A/N: This picks up right where the last chapter ended only now it's Sif's perspective. There's fluff. There's a tour. There's a little Sif backstory. And finally, there's a meeting.

Sif couldn't speak so she simply continued to hold and be held in return. She was soaked through at this point, an entire morning's worth of preparation lost to an embrace. Her tears had carried her make-up everywhere but where it should be, and the wetness from Loki's clothes was ruining the silk gown she had donned for his arrival. She should probably be bothered by this, considering the ridiculous amount of time it took figuring out-without Eir's assistance-how the gown tied on, but she wasn't. She didn't have the capacity for it, not while long white fingers combed through her hair, not while she placed intermittent kisses along an elegant and clammy neck, and especially not while her son was a mere heartbeat away from meeting his father. This was one of those moments that Sif felt like people wait lifetimes for, a transition into the unknown, suspended by fear and hope, hungry for what happens next but afraid all the same. She wondered if Loki was feeling the same way. It was hard to tell. He was clearly exhausted, having just come from what she imagined was his most challenging trial. The vision quests of the Vanir, according to stories Hogun had told her, were not something to be scoffed at. Loki probably needed rest, needed time to collect himself before Ollerus returned.

Or perhaps he was looking to even further exert himself since the ties of her gown had become half undone and a hand found its way beneath the scoop at her back.

"Not now." Sif tried to squirm away as his cold hand slid down her flesh. "Ollie could show up at any moment."

"He's thirteen," Loki murmured against her hair. "I'm certain he is aware of the process which brought him into this world."

"Still," she giggled as his lips discovered the flesh of her neck and earlobe, buried under layers of hair. "I hardly think it appropriate this be his first impression of you."

"I disagree."

"You would," she sighed. She then gave in, rolling her head back, allowing him temporary access. After the nightmare she had been living since Ollerus had left, after the isolation of the last few nights, Loki's touch was a godsend, a preview of simple and medicinal acts that could dull both of their pain. Images of their flesh entwined began creeping into her thoughts. That was when she had to wedge her arms between them. "As much as I want to tear these wet clothes off you, we should get you changed in a more, modest fashion."

"Where's the fun in that?" Loki arched a brow. He then sighed. "I'd actually rather keep them on. They keep me cool. Glasir is warmer than Asgard."

"Spring does come earlier here than on the mainland," Sif said, playing along with his excuse. She knew he would rather be dressed in his royal armor than the whimsical frocks the Healer's Temple had to offer. He wanted to make a strong impression on their son.

"You said Ollerus went into the mountains?" He asked not waiting for an answer. "How is it he can show up at any moment?"

"This morning I sent a raven to inform him of your arrival." Sif's hands still lay upon his chest, her fingers tracing over seams. "He's anxious to meet you. He's also owed a favor by one of Eir's students who just learned a transportation spell. Do the math."

Loki's eyes flickered with worry. "Are you not concerned for his safety when he's alone in the mountains?"

Sif shook her head. "Not anymore. His survival instincts are strong. And he's a gifted archer. They are hardly any predatory beasts to worry about in Glasir anyhow."

"Forget beasts," Loki said, unconsoled. "What about your enemies? Families of those you have slain in the battlefield."

Sif blinked, puzzled. "Are you joking?"

"Do I look like I jest?"

"Frequently you do." She studied him, finding no trace of insincerity. He was genuinely worried. "There have been exactly four non-Valkyries allowed passage into Glasir lands over the millennia: Odin, Ollie, myself and now you. Anyone who tries to sneak in gets—"

"I wasn't caught on my prior visits."

Sif paused, a forced smile stretching her cheeks. "You are eternally the exception to the rule."

Loki relaxed after a moment of contemplation. "That's what you like about me."

"Sure," Sif teased, inching herself closer to that damned smile. "I'm going to love explaining to our son why his father is allowed to get away with crimes that should've have him in the dungeon."

His lips met hers only briefly before they spread into a grin. "Won't be any harder than lying to him about me."

Her eyes widened. "You're lucky I'm unarmed right now."

"I know," he countered. "It's nice. Your appearance actually matches your title."

