I alone know

by Missgenius

Summary:

“I alone know, as I think I do know, your love besides Thor, and that was the wicked Loki.”

Post-Ragnarok.
Asgard is destroyed, everything has changed, and no one knows where Sif is. Only one person does, and the desire and fear of finding her clash intensely. Can Loki manage to convince his beloved that, for once in his life, he is sincere? What awaits him could drastically alter the course of events.

*Sifki*

 

_English is not my language, sorry for mistakes._

Chapter 1

"If you were really here, I might even hug you."

Loki caught the cap mid-air.
"I am here."

Thor stepped closer, and in just two strides, he reached Loki, throwing his arms around him.

Loki stood still for a few moments, too surprised to move. Slowly, he placed his arms on Thor’s back, almost as if he had forgotten how to hug that huge being who was his brother.

“Our mother was right, as always, about everything. There’s always been something good in you. She would be so proud to see us right now.”
“Do you really believe that?”

Thor stepped back, clapping a hand on his shoulder with a smile.
“Of course I do.”

Loki’s lips stretched into a small, crooked smile as he looked down at the ground.
“Thank you... brother.”

“And speaking of things our mother was right about… where’s Lady Sif?”

He saw Loki stiffen immediately and couldn’t help but grin as Loki’s face struggled to regain a neutral expression and relaxed posture.
“I don’t see how that has anything to do with our mother, and anyway, I have no idea. She probably died on Asgard during Hela’s attack.”

Thor felt a pang in his heart as he remembered the sad fate of his three oldest friends and his beloved city. But he chose not to dwell on those depressing thoughts—especially now, when he had a chance to tease his brother about such a juicy topic.

“Despite your title, you’re not obliged to lie anymore… I know very well that Sif wasn’t on Asgard. You would never have let her die.”
“Oh, really? And why wouldn’t I?”

Thor let out a deep laugh.
“Loki, Loki, dear little brother, after 900 years, do you really think no one noticed your love for her?”

He had never seen his brother blush before, which for Loki meant a faint pink tinge on his usually pale cheeks.
“I… never loved her. It was merely physical attraction.” Loki met his gaze, hoping to convince him.

Thor placed a hand on Loki’s shoulder and sat down beside him.
“You know, in one of my last conversations with our mother, we talked about you and Sif. She hoped that one day you’d change for her, that maybe you’d get married and give her grandchildren. Mother was deeply convinced of it. I didn’t believe it possible, but you know as well as I do that she had a gift for seeing deep into people, to unimaginable depths. I’m sure that to say such a thing, she knew exactly what was in your heart... and in Sif’s heart.”

Loki’s gaze had drifted around the room as Thor described the future their mother had imagined. But at the mention of Sif’s heart, he turned to look at him intently.
“Sif hates me.”

He lowered his eyes for a moment.
“In any case, she’s safe. She went to Sherpallinahim to handle a private matter away from prying eyes, and she’s still there. But I don’t think she wants to see me again. So yes, Thor, I know where Sif is. Do you have any other questions, or can I leave?” Loki stood abruptly, his tone now filled with anger and pain.

Thor hadn’t expected this. He just wanted to tease him a bit and see if anything had happened between them during Loki’s "rule" in Asgard. He wanted to hold onto any promise of a future, and Loki and Sif were the centuries-old unresolved matter he hoped to resolve for the sake of their mother. He had longed for that closed-off brother of his to finally open up to the one woman who understood his worth.

“Loki… I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened between you two. Please forgive me; I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Loki closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he had regained his composure.
“Nothing serious happened. She was drunk. I don’t think she was even aware of what was happening. I… revealed myself to her. We slept together. But in the morning, she realized she could never be with a trickster who was pretending to be king, and she fled, gathering her clothes in a hurry without even saying a word, leaving me alone in bed, assuming I was asleep. As you see, nothing happened.” He gestured with his hands to emphasize the word "nothing."

Thor tried to keep his expression neutral, but unfortunately, he wasn’t as good at it as his brother.
“I’m sorry… didn’t you get a chance to clear things up?” Loki put his hands through his hair.
“What was there to clarify, Thor? Oh, by the Norns, you remain as slow as ever. No. We haven’t spoken since that night because she left that same day. She’s been on Sherpallinahim ever since, and I haven’t heard from her. Soon after, you arrived, and you know the rest.”

Thor stood up and went to him.
“I may be slow, brother, but I know Sif very well, and I know for certain that even drunk, she wouldn’t have given herself to anyone unless she truly wanted to. Believe me, Fandral and I tried many times…”

Under Loki’s murderous gaze, he corrected himself.
“…back in the day, of course. But Sif is a woman who only gives what she wants to, and nothing can be forced from her.”
“I know that very well, brother. Why do you think I haven’t told her I love her in 900 years?”

A second later, he realized his mistake. He had admitted it. He had admitted he loved her.

Thor gave him a small, encouraging smile.
“I believe the feeling is mutual, you know? If she truly hated you, you’d be dead. Anyway, we need to go get Sif before heading to Earth. We can’t leave her there; she has to know what happened and come with us to help with the new Asgard colony.”

Loki interrupted him.
“What makes you think it’s mutual? How could she, the Goddess of War, a valiant Asgardian warrior, love me, the God of mischief and lies, a traitor, a liar, the God of wrongdoing?”

Thor looked out beyond the windows, into the infinite space stretching before them.
“You didn’t see her when… you fell from the Bifrost. The heart is so hard to understand. You realize you care about something only when you lose it. But I know one thing for sure.”

He turned to look him in the eyes.
“You are so much more than what you just described. Mother knew it. And she was sure Sif knew it too. Perhaps even she had lost hope for a moment, but… when you fell from the Bifrost… she and I spent entire nights crying over the shattered rainbow bridge. I don’t think anyone indifferent could have faked that pain.”

He saw Loki flinch almost imperceptibly as he searched his eyes for the truth in what he was saying.

“We’re at a new beginning now. In every sense. We can be better people and start a new path in life. We can wipe the slate clean of the past and build a new present. And most of all, we must not lose hope.”

He put his hands on Loki’s shoulders. Loki looked at him with more confidence than before.
“Let’s go get Sif.”

Chapter 2: 2

Summary:

What about THAT night?

Not because he wore Odin’s robes did those nights of revelry bore him any less. Watching nobles, young girls looking for husbands, warriors, and soldiers eating and drinking until they were completely out of control was far from his idea of fun. Turning into a snake and stabbing Thor, now that had been fun. Or writing the play The Heroic Deeds of Loki, that too had been fun. But no, the only positives of those nights were simply testing his ability to stay focused while impersonating his father. And maybe, just maybe, the opportunity to observe Sif freely without having to pretend to look away every moment was a great incentive.

 

He watched her, sitting at the table with the Three Warriors and Tyr, the captain of the guards, a despicable being for whom he had no sympathy. Like the fact that he kept putting his hands where he shouldn’t, on a body he shouldn’t even be touching. But fortunately, Sif wasn’t one of those faint-hearted girls, and her well-placed slap caused general laughter.

 

“Father of the gods, may I speak with you?”

A male voice drew his attention away from the table. One of his generals, Drottir, wished to express his concern over the continued lack of an heir. If Thor didn’t marry, there was a serious chance the throne could remain without a successor. Loki tried to keep his neutral facade, although a billion malicious jokes about his brother and his “lineage” could have easily escaped his lips. He thanked the general and told him that once his son returned, he would address the issue.

 

He had just finished speaking when the thud of a table being overturned and Tyr’s groan silenced the entire hall.

“Do not speak like that again, Tyr, or a broken nose will seem like nothing compared to what I’ll do to you, and Valhalla certainly won’t welcome you.”

Sif’s voice was gravely serious, and her threats rang terrifyingly as she shoved past him and left the hall without a second glance. Loki barely had time to glimpse her teary eyes.

“For Hel’s sake, what happened? I won’t tolerate such events at my feasts!”

He slammed Gungnir on the ground, and all the guests scattered.

“Hogun, stay. I want to know what happened to upset Lady Sif so much.”

 

The wisest of the Three Warriors bowed.

“Father of the gods, I don’t believe that…”

 

“Hogun, I want to know immediately what happened,” he repeated firmly.

 

“Yes, Your Majesty. You know that with alcohol, Tyr’s tongue becomes particularly loose and without any restraint. This time, he went too far.”

 

“Did he do something inappropriate to Lady Sif?”

 

“No, my Lord… not exactly.”

 

“Then what did he do?” Loki was growing increasingly impatient.

 

“He sullied the memory of your son, Loki.”

 

An electric shock ran down his spine. 

 

 

 

Sif tries to suppress the urge to run through the halls and lock herself in her room to cry like a little girl. She tries to hold back the tears that are burning so badly in her eyes. How could she have made such a scene in front of everyone? In front of Odin? Maybe she had drunk a little too much. But perhaps not enough to push back the flood of memories she keeps hidden deep in her heart. The ones that, when they resurface, make her soul bleed.

But she doesn’t regret what she did.

 

They had seen Drottir approach the Father of the Gods. Tyr, who was now completely drunk and getting really annoying despite the earlier slap, had come near her again with a conspiratorial manner.

“The old general is obsessed with the line of succession, surely he’s trying to convince Father All to do something to get Thor to marry and produce an heir. And what do you think, Sif?” He moved closer, so much so that she could smell his wine-soaked breath.

“Would you care to help me preserve my lineage?”

His suggestive look and vulgar manners made her stomach churn.

“I’d rather vow eternal chastity than sully myself with you, Tyr.”

His eyes suddenly became gleaming and malicious.

“Of course, my dear Lady Sif, I’m not one of the princes, I’m just a general. I’m well aware of your strange preferences in this regard. Tell me, was that traitor, the bastard son of a frost giant, really the ‘Silver Tongue’ they say, or was his true nature an obstacle in bed? You know, all that ice… I’m sure to secure the favor of the king and queen, you must have been generous with your favors toward them. Even with that filthy worm…” And it was at this point that the snap of his broken nose and the overturned table had stopped the evening. She had acted without thinking.

And now, as she let herself slump onto one of the Queen’s garden benches, a flood of memories overwhelmed her mind, aided by a bottle she had stolen from the kitchens.

 

The first stolen kisses, the complicity in battles, the looks they exchanged secretly when no one was watching. They were young, inexperienced, novices, but the sweetness of his kisses, his caresses, his touch… She had never felt anything like it with anyone else in her life.

It had been a particularly hectic hunting day, so no one noticed their absence. They had sneaked into the stables and started kissing. But then things had gotten more heated. Their armor and most of their clothes were already at their feet, and she was half-naked, pressed against the wall in his arms, savoring every kiss. They had never gotten this close to doing it.

Then, at some point, he had stopped.

“What’s wrong?”

“No, I don’t want to do it here.”

He took her hands.

“I don’t want your first time to be in a filthy stable. You are a goddess,” he kissed one of her hands, “a queen,” he kissed the other hand, “you deserve a huge bed with silk sheets, you deserve scented candles and flowers everywhere, you deserve much more.” He kissed her forehead, and they stayed like that, foreheads touching. She was moved by such a declaration. She kissed him slowly on the lips.

“The proposal sounds truly tempting… when?” A mischievous smile spread across her beautiful lips.

“Soon.” He smiled sincerely. That was the last time she looked at him with those adoring eyes.

 

 

A rustle behind her brought her back to reality. The bottle was empty and her head was much lighter, perhaps too much. Odin appeared behind her, bringing her back to order. He bowed his head and put his hand to his heart.
"Sire, I apologize for my unacceptable behavior earlier. I beg your pardon, I was not myself."
Odin beckoned to her to get up and approached her.
"My girl, what are these tears?" With one hand he took her face and wiped a tear that had escaped.
Sif froze to that touch. A painfully familiar touch. 
"Sir, I... miss him. I miss your son." A rush of sincerity and grief made her speak.
"Thor?"
"No sire..." she shrugged her head at the absurdity of the question. Her voice cracked. "Loki."
A flash of green light and the one who appeared before her was a man dead for months on the hills of Svartálfaheimr.
 "Here I am, Sif."
She was probably dreaming. Surely she had fallen asleep on that bench in the garden. It wouldn’t have been the first time she had dreamed of the Deceiver God since her death. But she doesn’t want to wake up. It is so pleasant to believe that he is still there with her. That it is true. That the hand now caressing her face is his.

Loki didn’t think he’d ever have the chance to kiss her again. But this time he doesn’t stop there. He doesn’t want to, he can’t. With a gesture of his hand they move, he takes her to his room, lights the candles and makes flowers appear everywhere. Just as it should have been. He puts her in the silk sheets.
He slowly strips it, tastes with his gaze every layer that is removed, until it appears to him in all its magnificence.
And he kisses her. He kisses every inch of his skin, because it is the most wonderful creature in the Nine Kingdoms and his skin deserves to be worshipped, venerated in every single part, wants to make his every freckle, every mole, every scar on which his mouth rests. The one who worships, venerates, is HIS goddess. He wanders through her hair, caresses her lips, her eyelids, the soft line of her neck, her breast, her belly, ever lower, ever louder until he hears her groan beneath him, and in the moans he hears her shout his name in a hoarse voice, which makes him completely out of his mind, and, oh god, he could kill himself if she just asked him and he would. But what ahe asks now with a supplicant voice is certainly much more pleasant. She wants to be his, in every sense, and he doesn’t let her repeat it twice. He enters inside her and the moment they unite and become one, with her screaming, calling his name, wanting it, at that moment he understands that he is doomed. Who never stopped loving her. She must be his. Forever. In every sense. He loves her, desires her, is crazy about her. He cannot escape het any more than he can deny his true jotun nature. He can disguise it, but it always remains there, just under his skin. Like her. He has her under his skin. But that’s not enough. He wants her to be his wife. He wants her to be his. She must be his. He must have her. He wants everyone to know that her belongs to him. Even if he loses everything. And he realizes, when the groans are over, the cries of pleasure have been lost in a smile to her lips and she sleeps blissfully in his arms, and he continues to stare at her face as if she were the most beautiful picture ever painted, that he’s really willing to leave everything for her. Everything, so that every night he can have the opportunity to look at her, touch her and kiss that wonderful mole on her right cheek.
"I love you...and I want you to be my bride."
It’s a whisper to the darkness, eh knows, she sleeps deeply and cannot have heard it. But say it makes the sound even sweeter to his ice heart.

 

 

Chapter 3: 3

Summary:

“Morning-after thoughts.”

 

Sif woke up with a pleasant warmth at her side. It took her a moment to realize the arm possessively wrapped around her waist and resting lightly on her stomach, and another moment to stifle a gasp as the flood of memories from the previous night washed over her. She turned her face slightly to meet one she had never thought to see again. Loki was sleeping deeply. In slumber, his features were relaxed, and she could almost see in him the boy she had loved in her youth, before the anger, before the deceit.

How could she have been so blind? How had she failed to see that behind her king was the Trickster God? A deep sense of shame overwhelmed her, so much so that she wanted to slap herself, to run away and never return. And if Heimdall had seen it all? She wanted to vanish. She had fallen for his deception, she who had always prided herself on her insight, her good sense, who had seen through his tricks many years before and managed to avoid disgrace. But now, he had caught her in a moment of weakness, exploited her painful memories, and surely used some spell. Yes, that had to be it, right? The thought of any other possibility made her tremble with anger and disgust toward herself. Foolish, foolish Sif! Had she not already learned the pain caused by misplaced feelings? How much it hurt to trust someone and then be betrayed? Yet she had fallen for it. Consciously. She had wanted it. And now, she would become just another of his conquests, another trophy to flaunt in Thor’s face. Despite her revulsion and shame, her hatred for him was nothing compared to what she felt for herself. Because that arm around her waist and his breath on her neck continued to give her chills, and she wished she were living another life, in different circumstances, where she could be with him like this forever. But there, her mind wandered again. She was a warrior, sworn to protect her king. And she had failed. She could not face him now. Not after what she had given him. All of herself, in a way she had never given to anyone. At some point during the night, she could have sworn she saw him lose control so deeply that his skin turned bluish and his eyes red. She had been shameless. She had never had such an intense, all-consuming connection. With the only person in the world for whom she would give everything. The only person in the world who had humiliated and permanently wounded her. She held back tears. She deserved every bit of it for being so foolish. With excruciating slowness, she lifted the arm encircling her and freed herself from the embrace. Silently, she slipped out of the bed with the green silk sheets and gathered her clothes among the rose petals and candles. She tried not to linger on these details. They did not matter. She dressed hastily; she had to leave the room before anyone saw her. It was just before dawn. If she was lucky, she could leave during the guard change, and no one would ever know of her madness.

Before stepping through the heavy door, she paused for a moment to look at Loki, still asleep.
“Sif will never be a real woman; she’s just a little girl playing at being a warrior. A whining fool who believes everything I say doesn’t deserve my heart.”

She walked out of the heavy door, a tear slipping stubbornly down her cheek. It was time to go as far away as possible.

Chapter 4: 4

Summary:

Sif has a shocking surprise

Sif briskly made her way toward the gnome village. Thanking the gods, this mission gave her a chance to get away without it seeming like she was fleeing. Even though, deep in her heart, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was running away—running from her feelings and everything the previous night had brought. She had fled that room and gone straight to her quarters to gather what she needed for the journey before riding to the Bifrost. She hadn’t dared to meet Heimdall’s eyes, and he, with his usual tact, hadn’t asked or spoken a word. She mentally thanked him a dozen times over.

She had landed in a clearing a day’s walk from the village. Her mission was relatively simple: mercenaries, under the orders of who knows whom, had set up base for illegal trading on the peaceful planet. The gnomes were defenseless and utterly incapable of violence, entirely at the mercy of the invaders. She was to locate, defeat, and imprison them—a straightforward task.

And it truly had been a breeze. It had taken her a few weeks to locate their hideout. Those mercenaries had the brainpower of a doormat and were so shocked to see a woman with a sword that they didn’t realize they were already tied up and imprisoned.

The gnomes, in their usual fashion, had been exceedingly kind and hospitable. They made her feel so at ease that, for a while, her troubles faded to a dull ache in the pit of her stomach. She decided that staying with them a little longer, just in case more soldiers showed up to claim their comrades, wouldn’t worry anyone. It would also keep her away from home a bit longer.

As always, she needed time to assess her resources and plan her counterattack. She’d send the prisoners to Asgard and remain behind. Especially since that morning, she felt so unwell she doubted she could manage the Bifrost journey even if she wanted to. She got up, nauseous, trembling, and dizzy. She stumbled toward the basin to splash her face with cold water, sweat dripping from her brow. She sat on the floor for a few moments, breathing deeply, trying to regain composure.

A soft knock interrupted her.
“Lady Sif?”
“Yes, come in, Mihlka.”

The petite, kind-faced gnome girl entered. She immediately noticed Sif’s pale complexion and approached with concern.
“Lady Sif, are you all right? You look terrible.”
Sif tried to smile, but it turned into more of a crooked grimace.
“I’m fine, Mihlka, don’t worry. Just a little dizzy spell—nothing serious. Today, you’ll finally be rid of that scum. I need to personally ensure they’re received in Asgard with all due honors.”
The young gnome smiled but couldn’t hide her worried expression.
“Thank you so much again, Lady Sif. You’re our savior, and we’ll always be grateful. But if you’re not feeling well, we can delay the departure until tomorrow.”
“No, absolutely not. I’m fine. Besides, I’ve already notified Heimdall to open the Bifrost at the designated location. There’s no reason to delay.”
“As you wish.” Mihlka gave a slight bow and left the room.

Sif dressed with great effort, managing to give herself an air of normalcy. She gathered the band of raiders, shackled, and headed with a small gnome escort to the spot where the Bifrost would open. She just needed to hold on for a few more minutes, then she could return to her room and lie down.

Time, however, seemed endless. She felt both feverish and freezing, her upper lip slick with sweat. Her breathing was labored, and she fought with all her might not to vomit in front of everyone. Her legs trembled, her head spinning like a whirlwind.

The moment the rainbow beam carried the prisoners away, she collapsed to the ground, and everything went black.

“Lady Sif, can you hear me? Lady Sif?”

Sif struggled to open her eyes. She was lying in a bed that wasn’t hers. Mihlka was beside her, holding her hand, while other women hovered nearby, shuffling ointments and salves to give her a semblance of privacy.
“Where am I?” she croaked.
“You’re in the healing house. We brought you here after you fainted.”
“What…what happened?” She tried to sit up, but it proved more difficult than expected.
“Stay calm and relaxed; everything is under control. You’ll be fine.”

Sif still felt dazed.
“You’ve been unconscious for three days. Your fever was extremely high, but we couldn’t determine the cause. Perhaps due to your different nature, our medicines didn’t have the desired effect. However, we found a remedy that managed to lower your temperature.”
“Thank you, Mihlka. Once I’m back in Asgard, the Aesir will know better how to handle this strange illness. You’ve done your best, and I’m grateful. You have my thanks.”
The young gnome lowered her gaze, blushing.
“Is there something else you want to tell me, Mihlka?”
“I…”

An elderly gnome, whom Sif recognized as the village healer, approached and gently moved Mihlka aside.
“My dear…I believe, in your current condition, you should avoid dangerous journeys, such as the one through the Bifrost.”
“But I feel fine now. You said it yourself—the fever has subsided. I’ll reach the healing chambers immediately; nothing will happen to me.”
The healer sat beside her on the bed.
“My lady, are you aware of your condition?”

Sif was puzzled.
“You told me I have a high fever of unknown cause.”

The old woman looked at her with a mix of surprise and concern.
“I mean your condition…not the illness. My dear, you…you are expecting a child.”

Chapter 5: 5

Summary:

How do you think was the first meeting?

For Thor, breathing real air after all those days locked in the spaceship was like drinking a glass of fresh water on a hot day. A huge smile spread across his face as he descended the ladder to land. Sherpallinahim was as beautiful as he remembered, green and lush as a garden in spring. Loki followed closely behind him along with all the other Asgardians.

Since they had entered the planet's orbit, his little brother had completely stopped speaking and if it hadn't been for the fact that he was still standing, Thor could have sworn that he had stopped breathing. He wanted so much to make fun of him, but he limited himself to sneering: he was the only one who knew what was really boiling in his chest in those moments despite his usual imperturbable facade of frozen detachment. He couldn't wait to find Sif, to put together a piece of his past life, and above all to have her meet Loki. No matter what he said, he was fully convinced that things would go well between them. He looked around the woods examining the various paths.

"We should make sure to warn the gnomes of our presence."

Loki touched his shoulder making him turn towards the valley.

"I do not think there will be any need."

Their arrival had not gone unnoticed; in the distance a small group of gnomes was approaching at a brisk pace. They were soon joined by the small group headed by an elder with bushy white eyebrows.

"Prince Thor, your majesty. I am Karlthon, leader of this community, sire, at your service. We have heard of the terrible misfortunes that have occurred on Asgard. We are at your complete disposal to help you."

The five gnomes knelt with their fists on their hearts.

"My good Karlthon, I thank you on behalf of all my people. You are right unfortunately, the news you have heard is true, we have had many losses of brave people. We will stay here for a few days to stock up and rest. Then we will set off again."

"You can stay here as long as you want, our kingdom is at your complete disposal."

"You are very kind. We are grateful."

"My servants will take care of your people. If you princes want to follow me I will lead you to the village where you can reunite with your warrior, Lady Sif."

"Is she here?" Loki's impatient voice was faster than his thought. He bit his tongue to silence himself, while Thor held back a hearty laugh.

"Yes, Lady Sif has been with us for some time now. She has done us great service. She is very beloved in our community, especially by the young women. We have treated her with every care possible." A strange, sad smile passed over the old gnome's face. Loki was the only one to notice it, but he promised himself he would not make another misstep, so he swallowed his curiosity to know everything that had happened and remained silent as they walked towards the village. They were greeted by a crowd of children, curious to see the Asgardian warriors from space, accompanied by parents who were equally curious but had the decency not to appear so.

They arrived at the center of the village where a modest stone cottage towered over the other considerably smaller buildings.

"Lady Sif lives there, oh there's her servant. Milhka, go get Lady Sif."

The girl dropped the bucket of water she had taken from the spring when she saw who the old gnome was with. She ran inside the house leaving the door open.

Thor approached and strode into the small living room.

"Thor, Thor is that you?" A voice from upstairs reached him in the distance.

Sif ran down the stairs and threw herself into his arms, holding him tightly.

"Sif, dear, dear Lady Sif!" He walked away from her only to see her in a river of tears.

"News have arrived... oh by Odin, Thor, please tell me it's not like that..."

Thor squeezed her hands tightly in his. "I'm sorry Sif... Asgard is no more... Hogun, Fandral and Volstagg... They are no more. They fell bravely fighting and now I am sure that they are in Valhalla."

"NO... IT CAN'T BE..."

She staggered away from him, her eyes filling with tears. "I should have been there with them, I should have died alongside them to protect my people! Instead I was stuck here... the Bifrost stopped working, Heindall was not responding, I didn't know what to do, the healers didn't want me to get out of bed..."

"Healers? Sif, what's wrong? Are you okay? Were you hurt?"

"Thor... I haven't been okay... I'm not okay... Something happened... And it's all my fault." she began to cry and sob and only then did Thor realize how pale and gaunt she was and how unusual her clothing was. Nothing remained of the tight leather pants or short shirts she usually wore. A loose and shapeless tunic surrounded her and not a trace remained of her armor or her swords.

He wanted to ask her what had happened, what was wrong, but he knew this wasn't the right time for that kind of conversation. It would only get a stubborn silence. They would talk about it when she calmed down. There were healers on the ship, and Loki himself would do any healing magic he knew.

He couldn't lose her too. And he knew his brother wouldn't forgive himself if anything happened to her either.

"And...Odin?" she asked in a small voice barely distinguishable between her sobs.

"Do you mean my father or Loki?"

Her eyes widened with tears.

"Yes, I found out everything too. Our Father died. Of natural causes. We were both with him when he passed away. That's how we found out we had a sister."

"A sister?!"

"Hela. It's a long story. I'll tell you everything later. As for Loki... as much of a trickster as he was, he was fundamentally in saving the people of Asgard. I think something inside him has finally melted and embraced his origins. He's right outside. I think he wants to talk to you."

Sif looked at him wildly before heading out.

Thor had just reached the door when the sound of a violent slap pierced the air. Loki was holding his face with one hand.

"I thought you enjoyed our last meeting, my Lady Sif."

The other slap hit him on the other side of his face. He stood still for a handful of seconds before letting out a long breath with his eyes closed.

"It's okay, I deserved this."

"I hate you, you ruined my life, you... you... I couldn't save them, I couldn't... because of you!" he began to pound his fists against his chest. Loki let her vent without reacting until her eyes blurred with tears and she found herself clinging to him, anchored in his embrace.

"Sssh...sssh...it's okay." His voice and his arms rocked her until she stopped crying. She jerked away from him when a violent retching forced her to move to the other side. She had time to collapse to the ground before everything went so familiarly black.

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Summary:

Thor discovers Sif’s little secret.

Loki was immediately by her side.

“Sif? Sif? Can you hear me?”

He kneeled next to her, lifting her torso and gently tapping her face, trying to bring her around. A disconnected murmur escaped her lips as her eyes fluttered, unable to open.

Loki placed a hand on her forehead. “For the gods, she’s burning up! She has a high fever!”

At that moment, Milhka exited through the door, drawn by the commotion.

“Oh no, my lady! Not again!”

Loki shot her a glare. “What do you mean ‘not again?’”

Thor grabbed her by the shoulder. “You know what’s wrong with her, don’t you?”

The girl nodded, scared. “Yes, she hasn’t taken her medicine. It’s upstairs in the bedroom.”

Loki picked her up and followed the young gnome inside the house, with Thor behind him. “What kind of medicine, what does she have?”

They climbed the stairs to the small bedroom.

“Hey, did you hear me?! Are you deaf or something? I asked you, what’s wrong with Lady Sif?”

Milhka stepped back in fear. Thor approached and grabbed Loki by the shoulders. “Loki, brother, calm down, this won’t solve anything. Let the girl help us, and then we’ll figure out what happened.”

Loki took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He laid Sif on the bed and gently tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

The gnome approached the vanity, took a vial and a glass of water. She poured a few drops of the potion into the glass and brought it to Sif’s lips.

“What is this?” Loki growled.

“It’s the only remedy we’ve found that works to lower her fever.”

Loki took the vial, sniffed it, and tasted a drop.

“Alright, but clearly it’s not enough if she’s still like this.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, making sure his hands cooled down just enough, given his ice giant nature, so that they wouldn’t hurt her, and placed them on her forehead and the back of her neck.

“What are you doing?” Thor approached the bedside.

“Cold lowers her temperature. I could try a healing spell, but it will only be a temporary solution until we figure out what’s wrong.”

Both of them turned to Milhka.

“I… don’t know. Even our healers couldn’t figure out why she has this fever. I only know that she started feeling ill a couple of weeks after her arrival. Since the day she sent those ruffians up the rainbow bridge, she’s been throwing up and fainting. The high fever never leaves her. This remedy helps bring it down, but its effects are very limited.”

“Thank you for the care you’ve given her, we’re grateful.” Thor smiled to reassure the girl.

She made a small bow and rushed out of the room.

Loki began to draw small glowing runes on Sif’s forehead.

“What do you think it could be? Has anything like this ever happened to you on the battlefield?”

He glanced at his brother. Thor had never seen him so worried.

“I have no idea… If we only had the healing chamber…”

“But we don’t, and she’s sick. I need to do something, Thor. I’m going to call our healers from the ship. They’ll examine her.”

He left the room with large strides without waiting for a reply.

Thor stayed by the warrior’s side, watching as her eyes fluttered and slowly opened. He approached her. “Sif, are you alright? How do you feel?”

“Like I fought an entire army alone.”

She looked around the room.

“Where’s Loki?”

“He went to call our healers. In the meantime, he cast a spell to lower your fever.”

Sif began to look at the ceiling, her eyes dangerously filling with tears. Seeing his usually tough and ruthless battle companion like this stirred Thor’s anxiety.

“Sif, what’s wrong? There’s nothing we can’t find a cure for.”

“What did Milhka say?”

“Only that you started having this fever a couple of weeks after you arrived. Nothing more.”

Sif smiled weakly. “She’s such a loyal girl.”

Thor sat at the edge of the bed and took her hand.

“Sif, were you wounded? Some kind of infection from a poisoned blade or some…”

“I’m pregnant.”

A stunned silence followed her statement. A silence that lasted a few minutes.

“Please Thor, say something.”

Sif’s voice cracked as she looked at her best friend.

“Loki… Loki is the father?”

A heavy sigh before he answered.

“Yes.”

The smile that blossomed on his face made the situation seem paradoxical.

“But this is wonderful!! You need to tell Loki immediately, he’ll be…”

“No!” Her fierce expression made him recoil.

“What… Why?”

Sif sat up on the edge of the bed. “No. Loki can never know. It was a mistake. A damned mistake.”

“Sif, what are you saying? You… don’t love him? You loved each other.”

“No!… I mean… Yes, but that was a lifetime ago. We were young, and then everything fell apart. It ended. Because of him. And now… what happened that night… was his magic, I’m sure of it. To boast about it, I bet. And if he knew about this child… only Odin knows if he wouldn’t turn it into a weapon for his desires, whatever they are… I won’t let him. He won’t touch my son. Never. He can’t know. Thor, swear on your mother that you won’t tell him.”

“But…”

“Swear it!” Sif’s eyes were filled with tears. Thor looked at her for a few seconds before lowering his gaze.

“I swear on my mother.”

Sif exhaled. “Thank you.”

“Sif, I understand your reservations, but you have to listen to me. I know all the wrongs my brother has done. I’m not asking you to forget what he’s done. But I am asking you to look at him for who he is now, not for who he was. I know it’s hard. It was for me. But I’ve seen it, Sif. When Hela tried to destroy everything, Loki put aside all his grudges. He chose Asgard, he chose the good of all of us. And when all seemed lost, he did something I never thought he would: he made the right sacrifice. It’s over now, and he loves you, Sif. He loves you more than he has ever loved anyone. He never stopped loving you, from the first time he saw you.”

Sif shook her head.

“Do you remember? We were 8. You climbed a tree to pick cherries for everyone. Loki loved cherries. He told me he’d never meet anyone like you again. He kneeled and asked you to marry him. He’d seen it in a play a few days earlier. Our mother couldn’t stop laughing.”

A small smile formed on her lips at the memory.

“I told him I had to ask my mother first.”

“And then you asked him if he was really a prince. It bothered you because you wanted to be a warrior, not a princess.”

Sif laughed. Then she became serious again. “So, you think that… this,” she pointed at her stomach, “is not some trick of his, but that I threw myself into it without thinking of the consequences. And now I’m going to be a mother. I, I’m going to be a mother.” She placed her hand on her forehead and closed her eyes.

Thor approached her, taking her hands, and was relieved to notice that they were no longer as hot as before.

“Loki isn’t as evil as you’ve started to think. The boy you loved is still there. He’s not that petty. He would do anything for you.” He gently touched her barely showing belly under her tunic. “He would do anything for you both.”

“I can’t trust him. I can’t give him my heart only to see it shattered again.”

“Give him a chance.”

Sif looked at him, hoping he would understand.

“I can’t.”

Sif was left alone in the room. The Asgardian healers who had visited her had immediately discovered her secret, and even in that case, she had made them swear not to tell anyone. But even they couldn’t understand the cause of the fever. The Asgardians didn’t typically have diseases; it was impossible for it to be an infection, and as much as they examined it, the pregnancy was progressing well. Without their healing technologies, they couldn’t figure out much. They only told her that for now, the only thing to do was to repeat prince Loki’s healing spell every time the effects wore off. She lay down on the sheets. She hadn’t felt this well since this ordeal began. She placed her hands on her abdomen and thought once more about the little creature growing inside her.

When the old healer had given her the shocking news, her first reaction was denial.

“No. It couldn’t be true.”

“It couldn’t have really happened.”

“No. No. No.”

Why? How??

“No. No. No.”

It was all his fault. All his fault.

“No.”

She was the goddess of war!

She couldn’t be a mother. Not the mother of Loki’s child.

“Odin, almighty father, make me wake up from this nightmare.”

It’s not possible.

Loki’s child.

She couldn’t go back to Asgard. If it was found out, she would lose everything. Everything she had worked for with effort, sweat, and blood. It was already difficult to be accepted as a warrior woman. Imagine being a pregnant warrior woman. There was only one solution.

She could fix everything. It wasn’t a rare problem among the tavern courtesans. Surely the healers had some remedy to fix it. And get rid of the unwanted tenant in her stomach. An unwanted tenant.

Who had come about through deceit.

A small being that… had no fault.

Who hadn’t chosen to exist.

Who was the child of the only man she had ever loved in her life.

Who was also part of her.

Her baby. Her child.

She had killed many lives. Too many. But always for a good cause. She wasn’t an assassin of innocents. She couldn’t live with the guilt of killing an innocent life. The life of her child. Her baby.

She had cried. For three long days. Thinking about the past, the present, the future. What had been, what was happening, what would happen. And in the grip of anguish, fear, and another feeling that warmed her heart but which she was afraid to name, she made her decision. She would keep him.

She just had to wait until the child was born, here in this kingdom, far from anyone. Then she would return home and raise her child in secret. No one would know about his origins.

No one.

Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Summary:

Why does Sif hate Loki so much? What happened?

About a lifetime ago.

 

Sif was in love.
She realized it the moment she collapsed onto the bed, just after returning from that day’s hunting trip.
She was in love!
She couldn’t stop the idiotic smile on her lips. Lips that, until just moments before, had been kissed by Loki.
Loki!
Her heart warmed at the thought of him.
When did she become so foolish and frivolous, like a thirteen-year-old girl? The very girls she had always mocked, kept her distance from, and sworn she would never resemble.
She was a warrior, not a ridiculous little girl good only for looking at, with not an ounce of brains, who would faint at the first glance of a knight.
No, she wasn’t that kind of person.

And yet… When she thought of Loki, his kisses, his hands… Her heart started to race as though she had been running for miles, and her knees went weak.
She was in love.
What had once been a deep childhood friendship had turned into something more. Their deep conversations, the jokes and banter, the teasing, the way he made her laugh, understood her, really saw her…
He appreciated her. He respected her.
Sif loved Loki.
She loved her beautiful brooding prince, his silver tongue, her God of Mischief.
And she knew he loved her too.
That day, they had come so close.
She could still feel the tingling of her body.
She wanted him. She wanted him more than anything. She wanted her first time to be with him.

But then he stopped.

And, even though she wanted to tear his clothes off and continue, Sif knew that his stopping was his way of showing her how much he cared. He understood how important that step was. He knew it had to be perfect: unforgettable, romantic, sweet.
Because he loved her.
And she loved him.
“Soon,” he had said.
And Sif couldn’t wait for that moment to come.

 

 

She was heading towards the Queen’s gardens, hoping to meet him.
It seemed like she hadn’t seen him in centuries, yet only a few hours had passed.
She had just passed through the large rose arch when she heard a familiar voice coming from behind the large lily bed. A familiar and… hateful voice.
What was Lorelei doing there?
That viper never missed a chance to make her look ridiculous whenever she could, convinced that Sif didn’t deserve the place of honor she had at the king’s court. The worst rumors surrounded Lorelei, and Sif wasn’t entirely sure they were just rumors. She was indeed with someone: Sif could feel their presence, though from her position, she couldn’t see who it was.

“…and then I was absolutely sure yours was all a lie. A real man needs a real woman. I can show you all the secrets of pleasure.
I can drive you mad and make you reach heights you can’t even imagine… of course, if you want to keep trying with that silly little thing, I could teach you something to make your first time not as deadly boring. I wouldn’t want your poor heart to break from disappointment.”
Her curiosity about the conversation kept her rooted to the spot, her ear straining to listen.
“Sif will never be a real woman. She’s just a little girl playing at being a warrior. A mewling quim who believes everything I tell her. I only have fun with her.”
That voice, the one that had sworn love to her just the day before… A stab to the heart would have hurt less.
“Uh uh, so our prince has fun with poor innocent girls? That excites me even more. What a horrible monster you are! I’d love to experience your cruelty… you know, in more informal contexts.”
Through her tears, she could only see Lorelei, sensually straddling him, before she silently slipped away.

 

 

Loki hated Lorelei. The fact that she had slept with half the kingdom just to get where she wanted made him sick. And now she had decided that becoming the lover of one of the two princes could take her even higher. She wouldn’t stop at anything to get what she craved, not even using her powerful magical arts, which she managed to keep hidden from everyone except him, the most powerful sorcerer in Asgard after his mother.

Lorelei had never hidden her hatred and resentment toward Sif, who, in her opinion, occupied the role she rightfully deserved. Sif was about to leave for an important mission, after which she would receive the highest position in the Asgardian army, that of the Guardian of Asgard. This would guarantee her a place among the royals in the royal patio. Loki should have expected that the cunning sorceress would do something to get rid of her.

His informants had uncovered her plan: Lorelei intended to cause Sif’s death by faking a war wound inflicted by a troll. But Loki would never allow anything to happen to his Sif. Never.

If he could, he would keep her safe in his arms forever, away from everything and everyone. But Sif was a free spirit, a goddess; she was war, chaos, and wonder—and that was why he loved her.

To protect her, Loki had thought of a protective spell, the most powerful one he had been able to find. It would give him some peace of mind, knowing she was safe. However, to complete it, he needed a lock of hair from the one person who hated her most in the world.

It didn’t take long to arrange a meeting with Lorelei. And even less for her to throw herself at him like a cat on its prey. In an instant, before she could notice, Loki drew his dagger and cut a significant lock of her red hair.

“What have you done!?” Lorelei jerked away, touching her head as if it had been bitten by a snake.

“Nothing much, I just needed these. And know that I know exactly what you’re planning. Touch even a single strand and you’ll regret the day you were born. And if you don’t want AllFather to find out why Baldur was struck by that mistletoe arrow, I suggest you keep quiet about today’s meeting.”

He gave her one last disgusted glance before disappearing in a green flash.

 

 

Loki couldn’t get any private moments with Sif before her departure. Every time he tried to get away with her, she left. He imagined she was very nervous about the mission. However, he felt he needed to tell her about his encounter with Lorelei. He wanted her to know that he had handled it and had cast a spell on her that would protect her and always bring her back to him. He wanted to talk to her, kiss her, and caress her, but all he could manage was a very formal exchange with her, along with her parents, before she left for the mission to wish her good luck. He hoped that in her gaze, she could read what he hadn’t been able to say. He saw her walk away on the Bifrost without even glancing at him. His heart screamed, and his mind searched for a reason for her strange behavior.

 

It wasn’t long before the triumphant procession returned, accompanying Lady Sif and the Three Warriors for their official investiture by Father Odin. As they were about to retire to the great banquet hall, Loki managed to hide just in time when she was left alone.
“Sif… I’ve missed you.”
He saw her flinch and change her expression completely. She turned her face away without looking at him. Loki tried to turn her toward him, but a hand from her pushed him away.
“Sif, what’s wrong? You’ve been avoiding me since before the departure. Did something happen? Did I do something?”
Sif took on a proud, dignified air.
“I don’t want you near me anymore, Loki. My feelings for you have disappeared. It’s over, and I don’t even understand how it started. I’ve finally realized I deserve so much better than you.”
She ran away without giving Loki time to process what she was saying. He couldn’t make sense of those words.
It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t.

He entered the hall, determined to ask her for an explanation. He found her with Thor. When she saw him, Sif spun her brother around and kissed him on the lips, amidst laughter and cheers of encouragement.
It was from that moment on that Loki began to understand that it was far better to be an ice monster than to feel his heart bleed in such a way.

Notes:

Lorelei comes directly from the second season of Agents of Shield, in which she has the power to control male beings only with her voice and finds herself directly in conflict with Sif. From the context it is clear that their struggle has much older origins. In this chapter I imagine our protagonists very young, little more than teenagers, so I wanted to represent a Lorelei not yet able to have this power (although I am sure that Loki would not fall victim to it, he is too smart). moreover, in the legend of Baldor (another son of Odin and Frigga) it is Loki who shot the mistletoe arrow that will kill him, but even here we make someone else take the blame. I wanted to make the characters immature on purpose, I don't know about you but I still have people from my teenage years that I don't talk to. And considering that Loki and Sif as adults still have trouble controlling emotions, it seems consistent to me that an alleged betrayal on both sides can lead to a "hate" that has lasted for centuries. I don't know, what do you think? if you like, leave a comment and let's chat a bit!

Chapter 8: Chapter 8

In the forced stillness of her room, Sif watched the preparations for departure from the window, her hands barely gripping the edge of the sill. The morning air carried a faint scent of damp earth and smoke, a smell that seemed to speak of new beginnings and farewells. Down in the courtyard, men and women, assisted by the tireless gnomes, moved with frantic rhythm: gathering crates of supplies, securing tools to the caravans, and loading everything onto the carts. Their voices blended into a confused hum of orders, laughter, and chatter.

Sif sighed. How she longed to be out there, among them, with her hands busy and her mind focused on something practical. But she knew it would be a bad idea. Loki, despite his mocking tone, had clearly explained that the healing spell worked, but overusing it would be a waste of magic and, likely, a risk to her health. Still, it was hard to ignore the sense of well-being that had started to seep into her limbs, a stark contrast to the weeks of pain and exhaustion that had kept her bedridden. And for that, she was grateful.

