(no subject)
Rating: Teenage, adult
Fandom: Thor (2011), Sif/Loki
Pairing/Characters: Sif/Loki, Frigg, Thor, Warriors Three
Genre: Romance, angst
Status: Finished story, first chapter out of 11+epilogue
Summary: Sometimes, a moment in the past of two peoples can impact on their life, long after it had happened.
Background: The story is placed after the first Thor movie and after the (future) Avengers movie.
Part 4: Letting down the guard
Sif was training hard. She had taken up against the Warriors Three all at once and she was scorning them to not hold back on her. She was exhausted and they were wary of her. She had lashed out all her anger, frustration and shame on them. They were her friends and they could feel she was upset and they could guess why; that she was dearly missing the Prince. And they were missing him too, so they could understand her feelings and help her; silently and stoically accepting her scorn and her blows.
At the end, when Volstagg came to say to her, with his rumbling voice and patting her gently, that Thor would be back soon and that he would regale them with another tale of his Midgardian adventure, she just nodded and left under their anxious looks. She had understood what they were thinking and she could not tell them the real reason for her frustration.
Once again, she found herself in the garden. It had been a week since the last horrendous meeting with Loki. She could not go back and see him. And she was angry with herself, for as a warrior she should be able to confront her fear. But it wasn’t fear, it was shame. She was ashamed, for she had let something come back from the past; ancient feelings. And it was for an enemy of Asgard, a traitor, a Jotun...
Last night had been terrible. She’d had a dream. She was by the lake she and Loki knew so well. She was there with her harp, playing. Something she had not done for a long, long time. It was a part of her she kept secret, afraid it spoke of weakness to others. But Loki… Loki had known and she had often played for him. She wasn’t ashamed to play for him; it was a secret, another difference that they could share. And he had loved her songs so much... Or at least that was what he had told her, those afternoons, a long time ago. This dream had brought her back to one of those moments, but she was older and she was alone. The music was sad, the harp crying its melody, and then she had heard him arrive. He had always been so discreet when she was playing, but she would always recognise him. And when, in her dream, she looked up to him, he was the Loki of now; thinner than he had ever been, his face cold and bitter, his eyes angry. He had sat beside her and she was frozen, but she did not know if it was by fear or by anticipation. The music was still playing, although her hands lay cold in her lap. And then he had leaned towards her and kissed her... and she had awoken, her heart fluttering like a sparrow in the grip of an eagle.
Her heart was leaden; she did not know what to do. She sat on a stone and closed her eyes. She was tired of this; she should be in the middle of battle, for at least when she fought, no emotions could sway her like this. She heard a sound and, opening her eyes, she saw Frigg in front of her. She made to stand, but Frigg stopped her.
‘Pride is the enemy of friendship and love.’
Sif’s head snapped, ‘I do not love him.’
Frigg nodded, ‘I did not say you did. I merely suggested Loki’s pride and yours are in the middle of this...’ The Queen gestured vaguely. She sighed, ‘I don’t know what has happened between the two of you, but he sent me a message, asking me to convince you.’
Sif looked at her, eyes dark with anger, ‘Convince me of what?’
Frigg rolled her eyes and sighed again, ‘Children...’
Sif was going to answer, but stopped herself short. She was a child next to the Queen... She lowered her head, ashamed and feeling sick.
‘Was it so bad, what he told you?’
Sif shook her head, a little too forcefully, ‘No. He said nothing... He just... did not remember anything...’ Sif closed her eyes again.
Frigg was looking down at the Shield Maiden. Sif was a combative person, a warrior, she knew that, but she was visibly vulnerable on the emotional field, and Frigg knew that her younger son, as fragile as he was with his own emotions, could manipulate those around and keep his straight, cold face. ‘Will you go to him?’
Sif’s voice was low, ‘Are you ordering me?’
Frigg was weighing the idea of actually hitting her into action, but it wouldn’t help much... ‘No, but I would like you to try again. Not for me, as you said some time ago, but for the two of you...’ Sif was still looking down at the flowers. ‘Sif, I would like my son to come back home. I would like to see him happy again. I want to be able to take him in my arms and hear his laughter... Can you understand that? And you are the only one that has been willing to take on this... challenge...’ Frigg could be manipulative if she wanted to, but Sif was quick too, and so the Queen hoped she would be too engrossed in her own thoughts to see it for what is was...
