Hello! And here we are, after a long wait, the final, very long chapter, the conclusion to this three-part story. I am very sorry for the wait, but the length of this chapter is epic (as in, really, really long, so be warned) and hopefully, the contents will be to your satisfaction.
A special shout out to my guest reviewers: I cannot thank you via a PM, but know that you have my thanks and your reviews are much appreciated. Thank you to the guest reviewer who suggested some very good Loki music to me. Let me tell you, Garmarna was being heavily played while I was writing this chapter.
There are many mythology and comic-book references in this chapter. If you are curious about a particular element of the chapter, just let me know and I'll explain/answer your question(s) promptly.
DISCLAIMER: I own this particular story, but the rest is beyond my reach entirely.
Sincerely,
Lorien Urbani
(P.S. I love you, readers, I really do!)
III.
Loki is alive.
The words reverberated through Sif's entire body every time she closed her eyes; every time she blinked; and she almost attempted to blink as little as possible, but it was a useless and ridiculous endeavour at best.
It was known now, across the plains of Asgard, that the fallen prince, the green-eyed Trickster, lived. The royal family rejoiced; their friends were happy for them; yet mostly, the Asgardians marvelled at the turn of events warily, trying to understand, frowning, wondering what this would mean. Would he return? Should they forgive and forget his act of grave betrayal? They waited for Odin's rule, yet before they could fully savour one surprise and the shock that accompanied it, they were served another portion.
One of their own, an Asgardian, a prince, no less, of their golden realm, was shaming them in Midgard; shaming the All-Father, and Frigga his queen, and Thor the Thunderer, as well as himself, extending the betrayal, sailing far away from any possible salvation, and now they knew they would never forgive, and never forget, not even if Odin himself so decreed.
It was said that when the Seiðr of the Bifröst exploded, then died, it drew to itself, in an attempt to restore itself at once, the ancient, unknown magic of Ginnungagap, the primordial, yawning Void that remained scattered across the universes, a remnant of the emptiness that existed before Odin's forefathers shaped it into the Worlds. The bridge was too weak to grasp at the wisps of Ginnungagap's magic, but it sucked it close enough that one of the mighty gaps swallowed Loki and deposited him in a foreign place, unknown even to the scholars of Asgard. Old magic saved the Trickster and that came as no surprise. Wielders of Seiðr attracted magic in the same way that honey did flies. Some even speculated that Loki might have summoned it himself, although such a thing was unlikely, for no one, not even Odin the All-father, had any influence over the workings of the Void.
There was talk of many things. There was talk of a brutal, shape-changing race by the name of Chitauri; there was talk of strategies; of ways to save Midgard and seize Loki; of defeating the Chitauri; and there was also talk of appropriate punishment. And all the while, Sif followed Thor, standing by his side, offering support, as was her duty and her desire, but she said very little, presenting no opinion or advice, even when asked for it.
Sif had grown strangely mute. No one knew her reasons, but she said enough to reassure them and assuage their worries and suspicions, for she could not afford to have Thor worry over her as well, not in such dire times when all his focus was and should be on Loki, the current greatest enemy of the peace of Yggdrasil.
The truth was, she was bottling every word, every emotion and every thought, keeping them to herself, wrapping them into sharp folds of rage. The more she kept them imprisoned, when all they wanted was to burst forth in a cloud of blind anger, the tighter she held on to them, feeding the beast of wrath inside her, preparing to strike at the time of her own choosing.
Sif was getting ready for her own revenge.
She had cried hot, true tears of heart-break for a man utterly unworthy of such grief. She gave herself a few moments to mourn Loki's death, to allow herself to feel friendship and love and loss, attempting to forgive his deception, the backstabbing he had afforded them all, the threat of murder, and all the other bad things he had committed against Thor, herself, Asgard.
When she first learned that he lived, she felt relief; of all the things Sif could feel, she felt relief. How wrong she had been; how utterly foolish and wrong. She still remembered Thor's grin of pure happiness upon learning that Loki lived and the heart-breaking frown when, only moments later, he learned of his lost brother's bad deeds on another realm. Sif would never forget Thor's eyes in that moment. The image seared itself into her brain and Loki would pay for it.
Loki decided to be a monster. This was not jealousy anymore, she knew. It was not even vengeance. It was pure malice, his true nature unfolding without a morsel of restraint or regret, and that was what Sif could never tolerate, let alone try to understand.
She had wept for a monster.
Thor had cried for Loki's sake, suffering every day, hoping against hope that his brother would be returned to him. They were not even true brothers, yet to Thor it mattered not. To Thor, Loki was still the one and only brother the Thunderer had ever had. Who else would have such faith in such a wretched man; who else would spare so much love for Loki? Was it fair, then, to Thor, was it fair to anyone, to Odin, to Frigga – to Sif, who spared tears for the Trickster – that Loki should choose such a violent, despotic path of cold tyranny and heartless bloodshed, allying himself with the Chitauri, who only thrived on blood, pain and death?
