A/N - So, big apologies yet again for the delay with this chapter. Real life keeps on getting in the way, but after re-watching Thor: The Dark World recently, my Sif/Loki muse came back in full force!

Anyway, this really is the last chapter, so I hope you enjoy it and it was worth the wait.

As the words left her mouth, Sif paused, feeling a great weight leave her yet simultaneously crush her heart. The words had been said, the final move of their game played and there could be no retreating now. At her words he glanced towards her, opened his mouth as if to speak, but his silvertongue had turned to lead. Sif tried to hold his gaze, beseeching him to believe her, but he quickly looked away again, turning his head towards the glistening lights of the Citadel. He made no other movement, but she watched as the emotions flickered across his face; agitation, confusion, shock, disbelief, too many she could not read, and she waited for him to speak.

The words echoed around in his head and it was many moments before he could even comprehend what she had said. She cared for him? But… but that could not be… it was impossible… "You… you were bewitched…" Loki eventually replied, the words tumbling out, tangled and confused and unintended. "You must still be bewitched…" It was the only thing that made sense. Sif must still be under the dragon's spell. It may have been five days and the dragon may now lay slain, its head encased in wood and iron and hung within the palace, but its magic must still linger. His reasoning helped calm his confounded thoughts and he met her eyes then, managed to school his face into apathy and keep his voice steady, authoritative as he continued, "The dragon's spell persists, Lady Sif. You are still bewitched and are speaking under the duress of its magic."

There were many different ways Sif had imagined his reply as she had waited anxiously for him to speak, but this response was a complete shock. His nonchalant dismissal to such a heartfelt confession annoyed and frustrated her. Loki was determined to discount the truth, no matter how illogical his reasonings became and it cut her deeply. The pain fuelled her anger and she had to fight down the urge to walk away, to leave him to fester in his denials and lies. But that would only deepen the problems and tensions already thick and bitter between them. She must make him understand, and it must be tonight. So with clenched fists and a deep breath, Sif forced herself to continue, "I assure you, Loki, I am under no spell. The dragon read what was in my heart and used my affection for you to trick me."

"These are the words the dragon's magic has led you to speak, Sif. You do not know you own mind under its bewitchment."

"The dragon is dead, Loki, by your own hand! And its magic, and any enchantments along with it! The only hold it ever had against me was making me believe it was you. It used the affection and desire I already held for you against me, Loki." Her voice was hard as she replied, unable to contain her aggravation. Not the ideal way to declare such an intimate thing, but Sif knew her patience was about to shatter. She watched him, watched his eyes dart about anxiously as he tried to take in this information. She could see him try to analyse it, discredit it, look for the lies and tricks within. The trickster, so used to lies and games, could not accept the truth. She forced her voice softer as she finished, "But I have always cared for you."

He turned away from her then, turned towards the balcony and away from the annoyance and anger flashing in her eyes. From the truth in her words. He gripped the railing hard, the cool metal digging into his skin. "You speak these words because the dragon's magic still confuses and bewitches you, Lady Sif. But it will fade in time and I promise I will not hold any of your words or actions now against you."

"Loki!" Sif grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him back around to face her. "For all your supposed intelligence, you can be more idiotic than Thor sometimes!" Sif took a deep breath and dropped her grip, "I know I am not bewitched, Loki! I know my own mind and my own heart and I have cared for you far longer than I have known the insipid dragon!"

"Sif…" He started to say, but Sif was done with words now, with lies and games and truths. What more could be said? All that was within her heart had been laid bare. The time for words was over, and Sif had never been one for words. Action. That had always suited her well and she acted now. She pushed down her wave of guilt at imposing on him again, let her anger guide her movements and reached towards him. Her hands were rough and strong when she gripped his head, as fierce as any warrior on the battlefield as she pulled him towards her. Before he had time to speak and before she had time to think, she crushed her lips against his.

His lips were cool beneath hers and they tasted of wine and magic and him. It was intoxicating and for a moment Sif could only think of kissing him, finally kissing him, that she did not notice Loki's reaction immediately. Loki did not pull away, but he did not return her kisses either. He was completely still and unresponsive beneath her, as if he had been turned to stone. She tried pulling him closer, crushing her lips more fiercely against his, but still he remained motionless and cold.