"I have half a mind to rip one of these trellises apart and gut you with it." She pushed him away, crossing her arms. She should have known a romantic setting like this would only encourage their natural tendency for hostile foreplay. "I think it's time I give you a tour."

Loki didn't reject that idea and they somehow managed to peacefully join arms and leave the garden. The Healer's Hall of Glasir Valley was renowned to sorcerers realm-wide for its magical offerings. Sif figured that Loki had been anxious to see it inside out, take full advantage of his privileged visit. The very ground it was built on had a strong mystical aura, forces Sif couldn't explain yet knew were a boon to spell casters of all levels. It was the ideal place to learn, a gift Eir had only intended for Valkyries when she built it, which made it forbidden fruit to any magic wielder outside of Glasir. Loki knew his presence here was a rarity.

They walked with arms around each other. She took him down the long, open air corridors, beneath arches that each boasted a unique relief carving regaling tales of ancient Valkyrie wizards. Loki would pause at each one and study the tale with a silent wonder, his eyes twinkling with a boyish curiosity as each story revealed itself to him. Sif knew all of the stories on a basic level, recalling the many trips Eir had taken her down this path in hopes she would gain magical inspiration, but it was a futile hope on Eir's part. Sif just didn't have the aptitude for magic, a fate which Loki was quick to remind her of given the comical irony that she, of all Asgardians, got to grow up here.

"Such a waste," he said with feigned tragedy.

"Oh shut up." Sif rolled her eyes. "I've heard it all before. It's one of the Valkyries favorite laughs to have over their wine. The Asgardian child dropped on the doorstep of mystical greatness by impoverished parents, abandoning their daughter on the hope she will grow into more than they could ever raise her to be, a powerful sorceress or a wise healer. Turns out she hasn't a magical bone in her body."

Loki listened, half smiling. Rarely did she bring up her real parents in any discussion. "You don't appear bothered by this."

"Because I didn't need magic to be great." Sif spoke with an easy confidence. "Battle training with Queen Brunhilde's best is just as reputable as Eir's teaching of the mystic arts. Whoever my parents were, they should've been proud regardless."

"Were?" Loki tilted his head. "Are they dead?"

Sif was starting to get uncomfortable, regretting that she brought the subject up. "They never sought me out. Either they're dead or they're not worth knowing." Those last words tumbled out awkwardly.

"If Asgardians aren't allowed into Glasir, how did your parents reach the temple's doorstep?"

"I don't know," she answered in a juvenile tone. "Maybe they were caught and slain by the Valkyrie Watch for their crime of trespassing. Maybe that's why I never met them."

"You don't actually believe that."

"Can we drop it already?" Sif said, avoiding Loki's penetrating gaze. "Tell me about your trials. I've only heard bits and pieces about your visit with the Volstaggs. I heard you actually ate meat."

Loki sighed. "I do not want to talk about that."

"What did you think about about his children?" Sif was set on the subject change.

There was a pause before Loki answered. He needed a moment to accept that storytime about Sif's childhood was over. "I like them."

Odd. No one likes the Volstagg brood but the Volstaggs. "But they're animals."

"That's why I liked them. They're wild. Uninhibited."

"That's the kind way of describing them." Sif smiled with a realization. "If wild is a trait you like in children, you're going to love Ollerus."

"I don't doubt that." Loki returned her smile.

They passed under the final anecdotal arch, pausing so Loki could hear its tale, then continued on to the next building. It was the gallery of ancient herbs and medicines, a high-walled structure with vines cascading down its outer support pillars. Inside, there was a large assortment of dried and compressed plants, framed and hung on the wall, categorized by the realms they were native to. There were also several glass cases displaying Eir's collection of delicate bottles and clay jars, nothing Sif hadn't seen a hundred times before but enjoyed seeing Loki's reaction to. He probably never imagined Eir was this much of a fanatic for her craft. He was fascinated by it all.

They left the museum and strolled arm in arm down a corridor with nothing of particular interest in it. Loki was quiet.

"Tell me about the trial with Fandral," Sif felt the need to ask.

Loki's contented smile vanished. "I don't want to talk about that."

