A Healing Touch [for coldsong]

[pirateangelbaby]

A week after the world came to an end, after the shock has faded to deeper-seated grief and he has been forced to venture out of his solitary room every day, Thor has managed to scrape enough of himself together that he no longer feels ready to fall to pieces at the slightest pressure. Still fractured, still broken pieces held together through his sheer force of will, weaker than it once was in the face of his greatest defeat. But holding, nonetheless.

It feels like an eternity and yet no time at all, but Loki's words have dug deep and planted roots in what's left of his heart, and he knows he cannot shirk his duty. He is still the king of Asgard, and he is needed, no matter how few remain alive. He is not the only one who has lost everything, not the only one struggling to make sense of this horrible new reality they have found themselves in, and if anything, his responsibility in not stopping the slaughter makes it even more necessary that he start making an effort to help those he has harmed so grievously.

For that... he must start by seeing to the refugees. Or by letting them see to him.

Thor hasn't been back to the Nexus since that awful day, but Loki had given him what he needs to return and find what he's looking for. He scribbles a brief note that he shall return and leaves it on the common room table, then retrieves Stormbreaker and ventures outside to open the Bifrost and cut across the dimensions to his destination.

Comments

[coldsong]

Fǫnn isn't paying much attention to their conversation, partly because she needs to focus, partly out of a sense of giving them some privacy. When Thor looks over at her, she blinks and gives him a reassuring little nod. "Let me know if you start to feel lightheaded," she tells him. Blood loss is inevitable, even with magical surgery, although there is far less loss than there would be with other methods.

"Or if you get cold." Her real concern is that he's lost blood before, not long ago, and even an Asgardian body can suffer from short term anemia. He's not likely to need a transfusion, but it's worth keeping an eye on him. Especially since, if there was an emergency, regrettably Loki's blood would not be suitable to transfer to his brother.

Loki's expression is soft when Thor looks back at him, almost tender. "I was encouraged," he says, "by more than one person, whether they know it or not."

Reynard, Harley, his alternate, even Prometheus. "But your acceptance means the most, and always will. It matters not to me that we are not from the same world of origin. Not in this."

As much as the Thor of his own world tried, they never reached this point. Loki regrets that, and he feels sorrow on behalf of his alternate, who has just been lost. Who he is certain this Thor is still mourning. Even in darkness, though, there can be faint glimmers of light, and this is one of them: they are both here, and they have a greater understanding between the two of them than ever before in their lives.

[pirateangelbaby]

It’s on the tip of his tongue to insist that he’ll be fine, despite everyone in the room knowing better than to believe that Thor can overcome blood loss through sheer stubbornness, but what keeps him from saying it anyway is the knowledge that he may need to be fit for battle at a moment’s notice, and having been thoroughly beaten once, the last thing he wants is to weaken himself because he’s too proud to admit to needing help. So instead, he lets out a near-silent sigh, and nods once. “I will. I’m a little tired, but that’s all.”

Granted, he has spent much of the last week in bed, though not all of it had been very restful. He’s not sure whether to blame it on the nightmares, the guilt and the stress, or the simple need for physical recovery from everything he put himself through the day the universe was torn in half. It doesn’t matter, in the end. Either it will go away with rest, or it won’t.

Strange as it is to have Loki being so patient, so gentle, Thor would not trade it for anything else. He has never been one to be patient with being treated as a fragile thing, something liable to break if handled wrong, but now that he has been pushed so close to the edge, it is a lifeline he badly needs. This is not his Loki, but it is his brother, and that matters, still. And for all their petty childhood squabbles over the centuries, the last week has thrown it all into stark perspective. “I just... just want you to be happy. Whatever shape it takes.”

One of them ought to be. Thor’s hope for himself is small, smothered under the weight of all that has happened, but still there. Still burning, if faintly.

It seems there’s no avoiding treading on painful ground, no matter which way he turns, drawn back again and again like a gravitational pull. Everything that Thor can think of to speak about only reminds him more of what he’s lost, and he doesn’t know whether to keep trying to avoid its orbit, or to embrace it as inevitable. He decides to delay that even further, glancing in the healer’s direction again, just a little. “How’s it coming?” It’s probably only been minutes, but flat on his back like this, it feels like a lifetime already.

[coldsong]

There are some physical states that sheer stubbornness cannot allow a man to power through. Not even the mighty Thor. If this were not the case, he might be able to regrow his own damn arm with enough determination. After hearing what happened at the forge of Nidavellir, Loki wouldn't put it past him.

