pirateangelbaby | Trouble in Paradise [for rogueinladysclothing]

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amelia

Trouble in Paradise [for rogueinladysclothing]

Far in the northern reaches of Norway, tiny lights slumber under green-kissed dark skies. The village of Asvera sleeps, save for a few who cannot find rest, or choose to keep awake through the ever-shortening nights as the Wheel turns to spring. Her shores all but unguarded, the Asgardians are nonetheless secure in their isolation, far from any who might wish them harm.

Most nights, it is enough.

But not always.

Gray clouds gather across the sea, a low rumble rolling across the sky. Thor hears the thunder in his dreams, feels the gnarled wood of Stormbreaker against his palms, tastes the ozone in the air, feels the lightning humming in his veins.

He stands on the rainbow bridge, its painted concrete and steel under his boots, the islands at his back. He can't see the village, but he can smell the smoke, hear the screams. Asgard is burning. His hands tremble where they clutch at his axe, hard-pressed to say if it is adrenaline or fear. He cannot be everywhere at once. He cannot defend them all.

Across the bridge, an army advances, the figure at its head easily twice his size. Thor does not need to see their leader's face to know who it is, gold gleaming on his hand, a glint of gemstones in the firelight. A lone standout against a great dark wave that surges towards the village, an inevitable tide that will wash them all away, as if they were never here.

The army flows past him and around him, his axe swings passing through them as though they were naught but mist, and the Titan stops before him, teeth bared in a terrible smile. "You should have-"

Thunder splits the world in two.

He is on his feet, his hands grasping at nothing, the tingle of Stormbreaker's song in his fingers as its yearns to be called. Thor's gaze darts quickly around the room, trying to locate the threat, he was just right there-

The white walls of his bedroom are illuminated by a bright flash, another crack of thunder closely following. His soft sleep clothes are rumpled, the easy touch of air against his skin a stark reminder of how exposed he is out of his armor, and for a moment he very nearly summons it in a panic. At any moment, he might be struck down - but there's no one there, and when he looks out the window, he sees only the normal lights of the village beneath the dreary haze of rain. No fire, no smoke. No army. No him.

Just a dream.

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Her caution is warranted. His mind still half-warped by sleep and futile dread, the sound of another voice makes him whip around to face the door, stretching out his hand to call for Stormbreaker-

No.

He closes his fist, forcing his arm to drop, releasing that invisible tether before he can complete its pull. Even so, as Amelia slowly opens the door, the glow of lightning has yet to fade from his eye, flashing slightly brighter in echo of the storm outside. He stands unsteadily, frozen to one spot, struggling to reconcile the reality in front of him, his breathing harsh in the dark.

There's no battle. No fire. Just the storm roiling outside, and the woman sitting on his bed, the touch of her hand like an anchor against his arm. This is real.

"Amelia?" His voice is uncertain despite himself, compelled to make absolutely sure.

It doesn't surprise or frighten her the way it once did when he doesn't know her at first. She's prepared to jump aside if her call isn't enough, but she remains calm as she waits for him. He can't be pressed to join her before his mind is fully his own. Time and patience are the best things she can offer, and after months of being here for these random moments, she's ready for this one to go as it will.

"Yes." She draws her hand down his arm to take his hand. Loosely, but with confidence. She looks up at him with a soft smile on her face, tired but not caring a bit if it means she's hear when he needs her.

"It's all right. It's only me. Whatever else you see isn't truly here like I am." Cautiously, she gives his hand the smallest squeeze. "Sit with me? I can't fit myself to your side while you're still on your feet." Not the way she wants to when he's like this.

It's not the first time he's awakened her this way, but the flicker of guilt and shame is no less for it in this moment, even knowing that he is not to blame for his mind's war wounds. He does not fight her hand seeking out his own, and under her hand the muscles and tendons of his arm taut with anticipation for a battle that is not here, his body slow to relax its readiness.

He can see her face in the flashes of light that come through the window, her lack of fear as much an anchor as the hand in his own, keeping him from coming unmoored in the afterimages of the nightmare. Amelia would not be so calm if Asvera was truly in danger. Again, he looks to the window and sees nothing but small glinting lights in the dark, shining steadily under power, with no flicker of fire.

"Everyone is safe," he says, as much to convince himself as seeking her confirmation. He can't make himself move to sit, not yet, though he shifts his weight on his feet toward her, and his hand grasps hers a little more tightly.

"They are. Most tucked into bed at this hour." Asleep and unaware of their King's struggles with thoughts and memories that still overwhelm him years after the fact. They don't need to know. This is his burden to bear, and her heart is more than strong enough to weather when these moments are most difficult. Even if she didn't love him the way she does, even if they were only friends, she would do this for him. Gladly. Her love only makes it easier to be strong for him when he needs it most, much the same as he's done for her when she's needed him the same way.

Her smile warms when his grip shifts on her hand, and she leans forward to press a soft kiss to the back of his. "Nothing comes for them, or for you. It's only our family here tonight." Them and the ravens, thankfully resting elsewhere so as not to cause him further fright.

She doesn't shift or move from her spot on the bed as she watches him, still patient as he takes the necessary steps down from what he's seen. "What do you need?" she asks softly. "What questions can I answer for you?" She's putting the control of this moment in his hands, guiding him to whatever he needs. She'll make sure he gets it, whatever that is.

The breath he lets out is shaky but deliberate, a valiant effort to regain control of himself, gripping her hand in his own, his other rising to press against his chest. His own heartbeat thuds against the metal of his palm like a war drum, a familiar beat in his blood.

In. Out. In. Out.

Slowly, he sinks onto the bed next to her, grasping her hand like a lifeline. Focus on the sounds of her breathing, the warmth of her hand in his own, the way the bed sags under their combined weight to tip them ever so slightly closer to each other.