Her eyes lingered on a scene in the courtyard. The strange green being, Thor's Midgardian companion whom the others called Hulk, was playfully wrestling with Brunhilde, the Valkyrie. The woman was laughing loudly, dodging with surprising agility the awkward yet devastating moves of the mountain of muscle. The sight made her smile. As a child, Sif would have given anything to be one of them, a Valkyrie, a respected and feared warrior woman, a living legend. But life, with its battles and losses, had taught her that even the strongest could be broken. Brunhilde was living proof of that: fresh scars on her heart and soul, a tortured spirit, yet able to find a spark of joy in the chaos.

Perhaps Thor wasn’t as crazy as he seemed. His idea of an Asgardian colony on Midgard—a second home, a place where they could all rebuild—might actually have a chance. The hope, once dormant, was beginning to stir within her, like a small fire kindling against the cold. Things could turn out well, after all. Maybe not perfect, but... livable. And for now, that was enough.

Her gaze drifted once more, until it froze.

In the opposite corner of the courtyard, another broken soul, lost long ago, was staring at her.

Loki.

He was leaning against a stone wall, arms crossed, with that expression somewhere between indifference and enigma that seemed tailor-made for him. His eyes, however, were unusually intense, fixed on her as if trying to peer into her soul. He didn’t move, nor did he make any gesture. He simply stood there, watching her with that unsettling calm that always seemed to signal something was coming.

His nonchalance contrasted with the intensity of his unwavering gaze. He had been standing there for a while, staring at her. When their eyes met, it felt as though the world stopped for a moment. Loki distinctly felt a jolt run through his body, a shiver that almost made him lose control of the calm mask he wore.

At first, Sif didn’t look away. For a few seconds, their eyes remained locked, communicating more than either of them would ever admit in words. Then, as if something had struck too close to her, Sif broke the moment and turned away.

Loki lingered for a few more seconds before heading toward the small house he was sharing with his brother for the time being. Once inside, he closed the door behind him with a gesture more forceful than necessary, exhaling sharply as though he had been holding his breath too long.

He slumped into a chair, massaging his eyes with his fingers, trying to push away the turmoil of emotions that overwhelmed him.

What was wrong with Sif?

That thought haunted him, obsessed him, so much that it kept him awake at night. It wasn’t just about her health—even though the idea that she was in danger drove him mad—it was something deeper, something he couldn’t define. There was something eluding him.

His mother, Frigga, had taught him many healing spells, especially those useful in battle. He wasn’t on the level of Eir, the legendary healer of the Æsir, but he was skilled enough to detect problems that others might miss. Yet with Sif, he couldn’t understand. Every time he tried to probe her energy, he felt the magical shield of the protective spell he had cast on her years ago, an echo of the magic he had used to protect her without her knowing. It was as if that shield now recognized him as a threat. It pushed him away, preventing him from delving deeper and discovering what was wrong. The realization struck him like a blade: did Sif hate him so much that she considered him a threat, even unconsciously?

A lump formed in his throat, but he stifled it with what he did best: anger and hate.

After all, it had been her who had left him. It had been her who told him, with that harsh yet incredibly fragile voice, that he deserved better. And then… it had been her who chose Thor. Thor. The perfect brother, the favorite of everyone, the warrior who had never known rejection. Despite everything, Loki couldn’t help but ask himself: why did he still care about her?

No, “care about her” wasn’t the right phrase. It had never been enough. He still loved her. He loved her with a ferocity and intensity that made him feel vulnerable and exposed, he who had always used deception and masks as his armor. He had loved her back then, as teenagers and later as young adults, and he had loved the warrior who laughed at banquets and wielded a sword with the same grace that others would hold a flower. He loved her now, fragile, tested, yet still so extraordinary.

He had cast the protective spell years ago, in secret, just to know she was safe. He had continued to protect her in the shadows, silently, finding countless ways to praise her deeds, so that her courage would be recognized. It had become as natural as breathing, a part of him that he couldn’t uproot. And now? Now, he would give anything to understand, to know if there was still a chance, a shred of hope that could lead him to reclaim her heart.

Frigga would have known what to do. His mother, with her infinite wisdom, would have given him advice, a path to follow. But Frigga was no longer there, and Loki felt lost, like a navigator without stars. Thor had told him that Sif still cared about him, but how could he believe him? Thor, with his naive optimism, couldn’t understand the depth of the distance that had grown between them.

And yet… even "caring" would have been enough. He would have settled for a small part of her, for those fragments of attention she might have given him. He would have made that little bit enough, if that was all he could have.

Or at least, he desperately wanted to believe that lie.

In the end, Sif had looked away, throwing herself onto the bed with her heart pounding faster.

Loki was... complicated. Always one step ahead of everyone, yet capable of disappearing into thin air when things got difficult. He had lived through things that had broken and torn him apart, in ways that no one could truly understand. And now he was there, like a persistent shadow in her life.

She couldn’t decide whether his presence comforted or disturbed her. But one thing was certain: she had no intention of being the next pawn in his games. Not this time. Not with another life at stake. Yet she couldn’t shake the awareness that their fates were, in some way, more intertwined than she was willing to admit. Now more than ever.

Sif slipped a heavy sweater over her woolen tunic, regretting her chainmail. It had been days since she last wore her armor, which now mocked her from the corner of the room. She still thought about that moment, when Loki hadn’t taken his eyes off her. He hadn’t seemed angry or annoyed, but there had been something probing in his gaze, as if he were studying her. She knew him too well to think it was mere curiosity. Loki never watched by chance; he analyzed, weighed, and often calculated precisely which strings to pull to get what he wanted. Had he discovered her secret?

He had been surprisingly kind lately. Kinder than usual, at least. His healing spell had lifted her from weeks of exhaustion and nausea that seemed endless. But with him, you never knew what the real price was for an apparently selfless act. And now here he was, the lord of chaos, looking at her as if he were trying to see beyond the window, beyond the skin, beyond the calm facade she was trying to maintain.

Sif glanced out the window again, denying to herself that she might be searching for him. She saw a group of children running between the crates, laughing and hiding as if it were all one big game. She couldn’t help but wonder if her son or daughter would ever be free to play like that, without the weight of war, duty, or the name they would carry. That thought made her slip a hand over her abdomen. It was still too early to feel any movement, but the simple gesture gave her comfort.

It was then that she heard a knock at the door. A light, unmistakable tap. She didn’t answer, but the door opened anyway. Of course.

“Well, you’re alive, Lady Sif. We haven’t seen you in a while, so I came to check if you happened to be dead,” Loki said, entering the room uninvited. “You know, it would have been a real shame after all the effort we’ve put in.” He wore his usual ironic smile, but his tone was strangely soft.

“Why am I not surprised to see you barging into my room without asking for permission?”

“You know I don’t care about permission. Besides, someone has to make sure you stick to the schedule for tonight. You know how it is—without you and your brilliant drunken conversation, the party might become a deadly bore after five minutes.”

“Oh, of course. Because everyone knows the sole purpose of my life is to make your parties interesting. And you know what, I... aahh!”

She had become so clumsy that, in trying to turn, she hit her leg against the bed’s headboard. She cursed under her breath, gritting her teeth.

Loki immediately stopped. “Are you okay?”

“Worried? Sure, Loki, because nothing makes you more anxious than thinking about my well-being.”

Loki spoke more softly, his tone unexpectedly gentle. “You might be surprised.”

She stared at him, a bit uncertain, but he immediately shifted his attitude, shaking off any trace of seriousness.

“You were staring out the window. Were you looking for me?”

“Absolutely. I was watching how the loading is going,” she replied, deliberately avoiding his gaze.

“Are you okay, Sif?” This time, the question was almost tender.

She sighed, almost irritated. “Now I am. Thanks to you.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “You’re welcome, my Lady. You know I have a passion for helping damsels in distress... especially those who prefer bumping into furniture rather than lying down in bed.”

“I’m resting,” she answered curtly, “As you yourself recommended.”

He laughed softly, a low, sly sound that made her shiver. "It would be the first time in centuries that you followed one of my suggestions. You must be in really bad shape."

Sif forced herself to ignore the provocation, but he didn’t stop.

"Ah, but I didn’t mean to impose complete solitude on you. You could, for example, greet the people who’ve been watching you through that window."

Sif clenched her fists, her patience wearing thin.

"No one forced you to be my nurse, Loki, and I didn’t ask you to be," she said, finally turning toward him. "So if you have something important to say, say it. Then you can leave."

He stood still for a few seconds, staring at her without blinking. Then he moved, slowly approaching her until he was close.

"Rest," he finally said, in that sharp tone she knew so well, but without malice. "Tonight is the last night on this planet, there will be a feast in our honor. And your dear Thor will need your precious company."

When the door closed behind him, Sif realized she had been holding her breath. She turned back to the window, but this time, she saw nothing. Only her reflection. And, for the first time, she allowed herself to truly look at it.

---

That evening, the gnomes had decided that a feast in honor of their guests would lift everyone's spirits. The clearing in the center of the village was lit by large bonfires, around which huge wild boars were being roasted on long spits. The air was thick with the scent of meat and the cheerful music filling the air, accompanied by the continuous clinking of beer mugs. Sif sat in a secluded corner, away from the chaos, enjoying the warmth of the fire nearby.

Her eyes were fixed on the flames, but in her mind, other images played. Volstagg stuffing himself without restraint, Fandral flirting with the young gnomes, and Hogun, who would probably have been next to her, grumbling silently about how ridiculous the other two were. A wistful smile touched her face. How she missed them. She imagined them where they were now, in Valhalla, alongside the bravest warriors of Asgard, next to Odin and Frigga. She closed her eyes for a moment, offering a brief mental prayer.

Thank you for this second chance, she thought. Thank you for allowing me to be here, to help rebuild our home.

She realized a moment too late that a shadow had approached from behind her.

"Lady Sif… Good evening." The warm, velvet-soft voice made her stiffen.

Her heart leapt in her throat, and she hated with all her being that he still had that power over her. Slowly, she turned around.

"Good evening, Loki," she replied, trying to keep her tone neutral.

He elegantly gestured to the space beside her. "May I?"

"Of course."

Sif made a conscious effort not to meet his gaze, because she knew that if she did, she would see all her secrets reflected in his green eyes. One in particular, the one that weighed like a boulder under her tunic. Loki sat beside her with the grace that seemed to come naturally to him.

With a simple wave of his hand, he conjured two plates of meat and two mugs of beer, which appeared before them.

"I couldn’t help but notice that you haven’t touched the food. I took the liberty of bringing you something," he said, with an enigmatic smile.

Sif tightened her hands on her knees, torn. The rational part of her tried to reassure her: Loki wouldn’t harm her. Not here, not now, not with Thor and the others present. Thor had told her he had changed, that he had put his schemes aside. He had even told her that… that he still loved her.

Her tongue, however, was quicker than her mind. Too much anger had been building up over the years, and it made her snap. "Did you put some spell on the food again, or can I eat peacefully? I have no intention of falling into your clutches again tonight. Ending up in bed with you under false pretenses was already hard enough to endure once. I wonder how you boasted about it. After all, it’s not every day that a fake Jotun king gets that opportunity."

The words came out sharper than she intended, and she regretted saying them the moment they left her lips. A flash of pain crossed Loki's face, quickly masked by a self-satisfied smile.

"Ah, so this is the reason for your bitterness," he said, his usual irony in his voice. "You think I forced you to sleep with me using a spell. Interesting, truly interesting."

Sif opened her mouth to interrupt him, but he continued, his tone sweet but cutting. "For your information, I didn’t use any magic on you. Not that night, nor now. If something happened, I suppose it was of your own free will. Of course, we could blame it on the fact that you were slightly drunk, but... I can't say I minded. If you have regrets, my dear, I fear they fall only on you. It seemed to me that you rather enjoyed having this Jotun between your legs. The fake king, as you call him, was the rightful heir to the throne while Odin was in his slumber, and his prince was out in the universe helping others."

Loki gave her a smug smile, the same smile she had once found alluring, but now it made her blood boil.

"You are the God of Mischief," Sif retorted, her voice heavy with emotion. "How can I know you're not lying even now, as you’ve always done? You’ve deceived us all, time and again, faked your own death, hurt all the people who loved you... even your mother..." Her voice faltered.

For a moment, Loki’s face changed. There was no trace of irony or smugness. Only pain.

"You’re right," he said, his voice quieter. "My word means nothing, and no matter what I say, you would never believe it. I am the monster, the Ice Giant, the bastard son of Odin. I don’t matter, not to you or anyone else."

Sif felt a knot tighten in her throat, but he continued, with a bitter smile.

"But you can always ask Thor, can’t you? The God of Thunder. Your perfect, glorious Thor. He will tell you if what I said is a lie, if I’m still the monster you’ve always believed me to be. And now excuse me, my lady, if I have bothered you with my unworthy presence. As I remember, you said you deserve better."

He stood, giving a small bow, and walked away, leaving her alone.

Sif remained still, staring into the void. A wave of shame washed over her. It wasn’t true what she had said, she knew that. Loki wasn’t a monster. She had never truly believed that. It was only her defense mechanism speaking, the fear of being hurt again.

She wished so much she could trust him. But she was afraid. Afraid to put her heart in his hands again. Afraid to have her soul torn apart as it had been the last time. Afraid to love him again. And yet, as she watched him walk away, a part of her wondered how much of that fear was directed at him… and how much was aimed at herself.

---

Thor, standing near the edge of the clearing, had been watching the entire scene closely. He had stayed there, arms crossed over his chest, waiting for something to happen between his brother and Sif. He had always believed that, despite the hardships, love was enough to overcome any obstacle. But when he saw Loki’s expression suddenly change and walk away, his brow furrowed.

He wasn’t an expert on matters of the heart—certainly not the type for long romantic speeches—but he did know one thing: if two people loved each other, they should be together. And in Loki and Sif’s case, love was evident even to someone like him. Sif loved Loki. Loki loved Sif. What was so complicated about that?

With determined steps, Thor approached a dejected Sif, who was still sitting by the fire, absentmindedly nibbling from the plate Loki had brought her.

"Everything okay?" he asked, sitting next to her, in the exact spot where his brother had been moments before.

Sif lifted her gaze to him. Thor immediately noticed the glistening in her eyes, filled with tears barely held back. His heart tightened.

"Hey, Sif," he said, placing a warm, reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Hey, don’t cry. It’s a celebration, remember?"

Sif quickly wiped away a tear that slipped down her cheek, trying to regain some control. "Yeah, you’re right... Sorry. It must be my condition, you know. They say it makes you cry," she said, forcing a weak smile.

Thor furrowed his brow, tilting his head slightly. "Did something happen with Loki? Did he say something that upset you?"

"No, no," Sif quickly replied, dismissing the question with a wave of her hand. "Actually... I was the one who was cruel. He didn’t deserve that. He was just trying to be kind, but I..." She stopped, her gaze falling on the now cold plate. "It’s stronger than me. Fear is an emotion I don’t know. I’ve never known it... and I can’t handle it."

Thor stayed silent for a moment, reflecting on her words. Then he smiled gently, a smile unlike his usual brash grin.

"Sif," he began, in the firm yet kind tone he used in delicate situations, "you’re the bravest woman I know. You’ve faced wars, giants, even death. And now you’re facing a different challenge... but no less important. If you truly love Loki—and I know you do—why not try to start over with him?"

Sif looked at him, surprised by the disarmingly simple nature of the question.

"We’re about to start a new life, all of us," Thor continued. "We’ve lost everything, but we’ve been given a chance to rebuild. This could be a new beginning for you two as well." He paused and pointed to her belly, just slightly noticeable under her tunic. "And especially, Sif... you should try it for him. Or for her. You can’t deprive a child of its father. That wouldn’t be right."

Sif lowered her gaze, biting her lip. Every word Thor said hit her like a hammer.

"And it wouldn’t be right for Loki either," Thor added, his voice quieter. "He’s lost so much, like all of us. He’s been lied to his entire life, had the truth hidden from him. We wouldn’t be any better if we hid everything from him again. You two have been given something no one else has: a second chance, a gift to protect. Do you really want to waste it?"

Sif let go, tears flowing freely down her cheeks as sobs shook her. Thor tightened his grip on her shoulder, trying to comfort her. Fortunately, the music drowned out the sound of her cries.

"I wish..." she stammered between sobs. "I really wish I could."

Thor smiled at her, tilting his head slightly. "Then do it."

Sif lifted her face to him, her eyes still glistening but now filled with a new resolve. Her hazel irises seemed almost green in the firelight.

"I want to start over, I’ll at least try," she said, her throat tight. "From the beginning. All over again. A new beginning." She placed a trembling hand on her stomach. "For him... or for her."

Thor’s smile widened into a sincere, bright laugh, and with an instinctive gesture, he wrapped her in his strong arms. He held her tightly, almost engulfing her in his embrace, and she returned the hug with equal intensity.

However, they didn’t notice that, from afar, hidden in the shadows, a pair of eyes as cold as ice were watching them. Loki had stayed there, invisible to all, and his heart twisted with jealousy. But it wasn’t just that that burned him. His mind was in turmoil, overwhelmed by an emotion he couldn’t define—a mix of anger, pain. Sif’s words had hurt him more than he wanted to admit.

I wish I were in his place, Loki thought, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white.

I wish I were the one making her laugh, the one comforting her. But I simply... will never be enough.

Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Notes:

I want to thank unicornbouncer , DanteKnvz , Lorcats , random12358283 , menboong , AprilorMay , lauburu , nostalgia and AndThatWasTheWickedLoki to leave Kudos and especially BL4CKB377Y and brilliantminds19 to leave a comment 🥹

Sif waited for the moment when no one was paying attention to her to slip out of the party and start searching for Loki. She tried to move as quietly as possible, but to her horror, she realized after only a few steps that she was already out of breath, and the nausea was returning. The healing spell had clearly lost its effectiveness. Well, she could use it as an excuse to find him.

But the truth was something else: she wanted to apologize and talk to him. She wanted to understand, to clear the air. She deeply believed in the promise she had made to Thor. Centuries had passed—why continue to cling to a past that no longer belonged to her? Too many things had happened, too many things had changed them. They were no longer the youths they once were.

She searched for Loki in the rooms assigned to him but couldn’t find him. She paused to think. Where would Loki go after an argument with his father or his brother? She let her memories guide her until a perfect place flashed into her mind.

The lake was illuminated by the two moons, making the surface a pearly white, almost iridescent. Loki was sitting on the edge of a small wooden dock where two little boats were moored. With his legs dangling, he was skipping stones across the water, trying to make them bounce as many times as possible.

When they were children, he and Thor would always play like this. Thor was stronger, of course, but Loki had technique and precision. Even without magic, he could make the stones skip across the water gracefully, many times. Naturally, no one believed he wasn’t using a spell.

Filled with anger, he hurled a stone with force, making it sink with a thud. He ran his hands over his face, trying to calm himself.

The conversation he had had with Sif had hurt him more than he cared to admit. Then he had seen her laughing and embracing Thor. And he had simply wanted to disappear.

By now, he was tired of even feeling anger. It wasn’t worth the effort. If everyone believes you’re a liar, then you’re a liar.

And he no longer knew what to do with Sif. Perhaps he should simply let her go and hope she would be happier without him.

It was in moments like this that he regretted all the choices he had made. Almost all of them, at least.
If he had been a better man, his mother would still be alive.
If he had been a better man, he wouldn’t have discovered his father’s affection too late.
If he had been a better man, he would have let Sif get closer to Thor.
And he wouldn’t keep thinking about that night with her, reliving every single moment over and over again.

But he wasn’t that man.

“Loki?”

He turned abruptly at the sound of the voice that had been tormenting him for hours in his thoughts.

Sif was approaching slowly.

“How did you find me?”

“I thought about where you’d hide if we were at home… In the rose garden or by the river…”

Loki let out a strained laugh, turning back to the water and aiming for another throw.

“It seems you know me well, my lady Sif. Do you need something?” he asked nonchalantly while examining the other stones near the dock. “That would be the only reason you’d interrupt a conversation with your beloved.”

The last words were spat out with more venom than he intended.

“What do you mean?”

“I saw you,” he retorted. “I saw you talking, I saw you embrace him. Do you think I’m a fool? The real problem is that you still love Thor, and I’m nothing more than an obstacle between you. Do you think he wouldn’t want you anymore if he knew about our night together? Is that why you avoid me?”

His voice cracked, but he didn’t stop.

“For Odin’s sake, Sif! I thought that night meant something to you! But you left the morning after without even looking at me, without even asking how I was! Naturally, though, Sif comes first: the warrior, the companion of Thor’s mighty adventures. No one can question her; she can do anything without worrying about the consequences, without caring about other people’s feelings!”

His voice trembled, but resentment pushed him to continue.

“I’ve always been too little for you. You used me for your own purposes and then discarded me like trash. As soon as you became Asgard’s Guardian, suddenly I was superfluous, wasn’t I? You didn’t need me anymore to get closer to the royal court, right? And there I was, still wondering where I went wrong with you.”

He stopped, staring at her with tears clouding his eyes.

“What a hypocrite you’ve been. But the award for the biggest fool goes to me, for believing your heart held the same feelings mine did. My heart may be made of ice, but you… you were the real monster.”

Loki stopped, almost in disbelief at how he had lost control and spilled all those words.

Sif stood frozen in front of him, silent tears streaming down her face. She leaned her full weight against one of the dock’s posts, too weak to remain standing. She suddenly felt cold—too cold.

“You know, I came here to apologize because I might have gone too far, but the truth is, you don’t deserve anything. You’re the same selfish person as always. It’s all about your ‘hurt feelings’… Have you ever thought that others… that I might have suffered in ways I can hardly even talk about? When you died—twice, Loki! Of course not. Who could ever suffer more than Loki, the God of ‘only I suffer’? Forget deception. Have you ever wondered what’s changed in me? What happened to make me the person I am today?”

She took a shaky step forward.

“About what you did? About how you broke me? Emotionally, intimately. How much I suffered, how many nights I spent crying over you, how many times I dreamed of you only to realize reality was different?”

Sif gave a bitter smile, her feverish eyes glinting.

“No, you can’t see beyond your own nose. Even now, you understand nothing. Nothing! You live in your personal world of resentment and jealousy. But not everyone thinks like you. So yes, if there were an award to win, the real monster is me.”

She turned and, with difficulty, began walking toward the path leading to the village.

Loki remained frozen, watching her as she walked away. The anger had burned out, replaced by something deeper and more suffocating. Then he noticed something was wrong.
Sif was dragging her legs.
She never dragged her feet.

“Sif… wait… I didn’t mean…”

He saw her take only a few steps before collapsing to the ground.

 

 

 

 

When Thor saw Loki enter the hall carrying an unconscious Sif in his arms, his heart skipped a beat.

“What happened, Loki?” he asked, stepping closer to make sure she wasn’t injured.

Loki looked distraught.

“It’s my fault… we were arguing. I didn’t realize my spell had worn off. She’s fainted again because of the fever. I’ve cast another spell, but it will take time before she wakes up. I need to get her to bed immediately.”

The dwarves, concerned at the sight of their Lady unconscious, moved forward to help, but Thor stopped them with a gesture as his brother began climbing the stairs.

“Leave them alone,” Thor said softly. “It’s going to be a long night.”

Chapter 10: Chapter 10

Summary:

This is a "little" flashback of Loki. I think it's important to understand better Loki's feelings and I have LOVED SO MUCH writing this! I want to thank WarandLove for the comment <3

As he held her in his arms and laid her on his bed, Loki thought back to the last time he had felt her skin so close, her head on his chest.

It had been a few months and yet it seemed like an eternity. There, in his true chambers where he had not rested for years. There, they had loved each other.

------------

Loki remained still next to Sif, his breathing deep and regular as he watched her sleep, still wrapped in the warmth of a night that seemed to belong to another life. His fingers lightly touched her hair, careful not to wake her.

How much had he desired that moment? How much had he longed to be able to touch her as he had done that night, without stopping?

It was a night he had waited for centuries, in which his love for her had finally revealed itself in its most carnal form. Every moment, every jolt of his body, every kiss, caress, moan, had reminded him of how desperate the desire he had for her was, a desire that had devoured him for a lifetime. He wanted her with every fiber of his being, and yet, as their bodies intertwined, he felt the seed of fear creeping into him: the fear of rejection.

He had held her in his arms, feeling her heartbeat merge with his own, and in that intimate contact, at the height of their pleasure, he had lost control for the first time in his long existence.

As he poured himself into her, her skin began to tingle, and the blue of his true nature had imposed itself on the pale mask of the Aesir. He had pulled away suddenly, feeling for an instant like the monster. His darkest form, the one he had tried to bury forever, had emerged at the most inopportune moment.

He had hoped that the heat of her skin, the desire in her eyes, could erase that truth. But he knew it wasn’t so. Sif had seen. And he could never lie to her again.

Not anymore.

She had seen him as a man, as a god, and as a creature of a race she would have detested.

And yet…

She had not rejected him. There had been no disgust or immediate hatred. Only surprise, perhaps a slight fear, but no rejection. She had looked at him as if she knew the truth, but had chosen to stay. And when Loki met her gaze again, feeling the weight of her deception, he had seen something in it that had shaken him to the core.

Not anger, not betrayal, but a silent pain. A pain that reflected her own.

Sif had come closer, looking into his red eyes. Then she had placed her hand on the back of his neck and kissed him, as if wanting to start all over again.

Ever since he had discovered his true nature, Loki had tried to awaken the latent powers of his blood. Even though he despised what they represented, he was clear-headed enough to understand the importance of knowing the secrets of his race. But for the truth to be revealed now paralyzed him. For the past few years he had hidden behind the face of Odin, hidden in the shadows, protected by his own lies. And now, at his most vulnerable, he had shown Sif not only what he wanted to keep hidden, but the part of himself he feared the most. Yet she had wanted it, she had desired it as strongly as he had desired power. And something in him had broken and melted at the same time.

He had always been a master of deception, but with her he didn’t want to be just that. He wanted to be the man she could love, who maybe she could love.
After the third round, she had fallen asleep, resting on his chest.
Loki had held her in his arms, knowing that a part of him, the part that had loved her for years, was now dealing with the weight of a sweetness that threatened to make his heart unbearable.

Would she look at him the same way again? He couldn’t know for sure. But he was ready to give her everything: his heart, his true nature.

His life had been a labyrinth of deception, but that night she had seen it all and she hadn’t held back. She had answered his desire with her own, and for a moment, Loki had felt alive in a way he had never known. Accepted. Yet he knew that passion, no matter how burning, would never be enough.

How would Sif react when the morning light revealed everything? When he showed himself for what he was: a frost giant, a deceiver, a son who had usurped his father's throne? The thought annihilated him.

Loki couldn't stop his thoughts from spinning as he watched Sif, asleep and unaware. His love for her had never been stronger, but with it grew the awareness of something irreparable. The fear that her truth was an insurmountable wall, destined to separate them forever. And yet, he couldn't stop hoping. He hoped that tonight had been the first step towards something neither of them had ever dared to imagine.

He didn't want to close his eyes. If he did, everything he had in that moment - her skin under his fingers, her face, the freckles on her back - could dissolve into a dream, one of the many he had had of her.

His hands were still warm from the contact with her skin, but his heart beat irregularly, torn between desire and fear.

He had lied and manipulated all his life, but now he felt more vulnerable than ever. His identity was a maze of lies, and the thought that when Sif woke up, she would see only the deception terrified him.

It hadn’t been just a physical encounter. It hadn’t been just a kiss. The intimacy between them had transcended all barriers. Loki hoped that Sif wouldn’t judge him for what he had done, but would understand his motives.

And as she slept, unaware of his torment, Loki clung to a fragile hope. He hoped that the truth wouldn’t push her away. He hoped that she could see beyond what he had become. But perhaps it was all just a dream after all. Another dream from a man who had always deceived others and now found himself trapped in his own game.

And now his eyes were inexorably closing.

Chapter 11: Chapter 11

Summary:

I know, it’s not Sunday, but ten last chapter it was like a 10.5 so it doesn’t matter 🥹 I hope WarandLove will appreciate.

Loki sat motionless, staring at her for over half an hour. Her face, once proud and inscrutable, now radiated a silent unease. Her complexion had returned to normal, but the fever still burned within her, and she showed no signs of regaining consciousness. The night had fully descended, and the room was enveloped in darkness, faintly illuminated by the flickering light of a candle. Loki had sent everyone away: he would stay with her. He had to remain by her side.

A relentless feeling of guilt gripped his chest. Had he come too late? Had the spell not worked? Or was she simply too weakened to respond? Hesitantly, he placed a cold hand on her cheek. The touch was light, almost imperceptible, as if he feared that a firmer touch might break her. He withdrew his hand immediately, feeling a growing sense of helplessness inside him. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her fevered forehead.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered with a broken voice, brushing her ear with his breath.

He took her hand in his, holding it gently.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, this time to the darkness surrounding them.

Then he lowered his gaze, unable to look at her any longer without feeling guilty. "I'm such a fool..." he murmured, bitterness lacing his voice. "I ruin everything I touch. Is this my curse? Every action I take brings only destruction. I can't do anything right. I've been in love with the same woman for five centuries. And she turned her back on me. She abandoned me without reason. Yet I can't hate her. I can't even tell her that I truly love her. What kind of idiot am I? Is it so absurd to believe that a frost giant could have a heart that burns?"

His gaze returned to her, to her pale, cracked lips. He would give anything to kiss them, to bring back the warmth of life. But he didn't. He sighed, stood from the chair, and approached the window. Outside, the sky was a cloak of stars, shining and indifferent.

Then he did something he hadn't done in centuries.

He knelt down.

"Frigga," he began, his voice trembling, "mother of the gods... all-knowing queen, wise as the Norns. Beloved companion of Odin, radiant ruler of the people. You who love your people, who weave peace with wisdom and grace... I beg of you, listen to me. Grant me your blessing. I know your heart is great. Do not deny me your counsel. I plead with a desperate man... a man in love. Your son. Do not abandon me, mother. I have already lost you... I cannot lose her as well."

His words broke into a sob. He remained kneeling, his forehead pressed to his joined hands, letting the silence consume his prayer. Eventually, exhausted, he collapsed onto the floor, his head resting next to Sif's bed. His eyes closed, heavy, and sleep overtook him.

It was not a peaceful sleep.

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself in a vast, luminous hall. The ceiling stretched into infinity, and all around, great tables laden with food gleamed under dancing lights. Loki looked around, confused. Then he recognized a few faces. Heimdall. Fandral. Hogun. Volstagg.

"What...?"

A familiar figure emerged from the crowd. She was surrounded by a warm, reassuring light, and her eyes sparkled with timeless wisdom.

"Mother?"

Frigga approached gracefully, a sweet smile on her face. The others bowed as she passed, but she did not take her gaze off Loki.

"It can't be..." Loki whispered. "It must be a dream."

"Loki," she said, extending her hands to him.

He grabbed them tightly, holding them as if afraid they might vanish. "Mother... are you real?"

"No dream, my son. You are in Valhalla. I heard your prayer. I had to see you. I had to speak with you."

"But how...?"

She smiled. "I remain the most powerful sorceress in the Nine Realms. Who do you think you inherited your abilities from?"

Loki smiled bitterly, and between them passed one of those knowing glances they had shared so many times. Frigga caressed his face, just as she had when he was a child.

"Come with me," she said, "let's go somewhere quieter. We don't have much time."

With a blink, they found themselves in the royal garden. The white marble bench in the center of the rose garden appeared unchanged, as if time had never touched it. Loki sat beside her, unable to tear his gaze away from her face.

"I never thought I'd see you again, mother..." he began, his voice breaking. "I thought I'd never have the chance to tell you... to take back... I'm sorry for what I said... I'm sorry for what I've done..."

"Shh..." she interrupted, "it is not your fault, Loki. It was never your fault."

"But if I hadn't...?"

"With 'ifs' and 'buts' you go nowhere, my son. You can't change the past, you can only decide your future." She paused, looking at him with tenderness. "And I see that, since your father joined me, many things have changed."

Loki lowered his gaze. "Why didn't you ever tell us about Hela?"

Frigga's face darkened. "I tried to help her. But her heart was completely evil. She tried to kill us just to achieve her own goals. She tried to kill me, her mother, and almost succeeded if it hadn't been for your father. I never forgot her, but I couldn't let the pain of what she did destroy my life. I had you. And you brought so much joy into my existence."

Loki sighed, tightening his grip on her hand.
"You were a blessing to me and your father, and I loved you as my own from the first moment I held you in my arms."

She smiled gently at him. "Children are this... worry, fear... but above all, love and happiness. Never forget that, Loki."

He nodded. "And Sif?"

Frigga smiled softly. "Dear, dear Sif. You have loved her since you were a child. I always hoped you two... well, perhaps my wish will be fulfilled after all."

Loki shook his head. "Mother, Sif is unwell. And we can't find the cause. I can't lose her. I know she will never love me the way I love her, but I need her to be well. If she doesn't make it, I..."

Frigga placed a hand on his shoulder. "I can assure you she won't. Sif is strong. She doesn't need to be cured; her condition is a gift. Go to Midgard, there, your brother's friends will know how to help her in the best possible way."
"But how?"
"Loki, you must be there for her, you must support her, you must do everything in your power to give her all your support. Make sure she can count on you. She is frightened by what is happening and afraid for her heart. Only you can show her how strong your feelings are. Be perceptive, don't lie to yourself, and don't lie to her. Look beyond your nose. Focus on her needs. Your future can still be bright. He will bring you immense joy."

Loki shook his head. "Who is he, mother?"

Frigga smiled. "Our time is almost up. I can't keep you much longer. The Norns have noticed my little trick. But I will wait for you. I want you with me for eternity."

"Mother, I solemnly swear I will try my best to make up for the harm I have done to you."

She took his face in her hands.
"I love you, Loki, and I am proud of you."

Loki had tears in his eyes.
"I love you, mother."

Frigga began to dissolve into tiny specks of light.
She looked at their hands still intertwined one last time.
"Mother... Who is he?"
"My grandson. Your son. He will bring glory to all the Nine Realms."

Then she vanished in an explosion of light, leaving Loki alone in the garden of memories. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself on the floor, his breath heavy, staring at Sif with a newfound understanding.

Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Summary:

Finally, Loki knows what he wants… and Sif realizes she has been a fool.
I want to thank WarandLove of course for the comment ❤️❤️

A Few Hours Earlier

Loki shot up from the floor. He was gasping for breath as if he had been running for miles. For a moment, he thought it had all been just a dream. Then he noticed the white rose still clutched in his hand, shimmering with an unnatural glow.

He lowered his gaze toward her.

He approached her cautiously, as if even his breath might shatter her. And he looked at her.

He observed her as though it were the first time. The woman he had known for centuries. The woman he loved. He gently brushed her dark hair, scattered messily across the pillow. His eyes lingered on details he had always noticed but now seemed charged with new meaning: the dark brow, often furrowed in battle; the closed eyelids concealing hazel eyes flecked with green; the perfect nose, marked by a single freckle on the left; the softness of her cheek, and the full lips that held the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

Then his gaze drifted lower.

It wasn’t possible—they were two different races, weren’t they? And yet… He tentatively touched the place where his child should be. He took a deep breath and whispered an ancient spell, a forgotten language he still struggled to recognize as his own. Beneath his fingers, his skin began to turn blue.

A shiver of electricity shot through him. He held his breath.

He had felt it. His jotun side sensed something. Something that was his, something it recognized as its own. A faint blue aura began to glow around Sif’s abdomen. He pulled his hand back abruptly, as if burned.

“No… It can’t be…”

The room seemed to close in around him.

He needed to get out. He had to… leave. Now.

Sif awoke to sunlight streaming through the window. For a moment, she felt confused, but then she recognized the familiar contours of her room. She tried to sit up.

“Lady Sif, you’re awake!”

Milka, seated in the corner knitting, jumped up and rushed to her side.

“How are you feeling?”

“I think I’m fine.”

Sif’s gaze drifted out the window.

“How long was I unconscious?”

“Well, it’s nearly sunset now, so several hours since Prince Loki brought you here. But… I wasn’t the one tending to you this time, so I don’t know if you regained consciousness during the night.”

“What do you mean? Why weren’t you here?”

“The prince took care of you himself. He insisted it was his responsibility. He stayed by your side all night and only left briefly to stretch his legs, I think—like now.”

The girl hesitated. Sif looked at her, sensing there was something she wasn’t saying.

“What else, Milka?”

“Well, the prince consulted the healers, speaking with them at length. I don’t know what they discussed—I couldn’t overhear. But… after their conversation, the prince seemed…”

“Seemed what?”

Milka hesitated, searching for the right words.

“He was worried, but… I swear I saw a hint of happiness on his face. I think he knows.”

“Damn it!”

Sif pounded her fist against the bed, her heart racing in her chest. Loki had saved her. He had stayed with her. He had definitely figured it out and sought confirmation. He had discovered her secret.

A knock on the door startled her.

Milka peeked out the window.

“It’s him, my lady.”

Sif forced herself to calm down, summoning every ounce of inner strength only a warrior on the eve of battle could find.

Loki entered the room gracefully.

“My lady… you’re awake.”

He gave a slight bow, but Sif watched him warily.

“You’ve cut your hair.”

For a moment, he seemed embarrassed, but it passed so quickly she thought she might have imagined it.

“Yes… Someone pointed out it was time for a trim.”

An awkward silence hung between them as he continued to regard her intensely.

“Milka, please leave us alone.”

The gnome curtsied and left the room, closing the door behind her.

“This is for you.”

Out of nowhere, Loki conjured a white rose, glimmering faintly, its scent unmistakable.

Sif stared at it, stunned. A rose from the garden. Their garden.

A wave of memories washed over her: summer nights spent stargazing under the pergola, enveloped by its intense fragrance. Their first kiss, stolen among those flowerbeds. Afternoons spent chasing each other, only to end up entwined as if nothing else existed. She had been happy then.

“How… how did you do it? Asgard is gone.”

“Lady Sif, I’m disappointed. I’m still the God of Mischief. I have my tricks.”

Loki gave her one of his crooked smiles—the one she had loved most of all.

“Oh, I know that all too well. More than I’d like.”

Sif took the rose from his hand, bringing it close to her face to savor its rich scent. She knew Loki was remembering too. She could see it in his eyes—the regret for what had been and what could never be again.

“A lot has happened since then, Loki. Too much. A rose won’t change my mind.”

She saw him tense. He held his breath, as if her words were a blade plunging into his chest.

“Sif…”

His voice dropped, soft and hesitant. “I’m not here to argue. I’m here to… apologize.” The words came out fractured, almost breaking.

Sif stared at him, incredulous.

“Apologize?”

“For what I said to you, for how I treated you. I was cruel. I didn’t mean to be. I’m sorry.”

Those words twisted her stomach. She couldn’t remember the last time Loki had apologized to anyone—least of all her. She didn’t know what to say. And yet, she was afraid. She knew where this was going and dreaded what would come next.

He stepped toward the bed.

“May I?”

Sif nodded. Loki sat on the edge, his hands pressed to his knees, his gaze fixed on the floor.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Sif clenched her jaw.

“Would it have mattered? Would anything have changed?”

“For heaven’s sake, Sif! It’s my child too!”

Her heart thundered in her chest as she shook her head.

“I’m ready to take responsibility for…”

“It would be the first time.”

“Please, let me finish.”

Loki’s voice cracked, but he continued with a determination that seemed barely his own.

“I know Asgard is gone, but laws don’t vanish entirely. According to those laws, a pregnant woman—especially without a husband—is viewed… poorly. If we get married, I can protect your honor. I’m asking for your hand and to claim the child as mine.”

For a moment, Sif was speechless. Then she laughed bitterly.

“You’re lecturing me about laws and honor? You, Loki? When have you ever cared about laws? When have you ever respected anyone besides yourself? You’ve betrayed everyone, Loki: your father, your mother, your brother… me!”

Her words were sharp, dripping with pain and bitterness.

“As you yourself said, Asgard is no more. No one will care if my child is born outside the sacred bond of marriage. And I certainly don’t need someone to save my honor, especially someone who has none. Now you dare pretend to be the hero who rescues the damsel in distress?”

Her tone rose dangerously close to hysteria.

Loki stepped closer, his face a mask of seriousness. His voice dropped to a near whisper:

“Sif, please… don’t get upset. The child… we’ll figure it out, I promise. But there are other priorities now.”

Sif jumped to her feet, her presence an explosion of anger held back for far too long. Her eyes blazed with fury as she glared at him.

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down, Loki!”

Her voice was a roar, but it carried more pain than wrath.

“You don’t know what it means to care for someone! You’ve never known! Every time I trust you, I end up picking up the pieces of my broken heart!”

He stood motionless, stunned.

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Really? Why don’t you ask Lorelei? Maybe she’ll help you remember better than I can.”

Loki stared at her, incredulous. Sif saw the exact moment the pieces of the puzzle fell into place in his mind. When he spoke, his voice was filled with barely contained rage.

“Sif… I never betrayed you with Lorelei.”

“I saw you, Loki. I heard you. Before I left for the initiation ceremony.”

Loki shook his head, his tone sharp but tinged with a deep wound.

“Sif, Lorelei? Yes, I used her. But as you’d use tools, not people. I needed a strand of her hair for a spell, and she had to give it willingly. It was the only way. I never even touched her—not like that. I never betrayed you. I couldn’t have. Because I was with you. Only you.”

He took a step toward her, his voice softening to a near-raspy whisper.

“I did it for you, Sif. That hair… I used it to forge the spell you’ve carried for centuries. The one that saved you when the fire giants captured you. The one that kept you from freezing on Jotunheim. The one that kept you alive when that troll on Vanaheim nearly killed you.”

His eyes shone with emotions suppressed for far too long.

“I’ve always watched over you, even when you didn’t want me near. Even when you let me know, in every way possible, that your destiny lay far from mine.”

Sif stayed silent, unable to respond, her gaze locked on him.

Loki laughed softly, a bitter laugh that never reached his eyes.

“Of course. You immediately assumed I’d betrayed you. After all, who would ever believe the promises of the God of Lies, right?”

His voice dripped with bitterness so deep it seemed to fracture the silence.

“Loki, I…”

“No,” Loki interrupted her, raising a hand as if to stop her words.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re right. I can’t be trusted. How could I blame you? Maybe I should have known. Maybe I should have accepted that I would never be enough for you. And yet, I hoped…”

He paused, his voice cracking slightly.

“I hoped that this time you’d believe me. That, for once, you’d see beyond what everyone else sees in me. You… you saw me, Sif. Truly saw me.”

He stood up, rigid as a statue, and took a step back, his eyes blazing with emotion.

“Do you know what’s ironic? Maybe I asked you to marry me because I love you. I’ve always loved you, Sif. But of course…”

His gaze dropped, then returned to her with a flash of sadness.

“It doesn’t matter. Her Ladyship, Lady Sif, could never stoop so low. Right? A frost giant.”

“Loki…”

“Rest.”

His voice was cold, an impenetrable wall, as he turned to leave.

“The supplies are loaded. We leave at dawn.”

“Loki, wait!”

But her words died against the sharp sound of the door slamming shut, leaving her alone with the silence.

