A/N: Oh my gosh! I totally thought I posted this! Especially since I have another chapter after this ready to go as well. So sorry! We'll blame tumblr for that. And the fact that I saw Thor: The Dark World. I've been emotionally compromised by that film, in the best way. :-)

Gah! My sincerest apologies, again, readers. Anyway, hope you enjoy! Please please leave reviews! I'd love to read your feedback! It keeps me motivated to write!

A low moan escaped my lips, followed by desperate panting as I stared up at the ceiling. I shifted and my muscles screamed, my eyes closing and my features twisting into a grimace. "You've grown soft, Sigyn," a teasing voice accused. There was a soft scuffling sound as the owner neared. "All that time with your nose stuck in books is hardly doing you any favors."

I opened my eyes and met Sif's dancing hazel gaze, pulling a face before grasping the hand she offered. "I am merely lacking in practice . . . ah!" I moaned again as my arm protested the sharp jerk she gave to bring me to my feet. She laughed, gaining yet another dark look. "I am more than capable of putting you in the dirt."

She arched an eyebrow. "Are you?" she mused. With a smooth motion, she bent down and grabbed my discarded practice blade, tossing it to me. "Show me."

We circled each other for a moment, watching, before I lunged. She parried my blow easily, sidestepping with a graceful twirl. I faltered slightly before using my momentum to spin around, my sword making a quiet whistling sound as it arced through the air. It met Sif's with a resounding clang.

She laughed, moving until we stood close, our blades still locked. "So very predictable," she mocked. I narrowed my eyes at her and moved, metal sliding along metal as we resumed our sparring. Her voice rang out, calling my every step. "Right, high guard, right again, left, lunge." I panted and leapt back, frustration racing through me while Sif simply smirked. "As I said. Predictable." She lowered into a crouch and lifted her sword, beckoning me with a slight twitch of her fingers. "Come now, Sigyn. I know your brother taught you better than that. I've taught you better than that. Use those skills. Show me."

She leapt forward and swung, catching the leather vambrace on my forearm with a strong blow. I grunted and scurried away from her sword's reach. The blades may have been dulled to avoid serious injury, but they were not completely harmless. With a surprisingly graceful flick of my wrist, I released my magic and smirked as Sif fell facedown onto the ground.

I quickly closed the distance between us and settled myself over her, straddling her back and pressing my knees into her arms to keep her pinned. She made a sound of angry protest and bucked against me, but I held firm. "Do you yield?" I asked, leaning over her.

She struggled for a moment longer before heaving a resigned sigh and relaxing beneath me. "I yield," she relented, sullen. "Release me."

I chuckled and buried my sword point down into the dirt beside her head before standing, offering her my hand. "Predictable, am I?" I mocked.

"That is cheating," she accused, brushing her breeches clean.

I shrugged. "You said to use my skills," I replied innocently.

Sif narrowed her eyes but her lips twitched, belying her amusement. "Cheeky," she said. I simply grinned. "Next time, you will not be so lucky."

I sighed, tugging my sword free of the dirt. "That may be some time in coming," I muttered.

Sif made an understanding sound. "I was surprised that you requested this sparring session," she stated. "It has been some time since we last engaged." She turned and summoned the nearest attendant, a young man scurrying forward to claim our discarded weapons. "Will you join me in the baths? I fear I must call an end to this, despite how desperately I wish to return the favor."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "I am still . . . restless," I replied. "I believe I shall visit the range. I have been absent far too long."

She rolled her eyes. "How grieved you must be, to see your precious bow and quiver gather dust," she teased.

"You have your blades and I my arrows," I retorted haughtily. "We both know the superior weapon."

Her eyes flashed with mock indignation. "Hold your tongue, child," she warned. "Or I shall forgo my bath and prove the real truth of that statement." We shared a grin and she gave me a respectful half-bow. "Well fought, Sigyn." I returned the gesture and watched her disappear before turning and making my way across the arena to the empty archery range.