In the end, Sif went back to Loki’s cell. She wasn’t feeling pleased about it and she dreaded the moment he would see her and speak to her. She arrived in front of him, still on his bench. ‘You wanted to see me?’ Her voice was cold and her face a mask. She had braced herself as if going to a fight.
Loki had stood up the moment she came in. He approached the wall, so close he could feel the cold against his body. Sif had closed herself to him, he could see that. His heart beat a little quicker and he hated himself for this. Why would she be so guarded if he hadn’t hurt her? And what had he done to hurt her so much? And the only thought that came, again and again, was about that distant day. And he did not want to think it possible; it opened too many possibilities, too many emotions. He needed to keep his head clear if he ever wanted to escape. He sneered at himself, she was a good actress. He would give her that. For a moment, he had believed... No, he had let himself believe that she had feelings towards him. But he won’t let her close in on him. She won’t hurt him again.
Sif was oblivious of his ragging ideas. She was too lost in her own feelings, too lost in controlling them. But after some minutes, she looked at him for he did not answer her first question. His face was colder than before, colder than when she had entered the cell corridor. She wondered, for a moment, what was passing in his head, trying to read his eyes, his blue-green eyes... And she was caught in the moment when their gazes met...
Sif’s eyes were hazel, almost golden in the strange light coming from the cell. Once again, Loki’s heart skipped a beat when he met her stare. He hated himself for that and he hated her. He wanted to hate her, to despise her... He wanted so much to see her suffer for all she had done, and he thought, grimly satisfied, that she was indeed. Her precious Thor was now with a mortal, and how did she feel now that she was alone in her heart, set aside for someone else, for someone that was not good enough for her love... He wanted so much to ask this question, to see her take the blow, with courage as a warrior, and see her face in pain...
Sif was still looking at him and she saw violence appear in his eyes. And how could she react? She was trying to help him, but she could not see how if he wouldn’t let her approach him. Pride, Frigg had said... She needed to let down her warrior stance, the mask of coldness she had put on in entering this gray world where he was contained. Still looking at him, she relaxed and let her guard down... Then she said, ‘Your mother told me you sent her a message. She told me you asked her to convince me to come and see you... Here I am.’ She approached closer to the wall, almost touching it. She could hear the faint sound of the energy coursing through it and saw the muscle in Loki’s jaw clench. ‘But it seems she was wrong...’
Sif was still waiting for an answer, something, but Loki, still close to the wall, was staying quiet. ‘I came because... because I thought you might have an answer to my question...’ She said this last part in a small voice, but seeing that there was still no reaction coming from him, Sif sighed, resigned, and made to turn away.
‘That’s it?’
Sif froze. ‘W-what?’
Loki’s voice was heavy with scorn. ‘That’s all you have? You’re playing very well the poor-damsel-in-distress, my Lady, but I know you too well. You would have me believe that you came here, waited this long for just... this petty question? Please, have mercy on my intelligence. Ask your real questions and be gone with it...’ He ended this in a sneer.
Sif had let down her guard, opened up as much as she could. So she took his answer as a blow and closed her eyes when it struck. She did not know what else to do and she could not let him wound her anymore. It was enough. She opened her eyes again, took a shuddering breath and said, before leaving, ‘That was the only question I ever had for you.’ She turned away and hurried to the end of the corridor.
Loki was looking intently at her, spying on every weakness he could find to strike her. Seeing her let go of her armour had undermined his certitude, looking into her eyes when she spoke had added to his doubt, but still he could not accept it was true. His answer had been automatic. And when he saw her leave, the pain written on her face, his breath caught in his throat. ‘Wait...wait! Sif!’ It came as a cry, his hand striking the wall at the same time in his anguish at seeing her leave him, again.
The hiss of pain made her turn around more than his call. She went back slowly to the cell and saw Loki, cradling his hand, standing still beside the force-wall. His face showed pain and it was evident he was trying to hide it. He looked up at her, shakily lowering his hand. He swallowed and made a small smile. ‘It is n-not only c-cold...’
