They arrived at Lyngvi, Fenrir's fabled isle, which was seated lonely amid Lake Amsvartnir. Loki had created an ice bridge that Sleipnir could cross and Fylla had simply flown Sif over the expanse of water.
They dismounted and led their steeds to a row of wind blown deciduous trees that lined the inner woods. "We'll leave them here," Loki said, patting Sleipnir on the neck. "The ground is uneven, full of jagged rocks. Their hooves cannot take it."
Sif nodded, rubbing her hand beneath Fylla's strong, folded wing. "Look after each other, okay?" She looked deep into the creature's eyes, soulful black jewels set in sleek white fur. "We'll be back shortly."
Sif honestly didn't know how long this meeting would take, but time was irrelevant to Fylla when there was an entire island full of edible grasses. For all the animal cared, Sif could take all week.
Loki led the way deeper into the island and Sif followed closely behind, eager to get this meeting underway. With each footstep that crunched the dried leaves beneath them, her anticipation grew wilder. Her instincts were trying to suit her with a healthy layer of fear, but she ignored them, the same way she ignored them when she lept full boar onto the Destroyer's back, or when she took on six marauders at once. One cursed, and probably very begrudged wolf was hardly enough to prickle the hairs of a great warrior's neck.
Yet, upon approaching the cave, a sinister portal that marked the entrance of Fenrir's prison, Sif felt her neck hair raise in utter defiance of her reputable and formidable fearlessness. She lifted her chin in response.
"Scared?" Loki looked over his shoulder.
"I don't get scared." Sif stepped up next to him.
Loki beheld her with a look that concerned her, but she couldn't pinpoint why exactly. She squinted at him. "What if I told you that I was?" he said. "I have no idea what to expect." His shoulders inched up in a small shrug, playing at innocence.
Sif blinked. "But you said he would talk." She then argued. "That I could ask him anything."
"I say a lot of things to get what I want." That was his defense, complete with lopsided smile. She could have gutted him. He then turned and took the first step into the cave, the shadows almost completely engulfing him.
Sif promptly followed, her frustration now stronger than her fear of the unknown. "You bastard. You tricked me into coming here with you." Her voice echoed down the black narrow corridor.
"Shhhh, not so loud," Loki whispered. "I did not want to trick you. I just...didn't want to come here alone."
"So," Sif grabbed Loki's arm, spinning him. "The whole 'ask him whatever you want' deal isn't going to happen?"
"It's highly unlikely." Loki shrugged a single shoulder. "I don't imagine he'll be much in a talking mood."
Sif threw her arms up. "Wonderful." The entire reason for the trip just tossed out with the swine slop. "So what happens now?"
"Truthfully, I do not know." Loki didn't appear to care about Sif's frustration, too caught up in his own thoughts. "In your dream he was chanting. But whether that is an incantation or sheer madness..."
"An incantation." Sif didn't like the idea of that. "Is he a sorcerer, like you?" If that was the case, Sif now had one more reason to call this whole thing off. She didn't like enclosed spaces. She hated fighting magic, and she especially didn't want to deal with both at the same time.
"He does not wield magic like I do, but he is not without it," Loki explained. "He was conceived with dark magic. That is why he is cursed. I..." Shame crept into Loki's voice. "Well let's just say I've learned a great deal more about magic since then."
'Conceived. With dark magic.' That was not, by any measure, what Sif wanted to hear, for multiple reasons. "By the Great Tree, Loki." She breathed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Please tell me there was no magic present during Ollie's conception."
Loki's expression lightened. "There was magic." He then smirked, sweetly, something only he could pull off. "It just wasn't born of a spell."
It took a moment for Sif to figure out what he meant. When it finally landed, she couldn't decide whether she wanted to punch him or strangle him. She sighed. "That was smooth."
"You like that one?" His smile broadened. He didn't know when to stop.
She couldn't help but smile in response. She nodded, regretfully then gestured to the dark path ahead of them. "Shall we press on?"
"We shall." Loki turned to survey their path, finding not a trace of light to guide them. "Once we can see." He then cupped his hands together, as if he just caught a bug in slow motion, and stared intently at them. Sif watched curiously as a moment later, green light began to leak from between his fingers. When he opened his hands, there was a levitating globe of green light, like a firefly, only brighter and steadier in its movement. It illuminated the space around them, sending frightened creatures skittering along the walls.