Chapter 13: Chapter 13

Summary:

I want to thank htdds03 to leave kudos <3

A few hours earlier

Loki began to breathe normally again after ten long minutes. The panic that had overwhelmed him had slowly faded, and now he was trying to think clearly, for both his sake and Sif's. And for that strange creature that was developing in her womb.

He was afraid.

Terribly afraid.

That… child… was half Jotun. And only Odin knew what it could do to Sif.

She was suffering because of him. If anything happened to her because of him, he would go mad. If only he had been more careful, if he had taken precautions like he always did, none of this would have had to happen. But he had thought it was impossible. Two different races. He had been a fool, a madman, an idiot…

He regained his composure, leveraging his willpower

He had to remain calm.

He needed to understand Jotun physiology in every tiny detail. He would find a solution, even if he had to search through every library on that stupid planet. There had to be an answer somewhere that could help her. He would speak with the healers who had visited her several times. Perhaps they had discovered something he still didn’t know. He had no idea what effects this pregnancy would have on Sif, an Aesir. It was clear now that this explained her strange symptoms and the illness that had plagued her. And why only his Jotun healing spell seemed to give her relief.

Sif. Strong, beautiful Sif.

He wondered why she hadn’t gotten rid of it, as anyone else would have, as soon as she discovered the truth.

The bastard child of a prince fallen from grace. She, the goddess of war, Asgard’s favorite, probably the future queen.

And yet, she had chosen to keep… their child.

His mother’s words echoed in his mind.

Maybe… maybe not all was lost. Maybe there was still hope for them.

They needed to go to Midgard immediately.

But before, in the blink of an eye, he was back in Sif’s room.

She was there, exactly as he had left her.

It seemed like hours, but in reality, only a few minutes had passed since he had fallen asleep, and now his entire life was completely turned upside down.

He gently brushed a lock of hair from her forehead and placed a chaste kiss.

He took a pair of scissors from the knitting basket next to the bed, turned to the mirror, and began with the first strand.

 

A few hours later.

He left her room with the feeling he knew best: disappointment. He knew it wouldn't be easy. But he never imagined the reasons behind her distance would be so complex. Misunderstandings rooted in centuries of resentment, an abyss so deep that it made reconciliation impossible. He punched the wall of the house violently, uncaring of the horrified looks from the gnomes around him.

How stubborn that woman was!

So stubborn it drove him mad, made his heart bleed, slowly killed him, while he could do nothing.

He and Lorelei.

How could she have thought that?

It was true that anyone who had seen them together could have imagined such a thing.

But not Sif.

Sif knew him.

She knew he would never betray her.

Or at least, that’s what he believed.

Was it possible that she had so little trust in him?

Suddenly, he realized how much his reputation had ruined his life.

He swallowed all his pride. Despite everything, on that single occasion, he had told her the truth: she was the one who was wrong. He understood what was the only thing to do to save his relationship with Sif: to prove to her beyond doubt that he was really telling the truth. He sighed deeply, preparing to sacrifice the little that remained of his dignity, and went in search of Brunhilde. Perhaps she could help him.

 

—----------------------------------------

Sif packed her few belongings into the bag she had brought with her when she arrived, a lifetime ago. She couldn’t believe how much her existence had changed so radically in such a short time. She stroked the shield and sword, wondering when she would be able to wield them again.

Then she placed the small blanket that Milka had knitted for the baby, who would be born soon.

What a sweet girl. She would miss her.

She paused for a moment, staring at it, as the thought took her back to the conversation with Loki. She had felt like a worm. She knew she couldn’t trust him completely, but what if things really had gone the way he had told her?

If that were true, then she had made the biggest mistake of her life. And perhaps many things wouldn’t have happened.

She tried to push those thoughts away. She had spent the whole night reflecting and mentally flagellating herself.

You can’t change the past, you can only act for the future.

Frigga, the woman who had been most like a mother to her, always repeated that to her. She would surely be happy to see her little grandson. She would spoil him and raise him as she had done with his father.

Loki.

She hadn’t been able to keep the promise she made to Thor even for 24 hours.

She promised herself that this time, she would really do it. She could manage to be kinder to him, not always on the warpath, right?

The past was the past. Now she had to look to the future. After all, one thing he was right: that child was also his son, and whether she liked it or not, Loki would have an important role in his life.

She descended the stairs for the last time, when Milka, breathless, caught up with her.

"My Lady…!"

"Milka… breathe. Tell me what’s going on."

"They are calling for you to bring you before the elders. They found out about the pregnancy, and the law…"

She didn’t have time to finish the sentence before one of the gnomes, with an official task, approached.

"Lady Sif of Asgard. We ask that you come with us to the Council Hall. We need to speak with you."

Sif couldn’t imagine what was happening. She followed him quickly to the Council Hall, the largest building in the village, a large circular room with the village chief in the center and the elders around him. When she entered, everyone moved aside to let her pass. For a moment, she felt the anguish of someone about to face the gallows.

She finally reached Karlthon, with the air of a warrior.

"Lady Sif, I apologize for this inconvenience. You have done great services for us, and for that, we will be eternally grateful. But we have become aware of some unpleasant situations and, unfortunately, for the good of our community, it is necessary that the laws are respected."

Sif still couldn’t understand.

"We have become aware of your pregnancy, which you are carrying without being married."

A general murmur stirred the crowd.

Sif looked at Thor and Loki, whose eyes were wide and signaling no, like to tell her they didn’t do it. 

"You needn’t look at your friends, we heard it from a reliable source."

Among the crowd, she saw one of the healers lower her gaze, blushing to her pointy ears.

"I don’t understand how my private life can interfere with your law."

"Our law is very strict regarding premarital relations. They are strictly forbidden, and having a child outside of marriage is one of the things we try to avoid at all costs. Anyone who commits such an act is ostracized from society and severely punished. Now that you have become an honorary citizen, you must also respect the law. We cannot allow your behavior to negatively influence our virgin maidens. It would be a disgrace. However, due to your service to our people, in consultation with the council, we have decided that we can release you and assist you in leaving, provided a remedial marriage is celebrated. I’m sorry that you must do it in such a forced way, but our entire society is based on adherence to our millennia-old law. We cannot afford to let it go unrespected."

Sif felt all the oxygen leave her. She couldn’t believe it was really happening. No, it couldn’t be. This was a joke, right?

Thor approached Karlthon.

"May I speak with her for a moment, my good friend?"

"Of course, I understand that some details need to be agreed upon."

Thor approached, taking her by the shoulder.

“Sif, Sif, no panic,” he whispered in her ear with a tone that tried to be reassuring. “Trust me, everything will be fine. I am the king of Asgard, I can annul this marriage; it will not be valid for us. But we need their help to leave, it’s essential. It’s the last sacrifice I ask of you for our people.”

Sif nodded, distracted. The weight of his words pressed on her heart like a boulder. She knew there was no other solution, yet every fiber of her being rebelled against what was about to happen. For a moment, she wondered if...

“I know you think I’ve planned all this, but I swear solemnly on the Norns that I have nothing to do with this story. I’m as surprised as you.”

Loki had gotten close enough to hear their conversation. His eyes were fixed on her, but Sif refused to meet his gaze. It was as if, by looking at him, she would admit to herself how terrible the situation was.

“I also know you probably hate me,” Loki said, his voice quieter than usual, almost subdued. “But I think I’m the only one, at this moment, willing to take this step. Please accept my hand. It was my mistake: let me repay in some way.”

Sif gave a sharp nod. She felt a lump tighten her throat as she took the hand he offered her, stiff and uncertain, unable to look him in the eyes. His skin was cold against hers, but the gesture brought no comfort, only a dull, inescapable pain.

Thor turned to the gnome.

“We’ve resolved it and accepted your kind offer.”

“Good, I’m relieved. So, with whom should I officiate the ceremony?”

“Loki, prince of Asgard, son of Odin.”

“Good. Lady Sif, prince Loki, I ask that you come forward. The ceremony will be held in the sacred forest exactly in half an hour. Afterward, you will be free to leave with all our help.”

—--------------------

The clearing in the forest emanated an extraordinarily powerful magical aura. Loki felt it as soon as he stepped into it, like a shiver running through his skin and creeping into his bones. This would be a problem. The magic of the gnomes was ancient, deep, and nothing in that place was left to chance. It would not be a simple formal union, written on parchment, but a bond forged by magic itself, unbreakable and binding.

Was he sure about the step they were about to take? The question hit him suddenly, like a thin blade. He had desired it for centuries, had dreamed of it countless times, yet to impose it like this... it wasn’t right. Every fiber of his being told him he was wrong, yet he couldn’t help but feel an uncontrollable elation at the thought. Sif would be his. Hers forever.

The realization gave him a shiver, a mixture of guilt and desire that left him teetering between remorse and satisfaction. But it was now too late to turn back.

He just wished she could feel everything he was experiencing in his heart, that she would await the moment with happy anxiety, not with the anxiety of someone about to be led to the gallows.

He waited patiently, trying to maintain control, as he looked in the direction Sif would be coming from. Meanwhile, the entire village had gathered in the clearing, becoming witnesses to this crucial event. Loki, with a hint of annoyance, glanced at the villagers closest to him. Their judgmental gazes and unflattering murmurs were familiar to him. He was used to contempt, but that didn’t mean it didn’t weigh on him. However, none of this would stop his determination. For Sif, for the good of her and his people, he would do anything.

A slight murmur in the crowd signaled the arrival of Sif. Thor was accompanying her, holding her arm. She wore the traditional green wedding gown, with a veil of the same color covering her face. The sight of her took his breath away for a moment, despite the fact that the entire situation was far from ideal. For a brief instant, he imagined what it would have been like in a perfect world: a world where Sif would look at him radiantly, with eyes full of love. At her side, it wouldn't have been Thor taking her to the altar, but that gruff Tyr, and his mother, beside him, would have given her blessing. But reality, unfortunately, was quite different.

When she positioned herself next to him, Sif attempted to offer him a half-smile. However, what came out was a grimace, stiff and awkward. Loki noticed the effort and, even though the moment was heavy with tension, he appreciated the gesture, reciprocating it.

Then, Karlthon, the gnome presiding over the ceremony, solemnly approached the large stone at the center of the clearing. The atmosphere was thick with tension. Loki felt his heartbeat quicken, but he tried to maintain a stoic expression. Sif, at his side, seemed more distant than ever, her eyes hidden beneath the veil, but Loki could sense her rigidity, the way her body stiffened in a sign of resistance.

“The union of two spouses in marriage, the union of two souls and two bodies as one, is today blessed by the spirit of the earth. Lady Sif and Prince Loki.”

Karlthon’s voice echoed through the clearing, but to Loki, it felt as though time was slowing down. Every word the priest spoke seemed to penetrate deep into his consciousness. For a moment, he felt overwhelmed by the weight of what was about to happen. But he wanted it, and he knew there was no other way out.

He took a finely crafted sword and drew a circle around them. The metal sparkled under the light of the candles, and Loki sensed the danger flowing from the object, ready to enter his body as a promise of eternal bond.

“The circle, a symbol of wholeness and community, is drawn with a sword to provide protection for the beginning of a new life.”

The words were solemnly heavy, but Sif didn’t seem to react, as if trapped in a world that no longer belonged to her. Loki turned slightly toward her, his heart pounding in his chest.

Then the blade approached them.

“Show me your right wrist. With the sword that will grant you protection, the fleshly body is cut to unite your souls.”

 

Loki did not hesitate, but he felt the shiver of the blade that touched his skin. The blood that began to flow, under the flickering light of the candles, seemed symbolic, almost sacred. And even Sif, who had remained rigid, gave in. The small wound in her wrist was a memory that would remain engraved forever.

 

He made a small cut in the wrists of both until a single drop of blood came out. Loki watched the drop that gushed from his skin, while his soul seemed to bind to Sif’s in that moment. Then he took two ribbons, one red and one white, and tied them together until their hands and their bleeding wrists were joined.

 

“The blood pact represents the unbreakable bond you have created.”

 

Magic tingled on the back of Loki’s neck, he felt his energy rising inexorably, while Sif’s breathing beside him seemed to have become heavier. He knew she was feeling that same tension, that vibration that was changing everything.

 

“With your hands clasped, light the three candles placed before you. The right represents the family of Odin, father of Prince Loki, the left the family of Tyr, father of Lady Sif. The candle in the center represents your new family, which from this day forward you swear to protect for eternity.”

 

Loki felt strange, as if something bigger was overwhelming them, but his eyes never left Sif’s face, even as she avoided his gaze. Their hands were joined in a fragile way, almost as if she wanted to break away, but the magic held them close. When the flames lit, the light that came from them seemed too intense for their hearts.

 

“Now I ask you to repeat after me: ‘You are blood of my blood, bone of my bones, I give you my body that we may be one, I give you my Spirit until the end of our lives.’”

 

Loki tried to be firm as he spoke those words, but a storm was rising inside him. For him, those words could not be truer. Sif, however, seemed to say them as an obligation, not as a promise.

 

“Now turn and look into each other’s eyes, please. It is time for the exchange of rings, as an external symbol of your new condition.”

Loki looked into Sif’s eyes, but he didn’t see the reflection of his love. His hand shook a little as he gently slipped the ring onto Sif’s left ring finger, trying not to show how uncertain he was. His right hand remained firmly attached to hers, but the pressure he felt from her hand wasn’t one of union, but of silent detachment. When it was her turn, Sif hesitated for a moment before placing the ring on him. Her hand shook slightly, as if an invisible force was preventing her from doing so naturally. Whether it was from anger, sadness, disappointment, or fear, Loki couldn’t say. But the feeling he felt was a mixture of frustration and helplessness.

 

“Now repeat: ‘Now we are bound together with a bond that is not easy to break, I swear to you in my final vow, that I will try to learn what I need to know to grow in wisdom and love so that our marriage will be strong and love will last in this life and beyond.’”

 

As they finished repeating the sentences, the bond around their hands disintegrated in a flash of light. Loki felt a surge of energy pass through him, like a bond cementing. The small wounds on their wrists transformed into pink birthmarks in the shape of perfectly identical crescents. And the ring became impossible to remove, as if it were a part of them now.

 

They had become husband and wife.

 

Notes:

I mixed a few rites from various Norwegian and Celtic traditions, and finally a touch of Western. I don't know, the whole thing sounded good to me.

Chapter 14: Chapter 14

Summary:

Ehy, ciao! Devo fare un piccolo test, se io scrivo qui in italiano, il vostro browser ve lo traduce direttamente in inglese? Potete farmi sapere per favore? Comunque adoro questo capitolo, non so il perchè. forse il fatto che Loki non voglia imporre i suoi "diritti coniugali". Grazie sempre a tutti coloro che leggono, che lasciano Kudos e che commentano!

Sif felt the weight of everything that had happened slowly crushing her, like a boulder she couldn’t shake off. She tried to maintain her proud demeanor, her chin held high, as she walked toward the spaceship. But her steps were unsteady, and Loki followed a short distance behind, his gaze fixed on her.

It meant nothing, she kept telling herself.
Absolutely nothing.
In a few decades, everyone would forget these events and move on with their lives, as they always did.

And yet… she couldn’t ignore the annoying itch emanating from the crescent-shaped mark on her wrist. It almost seemed to pulse, as if it were alive, as if it knew Sif wanted to be rid of it. The tingling sensation crept up her arm, settling with unbearable weight right in the center of her chest. It was something she couldn’t control, something that made it impossible to ignore the man walking behind her.

Him.
She felt him all too clearly, as if he were an extension of her own senses.

Sif rubbed her forehead with a tired gesture, closing her eyes in a futile attempt to stave off the headache threatening to explode. Her legs were heavy, almost leaden, and a protruding stone betrayed her focus. She stumbled, teetering dangerously.

Before she could fall, two strong hands caught her. Loki steadied her, finding himself just a breath away from her. For a moment that seemed suspended in time, their eyes met. He lowered his gaze, focusing on her lips.

Sif froze, holding her breath. For a second, she was certain he would kiss her. And what unsettled her most was that she couldn’t tell if she wanted him to or not.

A sudden shiver broke the moment. Their wrists had brushed against each other, and the crescent-shaped mark on Sif’s wrist glowed faintly, emanating a pulsating warmth. She immediately pulled her hand back as if burned. Loki watched the scene, his face suddenly serious, while the mark slowly returned to its normal color.

“What does this mean?” Sif asked, trying to keep her voice steady, though her strength seemed to be abandoning her.

Loki stared at her for a moment, hesitant. “I’m not sure… but I need to do some research.” Then, tilting his head slightly, his tone softened. “Are you alright?”

Sif had turned pale, as though the full weight of this absurd situation had crashed down on her at that precise moment. She ran a trembling hand across her forehead. “I… no.”

Without hesitation, Loki scooped her up in his arms. Sif didn’t even have the strength to protest.

“I need to get you to rest. Once you’ve lain down, I can renew the spell.”

Sif looked at him, her face tired, but her eyes seemed to study him, almost for the first time in a long while. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been able to observe him this closely: those sharp features she had once loved, those green eyes that seemed to hide every emotion and reveal everything at the same time.

A fleeting thought crossed her mind. She wondered if her child would have the same eyes. Or the same lips.
She shook herself. No. She needed to stay focused. Friends. Nothing more.

“This doesn’t change anything between us, Loki. It doesn’t mean anything more. An arrangement for common peace.”

For a moment, Loki’s face hardened. His jaw tightened, and a shadow of something—pain, perhaps—flickered in his eyes. Then his usual sardonic smile reappeared.

“I’m just helping my pregnant wife board the spaceship that will take us to our new planet to establish our city. What could it possibly mean?”

Sif blushed at the unspoken implications of what might have been had that night truly been their first.
“I’m not your wife. Not according to Asgardian law. I agreed to take this absurd step only because Thor assured me it would hold no value in the eyes of our people.”

“I’m perfectly aware of that, my lady.” Loki smirked sarcastically. “Perhaps your bad mood stems from the fact that you’d have preferred Thor to step forward to defend your honor and our people?”

Sif stopped, glaring at him, her fists clenched. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“No, Sif. I don’t. Explain it to me.”
She stared at him, torn between anger and frustration. “You got what you wanted in the end, didn’t you?”

Loki looked at her, and for a moment, he seemed about to retort with his usual sharp wit. Instead, he took a breath, his tone changing, softening. “I never wanted to force you into anything you didn’t want as well.”

Sif lowered her gaze, exhausted, unable to respond, unable to process that thought, letting silence fill the space between them.

When they entered the enormous spaceship, Loki confidently led her to the room he had claimed as his own.
He laid her gently on the bed, the mattress conforming to Sif’s light weight. He watched her for a moment, scrutinizing her pale face and the fatigue etched into her features. Then he placed a hand on her forehead, feeling the rising warmth of a fever that showed no sign of abating.

“Your fever’s climbing again.”
Sif weakly opened her eyes, meeting his gaze with a tired but defiant expression. “Yes, I feel it quite well. Thanks for the update.”

Loki held back a faint smile, shaking his head slightly as he prepared to recite the spell. “Maybe you’re spending too much time with me. This sarcasm surprises me, you know?”

Sif let out a small sigh, closing her eyes again. “Weren’t you the one who told me words are a warrior’s first armor?” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Loki paused for a moment, surprised. Then, in an almost affectionate tone, he replied, “Right… you’re absolutely right. Rest now.”
He resumed the ancient chant, weaving blue runes and a timeless language Sif was starting to recognize.

Meanwhile, she looked around, taking a moment to observe the room. On a small table, there were a few books, a pen and inkwell, and some clothes carelessly left on a chair. It was definitely Loki’s room: chaotic yet strangely elegant, just like him.

“Is this your room?” she asked, her voice weak but curious.

He nodded, adjusting the blanket on her shoulders. “Yes, but don’t worry. I have no intention of claiming my marital rights… for a sham marriage. I just thought you’d be more comfortable here and have more privacy than in the bunks of the common hall.”

Sif closed her eyes, but not before throwing a tiredly sharp glance at Loki. “I’m sorry.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure what she meant. “Why? For kicking me out of my room, or because I’m not claiming my marital rights? You still have time to reconsider if you’ve changed your mind.”

Sif glared at him, but Loki’s mischievous smile didn’t fade. Then she sighed, her expression turning serious. “I’m serious, Loki. I’m sorry for what I said to you the other day. About Lorelei. For jumping to conclusions.” She paused, lowering her gaze. “I don’t know if you’re sincere. But in any case, I owe you an apology.”

Loki’s smile slowly faded, replaced by a darker expression. He ran a hand through his black hair, his gaze vaguely distant. “I’m the God of Lies. Of course, no one believes me. It’s just that…” He stopped, then lowered his voice. “I hoped it would be different with you.”

Those words seemed to echo in the room. Too exhausted to respond, Sif closed her eyes, letting silence settle between them. Loki watched her for a moment, as if searching for something in her face.

Eventually, he moved toward the door without making a sound. He paused for a moment in the doorway, casting her one last glance. There was an indecipherable expression in his eyes, a mixture of vulnerability and determination.

Then he left, leaving her alone in the room, her breathing slowly becoming steadier and her thoughts drifting away.

Of course, Loki hadn’t expected to spend his wedding night on a cot in his brother’s room. The air was stifling, heavy with sweat and Thor’s deafening snores, which filled every corner of the space. Loki rubbed his temples, the nervous tension pounding in his head. Thor hadn’t lost that cursed habit, not even after everything they’d been through.
Another snort shattered the silence.

With a resigned sigh, Loki abandoned all hope of sleep. He had no choice but to let his tumultuous thoughts flood his mind. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling with a vacant expression, replaying the events of the day.

He and Sif were married.
Married through a magical, ancient, and powerful ritual.

It had all happened so fast, too fast, and the irony of the situation eluded him for the first time. He, the God of Mischief, trapped in a bond he couldn’t control. He had never felt so vulnerable, so… exposed.

Sif, of course, wanted to pretend nothing had happened. To her, it was all an obligation, a performance for the good of their people. She hadn’t fully understood the magnitude of what had been done. He barely understood it himself.
Yet Loki knew it wasn’t so simple. What now bound them went far beyond a superficial marriage.

Mechanically, he glanced at his wrist, where a faintly glowing pink mark shimmered under the dim light of the room. He studied it, as he had done many times that evening. With a small effort, he tried to probe it with his magic. A warm, familiar energy responded to his touch, confirming his suspicions: the bond was not merely symbolic. It was real, pulsing, alive. An empathic connection.

Loki swallowed, feeling a pang in his chest. It was as if a part of him was intertwined with Sif in the deepest, most intimate way possible. He could sense her, feel her, even now as they were apart. He felt that she was resting, that her breathing was slow and steady. He felt her fever was subsiding, her body relaxing after an exhausting day.

And it terrified him.

He was used to control, manipulation, distance. But this? This was something he didn’t know how to handle. A bond so strong that it transcended every barrier, making him aware of every nuance of her emotions. And there was nothing he could do to sever it.

He brought a hand to his face, closing his eyes. The weight of that awareness was crushing him. He loved Sif. He had always loved her, even in the moments he tried to deny it. But her? What did she truly feel?

A wave of insecurity struck him with force. He knew he was difficult to love, an unsolvable enigma, a man consumed by his own deceptions and ambitions. He knew that, for Sif, he represented everything complex and dangerous. And, although there had been moments when her defenses seemed to crumble, Loki couldn’t help but wonder: would those feelings ever be mutual?

He turned on his side, wrapping his arms around his chest. The mark on his wrist pulsed faintly, almost as if trying to comfort him, but he didn’t want to give in to that sensation. It was too much. Too intense, too overwhelming. He felt exposed to that connection, as if Sif could see through every mask, every lie.

And the thought that she might not return that bond scared him more than any battle or betrayal he had ever faced.

Chapter 15: Chapter 15

Summary:

I must say SORRY because I updated the wrong chapter :( sorry for the spoiler... And I have to thank pokeCookie for the segnalation! <3

Sif woke up, stretching in a bed that wasn’t hers. She tossed and turned in soft, fluffy, scented sheets. Oh gods, so scented.
The scent of a man… The scent of… Loki.
Her eyes widened, trying to recall the last events. She looked at her hand: the crescent birthmark that shone faintly on the delicate skin of her wrist, and the thin ring, almost welded to her finger.
She hadn’t been dreaming.
She and Loki were married.

She sat up slowly, taking in the room around her. Every detail screamed her name, from the clothes folded neatly on the chair, to the pile of books on the nightstand. It was so typical of Loki that it almost suffocated her.

She staggered slightly as she stood up. She rummaged through the luggage she had brought with her, finding her old loose-fitting tunic, the one she had often worn in the last few weeks to cover the changes in her body. She took it in her hands, but hesitantly stopped. Everyone knew she was pregnant by now. What was the point of hiding?
She pulled on her beloved leather pants, but to her horror, they were a bit tight at the waist. She snorted. She should have new clothes made, she thought as she put on a soft shirt and pulled on her boots.

In front of the large mirror next to the door, she stared at her image. It was still her, Sif, and yet everything seemed different. She found a comb and, fixing her hair, tied it in her usual high ponytail.

She had to put her thoughts in order, think about what to do. The belly that was starting to show under her short shirt was a clear warning: time was a luxury she could not afford.
With a final breath, she left the room, letting instinct guide her along the corridors of the gigantic ship.

————————————
Loki waited a few seconds after knocking on her bedroom door. He had not wanted to wake her too early, giving her time to rest. But now he needed to gather his things and freshen up. Besides, there was a bigger reason for him to be here: the Valkyrie had finally gotten him what he had asked for, though not without complaint. He clutched the small glass bottle in his hand, taking a deep breath as he knocked again.
No response.

He pushed the door open silently. The bed was unmade, but empty. A flash of panic crossed his heart, quickly calmed by the knowledge that Sif was fine. He could feel the bond between them, warm and innocent, pulsing gently against his skin. She had probably gotten up to stretch.

Sighing, he quickly undressed, entering the small attached bathroom to wash up.

———————
Sif returned to the room with a tray full of food from the kitchens in her hand. Although it was long past breakfast time, her appetite seemed to have no timetable. And now that the spell was finally working to keep her from throwing it all up, she was hungry enough to make a bilge snipe pale.
I guess it’s because I have to eat for two, she thought, biting into a slice of toast as she kicked off her boots and flopped onto the bed.

A noise behind her made her look up. The bathroom door swung open, and someone emerged.
Someone completely naked and wet.
“Loki!”
Sif stood up abruptly, turning her back, her face burning.
“What are you doing here?”
“My Lady, this still happens to be my room,” Loki replied, his tone sharp and ironic, making her want to strangle him. “And my things are still here.”
Sif closed her eyes, having forgotten that crucial detail. “Okay, you’re right. Now get dressed.”
He laughed softly. “Don’t tell me you don’t like what you see, Sif. You know I can see it in your eyes. I am at your complete disposal, if you want to satisfy your sight.”
“Shut up!” she snapped, blushing even more. Sure, his body was perfect, sculpted. She still remembered the feeling of having it under her fingers. Maybe yes, she would have liked to turn around and enjoy the show. But that would only have increased his disproportionate ego. She would never have given him the satisfaction of admitting it.

“Please, Loki. Get dressed,” she added in a tone she hadn’t even expected from herself.
He sighed, exaggerating as always, and headed for the closet. After a few moments, he announced: “You can turn around now.”

Loki was wearing pants and a green linen shirt, but he was still barefoot. He had laid down on the bed, with such naturalness that it seemed like a scene from family life. Sif froze. For a moment, she thought that everything was as it should be. Then he shook his head, coming back to reality.

“How are you feeling today?” Loki asked, interrupting his thoughts. “Did you sleep well?”
“I’m fine, thank you. This is definitely more comfortable than those sorts of crates the gnomes insisted on calling beds.”
Loki grimaced. “Even Thor’s cot was charming in comparison.”
Sif laughed.

How long has it been since she laughed?
He watched her, entranced, as she lowered her gaze, embarrassed.

Then he noticed the strange bottle on the counter.
“What is this?” he asked, pointing at the object.
Loki became serious. He stood up, approaching her. “It’s a gift for you.”
“…A gift?” she asked, suspicious.

Loki looked down for a moment, then up again, looking her straight in the eyes.
“I had a vision. While you were unconscious, I… prayed. My mother reached out to me. She was the one who told me about your condition. About our son.”
The word spoken out loud made him tremble. A shiver ran down his spine, as his hands clenched into fists.
He took a step closer to her.
“I swore that I would do everything in my power to undo the damage I’ve caused in my life. Starting with you.” He paused, as if searching for the right words. “I know that no matter what I say, you’ll always doubt that it’s true. I’ve always been the God of Mischief,” he sighed, running a hand through his raven hair, “but I don’t want to be that anymore. Not to you, anyway.”

Loki took the vial of amber liquid and held it up before him. Then, without hesitation, he took a long drink in one gulp.

“This ship and all its contents belonged to an eccentric man. Well, perhaps ‘eccentric’ is an understatement. He ruled in… peculiar ways. I spent time with him on Sakaar. Of all the questionable methods, this was the one that scared me the most: a truth serum. The Valkyrie was reluctant to provide it to me, but I managed to convince her it was for a good cause. If you don’t believe me, you can always ask her.”

Sif stared at him intently, trying to read past his words.
“I believe you,” she said finally, slowly.

A glint of malice crossed her gaze. “So let me get this straight: I could ask you anything right now, and you would be forced to tell the truth? And if I lied… what would happen?”

Loki remembered the heart-rending screams of those who had encountered the Grand Master’s cruelty.
“Nothing pleasant, I suppose,” she replied, with a forced smile.

Sif began to circle him, carefully assessing the unique opportunity before her. Loki, meanwhile, sat on the edge of the bed, tension visible in his movements. Saying he was afraid wasn’t enough. He had never felt so vulnerable and exposed. He would no longer have his armor of words. It was him, only him, Loki, with all his weaknesses. He was giving her his heart and everything he had. She hoped he understood the sacrifice he was making for her.

“Okay,” she said, dragging a chair to sit across from him. A lot of thoughts swirled around Sif’s mind, trying to grasp the essentials.
“Let’s start with something simple. What’s your name?”

“Loki Odins… aargh!”

Loki leaned forward, one hand pressed to his stomach. It felt like he’d swallowed hot lava. Sif instinctively put a hand to her chest, surprised by his pain.

She caught her breath. “Well, I guess that was a lie too. My real name is Loki… Laufeyson.” Nothing happened, confirming that it was the truth.

Sif’s expression was furrowed, her lips parted. She took a deep breath before asking the question that had been nagging at her for centuries.
“What was your relationship with Lorelei? Did you ever cheat on me with her?”

 

Loki stared into her eyes, hurt to the core that she still doubted him. Yet he knew she deserved an honest answer. At least now she would have no more doubts.
“Lorelei tried to seduce me many times, but to no avail. She couldn’t stand me being with you. She hated you… with all her being.” He paused, looking down. “That hatred was used to create one of the most powerful protection spells I’ve ever read about. That’s why I was with her that day. I used a lock of her hair, convincing her to give it to me with the promise of making a locket. But I never betrayed you. Not to her. Not to anyone.”

Sif nodded, thinking.
She asked the other question that had plagued her for months.
“What happened to you when you fell from the Bifrost?”

Loki would rather sew his lips shut than remember what had happened. The memory alone was like a knife cutting into his mind. But a terrifying urge loosened his tongue. He tried in vain to repress the knot of hot lava rising from his stomach to his throat.

“It wasn’t pleasant…” he murmured, his voice as calm as it was tense.

He saw Sif shifting in her chair. Her breathing quickened, her fists clenched on her knees. In a flash, Loki understood.

“You feel it, don’t you? When I hurt.”

The silence grew heavy, like a wave crushing your chest. A few seconds passed before Sif nodded, lowering her gaze.

“Yes… That’s why I beg you, answer. I need to know. I can feel when you’re lying, I can feel your pain.”

Loki took a deep breath. Then he spoke, letting the words flow like a river in flood, without stopping.

He told of the abuse, the beatings, the physical and mental torture. No one, not even Thor, knew what Thanos had done to him. Mind control had been the latest tool of that sadistic and ruthless being. Loki spoke of the nightmares that still haunted him: always the same, Thanos slowly strangling him, depriving him of air, until he woke up with the chilling sound of his neck breaking ringing in his ears.
“I made deals I shouldn’t have made, promises I shouldn’t have said.”
Sif was on the verge of tears.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Loki stood up abruptly, running a nervous hand through his raven hair. He turned away, unable to bear the weight of Sif’s gaze. He took a few steps, but stopped when two thin, strong arms wrapped around him from behind.

Sif leaned against his back, her warmth against Loki’s cold.

“I’m sorry for what you’ve been through, for what they did to you. I hate that I wasn’t there to save you.”

Loki stood there, unable to answer. His cold hands trembled over Sif’s, seeking comfort in her touch.

“I know,” he finally whispered.

He turned gently toward her. Sif was inches from his face. Big tears were rolling down her cheeks, drawing bright lines on her skin. Loki reached up and, ever so gently, wiped away a tear.

“Please don’t cry. I hate seeing you like this. I feel like my heart will break when you’re hurting.”

Sif stared at him, searching for something in those crystal eyes, and couldn’t help but ask the question that was nagging at her.

“Loki, how do you feel about me now?”

He stiffened, his chest heaving with the weight of his breath. He couldn’t hold back any longer. Even if exposing himself meant exposing everything he was.

“Sif…” he took a step toward her, his heart in his throat. “I love you. I’ve loved you for so long I’ve lost count. But I’m scared. I’m scared of everything… Of who I am, of what I do, of what I say. I’m scared that you might disappear from my life again. And most of all, I’m scared that you’ll never feel the way I feel for you.”

Loki’s voice cracked, his eyes shining.

“For centuries, it was enough to know that you existed in the same universe, that you breathed, that your heart beat. But now it’s not enough. I want you, Sif. I want you, all of you. I want an us. You make me better. You make me believe I can be more than the God of Mischief. You make me believe I deserve a second chance.”

To say that Sif was shocked wouldn’t have fully expressed her shock. She had stopped breathing. She had remained staring into his eyes, unable to express anything. She hadn’t imagined Loki would say something like that to her. She hadn’t imagined the depth of his feelings. And moreover, she knew it was the truth. She could feel it, she could sense it. She could feel it in her bones, in the magical bond that united her to that man.

It was all too much at that moment. She didn’t know what to say, what to do.

“Please, Sif, say something.”

The plea broke the last of Sif’s barriers. She threw herself into his arms, holding him tightly. She buried her face in his chest, breathing in the scent she had missed so much, and cried all the tears she had swallowed in the past few months.

Loki, taken aback, remained still for a moment, before returning the embrace. He closed his eyes and kissed the top of her head softly.

“Shh, sshh… It’s okay. I don’t expect you to answer me right away. Take your time. You’ve been through too much, all at once. You’re going through this pregnancy… and I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t… I didn’t think I could… I could father a child with you. I didn’t think it was possible between two such different races. I’m sorry Sif, I’m sorry.”
Sif pulled away just enough to look him in the eyes.
“I hated you, at first,” she confessed, her voice breaking. “I thought about getting rid of him, but… I couldn’t. I don’t know how it’s possible, but I already love him. And that terrifies me.”

Loki touched her face lightly, caressing the outline of her lips.

“I’m scared, too. But it’s going to be something new, crazy, and completely wonderful. But I just want you to know that no matter what happens, I want to be by your side. The vows I said at the wedding are so true to me. I’m not asking you to do the same, not until you really feel it. If you really feel it. I know Thor promised you that this union, for Asgard, would be worthless. But you feel it, too, as I do: we are connected.”
She raised her wrist, showing the birthmark that, next to her, lit up with a warm light. “Just let me be beside you and help you. I want to take care of you and our child. Let me have it. I don’t want anything more than what you’re willing to give.”
Sif looked up at him, her heart beating like crazy. A single movement of her face, and she kissed him. She put her hands in his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss was sweet, desperate, full of unspoken promises. Loki, surprised, remained still for a moment, before letting go, holding her face in his hands as if it were something precious, feeling as if he were breathing again after months.

When they broke apart, panting, Sif spoke in a firm voice, breaking the silence.
"It's fine."

Chapter 16: Chapter 16

Summary:

I know many of you might have already read this chapter, but now it’s in the correct order. I apologize again for the publishing mistake. I hope to continue being consistent with updates. We’re landing on Midgard soon!

Loki began kissing her again. And kissing her. And kissing her again. He couldn’t get enough of her: the way she tasted, the way she intoxicated him, the way her lips responded to his.

He gently laid her down on the bed, his hands carefully following every curve of her body, his lips moving from her neck to her chest.

He slipped a hand under her shirt to caress her hip, but he felt Sif stiffen under his touch. He stopped immediately, pulling away from her and sitting on the edge of the bed, his brow furrowed slightly.

“Sorry,” he said hoarsely, looking down. “I shouldn’t have. If you don’t want me to, I—”

“No, it’s not that,” Sif interrupted, her voice uncertain but firm. “It’s just… my body’s changing.”

Loki stared at her, puzzled. He didn’t know what she meant. He followed her gaze, which had settled on her slightly rounded belly, and the realization hit him like a bolt of lightning.

“Tell me you’re kidding,” he murmured, trying to read her eyes.

But Sif’s look, which betrayed a subtle fear, confirmed the truth.

“Sif,” he whispered. With a long finger, he gently touched the contours of her face, as if she were made of porcelain.

“I’m sorry,” he continued, his voice full of vulnerability. “It’s just inconceivable to me that you could feel anything less than wonderful.”

“Don’t say it,” she stopped him, shaking her head slightly. “I… I just have to get used to this idea. It’s not easy for me.” She paused, searching for the right words. “It’s like my body isn’t mine anymore. And it is. I’m sharing it. It’s a new version of me.”

Loki stared at her in silence. His heart tightened, but then a warm, burning determination filled him. No, he would not let her feel inadequate, ever.

"I'm still high from the potion," he said, his smile betraying a hint of his usual sass. "Do you trust me?"

He didn't wait for an answer, gently lifting her arms and slowly pulling off her shirt. He stared at her, his breath catching for a moment. She was divine, her breasts swollen and full, her belly round and holding a life, their life.

"You are the most beautiful thing my eyes will ever see," he whispered, placing a kiss on her temple.

"The goddess of my heart."

He brushed her lips with a delicate kiss.

"The most beautiful being in the Nine Realms."

His lips descended to her sensitive breast, giving her a kiss that made her hold her breath.

"And I don't think there will ever be anything more extraordinary than this."

He stopped in front of her belly, placing a reverent kiss there. Then he raised his eyes to hers, green and deep as ancient forests.

"If you want, I can continue to convince you for the rest of my life," he murmured.

At those words, Sif felt her heart explode in her chest. Her hands found Loki's raven hair and she pulled him to her in a desperate, intense kiss that seemed to want to enclose everything she couldn't say.

She pulled his shirt off with a certain urgency, her fingers tracing the sculpted pectorals, following the defined muscles until they slid further down. In one fluid movement, she reversed positions, straddling him, a smile curling her lips.

"My lady," Loki began theatrically, his tone thick with sarcasm,

"you could have started earlier and saved me the trouble of putting on my clothes. How ignoble of a noblewoman of your caliber. How unbecoming."

"Shut up and use that tongue better," she interrupted, her tone authoritative, but with a smile lighting her face.

Loki sneered, and before she could say anything else, his mouth was on her breast, his teeth gently cupping the sensitive bud.

Sif felt a wave of pleasure course through her body, amplified, quadrupled, as if Loki's sensations were mirroring hers. It was as if their bond had fused them, making every touch, every breath an echo of the other.

 

"Oh, gods," she murmured to herself, biting her lips to stifle a moan.

She freed her hair from its braid, letting it fall wildly over her shoulders. Like her, who felt untamable, driven by desire.

She managed to pull away from him only long enough to shed the last of her clothes. Then there was no room for words, no room for rational thought. Just them, skin against skin.

She couldn't say exactly how much time had passed. It could have been an hour or an eternity; she didn't know and, deep down, she didn't even care.

She was curled up on his chest, wrapped in a state of half-sleep. Neither of them spoke. Loki's fingers, slow and light, traced ancient symbols and runes on her bare skin, like a painter decorating a living canvas. Finally, lulled by the regular rhythm of his breathing, Sif fell asleep.

A light breeze woke her. No, it wasn’t exactly a breeze, but a pleasant, cool sensation that touched her belly. It was… sweet. Almost like a caress. It reminded her of the summers of her childhood, when she would lie on the edge of the lake with the two princes, seeking relief from the suffocating heat. Or was she just dreaming about it?

She opened one eye, confused and curious, to understand where that sensation was coming from.

 

She saw Loki crouched next to her, his face close to her belly. His thin fingers traced signs on her skin, leaving a bright blue trail as they passed. He spoke softly, whispering words that were incomprehensible to her. She didn’t want to interrupt that moment, so she tried to concentrate to catch at least some fragments of his speech.

 

“Little one…”

“…we love you…”

“…it’s strange…”

“…grandmother…”

“…you’re like me…”

“…glory…”

 

Suddenly, a blue light pulsed from her stomach, radiating in regular circles.

 

“Is it… him?” she whispered, entranced.

 

Loki whirled toward her, taken aback

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, his voice full of concern. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

 

Sif, however, continued to watch him, fascinated, her breath almost holding.

 

“Yes,” Loki murmured, looking down at her belly. “It’s him.”

 

He gently ran a finger over the exact spot where the light was coming from, his touch almost reverent.

 

“How is that possible?” Sif asked, her eyes wide with wonder.

 

Loki seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if searching for the right words to explain something as personal as it was complex. Finally, he answered in a soft voice.

 

“He’s half jotun,” he began. “My… kind… let’s say they have the ability to sense their own kind. When I accepted who I am, I began to study the magic of the frost giants. It’s ancient, powerful, and… unique.” He paused briefly, almost in fear. “Once I learned how the cloaking spell Odin placed on me when he found me worked, I learned how to harness the powers of the frost giants in my Aesir form.”

 

Sif stared at him, intent. Then, in a small voice, she asked,

 

“Can I see you again?”

 

“What?” Loki stiffened.

 

“I want to see you in your true form.”

 

Panic crossed Loki’s face, and he stood up and took a few steps away.

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he replied, his voice strained.

 

“Loki,” Sif called back firmly, sitting up in bed. “Look at me.” She waited for his eyes to settle on hers. “I won’t run away in fear. Nor will it change the way I feel about you. I haven’t before, and I won’t now. I know you, Loki.”

 

She watched him give a forced smile, devoid of any real humor.

 

“It’s part of you,” she continued, reaching for his hands and clasping them in hers. “And, as you said, it’s part of this child. Therefore, it’s part of me.”

 

Loki looked down, undecided, his heart warring.

 

“My mother, in the vision, said that this child will bring glory to the Nine Realms,” he finally murmured.

 

“What does that mean?” Sif asked, both curious and concerned.

 

“I don’t know,” Loki admitted, shaking his head slightly. “But I do know that is truly special.”

 

Sif caressed his face, forcing him to look into her eyes.

 

“Please,” she whispered.

 

Finally, Loki capitulated. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He started at his fingertips. A faint blue glow spread along his forearm, slowly expanding. Intricate patterns began to appear on his skin, thin lines and swirls that formed like living arabesques. His face transformed into a canvas of elegant and mysterious symbols, and when he opened his eyes, two ruby red irises shone like incandescent gems.

