2013.07.18 - Shards of Betrayal - Feels So Wrong

The brothers started toward Sif's Chambers to meet with the Goddess when the King was called away. It was an awkward moment, where Thor in Loki's body started to go which caused the guard to look confused, so Loki in Thor's body stayed the not Trickster and promised to meet up with him again as quickly as he could, and then followed the guard. It left Thor in Loki's body alone in the halls with the sudden sinking feeling that the guards just didn't like him being there. It was, odd... Lifting his chin and bearing up under the new feelings of unwelcome, 'Loki' made his way toward Sif's chambers... his chambers...Thor's? chambers. The guards refused him immediate entrance, which surprised and upset the Thunderer in Trickster's clothes, and he fumed silently as he waited impatiently for the Queen to send word that he could enter. Arms crossed and frowning unhappily, 'Loki' double takes as he spots his reflection in a mirror near by. OH! Oh. Loki. He studies his brother's face as he waits, and starts lightly when told the Queen would see him. 'Loki' squares his shoulders and moves into his..her.. their rooms.

Sif sits at the table on the balcony a cup of mead in her hand and a map in front her. when Loki enters she lifts her head and offers a faint smile. "Brother What can I do for you? Have you further information on the shards? "

'Loki' steps into the room, hanging back self-consciously by the door. The faint smile she gives him is... odd. Loki straightens his shoulders, lifts his chin, and steps toward Sif while reaching up to pull the horned helmet from his head.

"Yes. I have, Bel- Umm..." Loki stops, standing still for a moment, finding this whole moment just plain awkard.

A brow arches and Sif stands to poor the God a drink and take over to him. "Is everything alright, Loki?" Concern tinges her voice as she tilts her head and motions to a chair. "Sit and talk with me, Brother."

Loki reaches out to take the drink, bringing to his lips and taking a quick pull of it. Liquid courage? Motioned to a chair, Loki moves over, sits, grumbles about the sword at his hip, sets the drink down, takes the sword belt off, tosses it annoyedly on the table, drops the staff on the floor by his feet, collects the drink again, and ends up slumping down into the chair much as Thor might. He even has a similar pout on his face.

"I haven't a clue where I might begin," grumbles the Trickster into his mead.

Sif blinks as she watches Loki throw his weapons to the floor and slouch. A brow arches, yet again, and she lifts her own mead for a drink. When she finally speaks, it is with confusion and sarcasm. "I am told the beginning is normally a good place to start."

"Indeed, but the beginning of -what-, Beloved? Loki's sour face when he arrived into my presence - which I should thank thee for. He seemed not to care for being sent for, and then when thou did fail to... Forgive me. Thou art tired and in need of rest. I should not have..." Lokis sighs into his drink again, green eyes turned away from Sif in the manner of a man just saying the first thing that comes to mind and to Hela with the consequences.

"I'm getting confused again. My apologies. Thou sent for my brother, he arrived. Keith was speaking with me, and the two tricksters were trading barbs. The shard came into my presence and I picked it up to give to Loki and - whomf! This," Loki says, opening his arms and looking down at himself. It's like he's trying to indicate that there is something amiss with his attire. Which, of course, there is not. Every throwing knife is in place, every golden piece of armor and black and green leathers. Absolutely nothing is wrong at all with the appearance of one Loki, God of Mischief and Lies and Tricks and Pranks.

Sif's eyes widen and a growl builds in her throat. "What did you call me!? I thought we were past this, Loki! I am in love with Thor. I WED Thor!" The rest? Not even heard.

And then he starts speaking again and a dark look crosses her features. "What are you playing at, Loki? I have not the time for games. Where is Thor?" Gamma has partially disconnected.

Green eyes widen as Sif suddenly growls at him and accuses him of playing games and then asking for... well, himself. The look of open and honest surprise, confusion, and hurt is either completely real or else perfectly falsified.

