It Takes Two To Tango, Chapter 3 - A Sif/Loki Fanfiction
It Takes Two To Tango
Chapter 3
Fandom - Thor (2011 Film), Sif/Loki
Rating - Teenage
Summary - Eighteen year old Sif is horrified when she discovers she has to attend the next Asgardian Ball. Not only will she have to wear a dress, but she’ll have to dance! Unable to face the embarrassment of proper dancing classes, she enlists Loki’s help.
Genre - Humour/Romance
Status - Work in Progress, Chapter 3 of 10?
Word Count - 3, 564 words
Previous Chapters - Chapter 1 and Chapter 2.
This story is meant to be a bit of a silly, but I hope humourous and entertaining look at a younger Sif and Loki. There will be a good few chapters, so I hope you continue reading.
Written for the prompt on LJ's Norsekink - I'd like to see Loki teach Sif how to dance for a formal occasion at Asgard. (Full prompt here.)
Firstly, a massive apology for taking so long to update this story. I certainly have not abandoned it, but I’ve been suffering from writer’s block for a while now. I fear, due to this, this chapter is not quite up to scratch. Still, I hope you enjoy it and I will try to get the next chapter written soon, and hopefully to a much better quality!
Chapter 3
A small chink of light slipped through the curtains and fell across Sif’s face, but it did not disturb her. She was already wide awake; screwing her eyes shut in the hopes that restful sleep would find her. But all that had found her were thoughts and worries, turning around in her mind all night. So, when dawn broke and the sunlight flittered through into her room, Sif all but jumped out of bed, eager for the chance to finally escape her restless night and worrying dreams. She quickly slipped on her armour, grabbed her pack, sword and shield and was almost at the front door before she heard her mother’s voice ring out from the kitchen, “Breakfast is ready.”
Sif reached out and grabbed the door handle, warring with herself about whether to stay or run before her mother could catch her. Her grip tightened, then she let go and turned round, a scowl lining her features. It was not often Sif listened to her mother, but breakfast was the one meal she insisted Sif attend, as recompense for her absence the rest of the day. Sif knew it was an unspoken rule she dare not break and so deepening her scowl, she stomped towards the kitchen, sitting down sulkily in her chair and grabbing the bowl of porridge laid in front of her. She quickly took a large spoonful, then regretted it immediately. Her sleepless, anxious night had left her stomach in knots and she felt the food choking in her throat. She forced the tasteless porridge down, taking another, much smaller bite. She longed to be away, to hear the clashing of metal against metal, the dust of the training ground beneath her feet and the feel of a sword hilt in her hand.
She hardened her grip on the spoon, but made herself eat slowly, eyes cast down; avoiding her mother’s who was watching her intently. Sif never saw the point of this insistence they break their fast together, as a family her mother would chorus, for Sif spoke little, usually ate quick and her father, often a late riser, was very rarely present. Sometimes her mother would even force conversation upon her, but luckily today she remained silent, only speaking as Sif finished up the last few mouthfuls of food, a far cry from the splendour of the food that she had grown accustomed to at the palace.
“When is Prince Loki to begin teaching you?”
Sif’s first answer was to glower at her mother as she dropped her spoon with a deliberately loud clatter on the table. Why did her mother have to bring up that of all things! “Today, if you must know.”
Her mother smiled and if Sif did not know any better, she would say her mother almost seemed to be enjoying Sif’s obvious misery. “Then I wish you luck, Sif. The dancing lessons are still open if you change your mind.” She smiled sweetly at her daughter, before standing and taking the empty bowls to the sink.
If Sif had felt like bailing out of her pact with Loki before, and she could not deny that the thought had repeatedly crossed her mind since the idea came, her mother’s response would have strengthened her resolve completely. Her mother’s assumption that she would somehow fail in her lessons with Loki made her blood seethe and without a single word or glance at her mother, Sif picked up her things and stomped out of the house, banging the door and ignoring her mother’s far too cheerful goodbye.
Her pace did not relent until she reached the training ground and the sight before her made her suddenly stop in her tracks. Her friends Fandral, Hogun and Volstagg, the Warriors Three as they had pompously started to call themselves, were already there, loitering about and play fighting, their presence doing little to soothe the frustration cursing through her veins. If anything, it simply enflamed her all the more, for she had hoped to come here before them, to practice without any distractions and, though she was loathe to admit it, to take out her frustrations without an audience. She was about to turn around and walk away, heading towards the nearby trees on the outskirts of the palace gardens, when her friends saw her and began to wave. Sif was half tempted to ignore them anyway, but after an audible sigh, and a forced slower pace, she walked towards them. They shifted uncomfortably as she approached, watching her and deciphering her mood.
