Prompt Post No. 2
Announcement: Norsekink Round 2 is closed to new prompts!
Attention: All new and continuing fills to this round should be posted in the Overflow Post.
( Rules )
Attention: All new and continuing fills to this round should be posted in the Overflow Post.
( Rules )
Loki found her with a sharp knife in her hand, growling in frustration and hacking lengths of the long ponytail away. She had only managed to chop it - most of it - to shoulder length.
“Trading your sword in for a handmaiden’s shears, are you, Sif?” He leaned on the doorframe and schooled his face to show no trace of mockery. Sif would take it as such in any case, and she did have a blade in her hand, after all.
“I - am - DONE,” she growled. “No foe is ever going to use this -” she shook the remains of her ponytail at him, “- to best me in battle again.” And she resumed hacking at the thick mane.
“You’re going about that all wrong, you know. You’ll end up looking like Fenrir after a mud-bath.” He risked raising one eyebrow.
Sif stopped what she was doing and looked up at Loki. Then the thrust the knife, hilt-first, at him.
“You do it,” she demanded.
Loki’s head went back slightly. His return to Asgard had been fractious. No one, not even his mother, had yet made him such an offer of trust.
“Haven’t we already done this once before?” he asked, playing for time. “You were a blonde then, if memory serves.”
“And that turned out well enough, didn’t it?” Sif thrust the knife at him again. “You say I’m doing it wrong - fix it, then.”
He nodded once, then took the knife and set it on a table. “This isn’t like that. Your goal then was just to remove it all and let it grow back. This - calls for more finesse.” Both eyebrows raised, asking her a silent question.
She held his eyes a long moment in answer.
“All right. To begin, your hair needs to be clean and wet. This way.” He picked up a low stool and led her into a washroom, set the stool down in front of the basin and gestured for her to sit. While she settled, Loki sent a servant to fetch a vial and shears from his chambers, then spread his cloak over Sif’s chest and shoulders. He started water running and adjusted the temperature. The servant returned with his parcel and Loki sent him off.
“Last chance,” he said, eyeing Sif.
“Go on,” she replied, and he shrugged. She leaned back at his gesture, and he scooped her hair into the basin and wet it thoroughly. The water was just right, she thought, just warm enough to soothe. Beside her, Loki pulled the stopper from the vial and spread a thick liquid on his hands, then plunged them into the basinful of water and dark hair. Delicious scents rose from the heat of the water - Sif recognized citrus, bergamot and roses, sandalwood and something else she couldn’t place - and Loki began massaging his way up the length of her hair.
Then he reached her head, and those clever hands slid deeper into her hair and massaged her scalp. Sif barely managed to keep back a moan of pleasure. She dared not open her eyes, in case she saw mockery in Loki’s face above hers, so she kept them closed and relaxed under his touch.
Too soon those hands went away, and fresh jets of water sluiced her hair free of the sweet scents. Something tight loosened in her chest along with them. She felt a soft cloth wrap around her hair, hands squeezing the heavy mass of it. “Sit up,” Loki ordered, and she obeyed without opening her eyes.
“Are you sure you don’t want to watch?” he asked. “Make certain I don’t make you look like a hedgehog?”
Sif smiled faintly and shook her head, eyes still closed.
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“Won’t be long now,” Loki assured her. “Too late to ask for a refund, dear Sif.”
Her mouth relaxed. “You could probably grow it back with a spell.”
“Yes, but it would cost you.” She could almost sense his cocky grin. “I offer no guarantees.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” she murmured, and felt the comb make its adjustments again. Then warm air wafted around her, concentrated on her wet hair - a spell of Loki’s, she assumed - and then she felt the cloak pulled off her.
“Finished. Open your eyes and see if I’ve given satisfaction.” She did, and found a smirk on his mouth. Something else lurked in Loki’s eyes, however - something softer, something she’d almost call yearning. If she didn’t know Loki as well as she did.
She turned to face the mirror and gasped. Her hair was cut to above her ears, with a sort of lifted cap effect over the crown of her head, and a thick wing of hair swooped from one point of her hairline over her brow and tucked gently under the opposite ear. A few thin bangs spiked along the edges of the wing, softening its lines into something graceful. She reached a hand to her neck and felt hair cropped close to the nape of her neck, lengthening into a stack that supported the cap and wing effect.
“Loki.” It was a whisper, and her throat closed on any other words.
He studied her face carefully, then relaxed into a smile. “You are quite welcome, dear Sif.”
She reached out a hand to him, and saw his face shutter down on any expression. He backed a step away from her hand, opened his mouth as if to speak and closed it again, then grabbed his cloak, turned and made haste out of her chambers.
Sif sat down, wondering what to make of what had just passed between them. Then she shook her head - so much lighter now! - and set about sweeping up the mess of fallen hair she’d made.
((A/N: I had in mind for Sif's short 'do something like this.))
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That was the hottest thing. I have such a thing for massage, and touching napes, and hair as a symbol of strength...
And Loki/Sif is my Norkink OTP.
So I could not love this fill more.
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Especially if he goes and makes mischief through the salons of Midgard.
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