A/N: This chapter is a supernova of dramatic cluster fuck. I don't even...

"Are you certain you don't want me to join you?" Loki asked from across the room, propping himself up on an elbow. The sight of him in her bed was strange in the daylight, unnatural. Rarely in the past had they spent entire nights together. This was all new territory.

And it was exciting!

"I am certain." Sif pulled the chain mail shell over her head, letting it fall around her form with a rippling jingle. "Thor should be relaxed when I break the news to him. That won't be the case if you are in the room."

Loki shrugged. Even he couldn't argue with that. "Are you relaxed?" he asked.

"I am ready." Sif pulled her chest plate from the rack and collected her greaves and bracers.

"Ready for war, apparently." Loki watched with intrigue as she suited up, her hands working deftly over buckles while her eyes remained on him. She could armor herself blindfolded. "Is all that steel and leather necessary for a confession?"

"I am going to the training grounds after I meet with Thor." Sif crossed the room, greaves in hand, and took a seat on the bed. "No thanks to you, I missed morning practice with Volstagg and Fandral."

Loki seemed proud of himself for that. "Routines are made to be broken."

Sif shook her head, bending over to fasten the armor over her boot. "I could say the same about your body." She cast him a sidelong glance. "Just because something is enjoyable to break, doesn't mean it should be."

"Speaking of my body..." Loki moved across the bed, pulling himself up to sit beside her. He still hadn't put any clothes on, his modesty saved only by the sheet covering his lower half. "Who will apply my balm this afternoon if you will be training?"

Sif eyed him up and down. "One of Eir's apprentices. Be nice to her."

Loki scooted in closer, a devilish look flashing in his eye. "I make no promises." He began pulling free the pieces of her hair that were caught under her armor, his fingers grazing her face and neck wherever possible. "When did you stop wearing a pony tail?"

Sif almost protested being fussed over, but then her skin reacted with a warm tingle to his cool touch. She soaked it all in, keeping a soft gaze on him. "After your fall from Bifrost. I wore it down for your memorial. And then it just stayed that way."

Loki's movements slowed. He studied her eyes, searching, skeptical. He hadn't expected that response from her.

"That's the truth," Sif continued. "It comes out much easier than you would think." She then smiled.

"Is this practice for meeting with my brother?" He seemed awkward now. It was cute.

"Does it have to be anything other than what it is?" Sif leaned in.

"I suppose not." His eyes fluttered. She then took him by the neck and kissed him, deeply. His muscles gave and he melted into her, hands cupping her cheeks to keep her close.

Every kiss with Loki felt like a mad scramble to make up for lost time: hot, urgent, and bittersweet. As if despite their differences, their clashes, and their past sins against each other, the connection of their lips should have never been denied. Sif didn't pretend to understand it. She only knew it felt right. A soldier learned first off to trust their senses, even if they overruled conventional battle tactics.

Sif was never one for convention.

She broke the kiss but stayed close, meeting his shifty eyes with calm assurance. "I'm glad you came to me last night."

Loki smiled, biting down on words that she wished he would just let flow. "I am too."

Sif got up to leave but still had to steal one more quick kiss. She swore his lips were some kind of magnetic force. Finally she moved for the door, pausing only to toss him the linen pants he had abandoned on the floor.

"Wish me luck." She smiled over her shoulder.

"I believe I just did." Loki watched her with a fond gaze. "How will you approach him?"

Sif opened the door, pausing again to meet his eyes. "Truthfully." She then lifted her chin and left the room.

Her boots echoed confidently through the palace as she ventured onward. Today was going to be a good day. Thor may get upset but her actions would ultimately be for the better and she trusted him to see that. Too long had she drawn out these lies. It was time to bring an end to the thirteen-year long battle against her own better judgment. Finally, the burden would be lifted, a prospect that elated her.

Or perhaps she was just giddy from getting laid. Regardless, she was ready to bring about change.

She found Thor in his feasting hall, just as the guard had informed.

"Lady Sif!" Thor welcomed, stepping in from the balcony.

"Good morning, my King." She stopped just short of the two steps and curtsied.

"Please Sif, no formalities." He met her at the base of the steps. "In this room, we are equals."

She smiled at him. Making confessions to a friend was much better than making them to a king.

"Why weren't you at training?" Thor asked.

