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

[bookishwench]

Back to Part 7

For the second morning in a row, Loki woke with the dawn stabbing at his closed eyelids. This time, though, when he begrudgingly opened them, his annoyance disappeared at once. The top of Sif’s head greeted his gaze, curled against his chest, one of her hands resting against his arm. He grinned.

“Sif?” he said softly. “Darling, it’s morning.”

She groaned and raised her head to look up at him, her hair in complete disarray, the impression of one of his buttons stamped into her cheek, and a blurry expression in her eyes. She looked utterly charming.

“We stayed here all night?” she asked.

“It appears so.”

She moved the muscles of her back to get the stiffness out of them, then stopped, embarrassed, as her neckline gaped.

“Do have the lace for my dress?” she asked, holding the front closed.

“That string thing?” he asked. “It must be around here somewhere.”

“I can’t go back into the palace like this,” she said.

“No,” he said. “I suppose you can’t, more’s the pity. Did I mention last night those are stunningly beautiful?”

She gave him an exasperated look and stood up, beginning to search. He really did have no idea where the blasted thing had got to, but as looking for it was granting him a little more time alone with her before they had to go in, he wasn’t opposed to its staying hidden for a while. Still, it was beginning to put her in a foul mood.

“Allow me?” he said.

A simple enchantment and the dress closed of its own accord, a new ribbon holding it in place.

“Thank you,” she said, relief in her words.

“I suppose we should return before someone begins a search.”

“Yes,” she said, this time taking his arm without flinching, but she was quiet.

“Do you have regrets, milady?” he asked, hoping with all his heart the answer was no.

She shook her head, resting her other hand on his before saying, “I didn’t have nightmares last night. I’m not fine yet, and I don’t know how long it will be before I am. Maybe I’ll always have shadows. But they won’t win.”

She kissed him, and he was certain that she was free of any doubts about the night before.

They managed to reach their rooms without running into anyone since it was still very early morning. Before parting in the hallway, they kissed again, then quickly went their separate ways. Loki changed clothes hurriedly, light-hearted for once. As he took off his boots, he found the lace from Sif’s dress sticking out of the top of one of them. He stroked it for a moment, vividly remembering the previous night. Then he placed it in a trinket box beside his bed before dressing in his beloved green and going down to breakfast, singing bits of an old song on his way.

Sif went home two days later, but her spirit had begun to return. Loki noticed she laughed more heartily, smiled more often, and seemed less troubled. He mourned her departure as he would have liked her to remain, but it just wasn’t possible, not with her parents’ return. They still trained together, then spent their time in the countryside, rambling from place to place, stopping to talk or to eat or to kiss in the sunlight. Sif continued to have moments of anger, even panic, and nightmares sometimes came to her, but she began to allow herself to feel safe again.

On a day about four months later, Sif returned with Loki to his private garden. She went to the bed of gold and white flowers, one of which continued to be delivered to her daily, and bent to inhale their fragrance again.

“They’re still in full bloom. Do they ever go out of season?” she asked.

“No,” he said, picking one of them and tucking it behind her ear. “They’re a constant, always strong, always beautiful regardless of whatever challenges they face.”

“Have you given them a name yet?

“I’ve decided to call them Sif’s Heart,” he said, letting his fingers stroke the petals in her hair. “The name fits, if you would permit it.”

“I’m honored,” she said.

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” he said, suddenly grinning and leading her towards the Sunlight Drops. “Yes, look, the fruit is finally there, ripe and waiting.”

He picked two of them, each a pale sky blue about the size of a bird’s egg, and handed one to her. At the same moment, they bit into the fruit, and the flavor of intense sweetness was unlike anything either of them had ever tasted before.

“They’re amazing,” Sif said.

She turned to him and kissed him, the taste of the fruit still on her lips. The kiss deepened slowly, growing in passion and intensity until she pulled back.

“It took a long time for this fruit to ripen,” she said, “and you never knew whether it would happen today or tomorrow or months away, or perhaps never. But you waited for it to be ready.”

“Yes,” he said, his mouth going dry as he realized she wasn’t only speaking of fruit.

“So am I,” she said softly, then smiled at him.

“You’re certain?”

“Completely.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or shout his joy to the clouds above, but he knew enough to kiss her, to whisper his love for her into her ear, to sweep her into his arms and carry her to the shade of the lilac. He knew enough to transform the bench into a bed, complete with silk sheets and pillows. He knew enough to make love to her at long last, fulfilling all of her fantasies and his own. They stayed there for hours, and no shadow of fear fell upon their happiness.

Centuries passed. One day, Sif returned to their room fresh from battle, exhausted but victorious. She removed her filthy armor and went to take her robe from its place on the bed when she noticed a bouquet of familiar flowers lying on it, tied with a faded ribbon.

“Welcome home, my love,” Loki said, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

“Is this… you kept it all this time?” she said, looking at the ribbon in wonder.

“Of course.”

“That was over a thousand years ago!”

“No. It was precisely one thousand years ago today.”

“It doesn’t seem possible.”

“None of the best things do, until they are,” he said, kissing her. “Mother has arranged a feast in honor of the triumphant warriors. Shall we go down?”

She gave him a sly smile, “Not just yet.”

Their places at the feast remained empty.