#king!thor

Three months and nothing to fill your ears but the constant down pour of rain. You feel like an empty husk of yourself. The healers they’d come inside, clean your wound, leave food and then leave. The scar left behind...it’s a reminder on your body of something so violent. You spent hours on end looking in the mirror, tracing the white-pink mark. You’d stretch your stomach, looking at the way it move with your skin. 

Then the tears would start again. Of course Thor hasn’t come to see you. Who would want you now? A slightly reminder of your disobedience, if only you stayed with him. You should have known he’d never want you to leave his side. You’d bite the inside of your cheeks until you could taste the metal dripping out your mouth. And then you’d check again. Red, blood red. Not even a speck of gold. 

An annoyed gasp escapes you, with what strength you have you’d hit the mirror. But, it doesn’t have much effect. It doesn’t fill the rage that has been swirling around inside you. You feel so stupid. You know he had to cut his trip short because of your insolence. And here you sit in your room, crying because you miss him. His warmth, his voice and those eyes. 

You hang over the balcony, you look down at the village. Very few people are outside, just those who really need to be. To keep their families alive, to hunt and to fish. But when they open their door the water comes pouring in. Flooding their homes. All because these three months it hasn’t once stopped raining. 

Some part of you feels guilty for it. You know you can't control the weather, but if you could it would be like this. It’s supposed to be warmer now. It’s still cold like it should be in the deep of the winter and the sun hasn’t shown once. It’s not Spring like it should be. And New Asgard is struggling for it. 

“I heard you aren’t eating.” The voice is rough and deep and one you recognise so easily. You scoff, but it hurts to do, your throat is raw from all the crying. “Like you care. You don’t want me anymore.” It’s almost as if a growl escapes him and then suddenly his large hand is on your neck, pulling you back to face him. 

His lip curls up in a disgusted snarl. “You look terrible.” Your eyes are quick to find his. You find comfort in that neon blue that you’ve never been able to escape. You taste salty tears, your nose feels stuffy. His thumb grazes your cheek, his growl softens. “A Queen is not allowed to cry. Have I not taught you this already?” 

“Not even in front of you?” You search for something, anything. But all you get back is anger and pain. He doesn’t like to see you cry, but in your mind he doesn’t like you being weak. Your eyes avoid his, your hands come up and wipe away the tears with the back of your hand. ”I’m sorry.” You quickly mumble. 

Thunder cracks through the sky, you jump slightly and then he has you in his arms. A firm grasp, like he’s protecting you from the whole world. Like he’s scared you’ll be gone any second now. Like he’s going to lose you again. Like something is after you and he needs to save you from it. “My little dove.” 

This makes you remember what you’ve been wanting to give him for so long now. “Thor...?” He’s so hesitant to let you from his grasp. Only when you raise your head and show him that you’re alright does he let you go. “I got you something.” His eyes watch you while you walk over to your side of the bed and pull that necklace you bought so so many months ago. 

You dangle the dove necklace in front of him but his expression turns sour. Another huge lightning bolt hits right outside. Right on the balcony. The fur carpet that Thor had instructed be laid out so that your feet do not get cold, gets hit with the lightning and fire ignites from it. Roaring flames spill from it and you jump with shock and fear. 

Yet Thor doesn’t move. Instead his jaw locks tight and he grabs the necklace from you so hard that the chain almost breaks. “Where did you get this?” His voice is rough and in that moment all you can see is that night where he showed up dripping in blood. The blood none of his and only of men he has killed. 

You only see the anger of a gruesome murder. “I-” The lightning hits just outside the balcony again, the tree hits on fire. You jump, the fear settles in your body as the curtains catch on fire. The fire is quickly spreading, but you cannot run. For Thor’s thick battle-hardened hands wrap around your neck. 

With a simple squeeze, that threatens to end your life, he repeats himself. “Where did you get this?” Your small hands claw as his and he lets go just enough for you to breathe again. “When you left the kingdom in my hands, I went to the market. A old woman there, she sold it to me.” Thor mumbles an array of curses under his breath. 