“How fair thee, this fine morning, Lady Sif?” Volstagg asked as she neared them.
Sif tried her best at a polite smile, trying to appear calm as she did not want to upset her friends for a second day with her foul temper. It was not their fault, after all. Still, she did long to fight and, reaching for her sword at her hip, was about to issue a challenge when Fandral chipped in quickly, “You reach us in good time, Sif, for we are just now heading for the palace to break our fast.”
“Aye! That we are, Lady Sif,” Volstagg added and Hogun nodded his head in agreement.
Sif eyed them sharply, they could not fool her with their sudden urge to eat a second time, but she could think of no protests and so removed her hand from her sword and nodded. She did not stop her glare though, as they all breathed a sigh of relief, before she turned towards the palace, marching on ahead of them and pretending to ignore their whispered comments behind her.
“Good morning, friends!” Thor boomed as he stood up to welcome them as they reached the high table in the banqueting hall. “And it is good to see you, Sif. What brings you to the palace so early?”
Sif shifted uncomfortably for a moment, trying to work out how best to phrase her answer. It was unusual for her to arrive at the palace before weapons training and she did not want to explain the real reasons for her untimely appearance. “I rose early and thought I would use the time for extra practice, before training.”
“Aye, but Sif arrived just as we were heading to the palace for breakfast, did she not, Hogun?” Fandral added, as he sat down next to Thor and nodded at his friend. Volstagg had already seated himself and was even now filling his plate high with bacon, eggs and bread.
“She did,” Hogun replied, also seating himself down and avoiding Volstagg’s elbow as the large warrior eagerly began to eat.
Thor looked between his friends for a moment, resuming his own seat, the expression on his face one of concentration as his eyebrows knitted together and his mouth turned into a firm line. A moment later, he slapped Fandral on the back in friendly cheer and his face broke into a smile. “Aye, I can see that was very convenient.”
As Sif took her own seat opposite Thor and began helping herself to food, she glared at him, “And what, pray, do you mean by that?”
Thor’s smile faltered a moment, but he was saved a reply by his brother, who had appeared behind him. “That the Warriors Three are grateful they were saved from being beaten into the dust by the anger of the Warrior Maiden Sif.”
Sif looked up a moment and caught Loki’s eye, then immediately looked down, feeling the knots in her stomach tighten and her face grow hot. She had not seen Loki since she had petitioned him for help yesterday and she felt embarrassed once more that she had to even ask for his favour. Seeing the cruel smirk line his mouth, his eyes shining with mischief and his voice laced with the same smugness as yesterday, made the blood in her veins start to boil.
It did not help that visions of her dreams suddenly flashed before her eyes, awakened by the sight of him. The dreams that had been plaguing her all night long, spinning her around and around in a sea of colours and ball gowns, music and chatter. Faces swirling before her eyes and laughter haunting her, growing in intensity as the spinning grew faster and faster, the faces merging into one as her heartbeat drowned out the music. Her feet were no longer hers as she was passed from one faceless person to another, the laughter turning cold, scornful. Insults joining the chorus and her panic rising, trapping her in the never ending blur of noise and bright lights, blinding her senses. Then, suddenly, the spinning would stop, the music and mocking would cease and only one face would appear before her; Loki’s. He would speak to her, gripping her arms tightly, holding her still, but she could not hear a word, her panic rippling through her, overwhelming her as she tore her arms away. Finding her feet she would run, fast, away from him, from her nameless fears, pushing through the faceless, mocking crowd, their taunting laughter and ridicules filling her ears once more. And Loki’s voice would follow her, her name shouted out above the cacophony of sound as she tried to get away. And the faceless crowd would block her path, push her back, trip her up…
And she would awaken, her pulse racing and her breathing heavy, the cold silence of her room painfully loud and the image of Loki’s face dancing before her eyes... Sometimes in the dreams it was comforting, his eyes concerned and his smile warm. Other times it was as cruel and mocking as the people around her, his lips twisted into a sneer. And now, seeing the same face before her, real flesh and blood and the same smirk lining his features, made her heart start to pound wildly.
She glared into her plate, before she forced the disjointed images from the dreams away and looked up at him, letting all her anger and embarrassment pour out into her glare. She felt momentarily better when he flinched slightly, her confidence growing as she retorted, “You slight both I and the Warriors Three in the same breath, trickster. You had better watch yourself and your tongue at weapons practice.”
