Thor Odinson could face monsters without fear, but facing you when you were angry? That was a battle he seemed destined to lose every time.

It had been two days since you last spoke to him—two days of icy silence, of turning your gaze away whenever his sought yours, of leaving the training yard before he could join you. He’d tried to laugh it off at first, to tell himself you would forgive him soon enough. But now, the ache in his chest was unbearable.

And all because of Sif.

Thor clenched his fists as he marched down the corridor, determined to set things right. You were his. His heart, his future, his everything—and yet you believed he would trade that away for someone he saw as nothing more than a sister. It infuriated him that you could even imagine it.

He had thought himself clever. A foolish thought, in hindsight.

If you would not speak to him, if you would look away with fire in your eyes whenever he drew near, then perhaps—just perhaps—you needed a reminder of what you stood to lose. That was the thought that had driven him to peel away his armor in the training yard, knowing full well how the maidens of Asgard would sigh and whisper. That was why he had not pulled back when one dared brush her hand along his arm, though his heart twisted with guilt even as he allowed it.

But now? Now he saw the storm in your gaze, and his stomach dropped like a warrior struck from the skies.

Thor swallowed, suddenly far less sure of his brilliant plan.