A/N: Poor Sif. She knows she might just be delusional yet she keeps powering through it all. The forward momentum of a warrior's heart cannot be slowed.

Sif was fed up with waiting. She had not the time to make amends on Loki's schedule, not while their son resided patiently in Glasir, ascending rapidly into adulthood, ignorant of the life-altering truth awaiting him. She refused to leave for Glasir until she and Loki were on speaking terms again, and he should know this. It was foolish of him to keep avoiding her, prolonging something he had admittedly longed for, and why? Because she forced him into a premature confession?

Granted his confession shed a light on Thor that she hadn't expected, but truth was truth and no matter how ugly it could get, and it belonged in the open. How many times had she told Loki of her unwillingness to lie for him? He shouldn't have expected any less of her in regard of her duty to Thor. This silent treatment he had been giving her for the last two days was completely undeserved and she was through letting him get away with it. For all his acquired knowledge, and all his boasted experience from traveling in and out of the nine realms, Loki could be a bloody child at times.

Her boots clicked disruptively through the great halls of the public library. She knew she would find Loki here now that he was well enough to move about. He always took refuge among the towering bookshelves. She had to ask a librarian to his exact whereabouts given the enormous floor plan of a building she seldom visited, but it was no difficult task to find the brooding prince tucked away in a private corner, ignoring the nearby whispers of curious teenagers who gossiped about the awesomeness of their martyred prince. The kingdom was still in the dark to what their king had just learned.

Sif passed by Loki's fan club, halting their whispers with her sizing-up stare. She was in full armor and knew exactly how intimidating she could be. The adolescents gathered their books and fled, allowing Sif the privacy she wordlessly requested. She then cast her glance to Loki who was obviously ignoring her unmissable presence, pretending to remain engrossed in some tattered tome which lay before him on the table.

Sif veered down an aisle that hid her from Loki's view, drawing closer to him but masking her budding smirk. She could play games too. She noisily sifted through several books, sliding them on and off shelves and flipping their pages with far more force than necessary. The annoyed sigh she heard from the opposite side of the shelf only encouraged her. She began humming and making other nonsensical noises in feigned interest at whatever literature she held, even dared read a few lines aloud.

It was only a matter of time before Loki would object.

"Quite pretending to be literate."

A jab. That was a good sign. Sif took it as her invitation to reveal herself again, rounding the bookshelf and approaching him with a challenging smile. She plopped her book down on his table, its thud echoing throughout the entire philosophy section. She then kicked the chair out that his were feet propped on and planted herself directly in front on him, half seating herself on the table.

Loki sighed and rolled his eyes, refusing to acknowledge her expectant gaze, which she wouldn't let up on. Finally, after his overly dramatic show of offense, rapping his fingers on the table and looking everywhere but at her face, he met her eyes.

"Have you no concept of how to behave in a library?"

Sif crossed her arms across her breastplate. "Have you no concept of how to behave in general?"

Loki continued to strum his fingers, holding her gaze with a very unimpressed look. "You will now judge the very action you tirelessly spurned me to do?"

Sif raised her brow. "You know as well as I there were more tactful ways to break the news to your brother."

"None of which he deserved." Loki's stare became cold, unblinking.

Sif sighed, dropping her gaze, along with her dominating approach. She didn't come here to lecture him. Even if she had, it was clear he would have none of it, especially on the topic of Thor. "I'm leaving for Glasir in the morning."

Loki responded with less of an edge, closer matching Sif's tone. "You're to leave me alone while your barbarian kinsman decide my fate?"

"I'm going to tell Ollerus the truth." Sif met his eyes again. "It is time the two of you were united."

"That may just happen through the walls of my prison cell."

Sif shook her head. "I won't let that happen."

She gazed at him with softening eyes. Her body then slid from the table's edge, nearly acting on its own accord, and dropped smoothly onto Loki's lap, her legs folding parallel at one side of his thighs. She brushed the backs of her fingers over his now awkward expression, his eyes darting around to see if there was anyone watching. There could be. At this point Sif didn't care. Nor did she care how he tried to deflect her affection.

She continued, "Your resurrection may have been a trick but your selfless actions on Svartalfeim are still in Thor's consideration. Or so the Warriors inform me." That captured Loki's undivided attention. "They are the only ones Thor has talked to since our confessions."

Loki relaxed a notch. "They are not upset with you?"

"No," Sif said. "They support me. They want what is best for Ollerus, which means they are in favor that I unite the two of you."

