Inevitably the convergence occurred, just as Heimdall had predicted.

Thankfully, the eternal realm of Asgard was for the most part left unscathed by the planetary disturbances. Save for the occasional rogue portal opening at random here and there, nothing too untoward was reported.

Sif grew increasingly agitated due to being confined to her chambers, waiting on word from the Allfather as to when her trial for treason would be.
Being restricted and isolated gave her too much time alone with her thoughts, and she spent sleepless nights worrying over Thor's safety, missing Frigga, and agonising over her current situation.
Her belly had grown, which she had failed to notice before. But now as her clothing clung tightly around her middle, it served as a sobering reminder -- not that she needed one -- that she was with child, and wouldn't be able to hide it from public view for much longer.

Some of her studded warrior skirts no longer fitted her at all, whilst her tunics and trousers strained at the seams due to her rounded stomach.
At first her fear of being judged by the majority spurred her into using a corset in order to try and conceal her secret.
To be pregnant and unmarried, would be severely frowned upon.
But the more she thought on it, she began to recall how she had battled against adversity when she had first decided to become a shield maiden.
Driven by her own strength of will, her determination had paid off in spite of others disapproval.
Well, now was the time to be brave and fight against conformity again.
Yes there would be spiteful gossip, judgemental opinions and disapproving stares...but so be it.
In truth, the one person she feared telling the most was Thor.
She prayed that he at least would be understanding. Even if the Allfather wasn't.

Several days passed by, which felt more like years. Cut off from the outside world, she longed to learn of news that Thor had returned and that the dark elves had been vanquished. She did not doubt Thor's capabilities as a warrior, but she couldn't help worrying for his safety for other reasons. The main reason being....his wicked brother.
If Thor dropped his guard, there was no telling what Loki may do.
Tales of his past acts of treachery had gone down in Asgardian history. And whilst Sif couldn't remember precisely what had happened during her period of being kidnapped and held hostage by him, she'd heard enough to cause her great concern.

After waiting and waiting, finally Thor came home....

But only to leave once more.

His revelation wounded Sif more greatly than any physical injury ever could.
Just as she'd dared to hope that everything would now be alright after hearing of his return, his decision to join his beloved mortal on Midgard shattered the only comfort she had clung to.

"Please understand, Sif, I shall miss you.....along with all of our friends."
He had explained, when he'd come to visit her on the eve of his arrival.
"But I must follow my heart."

"Which clearly is not here."
Sif managed to choke the words out passed the lump in her throat. Her worst fears were now realised. Thor was choosing Jane Foster above all else. Above all others. And this hurt like a blade cleaving through her heart.
"But....but what of your duty, Thor? The line of succession falls to you. Asgard, the people, need you. We all need you."

'I need you' is what she longed to say, but she daren't. She was too proud and couldn't stand the humiliation, for he was sure to reject any pleas to reconsider.

"Asgard will still stand with or without me, Sif. Odin will remain on the throne, so there is nothing to fear, and I shall return from time to time....I promise."
He chanced a cautious smile at his life-long friend and supposed intended, and took her hand gently in his as though to reassure her.
"Please Sif, if Odin can find it in his heart to understand, then surely you can? I never expected the Allfather to accept my abdication and permit me to leave Asgard....but he has-"

"Yes and how can you leave him now in such a time of need?"
She had cried, her tone distinctly accusatory. But she was in shock, and struggling to come to terms with losing her most beloved friend.
"He has already lost his wife and one son....must he now be forced to lose another?"
She faltered slightly,  as speaking these words seemed to give them further validation.
Loki was gone.
And he wasn't coming back.
Just as her disturbing dream had depicted - he was dead.

When Thor had broken the news he'd been most aggrieved, and Sif had comforted him. Choosing not to inform him of her dream, instead she had suppressed her own shock, and tried to ease his grief.
Loki had died an honourable death at least. He had sacrificed his life for the greater good of Asgard.
He had vindicated himself at the last.

"I have wrestled with my conscience Sif, believe me. And had Odin asked me to stay or shown signs of needing my support, then I would remain. But he wishes for me to go, as he knows that is what I truly want. Do not underestimate his strength. He's surprisingly tough. We must all follow his example. There is no personal difficulty we cannot overcome."

His words struck a chord with Sif, and she knew in her heart of hearts that he was right.
Asgardians were made of strong stuff, and it was not for her to pass judgement on Thor's life choices. She knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't have made this decision lightly. And  he wasn't hers to try and hang onto, no matter how tempted she was to try.

