Disclaimer: I don't own Thor, or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Marvel and their respective creators. I only own any original characters that I choose to include, as well as any original plot ideas.
Cruel
A/N: Alternate events in Thor.
She hates him, hates his hand on her cheek, the way his fingers ghost up her spine in the dark. She wants nothing to do with him, wants to slap him, shove him away and run, run as far as she can. He would come after her; she knows this. He knows where she'll hide, that she'll try to run to Thor, just like she always has.
Because she loves him.
Sif called for his brother once, in the dead of night, her fingers knotted in his dark hair. She had sported bruising for weeks, then brought by the guard each evening to the dias of his throne, the serpent himself then serving as her escort to, what he had fondly referred to as, their private chambers. It churned her stomach then just as it does now, the idea of being tangled with him.
Sif tenses, feeling the heat against her throat. She can see it, his smile, even trapped between twisted sheets and his body, slick with sweat as he holds her, a hostage in her own skin.
She has always loved Thor. And Loki can't stand it. That is why he plays these cruel games with her, to drive all thought of him from her mind, force her to think on times where she relents, reminding her of these lies she has willing allowed to slip from her tongue. To save her friends from death, to save Thor.
But, still she fears, even should the devil of Asgard be appeased, Thor may never return.