Chapter Text
It was supposed to be an easy game. Vanaheim Prep didn’t exactly have the most coordinated girls’ soccer team and Asgard Academy has been state champs five years running. They were supposed to show up, run around for ninety minutes and leave the Falcons’ stadium burning behind them as was Viking protocol. The last thing Sif expected was for a gutsy defender to summon the nerve to tackle her. The event as a whole was rather fuzzy now, but Sif vividly remembered her lower leg sliding inward to the left but her thigh and upper body falling to the right. A horrifying sensation of her tibia stretching away from her femur and her kneecap slipping around followed the impact. Sif screamed as she hit the turf and stayed there.
And so marked the end of her senior year of soccer and possible scholarships she was too dependent on. Only two games into the season and it was over. Yeah, she knew there was the possibility of injury while playing contact sports, but that was supposed to happen to other players—players who weren’t as fast or as technical as she was. But here she was on a Saturday afternoon: sitting on the couch binging on Arrow with her impaction facture, avulsion fracture and damaged MCL. Her leg was elevated and numb from the ice pack that had begun to melt and soak her sweatpants. She was hardly paying attention to the TV anymore. Instead she stared blankly at the screen and marinated in feelings of self-pity, resentment and boredom.
As the weeks went by, the pain receded and she was able to ditch her crutches, but the coach refused to admit her back to the team. When Sif demanded to know why, the coach cited Sif’s inability to climb stairs without swearing or run without crying. Her doctor also refused to sign off on Sif’s requests to get back into sports until the orthopedic surgeon had a chance to look at her ligaments. If her MCL were to incur any more stress, it could tear and the likelihood for another dislocation would skyrocket further.
The worst of her problems though—beyond missing her senior year of soccer, not lettering like she dreamed she would, and watching all of her team mates carry themselves to the playoffs without her, proving that they were doing just fine without her—was her absolute boredom. No more practices, scrimmages, games or post game pig-outs at the nearest Denny’s. She had nothing now. Fall was her best friends’ busiest time of year as most were on the football team and had other extracurriculars going on. Sif had soccer.
Had.
God, that was the most depressing word.
One day at lunch, Thor noticed Sif’s lack of energy. She seemed to be cloaked in a veil of gray and the life had been sucked from her olivine eyes. The food on her tray had been hardly touched, which was abnormal for Sif as she was usually always eating something. It was particularly startling as Asgard Academy’s fare was phenomenal. Since the school was funded by tuition paid from the money-lined pockets of the area’s highest-brow elite, the cafeteria was catered with excellent gourmet food. Sif had maybe two bites of her shrimp scampi.
“How’s your knee feeling, Sif,” Thor asked as he decimated his potatoes to a mashier consistency.
Sif started out of her daze. “It’s fine.”
“Any word on when you can get back to the field?”
She threw him an icy glare before she could stop herself. Thor took the hint and went back to shoveling food into his mouth. Sif sighed and pushed a shrimp around with her fork. “I won’t be. Doctor’s orders.”
Thor frowned, his blue eyes reflecting the genuine sympathy from his heart. “I’m sorry, Sif. I didn’t know that.”
She shrugged and tried to act like it didn’t bother her anymore. She failed miserably due to the quivering of her lip and her eyes watering. She slammed her fork down, ceasing Hogun’s and Fandral’s conversation, and quickly ran out of the cafeteria. The halls were deserted save for a few small groups of less prominent kids who found sanctuary in the quiet outside the cafeteria’s cacophony. Refusing to succumb to emotion publicly, she found refuge in the bathroom and calmed herself down there. She splashed cold water on her face to tame the blotchiness of her cheeks only to have her mascara run.
“Great,” she grumbled, “Now I’m really emo.”
The bell rang marking the end of lunch. Soon the bathroom would be filled with gossipy girls touching up their overkill makeup. That was the very last thing Sif wanted to be around. Quickly, she wiped her face with paper towels and left. Thor was waiting for her in the hallway looking ever empathetic. This time, she couldn’t help but smile. He was a good friend, more than she thought she deserved given her hot temper, and she was grateful for him.
“Soooo, I didn’t do my homework,” he said suddenly as they ambled through the hall to class.
Sif rolled her eyes. “What do you want me to do about it?”
An innocent grin with just a dash of mischief danced on his lips. Sif knew Loki had a hand in crafting that smile. But unlike Loki’s mischievous smirks, Thor still appeared to be trustworthy. “Wanna ditch?”
She smiled and nodded. The last thing she wanted to do was sit through another ninety minute hell that was precalc, a class primarily comprised of underclassmen smart enough to jump ahead. Sif felt endlessly stupid sitting among the juniors and even some sophomores breezing through the problems while Sif longed for the days when math had numbers, not squiggles. Yes, skipping class with Thor sounded like something she needed to do.
