Chapter Text
There was too much going on around her, but she’s used to it. It's the way of the battlefield. Today however, she was not surrounded by armour clad men or Valkeries today. They are warriors, the people around her, though not in the strictest sense of the word. Then again, according to most Asgardian customs she, was not what they imagined a warrior to be either.
Lights and fires were seemingly everywhere, she could hear Jane shouting at Darcy and she heard as Darcy screamed back in reply. She felt the energy they were trying to control and contain dance wildly around her, filling the air with static and tension, ready to pop and implode, taking them all with it. They only had this chance. This one chance to fix it.
She was ready for what she had to do. Her hand tight around her glaive, she was ready.
It was then she heard something else.
Selvig yelled. The sound ripped from his throat across the open space. One word, a warning.
Immediately Sif turned to where Selvig was looking.
There he was, smiling that insufferable smile of his, his eyes bright with magic and energy. He had something in his hand she could not see, but it did not matter, because she knew.
She knew what he was going do and it was then that her voice joined the rest of the sounds around them.
Her yell echoed in the wind.
weeks before
Sif stirred in her bed, twisting herself in her covers, fighting of the call of dawn and the sounds of the palace as it woke around her.
Once, she wouldn’t have been able to even fathom the idea that she would ever feel comfortable within a royal palace’s polished walls and high ceilings. But now the same halls were as familiar to her as the ones in her parents’ home; some days more so — though she would never say such a thing out loud in her mother’s company.
It was long ago she moved into her quarters at the palace. Considering her status within the court and her friendship with the princes, it didn’t make the situation uncommon. The Warriors Three also had quarters within the palace walls, as their friendship with Thor gifted such a luxury, but she knew they did not use them as habitually as she used hers. Volstagg had a wife and an ever growing brood of children while Fandral and Hogan at times found life in the palace stifling.
It was not that Sif disagreed, but despite all the affection she had for her parents, her home life had never been easy. The rigid structure of court was one they adhered to.
One she quite consciously did not easily fit into.
Waking up now to the sounds of the guards walking the grounds and the servants in the hall was commonplace, yet today their sounds were too loud in her ears and head. Sleep was not leaving her without a fight and her dreams had been unsettling and dark. Shadows had twisted in her mind and reminded her of things and people she was better not thinking about.
Memories of easier days within these walls; of cool fingers at her wrists.
Flinging her covers off in an angry swipe of her arm, Sif rolled out her bed and curled her lips in distaste. Such thoughts only served to make her chest tighten as if there was a heavy weight resting on it. This only served annoy her further.
She couldn’t help it though. She wished she could.
Moving to her wardrobe she let her shift drop, picked out her clothes, dressed, and only paused at her vanity to tie her hair back. She let her eyes flicker over to the small silver box on her dresser. Brushing it with her fingers, she curled them back into her palm and clenched her hand into a fist.
Without another glance at her room she let the door shut behind her and forced the thickness in her throat away. Her hair swung determinedly behind her.
—
She made her way to the training area. At this time there should be an early group of guards and she if was lucky Thor would already be there warming up.
A morning spar was just what she needed. She needed the focus of battle.
—
Her morning was routine. She had not expected it to be otherwise.
Thor indeed had been with the morning group of warriors and together they had cleaned ranks, as they usually did, when they fought together. It had taken away the tension of her dreams that had settled between her shoulders and after they broke fast with his mother. It was not a strict tradition, especially with Thor, but one both mother and sons—son, Sif thought bitterly, lately did not seem to miss.
As she sat, hair damp and sweat still drying on her tunic, she greeted the queen with deep grin and slight bow. The Allmother touched her palm against Sif’s cheek briefly before turning to greet her son. Thor pressed a loud kiss on his mother’s cheek and with an exaggerated demeanour pulled her chair out, making the queen grin at his antics. Sif smiled to herself and sat to the queen’s left side, Thor dropping to his seat in front of her.
It was casual. The morning breeze fluttered across the balcony, the food was laid out neatly, and Thor, ever jovial, recounted their morning training session with his mother.