He moved onward and the globe followed, hovering just above him.
"Why do you think Fenrir was chanting in my dream?" Sif had to ask, even though she still believed her dream was no more than a purge from her exhausted mind.
"I can't quite say." Loki replied.
"Well," Sif pushed, needing more. "What can you say?"
There was a pause, which meant Loki had something worthwhile to say.
"He will be angry," Loki confessed. "He has every right to be. But if he has gone mad," he then turned a fearful, green lit gaze to her, "we need to be prepared for the worst."
She drew her sword. She could handle angry. "We have nothing to fear."
They journeyed further down into unknown depths, the cave's circumference shrinking as they went until their heads nearly grazed the ceiling. The skittering lizards that had been avoiding their light were now resigning themselves to watch curiously, that is until Loki impaled one with a dagger. It shrieked and the others fled frantically.
"What are you doing?" Sif whispered.
"He will be hungry," Loki said.
She jumped as a sudden spell-born sheet of ice ripped down the cave walls, freezing multiple creatures in place.
Loki spoke as if shooting out deadly ice spells was no big thing. "His appetite exceeds even Volstagg's."
"That's...," she blinked. "Impressive."
"Gather those up," he directed. "We'll present them as a peace offering."
Sif broke the ice with her elbow and cringed as several limp bodies dropped to the ground. She crouched down, shaking her head and feeling her breakfast dare to surface as she skewered multiple dead lizards onto her own dagger. "You owe me for this. I'm talking golden swords, jeweled armor, a proper set of skis for Ollie..."
"Quiet!" he ordered, squatting down next to her. "Do you hear that?"
Sif stilled her movements and listened, carefully, past the steady sound of dripping water, past the wind whistling through narrowing spaces. And then she heard it. Heard him.
The sound of cat's paw. A woman's beard.
The roots of a mountain. The sinews of a bear.
"Is that...?" Sif whispered, at a loss.
"He's chanting," Loki cut in with a dark voice.
The breath of a fish. Spittle of the birds.
"Come on." Loki crept down the path and Sif followed, fighting back fear and feeling utterly removed from her element.
Had her dream truly been a prophesy?
The passageway opened up into a large but enclosed space, ceiling covered with dripping stalactites, a stream cutting down the middle. Everything was illuminated unnaturally by an odd gold light, which shown from behind a large mound in the middle of the cavern, a large, black, wiry-furred mound. That was him. That was Fenrir.
Loki straightened as he stepped into the cavern, hesitantly, and beheld his offspring, the beast's heap of a body rising and falling dramatically with each breath. Loki took a deep breath himself. He then held his arm out to her, signaling her to stay back, his eyes shifting with emotions she couldn't name. She nodded in response. Once Loki turned away from her, she readied her hand over the hilt of her sword.
Loki moved slowly toward the beast, purposely making his footsteps heard so as not to alarm him. "Fenrir. It is your father, Loki."
Not Loki of Asgard, Sif noted, just Loki. She figured the beast cared not to be reminded of the place he once lived, where he was allowed to roam free.
Fenrir stirred. There was a deep moaning growl that came from the pit of him as he pulled each leg underneath his body and began shifting the weight from his mass to his paws. He actually started to look like a wolf then, his tail peaking out from behind. The last thing to shift was his head.
"Fenrir?" Loki took a brave step closer.
Finally, the beast turned its head and neither of themcould have prepared for what they saw. For the cavern's light came not from a crack in the wall where the sun could leak in, but from the wolf's very mouth, which was gruesomely propped open with an enchanted Asgardian sword, the tip stabbing into the roof of his mouth.
The stream flowing through the cave was over a dozen years worth of hunger-born drool. Sif covered her mouth to keep from making a sound, and Loki could only gape, horrified.
"What did they..." Loki reached out to the sword, which glowed and crackled with a spiraling golden spell, Odin's spell. "How could he..." He stepped closer to inspect the spell, but Fenrir recoiled violently.
"Please," Loki whispered. "Let me look at it. I would never hurt you." Loki reached out again, but again Fenrir pulled away.
"Please!" Loki now begged, forcefully, keeping his hand stretched out. "I only want to help."
Fenrir took a breath in through his nose. When he spoke, it was unlike any voice Sif had heard. It filled the enclosed space with a thrumming, heart stopping resonation. "Father..." The voice didn't come from his mouth but seemed to bleed from his very being.
