Fandom: Thor movies/MCU
Pairing/Characters: Thor/Sif, Frigga
Word Count: 4,943
Spoilers/Warnings: set pre-Thor (2011) and touches on the scenes in the movie, outside the canon romance/implied character death
Summary: On Asgard, a soulmate was one of the most cherished bonds one could form.
A/N: written for the rarepairficexchange for theharleyquinn
On Asgard, a soulmate was the most treasured bond one could form, outside those forged in battle. It is a connection brought upon by a power not fully understood and known by even the Gods, and that mystery made those connections all that more desired, more cherished.
It is a concept that Thor learned of as a child, watching his mother take care of his new baby brother (His name is Loki, Thor, be gentle, was the firm but kind advice she had given him), and upon chance, seeing his father’s name scrawled across her collarbone and immediately demanding answers.
One that she explained, with the simplest words possible.
“Does father have your name as well?” he asked, blue eyes wide and curious.
“He does,” she confirmed, her eyes twinkling.
Thor looked on his own skin, nose wrinkling. “And there shall be a day when I too will have a name?”
“Yes, my dear, there will be,” Frigga said, fondness in her tone and expression evident.
“When?” He wasn’t sure whether he wanted the name immediately, or at all. All he wished to do was play and fight.
“When you are ready.”
Try as he may, there was no other answer he would be able to coax, from her or his father. Only that when the time was right, he shall receive the name of the one who was the other half of his soul.
It was not long after that he first met Sif.
His father was hosting a banquet, in celebration of his latest victory, and she stood in a corner, looking unhappy in her dress, long blonde hair done in a hairdo that even when he was grown, Thor could not begin to comprehend.
However, she was one of the few children at the event, and thus Thor was drawn to her.
“I am Thor, son of Odin,” he announced, though he assumed she knew. All did, as he was, after all, their prince, and the son of the King, one day to hold the throne himself. Who should not know his name or face?
She hadn't seemed impressed, a look he would become familiar with in time, even as she introduced herself as the young Lady Sif.
“Do you have a soulbond?” he wanted to know, which was a question, much to his mother’s amusement, and father’s irritation, that he had been asking all that he met since he discovered what those were.
“No, I have not received mine just yet.”
“Neither have I,” he said, frowning. “Perhaps it shall be you.”
“It is unlikely.”
He was insulted; would she not wish to be bonded to a prince? He may not be looking forward to anything regarding marriage, but she should think it an honor.
“You are to be King. I have no desire to be Queen. Therefore, we are not suited, and the fates would not join us.”
“But you are a lady,” he tried.
“I wish to be a warrior and battle.”
“Ladies do not battle,” Thor said, eyebrows furrowing, with confusion. All the young ladies that he had known already seemed to show interest in anything but war, tales of battle sending them away.
“I am a lady and I will battle one day,” she said firmly. “You shall see.”
With the tone of her voice, even Thor could do nothing but agree, now more intrigued than ever.
“Do you wish to see the sword my father has acquired?” he asked instead.
She did, and they had strategically disappeared from the party, only found much later when the elders realized that they were gone, playing with weapons that they definitely weren’t allowed to touch.
Thor was in trouble, and he was certain Sif was as well, but he hadn’t had so much fun in one those boring parties in a long time.
“She wishes to be a warrior,” he confided in his mother, much later, as she was putting him to bed, after being properly admonished by his father on safety, responsibility, and putting the guests in danger.
“Does she?” Frigga asked.
“Yes, and I believe she can,” he said confidently. “One day, we shall fight in battle together, and bring many victories to Asgard, as father has done.”
His mother’s expression was unreadable but she nodded.
“So you shall. For now, it is time to sleep.”
Which he did so, reluctantly, dreams of a future filled with excitement and adventure dancing through his mind.
When it came to soulmates, he soon lost interest; without any new information, he tired himself of the subject and moved on as children often did. Surely one day a name shall appear, one that is worthy of him, and he would have just as a grand spectacle as his mother had described his father holding in her name. In the meantime, his parents did not keep him from Sif, and their friendship grew, even as he found other boys to play with, and his brother going from a baby to a child that could keep up with him.
Loki was odd at times, but Thor adored him wholeheartedly, from the very first day his parents had introduced him. He was Thor’s brother that he would love, protect and would be by his side always.
He did not always get along with Thor’s other friends, as they liked to joke and play around, engaging in the type of activity that did not always interest Loki, until Thor encouraged him to participate.
