Sif slept peacefully, her face uncreased by the usual frown she wore these days. Thor sat on the ground next to her couch and watched her sleep, his mind racing as he took in her haggard appearance. Baldur had been right — she’d taken a grievous wound. Their Aunt Freya had left when he’d arrived, letting the young warrior stand watch, whispering that she would send Frigga to him shortly. The children played nearby, their laughter a soothing balm that made it easier for Thor to look at Sif without breaking down. Her skin was gray and ashen. She’d always been slim but now she was little more than skin stretched over bones. Her cheekbones stood out starkly against her face and her eyes were nearly completely sunken in her face. And her hair…her lovely, thick dark hair was gone. A colorful scarf covered her bald scalp but he could see the marks of burns that came down her neck in thick welts and weals. Those burns were the only source of color left on her skin. If it weren’t for the gentle rise and fall of her chest, Thor would have thought he was gazing at her corpse.
“How did this happen to you, Sif?” he whispered for the tenth time since he’d settled down to guard her.
The sleeping warrioress did not wake to give him an answer. Not that he expected her to, of course. Thor was no healer or mage himself but he could tell when someone had been sedated and Sif slept the heavy, dreamless sleep of one who had been thoroughly dosed for refusal to follow sound advice. He could remember having his own brother turn his spells against him a few times when he’d been too stubborn to listen to the healers. And Thor could remember having to hold Loki down once so that he could be sedated. No warrior liked being forced to inaction even when it was wise and necessary. But with the extent of Sif’s injuries, to do anything other than rest was suicide. Even Thor would have confined himself to bed and counted himself lucky to have survived at all had he come so close to Death’s domain and lived to tell of it. So why had Sif shown such an uncharacteristic lack of wisdom?
Steeling himself, Thor reached up and took one of her hands in his as gently as he could. He held it as softly as he would hold an injured baby bird. Her normally strong and agile fingers were gnarled, the knuckles knotted and protruding grotesquely. Her hands looked arthritic and aged instead of vigorous and youthful. The only thing that was the same about them was the rough texture of the skin and the feel of the callouses built up over years of wielding swords and spears. Sif’s legs were covered by the blankets mounded over her too-thin, frail-seeming form. As much as Thor wanted to examine her further — both as a man and as a fellow warrior — he knew to wait for his mother or aunt to return before he did so. If she had lost so much weight, she must have trouble staying warm. Uncovering her for even a few moments could risk her health.
He turned to look over his shoulder when he heard the door to the garden bang open and footsteps come pounding towards him. Loki was running, great leaping strides carrying the magician through the air more quickly than many would have thought he could move. He skidded to a halt just as he reached them, squatting down and panting until he caught his breath.
“I came as soon as I heard. How is she?” he asked.
“She lives. For now, that is enough,” Thor said quietly.
“How did this happen?” Loki repeated his brother’s frequent question with the same kind of incredulity. “She’s a better fighter than you are.”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she take a blow to the head?” he asked when he noticed the headscarf.
“No. Her hair…the top of her head…burns…” Thor shuddered. Tears started to trickle down his face.
“By the Light of the Creator…” Loki swore. “Who?! Who dared do this to her?”
“Does it matter?” Thor gasped. “She barely clings to life, brother. Does it matter who did this to her?”
“If I know who, I might know how,” Loki snarled as he began to pace the length of Sif’s couch. “If I know how it was done, I might be able to help the healers do something about it. And I might be able to help you track that son of a bitch down and put an end to him. A slow, painful end,” Loki growled. Thor shivered. He could have sworn that his brother’s eyes had turned to crystal and that his skin had begun to frost over. But then he blinked and Loki appeared as he always had when angered beyond measure. “Whoever did this will beg and plead for the mercy of death before the sons of Odin give him release,” Loki vowed.
“The sons of Odin will not be pitting themselves against this particular adversary anytime soon if the wife of Odin has anything to say about that,” Frigga announced as she strode into the garden.
“Why do you say that, Mother?” Thor asked calmly as he carefully placed Sif’s hand back on her chest and rose to face his mother.
“Because the force that overpowered her would do the same to both of you in short order. Only they would leave you both dead and your father heartbroken. This was done to send a message. The purpose of the attack was to anger both of you enough into recklessness so that you would throw yourselves into battle, into finding them and killing them. However, the ones behind the attack forget that your mother has gifts of her own,” Frigga said softly. “Sif will survive. Indeed, had she listened to me in the first place, she would not be laying there so gravely injured. But, she thought that foretold meant forearmed and that she could overcome the fate set out for her down that path by sheer will alone. Learn from her rashness, my sons.”
