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07 January 2012 @ 09:16 pm
Let the Bad Parts In  
Author: Kikikikikit
Rating: K+
Pairing: Sif/Loki
Summary:They were more than the some of their flaws. They had to be.


Lonely- Bat for Lashes

They were different.

Loki and Sif had been able to tell that ever since they were children.

Subtle things tipped them off, silent subtle things.

People looked oddly on the young prince who'd rather study books than be out on the practice field. They marveled at him, feeding on the mysterious energy he'd been radiating since he was a teen. Lanky, dark haired, bright green eyed boy that resided in a world of blonde hair and blue eyed warriors. He was the complete opposite of his brother, Thor, Asgard's own golden boy. They spoke of his prowess with both wit and magic, and they feared it. (Such things were never consider honorable in that realm.)

Sif was in a class of her own. One simply held this fact for honest truth. She did not fit in with the other young maids who sat around all day, braided each other's hair with fine ribbon, and gossiped. She, although proving herself to be their equal many times over, never fit in all the way with the young warriors and the golden boy. She was not them. They were offenders, attackers, seekers of glory. She was defensive, a shield woman, one who enjoyed working with a team. She did not, and never would, possess their brute strength. She would never be able to handle heavy warrior's weapons with the ease they did.

So she did what she needed to. She went the other prince.

They taught each other, pooling their knowledge to achieve their shared goal, to be considered worthy of being called an equal.

The lonely always find their way to one another.

Cold Cold Water- Mirah

"Kneel." Thor's voice thundered through the silent hall.

A shudder of horror moved its way through Sif as she heard the heavy thud as Loki crashed to his knees. So, there he was. After so many months, there he was. His hair had grown a little longer. His armor was tarnished and broken. His coat was nothing more than patches. The dark rings under his eyes had grown ever darker. He looked so small from her position by the All Father's throne. Loki, once the great prince of the gods, was just a shell of his former self.

Yet he was just the same. More reckless, more confident, Sif could almost say that he had grown into his own. His bright green eyes still flashed under his thick lashes. A defiant smile painted over his features. His head was bent up to look his accusers in the eye.

"I assume this is the time in which you make me repent for my actions," he chuckled lightly.

"This is not a joke," one of Thor's new mortal friends, the one perpetual dressed in red, white, and blue, shouted.

"You nearly destroyed our world," the one with dark hair like her own, the man of iron he was called, finished off the sentence.

"You've nearly killed half of us." The sole female challenged.

"You killed innocents." The bowman.

"You left your home and a family that loved you. You left things that some people never had." The mortal they called Bruce.

"You have hurt your mother."

The All Father's words seemed to resonate with the prince. Loki's head dipped in what looked like regret for just a second before he refuted, "Is that all?"

"We thought you dead, Loki. We mourned you," her voice rang throughout the hall. It scarred her for a moment. Politics, the Great Hall, mortal beings, this was not her territory. Her trademark smug confidence was slipping. Her personal feelings, the warrior's greatest enemy, were slipping in. "I mourned you."

"Oh," he tilted his head, "so the rumors are true. The great Lady Sif missed me."

Her feelings were quickly replaced by a steely hardness. "Go to Hel."*

"My lady," his head bowed briefly, a mock sign of respect. "Haven't you heard?" Sif could hear the biting sarcasm in his response. "I already have."

Hardest of Hearts- Florence + the Machine

She died honorably.

Honorably? How was death in any way honorable? It doesn't matter if you died valiantly in battle or slit your own wrists until you bled to death. It made no difference. Death was death. You were finished, gone forever. Nothing would change that. Nothing.

Both the young and battle-hardened warriors slain in combat prayed with their dying breaths that their deaths be honorable and stories be told about them. Of course, there were. Stories were often told of the great and valiant. But time heals all. Their family and friends move on. Their stories stop being told. Sooner or later they were exactly the same as everyone else.

Death was the great equalizer.

Loki seemed to be the only one in all of Asgard to understand this fact. People swore over and over that Sif's story would be told. That her great deeds would be forever sung before the ages, and all would know of her. He understood them to be what they really words, lies. He should know; he was the god of them.

Her friends and family sat quietly at the funeral, silent strength hiding waves of grief. Each person went up to the coffin. Each was to say goodbye in their personal way. This was usually the part in which the hardest of hearts were melted. Sif's parents completely broke down. His mother cried softly. He could even swear that he saw his brother discreetly wipe a tear away.

Then it was his turn. The god gently ran his slender fingers over the closed coffin.

"I l-." The words were heavy and hoarse in his throat. The rest of his goodbyes, the things he dare not tell her in life, died on tongue. He swallowed. Such things left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Simple Simple (Acoustic) - Mother Mother

This year had brought one of the coldest winters Asgard had ever known. Fireplaces were in great use; their chimneys billowing black smoke into the sky. Thick woolen blankets were on every bed. The great ladies of court had brought out their finest firs. The warriors had brought out their thick, overtly adorned cloaks. Although, Loki rarely took any type of precautions against the bitter weather. His winter cloak was barely thicker than his regular.