He still doesn’t seem too bothered by the raging fire creeping into your bedroom. All he does is groan and then quite suddenly he bends down, wrapping his arms around your knees and throws you over his shoulder. His large steps carry you out of the room. He shoots out a rough command for the guards to, “Handle it.” In return, once they see the fire, the begins scrambling like headless chickens. 

“Where are we going?” You ask, trying to see him but you’re only met with a head full of hair. “To do what I should’ve done the damn day I burned your fucking parents alive.” A gasp falls from your lips. He’s never addressed that day. The only sense of apology you’ve gotten from it is the guilt in his eyes when you bring it up. 

But this is brutal. This cuts deep like a knife and twists and you can feel your heart beat in your ears as the fear rattles your body. No longer are you comforted by his presence. Instead, only terrified. Like a mouse being hunted, your breathing is quick and shallow. You begin hitting him, screaming, fighting for any sort of escape. 

“I should have fucking known!” He yells when he stomps down the steps of the dungeon. You’re reminded of the stink of blood that this place oozes. “I should have known not to trust a snake bitch like you.” He snaps, dropping you down onto the floor of one of the prisons. 

He grabs a neck collar and chain. The metal is heavy, and you stagger with the extra weight. He grabs you by the hair on your scalp. He pulls you up. Forced to meet those electric blue eyes. Outside, the storm is raging. Swirling with thunder and lightning. Each strike hits the floor outside the castle. 

Fire surrounds the castle and the knights are struggling to keep the flames at bay. Should he not be doing something about this? Rather, he’s down here with you. “Was this your plan all along?” He grunts when the only reply you give is tears of fear. “Colluding with the gods?” He snaps again. 

When you again only reply with whimpers he bellows out. “I trusted you!” You try to scramble away, the sharp sting of his hand gripping your hair shoots pain through your body. “Thor- please- I don’t understand-” You try to beg but it only back fires. He drops you down onto the wet floor of the dungeon. 

“Don’t give me that! You planned with the gods. They sent you down here, you wormed your way into my heart. Made me utter the words of submission! For what? A chance to sit at the God’s table?” He yells out, pacing up and down the dungeon each of his steps causing a wet plop sound. 

“Did they promise you eternal life? Powers of a God?” He scoffs, blue lightning jumps all over his body and it only confuses you more as to what is really happening. “Did I not teach you to trust only me? Obey only me?” He snaps, cursing again.  

Thor pinches the bridge of his noise “I should just fucking kill you, for your betrayal.” He lifts his head, turning back over to you. Like he’s been struck with an idea. He has this sort of crazed look in his eyes. And...a smile. When have you ever seen him smile? 

“I’m going to fucking kill you.”  Thor laughs, his shoulders shaking. “That’ll really show them.”

The cold settles in your bones. You can barely see the crowd watching you through the thick cloud of rain hanging over the coliseum. You try your best to cover up your naked body with your hands, but that still leaves you shivering. Your body is ice cold from adrenaline. This is where that knight got killed and you can only assume it’s going to be the same for you. 

The crowd cheers when you hear the gate open. You can’t see what it is, but can only assume it to be somebody’s worst nightmare. Something comparable with hell itself. Something that most certainly spells out your death. 

Footsteps echo and the mist clears in front of you. True it is, the one thing you fear, now, over monsters and the sky falling. Thor himself. He is dressed the same as you. Except he looks...Godly. Where before you were certain he was a Titan sent to overcome the gods. Now, you see he is one of them. 

The rain doesn’t touch him. It’s as scared as you are of his wrath. Blue lightning jumps across his body. His beauty is glaring. His skin looks to be glowing, his eyes bluer than ever before. His hair shining like gold. His body looks to exist entirely out of muscle, pure power oozes from him. 

He’s got this smirk on his face, he’s smiled more when he thought of killing than he ever did while fucking you. When he touches your cheek, he’s entirely warm. As if the cold cannot even reach him, his skin entirely impenetrable. His voice is husky and like silk when he bends down and whispers in your ear. 