Strangely enough, it was disappointment that led Sif to hatred. It was bitter disappointment, the knowledge that, after she opened her arms and embraced even Loki's true parentage, such a feat for her, he spat in her face, as he had done before. He spat in all their faces, knowing they could all see him now, watching his evil acts through Heimdall's golden eyes. There was a moment, two days ago, when he deliberately looked into the sky and sneered; he sneered at them, sending his clear message of contempt.
Stop me if you can. I dare you. And Sif knew they would, somehow they would, but before they could come, she was certain many innocent lives would be lost and they would all be Loki's fault.
How could he be such a... such a... such a jötunn!
No one had ever shamed the Realm Eternal to such an extent.
No one had ever shamed her this much.
It was a personal betrayal and Sif was thirsty for her own vendetta.
Loki would be brought back to Asgard and then, no matter the consequences, she would make him bleed, and she already knew how.
xxx
Without the magic of the bridge, the forces of Asgard could not be sent to Midgard to save the realm and bring Loki back to Asgard to make him face their law. It was decided, not without unease, yet still with determination, that their best and strongest warrior should be sent to the realm that its inhabitants called Earth. Only Thor stood a chance against Loki. He would aid the group of mortal warriors that had been chosen by humans to fight against the tyrant marring their equilibrium, but Thor's journey would not be an easy task to achieve.
Thor, like Odin his father, could travel across Yggdrasil without the magic of the bridge, by way of the mighty Mjölnir, but such travels always weakened the Thunderer; more importantly, they were dangerous, for it was easy for one to become lost, both in body as well as in spirit, so they were rarely conducted.
Odin's decision surprised all, yet they understood it, for what other way was there? Thor would have to arrive to Midgard and return to Asgard safely; Loki's powerful magic had to be bound; and now that they knew of the Tesseract, the one thing that could repair the bridge and restore balance between the Worlds, they needed aid, for Odin could not do it himself. Such strong energy, such dark magic, was always best to be divided between different users of Seiðr, or it could consume one whole. The All-Father was powerful beyond all, but he was also wise and he would never allow his power to be his only assurance.
And so, Odin sought the aid of the powerful sorceress Karnilla, the Queen of Nornheim. She was once an enemy of Asgard, but no more than two centuries ago, she finally bowed before Odin and swore her fealty to him, realising that it was better to be Asgard's friend than foe. She had behaved herself since, but Asgardians still did not trust her. Yet trust her they must, for she was the only wielder of Seiðr that was more powerful in magic than the Trickster. She could bind his magic and she could assist Odin in restoring the Bifröst once the Tesseract was in their hands. She was willing to risk the journey from Nornheim to Asgard, for it would greatly benefit her as well to pass between the worlds unhindered. It was crucial that Nornheim remained a realm without encumbrances, for it was the dwelling of the Norns, who watered the roots of Yggdrasil with the water from the Well of Urðr, so that the World Tree may prosper until the end of Time and its branches never rot. Worrying reports had come that the Norns could only give the Tree so much during these trying times without the Bifröst and every action had to be taken.
Sif asked Thor, "Why should the sorceress bind Loki's magic? I do not trust that woman, for she has wronged us before. I understand that All-Father needs her to repair the bridge, but can we trust her that she will bind the traitor's magic?"
She ignored Thor's look as she pronounced the word traitor. Even Thor could not deny the truth of it.
"I worry that Karnilla might assist Loki. And why should she not? They are of the same kind, Thor. Sorcerers."
Thor nodded. "I understand your doubt, Sif, but in All-Father we may trust. He has never failed Asgard and if he says that Karnilla can be trusted at this time, then trusted she can be. There is also another reason why he has chosen her to bind my brother's magic."
Sif did not comment on Thor's description of Loki, but she wondered that Thor could still see him as his brother. Her heart trembled for Thor, yet sadly, it was not in her power to take away Thor's pain.
"My father will act as befits a king once Loki is returned to Asgard, but Sif, he is still Loki's father. All-Father will have to pronounce punishment upon Loki, so he does not wish to be the one to take away my brother's Seiðr as well. It will already be painful enough to declare a fitting punishment, Sif," he said and finished his thought with a whisper, "and the punishment will be severe."
In her mind, Sif smiled with delight. Loki deserved any punishment that existed for what he had done and for what was still in his power to do. Yet she restrained herself, for any punishment would bring suffering to Thor and when her general, her brother in spirit, suffered, Sif suffered with him.
"Has it been decided?" she asked.
"It has," Thor spoke, not with ease. "I may tell you Sif, for I know you shall remain silent upon the matter and I admit, I cannot carry the burden of this knowledge alone."
Sif rested her hands on the beautiful silver vambrace covering his right arm and squeezed it. "Tell me, then. I will honour your trust. You can rely upon me in that, as you do in everything else."
