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{Chapter: 378 The Fate of Fall}
William smiled devilishly, the corners of his mouth curling with mischief. "You were voicing deep complaints, Sif. Honestly… it was kind of cute."
"Complaints?" Sif's voice was sharp with instant denial, her eyes widening. "Impossible. I absolutely did not say that."
"Maybe," he said with a teasing lilt, "there's just too much resentment in that proud little heart of yours, and it slipped out."
"I strongly deny it," she said stiffly, almost regal in her rebuttal.
William stepped a little closer, the smirk never leaving his face. "You said… and I quote… 'I hate you. But it would be easier if I didn't care. Because what hurts most is that a part of me does care. And I wish I didn't.'"
Sif froze.
The breath caught in her throat, and for a moment her fierce Asgardian poise gave way to silence. Her lips parted slightly but no words came out. She couldn't tell whether to strike him or look away.
William tilted his head with mock innocence. "Oh, and you also called me an arrogant, manipulative bastard playing with women's hearts. That part, I admit, was spot-on."
"That part," Sif said slowly, her cheeks already tinged with pink, "I stand by." She tried to hold his gaze, but the flicker of vulnerability betrayed her.
William laughed gently and leaned in, their shoulders brushing. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?"
She didn't step away.
Instead, she drew in a shallow breath, eyes drifting from his to the trees ahead—like she was trying to remember something.
"And you," he added in a softer, warmer tone, "are really adorable when you're trying to stay angry."
"I'm not trying," she muttered. "I am angry."
"Of course," he said, smiling like he knew better. "Because I'm still a beast, right?"
Sif met his gaze with stubborn intensity. "You're a beast," she said. "And you always will be."
"I know," he whispered, voice low and husky, "but I can be your beast… if you'll let me."
Sif's chest rose with a long, conflicted breath. She didn't answer right away.
"Now," she said after a moment, voice edged with steel but also curiosity, "tell me the truth. No games. What did I really say that night? And don't make things up."
William exhaled dramatically and put on a mock serious face. "Well, you asked for it. I'm only doing this because you insisted."
"Just get on with it," Sif growled.
William cleared his throat theatrically, then imitated her voice with exaggerated, drunken slurs: "'I remember… I remember a beast named Wi—William! Yes, he's a beast… He bullied me, always bullied me… Why? Why did he treat me like that? No one has ever treated me like that before…'"
Sif's face went from light pink to beet red in the space of seconds. Her hands shot up to cover her ears.
"Enough!" she shouted. "Stop talking!"
William was relentless. "No, no—you asked me to repeat it. I even asked you again if you were sure. So now I have to finish."
He grinned wickedly. "You also said—'I can't accept it. Why is he so gentle with Jane, and always harsh with me? Damn it… Damn it, I don't care. I don't care!'"
"Ahhhh!!" Sif covered her ears tighter and turned away, as if that could hide the blush blooming across her cheeks and up to her ears. "You're making all of that up!"
William leaned close, whispering into her ear, "Do you really think I made it up?"
She hesitated, visibly struggling. Her silence said more than words ever could. Those feelings had been buried deep—and now they were spilling out, completely unguarded.
But her pride flared up again, as always. "I don't care what you say. I won't admit to any of it."
William put a hand to his heart and feigned sorrow. "If only I had recorded it. That drunken honesty was pure gold."
"Forget it," Sif said under her breath, trying to push past him.
"I can't," he said casually. "It's etched into my memory. I'll remember it… maybe forever."
"You must forget it!" Sif shouted, spinning to face him, fists clenched.
"What's in it for me?" William raised an eyebrow.
"I'm already by your side. Isn't that enough?" she snapped.
William didn't answer. Instead, he pulled her into his arms, their bodies so close they could feel each other's heartbeats. His voice dropped to a low rumble. "What do I want? Sif… don't you get it?"
"I don't understand," she said, voice cracking slightly. Her eyes avoided his. "Let me go."
"No," he whispered, leaning down slowly, his forehead brushing against hers. "I don't want to let you go. Not now. Not when you're finally here."
Sif's hands trembled slightly against his chest. She could've pushed him away. She should've. But her fingers just stayed there, caught in place by something she refused to name.
Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. "You still haven't answered."
William looked into her eyes, the mischief fading into something heavier, more serious. "I want everything. You. Your loyalty. Your laughter. Your fire. Even your resentment."
"That's… too much," she said, blinking.
He smiled. "Then we'll take it one step at a time."
Sif looked directly at William's mouth as it drew closer, her eyes narrowing with uncertainty. "No. Let me go," she said sharply, her voice wavering. "There's nothing between us—absolutely not."
She raised her hand, blocking his face with her palm.
William chuckled low in his throat. "In my world," he said, brushing his lips deliberately against her fingers, "there's no such thing as 'not okay.'"
Then he licked the base of her palm playfully.
