Neither the strength, nor the will. Most days he does not - cannot - leave the house, putting it off for one more day, one more day. But though he wants the solitude, he is not immune to loneliness, the television a poor substitute for actual company. And sure, the Valkyrie comes to visit when the king's word is needed, but he's seen how she looks at him, the hunger in her eyes when she watches him drink, and he understands why she mostly stays away. She spent centuries in the bottle herself, and now that she has pulled herself out of it, she does not want to topple back in after him.

More than anything, Thor is tired. Physically, mentally, and it makes little difference how much rest he gets. He is tired of being frightened of memory, tired of the pain, tired of just sitting here yet too tired to leave. Maybe this is how Father felt, he thinks, before giving himself over to the Odinsleep. No wonder he would sometimes sleep for weeks at a time, if this is what being king is like.

But Thor cannot sleep, not without the nightmares haunting his steps, chasing him back to the awful reality he now lives in.

He lets out a sigh that sounds almost as though his soul is trying to escape his body. The omelette is only halfway eaten, but Thor is not certain he can stomach any more. "Thank you. For... for the food."