“Today, you will meet the gods. And they will curse you down to forever wander the coldest pit of Hel.” 

Your knees give in. And as if something over comes you in that moment, you repeat the words he had that night. The world shifts and turns into one of glittering gold. Grass the colour of sunlight under your knees and you gasp, seeing Thor in all his glory. Red fur sits on his shoulders, his armour is a metal you’ve never seen before. On top his head sits a crown made from stone that reflect the golden light all around. 

But what’s even more shocking is that you two are not alone. Not the bystanders, no. Gods. Odin himself, who else would lack an eye? Frigga herself, who else would exude such love? Heimdall, Balder, Ty, all 11 Gods. And Thor makes 12. 

Thor scoffs, “You’ve brought me in front of them? Good, let them see my power and resistance.” He speaks in a language you suddenly understand. “This will not end well and you know it.” Frigga speaks in that very same tongue. 

Your body acts before you can, reaching out to grab Thor’s pantleg. “Is this real?” He scoffs, “Do not act as if you’ve never seen them or Asgard before.” He turns back to argue with his mother, but she shakes her head no. Then his head snaps back down to you. His eyes wide as a realisation settles on him. 

“You have not seen them...?” You gulp and shake your head no. He blinks, looking back up at his Godly parents. 

“You submitted Thor. We returned your power back to you. You must return to the pantheon. Take your rightful seat as heir. With your soulmate by your side.” Thor staggers back, he sees his thousand years on earth flash before him. How hard he worked to overthrow the man who’s crown is heavier than his own. Only to submit in the scramble of trying to save the life of a girl. 

Thor looks down at you. Dressed in the finest Asgardian dress. Hair braided the right way for a future queen. A crown sits atop your head that you had yet to notice. You’re too busy gawking around at the sights that no other mortal has or ever will see again. This is no simple girl. It’s his soulmate. 

His voice shakes, how has his thousand years of planning all been brought down by the single sight of eyes that glow like his own? “Or you can kill her and die along with her. Letting the world fall off balance and let Loki take your place.” That can’t happen, all the realms would fall into chaos. 

“Or you can join her back on Midgard. You can continue to try and raise an army that will never be strong enough to face even one of the Gods. And slowly watch her wither away and die as a mortal. Since you seem so keen on denying her rightful seat on the pantheon with your selfish desires.” 

“I will not let her become a slave to any God.” Thor interrupts. Shouting at his parents, pointing to the girl clinging to him. “Look at her, son.” Frigga sits more upright. He looks down, this time seeing the weak, naked girl with the chain around her neck, crying and begging for her life to be saved by Thor.  

“She already is one.” They’re toying with his mind again. 

The slowly setting sun threw shadows across the floor, our shapes stretching across the wooden panels in the dimming light. I stood at Steve’s side, my eyes flickering to each of the Avengers briefly, never taking my eyes off Thanos for long. Nat stepped closer to Bruce, drawing my attention, and I glanced down the line at Rhodey, Carol, and Nebula. Thor lingered at Thanos’ left with Rocket at his feet, and I could see his chest heaving under his armor as he tried to stay in control. Even from my spot behind him, I could see the tension in his jaw and hands as he stared down at the Mad Titan.

           “I am inevitable,” Thanos’ breathed, drawing my eyes to him again.

           “We have to tear this place apart, he – he has to be lying,” Rhodey insisted, glancing between the heroes around him.

           “My father is many things, but a liar is not one of them,” Nebula countered, taking a hesitant step forward.

           “Ah…thank you, daughter. Perhaps I treated you too harshly,” Thanos hummed, his smile making my stomach turn. My muscles tensed when I picked up on the faint buzz of power flowing through Stormbreaker. Thor let out a cry filled with rage, guilt, and pain before bringing the ax down, the electricity ringing through the small hut. The thump of Thanos’ head sounded like an anvil hitting the floor, the thud seeming to echo around the remaining Avengers. My heart ached for Thor as I watched him stare down at the lifeless body of the Titan, but I didn’t dare approach him.

