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It wasn't that it was unusual to see the Shieldmaiden running through the library that made Loki look up from the spell book he'd been studying, but the mud spattered on her ripped clothes and the blood covering her face. Loki's eyes followed her as she hurried between the aisles that contained the ancient texts on combat and Asgard’s glorious war history. It would be far into the shadowy depths of this section of the library that the shieldmaiden would stop, hiding in the alcove by the dusty window that overlooked the training yards. It was here that the Shieldmaiden used to come as a child, hiding from her mother and looking out enviously at the warriors below.
This was the very place Loki had first befriended Sif Trysdottir. He'd already known who she was, of course, the lanky, fidgety girl who had glared at him and his brother when they had first been introduced. The Queen had known Sif’s mother for many years and it was obvious they had decided their children should all become friends. Due only to her mother’s entreaties, the young girl had curtsied awkwardly and spoken poorly, causing his mother to smile, his brother to laugh and Loki to scowl. Perhaps that was what had caused the pretty girl’s glare, but Loki was not at all amused at a girl who did not know her proper place. She was not at all like the other girls presented to him and Thor as perspective friends. They were all well dressed and confident, and knew how to properly address the Royal Family. The etiquette lessons had clearly done her no good, and as Loki had caught her sneaking around the palace in the weeks to come, it was not hard to understand why. She was clearly a troublemaker and he had decided on that very first day he would have nothing to do with her. Whenever she had been brought to the palace, Loki had simply ignored her, or scowled and Sif, perhaps not quite as stupid as she was socially inept, had quickly learnt to avoid him whenever she was invited to the palace. That was until he’d first found her in the library several months later.
Now though, Sif had joined the great ranks of the Asgardian Eilenjar and become a famous shieldmaiden. She had little use for her old retreat in the great library. There was no reason now to hide from her mother, for she had gained independence long ago when her quarters were moved within the nobility section of the garrison. And what use was watching the warriors through a grubby window, when she could fight them directly on the dusty training ground. It wasn’t that Sif never came to the library, but that her usual aim was to seek him out. Either to extract her revenge for whatever trick he had played, or to entreat him to come to the feast or training grounds, often Loki suspected on Thor’s command. Sometimes she would even seek him out to talk; to vent her frustrations on the stupidity of her fellow warriors to a kind ear, or to ask his opinion or advice. Today however, Loki knew it to be none of those things and as he watched her disappear behind the great war tomes, it was not hard to ascertain something was wrong. The tattered clothes and blood stains worried Loki. With a sheet of paper bookmarking his page, he cautiously followed her, knowing he would find her crying, just as he had that very first time he had found her in the library…
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…It was not a section he visited much, having little use for ancient battle tactics and great victories. That day, however, he’d been talked into helping his brother out on his essay for the weapon’s master and Loki had been perusing the shelves, when the sound of sniffling had reached his ears. Both intrigued and annoyed, Loki had followed the sound, ready to admonish anyone who thought themselves above the rules of the library. He had rounded the corner, his reproachful words ready on his tongue, when the sight before him stopped him in his tracks.
The lanky, scruffy young girl was huddled up on the windowsill, her head buried in her hands and her pretty blonde hair cascading around her legs. It almost hid her face from view, but between the tresses, Loki could see the tears streaking her face. She looked up at his arrival, her gaze vulnerable for just a moment, before her features twisted into their usual glare. It was in that moment that Loki’s whole world shifted; just a fraction, but shifted nonetheless. He suddenly felt compelled to be nice to her, to see a smile rather than a glare on that pretty face. It must have been his mother’s stern upbringing and Loki was nothing but well mannered. So instead of reproaching her, or insulting her scruffy, dishevelled appearance, Loki silently cast a beautiful baby raven. Its wings were as black as his hair and its eyes sparkled like emeralds as they flew towards the girl. Her scowl slipped just a little as she watched the bird circle above her warily. Another flick of Loki’s wrist, and a beautiful rose, as golden as her hair, had fallen from its beak. Sif held her hand out to catch the falling rose and Loki watched as she cradled it in her palm almost reverently. A moment later, another bird joined her, this time a baby owl with feathers as hazel as her eyes and the girl had smiled as both birds rested on her knee. When she next looked up at him, it was with a small smile and eyes full of wonder and Loki’s world had shifted just that little bit more. With a faint smile of his own, he left her then, with the birds slowly fading behind him. But he knew the rose would still glow brightly within her palm and the ghost of her smile would be forever etched into his memory.