 

Sif held her breath.

 

She was mesmerized.

 

With her fingertips, she touched the designs that decorated his face.

 

He flinched slightly.

 

“Did I hurt you?” she asked, pulling her hand away.

 

“No, on the contrary,” Loki replied, his voice shaking slightly. “They’re just… particularly sensitive.”

 

Sif smiled softly, leaning even closer. She took his face in her hands, sliding them down his chest, following each line with an almost devout intensity.

 

“You are beautiful,” she murmured with absolute sincerity.

 

A bitter laugh escaped Loki’s lips.

 

“It doesn’t matter what color your skin or eyes are, Loki,” Sif added, staring at him with determination. “You’ll always be my favorite trickster.”

 

She continued to caress the patterns that decorated his body, determined to discover them all.

 

“About that silver tongue…” she began, but before she could finish her sentence, Loki swept over her in a fluid motion, his eyes blazing.

“Loki?”

“Uhm…?”

His response was a distracted whisper, accompanied by his hands that, slowly and expertly, explored Sif’s body once more. It took all her self-control to keep her mind clear, but the heat he knew how to ignite in her made it damn difficult.

“Loki.”

This time his voice had a firmer note. Gently, she took his face and forced him to look at her. Their gazes met, and Sif's breathing stopped for a moment. Those eyes... they were the same ones she knew, but at the same time so different: a deep red, alive, full of a magnetism that had never ceased to fascinate her. He stared at her with curiosity, almost as if he wanted to decipher every emotion reflected on her face.

"I appreciate what you've done for me today," she began, her voice softer now, but no less serious.

"I know you've exposed yourself more than ever. You've shown me without defenses, without masks. I know, and I'm grateful."

He continued to watch her, silent, as if waiting for her to continue, his hands still resting on her body.

"But it's not enough," she said finally, the words burning in her throat for too long. "Swear to me... solemnly swear to me on your mother that from this day forward, you will always and only tell me the truth."

Her hand slid from his cheek to his chest, resting over his heart.

"I need to be able to trust you, Loki. Not just for me, but for this child. We can't build anything together if there are lies between us."

 

Her words floated in the air like a solemn request. Loki remained still for a moment, his gaze still fixed on her.

He seemed to be struggling internally, a conflict playing across his face. Then, slowly, he took Sif's hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it with a tenderness that made her heart tremble.

"I swear," he said in a deep voice, each word charged with an intensity that made Sif shiver. "I swear by my mother. And may the Norns themselves testify against me if I ever do otherwise."

Sif stared at him, searching his eyes for any trace of hesitation, any shadow that might betray a lie.

But there was none. All she saw was sincerity, and perhaps, a silent fear of disappointing her.

A soft smile curved her lips as she caressed his face again.

"Thank you," she whispered, letting all her gratitude pour into that single word.

Loki closed his eyes for a moment, as if that caress and that smile were all he needed.

When he opened them again, his gaze was no longer fearful, but full of determination.

His hands moved again, holding her with the strength of someone who knew he never wanted to lose her again.

 

 

 

 

Thor was worried. He hadn’t seen either Sif or Loki in hours. Sure, there were plenty of other matters to attend to, and their absence shouldn’t have raised immediate suspicions. But the fact that neither of them had shown up for lunch or dinner was, to say the least, unusual.

 

It was late at night when, passing through the hallway near the kitchens, he heard a soft footstep and the clinking of plates.

 

“Brother!”

 

Thor’s shout echoed through the empty kitchens.

 

Loki jumped, nearly dropping the plates he was precariously balancing in his hands. “Thor! You scared me!”

 

Thor stared at him with a smirk, his arms crossed over his chest, enjoying his brother’s unusual reaction.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just haven’t seen you or Sif all day. I was starting to think he’d killed you and thrown your body into space.”

 

Loki glared at him, though the blush creeping up his cheeks ruined his expression of indignation. “How sweet of you to worry about my safety. As you can see, I’m fine. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go to sleep.”

 

“Where are you going? My room is on the other side,” Thor interrupted, a note of suspicion in his voice.

 

Loki stiffened, avoiding his brother’s gaze for a moment. Then he cleared his throat and replied, trying to keep his tone as casual as possible, “No, I think I can start sleeping in my room again tonight.”

 

Thor stared at him for a moment, and then a broad smile spread across his face, as if a flash of understanding had just struck him.

 

“Ah, I see. Good, good. Tell me, will Sif stay with you?”

 

Loki raised an eyebrow, looking vaguely annoyed. “She’s my wife, at least on paper. Do you have any objections?”

 

“Oh, no, no. Absolutely nothing,” Thor replied, but the smirk never left his face. “Tell me, though, has she been with you all day?”

 

Loki cleared his throat again and looked down at the plates in his hands. “We talked,” he murmured, trying to sound casual.

 

“Ah, talked. Is that how you say it now?” Thor laughed, a deep, booming laugh that filled the entire hallway.

 

Loki sighed heavily, blushing even more. “If you’re done being a fool, I have dinner to bring…”

 

“Oh, dear little brother,” Thor interrupted, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “You’re really losing your edge. I can smell a woman from here!”

 

Loki paused, gritting his teeth to keep from answering. Then, with all the dignity he could muster, he raised his chin and turned toward the hallway. “Good night, Thor.”

 

Thor continued to laugh, watching Loki disappear into the darkness with the plates in his hands. “Good night to you… and Sif,” he murmured, with a smirk.

Chapter 17: Chapter 17

Summary:

This chapter draws from the first episode of the Loki TV series. I think the Loki of this timeline would have come to those conclusions on his own. In fact, I'm sure of it.

The Grandmaster’s stolen ship was silent, except for the faint hum of the engines that accompanied them on the journey to Midgard. Loki was no expert in interspatial travel, but from what Banner had babbled about when he’d managed to transform back, on Einstein-Rosen bridges it would probably take a couple more days before they arrived.

An arrival not without its uncertainties.

The thought of Midgard appeared in Loki’s mind like an unwelcome guest. The calm of space was deceptive; true chaos awaited him upon their arrival. And he knew it.

“Midgard.”

Saying that name in his head was enough to evoke a string of memories he preferred to keep hidden, even from himself. The mind control over Barton… Yes, maybe he’d pushed it a bit too far with that. But watching the archer dance to the rhythm of his invisible strings had been irresistibly satisfying. And Stark… well, technically he’d thrown him off a skyscraper, but the man had survived, so it was just a detail, right?

 

The smirk that accompanied those thoughts lasted only a moment, muffled by the most cumbersome memory of all.

Thanos. 

Even now, the mere thought of that titan was enough to tighten his chest. His control had been absolute, invasive, an invisible leash that had transformed him into a shadow of his former self. His every action, every decision, seemed like that of a sleepwalker, forced to move to the rhythm imposed by a puppeteer. It was like living inside a nightmare, aware but unable to resist.

 

And yet… not always. There had been moments, fleeting but real, in which he’d known that his actions were not just the reflection of Thanos’s will. Moments in which he’d been simply cruel. It was he who had pushed Clint over the edge, it was he who had spoken those poisonous words against Romanoff, and it was he who had killed that agent, Coulson.

He remembered the names of everyone whose life he had taken. 

Thanos had given him the power, yes, but he had allowed it. And he couldn’t pretend otherwise.

He had told Sif all this, almost a week ago now. He had expected her to run away, to scream her contempt at him, to realize what kind of monster he was.

 

“Do you enjoy hurting people?” her voice had shaken.

He stared at her intensely.

“I don’t enjoy hurting people. I don’t enjoy it. I do… I did because I had to. It’s a game. It’s a pretense. A cruel, elaborate lie. It’s part of the illusion. It’s the cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear.”

“Why do you do it?” Her tone now pleading.

“Because… I’m the villain. It’s the truth everyone else sees when they look at me. It’s a horrible nightmare. But I don’t take pleasure in it.”

“That’s not how I see you.”

 

Sif had hugged him.

Loki remembered that moment with disarming clarity. He had felt her pain through the bond, a pain that was not for herself but for him. It had been so… incomprehensible.

“I forgive you,” she had said, before falling asleep.

But there were still too many people from whom he had to earn forgiveness.

A dull, almost familiar feeling of guilt tightened in his chest. It was not an emotion he liked to face, so he buried it, as he always did.

Not that it did much good: It was always there, like a shadow, reminding him that no matter how hard he tried to change, the past was a chain. And that chain could keep him from helping Sif.

 

He ran a hand over his chin, trying to shake off those thoughts. Until then, he had tried to relegate the hidden worry to a corner of his mind. But Sif was gradually getting worse. The spell was lasting less and less, and he couldn’t deny that it scared him.

The Avengers would help Sif. He knew it. 

They were upright, noble to the point of nausea. They would never let anyone suffer, even if that someone was associated with him. That was what made them so unbearable. That sense of moral superiority, that light in their eyes that screamed “we are better than you.”

“And probably they are.”

The mental confession took him by surprise, but it was inevitable. Thor had always had a certain fondness for his little friends. And they, despite everything, had shown that they were ready to sacrifice themselves for the good of anyone. Loki could hate them for it, mock them for their arrogance, but he knew that in the end they would help Sif. It was their nature. And that was exactly why he had enjoyed teasing them so much in the past.

 

A grin touched his lips. Maybe it would almost be fun to see them again, as long as they didn’t get lost in too many pleasantries. They would help Sif, yes, but him? Would they tolerate his presence? 

Not that he particularly cared about their judgment - at least that was what he kept telling himself - but he knew how crucial it was to stay by Sif’s side. If they accepted it... fine. If they didn’t? Well, he would think about that later.

“One step at a time, Loki.”

With a sigh, he relaxed against the bed, staring into the darkness outside the ship. Midgard could wait, along with its judgments and recriminations.

He wanted to fully enjoy this bubble of unexpected tranquility that he was experiencing.

He wasn’t used to this calm, to this feeling of peace that filled the air. And he knew it wouldn’t last long. His mind, which had always oscillated between deception and complex plans, was now overwhelmed by this tranquility.

He laughed to himself.

He, Loki, the God of Mischief, had always been a master at manipulating the present, at building strategies, at controlling situations, carefully planning every move and countermove. But the future, especially the one that was about to come, seemed to be outside of his sphere of control.

His gaze returned to Sif’s belly. 

He had spoken to the child that first night. He had felt almost foolish, but he needed something to make it real. 

And then he had seen him respond to his magic. And he had become excited, more than he could admit.

He wasn’t sure how to feel. Confused, certainly. Even scared.

An “accident,” Sif had called it at first. But had it really been? Loki wondered if the gods had any idea of fate or if it was all a game of fate. Or of an even greater plan. After all, “glory in the Nine Realms” had been prophesied.

For the first time in years he wished his parents were there to advise him.

Yes, his father too, though he would never admit it to a living soul.

He hadn’t been a good parent, it was true.

Odin had been distant, authoritarian, always expecting more from him, and he had tried to be what he wanted, seriously, but never enough to receive the affection or support he so craved.

He had always been relegated to the margins, the son who had to earn his place with trickery and cunning. Never with love.

Or at least that's what he had always believed.

Odin's last words before reaching Valhalla had affected him more than he wanted to admit.

 'I love you, my children.'

Maybe he had never been able to feel his love. Maybe he had actually loved him in some way and he had been too proud, too hurt to see it. Maybe he too didn't know how to handle that son who was too closed off, too different, too difficult to understand. Maybe he too had tried and had simply failed.

But he couldn't, he didn't want that child to feel the same emptiness that he had felt. No, he would do everything in his power to love him as he wanted to be loved. He could use his father as an example not to imitate.

Deep in his soul, he knew he would give it his all. Because it wasn't just about him anymore, nor his intrigues, nor his fight against the world. 

He smiled, just a little. It was a rare smile, almost uncertain. 

“Maybe ,” he thought, “ this time will be different. Maybe I can be better. ” As Thor had said to him while they were on that elevator.

Sif muttered something in her sleep and stirred a little.

He touched her cheek reverently.

His mother’s voice seemed to resonate in his mind: “Why not just try to be the best version of yourself?”

He didn’t like to hurt, he didn’t like to cause suffering. He had done what he had done because he had to, because he was the God of deception. It was part of his glorious purpose.

 

But that wasn’t the case anymore. The realization that he actually thought so struck him deeply.

He was a God, yes. But of what was it for him to decree. Sif had chosen him despite everything, and perhaps she had seen something he himself couldn’t see. A part of him that, even if hidden in deception and illusion, longed to be a good father to that child, a good brother, a good husband, and someone loved and respected by others. 

He didn’t want to be alone.

He lay down better next to her, turning on his side to observe her profile. A light blue rune touched his skin.

 It wasn’t a perfect promise, but a sincere promise: I’ll try, I’ll really try.

He shifted his gaze to the darkness beyond the window, as if he were searching the cosmos for an answer, a blessing. The sweet phantom caress of a mother who loved him was the confirmation.

Chapter 18: Chapter 18

Summary:

We have finally arrived on Midgard. I have to say, It was difficult for me to manage so many characters. I hope I did well! Thank you all for the love <3

The Asgardian ship landed gently on Earth’s surface, sparking curiosity and some tension among the Avengers. They were all gathered in a large open area outside their headquarters, watching with varying expressions as the events unfolded.

They had received the signal of the ship’s arrival the day before, with a request for asylum for their people. It had been picked up by Tony’s program, which monitored any extraterrestrial activity outside Earth’s atmosphere with his satellites.

But one could never be too careful.

“I feel like I’m in Independence Day,” Tony murmured, adjusting his sunglasses as he watched the ship land. “I just hope Will Smith isn’t behind that hatch.”

“Tony, behave,” Steve scolded him, his tone calm but firm.

Thor was the first to step out, a smile trying to be reassuring. Next to him, Brunhilde moved forward with an authoritative air, followed by Lady Sif, who seemed just as determined. Loki was the last to descend, his gaze lowered but with his usual impassive expression.

“Ah, finally seeing my Earth family again!” Thor exclaimed enthusiastically. “Avenger friends! Thank you for your help.”

“Point Break, it’s a pleasure to see you again. Oh, great, now you’ve gone from the god of thunder to a cameo in Pirates of the Caribbean. We’ve been a bit out of touch lately.”

Steve stepped closer. “We gathered from your message that things haven’t been going too well lately.” He nodded at the eye patch.

“It’s been a tough battle, yes. But I wasn’t alone! Over here, Brunhilde, one of the last Valkyries and an incredible warrior. My friends Korg and Miek. And this is Lady Sif, Asgardian warrior, and, um… you already know my brother.” He gestured to Loki, who barely raised an eyebrow, clearly uncomfortable.

The Avengers stood still, their gazes fixed on Loki. Tony was the first to break the silence.

“Wait a second, what’s Bambi doing here? Why is your crazy brother – adopted, let’s specify – here without handcuffs or a gag?”

“Come on, Stark, I thought we could put our differences aside and start over. I didn’t think you were the type to hold a grudge.”

“You threw me out of my skyscraper and destroyed half the city.”

“And I am… deeply sorry. Believe me. But now there are more important matters to resolve.” Those words were forced out of Loki. But somewhere, it had to start.

Thor raised a hand to calm the tensions. “My friends, we’re not here to fight. We are refugees. Asgard has been destroyed.”

Steve moved past Tony, looking somewhat bewildered as he watched the strange stone being named Korg help children down from the ship.

“Yes, we intercepted the signals. I’m very sorry for your loss. Earth officially welcomes you.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

A heavy silence fell over the group as Thor briefly explained Ragnarok, the destruction of their home, and the long, painful journey that had brought them to Earth.

“And the one I see next to me is… Banner?!” Tony exclaimed with a mix of surprise and relief when Bruce Banner appeared among the crowd of people beginning to descend from the ramp.

There was a moment of silence. Tony Stark was the first to break the spell, narrowing his eyes as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Bruce?” he murmured, taking a step forward.

Bruce paused at the top of the ramp, uncertain. He was visibly embarrassed, but when his eyes met Natasha’s, he broke into a hesitant smile.

“Hi, everyone…” he said, raising a hand in greeting.

Natasha was the first to approach. She didn’t rush, but her steps were determined. When she got close enough, she looked at him for a long moment, as if making sure he was really there. Then, without a word, she embraced him.

Bruce stood still for a moment, surprised, before awkwardly returning the hug. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Welcome back,” she replied, her voice firmer than he expected.

Steve immediately stepped forward, extending his hand. “Bruce. It’s good to see you again.”

Bruce shook Steve’s hand, noticing the warmth in his gaze. “Good to see you too. I’m sorry for… well, for everything.”

Peter, watching the scene with his arms crossed, leaned slightly forward. “Sorry, but shouldn’t he be green? I thought he’d be… bigger.”

Tony shouted: “Kid, I told you to stay in the back until I said so!”

“Sorry, Mr. Stark.”

Spider-Man returned to his rooftop corner, waiting.

Thor burst into a loud laugh. “Ah, good old Banner is back in his milder form. But don’t worry, when needed, the monster is always ready!”

Bruce shot a look at Thor, raising an eyebrow. “Thanks, Thor. Always helpful.”

Tony had approached slowly, his face a mix of relief and disbelief. “You… are a sight, you know that? We thought you were dead for years, Banner, and then you show up like this? Without even a heads-up, a little note, nothing?”

Bruce smiled weakly. “Believe me, I would’ve warned you, but it was a series of events that were… pretty complicated.”

“That’s new,” Rhodey commented, crossing his arms. “Coming back to Earth with a ship full of aliens. Not bad, Banner.”

Tony shrugged. “I figured as much. But know this, I’m not letting any details slip. You’re officially called in for a long, long chat.”

Bruce nodded, recognizing the familiar mix of humor and affection. Then he turned toward the others, finally noticing how much he had missed them.

Thor inserted himself into the conversation. “Banner was safe with us on Sakaar and then on Asgard. Well, more or less safe… but those are details. He’s back, and that’s what matters.”

While Thor tried to keep the tone positive, Clint had already fixed his gaze on Loki. “And him? Do we really have to pretend he’s not the maniac who almost destroyed all of us?”

Loki huffed.

“Clint, calm down,” Natasha said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, Barton, calm down. I have no intention of harming any of you,” Loki replied.

“Loki is with us,” Thor interjected firmly. “I know many of you have good reasons not to trust him, but I ask you to believe me: he’s changed. And if Sif trusts him, you should too.”

“I’m not sure ‘changed’ is the right word,” Tony commented, eyeing Loki with suspicion. “I bet deep down, he’s already plotting something.”

Loki smiled with an air of superiority. “My plans change moment by moment.”

Thor raised a hand to interrupt the back-and-forth. “That’s enough. Loki is with us, and I vouch for him. With my life, if necessary.”

Steve watched Loki for a moment, then turned to Thor. Finally, he nodded. “Alright. But that doesn’t mean we’ll lower our guard.”

Thor sighed, relieved, and turned to Steve. “I ask for your help for my people. We are tired and homeless. Any help will be greatly appreciated.”

Steve immediately sprang into action, organizing a plan to disembark the Asgardians and temporarily settle them in a protected area. While the Avengers discussed the details, Loki turned to Sif, who had stiffened and was holding a hand to her forehead.

“Sif?” he murmured, his tone concerned.

She shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment. “I’m fine… just a little dizzy.”

But Loki wasn’t convinced. He gently took her hand, guiding her toward a quieter corner, away from curious eyes.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” he said softly, his gaze worried as he brushed her face.

Sif hesitated, then leaned on his arm. “I don’t want them to think we’re weak.”

Loki smiled faintly, his expression softer than before. “Let them think whatever they want. The only thing that matters is you.”

This exchange hadn’t gone unnoticed by Tony’s vigilant eyes.

“Well, well. The little deer has a thing with the beautiful warrior?”

“Watch how you speak, Stark. She’s my wife.”

Thor intervened. “We need help for my sister-in-law as well. She’s not well, but our healing chambers were destroyed along with everything else.”

Tony was the first to break the silence. “Wait a second. Does this mean he’s married?” He pointed at Loki, looking at him as if it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. “Seriously?”

Steve placed a hand on his forehead, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Wow, congrats,” Tony continued, seemingly oblivious to the tense atmosphere. “I don’t know if you’re brave or just desperate.”

“Stark,” Steve intervened with a reproachful tone, but the tension between him and Tony was still evident, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Thor, who watched the two with a worried crease on his forehead.

Before the argument could escalate, Sif placed a hand on her side, bending slightly with a groan. Loki was immediately at her side, supporting her gently.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly, a shadow of concern in his voice.

“Just a sharp pain,” she replied, trying to steady herself.

“Well, look at that,” Tony remarked with an ironic smile. “The god of mischief turns into a caring husband. I didn’t think I’d live long enough to see something like this.”

Steve raised a hand to calm the tensions. “We need to focus on helping Thor’s people. And as for Lady Sif… I know a place that might have the technology needed to help her.”

Tony looked at him with narrowed eyes. “You’re talking about Wakanda, right? You know how much I love that place, with their… ‘special guest.’ Is that where they gather all the serial killers?”

A brief silence fell, interrupted only by Thor’s calm voice. “Whatever problems there have been between you two, they must be put aside. My people need help.”

Despite the evident tension, Tony nodded. "Let's go inside to take stock of the situation. I wouldn't want the ice prince here to make a scene." Loki stayed by Sif’s side the whole time, ignoring Tony’s comments with a stoic expression.

“This is going to be a long adventure,” Rhodey remarked, shaking his head.

Chapter 19: Chapter 19

Summary:

Thanks for all the love <3

The air in the main hall of the Avengers’ base was heavy. Despite the time that had passed, some wounds had not healed. Loki could feel it clearly—the suspicion in their gazes, the tension in their movements. The Avengers had not forgiven him for the attack on New York, and their eyes made it clear they were not willing to forget.

Not that he expected anything different.

Thor walked ahead of the group, his usual confidence in every gesture. After all, he was in his element. Loki followed at a slower pace—elegant, yet cautious. Behind them, Sif and Brunhilde advanced proudly, though Sif seemed slightly fatigued.

The Avengers were already there, lined up. Tony Stark was leaning against a desk with a bored expression, one eyebrow raised and his usual sarcastic smirk. Steve Rogers stood straight and rigid, arms crossed over his chest, while Natasha Romanoff sat in a chair, seemingly relaxed but with sharp, watchful eyes. Clint Barton crossed his arms the moment he saw Loki, while Peter Parker looked like he was about to explode with excitement.

As soon as Thor and Loki stopped in front of the group, Peter took a sudden step forward, pointing at the two brothers with wide eyes.

“Excuse me a second! So, you guys are… real aliens?!”

A brief silence followed the question. Loki raised an eyebrow, while Thor puffed out his chest with pride.

“We are Asgardians, boy!” declared the God of Thunder. He studied Peter for a moment. “Are you new? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”
Peter nodded quickly. “Yeah, sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Peter Parker. I mean, Spider-Man. Mr. Thor—can I call you that?—I’m a huge fan. And I’m really sorry about your hammer. And… uh… can you guys do weird things? Like, I don’t know… lay eggs?”

Loki stared at him, expressionless. “No, insect boy.” Then, with absolute nonchalance, he added, “Though I did once give birth to a horse.”

Total silence.

Peter looked on the verge of collapsing. “WHAT?!”

Bruce Banner cleared his throat, interrupting the moment before anyone could actually start asking for explanations.

“Hey, getting back to the real issue… I know everyone here has a pretty clear opinion about Loki and his past, but I was there when we lost Asgard.” He took a step forward, crossing his arms. “I saw what he did for his people. He’s not the guy who attacked New York anymore. At least, not completely.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And why should we care? It’s not like he has a clean record. I don’t even get why we haven’t slapped cuffs on him already.”

“I already told you that won’t be necessary,” Thor interjected.

Bruce sighed. “Thor’s right. Without Loki, we wouldn’t even be here talking about surviving Asgardians. And I wouldn’t have had a ride back to Earth.”

Loki smirked in amusement. “You’re welcome, Banner.”

Tony pulled a face. “Okay, so you went from intergalactic criminal to refugee champion. How touching.”

“I seem to recall that you also went from war profiteer to beloved hero. Or am I wrong?”

Thor let out a heavy sigh. “Brother, must you always provoke?”

Loki gave a half-smile. “It’s part of my charm.”

Clint huffed, bringing the discussion back on track. “We’re not here to joke around. Why should we trust you?”

Loki looked into the eyes of the man he had once used as a puppet, feeling a faint flicker of guilt.
“Because I have too much to lose if I betray you, and I can’t afford that.”

Thor huffed and turned to the Avengers. “My brother is not the enemy you once knew. He fought by my side against Hela and saved what was left of our people.”

“And we’re supposed to take your word for it based on that?” Steve kept his tone calm, but Loki could sense the skepticism behind his words.

It was Brunnhilde who stepped in, crossing her arms. “You don’t have to believe him. Believe me. I have nothing to gain by lying. He saved our people. We don’t have time for your human distrust.”

Natasha studied the group with a sharp gaze. “And yet, you’re asking for our help.”

Loki opened his mouth to respond with a sharp remark, but at that moment, he noticed Sif sway slightly beside him. His expression grew serious as he observed her. Her hands unconsciously gripped her sides, as if trying to suppress some internal pain.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha asked, noticing the movement.

Loki tensed. “That is none of your concern.”

“If you want our help, you need to be honest with us,” Steve interjected. “What’s going on? Is she injured?”

Sif took a step forward, trying to keep her back straight, though the strain was evident in the tension of her face. “Nothing of the sort. I am pregnant.”

A brief silence followed.

It was Tony who broke it. “Wait a second… did I hear that right? She’s pregnant?”
Loki huffed, crossing his arms. “I thought humans were capable of reproduction as well, or am I mistaken? I don’t see why this surprises you so much, Stark.”

“No, wait, wait… let me rephrase.” Tony took a step back, his tone more serious now. “Are you the father?”

Sif groaned, looking at Thor with an expression that betrayed her impatience. “What exactly is he implying?”

Natasha, calmly sipping her coffee, barely lifted her gaze and said with complete nonchalance, “Ignore him. He’s just trying to process. Give him a minute.”

Tony pointed at Loki, his face filled with disbelief. “You—responsible for a child? Seriously? You nearly conquered Manhattan with an alien army, and now you’re about to change diapers?”

Loki raised an eyebrow.

Tony sighed, rubbing his temples. “Perfect. A mini Loki on the way. This day just keeps getting better.”

Clint stared at Loki with hard eyes, his jaw clenched. “So instead of messing with people’s minds, now you’re screwing up lives in other ways? Congrats on the evolution.”

Sif moved in an instant, grabbing him by the shirt, her face just inches from his.
“There is no manipulation in this, and no mess, Clint Barton. I suggest you be very careful how you speak about me and my child, mortal.”

Clint, momentarily frozen by her strength, tried to pull away, but before he could say anything, Sif suddenly staggered back. She had gone pale, bending forward slightly as if she were struggling to breathe.

Loki was beside her in an instant, his eyes flashing with both anger and concern. “Sif!”

“I’m fine,” she sighed.

Loki placed a hand on her forehead.
“Liar. Is there somewhere she can lie down?” he asked, turning to Natasha.

“Yes, there’s a couch in the next room.”

“No, Loki, I’m fine.”

But her tone convinced no one.

Tony, who had initially held back from making more comments, now turned to Clint with a disapproving look. “Nice job, Clint. You pissed off a pregnant woman, and now we’ve got two angry gods. Great move.”

The tension in the room was palpable, but Sif, despite still looking shaken, lifted her gaze with determination. “I am not some helpless child to be protected, nor someone to be pitied. What I’ve done was my choice, and I will not allow anyone to question it.”

Silence fell for a moment, and though still furious, Loki knelt beside Sif, whispering into her ear, “You need to rest, my warrior. I cannot allow you to take another step.”

“I can handle it.”

Loki hesitated for a moment before speaking aloud.
“The pregnancy isn’t going well. She grows weaker every day. We don’t know what’s wrong.”

Banner stepped in.
“I’ve tried examining her, but Asgardian biology is significantly different from ours. To get precise data, we’d need advanced molecular scans, a detailed breakdown at the cellular level, and an energy mapping system to track any anomalies in her life force. Without cutting-edge technology, we won’t be able to fully understand what’s happening.”

Steve shifted his gaze from Sif to Loki. “If her health is at risk, like I said before, we should take her to Wakanda.”

Tony paled.
“Oh, so you just have to go visit your little serial killer buddy, huh? Great place for a recovery.”

Steve turned to him, his blue eyes locked onto Tony’s. “They have the best technology. And apparently, we don’t have time to waste.”

“Stark,” Thor interjected, more serious now. “If you have a better alternative, say it now.”

Tony huffed. “I have an operating and diagnostic room here that rivals anything, built by me. I can start right away, no time lost.”

As if her body wanted to prove his point, Sif suddenly wavered. Loki caught her instantly before she could collapse, holding her tighter than necessary.

Steve gave a firm nod. “Alright. But if we don’t get answers, we leave for Wakanda.”

Tony shot him a skeptical look but didn’t argue.

Loki, with a sarcastic smile but an unmistakable tension in his eyes, looked up. “Great. Can we start immediately, or do I need to sign something first?”

——————

They had moved to the infirmary. Tony was recalibrating all the equipment based on the Asgardian morphology data he had gathered when an eager, youthful voice interrupted him.

“Mr. Stark, can I come with you?”

Peter Parker leaned toward him with an excited grin.

Tony barely lifted his gaze from the screens. “Come where, Parker?”

“To Wakanda, obviously.”

Tony sighed. “Fantastic. Love how everyone is so convinced I won’t be able to help Lady Sif. You too, huh, kid?”

“No! I mean, only if you do end up going! I’ve never been to Africa! And of course, you will find the solution, but…”

Tony rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “It’s not a field trip, Peter. We don’t even know if we’re going or staying here, and I don’t need you getting in trouble.”

Peter scrambled for a better excuse but came up empty. “Oh, come on! It would be epic! Can you imagine how cool it’d be?”

Tony huffed. “Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

Peter dropped his gaze, defeated. “Yeah…”

With a sigh, he walked off, while Tony watched him go, a mix of frustration and fondness on his face.

Loki, who had been silently observing the whole exchange, stepped forward with his usual measured stride.

Tony glanced up from his tablet. “You’ll probably be dealing with a little bug of your own soon—one who’ll try to skip biology homework with the excuse of flying off to another continent. Or wait, do Asgardian princes even study biology in school?”

Loki feigned disinterest. “Wakanda… what does it have that you don’t already?” His tone was almost bored, but beneath the surface, there was a poorly concealed note of concern. “And more importantly, how could they help Sif?”

Tony observed him for a moment, then turned toward Sif, who had since gotten up from the medical bed to join them.

“Wakanda has the most advanced technology on Earth, thanks to vibranium. Stuff I, unfortunately, can’t replicate.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Their king is kind of a colleague… more or less.”

Then he looked back at Loki with a crooked smirk. “Anyway, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, Reindeer Games. If your wife is tough enough to put up with you, I’m sure I’ll figure out what’s wrong with Loki Jr.”

Sif stepped forward, her tone sincere. “Thank you for your help. I know you don’t fully trust Loki,” she said, glancing first at Tony and then at Steve, who had stepped closer. “I really appreciate it. And I’m sorry for my reaction earlier.”

Steve smiled kindly. “Don’t worry, Lady Sif. Barton made an unfortunate remark.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his face. “Oh, don’t sweat it. Let’s just blame the hormones.” He gestured vaguely between her and Loki. “But seriously, this is almost surreal.” He shook his head in mock disbelief. “You seem like an incredibly reasonable person. Him, on the other hand… well, let’s just say I wouldn’t have bet on his love life.”

Sif chuckled, amusement flashing in her eyes. “I understand your skepticism. But in the end, everyone finds their own perfect chaos, right?”

Tony scoffed, shaking his head. “No, seriously… how do you put up with someone like him?”

Sif gave him a mischievous smile, glancing at Loki. “Let’s just say I have a weakness for challenges.”

Loki, with a sardonic grin, stepped closer to Tony. “You know, Stark, if you keep making these ridiculous jokes, I might seriously consider throwing you off another skyscraper. And this time, without your suit.”

Tony stared at him blankly for a moment, then lazily raised a hand and pretended to tremble. “Ooh, someone’s cranky.”

Loki took a step toward him, his jaw tightening, his gaze dangerously cold—like a predator ready to strike.

“Someone should keep their mouth shut.”

Steve moved to stop him, but before he could take another step, Sif gently grasped Loki’s arm, stopping him with a gesture that left no room for argument. Her eyes met his, and in an instant, Loki felt the tension begin to dissolve. Without a word, she kissed him.

The kiss was brief but powerful, like a spell that instantly calmed him. Loki stood there for a moment, breathless, his frantic thoughts slowing as the world around him quieted. When they parted, Sif looked at him firmly. “That’s enough, Loki. Why don’t you go get me something cool to drink?”

“I’ll go,” he said, his voice softer but laced with a hint of frustration.

Sif watched him as he walked away. Then, she turned to Tony with the faintest of smiles, an expression that was the perfect blend of affection and discipline. “I assure you, it won’t happen again, man of iron. But please, don’t provoke him unnecessarily.”

Tony studied her for a moment before shrugging with a crooked grin. “And here I was, thinking I’d have to suit up. You know how it is with him—always a coin toss between a civil argument and imminent apocalypse.”

Sif responded with a smile, but this time, it wasn’t playful. “No. Not today.”

“Anyway, you can start lying down on the bed. I’m almost done here.”

Tony watched as she walked away.

Steve approached him. “We should keep our guard up with him.”

Tony didn’t respond right away, his eyes fixed on the tablet as he adjusted the settings. The silence between them was heavy, full of everything left unsaid.

Steve stepped a little closer, lowering his voice slightly. “Tony, listen. I know you’re mad at me, but we need to work together. For Thor. For his people.”

Tony looked up, holding his gaze for a long moment. Then he smirked. “Ah, Steve, always perfect in the role of the good guy. As long as your friends aren’t involved, of course.”

Steve took the hit but didn’t let it deter him. “This isn’t about being the good guy. It’s about doing the right thing.” He paused, his tone softer. “And, whether you believe it or not, you’re my friend too.”

Tony crossed his arms, studying him with an unreadable expression. He remained silent for a few seconds before letting out a sigh. “Yeah, yeah, let’s put everything on hold for the greater good. For Thor. But don’t expect us to shake hands and sing Kumbaya.”

Steve sighed, knowing he wouldn’t get more than that. “I’m not asking you to. But whatever we think of each other, can we at least agree that we need to stay united on this?”

Tony raised an eyebrow and glanced toward Loki, who was deliberately ignoring them from across the room. “And him?” he asked, nodding in Loki’s direction.

Steve hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t know. Do you trust him?”

Tony pressed his lips together, thinking for a moment. “Like he said, he’s got too much to lose to make the wrong move.”

Steve nodded slowly. “And Thor is vouching for him. Not to mention, his wife seems to be able to keep him in check.”

Tony arched an eyebrow and let out a dramatic sigh. “Ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome?”

Chapter 20: Chapter 20

Notes:

Hey, hi! Sorry for my absence, I was on vacation without my precious laptop and with limited internet connection! I hope this chapter finds you well! Thank you, as always for the love! Thank all the guests who left kudos and CrazyPink96 <3

The cold lighting of the Avengers’ infirmary was almost stifling. The hum of monitoring machines and the faint buzzing of holographic screens were the only sounds filling the air, aside from Sif’s heavy sighs. Lying on the cot, she felt exhausted, weak, feverish.

She had sent all the humans away. She only wanted Loki. If she was going to find out what was wrong now, she didn’t want to be vulnerable in front of the others. Not even Thor.

Tony Stark, with his usual brazen genius attitude, turned toward her, raising an eyebrow as he scrolled through the information projected in front of him.

Loki shot him a sharp glance. “And since when are you a doctor?”

“There was a time when palladium was slowly poisoning my blood, and another when I realized that coming home to my partner with open wounds wasn’t exactly the best way to keep romance alive in a relationship. So, I started studying.”

“Where’s Bruce?” Sif asked. “I’d like him to be here as well.”

“I believe—and hope—he’s currently playing doctor with Widow. Don’t worry, Lady Sif, this is just to give us a general idea of the situation. I’ve activated my medical A.I. to run a scan. Bruce is a biologist—he can examine the results once we’re done here.”

Sif nodded.

“Okay, Lady Sif, let’s start with the basics. How far along are you? Oh, wait—I have no idea how long an Asgardian pregnancy lasts, considering your lifespan. 200 years?”

Sif shot him a tired, almost irritated look. “It lasts just a little longer than a human pregnancy. About ten months. And I also know exactly when it was conceived. Twenty-two weeks ago.”

Tony nodded with a smirk. “Oh, how romantic. So, it was one of those unforgettable nights, huh? Your hubby must have really done a number on you.”

Sif scoffed, while Loki, who had been silently standing beside her until then, crossed his arms and fixed Stark with his signature icy glare. “I suggest you say nothing more, Stark.”

Tony raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, just for scientific accuracy. Alright, so let’s talk timing… At twenty-two weeks, the baby should already be visible and fully formed. At least in a normal pregnancy. Let’s see what we’ve got here.”

He turned toward the console and typed in a few commands. A thin beam of light passed over Sif’s skin as the advanced ultrasound scanner analyzed her abdomen. Within moments, a three-dimensional image began to take shape on the screens in front of them.

“There we go—ultra-HD deluxe vision of Asgard’s little prince. Stark service, only the best.”

And there, suspended in a bluish glow, was him.

 

The round little head, with a delicate profile already taking shape: a barely defined nose, thin, closed lips, and tiny eyelids hiding eyes that were still sealed. His arms and legs moved in small, jerky motions, while his incredibly well-defined fingers opened and closed in instinctive movements. And then, the heart— that tiny, pulsing point that seemed to echo through the entire room.

Sif held her breath as she basked in that rhythmic, rapid sound.
“He’s… so small.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

Loki, who had remained still until then, took a step forward. His usually impenetrable gaze had softened. Without a word, he knelt beside her, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the hologram.

“I never imagined I’d see something like this. He has your profile.”
Sif took his hand and squeezed it tightly.
“It’s a boy, isn’t it?”
Tony checked the monitor.
“Unless that’s a tail in reverse, I’d say yes.”

“Just as my mother said.” He wished Frigga were there with him at that moment.
“Hey, prince, you’re not about to start crying, are you? I don’t think I can handle that.”
“Yes, Stark, I’m having an emotional moment. Can you do me the honor of not ruining it for at least thirty seconds?”

Sif turned to Loki with a weak smile, while he gazed down at her with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. He gently brushed her cheek, his thumb tracing a soft circle over her skin.

Then Sif noticed the dark expression on Tony’s face.
“What is it?”
He stared at her for a moment before turning back to the monitor, his tone suddenly dropping.

“These readings… they’re not good at all. The baby’s genetics don’t match the Asgardian profile I have. Their temperature is slightly higher than the mother’s—normally around 37.5 to 38°C—because they’re submerged in amniotic fluid and get heat directly from the mother’s body. But his temperature is 25 degrees. Honestly, with these vitals, he should be dead.”

Sif hesitated, looking at Loki.

Tony didn’t miss the exchange between them.
“You don’t look surprised. Is there something I should know?”

Loki met his gaze.
“The child is not fully Asgardian.”

Sif squeezed his hand, as if offering him courage.

“I am a Jotun, a Frost Giant. I was adopted by Odin as an infant.”

“Hold up, hold up, hold up. Wait a second. You’re telling me you’re not just an annoying demigod with a superiority complex, but also an interdimensional… Popsicle? A giant one at that? If you’re what you call a ‘giant,’ you guys have a very interesting concept of size.”

“It was a recent discovery for all of us,” Sif interjected, as if she had been stung.
“My parents did a very good job of hiding my origins. It was only by chance that I found out.”

Tony scoffed. “Yeah, yeah, very touching and all, but let’s get back to the point. Sif, we’ll need to run more tests to understand what’s happening to your body. And Loki, I need your blood.”

Loki tensed. “For what reason?”

“Because I need to know what damn physiology I’m dealing with. It’s not every day you get to analyze a half-Asgardian, half… well, whatever the hell you are.”

Loki gritted his teeth but eventually extended his arm. “Not whatever. I am a Frost Giant.”

Tony raised an eyebrow as he drew a sample, pricking him with a needle.
“Ow.”
“Interesting, Frozen. Care to enlighten me on possible complications? Is there anything we should know before proceeding with the tests? Like, I don’t know—how long does a pregnancy last for, uh… Frost Giants?”

“How the hell should I know, Stark? It’s not like I’ve ever had the pleasure of sitting down for tea with my kind to discuss their reproductive habits.”

“You’re not very useful, you know that?”

Loki scoffed.
“I don’t know, alright? I never wanted to know. I studied their magic, nothing more.” He hesitated for a moment. “I never thought I’d need to understand the blood of those who abandoned me.”

“We fought the Jotuns before Thor’s exile,” Sif noted. “They told us many stories about them when we were children.”

“Yes. They were the monsters parents spoke of at night.”

Sif cut him off before his thoughts could take a darker turn. “They live in frozen wastelands, they can withstand glacial temperatures. They can generate and manipulate ice at will. Some of them can freeze objects or living beings with just a touch.”

Tony nodded.
“That could interfere with Sif’s thermoregulation. If the pregnancy is altering her body temperature or her resistance to cold, it could be causing physical stress… high fever, fainting, exhaustion.”

Tony scanned the blood sample, and within minutes, the results appeared on the monitors. He rubbed his chin, nodding.
“Yeah, I think my theory holds up. Her body is trying to adapt to the baby, but the biological difference is putting her under strain. If her temperature keeps rising, she could face serious complications.”

Loki turned to Sif, his face tense with worry. “What can we do?”

Tony sighed. “We need to find a way to stabilize her body temperature without compromising the baby’s growth. It might be necessary to create a controlled thermal environment around her or develop a specific treatment. But we’ll need to run more tests.”

Sif closed her eyes for a moment. She felt exhausted, but the warmth of Loki’s hand on hers made her feel stronger.

“We’ll get through this,” he whispered, just for her to hear. “No matter what, I will protect you and our child.”

She turned to him, a soft smile on her lips. “I know.”

Tony scoffed. “Alright, enough with the romantic movie moment. For now, I’ll start you on an IV to keep you hydrated, Lady Sif, and monitor your temperature. Meanwhile, I’ll run a cross-analysis of Loki’s and your genetic makeup to find a way for both to work together safely. If the baby’s physiology is more… Jotun than Asgardian, we might need to adjust something.”

------------------------------------------------

The air in the room was tense despite the silence. Thor sat on one of the reinforced chairs, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on Loki, who, on the other hand, seemed incapable of keeping still. The God of Mischief paced back and forth, hands clasped behind his back, his face marked by a tension that, despite his efforts, he couldn’t hide.

Tony had asked to speak without Sif present. Loki had left her asleep, and after a quick wash and changing into comfortable clothes—ones that were completely devoid of his usual regality—he had set off with his brother to meet the two scientists.

Thor sighed, shaking his head. “Loki, if you keep that up, you’re going to wear a hole into the floor.”

Loki stopped abruptly and shot him a glare. “And what exactly am I supposed to do? Smile and wait patiently while I let a group of mortals decide the fate of my wife and child?”

