Disclaimer: Amazingly enough, and despite all the writing I have done for these two, I still don't own Thor. Not even a share of stock. Sad times.
A note: this story explores the love-triangle theme (Thor-Sif-Loki) which is more prominent in actual Norse lore than in the film or comics. There is also a distinct note of unrequited feelings present in this story. I had not yet written anything branching into these themes, and I've wanted to for a while now.
I'm glad to be writing again! Thanks for reading.
There are thoughts he cannot create.
Sif had thought that his magic would be like battling Thor. A show of skilled techniques, thunderous words - she counts in her mind every vision she might have seen. First her own: cervid horns in sculpture, a valley of swords. Then Thor's: marvel beasts and splendid storms. Light and light and light.
The monsters of childhood lore are real, Sif, said the worn-down angel that was her mother. A truth Asgard learned young. But her mother did not warn of their king.
She counts no visions for Loki because he allows her none, even with his magic in her mind. He might whisper, there is a golden feast-goblet, there my brother stirring the sky. But he had told her once that he saw nothing real at all, only figments, ideas. Ghosts.
Sif had thought that the ghosts would be like battling Loki. A show of skilled techniques, silvery words - she counts in her mind every vision they might have shared. First her own: the slow meeting of eyes, a well-matched banter. Then Loki's: shadowed walls and wicked grins. And Sif's own face, looking back at her.
The monsters of childhood lore are real, Sif, he said into her mind. And allowed her to see.
She counts no words for Thor. He might shout, hammer held above the limit of sky, storms and scuffs and boisterous boots. But his smile remains even in the eye of silence - only gold assurance, warmth. A vision. She doesn't feel the magic cease, then.
Loki's eyes glow green, green. She does not see.
She never sees.