The next day he found her again in the library, not that he’d expressly sought her out, but this essay for Thor was taking a while. There she was seated, but this time her legs had been folded beneath her as she gazed out the window. Loki watched her for a few moments in silence, not wanting to startle her, but when the girl just continued to gaze out the window, Loki politely cleared his throat. Sif jumped at the sound, spinning round towards him, her expression slipping from shock, to the barest hint of a smile, to suspicion, and what, to Loki, looked an awful lot like guilt.
“What do you want,” she snapped, and for a moment Loki found another scowl threatening against his lips. But then he remembered her tears from the day before and how pretty her smile had been and managed to conceal it. Once again, he found himself wanting to see that smile again, so he forced himself to speak lightly, although he couldn’t resist a hint of teasing.
“With you, oh, nothing much. But I am curious what you’re doing here.” He paused a moment, allowed a faint smirk to crease his lips, “After all, should you not now be in your etiquette class? I’m sure I saw the other girls heading that way.”
The girl’s eyes narrowed suspiciously “Did my mother send you to find me?”
“Of course not!” What a suggestion, as if anyone other than his parents and tutors would dare give him orders. “I am here to study, which is usually what someone does in library.”
“Well, you're not studying now,” Sif retorted and Loki didn't know whether to be appalled at her gall, or admire her courage.
“There is plenty one can learn in a library other than just looking at books,” Loki replied haughtily.
“Like being snooty and thinking you're better than everyone?”
“I am a Prince so therefore clearly I am better than everyone else.” The young girl pulled a face, prompting Loki to reply even more haughtily. “I am looking for books on the different merits and contradictory opinions on battle formations and soldier type composition on open and undulating battlefields, but I would like to know why you are here.”
Whether he had hoped to bore her or dazzle her with fancy words, Loki wasn't sure, but he certainly hadn't predicted her actual reaction. Ignoring his question completely, the girl replied in awe, jumping from her window seat and rushing towards the shelves of books. “There are books on war and fighting?”
“Yes indeed, this is the section on War after all.”
The girl gave him a quick look, before suddenly starting to pull out books from the shelves. A quick glance at the title, most of it faded and in ancient languages, and she would shove it back haphazardly. As much as Loki didn't want to curb her sudden enthusiasm for study, to see books, even ones on warfare, treated so poorly, was horrifying.
"Stop, stop." He grabbed the book she was now pulling from the shelf, "be careful!"
Sif suddenly stilled, her fingers releasing the text as she looked towards Loki with wide eyes. "I'm sorry, sorry. So sorry." A look of fear and guilt came over her expression then. "I... I'd better go." Without another word, she suddenly spun around and raced down the aisle, rounding the corner towards the exit and disappearing from Loki's view. He didn't even have time to reproach her for running in the library.
She wasn't there the next day, or the next, not that Loki was specifically seeking her out. There wasn't even a glimpse of her around the palace, even though he'd seen her mother several times. Almost a week had gone by before he saw her again, once more curled up on the window seat and gazing longingly out below. It was only when he saw her again that Loki allowed himself to admit that he’d missed her. She was a strange one, a mystery he wanted to figure out. This time he tried approaching with loud footsteps and was pleased Sif didn’t jump quite as high when she looked around to see him.
“Oh! It’s just you again,” Sif said dismissively, before turning her gaze back towards the window. But Loki had caught her small smile, and continued towards her.