His brother, however, was quite mischievous, playing pranks at a young age, learning the magic their mother taught with an ease that Thor had never managed (or if he was true to himself, cared to try), and he chose to use them to get petty revenge as he saw fit.
And that occasionally backfired, such as when he chose to cut off Sif’s hair, replacing it with that enchanted by dwarves, her blond hair now dark as the night, and nothing could be done to revert it to its original state, despite the best efforts of Frigga herself.
Sif was furious, despite pretending she did not care, and Loki was made to apologize, bringing her a gift of flowers to appease her.
Thor brought her a sword.
“Are you here to plead your brother’s case?” she demanded, dark eyes intensely watching him, as he approached, drifting between his face and the sword that he carried.
“Loki shall plead his own case … I only seek your company, and I have brought a gift.”
“More suitable than flowers,” Sif sniffed. “Not that I am in need of a new one.”
“Should you find yourself incapable of enduring your hair in its current form, you may use it to try and chop it off,” Thor offered, lips curving into a soft smile.
“Warriors do not dwell on these matters,” she insisted. “The color of my hair shall not dictate the power in which I wield my sword.”
Her jaw was clenched and now that he was close, he could see the tears prickling in the corners of her eyes.
“Of course not.” He considered his words carefully, much more than he ever had in the past. “For what it is worth, the dark hair suits you.”
“Will you accept my offerings?”
“I suppose,” she said, taking the sword. “Since you have gone through the trouble of bringing it here. We shall now practice. Your footwork requires improvement.”
“My footwork … my footwork,” he sputtered, as she ran off, laughing. And he followed, as he always did.
Soon after, she even forgave Loki, much to his relief. He did not enjoy it when those that he cared about had disagreements amongst themselves.
Time passed, Thor growing up training to be King and a warrior, tutors by his side to teach him all that he needed to know, and Sif fighting her way to learn to be the warrior she dreamed of being, finding alliances that would lead her to accomplish her goals. Thor tried his best to be as supportive as he could.
To no surprise of his, she accomplished every goal she set and more, and when he was sent into battle, Mjolnir in his hand, she was by his side accompanied by the Warriors Three, as they were called.
She saved his life, as he was caught up with two other beings that he missed a third, and was saved her sword, in the nick of time.
And he returned the favor in the same battle. They fought in tandem, working together with ease, their moves complementing one another to bring about a swift victory for their people.
They returned to Asgard, the thrill of the battle still running through their veins, and glancing at her once home, face flush with happiness, he couldn't help thinking that she had never been more beautiful.
Of course it was not as if he had not noticed that before; her beauty had not been marred with a change of hair color and he was correct that it did suit her. She was tall, with sharp, elegant features, dark bewitching eyes and when she smiled, it was hard not to stare. Had she chosen to stay away from battle, she would have had suitors throwing themselves at her feet, bonds be damned. As it is, she drew admiring looks from those around her, yet those looks never were returned.
Thor was familiar, as he had drawn more than one eye once fully physically matured and unlike Sif, he enjoyed the playful flirting. There was still a part of him that was waiting till the name that would be bestowed upon him arrived. In the meantime, he was not above spending time with an admirer or two. Sif had never been one of them, as unimpressed with him now as she was when they were children.
At the very least she did enjoy a party, which Thor promptly threw upon their arrival, inviting all those who cared to join them, promising much mead and food as they could handle.
He too was much more amenable to them these days.
This particular banquet was as rambunctious as the others in the past, drinks and food and merriment being made. The Warriors Three were in high spirits, even more so when it was revealed that Volstagg had received his mark.
How old Volstagg actually was, Thor could not say, older than himself certainly, though he had only interest in the finest of food, rather than partaking in any social activities. His soulmate’s name, which he is only too happy to reveal to those who ask, was one that Thor doesn’t recognize.
“May your bondmate’s appetite be as healthy as your’s!” Fandral declared.
“There isn’t such a being to be found in all nine realms,” Thor countered, laughing.
“As long as she does not mind my appetite, I am not concerned what her’s is,” Volstagg said, taking the jest in good stride.
All their teasing did not distract Thor from noticing Sif touch her own wrist, covered still in her gauntlets. He wasn’t sure if she meant to do so and when she caught him staring, he gave her a friendly wink, to which she responded with a distracted smile, causing his stomach to sink.
The meaning behind such a gesture was not lost on him, and it would seem that Volstagg was not the only one amongst them to receive their mark. As she was not volunteering the information to join in on the fun, he was also well aware she wanted to keep it silent, so he too didn’t speak on it.