"I am here." Loki's voice was pained. Sif couldn't imagine what he must be feeling; tried not to think about how she would feel if Ollerus was a victim to even a fraction of this torture.
Loki raised his hand and touched the sword, allowing the guardian spell to shock him. It caused him to double over, grabbing his hand, but he didn't back away. He needed only a moment to recover. When he lifted his head again, his eyes were lit with revelation, hope even.
"I can undo this," he said.
Fenrir began chanting again. "Sound of cat's paw. A woman's beard..."
Loki turned to look at Sif and signaled her to come over. She did so, never one to back away from a challenge, yet still approaching hesitantly.
At the sight of her, Fenrir jerked his body up, roaring and thrashing as much as his fetters would allow, his blood red eyes bulging in fear, his drool flinging out wildly. Sif halted her approach, but drew her sword, heart racing the way it did on the front line.
"Asgardian!" The wolf cried, with warning, as if Loki wasn't aware of her presence. "She has followed you here, Father."
Loki held his arms up in a placating gesture and cried out over the din. "She's not here to hurt you! She is my ally. We came together, to help you."
"How..." Fenrir ceased the thrashing but still stood in an attack stance, despite how it tightened the enchanted ribbon around his neck, "can you trust one of them? After what they did to me. To our entire family."
"The Lady Sif had nothing to do with that," Loki's assured. "That was Odin. And his cronies!" Loki paused to keep from getting worked up. "I can break Odin's spell on the sword, but I need her help."
Sif squinted, not ready to involve herself until she had the details.
"My magic can weaken Odin's enchantment," Loki continued, "but I need her strength and sword to break it."
Now breaking something with her sword, she could do.
Loki turned to Sif. "I trust your aim to hit only the sword, and not his mouth?"
"You trust wisely," Sif replied confidently, meeting Fenrir's impaling gaze with both strength and sympathy.
Fenrir took several deep breaths, his fetters gaining slack on each exhale, the moment stretching. Finally he spoke. "You may proceed, but do not presume to have my trust, Asgardian."
Without hesitation, Loki closed the gap between himself and the beast's mouth, unfazed by the drool he stepped in. His hands began a peculiar and beautiful dance, and from them drifted his signature swirling green magic.
"Come here, Sif," Loki said without breaking focus. She approached slowly, captivated by the intrusion of Loki's magic over that of Odin's, the green ribbons weaving and taunting around the white hot crackling gold. Sif remembered what Loki had said about Odin's spells weakening while he slept the Odinsleep, and she concluded that was the only reason Loki believed they could break this one.
As Sif drew closer, Fenrir tensed up. When she reached Loki's side, Fenrir jerked up with a roar, breaking Loki's spell which caused Odin's spell to fight back with a jolt to Loki's body. He hollered and staggered back, clutching his chest. He would have fallen if Sif hadn't caught him, wrapping a strong arm across his torso.
"My son..." Loki forced patient words through gritted teeth, leaning into her as he recovered his stance. "Please don't do that again."
Sif's eyes were locked on Fenrir, her sword drawn and shielding Loki. Fenrir stared back at her, a wordless showdown. That is until Sif spoke, fearless. "If you hurt him again, I will not hesitate to strike."
"That's no way to make friends now is it, Sif?" Loki teased, weakly, forcing her hand down that gripped the sword. His hand was strangely warm, perhaps from the magic? He turned to her. "But I appreciate the gesture."
Sif glanced briefly at his eyes, which were a breath away, before looking back to Fenrir, noting that nothing was escaping his attention. That could be the reason he was relaxing again. Perhaps he found just enough trust in someone willing to fight for his father.
Loki began his incantation again, the second time around going quicker since he had done it before. Again, his magic infiltrated Odin's, and the golden spell sparked and crackled defensively. Loki grit his teeth and planted his feet into the ground, pushing with the same might as Sif had used in the past against pressing axes of lumbering foes.
"Ready your sword," Loki strained, sweat beading his brow. Sif followed his order. "On my signal, I want you to slice with all your might. Try to cut it in one attempt."
She readied her sword, gripping the hilt with both hands. "Is there any other way to cut?" Her eyes must have glinted something devilish because Fenrir narrowed his at her.
"Ready..." Loki looked like he was on the breach of collapse, veins bulging everywhere, sweat covering his face. "Now!"