Except, Thor would pause at odds places waiting for a comment that would not come. She cut too much spiced cheese for herself because there were no quick fingers to pick the extra bits off her plate, and the Allmother’s eyes would rest on the empty seat directly across from her looking for a sly smile that was not there.
This too had become routine lately. A hard uncomfortable routine that they all fumbled with.
After their meal Thor and his mother broke off, with a grin and gentle smile, as Sif excused herself to refresh and change. It was a handy truth as much as it was pretense and Sif felt the food heavy in her belly as she walked the halls back to her chambers.
She walked slowly with purpose, her fingers fiddling with the loose leather strap of her tunic.
The palace seemed emptier lately and there was no question as to why. Loki’s absence was considerably felt and yet his memories and presence still lingered everywhere she looked.
Some of his magic, spells and illusions he had woven into the walls and mirrors were slowly ebbing away. It was obvious in how the the wide mirror in their warrior’s chambers did not warp anymore when Fandral looked upon himself, or how books were suddenly appearing in crevices and corners all over the palace as well as the surrounding grounds, usually in what had been his preferred spots to hide away, some in completely unthinkable areas.
At first it had amused. When Thor tripped over a large pile of texts in the shared living area they all frequented, or when she would see a volume tucked by his seat at the table, but her amusement had turned sour, however, when she walked into her quarters not long after Loki’s fall and found a stack of books littering her bedside table.
She had practically collapsed on her bed with the foolish notion that it meant Loki had survived the fall when her sense kicked back in. The leather bound volumes looked well loved and, she remembered, were some of his favourites to read. When she had presented them back to the queen she had vaguely mentioned she had found them by one of the training area’s alcoves. If the queen had noticed how Sif’s voice was strained and how she could not meet her queen’s gaze, she said nothing, blessed Allmother.
However, more painful than the magic that was fading, was the magic that remained.
The bushes of golden roses that he gifted his mother years ago still thrived. Sif remembered how he had woven the spells into the ground and seeds so the flowers would always bloom regardless of season, and how should anyone but the queen dare pick one they would be pricked by the silver thorns.
Other spells remained as well: the rune magic on their weapons; the privacy charms in his study; the enchantment on the silver-rose box he had given her that only allowed her to open it. Small, but important spells. Spells that were protective or sentimental in nature and as she made the way into her rooms, she thought that in some ways these were the most painful spells he could have left behind.
She pushed past the memories that lingered of him and headed to her bathing chamber to soak herself in a hot bath. She hoped it would loosen her muscles and the tightness in her chest that had returned.
It was after she emerged from her bath, hair sticking to her robed shoulders in thick dripping strands, that Sif made her way to the small wooden chest that sat by her personal writing table. Lifting the chest onto the table, she opened it and sighed at the weapons inside. Two custom silver spinning throwing knives rested with the chest, another leftover from Loki. He’d had this habit of tucking his weapons into little magic pocket dimensions he created or secret little crevices within his armour. Sometimes he would forget one or two or three in her chambers when undressing or redressing.
She would always find them later and stash them safely in the chest until she returned them or he retrieved them. Nobody questioned her for having the weapons at all, though there had never been any suspicion about them anyway.
He had teased her about that once when she complained how he left them around on purpose. Fingers edging the blade of one of the weapons, his smile was sly.
“Lady Sif, what is more conceivable: for you to have weapons in your bedchambers or for you have me in it?”
The comment still burned at her.
Expertly handling the knives, she picked one, flipped and twisted it in her hand for a few seconds before doing the same with other. They were slim, lightweight and so beautifully dangerous. She traced the etchings on the inside of the blades—a spell to call them back to the master in battle, Loki had told her once—and closed her eyes. They had a excellent balance. Perfect balance, as their owner would have demanded nothing less.
Muscle memory had her spinning the blade in her hand without a second thought.
Loki had been a decent swordsman, but his hands had always controlled his throwing knives with an enviable elegance. One she could not hope to compete with.
However, her hands were used to weapons; all weapons.
She spun the slim weapon in her hand and without opening her eyes, threw her arm back, bent it at the elbow, and extended, eyes snapping open just a second after release. A second before the dagger embedded itself into the smooth, unmarred wall of her chambers.