What does he need? Even now, after months of sobriety, it's on the tip of his tongue to ask for the one thing she will not give. Knowing that it would serve him no real comfort, nevertheless it pulls at him, and if he did not need to leave the house to find the drink he desires, that temptation might be too much to resist. It's unfair that he should still be haunted so, despite all the progress he's made. But he is not alone, not left to face his demons in the dark.

"Talk to me," he asks instead, hoping that he does not sound as small as he feels.

She can't know what's tugging at his mind until he's ready to share it, but she doesn't mind waiting for him to get there. This is never easy to navigate, even with practice. Still, he's taking steps forward and that's what's most important right now.

"Of course." She waits until he's settled fully on the bed before shifting closer, pressing herself into his side to offer stability and comfort as she speaks. "I spared a few minutes of thought the other day about something I meant to bring to you, actually. This likely isn't the best time, but it's a good thing, and I want you to heart it."

A small smile settles on her face as she gives his hand another gentle squeeze. "I'm ready to give up my apartment. My only visits this past month were to sweep and pay my rent. This is home now, here with you, and if you're ready for this to be... the same for you, then I'll see to it tomorrow." A beat of consideration. "Or the day after, if you'd rather we stay in to recover from this."

A day's difference won't change anything on her end. Everything of hers that she kept in her apartment already lives here. They've never needed to separate long enough for her to use it anyway. It's time, and she's ready.

This will pass, Thor tells himself. Though it is difficult to focus on what needs to be done to help, this has happened before, and he concentrates on breathing as deeply and slowly as he can. It was just a dream. He's dead. Asgard is safe.

Amelia's voice is one more tether to keep him grounded, and he leans his head against hers, closing his eye as if that could block out everything else. The storm still pulls at him as it always does, but moment by moment, the gathered power within subsides as water sinks into earth after rain. There will be no battle tonight, though he doubts he will sleep again soon.

It takes him a moment to truly parse what Amelia is saying, the gentle message cutting through the remnants of his panic. Whether on purpose or not, she has found an effective way at jolting him free of the dream's clutches. "You are?" Despite his restless exhaustion, there's a thread of warmth that coils in his chest. "Even after... this?"

Her face warms a little as she grips his hand a little tighter. "Yes. I wouldn't have it any other way. This is part of you and your life, and I want it to be part of mine for as long as I live."

Oh that... dreams that was... forward of her to suggest, especially now of all times. The blush on her cheeks darkens as she turns to hide her face in his shoulder, her grip on his hand tightening even further. "O-or as long as... this works, for the both of us, I mean."

That's not much better, but it's something. She's trying, and saying what she feels and means is the most important part of all this. There's nothing but honesty in her where this particular topic is concerned.

He lets out a small breath, turning his cheek to rest against the top of her head, a gentle rumble of thunder rolling overhead to join the thrumming of rain on the roof. What has he done to deserve this kindness? Not all would be so willing to embrace these difficult nights so wholeheartedly, especially when he's disrupted her sleep once more.

It isn't the first time. It won't be the last either. And yet she sounds as though she means it when she says she would not be anywhere else.

He can't find the words he wants, but he drops his hand from his chest to reach for her. The tremors have lessened, not entirely settled, but he has found his harbor. "Yes," he manages, holding her close to him as if she may vanish the moment he lets go.

They stay like that for a long moment, the sound of the storm around them, kept at bay by the walls of their home. The last vestiges of his distress slowly ebb away, leaving Thor feeling drained, yet quite unready to seek out sleep once more. Not after a dream like that, its details becoming more muffled in his memory the longer he is awake, reassuring him that it is not prophecy. Not tonight. He stirs, shifting a little in Amelia's embrace. "...coffee?" Not what he truly wants, but maybe close enough he can fool himself.

A single word answer, and it's the most beautiful of them all. Amelia all but melts into him as they sit together, smile bright and face warm as time passes and they simply... are together for a while. She can never be truly still, and her mind races with so many thoughts and feelings right now, but for that short while, she forgets entirely about trying or wanting to be anywhere but here.

At his ask, she arches an eyebrow at him. He wants to stay awake after the dream. It's unsurprising, but it's not the best of ideas. "Let's start with cocoa, and see if we need help staying awake after that," she counters gently. "I have a fine drinking chocolate someone gifted me a few days ago. We can have some of that."

A gift for her birthday, the latest of many. Something she still refuses to say anything about lest it be celebrated. Damn Alex for not letting it pass by without notice. At least the tailor's insistence on a gift will work out well for them.

She waits for Thor to start rising to his feet, easily following his lead and staying as close to him as she can. They'll have to part long enough for-- well, likely for him to make their drink, but she can attempt if he's still too shaken to try. It'll mean longer until their drink is ready, but she's managed not to burn the last few rounds of cocoa she's made for them.

"Shall we go for a walk after? It'll be pleasant to feel the rain for a while, now that the storm's begun to settle."

Cocoa is a fine thing, and one that Thor finds delicious, but a small frown still pulls at his brow. Not coffee? Why not? Even so, he doesn't object to her suggestion, faced with the more daunting task of standing back up. The fatigue weighing him down has little to do with sleep, and is uncomfortably familiar, a frequent companion after such episodes.

The lure of a hot drink helps though, as does the gentle pressure of Amelia waiting for him. They leave the lights off as they shuffle towards the little kitchen, knowing the layout of the house well enough not to need it, though Thor keeps his fingertips against the wall on his blind side as he goes. The windowshades are open, allowing soft flashes of lightning to illuminate their path. No longer looming low over the house, the storm is shrouded in clouds, its thunder subdued into rumbles. The rain continues its soothing patter against the roof, speckling the windows in a thousand tiny prisms.

Amelia's question keeps him from drifting too far, turning his head a little as he considers it. "Mm. Maybe." It does sound tempting. Even now, separated from the wind and rain by the walls of his home, the storm nonetheless sings to him in his bones, or perhaps it is the other way around. Perhaps there is no line between them, in the end. And maybe it will do him good to get out of the house, into his element. His tongue does not wish to cooperate well enough just yet, so he gives her arm a gentle squeeze where it is wrapped around him instead.