“You misunderstand me, my dear Lady Sif, for I have no intention of slighting any at this fine table.” Loki’s voice was calm, feigned innocence, and he held his arms out as if to embrace those around.
This earned him a heartened chuckle from Thor and a fiercer glare from Sif; the Warriors Three looking down at their own plates as they determined to not get involved. Bickerings between the trickster and the warrior maiden were becoming common recently and only Thor was usually brave, or perhaps stupid enough, to come between them. He did so then, gently slapping Sif on the back, though it was not so gentle that it did not stop Sif from chocking slightly on her bread, or Loki smiling at her misfortune. “Aye brother, I think you are wise enough to know the perils of mocking Sif, or indeed anyone who may be able to hear.”
“Perhaps Loki is not so wise as he likes to think, for he does it often enough,” Sif replied after a sip of ale soothed her coughing.
“I merely speak as I find, my Lady. It is up to others how they choose to interpret my words.” His voice sounded so sincere Sif was almost tempted to believe him. Almost, but she had known the trickster for far too long and after another glare, she determinedly fixed her attention on the food in front of her, feeling herself superior for not continuing in the battle of wits with Loki. It was a battle she knew she could not win anyway, for Loki was far better practiced in the warfare of words.
The chatter soon began flowing between the Warriors Three and Thor and Sif continued to cast her eyes down, trying to eat the food piled upon her plate. She was hungry, the porridge at breakfast not sustaining enough, but each bite felt like sawdust in her mouth and her stomach continued to twist and turn with anxiety. She could feel Loki’s eyes watching her, intensifying her concerns. She did not need to meet his eyes to know they would be taunting, his expression smug, and Sif could not even imagine how infuriating he would be this afternoon when their lessons commenced. He always did enjoy teasing others and Sif usually had little patience for Loki’s games, especially as she so often found herself on the receiving end.
“Are you alright, Sif?” Thor suddenly asked and Sif looked up in surprise. It was only then that she realised her friends had begun to notice her sullen, quiet disposition and the tightening of her grip on knife and table. Sif felt their eyes began to flicker over her in concern. “You are not still worried about the ball, are you?”
Sif sighed deeply and put down her knife, deciding that sharing her troubles with friends was probably wise. They were her friends, after all, and should not doubt Sif’s fierceness when it came to battle just because she spoke of her woes now. “I fear I will not stop worrying until the dancing is finished and the ball is over.”
“If it be any help, Sif, I could always tutor you in the dancing,” Thor offered kindly.
The sudden laughter around her and Loki’s teasing words spared Sif the struggle of a reply. “I think Sif would find the use of both her toes helpful in the ball, Thor.” As Thor’s face fell and he turned an interesting shade of pink, the laughter around them increased.
Sif felt slightly guilty at everyone’s amusement at Thor’s expense, so with a quick glare at Loki, she rested her hand reassuringly on Thor’s arm. “Thank you, Thor, but I think I have solved that problem at least.” Her eyes unwittingly travelled to Loki’s then and she saw the arrogant look in his eyes as he held hers in silent challenge. He raised his glass, almost as in a toast, and Sif did her best to swallow her sudden, irrational anger. She knew he was goading her, trying to make her squirm, but she held her ground in this silent battle, for was she not training to be a disciplined and fierce warrior? She only looked away when Volstagg spoke.
“Then what is it that worries you so, Lady Sif?”
It was an interesting question and one Sif had found herself pondering since yesterday. She was fearful of the dancing, that was certain, and disappointing her mother, but her heart was heavy with other worries and a strange sense of foreboding. A quick glance in Loki’s direction made her heart somersault unexpectedly and Sif could at least admit she was worried about him, too, about the bargain struck between them. It was deeper than that, though, an almost irrational fear at the thought of spending time with him, though when she tried to press her own thoughts and concerns, she found herself unable to uncover anything more. A mystery Sif found inexplicably frustrating, as indeed everything about Loki seemed to be to her recently. But she could hardly formulate all that in her own mind, let alone voice it to her friends, so her answer, though true, was only a small portion of the story. “I fear that my mother will only be disappointed in me, no matter what happens at the ball.”
“I am sure you will have no reason to worry, Sif, for I am sure you will make your mother proud.” This time it was Thor who patted her arm in reassurance and Sif gave her friends a weak smile.
It did help her feel better, their support, but the knots still twisted in her stomach. “I fear I will only make my mother proud when I settle down, become a proper lady and find a husband!”