"Why?"

"Fandral's an idiot."

"Ok..." So much for that conversation topic. "What about Hogun?"

"He's an idiot too."

"I mean," she gave him a light shove, "tell me about the trial."

"It's too soon." Loki sighed, slowing his step. "To be honest I'm still processing it all."

Sif slowed with him, seeing the exhaustion painted under his eyes, accepting that he was in no mood for interrogation. She then twined their hands together and kissed him, perhaps out of sympathy. She did not envy being run through a gauntlet involving Hogun, witch doctors, and hallucinogens. "I'll take you to the library," she spoke softly. "Maybe you can get some downtime before Ollerus returns."

His eyes lit up. "I would like that very much."

Sif led him by his hand, deciding to take him through a classroom that was a shortcut to the library. There was no class in session but there were several students pulled from their novice spell casting at the sight of Asgardian royalty passing through their little world. All eyes were glued to Loki, some of the girls enamored, some fearful, and one lingering uncertainly in between. She was the one Loki chose to target, curiously eyeing the healing stones that were timidly levitating in front of her. They came tumbling down the moment he approached her.

"You're thinking about it too much," Loki said to her. Her eyes fluttered, puzzled, alternating between him and the stones. "And now you're thinking about thinking about it too much." He squatted down next to her and the stones lifted from the ground, floating smoothly up to eye height. The students all watched in awe. "Magic is something you feel. It's driven by emotion, not intellect. Which is why it still baffles me that Sif can't learn—ouch!" Sif kicked him in the thigh.

"Quit showing off," Sif barked. "Eir wouldn't like you interfering with her curricul—ow, hey!" The stones suddenly shot at her, pinging her in the chest and shoulder.

"Take note, girls," Loki rose to full height with satisfaction, "on the battlefield, magic can be used as a weapon. Your physical pain becomes your method of defense, even bolsters it. Fear becomes power, wounds are fuel—"

"Loki," Sif cut in. "These girls are in an introductory class. And I'm pretty certain it's basic healing techniques." A couple students nodded to confirm this. "They aren't going into battle anytime soon. Now can we move on to the library?"

"Very well," Loki conceded, moving toward the doorway Sif was urging him to, "but remember ladies, a sorcerer can turn a disadvantageous scenario in to a victorious one if they are in control of their emotions."

"Oh for the love of..." Sif muttered as she led him through the door. "Eir would loose it if she found out you were lecturing her girls on emotional control."

Loki looked over his shoulder. "What exactly are you implying?"

"Drop it," Sif ordered, opening the door to the next room. Whatever quip Loki was gearing to make was muted when he was forced through the doorway and greeted by walls of towering, bloated bookshelves. His reaction was what Sif always imagined it would be: enchantment, infatuation, an instant magnetism to the shelf containing the spell books.

"This is magnificent," he said.

"I thought you would say that." Sif smiled, taking in the whole of the library with a renewed perspective.

Loki ran his fingers over a row of colorful but dusty spines. "A collection untouched by Asgard's censorship."

Sif moved to his side, noticing he had paused at the controversial imports. "As a teacher of magic, Eir wouldn't have it any other way."

Loki began thumbing through an older book, written in the ancient tongue of the Jotnar. "Does she teach what's in these pages?"

"Not the spells." Sif squinted at a page Loki paused at. There wasn't a single letter she could recognize from the alien alphabet. She only knew what the book was about because she overheard Eir telling Ollerus about its history. "But she gives her students an overview of the dark magic practiced in the outer realms. She refuses to shelter them from it. In the event they'll ever have to combat it, she wants them to be prepared."

"She's absolutely right." Loki's brows shifted to reveal a worry in his eyes.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing." He responded too quickly then tried to divert, shelving the Jotun book and exploring its neighbors. "Some of these books are outdated."

"Loki," Sif pressed, lightly touching his arm, "tell me."

"It's nothing, really, it's just, well..." His eyes darted back and forth several times before they finally met Sif's. "There was a spell in that book that reminded me of Hela. Where is Eir, by the way? Is she still in Asgard?"

