Got bored, and so I write this Loki/Sigyn fic that's rather angsty. I usually don't write angsty stuff. :D

Loki sat with his back to the open balcony doors, not paying attention to anything that was behind him, or in front of him. What he was interested in was the small colony of lightning bugs that had taken refuge in a crevice of stone pillars.

Few people could ever sneak up on the dark prince, this young woman being one of them. Many in the past had tried their hand; the Warriors Three, Lady Sif, even Frigga had failed. This young woman was the only one who succeeded.

Thor always thought he was stealthy enough to fool his younger brother, but try as he might, Loki knew before he even began to attempt. Once, Thor had tried a tuck and roll across the room that failed miserably, and it turned into one of the most satisfying laughing fits Loki had ever gotten into.

"I know you're there."

The statement is said in a voice no louder than his usual tone, but even that sends chills up her spine.


Sigyn sees his smile from the doorway of his chambers, her back pressed firmly against the frame. She's not supposed to be here. Ever. She could be punished by any means her betrothed Theoric thought fit.

But she didn't care.

Theoric was built like Thor. And Sigyn thought of Thor as a brother-type figure and nothing more. He had a somewhat kind but brash disposition. They'd played together as children, and never got along for more than ten minutes at a time. Just being around the man she was supposed to marry made her want to gag. Because he was too much like that older brother figure who only came around when called for.

Loki, though. Well…

Loki was… intoxicating.

They hadn't done anything, nor would do anything, as long as Sigyn was betrothed to Theoric. That was a rule both of them had set long ago when they'd discovered their love. Back then, they'd also decided they would refrain from kissing each other too. Needless to say, that went out the window a week later.

Yet, every time she would see him out, her heart would race. Her chest would tighten, and it took all her concentration to even breath properly. This didn't happen at the best of times though, and her sisters began to take notice.

Her cheeks would turn bright red, doe-like eyes going wide. If he caught sight of her, he'd just laugh and give a reassuring smile, a fire burning in his own eyes that no one understood but her.

They were supposed to be a secret. And so far, he'd done a much better job at keeping it than she had.

He's all limbs and lanky perfection in her eyes, graceful and eloquent. Her eyes eat up this picture of him sitting in the middle of his balcony, moonlight falling over him like waves. Black pants and loose green tunic, short hair ruffled from the breeze. Criss-Cross on the floor, hunched over and staring at a spot on the wall.

He's gorgeous.

"You're not allowed in here," he whispers, dangerously, and she hears it from inside with ease.

Swallowing hard, and calming her heart she replies, "I know."

He stands up slowly, long arms supporting his weight as his bare feet take on the job. He steps inside and closes the doors to the balcony, leaving the room entirely dark, besides the little bit of moonlight that streams through the window.

He presses his back to these doors, much like Sigyn is on the opposite end of the room.

"Did you break the rules just to stand there?"

His playful, dangerous tone sets her on edge. That cocked eyebrow and evil grin. She feels like melting chocolate.

"…No," she manages, eyes boring into his.

In less than a second, he's transported directly in front of her and she lets out a tiny squeal of surprise.

"Shhh, love," he smiles and covers her mouth with his hand, "They'll hear you."

Her blue doe eyes stare up at him and she nods slowly. He starts to remove his hand from her mouth and she pulls it back, kissing his palm.

"Hello," she grins, that happiness that only happens around Loki sets in.

His response to that is pushing her back into the door, capturing her lips with his own.

She's intoxicating to him.

He loves the way she kisses him. Like it'll be the last time, but like it's also the first time. With the experience of a hundred kisses. And she's sweet, and surprising. And utter perfection.

He kisses her gently, scared that he'll break his delicate flower, but there's a power and hunger there that she senses whether he wants her to know about it or not.

His hands have moved from their places on the door to her waist, desperately pulling her to him.

Her tiny arms wrap around his neck, almost on tiptoes because of his height. He makes up for this by bending over slightly and practically picking her up.

Once he starts to feel light-headed, he knows that she already does, and probably has for the past five seconds. Loki pulls his lips away, resting his forehead on hers, so they can both breath.

"I missed you," she heaves, smiling and searching his eyes.

"I saw you at breakfast," he grins, brushing her nose with his.

