Fic: Hamartia 5/? (Sif/Loki)

[bookishwench]

Loki had expected that the cottage, which he was beginning to believe was the queen’s private respite in times of emergency, might be stocked with nothing but protein packets and dried fruit. Unfortunately, that is exactly what met his eye when he entered the kitchen, earning a groan. Resigned to yet another disappointment, he began slapping the highly nutritious but maddeningly bland packets onto a plate, grumbling the entire time. Sif followed his lead, then they sat down and ate in exhausted silence. Even chewing was sapping his strength. It felt like the longest day on record, and all he wanted to do was climb into his bed and go unconscious for many, many hours.

“Darling, if I don’t get to bed soon, I’m going to wind up passed out over the kitchen table,” he mumbled, taking her hand and squeezing it weakly.

“I feel the same,” she said with a reluctant sigh. “Let’s go.”

Loki shook his head as though to clear his ears and muttered intelligently, “Huh?”

“To your room,” she said.

Loki suddenly felt remarkably less tired, but his brain nudged him that something wasn’t quite right.

“To… do what, exactly?” he asked slowly.

“Obviously, I have to guard you,” she said. “Alfheim has experienced an attack, and as your bodyguard I have to be certain no attempt is made on your life. I can prop myself up in the corner and have a clear view of both the window and the door so that if anyone should enter—”

The sound Loki made was a mix of defeat, disbelief, and amusement, which came out sounding like an odd bark.

“Sif, we are under a protected dome on a desert island,” he said. “I believe you can stand down and get some sleep without impugning your honor!”

Sif looked at him as though he were speaking an unknown language.

“I can’t do that,” she said, her tone brooking no nonsense. “What if someone was on the island before we arrived? What if they find a way to break through the barrier? What if the release of the crop blight is only a cover for a kidnapping or assassination attempt?”

Loki stared at her as though she had gone mad.

“Do you intend not to sleep at all for the next two weeks?” he said, folding his arms in defiance.

“Of course I’ll sleep, just not when you do. We’ll take shifts,” she said, sounding so reasonable that Loki was ready to scream.

“Fine!” he said. “Fine, you sleep first in your little waterfall-cavern-fairy-hut or whatever in Helheim is lodged into the bathroom wall, and I’ll take the second shift.”

“You just said you’re ready to pass out,” she pointed out.

“That was five whole minutes ago! I’m much more lively now!” he said, breaking into a ridiculous dance during which he hid fairly well that he was actually stumbling from fatigue. “See? Perky as a morning rooster. Get some sleep.”

“Loki—”

He sighed and took her hands again, “Darling, there is no way you can convince me to let you completely unnecessarily stand guard over me as I snore away. It wouldn’t be gentlemanly. Mother would have my head, for one thing. For another, I am but a man, and I am not going to sleep with you hovering around my bed in the moonlight like a beautiful but bizarrely chaste succubus.”

She sighed, obviously realizing he was not going to move on the subject.

“Three hours,” she said. “There’s a clock over the fireplace. Wake me in three hours.”

He grinned and pulled her into his arms, giving a kiss that lasted just a moment or two longer than either of them had originally intended.

“Good night, then,” he said, giving a mock bow and pointing towards the bathroom.

She gave him a suspicious look, but turned and left, closing the door behind her.

Loki was asleep not four minutes later, draped over the kitchen table and with absolutely no intention of waking up in three hours. He had, after all, never actually agreed to Sif’s proposal, and to be fair, she never woke during the night either.

Dawn rose over the ocean the next morning, and Loki groaned, stretching to get the sore spot out of his back. The first full day of their isolation had begun, and he wasn’t relishing the thought of breakfast. He got to his feet and wandered over to the cupboard, intent on searching for something that wasn’t protein packets and unidentifiable powder in envelopes.

“You didn’t wake me,” Sif’s voice said from behind him.

“A bit difficult as I was dead to the world,” Loki said.

“Anything might have happened!”

“And didn’t,” he said.

However, not two seconds later, a muffled tapping noise came at the kitchen window.

Sif was next to him in an instant, sword drawn and teeth bared, but it proved to be nothing more than a drone bearing a large package. As they watched, it placed its load on a table under a flowering tree before speeding off. Loki followed it with his eyes and saw that it shot under the water and disappeared, heading in the direction of the palace.

They opened the door and cautiously began examining the delivery. At a touch, it gently sprang open, revealing a basket with an envelope sitting atop it. A wax seal on it bore the crest of the Alfheim royal family.

“Let’s hope it’s a note saying this was only a joke in very poor taste,” Loki said, ripping it open and then reading it aloud in a high falsetto that actually sounded nothing at all like the queen.

“My honored guests.

Prisoners, more like.

I apologize once more for this embarrassing lapse in hospitality. The fungicide has already been released, and we will let you know the moment our scientists say it is safe for you to leave.

I should damn well hope so!

Until then, the guest cottage and the water surrounding it inside of the protective barrier are yours. A detoxified drone will arrive each morning with supplies.

Oh, goodie-goodie, we won’t starve to death at least.

If you need anything, merely press the grey button on the mantlepiece in the kitchen, and another drone will be dispatched to you directly to bring back your request.

Wonderful. I’m asking for three Infinity Stones and a pony at the first opportunity.

Thank you for your understanding and compliance.

Well, really, what else were we supposed to do? Drop dead of poisoning?

