Glass rained down from the windows up above your heads and Thor swept you quickly into the shelter of his arms to keep it from hurting you. “Are you alright?” he asked, cupping your face in his hands tenderly.
“Yes,” you answer, turning you head to kiss his palm.
Thor didn’t wait for another second, he shoved you gently towards Barton and Romanoff where they were protecting each other before he started to run towards the building.
He knew that they would protect you. Keep you from any major harm. They liked you. A lot. Barton appreciated your innate skill as a marks woman and Romanoff appreciated your sense of humor. They saw in you some of the same qualities that he did. The qualities that made you his ideal queen.
The afternoon was a haze of heat and sweat. The wounded. The dying. Agents and other Avengers swarmed like helpful gnats and all he had to do was keep moving. Exploiting his strength to move debris. You were never far from his thoughts. But still. He was focused.
Until he could finally think about anything else.
He was hungry. And tired. And sore. But when he was you, reading, or trying to, on a sofa in his old apartments, he felt himself relax. Barton or Romanoff had indeed kept you safe. Installed you here and evidently had seen to it that you were given anything you might need to be comfortable.
“Thor!”
You’re off the sofa and examining the cuts on his face and hands, a worried frown on your face. Thor doesn’t like that. The worried wrinkles on your forehead. The suspicious glimmer in your eyes that looks too terribly close to tears.
“I’m alright, sweetheart,” he soothed. “I’m only... A little bruised, I suppose.”
“You’re bleeding,” you protest.
“Not for long,” he said softly, cupping your face in his hands, “All I need is rest. And something to eat. It will heal.”
“Promise?”
“I promise,” he said, smiling a little. “I’ll be good as new by morning. Possibly even later tonight if you baby me enough.”
When his answer gets you to smile he claims your lips in a careful kiss. “The first order of business though, is a shower. I’m filthy.”
Thor cradled you against his chest, happy to keep you warm and comfortable while you sleep.
He feels like a brute. Like an utter brute. And he hates himself just a little. He’d promised not to hurt you. That there wouldn’t be any pain. And you’d cried.
Not a lot of tears. There were no hysterics. Just a few tears that he kissed away quickly.
Even if you’d told him you were okay, he felt like a beast. But. Barring that, he couldn’t be too upset. You’d been beautifully responsive. Sweet. Eager to please him. And you’d been everything he could have hoped for. And his lack of guilt only made him feel worse. It was bad enough that he bought you. He hated to think that he had misused you. In any way.
But as your breath tickled his neck and you slept in his arms, he cuddled you closer. He wanted you to be comfortable. And he wanted to hold you to give you that comfort. To know that you were safe while you slept.
He didn’t even mind the stupid little Rom Com playing in the back ground. The story was saccharine. So sweet and unrealistic. But. The longer he watched, the more he could understand the appeal of pretty little romances.
The story was going to end the same way.
The couple was always going to be together. They were going to be happy. No one was going to die. Love really was going to conquer all. It was... it was like comfort food for your heart. In a world where your life could have been forfeit at anytime. In a world where your childhood sweetheart had been torn away from you to be tortured and imprisoned. Seeing someone else be happy. Seeing a world that was always going to be just.
And it broke his heart.
He held you close and tried not to think. He tried not to wonder. What little dreams you’d held close to your chest in the long dark hours you spent in your bedroom. Cloistered away from 7pm to 9am. What secret hopes you nursed as you tried to stay alive for just one more day.
You took a small, stuttering breath and Thor turned his head to look down at you again when you whimpered.
“Shh,” he soothed, rubbing your back slowly, “Sweetheart. I’m here. You’re okay.”
He’d heard you make that noise before. Felt the tension in your body. And he didn’t know what you dreamed of, but he knew it wasn’t pleasant. The furrow of your brow and the tears that slipped down your cheeks tore at him. “Shh,” he tried again, gently rubbing the back of your neck at your hair line. “You’re safe, sweetheart.”
In the depths of his grief, he dreamed. Thought he didn’t remember what he dreamed of. The pain, and the fear stayed with him. Long after he had opened his eyes. It had left him exhausted. He knew pain. The kind that gnawed at you until it left nothing behind.
