Thor hadn’t been involved in much of anything in months. A criminal here and there, even a demon or two in realms away weren’t even worth mentioning to the God of Thunder’s resume of great battles and wars fought. He was bored, and quite so over the lack of true heroism in daily routine. Well, to those little deeds, they were something, but not for Thor. It was simple. He felt simple and he was lonely.
Eventually, though, news came around to a familiar visitor. And Thor’s chest swelled and truly pained him all the same. It was rumors of Sif, his love, oh! How he wanted to see her and speak, as why she returned to Midgard and what even took her so long!
However, why she returned through the mouths of ravens had the thunderer rise to his feet and grab his hammer.
He didn’t understand how or why— Sif? Shield maiden of Asgard, loyal to the throne and one of the most deserved warriors of her rank? He needed to know…
Upon finding her via his mighty hammer, he rushed to her and slowly started moving closer. Something was wrong. So terribly wrong…
”My love… What is e’er the matter with thee… This… This is not you…”
It was not enough.
Yellow eyes gleam a deadly glow as it searched for new prey to savage and feast upon. The hunger bellowing deep within the cage that bore it writhed and clawed; it would not be satisfied. Not until entire realms were led to waste, not until piles of bodies were at her heels, pools of blood miles high.
“I need someone more worthy to face…”
The screams of Midgardians filled the Asgardian with no unbridled joy of a warrior thrown into battle. She could not wage war with those beneath her and weaker. Even as a Berserker, there was still some twisted sense of honor and pride; the lady goddess needed a true warrior’s battle—and if it came to it, a true warrior’s death. That was the way of old Asgard, the way of the warriors of lore. But no sooner were her prayers answered in the form of the thunderer who she had once loved so dearly, and had her heart not been closed to such affection, perhaps such feelings would persist at the very sight of him. There was a slight twitch in her body, blood and bones remembering a face most fond to the heart, but it washed away as her muscles turned in her armor. Her hunger raged. She had found her opponent at last. Armored boots dug into the dirt as the lady made her stance.
Steel cool at her fingertips, biting through armor and gloves. Raven tresses unkempt and a wicked look on her feature, she was a creature of battle.
A servant to the spell that bound her. She served but two—Asgardia and her hunger.
Her hunger would need to be quenched first.
Savage eyes looked over him, warmth or recognition in her gaze long gone. Any shred of thought that he had come for her, that perhaps he did not hate her, that she still had a place in his heart was lost. He could not have come for her, he surely reviled her, and there was no place for her to stay.
She charged at him with a battlecry—fierce, wild, and menacing.