A/N: Darcy has a cameo and takes us away from Sif's pov for a while. Enter Thor stage left. Sif is still ready to pull her hair out. Heimdall is kind of an ass for no reason other than forwarding the plot, and Volstagg and Fandral are still adorable. Also, more Ollie. And Eir. ALL THE CAST.
Props to anyone who can name the song whose lyrics inspired this chapter's title. Hint: I'm a shameless retro music pimp.
"I still don't understand why you must obtain a new one," Thor pondered, strolling alongside Darcy as they navigated through crowds of holiday shoppers. Well, Darcy had to navigate, avoiding the bumping elbows of bag laden people. Thor just seemed to part the seas wherever he went, and he wasn't even watching where he was going, too engrossed in Darcy's malfunctioning GPS device. The idiot was enamored by it. Said its voice reminded him of Jane, whose company they had just left mere minutes ago.
"She works fine," he beamed. "Listen."
"Buckingham Palace will be on your left in fifty feet," Siri—the miniature computer in Thor's grasp—informed in that oh-so-happy-to-oblige monotone.
Darcy sighed. "We're not in England anymore, doofus. And that's Parfait Palace on the left, not..." she trailed off, giving up. She didn't even know why she bothered explaining anymore. Thor had barely been acknowledging her presence since she gave him the GPS as a joke gift.
Siri went on, totally uncaring to Darcy's frustration. The little computerized dame was probably just as taken as any human female would be if held that close to Thor's arms. "You are now arriving at Billy's Adult Arcade and Skee Ball."
"See?" Darcy argued. "Your new girlfriend's lost her mind. She can't even connect to the web. She just spits out stuff in her memory...which means..." Darcy narrowed her eyes at Thor. His face was mostly hidden beneath the brim of a baseball cap and by the golden locks falling forward. As annoying as it was to be second most interesting to a malfunctioning computer, Darcy was at least grateful his downcast focus was hiding his identity from the public. She hated having to rescue him from drooling teenyboppers.
What she didn't hate, however, was that she, of all the small town nobodies of this world, got to be the one to taser him. That she was chosen by the gods, on that pivotal night in the desert, to be there when Jane ran him over. Twice. Thor's coming had changed her life forever, which had been in desperate need of changing ever since she decided to major in political science. He was a true hero.
But still, as much as she loved the oaf, he could also drive her really fucking banana-balls at times.
"Which means," Darcy continued, "somebody actually went to Billy's?" She now beheld Thor with a look of disgust. "You realize that place decorates with the skeevy bodily fluids of dirty old men?"
"I was in a gaming mood," Thor boomed without remorse, looking up at her. "And I am an adult."
That was debatable. "It's not that kind of arcade, dummy!" Darcy said, flailing her arms.
Thor just blinked innocently at her. "Are you telling me Skee Ball is not a game?"
"Whatever. It's Jane's problem, not mine." Darcy washed her hands of the matter, and hoped to the gods (or Thor's ancestors or whoever) that Thor had washed his hands, literally, of that place. "What are you going to get her for Christmas?"
Thor actually tore his attention away from Siri, probably at the mention of Jane. Or perhaps it was the Victoria's Secret window he was now ogling.
"Wow." Darcy gaped at him. "Can you not be a perv for like, two seconds?"
Thor tilted his head and gazed awestruck at a sheer red nothing trimmed with white marabou feathers. It was draped loosely on a mannequin in desperate need of a sandwich. And a head. "Jane would look very pretty in that," Thor stated.
"Well duh, Casanova." Darcy rolled her eyes. "But did you ever stop to think that's a gift she should get you, not the other way around?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Darcy. I would never wear a frock like that." Thor stepped eagerly into the boutique, braving the stank cloud of cheap perfumes. He immediately caught the eyes of several young and predatory employees, but he didn't see them. Just beheld racks of lace and sequined crap with satisfaction. "Fandral would approve of this place as a gift haven for the fairer sex."
Darcy grabbed Thor's arm and tugged him out of the store, just before he could be swamped by over zealous 'can I help you?'s from every angle. "Yeah, well, how many dates does this Fandral get?" Darcy's voice strained as she tugged his mass. "None, right?"
