Hello lovely readers! I seem to recall promising a LokiXSif-centric compilation of oneshots at the end of "Desperado." Well, I haven't forgotten! I just wanted to finish it before posting it. :-) I may add more to it later, but so far, it's as done as it's going to get for the moment. On that note: if at any time you have ideas for another oneshot to add to this compilation, PM me! If I like the idea, I might just write it (and credit it to you)!

This series is meant to take place in the same universe as "Desperado." So far, the chapters are in chronological order. That might become disrupted if I add more to it, but I'll always do my best to let you know when in the timeline the new scene takes place. If you haven't read "Desperado," you might have a tougher time following some of the later stuff. Because my universe is so different from the current Marvel universe (because I had written it prior to Thor II being released), my story is very different from the film canon.

I believe that's it for now! Enjoy!

Of Girls and Swords

Loki could seldom recall a time when Sif Tyrdottir had not been present in the palace. Perhaps this was because he was so young that he could only remember about half of his life anyway. Or perhaps it was because she was a three-foot-tall gale-force-wind that ruthlessly demanded the attention of everybody within a fifty foot radius. Either way, few days without her were ever logged in his memory.

She was of noble birth, making her a welcome addition to the palace. Her father being close friends with the Allfather, Sif was one of the few children allowed to play with the princes. Thor, bigger than most boys his age already and the perfect, characteristic representation of the Aesir in appearance, had been all too willing to accept the little girl; his smaller brother, darker in every way save for his fair skin, however, hadn't been so quick.

"I just don't like her," Loki always said with a shrug when asked about the audacious, blonde-headed girl.

Sif, on numerous occasions, had made it very plain that she felt the same way about him. At first, she had been tentative – a tongue stuck out here and a stomp of the foot there. After a couple years, though, she began to grow bold. Then, nobody was safe.

When unprovoked, she was placid as any other girl, if significantly less proper. When upset, she was sharp as the very edge of steel, biting and snapping at any who dared to defy her – this child so small that she could not even push open the heavy palace doors without assistance, no matter how hard she tried.

Sometimes, Frigga would watch the girl play with her sons from her balcony, smiling to herself when Loki would say or do something (the shape and nature of which varied, depending on his mood) to prod her. Secretly, she was proud of his gumption; it hadn't manifested itself in him immediately, and she was glad to see that he was beginning to grow to possess some of her prized wit. She could hardly wait to witness how he would one day turn a phrase, make an argument, or play a trick. Now, however, he was learning. Testing the waters of trickery, and Sif was the perfect model for it.

Loki still maintained that he wasn't fond of the girl, though his actions were slowly betraying that as a lie. He was too young to fight the gleam in his eyes whenever she rose to his bait, lashing out just as he had hoped and giving him the show he wanted. Often, this form of entertainment carried a heavy toll, sometimes in the form of bruises wrought by Sif's tiny hands.

Now, they were old enough to play with wooden swords. "Just like the real warriors," Thor said, eyes aglow. At first, the princes had been the only ones to have swords, and Sif had crossed her arms in a huff until Thor had given her a stick to use.

In her mind, that stick became the deadliest of weapons whenever she picked it up. Sometimes, it was a sword, and later it would become a bow for imaginary arrows, only to become a spear at the last second in the pretend battle, impaling Loki and Thor both. She always bore a preference, however, for some sort of double-bladed weapon that Loki swore did not even exist. "Then I shall have the smiths make one special," she replied, tossing her head in the air haughtily so that her hair spilled down her back. Loki always took that opportunity to pull it.

One day, Thor and Loki were dueling with their toy swords when Sif marched up with her stick. Thor immediately stopped, turning to the little girl with a smile. "Look brother!" he said gleefully. "Sif has come to play!"

"Well, now we can't duel any longer," Loki noted, almost ignoring Sif entirely.

Thor thought about this for a moment before his face lit up. "I know! Aesir and Frost Giants!"

Loki crossed his arms. "I don't like that game," he said. "You always make me the Frost Giant. Make Sif be it this time."

One look at Sif's displeased face told Thor that this wasn't a good idea. He looked around, at a loss; then, a tree with a thick, sturdy trunk caught his eye. "Over here!" he called, beckoning his brother and Sif. "We can use this tree as the Frost Giant. That way, none of us have to be it."

To the children, this seemed like a perfectly logical idea, so they all aimed their weapons at the tree's trunk. "You shouldn't have crossed us, foul beast," Thor bellowed in his voice most befitting of a warrior. "Now you must face the wrath of Prince Thor, Prince Loki, and the Lady Sif!" He let out what he imagined to be a fierce war cry and struck at the tree with his wooden sword. Loki and Sif followed suit, each of them attacking ferociously.

Loki's sword caught Sif's stick, almost breaking it; she turned to him, snapping, "Loki!"

"It was an accident!" he said in his own defense.

"Well, watch better next time," she scolded and went back to beating the tree.

Thor and Loki both played for a while, eventually coming to the mutual conclusion that the Frost Giant was dead and they could return to their realm of peace now. Slowly, they stopped their onslaught; Sif, however, still hacked away at the tree with her stick, flinging the bark off in chunks.

She seemed possessed with a fury, railing against the tree as though it was the most impossible thing to kill in all the nine realms. Her eyes blazed and her blonde curls fell into her eyes as she beat the tree over and over again, screaming, "Die, Frost Giant! Die! Die!"

Loki took a step back, ducking to avoid a piece of her stick that she broke off on her own. "You did that yourself," he was sure to remind her, thought she didn't seem to hear. By now, her cheeks had gone pink with exertion, and Loki, watching wide-eyed, decided that he was glad he wasn't that tree.

If Sif's temper was so blatant against a meager tree, Loki hated to imagine what she would do to a real Frost Giant. He watched Sif abuse the bark, tearing it to bits. She had pieces of the tree in her hair, and he was sure he probably did too.

A fleck of bark flew off the tree's trunk, hitting Loki squarely in the forehead, and he was unspeakably glad that he wasn't a Frost Giant.

A/N: If you're wondering why Sif is a blonde, it's because I like to get my mythos mixed in with my Marvel. In the Norse myths, Sif is a very different kind of character, but she has blonde hair. More on her hair later. Stay tuned.