Sif glared, not smiling, not moving. Of course it wasn’t just cold, it was meant to hurt and kill anyone trying to get out. His hand was now blue, the same color as the frost giant she had fought, not so long ago, beside him. And there was the smell of blood in the cell now. She frowned. ‘Are you wounded?’ She gestured to his hand, even as it was changing color again. She could see now the bruises and burns on it.
Loki shook his head, somewhat jerkily, ‘No. I will be a-alright.’ His breath was slowly calming down.
Once again they were staring at each other. ‘I came back. What do you want?’ She wanted to tell him how she was tired of his games, how she had enough of this. But she couldn’t, it would show too much of her weariness, her weakness. So she stayed cold and waited.
Loki could see that she had, once again, snapped shut. The pain in his hand was barely supportable, but he couldn’t acknowledge it. She hated weakness, and the last thing he wanted now was to show his weakness to her. He tried to move his fingers, but the pain was threatening to crack his own mask. He stopped, hoping she had seen nothing. He breathed deeply, looked into her eyes, and said in a coarse voice, ‘I did call after you, my Lady. But you were already away. You’re a fast walker...’
She stayed silent, still staring at him. ‘I wanted only to play with Sigyn...’ He could not believe he was having this conversation, well, this monologue, with her after all these years. He felt dizzy and he could not decide if it was from the pain in his hand or for the rush of emotions. He wanted to stay defiant, to keep his cool, to control the situation, but on the other hand, a part of him wanted so much for this to be true. Sif by his side, even simply as a friend, he could not accept was possible. He was afraid to look in her eyes now, that she would read his desire, his need for her. She had yet to say something and he felt cold creeping back into his heart.
‘I will be back with something for your hand.’ Her voice was still cold.
He shook his head, ‘I don’t need any help...’
She snorted, ‘Oh, please! You are as stubborn as your brother... I will bring back something.’ And she left.
When she came back, it was with a small pack. The guards lowered the force-wall and let her enter his cell. Of course, they were an inch away from the entrance, weapons at the ready, and Loki knew he would be killed at the first threat against Sif. Which was absolutely ridiculous; Sif would probably kill him herself if he but dared to move against her. He was sitting on the bench, his back against the gray wall. She knelt beside him, still silent and grim. He said nothing, the pain had taken the best part of him now and beads of sweat were on his brow. She opened the pack and he recognised it for her own healing pack, with balm and bandages. He swallowed, she was taking care of him herself, but there was no obligation, he knew that very well. He had half expected his mother to come, in fact. It would have been normal, correct even... He was lost and the pain wasn’t helping him.
Sif knew his hand would have been damaged. These walls were terribly dangerous. What had passed in his head to do this? He would have known of their lethal potential and she wondered if it was a well played part of his plan to mollify her and escape... Still, he needed attention.
Loki was looking at her while she was taking care of his hand. Her face was serious, worried even, while attending to it. She washed it carefully, with great gentleness, mindful of his pain. He was trying not to moan, his jaw clenched, but he could feel the sweat trickling along his back. She dried his hand slowly and then she put the balm on each finger, his palm, slowly and carefully massaging each part of it. At first the pain had been difficult to control, but it began to fade as the balm began to take effect. She then wrapped his hand in a fresh bandage. His mouth was dry, either because of the pain or because of her hands touching, caressing, his own. He trembled slightly.
He looked up at her when she stood and began packing again. ‘Thank you.’ She was still packing and stayed silent, as she had been since returning. ‘I suppose it will be the end of your daily visits?’ He wanted his voice to be strong, but he wanted her to understand. He was begging her to come back, with this simple phrase he was trying to reach her. Please, please, come back to see me, please. These words repeating themselves again and again in his mind, but words he couldn’t say.
He kept looking at her while she finished packing. Then she looked back at him. ‘I will come back.’ Her stance was still cold, but he felt relief flooding through him and once again he hated himself for wanting to believe. ‘Do you need anything?’ Her voice showed mild concern while she was examining the cell. Turning to him, she added, ‘Beside freedom, of course...’
He laughed, slightly bitter, ‘You’re reading my mind, my Lady...’
Sif shrugged, ‘I know you Loki.’ She then leaned towards him, put her hand lightly against his cheek, a few seconds, and turned to leave the cell behind her. Loki stayed still on the bench, not trusting his legs to support him. His eyes were closed, his heart racing. Please, let it be true, please.