"Yes," Sif replied, slowly. "She has been assisting Heimdall in counseling your brother."

Loki nodded. "He needs all the counseling he can get."

"The throne burdens him," Sif defended.

"Because he has no idea how to manage it."

"He is doing his best. What do you want with Eir?" Sif would not let him divert from what was bothering him.

"It's nothing, darling," he took her hands into his, "really. I only wanted to ask her a question."

Sif sighed. "About what?"

Loki brought her hands to his lips, using the time it took to kiss them to formulate his response, the clever snake. "If I told you, it would ruin the surprise." He smiled, sweetly.

"Fine," Sif said. "Perhaps I don't even want to know."

"Has Eir been updating you on the affairs of Asgard?" Loki pulled her in close enough to slide his arm around her waste. "About my banquet? About how I am going to take you in my arms and whisk you across the floor while your show-stopping gown trails us like a comet's tail."

Sif gave him an odd look but didn't reject his embrace. "This is something you've clearly been thinking about."

"Please tell me you will go," he said, tilting his head endearingly.

By the Great Tree could he lay it on thick. "I will go but I will not dance."

"We will see."

"I do not dance."

"You say that now."

"I say it now and I will say it then." Sif would not bend on this. Loki was about to keep pushing the issue but was cut off when a third voice entered the room.

"Trust me, you don't want her to dance in public."

Sif and Loki's heads jerked in tandem to see Ollerus standing in the doorway, gaze locked onto Loki. "Ollie," Sif said, pulling out of Loki's hold and closing the distance between them. She reached out to touch him but he avoided her, barely making eye contact and moving further into the room. She bit back a noise of hurt. He plopped his pack into the nearest chair. Loki remained still but transfixed on the boy. Sif watched them study every inch each other, watched Loki's eyes travel from the stringy blond hair, over the sleeveless leather jerkin and defined arms, across the strap of his quiver and the handcrafted arrows it housed, down the linen trousers with holes in the knees, paying only quick attention to the weathered boots before drawing his gaze back to a stunning blue complexion, which always looked its best after Ollerus had come from the snowy mountains. He was dirty and rugged but he was as beautiful as always. Sif's heart was both aching and palpitating.

"Hello, Ollerus." Loki's voice finally surfaced.

The boy only smiled in response, pulling his quiver over his head and setting it next to his pack, which he then opened and retrieved a book from. It was modern history book, specifically about Asgard's royal family. Ollerus was making it clear, without words, that he knew exactly who it was standing before him.

"I see you enjoy reading," Loki added. Sif could tell he was getting nervous. She wished Ollerus would say something. Anything. But he didn't. He instead crossed the room and threw his arms around Loki, much to everyone's surprise.

"Hello, Father."

Loki was stunned, but he still managed to return the hug with hesitant arms. Sif brought her hands to her face, hiding the quiver of her lip that blossomed into a gaping grin. The sight of them melted her heartache away. It no longer mattered if Ollerus was angry at her, at least not in the moment. He had a father now, one he could embrace, one he was embracing. She had longed to see this happen since Ollerus first learned what a hug was, first learned what a father was. It was an unbelievable sight. She wished she could bottle the joy that was overtaking her and save for when the pain returned.

Loki caught her glistening gaze only briefly before Ollerus broke the hug and turned to look at her. "Can we be alone?" the boy asked, solemnly, snapping her out of the moment.

"Of course, my love." Sif's voice was weakened whisper. She turned slowly, and left the room, wishing she didn't have to. She wondered if there was some invisibility spell she could coax out of an advanced student, enabling her to follow them around, absorbing every exchanged word, reveling in every new discovery, and cherishing every precious moment. She left the library door cracked, her descent down the hall sluggish, silent, afraid her footsteps would drown out her son's voice. He was talking to Loki, to his father, asking him why his clothes were wet, the same question Sif had asked Loki upon his arrival. The apple doesn't fall far. Loki then answered, something about a waterfall. Sif continued to tip toe along, drawing her exit out as long as possible. It was Ollie's next question that froze her place.

"Do you love my mother?"

