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The mortals called her War. It had been a few hundred years since they had last been on Earth but Loki visited regularly and had heard the stories told of War and Thunder and Mischief. He thought his title to be apt and while Thor’s was not particularly creative it was applicable, but to call Sif War? It showed that they did not see her as she truly was. Loki was quite sure he was the only one who ever had and at that particular moment he saw her sparring with his oaf of a brother while he sat at the edge of the training yard pretending to read. Here he could not deny she was war; the way she watched her opponent with fierce eyes and no fear. Thor was at least twice her size but she never backed down, never failed to match him blow for blow. The boys all cheered for Thor and when he finally bested her she stood with bravado but Loki knew better. He watched her walk to the armory and got up quickly, following her with quiet steps though he knew better than to try and sneak up on Sif. The others had moved on to the next match so he was unseen as he moved behind the trees and into the armory behind her.
“Why did you let him best you?” Loki asked curiously, knowing full well that Sif had been moments from victory, only to fold in the last seconds, letting the prince reign champion. That was something he’d never seen from her before.
Not that he spent all his time in the training yard watching her.
Sif spun around when she heard his voice and her surprise startled Loki quite possibly more than his voice he did her. “I did not!” She said with an indignant tone that told him that he was right and he offered her a knowing smirk.
She no longer stood before him as War. Right now she was uncertainty and he could see her grasping to regain control of the situation. Loki leaned back against the weapons rack, long limbs stretched out as he gained more confidence the longer she searched her mind for an excuse. He could practically see her thinking – an advantage of being such a skilled liar was being able to see others form their lies before they even escaped. “You’ll not gain his affections by losing to him. Fandral loses to him constantly and Thor has yet to bed him.” The smirk remained on his lips but there was a bitterness that came from his voice.
It took only moments for War to return and she had him pressed hard against the rack, his lithe body between her and the weapons, a dagger that she had pulled from him against his throat. “Say it again Silvertongue and risk losing it.” She threatened.
She was a storm, violent and unpredictable and he loved every second of it.
“You’ll not get very far in life if your most memorable moment is decapitating an innocent prince.”
Sif laughed bitterly and pushed the dagger harder against his neck, causing it to graze his skin as he swallowed. “Innocent? No one in the nine realms would believe that Loki.”
His eyes darkened and with a flick of his wrists she was pushed back violently against the wall, the dagger clattering loudly to the floor. “You would know. There is nothing innocent of the way you crawl into my bed at night.”
Sif’s eyes matched his as she righted herself, a smirk crossing her features and on Sif it looked even more deadly than it did on Loki. “You are nothing more than convenience.”
She was a firestorm that burned him more deeply than she would ever know. She was not as observant as he was and would not notice the hurt that flashed in his eyes. She would, however, feel the way his magic burned inside her as he closed the distance between them and grasped her tightly from behind. One arm locked around her chest, the other splaying low on her belly under her breast plate. She thrashed violently in his arms but Loki was stronger than he looked and though he saw the protest forming on her lips it was lost in place of a gasp.
It was the most intimate of magic, better shared tangled and naked but that was rarely Sif’s way; he knew it would thrill her far more knowing her friends were just outside. He could not explain such magic and it had been taught to him in far more intense surroundings, long ago, but Sif was the only one he’d used it on since then. He felt her dull nails dig into his hand as he watched her intently. It was his favorite thing about this type of magic – it required little effort on his part so he was free to just watch her take her pleasure.
She was music, beautiful and sweet as her eyes squeezed shut, dark lashes fanning on her cheeks and contrasting perfectly against her pale skin and the smudges of dirt she had acquired during training. Her breath fell from her parted lips in rhythm as she panted and gasped in time with the waves of pleasure he surged through her body. Without even touching her most intimate parts he watched her reach her crescendo, trembling in his arms and drawing blood as her teeth clamped down on her lip to stop her from crying out too loudly. Loki’s lips pressed against her neck in a moment of intimacy that she did not protest but it was cut short when he heard thundering footsteps, pulling back from her just enough that their embrace would not be obvious.
“Sif!” Came the voice of his brother and Loki rolled his eyes, glowering at the way her face lit up. “There is no shame in losing to the Mighty Thor, come, let us go again… Loki.” Thor said, finally acknowledging the presence of his younger brother with a smile and a slap on the back. “Don’t you have a book to read? The Lady Sif has no time for your tricks.”
A cutting response burned on the end of Loki’s tongue but he bit it back only because of the pleading look on Sif’s face, begging him without saying a word to remain silent and he did. Loki wondered briefly if she knew, if she took advantage of his softness for her but as she left with Thor it was only anger that burned beneath his skin.
When she happened on his chamber late that night she was drunk and Loki was quite sure that she had been crying. She barged in, as she usually did, the only one who he had not prevented from doing so with the wards that surrounded his chambers. It was not the first time and he knew it would not be the last. She was often drunk, or heated by the fires that came with battle but he knew the true reason was because his brother did not pay her the mind that she deserved, would not take what she offered from her flesh.
Loki rose to his feet but before he could ask her what was wrong her lips were against his in a hard and bruising kiss. Hands instinctively wrapped around her, holding her close and tangling in her hair as she kissed him like a parched man who had just found water. He pulled away breathless but she interrupted him as he opened his mouth to speak.