Thor covered both her hands with the wide palm of his left, impressively proportioned hand, and his gratitude was written in his eyes, as clearly as the stars shone in the sky.
"The Æsir gathered in Glaðsheimr this morn to decide the matter. I had the honour, or perhaps the misfortune, to stand by my father's side during the council. The majority of the Æsir demanded Loki's death," Thor spoke, sighing over the word death, "which I expected of them, for it is the prescribed punishment for... traitors of the realm."
Sif nodded. Loki would live and she was glad of it, for death would be no punishment for him. It would be a favour and he would experience none of the pain he had been sowing with his hands. It was fit that he should live. He deserved to feel pain and she deserved her vengeance.
"Still, Loki is a prince of Asgard," Thor continued, caressing Sif's fingers, seeking comfort in them, "and my father decreed that he should live, but the punishment should be decided by the Æsir."
So they do not know, Sif though, remembering Loki's true parentage.
"Tell me," Sif coaxed Thor gently, looking into his eyes, but he did not return the look. His gaze remained fixed on their entwined fingers.
Thor cleared his throat and rushed through the words, determined not to dwell on what had pained him for too long.
"Karnilla has designed a pair of manacles that shall bind Loki's magic, as well as a muzzle to cover his mouth, lest he should resort to attempting to reach his magic with spoken spells. Upon Loki's delivery to Asgard, he shall be notified about his punishment and taken to Nornheim with Karnilla. There, he shall suffer his punishment in a subterranean cell she has designed specifically for this purpose. Nornheim was my idea. For the sake of father, and mother, and for my own sake. I could not... " Thor's breath hitched, but he remained composed. "I could not bear his screams, for if he remains here, I know I shall visit him, we all shall, and I do not wish to hear his screams, Sif. I cannot. I would wish to free him, for when it comes to Loki, I remain weak. Imagine what his state would do to my mother."
Sif was not delighted anymore. The sense of justice being appeased was gone from her. Her complete focus was on Thor and through him, she felt more than she wished to feel. She frowned and made to release Thor's arm, but he crushed her hands against his chest.
"Promise me, Sif, that you will not let me go see him once he is in Nornheim. Promise me," he demanded vehemently and Sif nodded, swallowing down hard.
"Why would Loki scream?" she asked, carefully, as not to alarm Thor further. Moreover, it was a justified question, for in all the centuries she had known him, she had never heard Loki scream. Like Thor, he had his battle cries, but in pain or from any other reason, he had never screamed and the idea was almost disconcerting.
He deserves it, she told herself, but one look at Thor and her resolve wanted to crumble.
Thor looked past her and Sif wondered what he was seeing.
"In his cell, he shall be bound to two pillars, reinforced by Karnilla to withhold him. And above him, there shall be a snake whose poison..." Thor faltered and Sif wanted to ask him to stop, for talking about Loki's punishment clearly pained him beyond reason, but Thor collected himself and continued stubbornly.
"The snake's poison shall drip upon his naked body, constantly, with only a few moments of peace between each venomous drop. The poison will not kill him, but it will torment him, for the snake's poison causes unthinkable pain. If luck shall be on Loki's side, then in time, slowly, yet very slowly, his mind shall fall victim to the pain and begin to unravel and then, he will not feel the pain so much anymore."
Sif was deeply surprised and chagrined with herself when she felt tears sliding down her cheeks and she bit her lip hard to stop them from coming, but they continued to crawl down her skin like treacherous wet spiders.
"Can you imagine Loki without his mind, Sif?" Thor asked her, gripping at her hands so hard that she was tempted to yowl in pain, but she remained silent, bearing her pain bravely for Thor.
She tried to imagine Loki screaming, Loki begging for mercy, Loki babbling utter and incoherent nonsense once his mind, his treacherous, lying, brilliant mind was gone, his greatest possession only dust and decay, and in her head, his screams were not her prize anymore. They should have been, but they would never be now. In her imagination, his screams became loud and real, too loud, too real, so painfully real and shrill, and she began to fight Thor to release her.
Instead, Thor crushed her entire form against him and embraced her, holding her so tight that she could barely breath, yet she returned the embrace, clutching at him as if for her dear life, and she bit his shoulder, not caring whether she hurt him or not, just to stop herself from screaming.
"I know," he whispered and she could hear the tears on his breath.
She bit down harder and she felt him twitch, but finally, she managed to swallow down her screams and take in a deep, shuddering breath.
"I shall never leave you, brother," she whispered back, fighting back fat tears. "I promise to remain by your side, now and ever."
The stars began to flicker in the sky when she said the words and they started to fade when, finally, the Thunderer and the shield-maiden let go of each other.
xxx
Karnilla arrived at the Asgardian court alone. She looked worn from making her journey without the Bifröst, but her beauty and natural magnificence did not suffer for it. Her long, coal black hair shone under the golden ceiling, hints of purple glistening in it, and her dark purple eyes seemed pleased. She bowed before Odin, kissing the ring on his finger.
