Disclaimer: I do not own Loki, Thor or anything affiliated with Marvel. *wistful sigh*. I can, however, claim Sigyn as my own, as she is a personal interpretation of a mythological character and not the strangely-helmeted Marvel monstrosity.
Rated T for non-explicit implied sex, I will say now in case people get iffy about it. Also, this travels into post-Avengers area, no major spoilers but I thought I'd let you know.
When the storms come, he wraps his arms around her tightly and says everything will be fine. When he is lost in his wretched thoughts, she is the one who places feathery kisses over his face, soft words leading him away from the darkness.
When they kiss, her hands clasp around his neck and pull him closer, afraid that one day she will not be able to. He strokes her cheek and entwines a hand in her hair, incredulous that such woman could want to be where she is.
Her skin is so soft, Loki wonders if he might hurt her when he touches her. He is marble and she is silk, and he worries that one day, the silk will tear. But she laughs, and reminds him that silk is stronger than it seems.
Many a time, Sigyn will be reading, and a flower will appear at her side. She cannot feel it, she cannot smell it, she can only see it, but both the magic and the message thrill her – he is coming to her.
When they make love, they hardly part. He wants to touch every part of her, to breathe in her scent, to mark her entire body with his lips. To brand that she is his, and that no other may touch her. She wants to feel him as close as possible, to caress his ice-cold skin with warm fingers, to let him know that she is unquestionably his.
It is strange: they are each other's opposite, yet they rely on each other for balance. He is trickery, and she is tranquillity. She is honesty, and he is deception. He is chaos, and she is order. She is flame, and he is frost.
She is his weakness, the one thing in the nine realms Loki truly loves. He is her own weakness, the one thing she would relinquish everything for. They know this, and it goes an unspoken truth between them.
When she is asked why she loves him, she cannot reply. It is simply something she does, unfailingly, without thinking or understanding fully. To her, to love him is as easy as breathing, and to question it is as equally senseless.
When he is with her, he feels in place. He fits. For once, he is not the outcast, the stranger, the enigma. She knows him better than even himself, she glows when he is with her, and he sees the same light in himself when she takes his hand. She is his home, and he is hers.
Sometimes, Sigyn would daydream of marrying him. She would imagine the dress she would wear, the words that would be said, the life they would lead. He wanted so desperately to ask her, but could never find the right time.
They bond in part through their envy – if he was his brother or she one of her sisters, they would have everything. But they know this is not true, for neither his brother nor her sisters could dream of having what they two have.
Sometimes, his mind will fill with doubts that he cannot make her as happy as she deserves – he sees the raised eyebrows as they pass, hears the whispered remarks behind her back. She will never be accepted as long as she is by his side, and it makes him angry. But she dismisses them, knowing that her happiness lies with his own.
When he is hurting – and Sigyn knows when he is, despite what he may say – she is the only one who can console him. She will say nothing, but her gentle presence will be enough. She is a flicker of flame among shadows, and his heart is full of shadows.
If another intimates more than mere courtesy or friendship, he is instantly on guard. They see his glare, the tightening of his knuckles, and they cease. Sigyn smiles. He need not worry, for she is his.
When hate fills his heart, and anger clouds his vision, she fears him. He knows it. She sits with her back straight, her face still, but her eyes are scared. He hates it. If there is anything she should fear, it is not him. He is not angry in her presence often.
When he is lost, she does not weep. She does not deny what he has done. She waits. She aches. She fears.
When he returns, the tears come. The ache fades into a sharp pain with every heartbeat. The oath she swore still rings true.
When they kiss, it is through metal. When they embrace, it is through chains.
Sigyn knows that what he does is terrible. But she will stay by him.
Loki knows that what she does is sacrifice. But it is a sacrifice that keeps him alive.
I do hope you enjoyed! :) This is my first attempt at writing a short, drabble-y fic in this layout, so please let me know what you thought!
The storms in the beginning are a reference to my other Lokyn fic, Thunder.
Reviews are nice, so please leave one! :D