Sif's eyes went wide, and she yanked her hand back as if burned. "You…!"
Before she could finish, William closed the gap between them, his mouth capturing hers in a fierce, unrelenting kiss. His arms pulled her in like a wave sweeping ashore, and for a moment, Sif froze—caught between protest and surrender.
He kissed her with intensity, with the kind of need that made her forget how to breathe. Her mind screamed at her to pull away, to shove him back, to resist… and yet…
Her hands betrayed her.
They moved slowly, almost reluctantly, curling around his neck. Her eyes closed, and for one suspended heartbeat, she let go of her anger.
William's hands wandered, trailing down her back, bold and unapologetic. One hand slid along her waist—until it traveled to the front, cupping her breast through her thin tunic.
Sif's eyes flew open. Her breath hitched. She jolted as if awakening from a spell and pushed him away with surprising strength. She held his wrist firmly, halting him.
"No," she said, gasping. "Not now… I'm not ready."
William's chest heaved, his expression dark with desire. But then a crooked, knowing smile pulled at his lips.
"Not now?" he asked slyly. "So you mean… maybe later?"
"I didn't say that!" she snapped, cheeks flushed.
His grin widened. "Doesn't matter. You didn't say no forever. And that's enough."
"I don't care, Sif, I can give you time, but my patience is limited, everything you have can only be mine, next time, I will take it all." William said with a hint of domineering.
Sif stepped back, one hand clutching her chest as she tried to still her racing heart. She looked away. "You're a beast."
William smirked. "You can say that."
Then he stepped forward again and gently ran his fingers along her jawline. "But you came with me, didn't you? You knew the risks. You knew what I was like."
Her body shivered under his touch. "Don't say it out loud," she whispered.
"Fine," he murmured, voice dropping an "Just do it without saying it?"
Sif turned on her heel quickly, trying to escape the intensity between them. "The others are waiting for us. We haven't even prepared food yet. Move."
William watched her storm off, his lips quirking. "Sif," he muttered under his breath, "you've already taken your first step toward falling."
---
Back on the beach...
A small pile of fresh fish lay in the sand, glistening under the evening sun. Alice, Ada, Jane, Pepper, and the White Queen were mid-argument over who caught the largest catch.
"I'm telling you, mine was at least this big," Ada said, holding her hands apart.
"You're delusional," White Queen smirked. "That wasn't even the size of a sardine."
Just then, William and Sif emerged from the forest, both carrying small animals—rabbits, birds, and even a snake draped over William's arm.
"Hey!" White Queen shouted dramatically. "You're back already? What happened, William? Didn't last long? What are you now—a quick finisher?"
"What?!" Jane asked, blinking. "What did you do in there?"
William raised both hands in innocence. "Swear on my honor—nothing happened. If you don't believe me, ask Sif."
Everyone turned to Sif. Her eyes narrowed. "He's telling the truth," she said, though her voice was a little too tight.
White Queen squinted. "Hmm. If not even a quick kiss? Not even as good as a quick shooter. Not even a little animalistic frenzy? William, I'm disappointed in your lack of beastly nature."
William exhaled and glanced at the girls. "I'm seriously considering throwing fish at all of you."
"Don't! Just pretend I didn't say anything," White Queen laughed.
He sighed and tossed the pheasants to the ground. "Alright, alright. Let's start cooking. I'm starving."
"Finally!" Ada said, rolling up her sleeves.
Everyone jumped into action, collecting wood, lighting the fire, and beginning preparations for their seaside feast.
---
Meanwhile…
Far beyond the peaceful island, a shattered and ominous dark warship floated through space like a dying beast. Its hull was cracked, scorched, and bleeding smoke. Inside, only two figures remained: Malekith, Lord of the Dark Elves, and his loyal lieutenant, Algrim.
Blood dripped from Malekith's lips. His body trembled with fury.
"Damn that man," Malekith growled, voice filled with venom. "He ruined everything."
"All our kin… all sacrificed to cover our retreat," Algrim said in a low, burning voice. "He will pay for what he has done. I swear on the bones of Svartalfheim—I will see his blood spilled."
"The Aether," Malekith muttered, clutching his side. "He still has it. As long as it remains in his hands, the power of our people will be forever lost."
A sharp beep echoed through the dim cockpit. Lights flickered on a nearby display.
Ding... ding...
Algrim's eyes narrowed. "The scent of the Aether... detected."
Malekith staggered to the console, clutching the edge for support. "Where?!"
"Coordinates locked. Midgard. A remote island... uninhabited." Algrim's voice sharpened. "It's him."
Malekith's eyes gleamed with rage and obsession. "Then we fly. No matter how battered we are—we fly."
"Let the darkness return to Midgard," Algrim growled.
And the warship groaned to life, shadows curling around it like a cloak as it streaked toward Earth once more.