Thor comes to a gradual stop in the middle of the kitchen, mentally grasping for the next step and failing to find it. Not the coffeepot... They need milk, he can recall that much. Hesitantly, he continues forward toward the fridge.

Amelia frowns softly for a moment as they make their way to the kitchen. Thor's particularly disoriented tonight. Whatever it is that disrupted his sleep is bad, worse than the last time this happened certainly. It makes her worry more, something that would have her overwhelming him if she didn't know how these things go. She reminds herself to breathe, to count the seconds as she does, and finds a small smile for him again when they come to a pause.

"Let me," she offers in a soft tone, pulling away enough to lift herself up and press a kiss to his forehead. "Warm the couch for us? I'll join you in a few minutes." She makes sure he's understood and is on his way there before turning her attention to preparing the cocoa. It's a slow process when she does it, but having something to do with her hands is focusing in a helpful way.

As she waits for the milk to warm enough to add the chocolate, she calls to him in a warm tone. "Do you have a mug you'd prefer tonight? Everything seems to be washed." It's not much of an ask, but it keeps Thor involved with the process in some way. An encouragement to stay with her in the moment rather than letting his thoughts drift too far. She'll be with him if he does drift back and forth tonight, but she hopes she can pull him back without letting him drift off to sleep only to see terrible things once more.

In his younger days, Thor would have bristled at being benched, well-intended or not. Now he simply nods, a flicker of gratitude in his eye, shuffling to the couch while Amelia putters around the kitchen. He does not need to pretend to be strong, or make a fool of himself over something as simple as making a drink. She will neither judge nor pity him for his weakness. She never has.

The quiet domestic sounds of Amelia in the kitchen keep him grounded as he sits in the relative darkness, feeling the thunder before he hears it, nature's great heartbeat echoed by his own. The scent of warm milk and cocoa, a hint of petrichor from the glass of the windows. The softness of the couch beneath him, the repeating pattern of stitching in the knitted throw blanket across its back, the latter of which he pulls into his hands to busy himself with counting their loops. All reminders of what is real, anchoring him in the moment as the nightmare recedes from their gentle onslaught.

By the time Amelia calls to him, he's able to find enough of himself to answer. "The one with the goat?" Originally meant as a gag gift, he's pretty sure, but it's nonetheless become a regular fixture on the breakfast table since.

His hands still hold a minute tremor when she finally arrives with the cocoa, but not enough to keep him from holding the mug steady enough to drink. The chocolate is hot and sweet on his tongue, washing away the bitterness lingering after the dream, and a tiny sigh slips free of him before he can stop it, closing his eye for a brief moment. "Mm. Thank you."

She can't help the soft laugh that falls from her lips when he mentions the goat mug. "I'll find it for you." She's very fond of the mug, with its watching goat at the bottom of the interior. It never fails to bring a smile to her face, even all these months after it came into the house.

As soon as she's settled next to him with her own, very plain, mug in hand, she turns to press a kiss to his shoulder before helping herself to a sip of cocoa. Much to her surprise, there's absolutely nothing wrong with it. Either the drinking chocolate is magical in nature to overcome her shortcomings, or she's slowly getting better at this. She truly hopes it's the latter.

"You're welcome," she says softly, keeping her tone soft and warm. There's no reason to rush anything, but she doesn't let the silence stretch too long before she prompts him for a few more words. "Do you like it? The chocolate's a bit darker than our usual."

All he needs is to stay here with her for now. The rest can come after it seems he's fully come back to himself.

When she comes to sit, Thor lifts the blanket enough for her to scooch under, fitting her neatly along his side beneath his little fabric refuge. It's not particularly cold in the room, but it is cozy, a soft cocoon they can both share as they sip at their drinks. One arm finds its way around her shoulders, fingers absently playing with a loose strand of her hair, the other occupied with the mug.

"It's very good," he agrees easily, inhaling the aroma wafting from the mug before taking another drink of it. It's still not coffee, but it is delicious, and so far removed from anything that might distress him that he can enjoy it for what it is. "Of all the things Earth has to offer, chocolate is among my favorites." A small smile touches the corner of his mouth, and he touches a soft kiss to her temple. "Reminds me of how we met, too."

Comfort is the goal, and a warm place against one another is certainly one of the better options. Amelia leans in comfortably, sipping at her cocoa as she lets him find his words again. She smiles when he mentions chocolate being such a good thing, and then laughs softly at the mention of their first meeting.

"I certainly didn't expect us to meet or bond over chocolate that Yule," she jokes. His kiss earns a small, happy sound before she looks up at him. "I expected even less that it would lead us here, but I'm glad it did."

It feels like a lifetime ago, now that she thinks on it more. Less than five years from meeting one another, and now they share their hearts and a home. She was so certain then that she wasn't meant for love, even months after Harley had asked to end their relationship. She was lost, too, without knowing that she was. Trapped in ways of thinking that were as destructive as her blades. Now they only threaten to overtake her, but don't completely hold sway.

She never could have made it this far without him. Even as friends, she would've come to his aid if he'd called on a night like this. It's astounding that it all started with a box of chocolates and a party she didn't know she was wandering into.

She exhales a soft breath as she rests her head against his shoulder, still smiling to herself. "I'm happy to be here with no exceptions. Nowhere else could ever feel like home to me again." Another breath, and she peers over his shoulder. "I'm here when you're ready to talk about it. You won't scare me off with talking of a dream."

"Few know what fates the Norns weave until they've arrived," he agrees, gently curling the end of her hair around his fingers. He would not have seen this future if asked a mere decade ago, clairvoyance or not. A home on Earth, a green kingdom at peace, someone he loves choosing him despite all else. Would they have ever met if not for that year's Yule? Would it have led to this? A thousand tiny chance moments laid the path they've walked, and here they are, listening to the gentle roll of thunder and rain as they huddle together, sipping cocoa.