Fandom: Thor (2011), Sif/Loki
Pairing/Characters: Sif/Loki, Frigg, Thor, Warriors Three
Genre: Romance, angst
Status: Finished story, first chapter out of 11+epilogue
Summary: Sometimes, a moment in the past of two peoples can impact on their life, long after it had happened.
Background: The story is placed after the first Thor movie and after the (future) Avengers movie.
Part 4: Letting down the guard
Sif was training hard. She had taken up against the Warriors Three all at once and she was scorning them to not hold back on her. She was exhausted and they were wary of her. She had lashed out all her anger, frustration and shame on them. They were her friends and they could feel she was upset and they could guess why; that she was dearly missing the Prince. And they were missing him too, so they could understand her feelings and help her; silently and stoically accepting her scorn and her blows.
At the end, when Volstagg came to say to her, with his rumbling voice and patting her gently, that Thor would be back soon and that he would regale them with another tale of his Midgardian adventure, she just nodded and left under their anxious looks. She had understood what they were thinking and she could not tell them the real reason for her frustration.
Once again, she found herself in the garden. It had been a week since the last horrendous meeting with Loki. She could not go back and see him. And she was angry with herself, for as a warrior she should be able to confront her fear. But it wasn’t fear, it was shame. She was ashamed, for she had let something come back from the past; ancient feelings. And it was for an enemy of Asgard, a traitor, a Jotun...
Last night had been terrible. She’d had a dream. She was by the lake she and Loki knew so well. She was there with her harp, playing. Something she had not done for a long, long time. It was a part of her she kept secret, afraid it spoke of weakness to others. But Loki… Loki had known and she had often played for him. She wasn’t ashamed to play for him; it was a secret, another difference that they could share. And he had loved her songs so much... Or at least that was what he had told her, those afternoons, a long time ago. This dream had brought her back to one of those moments, but she was older and she was alone. The music was sad, the harp crying its melody, and then she had heard him arrive. He had always been so discreet when she was playing, but she would always recognise him. And when, in her dream, she looked up to him, he was the Loki of now; thinner than he had ever been, his face cold and bitter, his eyes angry. He had sat beside her and she was frozen, but she did not know if it was by fear or by anticipation. The music was still playing, although her hands lay cold in her lap. And then he had leaned towards her and kissed her... and she had awoken, her heart fluttering like a sparrow in the grip of an eagle.
Her heart was leaden; she did not know what to do. She sat on a stone and closed her eyes. She was tired of this; she should be in the middle of battle, for at least when she fought, no emotions could sway her like this. She heard a sound and, opening her eyes, she saw Frigg in front of her. She made to stand, but Frigg stopped her.
‘Pride is the enemy of friendship and love.’
Sif’s head snapped, ‘I do not love him.’
Frigg nodded, ‘I did not say you did. I merely suggested Loki’s pride and yours are in the middle of this...’ The Queen gestured vaguely. She sighed, ‘I don’t know what has happened between the two of you, but he sent me a message, asking me to convince you.’
Sif looked at her, eyes dark with anger, ‘Convince me of what?’
Frigg rolled her eyes and sighed again, ‘Children...’
Sif was going to answer, but stopped herself short. She was a child next to the Queen... She lowered her head, ashamed and feeling sick.
‘Was it so bad, what he told you?’
Sif shook her head, a little too forcefully, ‘No. He said nothing... He just... did not remember anything...’ Sif closed her eyes again.
Frigg was looking down at the Shield Maiden. Sif was a combative person, a warrior, she knew that, but she was visibly vulnerable on the emotional field, and Frigg knew that her younger son, as fragile as he was with his own emotions, could manipulate those around and keep his straight, cold face. ‘Will you go to him?’
Sif’s voice was low, ‘Are you ordering me?’
Frigg was weighing the idea of actually hitting her into action, but it wouldn’t help much... ‘No, but I would like you to try again. Not for me, as you said some time ago, but for the two of you...’ Sif was still looking down at the flowers. ‘Sif, I would like my son to come back home. I would like to see him happy again. I want to be able to take him in my arms and hear his laughter... Can you understand that? And you are the only one that has been willing to take on this... challenge...’ Frigg could be manipulative if she wanted to, but Sif was quick too, and so the Queen hoped she would be too engrossed in her own thoughts to see it for what is was...