Sif lunged in as Loki fell away, her steel clashing brilliantly with the offending sword, slicing it in half as intended. Its two pieces went flying in opposite directions. Fenrir roared wildly, freely. Odin's residual spell struck aggressively down Sif's sword, electrifying her hands and forcing her to drop her weapon.
She stood, in shock, barely maintaining her balance, flexing her hands open and shut to work out the lingering gold sparks. She hated the feel of magic, so alien and unpredictable, and it stung. She vaguely saw in her peripheral Loki scrambling to his feet and felt his hands grab her and pull her back. The sudden jerk to her body pulled her back into the moment and she gasped at the sight of dripping jaws coming at her.
"Stop!" Loki shouted, shielding Sif with his body. Fenrir's nose halted just shy of Loki's chest, whether by will or because his chain held him back was anyone's guess.
Fenrir now stood on four strong legs, repeatedly opening and closing his mouth, working neglected muscles, mimicking the act of chewing. "Hungry," he spoke with gravelly murmur, the voice still not coming from his mouth.
Loki turned to Sif and gestured that she hand something over. She knew exactly what he meant and dove into her belt pouch, retrieving the dead lizards, which Loki took hastily and offered to the living jaws. A mighty tongue swiped them from Loki's hands and pulled them into a seemingly insatiable abyss.
"That isn't enough," Fenrir growled.
"We can get more," Loki offered.
"No!" The wolf's voice shook the cavern, causing dust and pebbles to fall from the ceiling. "It will never be enough until Gleipnir is broken."
Gleipnir, Sif recalled, was the name given to the enchanted ribbon binding the wolf down. She had only ever heard stories, none of which reflected the horrors of what she was witnessing here: the cold, cruel acts of her own people.
"I-I cannot break the binding," Loki stuttered, his voice cracking.
"Try," Fenrir pressed, his mouth still close enough to feel his breath.
Loki stepped to the side of Fenrir's head and held his hand out, illuminating a thin sparkling ribbon that wrapped tightly around the thick, furry neck. Gleipnir was only visible under the touch of magic.
"It is wound too tightly around your neck," Loki said in a defeated voice. "To even try to break it will put your life at risk."
Fenrir turned his head to his father and bowed it slightly. "I am already dead."
Loki winced, his creased eyes pushing back tears. He then lifted his hand to stroke the dense fur on Fenrir's cheek. The beast didn't pull away. "I am so sorry," Loki whispered. Fenrir responded with a deep, almost grateful groan. "But I will not put your life at risk."
Fenrir then jerked his head from Loki's touch. "Then you are no better than your father who bound me here!"
"He is not my father!" Loki retaliated in a voice harsher than he probably intended. "I will not risk killing you," he continued, lowering his volume, "because it is your destiny to slay the All-Father. I will not take that from you."
Fenrir narrowed his eyes. There was a long pause before he did anything else, and then a row of prickled fur lowered on his back. "How much longer must I be bound?"
"I do not know," Loki said. "Only Odin can break Gleipnir. When he awakens, I promise you, I will do everything in my power to free you."
"You promise..." Fenrir was not satisfied by that. "And I am to trust your infamous tongue? To build hope on empty words?"
"What must I do to earn your trust again?" Loki whispered.
"Feed me," Fenrir replied on an exhale.
"I will bring you more animals at once," offered Loki.
"No!" Fenrir raised his voice and turned a chilling gaze to Sif. "I want her."
Loki stepped urgently into Fenrir's line of sight. "That is not an option."
"She is pure Aesir blood, like Tyr." The wolf licked his teeth. "A hand is only an appetizer."
"I will bring you the rest of Tyr!"
"Loki, no!" Sif finally had to intervene. She would not let Loki sacrifice a good man to this cause.
"Tyr is not here," Fenrir continued, pushing Loki aside with his nose so he could get a full view of Sif. "She is."
Sif assumed a battle stance, readying herself to make a dive at her sword, which was merely a stone's throw away. "If he dares attack me, I will defend myself."
Frustrated, Loki retrieved Sif's sword and threw it toward the cavern's entrance. Sif glared at him. "That won't be necessary," he said. He then moved to Sif's side, urging her in the direction of her sword. "Go," he whispered. "I will catch up to you."
She was about to argue but stalled her words upon close inspection of Loki's face. His cheeks were streaked by tears, his eyes tortured and lacking any of their usual spark, be it of mischief or hope. She reached for his cheek but he shook his head, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. "Please," he said. "Go. I will be right behind you."