“These mortals,” Thor emphasized patiently, “are currently our only solution. Stark can be irritating, like a thorn in one’s side, but he has proven his intelligence many times. If anyone can figure out what’s happening, it’s him. And Banner is an excellent scientist.”

Loki scoffed, turning his face away. “I don’t trust them.”

Thor observed him for a long moment, then stood up and approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Loki tensed for an instant but didn’t pull away.

“I know this isn’t easy for you,” Thor said sincerely. “I know relying on others costs you more than you’d ever admit. But you have to believe me when I say Sif is in good hands.”

Loki lowered his gaze, his jaw tight. “And if they’re wrong?”

Thor shook his head. “Then we’ll make them fix it. But you are not alone in this. I am here, brother. For you, too.”

Loki slowly lifted his gaze to him, an emotion flickering in his eyes that was difficult to decipher.

“Do you truly care?” he asked quietly.

Thor gave his shoulder a small squeeze. “Sif is my best friend, Loki. And the child she carries is my nephew. I won’t let anything happen to them.”

Loki looked away, taking a deep breath. He didn’t reply immediately, but Thor didn’t need words to know his message had been received.

After a long pause, Loki simply said, in a calmer tone, “If Stark says anything inappropriate, I’ll freeze him.”

Thor chuckled, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “That would actually be quite amusing to watch. But try to hold back—at least until he finds a solution.”

Loki gave a small, almost imperceptible smile, but it was there. And for Thor, in that moment, it was enough.

Tony entered the room with Bruce, scrolling through the latest data on his tablet. “Alright, I’ve got good news and bad news.”

Loki lifted his head, his expression guarded. “The bad news first.”

Bruce removed his glasses and rubbed his temples, staring at the monitor with an expression that was equal parts fascinated and concerned. Tony stood with his arms crossed, tapping his fingers against the table.

“Your turn, Dr. Banner,” Tony said.

Bruce sighed and pointed at the genetic analysis of Loki displayed on the screen. A series of DNA sequences intertwined in complex patterns, with several red-highlighted areas flashing like anomalies.

“Okay, let’s put it this way: if human DNA is a book written in a specific language, Loki’s DNA is… an ancient manuscript written in two different languages, with a third language that someone attempted to translate halfway through.”

Thor huffed. “Yes, thank you, very clear. And in words for normal people?”

Bruce pointed at two distinct sections of the genetic code. “This part here is clearly his Jotun heritage. Structurally, it’s very different from Asgardian or human DNA—these sequences are optimized for survival in extremely cold environments.

There’s a component linked to thermal regulation, likely what allows Frost Giants to survive in temperatures that would kill any other living being.”

Tony whistled. “Interesting. And the part that looks like an alien footnote?”

Bruce frowned. “That’s the part that concerns me. It’s as if someone took his original DNA and… reorganized it. Not just altered it through natural mutation. It looks like his Jotun genetics were rewritten to blend in with Asgardian physiology.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Wait, you’re saying he wasn’t just adopted by the Asgardians, but they also reprogrammed him at a genetic level?”

“Odin was one of the most powerful and ancient beings, and our mother was raised by witches. They managed to hide a truth that we all deserved to know, not just my brother,” Thor said darkly.

Bruce nodded. “It’s not just a matter of appearance—the magic rewrote his entire genetic makeup to make him look and function like an Asgardian. But the strangest part is that the two halves—Jotun and Asgardian—didn’t simply merge. It’s as if the Jotun DNA was put on ‘pause.’ Almost deactivated, I’d say.”

Tony folded his arms. “So inside him, the gene is switched off, but the baby has it in full on mode. Or at least, dangerously close to fully activating.”

Bruce bit his lower lip. “In theory, Loki could revert to being a full Frost Giant if he didn’t have the ability to suppress the gene. At least genetically, with all the consequences that entails. And it looks like the baby is developing more Jotun traits than Asgardian ones.”

Tony slowly turned toward Loki, who had been listening in silence. His green eyes were fixed on the monitor, his face unreadable, but his hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides.

“…Loki?” Tony prompted.

Loki lowered his gaze to his hands, as if expecting to see his skin change color before his eyes.

“So… the child I’m expecting with Sif is basically a little Jotun time bomb that could, at any moment, explode and freeze Sif from the inside out?”

Bruce nodded slowly. “I think so. We’ll need to monitor her constantly.”

Silence fell over the room. Then Tony sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Great. Problem number one hundred on the list. Do you have any idea how this part of you works? Can you control it?”

Loki hesitated. He had never spoken about this subject with anyone—especially not with his brother, after everything that had happened.

“I didn’t know I was different until they told me. And even after I found out, my body didn’t react immediately… as if the magic surrounding me was stronger than the truth I had been told. Gaining control wasn’t immediate. It took years of attempts, of frustration… and patience. It’s a balance between two natures that should cancel each other out. I learned to shift the weight from one side to the other, to choose which part of me to let surface. But it’s not perfect. It never has been. When I take Jotun form, I’m not like them. My body remains… mitigated, I’d say. I don’t emit the same lethal cold, I don’t freeze people on contact. I’m not one of them. Not completely.”

He paused. Thor placed a hand on his shoulder while he kept staring at the monitor, the blue glow of his DNA’s double helix reflecting in his eyes.

“You also mentioned good news?” Thor asked, breaking the silence.

“The balance between your genetics and Sif’s is more complicated than we expected, but for now, the baby is genetically stable. We’ve identified the core of the problem: Sif’s body recognizes him as a foreign presence and is trying to adapt, which is causing her temperature to rise.”

Loki clenched his jaw. “And what exactly is the good part of this news?”

Tony crossed his arms. “I can slow down the process. If we keep her body temperature around 34°C, she might be able to sustain the pregnancy longer with fewer side effects.”

Bruce suddenly lit up as if struck by lightning.

“I have an idea. It could be highly invasive… but I think it could solve the problem permanently.”

“Speak.”

Chapter 21: Chapter 21

Summary:

Here I am, I hope to return with the usual Sunday post. I love the relationship between Tony and Loki, and I'm convinced that in another universe (mine), they become best friends. I want to especially thank RollinsDude for leaving a comment on the previous chapter, and all the guests for leaving Kudos!

Bruce snapped his fingers. "Okay, then we have a chance. If your body has found a way to mediate between the two natures," he said, turning to Loki, "maybe we can apply it to Sif."

Tony nodded. "Yeah, but the problem is that Loki has had decades to adapt. Sif doesn't have that luxury. We need to find a way to stabilize her physiology now."

Banner moved between the monitors with a focused expression, typing commands with quick, precise gestures.
"To start, we need to understand how your magic is suppressing your Jotun side. If we can replicate it, we might be able to use it on Sif. It could be used as a molecular matrix."
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "We could test your blood, look for traces of this genetic suppression, and see if we can synthesize it and replicate it in all of Sif's cells."

In the center of the room, suspended in the air, was a three-dimensional model of Sif's Asgardian DNA, next to Loki's. Tony, arms crossed, drummed his fingers on his elbow while Friday continued the calculations in the background.

"Okay, Banner, let me get this straight. You want to modify Sif on a molecular level so she can carry a Jotun pregnancy? I’m not saying it’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard... but it’s definitely in the top ten."

Banner sighed. "Think about it, Tony... Doctor Cho's Regeneration Cradle was able to regenerate human tissue and heal severe injuries thanks to a combination of nanotechnology and 3D biological printing. Ultron used it to create a new synthetic body, which later became Vision. His body was built cell by cell, based on precise physiological data. However, the reason the process worked was vibranium: only vibranium can interact with cells without disintegrating them, and Ultron knew that well. I think that by setting up a reference matrix, we could achieve a similar result. If we could modify her genetic component to find a balance, like Loki did, we might be able to replicate the process."

"Yes, but Doctor Cho's cradle was destroyed during the Sokovia attack."

"So we need Wakanda," Bruce concluded.

"Why is everyone so eager to go there?" Tony huffed, crossing his arms.

Sif interjected, "Banner, are you sure about what you're saying?"

Friday interrupted their exchange with her emotionless voice. "I have completed the analysis. The success probability of the genetic modification process is 50%. The possible outcomes of the pregnancy are: mother's survival, loss of the baby: 22.7%, baby's survival, loss of the mother: 18.4%, survival of both: 35.2%, loss of both: 23.7%."

A tense silence fell over the room. Sif's gaze wandered into the distance.

"Fifty percent... a one in two chance. Not exactly reassuring, but not a certain death sentence either. I suppose there are no better alternatives." Her fingers tightened imperceptibly.

Loki stiffened, his eyes narrowing into slits.

"So it all comes down to a simple coin toss. Heads, alive. Tails, dead." There was a brief moment of silence in the air.

"And what if we didn’t do it? What if we just let things take their course without interference? What are the prospects?" he asked in a low voice, but with a coldness that froze the air.

Friday responded in his usual neutral tone. "If Lady Sif were to carry the pregnancy to term under natural conditions, the mother's survival probability would be 1.2%, the child's survival with loss of the mother would be 3.5%, both survival would be 0.3%, and the loss of both would be 95%."

The world seemed to stop for a moment. Loki took a step back, as if he had been punched in the stomach.
"It’s a risk, yes, but if it works, Sif would have no further problems. Not now, nor in the future," Bruce intervened.

Loki stepped forward. "A risk?" His voice was sharp, thin as a blade. "You're talking about Sif's life as if it were a mathematical equation."

Sif placed a hand on his arm, gripping it with gentle firmness. "Loki… they’re just trying to help us."
Bruce stood up. "Maybe you should talk this over among yourselves. We’ll step out."
"But I…"
"Tony! We’ll be out for 5 minutes. Come on, Thor, you come too."
Once they were alone in the room, Sif embraced him.
"I can do this."
He turned sharply, his eyes burning with anger. "No. I can't allow it."
"You can't decide for me." Her voice was calm, but firm. "I've spent my whole life fighting. Accepting any battle that fate imposes on me. This is my body, and I decide what to do with it. I have a good chance of making it. And believe me, I'll make sure it's enough." She clenched her jaw, looking at him with determination. There was no hesitation in her voice.
Loki stared at her, pain and fear shining in his eyes, but he was desperately trying to hide them behind his usual sarcasm. "Oh, sure, because risking death for the sake of defying nature is such a brilliant idea."

"I don't want to defy nature. I just want a chance. A real chance to have this child, and to have more in the future if we want them. I'd rather risk it than resign myself, like it seems you're doing."

Loki took a step back, as if her words had physically struck him. He looked at her, his eyes cold, but filled with something more dangerous than anger: fear.

"A chance... How many chances, Sif? Either we lose the child, or I lose you. Or, if fate decides to be particularly cruel, I'll lose you both."

His voice trembled on the last phrase, a barely perceptible crack. He swallowed, as if just saying it burned his throat. Then his face darkened, and Loki stared at her, an icy shadow flickering in his gaze—something dark, something terrifying even for him. His voice dropped lower, sharper.

“If he had never been... if I hadn’t... What if the problem were eliminated before it could harm you?”

Sif stiffened, her breath caught in her throat. Then she jerked away, as if those words had physically struck her. “What are you insinuating?”

Loki froze, his face paling with the realization of what he had just said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I apologize to both of you.” He ran a hand over his face, as if trying to erase the thought from his mind before it could take root.

“No... No, I can’t even conceive of it. Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me.” He shook his head, his features twisted with self-loathing. The very idea disgusted him, yet, for a moment, it had slithered out from the darkness of his fear.

His voice lowered, broken. When he looked back at her, the god of mischief wore no mask. Only the raw terror of someone torn in half. He took her hands in his. “I can’t lose you.”

The silence fell between them, heavy as a verdict.

Sif didn't lower her gaze, didn't falter. When she spoke, her voice was a sharp blade.

"If I did nothing? Then it would be a certain sentence."

The air seemed to grow thicker. Loki closed his eyes for a moment, as if just the thought of it was choking him. Then he shook his head, a bitter, almost broken laugh escaping his lips.

"If I died… if I lost you, Sif, I couldn't bear it. I can't even think about it."

Sif didn't look away. Her voice was steady, painfully clear.

"I love you. But I also love Ullr."

A hint of a smile tugged at his lips.
“Ullr…?”
“I thought it was a nice name.”

He moved closer, gently touching her round belly.
"I really like the name."

They stood there, still, listening only to their shared breath.
Loki clenched his fists, his chest rising and falling furiously. “It’s not fair. It’s not fair that you have to…”

“I know,” Sif whispered, caressing his cheek. “But I chose it.”

"And what am I supposed to do? Watch you risk your life knowing that I’m the cause?"

Sif hesitated for a moment. "Loki... I just want your support."

"No!" he snapped. "It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I’m a joke of nature. And I’ve put you at risk. I can’t let things go like this."
"Loki, we’ve already had this conversation. This is my decision. Stop blaming yourself and stop wallowing in self-pity. I’m on board. I’ll go with Stark and Banner. I’ll do whatever they tell me to. And if I die, it’ll be for a good cause, and the gates of Valhalla will open for us."

Loki paled.
Tony smiled as he entered. "Of course, I wasn’t eavesdropping, and I just caught the tail end of Sif’s final decision." Behind him, Banner timidly peeked in, looking extremely embarrassed, along with Thor.

"Well. Now let me write a nice diplomatic message to the king..."

He turned toward the hologram and typed quickly:

"Dear T’Challa, we need to ask you for a small favor. Just a tiny thing, I swear. An unprecedented genetic intervention on a pregnant Asgardian carrying the child of a Jotun (never heard of that, right? Neither have I). I know, I know, it sounds like a crazy science fiction experiment, but hey, it’s us! Can you find a spot in your schedule for a chat? We would need your sister."

He pressed "Send" and turned to face the others.

"And now, we wait."

Loki stared at them all with a mix of fury and desperation, then he spun around abruptly and stormed out of the room, slamming the door with too much force.

Tony huffed. "Well. I'd say he took it well."

Thor sighed too. "I hope this isn't a bigger madness than it seems."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Thor, my friend, this is exactly a bigger madness than it seems."

Sif closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. She knew that Loki wasn’t angry with her. He was angry with himself, with fate, with everything he couldn’t control.

—---------------------------------

Loki walked aimlessly through the halls of the Avengers Compound, his breath short. He needed to be alone. He needed air. Eventually, he found a dark corner, away from the others, and let himself slide down against the wall.

He felt like he was suffocating.

A sob escaped his lips, unexpected. Loki pulled his arms tightly around his chest, trying to control himself, but it was impossible. It was too much. Silent, bitter tears began to fall down his cheeks.

He didn’t know how long he stayed there, lost in the pain, until he felt a shadow approach.

Thor.

The older brother crouched beside him, saying nothing.

Loki tried to compose himself, to hide his face in his hands, but Thor saw him. And instead of mocking him or minimizing the moment, he did the one thing Loki never would have expected.

He hugged him.

For a long moment, Loki stayed stiff, unable to accept the gesture. Then, slowly, he gave in. He closed his eyes and let himself go, resting his forehead against his brother’s shoulder as the tears kept falling.

“You don’t have to face it alone, little brother,” Thor whispered.

Loki didn’t answer, but he clung to the embrace like a lifeline.

—---------------------------------------------

Tony found Loki in the farthest corner of the base, on the terrace overlooking a quiet expanse of forests and mountains. The cold wind made his dark green cloak flutter, but he seemed completely indifferent to the temperature.

 

"If you're thinking of throwing yourself off, I'd advise against it. Too dramatic, even for you," Tony said, leaning against the railing with two bottles of whiskey in one hand and two glasses in the other. "But I brought drinks."

 

Loki huffed. "I'm afraid a fall from this miserable height wouldn't solve much."

 

Tony handed him a glass of whiskey, but Loki took the bottle directly, lifting it and drinking it all in one go. Tony watched, surprised, as the god drank without blinking, revealing his inhuman nature. A amused smile spread across his face. "Well, that's one way to deal with things that I approve of..."

 

Loki didn’t react, but Tony noticed the pain shining in his eyes, the exhaustion consuming him. The dark circles under his swollen eyes were clear evidence of his emotional state.

 

They stayed silent for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts.

 

"You know," Loki began, breaking the silence, "I've made many mistakes in my life. I've betrayed, deceived, killed..." He paused, his voice impassive. "But this time... this time it’s not about me."Tony fell silent for a moment, nodding. "Yeah. It's terrifying, isn't it?"

Loki stared at him, surprised by the sincerity of the response. Then he lowered his gaze. "You have no idea how much."

Tony sighed, taking a step closer. "Actually, I do. Fear is the price you pay when you start caring about something. Or someone."

Loki stiffened, his fists clenched at his sides. "As if you could understand what I'm feeling." He reached for the second bottle.

Tony chuckled, but without sarcasm. "Loki, breaking news: you're not the only one who has exclusive rights to suffering. I almost lost Pepper. She nearly died."

Loki turned, his face twisted in a grimace of surprise. "Your partner?"

Tony nodded, his expression suddenly serious. "To get back at me, a guy kidnapped her. There was this substance that almost destroyed her. A poison, if we want to call it that. Her cells were going crazy, and I was there, trying to figure it out while she... was changing. There was nothing simple or scientific about what I was doing. I had to experiment on her, use my reactor to try to fix things. I thought I was going to lose her. And if it had gone wrong, I don't think I would have ever forgiven myself."

Loki lowered his gaze, his heart tightening with a sudden sense of understanding. He finished the last amber sip.

"Every time someone you love is in danger, you wonder if you're doing enough, if you've made the right choice. Especially when, deep down, you know that, in part, it's your fault." Loki ran a hand through his hair, trying to push the thought away. "I'm not a hero. I'm not even a decent man. Every time someone gets too close to me, they end up hurt. Or worse."

Tony stared at him, more serious than Loki had ever seen him. "When Pepper was in danger, I would have done anything to save her. I pushed every limit, made decisions I still don't know if were right. But I did it because I loved her. And in the end, that's what matters: the choices we make when everything seems lost. It's those that show who we really are."

Loki turned slowly, locking eyes with Tony. "Tell me, Stark… do you really believe there could be a happy ending for someone like me?"

"Your wife is strong," Tony answered flatly. "And I’m not just talking about physical strength, although seeing her lift Clint was impressive. Sometimes strength is just the ability to do what’s necessary, even when you’re not sure you can. And she's determined to do whatever it takes."

Loki closed his eyes for a moment, feeling his heart beat heavily in his chest. His voice dropped, almost breaking. "This is the punishment I deserve, right? Watching her suffer and knowing I can't do anything to save her."

Tony ran a hand through his hair, as if trying to organize his thoughts. Then he set the glass down on the railing and turned toward him. "Trust us."

Loki looked at him, skeptical. "Trust you ?" He laughed, an empty sound. "The mortals who defeated me and sent me to prison?"

Tony crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah. Those mortals. The ones who, for better or worse, have always found a way to save the world."

Loki shook his head, his breath trembling. "I've betrayed everyone, even myself, so many times… I can't trust anyone anymore."

Tony looked him straight in the eye. "And yet, you are."

Loki didn’t respond immediately. The wind continued to blow, taking away his certainties, his walls. "A few weeks ago..." He stopped, then resumed in a low voice. "...my mother appeared to me in a dream. She's dead, and her soul is in Valhalla. It was her who told me about my son."

Tony didn’t interrupt him, waiting for him to finish.

Loki’s gaze darkened as he stared out at the night, his thoughts swirling with doubts and fear. "But this doesn’t change the fact that if anything goes wrong, it will be my fault."

Tony remained silent for a moment, then placed his glass on the railing and turned to face him.

"Failure is not an option."

Loki stood motionless, his heart pounding in his chest. "But it’s possible."

Tony crossed his arms, staring at Loki with a hard expression. "You’re insisting on seeing only the worst, as if fate is already written. But have you ever considered the other possibility? What if everything goes well? What if Sif survives, what if the baby is born healthy, what if you get the chance to create a family? You’re condemning yourself before you even know the outcome, and that’s not helping anyone—least of all her."

He took a step forward, lowering his voice but without losing firmness. "Sif needs strength, not someone who lets themselves be consumed by guilt. She can’t afford the luxury of carrying the weight of your despair too. If you truly care about her, if you want to give her a chance, then you have to be the first to believe it. Because if you don't, who will?"

Loki stood motionless, his jaw clenched. Then, after a long moment, he nodded slightly. Without looking at Tony, he spoke.

"Ullr."

Tony furrowed his brow. "Ullr, too?"

Loki took a deep breath, as if carefully choosing his words. "If she survives... if they survive... we’ll call him Ullr." Finally, he turned to Tony, locking eyes with him with a new intensity, almost uncertain. "Among the sons of Yggdrasil, Ullr was the god of hunting, of survival. A wanderer, one who always finds his way, no matter how hostile the path. Protector of hunters and travelers of the frozen lands."

"Sounds like a good compromise."

"His name means 'the glorious.' Ullr."

Tony watched him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. He understood what was happening. Loki wasn’t just repeating a name: for the first time, he was imagining a future. A future in which his son lived. In which he was there to see him grow.

Tony smiled slightly, tilting his head. "Sounds good. Ullr Laufeyson... or Odinson?"

Loki turned, surprised. "How do you know my father's name?"

Tony shrugged. "Thor started complaining and telling a bunch of stuff."

Loki stood still for a moment, then lifted his gaze to the dark sky. When he spoke, his voice was softer, almost reflective.

"Ullr. My son and Sif's. Nothing else matters."

Tony watched him for a moment, then nodded without saying anything else. Because, for the first time, even Loki didn’t seem ready to add anything.

Too much silence.

"Let’s hope he inherits all his mother's beauty. You know, Sif is really a beautiful woman... stunning, actually. And those legs... wow. Seriously, Loki, congratulations."

Loki turned toward him with the look of someone deciding whether to incinerate you on the spot or give you five more seconds of life. "Stop, Stark, while you still have time."

Tony raised his hands in surrender, but the smirk curving his lips betrayed any good intentions. "Come on, don't be so touchy. I'm just saying the truth. She's a goddess, literally. And you... you're one lucky guy. You know how many would trade half their kingdom for..."

"Stark."

Tony barely held back a laugh. "Okay, okay, I get it, no-go zone. But still... those legs."

For a moment, it seemed like Loki was really going to throw the bottle at him. But then, the shadow of a smile curled on his lips.

Tony gave him a pat on the shoulder and turned to leave.

"Stark."

Tony stopped, glancing at him sideways.

"You're not so bad after a bottle of whiskey."

Tony grinned. "Neither are you, you know? I turned out liking you a lot more than I originally planned."

Chapter 22: Chapter 22

Summary:

Sorry for the delay, I got some kind of virus and was so sick I thought about going to the hospital. I'm on the mend now. Thanks for all the love on the last chapter! We'll have Loki back in Doomsday, I can't be happier!

The Avengers’ base camp was cloaked in the silence of the night, wrapped in an apparent calm that clashed with the turmoil Loki felt inside. He had spent too much time thinking, letting his thoughts consume him, but now he knew exactly where he needed to be.

He opened the door to the room they had been assigned, trying not to make a sound, hoping Sif was already asleep. Instead, he found her sitting on the bed, one hand resting on her belly, the other supporting her head in a gesture of exhaustion. The light from the machines monitoring her physical condition cast a sad bluish glow across the room. When she looked up at him, her face still bore the shadows of their argument. Her green eyes studied him with a mix of relief and reproach.

“Done wandering?” she asked coldly, shifting to sit at the edge of the bed.

Loki held back a sigh. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but the chill in her voice hurt more than he was willing to admit.

He didn’t give her a chance to say more. In a few steps, he crossed the room and knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his.

“Forgive me.” His voice was a whisper, but heavy with meaning.

She looked at him closely, her expression unchanged. “Forgive you for what, exactly? For leaving me alone? For doubting us? Or for coming back just because someone pointed out you can’t run away?”

Loki clenched his jaw. He wouldn’t defend himself—he knew she was right. But the thought that she believed he was only there out of obligation hurt more than any blow he had ever taken in battle.

She tried to pull her hands away, but he didn’t let her.

“No, Sif.” His voice was more intense now, more certain. “I’m not here because I can’t run. I’m here because this is the only place I want to be. With you. I’m here because I love you. And because I love this child. I want our family.”

Sif’s eyes widened slightly, as if she hadn’t expected such a direct confession. But then she shook her head, still conflicted.

“Forgive me, Sif,” he sighed, gently tightening his grip on her fingers. “For letting fear make me say things I didn’t mean.” He paused, searching for the right words. “Sif, I love you. I’ve always loved you. That was never in doubt.”

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes now softer. “I know.”

Loki smiled faintly, bringing one of her hands to his lips and kissing it tenderly. Then he let his hand trail gently down her toned legs, brushing over them lightly.

“I think these are hurting you,” he murmured with a trace of concern, referring to her swollen ankles.

Sif snorted. “You have no idea.”

“Then let me take care of it.”
He gently slipped off her slippers and began to massage her feet with practiced movements, easing every bit of tension. Sif let out a soft moan, closing her eyes for a moment.

“Are you trying to bribe me? Because I’m really angry. You’ll have to try harder,” she asked, her voice softer than she intended.

Loki gave a faint smile and shook his head. “I’m just getting started.”

Sif tried to keep her pout, but her body betrayed her instantly. A sigh of relief escaped her lips, and Loki took the opportunity to look up and give her one of those smiles he knew were lethal to her resistance.

“You’re a fool,” she muttered, without conviction. “That’s not fair.”

“Oh, my dear, I’m trying to play every card I have.”

Sif stayed silent for a few seconds, studying him. Then she let out a sigh, and her gaze softened, though a shadow of stubbornness still lingered in her expression.

“You’re a fool,” she whispered.

“Mh, you already said that,” Loki raised an eyebrow, but before he could add more, Sif pulled him toward her with determination, forcing him to sit on the bed beside her.

She sat up slightly, reaching out to touch his face, making him look at her. “You’re already enough, Loki. You’re the only one I want beside me. But you have to want it too.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then leaned down and kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. “I do.”

He continued to care for her, massaging her ankles and slowly moving up her legs, easing all tension. Then he shifted to her back. His hands traced slow, sensual paths along her tense muscles, brushing them with intention. Sif melted into his touch, relaxing against him as his fingers drew slow circles across her shoulders. Loki began kissing wherever he could reach: her collarbone, her temple, the curve of her jaw. Each touch was a silent promise, his way of saying he was there, that he was sorry, that he would try.

He returned to her legs, starting from her feet and moving slowly upward, higher and higher, until he felt her shudder with a ripple of pleasure.

He grinned wickedly against her skin. “I should do this more often.”

Sif let out a moan as his hands reached exactly where she needed them. “You should.”

——

“Sif, are you okay? Friday detected a sudden spike in your heart rate and—oh, um, sorry.”

Bruce’s hologram flickered and immediately ended the call.

——

Sif completely melted in his hands, her breathing gradually slowing as the last waves of pleasure rippled through her. Her husband remained watching her with satisfaction until he saw her fully relaxed, her expression betraying the deep pleasure she had just experienced. Loki got up, placing one final kiss on her forehead.

He slipped off his shirt, remaining only in his pants. He opened the wardrobe, searching for something to sleep in.

“Don’t put anything on,” Sif murmured, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Loki arched an eyebrow, letting the shirt fall onto the bed. “If I stay shirtless, you’re going to get too distracted.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what I want.”

He chuckled softly, letting the offending garment drop. “Your wish is my command, milady.”

He lay down beside her, pulling her against his chest. Sif curled up against him, her head on his shoulder, her nose brushing his neck. Loki wrapped his arms around her, planting a slow kiss on her hair, one hand resting gently on her belly.

That’s when they felt it.

A faint movement, almost imperceptible, under Loki’s hand. Then, a second one—stronger this time.

Sif’s eyes widened, her hand immediately sliding over her belly. Loki froze for a moment, then gently placed his hand on top of hers.

It wasn’t just the physical contact—he felt it. He sensed it through the magical bond he shared with Sif. A spark, an echo of something familiar yet new. A soul responding to his own.

“Ullr.” He whispered the name of their child with a reverence close to awe.

The small kick came again.

Loki held his breath. He felt something stir inside him, a delicate thread binding him to that new life in a deep, visceral way. The crescent-shaped mark on his wrist glowed faintly, and he realized he could feel Ullr not just with his hand—but within himself.

He was connected to him.

“Did you feel that?” Sif asked, her voice full of emotion and wonder.

Loki didn’t answer right away. He gently squeezed her hand, then leaned down to kiss the exact spot where Ullr had kicked.

“I felt you,” he murmured, with a tenderness he would show only to them.

Sif looked at him, and her heart flooded with a warmth that washed away any trace of anger.

“He already loves you,” she whispered.

Loki closed his eyes, holding her tighter against him. And in that moment, for the first time, he wasn’t afraid anymore.

“Sleep, my love,” Loki whispered to her. “Tomorrow we leave. But tonight, it’s just the three of us.”

——

The Quinjet landed with pinpoint precision on the main courtyard of the royal palace of Wakanda, kicking up a cloud of red dust that quickly dispersed into the warm air. The tall vibranium towers shimmered under the sun, while the capital pulsed with life all around them—a sharp contrast to the tension that lingered inside the ship.

Loki hadn’t said a word the entire trip. He had sat beside Sif, his face unreadable, but his fingers tightly interlaced with hers betrayed his inner turmoil. She had let him be, knowing the God of Mischief would never openly admit to being terrified.

As soon as the hatch opened, a group of Dora Milaje advanced with firm steps, forming a protective circle around the exit ramp. Their presence was majestic, yet deeply reassuring. At the center of the formation, standing with the regal poise that defined him, were King T’Challa and Princess Shuri.

“Welcome to Wakanda,” T’Challa said, his voice calm and authoritative, yet with a warmth that spoke of genuine hospitality. His hands were clasped behind his back, but his gaze remained sharp and watchful.

Tony and Bruce descended first, but everyone’s attention was quickly drawn to Thor, who stepped off the ship with his signature radiant smile. His towering presence and infectious energy instantly lifted the atmosphere.

He stopped in front of the king, thumping a fist against his chest with a force that would’ve made anyone else tremble. “Ah! At last we meet, King T’Challa. My friend Iron Man has told me so much about you.”

T’Challa raised an eyebrow, his expression composed, though a flicker of suspicion danced in his eyes. “I hope he only told you the right things,” he replied courteously, his voice more measured than Thor’s cheerful tone—but the respect was unmistakable.

Thor chuckled, giving T’Challa a friendly pat on the shoulder—though his strength, while not meant to be aggressive, didn’t go unnoticed. T’Challa took a small step back to absorb the impact, never losing his composure.
“Of course! You’re a strong and noble king, just like me!” Thor added with a confident smile, as if his statement were a universal truth.

Tony, walking down behind them, threw his friend a look and scoffed.
“Oh no, another one with the royal superiority complex. Must be contagious.”

“It’s not a complex, Stark,” Thor replied, still smiling. “You just don’t understand. Nobility can’t be faked—you either have it, or you don’t.”

T’Challa listened silently, his gaze still fixed on Thor, composed but cautious.
“It’s good to meet you, Thor. I’ve heard about the fate of your realm. Know that Wakanda will do everything in its power to help your people.”

“Thank you, King T’Challa, I truly appreciate it.”

“No ‘king,’ just T’Challa is fine.”

Tony had been quiet for too long.
“Well, I for one am also thrilled to be here. Thanks for asking. Really. But I don’t know, Wakanda feels a little… too perfect to be real.”

Bruce, meanwhile, had descended more slowly, his awkward demeanor immediately apparent. He maneuvered through the group, his face lit up by a nervous smile.
“Hi, I’m Bruce Banner, um… your majesty?” he said, almost embarrassed, extending a hand toward T’Challa but unable to maintain eye contact.

Shuri, who had been watching with a smirk, stepped forward lightly.
“Oh, look who we have here! The famous Doctor Banner! Can I call you Hulk?”

T’Challa nudged her with his elbow.

She feigned offense. “What? He’s famous!”

Bruce smiled shyly, his hand still trembling slightly as he shook hers.
“I’d rather you didn’t… but I appreciate the enthusiasm.”

“Don’t be shy,” Shuri replied with a wide grin. “I based my doctoral thesis on your research into gamma radiation. You’ll love Wakanda—it’s full of toys.”

As Loki moved down the ramp, the Dora Milaje instantly sprang into action.

The king’s eyes immediately locked onto him—cold and scrutinizing.
“So the demigod who nearly destroyed New York walks in my kingdom.”

Loki stopped, amusement flickering on his lips.
“Ah, of course. Wouldn’t want Wakanda to offer the benefit of the doubt.”

T’Challa didn’t move, his gaze unwavering.
“Wakanda doesn’t forget, Loki of Asgard. Not the battles fought on Earth, nor the faces of those who caused them.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise.
“Oh, so I’m not seen as a redeemed hero? What a pity. I swear I’m not here to conquer anything this time.”

Shuri crossed her arms, shaking her head.
“Come on, brother, don’t start with our guests.”

“He’s a war criminal!”

Tony stepped in before things could escalate.
“Okay, okay, everyone chill. I know Loki’s not exactly the kind of guy you’d invite over for family dinner…”

“I wouldn’t even invite him into my garden,” T’Challa muttered, raising an eyebrow.

Tony nodded.
“See? Perfect example. But today, he’s here for a good reason.”

Loki placed a hand over his chest, mock offended.
“Always so loving, Stark.”

Shuri interjected with a smile.
“Alright, alright, kings and princes can measure egos later. Where’s the patient?”

Loki finally moved, descending with a careful step as he helped Sif. He didn’t like being here, didn’t like putting his trust in strangers, placing the life of the woman he loved in the hands of others.
But for her, he would do anything.

Shuri approached with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what she was doing, her sharp eyes already assessing Sif’s condition. She wore her usual cheeky smile, but in her gaze burned a spark of genuine curiosity.

“Welcome to Wakanda,” she said, eyeing the warrior with interest. “We don’t often get Asgardian visitors… and even fewer Asgardian patients.”

Sif, supported by Loki, lifted her chin slightly, trying to mask her weakness with the pride that was so inherently hers. She didn’t like appearing vulnerable—especially not in front of a stranger.

“And it’s not often I need help,” she replied with a steady voice, despite the fatigue.

Shuri tilted her head, lips curving into an amused smile.
“Oh, I already like your spirit. But let’s get you settled before your pride makes you faint on your feet.”

She turned with a quick gesture and clapped her hands, issuing instructions to her team. Loki watched her warily, every fiber of his being tense with the fear that something might go wrong. But Shuri moved with natural efficiency, as if she had already calculated every possible outcome.

“Take her to the lab. Don’t worry, Lord of Mischief,” she added, shooting Loki a glance. “I know how to handle difficult cases.”

Loki stared at her for a moment, trying to determine whether her tone hid provocation or true confidence. Then his gaze dropped to Sif, and he nodded. He had no choice.

He took a deep breath, gestured for Thor and the others to follow, and together they made their way toward the palace.

As they walked through the long corridors of the palace, the group found themselves immersed in a world suspended between tradition and technology. The walls literally pulsed with energy, thanks to strands of vibranium embedded in the decorations. Every corner was an architectural masterpiece, where Wakanda’s past intertwined seamlessly with its future.

“This place is unreal,” Bruce murmured, his eyes darting around as he tried to memorize every detail.

Tony nodded, running a hand along a surface that was smooth as glass but solid as steel.
“Yeah, I’ll admit it. This is every engineer’s wet dream.”

Shuri watched them with an amused smirk.
“If you like the palace, wait until you see the sunset.”

“Wakandan sunsets are the most beautiful in the world,” she added with pride. “We have a spectacular vantage point overlooking the city.”

Thor, who had remained silent until then, raised an eyebrow.
“Bold words. I’ve seen the sunsets of Asgard.”

Shuri shrugged.
“And I’ve seen those of Wakanda. Come see ours, then we’ll talk, Thunder Prince.”

Meanwhile, Loki walked with a measured pace, hands clasped behind his back. The environment, though welcoming, made him uneasy. Too much vibranium, too much technology, too many eyes on him.

Sif, despite the weight of exhaustion, tried to focus on her surroundings. Wakanda was unlike any place she’d ever seen. And as fascinating as it was, her mind was fogged by worry.
Loki knew. He felt the tension in the way she squeezed his hand.

“We’re almost there,” Shuri announced, stopping in front of a large door that opened automatically, revealing a state-of-the-art laboratory. “We’ll need to run a full scan on both of you.”

Shuri led them inside with the air of someone about to have a bit of fun.
“Welcome to my kingdom. Try not to touch anything—unless you want to trigger some rather… unfriendly security protocols.”

She approached a panel and brushed her fingers across it. The entire room lit up softly, and several holographic screens rose from the floor.

The lab doors slid open with a hiss, revealing a room bathed in blue light and dotted with floating projections. At its center stood a large circular machine, its metallic surface faintly reflecting the room’s radiant glow.

Sif, supported by Loki, stepped forward hesitantly and stopped in front of the device. The bluish shimmer of energy made her shiver, a distant echo of memories rising within her.
The elegant contours and almost mystical aura of the machine stirred something deeply familiar—something that once existed in Asgard.

In a faint voice, she whispered:
“It’s a Soul Forge?”

Shuri, who was checking parameters on a holographic interface, raised an eyebrow and turned to Sif with a smirk.

“Does a Soul Forge transfer molecular energy from one place to another?”
Sif paused for a moment, then tilted her head slightly. “Probably?” The tone came out almost as a question.

“I’d say we’ve made some progress since your divine blacksmiths’ days,” Tony chimed in, examining the machine with interest. “I gotta say, I love the tech in this place. It’s like science decided to stop following the rules and just have fun.”

“We’ll start with Sif,” Shuri said, helping her to lie down.

She gestured for her assistants to leave as she led Sif to the healing table—an elegant black structure with rounded edges, laced with vibranium threads that pulsed with a soft blue light.

“Lie down here,” she instructed, activating the interface with a swift motion of her hand. A transparent hologram materialized above the table, displaying real-time vital signs.

Sif hesitated. She didn’t like feeling vulnerable, especially in an unfamiliar place. But a quick glance at Loki, watching her with a tense jaw and hands clasped behind his back, reminded her she wasn’t alone. Taking a deep breath, she settled onto the table.

As soon as her body touched the surface, it automatically adapted to her form, emitting a soft hum while currents of energy traced the edges. Shuri slid her fingers through the air, opening a diagnostic hologram above Sif’s body. Complex data began to stream before her eyes.

“Okay, let’s see what’s going on here,” Shuri said, focused on the readings. “Griot, monitor the patient’s and the baby’s vital signs.”

“Analysis in progress,” replied the AI with its calm voice. “Fluctuating energy levels. Unstable pressure. Severe fatigue.”

“Yeah, well, we already knew that,” Tony commented, arms crossed as he observed. “So, princess, how bad is it? Should we start carving the name on a headstone or not yet?”

Shuri raised an eyebrow and shook her head with a smirk. “Relax, Iron Man. I have no intention of losing my first Asgardian patient. Wouldn’t look good on the résumé.”

“Or on your lab,” Tony added. “Because if something happens to her, our friend over there—” he gestured to Loki “—will turn this palace into a pile of golden rubble.”

Loki didn’t answer, but the tight clench of his jaw said plenty.

Shuri returned to the data, analyzing the baby’s parameters. What she saw was… intriguing.

“Okay,” she finally said, arms crossed. “I need to understand something. Loki, exactly… what species is the baby?”

Loki raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Didn’t your friends forward you that information?”

Shuri sighed. “Yeah, sure, from the email I gathered something about… Jotun? But biologically speaking, this is an interesting mix: Asgardian DNA, yes, but also something else.” She pointed at the floating holograms. “There’s genetic code here that doesn’t match any known database. The vibranium is reading it in a way I didn’t expect. I need to understand it better.”

Loki was silent for a moment, then looked away. “I’m a Jotun,” he finally said. “A Frost Giant.”

Shuri studied him with interest. “That explains some of the anomalies.” She pulled up another diagram showing the genetic profile. “The baby’s cellular structure is actively managing two distinct evolutionary lines. It’s like it’s choosing which genetic code to prioritize. The vibranium is detecting fluctuations… and that might explain why Sif feels so unwell.”

Loki stiffened. Hearing it said aloud hurt.

Shuri pointed to the readings. “Sif’s body is reacting to these mutations in real time. The baby is likely adapting to her genes, and vice versa. It’s a fascinating biological dynamic, but it’s putting a lot of stress on her system.”

Tony and Bruce both nodded.
“Yeah, our scans showed the same thing.”

Bruce studied the holographic data. “If this machine can stabilize Sif’s cellular structure, then we might have a real shot. But I don’t want to stop there.”

He turned to Shuri with a determined look. “I have a theory: Loki’s magic suppresses his Jotun side at a molecular level. If we can identify it in his blood, we could synthesize it and use it as a matrix for Sif. And with your tech, we might be able to integrate it into her system.”

Shuri’s fingers flew across the interface as she processed the idea. “Interesting… If I can map that genetic suppression, I could manually adjust it for compatibility with Sif’s body. But be warned: this is an extremely delicate process. Even the smallest instability, and we risk losing her.”

Loki clenched his jaw. “Then make sure it works.”

Shuri nodded.
“Griot, initiate energy regulation protocol and reinforce vital support.”

“Confirmed. Activation in progress.”

A golden light spread around Sif, and the table vibrated gently as the system began rebalancing her energy.

Shuri nodded, satisfied. “She should feel better in a few minutes. But we’ll need to monitor her constantly.” She skimmed the readings again, then turned to Loki. “Okay, I need a direct comparison. Can you show me your Jotun form?”

A chill ran down Loki’s spine. His expression hardened. “I don’t think that’s necessary. Can’t you just work from this?”

“On the contrary,” Shuri replied, professional but not aggressive. “Your biology is… unique. We’ve never seen anything like it. If your magic is truly suppressing your Jotun side, then there might be a trace, something at the cellular or genetic level.”

She opened a new set of scans. “But I need to understand how it works. To see what happens when that suppression stops, even for a moment. Only then can we think about replicating it… I need to see it happen. I need to see what happens when the other side takes over.”

Thor turned sharply to his brother, confused. “Wait, you want him to transform here? Now?”

“Well, yeah. The sooner we start, the better.” Shuri crossed her arms. “What? Problem?”

Thor looked at Loki, then lowered his voice. “I…uh, I don’t know if my brother’s okay with that.”

Loki instantly tensed. His fingers curled around his wrists, body folding in on itself.
Sif watched him closely and immediately understood. Thor had never seen him like that.

Loki looked down for a moment, as if weighing every possible consequence. His throat tightened. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t shame. It was something subtler, deeper.

Disgust. The kind they teach you as a child.
The reflection of red eyes and blue skin in shattered ice.
The feeling of belonging nowhere.
Would Thor look at him with revulsion?
His whole world had collapsed when he’d learned the truth about his nature, and Thor—Thor had always seen him as the prince of Asgard, his brother, not the son of Frost Giants.

Sif, sensing his inner struggle, placed a hand on his. “Hey… it’s okay.” Her voice was calm, steady, a whisper. “You know this doesn’t matter. It doesn’t define you. This won’t change anything.”

Shuri stepped in, calm but firm. “The scans Stark sent show a remarkable balance in your DNA, but they’re just static data. To truly understand how your body maintains that coexistence, I need to see the process in real time.”