Truth. That is why she was here. "I was with Loki."

"Ah." Thor didn't seem as surprised as he should be. "Now he's got you neglecting training to play nurse maid? I will have a talk with him."

"He spent the night with me."

Thor blinked, now appropriately surprised. He then shrugged, his mood shift difficult to read beyond the odd look he was giving her. "What...do you wish me to say?"

Sif felt a small jab in her chest. She had hoped he would react more fondly than this, what with all his past attempts at playing match maker.

"Does this not please you?"

She watched Thor's chest sink, a very disconcerting sight. "I don't know how to feel about it. You did just spring it on me."

"You appear disappointed."

"Possibly." He was searching his own mind.

"Were you not encouraging me to spend time with him upon his return?" A creeping worry was now swaying Sif's confidence.

"I was." Thor became conflicted. "But I have to confess, the romance of my brother's return has diminished. I am happy to have him back, and I will always be grateful for his sacrifice...but he is still Loki."

Reality was truly the master of ambush. Sif felt her resolve crumble all around her. "So you disprove of my actions."

"I have always supported your decisions, Sif," Thor said. "But I don't know how to feel about this." He wasn't making this any easier. "I do not want to see you hurt."

"I can take care of myself," Sif attested.

"Then you do not need my approval." Thor placed his hand on her shoulder, a calming gesture. "Truthfully, I want what is best for both of you. But what I want and what I think possible are no longer in harmony."

It was oddly comforting to hear him say that. Not for her own situation but for the truth Thor would eventually learn about Loki's death. His intuition was sharp. That would help cushion the blow when Loki came to him. "Then leave it in my hands."

Thor squeezed her shoulder. "Guard your heart, Lady Sif."

"I always do," she said, restoring some confidence. She knew what she was doing, knew who she was dealing with. She had been the one to journey to Lyngvi with Loki after all, not Thor. She was there to watch his heart break over the torture of his child. And she was there, upon his return, to see the pain he harbored for his daughter. She also watched, last night, the joy that glistened his eyes when he learned he would get to meet their son.

Thor did not know, or at least not remember, the side of Loki that was a father. Sif did.

"Thor," Sif said. "There's more I need to tell you," She then opened her mouth but her words were hijacked by the boisterous entrance of Volstagg and Fandral, their boot steps thudding, their leather creaking, their booming voices regaling the morning's battle training.

Thor shifted his gaze between Sif and the warriors, his mouth spreading with an uncertain smile. "Good morrow, friends," he greeted with only half his usual volume.

"Thor! Sif!" Volstagg snagged a handful of dried fruits from the table as he approached them. "You both should have been there this morning."

Sif widened her eyes at Thor, making a frustrated noise only he could here.

Fandral poured himself a glass of wine. "Where were you, Sif?" Thor tried to cut in but Fandral kept talking. "We had a new challenger this morning. A real brute, you would have loved him. He had a mace as big and ugly as he was. Some claim he was half troll. He certainly smelled like it."

Leave it to Fandral to distract her from her purpose. "Was he actually a challenge?"

"Fandral wouldn't know," Volstagg said with a mouthful. "He refused to go up against him. Said a clumsy mace was no match for his rapier."

"Tis true." Fandral nodded assuredly. "I will not lower my standards for an easy win."

"It is not the weapon that is clumsy, but the wielder," Sif argued. She couldn't stand Fandral's snobbery at weapons. "I intend to prove this to you at our next duel."

"I anticipate it," Fandral countered. "It is time you were taught what happens when you neglect specialization and spread yourself thin with boorish weapons."

"Thor," Volstagg pleaded. "Can't you use your power as King to shut them up? It's the same old debate, over and over."

"Yes, I shall," Thor commanded, eyeing Fandral and Volstagg. "I'm afraid I have to ask you two to leave us. The Lady Sif and I were about to discuss—"

"That won't be necessary, Thor," Sif interrupted, resolutely. "You are all my kinsman and you should all know the truth." They were going to find out anyway. What did she have to lose by confessing to them all.

The mood in the room mellowed, awkwardly. Fandral looked to Volstagg who could only shrug. Then both of them looked to Thor who shifted his eyes to Sif. She steeled herself, meeting all three sets of eyes and taking a deep breath.