Not wanting to dampen his spirits or taint his happiness, she forced herself to plaster on a fake smile and wish him well with his new life.
She also chose to keep silent about her pregnancy. Now just didn't seem the right time to tell him.
Perhaps there never would be a right time, but only time would tell.....

Unbeknownst to Sif, he was already well aware of her condition and he felt a tremendous amount of guilt for leaving her in her present state.
But after a heartfelt discussion with both Heimdall and Eir the chief healer, he felt satisfied that the shield maiden would be well taken care of.
They swore to protect her, so at least his mind was at rest. Safe in the knowledge that she was in good hands.

***************

Loki sat upon the high throne of Hlidskjalf, clutching Gungnir in his hand.
He held the spear in a tightening grasp, his palm growing sweaty, but still he would not relinquish his hold on this immense source of power and symbol of authority.

He was King once more, and this time no one would challenge his position as ruler because no subject of Asgard would dare question Odin's birthright.

His little scheme had worked brilliantly, and he was decidedly pleased by how surprisingly easy it had been to formulate and bring his plan to fruition.
It had been a stroke of genius on his part, replacing his true self with an illusion.
Thor had gullibly believed that he had been fatally wounded by the Kursed beast, and of course his brother had been forced to leave his 'body' behind on the desolate plains of Svartalfheim.

Admittedly, Loki had almost felt touched by his estranged brother's display of grief. It was strangely comforting to know he was mourned.
Of course, once Thor and Jane had left, he wasted no time in transforming himself into Tyr....and whilst wearing this guise, he'd been able to seek an audience with Odin so that he might see for himself the bastard's reaction to hearing that the body of his adopted son had been found.

Any display of remorse and regret was not however enough to dissuade Loki from then revealing his true identity, and casting the most powerful spell on him.
Indeed it had taken enormous effort on his part, summoning as much dark energy as he could muster by channeling all of his anger and unleashing the full force of it upon him.
Afterwards he had been left shaken, drained, and even shocked by the sheer enormity of  what he had managed to accomplish.
He, Loki of Jotunheim, had somehow succeeded in stripping the mighty Allfather of his power and banished him to Midgard, to a place where he knew he'd be safe yet unable to pose any threat to his reign.

He had usurped the King of Asgard, outsmarted the supposedly all-wise, all-knowing Odin.
He had had his vengeance.

When Thor had returned, Loki anticipated that he would decline his offer of ruling. No kingdom would suffice for a fool in love.
The short time Loki had spent in the company of Jane Foster and his brother had revealed just how blindingly besotted Thor was with the woman.
He'd witnessed the love he felt for her, and he realised then how he could use this to his advantage.

So, with Thor well out of the way and preoccupied with building a life for himself amongst the mortals, that gave Loki free reign to pose as Odin and none would suspect anything to be amiss.
And although he wouldn't be able to actively pursue Sif again, at least she could no longer fawn over Thor with him gone.
Not to mention the fact that Amora -- and more importantly, Thanos -- would now believe that he was dead.....which meant he was safe, and this was a massive relief.

Yes, his precious Sif no longer loved him and he had lost his mother, and no throne could substitute that, but it was the best possible outcome given the circumstances.
At least he was free from his prison cell, and free from his damning reputation.
The good people of Asgard would never have accepted him as their rightful king, but this way he would be able to rule in peace.

Now all he had to do was muse over what his first actions as King would be.
He amused himself with thoughts of building a statue of his true self as a monument of remembrance. Of his bravery. Of his sacrifice.
He chuckled quietly as wild ideas invaded his imagination. Ways in which he could clear his name....the name of Loki would no longer be associated with mischief or wickedness. No, by the time he was done he would be remembered and acknowledged as a saviour.
Heimdall would be aghast. His reaction alone would be well worth erecting a statue in his own image, made from solid gold no less!
He must have a care though, as the meddlesome guardian may well suspect something to be amiss. He found himself toying with the idea of imprisoning the gatekeeper, for if anyone posed a threat it was him. His all-seeing eyes could prove to be problematic, should Loki wish to dispense with the guise of the ageing Allfather in private.
Perhaps he could put him on trial for treason, seeing as the guardian was already at present in custody for aiding Thor's elaborate escape with himself and Jane.