She moved closer, eyes locked on Loki. “I want to see how your physiology changes during transformation. That’s where we’ll find the key to helping Sif. Without that sequence, I’m working in the dark.”

There was a long silence. Then, with a slow breath, he nodded. “Very well.”

Shuri gave a small smile. “Good. Come here.”
“You want me to leave?” Thor whispered.
“I’m staying! I want to see Mr. Freeze in action.”
“Tony!” Bruce elbowed him in the ribs.

Loki stepped toward the scanning platform, his movements stiff and measured. Shuri nodded seriously as she prepared the setup.
Thor grabbed his arm gently.

“It doesn’t change anything, you know that, right? Brother.”
He emphasized the last word.
Loki nodded.
He stopped at the center of the circular platform, the blue vibranium lights pulsing beneath him. Everyone watched, waiting.

He hesitated for just a second. Then he closed his eyes and let it happen.

The transformation was slow, more controlled than it had ever been before. His skin began to cool, shifting from Asgardian pale to a deep, rich blue, as faint dark lines emerged along his arms and neck. His eyes, now glowing red, gleamed under the lab lights.

A heavy silence fell over the room.

And then…

“Well,” Tony Stark remarked with a grin, “looks like Banner’s not the only one with color-changing powers anymore.”

Shuri chuckled, her fingers dancing across the scans. “Oh, this is definitely interesting.”

In the heavy silence, Thor held his breath.

It was the first time he truly saw him. Not a reflection. Not an illusion. Not a nightmare creature.

Loki, his little brother.

Thor opened his mouth but couldn’t find the words. There was something wrong in the way Loki lowered his head, as if bracing for judgment. As if he was ready to be rejected once more.

Thor’s heart cracked.
He stepped forward and, very gently, placed a hand on Loki’s shoulder.

Loki stiffened. It was a simple gesture, almost innocent, yet it sent a chill deeper than any battle ever had.

The God of Mischief looked up, and for a moment, Thor saw something vulnerable in his eyes.

He was tired. And somehow… relieved.

“We can start the scans now,” Shuri said. “Stay like this for a few minutes.”

“Okay, here’s something I didn’t have on today’s bingo card. Do you prefer ‘Frosty the Snowman’ or ‘Deluxe Avatar’? No, wait… ‘Ice Ice Loki’! Yep, that’s the one.”

Loki, deliberately ignoring Stark, kept his eyes on his brother.
“You know, Loki, the problem’s not the blue skin. It’s your face.”

Loki gave him an incredulous look. “…which is incredibly handsome?”

Thor shrugged. “More or less.”

Slowly, the shadow of a smile tugged at Loki’s lips. Maybe he didn’t feel like a monster after all.

And maybe, just maybe, being truly seen… wasn’t so bad.

Chapter 23: Chapter 23

Summary:

I wrote it more than a month ago and I simply didn't remember how beautiful this chapter was! Sorry for the wait, uploads will probably be slower because the season when I work a lot more is starting. I hope to do my best anyway. Thank you for all the kudos from the guests in the last chapter.

The monitors pulsed like a frantic heart, casting cold lights across the lab walls. DNA helices danced in the holograms, in a swirl that looked more like a storm than genetic order.

It was the third day of nonstop work. No one had really slept. The lab vibrated with tension and exhaustion. Loki had already undergone the transformation multiple times under observation, shifting from his Asgardian form to his Jotun one and back again, each time with increasing effort. Shuri and Bruce tried to capture that key moment when magic and biology seemed to merge.

Shuri frowned, her fingers moving with surgical speed across the lightboard. Bruce stood beside her, while Tony watched in silence, hands clasped in front of his mouth. Even Loki, famously impatient, said nothing. He had started to feel the limits of his own body, but didn’t show it.

“If I see one more failed sequence, I swear I’ll melt this lab with my mind,” Tony muttered, casting an exasperated glance at the genetic spiral dissolving in front of him once again.

“Threatening the tech won’t speed up the results,” Shuri replied without looking up. Her voice was flat, focused, but there was a subtle tremble in her fingers—a sign that fatigue was beginning to weigh on her.

They had been searching for hours for the right sequence—that neutral zone, that fragment of code that allowed his body to coexist with two biologically incompatible natures: Asgardian and Jotun.

“This makes no sense…” Bruce muttered, frustrated. “Every time we get close, the sequence unravels. It’s like… it refuses to be read.”

“Maybe it doesn’t refuse,” Shuri said, her eyes locked on a micro-variation in the pattern. “Maybe it adapts. Every time we try to isolate it, it reconfigures. As if it were… alive.”

“The Jotun gene is acting like it knows it’s being watched?” Tony asked, baffled. “Great. Now DNA is passive-aggressive too.”

Loki laughed—a low, almost bitter sound. “Welcome to my biology. Every part of me was born to survive. Even if it means deceiving those trying to save me.”

“This isn’t survival,” Shuri countered, her tone firm. “It’s self-defense. Your code has protected itself for centuries. But now, it has to let itself be read.”

Let itself be read.

Loki looked down, his fingers clenched into a fist. A thought sprang to mind—a memory slowly rising through the pain and frustration of the moment. His mother, Frigga. Her voice, soft yet solemn. Her words—ones he never truly understood during one of those moments when he’d poured out his heart to her, when no one seemed to understand why he preferred magic over combat.

“My love, you only need to give others time to read between the lines, to see who you truly are. Loki, your nature is so unique, it may not be for everyone—but that’s what makes you special. You’ll never have to choose between one or the other, if you learn how to balance them. If you do, you’ll be unstoppable. But remember, only you can choose how. You don’t have to fight your nature—balance it.”

It was a lesson he had never fully grasped. He hadn’t even known he was Jotun. The truth his mother had hidden—perhaps to protect him—was now revealing just how much he had always stood between two worlds, between two identities battling for control.

And it was in that instant that the unexpected happened.

Loki brought a hand to his chest; a sudden tremor ran through him. Bruce turned sharply. “Another switch?”

“No… something’s changed,” Loki murmured, staring at his hands as they shifted to blue, then quickly back to pale. “I’m not controlling it.”

The screens flared to life. The lines that had been breaking apart a second ago aligned into a single stable structure. A spontaneous reaction.

“Wait…” Bruce moved closer. “Shuri, slow down. Go back two scans.”

The three huddled around her as she pointed to a floating fragment of the genetic code. It was unstable, yes, but it wasn’t collapsing immediately. It vibrated. It oscillated. As if trying to hold itself together.

“I’ve seen it twice in the last few sequences,” Shuri explained, her fingers flying across the keyboard. “It’s like a pulse… a genetic synapse. It only shows up under certain conditions.”

“A conditional gene,” Bruce nodded. “As if it responds to external stimuli… or emotional ones.”

“Emotional?” Tony scoffed. “Now DNA has feelings?”

“It’s him,” Bruce whispered. “It’s the bridging gene. The JotunSwitch.”

“No,” Tony said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “It’s Loki himself. A perfect symbol: unstable, unpredictable… but somehow, functional.”

Shuri isolated the sequence with steady hands.
“We need a direct extraction. Pure sample. Loki… we need one of your stem cells. Viscera or bone marrow.”

Loki stiffened. “Viscera?”

Tony turned to the tray of instruments.
“Don’t worry. It’ll be quick. And probably painful.”

“Don’t listen to him, it’s just a tiny prick,” Bruce reassured him.

And when the sample was finally ready and Shuri placed it under the quantum microscope, something in the air shifted. The lines aligned. The structure solidified.

They had done it.

The lab held its breath.

Then Tony, almost voiceless, whispered:
“Guys… we have the gene.”

Loki closed his eyes. For the first time, he said nothing.

⸻

Tony tilted his head, staring at the genetic structure projected before him. “Now comes the hard part. We need to figure out how to replicate this process in someone who isn’t Loki.”

Bruce rubbed his chin, thoughtful. “We’re talking about a high-risk operation. Sif’s body isn’t built for this kind of mutation. We could trigger severe cellular instability.”

Shuri nodded, scrolling through data. “Yes. If we can’t regulate the gene expression properly, her immune system could reject the mutation—causing a fatal response.”

Tony grimaced. “And this is where it turns into a nightmare experiment. We can’t just copy and paste Loki’s code into her. We need to find a way to make it compatible.”

Shuri crossed her arms. “And to do that, we need to study her genome and figure out which sequences we can alter without compromising her biological structure.”

Bruce sighed. “We need a viral vector to introduce the gene into her DNA without triggering an autoimmune reaction. We could use a modified CRISPR virus, but…”

Tony cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Hold on, hold on. Are you saying we need to program a virus to rewrite her genetic code without crashing her system?”

Bruce nodded. “Exactly.”

Shuri gave a quick nod. “And to do that, we’ll have to analyze every possible interaction between Loki’s gene and Sif’s genetic code.”

Tony let out a breath and dropped into a swivel chair. “Okay, so we’re trying to pull off in a few days what nature took centuries to evolve. Perfect. I love playing God.”

Bruce wiped a hand across his forehead. “No one’s ever done anything like this before. If we mess up even one step…”

Shuri turned to them with a slightly provocative smile. “But we won’t mess up. We’re the best, right?”

Tony shrugged. “If there’s not a decent level of danger, it’s not fun.”

Shuri gave him an amused look. “And here I thought science was supposed to be precise and meticulous.”

Tony leaned back, hands behind his head. “Oh, it is. But a little drama makes it more interesting.”

Bruce shook his head, returning to the data. “Drama or not, we need to move with extreme caution. Sif is putting her life in our hands.”

A brief silence fell over the room. As much as they loved to tease and provoke each other, they all knew how dangerous this was.

Shuri broke the silence. “Alright, boys. Let’s do this right.”

Tony sighed and went back to work. “Yeah, sure. But for the record, if anyone survives this madness, I’m claiming the patent rights for this technology.”

Bruce gave him a tired look. “Tony…”

Tony raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, no patents. At least for now.”

Shuri shook her head, hiding a smile. “Let’s begin.”

————————

Loki and Sif stepped out of their room and walked along the palace gardens. The sun was setting, painting the sky with golden and orange hues that reflected off the city below. The vibranium domes shimmered like they were made of liquid light.

Sif paused by a panoramic terrace, resting her arms on the railing. The small floating monitor, with IVs and sensors stabilizing her vitals, had almost become a familiar companion. “Shuri was right. It’s an extraordinary view.”

Loki joined her, his face lit by the glow of the sunset. “It is. But I’m surprised you can relax, even for a moment.”

Sif glanced sideways at him with a tired smile. “You should try it too. Not everything requires a fight.”

He chuckled. “Are you sure about that?”

“Pretty sure.” Sif turned to study his profile. “You know, this whole thing with your genetic code… doesn’t it weigh on you? Finding out you’ve been altered so deeply?”

Loki was silent for a moment. Then, in a softer voice, he said, “I don’t know. I spent half my life wanting to be someone else. And now I find out my existence is a biological miracle. I suppose it’s ironic. At least Odin did one thing right.”

Sif looked down, toying with the clasp on her bracelet. “It doesn’t change anything for me. You’re still you. You know that, right?”

Loki looked at her, surprised by the sincerity in her voice. Then his gaze softened, and he turned back to the sunset. “So that means you don’t mind being tied to an anomaly.”

Sif let out a soft laugh. “I’ve lived long enough to know the only thing that really matters is who you choose to be. And you, Loki… You’re a legend. One way or another.”

He tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “A legend, huh?”

“Of course. Just don’t let it go to your head.”

Loki laughed quietly. Then, almost instinctively, he brushed her hand. Sif laced her fingers through his without hesitation.
“Too late, I’m afraid.”

Loki placed a hand on her belly, hoping to feel Ullr kick.
“If everything goes well, soon we’ll be able to focus only on us… on our future. I have to admit, they’re working hard in that lab to program that machine.”

He took a deep breath.
Sif gently took his chin between her hands.
“It’s going to be alright. I’ll just be a little more like you.” She kissed him softly.

Loki tried to smile at her, knowing they had only a few more hours of peace before they would call Sif in to begin the procedure that would change her forever. And that would save both her and their son. At least, he hoped so.

The Wakandan sky was a mosaic of violet and gold, as if someone had painted it just for them.
Loki stood in silence.
And silence, in that moment, was comforting. It saved him from saying something particularly stupid—something that had been echoing in his head since they boarded the ship to Midgard.
Loki had known many silences in his life.
But the silence with Sif wasn’t empty.
It was full of presence.
Of heartbeats.
Of connection.

Then he felt it.
A warm tingle along his right wrist.
The mark.

That small magical shape that had appeared on both of them the day of their wedding… the soft pink crescent.
They had never truly gotten used to what it did.
When they made love, it grew warm.
When they fought, it darkened.
When they were happy together… it shimmered like a gentle iridescence beneath the skin.

And in that moment… it began to glow.
As if it were anticipating something.

Sif looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Loki… what are you up to?”
That little traitor of a mark.
He swallowed. “Me? Nothing. Just… breathing next to you.”
But the mark grew warmer. And she laughed.
“Well, actually… there is one thing.”

Loki dropped to one knee, his expression serious—almost too serious for him.
“Listen, Sif. Our marriage was a pact. A necessary choice for the situation we found ourselves in, almost tactical. It made sense. But now… I want something that doesn’t make sense. Something completely insane.”

She narrowed her eyes, suspicious.
“Like what?”

He took her hands, placing their wrists together.
“I want to marry you.”
“Loki, we’re already married.”
“Not to save you from a gnome tribunal. Not to save Asgard or Midgard or to trap Thor into an awkward speech with some creature a quarter his size. Not to recognize a child I would’ve claimed no matter what. I want to marry you because I don’t want to live another day without being able to call you my wife, fully aware that you are mine. Because I love you. And because you, in some ridiculous way, love me too.”

Another silence.
Sif stared at him, stunned.
“Because you do, right?”

Sif laughed—that rough, warm laugh of hers that shook something deep inside him.
“I already am yours, you idiot. In every possible way, I’m yours. And you’re mine.”

He stood up, smiling beneath the black strands falling across his face.
“So… is that a yes?”
“I’ll say yes. Every time you ask me. It’ll always be yes for us.”

Loki looked at her, and for a moment, he didn’t seem like a god.
He seemed like a boy in love.
“Then get ready. I might ask you every morning.”

In the silence that followed, as they kissed, even Thor let out a broken breath, hidden behind a tree as he watched the scene.
Alright.
They needed to organize a proper Asgardian wedding before Sif underwent surgery.
To create a beautiful memory—something radiant—no matter what fate decided.
Something that would bring joy to his brother… and to his nephew.
In the unbearable, yet still possible, case that things went wrong.

Chapter 24: Chapter 24

 

It wasn’t Asgard. But that evening, among suspended gardens and floating platforms, it would become so.
Thor had set to work with an enthusiasm that even the most epic battles couldn’t stir. As soon as Loki revealed his intention to marry Sif according to the Asgardian rite, he didn’t hesitate for a second. He set to work asking T’Challa’s permission to recreate a semblance of what they used to call home.
“We will organize a wedding worthy of legends. No illusions, no running away. This time it will be real.”

Loki, more reserved but clearly moved, nodded. “Well, I’d remind you I didn’t run away the first time either.”
Thor made a face. “Yes, but there wasn’t enough conviction. Now I see you’re really ready, brother!”
He patted him hard on the shoulder, making him jump.
“If I hadn’t married her, we’d still be in Sharpsellinham asking those bigoted gnomes for help. Not that she was very convinced. Now… I want her to know I do this by choice. Not out of duty. Because I love her.”

Thor said nothing, but his look was clear: he was proud of him. And maybe a little surprised too.

With the permission of T’Challa and the queen mother, the palace’s ceremonial garden was set up for the occasion. Strings of lights hung suspended in the air like tamed fireflies, local flowers and runic symbols intertwined harmoniously, and the sweet sound of Wakandan instruments accompanied the preparations.
Shuri, halfway between scientist and event organizer, had more fun than ever.
“If my mother knew I was helping prepare a wedding between a god and a warrior, she’d say I finally found a healthy hobby.”
Ramonda appeared from behind a bush in her immaculate white outfit.
“It’s about time you found a hobby that doesn’t involve things that explode.”
T’Challa watched everything with regal composure, but a slight smile on his face.
“In Wakanda we honor love. Even if it comes… from other realms.”

⸻

Brunnhilde arrived riding a matte black motorcycle straight from the landing pad, her cloak fluttering like a proud shadow behind her. In the short time she had been on Midgard, she had discovered that this strange vehicle called a Ducati could somehow replace her Pegasus.
Heimdall, silent and imposing, walked among the Wakandans as if he saw everything — and probably he did.

Then there was Peter, who was looking at everything with a amazed expression, as if he had entered a completely new world. Every corner, every detail of the ceremony seemed to astonish him. Tony noticed him from afar while he stared with wide eyes at a statue of an ancient Wakandan god.

He approached him with a slightly crooked smile, not entirely surprised.

“Kid, how did you get here?”

Peter, visibly embarrassed, turned to him with a nervous smile.
“Mr. Stark! Well, I… I asked Cap. I told him I needed to… see new places, to improve myself, you know, in emotional growth and experiences. So… he brought me here. Although I’m not sure he understood what that meant, but… here we are.”

Tony looked at him for a moment, an expression between a scolding and confusion. Then he shook his head with a half-smile.
“You’re a hopeless case, Parker. But, you know what? It’s nice to see you here. Really. Even if you should stop doing these things without asking permission. But you’re part of the family now.”

Peter smiled shyly, then became serious.
“Uh, Mr. Stark, I don’t know if I should congratulate… uh, Mr. Loki. Because… technically, he’s already married, right?”

Tony burst out laughing but looked at him fondly.
“Right, Parker, right. But this is one of those times when the ‘technical’ marriage doesn’t count for much. So, yes, it wouldn’t be wrong if you want to congratulate Mr. Big Ice Cube.”

Peter nodded, laughing, while looking around, trying to decipher the Asgardian traditions surrounding him.

“Have fun, kid, and stuff yourself at the buffet. No alcohol, please.”

⸻

Loki had slipped away from the lively crowd for a moment, finding solitude on the highest balcony overlooking the garden. He drew in a slow, deep breath, savoring the faint scent of exotic flowers before letting it drift out gently.

He didn’t turn when he heard footsteps approaching quietly behind him. But the rhythm was unmistakable — steady and familiar.

“Tony told me you wanted to talk,” Thor’s voice broke the silence as he came to stand behind him.

For a long moment, Loki said nothing. Then, slowly, he turned to meet his brother’s eyes.

“There’s something important you need to know.”

Thor raised an eyebrow, a teasing edge in his voice. “Please don’t tell me you’ve gone and done something… disastrously stupid.”

A faint, bitter smile tugged at Loki’s lips. “For once, no. I haven’t made a mess… this time.”

He rolled back his sleeve with deliberate care, revealing the pale crescent-shaped mark on his right wrist. It glowed softly, faintly pulsing like a heartbeat beneath his skin.

Thor stared at it, confusion flickering across his face. “What… is that?”

“It appeared right after our wedding at Sharpellinham. The bond the gnomes forged wasn’t just a symbol. There’s real magic in it — deep, powerful magic. Sif and I are connected by this mark. We can feel each other’s emotions, our moods… even our pain. It’s as if our souls are woven together.”

Thor’s expression grew serious, his voice low. “How deep does this connection run?”

Loki looked away briefly, the weight of the truth pressing down on him. Then, meeting Thor’s gaze again, he confessed quietly, “That’s the thing. I don’t fully understand it myself. The magic is ancient — older than anything I’ve known. But… there’s a chance that if something happens to her, if she dies… I might not survive it.”

Thor spun to face him fully, eyes dark and fierce, jaw tight with emotion.

“Loki…”

“No, listen to me.” Loki’s voice was steady, but filled with a solemn urgency. “If something happens to me… or to both of us… and our son lives… I want you to raise him. As if he were your own. He must never feel alone, never feel different or unworthy of this family. I want you to show him love. To give him a place to belong.”

He paused, swallowing hard before adding in a soft, almost fragile whisper, “Swear it to me.”

Thor didn’t hesitate. His voice was resolute, almost a vow carried on the wind.
“I swear it. On the stars that shine above our mother’s cloak. On the thunder that courses through my veins. He will be mine. And I will tell him stories of you… as one tells legends.”

Loki held his brother’s gaze for a long moment. Then, without a word, he stepped forward and embraced him —
a rare, genuine gesture —
one filled with the unspoken depths that only the truest bonds can hold.

⸻

The music shifted. A flow of purple and gold light, cast by Wakandan crystals suspended among the trees, accompanied the bride’s arrival.

Sif walked proudly, her steps steady like a warrior’s, but her heart hammered like a wild drum. Each step was a victory over doubts, fears… and the love that, despite everything, she had chosen to believe in.
Her dress was an Asgardian masterpiece: pearly white, with delicate golden inlays and ancient runic stitches across the chest — symbols of protection, prosperity, and fidelity. Her bare shoulders were adorned with tiny Wakandan crystals, which Shuri had set with careful hands and watchful eyes. They looked like stars embedded in her skin.

By her side, Heimdall wore his ceremonial armor. Every step he took was a silent vow, a promise of honor to Asgard’s daughter he now led to the altar.

Loki waited. His hair carefully groomed, his dark green tunic enriched with antique gold buckles and hand-stitched details. His face was tighter than ever, but his eyes… his eyes burned like green fire beneath the purple twilight sky.

Thor, standing at the center, dressed in the ritual robes of Asgard’s rulers, spoke with a smile that tried to hide his emotion:

“As king, as brother, and as the one who has had to listen to Loki talk about this wedding for two whole days… I welcome you all.”

A ripple of laughter passed through the guests, easing the atmosphere.

“Today, according to Asgardian tradition, you unite before the Gods and the memory of our ancestors. As a symbol of your bond, you will exchange the binding bands: woven with golden threads to represent Frigga’s Mantle and blessed with the light of the Tree of the Nine Realms.”

Two golden ribbons were brought by two Asgardian children. One for each of them. When the couple’s hands met, the bands were wrapped around their wrists. A knot. A bond.

“From this moment, what is yours belongs also to the other. And what you face… you will face together.”

Loki gazed at Sif. Forehead to forehead. Hand in hand. The golden knot shone between them like a small sun.

“As tradition holds, the bride and groom may now speak their vows.”

Sif breathed in slowly. She looked into his eyes, her soul full of love, her voice barely trembling with emotion:

“I, Sif, choose you. With all truths and lies. With my glory and with my fault. You are my only certainty. Now and forever.”

In her mind, memories flashed like lightning: the first time she truly saw him smile when they were children… the night they chose no longer to be afraid. And now, here they were. Their time had come.

A shiver ran down Loki’s spine. A tremor. A relief.

“I, Loki, choose you. With your shadow and your light. You are my battle, my peace. My beginning… and my will to fight even the end.”

Thor coughed, visibly moved, trying not to ruin the moment with tears.

“I now declare you husband and wife. Again. This time for real. Loki, you may kiss her. But… please, with moderation. There are children in the audience. And Tony.”

Tony raised a half-empty glass.

“Finally! Now we can eat!”

Loki smiled. Not one of his usual ironic smiles. A real one. And he kissed Sif. Hard. Long.
And without illusions.

————

When the first notes began to dance in the air, the guests formed a circle around the central space, awaiting the couple’s first dance.

Loki, however, had stepped back, arms crossed and an expression far too serious for a night of celebration.

“You’re not seriously thinking of backing out now, are you?” Sif said, approaching him with slow steps, one hand gently caressing the dress over her now visibly rounded belly.

He looked at her, then looked away.
“I’m not exactly the romantic dance type, you know.”
“No. You’re the type for illusions and theatrical escapes.” She smiled at him softly. “But not this time. This time you stay. With me.”

Loki swallowed, his gaze dropping briefly to her belly.
“Dance with me.”
His voice didn’t tremble, but it was so full of sweetness and truth that he could no longer pretend. Not with her.

Somewhere among the guests, Tony’s voice was heard:
“Come on, Drama King! If Hulk can dance, so can you. Hey Thor, should we ask him with a sign?”

Thor, who had been laughing for a good minute, gave Tony a pat on the shoulder that made him stagger.
“Let him be. He just needs a little time to remember he can be human… when he wants.”

Loki rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide a small smile.
Sif held out her hand to him without saying a word.

And he took it.

In the silence heavy with anticipation, the music resumed. Slow, ancient music, made for those who had crossed wars and found peace in a single glance.

“You know I’m stepping on every instinct I have right now?” Loki whispered as they moved.
“I know. And that’s why I love you.”

He passed an arm around her back, the other holding her hand as if it were the most fragile and precious thing.
Sif leaned into him. The weight of her body, and the life she carried, seemed to make her even more real. More alive.

“If tomorrow doesn’t go well…” she began, her voice barely a whisper.
“Don’t even say it,” Loki interrupted. “You will be here. You owe me that. To me. To him.” He placed a gentle hand on her belly.
“I will be,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “But if I don’t make it… I left you all my strength. Here.”
She touched his chest.

He brushed his forehead against hers.
“Promise me you won’t use it to do something terrible.”
“I promise.”

They danced like that, slowly.
Against each other.
As if time could bend to their love.
As if every step could suspend fate, at least for a little while.

When the music ended, no one clapped immediately.
Maybe out of respect.
Or maybe because everyone understood that this dance… was much more than a dance.
⸻

The party had slowly faded, like a flame that, after dancing for a long time, decides to rest. The last guests had said their goodbyes, the lights dimmed, leaving Wakanda wrapped in a stillness suspended between magic and night.

Loki closed the door behind him. For a moment he stood still, his hand on the handle, as if he wanted to hold back time, the world… tomorrow.

Sif was sitting on the edge of the bed, the ceremonial dress resting beside her, her long hair loose over her shoulders. She wore only a light, simple tunic. But to Loki’s eyes… she looked like the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Are you okay?” he asked, moving closer.

She barely nodded.
“I’m just… tired. But it’s a good kind of tired. Like after a long battle. You know you’ve given everything.”

He bent down and took off her sandals, one by one, as if it were an ancient ritual. Then he brushed her ankles with his fingers, slowly moving up her legs, until he held her hands.

“If I could… I’d stop this night. Put it in a case. So when I’m scared, I could open it and remember that you were mine. That we were happy.”

Sif looked into his eyes.
“We are happy, Loki. Now. Even if tomorrow is uncertain. This is not a dream. It’s real. And it will always be.”

He sat beside her, then lay down next to her, gently pulling her onto his chest.
His fingers caressed her bare back, light, as if afraid to spoil her.
“I’ve had many illusions in my life… but you are the only truth I never wanted to change.”

Sif smiled against his neck, holding him close.
“Do you know what I want to remember if tomorrow goes wrong? I want to remember your heart beating under my cheek. Your breath intertwined with mine. I want to carry your voice with me. And this silence.”

“You will come back to me,” he said with a broken voice. “Because I wouldn’t know how to survive in a world where you’re not here.”

Sif took his face in her hands.
“And if I don’t come back…?”

“Then you’ll find me among the stars. And when our son laughs for the first time, you’ll feel that we’re still together.”

They kissed. A slow, long kiss, full of all the unspoken words, all the hidden fears, but also of a hope that defied all logic.

The silence was enveloping but not heavy. Loki held her tight, his forehead resting on her hair, breath slow, controlled… yet inside he felt a storm.

Sif moved gently in his arms. She climbed on top of him, straddling, but without any malice. She looked down at him, her face serious but lit by something deeper. She took his face in her hands, stroking it with her thumbs as if wanting to remember it piece by piece.

“I’m scared, Loki.”
Her voice was a broken whisper.

He stiffened slightly.
“I know…”
He lifted a hand and brushed her cheek. “Me too.”

She rested her forehead against his.
“Not of death… or pain. But of leaving you. Of leaving him. Of not seeing our son grow up. Of not being able to touch you like this anymore…”
Her hands slid over his chest, slowly opening his tunic.

Loki didn’t speak. He looked at her with those green eyes in which every emotion seemed to pour.
“Then stay here, tonight. Not just beside me. Inside me. I want to feel that you’re here. That we’re alive. I want to remember you… not only with my mind. But with my skin.”

He hugged her suddenly, his hands sliding down her back, sinking into her hair. He kissed her fiercely, desperately. As if that kiss were the last.

Their lips searched, found, recognized each other. Their hands intertwined, their bodies moved closer with a slow, meaningful rhythm, no rush, no need for words. Only love. Only life.

Loki stroked her belly, where two hearts were growing, not just one.
“Every beat… is a promise. As long as they beat, you will never be alone.”

Sif gave herself over in his arms, her face hidden in the hollow of his neck.
And that night, they loved each other. Without fear of crying, of trembling. Without fear of showing vulnerability.
Because even if tomorrow was uncertain… that night was theirs. Completely.

And it would be enough to fill a thousand lives.

⸻

Chapter 25: Chapter 25

The corridor of the Wakandan facility was silent. Every step echoed through the emptiness like a warning.
The operating room, specially built by Shuri and her team, looked more like a cathedral of science than a medical space. Translucent walls, floating panels, vibrant energy flowing through vibranium conductors like pulsing veins.

Sif stopped at the door, wearing a light, white tunic that revealed the bandages over her abdomen. Her eyes settled on Loki.

“You don’t want me to go, do you?” she asked, her voice warm, but faint.

He didn’t answer right away. He stepped closer and took her face in his hands.
“No. I don’t.”

Sif leaned in and kissed him. A short, urgent kiss. As if she knew that would be enough to keep him standing. Then she whispered against his lips:
“Remember what you promised me. No recklessness. Not even if…”

“Don’t say if,” he hissed, his green eyes locked on hers. “You will come back. Because I don’t accept any other outcome.”

She smiled—sad and proud. Then turned and entered the room.

Shuri, dressed in her high-tech lab coat, greeted her in a calm voice. “Your blood pressure is stable. We’ll sedate you now. You won’t feel anything.”

Two Wakandan medics moved quickly, positioning the sensors. Sif let herself sink onto the table, still gazing toward the door where Loki remained frozen.

The door closed.

⸻

The room was immersed in a ghostly silence, broken only by the rhythmic sounds of digital interfaces pulsing around the operating table. The cold blue lights of Wakandan technology shimmered over Sif’s pale skin. She lay still in the center of the platform, wires and probes connected everywhere.

Shuri’s movements were precise—almost sacred. The holographic visor before her projected Sif’s genetic code in real time, line by line, like a living symphony.
“I’m reconstructing the cellular map. The Jotun gene is adapting. Immune response seems stable… for now.”

Behind the glass, Loki didn’t move. He looked like a statue. Only those who truly knew him would notice the slight trembling in his hands or the fierce tension in his jaw.
He had promised to stay out. To trust them.
But each second was torture.

Tony stood next to Shuri, monitoring a second interface. “We’ve reached 94%. The Asgardian genes are responding surprisingly well. This is… insane.”

Bruce nodded, examining another panel. “It’s like the DNA is recognizing the Jotun gene as a latent part of itself. Some kind of genetic echo. I don’t know how, but… it’s working.”

“A perfectly compatible hybrid form…” Shuri murmured, entranced by the complexity of the process. “It’s not just a graft. It’s a cellular rebirth. We’re rewriting her entire structure.”

“We’re making history, people,” Stark added. “If this works, someone should seriously call this the ‘Sif Procedure’ or something.”

A faint smile. Then Shuri raised her eyebrows.
“Final fragment incoming. The intercellular adaptation gene.”

Tony nodded. “That’s the wild card. If it holds, the rest will follow.”

Shuri inserted it. The interface flashed. A long, steady beep.
“She’s accepting the change…” she whispered.
“It’s beautiful,” Bruce said, leaning closer to the screen.
Then a light flashed.
The beep changed tone. The screen turned red. Vital signs crashed instantly.

The monitor shrieked. Sif’s body began to tremble. First her hands. Then her legs. Then everything. A violent, uncontrollable wave. Convulsions bent her in two. Alarms flared red. Shuri barked orders. Bruce rushed to the console.

“Seizures!” Bruce shouted.

“Saturation dropping!” yelled one of the medics.

Shuri typed furiously. “Her body is rejecting the modification! It’s perceiving it as an infection…”

“No! No, no! The parameters were perfect!” Tony yelled.

Behind the glass, Loki collapsed to his knees the moment he sensed something was wrong. Hands clutched to his temples, as if his skull were about to burst. Thor tried to reach him, but Loki pushed him away with a wave of raw, dangerous magic.
“Stop them!” he roared. “You’re killing my wife!”

Because he felt everything.

The mark on his wrist burned—like a living ember feeding on every spasm, every heartbeat fluctuation, every wave of pain and fear coursing through Sif’s body.
It was pain, yes. But it was HERS. And it was devouring him alive.

The pain pierced him like a blade. The mark on his wrist glowed, pulsing violently. His fingers pressed against the glass, powerless to enter. Helpless.
“Sif!”

Thor grabbed his shoulders. “Loki! Loki, are you okay?”

But Loki turned, eyes blazing with fury and terror unlike anything Thor had ever seen.
“She’s dying! And I feel it! I FEEL HER!“

A wave of pure magic exploded from him, making the corridor lights flicker. Technicians backed away. The tension was unbearable.
A scream tore out of him from deep within.

Then… silence.

Loki collapsed to the ground, caught by his brother.
The screen returned to green. The beep returned to normal. Vital signs stabilized. Sif’s heart beat regularly again. Her body relaxed.

Shuri slumped onto a stool, drenched in sweat, breathless.
Tony stared at the screen, stunned.
“It’s… working.”

Bruce checked the holographic scan. “The baby’s fine. The gene is integrated. Sif’s body has won.”

Loki was the first to enter, leaning heavily on Thor as the protective field dropped.
He brushed past every hand, ignored every warning. He reached Sif, took her hand.
“Sif… can you hear me?”

Nothing.

“Why isn’t she waking up?” he asked, his voice hollow.

No one answered. Not even Shuri.

He turned abruptly, grabbing the scientist by the arms.
“Why isn’t she waking up?! You said everything was perfect!”

Thor pulled him back, firmly. “Loki, enough! They did all they could!”

“She’s alive… but she’s not here. I can’t… feel her.”
His voice cracked. For the first time, Loki truly seemed broken.

He knelt beside Sif. Rested his forehead on her hand.
And wept.
—————

⸻

The room was bathed in a soft, diffused light, as if the sun itself feared to disturb the silence.
The beeping of the machines marked the passing of time—slow, steady—like the metronome of a sad melody.

Sif lay motionless in bed, her face serene but far too pale. Wires, tubes, and sensors of every kind surrounded her, forming an artificial cocoon that kept her tethered to life.
On the nightstand, a pitcher of untouched water. A blanket Loki had gently placed over her legs, almost hesitantly.

He had been there for hours. Maybe days. Time had lost all meaning.

Loki sat beside her, elbow resting on the bed’s edge, his forehead leaning against his hand.
His eyes fell on his right wrist, where the crescent-shaped mark pulsed faintly. But it no longer glowed as it once did.
It was… dim. Or rather, flickering—like a flame in the rain.

Every now and then, Loki felt something. A faint jolt, a barely perceptible emotion, as if Sif were adrift in a sea of mist.
But she was there. Still there.

—

Tony entered the room silently, almost afraid to break the spell.
Loki was dozing in the chair beside the bed.

“Hey…” he said, placing a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “Hey, wake up, Icy.”

Loki’s eyes snapped open as he sat up straight.
“Did something happen?”

“Not exactly, but… if you come with me, we’ve got some updates.”

—

Loki joined them in Shuri’s lab. Tony was already there, sitting on a stool, while Bruce analyzed holographic charts.

“She’s completely stabilized,” Bruce said without preamble. “Her brain synapses are active, though irregularly. Technically, she’s not in a vegetative coma. But she’s not waking up either.”

Loki crossed his arms tightly. “Why? If everything went well, why is she still like this?”

Tony stood, unusually serious. “We’ve checked everything. Her body accepted the new genetic mutation…”

“Don’t call it a mutation,” Loki cut him off.

Tony nodded. “Alright. Genetic restructuring, then. The Jotun gene has been fully integrated. Her Asgardian cells responded just as we expected… but the strain was immense.”

“Her nervous system went into shock,” Bruce explained. “Not from rejection, but from sudden adaptation, we believe. It’s like… her body accepted the change, but needed more time. And there wasn’t any.”

Shuri added, “We accelerated a process that would’ve taken months in nature. Sif is alive because she’s strong. But something inside her… is keeping her locked away. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

Loki lowered his gaze. “The mark is changing. It pulsed when she was in danger. Now it’s… faint. Like it’s trying to keep her here. Anchored.”

Bruce stepped closer, intrigued. “It could be the bond reacting to her altered state of consciousness. Can you still feel her?”

“Yes. But like a distant echo. Confused. I don’t know if it’s her emotions or just… reflections of my own pain.”

Tony grimaced. “The only sure thing is the baby’s fine. Development is normal, maybe even accelerated now that there’s no more struggle. But stable. The heartbeat is strong. And…”
He tapped something on the screen. “I thought you’d want to see this. If the calculations are correct, today marks the start of the sixth month.”

With a wave of his hand, a holographic image of the baby appeared in the center of the room: tiny but perfectly formed, glowing softly, almost ethereal.
The skin, still delicate, reflected faint icy-blue hues—a Jotun legacy that shimmered like a secret.

Loki held his breath.

Then, slowly, the tiny arm lifted. A tiny hand opened, hesitated for a moment in the simulated amniotic fluid… then moved to the face.
The baby began sucking its thumb—calm, protected, unaware of the storm raging beyond its little world.

“He does that a lot,” Bruce murmured, checking the vitals. “It’s a primitive reflex, but important. It means he’s doing well.”

Tony glanced sideways at Loki. “Yeah. And it also means he’s tough. After everything he’s been through with his mother… he keeps moving, growing. Like he knows he has to hold on.”

Loki said nothing. His eyes were locked on the hologram, his heart clenched in an unbearable grip.
That gesture. So small. So simple.
And yet, it was the most powerful thing he had ever seen.

His hand slowly clenched into a fist.

“Sif gave him strength,” he whispered. “And now… he’s the one keeping her anchored.”

No one contradicted him.

And in that silence, heavy with meaning, the crescent mark on Loki’s wrist pulsed again.
Stronger. As if it had heard too.

Loki turned, his gaze sharp as a blade.
“She’ll come back. No matter how long it takes. She will come back.”

⸻

Chapter 26: Chapter 26

Time seemed to have stopped.

⸻

In the lab, Thor watched Loki from behind the glass. Beside him, Shuri scrolled through data on a holographic screen, while Tony, with a grim expression, reviewed the vital signs.

“Everything’s stable,” Bruce said, shrugging as he checked the test results for the umpteenth time. “Brain, heart, blood pressure. And yet she’s not waking up. The brain activity is there, but it makes no sense.”

“It’s like… part of her has decided not to come back,” Shuri added quietly. “As if she’s taken refuge somewhere else.”

Thor clenched his jaw. “Heimdall can’t see her. Anywhere. And my brother is sinking with her.”

⸻

A week had passed.
Seven long days since Sif had closed her eyes and hadn’t opened them again.

The monitors kept beeping cheerfully.
And yet… she wasn’t there. She was sleeping. Or maybe… lost.
No change. No reaction.

Loki had never left her side.

He had refused every offer to rest, every attempt by Thor or the others to get him to take a break. He stayed there, seated, day and night, eyes fixed on her face. Sometimes he spoke to her. Other times, he just watched her in silence. As if staring at her long enough might bring her back to him.

Thor entered the room on tiptoe. He stopped by the bed and stood in silence for a while, watching the scene. Loki didn’t move.

“You know,” the God of Thunder finally said, his voice low, “when we were kids… you were the one who always found lost things.”

Loki didn’t reply. Thor gave a small, sad smile.
“But now… you seem lost too, brother.”

The God of Mischief lowered his gaze. “Because I am.”

Thor crouched beside him. “You can’t stay in this limbo, Loki. She wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

“And what should I do? Pretend everything’s fine? Go on like nothing happened?”
Thor shrugged, defeated.
Loki turned to him. “I still feel her… I regularly check that the bond is still active. But it’s like a distant echo. The mark… it hasn’t gone out completely. But it’s weak. Like she’s… fading too.”

Thor sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Then find a way. You’re Loki. If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Then he stood and left, leaving him alone.

Loki stayed beside Sif. He took her hand. Her fingers were cold, unmoving.

He lowered his gaze to her belly.
Their child was still there. Alive. Strong.
And suddenly, he felt the need to speak to him again.

“Ullr…” he whispered, barely audible.
“Can you hear me? I really hope so. I’m… your father.”

He placed both hands gently on Sif’s belly, closing his eyes. Focusing. He felt a small kick, the only thing that brought a faint smile to his lips.

In a whisper, he activated an ancient Jotun spell—one rooted in blood connection. It wasn’t as powerful as the Asgardian ones, but it was deeper. More visceral. It spoke to life itself. The same spell that had connected him to his son once before.

A faint blue glow spread around his fingers. The spell was active. And he could feel it.

And that’s when it happened.

A tremor. Soft, almost imperceptible—like the flutter of wings in his mind.

The mark on his wrist lit up with a bluish glow, as subtle as a breath. It didn’t hurt this time. It didn’t burn. It was… warm. Pulsing. Like a call.
And in the absolute silence of the room, Loki felt it.

Not with his ears. But with his heart.

A sensation. An emotion that wasn’t his.
A blurred image: a misty expanse, a broken heartbeat, a hazy face calling from far away.

Then two word. Not spoken. Not thought. But clear.

“Save me.”

Loki gasped. He pulled slightly away from Sif, staring at his wrist as if it were alive. The mark continued to pulse.
“What is this…?” he whispered, afraid to break the enchantment.

Then he turned again toward Sif’s belly, as if he could see beyond the flesh.

“Ullr…” he murmured. “It was you, wasn’t it? You… let me feel her.”

A new emotion surged through his chest: a sense of urgency. Of time slipping away.

“You’re still connected. You and your mother. Through life. Through that bond… I can follow her.”

⸻

Loki ran through the corridors of the lab, dodging attendants. His heart was pounding, his mind racing faster than his feet. He couldn’t waste time. Not now.

He found Thor on the terrace, speaking with Heimdall. The God of Thunder turned just slightly, surprised to see his brother so agitated.

“Loki? What happened?”

“Sif. I… I felt something. Not a dream, not an emotion. It was a call.”
He stopped abruptly, looking into his eyes. “She called me, Thor. Through him. Through Ullr. Through the bond.”

Thor straightened up, suddenly alert. “A call? How?”

“I don’t know exactly. But it was real. And I need to know. I need to understand if I can reach her.”
He paused, then added, voice softer:
“I need the All-Seeing One.”
——-
Heimdall approached Loki, his golden eyes already glowing with supernatural intensity. He placed his hands on Loki’s temples, concentrating.
“Try to connect with the child. I’ll follow the path.”

Loki placed his hands back on Sif’s belly, recreating the spell.
“Can you see her?” he asked bluntly. “Wherever she is… can you find her?”

Heimdall studied him carefully, then slowly nodded as he stared into the void.
“If your bond spoke, it’s no coincidence. But you must know… if she’s truly where I fear she is, bringing her back won’t be easy.”