He's silent a long moment when she reaches out, and Thor is certain that if he decided to never speak of it, she would not press him further. And he cannot deny that he is tempted to pretend that it never happened, not from lack of trust or faith in her, but for his own sake. But avoiding his problems has rarely ended well, and if nothing else, he owes her an explanation for waking her in the middle of the night, even if she would disagree.

A low rumble of thunder echoes across the sea before he speaks, his voice nearly as low, as if he might catch the dream's attention and manifest it. "...he was burning Asvera. I couldn't stop him."

It's difficult to leave the safety of their small talk behind, but it's necessary. This is the path to getting Thor through this and the both of them back to bed, though whether either of them sleep is up for debate. Amelia's not certain she'll sleep tonight no matter how this conversation goes.

Thor doesn't have to say the name for her to know who he's talking about. Thanos. The only one capable of causing such distress and pain despite being long since dead. That is how tyrants tend to be, though.

She presses a kiss to his shoulder for reassurance, setting aside her mug to give him her full attention. "What else did you see? How did it start? How did it end?" She wants him to walk her through it, to break it down and know it was a nightmare and nothing more. He may know it in his mind, but his heart needs to hear him say the same.

They'll take it slow. There's never any need to rush this.

Thor stares down into his cocoa as if it will hold the answers, yet still not seeing it before him, hazy remnants of the dream in his mind's eye. "I was alone on the bridge," he says slowly, unable to scrape up any memory of events that might have led him there. "The one to the mainland. I could... smell the fire behind me. Stormbreaker couldn't touch his army no matter how much I fought, they just swept past..."

He reaches to set down the cocoa, the mug rattling slightly as it sets down on the table, and then pulls her into an embrace. "He had the stones. And he was... taunting me. He would have killed us all, and made me watch. I must have called a storm on him; that's when I woke. I think."

He's not entirely steady, but later he'll be impressed that he managed to say that much at once, with little struggle to get the words out. Despite this setback, he has come a long way since those early days, haunted only by lingering ghosts.

Edited 2023-04-12 20:38 (UTC)

The moment he sets down his mug, Amelia's arms are open to him. It's easy to pull him close and listen as he speaks, even if her heart aches for him. Staring down the worst thing that's ever happened to you when there's nothing that can be done is painful, and Thor has had to endure it far more than many others she knows. She wishes she could take it away from him, but she'll settle for being here as he comes through it.

"You called quite the storm. We'll be well soaked when we begin outdoor gardens soon." It's not much of an offering, but it's her hope Thor will see the good in it. Even while in a deep, dark place in his mind, he's helping the whole of Asvera by being himself. That's worth so much to everyone here.

She strokes his back softly with one hand, a slow, soothing motion across as much of him as she can reach. "You weren't powerless," she tells him in a quiet tone. "That storm outside proves it, and you brought yourself out of the dream to be a place you knew was safe. You knew I would be here for you." It's why he didn't actually call for Stormbreaker. It's why he's calm so soon after waking. They've made their home a true haven, and he knew it was waiting for him.

She turns her face just enough to press a soft kiss to his cheek. "How are you feeling now?" There's little need to ask how he was when he woke; that much was obvious to them both. It's time to take their first step forward out of this.

The gardens... he had forgotten planting season is coming up, the world outside emerging from the depths of winter as if reawakening from the dead, brought to life by the brightness of the sun. Thor takes in a breath and lets it out, shaky but deliberate. Called forth as a weapon, the storm may yet cause good, bringing life rather than taking it. He reaches for that thought, trying to hold it close. I am saving my people.

He leans his head into hers, closing his eye. Even now, there's a part of him that wants to deflect, to claim that he's fine despite all evidence to the contrary, conditioned by a lifetime of being told that a king must appear strong even when he is not. Foolish to cling to it at all costs, yet casting it off is not as easy as he wishes it was. Just as futile as revenge itself.

"...unsettled," he says at last, holding her just a little tighter. "And... loved." That part is equally as important, maybe even moreso. Thor knows how it feels to wake in the night after such dreams, and have no one to help him come back to Earth. With her arms around him, her hands soothing him with soft strokes along his back, the siren song of drink is quieted. He lets out a sigh, settling more solidly against her, nearly all the tension eased from his body. "Safe."

Irrational anxieties still linger, but he knows them to be so, at least. There will be no attack on the village, no fires burning just outside his door, no haunting grin emerging from the dark. Stormbreaker lies quietly in its bracket above the mantel, Thor's hands holding only the woman in his arms, her presence as much a shield against the foes of his mind as any weapon could be. Even so, he can't stop the twinge of guilt that he's once again disturbed her sleep. "Sorry I woke you," he whispers, leaning his forehead against hers.

She nods slowly, continuing the slow, measured movements of her hand across his back. Something steady and repetitive for him to grasp with his body and mind. Perhaps not as effective as a breathing exercise, but it's a start. Grounding him in the reality in his arms is more important when it seems to help him most.

"Think nothing of it." She frees one hand to rest it on his cheek, letting him have more of her warmth in familiar places. "I would rather be awake with you now than sleeping through this. You're far more important to me." It's not a feeling he can help, but she'll remind him of this every time it happens. Amelia's always been a light and terrible sleeper, and at least if she's awake with him, there's meaning and purpose to it. She'll take that over sleeping soundly any night.

Taking a breath, she leans up to press a kiss to his forehead before returning her own to that spot. "I love you, and I'm here with you. This is where I want to be, no matter the hour. I promise."

Thor has always been a tactile man, giving and taking casual touch as easily as breathing, withdrawing from it only when his pain was greatest, when he felt he did not deserve such comfort. He does not withdraw from Amelia's arms now, holding to her instead as if she could keep him from sinking, drawing on her strength to keep him tethered to the here and now. "I know," he murmurs, trying once again to take her message to heart and wholly believe it. "I just... I wish..."