After a few moments, Sif pulled away. Away from Loki and her defeat. But as she turned to walk away, his arm suddenly reached out and grabbed hers. The grip was forceful, strong, but it fell away the moment it touched her skin as if it burned. And it did burn her, a rush of pleasurable heat sped up her arm and Sif spun around back towards him. It had been an instinctual move, for both of them, and for a moment they just stood staring at each other, eyes locked in challenge and shock. Sif's heart was racing, the blood was thundering through her veins, running hot.

"Sif…" He started to say, then stopped, swallowed thickly and opened his mouth to try again. But no words came out, no words filled his head. It was too consumed with surprise and disbelief and wonder and desire. Sif had just kissed him, actually kissed him, and the shock had rendered him speechless and motionless. He could not think, his thoughts echoing her words in time with his pounding heart. Because I care for you, Loki. Because I have always cared for you. And even now she looked at him with desire flashing in her fiery golden eyes. At least, he thought it was desire. He could not be sure, even now did not dare to hope. She was meant for Thor, or Fandral, or another strong and mighty warrior, not the sly and slippery God of Mischief. But it had not been Thor's image the dragon had taken, or another warrior. It had been him...

His whole world, everything he had ever thought about her had been sent spinning around and now he did not know what to say, what to do. He had reached for her unintentionally, automatically and now he knew she was waiting for him to speak, but his silvertongue failed him. Even now, a part of him wondered if this was a trick, if Thor and his friends would jump out, laughing at him and his foolish hope. But Sif was not laughing. She was looking at him the way she had looked at the dragon in his image, when it had been about to kiss her…And the dragon was long defeated, Sif had insisted she was under no enchantment. She has said she desired him, cared for him. That she had always cared for him…

Before he had chance to align his thoughts, Sif acted once more. She had watched him carefully, watched the emotions flicker across his face as he had struggled to find the right words to say. There was surprise there, shock and disbelief, confusion and curiosity. But there was also wonder, awe and something else, something akin to delight, to hope and it gave Sif the courage to act once more. She reached for him again and this time, when her lips pressed against his, Loki did not remain still beneath her. Instead his hands reached for her and buried themselves in her hair, his lips moving against hers feverishly. The surprise which had rendered him motionless before was gone and he could not stop himself from reacting to her embrace. If it was a trick, or merely the influence of magic, Loki did not care. Sif was kissing him with a passion he could not resist. And so he returned her kiss, pulling her closer to him and wrapping his arms tight around her, fearing she may, even now, slip away.

The passion of Loki's kiss surprised Sif and she pulled away from him momentarily, breathless and disorientated. It was her turn now for doubt and disbelief. Too long had she denied herself the luxury of hope. Never in her darkest fantasies had she imagined it would be like this; the heat, the hunger, the intoxicating taste as Loki returned her kisses so fervently. It must be a dream, an illusion, but the slight tug of his fingertips pulling at her hair was real, as was the warmth of his breath on her cheek and the strength in the arms wrapped around her. His emerald eyes were flashing with hunger and desire and she was caught in their hold, enthralled. She could taste him on her tongue, feel him like molten silver running hot through her veins. She drank him in, savoured the moment as if in a heartbeat he would vanish, merely an illusion, a trick. But one so much sweeter, so much more exhilarating and intoxicating than that of the dragons.

And as Sif fought against her doubts, Loki struggled against his lies. No longer could he cling to the idea she was bewitched. It was slipping like water through his fingers, evaporating in the heat of her skin against his, the hunger in her eyes and the remembrance of the passion of her kiss. The bewitchment would need to be strong, powerful, for her to kiss him so enthusiastically, yet he could sense no stain of its foul magic still upon her. The dragon was long dead and so would its magic be. Yet her eyes burned into his, fierce and consuming, filled with a defiance and a passion that was familiar yet novel to him. It was like the fire he saw flashing in her eyes as she approached her enemy on the battlefield, like the anger as she fought against him with weapons and words. Only now it was fuelled by hunger, longing, not a lust for blood or revenge. And he could still taste her desire on his tongue, hear her heart pounding where it pressed against his chest. There was heat in her fingers as they dug into his shoulders, twisted in his hair. There was no laughter of his friends spilling forth from the shadows, no cruel mockery in her eyes that he had fallen so quickly for her deception. He could not understand it, knew he never would, but no longer could he deny the truth. It was no trick, no bewitchment. Sif had spoken true and, as impossible as it may be, she did care for him.