It trembled there for a second and then rested.
Sif tossed her robe aside and went to her wardrobe for a fresh pair of clothes.
It was well known that Thor often rode out to the edge of the Bifrost and stood with Heimdall as the guardian looked out into the Nine Realms. There were times that Sif thought to join him for no particular reason other than--
She would dream of Loki at the edge, fingers clasped around his brother's hand, fingers white with strain just before he was swallowed by the dark of space. Thor had told them all how Loki had helped him crack the Bifrost in the end and how they both would have fallen if not for the Allfather. How Loki had slipped from him even though Sif knew that last turn of the tale was a lie. Thor would never be the skilled liar that Loki had been and she could see the shadow in his words.
Loki had not slipped.
What truly happened over the edge of the Bifrost was something known only to the brothers, the Allfather and the Allmother.
But she had her suspicions.
They all spoke of this lie as if truth, however, she knew: they did so for Loki. For the memory of the younger prince.
She was not sure if she was angry at them for it. Loki's actions still ate at her -- gnawed at her insides like hungry snakes -- when she would let herself dwell on it in the middle of the night when sleep would not come. She still could not understand them. She’d known from their argument in the healing room before everything tumbled out of their control that there had been something wrong.
She’d been sure of it in the throne room.
There had been a choice there, somewhere between the words they had spoken and the words they had not. She felt like she had missed it. A clue Loki had hinted at to her that she hadn't seen.
Pushing her hair back into a tight tail she tapped her temple with her fist. It was past. What had happened between them had past and it was now gone.
Yet it pulled at her still.
Everyone knew she and Thor were friends and for a long time they all had thought, much to her and Thor's amusement, that she would be his betrothed. But that was because nobody had ever thought she would consider his brother. All seemed to have forgotten Loki was a prince just as much as Thor at times.
Now Loki could not be forgotten at all. The Warriors Three remained uncomfortable still when speaking of the dark and silver prince, and Thor's eyes shadowed when they spoke of his brother. Sif could barely say his name out loud. She could not even bring herself to speak to the Allmother though Sif knew the queen saw more then she ever said.
But there was one person she could speak to.
Crossing across the palace grounds to the stables she went to find her mare.
Mounting, her hands tight on the bridle, Sif set her sights on the horizon.
—
Heimdall would see her coming, she knew.
Their relationship was complicated, forged by old magic. When the Gatekeeper was birthed from his nine mothers -- one of them Sif's own -- in an old ritual, she had not yet been a thought in either of her parents’ minds. When she finally came into the world he had been at his post for centuries.
She rode without pretense or shame. She pushed her horse and let the wind whip at her hair as she made her way across to the cracked edge of Asgard.
Pulling her horse to a gradual halt, she dismounted and patted the mare's side before walking to where Heimdall stood gazing out into the depths of space.
"Lady Sif." He did not look to her as she reached his side.
“Heimdall.” She titled her chin forward, "I see Thor is not keeping you company today."
His face did not move but his eyes shifted to her. "But you knew that before you rode out, did you not?"
Sif said nothing.
"What have you come to ask me, young one, that you could not ask with our prince here?"
Looking out at the stars as he did, she thought about his question. In truth, she knew that Heimdall could not enlighten her much on what transpired after she and the Warriors Three had left Thor and had taken the Gatekeeper to the healing room. But this was the last place that she had seen Loki alive and it had been tugging at her.
Even standing here, near enough to the edge that one false move would have her tipping over and lost to the dark, it still tugged at her.
Suddenly, she knew why she had come.
Sif crouched and touched the cool crystal of the Bifrost with her fingers.
"I wanted to see.”
“See?”
Looking at the edge, she let out a breath and stood.
"I wanted to see what it would be like to stand here now that--" She broke off, not able to say the words. Instead, she looked out to the depths of space.
"What do you see today, Heimdall? What have the realms to say?"
If Heimdall was displeased by her lack of answer to his question he did not show it and leaned his head forward, chin almost on the covered hands resting on the hilt of his massive sword, as he stretched his vision out.