Loki didn’t move.
“Do it.”

Heimdall closed his eyes a moment before opening them again. A golden light shone from beneath his eyelids, as though he were gazing into every plane of existence.

For long seconds, no one spoke. Then the guardian sighed heavily.

“She’s not in the realm of the dead. Nor in that of the living.”
He opened his eyes.
“Sif is… suspended. In the astral plane. A boundary between mind and spirit. A place even I can’t see clearly. It’s as if she’s… fighting, but alone.”

“Can I reach her?” Loki asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Heimdall looked at him seriously.
“Only the one who shares her deepest bond may try. Not with strength. But with the mind. With the heart. With the will to love her beyond all limits.”

A silence thick with meaning.

Then Loki nodded.
“Then I’ll do it. Bring me whoever can help me… enter that plane.”

⸻

“When I first got to New York, I met a sorcerer. His name is Stephen Strange. I haven’t seen him since, but he’s… special. He showed powers I think might help us,” Tony shrugged, confused.
“I don’t really know these types—sorcerers or magicians or whatever. But I can try to find them. There should be a way. A few years back, Strange blew up half of Manhattan with dimensional portals and weird spells… the federal authorities started keeping an eye on them, though very quietly. I still have access to those files. I think I know where their headquarters is.”

Thor nodded.
“Do it. I believe they’re the only ones who can help us.”

Tony tapped away furiously on one of his devices, eyes scanning through encrypted files with intense focus.
“Okay, according to the super-secret government files—ones I technically shouldn’t have—this guy’s supposed to be the head of a group of… I don’t know, monks with cosmic powers?”

He shrugged sarcastically.

“Stephen Strange. Sounds like a Las Vegas illusionist name, but apparently he once made an entity called Dormammu disappear. Yeah. Comforting.”

He took a breath and initiated a call. The signal took a few seconds to connect, then a tired yet sharp voice answered on the other end:

“Who are you, and how did you get this number?”

Tony smiled.
“Hi, yes, good morning to you too. I’m Tony Stark. You know, Iron Man, billionaire, genius, philanthropist, yada yada. We need a favor. A magical one.”

A pause. Strange’s voice grew colder.
“You didn’t answer the question.”

“I’ve got my contacts… let’s just say the feds have a pretty interesting file on you. Congrats on staying discreet.”

Another long pause. Then:

“And why exactly should I help you?”

Tony leaned back, arms crossed.
“Because Thor’s here. And yeah, so is Loki. But it’s not what you think. This time, he’s not the problem. Not directly, at least.”

A cutting silence followed. Then a surge of energy crossed the room, and a golden portal opened right next to Tony. Two figures stepped out: Stephen Strange, his cloak billowing and eyes sharp with suspicion, and Wong, hands behind his back, scanning the room.

Tony took a step back, hands up.
“…wow. Didn’t think it’d work this fast.”

Strange stared at him.
“You said ‘Loki’. Where is he?”

Tony turned and thumbed toward the corner of the room, where Loki stood watching in silence, arms crossed and one brow raised.

Strange sighed.
“Loki.”
The word sounded like a sentence.

Loki turned calmly, his face unreadable but his eyes gleaming with sarcasm. He gave an exaggerated, elegant bow.
“Doctor Strange. What a pleasure… truly. If possible, could we avoid another thirty-minute freefall this time? I’ve developed a mild chronic nausea from unstable portals.”

Strange stared.
“That depends on how cooperative you intend to be.”

Loki raised a brow.
“Far more than usual, I assure you. We need your help. And I don’t have time to waste.”

Thor stepped forward, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder as if to contain the inevitable spark between them.
“He’s right. We’re not here to argue. Sif’s life is at stake… and the life of the child she’s carrying.”

Strange’s expression shifted. The arrogance faded slightly, replaced by serious attention. Wong crossed his arms, his gaze moving from Thor to Loki, then to Tony.

“Alright,” Strange finally said, voice more neutral.
“Talk. I want to know everything.”

⸻

Heimdall stepped forward, his cloak rippling as if in an unseen breeze. His gaze was calm, but the golden glow in his eyes shone with a vision beyond the physical.

“I saw her,” he said deeply, once Loki finished recounting everything.
“Sif. She isn’t dead… but she’s not here either. Her soul is suspended in an in-between state. A place few can reach. The astral plane.”

Tony grew serious.
“What exactly is the astral plane?”

Wong spoke for the first time since arriving.
“The astral plane is a parallel dimension. It exists outside the body, beyond matter. It’s where consciousness can exist apart from physical form. A place of memories, emotions… and nightmares. It has no fixed rules. It’s ever-shifting, and it can be both a sanctuary and a trap.”

Loki sighed.
“A trap.”

“An invisible realm, where mind and spirit meet. If Sif is there, it means her consciousness is trapped in limbo. Reaching her won’t be easy. It’ll require someone with a deep, personal bond to her.”

Strange interjected.
“I’ve been there. If the mind is fragile or disturbed, the astral plane can generate… copies, reflections, distortions. If Sif ended up there because of a magical genetic alteration…”
He glanced at Loki with a hint of accusation.
“…it’s possible that something inside her split off. A fragment born from fear, pain, or… something that doesn’t fully belong to her.”

Bruce lit up.
“You mean the Jotun gene?”

Wong sighed.
“Exactly. A part of Loki’s essence. Dark, powerful… unstable. If that fragment interacted with Sif’s mind at the critical moment of the operation, it could have created an autonomous entity in the astral plane. Something that’s keeping her true consciousness prisoner.”

Strange turned to his companion.
“Can you locate her?”

Wong closed his eyes, raising his hands slowly as a soft blue glow began to form around him. With a calm but firm voice, he said:
“I’ll try to locate Sif in the astral plane… but it’s a distant and unstable place. I may not be able to reach her.”

A tense silence fell over the room. Wong began to float slightly, his hands tracing complex symbols in the air.

Suddenly, his body stiffened. He opened his eyes with a troubled look.
“She’s… too far, too hidden. It’s as if she’s lost in a dense fog, in a place where consciousness struggles to stay whole.”
Loki shook his head.
“I heard her. And not just once. I felt her… through him. Through Ullr.”

He pointed to Sif’s belly, then to his own wrist, where the crescent moon pulsed with a faint glow.
“The baby… is the bridge. He’s growing with my Jotun magic, a primordial energy that’s bound to his forming soul. And that same magic is tied to Sif, who carries him. The two of them are still connected. And through him… I’m connected to her.”

Wong stepped closer, examining the mark on Loki’s wrist. His eyes narrowed as he studied the energy.
“This isn’t just a mark. It’s a spiritual knot. A portal between souls. And your bond with Sif is strengthened by something unique: Ullr’s presence, existing within both of you.”

Strange turned to Wong, clearly impressed.
“It’s like a living spell. The child doesn’t just maintain the bond—he amplifies it.”

Wong nodded slowly.
“Exactly. He makes access to an otherwise unreachable realm possible. But using him as a bridge will be dangerous. Extremely dangerous.”

“What do you mean?” Thor asked.

“Loki won’t just enter the astral plane…” Wong explained.
“He’ll enter a realm created by Sif’s subconscious, influenced by Ullr’s magical essence. Everything inside will be charged with meaning, with symbols and illusions. If he gets lost… we may not be able to bring him back.”

Loki didn’t move, but his eyes shimmered with resolve.
“If there’s even a chance—no matter how small—I’ll take it. She called for me. I will answer.”

Strange gave a solemn nod.
“It’s an opportunity, but also an enormous risk. The astral plane does not forgive those who enter without a firm anchor. You may not return.”

Loki pressed his lips together, determined.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m willing to risk everything to save her.”

Wong turned to Strange.
“We need to create a protected space. A room made specifically for this, where Loki can connect to the astral plane through the mark, under our constant supervision.”

Strange turned to Shuri.
“My dear, is there a suitable place?”

⸻

Strange and Wong walked in slow circles around Loki, who sat cross-legged on a cushion at the center of a room bathed in pulsing arcane light.

The room created by Strange was a space suspended outside of time. Symbols carved into the walls glowed intermittently, pulsing in rhythm with the mystical energies that filled the air. At the center, Loki sat in silence, hands resting on his knees, as Wong and Strange prepared the ritual.

Wong had just attempted, for the second time, to access the astral plane where Sif’s consciousness might dwell. But nothing. Only emptiness, darkness, and a vast, unreachable distance.

“It’s like she doesn’t exist in our plane,” he finally said, exhaling.
“We can’t locate her. We can’t perceive or reach her. She’s beyond any known threshold.”

Thor stepped forward, puzzled.
“But… she’s alive, right?”

Wong nodded, though hesitantly.
“Yes. But her consciousness is… fragmented. Lost in a place that shouldn’t exist. A personal plane. Intimate. We can’t access it with ordinary magic.”

Wong placed crystals at the four corners of the room, tracing a glowing magic circle around Loki.
Strange began to explain, his voice calm but commanding:
“The astral plane is a realm that mirrors the mind and spirit. Here, time and space don’t exist as we know them. You may perceive familiar places or fragments of memories, but nothing is truly stable.”

Wong added:
“You may encounter parts of yourself or blurry images representing your fears or hopes. Some become trapped because they’re overwhelmed by these illusions.”

Strange looked Loki straight in the eye:
“When you enter, you’ll feel the mark on your wrist burn with intense heat. That’s your guide. You must focus on Sif—on your bond with her and with Ullr. If you lose focus, you may wander aimlessly, or worse—be lost.”

Wong emphasized:
“You might also feel the presence of other entities, beings made of energy or thought. They’re not necessarily hostile, but they may distract or confuse you. Stay grounded.”

Strange took a deep breath and continued:
“To enter, you must relax, almost like dreaming—but with a lucid mind. Don’t let fear or doubt take over. Your willpower will be your anchor.”

Loki nodded, clenching the fist with the glowing mark now growing brighter.

Wong gave a final warning:
“Here, in this protected room, we’ll maintain a constant link with you. We can intervene if things become too dangerous. But remember… this is a journey you must take only if you’re ready to face anything.”

Strange raised his hands, releasing a wave of blue light that slowly enveloped Loki.
“When the heat becomes unbearable, that means you’re crossing the threshold. Prepare to leave your body—and face her mind.”

Loki closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. The mark on his wrist pulsed like a heartbeat, guiding him toward the journey.

He exhaled slowly as Wong placed his hands gently on Loki’s temples. Loki focused on that faint blue light shimmering at the edge of his consciousness—calling him toward her.
Then, he fell into the void.

Chapter 27: Chapter 27

Summary:

First of all, I have to thank everyone who left kudos in the last chapter! I am enormously grateful to you all! And thank you to GotouNoroku37 for leaving a comment! This chapter was originally a very long monster, I decided to split it up because otherwise it would have been too much. From this chapter onwards, I will modify the tags so that there can be trigger warnings. There may be sensitive topics for some. I am giddy with excitement because I finally had an excuse to include Frigga (I love their relationship).

The void was silent.
Not dark, not light. Only emptiness.

Then, a rustle—like crystals reforming in the emptiness of the universe.

Loki opened his eyes.

He was standing, floating atop a fragment of black stone, suspended in the cosmos. Around him, the Bifrost. But not the rainbow bridge he remembered—this one was broken, shattered, its colors bleeding like blood from the sharp edges of its cracks. Every step he took echoed into eternity, and around him, space seemed to whisper.

A part of him understood immediately: he was neither in life nor in death. But in an in-between realm, between soul and memory.

There was no sound, save for the low, muffled hum of energy slithering through the air like a distant echo. All around, the universe felt upside down: above him, a dark sky speckled with unmoving stars, suspended in time; below, a chasm of crimson clouds and fragments of memory drifting in the void like broken glass.

Asgard was there… and yet it wasn’t.
The golden towers, broken and twisted, stood against the horizon like ghosts of what once was. Some dissolved into the air; others seemed to merge with stone and flesh, as if memories themselves were rotting. The colors were wrong—either too vivid or completely faded—and the outlines blurred, like a dream on the verge of vanishing.

Loki stepped forward, the sound of his boots muffled by the surreal silence. Something in the air felt familiar… and yet off. A forgotten scent. A pain too ancient to be named.

He knew he was inside Sif’s mind. But not the one she showed the world.
No… he was in the quiet corridors of the soul.
And Sif’s soul was bleeding.

“Where are you, my love?” he whispered.
His voice vanished like stardust.

The void around him trembled. Not like an earthquake… but like a memory refusing to fade. Loki stopped on the broken bridge, breath caught between two heartbeats.

Then he saw her.

A figure, in the distance through the mist. Too vivid to be a dream, too light to feel real.

“No,” he whispered to himself, a chill running down his spine.
“Just a vision. One of Strange’s illusions. Nothing more.”

But he couldn’t look away.

The woman approached with a serene, unhurried pace, as if she knew he’d wait for her.

Frigga.

“You’re not real,” Loki said louder, clenching his fists.
“You’re a projection. A fragment of my mind.”

Frigga smiled. She didn’t answer right away. She stopped just a step away, looked into his eyes… and embraced him.

And in that moment, Loki felt it.

Warmth. The scent of lavender.
The calm rhythm of a heart that wasn’t his, but had always been home.

Not an illusion. Not a memory. Her.

“I told you,” she murmured softly against his shoulder, “my love would always find you, wherever you were.”

Loki remained still for a moment. Then his voice cracked.

“How…? How are you here?”

Frigga slowly released the embrace, though she didn’t let go of his hands.

“The astral plane doesn’t belong to the living,” she explained, “but neither to the dead. It’s a place of passage. Of fragments. From where I am, I heard every word you whispered at Sif’s bedside. Your prayers didn’t vanish into the void, Loki.”

A pause. A breath.

“In Valhalla, souls resonate. But here… here, everything lived can be lived again. Emotions create spaces. Bonds create paths. Even your father listened. He gave me the energy I needed to reach you here. To help you.”

Loki looked at her. Eyes glistening, but steady.
Then it all overflowed. His shoulders dropped, his chest seized with a sob held in for too long.

“Mother…”

He collapsed into her arms, burying his face in her neck as warm tears streamed down his cheeks.

In that moment, he was a child again, longing for nothing but his mother and the comfort of her embrace.

“She’s breaking right before my eyes.”

Frigga cupped his face with hands as light as sunlight.

“Oh, my love… even magic shatters. But it can be pieced back together—if someone is willing to gather the fragments.”

She stepped back, her eyes both proud and gentle.

“Sif is lost. Within her are fragments that have lost their name, their shape, their hope. To save her, you’ll have to walk through those memories. Live what she has lived. Feel what she has hidden. Gather every piece of the soul she left behind.”

“Is it my fault?” Loki finally gave voice to the fear that had been tearing him apart.

“Am I the one who broke her? With lies, with distance, with… who I am.”

Frigga stepped closer, placing a hand over his heart.

“Listen to me, my son.”

Her voice was calm, but deep as an ancient spell.

“You are not the only shadow to have passed through her life. Sif carries scars no one has ever seen, wounds that trace back long before you. And when the soul is tired… even the most distant past can rise like a tide.”

Loki closed his eyes. He wanted to believe her. He needed to.

Frigga continued:

“You’ve done everything you could, with all the love you had. For her. For Ullr. You gave a part of yourself—literally. You can’t carry every crack on your shoulders.”

“But what if it’s not enough?” he asked, his voice veiled.

Frigga looked at him the way only a mother can—with unwavering, unconditional love.

“I know you’re strong enough, my son. As always.”

She looked at him with tenderness and ancient sorrow, her voice a whisper echoing from a distant time.

“Loki, what you’ll see here won’t be easy. You’ll face parts of Sif’s soul so deeply hidden, even she didn’t believe she remembered them. These are old wounds, scars she tried to bury in silence, thinking they were forgotten. But the Jotun gene… it awakened those truths with a force so intense, it shattered her from the inside, more than you could ever imagine.”

She stepped closer and placed a hand on his arm, the touch light but full of support.

“To save her, you must know everything, Loki. Every shadow, every pain, every secret. Even those that will make your heart tremble. Only then can you help her piece her soul back together and find the light. Sif buried deep inside what hurt her most. She never showed even you these parts. I ask you only one thing, my son: are you truly ready to see who Sif is when no one is watching?”

He lowered his gaze, then nodded. A small movement, heavy with meaning.

“Yes.”

Frigga gave him one last look. She nodded and stepped forward, taking his wrist in her hands. She touched the birthmark with two fingers. The contact was like a breeze—warm, bright… and then suddenly, everything dissolved.

The darkness shattered like glass beneath a heavy foot.
In its place, golden light wrapped around him.
The ground beneath his feet turned soft, covered in grass.
The wind smelled of ripe apples and damp earth.

A garden. A familiar courtyard. Asgard, but in a more private, intimate version.

A child’s laughter rang through the air like a melody.

Loki turned—and his heart skipped a beat.

A little girl, about four years old, ran barefoot through the grass, a white tunic fluttering around her, a wooden sword clutched in her chubby hands. Her dark hair was loose and wild, her cheeks flushed from play.

Behind her, a tall man chased her, laughing. He wore a light training tunic, his long hair tied in a warrior’s braid. Hagvar, Odin’s general. But not the stern, cold face Loki remembered. This man was laughing. His chest open, his eyes bright, his voice full of warmth.

“Strike me, warrior!” he cried, pretending to be afraid.

The child shouted with joy and struck his leg with her little sword. He leapt theatrically backward and fell to the ground.

“Ah! A mortal blow! You’ve won!” he laughed, spreading his arms.

Sif threw herself on him, laughing, hugging him with all the force and spontaneity of a child who knew no restraint.

Loki said nothing. He couldn’t move. His eyes were fixed on the scene.
Every memory he had of that man was made of harsh reprimands, disappointed looks, absence.
And now…

“I… I’ve never seen him like that,” he murmured.
“He was always cold. Always… distant.”

Frigga stood beside him, watching—like an echo.

“Because that part of him no longer existed when you met him. But once, he loved playing with his daughter. He was proud of her. He called her his little Valkyrie. He told her stories of his battles. He sang her war songs. It was he who made her fall in love with the clash of weapons.”

Loki narrowed his eyes, watching the little girl raise her wooden sword with pride.

“That’s why Sif fights as if it’s in her blood.”

“Because it is,” Frigga said gently. “Hagvar taught her even before she learned how to read.”

Loki couldn’t tear his eyes away from the child. That laughter… it was so different from the Sif he knew. So free.

“Then… what changed?” he whispered, still staring.

Frigga took a deep breath, and her gaze darkened.

“No other children ever came. No male heir. No descendant to carry on his name, his sword, his glory. When he realized that Sif was the only one… something inside him cracked. And when he saw that she wasn’t just pretending to be a warrior… but truly was one… his disappointment turned into anger.”

Loki clenched his fists. A sharp ache gripped his chest, like an invisible hand squeezing his heart.

“So… he inspired her… only to deny her?”

Frigga nodded slowly, with sorrow in her eyes.

“He lit a flame within her. But when he saw that the light didn’t shine the way he wanted… he tried to snuff it out. Not because she wasn’t enough. But because she was too much. Too strong. Too determined. Too much herself.”

Loki swallowed hard. The air in the garden felt heavier now. The memory was beginning to fracture—just slightly. The sky dulled with faint clouds. The colors lost their clarity. The child’s laughter faded, as if something—or someone—was slowly erasing it.

Loki’s fists tightened. That man… he had encouraged her, ignited her, made her feel alive. And then he had abandoned her. His eyes returned to the child, who now looked up at her father with pure adoration, unaware of the frost that was yet to come.

“And her mother? She was your lady-in-waiting,” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Ysmera was my friend. Raised with duty in her veins. She believed a woman should be grace, silence, and beauty. Not strength. Not war. She wished for Sif to be a Lady, not a legend.”

He saw her, standing in the distance. Elegant, impeccable. Her eyes as cold as the ice of Nastrond. She looked at her daughter with a distance heavier than any axe blow.
“She loved Sif, but she never truly understood her.”

“The training grounds were her refuge,” Loki murmured. “And maybe, in a way… so was I.”

Frigga rested a light hand on his arm.

“She had herself. And that’s the strength you must save now.”

“Sif never really spoke of her parents. When she did, it was always in vague phrases or sharp remarks. When we were young, I thought it was just pride… or teenage anger.”
A bitter half-smile curved his lips.
“Now I see they were cracks. And I… I never truly looked.”

Frigga said nothing. She didn’t need to. It was enough for those words to finally leave his lips. Because now he understood. The silence. The evasive glances. The biting sarcasm whenever someone mentioned family.
Sif had built a wall so high that even he, who had been by her side for years, had never seen beyond it.

Then he felt it—behind him.

A little girl, curled in a corner. Her dark hair was tangled, dusty, with a few dry leaves caught in the strands. Her knees were scraped, her feet bare, and in her hands… a broken wooden sword. She was trembling, but trying desperately not to cry.

Loki froze. His breath caught in his throat.
That was Sif. His Sif, small and fragile—like he had never seen her before.

He slowly knelt down in front of her. He didn’t speak right away, not wanting to startle her.

The girl lifted her gaze. They were Sif’s eyes—exactly the same—but filled with restrained fear.

She tried to straighten up, almost shyly, though her voice still trembled.
“If… if I cry, Father says I’m not a real warrior.”
Her eyes dropped to the broken wooden sword in her hands.
“And if I win, Mother won’t let me play with the other children. She says proper ladies don’t play at fighting…”

Loki felt something twist sharply in his chest. The words were like invisible blades.
He gently wiped the tears from her round cheeks.

“You’re wrong, little one. A real warrior isn’t the one who never falls… but the one who stands back up—especially when no one’s watching. And you know what? I cry too. So does Thor. Even Odin! Even your mother… though she never says it.”

The child looked at him, surprised. Her bottom lip trembled, as if she were about to break.

“But if I cry… no one will want to play with me. No one will love me… I have to be stronger than them. Maybe then they’ll be my friends.”

Loki leaned in closer.
“If someone only loves you when you’re strong… then they never truly loved you. But me? I love you even like this, sweet one. And I promise—I will never leave you alone in this place again.”
“You promise?”
“I promise, my love.”

The girl let the sword fall. Two tears slipped down her cheeks. Then, slowly, she reached out her small hand.

When Loki took it in his, the mark on his wrist glowed with a silver light. The crescent shape thickened slightly—what was once a thin sliver now looked like a growing moon.

The little girl smiled—for the first time—and then dissolved into a golden trail of light that flowed straight into Loki’s chest, filling him with a tenderness he had never known.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
He had reclaimed a piece of her.

Loki remained kneeling, his fingers still suspended in the air, as if they could catch the golden echo the little girl had left behind.
A gentle silence now wrapped the garden. Not the emptiness of lost moments, but the fullness of something precious, rediscovered.

He closed his eyes for a moment. His heart was beating softly, like after a long cry.
It had been her—that hurt, brave little Sif—who had come forward. Who had reached out her hand. Who had let him in.
She had lowered her guard.
And she had chosen him.

He didn’t need words. Or promises.
He could still feel the light weight of that tiny hand in his own.
A simple gesture. A sacred one.

And for the first time since entering that place, Loki truly smiled.
Not out of relief.
But out of gratitude.

He had found a part of her again. A part the pain hadn’t erased.
A lonely little girl… who wasn’t alone anymore.

 

Chapter 28: Chapter 28

Summary:

TW: psychological violence

The garden changed.

It wasn’t a sudden shift, but a subtle one. Like a mist rising, softening the edges of the world. The colors dimmed slightly, as if the sun had hidden behind an invisible cloud. The grass, still green, had lost its vibrancy. The fountain in the center was cracked.
And the child… was no longer a child.

She was now a girl, maybe fourteen. Sif’s eyes, more mature, searched her father’s with a mix of hope and determination. She held a real sword—still too large for her—but she gripped it with resolve. Her breath was ragged, her hands scratched. But she stood her ground.

Hagvar walked around her with measured, heavy steps. His eyes—once filled with pride—had turned cold, sharp.

“Again,” he barked.

Sif obeyed. A clumsy strike, too wide.
He stopped it with a quick motion, then shook his head in clear disdain.

“You’re too slow. Too weak. You still think a bit of courage is enough to make you a warrior.”

She lowered her gaze, but said nothing.
Loki turned toward Frigga, unsettled.

“Is he… training her? Or humiliating her?”

Frigga didn’t answer right away. There was pain in her eyes.

“At first, it made no difference. But when he realized she was serious… that she wasn’t playing at war, that she wouldn’t give up… he started breaking her, one strike at a time.”

Hagvar stepped forward, snatched the sword from Sif’s hands, and threw it violently to the ground.

“This is what you want? To live in the mud with soldiers? To become a beast of battle?”

“I want… to be like you,” she whispered. She trembled slightly, but stood tall.

The general laughed. A hollow laugh, devoid of joy.

“I’m a man, Sif. A warrior. You’re just a stubborn disappointment.”

Loki felt his stomach tighten. He took a step forward, instinctively, as if he could intervene. But he stopped at once.
It was only an echo, a memory.

“And her mother?” he asked, already fearing the answer.

She appeared not far off, seated on a bench. Ysmera watched the scene with her hands clenched in her lap. She didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Her face composed, her eyes staring into nothing.

“She saw everything,” Frigga said firmly. “But she didn’t want to see. She thought distracting her would be enough. The dances, the dresses, the duties. She tried to protect her with etiquette… but only isolated her more.”

“She didn’t step in.”

“No. Not because she was cruel. But because she was incapable. Ysmera never understood who her daughter really was. She loved her, yes—but only the version of Sif she hoped to create.”

Loki watched the girl pick up the sword in silence, her hands trembling, her cheeks red with shame.
Every movement was dignity. Every glance, a silent plea.

“She was alone,” he murmured. “Completely alone.”
A faint smile crossed his mother’s lips.
“No, she had you and Thor.”

⸻

The memory shifted again.

The courtyard was now bare, cold. A grey sky loomed over the Academy, and the air was heavy with tension.
Sif was older now—maybe sixteen. Her hair was tied back carelessly, her skin streaked with dust and sweat. She held the sword with determination, but her gaze was wounded. A fresh cut marked her eyebrow. In front of her stood her father.

Hagvar wore full armor, his expression like stone.

“You disobeyed me.”
His voice was as harsh as a blow from a shield.
“I forbade you from joining the male trainees. But you went anyway.”

Sif didn’t lower her gaze. She trembled, but held her head high.

“Because I’m just as worthy as they are. Sometimes more.”

Loki moved on instinct, almost smiling—that was the Sif he had grown to love as a boy.
But then he saw the general’s face. There was no pride. Only anger.

“You are not my son,” Hagvar growled. “And you will never be a warrior. You think you’re like me, but you’re nothing more than a stubborn mistake born in the wrong body.”

Silence fell, heavy and crushing.

Sif stepped back. Not from fear—but because those words had cut deeper than any blade.

“You wanted me to be a boy, didn’t you?”
Her voice cracked, but she controlled it.
“If I had been born with a different face, you would’ve called me ‘son.’ You would’ve taught me everything, without shame.”

Hagvar didn’t respond right away. Then he turned his back to her.

“Stop chasing what you’ll never be. Sometimes I wish you had never been born. It would’ve spared me this humiliation. I wish I weren’t your father.
You’re nothing but a failure.”

And he left.

Loki held his breath. His chest rose with difficulty. He turned to Frigga, but she, too, looked stricken by the cold.
“They never… spoke again after that, did they? Not long after came the battle of Alfheim.”
The question was barely a whisper.

Frigga shook her head.
“Exactly. He left for that campaign shortly after. He never returned. He died with pride in his hands… and unspoken regret in his heart.”

Sif had remained still, in the center of the courtyard. Her gaze fixed on the ground. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She said nothing.

But then, from behind a colonnade, Ysmera appeared.

Elegant, flawless—as always. She walked slowly, wearing a cloak threaded with gold, her eyes filled with unease.

“Sif… you must understand. Your father is a… wounded man. He cares for you, but—”

“No, Mother,” Sif interrupted, without looking at her. “He wanted a son. That’s different.”

Ysmera sighed, drawing her shoulders in. Then she tried to smile.
“Maybe you just need a new perspective. There’s a ball tomorrow night at the palace. The Count of Verdan’s son will be introduced. He’s a kind boy… and very interested—”

Sif turned slowly.
Her lips trembled—but it wasn’t pain. It was exasperation.

“You’re offering me a husband as consolation?”

Ysmera looked at her as if she didn’t understand.

“I’m offering you a path. A real life. Not this… madness of battles and scars. You can still be a Lady, my daughter.”

“I don’t want to be a Lady,” Sif hissed. “I want to be myself.”

Ysmera said nothing. Her hands—smooth and manicured—clutched her cloak like a fragile armor. Then, slowly, she turned away.

And left Sif alone.

Loki remained there, motionless.
His eyes fixed on the girl he had loved from afar, up close, for as long as he could remember.
But whom he had never truly seen.
Not like this.

“Sif…” he whispered. But the memory didn’t answer.

Frigga stepped closer to him.

“What you’ll see now… isn’t just a memory. It’s a living part of her—a wound left open for far too long.”
She paused, her voice filled with both tenderness and weight.
“You can speak to her now, Loki. This time, you can.
But listen before trying to heal her.
Some wounds don’t want to be healed.
They just want to be seen.”

She gently turned him to face the other way—and the scene changed again.
The mist thickened around him, and a rustling, like wind but without air, wrapped itself around Loki.
Frigga was still beside him, but now she felt more like part of the landscape than a physical presence.

Sif sat on a fragment of rock suspended in the void.
She wore a ceremonial dress—too tight, too ornate for her spirit—with seams frayed at the edges, as if she had fought to take it off… or to escape from it.

Her hair was loose, but frizzy, tousled by an imaginary wind.
Her hands were clenched on her knees. Her gaze fixed into emptiness.
Her hands trembled, yet her face was still.
She didn’t cry. She didn’t speak.
But she trembled inside.

Loki stepped forward slowly. His heart betrayed him.
The mark on his wrist pulsed gently, as if saying: there she is.

“Sif?”

She didn’t lift her gaze.

“Is that you? Or another dream my mother sent me?”
Her voice was sharp. Not hostile… just tired of everything.

He stopped.
In that moment, he understood.
It was her. A part of her. A part left behind. Stuck in that terrible moment.

“I’m not a dream,” he said softly.

She laughed. A hollow sound.
“Loki would never come here. Not to me. Not to this me.
He’s friends with the brave girl.”

Sif.
But younger.
Sitting on a floating shard of rock, like an island broken in the sky.

“Sif? I love that girl—and I love her in all her versions.
I love you even when you cry.”
His voice came out quieter than he expected.

She didn’t turn right away.
Then, slowly, she looked at him.
A spark of recognition in her eyes.

“My mother dreamed I’d marry someone like you. A prince. A throne.
A life of tea and curtsies.”
A bitter laugh.
“But I liked swords better.”

Loki smiled, just slightly.
“Well… it’s clear you made the right choice.”

She lowered her gaze.

“They never thought so.
Not her… not him.”
A pause.
Softer:
“They thought it was just a phase. That I was playing at war.
Until they realized I’d never stop.”

He stepped closer.
“If only they could see the incredible woman you’ve become.
The most feared warrior in the Nine Realms.”

She didn’t reply. But she didn’t pull away when he knelt in front of her.
The surreal light of the astral plane made the contours of the young Sif shimmer slightly—but her eyes… her eyes were alive. And hurt.
Hurt in a way Loki knew all too well.

“I know what it’s like…” he began gently.
“To feel invisible to the ones who were supposed to love you most.
To search for their pride… and get only silence.
Coldness. Or words that hurt more than any axe.”

She lowered her head, hugging her arms tightly around herself. Loki looked at her with infinite tenderness.

“I spent years trying to be what my father wanted.
A worthy son. A prince. But it was never enough.”

He paused. His tone softened even more, becoming intimate.

“Then I hated him. For everything.
For making me feel like a mistake.
For leaving me alone in the dark of his unspoken approval.
But in the end… I couldn’t stay a prisoner of that hate.
I didn’t want to live with that chain around my neck anymore.”

He moved just slightly closer. His words were slow, full of new tenderness—fragile, but sincere.

“So I forgave him.
Not because he deserved my forgiveness…
But because I deserved peace.
Because carrying that pain inside didn’t make me stronger.
It was only breaking me.”

She raised her eyes—glassy with tears.

“But if… if I forgive them… does that mean they were right?
That I was wrong for wanting to be myself?” she whispered.

He shook his head, with a calm that only someone who has suffered can offer.

“No.
It means you choose to live without letting their words define you.
It means you take back the power you gave to those who hurt you.
You were always enough.
You always were.
They were just too blind to see it.”

Gently, he raised a hand and laid it over her heart.
The gesture was soft, respectful.
An unspoken promise.

“You don’t have to prove anything anymore.
Not to the Lady who wanted you to dance,
nor to the general who dreamed of a son.
You are the daughter no one knew how to love the way you deserved.
But I see you, Sif.”

The mark on his wrist began to pulse—strong, warm, almost alive.

“And even like this… I love you.
Not for the warrior you’ll become.
But for the girl who had the courage to stay true to herself.
The one who became my best friend.”

She remained still for a long moment.
Then her lips trembled.
The tears she had held back for too long finally fell.
And at last, she let go.
She collapsed into his arms like a child allowing herself—perhaps for the first time—to be held.

“Why did you come? Why now?”

“Because every part of you matters.
And I… I don’t want to live in a world where you don’t come back.
Not even if you return with scars.
Not even if you’re never quite the same again.
I love you. All the versions of you.”

She hesitated.
Then, slowly, she reached out her hand.

When their fingers touched, a flash ran through the magical mark, and the air around them seemed to resonate with something ancient—like a heartbeat restored, a piece of soul returned.

Light began to surround Sif, gentle as a long-awaited embrace.
Her teenage form seemed to grow lighter, more transparent, as the tears dried on her cheeks and her arms slowly loosened around Loki.

A breath. A whisper.

Then she lifted her face—and for a moment, she smiled.
Not with joy.
But with peace.
The kind that only comes when you finally let go of ancient pain.

Her figure slowly dissolved into a golden mist, glowing, dancing around Loki before merging into the astral void—
as if returning to where it belonged.
Inside her.
Inside them.

Loki remained there, kneeling, with empty hands and a heavy heart.
He had reclaimed a piece of her.
But he didn’t feel relief.
Only… deeper awareness of the emptiness still left behind.

A familiar presence made itself known beside him.
She smelled of ancient flowers and motherly magic.
Frigga.

“You did well, my son.”

Her voice was gentle, but not light.
Loki didn’t turn immediately.
He kept staring at the place where Sif had disappeared.

“It felt… like the worst pain,” he whispered.
“I can’t imagine anything worse.”

Frigga placed a hand on his shoulder.
Her touch was not only affection.
It was a gentle warning.
A mother who knew what he couldn’t yet see.

“You’ve only opened the first door, Loki.
The worst is yet to come.”

Silence.
The astral plane flickered faintly—
as if even the air knew something was about to change.

Loki closed his eyes.
And took a deep breath.

Chapter 29: Chapter 29

Summary:

⚠️ Trigger Warnings / Content Warnings:

This story contains highly sensitive content, including:
• Sexual assault / rape (on-screen depiction)
• Emotional and psychological trauma
• Power abuse / coercion by a superior officer
• PTSD / dissociation
• Mentions of self-blame and survivor’s guilt
• Graphic emotional distress
• Implied long-term abuse
• Memory repression / fragmented identity

Please proceed with caution. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Notes:

If you are a survivor or currently struggling, you are not alone. Please take care of yourself while reading. This story aims to explore trauma with depth and compassion, but it may be triggering.

      

The memory unfolded before Loki’s eyes like a curtain torn open by the wind.

He found himself suspended in time, in the corridors of the royal palace—but not the one he knew. The architectural lines seemed warped, as if the astral plane struggled to reconstruct them precisely. The walls were slightly curved, the colors desaturated, dull. The marble looked like compressed dust. And the sky, visible through a window at the end, bore a sickly hue: iron-gray, like his eyes when he let anger cloud his heart.

Beside him, Frigga moved in silence. She was more an echo than a tangible presence, but Loki felt her gaze on him—watchful, constant.
“You cannot intervene, Loki,” she whispered. “Remember, no matter how much you wish to change things, all of this has already happened. You can only watch. And listen.”

He didn’t reply. He just stared at the figure appearing at the end of the corridor.

Sif.

She looked like she had a thousand, maybe fifteen hundred years ago. Her features were slightly softer, but her gaze was already carved in steel. She wore a simple recruit’s armor, holding her helmet tight against her chest as if protecting it from more than just physical harm. Her shoulders were tense, stiff—but not from fear. Loki knew her too well: that was how she walked when she was trying not to smile too much.

He remembered that moment.

He had seen it back then too, in the real world. From afar. They barely spoke anymore, except for sharp exchanges in front of others. Yet deep down, he had been proud of her.
She had achieved what she had always dreamed of, ever since they were children training in the courtyards while others chased after more frivolous games.
She wanted to become a warrior. Not a lady, not a queen. Just a sword in service of Asgard. And she had made it. No help. No shortcuts. Despite what her father believed. Despite her mother’s wishes.

A tall man approached the young warrior. He wore a scarlet cloak trimmed in gold, the runic symbol of the Legion sewn across his chest: three lines interwoven like a spiral of swords. His beard, braided with golden threads, shimmered under the faint torchlight.

“Tharrek,” Frigga murmured beside him.
“Supreme Commander of the Northern Legions. He was a legend,” Loki finished.

He remembered well. Tharrek had been one of the pillars of Asgard’s defense. A war hero, capable of commanding entire armies and toppling enemy empires with a single campaign. He had been granted the title of Odin’s Hand, one of the highest honors ever bestowed—the man Odin entrusted with the most desperate campaigns, said to read a soldier’s heart with a single glance. The scarlet cloak draped over his broad shoulders like an aura of authority.

Loki remembered admiring him once.
Maybe even respecting him.

He was the one who believed in Sif, he thought. The one who saw what no one else wanted to acknowledge.

Tharrek stopped in front of her with a half-smile.
“You’ve finally earned your place, Sif of Vanaheim,” he said, his voice steady, charismatic, filled with a pride that seemed genuine.
“The recruits speak of your strength,” he added with a faint grin. “They say even the training dummies back away when you approach.”

Sif lowered her gaze slightly, but pride radiated from her silence.
“I train to fight, not to flee.”

Tharrek chuckled softly. “Spirit and sword. The rarest gift among soldiers.”

Loki watched, unmoving. Those words would have pleased him once. They were the confirmation of what he had always known: Sif was born to be a warrior.

“I remember your father,” Tharrek said, brushing two fingers over the golden rune on his armor. “He would’ve marched to the front lines just to keep you out of that armor. I believe I’m disappointing him right now. But it was an honor to fight by his side. And it will be an honor to fight beside his daughter.”

Sif nodded, lips pressed together. Loki noticed she didn’t speak, but something flickered in her eyes—an emotion he couldn’t decipher. Perhaps gratitude. Perhaps pain.

Tharrek handed her a sword. Not just any sword—the one given for first missions, marking official entrance into the army.
Sif took it with steady hands.

“I will not fail Asgard,” she said, and for a moment, she seemed to shine.

Loki watched her.
In the memory, she looked serene. Or at least, that’s how she appeared.

“Why are we here?” Loki asked, turning to his mother. “This is a good memory. I don’t understand how achieving the goal of her life could have destroyed a piece of her soul.”
Frigga looked at him, compassion in her eyes.
“Try to sense, rather than see, what is happening.”

Loki turned back to the scene, this time letting his senses, now entwined with Sif’s, take over.

Something felt off.
A shadow, imperceptible, passed through Tharrek’s gaze whenever he turned away. A veil too thin to be noticed by anyone not paying close attention.
Loki couldn’t explain it.
But for a moment, his heart beat faster.
Not from emotion.
But from a shadow that had no name.

Frigga reached out a hand to him, sorrowful.
Loki felt a weight in his chest, something rising inside without understanding why.
“Mother, what’s happening?”
She seemed to struggle for words.
“Come.”

Loki found himself in a military camp. The sky was low, heavy with clouds. Torches flickered dimly along the perimeter, and the sound of weapons in the distance echoed like a steady heartbeat in the dead of night.

Sif moved among the rows of soldiers. Her armor clung to a body shaped by training, her sword strapped firmly at her side. She was ready. It was her first real battle. She had worked for years to reach this moment.

As a silent observer, Loki still felt a trace of pride seeing her like that—so strong, so determined.

A soldier approached Sif and whispered:
“General Tharrek wants to see you in his tent.”

She nodded, surprised. But didn’t hesitate.
“Maybe he wants to give me a direct assignment,” she said as she headed toward the tent.
“She was young, ambitious. She believed command was earned through honor.” Frigga materialized behind him.

The General’s tent was larger, propped up by blackened gold pikes. The fabric seemed to breathe, like a living beast. Loki passed through it with the memory, suspended in silence.

Inside, the light was flickering. The air smelled of sweat, leather, and incense smoke.

Tharrek sat relaxed, as if there were no war outside.
The scarlet cloak draped over a chair. A half-full metal goblet. He reeked of alcohol.
And his gaze… cold.
Not like a commander’s. Like a predator’s.

“Ah, our brilliant new recruit,” he said with a crooked smile.
Sif stiffened, but kept a formal tone.
“Commander, it’s an honor to serve under your command. Did you summon me?”

Tharrek laughed.
“Under my command, huh? Your eyes say otherwise. They seek glory, not obedience.”

“I’m perfectly capable of following orders,” she replied.
Tharrek looked down at her from his seat, fingers drumming on the burnished armrest.

“So, Lady Sif… settling in well among our ranks?”
His tone was calm, almost paternal, but his eyes slithered over her, lingering where they shouldn’t.

She shifted uncomfortably.
“Yes, Commander. The camp is well organized, and the soldiers… have welcomed me.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he murmured, lifting the goblet to his lips.
Then he stared again. “Would you like to stay, girl? I mean… permanently. Here, under my command.”
Sif’s fingers tightened slightly around her sword belt.
“That’s what I want, Commander. To serve Asgard. To prove my worth.”

Tharrek smiled.
“Oh, you have worth. Plenty of it. You just have to know how to… recognize it. And use it the right way.”

He stood. Circled her. Studied her like one would a warhorse.
“You’re different. Not like the other soldiers.”
“I try to earn my place,” she said.
A pause.
“Not because you’re skilled… but because you’re a woman.”

Sif looked at him, confused.
Loki felt his heart sink.

“That shouldn’t make any difference.”

“Oh, but it does,” he hissed. “You see, men fight. You fight too… quietly, and that’s a plus… but we all know women… they’re useful. In other ways.”

That’s when comprehension dawned on her face. Not immediately. But suddenly.
Like ice cracking inside her.

Loki held his breath. His heart pounded in his temples.

Sif swallowed, trying to mask the tremor.
“I’m here to fight. Nothing else. I earned this.”

Tharrek laughed, spitting slightly.
“You earned nothing, girl. You’re here because I wanted you here. You’ve got a pretty face, and these campaigns go on far too long. Oh, I know. You thought you were special? Asgard is harsh, girl. Your name means nothing. And the only reason you’re still among our ranks… is because I said so.”

He stepped closer.
She didn’t move.
Loki felt a burning rise from his chest to his throat, like poison.