           “What did you do?” Rocket breathed, his mouth hanging open in shock.

           “I went for the head.” Thor’s voice rumbled through the hut like the echo of a clap of thunder; I couldn’t think of a time that he ever sounded that broken. Thor lingered for a few seconds, his lips parting in something that sounded almost like a gasp before turning away, his eyes briefly meeting mine. I stayed at Steve’s side, watching Thor walk into the sunlight, standing tall, his crimson cape floating behind him. Despite his attempt to look like a strong warrior and King, I’d known him long enough to see the weight of his sorrows pressing down on him, threatening to bring him to his knees.

1 week later (1 month after The Snap)

I stood near the canal, flipping through the work orders and receipts that made my head hurt, trying to make sure the recent shipment had everything we needed.

           “That’s all, ma’am,” a short man in a grimy knit hat huffed.

           “Thank you,” I sighed, smiling at him. I watched the few delivery men close up their trucks and waved as they started back up into the rolling hills surrounding New Asgard. I turned back the handful of Asgardians separating the materials, jumping at the sharp orders from the cranky Valkyrie I put in charge. I snapped to attention at the sudden bark of my name, my eyes immediately finding Brunnhilde waving me closer. I rolled my eyes, my lip twitching up with a smile, and moved closer, shaking my head when she barked another order before jumping down from the pile of wood she was standing on.

           “Sorry, probably shouldn’t have used your name,” Brunnhilde huffed with a shrug as I approached.

           “Now isn’t the time for me to worry about formalities,” I sighed, nudging her to walk with me. I glanced between my clipboard of papers and the slowly forming piles of materials scattered around.

           “Speaking of not using formalities, where’s the brick shithouse you call a husband?” Despite the countless years of studying proper etiquette, I barked out a laugh, immediately covering my mouth, but it only seemed to amuse Brunnhilde more.

           “Don’t let him hear that,” I chuckled, glancing around to make sure he wasn’t in earshot. “But I think he’s helping the teams clearing out the old furniture.”

           “Explain to me again why we aren’t just using magic,” she grumbled, coming to a stop at my side when we reached the end of the scattered materials.

           “Woah, I never said we weren’t using magic at all,” I started, not wanting to even think about that stress, “we figured letting the citizens that can’t use magic have free reign to build and decorate would be a good idea. We also don’t want to overwork the citizens that can use it by asking them to build an entire village.”

           “I’m hiring someone to do it for me,” Brunnhilde scoffed, crossing her arms.

           “You mean bully someone into doing it for you,” I snorted, rolling my lips into my mouth.

           “Close enough,” she insisted, absently waving a hand.

           “Anyway. Did you pick somewhere yet?” I flipped through the pages again, searching for the list of residents, grumbling under my breath about the stupid amount of paperwork humans produce.

           “Near the cliff where the castle will be,” Brunnhilde supplied, nodding towards one of the homes on the hillside, “ya know, in case I wanna throw myself off after a while.”

           “Gods,” I laughed, dropping my head and closing my eyes. “Also, stop calling it a castle.”            

           “What the hell do you want me to call it then?” she asked, raising a challenging brow at me.

           “I don’t know; it’s not a castle,” I grumbled, flipping the papers down and shoving the clipboard under my arm.

           “No, it’s just the building the king and queen will live in and run the village from,” Brunnhilde snarked, rolling her eyes.

           “Shut up,” I mumbled, glaring at her, “I offered for you to live there too.”

           “I’ll pass,” she laughed, leaning against the railing around the canal. I shook my head and scanned the street that I could see, smiling at the citizens that waved or bowed as they passed until my eyes caught another figure moving through the streets. Thor’s dark blonde hair was wind blow from being up in the hills for so long, and his strides were lazy as he strolled closer. My jaw ticked when I caught sight of the beer bottle dangling from his fingers, but I pushed the sour taste down and sucked in a deep breath, standing taller.

