A/N: Started writing this and couldn't stop. This is my first attempt at Loki/Sif, so be gentle. Please, please, please review!

Sif was not afraid of danger.

She was a warrior, a fighter, a shieldmaiden of Asgard. She laughed in the face of Death and reveled in the thrill of battle.

Sif was not afraid.

So why were her hands shaking?

Angrily, she clutched at fistfuls of her tunic to steady herself as she strode deeper into the corridor.

The first time that Sif laid eyes on the two young princes, she was severely underwhelmed. After all that her father had talked of their importance, she had expected them to at least be taller. The bright one, Thor, had immediately approached her, all sunshine and smiles, throwing his arm around her shoulders as if they'd been friends all their lives. Taken aback but strangely delighted by his genuine camaraderie, she had smiled and allowed herself to be led away as he chattered on about dragons and playthings and the fun they were going to have. But even as she walked and talked with him, she couldn't resist a few furtive glances back at the other prince, the one that had hardly spoken. She had met his eyes and he had smiled gently, and young Sif had gotten the strangest feeling that she had just stumbled into something much more vast and significant than she was really prepared for.

"I think you would make a fantastic warrior."

Sif whirled around to face the boy beside her, shock evident on her face. "Wh...I don't…" The look on his face stopped the lies and excuses in her throat, so she just stared at him, wide-eyed. He watched her calmly until she managed to choke out a desperate "I've never told anyone."

He scrutinized her for a moment longer, then nodded as if confirming something to himself. "Well, as I said before, I think you'd be fantastic. Better than I would."

She searched his face desperately, looking for any sign that he was teasing, but his eyes and his smile were honest and she released a breath that she hadn't realized she had been holding. Loki went back to watching Thor's lessons, apparently not feeling the need to say anything more. Sif drew in another deep breath and tried to refocus. She felt strangely light, as if a weight had been lifted from her chest simply because someone knew.

Loki and Thor sat wide-eyed, staring after Sif's rapidly retreating figure in shock.

Gaping, his spoon frozen halfway to his mouth, Thor stammered, "Brother, what did you-"

"Nothing," Loki snapped, still not taking his eyes off the door that had just slammed shut.

"Well obviously it was something." Thor started to stand, obviously concerned. "I'll go find her."

Loki's hand shot out to stop his brother. "No, Thor, you won't. She was obviously upset."

"Yes, that's why I'm going to find her."

Loki just rolled his eyes. "She was obviously upset, and you have all the emotional delicacy of a mountain troll. Let me handle this."

He found her in the empty arena, viciously attacking a training dummy with her bare hands. Years of training together had taught him to never approach Sif from behind, especially when she was angry, so he circled around to stand in her direct line of vision. She was nothing if not observant, so he simply stood and waited until she chose to acknowledge that she had seen him.

After a few more well-aimed kicks, she stood back and raised her head, almost defiantly, to face him. He remained silent, knowing that she would speak when she was ready, and only then. She pushed sweaty tendrils of her golden hair out of her face and huffed angrily, clearly struggling for words. Finally, "I want you to cut my hair."

Loki let out a breath and looked as close as he ever did to apologetic. "Sif, I was only teasing. You have to know-"

"No," she cut him off, "you were right. My hair is..is pretty." She spit out that last word like it had put a bad taste in her mouth.

He raised an eyebrow. "You know, I'm no expert, but I believe that most women would consider that to be a good thing." "You know what I mean, Loki. No one takes me seriously as a warrior, and they never will if I look just like every other simpering courtier with long, golden curls."

"Don't let Thor hear you. He's quite proud of his golden curls."

She shot him a look that was meant to be exasperated, but he could tell she was fighting not to smile. He could also see just how close to tears she was, and that upset him more than he cared to admit. So he looked her up and down for a long moment, then calmly asked, "How short?"

Sif whirled around a corner, forcing herself to gain momentum with every step because she knew that if she slowed for even a moment she would stop completely. She hurried down a short flight of stairs and stalked past the sentries.

She had to keep going. She had to.

She would not accept defeat.

Afternoons usually found the three of them relaxing in the shade. After one particularly strenuous sparring session, Thor had collapsed in the grass at Loki's feet and almost immediately began to snore. Sif had claimed the unoccupied half of Loki's bench for her knives, which she began to polish with loving precision. After several minutes of wiping at the grit and grass stains on the blades, she had looked up at him curiously. His nose was buried in a book, as it was more often than not these days. "What are you reading?"

He had looked up, seeming almost surprised that she was asking. "Err, it's a textbook on elemental magic. Boring stuff, really."

"Magic? That's not boring at all."

"Yes 'tis," Thor had mumbled, apparently more awake than they had thought. "An' it's useless, too. Just...fight…" He rolled over onto his stomach then, apparently unable to remain conscious any longer.

