![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Marvel Cinematic, "Take the Throne" (Thor/Sif)
His coronation was a joyous event, but Thor is not so sure he deserves the celebration. He cannot stop thinking of what might be, until Sif distracts him.
Contains Thor/Sif. Angst, brooding, implied circumstances that would result in Thor being king, all eventually leading to fluff and good humor. For #Thunderwar Week, to the![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fic_promptly prompt "looking out over a silent capital in the middle of the night", theme "quiet".
.take the throne.
He stood out at the balcony, hands braced against the marble railing. The golden glory of Asgard, which blazed so brilliantly during the day, was strangely muted as it slumbered, the moonlight turning everything it touched to silver. The celebrations were over, and the lights gone out, leaving everyone retired to their beds but Thor, who stood out on the balcony, with hands braced against the marble railing, and looked over the city, and thought.
It changed so fast, he thought. Full of song and rejoicing and drinking and laughter, and then but three hours later dark and silent and perfectly still. It changed every single day, every hour, every minute. Anything could change it -- any event, and any decision.
"You seem troubled," Sif's voice said from behind him. In spite of himself, Thor felt his lips curve up into a reluctant smile. "Does something seem amiss with your capital, sire?"
Her tone was light and teasing, but Thor shook his head. "I won't have that," he said. "Not from you, Sif."
She stepped up beside him, resting her hands on the marble railing just as he had. Thor slanted a glance at her. The moonlight hushed the city and it washed him out, robbing him of color like a cursed specter, roaming the realm with only the violent red slash of his cloak to keep him from fading from view. But it made Sif glow, her skin delicate and flawless, her dark hair only a soft shadow that whispered about her cheeks and throat in the breeze.
"Do you think about your father?" she asked, her voice pitched low.
Thor closed his eyes for a heartbeat, and the silence stretched out over the darkened city. "Every day," he said. "But not in this moment."
"Thor, it is all right if you are not done mourning." Sif moved closer again, and her hand curved over his, small and calloused and warm. "Your grief was plain during the funeral banquet. If there are things you have left unsaid, feelings left unexpressed, then..."
He turned his hand over beneath hers, taking her hand gently. "No, Sif. My father's passing is not what troubles me."
She was looking at him, a world of questions and faith and support in her eyes. There was nothing concerned in her, other than the part of her that wished him well; there was nothing she feared, other than his sorrow. "Then what?" she asked.
Thor hesitated for a long beat. In spite of himself he felt that if he voiced his thoughts, there could be only two outcomes: she would be poisoned by the same doubts that haunted him, or she would be unimpressed by them and speak words of casual reassurance that would give him no cheer. He smiled, ruefully. "Will you accept 'nothing significant' as an answer?"
"Not for all the gold in the Nine Realms," she said, matching his smile with a sunny one of her own. But her features shifted, taking a softer cast. "Even if you head back inside now and sleep soundly, I will still wonder. And I will still want to know."
That was the only problem with having friends of such unsurpassed loyalty and compassion. It was impossible to keep his thoughts to himself without feeling as though he wounded them by not trusting them. Thor chuckled quietly. "I do not deserve such friendship," he said.
Her hand slipped out of his, and she turned away again. "I would say that you have earned it, time and again over the centuries."
Of course she would. Thor closed his fingers on nothing regretfully. Perhaps she had earned the truth, as well.
"I used to think being king was a simple thing," Thor said, thoughtful. "That it was about -- me, and what it said about me, and that the true difficulty was in being... found worthy of it. Perhaps at the time, it was."
He lifted his head, skimming his gaze once more over the darkened city. His coronation had been a joyous event, celebrated by all, and he had been congratulated and applauded the entire night by well-wishers. If he had been one of those witnesses, watching the crown be placed on his own head, he would have held a concerned silence, wondering what this man would do to Asgard.
"Now, I feel as though the task upon my shoulders is immeasurable," he murmured. "Countless lives are in my hands, their fates cast in the wind every time I sit the throne... The decisions I make may change this place forever. Anything could have consequences I cannot foresee. How can I not be troubled by what may happen?"
Sif laughed, quiet. "It is troubling," she agreed. "But you are thinking too much on it, Thor."
He was baffled by this response, and he turned to her fully, brow furrowed. "Thinking -- too much on keeping my kingdom intact and preserving the happiness of my people?"