Yes, that would do nicely. It was the perfect excuse for ridding himself of his foe. And who knows, perhaps he could replace the watchman with someone who'd prove to be more useful.
He'd heard talk of that slow-witted, trigger-happy oaf, Skurge, returning from Vanaheim recently.
The man was spineless and regularly jumped ship, switching his allegiance between that of Odin and those who opposed him....such as Amora.
Well, with the intention of keeping friends close and enemies closer, maybe if Loki granted the dullard clemency for his recent services to Asagrd and promoted him, he could keep him under observation. Which would prove useful should Amora return.

Loki smiled wryly to himself and settled back into the grand seat contentedly.
It seemed as if things were finally beginning to fall into place at long last. Dare he hope that he would now be able to find some peace?

************

A few days had passed since Thor's departure, and Sif was trying her upmost to adjust to not having him around.
Her lonely heart ached for the loss of dear Frigga, and now for her childhood sweetheart and best friend.

Unable to sleep at night, she wandered the ornate hallways alone, her shadow casting a lonely figure upon the gilded walls.
She considered herself fortunate to have been granted a pardon from Odin for her act of treason. She hadn't expected that.

The previous day she had been summoned to the throne room by the Allfather, who surprisingly didn't even question her reasons for having assisted Thor in his treacherous actions.
In fact, she couldn't help but notice a marked difference in the Allfather's general demeanour. She expected him to still be mourning the loss of Frigga after her tragic death, and Thor now that he'd left to make Midgard his new home.
But he seemed to have recovered from his loss all too quickly.
But it wasn't her place to question the manner in which Odin dealt with his grief.

However the distinct differences in his mannerisms did not go completely unnoticed by her.
As he surveyed her curiously, she thought she could detect a mischievous glint in his all-seeing eye that hadn't been there before. There was a quirk to his lips, an almost unsettling, crooked grin which was not typical of Odin.
She also noticed a marked difference in how the King of Asgard now sat upon his throne. Whilst he had undoubtedly always had a commanding presence, his posture now exuded a dominance and confidence that bordered on arrogance. The way he was leant back almost casually with his legs splayed wide apart, betrayed a sense of self-assuredness.
Perhaps she was going mad, and merely imagining these subtle oddities. Or maybe he was attempting to feign a nonchalance in order to conceal his true grief.

Even the conversation they'd had seemed slightly strange....

"Lady Sif, although you conspired along with my son and his companions to commit an act of treason against this sovereignty, had it not been for your party's prompt and bold actions then who knows what a dire state Asgard would now find itself in. Therefore you are officially pardoned on this occasion. I trust you won't attempt to betray your King again?"

Sif dipped her head in a benevolent bow.
"No, my King. You have my word."

"Your word?"
He echoed, raising a gray eyebrow at her to display his scepticism.
"I shall require more than just your word, Lady Sif....seeing as you have already disobeyed your king's commands on no less than four separate occasions now."

Sif had frowned at this. Undeniably baffled.
"Four, your majesty?"

"Yes, four! I am quite capable of counting, do not think me senile due to my age. Now, away with you....I have other important matters of state to attend to. But have a care, Sif. So far I have been lenient but rest assured if there is a next time, you will be held accountable for your misbehaviour. Do I make myself clear?"

Sif had nodded, apologised and then excused herself, wisely choosing not to become embroiled in a war or words with the mighty Allfather.
Surely he had to be mistaken. She hadn't disobeyed his commands four times.
The only times she could recall was when she'd gone to Jotunheim to confront the frost Giants, and on this occasion when she'd helped Thor carry out his plan to escape Asgard with Jane Foster and Loki.

Her mind then inadvertently turned to Thor's deceased younger brother and she found herself wondering what precisely had gone on during the time he had held her captive.
Had she betrayed Odin then? Twice more?
There was so many blank spaces in her memory - especially where Loki was concerned. She couldn't remember anything about him whatsoever. Other than hear' say, she knew nothing of the man he was and what motivated him.
And now she never would know.
Nor would she get the answers that could help put all the missing pieces back together.
He was gone, and had taken the secrets with him to the grave.

For some inexplicable reason this saddened her, and her pace slowed to a halt in the empty hallway. Her head ached from being overloaded with so many thoughts. She rubbed at her temples with her fingertips and paused for a moment; leaning back against the wall.

Then she looked up and her weary gaze came to rest on the large, oak-panelled doors in front of her. They were not dissimilar to any of the other doors in the palace, yet they seemed startlingly familiar. She'd been here before but who's room it was, she could not say. A strong sense of deja vu compelled her to take a step closer and knock gently with her knuckles.
A few moments passed without a response, so she knocked again, harder his time, and as she rapped quite forcibly on the thick panel it unexpectedly opened inwards due to the force of it.