No one greeted Odin this way. It was not the custom and Sif was not certain whether Karnilla was being truly respectful or truly mocking. But then, Karnilla of Nornheim was a sorceress and they were not to be trusted.
Instinctively, Sif sought the hilt of her dagger, flexing her fingers around it. If the sorceress made one wrong move, Sif would strike.
The formalities were dispensed with quickly. There was no time for a banquet or even a small informal meal of refreshing dinner, for there was no time to be lost. Karnilla understood that as much as everyone else, for she herself was the one to suggest, right after the greetings were conducted, that Thor be sent to Midgard without further delay. Odin gave a sign with his hand and the throne room emptied. Those who remained were Odin, Frigga, Thor, Karnilla, the Warriors Three and Sif, as had been agreed.
As soon as the group remained alone, Karnilla lifted her hands, palms turned upwards, and gently swung them, conjuring forth two objects: a pair of silver manacles and a silver muzzle. She snatched them from their hovering state and showed them to Odin. He nodded, thanking her, and Karnilla turned to Thor. Sif gripped at the hilt of her dagger tighter and Fandral afforded her a warning look. She narrowed her gaze at him in defiance and looked back at Thor and Karnilla, her hand never leaving the dagger.
"It is an honour to meet you, Thunderer," Karnilla spoke, her voice low and mellifluous. "But let us postpone pleasantries for a later, more peaceful time, for you shall return soon to us, shall you not, Thor Odinson?"
Thor's face was serious and taut, yet he managed a small smile. "My lady," he spoke simply and said no more.
"Here, take these," Karnilla said and offered him the manacles and the muzzle. Thor took them, put them in a black velvet pouch and secured them inside a secret pocket below his armour, made convenient for every warrior.
"Their powers will take effect once you put them on his wrists and mouth. Make sure that you do," she said and smiled sweetly; seductively.
Sif set her lips into a thin, white line and glared at the sorceress. The Warriors Three all looked at her, both warning and calming her with their eyes. Angrily, Sif let go of the dagger's hilt and crossed her arms across her chest defiantly, her spine as taut as the string of a bow.
"Only I can remove the manacles and the muzzle. I thought it wise," she added.
"You were wise to do so," Odin agreed. "Do you understand everything, Thor?"
"I understand," Thor said and looked at his father. "It is time."
"It is time," Odin spoke and they left the throne room for the Bifröst, from where Odin and Karnilla would send Thor to Midgard safely.
Once they reached the Bifröst, Sif's heart began to pound fiercely. She trusted Thor's strength and warrior skills, but suddenly, it dawned on her that he would be completely alone on Midgard. Yes, he would be helped by a group of Midgardian warriors, but they were mere mortals and although she respected the realm and its inhabitants, she knew they were no match for Loki. In the end, it would be Thor standing alone against his brother; more truly, an Asgardian fighting a malice from Jötunheimr without any true aid.
Sif stepped forward and spoke, "Is there truly no way for us to join the prince in the battle?"
Instead of Odin or Frigga, it was Karnilla who stepped in and answered her question.
"You are very brave, shield-maiden, I know, but the journey without the magic of the bridge would end you. Do you wish for that?"
Sif bit back the words that wanted to rush forward and bowed respectfully. "No, my lady, for dead I would be of no service to my prince."
"You are a fine warrior and a credit to your prince," Karnilla replied and turned her focus back to Thor.
Sif was not appeased by the words of the sorceress, but she was by Thor's eyes. He looked at her with confidence, conveying to her that he would be alright and that he would come back, in one piece and victorious. They had said to each other all that had to be said and Sif believed in him. She had no other choice but to believe that he would be safe and that she would see him again. She was frightened, but she must never show that.
She returned to the Warriors Three and together they watched as Thor began to spin the hammer with his hand. Mjölnir began to sing its familiar battle song, stirring the air around them into a wind, and as the magic of the hammer began to take place, Odin and Karnilla started to send their own magic and energy into the hammer of thunder, enhancing its power tenfold, taking from the power of the night and the stars. That magic and energy would seep into Thor and protect him during the perilous journey to Midgard. This way, he will reach Midgard unharmed and ready for battle.
The wind grew strong and blue sparks began to fly from the hammer, making Sif and the Warriors Three step even further away. There would be no lightning; all of the hammer's power would be used for the journey. The wind around them began to whistle loudly and the more Karnilla's and Odin's hands shone, the more the hammer sparked, growing louder and bluer by the second. Together with it, a blue gossamer veil enveloped Thor, sparks bouncing off it. Finally, there was a loud crack and Thor jumped off the Bifröst, straight as an arrow, holding on to the hammer as it drew him away from them. Swiftly he disappeared into the darkness of the Void below them like a loud shooting star and as soon as he was gone, the air calmed and quietened.