Magic or no, he cannot imagine there has ever been anyone so strong and determined and courageous, and utterly idiotic. That's Thor. He ruffles his hair idly, lips twitching into a smirk at the thought. And then that smirk fades into a warmer look once again at just want you to be happy. Loki isn't sure anything has ever been or will ever be so simple as just happy, but it's the kind of thing Frigga would have said.

"Sentiment," he teases, and pats Thor's head. "But I'll tolerate it this time around."

And if he wants to cry just a little bit because of that tender echo of their mother, and because he feels like a proper brother once again, he'll tolerate that, too, even if he prefers not to show it just now.

The procedure takes another half hour, in the end, but Loki stays next to him through it, even after his seidr is no longer required. Fǫnn seems very tired afterward, and a bit stiff, but she cleans the stump and lets him look it over before binding it in soft gauze to ease any lingering inflammation. There are no stitches; no need for them. Everything is tidily reshaped and open edges healed together, sealing out any potential for infection. It might be sore for a while, but it should be much better than before, at least.

Loki does not seem to have suffered from the expenditure of his seidr. He gets up and insists Fǫnn go watch up and then rest, and takes care of cleaning up the surgical towels and sponges, then brings Thor some hot tea with milk and honey to drink before he'll let him get up and go anywhere. When they do emerge at last, Solvi is peaceably watching her baby's cradle in the common room, while the little girl from before, a toddler boy, and an older boy with dusky skin and hazel eyes, sit in a little circle on the floor stacking blocks. The point of the game seems to be for the older two to get the tower as high as possible before the little one gleefully knocks it over.

[pirateangelbaby]

Though Thor had known it was going to happen, seeing what's left of his arm diminished further still sparks a small pang of loss, and he spends a moment lightly running his fingers over the stump before he allows Fǫnn to bandage it. It is just one more thing he must adjust to, and in light of everything else, it seems almost petty that this should bother him, but his heart does not care much for what he thinks he should be feeling.

Still, it's fine work, and he's sure to thank her again before she goes to rest.

It's probably for the best that Loki does not allow him on his feet right away, because just sitting up again makes his head spin a little, and he has to take a long moment to reorient himself. He's feeling enough like himself to make a face at being presented with tea, however, and sips at it little by little until it's down to the dregs.

He leaves both Stormbreaker and the prosthetic arm behind for the moment, quite unable to carry them both one-handed, and in no particular hurry to take his leave now that he's here. While Thor has had the option of company for much of the last week, he hadn't found much comfort in it, all parties steeped in grief that he had helped cause. Watching the refugees, however... there are signs of trauma here, too, but less. Signs of healing, however slow, and comfort in sharing one another's company in this refuge that Loki has provided. Life, not just existence.

Thor lingers at the doorway for a moment, watching the young ones at play with a bittersweet sting in his eye and a small smile on his lips. Laughter is something he’s heard very little of, in recent days, and it heartens him to see the children thriving despite their own losses. He’s hesitant to intrude and disrupt them from their game, but he rather suspects that Loki is going to insist he sit down if he doesn’t do it himself soon, so he seeks out a spot near Solvi and the crib, close enough to see the baby.

[coldsong]

It bothers Loki, as well. He's not sure yet whether the lost arm troubles him more or less than the eye. The eye gave Thor a visage entirely too reminiscent of Odin. The arm is a bigger loss, but Loki's shamanic tendencies are such that he's inclined to believe it's at least part of what bought the lives of these three-hundred-and-fourteen refugees. Some day he might tease Thor for continually losing bits of himself, but that day is a long way off yet, and Loki is more than a little afraid of losing Thor in his entirety.

At least he is not so afraid that he's failed to recall his brother's feelings on tea. The milk was what he really wanted him to drink, to replenish lost blood and give him a bit of protein. Putting it in tea just means he gets to watch Thor make faces as he drinks it. And, really, after all he's done and as nice as he's been today, Loki thinks he deserves that amusement.

When Thor emerges and comes to sit near the baby, Solvi gives him a subtle once-over look, and then smiles and turns back the lacy coverlet so he can see the sleepy little face. The infant is a bit bigger, and has more hair, and there are little mittens on her hands with pink owls on them, to keep her from scratching herself with tiny fingernails.