“I care not for words Loki. Save them for someone who does.” She warned before she pulled him back to her and began to shed his clothes.
He wanted to protest, to tell her that she deserved all of the poetry and sweet nothings on the tip of his tongue but he was lost in her. Everything about her was intoxicating to him and he groaned as she raked dull nails along his skin before leading him to the bed. Clothes were discarded along the way and when they fell onto the soft furs and silks of his bed Sif allowed him to remain on top, pushing at his shoulders, satisfied only when he was settled between her thighs.
“Have you been this way since the armory?” He asked her with a smirk as he found her wet and wanting, fingers tracing her soft, warm flesh.
“No.” She gasped as he touched her, not even believing the lie herself.
Loki trailed wet kisses along the inside of her strong thighs, nipping at her skin and soothing it with his tongue eliciting the most wonderful sounds of frustration. He waited, occasionally burying his tongue deep inside to taste her but purposefully avoiding where she wanted it most. It was a game, to see who would break first but Loki had all the patience in the world. Eventually he won, a soft ‘please’ falling from her lips as she grasped his hair tightly and made every attempt to lead him where she needed him. He obliged eagerly, suckling on the tiny bundle of nerves as two long fingers sought out her wetness and Sif cried out in pleasure, hips pressing against his mouth as she held him firmly in place.
His eyes didn’t leave her as he watched her take what he offered. When she found her climax she gasped with pleasure, his name falling from her lips. Loki felt her clench tightly around his fingers and her thighs clasped his head with such strength he could hear his heart beating in his ears. Dark red welts had raised against his skin from where her nails had dug into his shoulders but Loki did not stop until he was sure that her pleasure had begun to ebb. Her grip on him slackened and he continued long flat strokes of his tongue, indulging in the soft sounds of pleasure escaping her before she pulled him up to her. Sometimes that would be all, she would take what she wished and she would leave but he knew she was more insatiable this evening and his thoughts were proven right when he found himself beneath her.
He watched her wordlessly as she raised herself on those thighs that now bore the mark of his teeth. Watched her sink down onto him, surrounding him with warmth and causing the rest of his universe to disappear. His hands mapped every inch of her body above him, from the curve or her neck, to the swell of her breasts before they rested on her hips. Loki was lost in Sif but he was not able to completely deny his own pleasure and he had been wanting since he had taken her apart in the armory. She rode him with a steady rhythm, their grunts and groans practically in unison until his thumb fell between her legs and then he didn't stand a chance against her cries of pleasure. She sped up, hard and fast, taking his entire length and grinding her hips against his fingers before her entire body went taunt, her inner walls clenching tightly around him as she found her release. Her head flew back and she rode out her ecstasy, Loki allowing it to continue as long as he possibly could before he could take no more. He grasped her hips roughly and stilled her movements as he spilled deep inside of her, feeling her draw every drop from him as her gasps of pleasure matched his own.
When they found themselves both spent she all but collapsed on his chest, grinning against his skin as she basked in the lingering haze of pleasure. Loki wrapped his arms around her and attempted to pull her against him, only to be met with resistance.
“I cannot stay.” She said, pulling completely from him as she got up off his bed.
“You never stay.” Loki pointed out, lounging back as though he cared not. “One would think you were afraid of what may happen if you do.” He shrugged in an attempt to seem as nonchalant as possible.
Sif laughed and shook her head as she began to gather her clothes. “You think I do not see through your words, mere bait in an attempt to fool me into staying…. Be careful.” She warned as she pulled them on. “It almost sounds as though you wish me to stay.”
“I do.” Loki said, regretting the words the moment he saw the realization on Sif’s face. “If only so we may repeat such actions come daybreak.” He added hastily knowing the damage was already done.
“I love Thor.” She said softly and simply, looking almost hurt when Loki replied with a cruel laugh.
“Why do you speak such words with pity Lady Sif?” He spat at her. “You think me a lovesick puppy? May I remind you that it is you who comes to me like a wanton concubine.” He could see the hurt and anger burn on her face and while it brought him no pleasure it was better on hers than his.
She was the horizon. Beautiful, warm and entirely unattainable. “You will never have me again Loki.” She growled as she finished dressing. “Not my body, my respect, my friendship and ...” She laughed. “… You were a sad fool to ever think I would find you deserving of my heart.” With that she turned and stormed from the room.
He was love. Or at least, he had been for her. As he watched her leave and slam the door behind her he knew it would be the last time. He was Loki of Asgard, he was powerful and he was far beyond the feelings of children. Love. She wasted it on Thor and he had wasted it on her and he would do so no more.
EPILOGUE
Loki sat at the head of the table and looked out over the Yule feast. Watching over proceedings as he… as Odin … always did, keeping those in line that required it and toasting when expected but it was War that had captured his attention on this night. It burned him that even now she mourned the loss of Thunder, who had merely chased his foolish heart to Midgard, more than she mourned the loss of Mischief. Centuries had passed and nothing had changed, they remained War and Thunder and Mischief, tangled in a web of childish pain and emotion and Loki knew that it could no longer continue.
She was the end.
He watched them, so many who had so easily dismissed him and he took great pleasure in knowing that it was he, Loki, who would bring about the final battle; Asgard’s final breath. He would bring about the end of all things… Ragnarok .. and he did it with only one hope; that if he was to be reborn it would be out of the shadow of Thunder and into the arms of War.