#warfrost

The two exchanged glances and laughed in merriment. After the weight of the last few years, of learning his true parentage and almost falling to his demise during the near destruction of Jotunheim, it felt good to laugh alongside his brother again. It had been a hellish realization, learning that he was a frost giant - the monsters he was taught to fear and loathe as a child. In the wake of that revelation, Loki had committed atrocities beyond his wildest imagination, and yet, those closest to him remained so. He had spent much time since then rebuilding trust, letting his actions speak where his words would not suffice. His relationship with Sif, however, had drastically changed.

“She hasn’t forgiven me,” Loki whispered, staring down at his hands. “Nor should she.”

“You must speak with her,” Thor said, taking a swig of his mead. “She deserves that much.”

“I cannot condemn her to such a life."

"And what life would that be? You two were bound long before all of this. Do not tempt the Norns.”

"A life with a monster."

"I see no such monster. The Jotuns are not the heathens we once believed. Many are wise, cunning and powerful. Laufey's rule was brutal for them and due to your actions, it has ended."

“Do not mistake consequence for intention, brother. I did not act to free them.”

“I know,” Thor replied, not wishing to start an argument. "But you did it all the same. I will not see you punish yourself for eternity."

Loki let several minutes pass before finally speaking, his finger rapping at the base of his chalice.

“I never thanked you."

“For what?”

“For not letting me fall. That day on the Bifrost.”

Thor swallowed.

“For all of it, I suppose,” he continued, his voice dropping. “I would have let go.”

“I am glad that you are here, brother,” Thor said after a long moment, trying to gain composure before he spoke. “And so is she.”

Sif suddenly brought a finger to her lips, silencing the crowd as she jumped off of her seat, swaying as she did so. She took one long swig of mead and placed the vessel on the bar, taking a deep breath before she began to sing.

“I stormsvarte fjell, jeg vandrer alene. Over isbreen tar jeg meg frem…”

Loki’s eyes flashed to hers the moment the familiar melody entered the atmosphere and found her gaze locked upon his. It was an old Asgardian folk song that she had sung to him many times when they were children. It was well known around the realm, but because of Sif’s particular affinity for it, Loki could recite every word in his sleep. While it had an upbeat refrain, it was a song about a lost soul, a wanderer, and a fair maiden missing him, crying out for her love to return home. The words began to cut him, to reach him, as they never quite had before.

“I eplehagen står møyen den vene og synger… "når kommer du hjem?"

When will you come home?

Loki replayed the phrase over and over in his head, only snapping out of his reverie the moment the men answered the song, rhythmically slamming their tankards down on the long tables.

“When she sings, she sings “come home”! When she sings, she sings,“come home”!” they shouted enthusiastically as the beat picked up.

Many began dancing again, repeating the tune over and over to an arduous degree. Loki noticed Sif stumble through the crowd and slip silently out of the hall. He nodded at Thor and stood, pushing in his chair as he took off after her.

The night air was cool in contrast to the hall which had become stifling with revelry. Snow began to fall heavily in the courtyards beyond. Loki turned down a dark corridor and found Sif slumped on the ground between two large barrels of grain alcohol, sobbing to herself.

"Sif," he whispered as he bent down before her, making sure she was alright.  

“How do you suppose you tap these,” she slurred, ignoring his concern as she knocked weakly on the barrels. 

 “I think you’ve had enough.”

 “Spare me your lectures and your pity. I am in no mood.”

 “You will have neither,” he assured her, slowly standing once more. “But I cannot leave you like this.”

 “Why not?” she spat, her heavy eyes finally meeting his. “You excel at that.”

 Loki’s throat tightened and his jaw clenched at the sound of her disdain.

 “Sif, I -”

“I defended you,” she laughed in disbelief as she slowly stood to face him, steadying herself on the barrels for support. “Even after New Mexico. The Bifrost. All of it.”

“I know.”

“And you never came back to me,” she replied, her voice wavering as tears filled her eyes. “You never came home.”

“I’m not who you once knew,” he said, unfeeling and flat. It had been a slow climb to accept who he was, who he really was. He could still return to his duties to the kingdom and focus entirely on his responsibilities there. It was never an option to return to her. He wouldn’t even allow himself the fantasy of it.

“I suppose not,” Sif said, trying hard to match his indifference, ignoring the allusion he made to his jotun form as she did not care. “Your ambitions were greater than your love for me.” 

“I did what was best.”

“No,” she replied angrily, inching towards him once more. “You did what was easy.”

“Easy,” he laughed darkly after a moment, his eyes narrowing. “Do you truly believe that every moment I’ve spent without you has not been agony? That I haven't laid awake each night, staring into the dark until it swallows the hours whole. That I have not reached for you - only to remember repeatedly that you are not there - ”

His voice faltered, just for a moment.

“Every silence is filled with you,” he continued, his eyes never leaving hers. “Every thought returns to you.”

“But you CHOSE this,” she cried, shaking her head in disbelief at his words. 

“I chose this to save you,” he spat, closing the distance between them. “I should have cast myself from the Bifrost. That would have been easy.”

Before she could stop herself, Sif reached up and slapped him hard across the face. For him to even suggest such a thing fueled her rage, further clouding any good judgment she had left in her near-belligerent state. She reached up to do it again but he firmly caught hold of her wrist and stayed her hand.

"You are a fool," she snapped, her voice breaking as she swayed.

"A fool who will not damn you to a life with a monster."

“The only monster is the one you’ve created," she cried, her inebriation and anger quickly draining into exhaustion. "I alone decide what is best for me.” 

“No,” Loki said firmly but with a sudden softness in his voice, bringing her hand to his chest, anchoring her there. “You will not carry this.”

“I’ve carried it regardless," she whispered, her lips just inches from his. "Only I’ve done it without you.”

The words lingered between them - firm, resolute, cutting. Every instinct Loki had cultivated demanded he turn around and walk away from her, as he should. And yet, there he still stood, his body betraying him, completely relenting at the sight of the goddess before him.

He looked down at her and sighed, his fingers instinctively brushing a stray strand of hair from her eyes before tracing the line of her jaw. Her breath danced warmly across his lips, close enough that he could nearly taste all that he had been missing, all that he had denied himself - and it threatened to undo him. He lingered there for what felt like an eternity, unwilling to break away from her, time softening around them.

Sif’s breath caught as she leaned into his touch, but her stance faltered and her strength suddenly gave way. Loki immediately caught hold of her and lifted her effortlessly into his arms.

“I've got you," he whispered gently, the faint, intoxicating scent of her locks rousing his senses as he did so. For a fleeting moment, he was somewhere else entirely - tangled with her in warmth and laughter, in a time far simpler than this.

"Release me," she half-protested feebly, though her head had already settled comfortably against his chest.

"As I said," he replied quietly, his lips brushing against her forehead as he spoke. "I'm not leaving you."

The snow fell in slow, silent drifts as Loki walked out into the night, catching in her hair and settling against the fabric of his cape. A faint smile touched his mouth as Sif, half-asleep in his arms, began to hum the same folk song once more.

“Where are we going?” she demanded softly, nodding in and out of consciousness.

Loki’s hold on her tightened slightly as he descended the steps and moved through the snow towards the winding path that led to his chambers. Their chambers.

He did not hesitate.