"I have been keeping a secret for a while now. I am not proud of myself for it but that is simply how circumstances played out." She now met Thor's eyes alone. "I have a son. His name is Ollerus and he lives in Glasir with the Valkyries. He is Loki's."

Both Volstagg and Fandral's mouths dropped. Sif could see in her peripheral the looks they exchanged, trying to decide if someone should say something. Their reaction wasn't Sif's focus though. Her eyes were on Thor, who was reacting in the way she had most feared. He looked hurt, confused, and betrayed. He turned from her and moved slowly toward the balcony.

"How old is this boy?" Thor asked somberly, his back turned to everyone.

"He is thirteen," Sif replied

"Thirteen," Thor echoed. "You have kept this from me for that long."

"Thor, please." Sif needed to explain herself.

"Perhaps it was my mistake to partner you so often with Loki," Thor's voice cracked. "You have learned his art of deception."

Sif's shoulders sank with her chest. "Let me explain."

She began searching for appropriate words when she felt a set of warm hands on her upper arms. Volstagg turned her and engulfed her into a hefty hug.

"Finally!" His voice had an exaggerated mirth. Sif could tell he was trying to lighten the mood of the room. He was the only one who could since Fandral had retreated into his glass of wine. "I am no longer the only family man among us." He broke the hug and held her at arm's length, his fuzzy mouth stretched in a genuine smile. "This is truly wonderful news."

"Is it?" Fandral chimed in from across the table, refilling his wine glass. "If I recall, fate doesn't fondly embrace the offspring of the Trickster Prince."

"Ollerus is not cursed," Sif defended. "He is not a beast, nor is he ill or corrupted. I raised him to be pure of heart. He grew up among the nobility of the Valkyries."

Fandral contemplated her words. "Why not raise him here?"

"Because he has blue skin," Sif said without a trace of shame.

Thor turned around at that, eyes locked on Sif. "You have known since your son's birth of Loki's heritage yet you kept it to yourself?"

"No, Thor." She was relieved to hear him speak. He sounded hurt but his temper was kept at bay. "When Ollie was born I thought he was cursed. I believed we were both afflicted by Angrboda's witchcraft and jealously."

"There's a name we haven't heard in a while," Fandral added.

"Let her speak," Thor ordered.

"I didn't know what to do besides return to Glasir," Sif continued. "The All-Father had just banished Loki's other children. I feared if I had the child in Gladsheim, he would have suffered the same fate."

Thor took a deep breath, absorbing it all in. "So you, the Valkyries, and Loki, you were all part of this secret." He shook his head. "Heimdall must have known too."

"Yes, he did." Sif paused. This was the part that was hardest. "But Loki did not. At least not by my confession."

For the first time this morning, Sif lowered her gaze. She could see in the corner of her eyes all three sets of shoulders drop. Even Fandral could sympathize for a father being denied his son. That just wasn't something that was done among the Aesir. "He found out by other means. He saw through my lie. That is why—"

"That is the reason he cut your hair," Thor said, defeated.

The room went painfully silent, everyone thinking the same thing. Could Sif have played a role in Loki's fall? Was her deception a catalyst in his madness? It could have been, but Sif refused to be burdened by that worry anymore than she already had been. She had shed her tears of guilt. It was time to move on, to right the wrongs. Loki will always be responsible for his own actions, regardless of what pain she, or Thor, or the All-Father may have caused him.

Sif's chin restored its comfortable height. "That is the reason. But that is in the past. I have made my apologies and now I intend to unite father and son."

Thor and the Two took a few moments to exchange questioning and thoughtful glances, wordless communication among her comrades that Sif was still learning how to translate, unspoken understanding among men alone. It was moments like these that reminded her why there was no such title as Thor and The Warriors Four.

"When will this reunion take place?" Thor asked. "At the banquet?"

"After that," Sif said. "Once things have settled. The sight of Ollie's skin will be a shock to our people. This needs to be handled delicately."

"Indeed." Thor nodded. A slight dread twisted his features. "What is this boy like? You say he is without curse."

"His name is Ollerus," Sif repeated with emphasis. Whatever doubts Thor had to her son's worthiness were about to be squashed. "He is everything to me. He is smart, brave, gifted with the bow, and the most noble soul."

"Gee, I wonder which side he took after," Fandral murmured into his glass.