“And you are just as charming and polite as ever. I can tell those etiquette classes are truly paying off.”
Again, the girl’s pretty face was marred by a scowl as she turned towards him with a glare. “Those classes are a waste of time. I would much rather be…” Her mouth slammed shut and once again her gaze fell to the window.
Loki followed her gaze to the dusty old window, his curiosity piqued. Through the years of grime that had gathered, he could see a few swords catching the sunlight. If he looked harder, no doubt he’d see his brother with his friends, fighting in the dirt. “I know you’re hiding, but…” Loki paused for a matter, looking at the young girl curiously. “I am surprised to see you hiding in the library, for you do not seem the type to read books.”
That pretty ghost of a smile slipped across her features for a moment, before she again glanced outside and quickly bowed her head. “I like it here, no one ever thinks to come looking for me here. And I… " A quick glance was thrown his way, her eyes narrowed in consideration, before she looked up and down the aisle. “I like to watch.” She swallowed thickly, her voice growing almost bashful, “Watch the warriors fighting..."
Another glance was thrown his way, one that reminded him all too much of his mother when she sought to find out whether what he was saying could be trusted. With a nod of her head, she suddenly sat up straight and looked at him, defiance fierce now in her gaze. "I want to be a warrior, like them." Her eyes had held his for a moment, hard and challenging, as if daring him to laugh. But Loki couldn't laugh, not when so many people had laughed at his own desire to become a sorcerer. And Loki's world shifted again, much more this time as he found in Sif a kindred spirit, and maybe even a friend.
For the next few weeks Loki had found Sif in the library nearly every day. Not that he ever sought her out, it was her own fault her hiding place was in the very section the books he needed were. But it was nice to have someone to talk to, to pour over books with, even if they were on fighting and battles. Other times they would watch the warriors down below, or Loki would show her a few fighting moves he'd learnt that day, for Loki had longed since given up trying to avoid his own lessons on the training grounds. Sometimes they would talk of Sif's plans to become a warrior, or Loki's aptitude for magic and he would go into great details about the intricacies of the spell. Sometimes she would listen intently, other times her gaze would shift to the window in distraction. Always, though, she would watch with rapt attention as he showed her his latest spell, casting illusions around them both, until they broke down into laughter, or her tears dried up and that pretty ghost of a smile would enchant her face.
It was only after the third time that Loki found her crying that he found the courage to ask why, and Loki finally understood the truth of what he'd suspected all along. "It's mother, she wants me to be like the other girls. She says women can't be warriors. And the other girls, they're not very nice to me because I can't sew or curtsey properly."
On that day, Loki had promised to speak to his mother on the matter, but the chance never came. And every time Sif asked, and despite his promises, Loki couldn't quite find an opportunity to mention it to the Queen. He knew why, of course, even if he hated admitting it to himself. He liked her company, liked that she was his friend and their time together in the library had become precious to him. They rarely spoke outside the library, but within they would talk and laugh and argue and share their deepest thoughts and dreams with each other, until Sif would run away in earnest, eager to find her mother before she was missed.
That was until Thor came to visit the library.
"Haven't you finished it yet?" Thor had asked that day at breakfast, "It was due weeks ago."
"I'm still compiling the evidence." Loki quickly stood up to leave, but Thor followed him.
"Well, let's just hand in what you have."
"It's not finished."
"Then at least let me have a read so I can speak to the weapons master about it. Or I can come to the library to help."
"No!" Loki snapped, as a sudden wave of dread knotted his stomach.
But Thor had insisted on coming anyway and of course it happened to be when Sif was there. Her pretty face broke into a smile when she saw Loki, but he'd barely spoken before Thor pushed in front of him.
“Hi, I remember you. You’re Sif, aren’t you? The one who always hides to avoid her lessons.” His brother’s voice was just as warm and charming as ever, and he couldn’t really blame the girl for smiling at the first born prince sweetly, her eyes glancing down bashfully.
