A/N - So, my muse got a bit distracted and decided to write this instead of my other stories. I thought I may as well post it, so I hope you like it. It's meant as a one shot, set way, way before the first Thor film. And now my muse has got this out of her system, I'll definitely be updating my other Loki/Sif stories soon. Hope you enjoy reading!
It had started as a game, a battle of wills between them. Like a fight, a dance, they circled around each other, neither stepping any closer.
He could not be sure when it had first began, or when he had first noticed. It was little things, at first. He would catch her eye and she would look away, quickly. He would make a jest and she would speak out, annoyed. At first he fancied it his imagination, but then she started to fight him harder on the training ground, as if she had more to prove to him than the others. She would scowl at the maidens he spoke to at feasts. And she would flinch and move away if he came too near.
Little things, barely imperceptible. He doubted anyone else would notice. Yet he had always loved to watch, always craved mysteries and puzzles to solve. And she had always been the greatest mystery of all. Lady Sif, the great warrior maiden of Asgard, who eyes flashed defiantly as she opposed any who dared to cross her. The perfect challenge for the God of Mischief.
It had become a game for Loki. A dangerous game, but those were always his favourite. He would push her, tease. Hold her eye or move too close. Wait to see if she would snap. Sometimes she would scowl, sometimes shout, angry bitter words. Sometimes she would just walk away. Other times she would just watch, wait.
She was watching him now. He could feel her eyes upon him as he drank down his mead. He licked his lips deliberately before he turned towards her. She started, eyes suddenly focusing on him, before she looked away. It was as he thought. She was not aware of how much she watched him, wanted him. Perhaps she was not aware of any of her actions. Of how her heart had pounded against his as she had pushed him down into the dirt. Of how her fingers had trembled when she had held the blade against his throat, demanding he yield. But he had not, for he knew the weaknesses of his opponent and used it against her. A little flutter of his fingers against her palm was all it took. The hand holding his own above his head trembled, the fierce grip weakened. A moment later and it was he who demanded she yield, he who pushed her down into the unrelenting ground of the training ring. He could still feel her breath hot against his ear; still hear her words as she declared that she would never yield to him. She did not have to, the weapons master had decreed Loki the winner and Sif had sworn vengeance against him, her words full of rage and spite.
Loki could still feel the scowl in her eyes now, once more glaring in his direction. They were hot, burning him. He wondered if she remembered that afternoon too, if she could still feel the weight of his body pressed against hers. A smirk pulled at his lips and he felt the anger in her gaze intensify. He turned towards her once more and this time she did not shy away, but held his gaze, her eyes a challenge. He smiled, raised his goblet towards her, before he placed it down on the table. It was time for a new game to play, where the stakes were higher and the prizes far more rewarding. He rose and walked away, twisting through the crowded hall towards the far balcony.
It was not long before she came, following him as he knew she would, stepping into the shadows beside him. She did not speak, but followed his gaze, out across the glistening gold towers of the palace and the sparkling stars beyond. It was Loki who first spoke, turning towards her. "My Lady Sif, how honoured I am to have your company."
For a long moment her only reply was a deepening scowl, her fingers tightening around the cold metal of the railing. He watched her, waiting.
"You wanted me to come, Loki. What for?"
"A game, Sif. I propose we play a new game." He paused, deliberately adding a heaviness to his teasing tone. "This one is becoming tedious, do you not think?"
"I do not understand your meaning," she answered, voice defensive, annoyed. Whether at him or herself, Loki did not know, but he smiled at her nonetheless. He did not bother to correct her. Her presence here, now, proved she was not as unaware as she claimed. Instead he moved his hand along the railing towards hers. Gently, slowly, he ran his fingertips across her rigid knuckles.
Her body tensed immediately, but she did not pull her hand away.
"Then that is a shame, my Lady, for I do believe this game would prove most… enjoyable for us both." He continued to caress her hand, felt it tremble beneath his fingers.
Silence rested between them for many moments, but it did not perturb Loki. She was thinking, considering, measuring his words. He could see it in the hard lines of her face, silhouetted now against the blackened sky. "And the rules?"
His lips twisted into a smirk, eyes dancing with mischief as he considered her. "There are no rules, my Lady, no promises or clauses."
Suddenly she moved, so quick he was not even aware she had before he felt warm fingers close tight around his neck. She looked into his eyes for a moment and they were unforgiving, defiant, every inch the warrior he had known her to be. "And how does one win, at this new game of yours?"
There was curiosity in her eyes now, desire. He leaned towards her, pressing back against the fingers at his neck. His breath tickled in her ear as he whispered. "By breaking the other."
He saw her swallow, her body trembling. A heartbeat stretched between them. For another fleeting moment he feared he had misjudged, miscalculated her actions. Quickly his mind rushed through escape plans…
She moved again, this time crushing her lips against his in a bruising kiss. Her fingers pressed harder into his neck and she twisted him around, pushing him back against the railing and pressing her body against his. Loki could taste the desire on her tongue, feel it in her teeth. And she tasted the smirk against his lips, the victory in his touch. His fingers reached up, weaved into her hair as he deepened the kiss.
Abruptly, she pulled away, surprise etched into her features. It was quickly hidden, her face growing fierce, touch bruising. Her eyes were hard, ruthless; a challenge. She held his for several pounding heartbeats. Then she twisted her fingers in his hair, pulled him back towards her. With tongue and teeth she fought to kiss away his smirk. He may have won this round, but the game was not over yet.
It had only just begun.