Sif pretended not to hear him and continued. "To meet him is to fall in love with him. He is adored by the Valkyries. They see not his blue skin or Jotunn markings. I have faith he can win the heart of any he meets."

"I get the feeling you think rather highly of your b—hey!" Fandral was cut off by a hefty shove from Volstagg.

"Desist the commentary, my verbose comrade."

Thor ignored the Two, focused on Sif and her words. His mood seemed to be lightening. "A boy raised among the Valkyries..." He scratched his beard thoughtfully. "How very intriguing."

"Is it really so different from a maiden raised by Valkyries?" Sif challenged.

"I suppose not." Thor nodded, even smiled. "I look forward to meeting this b— To meeting your Ollerus. My nephew..."

Sif returned his smile. "He is certainly anxious to meet you. But he will first meet his father."

Thor dropped his gaze, hiding his reaction. He clearly had his doubts.

"This calls," Volstagg announced, moving to the table and snatching the wine bottle from Fandral, "for a celebration." He filled three wine glasses and handed one each to Thor and Sif. He then claimed his own and lifted it high. "For my children have just gained a cousin."

"Ease up a moment, oh rotund one," Fandral spoke up with concern. "Am I the only one here who worries for this boy?"

"What sort of thing is that to say?" Sif snapped. "Am I not his mother?"

Fandral was taken aback for a moment, seeing for the first time the ferocity of Sif's maternal nature. Or course it didn't stop him from speaking. "You are about to introduce Loki into his life."

"Would you rather a boy never meet his father?" Sif defended. Fandral had no rebuttal.

Thor stepped up next to Sif who was now standing opposite Fandral at the large banquet table. "For all of my brother's imbalances," he said calmly to Fandral, "I have seen how he behaves in the presence of his children. It is his most sincere of moments, comparable with his devotion to our Mother." He then turned to Sif. "I trust you know what is best for Ollerus."

Sif studied Thor carefully. She could detect apprehension behind his words. She raised her glass to him anyway. "I thank you for your support."

Thor raised his glass. Volstagg raised his higher. Sif glanced at him with gratitude. Then the three looked to Fandral, whose glass was still lowered.

"I think you all are entirely too trusting," Fandral said.

"Do not mistake hope for trust," Sif countered.

Fandral squinted at her, studying her, the corner of his mouth curling after an inquisitive moment. "You have taken him back as your lover haven't you? I can tell by your glow."

Sif's cheeks immediately went hot. "What business is it of yours?"

Volstagg groaned, swirling the contents of his glass and staring hard at it.

Sif shifted her glance to him. "If you have something to say on the matter, by all means, say it."

"I just..." Volstagg said, treading lightly. "Think you might be rushing into it."

"I agree," Thor added.

Sif whipped her head in his direction. "What happened to supporting my decisions?"

"My support does not come without concern," Thor said. "It has only been a few days since Loki's return. It seems you are making rather large decisions with very little deliberation."

Sif's shoulders knotted up around her neck. She hadn't considered what all of this looked like on the outside, how everyone believed she had only been interacting with Loki since his return. They knew not of all the prior conversations, the apologies, the confessions, the haunting journey to Fenrir's isle. These were all events she was depending on Loki to reveal.

Sif was regretting that choice now, for what could she say from here out that wasn't a lie but also didn't overstep her agreement with Loki? Where did her loyalties lie?

She took a deep breath. She knew exactly where her loyalties lied, and it wasn't in a bed with a liesmith. That was where her love was, a different love then what she had for her comrades. For her King.

Sif steeled herself again. It was time for more truths to come out. If Loki objected then she would deal with him. He should have never expected her to remain quiet this long.

"You are right, Thor." Sif lowered her glass but lifted her chin. "It would appear that way to anyone not knowing what I know."

Thor became baffled, as did the Two. "What?..."

"What the infernally noble Lady Sif is saying, Brother," Loki's voice slide intrusively onto the scene, "is that I never actually died."

All four heads jerked to the entrance of the room where Loki now stood, dressed fully in his dark leathers, hands clasped behind his back. The first gaze he met in return was Sif's, which explained his forced smile. She met his eyes with a genuine smile, one of relief and admiration. She didn't care at this point if he would be upset with her later. Finally, things were being set right.

But first there would be Thor's reaction...