The knot of dread in Loki suddenly became painful. "She wants to be a warrior," he blurted out spitefully. But his brother didn't laugh at the girl, or mock her choice as Loki had hoped. Instead Thor's eyes widened and he smiled brightly. "A warrior! That is admirable for sure. Do you know any moves?"
"A few," and Sif proceeded to show Thor what Loki had taught her.
"Very good, I think you might be ready to fight with us."
"Really?" Her smile then wasn't just bright, it was dazzling and Loki's world shifted too much, too quickly.
"Yeah, why don't you come have a go now."
And then she was gone, following Thor out of the library and leaving Loki behind.
"Aren’t you coming, Loki?" Her face reappeared, but he shook his head.
"Maybe another time." She shrugged, then she was gone again and instead it was he who watched. Watched her through that dusty window as Thor introduced her to his friends and she picked up her first real sword. Even from the library Loki could see her smile gleaming in the sun, watched as the sunlight scattered against the blade she wielded and was reflected blindingly against her golden hair. Loki had never seen anything more beautiful and as his world shifted one last time, Loki learnt that he'd lost her for good.
That very same night, Thor had asked his mother and the Queen had decreed that a lady could fight alongside the men, as long as she proved herself as worthy. And Loki knew she would; that Sif would quickly rise through the ranks and garnish herself a formidable reputation, the young girl who wanted to fight. A week later she moved into the garrison, finding her freedom and following her dream. She would have no use now for that dusty window and the prince she had once met there.
He found the spell in the library that night, in an ancient tome written in the language of the dark elves in the darkest corner of the library, far away from that dusty window overlooking the training yard. It took him all night to translate the spell, but when Sif had awoken the next day, not a single strand of hair had remained on her head. She had sought him out immediately, sitting on the window seat as if waiting for her, and maybe he was. He certainly was not surprised when she grabbed him by his throat and shoved him up against the shelves.
"Why did you do it?" She asked, but Loki remained only silent.
Maybe she already knew the reasons, for she dropped him suddenly and stormed away.
They could never prove it was him, and Sif knew better than to argue against the Royal Family without proof, and without revealing the reasons she knew it was him.
It was three months before Sif spoke to him again, and even then mainly to vent her anger and frustration. But Loki had preferred this to her silence. Her hair had grown back, as beautiful and shiny as ever, but as black as that raven's wing he'd once cast for her. The similarity was not loss on Sif, and one day, nearly six months later, Loki had found her again in the library. It was strange to see her sitting there, hair black as that raven and a golden rose in her fingers. She had sensed his approach before he’d scarcely arrived and turned towards him slowly. That time Loki’s world did not shift, but started spinning, throwing his world off balance and the spinning had never stopped, even if it had taken him many years to understand it. She was no longer just beautiful, but radiant and as bright and fierce as the sun. The blackness of her hair against her pale face took his breath away. She looked fierce now, beautiful and deadly, every inch the ferocious warrior she had become. Perhaps that was why she appeared to have forgiven him. The golden rose in the fingers was held out towards him and Loki slowly walked forwards. Silently, she moved along the windowsill, making space for him, her gaze once again at the training grounds below. It was a while before she spoke, her voice light as she asked him to show her a magic trick. It was all the invitation Loki needed and this time the raven he summoned was even more beautiful and detailed than ever before. It perched on her shoulder, cawing into her ear as it rubbed its beak against the blackness of her hair. The rose that appeared in its beak was as black as its wings and when the flower dropped into her outstretched palm, it fell open into full bloom. The petals were streaked with red, as bright as blood against the soft blackness. She held it against the golden rose, but there was no match for the fierceness of the red and beauty of the black. “It’s beautiful.”
But Loki knew she was not just talking about the rose.
