I'm back for a quickie guys! Due to my new found love for Thor, and Loki in particular, I couldn't resist. Maybe a one-shot, could be expanded, or a series, the possibilities are endless! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: All recognisable content are the property of the Marvel Universe. I do not own those, just the plotline for this story and any unrecognisable characters.

He had never seen her. She knew it to be true. How could he, when she stood in the shadows of her sister? The mighty Sif was noticed and revered by all. The great female warrior, who defied her critics, and the elders who told her that she could never be a warrior.

And who was she? She was Neve. The younger sister. The quiet one. The well behaved one. Uninteresting.

Yes, Sif fawned over Thor, adored him, wanted him. But Loki watched her too. Neve saw his eyes stray over Sif, watch them linger on her form. And her heart broke a little bit more every time.

She hadn't always loved him. When she was younger, her focus was always on his golden haired, blue eyed brother. The one who would be king. Glorious and beautiful. But he was for Sif. Neve remembered that Loki would look at her, and in his eyes she saw his contempt for her minor obsession with his brother.

Neve remembered when that changed. She had been riding with them, struggling to keep up, as Sif and Thor raced each other, and she thought she had been forgotten. And then he was there. Guiding her horse, keeping her company. Showing an interest in her, not her sister! And from that moment a small seed grew in her heart until it bloomed into love for him. Loki, the God of Mischief.

"My dear."

"My lady."

The queen sat down beside her at the feast that night. An honour, for one so…ordinary as Neve.

"You have been melancholy of late."

There was no point in denying it. The queen was mother of all. She knew the truth of everything.

"Yes."

The queen observed Neve, and then looked at her son. Her dark haired, green eyed mysterious boy, so unaware of the one who already loved him unconditionally, despite his faults or oddities, and had turned his eye to Sif, who thought the opposite of her sister.

"You should talk to him."

Ahhh. There it was. No one could doubt the queen's ability to dive straight into the heart of the matter.

"What can I say my queen? I am no magician, no warrior. I cannot recollect about battles fought, or display a new magical talent. All I have are my books and my stories, and those have never interested him."

"Your talent is your imagination and your intelligence. You could hold the attention of the room for hours if you were to put your mind to it. Loki values intelligence above most things."

Neve was silent, and the queen smiled. She stood and approached her son, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Over there sits a woman who would share stories with you my son. Speak to her, as I know her heart longs for you too, just as you long for one who understands."

Loki looked at his mother, then at Neve. Her head was bowed, and her hands folded in her lap. And he left the group of rowdy warriors, and claimed the chair vacated by his mother. She glanced up, pale blue eyes piercing his soul, and soft white hands trembling. A tendril of auburn hair had escaped its confines, and he found himself reaching up to touch it. She swallowed. The movement of her throat drew his gaze to the creamy white skin, soft like silk. And then lower, the outline of her breasts against the dark green gown. Green. His colour.

He looked into her eyes and smiled. And she knew then that he had seen her.