"Of course we were w-" is all Loki can get out before he's shaking his head and bringing his hands up in a 'don't kill me i'm unarmed!' sort of way.

"No games, Belo- Ah! This is awkward, but.. I -am- Thor," Loki says going for what in his mind is the complete and honest truth. But such things, coming from -Loki-'s lips?

Kill him? Nah. She did that once already. Not so anxious to do it again.

She narrows her eyes and -glares- at the Trickster. "Is that so? Prove it."

Ah crap. Loki's brows knot together as he's not believed. It's a shock for him and he appears so throughly dismayed by it, one might almost want to feel sorry for him. Except that he has that reputation, the centuries of lies and pranks and tricks.

"How can I without Mjolnir?" Loki asks softly, not realizing... well, anything. Poor Thor!

Sif's arms cross over her chest and her eyes narrow. "Really? You should have done better research, Loki. I could name a hundred different private moments only Donar and I would know about."

Rising, she starts for the door, shaking her head. "I am going to find your brother. If you have something productive you would like to share, find me."

Dammit. Frantic, Loki sets the mug to the table and practically scrambles from his seat, rushing after Sif - like a kitten! - and seeking to grab her hands in his.

"Sibba. Wait!" Pause. "Please." Swallow. "I am Thor, only within my brother's form. And Loki is within mine. The guards mistook us, as thou art, and even now he sits to court easing some dignitary's mind over the recent reports while I attempt to speak with thee. Please. Thou must believe me!"

With a snarl, Sif rips her hand from Loki's grasp. "Do not push me, Loki. I am in no mood. We are on the brink of war and you... You decide to play games!" A shake of her head is given. "I expected better of you. I believed you had changed."

"That's what I am attempting to tell thee! I have changed. I have changed into Loki! I mean... Thor's changed into.." Loki stops here, growing frustrated and upset. The Trickster takes a moment to breath, compose himself, and try again.

"Okay. Something known only to us, then? The tree in Central Park; it was planted for a mortal girl named Alexandra who died in my arms. Not enough? Something else? You told me that sometimes you just need to cry, but that's hard for me since seeing thy tears makes me angry, sends a dragon boiling in my heart that makes me want to seek out that which is causing tears to fall, and then to smite it with all the fury I possess. Perhaps thou would believe me if I did recall our walk toward the Throne Room on the night of our betrothal, and the light that did leap to attack me? Or perhaps our first time? We had to call the landlord since much of the bathroom was destroyed when thou did-" Well, now that he started, it looks like he wont be stopping unless made to.

Sif's eyes widen and she visibly pales. Her breathing increases. She seems on the verge of a panic attack. "Enough," is whispered before her eyes slip shut.

A hand is held up in that 'I need a moment' gesture. When her breathing returns to normal, she leans against the nearest sturdy thing that will support her. "How... Did this happen?"

Loki stops the moment Sif whispers, green eyes flicking over her face, trying to read her.

"As near and Loki and I can guess, the shard Fandral brought to us from Baldur's Gate still had some magic. But beyond that... we are, the both of us, at a loss. I am him, he is me. Keith was with us, and has gone to find Rain. Perhaps with Loki's help a way to undo this can be found," says the Trickster, illease making his voice tighter, more higher pitched than it should be.

Sif takes a slow and deep breath, straightens her stance and squares her shoulders. Her expression is that carefully schooled 'unreadable' that she uses when training warriors or in battle. "Let us hope that a solution can be found. Very quickly." Her voice is as collected as her expression. As always though, her eyes give her away. She angry. Terrified. Uncertain.

"Agreed. In the meantime, what do we do, Beloved? The Court should not learn of this. It will unbalance things all the more!" says Loki, stepping a halfstep forward, shoulders shrugging and hand coming out to his sides, palms up.

Sif watches Loki... Thor... ever so carefully. "We are at War. The Court is too busy watching my every move. I will continue as I have been. Planning and standing in my place at the Throne's side. No one will suspect a thing. I will see to that."