But the idea of her bond placed a damper on his evening, the thought of there being someone out there promised to her causing a pang in his heart that he could not understand. It was not unexpected; they were all to receive such a bond one day, and her initial declarations that they were not suited still rang true to the day.
Whatever her decision was regarding her own bond would not change the status of their relationship; Sif would always be a fighter, by his side when necessary, in times of peace and times of trouble. There wasn’t a man (or woman) who could steal her away from h-them.
Should this work as it should, she would be matched with a fitting partner who understood the side of her that wanted, no, needed to fight so he would not be needed to defend her or her choices. She would not allow it anyway. No part of her bond should concern him.
It somehow concerned him anyway.
And that part of him was the catalyst to leave his banquet early, walking her back to own home. They walked without speaking yet silence that was between them was not as comfortable as he was used to, an odd tension in the air.
“Tired of the festivities?” Sif asked finally.
“I suppose so,” Thor replied. “You did not seem as engaged either.”
“Perhaps so,” Sif said. She watched him. “Speak what is on your mind, Thor.” He raised an eyebrow. “You have been holding your tongue for quite some time now.”
Without arguing, he gestured to her gauntlet. “Were you planning to tell m-us?”
“It is new to me as well,” Sif said, voice steady. “In due time, I suppose I would have.”
“Am I to offer congratulations or sympathies?” he asked, uncharacteristic caution in his tone.
“I cannot yet say.”
“Are you happy?”
She paused, for a long, worrying moment, and he hated that he could not read her as he so easily had in the past. “I … cannot say yet.”
“And when you can …”
A wry smile, and, “I will notify you at once.”
“Well, then that is all I can ask for,” Thor said. Yet it didn’t feel like enough, the ache deep within him not at all erased. They reached their destination, and parted with a good night, and he headed back, rejoining the still ongoing celebrations, trying his best to feign proper enthusiasm, somehow succeeding in his task, as to not draw suspicion towards him.
Much later, when all the guests were gone, it was only Loki and himself, his brother watching him with a wary eye.
“Your mind is heavy, brother.”
“Am I so transparent?” he asked.
“To some. Sif’s newfound bond weights on you both, I see.”
Thor knew the shock came through in his voice and expression. “You are aware of her bond?”
Loki snorted. “Neither of you are as subtle as you have convinced yourself you are.”
“Outside of wishing a friend well, her bond does not bother me,” he lied, but Loki’s expression remained unchanged. “I do wonder why she is so reluctant to tell me the name of her potential suitor.”
“Sometimes, brother,” Loki sighed. “You tend to miss what is right in front of you.”
It felt as if Loki was speaking on more than just Sif, but Thor didn’t understand, and Loki did not elaborate.
He continued to not understand in the months ahead, not when his ascension to the throne was ruined by an attack by the Frost Giants, or when he traveled to Jotunheim, seeking revenge only to have to be saved from the ensuing battle by a timely intervention on Odin’s part.
Not when he was stripped of his powers and sent to Midgard, lost and confused, and Mjolnir not recognizing him as its rightful owner.
On Midgard, he met and made new friends and allies, reluctantly began to settle down, and was suddenly made aware of his own arrogance. He often thought of home, of Sif, wondering what she would make of the world, and those that he was now acquainted with. If she would find the elixir that the humans called "coffee" as delicious as he did. These humans were so different than their people, yet he could find striking similarities. The Warriors Three would certainly find Darcy Lewis an enigma and Sif would appreciate the determination that Jane Foster possessed to defy the odds.
He wished he could introduce them.
More, he wished he could just see them again. See her again.
She still hadn’t told him the name of her soulmate, and that bothered him more than he would ever admit out loud. Now it seemed he would never find out, the chances to return back dwindling moment by moment. The news of his father’s death, from his brother, was only another blow.
But they come for him, his friends and to see Sif and the Warriors Three lightened his heart and gave him hope as nothing ever had.
It took seeing them, and coming face to face with his brother’s long held resentment and jealousy, in the form of the Destroyer, for Thor to understand. And he understood again once more when Sif insisted on fighting till the end, despite that none of them would be able combat the Destroyer’s seemingly indestructible nature, least of all Thor without his hammer or powers.