           “My Queen!” Thor bellowed, a blinding smile spreading across his face as he threw his arms out.

           “He’s drunk,” Brunnhilde gasped beside me, standing straighter.

           “Apparently, piss drunk,” I agreed from the side of my mouth before returning his smile. “Hello, my love.”

           “Your Majesty,” Brunnhilde hummed, bowing her head.

           “How is the clean-up going?” Thor stumbled, looking down at his feet to glare at the nonexistent object he tripped over before throwing a heavy arm around my shoulders.

           “Wonderful,” he rumbled, catching the attention of a few passing Asgardians, “we’re nearly finished.”

           “That’s great,” I exclaimed, genuinely smiling this time. “We should be able to get the castle sorted out for tomorrow.”

           “Excellent,” Thor hummed against the lip of his bottle. He tipped his head back, swallowing down the contents in one gulp and letting out a satisfied sigh before turning to look at me again. His usually sharp blue eyes were hazy with alcohol, but he blinked a few times, focusing on my face, his lips turning up in a soft smile. “Is everything okay down here?” he asked, suddenly sounding more sober than I thought.

           “Do you doubt me?” I chuckled, resting a hand over the zipper of his heavy coat.

           “Never,” he replied immediately, his smile slipping. “We’d crumble without you.” Thor pulled me closer, trying to hide his sorrows from me, but it was useless. I withered under his gaze, watching all of the lighthearted amusement leave his face as a dark cloud settled over him, making him look older than 1500.

           “Hey,” I breathed, wrapping my arms around his waist. He loosened his grip but kept his head bent, so our foreheads rested together, blinking hard once before meeting my eyes.

           “I’m sorry, darling.” Thor shifted forward to press his lips to my forehead, one giant hand closing around the back of my neck, massaging the tense muscles there as he rested his head on my shoulder. The rhythmic kneading was hypnotizing and paired with the steady puffs of Thor’s breath against my neck; it felt like I could float away.

           “Excuse me, Your Majesty?” Thor’s fingers stilled, and I blinked out of my fog as the weight of his head left my shoulder; Hildegund stood at Brunnhilde’s side, her eyes pinned to the ground. Thor looked down at me, a flash of what looked like longing flickering over his face before he cleared his throat.

           “Yes?”

           “I was hoping I could speak to you for a moment,” Hildegund whispered, glancing up at us before everting her eyes again.

           “Go,” I whispered, cupping Thor’s face to tilt his head down, “she just lost Volstagg, and I can’t leave yet, or I would talk with her.” Thor’s eyes darted around my face like I held the answer before he swallowed and nodded, ducking his head.

           “What do I say?” he whispered before our lips met.

           “Whatever comes to mind,” I assured, gently brushing our noses together. “You’re not her king right now; you’re her friend.” Thor sucked in a deep breath, his shoulders lifting as he did, and nodded again, bumping our noses together before moving the last few inches. The kiss almost felt like a relief, like both of us were realizing we still had each other, and I ignored the lingering tang of beer on his lips.

I approached the warehouse near the water that had been turned into a sanctuary for the Asgardians until the houses were livable again, taking a deep breath before entering. I wandered around the clusters of families, offering soft reassurances or an ear to listen as the buzz of voices grew quiet with the fading sunlight. I made it about halfway through the temporary beds when I turned too quickly, nearly running over someone. Warm hands closed around my arms, holding me steady, a cheeky grin and bright green eyes greeting me.

           “Good evening to you too, Your Majesty,” Sif snickered, patting my arm before dropping her hand.

           “Lady Sif,” I greeted, pursing my lips to hide my smile.

           “May I speak with you?” Sif glanced around the room, nodding to the Asgardians watching us, and cleared her throat, raising a condescending brow.

           “Of course,” I hummed, jerking my head, beckoning her to follow me. Twilight was settling over New Asgard, the ocean breeze raising goosebumps on my skin, and I pulled my thin flannel tighter around myself.