With kindest regards, Queen Neftili of Alfheim.

I’ll show you ‘kind’ you withered old bat-faced--”

“You really are grumpy when you haven’t slept well,” Sif said with a roll of her eyes and opened the lid of the basket, revealing a large selection of meats, cheeses, freshly baked bread, fruits and vegetables, and a variety of sweet delicacies.

“We definitely won’t perish from hunger,” Sif said, smiling.

“This is enough to feed Thor,” Loki admitted, poking one of the loaves experimentally with his finger, “possibly for a whole day. I hate to say it, but I’m rather impressed.”

Loki carried the basket to the dining room table while Sif found a bottle of mead hidden in the back of a cupboard behind some glasses. They were both silent as they ate, enjoying the first real food they had eaten in over a day. When they were both full, they pushed their chairs back from the table at the exact same moment and looked at one another.

“Two weeks,” Loki said finally.

“It could be worse,” Sif said. “This really is a lovely place.”

“Two weeks,” Loki repeated, picking up a berry and chewing it while he shook his head. “We’ll both run mad by the end of the fifth night.”

“I admit, I don’t see many books here,” Sif said, looking around.

“Oh, that’s not a problem. I took most of my library,” Loki said, opening his pocket universe and taking out his bag. “Nearly all my wardrobe as well.”

“Potion ingredients?”

“Everything that travels safely.”

“Knives?”

“Full collection.”

“I brought two changes of clothes, that ballgown I have no reason to wear now, a few weapons, and a toothbrush,” Sif said, chuckling. “I thought if we stayed longer I could just throw my clothes in the wash.”

“I might be convinced to share a few things,” Loki said, not quite succeeding in looking innocent.

Sif gave him a suspicious look, but then her gaze caught on something behind him, and she beamed.

“What if we battle for it instead?” she suggested, walking over to a shelf in the living area and picking up a chessboard.

“Hmm,” Loki said, opening the board and starting to set it up. “For every piece of mine you manage to take, you can have your choice of anything in my bag.”

“And what do you want for every piece of mine you capture? I doubt you want my toothbrush,” she said.

“Oh, we’ll come up with something,” Loki said, grinning.

Sif raised an eyebrow but sat across from him at the dining table.

At the end of an hour, Sif had a dagger, a shield, a green silk handkerchief, two packets of dried fruit, and an extra pillow. Loki had taken only a hairbrush and one shoe. However, in spite of losing a few pawns, his queen and both bishops, he cornered Sif’s king and won.

“How did you do that?” Sif said, staring at the board. “Magic? Or cheating?”

“No, just strategy,” he said. “Now that I have your king, what shall I ask for as my prize?”

“The other shoe so you needn’t hop about in only one of those high-heeled monstrosities, of course,” she said. “I find myself looking forward to that display.”

“I was planning on using that as a weapon, actually,” he said. “I think that heel might work just as well as a dagger in close quarters.”

“You could turn anything as a weapon.”

“As could you, my love. Like the pair of shoes, we match well,” he said.

Sif gave him a soft smile and asked, “So, what is it you want of mine, then?”

“What if we just lie back on that couch and you let me run the brush I won through your hair for a while,” he said.

“That’s all? Nothing more?”

“I want nothing but what you are willing to give,” he said, taking her by the hand and leading her over to the couch.

He sat down and indicated the spot next to him. She joined him, turning her back to him. He knew from experience that this was a show of trust and vulnerability on her part. She hated having anything come up behind her where she couldn’t see. Gently, he unloosed her hair from the braid she had worn to bed and began slowly, carefully brushing her hair. He heard her sigh softly, her posture relaxing and her shoulders dropping as she enjoyed the sensation and allowed herself to melt against him. They stayed like that for a long time, listening to the sound of the waves and birds singing through the open kitchen door. Eventually, he stopped brushing and laid back fully on the couch, putting a hand to her shoulder in invitation, and she followed him, curling against his chest as his hands smoothed over her hair.

“In all my life,” he confessed quietly, burying his fingers in the strands, “I have never seen a woman who is your match. Not in beauty, not in spirit, not in strength. I love you, and I will for the rest of my days.”

Sif took his hand and turned so that she could see his face, then spoke.

“May I have my shoe back?” she asked.

That wasn’t what he’d been hoping for. He chuckled, but nodded. To his dismay, she got up and took it from its place next to the chessboard on the table, then went into the bathroom and shut the door. He sighed but gave it up as a lost cause and began putting the chessboard away. Once all the pieces were back in the box, he carried it back into the living room and replaced it on the shelf. He heard the telltale tap of her heels, and he wondered briefly why she had chosen to put on them on in this of all places. When he turned around, he nearly had a heart attack.

Sif was standing silhouetted in the door, the morning light making the opalescent ballgown she was wearing sparkle in every delicate color of the rainbow. As she came closer, he thought he might still be dreaming, but once she stood in front of him, a blush painting her cheeks, the scent of her perfume surrounding him, he grasped that this was real.

“Please,” he said, his voice rough as he took one step nearer to her, “let me worship you.”

Her blush deepened, but she held his gaze and nodded.

Loki kissed her, his trembling hands cradling her face like she was the most delicate flower in the universe. A soft green glow of magic enfolded them, and they were teleported to the bedroom, except for the gown, which lay in an iridescent heap on the floor.