I have not written for this pairing before so I'm super excited. It was just a little ficlet but I really enjoyed it start to finish.
Thor and related characters © Marvel Comics
story © RenaRoo
Myth
Representing Midgard was some sort of triumph of her life that Jane was supposed to be very happy to see going as well as it was. Having a counsel where she could represent her realm to the literal gods of the rest of the powerful beings that could thwart so many at any time should have been more awe-inspiring.
Maybe Jane Foster had had her awe sapped from her long before those moments though. From over exposure when she was still by Thor Odinson's side, from the whole world's overexposure due to the Heroic Age they lived in.
But perhaps most important of all was Jane's proximity to death seemingly at all times. Her progress in fighting it slowed to a near complete halt by her own decision to wield the hammer. After all, little else felt as eye opening and as shocking as death itself when she was looking into an ever widening abyss.
What could be more awe inspiring than the likes of one's own imminence?
It was that same sort overwhelming awe that had given Jane a numbness to her condition and prognosis. She was not dying so much as she was living despite having been told of her upcoming demise. And as strange and as awkward as that felt to her, to not feel the concern and worry that so many others were readily affording her, she simply moved forward.
Or, more accurately, she flew.
Jane did not disappear with Mjölnir, and neither did the cancer that plagued her body, but she did grow into something greater than her aches and pains, grew into something stronger than her weakness and fatigue. And it was that something greater that was addicting, so empowering as she stepped foot onto clouds and bridges made of rainbows, let her hair flow back into the solar winds of realms and cosmos far away.
It gave her the sense of being large enough to fit in the midst of stars and planets, and deluded her into thinking she was too large to suffer the way, for decades, she had aided patients through their own suffering.
"Thor."
Hearing her name, she turned and watched as Lady Sif approached, wrapped in furs that did not hide the glint of her armors.
"Greetings, Lady Sif," she answered in turn. "I suspect you are not on the Bifröst for a stroll."
"I walk it in search of the representative of Midgard, directed by the vigilance of my brother Heimdall," she answered in turn, nearing the God of Thunder. "I had my concerns that truer nature would prevail in the face of temptation and that she who could not afford the costs of power would not heed the caution of silencing it."
"You sound familiar with me," she joked.
"Aye, sadly, I am more than somewhat acquainted with a god who thinks more with a hammer than with the brain which I know to hide somewhere beneath golden locks," Sif answered. "Once I was the shield-maiden of Thor."
"A title which must carry a significant amount of adventure with it," she laughed, voice deep enough to match the form of a towering god and not a diminishing Midgardian poisoned by a treatment attempting to save her.
There was a sad look to Sif's eyes. "Only when myths and legends found their foothold in our reality, and when my responsibility to the Thor I loved became paramount to protecting a god from themself. Were I a Midgardian woman it would have aged me quite significantly, I assure you. Here I am, upon an immortal plane, and it has nearly greyed me." Her frown grew only firmer. "It threatens to gray me now."
Lowering her grip on Mjölnir's tether, the God of Thunder was sure to not lose her control of its proximity, but the loosened grip was a sign of respect. A relinquishment of the ability to strike first in conflict. And it was more disarming to Asgardians than any words of fealty or appreciation that she could use.
Sit even breathed easier once the motion had been made.
"I can only speak of my immense appreciation for your concerns, even though I find them unwarranted and unhelpful," Thor said in a booming voice. "You are not this Thor's maiden. And this Thor would not require such a task from you."
"Jane Foster of Midgard, have you truly any need to raise such defenses before me in a realm which has declared itself an open home to you?" Sit demanded, stepping forward. "You strive for strength, but punish the body which matters i doing so. We watch you wither, and Heimdall, my brother who sees all things, knows of the hurt which goes unspoken by your lips."
"What goal is meant to be accomplished here today, Lady Sif?" the God of Thunder asked in irritation, shortening the gap even more than Sif's stride already had."What words do you wish for me to speak to you and cease your worries?"
"There are no words," Thor answered simply.
"What actions?" Sif continued.
"There are none, I am the God of Thunder," she said firmly.
"For Jane then," Sif pressed.
Rejection was on the tip of her sharpened tongue, but the poor in her voice felt strangely gone. Subconsciously, or perhaps just a little consciously, the God of Thunder allowed Mjölnir to slip from her grasp and collide with the Bifröst. It did not take long for the lightning of the realm to engulf her with a single, mighty strike, reducing the god to the mortal once again. Jane was a color vessel, a smaller one. Her muscles ached and her future was uncertain. She had no perfect golden locks atop her head, or any locks at all anymore. Only a scarf knitted by the All-mother. Her clothes gifted by an old lover whose titles and name she had stolen.
She came up short of Sif's breastplate and that was before she ducked into herself, hugging her arms as she lowered her head in discomfort at her apparent frailty.
"You could hold me," Jane answered for herself at last. "if I cannot wield my own power while I recover, you could offer me some of yours. Even when I'm not Thor."
"O, Jane Foster," Sif answered, kneeling before pulling Jane against her in a tremendous, protective embrace. "You are Thor in your heart, and I am still Thor's shield-maiden. What I hold here for you is not my own strength, but the strength of your inspiration to me from the moment we have met to the moment I first saw you yield the power of Mjölnir yourself. You have me, Jane Foster. You will always have me."
The promise was enough to bring tears to Jane's eyes as she slowly grasped at Sif's caped back and squeezed her eyes shut.
She was weak, but with Sif she could already feel the strength of someone she could truly lean on.