Legacy

Truth Be Told

"Are you certain you don't want me to join you?" Loki asked from across the room, propping himself up on an elbow. The sight of him in her bed was strange in the daylight, unnatural. Rarely in the past had they spent entire nights together. This was all new territory.

And it was exciting!

"I am certain." Sif pulled the chain mail shell over her head, letting it fall around her form with a rippling jingle. "Thor should be relaxed when I break the news to him. That won't be the case if you are in the room."

Loki shrugged. Even he couldn't argue with that. "Are you relaxed?" he asked.

"I am ready." Sif pulled her chest plate from the rack and collected her greaves and bracers.

"Ready for war, apparently." Loki watched with intrigue as she suited up, her hands working deftly over buckles while her eyes remained on him. She could armor herself blindfolded. "Is all that steel and leather necessary for a confession?"

"I am going to the training grounds after I meet with Thor." Sif crossed the room, greaves in hand, and took a seat on the bed. "No thanks to you, I missed morning practice with Volstagg and Fandral."

Loki seemed proud of himself for that. "Routines are made to be broken."

Sif shook her head, bending over to fasten the armor over her boot. "I could say the same about your body." She cast him a sidelong glance. "Just because something is enjoyable to break, doesn't mean it should be."

"Speaking of my body..." Loki moved across the bed, pulling himself up to sit beside her. He still hadn't put any clothes on, his modesty saved only by the sheet covering his lower half. "Who will apply my balm this afternoon if you will be training?"

Sif eyed him up and down. "One of Eir's apprentices. Be nice to her."

Loki scooted in closer, a devilish look flashing in his eye. "I make no promises." He began pulling free the pieces of her hair that were caught under her armor, his fingers grazing her face and neck wherever possible. "When did you stop wearing a pony tail?"

Sif almost protested being fussed over, but then her skin reacted with a warm tingle to his cool touch. She soaked it all in, keeping a soft gaze on him. "After your fall from Bifrost. I wore it down for your memorial. And then it just stayed that way."

Loki's movements slowed. He studied her eyes, searching, skeptical. He hadn't expected that response from her.

"That's the truth," Sif continued. "It comes out much easier than you would think." She then smiled.

"Is this practice for meeting with my brother?" He seemed awkward now. It was cute.

"Does it have to be anything other than what it is?" Sif leaned in.

"I suppose not." His eyes fluttered. She then took him by the neck and kissed him, deeply. His muscles gave and he melted into her, hands cupping her cheeks to keep her close.

Every kiss with Loki felt like a mad scramble to make up for lost time: hot, urgent, and bittersweet. As if despite their differences, their clashes, and their past sins against each other, the connection of their lips should have never been denied. Sif didn't pretend to understand it. She only knew it felt right. A soldier learned first off to trust their senses, even if they overruled conventional battle tactics.

Sif was never one for convention.

She broke the kiss but stayed close, meeting his shifty eyes with calm assurance. "I'm glad you came to me last night."

Loki smiled, biting down on words that she wished he would just let flow. "I am too."

Sif got up to leave but still had to steal one more quick kiss. She swore his lips were some kind of magnetic force. Finally she moved for the door, pausing only to toss him the linen pants he had abandoned on the floor.