He doesn't finish the thought, instead letting out a small sigh, too mentally weary to be frustrated at himself. On nights like tonight, it's easy to get caught in the spiral of his own thoughts, mired in a battle that cannot be decisively won at the end of a blade. He would be foolish to face it alone when Amelia would gladly fight at his side. And perhaps he is a fool anyway, but still she stands with him.

"Maybe sleep is overrated," he says instead at last, sounding almost as though he's teasing, a jest to lighten the mood and laugh the nightmare away.

She smiles a little, grateful he didn't try to finish an unnecessary wish, and presses her lips to his cheek. It may be a little soon for such a joke, too, but even the attempt is a good sign. If he's ready to form thoughts like that, he's making solid improvement. She'll happily take it.

"I've always thought as much," she agrees with a soft chuckle, continuing with his joke. "Though perhaps I'm biased with how little I've always gotten." If she's going to joke, she might as well joke about herself a bit.

Her expression warms a bit as she brushes her thumb across his cheek. "How do you feel about a little time in the rain? I can warm our cocoa when we get back in, if you like." A beat, and she adds softly, "I'm in no rush to do anything. If you want to stay here, just like this, until the sun comes up, then that's what we'll do." They can talk of nothing and everything for hours, and even in that stillness she struggles with, she'll be content because she's with him.

He turns his head a little, just enough to watch the water streaming down the windowpanes. Beyond that glass lies the other part of him, a wildness untamed by the trappings of mortal life, stirred to action at his call. Now it calls him in return, a reminder of who and what he is, as much as the woman held in his arms has done. That she knows it to be so makes him ever more fond of her, a gratitude he can never truly voice.

"I want to go out," he agrees quietly, reluctant only that they will need to let go of one another to do so. This time, when he stands, he's steadier on his feet, even when he has to bend down to lace up his boots. His coat is long enough to wear over his sleep clothes, and if anyone is still awake at this hour to see him go out thus, Thor cannot bring himself to care.

Beyond the front door lies the storm. Thor reaches for Amelia's hand, enclosing it in his own, before swinging the door open, allowing the wind to rush in. It fills his lungs with salt and petrichor, a cool dampness that speaks to him of fresh springs and seedling crops. He breathes deep, squeezing Amelia's hand, watching the patter of rain strike the earth before them, running in rivulets down the stones and pooling in the hollows.

It's good to see him so settled in who and what he is after such a tenuous moment. It doesn't make him free of everything that happened, but it's a significant step toward letting this particular nightmare go. She's glad, enough so that she only ties off her nightgown at her knees before slipping on her cloak and a short pair of boots she's picked up for rainy walks like this. Being pragmatic has its advantages in moments like this.

She smiles as he takes her hand and opens the door, her eyes closing as she takes a breath and lets herself soak in all the sensations the storm brings. A unique dampness and salt in the air, burning her nose a little and sitting on her tongue. Drops and mist on her face, cold and soft until they heat with her body and roll down her cheeks. Distant rumbling and wind carrying droplets or gusting up the nearby cliffs. The patter of the rain on earth and their coats. The warmth of his hand in hers, metallic and still so gentle as to hold her without hurt or fear.

The moment can't be perfect after Thor was so rudely awoken, but it's as close as it needs to be. Whenever they can have this, it's enough.

"Lead on," she says softly, opening her eyes once more to look up at him. "As long as I have your hand in mine, I'm content to be out here with you."

At this hour, with such dark clouds overhead, the only light to show their path are the misty glows from the little houses and the occasional bright flash of lightning out over the sea. But that much is enough, and Thor knows the way along the path without needing to see it. Puddles splash quietly under their feet as they tread over stone and gravel, a constant stream of raindrops making the ground seem to shimmer and ripple underfoot. More distant, the sound of waves crashing against rocky shores blends with the thrumming of the rain and the rumble of thunder, a great heartbeat that drums in concert with the breath of the wind.

Though he knows now that it was not real, Thor breathes easier at seeing the houses up close, rain soaking their eaves and smelling only of nature's waters, their occupants slumbering in peace beneath their sturdy shelter. The junipers that line the roads are beginning to bud, green sprouts at the end of each branch preparing to open with new growth, and around their bases, flowers prepare to bloom under the light of tomorrow's sun. The boats tied up along the shore creak as they rock with the waves, moored securely in their berths.

They pass the greenhouse, rain coursing down its roof and sides, its windowpanes fogged with the warmth within. Thor does not stop there, continuing on past to the bridge. His step falters only a moment as he sets foot there, squeezing Amelia's hand just a little tighter as he forges forward. No figures emerge from the darkness ahead, only empty road and the towering mountain beyond on the mainland, shrouded in mist wrapped around it like a cloak.

There is one last island before reaching the mainland's shores, one that the Asgardians have done little to develop. The grassy cliffside towers over the ocean below, a familiar sight to Thor in his years since coming to this place. Even in the darkness of the night, his feet know the steps there, much easier and steadier in sobriety than many of his visits here before. A set of boulders jut up from the meadow at the land's edge, past the memorial stones carved with the names of those who are remembered by those who have survived, past its ever-burning flame that serves as a pyre for the nameless. The boulders serve as a place to sit and watch the ocean beyond, and it's there that Thor takes them, not minding the dampness of the stone as he sits upon it, the memorial at his back. A small smile touches his lips as he guides Amelia down to sit on his lap, saving her the same fate of sitting in a puddle.

A spark lights in the depths of his eye, and the rain falling around them parts like drawing a curtain, an invisible umbrella centered on them as the storm continues beyond the edge of the circle. Thor can't help but look a little pleased; it's been some time since he's tried this, but he still remembers well how. "Are you warm enough?"

The cool of the rain washes away all thoughts as they walk, leaving only them and the storm. It's comforting in its own way to go on a walk like this, to feel the give of the earth beneath her feet and the spray against her face and legs. She'll be soaked when they return to the house, and she couldn't care less. With his hand around hers and his usual self returning, there's no space for anything but gladness in her heart.