In the end, Sif went back to Loki’s cell. She wasn’t feeling pleased about it and she dreaded the moment he would see her and speak to her. She arrived in front of him, still on his bench. ‘You wanted to see me?’ Her voice was cold and her face a mask. She had braced herself as if going to a fight.
Loki had stood up the moment she came in. He approached the wall, so close he could feel the cold against his body. Sif had closed herself to him, he could see that. His heart beat a little quicker and he hated himself for this. Why would she be so guarded if he hadn’t hurt her? And what had he done to hurt her so much? And the only thought that came, again and again, was about that distant day. And he did not want to think it possible; it opened too many possibilities, too many emotions. He needed to keep his head clear if he ever wanted to escape. He sneered at himself, she was a good actress. He would give her that. For a moment, he had believed... No, he had let himself believe that she had feelings towards him. But he won’t let her close in on him. She won’t hurt him again.
Sif was oblivious of his ragging ideas. She was too lost in her own feelings, too lost in controlling them. But after some minutes, she looked at him for he did not answer her first question. His face was colder than before, colder than when she had entered the cell corridor. She wondered, for a moment, what was passing in his head, trying to read his eyes, his blue-green eyes... And she was caught in the moment when their gazes met...
Sif’s eyes were hazel, almost golden in the strange light coming from the cell. Once again, Loki’s heart skipped a beat when he met her stare. He hated himself for that and he hated her. He wanted to hate her, to despise her... He wanted so much to see her suffer for all she had done, and he thought, grimly satisfied, that she was indeed. Her precious Thor was now with a mortal, and how did she feel now that she was alone in her heart, set aside for someone else, for someone that was not good enough for her love... He wanted so much to ask this question, to see her take the blow, with courage as a warrior, and see her face in pain...
Sif was still looking at him and she saw violence appear in his eyes. And how could she react? She was trying to help him, but she could not see how if he wouldn’t let her approach him. Pride, Frigg had said... She needed to let down her warrior stance, the mask of coldness she had put on in entering this gray world where he was contained. Still looking at him, she relaxed and let her guard down... Then she said, ‘Your mother told me you sent her a message. She told me you asked her to convince me to come and see you... Here I am.’ She approached closer to the wall, almost touching it. She could hear the faint sound of the energy coursing through it and saw the muscle in Loki’s jaw clench. ‘But it seems she was wrong...’
Sif was still waiting for an answer, something, but Loki, still close to the wall, was staying quiet. ‘I came because... because I thought you might have an answer to my question...’ She said this last part in a small voice, but seeing that there was still no reaction coming from him, Sif sighed, resigned, and made to turn away.
‘That’s it?’
Sif froze. ‘W-what?’
Loki’s voice was heavy with scorn. ‘That’s all you have? You’re playing very well the poor-damsel-in-distress, my Lady, but I know you too well. You would have me believe that you came here, waited this long for just... this petty question? Please, have mercy on my intelligence. Ask your real questions and be gone with it...’ He ended this in a sneer.
Sif had let down her guard, opened up as much as she could. So she took his answer as a blow and closed her eyes when it struck. She did not know what else to do and she could not let him wound her anymore. It was enough. She opened her eyes again, took a shuddering breath and said, before leaving, ‘That was the only question I ever had for you.’ She turned away and hurried to the end of the corridor.
Loki was looking intently at her, spying on every weakness he could find to strike her. Seeing her let go of her armour had undermined his certitude, looking into her eyes when she spoke had added to his doubt, but still he could not accept it was true. His answer had been automatic. And when he saw her leave, the pain written on her face, his breath caught in his throat. ‘Wait...wait! Sif!’ It came as a cry, his hand striking the wall at the same time in his anguish at seeing her leave him, again.
The hiss of pain made her turn around more than his call. She went back slowly to the cell and saw Loki, cradling his hand, standing still beside the force-wall. His face showed pain and it was evident he was trying to hide it. He looked up at her, shakily lowering his hand. He swallowed and made a small smile. ‘It is n-not only c-cold...’