Sif pulled her body closer to a sleeping Loki. Half of his blankets had been abandoned or stolen by her, but heat still radiated off his body, the lucky bastard. A new day was beginning. Dawn was just over the horizon. The sun was just letting its rays in. The gentle light danced over her bed, accentuating the strong angles of her companion's face. Sif sighed contently.

Life was difficult. But this? This was simple.

Degausser- Brand New

A storm was brewing.

Grey, dark, and intense, all of Asgard was beginning to feel it. Odin was in the Odinsleep. The queen was so distraught she refused to leave her husband's bedside. Thor, the rightful heir, was banished to the realm of mortals. Loki sat on the throne.

And the rumors swelled.

It was said that the queen knew something about Odin. Something incredibly important that she refused to share. Some said that Thor was asked to return home and refused. Some said he had fallen in love with a mortal woman. But the biggest doubts lay with Loki.

It was said that he was last with the king before he fell into the sleep. Some insisted that he had something to do with it, something to do with Thor's banishment. (Sif pretended that rumor didn't exist. The bothers were close. Loki would do anything to bring his brother back. Wouldn't he? Wouldn't he?) They insisted that he had wanted to seek the throne for his own. That the god of mischief and lies had finally gone too far. They said that the power had driven him to madness.

They said that he was evil.

She couldn't believe it. The idea of Loki being a cruel and calculating man out for his own interests did not compute in her brain. She knew him since they were children. They, along with Thor, played together as children. Sure, he was a little mischievous and a convincing liar, her hair stood a testament to that.** But evil? That was unlikely.

Or was it?

She had noticed such a change in him. His voice turned a little harsher. His eyes shone a little brighter. He slouched on his throne, so casually. He looked so natural on that throne, so damn smug. Like it was he, not Thor, that had been the born successor of Odin.

An icy wind bit at Sif, bringing her out of her thoughts. Thunder sounded through the realm. Lightning danced on the horizon.

A storm was brewing.

Your Rocky Spine- The Great Lake Swimmers

Sif, at that awkward stage, neither a girl nor a woman, moved as quietly as she could through the great labyrinth known as the Royal Library. Her golden hair caught the dim lights of the touches, reflecting it better than a mirror.

"Lookkkkiiii," she called. Her voice echoed, breaking the reverent silence of the ancient room. "Looooookkkkkkkkiiiiiiii!"

Thud.

Sif twirled to see a book fallen to the oaken floor. Its elderly pages blazed a faint, yet telling, emerald. She allowed a small smile to play of her lips. If he wanted to play this way, she could too.

"Oh, how they spoke of the second son at dinner tonight," said Sif. Her voice carrying a little louder than what was accepted in a scholarly place.

In fact, the great Queen even asked of him. 'Where is he?' She asked. Of course, being the humble and truthful one I am, I simply had to tell the Queen the truth. 'My lady,' I said, 'your dear son has yet to come out of that library in over a day.'"

"The Queen chuckled, all in good nature. In fact the whole table did. 'My son does love his books,' the great lady professed. It was really quite amusing. Too bad you missed it with that nose stuck in these musty old books."

"You could learn quite a bit," a low and soft voice came from behind her. "If you kept your nose in the books more often."

Sif turned to see Loki standing in front of a bookshelf. His hair was disheveled and was beginning to take on its natural curly form. His clothing was rumpled. The dark circles that were always painted under his eyes were particularly dark. She doubted if he had slept or eaten since yesterday.

"Anyway," he continued, "you can't tell me that Thor and my father stayed for the entire thing. Did they?"

"They did."

The second son made a great spectacle of rolling his eyes. "Poor, poor Sif. You were never a talented liar." His voice was embellished now. Louder and clear, sarcasm and jest oozed from his throat.

Sif beamed and gave him a low bow. "Oh magnificent Loki Silvertongue, I apologize my skills in the art of falsehood and deceit are not as well honed as yours."

"One day you and Thor shall learn that there are other ways to do combat that do not involve the use of your fists." The prince smirked.

Sif returned to her full height. She looped her arm into the boy's, leading him out of the library. "But they're not nearly as fun."

Bad Ritual- Timber Timbre

I alone know,***

He was cold. He was always so cold. She always noticed that. Whether it was just a touch of the hand or a brushing past each other or as his mouth trailed down her neck. In his actions, he was calm, an offset of his passionate and reckless brother.

Yes, in both deed and flesh, he was always cold.

Perhaps she could grow to like the cold.

Perhaps.

As I think I do know,

Some had their suspicions of the king's youngest son and the warrior maiden.

They wondered about the strange prince who preferred spells and lies to steel and honesty.

They wondered if the maiden was really a maiden at all, but a woman now, at a man's hand.

They wonder if she would ever settle down, for the first son would be much more of a catch.

They wondered what these two perfectly different people could possibly find in one another.

They wondered what those two really did behind closed door.

But the king's youngest son and the warrior maiden simply ignored it.

They had enough practice.

That your love besides Thor,

She remembers sometimes, the warrior maiden. Of the time before the mortal woman, the time when she was his best friend.

She remembers of the light locks of the first son that rivaled her own in their beauty.