"It is troubling," she repeated. She faced him, bringing one hand to rest on her hip, and her lips were still set in a smile, warm and affectionate. "But do you truly think so little of the stability of this realm, that any day-to-day decision could plunge it into lasting chaos and despair?"
On some level he had to admit that she was right, and that it was unlikely that most of his decisions would have nakedly disastrous results. But he still felt hat she was taking the matter too lightly, and so he tried, "I am not only thinking of what flavor tart to have with dinner, Sif--"
"I have faith that you will be a good king, Thor," she said, stepping closer, until he could almost feel her warmth, bridging the cold empty distance between them. "But more than that, I know that you are surrounded by those who love you, and who love Asgard. You will have advice for every decision that weighs you down, and you have the wisdom to heed it now. This kingdom has stood for thousands of years, far longer than you or I have been alive. Your father was not perfect, and you are not perfect, but here it remains, and here it will remain. And even if it should begin to falter... You will not be alone. Never."
She let the silence creep in again, and Thor studied her for a moment longer, reading the sincerity in her eyes. Slowly he let out his breath, a sigh that felt as if it had been building inside him for weeks, perhaps longer, months and years.
"You are right," he admitted, a smile spreading over his lips. "Truly, I am blessed to have such support."
"As I mentioned earlier, you have earned it by supporting us in your turn," Sif returned easily, and her smile made her unbearably beautiful in the moonlight that loved her so.
"Even so," Thor pressed on, reaching for her hand again. "How many could say that they have such loving family, and such loyal friends, and..." He brought her knuckles to his lips, grinning wider. "...such a faithful queen...?"
The words were meant as a joke -- at least half as a joke, at any rate -- and he was only slightly disappointed when Sif burst out laughing, tugging her hand away once more.
"I think not," she pronounced. "Not for all the gold in the-- Not for twice that. You think I want to be queen? Do you know how hard I've fought to escape half the restrictions a queen would be under-- No, just-- No."
He had to laugh himself. "How am I meant to take that?"
"As a no," she said.
"And how am I to deal with this heartbreak?" he asked, putting his hand to his heart.
Sif stepped closer, a smirk coming to her lips. "Let us head inside," she suggested. "I think I can do some things to you that will help without any new titles."
As it turned out, she helped a great deal.
Contains Thor/Sif. Angst, brooding, implied circumstances that would result in Thor being king, all eventually leading to fluff and good humor. For #Thunderwar Week, to the
fic_promptly prompt "looking out over a silent capital in the middle of the night", theme "quiet"..take the throne.
He stood out at the balcony, hands braced against the marble railing. The golden glory of Asgard, which blazed so brilliantly during the day, was strangely muted as it slumbered, the moonlight turning everything it touched to silver. The celebrations were over, and the lights gone out, leaving everyone retired to their beds but Thor, who stood out on the balcony, with hands braced against the marble railing, and looked over the city, and thought.
It changed so fast, he thought. Full of song and rejoicing and drinking and laughter, and then but three hours later dark and silent and perfectly still. It changed every single day, every hour, every minute. Anything could change it -- any event, and any decision.
"You seem troubled," Sif's voice said from behind him. In spite of himself, Thor felt his lips curve up into a reluctant smile. "Does something seem amiss with your capital, sire?"
Her tone was light and teasing, but Thor shook his head. "I won't have that," he said. "Not from you, Sif."
She stepped up beside him, resting her hands on the marble railing just as he had. Thor slanted a glance at her. The moonlight hushed the city and it washed him out, robbing him of color like a cursed specter, roaming the realm with only the violent red slash of his cloak to keep him from fading from view. But it made Sif glow, her skin delicate and flawless, her dark hair only a soft shadow that whispered about her cheeks and throat in the breeze.
"Do you think about your father?" she asked, her voice pitched low.
Thor closed his eyes for a heartbeat, and the silence stretched out over the darkened city. "Every day," he said. "But not in this moment."
"Thor, it is all right if you are not done mourning." Sif moved closer again, and her hand curved over his, small and calloused and warm. "Your grief was plain during the funeral banquet. If there are things you have left unsaid, feelings left unexpressed, then..."
He turned his hand over beneath hers, taking her hand gently. "No, Sif. My father's passing is not what troubles me."
