Unexpected

Chapter 8

Sure enough, morning came only a few hours later. But neither Sif nor Loki stirred as the sun crept high into the sky. It wasn't until midday that either of them finally woke. Loki's chamber had warmed up substantially, the mild discomfort of which ushered Sif to consciousness. In the haze between dream and reality she couldn't quite make out where she was. It wasn't her room or the healers. She blinked several times clearing her eyes.

A jolt of surprise shot through her when Loki shifted beside her. Her head snapped to the right, eyes wide in the typical shock and discomfort that pervades the morning after. She quietly sat up and looked over his body. He looked innocent. Fast asleep on his back, his head had fallen away from her. The sheets were pulled over his chest, one arm over his stomach the other lost under the pillows.

Sif's mind was coming back to itself and with it came all the emotions and images of their night together. Her cheeks flushed at the thought of the feelings they'd confessed to one another and the intimacy that followed. She decided it best to meditate on these feelings, refusing to bury them in a shallow grave that would result in them repeatedly coming back to life only to haunt her.

They had known each other for over a millennium. They'd had a thousand years to unpack the person who'd always stood before them, but their paths had never quite crossed. Sif, being brought into the fold of warriors in her first hundred years alive, had always held fast to the friends she'd made in training and they to her. Thor, of course, was among them and Loki too, in the shadows of her memory. They had all been the equivalent of young Midgardians, barely 10years old. Thor and she had become fast friends, their bond incredibly strong between their fierce personalities. But then there was Loki, slim and pale, following his brother around with an eagerness to participate that had not yet been extinguished. 

Loki tried to play with them, but all the young warriors only wanted to play physical or violent games. They would wrestle and simulate battles, rarely bending from their interests. When the young warriors did stray form their usual games, Loki was always so much happier. Sometimes they would swim in ponds and catch frogs, or play hide and seek around the palace. These were the times that Sif could picture Loki when they were children. He felt equal to Thor's friends and everyone managed to find common ground together. They all laughed and formed valuable connections in these moments and it was likely the only reason that Loki felt even a little comfortable around the warriors at all these days. These days when all their different personalities came together were stars in Loki's memory too, reminding him of times when he felt like he belonged. But they came too few and far in between. And over time, a dark cloud formed over Loki's mind. 

Years went by. Loki gravitated toward his tutors and the knowledge they shared with him. He was incredibly bright, excelling in subjects far beyond Thor's comprehension, easily reaching levels of study that his brother never did. It made Loki feel special to be praised by the elders at such a young age, but most other kids resented him for his knowledge. The brothers were socialized with other noble children of Asgard and Loki made many connections. Unfortunately, by this time as a teenager, the shade over Loki's mind had all but settled. He was conniving and wild, always making trouble. He was too smart for his own good, but most of all, he was utterly depressed.

His life lacked meaning. Thor was constantly praised by their father and reminded of what awaited him as an adult when Odin passed, but Loki was promised nothing. He felt a terrible rift between himself and Thor, as well as his father. Loki grew more suspicious as the years went on, noticing this strange detachment he felt between himself and his family but he could not pin down the source of this feeling. And in his confusion he'd all but withdrawn himself from society in any meaningful way. He still had friends, though they were hardly that. They liked him because he was exciting and unpredictable, but mostly because he was royalty. Many of these so-called friends used him for his privileges and he knew it, but he didn't care because people were interacting with him. He felt wanted.