They start slowly backing farther into the center of the room when Sigyn whispers, "Far too long for my taste."

Loki stops moving, an intensity raging in his eyes like no other, "Far, far too long."

Butterflies overtake her completely, yet she's the one who connects their lips before he's able to. His eyelids flutter halfway closed, irises rolling into the back of his head at the onslaught of emotions. Suddenly, there's not enough of her hair to explore, or her lips to trace.

He's in deep, and he knows it. Far deeper than anything else.

Her senses are overloaded with Loki. His unique, beautiful, scrumptious scent. Him running his fingers through her raven black hair. The taste of his soft, wet lips.

He feels like he's going to explode. Heart pounding through his tunic, he thinks about the way she's too gentle with him.

Eyes remaining closed, he breaks the kiss and murmurs, "Marry me."

And then pleads desperately not a second later with, "Please."

Sigyn wishes she could. Wishes it more than anything in the entire universe. To be able to wake up and see his face every morning. To have these kisses where they aren't secret. To be able to call him hers.

And suddenly, the fact comes crashing down to her that it won't ever happen.

It feels like someone has ripped a hole out of her chest, and she can't breath. She will never be allowed to have Loki. Ever.

A broken sob gets caught in her throat, and her cheeks turn red. His hands move to her arms, not having heard his love's cry.

Her fingers untangle themselves from his hair and slowly land on his chest, grasping at the fabric. Her face contorts into pain, and her sob comes from deep within. She starts crying, uncontrollably, and Loki's left to wonder what he said, or did to cause this.

"Love?" He asks quickly, trying to lift up her face in the darkness, "What is it?"

The name he'd given her years before causes a new wave of tears, and she manages to choke out, "I-I-I, ca-can, nev-nev-never have yo-you!"

If his heart was broken before because of their situation, now it's in crumbles. He crushes her to him, kissing every inch of the top of her head.

She doesn't stop crying, staining his shirt with her hot tears. They sear through him like fire, scarring him like no weapon ever had.

"Tell me this," he whispers while stroking her hair; he already knows the answer, "If you were able to, would you marry me?"

The question does what he'd intended. Sigyn's sobs start to die down, slowing and steadying with shaky breaths.

Where his shirt V's at the neck line, Sigyn starts peppering the bit of bare chest with kisses, "Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes," and he hears the tears starting again.

He feels a large droplet when the tip of her nose connects with his chest, her frame shaking in his arms.

"Shhhh, my love," he tries to calm her; his own eyes welling up, "Shhhhh."

Her fingernails dig slightly into his back, never wanting to let him go.

"You don't understand," she whispers, "Once I'm married, I'll never see you again."

"That's not true," he says, hugging her closer, "You'll still live in the palace. We'll still read together and practice magic."

"No, Loki. I'll never see you like I want to see you."

Loki has never wanted Theoric to go away more in his entire life.

"I'll never get to hold your hand again," she continues to softly cry, "Or go for secret walks in the Garden. Or kiss you."

A tear drops onto his own cheek, as he realizes what he's losing.

He's losing his flower. His beautiful, delicate little flower. His love.


He kisses her again, but this time it's more urgent. Needy. This kiss really is like it's going to be the very last one, and his lips try to memorize every detail about her own. Their tears mix together, and he doesn't think he's ever experienced anything this heart-breakingly beautiful.

"Marry me," he whispers, hungrily kissing her.

She nods, making a "Mmmhmmm," sound in the back of her throat.

Her fingers trace his jaw line, and start to tangle in his hair when he repeats, "Marry me."

"Yes," she softly replies when she gets the chance.

The kiss slows down, her hands moving to his neck, his to her waist.

"Marry me."

Again, she whispers, "Yes."

He pulls away, and starts to wipe away her tears with his long, elegant fingers. She does the same for him, fingers pausing over his high cheekbones.

The couch in front of the unlit fireplace takes it's two guest's easily. Loki getting closest to the back of the couch, then pulling Sigyn down in front of him.

They lay there, in silence. It speaks more than words would.

There's no way out of her engagement. To either man.

And Loki's determined to win.

"Marry me," he whispers, just as she's about to fall asleep in his arms.


The answer heats him to his very core.

If you want it, this could be a possible two-shot. Just, please review!