She held her breath. She felt her eyes widen and her cheeks warm. Part of her wanted to flee, to spare herself a contrived answer engineered to appease a young mind, yet she stayed, paralyzed. Damn Ollie and his bluntness.

"Yes I do," came Loki's faint but very decipherable answer.

"I know you lie a lot," Ollie said. Sif squeezed her eyes shut.

"When it suits me, yes," Loki said.

"But you're not lying now."

"No, I am not.

Sif let her breath go, louder than she intended. They probably heard her because they went silent. She didn't care. Loki's words, which she oddly believed, left her elevated, as did Ollie's question. He still cared enough to ask. A double dose of proof that she was loved. She closed her eyes. Elation took control. She drifted down the hall, allowing them their privacy, quitting while she was ahead, while her heart fluttered and her worries subsided. The reunion couldn't have gone any better even if she had planned it. This was a day to be remembered, if only for this moment, when everything was aligned and seemingly impervious to the threat of chaos. Nothing would ever steal this from her, even if everything went to Hel tomorrow.

*** Musical Interlude: The Angels Hung Around by Rilo Kiley***

They had been gone for hours. It was dark and it had been dark for a disconcerting amount of time. Sif had worked her way back to the library where she planted herself in wait of their return. She had tried to read a book about Glasir's wildlife for the past few hours but not a word sunk in. Her mind was a flurry. At least the book had pictures so her attempt at embracing a scholastic hobby wasn't a total loss, but she wouldn't be able to report much about canopy fauna beyond the obvious fact that most of them could fly or climb, and then Ollie would give her "no duh" look he had mastered. Oh, but none of that mattered now. She was beyond the pursuit of stimulating conversation and fully switched over to mom mode, ready to bust heads for breaking a nonexistent curfew that she should have set before leaving them alone together, before she let her son go romping through heavily guarded Valkyrie lands with Asgard's infamous troublemaker.

Finally, footsteps echoed in the hallway, the padding of her son's boots. She slammed her book shut and sprung to her feet. "Ollerus?" She called out. The boy peeked around the threshold, his face displaying unmistakable guilt. Her eyes narrowed. He then entered the room, alone. "Ollie, where is your father?" Ollerus dropped his gaze. Sif felt her heart catch. "What's wrong?"

"It's," Ollerus began, unable to make eye contact, "kind of a long story."

"Then condense it. What happened? Where is Loki?"

"Okay, so," he took a deep breath, "I was going to take him skiing, and we got halfway up the mountain, to the point where you can see the gates of Valhalla. And then we changed our plans. He, um..." He finally made eye contact. "He talked me into going there."

"To Valhalla?!" Sif's jaw dropped.

"Yeah."

"Ollerus, you know that is forbidden! Why did you—"

"Because he really wanted to," the boy interrupted with a cracking voice. "His mother is there and he misses her. Besides, I thought Queen Brunhilde was okay with having him around."

"In Glasir, Ollerus, not Valhalla. I'm not even supposed to go near the gates, let alone..." Sif trailed off as she fell back into her seat, scrubbing her face. "Just, tell me happened. What did Brunhilde do with him...or to him?"

Ollerus paused before speaking again. She could hear him fidgeting. "He's um...well. Oh, mother, I'm so sorry, but he's..."

"He's what!?" Sif shot her glance back up. "Why are you smiling!?"

Ollerus burst out laughing. "I can't keep this up." He turned his voice to the hallway. "Will you get in here already. She starting to freak out."

Sif blinked, ready to burst with...she didn't even know what, with freaking out just as Ollie called it, especially as it dawned on her that this was all a prank. Loki then entered the room. He wore a grin that could very well lead to his demise. She was on her feet instantly, bounding toward them both, mainly Loki. "Are lies and trickery the first thing he is to learn from his father?"

Before Loki could defend himself, Sif was blindsided by a hug, from Ollerus! It rendered her speechless, confused, yet she instinctively hugged him back. "Trickery," Loki chimed in, "and forgiveness."

Ollerus broke their embrace and smiled shyly, the awkwardness that always came when he had to be sentimental. "Thank you for bringing him here," he said to her. He then looked to Loki, as if seeking approval. Loki smiled at him.