"I see Jotunheim, still ravaged by the effects of the Bifrost energy it sustained." Sif's throat tightened at the words, but before she could say anything, Heimdall continued with his report, "I see Vanaheimr, lush with the green of its spring. I see Alfheimr, and it's magics. I see Hel and Niflheimr, covered in heat and ice. And I see Midgard."
Sif felt that tug that had brought her here pull tighter.
"What do you see on Midgard, Gatekeeper?” She felt his gaze settle upon her briefly, but kept her eyes forward, unsure of what truths they would reveal to him.
"I see the human, Jane Foster. She still seeks for a way to bring Thor back to her," he paused and Sif turned at him. His gilded eyes narrowed a fraction and then they widened.
Heimdall stiffened next to her and his hand shifted to grasp the hilt of his sword. Sif's hand instinctively moved to the blade at her side as the air filled with the smell of burning metal.
"Heimdall. What is it that you see?" she asked, but was given no answer.
The Bifrost shook under her feet and she stumbled for a second before regaining her balance. Sword drawn, she turned to Heimdall with wide eyes.
"What is this?" She yelled. The ground shook harder and it felt as if thunder was growing under her feet, surging from the emptiness below, shaking her and the Bifrost. It reminded her of when the ice cracked and spilt under her feet in Jotunhiem as she and her friends ran to safety, but today she knew the Allfather would not come on his great horse and pull them home. "Heimdall, what is happening?" She shouted once more over the growing rumbling.
Sif would not hear Heimdall’s reply as the sound turned into a light so bright she had to shut her eyes even as it pulled at her.
—
She woke up to the feel of hard earth at her back and soft hands on her arms. Immediately on guard, she clenched her fists and was relieved to feel that her right hand still grasped her sword. Her ears were ringing but it was no matter for she had her weapon at her side.
She launched up, blinked at the harsh glare of light and then blinked again finding her footing.
Wherever she was, it wasn't Asgard. She had known as much the second she felt the unfamiliar ground at her back. Was it Alfheimr? Had the elves managed to use magic to open the Bifrost? The light in her eyes was still too bright and though she could make out figures near her but they were blurry dark patches against more light. Sound was coming back, but slowly, and the voices were muffled.
“S-f,” she heard. “S-ff!”
She turned to the sound and blinked again, forcing her vision to clear. The dark patches she had seen before started to take shape. Familiar shapes.
The pale faces of Jane Foster and her assistant... Darcy? Yes, Darcy. The haze of their faces began clearing for Sif and she lowered her sword hand.
"That's a good sign, right?" one of them said but Sif could not tell which as her head was still pounding, her eyesight still clearing.
"Yeah, I hope so," said the other, and slowly Sif watched as they reached out to her. Jane, it was Jane, Sif finally could make out her delicate features as she smiled nervously at Sif and carefully reached for her sword.
Sif's hand tightened on the blade. "No."
Jane looked at her, took a step back, and nodded, "Okay, but can you, you know--" She motioned to Sif's sheath.
In all honesty, Sif didn't want to put her weapon away. Even though her senses had cleared and she could see Darcy and the wide expanse of desert that stretched behind Jane, she felt better with the blade in her hand. She saw the wary looks on the other women's faces and save her deep confusion as to how she arrived back on Midgard she felt no threat from either of them.
Quickly, she looked around and gauged visually what her instincts had already told her. There was no one else but them in the immediate vicinity. It was herself, Jane, Darcy and from what she could see a significant amount of equipment around them.
Slowly sheathing her sword, Sif took a long breath and turned to them. She tried to smile but she felt it come out a snarl.
"I take it I owe my arrival here to you," she said.
Jane flushed and offered a cautious smile, "Well, um, today's test was actually supposed to create a stable energ--"
Darcy stepped forward and thrust a water bottle to Sif, saying, "Jane, I think if you just said we were hoping she'd be a burly blond Sif wouldn't be insulted."
"Hey!" Jane turned to Darcy, frowning, taking the bottle from her assistant and offering it to Sif herself. "Here, you should hydrate. The bridge wasn't supposed to open like that and you hit the ground pretty hard when you landed."
