Written for Day Two of Sifki Week: Mythology. Inspired by a wonderful anonymous prompt regarding the traditional Norse myth of Loki's part in the death of Baldur. I took the idea of the prompt and went in a totally different, much darker direction, but I hope it still works!
She had accepted his request for her presence without hesitation, allowing a guard to lead her through the Royal wing of the palace before letting her continue on alone through the final door. She found Loki with his pale face turned up, studying the sunlight and the shadows it cast on the private courtyard as if measuring the time.
She allowed herself a breath to admire the view of his long form and sharp features warmed in the garden sun. She also guessed that he was fully aware of her gaze and lingered a moment to preen. He turned slowly at the sound of her approach and greeted her with a smile. "Right on time, My Lady."
Sif tipped her head and pressed an arm across her chest. "Always, My Lord."
"Shall we continue where we left off?" The prince gestured towards the garden bench, laid out with the bow Sif had come to prefer from the prized noble collection.
Sif nodded and approached, lifting the thin arrow from the bench to inspect the weapon. A shaft of mistletoe. A curious choice, Sif thought, sliding her thumb against the edge of the sharpened side. A cutting pain pricked her during the motion, and a fat drop of crimson blood formed on her thumb. Instinctively the warrior brought the thumb to her mouth and sucked at the wound to ease the pain.
Loki took her wrist, pulling her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to the pad of her tender thumb, then letting it drag against his bottom lip, exposing his teeth. The sight brought an image of a wolf to Sif's mind.
"Take care, Lady." Loki released her hand and reached up to smooth his own thumb against her cheek in a curiously tender gesture. "A shieldmaiden such as yourself should know best of all that even the most unassuming thing can be dangerous."
Sif smiled at the veiled compliment and reclaimed her hands, bending to gather the bow and arrow.
"I have a surprise," Loki reached into the folds of his leather, "if you would indulge me."
Sif's stomach flipped as she watched and listened to his smooth voice. Loki presented a blindfold in his upturned palms, the sleek black silk held in offering against his graceful hands.
"What's this?" Sif questioned.
"Your finesse with the bow has surpassed the skill of anyone who ever wielded that weapon before you. You possess the best, most accurate shot in the entire nine realms, dear Sif. Your skill is truly unparalleled." He dropped his gaze from hers and looked down at the silk in his hands before continuing. "I confess I'm not quite ready for our private sessions to cease. I thought a challenge may bring a new thrill for one more test."
Sif hesitated a moment, looking towards the small, soft flour sack that served as her target, which Loki had spent ample time adjusting to his liking until it was positioned just so across the yard, at chest height.
"Don't you trust me?" Loki asked, his voice full of feigned insult.
"Not at all," Sif half-lied.
She stepped closer to accept his challenge and his smile at her acquaintance warmed her belly.
"Brave Sif," he complimented.
"Foolish Sif," she corrected and his grin grew more wicked.
She stood still while the second born prince carefully placed the length of silk across her eyes, allowing herself one last look at the alluring angles of his face, before her world turned a warm black. Although the sun was bright, the blindfold was opaque and her sight was lost. In response, her other senses heightened and electrified. Breathing in the smell of the Queen's roses, she attuned her body to the pleasant sensation of the sun warming her skin and the wisp of her hair blowing gentle touches against her neck in the breeze.
She was particularly aware of Loki's body next to hers, the smell of his leathers, the sound of his hum of approval all magnified in her darkness. She shivered when she felt his hands take her waist. He kissed her then, long and hard in a way that stole her breath and melted her into his touch. Secretly, desperately, she wished that she could see his face in that moment. Never before had he kissed her so openly, never in a public space outside of his bedchambers.
She mused over how she had come to be in this position, with her heart racing at and aching for Loki's touch. She had never held him in high confidence, typically giving him a wide berth in the sparring yards, knowing him to be fond of mischief and trickery. She had been wary when he approached her one morning months ago when she was alone in the yard to invite her to the private royal training grounds. But her warrior heart was eager for the chance to access the spoils of weapons that was afforded to so few. It came as a surprise to her when she found Loki eager for the chance to share her bed, wooing his way forward with honeyed words, whispering praise of her prowess in the training yard and love of her body and mind into her ear.
She knew that his was a liar's tongue. But she could not deny the pleasure it brought her, how her ego enjoyed the attention he lavished upon her in their secret meetings. And, oh, the pleasure he could coax from her body, was beyond anything she had ever felt before. She even perversely found enjoyment in the possessive way he looked at her. Slowly, unexpectedly, recklessly she had become putty in his hands.
She molded herself to him now. The passion of his kiss, heightened by the blindfold made her dizzy. The warrior allowed herself to give into the vulnerability of the moment, indulging Loki's hands as he spun her abruptly, then caught her again with her back against his front, his long palm pressing her close. Blind, she didn't have a clear sense of which way she now faced, still reeling from the kiss.
"If you please, My Lady." His voice was velvet whispered in her ear, surrounded by his arms.
His hands covered hers to nock the the bow with the strange mistletoe arrow, and raise her arms to aim.
"Just a breath higher, that's it. The time is almost here, lovely loyal Sif." He placed his hands on her hips as she drew the bowstring back.
"You're going to do so well," he purred. "Get ready."
Sif took in a calming breath in her darkness and tried to steady her racing heart.
"Now," he demanded and Sif obeyed. Loosing the arrow and letting it fly.
She heard it connect with soft target, her aim true as ever and she smiled in her blindness.
"Perfect," Loki's voice dropped into her ear before he pulled his body away.
The woman's scream that followed made Sif's blood freeze, knowing something was dreadfully wrong. Raising a hand, Sif pulled the silken knot loose from the back of her head, blinking in the too-bright sun.
Across the courtyard Thor stood, pierced through with her arrow, growing pale as a weeping, screaming Frigga guided his body to the manicured grass, blood seeping into the dirt.
The look of surprise was frozen on the first prince's face, not expecting the ambush while out for his daily stroll with his mother. It was supposed to be mundane. Punctual, routine, planned.
A chuckle drew Sif's attention back to her lover, as Loki watched his brother crumple. A horrible, satisfied smile warped his features.
She suddenly realized what she had done, what she had been made to do.
The clarity struck her through and she released the silk clutched in her fist. In the moment between the blindfold fluttering from her fingertips and landing in the grass, Loki caught her eye, and his smile momentarily grew, before the trickster's wicked grin morphed effortlessly, melting into a look of absolute horror.
He began to back away from her, his voice a masterful performance of surprise. "Oh Lady Sif, what have you done?" He called louder and turned from her then. "Guards! Guards please!"
In horror, Sif looked down and the bow still held in her hands as the guards began to heed the prince's calls. The intensity of pain and betrayal and fear felt as if her own heart had been shot through by Loki's corrupt arrow. She released the weapon and turned to flee the grounds. In that moment her soft, shattered heart turned to stone.