She hesitated, peering through the visible gap that gave a glimpse into the seemingly dark, deserted bedchamber.
Placing her hand against the door now she pushed it open further and called out..

"Hello?"

As anticipated there was no response, so she stepped inside. The room was cloaked in darkness which hindered visibility, so she took one of the flaming sconces from the hallway in order to take a look around the room she'd been ominously drawn to.

The large bed was elaborate, with grand ivory-green drapes fringed in gold which hung from the canopy above it. She moved to inspect it further, and found the bed to be neatly made. Running her free hand over the matching green and gold sheets, she discovered it was icy cold to the touch as if it hadn't been slept in for some time.
Then her keen eyes noticed the dainty embroidery on the corner of the pillow case...

HRH   P L.

The breath hitched in her throat. The stitched lettering stood for, "His Royal Highness Prince Loki"

This was Loki's room.

She hastily shifted away from the bed, aware now that she was intruding. This wasn't just trespassing on a Royal's chambers, the occupant was no longer alive.
She ought to leave immediately as a sign of respect.

But her curiosity had gotten the better of her now, and she couldn't refrain from taking a quick look around the curious room.
A large workbench commandeered a large portion of the space and sat unused, the bottles and crystals which littered its surface now gathering dust.
Shelf upon shelf of books lined the walls; similarly, they too were now thick with layers of dust due to being left untouched.

Taking a step closer to the bench, she found herself picking up a dusty quill pen made from what appeared to be a raven's feather.
The nib was coated in dried ink, and her mind pondered over when the wicked prince may have last used his writing instrument.
Had he known then, what fate awaited him?
No, of course he had not.
Without thinking, she began flipping through one of the discarded books which lay open. It was a spell book, and contained a lot of runic symbols.
Intrigued, she found herself admiring the elaborate handwriting, but then her attention was drawn to something else...

An envelope was tucked between the back pages, and it was addressed to none other than.....herself.

Her heart began beating wildly as she reached for a candle and lit it from the sconce. Thus enabling her to hurriedly place the sconce back, so that she had both hands free.

Tearing the envelope open with trembling fingers, she found two pieces of parchment inside.
The larger of the two was a wedding invitation, requesting her presence at the ceremony which would unite "HRH Loki Odinson and HRH Sigyn Njorddottir"

Her mind raced.
Wasn't Princess Sigyn the daughter of Njord, the Vanaheim King?

Turning her attention to the folded letter which accompanied the invite, she slowly opened it out and began to read.....

My Dearest Sif,
Beautiful, strong, faithful Sif.
You alone stood beside me, when all others turned their backs.
It would seem you fought to keep me here, because you fear that I desire greatness so much, that I would be willing to do ANYTHING to achieve it.
But what if, what if I no longer felt the need to be great?
What if I could be loved simply for who I am?
What if, instead of greatness, I chose love?
Oh Sif, I loved you well when we were young. But like everyone else, you never had eyes for me in the presence of Thor.
I could choose to be any Asgardian's second choice, but that's not who I am.
I asked you last night, "Is this love, Sif?" as my frozen heart was filled with renewed hope. Dare I still hope? Or am I at risk of becoming a fool for love?
Even now on the eve of my impending marriage to another, I find myself hoping that the affections you have shown me, stems from something more than your need to be my saviour?
Sif, you already are my salvation.
Please forgive my cowardice, but my silver tongue has always been too tongue-tied to tell you.....
I am terrified again of loving. Of loving and not loving you.
Of being loved, and not by you.
If I do not love you, I shall not love.
And if you do not love me, then I shall not be loved.

Forever yours,
Loki.

Sif read, and then re-read the heartfelt letter several times.
All the while, blood roared in her ears as her heart Jack-knifed in her chest.
She couldn't quite believe what she was reading, and she was so overcome she almost felt faint.
Placing a hand against the desk to steady herself wasn't enough to support her trembling knees which threatened to buckle on her, so in the end she had to sit down on Loki's bed.

Her head spun, and her chest tightened until she inwardly crumpled in on herself, dissolving into tears. They sprang from her eyes suddenly and unexpectedly, and she was unable to stop them.

She wept so hard, the aching in her heart became physically painful, and her upper body sagged onto the bed, her hands clutching at the cold, silken sheets.
Why was she sobbing so? She couldn't understand.
Perhaps all the emotions she had kept tamped down for so long, now needed to be released.
She cried over Frigga. For the loss of Thor. For herself.
And.....for the words of the poor, wretched Loki.
For the man who had written such a letter in earnest, longing to be loved.
She cried over the complete unfairness of it all.

