countenance clouded with thought. Unbuckling her sword from her waist, Sif dropped to his side, casting the weapon aside and pressing her back against his. She leaned her head back against his lean shoulder, sweeping her raven tresses up and letting them tumble down onto his chest, knowing the act would distract him from his studies. Soon enough she felt his long fingers threading through her hair, and she knew he had finally abandoned his books. Sif did not turn, however, allowing Loki to continue to weave the dark strands he had helped create. It had been many years since the day his jealousy had drove him to shearing the beautiful golden locks from her, and she had long since forgiven him for his childish prank.

"Do you wish it had remained golden?" He questioned suddenly, surprising Sif. It had long passed the days wherein she had mourned the loss of her golden locks.

"I do not," she replied assuredly, "but why do you question such things now?"

His hands stilled in her hair, and she could hear him sigh, but he did not respond. With a flick of his wrist, his books and scrolls disappeared from the glen. "I will be taking a trip tomorrow, one that will require my leave for at least a week." Surprised, Sif rolled around to sit facing him.

"Who is accompanying you? Is it official business—" Sif began, but Loki shook his head.

"I will be unaccompanied, but in no danger." Sif eyed him warily, but let the subject drop, as he clearly was not going to provide any more details of his trip. Usually he would just disappear for a fortnight, and return with a few new bruises and a new scroll or some magical artifact, and Sif would beat him for leaving her without a word, but it was the way they worked. That he should even be telling her he was leaving meant his trip was of a different nature than usual, but if he promised that he was in no danger, she would trust his word. It was not as if he was helpless. But Sif knew the toll overusing his magic could wreck upon his body, one she had seen him do many times as he simply disregarded his physical limits in favor of succeeding in whatever his journey was. So it was useless to try and avoid the anxiousness she felt about him leaving.
Loki watched her eye him carefully, trying not to provoke her suspicion. While the journey was certainly not the most dangerous of escapades he had been a part of, it had many opportunities to go in an undesired way, and he would rather save her the worry, when he was confident enough in his charisma to charm, or magic, his way out of any situation. Besides, he was travelling to Svartálfaheimr mainly for her sake.

That night, after the whole of Asgard had feasted on the products of Thor's most recent hunt, Loki disappeared to his chambers, where the final preparations were being made for his journey. Sif found him this way, checking over his belongings for anything that might be of use. Slipping behind him and wrapping her arms around him, she spoke into his neck, her warm breath heating the cool skin exposed there. "Are you sure you don't need a doppelganger?" She asked softly, trying not to let her concern pervade her words.

On more than one occasion when Loki's journey took longer than a few days, he would leave a clone, so as his absence would not be too suspicious. While it mostly stayed in the library, it helped quell the questions servants and guards might ask as to the second prince's whereabouts. Once, when he had been gone for a particularly long stint, he had Sif walk around under his guise. Though in the short time he had been gone, she had managed to lose (or steal) half of his throwing knives, as well as convince Thor that he was thoroughly impressed with his hour-long rendition of the time he slayed a frost wyrm, and Thor had taken it upon himself to recount the tale six more times in the following weeks. Needless to say, after that, Sif was no longer considered as a doppelganger.

Loki shook his head, pulling her into him. "I shouldn't be gone long enough for anyone to notice," he said cynically, his eyes darkening for a second until Sif kicked him hard enough to shift his focus back to her, his darkened eyes narrowing to glare at her, though now they conveyed more irritation than cynicism.

"And I suppose I do not count?" she questioned indignantly, pushing him away from his preparations and towards the bed. He grinned, letting her lead him to the bed and sitting as his knees hit the edge.

"My dear, are you missing me already?" He smirked, feeding her irritation. She pushed him back, closing the space between them and meeting his mouth with hers, kissing him hard and capturing his silver tongue, tasting magic and mint. He returned her kiss with surprising vigor, their bodies joining in an adept confluence, their practiced movements tinged with the sadness of separation, and the emotion of words left unspoken.

A/N
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