She notices the hesitation at the bridge, but doesn't act or ask on it. Thor's footsteps continue, and there's no reason to disturb that if he's truly moving past what he saw. It settles her chest a bit more to realize that, and leaves her feeling only warmth and care as they stop beside the memorial.

"I am." For now, at least, and she's practiced enough with her magic as of late to warm herself a little on the walk back if necessary. She looks up with an arched brow when she sees that look in his eye, a curious smile on her lips. "How long did you wish to stay here? I'm in no rush to return home." But she does want to know what's on his mind now...

"I don't know... a few minutes, at least." He settles his head against hers, tucking his chin against her shoulder as if they were merely cuddling on the couch. Despite his smile, however, there's a quiet thoughtfulness that hangs about him, more than any lingering anxiety from the nightmare.

The rain continues, lightening to a steady drizzle, inscribing a circle around their little shelter. Thor's gaze is on the ocean and the shifting clouds, fingers idly stroking Amelia where he holds her against him. "I used to come here often," he tells her, though she already knows. He takes another breath as if to speak, but the words stop before they leave him, and he mulls it over a little more.

"On Asgard," he begins again, an undercurrent of uncertainty in his voice, "we were secure in our defenses. Tens of thousands served in the Einherjar alone, and a great shield could be raised over the city if we had need. If... if something ever happened here..." Maybe this is the root of the nightmare, or just a result of it, but Thor cannot shake this thought alone.

She nods a little, not disturbing their cuddle as she tucks herself against him more fully. The quiet between them is tense, but not so much that she can't enjoy being out here with him for a time. He's settling, slowly, and what space she offers him to work through his thoughts is the same she's been given when she needs it most. There's plenty of time for them to do exactly as he needs.

What he eventually speaks of is not completely unfamiliar. They've spoken of Asgard, what it was at its height of glory and those things that made is so, on various occasions as he's been willing. That his thoughts stray there now after a nightmare in which Asvera was lost doesn't surprise her. How often had her own nightmares pushed her to do more back home? How many times had she sacrificed sleep and her own goals and safety for the sake of others? This she understands completely, and she has an idea she hopes might bring him more fully through the last grips of his anxiety.

"If something were to happen, you wouldn't be alone. Others would come at your call, and I'm sure Valkyrie would stand up against any threat. I would stand, too, because this is my home to defend, and I won't let anything happen to it or its people without fighting it." She reaches an arm around him, not caring how soaked it becomes under the rain.

"Perhaps it's time to invest in our people again in such a way. Not to make them into warriors, but to teach them how to help if anything were to happen." Her tone isn't dismissive or judgmental. It may be unlikely to happen, but it can and she knows that. "Self-defense, how to fight fires, first aid, and even how best to hide, to name but a few. We could make things easier for them if anything should happen, make it easier to handle the stress of a calamity." They can never abate it entirely, but they can help.

She tips her head to look him in the eye, a small, hopeful smile on her lips. "What do you think? Is it worth trying? At least to start? There is always more we can do, but to begin with our people shows them we care about them more than the land upon which they've built their home."

Of course Amelia and the Valkyrie would fight at his side. Thor can see it in his mind's eye easily, imagining the flash of her blades on the battlefield, and he holds her a little tighter, pressing a kiss to her temple. Were Asvera to truly fall under attack, he has no doubt what Amelia would choose to do, and the thought fills him with both worry for her safety and also an abundance of pride and love. This is her home as much as his, and she would be right to defend it at his side. Not out of obligation, but out of love for this place and the people it shelters, and for him.

There is a balance to be struck here. Obsessing on the what-ifs are destructive, Thor knows this. Yet he is also a king, charged with the safety of his people, and to refuse to prepare would be foolish. But is he tempting the Fates to train his people for battle, when that had done those on the Statesman little good? Round and round they can go, an ever-lengthening train of thoughts chasing its own tail.

Amelia's casual inclusion of herself in their number is something that registers a few moments later, a warm ember burning in his chest because of it. She is more than his lady love, more than another adoptee into the Asgardian remnant. She can see what he cannot, advise her king where he is blinded by his fears. Thor lets out a breath, giving a small nod, his brow furrowed with worry and in thought.

"It could give them a fighting chance," he agrees quietly, hoping with all his heart that those skills will never be needed. "We could see if they are willing, and... maybe find a mage strong enough to shield our borders. I would not see this place become a fortress, but... something we could raise in time of great need."

He looks down at her in return, offering her a small smile of his own, uncertain but hopeful. "Will you help me teach them?" He already knows the answer before he asks.

"Between the Nexus and here in your own universe, someone must have that ability. I'm certain we can make a trade for their work." Thor has only just brought the idea to her mind, and already Amelia's running forward with it. Thinking about who they might contact, what she might say to win their case if Thor's words alone aren't enough. Compiling a list of goods or services they can offer, both from Asvera and in the Nexus, because anyone they might ask would know about that, right?

She's finally pulled from her descent into planning by his shift, and immediately she smiles back him, her expression bright and unwavering. He knows her answer, but she's glad to offer it all the same. These are the kinds of words that deserve to be spoken aloud.

"Yes, of course I'll help. I'd begin today, if that's what you'd like. We'll have much to plan and have to spread the word about what we're going to offer, but I would gladly be at your side as we do this." Where else could she be when this is her home, when the man she loves needs her? She leans up to press a kiss to his cheek, smile warming. "They'll be well prepared if anything were to happen, I have no doubt of that."

There's so much to be done for this, and she'll organize it all if she has to. Valkyrie will be consulted as she works with Thor, but this is something she can do for Asvera. This place has taken her in completely, and she wants to give back more than she has. This may not be how she imagined it, but if it helps their people and Thor at the same time, then she'll do it gladly.

Pulling herself a little closer, she settles her head against his shoulder as she smiles up at him. "What else is on your mind? For this or anything else that troubles you. I can't promise you peace, but maybe I can offer some wisdom or ideas that will help."