“Thor?” you murmur, rubbing your eyes.
“I’m here,” he said, cheeks coloring when your arms tightened around his middle. “Are you hurt?” he asked, anxiously, “What can I do?”
“I’m sorry,” you answer, “I’m fine.”
“Sweetheart,” he murmured, kissing your jaw, “you were crying.”
“I’m fine,” you protest, sitting up slowly.
“Don’t run away,” he murmured, “Talk to me, love.”
“But-”
“I know,” he murmured. “You got used to keeping secrets. But you don’t have to keep them from me, love.”
You exhale slowly and swallow hard.
“You don’t have to tell me. Not if you’re not ready. But I’m here.”
As he walked into the meeting house, Thor heard Children’s voices. And your voice. As you settled them with snacks and something to drink. A handful of women lending you an extra few pairs of hands. At least until their parents could arrive to pick them up.
He wants to talk to you. He wants to drag you from the meeting hall and demand to know what other information you’ve found.
But even he knows that’s not really why he came.
He wanted to see you. To be assured that you’re still here.
And you were. Settling on a stool in about the middle of the room. In a spot with good acoustics, a place where you could make yourself heard easily without needing to raise your voice.
Instead of interrupting, he waited. Rocking back on his heels and folding his arms across his chest. He’d heard of this. Your little story hour to entertain the Children who were waiting on their parents. It was a nice tone. The one your voice took on as you started to spin out your tale for the day. Thor didn’t know who all the characters were but, that didn’t matter. He supposed that it was a continuation of the day before.
It didn’t hold his attention. He’d never been one to pay much mind to bards. Or stories. Not unless they were funny. Or salacious. But as he glanced around the room, every child in your vicinity was glued to the spot. No one fidgeted. Not one squirmed. This was not polite attendance to a Queen. This was rapt attention. And it made him smile to himself.
He waited, half listening. It was a fanciful little tale. One that suited a court much grander than this. One that made him feel a little homesick for a court he’d never seen. He noticed someone, a woman who’d come to help, one out of the line of sight of the children, gesture at you. And he watches the barely perceptible tilt of your head. Telling her that you’d seen her as you start to weave it all together. To draw it to a close for the day.
As you trail off, Children burst into protesting whines, pleading for just a little more story. Just one last little detail. And you laugh. A warm, sweet sound that makes Thor shiver pleasantly. There’s nothing about you he doesn’t find pleasing. And as you rise from your stool, bidding them goodbye for the afternoon, Thor is self conscious.
He feels shabby and fat. Unkempt and under dressed. But still, when you smiled at him. Not your reflexive polite smile, but one that made your eyes glimmer, he didn’t notice anymore.
“Good afternoon, Your Majesty,” you greet him, hefting your book onto your hip and sinking into a pretty curtsy.
“Good afternoon, madam,” he said, tilting your chin up gently to raise you to your feet. “Take a walk with me?”
“As you wish,” you answer, adjusting your grip on your book to grab a handful of your long skirt to keep it from dragging. And enable you to keep up with Thor’s longer steps.
Thor chuckled softly and gently took your book to carry for you, “Allow me,” he said, “Your hands are rather full.”
You give him a grateful smile and Thor feels his chest swell with pride. He wasn’t even sure why. He’d have done that for any lady with that much to juggle. But you weren’t any lady. You were his.
He walks next to you in silence for a long moment. Offering you an arm to assist you down the steps which you decline with a polite smile. Thus far you’ve managed to keep your hands hidden from him and you’d like to keep it that way. At least until you’ve had time to heal.
Thor frowns but otherwise doesn’t question you. If you don’t want his assistance, certainly you don’t have to take it. But your skirt is long and the ground is rocky and unsteady. Something he hadn’t realized when he set this course.
“How was your day?” you ask, looking up at him, adjusting your cardigan against the breeze.
“Not terrible,” Thor said smiling a little, “There was a tricky engine that needed attention on one of the boats but... I think I have it on the mend.”
“That’s good.”
He hummed and held out a hand automatically, to help you onto a low wall. A retaining wall someone had build long, long ago on the hill side. And you took it, unthinkingly, focused on the birds you could see on the horizon.
