Thor was never meant to be a girl.
She was supposed to be the first born son, the golden heir to her father’s kingdom, the most powerful, the most brave, the future king. The oracles had foretold of her birth. There were legends of she would become.
Except she was born a girl.
Her mother never treats her any different, just calls Thor ‘her shining star’ and teaches her the best she can. Thor’s mother is strong; she holds the court’s respect. Her brother, Loki, he changes his own forms at will so gender has no real meaning for him.
But she can see the disappointment in her father’s eyes every time he looks at her and sees what could have been.
Thor tries her best to make him proud. She’s faster and stronger and better than her father’s best but he’s still not pleased.
Thor knows she will never be good enough for him.
Her brother tells her that it’s not true. That there is no one out there that compares to her. He tells her that he will never lie to her but his silver tongue says a lot of things. She just smiles at him and pulls him in close.
The Frost Giants invade during her betrothal ceremony. Rerir is not a good man. There are stories enough about him to make even Hogun squeamish. But politically no one can speak against the match. His father is one of Odin’s most trusted advisors. Her personal guards, The Warriors Three and Sif, make no secret of their dislike of Rerir and Loki goes out of his way to make his life more unpleasant.
She sheds no tears when he is killed by the Frost Giants, trying to hide from the conflict.
With her brother’s help, Thor sneaks into the vault that night. She wants to see where it happened; to try and figure out what the guards couldn’t. There are no visible markings on the door and nothing is out of place. The wards hadn’t been affected in anyway.
It’s like someone just let them in.
The concept is a disturbing one and Loki hangs back as she approaches the casket. It hums under her hand as she touches it for a moment before backing away. She gives a sigh and turns back to her brother, when something catches her eye.
Mjolnir sits off to the side, up on its own pedestal. The light from the casket gives it an eerie glow and Thor can’t help herself. She steps up to it and reaches out.
Thor knows it’ll be wasted effort. She has watched man after man try to lift mjolnir to no avail but she’s never even been close enough to touch it before. Her should have been birth right.
Her hand grasps the handle and pulls. She can hear Loki’s sharp breath as it lifts away with ease, light as a feather in her grip.
“Thor,” Loki says, almost reverently, and for the first time in a long time Thor believes.