Radioactive | Bucky Barnes

THOR 2: CHAPTER SIX

"Loki is a real bummer," Rhiley muttered as she walked away from the dungeons, heading for Sif, who she hadn't seen since the funeral.

Sif looked surprised when she saw Rhiley approach. "You were able to get into the dungeons?"

Rhiley glanced down at the warrior outfit Thor had insisted she wear. "One of my many talents. Getting into places people don't want me in." She shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. "This outfit made it easier."

"You spoke to Loki?" Sif asked, her tone curious but cautious.

Rhiley hesitated, unsure how to answer. But then, the first thing that came to her head slipped out before she could stop it: "Nobody deserves to mourn alone."

Sif's gaze softened, her voice gentle. "You've lost a great deal."

That's when she felt a soft hand cup her cheek, warm and steady. Sif's gentle touch brought her focus back. When Rhiley met her gaze, Sif smiled. "Nobody deserves to mourn alone," she repeated, echoing the words Rhiley had said earlier.

Dylan's words echoed in her head—James is alive. But the more she thought about it, the harder it became to accept. If she believed that, if she truly committed to the hope... and it turned out to be a lie... she would shatter. She would break.

Sif's voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. "You have fire."

Rhiley blinked, confused. "Yeah. Everyone's obsessed with the Phoenix Force."

Sif shook her head. "No. Not the Phoenix. Fire you were born with." She cupped Rhiley's other cheek in her hand, her touch firm but gentle. "You were born a warrior of fire, and I see it in your eyes. It has nothing to do with cosmic energy."

Rhiley stared at her for a long moment. She wasn't sure what to say. So, the first words that came out were... "You have rough hands."

Sif didn't pull her hands away. Instead, Rhiley mirrored her, cupping Sif's hands with her own. They were both rough, worn from battles they didn't choose. But there was comfort in that, in their shared history of loss and struggle.

Rhiley closed her eyes, feeling the heat of Sif's hands on her skin. And then, without warning, she felt soft lips brush against hers.

"I do not mean to interrupt—" a voice said.

It was Thor.

Rhiley pulled away first, startled. She blinked at him—the god—who stood in front of her like a mountain of grief and battle-readiness. He had lost his mother but still wore the mantle of a warrior without hesitation.

"What's wrong?" Rhiley asked, noting his expression and the weight of unspoken tension in his posture.

"Lady Rhiley," Thor said, his voice firm but not unkind. "I need you by my side, now."

Rhiley didn't hesitate. She nodded, offering Sif a gentle smile before rushing to Thor's side. He didn't say a word as they walked, but when they reached Odin, the silence shattered.

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"She's your prisoner now?" Thor's voice rang out, and his gaze swept over Rhiley, sharp as ever.

Rhiley bristled. "Wait." Her voice snapped. "Excuse me?" She turned to Odin, her fists clenching at her sides. "Jane is not some criminal."

Odin ignored her, his eyes fixed on Thor. "I do not wish to fight with you."

Thor gave a stiff nod. "Nor I with you. But I intend to pursue Malekith."

"We possess the Aether, Malekith will come to us."