bronze. (thor x reader)
This is a continuation of golden, which you can read here. I watched Thor: The Dark World a few days ago and couldn’t get this out of my head. I hope this, again, does justice to these characters. I’m no writing pro. I don’t know if I’ll do any more with this story line after this one, but we’ll see where my head goes (and if I watch any more Marvel movies during quarantine). Like, comment, reblog, and enjoy! Hope you all are staying safe and healthy and practicing social distancing!
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You can hear them whisper around you. They tell your father how he has gathered everything together. He has put down marauders and wars and pillaging and brought peace to all Nine Realms as if it is his destiny to do so. They tell him of how Odin grows older, of how betrayal rots the foundation of glorious Asgard, but they have yet to speak ill of him. For all of his previous faults, for all the ways he sought war and blood and revenge, they acclaim his ability to reach for peace - even when it has cost him dearly.
They do not say much to you.
They know very little of what transpired when Thor Odinson returned home from his exile.
But, everyone knows you returned home at the beckoning of your father. Everyone knows Loki betrayed his family and all of Asgard in his plot to take the throne for himself - and when he could not do that, he sought to rule Midgard under his pernicious thumb instead by way of an Infinity Stone. They all know the Prince of Asgard has sworn his allegiance as an ally of Midgard.
No, they do not say much to you.
They hail his triumphs as they silently scorn your failure.
Many people wonder why you are no longer betrothed to a Hero of the Nine Realms, a Prince of the people. Many suggest with their eyes that you are fully to blame. When you cannot even keep the eye of a Prince of Asgard on you, what hope is there for a match with someone else?
Your father does not say it to your face, but you know he wonders the same thing. He wonders how useful you can be if all you have ever been, if all you ever will be, is a golden statue sitting on a shelf. Never mind your intelligence and your courage and your kindness - those things do not matter when you live in a world of men trained to conquer and rule with fists instead of open hands.
Despite what others think, you know the world has grown colder and darker, like all of this catastrophe is only the beginning of something coming. Peace can only last so long in a world as prone to violence and war and treason as yours. Nothing can confirm your hypothesis, it is like a feeling in your gut, warning you of something greater and far more evil to come, approaching like the rising dawn. The Convergence is just the most recent example of this, as well as reports that a Midgarian (Thor’s Midgardian) hosts the Aether and resides in Asgard as they learn how to dispel it from her.
The dread only solidifies when you are brought news of the death of the Queen of Asgard. Frigga.
Your heart does not know what to make of it. Frigga had been a friend, a mentor, a mother to you. Your own had died not long after your entrance into the world, and your time in Asgard only opened you to the possibilities of what it may have been like to have a mother. Now the memories just left a gaping wound in your side. Breathing was a struggle, reminiscing was impossible. You can only remember slivers, if anything at all. Everything is painful in the space of grief.
Flower petals drift from the sky into the water and the silence is consuming. All of Asgard mourns as you watch Frigga’s body drift away on the sea. The first arrow is fired, the shroud is lit, and you watch your dead friend, and the only mother figure you have ever known, burn as she drifts farther and farther away from you. Even in the midst of all your grief, you catch a glimpse of her. She stands next to Thor, Jane Foster, the Midgardian.
She is small, fragile, human, in light of the beings surrounding her. There is only a distant grief on her face, but also a bit of wonder and fascination in her eyes as she lifts her head to see globes of light float away into the night sky. She does not understand what she is witnessing, what she is participating in, but you do not fault her for it. It was not her choice to have the Aether dwell in her, nor was it her decision to have Frigga die to protect her.
You give as much time as you can to him before you approach. He wears the mask of a prince destined to be a king well, but he bears his grief deep inside him. It’s as if he knows what you do - nothing good is going to come next.
You know not much about the enemy that laid waste to Frigga and to Asgard, but you do know they are not the only ones looking.
The constellations still give him no answers, even as his mother joins them. She is forever etched into the cosmos, a reminder of all that has been lost. A prediction of what is to come, too.
“My friend,” You begin, but it is really all you can say to him as you clasp your hands around his. He nods, his face still set solemnly. They have seen much battle over these many years and have held, at times, too much ale for only one night. Tonight, they will only know the grief of a son who has lost his mother too soon to an enemy who seeks to selfishly take what he thinks belongs to him.
His face is a shadow, but his eyes tell of more than grief. They tell of wanted justice, of hope that this may all be set right, they tell of the brokenness that has come with he thinks he will transpire next. He has no gift of sight, but he knows of strategy.
Your hands come to a necklace tied around you neck. You undo it with the few seconds you have left before you are summoned to leave. You are never allowed anywhere alone anymore.
“This is all I can offer you,” He recognizes it and opens his palms. It is an insignificant thing, woven together by your unsteady hands from years past, right when you were beginning to learn. In the middle of it lies a single jewel, one given by Frigga to you in her amusement to see how it would turn out. When you left Asgard for what you thought would be the last time years ago, it was one of the things you made sure you kept with you.
He stares at the jewel for a moment, Jane Foster inches closer to catch a glimpse of it, but closes his palms around it and brings it to his chest.
“It is not much, but it was given in joy and laughter. Your mother was the truest friend I ever had. I hope you will cherish it for me.”
His face does not lose its solemnity, but one of his hands comes to your shoulder.
“Make it right, Thor,” He cannot promise, but he nods. You know he intended to do that before you even asked it of him.
Jane Foster watches the exchange between you both with concern, but you have not set out to ruin their fragile, short, and doomed relationship (though you would never tell anyone this outwardly).
“And if you cannot, you know what this is truly about.” You step away, nodding first at Jane Foster, mouth setting into a grim line, before giving Thor one last farewell glance and turning away to follow the grieving masses.
Asgard glows bronze in the firelight, but otherwise the city remains darkened. It has been affected just as any other realm has been, scarred by war and betrayal and death. And you cannot help but worry that this is a small piece in a larger picture and Asgard is only a pawn in a game much larger than anyone can see. You think the Infinity Stones will damn the world.
Nothing shines gold tonight.