They walked casually out to the parking lot without being stopped by teachers. The trick was to be confident, Loki told them. Administration get suspicious when kids get twitchy when leaving school without a pass. However, if you look like you’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to be doing, even if it’s the exact opposite, they’ll succeed every time.
They jumped in Thor’s orange X6 and cruised around town. After an afternoon of devouring a giant sheet of Rice Krispie Treats and Slurpees from 7-11, they headed back to school so Thor could get to practice. Kids were funneling out of the ivy covered building to either drive their ridiculous luxury cars home
or to lounge beneath the changing trees and chat. There were never buses at Asgard Academy, something that always threw Sif off. Unlike the rest of the student body, her parents weren’t obnoxiously wealthy. Her dad was doing the best he could as a state representative and her mother was a music teacher. She spent most of her life riding the sweaty yellow bus to the best public schools taxes could pay for. It wasn’t until she became close friends with Thor Odinson, whose father was one of the shrewdest businessmen in the world and who was not seeking presidential nomination only because he was born on foreign soil, that she was able to attend Asgard Academy. He insisted to his parents that Sif’s presence in his classes would inspire him to study hard, get good grades and make his parents proud in general, so they sponsored Sif and paid her tuition.
Sif found herself occasionally missing public school. She loved the simplicity of going to school with normal kids (plebeians, as Loki said) and she still had a few friends there, though they rarely talked anymore, but her home was Asgard Academy. She, Thor, Hogun and Fandral were inseparable and she wouldn’t trade their bond for anything.
“Are you feeling any better, Sif,” Thor asked as they walked back towards the front lawn of the school. He threw his duffle and helmet on the ground as they sat on a bench.
She nodded. “I just wish I wasn’t so bored,” she sighed heavily, throwing her head back dramatically. “I have no life outside of soccer. Everyone is busy and I’m just here getting fat and depressed that Oliver Queen doesn’t love me.”
Thor stared, slightly horrified. “I don’t think you've ever said anything like that in all the years I’ve known you. Since when do you need a man to love?”
“Not so much to love as to bang mercilessly,” she grinned wolfishly.
Thor shuddered. “I don’t need those images, thank you Sif.”
She sat up and glared. “Hey, you and Fandral talk about your fuck wish-lists all the time yet it’s indecent for me to talk about mine? Hypocrite.”
Thor took the high road, not wanting to go down Feminist Road with She-Ra. “Why don’t you audition for the play,” he asked hoping she’d take the topic change as a peace offering instead of a brush off.
Sif couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you serious? Me? In a play?”
Thor shrugged. “It’s something to do. Loki said they’re still trying to fill parts, so they’ll probably take you.”
“As if I couldn’t get in on my own merits, but only out of desperation?”
Thor gave a frustrated sigh. “It has nothing to do with that, Sif. Stop looking for reasons to be offended!”
“I don’t look for reasons to be offended!”
He shook his head and stood up. “Whatever, Sif, just think about it. I have to get to practice.” With that, he scooped up his equipment and joined Hogun and Fandral as they headed towards the football stadium. Sif sat alone with Thor’s words buzzing in her skull. Sif was no thespian: she preferred to spend her time living life instead of playing pretend. As of this moment, though, her life seemed to come to a halt. She no longer had her usual routine of workout, practice, dominate, sleep, repeat. Now she was going through the motions of a gray existence while everyone enjoyed their colorful life. Maybe trying something new would be good for her spirits. Her mom did say she needed to expand her horizons beyond soccer otherwise she’d be considered an “uncultured meathead.”
But if she did decide to audition for the play and get a part, she’d have to deal with one person she disliked the most: Loki Odinson. She bristled at his very name. Thor’s little brother had always been, well, a legendary prick to her and her friends. She learned to hate his sharp smirks and mercurial moods and having to do anything in cooperation with him was almost too disgusting to handle. But who’s to say they’d even have to work together? They may not have to interact at all if their roles didn’t interact. And since when did Loki Fucking Odinson stop Sif from doing what she wanted?
With mind made up, Sif marched towards the theatre like a Storm Trooper and scrawled her name down on the sign-in sheet. She had just settled in to her seat in the cool auditorium to watch the experienced actors warm up with tongue twisters and stretches when she realized what she was doing. Loki was among the kids on stage, looking like a black mamba slithering like silk across the stage. He was smiling and laughing, but Sif knew he was faking it. Loki was never grinning unless he had a more insidious thought driving it.
A girl with gorgeous blonde hair—Amora?—whispered something in Loki’s ear and nodded towards the audience. Like a whip, Loki’s head snapped towards the house and locked eyes with Sif. Her gut squeezed tightly as he walked towards the end of the stage, a devilish smirk appearing on his lips. She steeled herself: she will not be intimidated. The way he seemed to glide across the stage and the steadiness of his gaze unnerved her.
He stopped at the edge of the stage, hands on his narrow hips, and grinned. “Hello, Sif.”
Her gut flopped. Yeah…she knew this would be a bad idea.