Thor studied the small bandaged hand in his and frowned, “What happened to your hand?”
“Oh- I-” you start, scrambling to come up with a clever little lie. Something to keep him from learning how useless you actually were.
“Don’t lie,” he cautioned, gently rubbing his thumb over the bandage.
“It’s just blisters,” you tell him, “I had a lot of vegetables to cut.” You try to make it sound like nothing. Like it didn’t still sting a little. But your cheeks burning rather ruined the nonchalance.
“Sweetheart,” he tutted, gently unwrapping the cloth to inspect the wounds.
You sigh, “It’s fine. I promise.”
“It isn’t,” he said frowning. The red, blistered, angry skin on your otherwise soft, unmarked hands felt like a reproach. “I’m sorry I don’t have gentler work for you to do.”
You don’t know what to say to him. You’d been expecting a lecture. Or some scolding. But Thor’s rough hands, carefully turning your to inspect the small injuries were distracting. You couldn’t quite grab on to what you wanted to say. Until he tutted softly again and tenderly rewrapped your hand to protect it and kissed it.
“I know- I know we weren’t your first choice. And I know- know that you’re trapped,” he said still holding your hand. “But-”
He broke off and took a deep breath. And you gave him a moment to collect himself. To consider what he wanted to say. And to try and stop the sinking feeling in your stomach. You don’t want to go. You also don’t think you can survive on your own.
“Soon- I don’t know how soon,” he said, “We’ll be able to prosper. And then. Maybe... I mean. I want- I’ll- I’ll find a way. We’ll get you a household. A maid or two... I just- We can’t afford it.”
You take a deep breath, taking a second to try and slow the heart beat you know Thor can hear.
“I don’t need a household,” you tell him, cheeks burning. “I can learn to take care of myself.”
“But-”
“And I don’t need any more ways for Cadel to place spies.”
Thor stops and tilted your chin up, gently making you meet his eyes. “My Lady,” he said sternly, “ I will keep you safe. I swear it.”
“I-”
“When I swore to take you as my wife, I meant it,” he rumbled. “The problems of your past are mine. And it will be my privilege to protect you.”
You feel tears well up and hurry to try and move your chin from where he cupped it in his hand But he held you there firmly. Leaning down to kiss you gently.
It was just a whisper of a kiss before he rested his forehead against yours. But it was the first he’d given you since Tavor’s apperance. This was the first time he’d sought you out. And even as he tells you not to cry, you can’t stop the tears that have started to fall.
You can’t tell him what you’re thinking. You can’t explain to him how tired you are. How badly you want to believe him. But your position is no less precarious than it was and you’re so tired of being afraid.
Thor wiped tears away gently and took a deep breath. He hated seeing you cry. It needled him. And it was worse that this wasn’t one of the little sulking snits that he’d been warned out.
It had never been a fit when you cried. Fits weren’t like this. He’d dealt with women who threw fits to get their way. He didn’t like women who threw temper tantrums and he’d had a plan to break you of it.
But there was no way to break you of this. Not without being a monster.
“What’s wrong sweetheart?” he asked softly.
You don’t answer right away, wiping your face on your sleeve and taking a second to collect yourself. Thor gave you some time. waiting patiently. He knew you’d talk when you were more composed.
“I’m tired of being afraid,” you whisper. “I don’t understand why Cadel didn’t just kill me outright.”
Thor blinks. You’ve never spoken like that before. It’s always been kind. Optimistic. You’d but a bright face on everything. And it hurt, knowing that even here, you were afraid.
“I know- I- I’m sorry,” you stutter.
“Don’t apologize,” Thor protested, taking off his jacket to wrap around you when you shivered. The sun had gone behind a cloud and taken the little bit of warmth it was providing.
He wrapped it around you gently and pulled you against his side. He wished he could just make all the fear stop. That he could storm the castle and smash his worthless brains in. Hand you back your crown and your freedom. But. He couldn’t. Greenbriar was an impressive force. And one that, even with some of the people they had lost returned, New Asgard had no hope of matching.
“It wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for the waiting,” you murmur, “Though I figured that if Cadel was going to send someone to kill me here, he’d have given you a better dowry for me.”
