"I also know that those circles are not any you need ever concern yourself with," Loki replied, easily enough. Through no political machination of her own had Sif gotten in such good graces, a favourite of his parents and a jewel in Asgard's forces. Loki understood that well enough, especially now that he had learned his place in the royal family could only be partially considered birthright - royal blood, yes, but not the right type of royalty. But Sif had earned her place, through what his family had considered valuable, through what others valued. Loki was simply the spoils of war.

If Sif was not popular with some, they clearly had priorities that were of no use to Asgard. Still, he did understand, for Loki himself would never be as well loved as his brother, now more than ever. At least Sif hadn't the taste of competition to work away under her skin.

Love, that feeling of regard and respect and affection that could be so easily admitted to - and then love as that terrible and debilitating emotion. From Sif, Loki could enjoy both. Though he knew she meant the former, it was impossible to not also understand that subtle undercurrent in her words, where if Loki tried he could hear what he wanted to hear, and confuse it with reality. "Yes," he said, easily. He relaxed back on one elbow, stretching his legs out and turning his face up to the sun for a moment. "Perhaps I'm doing something right, then."