Loki's eyes fluttered. He seemed hesitant to accept the ease of this news. "When do I get to meet him?"

Sif's hand lowered to Loki's shoulder, followed by her gaze. "I'm not sure." Her fingers began toying with his collar, smoothing leather that did not need smoothing. "It all depends on how he reacts. He's going to be upset with me." Her eyes shifted alternately between his eyes and her hand. "However, he knows of you. He reads all of the books about Asgardian royalty."

Loki drew his brows together in concern. "Which books?"

"All of them," Sif repeated. "When he talks about you, it's always in awe and intrigue about your magic tricks. You're," she smiled, "one of his favorites."

"One of..." he echoed, a touch of worry glinting his eyes. "Do you think he'll be pleased to learn I am is father?"

"Yes, I do," Sif stated. "But like I said, he'll probably be upset with me." That was the part that worried her most, and the main reason she needed Loki's forgiveness before confronting the boy. She couldn't allow Ollerus to meet Loki when they both harbored a grudge against her.

She lowered her gaze again, not holding back a display of her worry. "That is something you'll have in common with—"

Loki cut her words off, shaking his head and pushing his fingers to her lips. He then sat upright, replacing his fingers with his lips.

Sif inhaled sharply, surprised, but in a good way. She could work with this. Her lips parted to allow him full access, forever relishing the taste and massage of that gifted tongue. She would be lying to say she hadn't hoped for it.

He hummed into her and she cupped her hands on his jawline, fingers splayed over his cheeks and neck. Oh, was this was her kind of reconciliation, their writhing mouths hard against the other and Loki's hands sliding up her thighs, beneath the layered armor of her skirt.

What a spectacle they must be making. If those teens were seeking gossip material then they surely had it now: the Prodigal Prince and the War Goddess publicly behaving with no more class than the rebellious peers of those who watched and giggled from the biological sciences section. Again, Sif didn't care. Let them watch. Let them giggle. She didn't know how long she was going to be in Glasir. It could be a while before she was able to indulge in Loki again. She needed this.

One scurrying walk back to the palace, prompted from the ejection by one very disapproving librarian, found their bodies urgently slammed against Sif's bedroom door. Steel and leather couldn't be shed quickly enough. Lips separated only when clothing was being ripped over heads. Blankets and sheets were a bothersome tangle, and pillows were pushed violently out of the way.

Loki's strength was almost fully restored and he made the most of it. He had her pinned multiple times, refusing her the dominance she always fought for (and usually won). She pretended that it angered her, her growls of protest drawing out his satisfied grin. He was allowed to win every now and again.

He pinned her one final time before they cried out in release, bodies tensing through the unified songs of need and of want. When he melted onto her, it was as though every part of him bled into her. His long limbs constricted her with a sticky desperation, his lips still devouring her own, despite the rawness and gasps for breath. His fingers disappeared in her hair, and hers clutched the back if his neck.

It felt like they would never be able to separate. It was so wonderful.

The hours drifted by with lingering caresses and whimsical noises. Occasionally there was small talk: small teases and superficial praises, the adoration of each others bodies. It was all so easy, so comfortable. When their bodies were connected, the outside world fell away.

Night fell with hardly a second glance. Now the moonlight filled her room, replacing the warm hues of sunset on their skin with icy blues. Sif shivered, the dried sweat and Loki's damp skin a force she couldn't compete with. She didn't want either of them to move, however she didn't protest when Loki got up to collect the blankets and retrieve her fur cloak. He wasn't gone very long and once he returned, it was sweeter than before. He wrapped the cloak around her shoulders then layered the blankets over her. A thin sheet is all he covered himself with. Their severe difference in body temperature wasn't ideal for spending the night together in balanced comfort, but somehow they managed. It was only a trifling matter when confronted with their bodies' desire to be intertwined through the entirety of the night. Some things just weren't meant to be over analyzed.

Loki fell asleep before she did. She envied him for it, but not so much that it disrupted her peace. Part of her didn't even want to sleep, her feelings too lifted to subdue with unconsciousness. Come morning, this would be the perfect serenity to spring from before traveling to Glasir and confronting Ollerus. She would carry with her the aura of forgiveness. Of beauty and affection. Of sincerity. When she talked to the boy, let her words of truth spill over lips which still tasted of Loki. When she spoke of her lover, let her hope in his tempestuous heart not be her folly but instead a boon to the very flesh that was created by the unification of their bodies.