Sif glared, not smiling, not moving. Of course it wasn’t just cold, it was meant to hurt and kill anyone trying to get out. His hand was now blue, the same color as the frost giant she had fought, not so long ago, beside him. And there was the smell of blood in the cell now. She frowned. ‘Are you wounded?’ She gestured to his hand, even as it was changing color again. She could see now the bruises and burns on it.
Loki shook his head, somewhat jerkily, ‘No. I will be a-alright.’ His breath was slowly calming down.
Once again they were staring at each other. ‘I came back. What do you want?’ She wanted to tell him how she was tired of his games, how she had enough of this. But she couldn’t, it would show too much of her weariness, her weakness. So she stayed cold and waited.
Loki could see that she had, once again, snapped shut. The pain in his hand was barely supportable, but he couldn’t acknowledge it. She hated weakness, and the last thing he wanted now was to show his weakness to her. He tried to move his fingers, but the pain was threatening to crack his own mask. He stopped, hoping she had seen nothing. He breathed deeply, looked into her eyes, and said in a coarse voice, ‘I did call after you, my Lady. But you were already away. You’re a fast walker...’
She stayed silent, still staring at him. ‘I wanted only to play with Sigyn...’ He could not believe he was having this conversation, well, this monologue, with her after all these years. He felt dizzy and he could not decide if it was from the pain in his hand or for the rush of emotions. He wanted to stay defiant, to keep his cool, to control the situation, but on the other hand, a part of him wanted so much for this to be true. Sif by his side, even simply as a friend, he could not accept was possible. He was afraid to look in her eyes now, that she would read his desire, his need for her. She had yet to say something and he felt cold creeping back into his heart.
‘I will be back with something for your hand.’ Her voice was still cold.
He shook his head, ‘I don’t need any help...’
She snorted, ‘Oh, please! You are as stubborn as your brother... I will bring back something.’ And she left.
When she came back, it was with a small pack. The guards lowered the force-wall and let her enter his cell. Of course, they were an inch away from the entrance, weapons at the ready, and Loki knew he would be killed at the first threat against Sif. Which was absolutely ridiculous; Sif would probably kill him herself if he but dared to move against her. He was sitting on the bench, his back against the gray wall. She knelt beside him, still silent and grim. He said nothing, the pain had taken the best part of him now and beads of sweat were on his brow. She opened the pack and he recognised it for her own healing pack, with balm and bandages. He swallowed, she was taking care of him herself, but there was no obligation, he knew that very well. He had half expected his mother to come, in fact. It would have been normal, correct even... He was lost and the pain wasn’t helping him.
Sif knew his hand would have been damaged. These walls were terribly dangerous. What had passed in his head to do this? He would have known of their lethal potential and she wondered if it was a well played part of his plan to mollify her and escape... Still, he needed attention.
Loki was looking at her while she was taking care of his hand. Her face was serious, worried even, while attending to it. She washed it carefully, with great gentleness, mindful of his pain. He was trying not to moan, his jaw clenched, but he could feel the sweat trickling along his back. She dried his hand slowly and then she put the balm on each finger, his palm, slowly and carefully massaging each part of it. At first the pain had been difficult to control, but it began to fade as the balm began to take effect. She then wrapped his hand in a fresh bandage. His mouth was dry, either because of the pain or because of her hands touching, caressing, his own. He trembled slightly.
He looked up at her when she stood and began packing again. ‘Thank you.’ She was still packing and stayed silent, as she had been since returning. ‘I suppose it will be the end of your daily visits?’ He wanted his voice to be strong, but he wanted her to understand. He was begging her to come back, with this simple phrase he was trying to reach her. Please, please, come back to see me, please. These words repeating themselves again and again in his mind, but words he couldn’t say.
He kept looking at her while she finished packing. Then she looked back at him. ‘I will come back.’ Her stance was still cold, but he felt relief flooding through him and once again he hated himself for wanting to believe. ‘Do you need anything?’ Her voice showed mild concern while she was examining the cell. Turning to him, she added, ‘Beside freedom, of course...’
He laughed, slightly bitter, ‘You’re reading my mind, my Lady...’
Sif shrugged, ‘I know you Loki.’ She then leaned towards him, put her hand lightly against his cheek, a few seconds, and turned to leave the cell behind her. Loki stayed still on the bench, not trusting his legs to support him. His eyes were closed, his heart racing. Please, let it be true, please.