Another Chance

Loki on Ice

As a child, Loki had loved ice shows. In retrospect, the reason seemed painfully obvious. And it also seemed obvious why both Odin and Frigga discouraged his liking, first with subtle attempts to distract him and later with his open hostility to it.

And he might not have practiced excessively, but he remembered perfectly what he had seen. So after increasing his speed a bit more he jumped, spinning in the air and landing with minimal unbalance.

And he felt good. Almost... Liberating, he might say. Without Odin's critical gaze on the back of his head, nor the slight concern (which he had thought was for his safety) on Frigga's face. Not even the laughter of the Four Idiots, who couldn't have stood on the blades even if their life depended on it.

Instead he only heard Sigyn's applause. So he let himself go, trying out the jumps he had seen in artists, centuries ago. There was something addictive about it. Hearing the hiss of blades on ice, the air on his face. The way gravity ceased to exist when he jumped, and how everything came back to him when he hit the ice. So he let himself go, encouraged by Sigyn's cheers, which bounced off the empty stands. He lost track of time, and space, and maybe even himself.

Sigyn still felt the warmth of Loki's hands on her waist, despite the general chill of the ice rink. The warmth of his arms around her. She could still smell that mixture of cinnamon and leather that seemed to follow him everywhere. Most of all, she could still feel the way he'd shuddered against her, the remnants of the dissociation and anxiety he'd suffered.

The pain in her heart deepened when she saw him grin as he spun on the ice. Because seeing him smiling with the genuity of a child was rare. Too rare. Not even when he was a child had she seen him like this, she realized. Loki had been a taciturn child, always too serious for his age.

The only times she remembered seeing Loki smile was when he was doing one of his pranks, and she wasn't sure mischievous laughter was the same as happy laughter.

But there, gliding on the ice, Loki seemed relaxed. Happy. Genuine. And Sigyn would have done anything to see him like this all the time. At the moment the only thing she could do was stay out of his way, and she did. She retreated to the edge of the ice floor and just watched him.

Loki twirled with a subtlety that seemed almost unreal, his hair whipping around his face now that he hardly wore anything to keep the curls down. Maybe it was the suit, or Loki's physical structure, but the result was elegant. A little ethereal even, with the ice dust rising around him during turns and when he jumped down.

Even when he was just gliding across the ice, with his eyes closed and his arms open at his sides, Loki seemed out of this world. For a few seconds Sigyn could have sworn that a green mist surrounded him, that golden horns rose above his head and a green cloak fluttered at his back.

The illusion disappeared as soon as Sigyn blinked, leaving only Loki, with his black suit and his curly hair and his smile that threatened to break her heart. Loki opened his eyes, emeralds on his pale face, and looked at her sideways. His smile widened, and Sigyn couldn't help but answer him. And clapping when he launched into a jump that landed with almost unreal perfection.

The delicate bubble of peace burst with the sound of a doorbell. Loki landed from his last jump, wobbling slightly, and stopped in the middle of the runway. He stared at the floor as he caught his breath, before raising his head to look at her. Not her, no. He looked past, over her head. Sigyn turned and saw Natasha Romanoff.

The redhead was looking at him from the top of the bleachers, her arms crossed under her chest and her weight resting on one leg. Sigyn didn't need to see her face to know what expression Natasha had at that moment. She had been the witness and target of that gaze once. A look that analyzed with a chilling intensity. Measuring strengths, weaknesses, capacity.