A thousands memories flashed like lightning between them, so many moments from their past fitting together, like pieces of a puzzle snapping into place. The antagonism and tension that had always tarnished their friendship, all the arguments and misunderstandings that flared up so regularly between them. As their eyes locked together, their gazes hot and intense and burning with challenge and desire and wonder, their strange friendship suddenly made sense.

In the space of a heartbeat, the realisation hit them both, piercing the tension and control between them with a sharp blade. They surged towards each other, with hands and lips and teeth. The tension and frustration that had been building between them for the last five days, the centuries of longing and denial and desire all poured into the kiss. It overwhelmed them and the kiss deepened, became hot and frenzied and urgent. His fingers were in her hair, along her hips, pressing against her back and pushing her closer towards him. Her neck tipped backwards when his lips brushed her jaw, trailing a line of fire down her throat as his mouth found the pulse hammering in her neck. She gripped his shoulders tightly, pulled his lips back to meet hers and as the kiss consumed them both, she pushed him back into the shadowed wall of the balcony.

When they eventually broke apart they were both breathless and trembling. Loki rested his forehead against hers to steady himself and watched as she slowly opened her eyes, her swollen lips turning upwards into a smile. Loki was finding it hard to suppress his own foolish grin, to school the emotions that were spinning around his mind and flickering across his face. He could scarce believe what had just happened. Sif had just kissed him. A deep, passionate kiss and even now still held him close. Part of him wondered if this was all a fantastical dream, but then Sif spoke, her voice breathless and low and teasing and so very, very real.

"I do hope I have the right Loki this time. I would hate to fall for yet another trick of that darn dragon!"

A grin slipped across his lips before he had chance to contain it and his voice was giddy when he spoke, "You do not doubt me still, Sif?" He questioned, but the severity within his voice was undermined when his face broke out into another unintentional smile, when his fingertips tenderly brushed against her cheek. "Indeed, I hope I at least kiss better than the dragon."

Sif's smile grew in answer. She did not care if he saw the giddy delight and excitement within her, fuelled by the relief and release of so many years worth of frustration and denial and longing. Loki did care for her, there could be no doubt of that in the way he had kissed her and Sif's only regret was that she had not acted sooner. But he was here now, wrapped tightly in her arms and so close his breath mingled with hers. She smirked as she replied, her voice flirty and her eyes alight with mischief, "I cannot say, Loki. I do think more extensive analysis is necessary before I can determine correctly." And before Loki could reply, she kissed him again. A softer kiss this time, gentle and tender, but full of promises of what was to come.

"Perhaps it is I who should be worried, Sif." His voice whispered along her ear when he pulled away from her. "Perhaps it is you who are the dragon this time, and even now are seeking your revenge and luring me to my death."

"Could the trickster be so easily fooled though, Loki," Sif answered, voice teasing as she let her hands trail down his chest.

"Only when it comes to you, Sif."

There was a touch of sadness to his smile and Sif kissed him quickly, eager to restore the gaiety of a few moments ago. She understood him now, realised why he had kept his distance for so long. She was his weakness as he was hers. And neither warrior nor sorcerer cared to reveal such weaknesses, such fears. It would not be easy, for both of them, to adapt to this pleasant change. It would take time and patience, but both knew with each kiss, all the years of misunderstandings and confusion, the terrible memories from their fight with the dragon, would eventually dissipate. Though as both considered what a pleasing outcome it had elicited, each wondered if it had, perhaps, not been such a horrific encounter, after all.

The End

A/N – Just want to take this opportunity to say thank you to everyone who stuck with the story, despite all the delays, and for all the kind reviews.

Now, what story should I write next?