She tried to ignore the inhumanely dense bicep both of her hands had wrapped around, which was shamefully hidden beneath a plaid flannel layer. No, Darcy, no. Bad imagination. This was Jane's toy, not hers.
Thor furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to argue something, but Darcy interrupted him by continuing to tug him along, distracted by the mock-up of the North Pole now in her view. She was struck by a genius plan. "Hey, wanna go get our picture taken with Santa?"
Thor let himself get dragged along but wasn't sharing in Darcy's enthusiasm. "Not particularly."
"Come on, it'll be something cute to give Jane that doesn't—" Darcy was cut off by a tinny ruckus screaming from her pocket. It was We Three Kings in the tune of gangster rap. Thor gave her an odd look. "Hang on," Darcy said, pulling the phone to her ear.
"What do you want?" Darcy barked at the phone while the Thor meandered beside her, listening curiously. "No. No. Yes. Christmas shopping with Thor. No, not the pharmacist's son, The God of Thunder. Don't worry about it." She hung up and stuffed the phone back into her pocket, making an exasperated noise.
"Who was that? Thor inquired.
"My mom." Darcy rolled her eyes. "I used to think she was just a basket case, but now I realize she's a whole, shipping container...full of...things woven from straw that are way crazier than a basket."
Darcy had no idea what she was even saying anymore so it was no wonder Thor's brain looked like it was about to spring a leak.
"Darcy." Thor gave up trying to translate her analogy and placed his hand on her shoulder, suddenly becoming all Mr. Serious. "You should show your mother more respect. For one day, before you're ready for it, she will be gone."
Darcy was not going to have this conversation right now. Instead she averted her attention to Santa's hut where a crowd had gathered around two guys in costume who were most certainly not from the North Pole. "Whoa!" She pointed in the direction of the spectacle. "Looks like your buddies are stealing Santa's spotlight."
Thor whipped his head at the scene and immediately lit up at the sight of Volstagg and Fandral. "Come on!" he commanded.
The crowds of bedraggled parents—complete with their dressed up children and pets—had shifted to line up for the Warriors Two instead of for Santa, smart phones sticking out in every direction to capture the unexpected newcomers. Thor and Darcy jogged up to the front of the line, ignoring complaints from the people they bypassed.
Volstagg stood in a face-off with the middle-aged, gaunt man dressed in padded red and white and sporting a pathetically fake beard. Both of the men crossed their arms over their bellies and sized each other up.
"Show me your contract!" said the Santa in a very not-jolly voice. "This here mall is my turf. Ask the bosses!"
Volstagg could only shake his head and look down his nose at the man. "That is, by all measures, the most unimpressive girth I have ever seen on a mortal." He was about to poke the man's Poly-Fill belly but stopped when Thor exploded onto the scene.
"My friends!" The golden prince held his arms out.
"Good morrow, Odinsson!" Fandral greeted him with a manly embrace. The playboy's attention then slid quickly and curiously to Darcy. "And a warm welcome to you, fair Darcy of Lewiston." He brought her hand to his lips and placed the most charming of kisses upon it.
She laughed stupidly, face heating up. "I have an intern," she blurted before she could cross check her words. "He's a boyfriend." Fandral winked at her.
Darcy then regained her senses and eyeballed their very Asgardian outfits. "Seriously you guys, you're in a mall. How hard would it be to change into Earthling clothes?"
The pair hardly had time to defend what they believed was a very dashing and practical sense of style before security finally ditched their eggnog latte frappuccinos and bustled onto the scene to get matters under control. They urged the three Asgardians to take their charades elsewhere, and Thor, knowing it was customary to oblige to men in uniform, convinced his Shakespeare-In-The-Park friends to let security escort them outside. Darcy had no choice but to follow, trying to shield her face from onlookers as she did. Puente Antiguo was a small town. She could get a lot of crap for this.
"What brings you to Midgard, my comrades?" Thor asked the Two. The four of them now stood on the sidewalk in front of a variety store.
"It's your father," Volstagg responded in a concerned voice. "He's disappeared."
Thor's face lost all of its color, and his voice all of its mirth. "What?"
Fandral chimed in. "He has not been seen in three days." He placed a consoling hand on Thor's shoulder.