           “The cold will be an adjustment,” Sif sighed, standing at my side, watching the waves with me.

           “I think it reminds Thor of Loki,” I whispered, my eyes following the rhythmic roll of the waves in the distance.

           “How is he? I haven’t had a chance to check on him or you for that matter.” Sif turned to look at me this time, and I could see the concern in the lines of her face.

           “He’s….” My mouth opened and closed as I tried to find something to say, but I had nothing. Thor was far from okay, and in the craziness of the last few weeks, we’d barely had a chance to see each other, let alone talk. “I don’t know, and that pains me.”

           “I’d say talk to him, but….” Sif trailed off, flapping a hand in the direction of the village.

           “Exactly,” I sighed, mindlessly rubbing a hand over my cheek.

           “How are you?” Sif ventured, her brows pitching up in concern.

           “Empty,” was all I could think to say. “We lost half of our people, half of the Einherjar, half of the Avengers, and we’re trying to rebuild our home on a new planet. I have an entire population of people to care for, and my husband’s barely holding it together, so I think you can figure out how I feel.” I finally turned to look at Sif, my heart squeezing when I met the crumpled look from one of the strongest warriors I’d ever met, and I couldn’t help but feel even more hopeless.

           “Just tell me what you need from me,” Sif whispered, holding an open hand towards me. I glanced down at her hand, a brief smile flickering across my face as I took her hand, squeezing it.

           “Thank you, my friend,” I croaked, letting her pull me into a sideways hug. We watched the last of the sun dip below the horizon, huddled together but saying nothing more; the echoing shout of our names drew our attention.

           “Brunnhilde,” Sif hummed with a smile, pulling the dark-haired Valkyrie into a one-armed hug.

           “I see Tyr finally released you,” Brunnhilde laughed, smacking Sif’s shoulder as she took a step back.

           “He wasn’t happy about it,” Sif snorted, glancing towards the warehouse. I stood back, watching my dear friends laugh and make small talk for a few minutes, relishing in the normalcy of it, forgetting about our harsh reality for a moment.

           “Oh, your man is looking for you,” Brunnhilde called, grabbing my attention again.

           “Is he inside?” I asked, forcing a long breath through my nose.

           “Near the canal,” she corrected, dropping her eyes. The Valkyrie’s unwillingness to meet my eyes only soured my mood more; her demeanor made me dread what I was going to find.

           “Thank you,” I huffed, patting each woman on the shoulder before following the path around the side of the building. Thor’s dark figure melded with the outline of the railing he was leaning against, the gentle ocean breeze ruffling his hair. I could smell the sharp scent of beer from a few feet away, and my heart sank, but I continued forward, leaning my arms against the railing next to him.

We stood in silence until Thor’s low rumbling voice cut through the air. “It’s cold here.”

           “It’ll take some adjusting,” I repeated Sif’s words, keeping my eyes on the outlines of the houses in the distance.

           “The warehouse is almost empty,” Thor noted quietly, pressing his cheek against his shoulder to look at the building.

           “Most of the homes are nearly ready,” I agreed, looking at him from the corner of my eyes. We fell quiet again, the soft lapping of the ocean and the buzz of insects in the dark filling the air around us.

           “Hildegund and the children are near where the castle is to be built,” Thor mumbled, his head rolling forward, hanging between his slumped shoulders.

           “I want to visit them tomorrow,” I added, looking down at the dark water at our feet.

           “She’d like that,” he whispered, his voice was unsteady as he shifted his weight.

           “Are you coming to bed? It’s been a long day,” I asked, turning to look at him, my eyes trailing over his rigid body.

           “Not yet,” Thor breathed, his head dipping lower. I wanted to say more, press him to talk to me, but I couldn’t find the words, and after a few seconds, I deflated, nodding into the darkness before walking away. In hindsight, maybe if I didn’t walk away that night, things would’ve been different.

