Worthy
Summary: The nightmare may be over, but Thor still feels responsible.
A/n: this was written for Thor Week! I hope you all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it 💕
The ravens, Thor knew, might very well not have been his fathers. Nine knew he couldn’t tell the birds apart from any other birds. But there were two of them, and the way they seemed to be watching him from where they were perched in the snow-covered evergreen felt damning.
He tried to ignore them, but couldn’t shake the feeling of their beady black eyes on him.
The cold seemed to be settling into his bones, making a home for itself, as though it would remain there, and yet he stayed where he was, not giving in to the slightest tremble.
Part of him, a part he would never voice, wished that it would be too cold, that it might freeze him solid.
The worst was over, he reasoned. Things could only get better from here.
He wiped at the half-frozen tears on his cheeks, sniffling back his grief. He had to hide it from those he loved, he needed them to believe—to know—that he was strong. That he could be relied on. He put on a good front, he thought. Loki seemed to believe it, and surely that was good enough for anyone.
But a front, he knew, wasn’t going to be enough. Not for long. He couldn’t fake it forever. He needed to be the brave hero he was raised to be. That he was expected to be.
That he should already be.
Thor paused at that thought. Such sentiment had been instilled in him for as long as he could remember. Perhaps even longer than that. How much had all of Asgard—and specifically his father—expected of him before he had even been born, he wondered.
Was he living up, then, to such high expectations? Thor thought saying that he was falling short was being much too kind. He was outright failing, wasn’t he?
Thor was to be King. A protector of the Nine realms.
But how could he be?
He had been arrogant. Responsibility had always seemed such a distant thing. More of an idea than anything else. Some future day that would never come. He had soaked up the adoration, the awe bestowed upon him, ignorant of the fact that one day he would need to prove himself worthy of it.
How could expect to protect a kingdom when he couldn’t even protect those he cared so much about?
Seeing them suffer… it had been too much. It was enough to break him. If anything at all spurred him on, it was the refusal to allow it to happen again.
“You’re going to catch a cold out here, darling.”
Thor struggled to hide his jolt. In his mind, this registered as yet another shortcoming; being distracted and unaware of his surroundings, being so buried in his misery that he allowed himself to be snuck up on.
“It’s not so bad.” He tried to sound cheerful, but his voice rang hollow. He didn’t turn around just yet as he wiped at his eyes once more, struggling to compose himself.
“It’s freezing.”
Thor could hear the footsteps crunching in the snow behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder at Fandral. The other man was visibly shivering, his arms crossed over himself, his cheeks already a flushed red color from the bitter cold. He shouldn’t have been out here, Thor knew. Not when he was still trying to recover.
“Why are you outside?” Fandral asked, coming to a stop as he was within arm’s length of Thor.
Thor hesitated. “I needed some air.” He lied. Loki would have seen right through that, he knew. And, judging by Fandral’s expression, he could, too.
“Hopefully you’ve had enough?” His smile didn’t meet his eyes. He came closer. Close enough that Thor could make out the still-healing bruises that ran amuck his neck and jaw. A pang of guilt bloomed in his chest. He might as well have struck Fandral himself, for all he had done to save him.
“You should be inside.” Thor said gently, avoiding the question.
“So should you.” Fandral countered. If not for the heavy mood, he could have almost been playful. Which was, Thor felt, rather absurd. Fandral reached over, taking one of his hands, and Thor found he could no longer meet his eyes.
“Thor… what is it?” The other prompted. Thor took in a breath. Dare he reveal how he felt? Would it even really matter if he tried to deny that anything was wrong, seeing as concealing the truth was something he couldn’t reliably succeed at?
“I’m not strong enough.” The childish sentiment came out without him even needing to think about it, tinged with frustration and despair. He felt his cheeks heat up after a moment, and struggled to backtrack, to deny, but Fandral interjected before he could.
“You don’t have to be.” His voice was soft. Thor looked up at him, surprised. He had grown to expect that such a blatant admittance of shortcomings, of weakness, to be met with disappointment and anger at best and mockery at worst.
Fandral didn’t seem like any of those things, nor did he sound particularly surprised. He smiled sadly, clenching on tighter to Thor’s hand, glancing down at their intertwined fingers before speaking again;
“I mean, you can’t expect to do this on your own, can you?”
Thor tried to speak, wanting to answer that yes, not only did he expect, but that he should be able to. But he found that his voice had got stuck in his throat, rendering him silent.
“You have me. And Loki.” Fandral said. And though he was quiet, he sounded so sure of what he spoke of. “We’ll be with you… it’ll be alright.”
Thor knew they would be together, of course. That thought had remained a constant, so long as they didn’t cast him out, which he wouldn’t have blamed them for in the slightest. Fandral was still hurt, after all. And Loki…
“But you shouldn’t need to help me.” Thor blurted out. He hated the way his voice shook and trembled, thick with emotion. Pathetic. Weak. “It isn’t fair to either of you—it’s my fault this happened.”
His shame only deepened as he thought he shouldn’t even be admitting this to Fandral. Shouldn’t have been putting stress on him.
“Don’t say that.” Fandral said, his eyes widening a touch, as if he was shocked by what Thor said. “Thor, I mean it; we’ll get through this together.”
Thor swallowed around the lump that stubbornly refused to dislodge in his throat. He felt filthy for even considering help. He had gotten them into this, hadn’t he? It was unfair to accept help. He didn’t deserve it. He was unworthy.
He hadn’t realized that tears were once again racing down his cheeks until Fandral had reached over to wipe them away.
“I’m sorry.” Thor said. And not just for the tears; but for everything. For everything he had let happen. “I—”
He wasn’t sure what happened first; his resolve crumbling or Fandral drawing him into his arms. In any case, he wept in earnest. The mixed feelings, the guilt, the fear of what would happen next… it was too much for him to handle, even if, distantly, he still thought he should be able to. That this, too, was another failure.
He could feel the damage wrought on Fandral’s body, even through the layers of heavy winter clothing; how thin and fragile he had become. Thor felt that if he held onto him too tightly, he might just very well break in his arms.
Nine knew Fandral should have been the one being comforted, not himself.
He was supposed to be so much stronger than this.
When he had calmed, Fandral pulled slightly away, wiping at his own eyes, and Thor could only wonder how he was coping with all of this so much better than he was.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.” Thor said when he could find his voice. He knew he wasn’t going to fix things. Knew that he couldn’t convey just how much he regretted the decisions he had made. But Fandral shook his head.
“But you did.” He protested.
“I was too late.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Fandral reached over, brushing a stray hair out of Thor’s face. “Please… I know you did all you could.”
But he could have done more, Thor knew. He could have brought them home sooner than this. He just shook his head, not giving voice to his thoughts.
Fandral smiled softly, not seeming to realize that he wasn’t getting through to Thor. “I love you very much, my dear.” He whispered, before leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m going to freeze. Can we go inside?”
Thor forced himself to speak, though internally, he felt stunned. “You go on ahead. I’ll be with you in a moment,”
“Well, alright. But don’t stay long.” Fandral said rather unwillingly, before he departed, likely too cold to argue.
Thor watched him go, unsure of what to feel. He was broken; the furthest thing from deserving of love, and yet Fandral treated him as though he was, even though if anyone at all was justified in being angry with him—with hating him, truly—it was him.
Could he possibly be worthy, after all he had failed to do?
Maybe, he allowed himself to consider for the first time since this had all happened, he could.