Loki had just rolled his eyes, but Sif could tell by the way his jaw worked as his eyes returned to the book that Thor's careless words had hurt him. "Hey," she had murmured, nudging his leg to get his attention. "I don't think it's useless." She had pointedly run a hand through her dark hair, already grown almost to her shoulders, and laughed lightly. "I rather appreciate it."

He had smiled softly, and it had almost reached his eyes. "You might be the only one."

"Mmm." She had gently moved her knives to the side and sat up on the bench beside him. "Thor's just jealous because he can't beat you when you use magic." She had gazed fondly down at the sleeping prince. "He doesn't really understand things he can't hit." That had earned Sif a chuckle, which made her feel oddly triumphant.

After a moment she had stood to gather her things, knowing she had to be home in time for dinner if she ever wanted to be allowed to leave the house again. Just when she had turned to go, she felt a hand lightly grab her arm. She turned to see Loki, with the oddest expression on his face. It was quickly gone, though, replaced with the calculatedly careless expression that she knew meant he was hiding something. He had opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to express what was on his mind. Finally, he had dropped his hand from her arm and, with a crooked smile, whispered a quiet "thank you" before she walked away.

The first time that someone had mentioned her relationship with Thor, Sif had simply looked at them, confused. She had dismissed that, and the next few, as simply being the result of idle gossip and people with far too much time on their hands.

It wasn't until a few months later, when her father and mother approached her about the possibility of a betrothal, that she had realized that maybe she should have paid more attention to the gossip.

Apparently, she was supposed to be in love with Thor.

Apparently, everyone expected news of an engagement to come at any time.

Apparently, they were perfect together.

It would've been nice, Sif mused, if someone had thought to inform her about all of this.

Sif found that she couldn't keep her steps from slowing as she approached.

Why was she doing this?

What was she expecting? Thor had warned her, had said that it would shock her, that maybe she should wait, but she had refused. She always knew best, after all.

She pressed a hand to her stomach, suddenly nauseated.

No. She had come this far, she was going to finish it.

Sif stormed into the library, stomping around aisles and bookshelves until she found him. Without saying anything, she threw a crumpled fistful of flowers onto the desk in front of him.

Slowly, he raised his head, looking first at the flowers and then up at her. "Hello, Sif."

"What are those?"

"Erm, Myosotis Scorpioides."

She started to retort, but stopped herself. "Pardon?"

He rolled his eyes and closed his book. "Forget-me-nots. They're Forget-me-nots."

"Oh. Well. Yes, I know that they're flowers. Obviously. What I want to know is where they came from."

"Well, I know there are a fair amount growing in the south gardens, they're a particular favorite of-"

"Loki!"

He sighed deeply and looked up at her. "I'm assuming you want to know who left them." "

Yes. Well, maybe. Do I?" She was more flustered than he had ever seen her, and was getting herself more worked up by the second. "They were just on my dressing table this morning. Did Thor leave them? No, he didn't. Did he?" She met his eyes almost frantically.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "No, Sif, I do not believe that he did."

She sank into the chair facing him. He mistook her silence for disappointment, so he quietly muttered an apology.

She looked up at him, surprised. "Sorry? Oh, no, I'm not-" She tilted her head, looking at him curiously. "Did you think I wanted them to be from Thor?"

Loki looked taken aback, which startled Sif more than anything. "Yes? I mean...didn't you?" She scoffed. "Why would I want Thor to give me flowers? That would be ridiculous. And confusing. And, frankly, very bizarrely out of character for him."

He just looked at her, studying her, as if he couldn't figure something out.

"What?" she asked, unnerved by his staring. "Nothing." He shook his head. "Nothing."

Considering the matter settled, Sif sank more comfortably into the chair and poked at the book in front of him. "What are you reading?"

"Congratulations, Sif."

Sif smiled brightly at the prince, her friend and loyal support. "Thank you, Thor."

He grinned back at her. "Are you ready?"

She breathed deeply in and out, then nodded assertively. "Yes. I am."

"Okay," he briefly rested his hand on her shoulder. "I'll go get things started."

She lowered her head and closed her eyes as he left the room, forcing her breath to remain even. She stood like that for a few moments until she felt a ghost of a touch on her arm. She lifted her head and felt a smile spread across her face. "Loki."

"Of course. You think I'd miss this?"

"No, but you might not have been able to help it."

"Pshh." He shifted his arm in obvious discomfort. "All the healers in the realm couldn't keep me away." He looked at her, pointedly and more sincere than she had seen him in years. "You've earned it."

In a rare display of affection, she hugged him almost before she realized what she was doing. "I know I wouldn't be here without you."

He gasped in pain, and she sheepishly loosened her arms from around his broken ribs. He smiled and wrapped his arms around her. "Don't be ridiculous. You're the best warrior Asgard has seen in aeons. I had nothing to do with this."

