He was the first person to give her a chance. All her opponents in Odin's annual tournament mocked and scorned her for being a woman. She proved them all wrong, their laughter burning an unforgiving scar in her. But not Loki's laughter. He laughs and says it's only about time they gave him a challenge.

He wins, but unlike any opponent to meet up with him before, he calls for his brother to take her next. Even though she had not earned that honor; nobody earned the honor of facing down Thor; nobody could get by his brother. But Loki invites this challenge, and Sif does not understand why.

He tells her indirectly when she is seated at a place of honor by the royal family and their closest friends, the famous Warriors Three. Loki introduces them, tells his father and mother of Sif's skills in battle, and both the king and queen praise her. Sif feels herself grow hot.

When food is done, dancing and making merry comes next. In the past, Loki stayed on the sidelines, telling stories to anyone who'd listen. But this time he grabs Sif and drags her out into the dancers, spinning her round until both are laughing and dizzy.

"I did not know you danced, Prince Loki," she says as they walk off the dancing area.

He smiles. "I never had a partner worth my time," he replies, and her head spins all over again as she stares at that charming smile, notices those bewitching eyes.

His eyes enchant her. They're blue, stained-glass blue, but sometimes they're as green as his formal armor, or gray as the storms his brother summons. They captivate her and she could stare at them forever.

He falls for her easily; she is rough around the edges, but she fits in well with their little group, keeping Fandral and the others in line. Loki laughs when she mouths off to Thor. "She's your sort of girl," Thor tells him with a growl after having his ears burned off by her words.

Loki simply laughs. "She is, isn't she? She's fascinating. Give her an inch, and she takes a mile."

"I'd say she took more than a mile," Thor complains.

But the idea is planted, and falling is the next step, a leap he gladly takes as he charms her, transmutes her small gifts, a pendant with a protection spell on it to protect her in battle. She finds it eminently practical and accepts it with a blush, and a rough thanks.

When he kisses her the first time, it's like the ground spins out from under him. Her lips are smooth against his and willing after a moment of shock. Her arms wrap around his neck, the armor on her bracers digging into the back of his skull, but he doesn't mind, pulls her tighter against him as they continue with a kiss that deepens, intensifies, until both must withdraw for need of breathing.

She stares up at him, a flattering shade of red, then smiles. "I hoped you would," she says quietly.

He smiles himself, resting his forehead against hers. "And that, my dear, is what I hoped you'd say if I did."

They spend their nights in his quarters, enjoying the warmth of each other and the closeness, though sex plays its role. But even the sex is soft and warming, explorative and gentle, not at all like the brutal loveplay the elder generation of men and women would brag about. Let them have their ways. For Loki and his companion, they had their own ways, and it suits them, her a goddess and him her faithful companion.

She tells him one night, curled up against his side, resting on his arm, tells him that she loves him, thanks him for giving her a chance. Nobody had ever been good enough for the youngest Asgardian prince. Thor had found several ladies good enough for trysts, but Loki had always remained aloof, and she felt lucky that he'd warmed to her.

He smiles,kisses her and reminds her that he chose that because she was worthy on her own merits. She deserved her place in their group. They deserved each other.

He kisses her, then pulls her tight against him and falls asleep.

He watches. Sometimes he thinks that nobody realizes it, but he does. He reads people better than they read themselves. But he watches and always sees, sees where peoples' hearts will follow, and he watches from an increasing distance as Sif becomes drawn more and more to the intense heat and light of his older brother.

It's subtle at first, just lingering glances, smiles too bright, leaving Loki's side to speak to Thor. But he sees it coming.

She is leaving him for his brother. The golden child of Asgard is unwittingly stealing the one thing that had been Loki's above all else.

And the rage starts.

He doesn't know her, not anymore. What was once a thriving love story has withered to a dying friendship.

He keeps his feelings to himself, out of respect for their mutual friends and family. But under the surface, ill feelings simmer, feelings that he can't tell if they're mutual or not. Does she even regret the loss? Does she miss their companionship?

He doubts it.

His eyes are enchanting. She always thought that, even when her heart had strayed. But she sees only the blue ice in them now, cold as Jotunheim's heart.

And she knows she has no one else to blame.