He wasted no time in advancing on his brother. "Why am I not surprised."

Loki's eyes only betrayed a glint of fear before he made advancing steps toward Thor. Granted it was a pained limp but still impressively brave.

"Explain yourself quickly, Loki," Thor ordered in a darkened voice, stopping once he breached Loki's comfort zone.

Loki accepted the challenge. "What you witnessed on Svartalfheim was an illusion." Loki spoke with a misplaced pride. "My death, my resurrection, all a trick."

Sif shut her eyes, wincing. Loki had the ability to break the news smoothly, the gift of words that could ease Thor into the truth, but was he going to use them that way? Clearly not. It's like he wanted Thor to shove him violently into the closest column, which is exactly what was happening now.

"Admit it, Thor." Loki's voice was pinched by the tight grip Thor had on his neck. "It was my best show yet."

"Why!?" Thor growled.

"Because it was exactly what you wanted!" Loki's tone and intensity now matched Thor's. "My sacrifice saved you the burden of my execution."

"I only threatened to kill you if you betrayed me again!"

"Then here is your chance, Brother." Loki's eyes lit up. "For I have indeed betrayed you."

Thor tightened his grip on Loki's neck and slammed him harder into the column.

"Thor, no!" Sif called out. She watched his hand reach for Mjolnir. She was about to intervene but Volstagg held her back.

Thor's hand merely hovered over his weapon. He did not grab it.

"You let yourself be fooled," Loki strained, "because the image of a martyred brother reflects much better on the Mighty Thor's reputation, than that of a villainous brother who terrorized the world he is sworn to protect."

Thor was incredulous. "How dare you think me so petty."

"Prove me wrong." Loki would not back down. "You know as well as I do that sword would not have caused my sudden death."

"You died in my arms!"

"That wound would have taken hours to kill me. What if I merely fainted?"

Thor began faltering. "Your skin changed color. It dried up, as do frost giants when they die"

"So now you're an expert on Jotunn physiology?"

"What would you have me do?!" Tears welled in Thor's eyes.

"Anything but leave me to rot!" Loki's face streaked with his own tears. "Admit it, Thor. You wanted me dead."

The room became eerily silent. Thor loosened his hold on Loki's neck and backed away, shaking his head. He cast Sif and the Two only a quick glance, a disturbing one, before storming out of the room. In retreat.

Loki had won that battle. And it appeared he may have won it with truth.

Sif met Loki's eyes as he propped himself up weakly. It looked like he was about to collapse. Instead he spoke. "Are you happy now, darling?" He peeled his body from the column with a groan, grasping at his chest. "No more secrets. No more lies." He then limped out of the room, leaving Sif and the Two to decipher exactly what it was they had just witnessed.

Sif collapsed into a chair, one hand clutching a fistful of her hair, the other pounding the table.

Volstagg and Fandral had to exchange several glances and attempts at speaking before one of them finally spoke. Of course it was Fandral.

"Perhaps you should rethink the timing of your boy's visit, seeing how his uncle is on the verge of slaughtering his father."

"Is that what you got out of that?" Volstagg countered. "Because I saw something entirely different."

Sif sighed. "What a mess."

"That," Fandral added, "is something we can all agree on."

Now Volstagg sighed, disappointed. "I suppose Loki's banquet will be cancelled now." He shook his head. "Such a shame."

"You only cared about the food," Sif said flatly, her voice drained.

"At least he's being honest," Fandral said, reclaiming his wine glass. Sif glared at him. "What?"

Volstagg claimed the seat next to Sif, throwing his massive arm around her and tugging her to his side. She didn't resist him. It was a welcomed, and a very much needed embrace.

"It is a fine mess indeed you've got yourself into, Luv," said the jolly man. "But don't think for a moment you have to face it alone." He then shifted an expectant gaze to Fandral. "Right?"

Fandral sighed, relenting. He then raised his glass. "Right."

Volstagg raised his glass. "To our newest family member, Ollerus Sifson."

Sif couldn't help but laugh. No one ever called him that before.

"Ollerus Ladyson?" Volstagg suggested.

Sif reclaimed her glass and lifted it. "To Ollie. The boy with the greatest uncles in all the nine realms."

"Here, here," the Two said, and they all clanked their glasses.

Music: Some Nights by Fun