To Want, To Need

Chapter 1

It has been a long time since she was truly happy.

The battles have been one of her few comforts-a replacement for contentment she rarely feels these days.

She can lose herself in the fight-the dance, the movement of the wind at her back, the cold feel of her sword at her hand; this is when she is at her best. Confident in her abilities, her skill as a warrior-she is supreme, and knows that almost no one can match her. She has been and remains in elite company.

Yet, as the time goes by, she grows restless. How can two people be so close, yet so far apart? She had believed it to be over, he had told her as much. Beneath the stars at night, he had whispered to her, in the height of passion had said words he'd never repeated…had it been a dream? Or was she a fool to want and wish so much?

As the winter began to warm, and the bifrost repaired-so did his hope. This she could not, would not take from him. But every time she saw his eyes on the stars, or watch as he gathered with Heimdall, she knew. As the trees again flowered and the first foals of Spring were born, as fresh rains washed away the last of the snow- she knew. And as Asgard celebrated the completion of the bridge in a feast- as Odin and Frigga looked on proudly, and Thor raised his hammer in triumph, it was Sif's turn to leave.

FRIGGA

She watches as her people rejoice, and notes that it has been too long since Asgard has felt a semblance of peace.

Her sons have wrought much damage-on themselves and their people. Frigga is not happy. Neither of her children have found peace, and because of that, her heart is still troubled.

She watches as one son rejoices-yet not for reasons the others may think. She silently prays Thor will find peace, eventually. Yet a part of her cries for Loki, chained and caged. It was not her wish.

Frigga wishes the bifrost had remained broken. She knows well what it means, and where Thor will go. She knows, as she looks at the figure of a woman slipping away silently, that Sif knows it too.

But as queen of Asgard, she cannot say such things aloud. She has a responsibility to her people. To her children. The seasons have changed. Yet she is wary. The wind is still too cold. All is not well within their realm.

THOR

That night he goes to her chambers to speak to her, to express to her all the things he is feeling. Yet when he arrives, the doors refuse to open for him.

It is unusual for her to lock him out, and he is concerned. He does what he has not had to do since they were children.

He knocks.

Silence.

He waits.

The doors part silently, allowing him passage.

Her chambers are sparsely furnished, the curtains drawn. His footsteps echo on the marbled floor as he walks in slowly. He has taken this path many times before, knows the way to her bed chamber. He is instantly shamed at his selfishness, for she knows him so well.

He pauses in the doorway, and sees the light coming from the privy.

"Come in, Thor."

Her voice floats toward him, and he cannot figure what to make of its tone. He steps inside and he sees her, a wall of steam floating around her as she washes, her back toward him, not looking up from her task.

She is beautiful. His eyes admire the sinuous curve of her back, her thick, long dark hanging in loose, wet curls. Slowly, he sheds his armor until he is naked behind her, under the water. She still has not turned to meet him.

He moves to wrap his arms around her, to put his face in her hair, to bring her body to his, to bring them both to completion and drown out the voice in his head telling him that this, this is all wrong-she stops him.

When she finally turns to face him- he sees something he has not seen in her since they were children. Since Loki cut her hair.

The Lady Sif is magnificent. She is a warrior. She is a friend. She has comforted him when he has been at his lowest. Tended his wounds-the physical ones and the ones that could not be seen. She has been nursemaid, and counselor. She has been lover and provider. And yet, as she faces him, her mouth still. Her eyes bright with the tears that have not yet fallen.

He realizes, not for the first time- that he has not done right by her.

And yet-with the promise of something he has yearned for so close-he wonders what he is doing right now. He hesitates.

She knows.

"We leave for Vanaheim tomorrow," he says, to her back.

"Is that what you came here to say?" she asks.

It is not, and both of them know it.

"I...need…" he cannot bring himself to ask this of her, he has done it too much.

"Leave," she commands.