Loki awoke with a throbbing headache, the pressure at his temples stronger than he remembered it being in centuries. It had been decades since he had imbibed that much ale, and it was obvious he would be regretting that decision for the rest of the day. Groaning softly at the intensified pain as he sat up, memories of the night before trickled back in, though it was quite obvious he would not be remembering the finer points of the evening. There had been a bar...perhaps some dwarves. Ah yes...two, three of them? Loki was having a hard time recalling the events that transgressed, but knew they would come back eventually. By his guess, he still had a few days to spend on Svartálfaheimr before the dwarf brothers finished his items and he could return home. There was no reason why he couldn't simply relax and let a few select spells try to dull the ache of his head and the churning in his gut.

Sif paced.

It had been almost a week since Loki had contacted her, and while this was not an unusual occurrence, the idea that he was alone on a less than hospitable realm chafed at her with each passing hour. She had not yet betrayed his confidence, hoping that he was simply delayed, and would return quickly with some elaborate tale. But as the days passed, it ate away at her, for it was not like him to have gone so long without at least a signal or a simple message. She would never admit to it, but Sif was worried. And unease did not sit well with her, for she was not one to wait. Action rang through her, for she is the fight, she is War; she is not Patience. But Sif trusted Loki implicitly, and waited for his signal, biding her time before she could spring into action.

It did not help that the palace is bustling with action, making arrangements for visiting dignitaries. Or someone important. Sif never cared to keep up on the gossip of the palace; that was Loki's calling. It meant only that she would have to polish her finer armor, and once again talk her dressmaidens from garbing her in silken dresses. Sif's biggest concern was that Loki would be missed at the ceremonies, for his customary spot at her side would be a glaring slight that the more temperamental of races would see as a direct insult to their company.

This thought did nothing to calm her temperament.

When Loki's spells had finally started to take effect, and the throbbing at his temples dulled to a manageable level, Loki called upon Sif, knowing she would be less than forgiving at his rather juvenile predicament.

Sif had just returned from sparring with Hogun when the mirror in her bedroom flashed, swirling with shadows and green light before the image of Loki sprang into view, looking paler than usual. From what she could see, though, he was unharmed, and that gave her leave to berate the trickster god for his extended absence.

"How is your vacation?" Sif started bitingly, working to unstrap the gauntlets from her forearms. "Have you found a dwarven bride to warm your bed yet?"

Loki rolled his eyes, Sif's barbs expected yet comforting in their regularity.

"My dear, if you miss me, you have only to come out and say so," he replied teasingly, enjoying the way her eyebrows drew together as she glared at him. Sif said nothing in response, once again returning her attention to the buckles on her vambrances, pulling the armor from her body.

"Your absence will be noticed soon," she said curtly, trying to avoid the knowing smirk on his face that would gloat at her obvious subject change.

"Will it now?" Loki asked, amused and trying to hide the smirk that adorned his face. "Surely Asgard has not fallen into ruin during my leave."

Sif sighed, not trying to hide her annoyance. "There are foreign dignitaries arriving soon. Would you insult them with your absence?"

Loki rolled his eyes, adding to Sif's irritation. "Surely they are not that temperamental," Loki teased, but Sif chose to ignore him, focusing again on her armor and trying to feign indifference to his teasing. Loki sighed, knowing that he had pushed her too far for now. "What would you have me do, then? I have not yet finished my business here."

"Could you not return for the day? Surely whatever matters you have with the dwarves are not that pressing," she returned, letting some of her concern filter through her voice. Perhaps the dignitaries would not notice Loki's absence, but surely the Allfather would take note, pinning another disappointment to the already large list his second son had already accrued.

Loki sat down, calculating. "Unfortunately I cannot return until tomorrow morn; the dwarves have not yet forged that which I came for." He flexed his nimble fingers, pressing the edges of his magic to see how far his boundaries reached.

Damn.

Only to Vanaheim.

"I cannot create a clone at such a far distance, Sif," and his eyes flashed, challenging her to call him out on this limitation. But she remained silent, trying to think of another way for Loki to avoid trouble. As much as he was one for mischief, she knew he still tried his best to stay in his father's good graces.

That's why she was willing to take risks for him; if it meant that he could breathe easy about his tremulous relationship with his father, then she would do it.

