Fic: Sif's Heart (Rated M, MCU) Loki/Sif 4/8

[bookishwench]

Back to Chapter 3

The next morning, Loki was up on time, which for him was early. He ate so quickly he almost accidentally swallowed an entire stick of butter thinking it was a small baguette. Then he walked at a dignified pace, or so he told himself, until he was outside Sif’s home at exactly what had been their usual time.

Five minutes passed. Ten minutes. Finally, a full fifteen minutes later, the door opened, and Sif slowly came out. Loki sized her up quickly, and what he saw worried him. Her head was down, her shoulders hunched forward, her hands held her sword diagonally across her body, and her grip on it was so tight her knuckles were already whitening. She looked uncomfortable in every possible way.

“Good morning,” he said, feeling awkward.

She nodded at him in return without looking at him, and they started down the road together. He wanted to say something, do something, anything to break the tension. He considered turning the hat of the pompous idiot who lived next door to Sif into a live peacock when they passed him. It really was a ridiculous hat. But he refrained. For now, at least.

After a few minutes had passed, he couldn’t take it any longer and broke the silence, asking, “Are you feeling well?”

It was, of course, a stupid question, and he knew it, but what else could he say?

“Yes,” she said, finally speaking.

He sighed and said, “I thought I was supposed to be the liar.”

She snorted once and finally looked at him.

“Fine, then. My wounds are mostly healed, but I’m not sleeping well,” she said.

He said nothing, hoping she might continue. Eventually, she kicked a stone in the road rather viciously, sending it clattering a good thirty feet.

“I hate nightmares,” she said. “There isn’t any way to fight them.”

“No, there isn’t,” Loki agreed. “I’ve had them myself the last two weeks.”

“I also hate that those fools were right,” she said quietly.

“Right?” he asked, utterly confused.

“They beat me,” she said. “They were able to best me.”

“Yes, by sneaking up behind you, hitting you on the head, and tying you up while you were out cold,” Loki said. “That’s not a fair fight. That was an ambush.”

“Maybe so, but I keep thinking I should have been able to stop them, that it was my fault for not being vigilant enough or responding too slowly,” Sif said.

“And I keep thinking I should have gone with you when you went to find your bag,” Loki said. “If we had been together, I doubt they would have attacked at all. They were waiting for you to be alone, the cowards.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Sif said, stopping in the middle of the street. “I want to make that perfectly clear. If it wasn’t for you, that scene would have ended so very much worse than it did. I don’t want to be the damsel in distress to be saved by the handsome prince, though, and I don’t want to be helpless!”

“You’re anything but helpless,” he said.

“Then why do I feel like this! Why do I feel like they’re still there, waiting for me around every corner?”

“They’re not,” Loki said.

“I know, but it doesn’t matter! When I needed to, I couldn’t defend myself.”

“As I recall, you killed Dag yourself,” Loki pointed out.

“I did, but I needed help to do it!”

“And who doesn’t? Wars aren’t fought by sending one warrior alone to fight the whole opposing army. It might make for a good tale, but it’s not real. Yes, you needed help, but it was because you were facing too many foes alone, and you’ve been forced to do so before too many times in training because most of the rest of our blasted coterie refused to treat you as a fellow warrior and fight alongside you,” he said. “They made you think you have to do this alone. You don’t.”

“Don’t I?” she said angrily. “I’ve been humiliated and dishonored!”

“They humiliated and dishonored themselves! You did nothing wrong, and if anyone says otherwise, you show them exactly how powerful you are with that sword, and I’ll have your back while you do.”

She was silent, and he realized that at some point in the conversation without realizing it he had gripped her hand tightly in his own. He could feel her pulse violently thudding against his skin. He looked down at their joined fingers, and she abruptly let go.

“I know what you’re saying is right,” she said, starting to walk again, “but there’s a difference between knowing it and feeling it.”

They finished the walk to the training ground in silence. Just outside the entry to the courtyard, Thor’s enormous figure was visible.

“Lady Sif!” he called loudly. “I am elated to see you looking fit again!”

“Thank you,” Sif said, and Loki noticed she pulled at the neck of her shirt, edging it a bit higher. “It’s good to see you as well.”

He saw something in her eyes he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before. She was nervous. In fact, it was so clear that even his usually oblivious brother noticed.

“Would you do me the honor of allowing me to sit to one side of you in the lesson while my brother is on your other?” Thor said.

Loki was dumbfounded. It was exactly the correct idea, particularly from the relief that spread over Sif’s face. Thor was thinking tactically. She would have someone trustworthy to either side of her, preventing her from feeling directly threatened by the others. It was simple and subtle. The only possible explanation was spending time with Loki was improving Thor’s intelligence, he thought.

The new instructor covered the history of catapult-style weaponry and its potential uses in modern warfare. Loki noticed Sif looked pale again, but her head was high, and she was attentive to what was being said. She was uncomfortable but adapting. Eventually, the lecture portion of the lesson ended, and another round of the perpetual, infernal sparring was announced. At least that’s how Loki always referred to it in his mind.

As the group was paired off, Sif was assigned to Thor while Loki battled with Jorgen, a student who was half a head shorter than himself and had never been a particular challenge. As practice swords and shields were put into fighting positions by the trainees, Loki kept half an eye on Sif. He remembered the small movement before with her collar, something striking him about it as not quite right. At least she was with Thor. He was the best fighter, so losing to him would be no shame, and if she did win, it would be a tremendous accomplishment; either way would be an acceptable outcome. Added to that, despite his brother’s penchant for being overly enthusiastic on the battlefield, Loki knew he could be depended upon to act honorably.

