"I refuse to be the only warrior in Valhalla who won't drink mead," he grumbles, more to himself than to her. What would his friends think? What would his father think? His kingship is one thing. If he refuses even this most basic of traditions, can he even call himself Asgardian at all? How much can he leave behind and still deserve a seat at the mead hall table?

Perhaps it doesn't have to be forever. Thor already suspects that his willpower alone may not be enough. It hasn't been so far, why would it begin now? Even if he tries, it's no guarantee that it will stick.

She won't drop the matter unless he agrees, he can tell that just by looking at her. What harm will it be to humor her, at least for a little while?

He sighs, and shoves a small handful of crumbled cheese into his mouth. "Guess I should stock up on soda."