"Not to mention, it's the middle of the day in the desert and you're decked out in Xena gear," Darcy put in with a with smile.
Sif stared at the two women before her, still confused as to how specifically she had come to Midgard. They were right, however. She still felt off-balance from her hard landing and she could feel sweat drops rolling down the back of her neck already.
Taking the offered water, she took a deep gulp and nodded at the two women.
“Thank you. Now, how is it I came here?" she asked.
Jane and Darcy shared a quizzical look and sighed. Jane turned to her equipment that littered the area around them and then looked up to the clear blue sky as if she was waiting for it to open up again. When she looked back down to Sif her eyes were misty but determined.
"Come on, we'll pack up and fill you in when we get back. It’ll be easier there.”
Darcy was already walking towards the van and Jane walked slowly after her. Sif looked up at the blue skies of Midgard and prayed that Heimdall was still watching.
“If you can hear me Heimdall,” she murmured. “I am fine and tell— tell Thor she... Tell Thor what you’ve seen.”
Lowering her head, she faced forward to where Jane and Darcy were lifting one of nine large metal machines into their vehicle. Rolling her shoulders back she set her face, she stepped forward to help them.
What else could she do?
—
Inside the van it was cooler than the desert and just as messy as Sif remembered. Darcy sat behind the large wheel that was used to steer the vehicle, which Sif could not help thinking of as an overgrown carriage while Jane asked Sif if she felt better.
“Yes,” Sif replied.
Then Jane ploughed forward asking SIf how it had felt to be pulled across realms.
“I know I probably should wait, but it’s fresh on your mind and if you could tell me how things were for you on the other side it would really be helpful so next time we try it we don’t cause major trauma.” Jane smiled gently as she turned in her seat to face Sif, who sat sipping from the bottle of water, and she had to smile. It was becoming clearer why Thor was so enamoured with this mortal. Neither knew how to stop once they started.
Sif leaned her head back, sighing as the muscles in her neck loosened, and began recounting as best she could how it had felt on the edge of the Bifrost. How Heimdall had tensed before she had realized anything was happening. The thick smell of rusted metal, the lightning that struck her senses before the sound of thunder roared from under the Bifrost, and the sudden there was a flash of pure white light.
As she retold the events, Jane asked questions. How long did it last? How did the light feel? Did it hurt? Was there any other warning other than the smell in the air and rumbling? Did she feel charged? Drained?
Clever questions that Sif tried to answer as best she could while Jane’s quick hands flew across the pages of her small notepad.
When she was done recounting her experience Jane sat back in her chair, hands still furiously scribbling, without another word.
In a way, Sif was grateful. She was unharmed and while her body felt overworked, she was not tired. Her fingers felt restless and her shoulders still ached a little from her impact. Her mind was slowly wrapping itself around the fact that unless Jane could reopen the Bifrost it was very likely she would be stuck on Midgard for a good while until her fellow Aesir found a way to reopen the Bifrost themselves.
Stretching her legs her boots knocked with the metal of the vehicle and Darcy looked back at her.
“It’s a pretty long ride back into town. Two hours at least, so if you want to get some shut-eye it’s cool. I’ll keep my music on low.”
Sif considered the younger woman’s words and decided they had merit. Her day, after all, had taken quite a turn.
—
While not in a deep sleep, Sif still dreamed.
Old memories twisted with shadows and grief.
“M’lady,” she heard in a smooth voice tinted with wickedness at its edges, as long fingers took hold of her hand. She felt cool lips and the bite of teeth on her skin.
Then she looked up and her face froze in shock. There was the pale shadow of Loki smiling darkly in the mirror as he jerked her through.
—
The van stopped with a jolt that jarred Sif awake. Opening her eyes, she looked over to where Darcy was grimacing over her shoulder, eyes apologetic. "Sorry, the brakes on this baby are a little temperamental sometimes."
"It is fine," Sif said, already moving from her seat as Jane opened the doors and began unpacking her supplies. Without a word, Sif went to help her as Darcy commented on how awesome it was they had extra hands to help unload.