Thor was gone.
Sif exhaled the breath she had been holding the entire time.
She remained in the Observatory, keeping Heimdall company and listening to his descriptions of what was happening on Midgard, waiting for the day Thor would return, safe and sound, safe and sound, safe and sound, a chant she had adopted, believing it might help him from afar. She took her meals in the Observatory, and it was where she also rested. Sif waited, loyal and hopeful.
And then, finally, there came a day when Thor returned and with him returned the green-eyed traitor.
Loki.
xxx
All of Asgard felt Loki's return.
They had been expecting it and as soon as his presence was once more a part of the Realm Eternal, it was felt, a vibration that meant change.
He was injured and dishevelled, yet masterfully composed. He sauntered past them, a mass of torn leather and scratches, his face sharper and paler, his hair longer, but he looked on in defiance, his green eyes scintillating with mischief, no remorse or shame showing in them. His hands were manacled, his mouth covered with the muzzle, and he did not look much pleased about that, but even as Thor walked by his side, equally worn and showing signs of battle, Loki did not try to evade his brother's touch. He endured it and walked on, arrogant and stubborn despite his failure.
There were no cheers to greet Thor's triumphant return. There was only silence, every single Asgardian making their best to memorise every moment of the scene sprawling before them. For them, it would be a moment that would go down in history, recorded in the annals of Asgard.
Odin stood before the throne, every bit the king which Asgard had known for millennia, stern and unyielding, waiting for the traitor's arrival. The queen, however, was visibly a-tremble and she looked upon her second son, lost to her for so long, and let out a shuddering sound, touching the tips of her fingers to her lips. All could see that she wanted to rush forward, but she held herself in place.
Sif's heart leapt with joy and relief when she beheld Thor's form after days of terrible unease. He was hurt, but he had been through much worse times, at least in physical terms, so she did not worry over that, even when his gait was strained, possibly from a wound. But when she looked upon Loki's battered face, a current of dark energy shot through her and she shuddered, in shock and in anger.
Sif had not seen Loki in six full moons and it was almost surreal now, to see him, alive, after she had finally accepted his death that never was. There was a part of her that was glad to see him again, yet the feeling was short-lived, smothered by every evil thing he had done since his fall, from the bridge as well as from grace.
Sif stood with the Warriors Three on the right side of the stairs below the dais that supported the throne of gold. She measured her breaths, keeping them at a normal rhythm with painful deliberation, or else she might explode. She sought Thor's eyes, to send him a look of support, but he was looking at the king and queen. He had done his work and he was exhausted. It was his mind and heart that were tired, Sif could see, not his limbs. Sif felt sorry for Thor and then, there was Frigga, who was fighting the urge to fall apart and Sif's heart bled for her.
Do you see what you have done, Laufeyson? Sif wanted to scream and it was horrible that she had to remain silent. Do you see what you have done to your mother, to your brother, to all of us?
Perhaps, Sif thought, she could have forgiven him if he had shown guilt and a will to expurgate his sins, but that was and always would be a fool's wish.
There was a fleeting moment when Loki dared meet his mother's sorrowful gaze and for an incredibly short second, his features softened and there was almost a hint of regret in them, but then the traitor looked upon the king, with scorn and defiance, and any regret that may have been in him was instantly forgotten.
Thor clamped a hand on Loki's shoulder and forced him on his knees, the bones of them hitting the first stair with a loud thud. Loki growled low in his throat, shaking his shoulders in disgust to force Thor's hand off them. Thor took a step to the left, hurt, and Sif's anger increased further.
Odin began to enumerate Loki's crimes, condemning them fiercely. All the while Loki listened, his eyes on his knees, but he was not distressed or in any way perturbed. He looked ready to meet any fate and every time Odin mentioned an offence against Asgard, Midgard and Jötunheimr, Loki smiled behind the muzzle, his eyes lighting up.
"Do you repent?" Odin asked, his voice bouncing off the walls in its majesty, and Loki looked up at him, challenge and insolence glowing on his face.
With determination, he shook his head. No, the gesture said.
"Then I am sorry you should feel this way," Odin spoke, "and although you are my son, you shall not evade severe punishment decreed by the council and confirmed by myself, All-Father."
Loki snorted and Sif knew why, even when most of the others did not. Odin was not truly Loki's parent, but it chagrined Sif, for the first time it truly chagrined her, that Loki could so easily dismiss all the centuries that Odin had been his father and Frigga his mother. He was not the fruit of Odin's loins and Frigga's womb, but he was their son in every other sense and he was Thor's brother. Was he truly so full of hate, so full of resentment and scorn, that he could remember none of that? His family loved him deeply and he repaid them thusly.
How I hate you, her mind whispered and in that moment, she truly did.
And then, when she least expected it, and in fact, she had not expected it at all, Loki turned his head to the left and looked at her.