Thor's eyes fluttered as he tried to comprehend this. "When was the last time anyone saw him?"
"Some townsfolk saw him at the stables early one morning, three days ago," Fandral said. "And others claimed to see him ride out of the city with Lady Sif. We didn't bother to worry upon hearing that news, trusting Sif was keeping him company in his time of mourning. But the following evening, Sleipnir had returned to the stables and there had been no sign of the All-Father's return."
"Where is Sif?" Thor asked with urgency.
"We believe she went back to Glasir Valley," said Volstagg. "She has been spending a lot of time there."
"Have you talked to her?" said Thor.
Fandral glanced shiftily to Volstagg. "I'm...not going near the Valkyrie lands."
"Nor I." Volstagg glanced down, ashamed.
"As much as I enjoy a feisty woman," Fandral explained, "a line must be drawn."
"Enough!" Thor barked impatiently. Darcy shivered, and not from the cold. "What about Heimdall?" Thor continued. "What did he say?"
"Very little." Volstagg looked apologetically at Thor.
"This does not make any sense." Thor punched the closest thing to him, which happened to be a big plastic reindeer. It now had a big hole in its back. "Father would not simply disappear."
"Some think he may sleep again," Fandral offered, capturing Thor's attention. "The door to his bed chamber is locked and sealed with magic. No one can break it down."
"We were hoping you could," Volstagg said, eyeballing the weapon that peeked out from the draping flannel at Thor's waste . "That Mjolnir could break the spell."
Everyone stood silently for a moment, shifting questioning glances to each other while Thor processed all the new information with a spectrum of emotion.
"Wow." Darcy interjected. She hated awkward silences. "This is some heavy stuff."
Thor turned to Darcy, lightly grabbing her upper arms and laying on her the saddest set of puppy dog eyes she had ever seen. "Darcy, I have to go. Tell Jane I'm sorry."
Breaks screeched in Darcy's brain. "Whoa, whoa, time out." She made a T shape with her mittened hands. "No way, Prince Come-N-Go. You can't leave at Christmas."
"I must," Thor insisted. "Father needs me."
"At least tell her goodbye," Darcy pleaded, dreading another bout of comforting Jane over too many nights of cupcakes and Star Trek marathons.
"Explain my reasons to her, Darcy. She will understand." Thor's voice was pained and Darcy had no choice but nod in acceptance. She did so with the biggest, guilt-tripping frown possible though. Thor cupped her cheeks and place a grateful kiss on her forehead. It felt so stupidly good, in that primitive way her body liked to respond when gorgeous bohunky men slathered her in attention—which happened like, never— that she milked the moment for all it worth and threw her arms around him, pressing her cheek to his chest.
"Don't be gone long, Blondie." Darcy's voice was muffled in flannel. "You know Jane's wrath rivals even your psycho brother's." She felt Thor's body twitch and tense up. Oops. She shouldn't have said that, what with Brother Blitzen being dead and all.
"I will do what I can, good Darcy." Thor finally peeled her from his body stepped in between the Two, casting his gaze upward. "Heimdall! Take us home."
Darcy stepped back and clutched her beanie as the wind quickly picked up. She looked upward as an explosion of light split the night sky open and a freaky but familiar shaft of Beam-Me-Up-Scotty stuff overtook the three most interesting dudes in New Mexico and sucked them up into the expanse of stars. And just like that it was over. Thor was gone again.
Darcy sighed and kicked some loose gravel on the sidewalk. Here she thought today was going to end much better. That once she dropped Thor off at Jane's house (see Jane's mom's place) she was going to have a naughty and nice time with a certain sexy intern, playing Strip-Cards Against Humanity. But how could she do that now that Jane was going to be all depressed?
She turned to go into the variety store, deciding she'd better stock up on comfort foods for Jane and peppermint schnapps for herself, because that was the only way to watch endless hours of soap operas on spaceships. She stopped momentarily before entering the store, however, swearing the store had all nine big stupid plastic reindeer on display when she first walked up with the guys. She then shrugged it off and went inside.