Let her final confession, no matter the heartache it brought or the betrayal it revealed, be the unique form of healing that only the bonds of family and love can bring.

If only for a little while.

The pale blue boy plopped the book onto the table with an incredulous thud then flung open the pages to a very familiar, dogeared chapter. "He," Ollerus said, pointing with disbelief to an image of Loki, "is my father?"

"Yes," replied his mother, resolutely. Ollerus stared at her in bewilderment. She had been acting nothing but weird since she got home this morning: awkward, yet happy, but also nervous. He had to wonder just how much mead she had to drink during her visit with Thor.

"Prince of Mischief?" Ollerus pressed, making certain they were talking about the same Loki. "Brother of Thor? Son of Od—" He cut himself off, flipping ahead to the most recent account of the figure in question. "Son of...King Laufey?"

"Yes," Sif said again, this time with a wince.

Ollerus studied her, his heart beating in a way he didn't know it could. This wasn't a joke. She wasn't drunk or ill or doped up on one of Eir's concoctions prescribed for her battle wounds. She was telling the truth. A very unexpected, alarming, weird...but awesome truth.

This answered so many of his questions! Yet, it also raised so many more...

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Ollerus heard his voice crack.

"I am so sorry, my love." Sif said. "I only wanted to protect you. I made a mistake."

"Protect me?" Ollerus didn't get that. "From what?"

Sif dropped her gaze. "Loki is an unpredictable soul. For many years I was...confused."

She was obviously still confused. "Is?" Ollerus corrected, flipping to the last page which showed Loki's fall from a crumbling Bifrost. "How about was?"

Sif tilted her head to look at the page in question, her brow furrowed. "He is not dead."

Ollerus poked his finger at a very specific line of text. "It says right here 'all of Asgard mourned their fallen Prince.'" He knew his mother wasn't an avid reader but seriously, how could she not know this? She lived it!

"Your book is out if date," Sif said matter-of-factually.

"Oh." Ollerus scratched his head. He hadn't considered that. "Did he survive the fall?"

Sif nodded and Ollerus felt an urgent shift in his chest. It was a whole new wave of excitement. "Where is he?"

"He is in Gladsheim as we speak."

"Does he know about me?"

"Yes." Sif smiled. "He wants to meet you."

Ollerus felt another hop in his pulse, and his stomach tightened. He couldn't process all of this quick enough.

"I cant believe my father is Loki. He's a—," Ollerus paused, flipping back a couple pages in the book. "He's the best sorcerer in Asgard. And he fought in the wars." His gaze lifted back to Sif. "With you. Is that when you...?"

Sif nodded, her eyes shifting away for a moment. That was clearly a story he would get out of her later. But first...

"Is he in trouble?" Ollerus asked. "I mean, after what he did to Thor, and how he nearly destroyed Jotunheim."

"They're," Sif chose her words carefully, "working it out."

"Holy Hel, my father is Loki!" Which meant his father was a criminal! Ollerus always assumed he was of a seedier nature, a con artist of sorts, what with the description his mother always provided: the shapeshifting frost giant who tricked her into believing he was an Aesir.

A sudden pang hit Ollerus in the chest, catching him off guard. It was a realization. "You have lied to me my entire life."

Sif responded with a wordless noise, her hand running over her mouth. Guilty. When she spoke, it was a pathetic whisper. "I am not proud of how I handled this." She sounded like she wanted to cry.

Ollerus didn't want to focus on this part of the news right now. He didn't know how to.

"When do I get to meet him?" he asked.

Sif met his eyes. Ollerus saw evidence of tears, for there was a wetness dampening her dark makeup, leaving lines down her cheeks. She had to clear her throat before speaking. "We're working on that. You know how Asgard reacts to blue skin."

That was something Ollerus never got. It's not like he was some kind of monster threatening war. And what about Loki?

"My father is there now," he challenged. "And he's a frost giant."

Sif sighed, rolling her eyes a little. "Loki is eternally the exception to the rule. Plus he still has Odin's spell that makes him look like an Aesir."

"What if Eir put a spell on me?" Ollerus suggested. "Could I go to Asgard then?"

Sif shook her head. "You don't want that."

"What if we bring Loki— I mean, my father, here?" The more this truth sunk in, the more Ollerus couldn't wait to meet this man: this wizard, prince, frost giant, rebel...his father! He was already imaging all the things they could talk about, the questions he would ask, the magic he wanted to learn.

