Author's Note: In Norse mythology, Sigyn (SEEG-an) is Loki's wife. Slightly modified for here.
2) Like A King
I was sprawled boredly over Loki's very grand bed, dress spread out, ankles crossed, and hands behind my head, watching Loki stand shirtless in front of his wardrobe. There was an outfit hanging from each door. "Which do you think, Sigyn?" he asked.
"Depends on the occasion," I replied, watching him carefully. Dang he was handsome. Even though I only caught glimpses of his face in the mirror on the door of the wardrobe when he'd shift his weight from side to side he was still striking to the eye. Pale skin with battle scars on the blank canvas of his back sliding over powerful muscles. He was thin but that had never meant he was weak. A few of those battle scars had been given to him by me when we'd sparred in the past. His glossy black hair reached his shoulders but not in a feminine way. His arms weren't as trunk-like and clunky as his older brother's but he was still defined. And it was very attractive.
"I'm taking over Midgard," he supplied.
An amused laugh bubbled out of my throat before I could stop it. "Again?" I inquired. "You know, humans believe the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." My loving God of Mischief shot me a glare in the mirror, his brilliantly pale blue eyes glinting with hints of green as his magic coiled within him, like it was a snake preparing to strike. I chuckled lightly and in one swift movement I stood up and wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my face into the cool skin of his bare back and breathing in his minty scent.
"You're distracting me, Sigyn," he commented.
I grinned against his spine. "Don't I always?" I teased.
"But seriously, which one should I wear?"
I finally pulled my face away to look between the two outfits. One was older with a lot more green, and the other was newer with more black. "That one," I decided, pointing to the blacker one.
"Why?" Unlike usual, I couldn't tell if he was challenging me or genuinely curious.
"But it makes you look like a king. The other one has a bit more of a court-jester, juvenile feel to it." I let him go and stood next to him instead of behind him, leaning my head against his bare side as he contemplated what I said. I knew he'd choose whichever outfit I thought best because he always did when he came to me for fashion advice.
"Alright. I'll wear this one," he said, pointing to the one I'd picked.
"Then you have to promise me something," I told him.
"Anything for you, love," he replied, holding me close with one arm.
"When you're on Midgard, remember that. You. Are. Mine."
He laughed and kissed the top of my head. "Always, Sigyn. Always."
I went back to my spot on his bed and turned around, giving him some privacy to change into his armor. My magic danced between my fingers as I patiently waited. This happened every so often. He'd ask for advice on what to wear to some occasion or other and I would give it and then wait. Because after he changed he'd ask my opinion on how he looked. I didn't know why he cared so much—I sure as heck didn't care—but I always guessed it had something to do with the fact that he was a prince and had to always be presentable while I was just a nobleman's daughter and didn't matter to the people of Asgard as much.
Loki cleared his throat loudly to get my attention. I smirked and turned around.
"Nice," I commented.
"Really?" he asked.
"Of course," I answered.
"So how do I look, besides nice?"
I grinned, got off the bed, approached, and rested my hands on his shoulders so that he knew I meant exactly what I said.
"Like a king."
He smiled and gave me a deep, gentle kiss. Both of us closed our eyes and just relished in each other for several long moments. I could feel his hands tangle in my long hair as mine slid from his shoulders to the back of his neck.
When he pulled away from me, I caught a mischievous glint in his eye and to the curl of his grin.
"And what is my queen going to wear?" he inquired. His hands slid from my hair, each one holding a very grand dress. I grinned, feeling a blush rush over my skin. One was bottle green, the same color as my eyes. It was made of silk with a large skirt and darker green embroidery going up the left side from hem to sleeve. The other was a crimson a few shades darker than my hair—but that one was slim and fell straight to the floor. Heck it was practically scandalously human. An unmarried Asgardian woman like myself would never wear a dress like it.
But if Loki genuinely wanted me for his queen…
"This one," I decided, taking the red one into my hands. He covered his eyes with his hands while I pulled it on, letting my simple white dress fall to the ground. When I finished I exposed my back to him so he could do up the ties. His long fingers made short work of doing the corset tight enough that it was secure but loose enough that it was comfortable.
I turned back around for him to see the full effect. "How do I look?" I teased.
Loki gave me a passionate, hungry kiss.
"Like a queen," he whispered, taking my hand.
"Then I suppose we ought to go take over Midgard," I commented. He laughed.
"I suppose so, Sigyn."
End Note: Thanks for reading!
~Cass