A godly column of light dispensed three formidable Aesir into Heimdall's observatory. The golden guardian then retrieved his sword from the center fixture of the great dome, bringing its powerful spin to a slowing stop. Thor, Fandral and Volstagg passed by Heimdall with grateful nods and intent strides, aiming straight for the three horses that were stationed on the Bifrost. Heimdall furrowed his brow curiously when he saw a colorful fake deer-like creature tucked under Volstagg's arm.
Volstagg shrugged at Heimdall. "For the kids."
Heimdall shifted his attention to Thor. "Welcome home, my King."
Thor halted before mounting his horse. "King..." he echoed softly. He then turned to Heimdall. "What has happened to my father?" Thor was in such a hurry to try the might of Mjolnir on his father's enchanted bedroom door, he hadn't stopped to consider questioning Heimdall.
"He has returned to the Odinsleep." Heimdall spoke calmly.
Thor exhaled in relief but still cast a worried glance to the Two. "When did this happen?" he asked Heimdall.
"I am uncertain," replied the watcher.
"You are supposed to see everything." Thor raised his voice. "How could you miss—"
"The All-Father's power exceeds my own." Heimdall interrupted, his voice still calm, which only further frustrated Thor. "I have no control when he chooses to block my watch over him."
Thor stepped up to Heimdall, his blues eyes glistening. "He is old and grieving the loss of half of our family. Someone should have been watching him."
Heimdall merely looked past Thor with a mysterious and unacceptable coldness. "Then perhaps you should have stayed in Asgard."
Thor scowled, hurt and insulted, turning away from the elder he thought his confidant and making for his horse. "Summon Lady Sif at once!" He barked the order over his shoulder. "I want her in Gladsheim before the night is over."
"As you wish," Heimdall replied dutifully.
The gathering room at Glasir's hall of healers was warmed with a flickering glow from its grand fireplace. The hearth was constructed of the finest marble and carved masterfully with designs inspired by the many plants of the outside forest. It was the centerpiece of the large, high-ceiling room, which was usually filled during the day with apprentice healers, curled up on couches and in various nooks, reading from one of the many books that graced the towering shelves. This evening, however, saw only two beings occupying the space, cuddled around one large book, their backs leaning against the mighty hearth.
Sif sighed as her son's heat bled into her side, the color of his blue skin misleading of the warmth it absorbed from the fire. Thankfully, Ollerus didn't mind the heat the way his father had grown to, his half-Aesir body knowing to appreciate a good thing. Sif wrapped her arm around his shoulder–which was on a fast track to overtake her own in height—and combed her fingers through his golden hair.
"You fought in this Elven Civil War didn't you?" Ollerus asked, completely absorbed in the history tome flattening his lap.
"Sure did," Sif said, relaxed, leaning into the boy, her legs curled to the side. She glanced at the picture on the page, recognizing instantly the foliage of the jungles they had fought in. It immediately made her think of Loki, in ways she didn't want to think about him right now. There was nothing that couldn't make her think of Loki since he left her on Lygnvi, but she at least preferred not to focus on their...wilder of past times. Since she had returned to Glasir from their journey, not a moment had passed that she didn't worry about Loki, or wonder if she had made the right choice in helping him. She was still trying to process what had happened, what she had seen. Each morning she would wake up hoping it had all been a dream, but that never happened. It was all very real. The magic. The monsters. The horrors.
The kiss.
Sif closed her eyes, cursing internally, not ready for another heart-sinking round of longing and regret.
"There's something I don't get," Ollerus blurted in merciful distraction.
"What's that, my love?" Sif breathed, opening her eyes again.
"If the war was between the elves, why did the Aesir get involved?"
"Because," Sif explained with very little thought, essentially parroting everything her captains had told her. "The problems on Alfheim were forcing trolls into Asgardian territory. So we went over there to fight on the side that was opposed to expanding over troll territory."
Ollerus tilted his head, his brow knitting as his mind worked. He didn't appear satisfied with Sif's answer. "But didn't the elves need to expand in order to make room for their crops, and their livelihood?" He argued. "You're basically saying you fought against innocent farmers."
Sif blinked. Was her own son trying to guilt trip her? "Innocence is lost the moment one takes up arms, be it sword or shovel." That was a quote from one of the generals, made to keep the soldiers from questioning too much.
Ollerus was not in the least appeased. "You wouldn't have had to take up arms at all if you just learned to live with trolls."