Loki, meanwhile, puts dishes away in the kitchen, washes his hands thoroughly, and then comes into the room and drops lightly to sit on the floor amongst the children, as if it's nothing at all unusual for a prince of Asgard to roll around on the carpet. "Where's your bunny gone, then?" He asks the littlest boy. "Did it hop away? Has a fox eaten it?"

The dusky-skinned boy points mutely under one of the chairs, while the toddler looks quizzical.

"He likes to put it under things," the girl says. "I don't know why."

"Is the bunny hiding?" Loki asks the toddler, petting his hair.

[pirateangelbaby]

Only weeks old, and already little Jorunn looks so different from when Thor first held her. He's careful not to jostle the crib as he leans in closer to marvel at how much she's grown, how healthy she looks. Such a small thing to stand against the deep darkness that gnaws at him, but rather like a tender new sprout after a raging wildfire, potential for growth and recovery in the wake of something terrible and devastating, if properly nurtured and protected.

"She's doing so well," he says, keeping his voice low to avoid disturbing the baby, and gives Solvi a small smile. "She's going to take after her mother, I think."

It's oddly endearing to see his brother sitting on the floor among the children as if he were simply the largest child here, playful seriousness in his tone as he addresses the littlest boy, who Thor presumes is Eindrid. Too young for coherent speech yet, possibly, not that Loki seems to mind either way. The girl, he recognizes as the one who was holding little Jorunn when he first arrived, which means she must be Sigrid.

They all look so comfortable with him there, already a fixture in their lives, and Thor can't help the twinge of desperate gratitude for it. It's not difficult to imagine how things would have ended if the Nexus hadn't been an option, or if the refugees hadn't found friendly arms waiting on the other side. But here they sit, safe and cared for, under Loki's watchful eye.

"At least you know where to start looking," he comments, a trace of amusement in his voice.

[coldsong]

Solvi is slowly overcoming the habit of blushing and looking flustered when Thor speaks to her. She beams at the compliments and smooths back a stray curl from the infant's forehead. "She's strong, and knows nothing of fear. She is hope."

She gives Thor a warm nod. "Please come visit her whenever you wish."

Loki says lightly, "Oh, I think we'll leave the bunny hiding for now. Sometimes he gets frightened, it seems, and he hides until he feels safe again. We'll just wait out here and protect him from foxes."

Eindrid looks at him for a second before reaching for a couple blocks to bang together. Loki snorts and leaves him to it. It's probably a good sign if he's willing to play noisy games.

Looking back up at Thor, he gestures at the other two children. "Sigrid, you've met. The littlest boy is Eindrid, and our other friend here is Agnarr."

He puts his hand on the darker boy's shoulder and squeezes gently. "You all know who Thor is. He is your King, but he is also your friend. Please don't be anxious. This is a place of safety for all of us."

They haven't been too terribly shy about Loki himself. Even if Thor is twice as visible and considerably grander, he imagines they'll get over their shyness fast. "Ah, and remember we don't climb on our friends without asking first, won't you?"

[pirateangelbaby]

Hope indeed, a tiny fragile thing, needing great care if it is to grow and flourish. And it is something that they all need a great deal more of, in these troubled times, and Thor more than most. Hope that there is still more he can do, that his failure can still be corrected.

He does not know what the future holds for the baby, for any of them, but they are safe and alive, and for this moment that is enough. "I would like to see her again. Both of you." His smile is subdued, but sincere nonetheless.

Thor is not entirely unused to children being shy around him, whether because of his size or his presence, or his rank. Maybe they're right to be wary of him, after everything that has happened, everything he has done or failed to do. Or maybe he does look as badly as he feels, and for ones so young as these, they may not have much experience yet with wounded warriors. But as diminished and tired as he feels, he selfishly hopes that they won't be intimidated by him for long. "It's good to meet you all. Or again, as the case may be," he adds, putting in an effort to muster a smile for Sigrid, hoping to put her at ease. All of them, really. "My brother has been telling me how special you all are."

[coldsong]

"Are you going to be her uncle?" Solvi is teasing a bit, but there may be some hope there, too. Jorunn's father is dead, lost in the fight against Hela. Some reliable male influence would be a relief. A little backup. And Loki's statement that they're practically kin has emboldened her a little. "She's a lucky one, then."

"What does that leave for me?" Loki pretends to be indignant. "Am I not at least a godparent?"

"Maybe I'll wait and let her decide," Solvi tells him archly, and he laughs.

"Too late for that. You're stuck with the both of us."

