#bride!verse

You were awake. And you looked right at him. It was a comfort, even if you knew... nothing. "My Lady," Thor said, taking your hand, "I pleases me to know that you are awake."

"T-thank you," you manage blinking, "I- who are you?"

"You can call me Thor," he said smiling. He Should tell you he was a king. That this was his domain now. But... it didn't feel right. Looking into your confused and guileless eyes, seeing your still battered body- he didn't want you to feel scared of him. Scared to ask him for things. "This place is called New Asgard."

He watches you let that information settle into your mind and took a seat on the small stool by your bed, "The women tell me you don't know your name or how you came to be here."

"I don't," you murmur, "I don't know... anything. I'm sorry." You shake your head and bite your lip, "I just keep thinking and trying but-"

Thor patted your hand, "Things will come back in time, don't be upset."

"I just- what if someone is looking for me?"

"I have some friends looking into it," Thor assured you gently. "I found you in quite a state-"

You nod, "I don't understand-" You break off and tears well up. "I don't remember what I did."

He patted your hand and reached up to wipe the tear off your cheek carefully. "Don't cry, my Lady. I'll figure things out. And until then, you'll stay here and be safe and cared for." As you should be," he added silently. He hated seeing women cry.

Courtiers in snits had driven him to any number of stunts when he was young. And things like this- a lady genuinely crying made him want to tear his heart out. "I can't pay-", you stammer.

"We'll find something for you to do," he said quickly, "as soon as you're well."

"We take all kinds," the healer bringing you a mug of tea said smiling.

You take the mug and nod slowly, biting your lip. "I must have been good at something."

"How does she fare?" Thor asked, arms folded. After three days, he couldn't bear to look in on you anymore. You seemed so small and so frail- hovering still between this life and the next. And he still had no answers.

No reason why someone would have beaten you so badly and left you to die. In a wedding dress. Some things had been found. More torn fabric. A bouquet. Shoes- little embroidered slippers. Wood splinters and a knife.

But no reason.

"Stronger," the old woman said, "but not awake yet, though we're hopeful-"

"Hopeful?" he asked trying not to growl.

"She seems to not WANT to open her eyes yet," she said shaking her head. "Something holds her there. But... she lives."

Thor nodded slowly. "Keep an eye on her. Send someone to me when she opens her eyes- I need to speak with her urgently."

______________

You sat up slowly and for a moment, you didn't open your eyes. Wind swept through grass hot and dry and on the air you could smell a storm.

Danger then. It was coming for you. If it hadn't already.

"Hell's Teeth." You hissed and slowly opened you eyes frowning a the barren waste around you. Where were you?

The storm dark sky replaced the brilliant endless aqua with clouds that bent to your will. And the dry brittle grass wasn't the fragrant apple green you'd spend hours in. Dotted with flowers and trees to climb. And the Lake. Dear gods. It was just... a vast mud pit. What was this place?

How did you get here? And more importantly, where was here?

"My lady!"

Distantly, you hear someone calling. A voice you don't recognize. And you can feel a tug. It's not sharp but it's like a hand on the back of your skirt, pulling. Like a puppy pulling you when you go to leave them. Insistent. Urgent.

And then.

You're bolt upright. Panting and clutching your chest. In an unfamiliar room wood furnishing and starched white linens. A quilt and an old radiator... why do you know these things? These words but you can't remember where you are? Or even- who you are?

"You're awake!" A flurry of hands, soft helpful hands attached to kind people with soft voices surge forward. And you have no choice but to be borne along. Allowing them to proffer water and warm broth. To check bandages for wounds you don't remember getting.

You hear them murmuring to themselves. Little notes about this wound and that one. Notes about your pupils as they shine lights in them. And you hear someone sentto find 'His Majesty'.

"Excuse me, miss?" you ask the young woman rebandaging your hand.

"Yes?"

It was a long walk, off the beaten path. But it helped. It had been a long day relearning how to run his own country. How to help his own people. How to get his life back. And Thor was mentally exhausted.

This problem. That problem. It wasn't a grand adventure, but. It was Duty, it was honor, it was love... At least that's what he kept telling himself. If he kept saying it, perhaps he could make it true.

Drown out the guilt he wanted to run away from. Embrace what he was now. Be the king they needed him to be. For now though, he could run away into the woods. And think.

Or- He planned to.

But.

The universe had other plans. And it started with broken branches. And drops of blood. Torn white fabric and little shining beads. And like a bloodhound he followed the staggering, nonsensical trail.

Until he found the body.

And his heart dropped.

A bride in her white dress. Covered in blood and dirt. Her face buried her hands broken. But at sometime, someone had loved you. Or you loved them. You were dressed with care. Your ornaments and the dress looked old. Not new. Like heirlooms.

And now you were here. Your head gashed and your body broken. He dropped to his knees near you and exhaled sharply. The faces of other innocent women flash through his mind. Their lives were destroyed, and he swallowed hard. Reaching out carefully to stroke hair off your face. "Poor girl," he murmured, "I'm so sorry." He leaned down to kiss your forehead in apology and felt- breath.

The barest whisper of your breath against his skin. You lived, however thin the thread. As long as he hurried there was hope. Thor Quickly and carefully gathered you into his arms and carried you through the woods.

Ignoring the curious looks, he bore you to the healers. They would know what to do. They could heal you. Even here. Of that he was certain. You breathed. You survived.

"Your Majesty," one of the healers stuttered, "What is happe-"

"She breathes," Thor panted laying you on an infirmary bed, "please-"

"We'll do our best," she said nodding, "but-"