He released her and turned back to Fenrir. She did as told, stopping only to pick up her sword. Once she was just far enough outside of the cavern where she couldn't be seen, she stopped. She could hear Loki speaking to Fenrir, and she had to listen.
"You have my word," Loki said, "I will do everything in my power to release you."
"What power do you even posses?" Fenrir was doubtful.
"More than I have ever possessed before." Loki's conviction was chilling.
"These are all merely words to me," said Fenrir, trying to mask to glimmer of hope that crept into his voice. "And words do not fill my belly."
"Then if my words aren't enough to assure you," Loki said, no emotion spared, "trust my love."
Sif's heart sank, and a great, dawning relief washed over her. That was it. That was the reason she was here. It was the same reason they set out on this journey in the first place, whether Loki planned it that way or not. So she could witness, first hand, a father's genuine love for his son. That despite Loki's history of betrayal, despite his crimes against loved ones and the devastation brought upon on the innocents of Midgard, at the core, Loki was—
She gasped as a great, icy force ripped past her, completely obliterating her train of thought and shooting up the cave's passage with a vengeance, leaving spikes of ice along the walls and her body. She shivered and patted herself clean of it. The patterns of ice on the walls were the same as Loki had used earlier to kill the lizards. That force had to be him.
What had just happened? She thought he was having a moment with his son. He told her to go ahead of him, that he would meet her. Something clearly didn't go according to plan.
Sif didn't waste any more time questioning and immediately launched herself in pursuit of Loki, pushing off the cave walls for momentum, crunching ice beneath her boots and slipping every few steps, but recovering quickly. She was guided by the faint speck of light that signaled the cave's entrance and barely illuminated the glassy ice.
Finally she reached the outside but there was no Loki. She took a moment to catch her breath and noticed a dark layer of clouds that hadn't been there before. The skies had been crystal clear when they entered the cave. She began to recall her dream and the storm front that had been present in it, but she couldn't dwell on it long, for before her, was more ice. An entire bridge of it, stretching down to the distant beach below, completely bypassing the hiking trail they had taken to reach the cave.
She was so confused. So frustrated. She squinted to try and make out Loki's form on the beach, but couldn't see through an encroaching fog. All of this sudden weather, it had to be him. Had to be his magic. What the Hel was going on!? She needed to get down to that beach now!
She was tempted to call for Fylla but ruled that out for fear of the changing weather. Fylla couldn't fly with wet wings. Trekking back down the trail would take far too long, so there was only one option. Sif gathered her courage and tested the ice bridge with one foot. It was really more of a slide than a bridge. Sturdy, but by no means safe. Ollie would love it.
She took a deep breath, deliberating no more and stepping fully onto the narrow ice passage. It creaked beneath her weight but it held, so she took another step.
And then her traction went, and the sliding began.
She had never trained for this, and the more speed she picked up, the harder her heart pounded. She pictured Ollie on his ski, how he crouched low, using the strength of his legs for balance. She could do that. Her legs were strong and she had impeccable balance. Her speed picked up. Trees whizzed by. She wobbled a lot but she was doing it. And it was almost fun.
The beach started coming into view, and then she saw Loki, or at least a silhouette. It had to be Loki. She abandoned all concentration on balancing to try and make out his form, and quickly regretted that decision as one leg flew out from under her, then the other, then her rear crashed through the now melting bridge.
She hit the slope, tucking into a ball and rolling down the remainder of the hill. It wasn't very far but it was far enough when every tumble greeted her body with a bruising stone or a stabbing twig. She finally hit the sand with a thud, breath knocked from her body.
She lay there on her back, her body erupting in a symphony of aches and stings, her hair feeling like it collected half of the forest floor. One thought pounded over and over in her slowly recovering head. "I'm going to bloody murder him!"
She then heard his voice carried on the wind. She couldn't make out what he was saying, but the sheer desperation of it erased all of her ill thoughts toward him. She sprang to her feet and followed the voice, moving blindly through the ever-thickening fog. The wind picked up drastically and it began raining, a light sprinkle escalating quickly to a downpour.
Just like in her dream.
This was all too weird. Sif had no training in dealing with anomalies in nature, and prophesies, and sorcerers with their hungry children. This is not what she signed up for when she agreed to this outing. But she pressed on regardless, following Loki's voice, which grew clearer with each step into the unknown.