The laughter prompts an excited squeal from Eindrid, and Sigrid gathers him into her arms to keep him from flinging blocks around. A tickle-fight seems to be imminent. Agnarr, meanwhile, studies Thor with eyes too serious and thoughtful for a child his age, but after a moment he gets up from the floor and tentatively comes over to sit next to Thor, saying nothing but giving him an earnest look and leaning close.

"He does not speak just now," Loki tells Thor softly. "But that's all right. He will get his voice back with time."

[pirateangelbaby]

Thor does not remember the entire census they'd taken of the survivors on the Statesman, but there had been a few that had managed to keep their families, in part if nothing more. After the massacre... it seems so unlikely that many still remain. Sigrid and Eindrid may be more fortunate than they know. They have all lost friends and family both, and though it tears at his heart that this is something that they share, there is a dark sort of comfort in it. Perhaps for the first time in his life, Thor thinks he might understand why the Allfather is named as such, why he is needed to bind Asgard together. Now, more than ever.

He does not know if he is up for the task, not now, not yet. But uncle... that doesn't sound so bad.

There's a fond, faint smile on his lips as Loki draws Solvi into bantering with him, edged with heartache. "'Uncle Loki' does have a nice ring to it," he muses, scratching his beard as if in thought. "It'd be a shame not to use it."

Agnarr's silence is troubling, if not terribly surprising. The boy is old enough to fully understand what has happened, or well enough, and too young to know how to cope with the horrors he has lived through. Thor himself scarcely knows how, even at his age, even with the countless battles he's seen over the centuries. But never with this scale of loss, not to Asgard, nor the universe. He does not know if he can be a pillar of strength for others with his own foundations so broken, but it seems a small thing to put his arm around the boy when he leans close, tucking him safe and secure against his side.

"That's all right," he agrees quietly, turning his head toward the youngster to see him better. "I have not done much speaking this past week either. Words aren't always what we need for ourselves, are they?"

[coldsong]

They're very fortunate, and in part Loki is inclined to chalk it up to Sigrid's grit. She was keeping an eye on her brother, as she had no doubt been asked to do from a very early age. Loki has a number of reasons for favoring this pair, though he's trying to be fair and tend to all of the lost ones. They all need attention, of various sorts and to varying degrees, and while he most certainly does feel out of his depth, there is some satisfaction to be gained, not just exhaustion, in caring for them.

"Uncle Loki," Loki repeats, and looks decidedly uncertain about it, if still amused. "No, I think you're right, Solvi, we'll let Jorunn decide."

Loki watches Thor with the boy, a hint of relief in his eyes. The ones who cannot speak, he finds harder to deal with. Agnarr has been gentle, perfectly behaved, no trouble at all, and still so obviously damaged. He can deal with children who act out. Not so much the ones who do not. He dares to hope Thor can help, if only with his presence.

"Perhaps I rely too much on words," Loki says. And Agnarr says nothing, but curls up and snuggles into Thor's side gratefully. It's clearly some kind of help.

"There are two other children staying here, Una and Saeve, but Rindr took them out to get shoes that fit properly," Loki says. "They had soft slippers for the ship, but the ground here is a bit more rugged."

[pirateangelbaby]

He does not expect an answer from the boy, but the way Agnarr unhesitatingly settles against Thor's side is more than enough. It's difficult not to think of what must have happened to the boy's family, to all the children's families, and wonder what will happen to them all in the uncertain days ahead. But there is a small comfort to have that small warm body nestled against his ribs in the crook of his only arm, proof of at least one life saved.

Thor carefully does not think of the void on his other side, the stark absence of both a second child to embrace, and an arm with which to do it.

Instead he turns his attention to Loki, absently rubbing small, soothing circles on Agnarr's shoulder. It's an unpleasant reality that none of them had been prepared enough to leave Asgard, let alone the Statesman, but Thor is of a slightly better mind to think on it now than he was before. He pushes down the guilt, the failure of his duties to keep his people safe, as best he can. There will be time for that later, when he's no longer surrounded by tangible reminders of what little he'd managed to save. "Good. That's... that's good. I'm sorry to have missed them. Maybe the next time I visit."

Whether it is to have Fǫnn check that he is healing well, or perhaps to remind himself on his darker days that there are those who still live because of him, there will be a next time. Thor is certain of very little anymore, but if it is within his power, he will do it. Even if he does little more than sit with Agnarr in silence together, or watches the baby sleep. And perhaps, if the fates are kind and the Infinity Stones are found, one day soon he will be able to bring them good news of his own.