"What if.." she started, pausing to fully consider her offer. Was it really worth facing the wrath of the Allfather and possible disgrace in front of the foreign dignitaries just to save Loki's reputation? The answer, surprisingly, was yes. Sif knew that even as glorified as she was in Asgard; friend and battle companion of Thor, shieldmaiden and daughter of Tyr, she was still nothing compared to Loki, second-born prince of Asgard and talented sorcerer. While she had worked tirelessly to ascertain her standing among the other warriors as an equal, a blight on her reputation was surely more forgivable than one from Loki. They would simply blame any fault attributed to her on her emotions (a fact that grated on her nerves to no end), but for Loki to cause trouble was to doubt his worthiness to the throne, and was to doubt the characteristics he had inherited from his father. She heard the rumors, and knew how it bit at him, when they whispered that the trickster god did not bring honor to Odin, or had scarce similarities to him whereas Thor was almost identical.

"What if I was your doppelganger?" She offered, glancing up to take in his reaction.

Loki considered the idea for a moment, but quickly discarded it. "There must be another way," he mused, running his hand through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. "Maybe I could simply be unwell?" He asked, knowing it to be a poor excuse for a solution.

Sif chuckled, meeting his eyes. "And when have you, perchance, fallen unwell within the past century?" She asked, knowing that he had not. Illness was extremely rare for Aesir, and while Loki was always somewhat less effervescent during the summer months, he had not been stricken with illness for at least three hundred years. "To say you were ill would draw more attention to your absence than simply saying nothing."

Loki sighed, rubbing his forehead as he recalled some rather raucous drinking songs he had joined in after much cajoling from the pub denizens. "Then we do not have many other options, now do we?"

"I could get Fandral to dress as you" Sif suggested. "Just a bit of pitch and his golden locks will be as dark as yours," Sif said jokingly, laughing as Loki glared at her.

"I cannot even begin to explain all the reasons that plan would not work," he shot back, irritated. The only thing worse would have been Sif suggesting Volstagg. That insult he would not have taken lightly.

"I suppose we have no choice then," he said, exhaling slowly as Sif nodded in agreement. "Do you still have the necklace I gave you on Walpurgisnacht?" he asked. She quirked her eyebrow up questioningly before walking to her dresser, pulling out the small locked box she used to hold her most valuable possessions. An ornate comb from her mother, a small hunting knife from her father...and a beautiful silver chain that held a purple stone, which burned blue in the center like the deep heat of fire, that flickered only in the center of a flame. She pulled out the treasured piece, holding it up for Loki to see in the mirror. "If you would be so kind as to put it on," he gestured at the jewelry, and Sif rolled her eyes at his theatrics, clasping the chain behind her neck to let the pendant come to rest above her breasts.

"What does this necklace have to do with anything?" She finally questioned, her patience waning.

Loki smirked, flicking his hand as if to swat away a fly. Sif inhaled sharply as the stone began to burn, the heat spreading through her limbs rapidly. "You spelled it!" she hissed, glaring at him accusingly. "And here I thought you had simply given me a token of your affections."

Loki sighed. "I would not be able to cast magic at such a long range if I had not done so." He rubbed his forehead dejectedly. "And the magic simply connects us. It is not as if it will give you a rash of boils if you speak ill of me," he tried to smile at her, but quickly stopped as he saw her expression. He should have known it would not so easy with her. She was less than forgiving when it came to him using his magic on her without her knowledge.

He was going to pay for this when he got home.

Exasperated, he ran his hand down his face. "Please, Sif, the stone poses you no threat. This is the easiest way for me to change your appearance," he pleaded with her, hoping she would overlook the slight in favor of focusing on his predicament. Sif was silent, acquiescing, knowing that she would have ample time to punish him once he returned to Asgard.

He would remember why one did not trifle with War.

Loki twitched his fingers again, and the warmth that burned at her breast intensified. "This would be an easier process if you were naked," he said as an afterthought, and the glare that Sif sent him was almost enough to make him shudder.

The warmth from the stone once again spread through her limbs, and seemed to run through her veins until it reached her extremities, from the tips of her fingers to the soles of her feet. Sif gritted her teeth. It was not so much painful as it was...uncomfortable. To literally become Loki meant to grow another six inches, her hair shortening and features distorting until familiar green eyes stared back at her. Though it did make quite a comical sight, as what passed for Loki stood there in Sif's armor that was much too small for him, the leggings she had worn falling loose at the hips, the armor becoming more of a corset at her widened waist.

"I told you it would be easier if you were naked," Loki said, laughing, and Sif growled in return as she wrestled the armor off of her torso and struggled to pull up her leggings.

"It is not my fault you are the most unbecoming woman I have ever seen," she spat back, irritable and hurriedly trying to find a loose-fitting tunic that was not desigined for someone with breasts in mind. Suddenly, a heap of clothing shimmered into sight in the corner of her bedroom, and she spun back towards the mirror. Loki simply smiled, watching her curse at him as she stomped over to the pile of clothes, quickly pulling on one of his tunics and a pair of his leather breeches.

There was no question now: he was dead as soon as he returned.

Thanks for sticking with me, everyone!