Sif froze and her skin crackled.
His eyes were on her as his sentence was being pronounced, taunting her. Bravely, she stood her ground, showing her contempt and disgust. She held no love for him anymore, not now, although once, she did, much to her deepest shame. She held his impertinent gaze, determined that he should be the one to break it, not her. Then, as Odin spoke of the snake for the first time, Loki's head snapped towards the king and behind the anger, there was now also despair and again, Sif understood.
You cannot take away my mind, he seemed to wish to say, but the muzzle prevented him.
There was now fear in Loki, and agony. He was not afraid of the pain; he was afraid of what the pain would do to him in time.
"... and you shall be kept there," Odin was finishing, "until we determine that you have repented for your crimes and shall not be a threat to the realms any longer."
Sif admired Odin for remaining so calm and she marvelled at Loki for assuming a mask of rebellious arrogance once more. A few moments ago, he was frightened of his fate, but now she saw that he would rather die than beg for mercy, and showing repentance equalled begging in Loki's eyes. Sif had heard that pride could kill, and now, she had proof before her very eyes. It was a tragic thought and an even more tragic fate, but she had promised herself not to feel sorry for Loki; not ever again.
"Take the prisoner to his cell," All-Father ordered. "After we have repaired the Bifröst, which shall be soon now, we shall proceed."
It was then that Frigga ran down the stairs and embraced Loki. He tried to shake her off, but she would not let him and she whispered something in his ear, making him close his eyes.
The display was a dagger through Sif's heart and she wished she could be by Frigga's side to support the poor, broken mother. Sif watched, her throat tight, as Frigga caressed Loki's hair and kissed him on both cheeks. She watched Loki shake his head and look away from her, determined not to co-operate, but Frigga managed to chip his cold surface and Sif was glad of it.
Then, Frigga raised herself, shaken and teary-eyed, and nodded to Thor. Thor forced Loki to his knees.
Sif decided to leave them alone for a few days.
Then, she would follow and visit the traitor in his cell, for she had a bone to pick with Loki.
She did not require revenge anymore, for Loki would be punished enough, but she still felt an overwhelming urge to do something and she was determined to appease it.
For now, she ran to Frigga's side and offered her comfort, which the queen gladly took
xxx
When the magic of the Bifröst was resurrected, it felt as if the very roots below Asgard had taken a deep breath of air and expanded, relaxing at long last. A windy sigh arched over the Realm Eternal, signalling the return of the bridge's ancient Seiðr, and Asgardians applauded its long-expected restoration.
There were cheers in the streets, in the squares and in the palace, and as Odin passed through them on Sleipnir, Karnilla riding behind them on a white mare, the people bowed before them with deep respect and gratitude. Yggdrasil was saved and peace restored to the realms. As for the Tesseract, it was taken to the Weapons Vault, where it would be safely secured from all who would seek its power and try to claim it.
Asgard was aware of the threat of the Chitauri, who coveted the Tesseract greatly, but now that the mighty weapon was in Asgardian hands, they did not fear the enemy, for they were more than ready for that cruel race, should they even dare to strike at them. For now, the Chitauri remained unmoving, but Asgard was a realm that bred warriors and it remained prepared for a possible attack.
Odin decreed that the Warriors Three, the Lady Sif and five more warriors should accompany the prisoner to Nornheim and remain there as his guards until the threat of the Chitauri was satisfactorily diminished. It was discovered that Loki had been threatened and as he was of Asgard, no one but All-Father could punish him.
Sif chafed against the king's decision, but she was forced to accept it. Yet she most certainly was not looking forward to seeing Loki every day; to hearing his unearthly screams, for she had already imagined them in her mind, unable to erase them from it. But Sif was a brave warrior, a descendant of great warriors, and war ran through her veins. She would rather perish in disgrace than shirk any task given her in the name of the Realm Eternal. She swallowed her pride, she swallowed her anguish and only one thing remained for her to do before she left Asgard for Nornheim indefinitely.
She went to the dungeons and found Loki's cell. Thor was leaning against its door, clearly worn from yet another failed attempt at conversing with Loki, trying to reason with his fallen brother. Thor had been visiting Loki every day since his return in disgrace, but although the muzzle was removed, as well as the manacles, for Karnilla enchanted the whole of the cell, Loki remained stubbornly quiet and unresponsive, tormenting Thor with his aloof silence.
Sif did not require the traitor to speak. Her intentions required something else.
"Thor," she greeted the Thunderer gently and he smiled at her wanly.
"Sif, what has brought you here?" he asked, his voice flat. It irked Sif how strong an effect Loki held over Thor.
"I would speak with Loki and I request your permission for it."
Thor looked at her in utter disbelief. "You wish to speak with my brother? But why?"
"There is something I have wished to do, that is, to say, since the day he returned. My conscience demands it of me, as well as my honour. Will you grant my request, Thor?"
