Notes: This was inspired by Jaimie Alexander's comment, about Sif's role in Thor 2, at the Iron Man 3 premier: "You will see Sif sacrifice everything for the people that she loves, and that they love."
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot bunnies in my head, and derive no income from those.
Thor's anguished bellow echoed off the nearby mountains, filling the small valley, in which they fought, a single name, cried out as a storm began to gather, and heard above the clash of steel and the grunts of men. "Sif!" The thunderer charged across the battlefield, flinging men aside as he rushed toward his friend, seeing that dark blast of magic, simultaneous to the Goddess of War driving the longer end of her double bladed weapon into the Dark Elf's chest. Whatever had driven him to look up in that moment, he would never know; Malekith had been entirely evasive, holding Jane somewhere nearby. Loki had been able to sense the other's dark magic, but he could not – or would not, the truth was unclear – tell them where the villain actually was. When had Malekith made his appearance? How had Sif seen the vile elf, and yet he had not? When had they gotten so separated? The questions kept coming as he hurried toward his fallen friend.
Two days had passed, very long days as loose ends were tied up, and Asgard's army was returned to the Realm Eternal, bruised, battered, and far fewer than it had once been. Jane had been quiet, staying close to Thor's side. It had been a traumatic experience for her, having been kidnapped and possessed by dark magic, but she seemed to be holding up remarkably well for it all. Thor knew that he was being altogether inattentive to her, but he was preoccupied by the cleanup efforts, the debate over what to do about Loki's sentence in light of the help he'd provided in this war, and... He pushed that thought away, now was not the time to dwell on it.
He had left Jane in his chambers before making his way down to the dungeons, the walk to Loki's cell seeming even longer than the last time he'd made the trip. It hadn't been that long ago, that he had appealed to his brother for help, though it seemed an eternity now. Thor stopped in front of the enchanted glass, watching Loki pace, like a caged panther, within.
Loki paused, mid-step, turning sharply to face his once-brother, and though his face was a familiar mask of indifference, his eyes blazed, quiet words laced with venom. "What brings you to my cage this time, Odinson?"
Feeling so very tired, Thor scrubbed his face with his palms. "If you wish to do so, you have been granted permission to view her send off."
The trickster scoffed, but the contempt in his voice had tempered. "I will not pretend to mourn her."
"I am not asking you to attend, merely telling you of the opportunity, there is but a few hours before it is time. Should you change your mind, you need only inform the guard." He turned away from his brother, hating himself as he did. Not so much for the action, Loki had done much to earn such treatment, but because he had much to regret, and more to mourn, though the loss of his brother was still most poignant of all.
Thor watched numbly as the ship was prepared, all of Sif's personal belongings stacked upon the pyre before her body was brought out, carried carefully between the honor guard, and laid on the platform. He tried to comfort himself with the fact that she had gotten the honorable death she deserved, lost in battle, and now striding the halls of Valhalla, or perhaps joined with her Valkyrie sisters, a raven among them. The thought did little to ease his guilt, however, and he watched on silently. Jane had remained for the funeral, and she stood beside him now. He knew she felt guilty as well, feeling responsible for his grief as it had been her safety that Sif had sacrificed herself for. If only she knew that Sif did not do this for her safety, but his happiness. A truth that did absolutely nothing to assuage his own feelings.
Before he was ready, the funeral pyre was launched, and archers drew their bows, loosing flaming arrows at the boat, kindling and the dry wood of the pyre catching fire easily, and it was soon ablaze, as the sea waves dragged it out toward the edge of the realm. Too late he remembered soft words spoken to him after a battle that had nearly ended as this one did, an admission of fear after that experience, of nightmares of burning. Thor panicked then, started to yell for someone to put the fire out, that this wasn't the way she would want to go, but if there was anything to be done at all, the time for it had passed.
Someone wrapped their arms around him, then, pulling him close to a familiar form, and he let out a sob that was answered by an even more familiar voice. "Were she here, Sif would stab you for mourning her so."
"You came." Thor managed as he tried to calm himself, Loki had been correct after all, Sif would not want this. Cerulean met emerald as he looked to the trickster, silently noting the tears in his brother's eyes.
"It should not have ended this way, she was mine to kill, brother." Loki half muttered as Thor pulled him in tightly. He had never truly stopped loving the thunderer, and for Sif, he would admit to that now. It was what she would have wanted.