Without thinking, she grasped one of Loki's pillows and held it to her chest, as if seeking some form of comfort from it's softness. Hoping to find some relief from the pain.
From the fabric she caught the musky scent of cinnamon and Dragons Blood resin, which smelt sweet, soft and slightly amber-like.
Was this what Loki had smelt like?
It seemed eerily recognisable to her and distinctive, yet strangely calming.
Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. Breathing him in.

This was madness.

**************

Loki stealthily navigated the empty halls of the palace, cloaked by an invisibility spell.
Sleep had so far, evaded him. So for want of something better to do, he had decided to go to his old chambers and retrieve some of his belongings.
Having his cherished rune stones and crystals back in his possession would afford him with some comfort. The familiarity of the powerful, precious gems could perhaps make his new living quarters feel more homely.
Frigga had gifted them to him, along with his daggers. And he valued their sentimental value above all else.
Oh how he missed his mother.

Upon reaching his chambers he was startled to discover the door ajar. This discovery shook him from his melancholy, as he cautiously stole a look inside, only to be shocked further by the sight of Sif, huddled up on his bed, crying her heart out.

Her small sobs were heart-wrenching and muffled by the pillow she clutched to her chest.

His mind was awash with confusion, pity and fresh hope.
What had driven her here, of all places?
Could it be that she had remembered?
His first instinct was to comfort her, his arms yearning to embrace her. But he had to gather his thoughts, even though the temptation to reveal himself was overwhelming.
But no, he had to proceed with caution.
If she was indeed crying for him and their lost love, he had to use tact. He couldn't simply say 'ta-da!' and materialise as himself. The shock may be too much for her to bear.

Using his quick wits, he altered his appearance to that of Nanna.
It seemed the only reasonable disguise to use, seeing as Sif had spent some time in the healing rooms when she'd first arrived back on Asgard. The effects of Karnilla's potion had rendered her unconscious, so she'd required medical intervention.
Transforming into a guard would not suffice, Sif was more likely to respond to a female who was familiar to her.
So, Nanna it would have to be....

Slipping inside the room he knocked softly on the open door, alerting Sif to his presence.

She started, immediately jumping to her feet.

"Forgive my intrusion my lady...."
Loki spoke in the healers gentle voice.
"...I did not mean to startle you. I overheard and you seemed to be in some distress, so I wondered if I may be of any assistance?"

Sif hurriedly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, the other hand he noticed, was clutching a crumpled piece of paper.
"Oh, no thank you Nanna....I am fine. I'm merely being maudlin."
She moved hastily to the candle which sat atop the workbench and blew out the flame.

"Maudlin? Why is that, lady Sif?"
Loki ventured with bated breath.
"I apologise, I do not mean to pry....but I cannot help wondering why you are here, alone, weeping.....What troubles you my lady? Do you....do you grieve for Prince Loki?"

He watched Sif as she moved towards him and the doorway, her expression irritatingly unreadable.

"I....I don't think so, I'm not sure. If I do, there is no logical explanation for me to mourn his passing....although, after my disturbing dream, I must admit his death unsettles me."

Loki had to fight hard in order to keep his composure. She had dreamed about him?
"Dream, my lady?"

Sif frowned.
"Yes, you know....the dream I told you about?"

Damn.
Loki had to feign understanding now so as not to give the game away and risk exposing himself.
"Oh, yes of course."

"It does not matter, Nanna. Please pay no attention to me."
She was saying now as she stepped passed him.
"I must retire to my bed now, it is late and I am simply tired and over emotional."

Sif was mortified that she'd been discovered by Nanna, and could see the distinct look of bewilderment evident on the healers pretty, young face. Unwilling to analyse the reasons behind her current emotional state, she attempted to brush it aside.

"It must be my condition. Hormones are wreaking havoc with my emotions."
She forced a fake laugh.

But Nanna did not laugh, nor did she even oblige Sif with a polite smile to alleviate her visible awkwardness. Instead she blinked at the shield maiden, her expression blank.

"Your....c-condition?"

"Yes. The baby of course."
Sif placed a hand tenderly on her stomach, and Loki's gaze followed her actions.

His mouth went dry, and his jaw slackened as even his mouth went numb with shock.
Sure enough, on closer inspection there was a barely-perceptible bump showing beneath the war Goddesses' tunic.

She was with child.