She was looking at him, a world of questions and faith and support in her eyes. There was nothing concerned in her, other than the part of her that wished him well; there was nothing she feared, other than his sorrow. "Then what?" she asked.
Thor hesitated for a long beat. In spite of himself he felt that if he voiced his thoughts, there could be only two outcomes: she would be poisoned by the same doubts that haunted him, or she would be unimpressed by them and speak words of casual reassurance that would give him no cheer. He smiled, ruefully. "Will you accept 'nothing significant' as an answer?"
"Not for all the gold in the Nine Realms," she said, matching his smile with a sunny one of her own. But her features shifted, taking a softer cast. "Even if you head back inside now and sleep soundly, I will still wonder. And I will still want to know."
That was the only problem with having friends of such unsurpassed loyalty and compassion. It was impossible to keep his thoughts to himself without feeling as though he wounded them by not trusting them. Thor chuckled quietly. "I do not deserve such friendship," he said.
Her hand slipped out of his, and she turned away again. "I would say that you have earned it, time and again over the centuries."
Of course she would. Thor closed his fingers on nothing regretfully. Perhaps she had earned the truth, as well.
"I used to think being king was a simple thing," Thor said, thoughtful. "That it was about -- me, and what it said about me, and that the true difficulty was in being... found worthy of it. Perhaps at the time, it was."
He lifted his head, skimming his gaze once more over the darkened city. His coronation had been a joyous event, celebrated by all, and he had been congratulated and applauded the entire night by well-wishers. If he had been one of those witnesses, watching the crown be placed on his own head, he would have held a concerned silence, wondering what this man would do to Asgard.
"Now, I feel as though the task upon my shoulders is immeasurable," he murmured. "Countless lives are in my hands, their fates cast in the wind every time I sit the throne... The decisions I make may change this place forever. Anything could have consequences I cannot foresee. How can I not be troubled by what may happen?"
Sif laughed, quiet. "It is troubling," she agreed. "But you are thinking too much on it, Thor."
He was baffled by this response, and he turned to her fully, brow furrowed. "Thinking -- too much on keeping my kingdom intact and preserving the happiness of my people?"
"It is troubling," she repeated. She faced him, bringing one hand to rest on her hip, and her lips were still set in a smile, warm and affectionate. "But do you truly think so little of the stability of this realm, that any day-to-day decision could plunge it into lasting chaos and despair?"
On some level he had to admit that she was right, and that it was unlikely that most of his decisions would have nakedly disastrous results. But he still felt hat she was taking the matter too lightly, and so he tried, "I am not only thinking of what flavor tart to have with dinner, Sif--"
"I have faith that you will be a good king, Thor," she said, stepping closer, until he could almost feel her warmth, bridging the cold empty distance between them. "But more than that, I know that you are surrounded by those who love you, and who love Asgard. You will have advice for every decision that weighs you down, and you have the wisdom to heed it now. This kingdom has stood for thousands of years, far longer than you or I have been alive. Your father was not perfect, and you are not perfect, but here it remains, and here it will remain. And even if it should begin to falter... You will not be alone. Never."
She let the silence creep in again, and Thor studied her for a moment longer, reading the sincerity in her eyes. Slowly he let out his breath, a sigh that felt as if it had been building inside him for weeks, perhaps longer, months and years.
"You are right," he admitted, a smile spreading over his lips. "Truly, I am blessed to have such support."
"As I mentioned earlier, you have earned it by supporting us in your turn," Sif returned easily, and her smile made her unbearably beautiful in the moonlight that loved her so.
"Even so," Thor pressed on, reaching for her hand again. "How many could say that they have such loving family, and such loyal friends, and..." He brought her knuckles to his lips, grinning wider. "...such a faithful queen...?"
The words were meant as a joke -- at least half as a joke, at any rate -- and he was only slightly disappointed when Sif burst out laughing, tugging her hand away once more.
"I think not," she pronounced. "Not for all the gold in the-- Not for twice that. You think I want to be queen? Do you know how hard I've fought to escape half the restrictions a queen would be under-- No, just-- No."
He had to laugh himself. "How am I meant to take that?"
"As a no," she said.
"And how am I to deal with this heartbreak?" he asked, putting his hand to his heart.
Sif stepped closer, a smirk coming to her lips. "Let us head inside," she suggested. "I think I can do some things to you that will help without any new titles."
As it turned out, she helped a great deal.