Thor grunted and shook his head, “I’m not going to allow that.”
“That doesn’t mean he won’t try it,” you murmur.
“And when he does,” Thor rumbled, “I’ll attend to it.”
He cradled your face in his hands and wipes tear tracks off your cheeks with his thumbs. “You are my wife,” he said softly, “you are mine. And I will protect you.”
Thor feels the first raindrops start to fall and frowns up at the sky. They were ruining his moment. But then, at the first, low, distant murmur of thunder rumbled in the distance he smiled. It gave him an idea. A wonderful idea. All he had to do was goose it along a little.
So he did.
A little magic and the sky opened up in a gentle torrent of rain that made you hop up off the low wall to grab your book with a yelp.
Thor laughed and took the hand you were using to lift your skirt out of the way, running back the direction of town. Though, not too quickly. He wanted you to keep up with him not be dragged along. You giggle and follow him, reveling in the freedom of even being allowed to run. Of not having a bevy of people waiting to report your every move.
By the time you stop running, dripping wet and breathless on the doorstep, Thor is grinning.
You look like a drowned rat. A cute little waif. And as you stand there breathless and shivering, he wants nothing more than to carry you up the stairs and strip you out of all those wet clothes.
But he doesn’t. At least not yet. First he captured your lips in a kiss. One that was more than a whisper and less than a promise. “My lady,” he said, giving you a crooked smile. “I’m sorry about your clothes.”
“Are you?” you challenge, blushing.
“No,” he admitted, chuckling. “But I would render my services as a lady’s maid in apology.”
“I-”
“Come,” he coaxed, gentling his tone, “You’ll catch a chill if we stay out here.” He kissed you again, promising just a little more and smiled, “I’m sure I’m a paltry substitute but, I’d like to try.”
“I think I’d like that,” you murmur, cradling your book against your chest.
“Would you?” he hummed, opening the door and shepherding you inside, his hand on the small of your back. “We’ll start with a hot bath I think,” he mused.
“But-”
“We’ll use lots of bubbles and I promise not to do anything less than gentlemanly,” he soothes. “We’re not going to do anything you’re not ready for.”
________
True to his word, Thor lead you upstairs and started the tub while you got out of your wet clothes. And he did keep his eyes averted as you sank into the warm water. Even though your little sigh of pleasure made him throb.
“I’m going to go change and put our wet clothes in the wash,” he hummed, “I’ll be back.”
You nod and bite your lip, making him smile a little, “Yes?”
“Aren’t you cold?”
He smiles and claims your lips in a sweet kiss, “I am a little. Perhaps I should come back and join you?”
You nod again and he can feel his heart sing. It’s clumsy and cute. But it makes him feel like melting. His wife wants his attention, and he’s not going to refuse her. He finds himself humming tunelessly as he puts wet clothes away and came back upstairs.
“Sweetheart?” he said, knocking lightly.
“I’m here,” you answer as he lets himself in, turning your eyes away so he can get in the water behind you, wrapping his arms around you.
“Just relax a little,” he hums, “I’ll take care of you.”
When you sigh and relax against him he smiles and starts working on your hair. Careful to keep soap out of your eyes as he worked his fingers through it. “Good girl,” he praised softly, “just let me make it better, hm?”
“Thor?”
“Hmm?”
He can feel you thinking, from the slight tension building in your neck and shoulders. And he doesn’t like it. Tension usually means troubled thoughts. Not idle musing.
“Will it hurt?”
The question stopped him dead. And not for the first time, he feels a little guilty about how innocent you are.
“Not if I take my time,” he answered gently. “There are things I can do to help it feel better.”
You make a soft sound and swallow hard. And he knows you want to ask what those things are. You want to, but you aren’t sure you’re ready to know.
“You might be a little sore after,” he cautioned.
“Sore?”
He hummed and pulled your hair over your shoulder gently, pressing a soft kiss into the exposed skin, “Just a little,” he soothed, “But I can take care of that, too.”
He wrapped his arms around you gently and smiled a little, “I’ll take care of you,” he said softly, “I’ll take care of everything.”