Sif laughed. "Now you're talking crazy."
"Why?" Ollerus shot back, unamused.
"Because they're trolls." Sif rolled her eyes.
"So?" Ollerus would not let up.
"Have you ever met a troll?" Sif pulled some hair from the boy's eyes and stared intently at him. "They're crude, and uncivilized and—"
"So they're different," Ollerus interrupted, auburn eyes staring back even more intently."
Sif blinked again, dumbfounded, floored by her son's impressive mind. He certainly hadn't inherited it from her.
Ollie's eyes then shifted to something sadder. "Will Asgard ever allow other species to live with them?" he asked, hope creeping into his tone. "Like frost giants?"
Sif's heart plummeted. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his head, pressing a loving kiss upon it. "I believe they will, one day." She had no choice but to believe that. She couldn't let Ollerus and his father be the only ones with that hope.
Ollerus squirmed and shoved her affection away, awkwardly, and in good fun. He could only handle so much sentiment at one time. "I sure hope so." He closed the book and stood up, walking over to the shelf it came from. "What shall we read from now? he asked, putting the book away.
"Your choice, darling." He could read subjects as boring as basket weaving for all Sif cared. So long as they were here together, she was content. She just hoped he didn't put her on the spot with any more tough questions.
"Do you think my father's in any of these books?" Ollerus asked, cranking his neck up to a row of books covered in dust. Sif felt the color rush from her face and she quickly glanced to the row Ollie was staring at. One of the books was titled 'Helheim and the Underworld'.
Sif closed her eyes, wincing. "Quite possibly." Every moment she spent with Ollerus was one moment closer to the time when she would finally have to come clean with the truth about his father. There would be no avoiding it.
Fortunately, now would not be that moment, for Eir entered the room and spared Sif the backlash of her past deception.
"I just received an urgent message from Heimdall," Eir said. "Thor has returned to Gladsheim and he is requesting your presence immediately."
"My presence?" Ollerus shot a cheeky grin at Eir, who merely responded with that raise of a brow that signaled her lack of amusement.
Sif felt her heart pick up its pace at the mention of Thor. "Immediately-immediately, as in right now?" she asked.
"Yes," Eir said. Ollie's shoulders slumped. He turned from the bookshelf and laid a heart wrenching look on Sif.
Sif sank in response. "I'm sorry, my dear."
Ollerus then shook off his disappointment with a revelation. "Can I come this time? I want to meet Thor so badly!"
Sif stood up and promptly crossed the room, placing her hands on his shoulders. Her action alone answered his question and she felt him wilt a little under her touch. Oh, how it tore her up to disappoint him. "You will one day, my son."
"But not now," Ollerus murmured to the floor.
Sif lifted his chin so their eyes met. "I promise you," she gazed sincerely at him. "Things will change very soon."
Ollerus managed a small half smile. He then motioned for the door. "Go already. The prince has need of you." The boy couldn't mask the pride he felt in knowing his mom was the right hand of the mighty Thor, and hearing that pride filled Sif with an indescribable honor.
Sif kissed his cheek before leaving his precious company and meeting Eir in the doorway. She looked over her shoulder at him one last time before she and the elder left the room.
"Did you send one of your students to fetch Fylla?" Sif asked Eir as they walked briskly down the hall toward the exit.
"There was no need," replied Eir. "Heimdall will summon you."
"That urgent?" Sif wondered something. "Is...Thor the only prince that has returned?"
"Yes." Eir halted at the door and pinned Sif with decisive look. "And Thor is now the king so long as Odin sleeps. Which means, in the best interest of the king, and of his decisions for Asgard, he should be told the truths of his family." Sif lifted her chin, not expecting nor wanting to be lectured right now. "Of his entire family," Eir continued with irritating conviction. "His father. His brother. And his nephew."
"I know what I have to do." Sif snapped, stepping away from Eir to make room for her transport.
They didn't wish each other goodbye, simply faced-off in a silent duel of wisdom and pride before Sif was engulfed by the onslaught of ferrying light.
Sif was greeted shortly after the light dissipated around her by a similar guilt-tripping stare, this one from Heimdall's narrowing eyes.