Finally she could she him. He was planted on his knees in the sand, facing the lake, his arms stretching to the living waters of the lake. As she drew closer, she could see that he was conducting the rising waves, creating even more unrest in all of the chaos. His body was glowing in a green aura.
"Loki!" She called out, now only a few paces away.
He didn't seem to hear here. He kept shouting into the rain, and Sif could finally make out what he was saying.
"...heed my call! The time is now! We will have our vengeance! Come to me, my son!"
Sif slowed as she approached him, a chilling reality striking to her very core. Loki was losing his mind, completely this time. He hadn't been prepared to see his son in such a state of suffering. It must have been too much for him to bear. How could anyone prepare for that?
She stepped closer to him, still unsure if she should make her presence known to him. Would he even recognize her? She had to at least try.
"Loki!"
Still no change. He kept shouting his insanities.
"I need your help! Your brother needs your help! I am your father, Loki of Asgard! All have felt the fury of my rage! Help me now to unleash it fully on to him that banished you! Take your vengeance! Heed my call!"
That was just about all Sif could handle of his crazy talk. And of the pelting wind and rain. It was frightening, infuriating, and maddeningly cold. And her hair was now a stringy swamp of mud and dead leaves. She wanted to go home. She wanted to hold her son. To curl up with him next to the fireplace and listen while he read from one of his favorite books.
This little field trip with Loki?...Was over.
Sif struck the back of his head with her shield, hard, hoping to knock him out. He yelped and fell to his hands and knees, his green glowing aura washing away in the wind. He never fell completely though, never lost consciousness. Sometimes his strength astounded her. She had hit him really hard, hard enough to make Thor unconscious, at least for a minute. She contemplated hitting him again but scratched that idea when the storm began to back off and the lake calmed.
Loki remained on all fours, fingers clutching the sand, body retching with each vocalized breath. She couldn't see his face past the stringy hair falling around it, but she caught glimpses of bared, gritted teeth.
"Loki?" Sif whispered. He didn't respond. She cast aside her shield and dropped to her knees next to him, gently placing her hands on his shoulders. "Are you going to come back to me?"
Finally he began showing signs of comprehension. His breathing calmed and his body relaxed under her touch. He reached for the back of his head and turned a wincing expression to Sif. "Ouch," he said.
Sif burst out a laugh, washing over in relief that he was showing signs of normalcy. "Why did you..?" he stammered. "This isn't funny."
She shifted to face him fully, now grabbing his shoulders from the front. "Loki." She shook him a little. "What in the blazing...balls of Surtr was that?"
Loki beheld her wide-eyed, looking as bad as she felt. His skin was drained of all color and his jerkin was torn in multiple places. Perhaps his trip down the hill wasn't any easier than Sif's. His sunken eyes softened the longer he held them locked with hers. He then drifted his gaze to her hair and reached out to pull a leaf from just below her ear.
"Sif," he said, weakly. "What have you done to your hair?" He kept picking debris out of it.
Sif rolled her eyes and growled in frustration. "I hate you so much." She then slapped his hand away and pulled him into an embrace. "Don't ever, ever put me through something like that again."
Loki's arms didn't hesitate to wrap around her in return, and he clung to her more tightly than she was to him. She blinked in surprise but continued to hold him, feeling how desperately he needed it. When was the last time he had embraced anyone? And been held in return?
"I'm here," she whispered tenderly. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and she felt him shudder. She repeatedly combed her fingers through his hair, down the length of his neck, which was tense. She pressed her cheek to his temple and they hung there, an eternal moment of need, comfort, and lingering horror of what they had witnesses in the cave.
It was quickly becoming what Sif might dare call a perfect moment, until the lake began to stir again.
"Loki..." she said, pulling away to look out over the lake. He paid no mind to the rising waves and pulled her back, cupping her cheeks in his damp hands and pressing an urgent kiss on her lips. She froze and made only one small noise of protest, before kissing him back, deeply, fully, handing herself over. It was familiar but new. Hot and cold, forceful and timid, comfortable but searching. He tasted just as he always had, mysterious and refreshing.
She was just starting to really get into it when a large wave pounded the shore and distracted her from his lips. She tore away, beholding the lake with fear.
"Loki, stop!" She ordered. One of his hands still held her cheek, and she then noticed her arms were still wrapped around his neck.