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They never mentioned what had happened to her hair, but it was always there between them, that mistrust and that guilt. An awkward tension that pervaded them throughout the years as their friendship ebbed and flowed, like the tide pulling the sea against the Asgardian shore. Sometimes rough winds would send it hurtling against the cliffs, and sometimes it was as smooth as a mirror reflecting the moonlight. For the sheildmaiden was a flame and Loki loved to stoke that fire and watch her burning brightly almost as much as he loved her seeing her smile.
At present, the sea was sweeping turbulently against the shore, still charged with energy from the last storm. Loki had stolen her daggers, sneaking into her chambers one night last week to fulfil a dare put forward by Fandral. The gold and the black roses had lain above the daggers in her dresser and shieldmaiden’s wrath had been resplendent and lethal. The daggers had been gifted to her when she had earned the title of a sheildmaiden, by Loki himself. Chosen for their small size and easy concealment. That he would steal them now was a smear against her honour, or at least that’s why Loki assumed she’d reacted so. It was only last night that Sif had started to speak to him again, so when he saw her running through the library, he knew it was not to seek him out.
Her anger would be fiercer for her crying and Loki approached her slowly, footsteps light lest she hear him too soon. The spell was already forming on his tongue as he rounded the corner towards that windowsill by the dusty window. A black raven flew from his fingertips, more beautiful and detailed and older with every casting. With it flew the hazel owl, whose eyes now were as black as night, both carrying flowers within their beaks. They began circling around the sheildmaiden, and Loki held his breath…
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It was no surprise when Sif had found her feet rushing towards the library, a path she knew almost as well as her own journey home. The moment she’d pulled herself up from the muddy puddle and rushed towards the three boys, she had been destined to come here. She’d left them squirming in the dirt, with a few dislocated shoulders and broken bones between them. That would serve them right, Sif thought, as she’d hurtled around the corner of the golden palace, clutching her broken nose as her black hair whipped around her and she tried to stem the blood.
They had taken her by surprise, grabbing her arm round by the stables where she’d gone to check on her mare. One had punched her face and the other two had thrown her down to the ground and into a muddy puddle. That had been their first mistake. Their second had been to stand above her, shouting down jibes that she’d heard many times throughout the years. That a girl couldn’t fight, that her place was at home, cooking the men’s food and darning their socks. That she was a mockery to the Eilenjar, making them all look like fools as the nine realms looked upon them and laughed. “A girl has no place in a battle!” One had spat at her. “They’re too weak and stupid!”
“A girl can’t fight; they’re only good for one thing!” The second had mocked, pushing her back down when she tried to stand up.
“This one isn’t even good for that! No one would want her!”
“I bet even the stable boys wouldn’t touch her.”
Their bitter, mocking laughter rang around her ears as the blood started thumping through her veins.
“She’s a disgrace to warriors and girls alike!”
“No I’m not!” Sif had cried back, standing up and facing them, her fingers clenching into fists. “I’m a better fighter than all of you!”
This was met with laughter from all three and once more they goaded her. “You’re a girl, you can’t fight! You can’t even behave like a girl should!”
“She’s not really a girl. She’s ugly and fierce! No one would ever want to kiss someone like her.”
“Yes they would!” Sif had retorted. Her nose was gushing blood now and Sif tried to wipe it away fruitlessly as the adrenaline surged in her veins.
The boys had just laughed once more, “I bet you’ve never kissed anyone have you. No one would ever want to kiss you, you’re not a proper girl at all.”
That had been their third and final mistake and Sif’s anger had raged out of control. With a blinding fury and battle cry, she’d attacked her attackers, knocking them to the ground and running towards the palace. Looks and voices followed her in her wake, but Sif didn’t even notice. The cruel jibes and whispered remarks had always followed her, ever since she’d attended her first day at the palace and ran out of her etiquette class in tears. It was that day she’d discovered the library, a quiet place full of shadowy corners and alcoves where one could never be found. And that same day she’d discovered the window, sitting deep within the ancient library and overlooking the training yard. Every day she could she’d gone there, watched the warrior’s fight and learn what she could. When the second prince had first appeared, she’d been horrified. He’d always been rude and reproachful towards her and surely he would tell all of where she was hidden, crying like the pathetic girl they all thought she was. But instead he had simply made her smile and slowly he not only became her ally, but also her first real friend.
