Trouble in Paradise [for rogueinladysclothing]

[pirateangelbaby]

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.

Comments

[rogueinladysclothing]

Amelia's a light sleeper on the best of nights. Not up often, but awake often from stray noises or an inability to be still. It's gotten better with time and living in Asvera, but it doesn't change the truth of decades lived in such a way. It has her awake tonight when the rain begins suddenly, the otherwise clear skies blocked out by clouds and steady patter of water against the roof.

And lightning. Close lightning. She knows immediately what it means.

She's on her feet in an instant, loose nightgown hanging over her form and hair falling carelessly over her shoulders. She doesn't think anything of her appearance, not when she knows the signs of Thor's distress. He needs a steady presence, and she is glad to offer him that.

"Thor?" Her voice is soft through his door, preceding her knock against it. A slow approach, one that gives him a chance to recognize her before she lets herself in. She still hesitates a few more seconds before stepping into the room, the door left open behind her as she sits on the edge of his bed.

"I'm here, everything is all right." She places her hand on his nearest forearm, a recognizable touch he can take into his hands when he's ready. "Breathe, and know that I'm not going anywhere."