Thor looked at her warily and she laughed. "I left my weapons with the main guard of the dungeons," she said. "I have not come to kill Laufeyson."
"I know that," Thor replied, ignoring her jibe, "I never thought you could."
Sif smiled, thinking how at first, before she learned of Loki's punishment, that was precisely what she wished to do, even if it would have meant certain death for her.
"What is your answer, Thor?" she prodded him and he sighed.
"You may try, Sif, but he will not give you any answers."
"I do not need his answers, Thor."
"Very well, but I must be present during your visit."
Sif nodded and Thor unlocked the door with Karnilla's enchanted key.
Sif entered the cell before him and Loki looked up, surprised that the visitor was her and amused by it. The cell was simple, the walls thick stone, a wooden shelf protruding from one wall serving for a bed. There was a small table in a corner, and on it rested a pewter mug of water and a piece of untouched bread. Loki was being treated like any other prisoner, for the laws of Asgard did not exempt the princes. Sif was pleased to see him like this, stripped of his power and dignity. He deserved such treatment.
Loki was sitting on the prison bed, leaning against the wall behind him. When Sif came to the cell, he leaned forward slowly, assessing her with interest. Sif did not give him the opportunity to continue his perusal of her. She acted quickly, for she had always cherished the element of surprise in battle.
She looked him in the eyes, smiled and punched him in the face, her hard fist crushing the bones of his nose with a loud crack. He did not release even the tiniest of sounds, but the momentum of her blow propelled him backwards, his back back hitting the wall behind him, blood gushing through the nostrils.
"Sif!" Thor shouted and stepped between her and Loki, regarding her with ire, while Loki stared back at her in astonishment, rubbing together the fingers of his bloodied hand, covered in the blood seeping from his trickling nose. Sif was proud. It had been a strong blow worthy of her warrior's prowess.
"I am much looking forward to our time together in Nornheim," Sif spoke tauntingly, discounting Thor's attempt to remove her from the prison cell. "Oh, you shall sing there, Loki Laufeyson, and I shall enjoy every single note."
"That is enough," Thor commanded and pushed Sif out of the cell, locking the door behind them.
As he did so, Sif could hear Loki begin to laugh in the cell, a sound of pure amusement and appreciation, and she kicked at the door furiously. His laugher, however, did not spoil her pleasure.
"I did not give you permission to assault my brother," Thor chastised her severely. "And how could you say those words to him, Sif, you?"
"I wish I could say that I am sorry for it, Thor, but the truth is, I feel much better now. I did it for myself, as much as for you, for Frigga and for All-Father."
Thor shook his head, but Sif did not allow herself to be pierced by his disappointment. She had made a promise to herself and she kept it. She would feel the satisfaction as long as her hand would throb in pain. She suspected that the force of the blow may have broken a finger or two, but it had been worth it.
She would never forget how she once wiped the smirk off the face of Loki Laufeyson.
xxx
They had spent two full moons in Nornkeep, Karnilla's opulent home in Nornheim. Far below the fastness, there was a large, round cell, and there the traitor of Asgard had been kept for as long. He was guarded at all times and his guards changed every day. Every tenth day, the duty – the burden – fell on Sif's shoulders, while the other warriors assumed other guarding positions inside and around Nornkeep.
Two full moons had passed and only yesterday did Loki Laufeyson begin to scream for the first time. The cries sounded exactly as Sif had imagined them, if not worse. In all honesty, Sif was fascinated by the fact he had lasted this long. She must have underestimated his endurance for pain.
The screams began during her duty. The first time he made a sound, he let out a growl from deep inside his throat, but still he persisted, stubbornly, in not letting it develop into something louder and fuller. The second time he made a sound, he was trying to suppress an angry, desperate whimper. The third time he made a sound, he hollered in bone-deep pain and since, he had been giving into loud, blood-curdling screams every few minutes. Sif held her ground for the longest time, not even blinking, but then he said one single word, a name, so soft and broken on his lips, and she flinched. It was barely a whisper, yet in the echoing underground, Sif caught it. She heard it clearly.
Frigga.
Sif had vowed to hate Loki Laufeyson and to never look at him until the day he was released from his punishment. She stood in the corridor leading to his cell, by the door shutting him from the world, erect and cold. It was easy to do when he was still silent, refusing to give into the temptation of using his vocal chords even when the snake hissed loudly and Sif could hear the churning of flesh as the venom tore it apart, melting the skin off at an agonising pace.
But then, of all the words he could utter, of all the curses he could scream, he whispered the name of the woman who had been and was his mother, and Sif leaned against the wall, thinking about Frigga's last moments with her son before he was taken from her. In her mind, she saw Frigga's tears, the knowledge in her eyes of what was going to happen to Loki once she released him from her tight embrace. Frigga had been Sif's own second mother and the notion of Frigga's suffering was Sif's undoing.
