born a goddess and forged a warrior

Sif had, perhaps, been avoiding him. It wasn't in her nature not to confront people, but most times, she knew exactly how she wanted to proceed. With Loki it was more difficult to figure that part out. 'Rehabilitation' was such a vague concept, so she didn't know how to help with it--or even if she wanted to when all he seemed to want to do was make her angry and make Thor sad. It was like dealing with a child, and Sif had never fancied herself motherly.

Still, the idea of helping S.H.I.E.L.D. made Sif think of the main reason she'd come to Midgard, and how she'd been sorely neglecting that purpose. It would not hurt to look in on Loki and try talking to him, hopefully without striking him. And it certainly wouldn't hurt her to see the puppies she'd heard about, if any were left. Something from home.

She'd brought books, having visited some massive library today while she'd been out, but felt silly holding them under her arm as she knocked on the door to his chambers. She would shove them at him as soon as the opportunity presented itself and be done with it. "Are you there, trickster?"

Sif had worked hard enough in the training area to break a sweat, which was rare for her and felt nice. She stepped off the elevator and into a rush of blessedly cool breeze that unstuck damp flyaway bits of her hair from her face and made her close her eyes in pleasure. Once she had asked Jarvis and he'd explained that he was regulating the temperature of the air in different rooms, something that had never been an issue in the halls and palaces of Asgard.

She opened her eyes in time to find her way into the kitchen and stop in front of the refrigerator, her hand rubbing at the back of her neck as she surveyed its contents and tried ignore the feeling that she was imposing--food kept appearing here and she kept eating it, yet did not feel as if she was contributing to much of anything so far. Loki was almost too calm, and there wasn't much to do but watch Thor worry for him, and wait. For what, she didn't know.

Making a frustrated noise, Sif pulled out some meat and bread, some green things and some sort of dressings for a sandwich, then plopped it all on the counter. She could not make anything else for herself, and missed the great feasts on Asgard. For a moment it made her long to see Volstagg and Hogun and Fandral again, even if it was to watch them throw food at each other. She'd never felt as if she didn't fit.

She stacked meat and vegetables as high as she dared as her stomach growled and she resisted the urge to kick off her too-new athletic shoes in a way that would be unbecoming of a guest. Instead she wriggled her toes where she stood and fished into a jar of mayonnaise.

New York City was no Asgard by any stretch, but the tower of Stark was a palace in its own fashion. Spacious and shooting clear into the sky, it wasn't the prison Sif had imagined Loki to be confined in. Thor's chambers were large enough for the three of them, at least for now. Sif hadn't made plans past arriving here, and wasn't yet sure how long she would stay, but she was grateful for their -- no, for Thor's hospitality. Or perhaps it was this Stark king she needed to thank for such well-appointed lodging.

Still, after enough pacing from sitting room to window and back, her feet began to itch to explore this new realm.

It wasn't lost on her that her armour and greaves made her look conspicuous, and this would need to be dealt with first. Even Thor seemed to have embraced this mortal garb, but she'd brought nothing suitable with her to wear to the marketplace. Thor's clothes were too large by half, so she'd stolen a pair of Loki's trousers, as they were most likely to fit for now. Perhaps she looked a bit strange with her shirt of mail on top, but it would do. Besides, it gave her some comfort to wear it--it had been woven especially for her when she'd finally completed training. The links were fine, movable, and had been mended seamlessly after more battles than she could count. She felt naked without it.

There were many marketplaces to choose from, but many were easily accessible by foot, so with a pouch of the money Thor had shown her, Sif set off to explore this East Midtown, paying more attention to the humans and cars than the shops at first. When she finally slowed down to look through some of the windows, she pursed her lips. There was little on display that seemed likely to turn aside a sword.

It didn't take long for Sif to grow tired of the incessant talk around the city. On her rounds she'd heard all of the rumors, each more ridiculous than the last. One day Loki was on his way back to Asgard with an army of Frost Giants and the next, he was currently ruling over some Midgardian city whose people he was holding under a thrall, making them dance for him every night.

But no one actually knew anything--least of all Sif, and that was what cut at her the most. It was true she at least knew where Loki was, but understanding was a different thing. It was difficult to reconcile any of what Thor had told her, or what she'd seen herself, with the boy she'd used to taunt for being so scrawny, who'd played tricks on her and had all those years ago made her hair as dark as his own. And she couldn't quite recognize Thor anymore with weight on his shoulders and shadows in his smile.

She'd always distantly known with their different stations that life would take them each down separate paths, but this wasn't what she'd imagined.

Even Fandral and Volstagg were founts of speculation that grew wilder with each flagon of mead. Sif spent more time with herself than she was used to, and began to feel restless. Useless. Before much time had passed, she made her way resolutely to the palace.

With Thor gone, Sif's visits there were much farther between, but Frigga welcomed her with her usual warmth as they sat for tea. Sif returned her embrace with none of the awkwardness she'd felt around the queen as a girl with gangly arms and mud on her skirts from wrestling with Thor.

Or, at the least, not as much awkwardness. Sif adjusted her armor and leaned forward to pour water for more tea as she looked across at Frigga, who sat poised and elegant as ever, her golden curls tumbling over one shoulder as they made idle talk.

"I've some idea what you're here to say," Frigga said after a while, broaching the subject. "I too am worried for Thor."

Sif's hand faltered briefly on the water jug as she righted it on the table. "I did wonder if he might need reinforcements," she said casually.

"I imagine it was difficult for you and the Warriors to stay behind." Frigga watched her over her teacup.

When news of Loki's escape had begun to spread around Asgard, Sif had known Thor would not stay even before he'd come to her. After all these years her instincts were to follow him wherever a mission would take them, but they weren't children anymore, she was a soldier in her own right and in times of peace, she had her own duties within the realm to attend to. "I don't have the freedom of a prince to go off wherever I want with no set plans to return," she said finally, more blunt than she'd intended to be, and with a little more bite.

Frigga only chuckled. "I'm sure he misses you too," she said, and Sif had the grace to look abashed.

"You know that Loki is under control," Frigga continued gently. Sif took that to be the end of it and began to desperately reach for ways to end the conversation, but then Frigga added with a small smile, "Still, I would feel more at ease if I knew that Thor had a friend from Asgard with him."

+

The Bifrost was clear of travelers when Sif reached it, approaching her brother where he stood watching at the edge of the world. Out of habit she sat at his feet, looking out over the abyss. Heimdall made no move to greet her, but this too was habit, so she simply sat in the quiet for as long as she could stand it. Most times she would try to fill the silence, but it occurred to her she may not have one like it with him for some time.

"You have decided to follow him," Heimdall said, finally. No surprise to anyone involved, Sif thought wryly.

"Unless you can tell me what else to do?" She glanced up at him with childish hopefulness. Despite his mother's words, Sif was unsure how needed she would be. And Asgard was all she knew; she'd never set out away from it alone.

"That is not for me to decide." He turned his gaze to her for just a moment.

It was the answer she'd expected--to a question she never should have asked to begin with. Sif released a breath and got to her feet again, setting her shoulders. "Get me as close as you can."