Thor has little doubt that Amelia would gladly stay up til sunrise to research and plan, if he wished it. Her confidence and eagerness alone give him solace, however, and he presses a kiss to her temple in return, unable to articulate the relief and gratitude and foolishness he feels. It is terribly easy to fall into the trap of thinking he alone must handle such problems, the responsibility of a king to oversee and protect. Yet he is not alone, and should a king try to run his realm singlehandedly, he only sets himself up to fail. Thor knows this, and still he forgets, until reminded otherwise.

He is so fortunate to have her here.

Most of his concerns can wait until the next council meeting - is it tomorrow? Today? He's lost track, the stormy night feeling as an unreal gap in the usual span of the week. It matters little. A process such as this will take time to create, and a brief delay will cause no more harm than if he were to call his councilors out of their beds to help plan it. There is one thought that lingers, however, something too important not to bring up if Amelia intends to brainstorm on it.

Thor's arms enclose around her securely, the lingering tremors of his body gone, the last vestiges of his panic attack finally left behind. "We should be prepared for few volunteers," he admits reluctantly. "At least at first. I... was training some of our number to fight on the journey here. They were the first to fall when..." He doesn't finish, but Amelia knows how to read between those lines.

There's no need for him to say what she already knows. It's a painful enough memory without being spoken aloud, and she would never push him to say words to describe it. Some things are best said but once, their existence acknowledged through half sentences and vague hints. This is one of those things.

"We'll teach whoever comes, and not push on the rest. Those who join us will be strong and talented, and more than capable of defending themselves and others in a matter of weeks or months." She smiles softly at him. "With the other defenses we want to add, Asvera will be well protected. Even if we only have those few people trained, it'll be enough to start. Others will come with time, whether in this generation or the next."

The next. Will they have any among them? Children who will follow in their parents' footsteps to learn to take up arms and become strong warriors? Amelia never wondered or thought about such things while living on her own, but now...

She exhales slowly, resting her head against his shoulder. They've been together long enough that she knows the conversation will come eventually. Asvera has accepted her place at its king's side, and the people are as much her own as any others ever were in Masarra. They need to address their future before too long, lest they find it too late to do so.

But not tonight. Tonight is for peace. The rest can come later.

"We'll find our way forward with them," she murmurs after a moment's silence. "This is our home, and none here will sit idly by when asked to aid in its safety. We'll all contribute something, whether it's goods or our arms. I have no doubt of that."

For every fear he voices, Amelia is ready to counter it. Relentless optimism, her determination shining through as she refuses to let him be mired down in doubt, a hand stretched out to grasp his and pull him to solid ground. Thor has little doubt that she would find a way to move the moon itself if his people's safety depended on it.

He nods, a small smile on his lips as he holds her close. "We face the future together," he agrees quietly.

The thunder is all but gone, distant rumbles lost in the sound of ocean waves crashing against rocky shores. They sit in silence for several more moments, listening to the patter of rain all around them, before Thor finally shifts in his seat. "Let's go home."

This time, he does not falter at the bridge, his gait unhurried as they make their way back to the cottage. They're both quite damp when they arrive, and Thor reluctantly lets go of Amelia's hand to light the fireplace. Sleep will call to him soon, its voice already whispering in his ear, but he's loathe to say goodnight just yet.

She nods when he's finally ready to go, not breathing a word as she stands and offer a hand to him once more. This is what she's needed most in her life without knowing it: the stability of someone who loves her and appreciates her pragmatic way of doing things. Amelia would never claim to be hopeful or optimistic, but when it comes to those she loves, she'll never back down. Until her last breath, she'll always give everything she is - good, bad, and everything in between - to everyone around her.

Their home is a welcome thing when they step into it, even as they track in and drip water everywhere. The rogue does what she can to help by hanging things by the door, intent on setting a towel out before they go to bed. To that end, she retrieves one from the bathroom while Thor lights a fire, dabbing at her face and wringing water from her hair before sitting on the couch and offering it to him when he comes close.

"Here. Dry yourself a little. I'll reheat our cocoa." She smiles up at him, waiting until he's ready before reaching out to pick up his mug. A few seconds of magic is all it takes to warm what remains of the drink, and she offers it to him after giving it a gentle swirl. She repeat the motions with her own, settling against him once they've each had a sip. For a few moments, she's quiet, breathing in the comforts of their home to ease her own mind after all this.

"Will you be able to sleep tonight? I'll stay with you no matter the answer." Part of her suspects she won't sleep any more tonight, but it matters little. All she wants is for the man she loves to be all right again.

The patter of rain on the roof and the crackle of flame in the fireplace are a soothing harmony of white noise, the faint smell of woodsmoke and stronger scent of hot cocoa likewise comforting and cozy. Thor accepts the towel with a small nod, rubbing the worst of the rain from his hair and shoulders while Amelia works her magic. It's achingly familiar, reminding him of a thousand memories of home: nostalgia of coming in from his own storms, the casual working of mundane magic, a warm drink waiting as reward.

He accepts the mug with gratitude, and Amelia's warm presence against his side even moreso. He loops an arm around her, fitting against one another as if they were crafted to match. The cocoa has not suffered from the reheating; if anything, it may be even better now that Thor is of a mind to appreciate it.

He's silent for a moment after she asks, trying to search his own heart for the answer. It's still reflex to rely on bluster and bravado, a habit that suits him well enough when he does not wish to speak of such things, nor question himself when he knows all too well he should. But not now, and not with Amelia, though such truthful answers often elude him. "I hope so," he says at last, watching the little orange flames dance in the fireplace, tamed to their hearth. "Though I do not know what dreams await." He musters up a small smile, looking down at her. "I might keep you awake again."

It's a more honest answer than she was expecting. He's become more trusting and open with her the longer she's lived here, the longer they've spent their nights under the same roof and shared their best and worst with one another. She's grateful to hear it, even if it makes her heart ache a little. Thor deserves more than the pain that lingers in him after nightmares like he's had tonight.