"It's not me," he said softly, innocently. He brushed his fingers one last time through her hair before making to stand. She stood with him. They helped each other up.
"Loki..." Sif was now pleading, shifting her hard gaze between him and the raging lake. "Tell me what is going on."
"He's here," Loki said with a glint in his eye, his arms still holding onto Sif's for support.
Sif shook her head, at a loss. "Who is?"
"Jormungand. My son." Loki looked fondly at the lake as another wave crashed down. "He's taking me to my daughter."
"In Helheim?" Sif couldn't believe what she was hearing. She grabbed his arms tighter. "Loki, you are not well."
"This has to happen." Loki looked at her in a way contrary to her accusations. He was more collected than she was. "For Fenrir. For me. And for all of us."
"But it's Helheim," she argue meekly. "You'll die."
"I won't die," he said. "I have connections."
She couldn't argue with him. She knew she would lose. She could only shake her head in both confusion and painful realization. "You planned all of this, didn't you." Another wave crashed around them. "Bringing me along, summoning this storm...this is all part of your plan to...what?"
Loki smiled. "I didn't plan the kiss."
"Answer my question." She wouldn't let him charm his way out of this one. "Why do you need me? And how does Ollie fit into it?"
Loki closed a little of the distance between them. "It's really quite simple, Sif." His hands found her cheeks again and he stroked them with the backs of his fingers. His touch was so welcome, reason be damned. Maybe it was okay to let him charm, a little, while he explained himself. "I only want my family close to me." He placed a small kiss on her cheek. "My real family. My future. They're all that I have left."
Sif closed her eyes and breathed him in, hoping beyond reason that was the truth. "How long will you be gone?" she whispered.
"Hard to say." His voice found a little edge. "Depends on my daughter's mood."
Sif opened her eyes and immediately found his. She still had so many questions but she could sense their time was running short. "What about the throne? What about Odin? I will not lie for you—"
"Don't worry about it," he cut in, his voice calm. "I have it covered. Go back to Glasir. Be with your son."
"Our son," she said against his lips, which she felt stretch into a smile. She then kissed him, weaving one hand through his hair and snaking the other behind his back. He mewled deeply into her and she pressed the whole of her body to his. He was everything she shouldn't want. He was a traitor. He was a criminal. He was self serving and power hungry. But somehow, through all the lies and insanity, he was proving himself to be a decent father.
And let's not leave out that he was an immaculate kisser. By the might of all the gods, she could have swallowed him whole.
But instead she broke this kiss, and awaited his next move. She still couldn't pull from the embrace.
"You will know when I have returned," he spoke against her ear. He touched his forehead to hers before slipping out of her hold and moving past her. She felt instantly chilled.
As if on cue, Sleipnir came trotting up to Loki. Fylla could be seen further in from the shore, not daring go near the crashing waves. Loki stroked the muzzle of the steed then patted his neck. "Look after him while I'm gone," he called out to Sif.
She watched him turn from the horse and wade out into the furious lake.
"What are you doing now?" She threw her arms up. She didn't know how much more of this she could take.
Loki didn't say anything, just smiled over his shoulder and lifted his arms in the air. He now stood waist deep in the water, which crashed mercilessly around him.
Sif was about ready to go in after him, concluding he truly had lost it, but she stopped when the lake erupted with a giant, reptilian head rising high on a thick scaly neck. She gasped and nearly lost her footing. The creature appeared right in front of Loki, who didn't even flinch. Sif could only watch helplessly as the beast unhinged its mighty jaws and unleashed a whip-like tongue. It shot straight out, wrapping several times around Loki's torso and yanking him into the depths of his mouth.
It plunged back into the lake, sending one final wave hurdling onto shore, crashing into Sif's weakening legs, causing her to fall to her knees. The lake then calmed as if nothing happened, an almost insulting gesture. How could anyone be calm at a time like this?
When she truly believed nothing else could surprise her, she was proven wrong again as an ice bridge formed across the lake, connecting island to mainland, and Sleipnir helped himself to it, trotting across, happy to play along with Daddy's precious little plan. (or was it Mommy...?) She didn't want to think about that now.
Sif dropped her gaze and her hands into the shallow wake, wet sand quickly filling around her fingers and knees. She thought she even heard herself laugh, briefly. She could still taste him on her lips.
What. What had she gotten herself into?
Music: The Bottom Line by Depeche Mode