My body protested as I stretched but I pushed through it. The sparring had been an excuse, a desperate attempt to clear my head . . . or at least forget my thoughts for a little while. Thoughts that dwelt less on my future husband and more on the infuriating trickster that continued to taunt and tease and seduce me on a daily basis, this morning's lessons being no exception.

I loosed a low growl as the memory of Loki's breath washing across my face leapt to the forefront of my mind, the feeling of his lips brushing against my skin as he coached me on a technique making me shiver, and I shook my head, willing it to clear as my pulse began to race. With a frustrated motion, I snatched my bow from the stool beside me. Taking a few deep, calming breaths, I reacquainted my fingers with the smooth, white wood and plucked at the bowstring. It made a resounding twang and I exhaled, my eyes closing as I centered my mind, any thoughts of Loki or Theoric or my upcoming marriage disappearing as I entered the state of focus that always fell over me when shooting.

My fingers found an arrow unseen and tugged it free from my thigh quiver, my muscles remembering the motions easily as I notched it and took my stance. Opening my eyes, I saw only the target. I drew the string and took a breath, another, and released. The arrow made a soft sound as it connected with the target, but my lack of recent practice was apparent as it landed in the outermost ring. I loosed a frustrated sigh and drew again. Over and over until, finally, an arrowhead buried itself deep in the black circle dead center. And I kept going, retrieving my arrows and filling that black circle with arrow after arrow as I fell into welcome monotony, lost to everything but the sound of my bowstring snapping and the dull thuds of my arrows landing. Which is exactly what I wanted.

Soft, hesitant applause broke me from my reverie and I turned, smiling as I met Theoric's impressed gaze. "You're still as good as I recall," he praised, striding towards me. "Better."

I rolled my eyes, returning the arrow I had just drawn to my quiver. "You would not think so, had you been here earlier," I replied. "This is the first I have been here in quite some time. My lack of practice was severely evident." He glanced at the target, where several arrows stood proudly in the center and the other rings empty, and gave me a dubious look. "Earlier."

He chuckled. "I have missed you," he murmured. His gaze turned thoughtful, probing, and I felt my eyes widen in curiosity. "I wonder, sometimes, if the sentiment was returned."

I frowned. "You do not think I missed you as well?" I asked, setting my bow down. "Why, because I do not write to you as the sweethearts of your men do? Because I do not tell you in flowery words how I yearn to see you?"

Theoric sighed, a wry expression morphing his features. "I would be worried if you did," he agreed. "Besides, you do not like to write, if you can help it."

I smirked. "Correct." I closed the short distance between us and wound my arms around his neck, his strong arms settling firmly about my waist. "Theoric, you are my dearest friend and soon to be my husband. You have been gone nearly seven months. Of course I have missed you." I brushed my lips across his fleetingly. "Never doubt that."

A strange light flickered through his eyes and I furrowed my brow, but it was gone the next instant. And forgotten as he leaned down and his lips found mine. They were soft and moved in a familiar rhythm, sliding along mine gently. I sighed, relaxing against him, his hold on me tightening while he pushed his tongue past my parted lips and he deepened the kiss.

His hand found my cheek once we pulled apart, cupping it tenderly. "I apologize for doing so," he murmured. We stood that way a moment longer, enjoying the feeling of each other. "I do have a purpose for seeking you out, however, other than playing to your sympathy." I snorted and shook my head as he smirked. "Your mother requests your presence."

I arched an eyebrow. "And she made you play errand boy?" I teased. "Theoric Kerrson, captain of Odin's infamous Crimson Hawks?" Theoric made a face but his deep brown eyes twinkled in amusement, and I laughed. "Tell her that I shall join her presently. I must bathe or I shall never hear the end of it."

"Yes, you must," he agreed, wrinkling his nose. He laughed as I gave him a playful shove. "Very well. I shall relay your message. But first . . ." His gaze flickered to where my bow sat before locking onto mine. "Just one?"