"Y-your welcome," Sif spoke in a small voice, wondering just what had happened on their outing. What could Loki have said to him? What magical words could have possibly melted Ollie's bitterness? This was too good to be true.

"Wonderful." Loki started unbuckling his jerkin. "Now that that's done, can I finally relax?" Sif hadn't even considered what Loki was feeling now, too distracted with how she wanted to smother him in gratitude. She hadn't noticed his battered state when he first walked through the door. He looked as though the Valkyrie a Watch had indeed caught him loitering outside the gates of Valhalla. Not only were his leathers still soaked through, but they were torn in spots, revealing patches of blue skin that she couldn't decide were bruises or or his natural color. "I have wounds in need of licking."

"And I'm out if here. I'd rather not witness that. " Ollerus spun and exited with a wave. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight darling," Sif replied absently, her voice trailing him down the hall. "Um, thank you?..." She wasn't ready to part with him yet but she knew she had to. "My sweet child," she echoed softly.

"How utterly sappy," Loki added with muffled sarcasm, struggling to peel clinging leather from his body. Sif helped him pull the jerkin the rest of the way over his head, still floating in a state of disbelief. That is until she noticed his torso was completely blue and covered in patterns and blotches. He shivered and moved closer to the fireplace. "I may have overdone it with wearing wet armor in subzero temperatures."

Sif ran her hand down his back. He was ice cold. "Are these Jotun markings or bruises?"

"Those?" He looked over his shoulder, faking a smile. "Those are bruises. Ollerus took me skiing. He seemed to think I could manage the steep runs, never mind the fact that I've never skied before and that his equipment is hand-carved and entirely too short for me."

"Did he take you on the runs with—"

"Lethally large rocks? Yes those were the ones. They hurt. I think they're in league with the Hulk, plotting over the complete mutilation of my body.

Sif eased them both down to sit at the hearth. It didn't take long before the warmth began restoring Loki's artificial skin tone. "What else did you guys do?" She ran her fingers along Jotun patterns while they were still visible, avoiding the scar in the center of his chest that was still fresh. "Did you get a chance to talk? You must have considering..."

"Yes." He shivered again, this time in a different way. Odin's spell was merciless while resurfacing. "We talked at length actually. He's quite the ball buster, a trait he clearly acquired maternally."

That wasn't news to Sif. "What did you talk about?"

Loki bent over and began unbuckling his boots. "We devised a lifetime's worth of tricks to play on you."

"I'm serious." She pulled his boot off with more force than necessary and flung it behind her.

"We talked about everything." He removed the second boot himself then tossed it to where the other had landed. "History. Family. He's a brilliant child. So fearless. Confident. Words blunt as a Dwarven mallet," he smiled, "but a mind sharp as your glaive."

Sif smiled too. That sounded like her Ollie. "You had a good time then?"

"Considering I went straight from back-to-back trials to tumbling down a mountain with an infinitely energetic adrenaline junkie, and I'm not feeling the urge to commit another genocide, I would say yes, I did have a good time.

She scooted closer to him, resting her hands on his legs, which were still covered with damp trousers. "Tell me everything."

"Sif, darling." He ran his hands up her bare arms. She hadn't bothered changing out of the gown. Loki liked her in it. "I'm beyond exhausted. Can it wait until morning?"

She blinked slowly, enjoying the feel of him, absorbing the warmth of the fire, and resigning herself to wait. She couldn't expect him to answer all of her questions in one day, and there wasn't a need to rush. This was only the beginning of his stay here. "Fine."

He could barely keep his eyes open. The heat from the fire was draining what little energy he had left. "Where are my quarters that I might die blissfully for the duration of stars' unveiling?"

She laughed. "Yeah, we need to get you to bed now before you get overly dramatic."

"Very funny," he said, straining back to his feet.

Sif rose with him. "A couple of the girls made up a guest room for you..."

"But," Loki cocked a brow.

"Formalities," Sif shrugged a single shoulder. "There's nothing wrong or unwelcoming with my bed."

Loki breathed deeply, contentedly. "Take me there."