Legacy

Duty or Desire

Sif leaned over Loki's unconscious form, gliding her fingers lightly over the raw flesh of his cheek. She lost track of how long she had been sitting at his side, lost in the image of his scarred but serene features. She tried not think about how he got those scars. Nor did she dwell on all the complexities that lay beneath the surface of the pale skin stretched across his brow. She only wanted to be in the moment. To touch him, to watch over him, to press the heat of her lips on the cold line of his mouth.

She felt the tingling warmth of his exhale on her cheek, and it made her smile, like she was getting away with something. A sleeping Loki couldn't spoil the moment with a snide remark. Nor could he cower away from her affection, which she was regrettably anxious to smother him in now that she finally had him to herself.

Sif had waited hours for this: Waited patiently while Thor carried his brother's broken form into the palace, through the great halls and into the healing room. Waited anxiously while Eir and her apprentices had treated his critical injuries. Waited faithfully at Thor's side as the King addressed the city's populace, informing them of their prince's mysterious but miraculous return. Waited silently outside of the healing room-no one was allowed in while Eir did a follow-up analysis-while Thor paced and responded to Volstagg and Fandral's questions with shrugs of ignorance.

Finally she had him to herself. It was merely a small window of time before Eir would return to continue treating him, but it was enough. She only needed a few stretched moments to feel the silk of his hair between her fingers, to watch the gentle rise and fall of his bandaged chest. His body easily filled the length of Eir's table, bare heels perched at the very edge. The healers had dressed him in simple linen pants with a draw string top, beige in color. Loki would surely hate it upon awakening and demand his dark leathers, but until that moment Sif was going to appreciated the façade of innocence that lay before her.

She was postponing all of her questions, all of her frustration and all of her anxiety, to simply be here with him. There would be ample time for pressing concerns once he woke up. She was just happy to have him back, to check his well-being off of her worry list. He wasn't exactly well, what with the hole through his chest, plus all the lacerations, burns and bruises, but he was alive and he would recover, just as Sif had always recovered from her grave battle injuries.

She lowered herself to a grazing distance from his lips again and just hung there, closing her eyes and breathing him in. He was so at peace like this, so beautiful and powerless when his torrential mind was at rest.

"How dare you," Sif whispered. How dare he lure her like this again. How dare he play such a crucial role in her life, and in the lives of those closest to her. How dare he play with his life so recklessly when there were so many who cherished it...even those he has yet to meet.

Sif stole one last kiss while she had the chance, hearing Eir's footsteps in the hall outside, drawing closer. She drew the kiss out to the very last moment, and then a second longer. She couldn't help it.

"Do be careful not to suffocate him," Eir said flatly upon entering the room.

Sif sat up rigidly as the elder immediately went to work, pulling up an array of sparkling charts that mapped Loki's body. Sif rose from his side and took a step back, allowing Eir enough space to work. She didn't mask her awe at the healer's skill, watching wide-eyed as delicate hands worked through layers of data indecipherable to a warrior. Eir was truly the master of her craft.

"Do you see this cavity?" Eir asked, highlighting what Sif could recognize as the wound that spanned from Loki's back to his chest. Sif nodded. "It is not an illusion. It is very real and it would have killed him if left untreated."