Jorgen opened with a slash at him that Loki easily dodged, not allowing the false blade even to come close. They circled one another, and Loki considered how damnably easy it would be to clone himself, allow Jorgen to panic at the illusion, then finish him off, but that was somehow considered cheating. Instead, he matched the other fighter blow for blow, nothing very creative but a decent show of skill. His eyes flicked towards Sif again.

She was off her form. While she was defending well against Thor, her fighting was oddly mechanical, too technical, not her usual style at all. He reasoned that she was probably out of practice and stiff from her injuries and lack of practice, but somehow it felt more than that. Jorgen nearly got past Loki’s shield in his distraction, and Loki concentrated again on his own fight, putting extra power behind his response. The maneuver turned him in the opposite direction, though, and his back was now to his brother and Sif.

Jorgen moved a hair too slowly with his shield and Loki was able to end the fight, using his sword to tap him against the stomach and winning the match. Jorgen, one of the few who hadn’t been among those cheering wildly for Dag and his cohorts during their first attack on Sif, conceded the loss politely and sat to the side, leaving Loki to be paired with another winner when the other fights were complete. As he turned to face his next opponent, he saw Sif walk past him, head down, moving quickly towards the bench where the vanquished sat. He glanced at Thor, who shrugged, but looked mildly concerned. Loki had no idea what had happened.

Loki was paired with Thor and lost spectacularly quickly. That was nothing new, of course, but it was still not a pleasant experience. He went back to sit with the others and Sif was missing. Thor was already engaged in fighting the other remaining trainee, a young man whose name Loki couldn’t be bothered to remember at the moment, and the attention of everyone else was on them. He used the distraction to slip away unobserved, leaving the training grounds and looking for Sif. She wasn’t on the road back to her home or heading toward the tavern. After searching for the better part of an hour, he found her standing alone near a park where they used to play when they were children, her arms wrapped tightly around her in the sunshine as if a cold wind were blowing.

“Do you remember when we used to climb that tree?” he asked, and she startled, turning towards him.

“I was just thinking of that,” she said.

“We’d dare one another to climb higher and higher, but you always managed to roost at the very top, far above where I would dare go,” he said, sitting on the remains of a stone wall near her.

“The view was worth it,” she said, looking out over the fields. “I could see all the way to the Bifrost.”

“What happened back there?” Loki asked.

“I lost.”

“You were fighting Thor. Of course you lost. Unless my brother were ill, blindfolded, or fighting with a feather for a sword, anyone would lose to Thor,” Loki said, slightly annoyed. “I just did myself. Again.”

“It’s not that,” she said, sitting down near him on the wall but keeping some distance between them. “I didn’t expect to win against him. If I had, I’d suspect him of not giving his all, and that kind of pity would have been worse than losing.”

“Then what happened?”

She looked away again, and she shuddered before saying, “When he won, or I lost, however one wants to put it, I congratulated him, and he slapped my shoulder.”

There was nothing unusual in that. A firm thud from Thor or any of the other warriors was a normal way of a victor showing that the loser had given a good battle, a mark of appreciation. Thor had done it to him at the end of their sparring match. If he wasn’t paying attention, it could accidentally be on the painful side.

“Did he hurt you?” Loki asked, concern drawing his eyebrows together as he thought of the injuries he saw on her that terrible night.

“No,” she said. “I only . . . “

She paused, looking for words, biting her lip.

“It frightened me,” she said finally. “I know no harm was meant, but the last time before today that someone touched me besides the healers, it was them. Even this morning when you held my hand, for a moment I felt panic.”

“That’s why your pulse was so quick,” he said, remembering.

“Well, that and other reasons,” she said, a shadow of a smile on her lips for a moment before it faded away. “I know they’re gone, they can’t hurt me, but the memories. It’s like the slightest touch brings it back. I wish I could just erase it.”

Loki considered whether he was sufficiently skilled in illusion to alter her memories of the event, then decided that, no, that would be a violation of another kind, and that would be the last thing she needed now. Besides, he didn’t trust his magic enough that it wouldn’t harm her.

“Sif,” he said, stopping himself from scooting closer to her on the wall. If she wanted to come to him, that needed to be her choice. “What happened was bound to leave scars of one kind or another. Patience isn’t a usual virtue for either of us, but I think maybe time might help.”

“My parents say I should stop training,” she said.

“That’s nothing new,” he said. “They’ve never wanted you to be a warrior. This is just a convenient excuse.”

“Probably,” Sif said, looking at the ground again before adding, “Last night, I burned what was left of that dress.”

“Did it help?”

“A little.”

“Would it help if you set fire to Thor’s collection of cloaks? I can help you pilfer them if you like, and we could have a merry bonfire,” he suggested, trying to lighten things.

She did laugh, and the sound was reassuring to him.

“There is a vase in my bedroom right now with fourteen flowers in it,” she said. “Every day, I looked at them, smelled their fragrance, and thought of you. It helped. I want you to know that.”

“I could arrange for cartloads of them if it would bring you happiness.”

She shook her head, smiling at him again and looking directly into his eyes for the first time.

“I have missed you,” she said. “I just wasn’t ready to see anyone yet.”

Her hand found his, and he carefully returned the pressure of her fingers, keeping his grip loose, letting her know she could keep holding his hand or let go without resistance.

“Is this alright?” he asked.

“Yes.”

They remained seated there for some time, quietly watching the sun grow lower in the sky. He remembered their childhood exploits here, the different adventures and dares. She would be fine eventually, he was sure of it, but she would need time and gentleness. He could do that if he tried.

On to part 5