I loosed a long-suffering sigh, closing my eyes and shaking my head as I caught his silent question. "You never succeed," I stated.

"We have not seen each other in seven months, Sigyn," he countered, arching an eyebrow. "My skills have improved."

My lips pursed and I narrowed my eyes at his challenge. "We shall see," I allowed. I picked up my bow and resumed my stance across from the target, notching an arrow. Casting a glance back at him over my shoulder, I grinned, taunting him. "Distract me."

I felt him in my space as I let my focus fall over me once again, seeing nothing but the target. It had become a sort of game between us, started back when we were still very young and I had just taken up archery: he would try his best to break my concentration as I fired arrow after arrow at the target. Ignoring a few of my very first shots, he had not once succeeded.

As though through water, I could hear him, his murmuring in my ear as he tried to break my focus. Soon he would start with the physical attempts, fingers brushing teasingly along my sides. And, on cue, they started. But I never wavered. My fingers pulled the bowstring back, the side of my thumb resting lightly against my lip as I took a breath. And released.

The arrow connected with the target with a soft thud. And Theoric groaned. "As I said," I exclaimed, turning to face him with a smile on my face. "You never succeed."

"One day," he vowed. He pushed forward and captured my lips again, briefly and sweetly. "I shall relay your message. And please, for my sake, make haste. I fear what she will have me do in your place if you do not."

"The Norns forbid you be forced to choose which flowers shall decorate our bridal table," I mocked. I laughed at the face he pulled. "Have no fear, Theoric. I shall not be long." I turned back to the target as he left, drawing one more arrow and notching it. Repeating my familiar breathing ritual, I drowned out all else and took aim.

"Sigyn."

I jumped at the smooth, familiar voice in my ear, my arrow flying wild as I released the string. Loki chuckled. "Your focus is not completely impenetrable, then," he mused. "And I have accomplished what your betrothed could not. Interesting. Is there a prize for my accomplishment?" His green eyes twinkled with an all-too-familiar mischief.

I bristled at the sneer in his voice as he labeled Theoric. "It was a fluke, my prince," I replied tersely, turning to face him. "It will not happen again, I assure you."

"Will it not?" he mused. His emerald eyes were dark and intense as they held mine. "I think, if we replayed the scenario, you would miss again." He stepped closer, his body mere inches from mine. I felt my pulse jump traitorously and start to race, swallowing hard. "Do I distract you, Sigyn?"

I met his gaze. A mistake. His emerald eyes were dark and intense, capturing my gaze and holding it firmly. My thoughts ran wild, image after salacious image coursing through my mind and making my breath quicken. One strong, lean arm slid almost unnoticed around my waist, tugging me impossibly closer. "Loki," I breathed, my gaze falling to his lips and lingering there. A sharp voice in the back of my mind was screaming at me, the same voice that I had ignored when he had nearly kissed me in the library. The same voice I ignored now, my body in control.

He closed the remaining distance between us quickly, his lips capturing mine easily. They pressed against mine firmly, sliding against them easily. His tongue darted out, teasing, tracing a line along my upper lip before nipping lightly at the lower one. I moaned softly and Loki took advantage, pushing his tongue past my parted lips and claiming me.

He explored my mouth with gentle caresses, lapping at every inch and returning again and again to twirl around my tongue. My body was on fire, frissons of need coursing over and over along my spine.

And then my brain kicked in. "No!" I gasped, jerking away from his mouth with a soft pop. "I . . . I apologize, your highness, b-but I am . . . I am expected elsewhere."

"It can wait," he muttered, burying his face against my neck and nuzzling.

I twisted and somehow escaped his ironclad hold on my waist. "I . . . I am sorry, my prince," I panted. I gave him a shallow, quick bow, avoiding his gaze, and fled.

A/N 2: Again, I am so sorry about not posting this sooner. Next chapter should be going up in a bit so hold tight.

88dragon06: Thank you, love! Hope you enjoy this new one and the next one just as much. Loki is a scheming little shit. :-)