“You think your muscles and sharp tongue will keep you here? No. If not for me, you wouldn’t even be polishing swords. Sure, there are… other ways to earn your place here. More direct ones. And I can be very generous.”

He reached out. Brushed a lock of her hair.
Sif pulled back, but said nothing. Her pupils trembled. Her breathing, fractured.
Loki wanted to scream. To stop those filthy hands in her hair. He felt everything. The fear. The shock. The anger. The fear.

Tharrek lifted her chin with two fingers, almost gently. That fake kindness that hurts more than a slap.

“Be wise. Don’t resist. You’d only hurt yourself, and I always get what I want. Or tomorrow, you’ll be sent home—shamed, alone. No one would let you fight again, no one would even speak to you. You’d be worse than a harlot. And your father, wherever he is, would know he was right.”

“I… no.”

Tharrek stepped back, letting her cloak slip from her shoulders. His pace was slow, calculated.
“No what, Lady Sif? You don’t have a choice. Do you want to keep fighting? Or go home in disgrace?”

Sif stood still, her eyes locked on some undefined point inside the tent.

“You’ve got talent, you know?” he said in a low voice. “But talent alone isn’t enough.”
He grabbed the back of her neck violently, pulling her close to kiss her.

A gag rose in Loki’s throat—but it wasn’t nausea. It was pure pain.

“I can take what I want by force, and you’d still go home tomorrow with a couple broken ribs. Or…” he sneered, “you can put a smile on that pretty little face, spread your legs for me, and I’ll let you keep playing the valkyrie in my army.”
His tone was low and threatening.

Sif stared into nothingness. A single tear slid down her cheek.
“I…”
Her voice broke.
She was frozen in fear. It was something deeper. A fracture opening within her.
He slid a knee between her legs, one slimy hand settling just below her belt.
Sif seemed to wake, trembling.

“I’ve never…”
But she couldn’t finish.

He smiled, tilting his head.
“Oh, I know.”
He groped her chest with one hand, and with the other, traced her cheek with the back of his fingers. Sif turned her face away, eyes squeezed shut.

“I’ll try to be gentle, since it’s your first time,” he chuckled, as if making a joke.
He kissed her again, roughly, yanking her hair.
She didn’t react.
He pulled back with a loud smacking sound.

“I know you’re weighing your options. Let me remind you—you have no cards to play, dear Sif. Your future is in my hands and it depends entirely on the choice you make now. Do you want to keep fighting?”

And then Loki saw it—Tharrek saw it too.
The exact moment when Sif stopped resisting.

“Good girl. Do your duty.”

She didn’t fight back.
She didn’t speak.
Something inside her died.

Loki covered his mouth. He wanted to vomit. His heartbeat became dissonant, out of sync.

Frigga stood beside him, silent.
She stopped watching when that bastard began to undress her.

The sound of the cloak hitting the ground.
The clinking of the belt.
The creak of wood under boots as she backed up until she fell onto the cot.
Her breath—broken.
The silence. That terrifying silence that said more than a thousand screams.

He stepped out of the tent, staggering. He couldn’t stay there.
Inside, the scene went on.
Sif didn’t scream. Didn’t fight. Didn’t cry.

And at that exact moment, the world around Loki warped.
Sounds became muffled. Colors faded.
The tent dissolved into dark walls. And within that darkness, only sounds remained.

Loki looked around, frightened.
“What’s happening?”
Frigga answered quietly.
“She was building walls in her mind. Trying to think of something beautiful. She thought of you. Of rose petals. Candles. Thick, heavy walls to keep that moment out.”

Air wouldn’t enter his lungs.
But the sounds… he could hear them.
He heard what she heard.

The harsh rustle of clothes being removed too quickly.
The cold jingle of metal—buckles undone, belts dropping.

The slow creaking of the cot beneath heavy, rhythmic, regular movements.
A breath, ragged—but only one.
The other was broken. Interrupted. Almost held back. A whimper of pain escaped.

Loki began to murmur “no” without even realizing it.

Inside the tent, the sounds slowed. Grew heavier, deeper.
Then, a long, satisfied moan. Almost a sigh.
Him, rolling away.

“Good girl. You can stay for the month.”

It was over.

Loki couldn’t move.
He was like stone.
He couldn’t breathe.

Inside, there was a rustling. A body shifting.
When Tharrek left the tent, he said nothing.
Not a glance back. Not a word.

Loki saw Sif curled up on the cot, trembling violently, her back hunched under the weight of tear-filled eyes that would not fall.
Her fingers jerked as she blindly searched for something to clean herself with.
There was a small crimson and white stain beneath her.
She grabbed her white cloak, thrown at the foot of the bed, and began to scrub herself fiercely—until the skin on her thighs turned red and raw.

She didn’t want to leave traces.
As if erasing that blood could also erase what had happened.

Frigga, beside Loki, lowered her gaze.
“That’s how she learned to detach her mind,” she whispered. “One piece at a time. Until she couldn’t feel anything anymore.”

All Loki could hear was the rough cloth dragging across the wood as it slipped from her hands.

A muffled sound—somewhere between a gasp and a sob—escaped Loki’s lips.

He collapsed in on himself. His knees buckled, fingers clutching at the ground as if it could change anything.
But it couldn’t.

“Why didn’t she ask for help?” he whispered into the void.
The thought pierced through him like a blade.
Loki faltered, doubled over, as if vomiting breath itself.

“Why…” he muttered through clenched teeth, “why didn’t she say anything? Why didn’t she ask for help?”
His voice was a thread of glass.

Frigga knelt beside him, her face full of pain.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered. “She couldn’t speak of it. She believed that if she told the truth, they would accuse her of weakness. She would have been cast out. And her father… would have been right. She couldn’t bear it. She chose what she thought was the lesser evil. Every wall she built inside herself… was to survive.”

Loki covered his face with his hands.

The worst blood spilled that day wasn’t on the battlefield.
It was in the silence of a tent.
In the mind of a girl… who only wanted to become a warrior.

“Every time he abused her, Sif left her body like one leaves a burning room. She took refuge elsewhere, where pain couldn’t touch her. And what happened… felt like it was happening to someone else. A stranger with her face.”
“Every… time?”
Loki couldn’t see anymore. The tent was just a shadow closed before him.

“It went on for years. But in her heart, she never accepted it.”

The memories came one after another, like blades.
They cut through Loki from the inside, one by one.

Tent after tent.
Battle after battle.
Every time, Tharrek took something.
Every time, Sif left a piece of herself behind.
A fragment. Silent. Invisible. Painful.

On the battlefield, she was lightning.
She won duels, gave orders. Her comrades praised her.
But her eyes…
In her eyes, a different light died each day.

Loki had watched her fall apart—without truly seeing her.
At the time, he’d thought she was just angry at him.
That she had grown cold, distant, irritable.
He thought it was because of their breakup. Because of pride.
He had never imagined the horror she was living every day.
He couldn’t begin to comprehend the nightmare that had gone on for years.

“I blamed her. I thought she ignored me out of pride… but she was just trying to stay standing.”

Frigga turned to him.
In her eyes was the weight of eternity.

“Loki… Sif was taught that a true warrior doesn’t show pain. That if she speaks of wounds, she is weak.
And she believed it.
She believed that to be strong, she had to stay silent. At any cost.”

The images faded, like mist burned away by the sun.
But the scent of dust and blood still lingered.

The mark on his wrist pulsed.
No longer gently.
Now it was rage.
It was pain.
A silent scream flowing through his veins.

Frigga stepped closer.
She placed a light hand on his shoulder.

“This part of her soul is still hidden,” she said firmly.
“Not even I know where to find it.”

Loki closed his eyes.
His heart beat like a wild drum.
In the darkness, he thought.

Where could that broken part of her be?
The part that never cried. That never screamed.
That had only closed itself off…
…somewhere.

And then it came to him.
A place he knew well.
A place Sif loved.
Where once, as children, they had hidden away to escape the eyes of the world.
A place forgotten by all—except them.

Maybe… she was there.
Maybe, that lost girl was still waiting for him.

In the Queen’s Rose Garden.

Notes:

Sorry for the long wait for this chapter – my laptop decided to die on me.
This chapter was really hard to write, and I’m truly sorry if it hurt anyone in any way.
If you’d like to share any thoughts or give me advice, I’m always open to it.

Chapter 30: Chapter 30

Summary:

It’s always very important that no one feels hurt in this story. I hope to talk about it in a way that reflects how I imagine someone like her might react. If you feel the need to share or comment, we’re here to support you.

The garden was still there. As if suspended in time.

Petals floated in the air, light as breaths. The sculpted hedges drew familiar paths, and the ancient white marble fountain still poured clear water. And yet… something had changed.

There was a presence. Sitting among the roses. Dressed as she once was, but hollow in the eyes. It was Sif. But only a part of her. The part Loki had been searching for.

“Sif…?” he whispered, stepping forward carefully, as if afraid to break something.

Sif lowered her gaze to the roses surrounding them. Her fingers brushed the petals of a blue rose, almost fearfully. Then, as if something inside her had melted, she spoke. Her voice was faint, but not broken.

“Do you remember… the first time you brought me here?”

Loki looked up at her, surprised. But he didn’t interrupt.

“We were… twelve? Maybe thirteen. You were already taller than me — you’d grown like eight inches in a summer — and I had just received my first real sword. I was so proud… until Arvid, the weapons master, told me I had ‘arms too fragile’ to be a real warrior.”

She made a bitter face, but then softened.

“You didn’t say anything that day. You just looked at me… and said: ‘Follow me.’ No explanations, no questions. I followed you through hidden corridors, forgotten staircases… and then we got here.”

She paused, looking around. The air in the garden shimmered slightly, as if the past was trying to overlap with the present.

“I had never seen anything so beautiful. The roses, the fountain… and that silence. It was… peace. But the most beautiful thing… was that you had shared it with me.”

Her voice dropped even lower, more fragile. “You told me it was your mother’s secret garden. And then you said that, if I wanted, it could be mine too.”

Loki didn’t reply. He didn’t want to interrupt. He sat down next to her. Their bodies didn’t touch. But their hearts… trembled in unison.

Loki sensed she was about to speak of what he had just witnessed.

“The first time it happened…” she said, breaking the silence, “I felt like an animal trapped. I couldn’t breathe. It was like I had detached from myself. I watched everything from the outside. I wanted to stop it. But I couldn’t. And while he was inside me, I kept repeating one thing to myself, like a mantra.”

She paused. The wind stirred her hair.

“I thought: it wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wanted it to be with Loki. In our garden. He wouldn’t have hurt me.”

He felt the air leave his lungs. Pain pierced his chest. “Sif…”

“No. You don’t understand.” Her eyes were glossy, her chest too full of pain, her voice shattered. “I couldn’t see a way out. If I had spoken, I would have lost everything. My rank, my armor, the respect. And he knew it. He used all of it to keep me silent. I was trapped. I was prey. And he was my predator.”

She lowered her gaze. A tear rolled down her cheek.

“And the more time passed, the more I hated myself. Not for what he did. But for not stopping him. Because I depended on him. Because my dreams depended on him. Because I let myself fade. I did nothing.”

“You’re not the one who should carry that guilt, Sif,” said Loki, his voice raw. “You endured. You found a way to survive. To not go insane.”

She finally looked into his eyes. But there was no light in hers. She lowered her eyes to the rose. Her fingers trembled slightly.

“For years… this was the only place I could breathe. Every time I had to go back to him… every time he made me believe that my body was just a weapon to use or an object to consume… I came here.”

Her tone cracked slightly, but she went on.

“I took off the armor. I sat in silence, for hours. And I searched… for myself. What little was left of me. The girl who wanted to fight to protect, not to survive. The one who loved the stars, and the sound of your voice when you read poetry aloud. The woman who didn’t want to turn to stone.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Sif. I wish… I wish things had been different.”

Another tear slid down her cheek, but she didn’t wipe it away. “You didn’t know. But every time I came here… it was like you were with me. As if this garden reminded me of who I was… before.”

“Sif…” he whispered, but her name died in his throat.

“Do you know what it feels like, for a woman, to be seen only as something to use? When even those meant to protect you see you as a tool? When every gesture, every choice, is questioned just because you’re female?”

She stood up abruptly, her voice sharp, blade-like.

“Your worth is measured in how many men you can avoid provoking. In how many refusals you survive. In how much strength you hide just to seem acceptable. I fought with honor, with a weapon… and still, one wrong look was enough to make me feel dirty. Powerless. Small.”

She hugged her arms, as if trying to hold herself together.

“In the end, I did it. I erased it all. Buried it. As if it had never happened. As if I had never existed. But the truth is that ever since then… I’ve always hated myself. For not stopping him. For not saying anything.”

Loki moved closer, as if walking on broken glass.

“It’s not weakness, Sif. It’s survival. You carried an inhuman weight… and you did it alone. But not anymore.”

“Then why do I still feel so empty?” she shouted. “Why do I still feel him every time I close my eyes? Why do I feel his hands on me?”

Sif recoiled from Loki’s arms, a violent shiver running through her.

“You say it’s not my fault…” she whispered. “But I… I don’t know anymore.”

She brought her hands to her face, as if trying to rip something off her skin.

“Sometimes I think… maybe I deserved it. That I did something. That I gave him a reason. That I was too… proud. Or too ambitious. That I wanted too much. Honor. Rank. Glory. Maybe… if I had been more docile. More feminine. Less me…”

Her voice broke.

“I feel… dirty, Loki. Rotten. Like everything I’ve touched since then is contaminated.”

Loki’s eyes clouded — not with pain. But with rage. Not at her. At everything that had made her believe those lies.

If Tharrek hadn’t already been dead, he would’ve torn him apart with his bare hands.

The great Tharrek. War hero. Odin’s right hand. Father of the realm. A god among men, revered, respected, loved by all. Even he — even Loki — had admired him as a boy. Had even wanted, in some foolish corner of his heart, to be like him.

And yet… he was nothing but a worm. A rotten bastard hiding behind a gleaming façade.

How could they all not have seen? Or maybe… no one had wanted to see.

And she was just the price to pay to preserve the legend.

He moved toward her gently, like one would with a wounded animal.

“Listen to my words, Sif, and let them carve themselves inside you like truth set in stone: it’s not your fault. You didn’t ask for it. You didn’t provoke it. And above all, you didn’t deserve it. Never.”

His voice was steady. Unshakable.

“He committed a crime. He used his power to destroy. You… you had only the immense courage to survive. Day after day. Without giving in. Without going mad. Without becoming like him.”

He cupped her face in his hands, and this time she didn’t pull away.

“The pain you carry, Sif, doesn’t make you dirty. It makes you alive. And now… it’s time to stop carrying alone a shame that doesn’t belong to you.”

Sif looked at him. For a long, eternal moment.

Then… something broke inside her. Or maybe it healed. A knot that had choked her breath for years unraveled. And a warm wave — light, awareness, truth — surged through her chest.

Loki knelt before her.

“Because you never had anyone to tell you the truth. That yes, you are strong. But also hurt. And there’s no shame in that. They made you believe asking for help was a sin. But now… I hear you. I believe you. I see you.”

He took her hands. For the first time, her fingers trembled.

“You are not what he did to you. You are not that shame. You are light. You are fire. And if you let me… I’ll stay here, beside this part of you, until you’re ready to come back.”

Silence. Then, slowly, Sif’s lips parted. A sob. Just one. Then another.

She collapsed into Loki’s arms. Like an exhausted body. Like a soul that had never been allowed to cry.

He held her tight. And whispered unheard words. In forgotten tongues. With a sweetness that was medicine.

A moment passed. Then two. Three. Held in his arms.

Then Loki began to feel something was wrong. That piece of soul was still there — it hadn’t evaporated into golden mist like the others. His task was still incomplete.

The silence became tense. Perfect. Like the calm before the storm.

Then… Sif began to tremble. Not from crying.

She suddenly pulled away, crouching on the ground. Her hands clutched her knees, fingers white from the grip. Her breath broke in her chest. One. Two. She bent forward, almost suffocated by the pain she had never dared name.

“Sif.” He tried to take her hands, but she struck them away with a sharp, almost instinctive gesture.

“You don’t understand,” she hissed. “You can’t understand what I’ve done.”

She kept rocking back and forth. Loki straightened up, but didn’t approach. Something in her had changed.

The garden reacted. Roses began to wilt, one by one. The sky darkened. Clouds coiled around the sun. And that place that had once been a refuge… now felt like a prison closing in on her.

Sif raised her face to Loki. Tears streaked her cheeks, but it wasn’t just pain. There was something darker. Deeper. Shame.

“You think you know me… but you don’t know what I’ve done.”

Her voice was broken, cavernous, as if speaking from inside a black well.

“It’s not just about what was done to me. It’s not just the pain… or the scars. It’s what I did.”

A distant thunder. The cracked fountain began to drip dark water.

“I did something unforgivable, Loki. Something I… can’t forgive myself for.”

She brought her hands to her head, squeezing tightly. “Something that if it were known… no one would look at me the same. Not even you.”

The wind blew harder. The roses were now black. The leaves fell like ashes.

Sif stood, with a look that was no longer just wounded. It was condemned.

“No one should ever know what I did. No one. No one knows, because it didn’t happen.”

“What didn’t happen, Sif?” Loki tried to take her hands like one would with a wild cat.

She stepped back. And whispered the final sentence as if it were a verdict: “If I could go back, I’d do it again, I’d do it again, Loki… and that’s the problem, isn’t it? I’m not sorry. I’d do it again. I had his blood on me, his heart in my hands, and I was laughing.”

Chapter 31: Chapter 31

The landscape changed with a violent tear, as if someone had ripped reality apart with their nails. There was no coherence, no logic: only fragments of a nightmare, hurled into the air like shattered glass. That delirious fragment of Sif had been there a moment before, and the next it was gone, swallowed by the violent rift. Loki walked in silence through the shadows of memory, his heart tightening with every step. He had understood that this was the crucial moment. The one where the threads unraveled.

The battlefield stretched before him like an open wound, filled with nameless bodies and twisted armor. And yet, amid so much death, it was something else that pierced his chest: a cradle.

It was there, out of place. Incongruous. A cradle of pale wood, broken, overturned on the bloodstained ground. The slats were snapped like ribs, the worn blue embroidered blanket soaked with mud. It looked fragile, abandoned, forgotten by a merciless time.

Loki stopped. Something stirred inside him, like an ancient, irrational shiver. There was no child, no crying. And yet that cradle spoke. Not with words, but with a presence. A wound in the memory. An absence that screamed.

Why was it there? What did it mean?

He felt drawn to it and repelled at the same time. A visceral anguish struck his chest, with no apparent reason. Yet deep down he knew that this broken cradle held a fragment of truth. A truth so devastating it had been buried. Not by memory… but by the soul.

He turned toward Frigga, almost instinctively, like a child seeking refuge in his mother’s eyes. He wanted to ask her what he was seeing, what that broken cradle really represented. But she… was no longer there. Or rather, she was, but only as a blurred shadow, a fleeting reflection in the mist of memory. She could no longer speak to him. She could no longer guide him.

Loki felt the cold rising inside him.

He was alone.

And that cradle, silent and broken, seemed to scream a buried truth, too cruel to be spoken aloud. A truth that awaited him in the darkest corner of Sif’s soul.

Then, suddenly, a scream tore the air, like a whip cracking through the silence.

“STUPID! You should have been careful, you filthy bitch!”

Loki spun around, his heart in his throat.

Commander Tharrek was there. Gigantic, imposing, covered in blood but impossibly intact in his delirium of power. His eyes wide, insane. His hands clawing at Sif’s hair. She looked younger, exhausted, pale. One hand on her belly. “IDIOT!! How dare you?! YOU SHOULD HAVE GOT RID OF IT IMMEDIATELY.”

The rage on his face made him into something else, deformed. “If this gets out, I lose everything!” he shouted in her face. He yanked her again, then shoved her to the ground like garbage. “Get rid of this disgrace before I get rid of both of you.”

Loki started to move, but Frigga held him back by the arm.

“You cannot intervene. This has already happened.”

“It’s his…” Loki whispered. “He knows it’s his… and that’s why…”

Frigga nodded. Tears veiled her eyes.

“That’s why he took it from her. Here. Now.”

Tharrek kept screaming, pouring on her a flood of accusations, as if he hadn’t been the one to ruin her, as if his own crime had made her guilty. But Loki saw it now. He saw the distortion. He saw the monster.

⸻

A new cut. A military tent, lit by flickering torches. Sif lay stretched out on a field table, her face turned to the side. Her mouth half-open, letting out broken sounds, like a child dreaming of something frightening.

The healer was there. Trembling hands. A guilty gaze. She tried to console her, but the words died in her throat.

“It will be all right… try to sleep, you’ll see, it will all be all right…”

Sif was crying. Not from physical pain, but from something breaking inside her, something that was about to be gone forever. The healer made a maneuver and she screamed in pain.

Loki covered his mouth with his hand.

“No… no…” He couldn’t understand how all this could have happened without anyone knowing… not even him…

“She doesn’t remember, does she?” he whispered. “She… she never told me this. She never told anyone.” Frigga answered softly: “Because she convinced herself it never happened.”

Then silence fell over the tent. “There. It’s over.”

The healer was still there, bent over her, with trembling hands. A white blanket beneath Sif’s body was stained red.

Sif… didn’t react. Or perhaps she did, but only on the inside. Her cheeks streaked with tears, her eyes empty, lost on some faraway point. Her mouth half-open in a sob that no longer had the courage to come out.

“I’m sorry…” murmured the woman, as she administered something that looked more like poison than medicine. “You’re no longer a mother. But you’re alive. It’s better this way. It’s better this way.”

Frigga moved closer to Loki as he sank to his knees, stunned by what he was witnessing.

“They wanted her back in battle as if nothing had happened. A perfect soldier. Not as if her womb had just been emptied. She lost a part of herself.”

Loki felt something break inside. It wasn’t just anger. It was horror. It was shame.

Not for her. For him. For never having truly seen her. For never knowing how deeply she had been destroyed. And for once having believed her hardness was strength.

And he understood.

⸻

Then came the battle.

Noise. Chaos. Shouts. Fire. Sif ran across the field, her sword still hot in her hand. Blood smeared her arms and face. It wasn’t hers. Her heart hammered in her ears. And around her — nothing. No soldiers. No enemies. No allies.

Only her. And Tharrek.

The sky was leaden, motionless. The torches had gone out. As if the world itself was holding its breath.

He was there. Standing. Intact. She was spent, on her knees after slaying a troll. She clutched her belly, a grimace of pain layered over the pain inside. He laughed. That laugh she had learned to hate.

“Look at you,” he sneered. “So fragile. So empty. You’re not even worth the steel you wield.” He stepped forward. “I see you tremble, you know? Every time you walk into my tent. You put on the act — the soldier, the warrior… but you’re nothing more than a little girl trying not to cry every time I take you.”

Sif did not answer. Her grip on the sword tightened.

“You had my son killed,” she hissed. “Your bastard? Just trash I had the decency to throw away before it started to rot.”

That was when it happened. The world exploded inside her.

It wasn’t a scream. It wasn’t a gesture. It was only a choice.

The blade pierced his chest with a sharp thrust. Tharrek was too shocked to make a sound. Only his eyes, twisted in disbelief. Then again. And again. And again.

It wasn’t a duel. It was an execution.

Loki brought a hand to his mouth, as if he could taste the blood spraying in the air.

Sif tore him apart. With precision. With fury. With despair. With a terrifying silence.

When it was over, she let the sword fall. Her chest heaved as if it no longer belonged to her.

She looked at the body. It was there. In pieces. Finally mute.

⸻

Now she was alone.

She walked along a river. Black. Like ink. Like oblivion.

She knelt at the shore and began scrubbing her hands with sand. With fury. With obsession. The blood would not come off.

“It didn’t happen. It never happened. It never happened…”

Her hair hung over her face, her skin full of scratches, her body trembling. She looked like a broken creature. Half-alive. Half-dream. Half-ghost.

The battlefield shifted. The blood vanished. The body disappeared. Everything rewound.

And Tharrek… was there again. Not in flesh and blood. Not really.

But in her mind. Like a shadow.

He laughed. Wounded, but standing. Still.

“What will you do now, Sif?” he hissed. “Will you tell someone? Say that I forced you? That I ripped your child from inside you? Who would believe you? A woman? A warrior who bleeds like all the rest? You are nothing without my protection. You were only meant to serve. Nothing more.”

She did not answer. Her heart was stone. Her face, unmoving.

And so, she killed him again.

Not with rage. Not with screams. Only… to be rid of him.

One last time.

When the body vanished, she stared into the void and repeated:

“He died in battle. No one saw. No one knows. He died in battle. He died in battle.”

⸻ Frigga drew closer again. Her voice low. Grave.

“This… is the version of her that was lost. It is no longer a memory. It is a prison. A locked room inside her soul, where she shut herself away in order to survive. You must enter. But be ready: she may not recognize you. And she may not want to be saved.”

Loki looked at that figure crouched on the riverbank. She was no longer a warrior. She was no longer a goddess. She wasn’t even a woman. She was pure pain.

Sif, on her knees, rubbed her hands into the dark sand. The blood would not come off. Her lips barely moved:

“It didn’t happen. It didn’t happen. It never happened.”

Frigga, just above Loki, spoke in a hoarse whisper:

“That part of her is completely dissociated. She doesn’t remember. She won’t. She can’t. She is lost in a corner of her mind… and she built a wall so high she convinced herself it never happened.”

“This is not the warrior. Not the child. Not even the woman. This is the part that stopped feeling. This… is the survivor. And she does not want to be found.”

Loki, on his knees, did not reply.

And for the first time, he was afraid he might not be able to save her.

⸻

The black river flowed slowly behind him, but Loki no longer heard the sound of water. It was as if he had crossed it without realizing.

Now he was in a garden. Perfect. Still. Unbelievably beautiful.

The roses were in bloom, set in geometric flowerbeds. The sky was clear. Birds were singing. The air smelled of early summer.

And she was there. Sif.

Sitting on a white blanket among the roses, smiling. As if the recent events had never happened. And perhaps, for her, they hadn’t. She wore a light, pale dress and arranged a basket with precise gestures. She spoke to someone who wasn’t there, giggling softly.

Loki approached cautiously. Each step weighed on him like lead.

“Sif…?”

She turned. Her smile widened.

“Oh! Loki! At last you’re here. I’ve been waiting for you!”

Her voice was sweet. Too sweet. Disturbingly cheerful.

“Look, I’ve prepared everything. Strawberries, sweet bread, wine… Do you remember when we used to come here as children? But now it’s perfect, it’s not just a refuge anymore. It’s home. It has always been, hasn’t it?”

Loki swallowed.

“Sif… what… what are you doing?”

She laughed.

“What a silly question. I’m living. I’m fine. I have everything. No war, no darkness, no… shadows. It’s all gone, if it was ever there at all.”

“Don’t you remember?”

“Remember what?”

He had drawn closer. Now he could see her eyes. They were empty. Bright, but… too clean. No pain. No past.

“The child. Tharrek. The river…”

“Loki… what are you talking about?”

Her brows furrowed, slightly confused. Then, with a sterner tone:

“We shouldn’t talk about ugly things. This place is perfect. There’s only us. Nothing else exists here.”

Loki whispered:

“They broke you. And to keep from dying… you buried it all. And you built this.”

“No!”

The outburst was sudden. Her voice changed. The tone dropped. It became sharp.

“I am fine. Nothing happened to me. There was never a child. Never Tharrek. No blood. It. Never. Happened.”

The roses began to change color. From red… to black.

The light dimmed. Shadows stretched.

Loki stepped forward, reaching out his hand.

“Please. Let me remember you. Let me love you, even here.”

She stared at him. And for a moment—just a moment—her smile cracked.

But then she jumped to her feet.

“You’re not real. You’re part of the illusion. I’m fine. You just want to hurt me. If you want to hurt me, you can leave!”

Her voice was fractured with anger and panic. Pure dissociation.

The Sif who spoke did not recognize Loki. Did not recognize herself. Did not recognize the pain.

She was nothing but a survival mechanism, made flesh.

Frigga appeared beside him, paler now, weary.

“This is not a person. It’s a reflection. A perfect mask created by trauma in order to go on living. You cannot destroy it. But you can speak to the true Sif. You must find the crack. The crack in the glass. That’s where she hides.”

Loki looked at the figure he had loved all his life, who now did not know him. The strongest woman he had ever known… reduced to an empty smile.

“I will not leave, Sif. Not until you remember who you are. And what was done to you.”

And beneath the smooth surface of that serene gaze… something fractured. “Nothing was done to me.”

He paused. His voice trembled.

“You did what was necessary to survive. And to protect what had been taken from you. You must stop. Sif… he broke you. You saved yourself. And if that made you a traitor in the laws of men… so be it. Because I know who you are. And this part of you… even if full of guilt… is still worthy of love. Worthy of forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness… for what? Loki, stop. Sit with me. Let’s look at the roses.”

Sif laughed. A light laugh, far too light. She spoke with an unnatural energy, every word glittering like glass in the sun. Every gesture perfect. Precise. A mask.

Loki sat silently before her, his heart heavy as stone. This was not Sif. It was an illusion. A locked room at the bottom of her soul.

“Do you want some wine?” she asked, still smiling. “Or would you rather just water? I wouldn’t want you to get caught drunk…”

Her voice was sweet. Gentle. False.

Loki lowered his gaze to the basket by the ground. And then he saw it. A scrap of blue fabric. Light. Thin. A blanket.

Not just any. That blanket.

Stained. Handmade. The same one he had seen in the cradle, among the blood.

He lifted it carefully. Held it up. A small crimson blot in the center.

“What is this?” he whispered. Her eyes widened. Sif stiffened. Her smile faltered for a second, then rebuilt itself, wider than before. “It wasn’t here before. You hid it.”

“No, Sif. You brought it forth.”

“It’s just a blanket. It doesn’t matter.”

Loki stared at her.

“It was in the cradle. Among the blood. I saw it.”

She turned away. Her breath quickened.

“No… I don’t know what you mean. There was never a cradle. There was never… anything.”

Loki rose. One step forward.

“The child was yours. And he was torn from you. And then… you killed Tharrek. With your own hands. Not because you wanted to. But because you had no choice.”

“NO!” The voice ripped from her throat.

Suddenly, she was no longer laughing.

Her features hardened, her eyes darkened, her voice turned hoarse, broken.

“YOU LIE! You want to destroy me! You’re just like him!”

A wave of psychic force slammed into him. Loki was thrown back. The flowers withered, the sky darkened.

Sif was screaming. A scream of pain, not rage. She was fighting not to collapse.

Frigga appeared, gasping.

“Don’t resist with force! For her, truth is death! If you want to save her… you must feel what she feels. You must fall with her.”

Loki pushed himself up.

Blood at his lips, though he was only spirit.

“I have done things that cried out for blood… and you did not abandon me. You loved me when I did not deserve it. Now it’s my turn. I love you even if you killed. Even if you forgot. Even if you lied. Even if you don’t know me. I will not let you fall. And I will not leave.”

Sif froze. “Take that little blanket and remember. Your son.” Slowly, with a vacant stare, she turned to look at it.

A crack appeared across her face. Like a mask breaking. Her voice came faint, uncertain.

“I… I didn’t want to… I didn’t want to lose my baby. I didn’t want to become a monster.”

Loki drew closer, slowly. Brushed her hand. She trembled. Her nails broken. Her palms raw.

“You are not a monster. You were wounded. And I will find you. Wherever you are.”

The garden began to dissolve.

The roses withered. And in the midst of that darkness… a new figure appeared.

A girl. With scraped knees, torn tunic. Swollen eyes. A marked face. The true Sif.

The one who had wept by the river.

Sif was on her knees. Her hands pressed to her chest. Her breath ragged. Her eyes still black… but flickering.

Loki stepped closer. Wounded. But steady.

He knelt beside her. He did not dare touch her. He only… spoke.

“Sif… there is no shame. You did what you could, in a world that gave you no choice. You did your duty. And they betrayed you. You endured. And they broke you. But you are not guilty.”

He dared to take her hand. “I’m sorry for your child. I’m sorry he was torn from you. But you… you loved him. And that is enough. Enough to make him real.”

Silence. A beat. A tremor. Then Sif raised her gaze. And something inside her broke.

“I…” A sob tore through her throat. “I… I was expecting a child.”

Her pupils contracted. The black in her eyes began to fade. A spark. A glimmer. The truth.

“I had suspected it for days. My body no longer felt like mine. I couldn’t sleep. My bones ached. Then… a healer. The first one who looked at me without pity. She took me aside. She made me sit. She said: ‘You are not alone.’”

A breath. A slow heartbeat.

“And I cried. But for the first time in years… I cried for joy.”

Loki held his breath. Sif placed a hand on her belly. The gesture was tender. Broken. Real. He had seen her do it so many times during those months.

“I thought… it would be a boy. I could feel it. I knew it. A warrior. But with my eyes. With my heart. With my name. Because he would be free. Free from all of this.”

She lowered her head.

“I had thought of running away. Leaving the uniform. The oath. Taking a horse. Fleeing. Raising my son in a valley. Alone. Just the two of us. I would have worked the land. I would have taught him to read. I would have stopped fighting.”

Her voice broke. Loki closed his eyes. Every word was a gentle blade.

“But I didn’t. I was afraid. I thought: I won’t make it. That he—Tharrek—would find out. And he did find out. He took me. He screamed at me. He forced me to—”

The rest never came out.

Then a scream. Raw. Animal. Immense. As if the pain exploded from her lungs.

“I lost him! MY SON! THEY TORE HIM AWAY FROM ME!”

A wave of energy burst from her, like lava. But Loki didn’t move. He was there. Still. Tears in his eyes.

“Sif… remembering doesn’t destroy him. Remembering… makes him real.”

She panted. Her body bent. Almost to the ground.

“I never gave him a name…” Her voice was a whisper of ash.

Loki approached. So slowly.

“Then… give him one now.”

Silence. The world held its breath.

Then a word. Just one.

A name.

A name never spoken. A name buried in the depths of an unborn dream.

And in speaking it… Sif’s eyes opened again.

No longer black. No longer empty.

Painful. Human. Alive.

The name floated in the air like a prayer. Sif had whispered it. And Loki repeated it.

“Elvar…” “Elvar…”

They said it together. Once. Then again.

There was no music. No light.

Only two souls kneeling in the dark, speaking the name of a child never born… yet never forgotten.

Loki closed his eyes. As if, by saying it, he could protect him from time itself.

Sif was still trembling. Tears ran down her face, but she no longer tried to stop them. She let them fall. She stayed there. Feeling.

Seconds passed. Maybe minutes.

Then… something changed in her breath.

A new tremor. No longer just pain. But something deeper. Darker.

Guilt.

“I…” Her voice was hoarse. “I said he died in battle. And everyone believed me. Everyone.”

Loki lifted his gaze. Careful. Present.

“Tharrek…?”

Sif nodded. Slowly. Her eyes were clear… but filled with terror.

“I did it. It wasn’t a duel. It wasn’t honor. I followed him. Between the tents, when the army was away. I struck him. Once. Then again. Ten times. I didn’t stop. Not even when he stopped screaming. Not even when I saw his blood. Everywhere.”

Her hands trembled. But she didn’t stop.

“It was as if it was the blood of all of them. Of all the ones he had touched. Before. After. Not just mine. My son’s. And for a moment… I felt righteous. Like an executioner. But right after… I felt like a monster.”

Loki remained silent. Not because he had no words, but because he was listening with his entire being.

“I hid the body among the fallen. I said he had been struck in battle. I lied. To Odin. To the High Council. To Frigga. To myself. To you.”

She lowered her gaze.

“I swore it before the sacred fire. I said it wasn’t my fault. That I had arrived too late. That I couldn’t do anything. But it wasn’t true. It wasn’t true. It wasn’t true, but I didn’t know it. I didn’t remember.”

Silence fell again.

Then Loki’s voice. Low. Deep. So gentle. But firm.

“It was murder. Yes. It was. You didn’t do it for justice. You did it because they had annihilated you. Because no one had protected you. Because no one would ever punish him. Only you. Only his victim.”

Sif covered her face. Her shoulders shook. Remorse tore her breath apart.

“They will never forgive me.” “You don’t need their forgiveness.” “Nor yours.” “I’m not forgiving you. I’m staying. Because even this truth… is part of you. And I won’t leave you. Not even now.”

Sif looked at him.

“I killed.” “I too have killed innocents. And you forgave me. And you held my hand while you did it. And now I hold yours. Not to justify you. But to keep you from drowning in all this pain.”

A moment. A heartbeat. Then a whisper.

“It scares me. Having done it. Having hidden it. Having forgotten. I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Loki brushed her hand.

“We’ll find out. Together.”

Loki didn’t move. He looked at her. Not with fear. But with pain. Raw. Deep.

Then she spoke. Her voice low, but icy. Frighteningly calm. Her eyes empty again.

“You want to know the truth, Loki? The truth… is that I could do nothing.”

A heavy silence pressed between her words.

“Tharrek was already wounded. The battle was fierce. I was too far away. When I reached him… he was on the ground. Lifeless. I… couldn’t save him.”

She paused. Her eyes fixed in the void.

“I carried his body among the other fallen. I prayed for him. Like a good soldier. Like my commander to whom I had sworn loyalty.”

Loki said nothing. He swallowed. But stayed still. Present.

Sif advanced. Rigid steps, clenched fists.

“I told Odin. I swore it on the sacred fire. I wept before everyone. And everyone believed me.”

She stopped just inches from him. She stared at him. Her face taut.

“So it must be true! Because I… am the perfect knight. I don’t betray. I don’t lie. I DON’T KILL THE INNOCENT.”

Her voice broke. But she didn’t stop.

“I’m not a liar… am I, Loki? Tell me I’m not.”

She took another step. Her face so close to his. Her eyes wide. Wild. Empty.

“Tell me. TELL ME. TELL ME I DIDN’T DO IT!”

And then he saw them. Her hands.

Red. Smeared with blood.

Sif froze. Her breath shattered. An instant of pure emptiness.

“No…”

She backed away. Shook her head. Her pupils dilated.

“No no no… It can’t be mine. It’s not mine. It didn’t happen. It’s not…”

And she began to claw at her hands. Hard. With blind fury. As if the blood were poison.

“GET IT OFF ME! GET THIS FILTH OFF MY BODY! LOKI, MAKE IT DISAPPEAR!”

Loki reached her silently. But he didn’t touch her hands. He didn’t try to clean them.

He only said:

“It’s real, Sif. And it doesn’t have to disappear.”

She screamed. An inhuman scream, ripped from her throat like claws.

And then she struck him. A sharp punch to the chest. Fierce. Unrestrained.

“YOU’RE JUST LIKE THEM! You came to judge me! To remind me I’m dirty! THAT I’M A LIAR! THAT I KILLED A MAN!”

Loki staggered. But didn’t react. Didn’t defend himself. Didn’t stop her.

“I’m not here to condemn you, Sif. YOU DON’T KILL THE INNOCENT. And he wasn’t. I’m here… to not leave you alone. With all this.”

Sif trembled. Her breath ragged. Her eyes completely black.

Loki stepped forward. His voice low. Unyielding.

“I won’t leave you. Not even now.”

Silence. Only broken breaths. Blood on her hands. Pain everywhere.

Then Sif collapsed. Fell to her knees. Her hands trembling. Her chest torn by mute sobs.

“I betrayed everything. My oath. My honor. Myself. And I did it… without remorse.”

Loki lowered himself beside her. He didn’t tell her to stop. He didn’t try to lift her. He denied nothing.

He was simply there.

In the silence. In the blood. In the truth.

Sif was on her knees. Her hands still stained with blood. Her eyes black. But lucid. As if beneath that shadow… something was fighting to emerge.

Loki was there. Beside her. But he didn’t touch her.

She breathed with difficulty. Every word was a blow.

“I can’t bear the thought that it’s true. That I did it. That it wasn’t a mistake. That… I wanted it. I waited for it. I butchered him.”

The silence was deafening.

“I’m not me anymore. I’m not the Sif everyone respects. I’m not a legend. I’m not a hero.”

“You still are, but not in the way you think. I know.”

Loki looked at her. Not with pity. But with truth.

“You’re a woman who has suffered too much. Who carried a burden no one ever saw. Who fought… even when you could have let yourself die. That doesn’t erase what you’ve done. But neither does it erase who you are.”

She stared at him. Her pupils trembling.

“You don’t believe I’m capable of this. But I am. I’m capable of killing. Of lying. Of pretending nothing happened. I’ve been doing it for years. Every time they ask me about Tharrek… I perform. Every time I swear loyalty… I lie.”

She tried to stand. She staggered.

Loki reached out a hand. But she pushed it away.

“You should leave me here. You should go… and never come back.”

Loki slowly lowered his hand. Then spoke, almost a whisper: “I’m not here to save you. I’m here to remind you that you exist. Even when you hate yourself. Even when you’re filthy. Even when you’re broken. I see you. And I’m not afraid.”

She clenched her teeth, her gaze trembling. “You hurt me more… with your understanding… than he ever did… with all his hate. Because with him, at least, I knew I was alone. But you look at me as if… I were still worthy.”

“Because you are.”

And for a moment Loki saw her again. The child. Hidden underneath. Naked. Barefoot. Terrified.

“All right,” he said, with infinite gentleness. “I won’t force you. I’ll stay here. In silence. Until you’re ready… to let me in.”

“Will you really do that? You won’t leave me alone again?” “Never again.”

Loki waited. In silence. Patient as one who has known eternity. She said nothing. She didn’t accept. She didn’t refuse.

She sat down, away from him, and looked at him with bare, emptied, tired eyes. But no longer full of hate. Only confused. Hurt. Alive.

And then, like a leaf surrendering to the wind, like a whisper finding space in silence, she turned. She reached him slowly, without hurry, without words. Only with the weight of pain that, for the first time, she was not carrying alone.

Loki didn’t move. He didn’t touch her. He didn’t push. And when she was close to him, when their eyes aligned like two stars lost in the same sky, Loki leaned forward, took her hand, and murmured: “You are not a mistake. You are part of what we love.”

The dark part trembled, and then began to dissolve among the tears and the glowing cracks opening across her skin. He knelt before her, holding her hand tighter. “Come back to me,” he whispered.

As if those words were keys, light spread everywhere: the mark on Loki’s chest glowed fully, and a vortex of radiance enveloped them both, warm and alive.

Sif trembled, her hands finally soft, the weight of darkness slowly melting away. Her eyes, once lightning of rage, now shone with an intense vulnerability. A deep breath, almost liberating, escaped her as she looked at Loki, her lips parting to say something simple, yet powerful: “Loki… it’s me.”

Sif stepped back, raising her head toward infinity and spreading her arms as if ready to take flight. Golden dust rose around them. Warm. Calm. Intimate.

From her skin, a subtle light began to seep, then grew more intense, flowing like golden rivers along the cracks. In a single breath the darkness gave way, and Sif shattered into a thousand sparks, dissolving into pure light.

And when silence returned, Loki was still there. With one empty hand. And one more soul in his chest. He looked at his mark. The moon had become full.

⸻

Notes:

As I mentioned, English is not my first language. I’m not sure if there’s anyone out there who will still read this story. All comments and suggestions are very welcome!

Published on the EFP site in Italian under the same title.