But he refused to let her perish, her wish for a warrior’s death aside. How can he let her die for him? Should he somehow pull through, what is the point of living if she was gone? They had fought many battles together, and death could have met her at any given moment, but this was different. All that was occurring was specifically due to his actions and previous inaction, his previous inability to see what was going on in his brother’s mind, and he could not, would not, let her do this.
And then he knew. Staring into her stubborn face, he finally knew. Knew why she had always felt so right by his side, why the idea of her bond bothered him as it did, or why he had ever only felt complete with her and only her. The words that he felt would not find its way to his lips, for he couldn’t tell her this way. She had a soulmate, a bond to return to, and he … he had his love for her, a love that existed long before he ever had identified what it was, one he was not worthy of, just as he was not worthy of Mjolnir.
A love that would die with him, but she wouldn’t, fortunately heeding his pleas, taking the Warriors Three away as he faced down the Destroyer alone. A battle long lost before he lifted a hand and he was thrown away, pain wracking his every nerve, ever inch of his body. He fought as much as he could, which was not much but he would never go down until he went down, and it wasn't long until he had. When life left his body, his last thoughts were of Sif, her face when they first met, their many battles, and all the quiet moments in between.
For what was lost and what would never be could not replace all that they shared. The selfish part of him hoped she would not forget him immediately.
As he took what he believed was his final breath, he was at peace, only wishing that the ones he left behind could find the happiness that escaped him.
But as it turned out, death was not for him just yet.
The willingness to sacrifice his life was enough to prove his worth, bringing him his powers and Mjolnir.
Life was returned, and his defeat of the Destroyer was immediate.
But at what cost?
(There was always a cost)
He would soon find out it was his brother.
Loki, in the face of his father’s disappointment and the failure to seek his approval one last time, chose death, just as he had.
Loki- dead. The Bifrost- broken. And Thor … Thor was alone.
As he sat alone, mourning in the hall where he had spent so much time celebrating, Mjolnir in one hand, unable to let it go so long without it, he was soon joined by an all too familiar face.
“Do you wish to be alone?”
Your company is always welcome, he did not say, even as the remembrance of the truth of his heart came to full back in full force.
She took his lack of rejection as acceptance, and sat down.
“Thor, I grieve with thee.”
He stared at Sif. throat clogged. “I should have done more.”
“You cannot blame yourself.”
“Had I seen his struggle …” he tried.
“How could you have?” she said. “He never let you know.”
“He tried to tell me in the past, how blind I was,” Thor said, the memory causing him more pain. “All he wanted was to be my equal.”
“Thor …” Her hand rested on his arm, and he met her gaze, comforted by her touch and yet feeling undeserving of such a feeling.
Lifting Mjolnir, he gestured to it. “That it is in my hand is a testament to my worth but I do not feel as though I am worthy, of it, of the throne.”
“That is why you are worthy,” came Sif’s passionate answer. “And it is why you will be a good king. More than that, you will be a kind one.”
“I hope you are right,” he said quietly.
“Have I ever been wrong in the past?” Sif challenged, a hint of playfulness in her voice.
He smiled, despite himself. “I suppose I am the fool to doubt then.”
“May you have learnt your lesson then.”
“I have learnt many.”
“A sign of growth.”
“Is it always this painful?" he asked.
"More often than not," she answered.
He nodded, quiet once more, and she was as well, remaining by his side, not speaking a word, staying long enough to show her support, and departed just as quietly, somehow knowing exactly when he wanted to be completely alone.
As he retired to his quarters, he did not expect to get much sleep, conflicting thoughts occupying his mind. Whatever he had done and whatever he was, Loki would be mourned properly, even without a body, but that would not take place until the morning. There would be time.
When he woke the next morning, having managed to fall asleep at some point, his skin was no longer bare or free of a mark. Across his heart, in a fine cursive print, was the name 'Sif'.
Thor should have been surprised.
He wasn't surprised.
It left questions that he wasn't ready to think about, and his mind was wrapped up with grief over Loki yet he seeked out his mother's wisdom regardless.
"Have bonds even gone unmatched?" he asked, after spending time with her, careful to remember that she too was experiencing the loss of her son. Whether Loki was her biological son was irrelevant, just as the blood didn't matter to Thor. The pain didn't lessen and the depth of the loss was still the same.
"It is possible though rare," Frigga told him. "It is not a worry you need to dwell on, my son. Your bond is not amongst those more unfortunate connections."
"How did you ..."
"My people see more than you know ... and I am your mother," Frigga said firmly. "I know what is in your heart, perhaps even before you realized it yourself."