Sif didn't respond right away, didn't shoot down his suggestion. That only fueled Ollerus's thoughts. He locked hopeful eyes onto hers, searching for the answer he wanted to hear. It looked as though he was going to get it, for her mind was clearly working out a scenario.

"Perhaps," Sif began, much to Ollerus's delight, "you could work your charm on Queen Brunhild. Convince her to allow Loki into Glasir for a few days."

"I can do that," Ollerus proclaimed. "Should I give her the look?" Oh had he mastered the look. He lost count of all the treats it awarded him from the elderly Valkyries.

"Absolutely." Sif smirked, wiping the streaks from her cheeks. "Lay it on her."

"You bet I will," Ollerus laughed. "But wait..." There was something he hadn't considered, something that wasn't sitting well with him. "What do I tell her? Does she know about Loki? Do they all know?" Just how many people had been hiding this secret from him?

"Brunhild and Eir know," Sif said. The shame had crept back into her voice. "They have always known."

That pain was coming back. The one that threatened Ollerus's joy, weighing his chest down. Was this what betrayal felt like? "Eir knew?"

Sif let out a pained sigh. "Do not hold them accountable for my deception." Her voice became shaky. "It was always my decision to hide the truth from you."

Ollerus shook his head. "Whether by words or omission, you all lied to me." Now his chest was really starting to hurt, and he felt his skin heat up. Eir was the one who taught him what lying by omission even was, and how he shouldn't do it. "You kept something very important from me," he began, shaking his head. "The most important thing to me. I have had a father within reach and you have denied me that, for my entire life. Why would you do that? After all the lessons you both gave me about honesty... How could you keep this from me? What dangers could the truth have possibly put me in? You say Loki is an unpredictable soul, but what about you?!"

Sif had been reduced to a heap on the table at this point, each of Ollerus's words cutting her down slowly. He watched it as it happened but it didn't stop him from speaking. He watched her tears flow, watched her scrub her face then bury her head in her arms. Part of him felt like he should pity her, but part of him didn't. The words kept coming. He had no room for sympathy with everything else he feeling. Let her cry. She could handle it. She could take an axe to the gut and walk away with a cool story. Big deal if he was making her cry right now.

"I want to meet him as soon as possible." Ollerus had to fight back his own tears. "I'll go talk to Brunhild, like you said. And then you'll bring him here, right?" He saw Sif nod through her sobbing.

"We will handle this however you want to." Sif peeped up at him through strings of hair, pleading. Her makeup was all over her face. She looked wretched.

His throat tightened. "I want to be alone until he comes here."

That hurt Sif even more, but she still nodded in understanding. "You'll go to the mountains?"

"Yes." Ollerus could barely look at her. "Don't worry, I'll be safe."

"I know you will," Sif said, her voice managing to express pride even through her sniffling whimpers. "Oh, my Ollie... I don't even know how to tell you how sorry I am."

"Then don't." He didn't want to hear it. Not now. And besides, her actions were enough. She was a mess. "We'll talk after you return with my father."

"Deal," she said after a hefty sniff. Her face was all fluids, a sight that almost kept him from rounding the table and wrapping his arms around her neck.

Almost.

She cried more at the embrace, her arms cinching him tight, her tears getting all over his hair and tunic. That was enough to send a single tear down his cheek. Just one. There were more but he only allowed one for her right now. He imagined there would be more to come. Things weren't going to be the same with them anymore, he could feel it. There would be more pain. He had to pace himself.

"I love you, Mother," he murmured into her hair.

She made a husky noise of relief before speaking. "I love you too, my son." Her arms wrapped tighter around him. "Do not ever, ever question that, no matter what." They lingered like that for a moment until she unwound her arms and gripped his shoulders, her eyes sharply vivid, despite the puffy redness. "Even fools, liars, and tricksters, in all their sins and poor choices, even they are capable of love."

Ollerus nodded. He then wiped the single tear from his cheek and released her, turning away and leaving the room. He had heard enough. He grabbed his bow and left the healer's hall, crossing the courtyard, his mother's final words persistently playing over in his head. It wasn't until he reached the forest's edge that he realized what she had meant. She wasn't only referring to herself with that statement. She was talking about Loki too.

She was preparing him.

Ollerus took a deep breath, inhaling the living scents of forest surrounding him, attempting to find a workable balance with everything his heart was juggling. It was so much to take in. This was going to be his wildest adventure yet, no question about it.

And he was ready for it. He had been ready his entire life.