Loki nods, that single functional nod of ...well, both of theirs.

"And Loki will stand in my place... as me," says the Trickster. A light frown of confusion plays across his face. He folds an arm over his chest, the other coming up to rub at his chin... and the look of startled surprise on the magician's face is priceless. He expected there to be a beard! Loki sighs and puts his hands down to his side.

"And I? Looking like my brother...?"

Sif sighs softly and sits back down. A hand goes to her abdomen and her head falls forward. The Goddess looks more defeated now than ever before. "I don't know. I just... I don't know. I don't have the answer and... Obviously you must remain here..."

Loki sighs, nodding, following Sif to sitting. When she reaches for her abdomen, Loki slides from his chair and drops to a knee before her, one hand going to her elbow, the other to cover the hand over her children, their? children.

"Worry not of this. My brother has a Silver Tongue. None will know it is not I that sits upon the Throne. And I will remain here, of course. As ever, I am at thy beck and call..." Loki peers up at Sif, his green eyes earnest and warm and guinine and loving and worried.

If the Goddess were to close her eyes, she'd be able to hear those words in the Thunderer's voice without pause. Instead, silver-blue eyes meet green and for a moment... nothing. Then the tears start. Without warning or sound.

Loki's brows knit together, his eyes - were they Thor's - would have flashed with lightning at the sudden flare of anger at seeing hte Goddess suddenly cry. Loki does the only thing he can think of to do: He rises from his bent knee, to lean over the Goddess and pull her to his ...slight chest. His right hand comes up to brush across her hair.

Poor Thor!

Sif flinches at the first touch. The gesture is too intimate for the body he's in. It feels... wrong. Her mind rebels even as her heart reminds her of who he really is. After the initial resistance, Sif all but crumples when embraced. The words from her, whispered and broken, speak volumes of her fears. "What if it cannot be undone?"

Loki freezes the moment Sif flinches. He's about to pull away when she crumples into him, and the trickster curls his body forward, wrapping his long arms around Sif's body, petting her hair and resting his chin against her braids.

"It can be, and it will be. My brother is the most talented of sorcerors," says the Liesmith smoothly, beliveing every word of the otherwise impossible sounding statement.

The smallest of sniffles escapes Sif. Her voice is small and quiet. "And if it can't be? There are magicks beyond even him. What will happen? To us. To our children. Our marriage." Does this mean she's married to Loki now?

"Nothing, because if he can not undo this, Father will," says Loki, looking to be soothing. He shifts his smaller body to perch on the arm of the chair. It's not something he would DO as Thor, but the angle just felt... the body declared it at the wrong place to pull her from the sofa and onto his lap on the floor. Gentle kisses are pressed to Sif's temples, long fingers, graceful and elegant, run along her jaw, just where Thor would touch.

She wants to believe him. Desperately so. A large part of her still fears... Still doubts... A weakness she cannot afford right now and one she cannot escape. The urge to shudder at such a caress from 'Loki' is supressed, the Queen forcing herself to stay relaxed against this form. How is she supposed to live like this until Odin awakens???

Sif does the only thing she knows to do. She nods.

And Loki does the only thing THOR knows to do: He runs his fingers under her jaw to her chin, gently inclining her head while he lowers his own.

What? She's his wife.

His brother's wife?

Thor's wife.

Loki IS Thor.

But... Thor is Loki.

Okay, I'm confused. Back to the kiss.

Loki moves to press a tender kiss to Sif's lips, hoping to reassure her, comfort her, soothe her worries. Of couse, in Thor's body it would be a task easily done... In his brother's...

In Thor's body, he'd get the reaction he was expecting. The Goddess would tilt her head into the touch... Lean in to the kiss...

That isn't Thor's body though. The touch is wrong. The kiss is wrong. The reaction... is wrong.

Sif yanks herself away. "Forgive me. I can't. I just..." Standing swiftly, she clamps a hand over her mouth to stop the sobs and quickly walks out of the room.