“But you are only young, Sif, she cannot expect all this from you now,” Hogun added sympathetically, causing Sif’s smile to widen in sincerity, for it was not often Hogun took the role of comforter.
“I think she hopes I will find a husband at this darn ball!” Sif scoffed, her voice growing harder at the last words, for she knew full well this was at the root of her mother’s fussing. And the root of her own feelings of anxiety and inadequacy, for this was one matter in which she would never make her mother proud.
Her bitterness at this knowledge surged out of control when she heard Loki’s sudden, cruel laughter and taunting words. “If that is what Sif’s mother hopes for, then she has a right to be worried, as do all the young men in Asgard!”
It was only Thor’s hand on her arm that stilled her as Sif jumped up quickly, her bread knife held menacingly before her and her grip firm. Her blunt, but threatening knife was reaching towards Loki before Thor’s quick reactions stopped her, though Loki’s smirk tempted her to continue forward. The blade would do little harm, but the metal could still be struck against a weak point on the flesh, and Sif was certainly famous for her ingenuity when it came to fighting.
“Be calm, Sif. I am sure Loki means no slander.” Thor’s voice was calm, but there was an underlying power in it, a distant rumble that warned of the warrior within. Sif had heard that voice a number of times and she heeded the warning, leaning back, away from Loki, dropping her arm wielding the knife and relaxing her stance. She also would not give Loki any more satisfaction at seeing her react, his smirk never having faltered despite Sif’s threat.
“I disagree, Thor. It was meant as a slight and it is the second he has struck at me this morn.” She made her stance firm again, holding her head high and glaring at Loki in defiance. “For the sake of my honour, and that of my friends, I should challenge Loki to a fair fight this day.”
Loki stood up then, leisurely taking his time and ignoring the few muttered protests from the Warriors Three, who wanted no part in this battle. His smirk morphed into a cruel smile as he leant towards her, looking down at her tauntingly. Sif held fast; she was not so easily intimidated, though she longed for those few, brief years not so long ago when her height had dwarfed his.
He continued to hold her glare, until he laughed; a rich, warm, sincere sound that annoyingly sounded like music to Sif’s ears. Her heart betrayed her by suddenly missing a beat, though her stance remained firm, her wrath increased and her glare grew in ferocity.
Loki leant back, away from her, watchful for a moment before he spoke, holding his hands out in front of him in pretend surrender. “My dear Lady Sif, how I would love to accept that challenge, for I do fear I have unintentionally slighted your honour and, as such, I must be punished.” His smile flickered briefly into a playful grin, belying the sincerity in his words, before his face dropped into feigned disappointment. “But alas, I am unable to accept, for I have lessons with the scholars this morning and this afternoon…” Here he paused to narrow his eyes at her, a warning in their depths meant only for her. Sif could not help but swallow as she read the clear threat within them, a warning that she was currently in his debt and she should not try his patience. “…I am busy.” With that, Loki gave them all a mocking bow, though his gaze never left Sif’s face, before he turned around, his cloak swirling around him as he walked away.
Sif watched him leave, her anger rising once more with every step he took.
“You must not let him goad you so, Sif,” Thor advised as he laid a friendly hand on her back and encouraged her to resume her place seated at the table. “You know it only encourages him more.”
“Aye, that it does,” Volstagg added, once again tucking into his food, as the drama that had recently occurred had paused even him in his eating.
Fandral nodded in agreement, before observing, “Though Loki seemed more cruel than usual...”
“Perhaps something is troubling him,” Hogun mused, his face as grim and expressionless as ever. He did not elaborate and none of her friends offered any more ideas, simply nodding and resuming their eating, for the mischief of Loki and the subsequent fury of Lady Sif were nothing new.
Sif turned her own attention back to the plate in front of her, though Hogun’s words echoed around in her mind. Perhaps Loki was anxious about something; perhaps he was as worried about his tutelage as she was. The thought helped lessen her simmering resentment towards him, but it did nothing to weaken her own worries and fears. She did her best to force the food in front of her down, her twisted stomach protesting as her thoughts dreaded every moment that passed, for it brought the beginning of her dancing lessons with Loki one moment nearer.
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Sorry for the more “angsty” feel to this chapter, it did rather run away with itself. I do aim to keep the story overall light hearted and humorous, but that being said, the potential angst between Loki and Sif is something I enjoy writing, so it will be cropping up soon!
Anyway, thanks for reading and I hoped you enjoyed it!