"I doubt I sleep again tonight," she offers, matching his honesty with her own. "I'll be too worried about you to let my mind rest." She smiles ruefully at him, sipping her cocoa before setting it aside once more. It allows her to pull herself closer, an arm loosely about his lower back so she can better lean into him. She's quiet for a moment, listening to the sounds of their home and his steady breathing, before she continues.

"I meant what I said, that I'll stay with you. If that means we sit here together until dawn breaks, then so be it. If it means we... make ourselves comfortable in your bed, I..." Her cheeks flush a deep red. "I-I'll happily go to be close to you."

She doubts he wants that. Her in his bed. Not to reach for anything more than being close even if he said yes, but she needs to offer this to him. Being close to him now is the most important thing. He'll need the stability, and she needs to know he's well. This is the way to do that.

"Only if that's what you want," she murmurs after a moment. "I... We don't have to do anything either of us are uncomfortable with."

It's been some time since Thor shared his bed with another, in any sense of the phrase. Not to say that he hasn't thought about it, but knowing that Amelia's love life has a rocky past, as well as his own, he had hesitated to suggest it so soon. The love that they share has been slow to burn, a gradual hearthfire, not a quick-burning passion that would burn itself out in short order. Thor has had many bedpartners in the past, but few that he truly loved, few that wished for more than a night's company. A night with her, even if doing nothing more than truly sleeping, means more to him than the countless maidens wishing to brag that they'd bedded a prince.

And he cannot deny that her presence may help guard against nightmares returning to haunt his sleep, the simple creature comfort of someone else living and breathing next to him, her arms around him and keeping him anchored to the real.

He leans his head against hers and closes his eye, taking a breath and imagining spending the night as such, her gentle scent in his nose and the warmth of her body against his, feeling the rise and fall of her chest with every breath. "Well, my bed's big enough for two," he says quietly, opening his eye again, a small hopeful smile on his lips.

Her breath catches in her chest as she looks up at him, eyes a little wide but a smile on her parted lips. He wants this? With her? They've never so much as talked about a future that requires them to take to bed together, and yet he asks her to follow him...?

Dreams, she didn't know she could feel this fluttery again after the day they first said 'I love you' to one another. She's happy to find she's wrong.

She exhales slowly, pressing her lips together as she nods. "Then when you're ready, we'll go together." Her smile warms as she leans up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "I'm with you wherever you go tonight. I promise."

Tonight... and every one of her days after. There's nowhere else in the multiverse she ever wants to be.

She seems surprised by his reply, but it looks to be a good surprise, and Thor cannot find it in him to fret about what might still go amiss. With her warm presence nestled against him, and sleep whispering in his ears, he has little room to think of much else.

He rests his empty mug against his knee, its ceramic still warm from Amelia's magic, the scent of cocoa lingering. Unbidden, his mind wanders to the future, imagining a thousand nights just like this one - hopefully without nightmares to drive them to it. Just the two of them together, enjoying the close intimacy of simply sitting together, listening to the rain patter down on the roof. A smile lingering on his lips, he absently toys with the ends of Amelia's hair as he thinks of it, the motion gradually slowing as imagination begins to take flight into a real dream.

Thor rouses himself before he can slip entirely, taking a deep breath and giving her a sheepish grin. "Wish we could just magic ourselves into bed," he admits in a low rumble, reluctant to move from the spot yet knowing they must if they are to make it to the bedroom. He stretches to place his mug on the coffee table, already feeling bereft of her body heat against his side the moment he moves. He holds that thought as best he can, a promise that once they are safe beneath the blankets, he can embrace her once again.

Tonight... and then, after...? Will those thousand imagined nights escape dreams and become the future?

It's settling to feel him settle once more. After the fright that got them out of bed in the first place, it's good to feel him so calm and safe that sleep comes for him. Falling asleep sitting up isn't ideal, of course, but she'd have allowed it if he fully drifted off. She smiles up at him at his words, leaning close enough to kiss his cheek.

"A few moments to get up and then into bed isn't so bad," she teases gently. "I'll even stay close while we go." She should probably pull away long enough to get into something a little more dry, but her nightgown isn't so damp it'll cause problems. ...probably. She huffs a laugh and shifts next to him, putting her feet more firmly on the floor and giving him an encouraging push on his upper back. "Come on. It's a short distance. We'll be laying in bed soon enough." Cuddled close enough he'll feel the heat of her flushed cheek and hear the pounding of her heart, no doubt, but what's that compared to all the benefits of sleeping beside one another?

Amelia's all smiles in spite of her nervousness once they're on their feet and making their way to his bedroom. Someday, it could be their bedroom, but tonight... tonight she's only a guest. A welcome one, maybe one every night hereafter, but still a guest. She only hopes she brings him the peace he's looking for. All she can offer now that he's voiced his thoughts and they've made plans for their people is to be here, and she'll do it gladly.

Now... and for however much longer they have together.

Thor is too tired for nervousness nor self-consciousness, his only thoughts of a warm bed and her arms around him. His room bears few signs of his earlier panicked awakening, the sheets and blanket askew, but little else is disturbed. His bed is more than large enough for two, and the only thing that gives him a moment's pause is which side of the bed to claim, ceding the other to his beloved.

Not that it matters much, for once they're under the cool shelter of the bedsheets, Thor draws her near to lay with him, the broad expanse of his chest an inviting pillow for her head. The echoes of his dream are as distant as the thunder over the horizon, long since passed, the steady rain a soothing lullaby in tempo with their combined breaths. He has come full circle, and where once he slept alone, now he has the woman he loves at his side.

Yes... this feel right. She belongs here, as surely as he does.

"Love you," he murmurs as he begins to drift once more, completely at ease with Amelia in his arms. There's so much to say, but there will be time in the morning.

And all the mornings after.

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Trouble in Paradise [for rogueinladysclothing]

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