Loki had disappeared as soon as they had returned from Muspelheim. Sif had started to call after him, but Fandral had stopped her. "Poor chap's just tired. Let him be." She had accepted that, and allowed Loki to have his space, but when another two days went by without any word from him she had started to worry. She asked Thor, but he had been frustratingly unconcerned, saying that Loki was probably lurking in some corner of the library. But Sif had searched repeatedly, and Loki was nowhere near the library. Or the arena. Or the gardens.

Finally, almost desperate, she had approached Frigga, who had just smiled. "Oh, he's been working on a bit of a project. I expect you'll hear from him soon."

Another two days later, Sif strolled into her dressing room and stopped short at the sight of a beautiful new shield on her bed. She gingerly picked it up, testing its weight and balance. She could sense the enchantments surrounding it. Extra protections, she assumed. She exhaled deeply. It was exquisite.

Her last shield had been all but destroyed in their last battle, and it had almost cost her. Thankfully, her quick reflexes and Loki's even quicker magic had spared her the brunt of the damage. Unfortunately, she had still managed to be on the receiving end of a few brutal blows.

As a warrior maiden, she was used to injuries and had shrugged them off. But Loki had seemed particularly upset. She had chalked it up to weariness and the adrenaline wearing off, but now…

Something else on the bed caught her eye. She picked it up and gasped, just slightly.

Forget-me-nots.

Sif enjoyed merry-making as much as any of her friends, but she couldn't help but be distracted from the feast. Loki had been brooding all night, staring into the distance and hardly touching his food. Finally, at the earliest point in the evening that he could courteously escape, he had stood to leave. She had ended her conversation as quickly and politely as possible, downed the rest of her ale, and stood to follow him.

She caught up to him quickly, and quietly followed him out onto a balcony overlooking the south gardens. They stood in silence for several moments, neither one willing to ask what was on the other's mind.

He exhaled harshly, "So, am I to congratulate you?"

Shocked, she turned to face him. "Oh, not you, too."

"Ahh, yes. Me, too. Eventually, even I find out about these sorts of things."

"Loki, we're not-"

"Oh, please." He turned to lean back against the balustrade, a bit unsteady. "It's not like it's any surprise, really. I've known it's been coming for years. Everyone has. Except maybe Thor, but even he caught up eventually, so…" He sniffed and looked down at his hands. "Not that it matters."

"Loki, Thor and I aren't betrothed. We told your parents no."

His head shot up, his eyes wide. "You aren't-" He closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them again, his expression was calm, unshaken. Sif was impressed and also incredibly frustrated by his ability to remain so emotionless even after consuming copious amounts of alcohol. "Why?"

She scoffed. "Is it not obvious?" When he didn't answer, she shook her head. "Loki, I love Thor," his jaw clenched and she continued, "as a brother. As one of my dearest friends. But as nothing more."

He refused to meet her eyes no. "No, you don't mean that. You love Thor. You have to. He's perfect. He's the future king. He's-"

"Not you." Slowly, Loki raised his eyes to meet her gaze. She just shrugged. "He's not you, Loki. I don't love him...because he's not you." She suddenly wanted to run away, to hide, to punch something, but she held her ground. It was out in the open now, and there was no going back.

"I don't…" He struggled to speak, staring wide-eyed at her. "You don't mean that. You love...Thor."

"No, Loki," she stepped closer to him and stared right up at him, challenging him. "I love you." She cut off any further protests by pressing her lips against his. He was frozen for a moment, but quickly softened, returning the kiss.

He pulled back after a minute, leaning his forehead against hers. "I don't…"

"Loki." She looked pointedly up at him, a warning in her voice.

He laughed softly and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I love you, too, Sif."

"Good." She smiled. "Now, kiss me."

Sif took a deep breath. Then another.

She clenched and unclenched her hands at her sides.

She fingered the knife on her belt.

And she turned the corner so she was looking directly into a white prison cell.

"Today's a big day."

"Yes," he muttered. "It is."

Concerned by his obvious distraction, she walked up and wrapped her arms around him from behind. "He'll still be your brother even when he's king, Loki."

He sighed and turned to face her. "I just don't think he's ready. I know he's not ready."

"Well," she smiled up at him, "it's a good thing he's got you to help him out." She squeezed his hand. "You should go. Talk to him. He's nervous right now and he needs you with him."

He smiled down at her, and it almost reached his eyes.

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Loki."

As she watched him walk away, Sif couldn't shake a horrible feeling of dread.

"My, my. Lady Sif. To what do I owe this honor?"

He set aside the book he was reading and strode cavalierly over to stand in front of her.

She didn't answer, but stared at him, searching his face. Everything she had planned to say, every speech she had rehearsed faded away and all she could manage was a whispered "why?"

His smirk was like a knife in the gut. "Why not?"

Sif was not afraid of pain.

She was a warrior, a fighter, a shieldmaiden of Asgard. She laughed in the face of Death and reveled in the thrill of battle.

Sif could handle pain.

So why was she crying?