"Thank you for the summons." Sif passed by him, keeping her resolve steady. Just because Eir and Heimdall knew all of her secrets didn't mean she had to cower before them. She would get around to revealing her truths to the appropriate people, but it was going to be on her terms. And as far as her elders were concerned, Sif knew exactly what she was doing. Even Heimdall's all-seeing gaze would not see her regret her recent outing and unexpected behavior with Loki.
She headed straight for the palace, speeding through town on the horse provided by Heimdall at the observatory. In their brief passing, he had told her to meet with the king at once but that she wouldn't find him on the throne. Thor was instead taking refuge in his personal feasting hall. It was like a clubhouse for him, the place he had always gathered in the company of those closest to him when matters pressed hard on his mind.
Sif entered the hall quietly, respectfully, and found Thor humbly seated on the two steps leading to the spanning balcony. His gaze was cast outward in vexing thought and he picked at his stubbly beard. She made her boot steps plainly heard as she approached him, and he rose instantly, greeting her with a strong, intimate hug.
"Thank you for coming," he said.
"Of course." She embraced him tightly in return. "It's good to have you back."
Thor separated their hug and held her at arm's length. His eyes were sunken, tired. "I only wish my return were under better circumstances."
She squeezed his shoulder. It was covered by an odd Midgardian cloth instead of his red cape, and upon his legs was a faded blue cotton of sorts. It fit his form very handsomely. "Everyone in Glasir mourns your loss, and we pray for the All-Father's health."
"Thank you, my friend," Thor said, his eyes scanning Sif's attire. She was dressed down as well, wearing only a red linen tunic and comfortable brown breeches under her thick fur cloak, which she was rarely without during the winter months. "As you've probably heard, my father is locked behind an enchanted door which even Mjolnir is unable to break."
Sif nodded, feeling herself tense. "It is Odin's magic upon the door?"
Thor gave her a strange look. "Name another whose magic has the power to withstand the might of my hammer?"
Sif became choked by a truth desperate to get out.
"I have a question I need to ask you," Thor continued, turning to the grand table. Sif took the opportunity while his back was turned to breath deeply and attempt to collect herself. Thor started picking at some cheeses while he picked through his thoughts. "Some townsfolk claim they saw you ride out of the city with my father. And some guards tell me you met with him multiple times after I left."
Sif's heart tightened in her chest and it became hard to breath. Talk about cutting right to the chase. Was she to have any comfortable camaraderie with her dear friend before having to spill her guts with the truth?
"I can't tell you," Thor said with a mouth full of bread, "how much it means to me that you were looking out for him." He smiled sincerely over his shoulder. "And spending time with him. You are a true friend, Lady Sif."
"He...hasn't been well," Sif stammered, feeling like she dodged the first blast of cannon fire. "Y-you, said you had a question?"
"Yes." Thor closed the distance between them again, casting his gaze down to a piece of bread he held in fidgeting hands. "Sif, do you...do you think it irresponsible of me to have left for Midgard at a time when father needed me the most?
Sif felt like collapsing in relief. "I..." her mind worked quickly to change gears, knowing how hard it must have been for Thor to ask such a question. She wanted to answer as sincerely as possible, yet she didn't want to cast judgement on him. She had no right to. "I can't answer that for you."
Thor sighed, clearly ashamed of himself. "I am a fool. My heart's desires overpowered my common sense and my duty." He still couldn't make eye contact.
Sif took his chin in her fingers and lifted his heavy gaze to meet her very sincere one. "It happens to all of us."
Thor's eyes saddened. "He may still be awake if I had stayed."
"That's not true, Thor," Sif responded adamantly. This was one truth she could speak easily to him. "Don't you dare blame yourself for the Odinsleep. Your father lost nearly everything in that battle against the dark elves. Even a king can only take so much." She softened her tone. "The sleep was inevitable."
Thor now gave her a pleading look. "I needed to be with Jane, please understand. I too have suffered great loss. And Father had grown distant, insane even. It was too hard to be here."
Sif's heart split and she wanted to burst with the truth to relieve at least half of his pain, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Not yet. Curse her cowardice. "I understand. I too left Asgard. I went back to Glasir." She pulled him into a hug so she wouldn't have to look at his eyes. "I grieve too, my friend. My brother."