"You know, I know Jane misses our buddy Thor for the goo-goo eyes they used to make at each other, but me? I miss the upper body strength. Who needs a workout regimen when you have to cart a small lab around the desert every week." Darcy squished herself between Sif and Jane, reaching for what Sif had a feeling was the lightest piece of equipment in the van.
"Darcy," Jane hissed.
Darcy only grinned, the sun glinting in her glasses for a second, "What? I'm just saying. Out of everyone that your little light bridge could have grabbed we lucked out." She sent Sif a wink and bounded inside leaving her and Jane to the rest.
Jane sighed. "Sorry about her, I'm pretty sure her brain-to-mouth filter is broken."
"I'm not sure what that means, Jane Foster, but if you fear I was offended you need not worry." Sif shrugged and grabbed one of the larger crates from the van. Jane blinked at her, lips twitching.
"Okay." She grabbed a few metal rods and her notebooks then closed the back door to her van. "And you don't really need to call me Jane Foster; Jane's fine."
"Very well." She followed Jane inside to the familiar building with its large glass windows. "However, I am curious as to just how your ‘light bridge’ as she called it managed to bring me here."
"To tell you the truth, I'm a little curious about that myself. Today's test wasn't supposed to open the bridge at all. I just wanted to see if we could recreate or mimic, at least, the same kind of energy that we got from the last time the Bifrost opened up."
Dropping the materials in her hand on a nearby table, Jane motioned to Sif where she could set down the crate she had been carrying. As she did, Sif watched as Jane fiddled with the pen in her hand.
"You getting pulled through was an accident. A happy accident," Jane corrected, her teeth flashed brightly, and she glanced out the window to the sky.
Sif guessed she thought of Thor, and when Jane turned back there was a new light in her eyes.
“And hopefully one we can make happen again with more finesse."
"I see." Sif looked at Jane and at the area surrounding her. She had more questions, not many, but ones still she felt compelled to ask.
Namely, could Jane get her back?
There was a tightness in her gut that made her decide to wait until they were more settled before she would.
Jane gave a small shrug and reached up, tugging her hair out of the tail it had been in. "I wish I could give you more details but I only have half-finished theories and thoughts right now. I need to go over the readouts and hopefully then I can tell you more." She began to shift back to her notes before she stopped and faced Sif again. "You might want to get out of those clothes--me and Darcy have some extra stuff in the back somewhere--and if you're hungry there's food in the cupboards. Ar--are you going to be all right, Sif?”
Sif felt she could only nod, so she did. "I will be fine. Midgard is not the worst realm I've encountered." Her lips curled in a small smile which seemed to relieve Jane.
Her own words calmed Sif as well in the truth they held. She’d been in much worse situations in her long life than being stranded on a realm of mortals among friends. True, they were technically, Thor’s friends, but she knew that despite not being Thor as Jane had hoped, she would not be mistreated.
The situation was uncomfortable and not ideal, but for now at least she was not alone.
"Okay, good. Just," Jane furrowed her eyebrows and waved her hand around in a welcoming sort of gesture. “Make yourself at home. Darcy!"
Darcy's head popped out from behind one of the large boards that littered the area. "What?"
"Help Sif settle in and let's start thinking about takeout. We have a lot of data to get through." Jane commanded, turning back to her notes.
Darcy nodded brightly, making the curls in her hair bounce, and grinned at Sif. "So, Sif, ever had Chinese takeout?"
At Sif's blank stare Darcy laughed. "No worries, if all you Asgardians are alike when it comes to food, you'll probably love it."
"Aesir."
Darcy blinked. "Gesundheit?"
"Pardon?"
"You sneezed?"
Sif grinned, "No, I didn't. It was a word. Aesir. Asgard is the name of our land not our race. We are the Aesir."
"Oh," Darcy pursed her lips, "Ae-sir. Huh. Cool, I can dig it. Might need to apologize to Thor next time I see him though."
"I'm sure he didn't think twice on it," Sif reassured, and made her way over to Darcy. "So what is this Chinese takeout of which you speak?"
“Let’s find a place for that armour and uh, wow, swords first and then I'll introduce you to the wonder of dumplings."