Curse you, Loki Laufeyson. Why?
She had blamed Thor countless times for still allowing Loki to affect him, yet she was the same. Her feelings shamed her and disappointed her.
For the first time since her coming to Nornkeep, Sif opened the door of Loki's Nornish prison, already reconciled with the fact that she was most certainly half mad. For the truth was, she could loathe the man's actions, but she did not hate him. He was Frigga's son, although not by blood, and parts of her were rooted inside him. She had seen them. She cursed him again for it.
The sight of him rattled her. His arms were chained to the two pillars on either side of him and but for a loin cloth, he was completely naked. He might as well have been dressed, for his nudity was hidden under layers of blood, some of it old and dried, some of it startlingly fresh. His back and face were marred with lines and deep gushes that the snake's venom had carved into his skin and if he ever left this place, if he ever healed again, the scars would remain on him forever. Blood and puss were weeping from the wounds. Sif had been in many wars and battles, but none had produced such results as the snake had created merely by opening its jaws and spitting its green venom on the victim below it.
Tentatively, Sif approached Loki, her breaths shallow, her legs shaking. The snake, hanging from one pillar, its long body coiled around it, hissed at her, but Sif was not frightened of the snake. She hissed back at the horrible animal, baring her teeth at it. Then she crouched before Loki, ever so carefully, as if trying to approach a fearful animal caught in a trap. Loki's head wobbled and he forced himself to lift it, looking into Sif's eyes. He grunted and let his head fall, the chin hitting his dirty chest.
"Come...to gloat...have you?" he rasped, emitting a throaty laugh.
"No," Sif responded simply. "I am here for your mother."
Loki laughed weakly. "I...despise...pity." He spat the last word at her, but Sif remained calm. "Leave."
Sif tilted her head. "You might want to be kinder to me, Laufeyson," she said, positioned her pewter mug above his head and caught the next drop of venom with it.
"Does it not feel good to be allowed some reprieve from this torment, hm?" she asked and he looked at her so angrily that there was murder in his eyes.
"Leave...bitch," he choked out and Sif deposited the pewter mug on the ground, stood up and crossed her arms over her chest.
"No. I was not a bitch for helping you, but I am going to be a bitch for letting you scream again."
She looked at him with a smile and he glared back, baring his teeth like a wolf ready to charge. He was preparing himself to offer a retort, but the snake cut his attempt short. A drop of venom slid from its cleft tongue and landed on his wreaked right shoulder, sending him into ejecting a low holler from deep within his throat. His entire body shook with it and when the pain subsided a fraction, he tried to catch his breath, wheezing.
Sif flinched wildly, but he could not see her action and she was glad of it. When he calmed a little, preparing for the next bout of agony, she resumed her crouching position and held the mug above his head, making sure it was positioned below the snake's jaws.
"Don't," he said, grinding his teeth in discomfort.
"I have no pity for you, but I love Frigga and I shall be doing this for her every time I am your appointed guard. I don't care what you do on the other nine days, mark my words."
The chains rattled against the pillars as he tried to move, but regardless of what he did, he could not change his position.
Sif regarded him intently. "Pride is not honour," she spoke. "Pride is petty and futile."
He had energy enough to snort at her words. "I...shall not...give you...what you want." He let out a breathy laugh. "Regret. Repentance. What...honour...is in them?"
Sif sighed as if in resignation. "Then I shall never go home again, and neither shall you."
He looked into her eyes, his gaze surprisingly clear and green. "It is...not a loss for me. I don't... have a home."
"You do," she said through gritted teeth. "You have a home, you have a great father, you have a brother who would willingly die for your sake and you have a mother who cries herself to sleep over your unfortunate fate. Does she mean nothing to you? Not even her, Loki? Not even her?"
He huffed. "I am... jötunn. Forget... not."
"The jötunn hate, which means they can also love. You can love and you love her. Even Thor you love and that is what you truly hate. By Hela, you are a monster, but you are an Asgardian monster. Forget not."
Loki remained silent and that gave Sif hope. For a long time, the clangs of venomous drops landing into the mug were the only sound filling the round prison cell. Loki's breathing evened and he began to sit up straighter, but he had closed his eyes and for a moment, Sif thought he had fallen asleep, but as if reading her mind, he opened his eyes and his gaze landed on her.
"You have always been stubborn," he said, his voice weak, but he did not need to take shorts breaths in between words now. "I have always deemed stubbornness to be no better than stupidity."
"It appears, then, that we are more alike than one would think."
Those were the last words either of them spoke for the rest of the night.
In the morning, when she had to leave Loki and surrender him to the clutches of venomous pain for the next nine days, Sif made a new promise and this one, she would keep.
One day, she would bring Loki back home to Asgard.
One day, she would return him to his mother and on that day, Frigga would smile.
Weary, Sif went to her room and slept.
In nine days, she would begin again.
Fin