"The timing is ... not ideal," he said slowly.
"Allow yourself time to grieve," Frigga advised. "This bond only means you do not have to grieve alone. Hiding from your bond and your heart would only be a mistake. The timing will never be as we wish, but time itself should not be wasted. It is ... ever so precious."
Thor remembered dying, truly believing that his love was unrequited, and knew full and well that his mother was right, as she more often than not tended to be.
Preparations for a funeral keep him occupied, but he took his mother's words to heart, and found a moment to speak with Sif privately.
He chose not to waste time, hands holding her gauntlet covered arms loosely, and relieved she did not immediately push him away, though there was confusion in her eyes and expression.
"Should these be removed," he said. "Would it be my name that adorned your arm?"
She went from confused to resigned in a moment, and Thor could see the truth in her eyes.
"For I woke up this morning, with your name across my heart," Thor continued. "Fitting as you have claimed ownership over it long ago, far before I was wise enough to recognize it, and I only wish to know if I could occupy even a fraction of your own."
Her eyes widened, but he could not stop speaking if he tried to allow her any words.
"You once said that you did not wish to be Queen," Thor said frankly. "That we are unsuited. If your feelings have not changed, I will accept your answer and we may continue as we are ... but should you reconsider, know that I would never stop you from being a warrior. It would be my honor to have such a lady by my si-"
Those were all the words that he was able to speak, before he was silenced- with her lips. He made a muffled sound of surprise, not one to be caught off guard in such a manner, and when she pulled away, she was smiling.
"My apologies," she said. "Did you expect my answer in words? I fear my speeches are not as up to par-"
This time he was the one to cut her off, pulling her into his arms, and another kiss. She did not protest, wrapping her arms around his neck as his own settled at her waist, drawing her closer, How long they spent there, he did not know, but it was all too easy to lose himself in her embrace, the taste of her mouth one that immediately grew addicted to.
The miracle was not they were not caught, and he was grateful to enjoy the moment, and promise of the many more they would have.
And yet when he escorted her to her chambers, he had intended leave, only stopped by her insistence he stay.
"I do not wish to spend any further time apart."
How could he refuse that?
There was only a brief fear of awkwardness, which was quickly proven wrong, and they fell together as naturally as they did fighting alongside one another. Thor enjoyed discovering every part of her and learning all the sounds he could coax out of her, finding what brought her pleasure, and all that she enjoyed in bed. There was nothing more desirable than the faces she made as she fell apart, and he truly did love making be the cause of her loss of control. The highs he experienced with her were ones that he had never reached before in his life, and if he had ever thought anything was missing in the past, he could not say the same now.
Much later, as they laid together, spent and sated, they still remained close, Thor unable to stop touching her, fingers caressing against his name on her wrist that was now very plain to see.
He traced down a line down the inside of her thigh, brushing against a burn left by his beard, causing her to hiss softly.
"Seems as if I have left another mark," he teased.
"Wounds are to be expected in battle," she retorted. "It will heal."
"Surely the wounds I leave are much more pleasurable than those that you receive in a battle," Thor said confidently, and her lips twitched in a smirk.
"Do you need a reminder?" he asked, sliding closer.
"Perhaps. Are you sure that I did not wear you out? You are not as young as you used to be after all."
That was a challenge. He was well aware she was goading him, but he could not resist the urge to make her take back her words, and as he slid down her body and between her thighs once more, he quickly decided that leaving her without words was even better, every sound better than the last.
Not one to be outdone, it wasn't long after she had found her breath that she caught him off guard, flipping him on his back, sliding onto her body onto his with ease, the two moaning as they came together once more, moving as one. If this was a competition, well, it was one where there wasn't a loser in sight, only winners.
And if this was considered losing, for the first time, he didn't mind it at all.
They would mourn together, battle together, and in time, he would take her to the gardens where they had spent so much time sword fighting, leaving behind the any notion of pomp and fuss, and ask her formally to bond.
She would say yes and as they kissed, it would be to the cheers of their families and the Warriors Three.
"I did not invite them," Thor would say, bewildered, stunned to see them reveal themselves from behind the trees in which they had carefully hidden.
Sif's smile would only widen.
"But I did."
What could he do but laugh and kiss her once more?
Perhaps he was indeed easier to read than he was comfortable with yet he could not bring himself to be upset over his surprise not at all being surprising. As long as she was by his side, he did not have any complaints at all.
And he would always be by her's.
For that was where he belonged.
Now and for all of time.