The alcove hidden amongst the great tomes ever since then had become her refuge, where she would always go to hide, to cry and to meet the second prince. Over the years she’d come here less and less, as she grew stronger on the training grounds and the taunts and jibes faded to whispers and rumours.
This was the first time Sif had ever been attacked so outside the training grounds and their remarks rang cruelly in her ears. She wasn’t ugly and any warrior would be proud to appear fierce! And she was a girl, yes, but she was a warrior too and just as good as her peers. Only her friend Loki ever seemed to fully understand that. She was sure even Thor forgot that she was a girl sometimes.
Another thought struck her and a knot of fear suddenly spawned in her gut. What if Loki forgot she was girl too? What if he’d seen her too many times now in mud spattered breeches or fighting the other warriors that he could no longer differentiate her as a girl and a warrior. He’d never want to kiss her then. Not that Sif had ever thought much about kissing Loki of course, or about kissing in general. Or certainly not in such practical terms. She’d been too busy training twice as hard as her peers for half as much acceptance. What the boys said wasn’t true; it wasn’t because no one would want to kiss her.
Sif had just been convincing herself of that very fact when she heard the familiar caw of a raven by her ear. She looked up suddenly to see the two birds circling around her and smiled slightly through her tears. Every time she saw them, they were more beautiful and detailed than before and this time she could make out every feather in their near perfect enchantments. She was about to look round at the prince, but then she remembered the cruel words of the boys calling her ugly. She wasn’t ugly, but she knew she made a shocking sight right now, with blood smeared across her nose, mud spattering her clothes and tears streaking her dirty face. Instead, she pulled her black hair around her, hiding her face from view.
“Go away!” She sniffed, before hiding her face all the more in her knees. She hated crying, hated being pathetic and vulnerable.
“It’s nice to see you too, Sif.” His voice was light; friendly and teasing and Sif found it hard to resist smiling. Instead she turned her back on the prince and buried her head further.
“And what part, of ‘go away,’ do you not understand?”
“Oh I understand it well enough, my Lady, but I do believe as a Prince of the realm eternal, I have no requirement to listen.” The haughtiness in his voice was so deliberately overplayed that Sif couldn’t help but look around with a laugh. She quickly stifled it and scowled instead, before quickly hiding herself from view again.
It seemed that Loki was not to be deterred, for he came towards her anyway, and joined her on the window seat. After a few minutes of him silently watching her, Sif wiped her eyes with her blood soaked sleeve and slowly turned towards the second prince. It was then the birds finally settled on her shoulders and Sif held her hand out, waiting for the beautiful roses the birds usually brought. This time, though, a whole rainbow of beautiful and exotic flowers cascaded around her.
“You’re illusions are improving, Loki.” Sif replied, disappointed to hear the sniffle still in her voice. It was the closest she ever got to a thank you, but Loki never seemed to mind. He reached out towards her and Sif instinctively pulled back. Not to be discouraged, he reached again, taking her chin gently in his hands and turning it towards him. He peered intently at her, his face so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. It was unnerving and Sif felt goosebumps raise on her arms, glad when he eventually let go. A small flash of green flickered in the corner of her eye and then the blood stopped running and the pain eased considerably. “Thank you.”
Loki looked at her in surprise. It was the first time such a word had ever been spoken between them and suddenly Sif felt quite shy.
“So, who do I need to hex this time,” Loki asked with feigned boredom, a trill of mischief and laughter in his words.
“You’ll know soon enough, when you see them hobbling around the court later.”