"Brother..." Thor echoed as he wrapped strong arms around her. "I like the sound of that."
"I do too," Sif whispered, both honored and scared by the multiple layers of calling him that.
"So what do we do now?" Thor asked after an extended and comforting moment, the pain ebbing out of his voice.
Sif could sense it was time to lighten up the mood of the room. She separated from the embrace and gathered herself with a smile. "I think you're supposed to do kingly stuff."
Thor smiled a very exhausted smile and rolled his eyes back, overwhelmed. He clearly did not want this role. Sif had to wonder if this was what Loki had intended when he said he had the responsibilities of the throne covered. By covered, had he only meant he left Asgard abandoned to discover their sleeping king then be forced to call on poor, over-burdened Thor? Some plan, Loki. He really did master the art of being a complete ass to his undeserving brother.
"What sort of kingly stuff?" Thor asked reluctantly.
Sif decided to perk things up with a little humor. "First you need to practice your stoic look, like when we play cards, only meaner." She made a charade of this, lifting her chin and drawing her mouth down in a grimace. "Like this."
Thor chuckled. "Okay." He was quick play along, trying to lose his smile and assume his father's frumpy face.
Sif moved to the table and flipped a chair around to face outward. "Next, you need to sit with really good posture, and look down your nose at all those who approach your throne." She took the seat with all the mannerisms she had just described. Thor joined in immediately, grabbing a chair and doing his best Odin impression, which was quite impressive.
"You got it!" Sif encouraged. "But don't forget, there's the gesture."
"What gesture?" Thor asked, intrigued.
"That," Sif made a quick shooing gesture with one hand, rolling her eyes as she did so, "flick of the wrist. You know. The signal that a king cannot be bothered with your trivial matter."
Thor slapped his knee with a laugh. "Of course! The dismissal flick." He then did it perfectly.
"That's it!" Sif now laughed.
"He would do that," Thor explained with a chortle, "whenever Loki and I came to him with our petty squabbles, arguing over a toy, or which one of us had grown taller, or..." His smile then faded with his story, and his shoulders slumped. "I miss him, Sif." He shook his head, hopelessly. "I-I don't know how to mourn him a second time." Sif's smile faded too. She hadn't known how to mourn a second time either. "I know you and the Three think it better that he...died a hero, but I, I just can't..."
"I don't think that." Sif leaned over and squeezed his knee. This was another truth she could easily tell. "I miss him too, Thor. I hurt everyday."
Thor looked up at her, surprised at her confession but also finding consolation in it. He hadn't expected her to say that. Neither did she for that matter.
"It pleases me to know that the years apart, and all the crimes committed within, have not completely hardened you to him." Thor placed his hand on Sif's and offered her a grateful smile.
She was now screaming internally. Her silence dishonoring the best, noblest friend she had ever had. Sweet, trusting Thor. A constant pillar of support since her first day in boot camp. Someone she once considered for lover: a silly girl's delusion during a dark and confusing time. She would never be good enough for Thor. He deserved someone truthful. Someone untainted from years of betrayal and secrets. Someone who had the courage to finally come clean with him about everything.
Someone whose heart didn't foolishly belong to his reckless brother.
"I...try to dwell only on fond memories of him." Sif picked her words carefully. Concealing the truth was bad enough, but she refused to outright lie to Thor. "I see no reason to harbor the hurtful ones any longer."
Thor inhaled deeply, his chest so brutally weighted by his grieving. He then pulled Sif into another hug, seeking a familiar comfort. She closed her eyes and held him back, letting her arms console where her words couldn't. Sif wished she could spill the truth about Loki right now, to relieve Thor of that particular pain. But she couldn't because she didn't know what was going to happen with Loki. When or if he would even return. She couldn't get Thor's hopes up. Her hopes were already raised more than they reasonably should be. The truth could wait so long as Loki was gone. And upon his return, if it was to happen, let events play out as they will. And if he didn't return, let disappointment strike down the futile hopes of only the Lady Sif, the one deserving of it. Let Thor only be burdened now with a distantly familiar grieving, and not with fanciful illusions of a loved one redeemed.
That was Sif's burden to bear.