She remembers his intelligent and fierce blue eyes.

She remembers his passion and his drive.

She remembers his heat that so very compensated the chill of the second son.

She remembers sometimes, the warrior maiden, and a pit settles at the bottom of her stomach.

And that was the wicked Loki.

He was always so cold. She always realized this as she draped her body over his after a long night of doing things the gracious ladies of court she grew up with would blush at.

They always ended up here. Always. Before and after battle, celebrations, when one of them was injured, or just because.

They fell into a pattern in the years.

It was a bad, bad ritual. The maiden would be the first to admit that.

But it calmed her down.

Modern Leopard- Frightened Rabbit

He cut everything good out of life.

Loki really did.

He pushed away his friends.

He pushed her away.

He pushed his brother away.

Everything good he ever had he pushed it away.

He was slipping. The golden rod was slipping like sand through his sweaty palm.

"Loki," Thor's voice strained. "Don't do it."

A small smirk would have played over his features if he would have allowed it.

Loki released the rod.

His life was over. That hole could kill him.

But he didn't really care.

Hey Man (Now You're Really Living) – Eels

Loki closed the heavy door and sunk to the floor. The day's weariness had begun to seep into his bones. The day had been too long. It had been first full day of banishment. His father-

No. He corrected himself. Odin was not his father. He was never his father. Loki had just been a stolen relic. Something of little value to have and to hold until it came of use.

That's why Thor was the favored one. He was the one who was worthy of the throne of Asgard.

From the other side of the room, the golden king's staff glinted in the day's last light.

Loki Laufeyson grinned.

It was he who sat on the throne.

It was he who was king.

It was he who was in "father's" favor, while Thor, great crown prince Thor, sat in Midgard, playing house with mortal woman.

What an odd turn events.

Clever Meals- Tegan and Sara

Her nostrils flared.

That sneaky little bastard, how dare he? How dare he make a mockery of the throne? How dare he sit there, smug as all? How dare he?

Rage boiled in her heart. She had to do something. Something that was drastic. Something that would solve all of the problems that had arisen.

She had to bring back Thor.

Treason. Her conscience pounded in her head. What she was going to do was treason? She could be punished, killed even.

She had to do it.

"I shall take leave, my king." Her bow was low. Her voice held as much earnest as she could muster.

Enjoy the fruits of your ever so clever labor, my king. They won't last much longer.

Where the Cold Wind Blows- Nickel Eye

The boisterous noise of place returned. Life went back to normal. It had to. One loss did not stop the endless cycle of Asgardain life.

The women of the court went back to their gossip, no longer littered with politics or things that truly mattered.

The Allfather went back to ruling his kingdom with a strict but gentle hand.

Thor, much more mature than before his banishment, continued to work to rebuild the Bifrost to see the mortal woman. That was his singular goal.

The Warriors Three helped greatly in that dark year, rebuilding the bridge. Although, they didn't really have anything better to do. They were stuck in the realm just like everyone else.

The queen became more withdrawn. She spent more time in her chambers. The loss of her son, her favored son, had hit her hard.

It had hit them all hard.

Sif could not remember a time when she walked the halls and had not felt the presence of Loki. Now they were all gone. His chamber had been cleaned out. His helmet, he always left it somewhere, had been hung neatly away in the armory. The books he left scattered about had been carefully put back into their place in the Royal Libaray.

Dinner was the most painful reminder. Odin's and Thor's seats were rarely filled. Those two were never one for feasts. Nither was Loki, but he was always at them whenever his mother asked him to come. Gentlemanly, she supposed. It hurt Sif so badly every night as she was made painstakingly aware of the empty seat to the queen's right. His seat, the seat that would never be occupied again.


A/N: Writing tons of flash fiction because I can't seem to make anything long work lately. :( This was based on the fanmix "Let the Bad Parts In" by the talented Glaicersmadeyou. She's fantastic. You can find it on her LJ .com. Take a look!


"Go to Hel": Before you're all like, "You spelt hell wrong!" Allow me to explain. Hel was the Norse goddess of death. (She was also Loki's daughter, but whateves.) She proceeded over the land of the dead, much like Hades in Greek mythology. To say "Go to Hel," is to say "Go die." That's why Loki responds, "I already have."

**Sif's Hair: Sif originally had blonde hair like everyone else. In the original myth, Loki cut it as a prank. Thor got pissed. So Loki gave her hair made from elves or something like that. That's why it's dark now.

***I alone know...: That entire quote in italics is from a Norse poem called "Lokasenna"which translates roughly to "Loki's Quarrel". Loki crashes a party and insults everyone. It's quite amusing. Sif is like, "You got nothing on me." And then Loki says that. Sif says nothing in return. It is the first time anyone accuses Sif of cheating. The second is when Odin arguing with Thor. Scholars are unaware if Sif and Loki really did have an affair or if Loki and Odin were just trying to get an angry response from the couple.


 
 
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Ishi-chanishi_chan on January 8th, 2012 08:51 pm (UTC)
That was great! I'm always so happy when people put parts of norse mythology into their fanfics...