“Then I shall start plotting my revenge now.” He bumped her shoulder lightly and Sif couldn’t help but smile. She’d never needed Loki’s help against her enemies, and sometimes his and especially Thor’s interference was frustrating, but now the thought of seeing the three boys turning into goats or pigs made her laugh softly. That was until she remembered their cruel words and her earlier fear came back to haunt her.
“Loki…” She asked tentatively.
“Yes, my Lady.” Loki asked, his voice low and formal.
Ignoring his nickname for her, which Sif swore he usually used just to annoy her, she chewed on her lip. “Do you… I mean, have you…” She paused, her confidence failing her. She didn’t want to voice such a question, the whole thing sounded ridiculously stupid and awkward. But now this fear was starting to gnaw at her and Sif knew she’d not be able to let it rest.
Loki looked at her curiously now, his emerald eyes shining bright and piercing into her. Sif looked away quickly and swallowed. His eyes, so unusual in their colouring, had always been her weakness, whether they be filled with mischief, contempt or concern, or any measure of emotion in between. They were always that bit too bright, that bit too knowing and if she wasn’t careful, she knew she’d become lost in the dazzling emerald orbs. It was only because they reminded her too much of that raven he’d first conjured for her, the older version now still sat perched comfortably on her shoulder. She looked at her muddy hands instead, the blood drying thick and sticky on her fingertips. Now was not the time to be asking this question, not when she was a filthy, crying mess. It wasn’t often, but Sif wished then that she was more ladylike, that she could sit beside Loki in a beautiful dress with fancy hair, tied up prettily with the emerald hair grips he’d given her once. Maybe then Loki would remember she was a girl. Maybe then he might want to kiss her.
“If you want me to answer your question, you will have to finish it first. I know you missed this part of your etiquette class, but that is usually how these things work.”
The words were innocent enough, but given what had led her here today, the words stung deep. Panic overtook her senses for a moment as the horrifying thought that Loki really did see her as an ugly, good for nothing non entity struck her. He surely must fail to see her as either a warrior or a girl, just like the stupid boys today and Thor and all the rest of the backward society of Asgard. She looked up suddenly, anger and panic flooding through her and caught Loki’s emerald eyes. There was a light mocking within them, but deeper than that was concern and in Sif’s panic she read it as pity. Before she even realised what she was doing, she reached towards him, catching his collar in her hands and crushed her lips against his.
Loki froze beneath her, but Sif was not perturbed. She pulled him closer, afraid he’d push her away, and moved her lips against his. They tasted sweet, like an intoxicating wine and a shiver ran down her spine. Her heart suddenly started thumping in her ears and for one long, sweet moment they stayed like that.
Then, almost tentatively, Loki gently kissed her back, his fingertips slowly reaching up to cradle her chin. The touch sent new shivers hurtling through her, like honey running hot within her veins and Sif felt her world starting to fall, to spin and shift and it frightened her.
She pulled back a moment later, eyes wide with shock. She couldn’t believe what she’d just done. She had actually kissed Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard and in the library no less, when her face was streaked with tears and her bloody fingers had marred his collar.
“I’m sorry, so sorry.” She jumped away from him, standing up and backing towards the shelves.
Loki’s eyes just followed her in astonishment and for another long moment, the two friends just watched each other with wide eyes.
Until panic suddenly consumed her again, her earlier fears hitting her full force. “See! I am a girl and a warrior! And I’m not ugly!” Sif cried, before spinning round and running out of the library, leaving a confused and startled Loki looking after her.
“That… That was not quite what I’d expected.” Loki muttered to himself. Slowly the shock wore off and Loki’s startled look was replaced by a small smile. He gently ran his fingers over his lips, savouring her taste. Now might not be the best time to discover what had prompted that kiss, but he would make sure he found out soon. Unexpected as it was, it was certainly the most interesting lesson Loki had ever learnt in the library and maybe, if he played things very, very carefully, he might be able to ensure it happened again.