“We will,” Thor nodded. “But still, who did this? How was it done? And will she recover?”
“I am not going to tell you who did this,” Frigga said firmly. “Not for a while yet, at any rate. As for how it was done — the attack was magical in nature. Jotun magic mixed with dark elvish and dark dwarvish. It took place when she was leading her forces during a scouting mission in Midgard. I’m not certain what world she was on,” Frigga sighed. “Her force was lost to a man. She is the only survivor.”
“So it was a Jotun attack,” Loki grimaced.
“No, it was not,” Frigga replied.
“But you said…” Thor muttered.
“I said Jotun magic was used. I never said it was the Jotuns themselves who attacked her.”
“Regardless, it means that their forces are preparing for an assault on Midgard,” Thor said softly.
“We’ve known for a while they were planning that,” Loki scowled. “They’ve corrupted all of the mortal races. The humans were next. They’ve been waiting for the humans to be worth it, though.”
“But why now?” Thor couldn’t help but wonder. “If they had launched an attack on Midgard centuries ago, back before we’d joined the effort, they would have been able to take it easily. They might even have been able to control all three mortal realms and gather enough power to push us back and destroy us. Hasn’t that been their goal all along?”
“The destruction of all life and the cosmos itself?” Loki snorted. “Yes.”
“I’m not so certain,” Frigga said carefully. “During the All Souls War, the Jotuns fought to prevent the creation of the mortal worlds, it’s true. But once they were created, they left well enough alone. Yes, yes, we guarded them and made certain they were kept in check but Death and the Creator aren’t like us. We believe that we serve the Creator and his purposes but even your father will admit that the Creator’s mind and goals are inscrutable to us. All we know is that the Creator creates and that Death destroys. We know that the two exist in a kind of balance with each other and that’s about all we do know.”
Loki and Thor stared at their mother and then shared a look. Neither man had ever stopped to think about the theological ramifications of the nature of the Creator and Death and their existence. They’d certainly never stopped to think about there being any greater purpose behind the wars that had been part and parcel of their lives. They’d both been born in war. “Still,” Loki muttered, taking up his brother’s question, “why now?”
“I don’t know,” Frigga admitted. “But she will survive. It will take time, but she will survive. She needs to listen to the healers, follow their advice, and take it slowly but she will recover completely except for her hair.”
“She’ll fight again?” Thor asked carefully.
“In time.”
“Then that’s all that matters. That’s all she’ll care about.”
“I’m not so sure about that, son,” Frigga sighed. “But yes, that’s all that matters for now.” Loki gave his mother a careful, considering look and then studied Sif’s sleeping form.
“I’ll keep an eye on her while I’m here, brother,” he promised Thor. “Mother, I have to return to camp. If there is anything I can do to help you, please let me know. If you will both excuse me,” he said, requesting dismissal. Frigga waved for him to leave and he bowed slightly before turning on his heel and walking out of the garden.
“You should go to your own quarters and get some rest, Thor,” Frigga said carefully. “Sif’s attendants will return in a bit to take her back to her rooms for the night. It will be a few weeks before they allow her to wake at all.”
“I can still see her, though? While I’m here?”
“You may. We do make the children stay away from her for now but you may visit her. I’ll tell her that you visited her when she wakes.”
“How long will it take her to regain her strength?”
“Years, most likely,” Frigga said bluntly. “The physical wounds she took were daunting enough but the spells that poisoned her body and aged her take time to reverse. We’ve managed to undo most of them but a few still linger. Once they’re gone, she’ll need rest before we can use magic to try to restore a part of her physical strength. She’ll have to do the rest on her own. It will take time. She will have to be patient. The fact that she won’t listen to us and we’ve had to keep her comatose will cost her more than if she had the wisdom to heed our warnings. You warriors — so ready to throw yourselves into battle that you don’t take time to care for the best weapon you have: your own bodies.”
Thor blinked in surprise. He’d never considered it that way. “You’re right, Mother. I’ll remember that the next time I find myself injured.”
“Hopefully you’ll never be so injured that you require more than a few day’s rest,” Frigga muttered. “Now come with me. Let’s get you cleaned up a bit before dinner. And do tell me what Loki’s been up to while you both have been away. I’ve missed you both so much.” Frigga put an arm around Thor’s shoulders and led him out of the gardens, relaxing as she saw the healing attendants making their way to the garden to take care of Sif. It was nice to have all of her children safe at home. She just wished they were all in better health and humor.