Part 2 | Masterlist

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You sat at the head of the long table with your new husband, Garold. His father was a smith and he expected to take on the hammer when the time came. It was a step up for any farmer’s daughter. You wouldn’t have to work the land, nor would your children. They could learn their father’s craft or hope for a marriage even better than your own.

You were nervous. You had been for days. Garold was pleasant and sweet but to think tomorrow would see you as a real wife. It was a lot. You’d be a mother yourself soon enough just like the woman who had helped you into your dyed skirts that morning. The one who smiled at you through your vows as you looked around in doubt.

Garold squeezed your hand as it rested against the edge of the table. You dropped the morsel of chicken you’d forgotten about and smiled at him. He smiled back as you wiped your fingers on a cloth.

“Did I not tell you how splendid you look?” He asked.

“Only a dozen times,” You inhaled as you tried to settle your nerves. “Though I do not complain for it.” 

At the end of the third table, a group of men drank and shouted in ribaldry. Like many of the guests, you’d never seen them until that day. They’d be gone before the morning, you were certain. 

The sky dimmed and you fidgeted on the bench. Your father stood and called for the gifts; the last ritual of the day. Your mother came forward first, your dowry carefully announced and already awaiting you in your new homestead. Then Garold’s parents presented a set of silver dishes. Then several neighbours prized you with livestock and other homely goods. Several drifters offered their coin or some whittled figure.

The process was tedious and you found your voice hoarse from thanking your guests over and over. Garold yawned and shifted beside you. The tables weren’t so loud as before as the drink and time began to wear upon the diners as they picked at bare bones and the last dregs of ale.

A single figure walked up between the second and third table. He wore a plain black cloak and stood before you and your husband patiently. The crowd hushed as they noticed the wraith-like man.

Garold straightened up and nodded to the man. "Sir."

"My master did not want his gift to go forgotten," The man said as he pulled out a purse that jingled. "Gold and good tidings to the man and wife."

"Many thanks," Garold said as you smiled at the stranger. "Your master?"

Another figure rose. A taller man with wide shoulders and golden hair combed into a tie. He walked proudly forward and a tension filled the air as whispers began. You'd noticed the man several times throughout the night. His eyes were often pointed in your direction despite the distance and his voice had risen above others in booming laughs.

"Yes, his majesty hopes you are very happy and would bless your future family." The man continued as the other approached.

"You might desist, Fandral," The large man neared. "I might send my well wishes myself."

You tried to hold your smile but the way the man, the king, looked in your direction had you squirming. A man had never looked at you like that.

“Your majesty,” Garold pulled you up to your feet as he bowed awkwardly and you attempted a curtsy. “You would attend our wedding?”

“I was at the Lord of Montern’s castle and I heard word there was a celebration. I can never turn my nose up at festivities.” The king declared as every guest rose. 

Two men walked up between tables as your other guests watched in communal shock.

“My wife and I thank you, your majesty,” Garold trembled nervously as his hand lingered on your arm. “And we hope you are contented in our fare.”

“Most excellent. A king can always find delight at a wedding.” King Thor of Asgardia smirked. “As decreed by law, he is owed proper accommodations; ale, board, and that fragrant bread. As fine as any meal.”

“Your majesty,” Garold nodded proudly.

“And as it has also been written, a king might claim his right to the first night.” All went quiet and you felt as if you would choke. You blinked.

“I don’t-- your majesty, I think I misunderstand.” Garold said.

“As I am here to see your union, I, as your king, may expect to bless it.” He tilted his head as Garold’s grip grew firm on your arm. “That he might see the bride to her first night in service.”

“It is an old law,” Your husband said. “I would think it forgotten.”

“But it is ever written,” Thor countered. “And I did travel far to see you wed and would require comfort for the night. I am you king and it is still the law.”

You looked at Garold as you realised what the king meant. You frowned as you knew there would be no argument.

“This can’t--” You whispered but you lost as your husband drew away, unable to meet your eye. “No,” You spoke louder, “No, you can’t.”

"I can't?" The king chuckled and signaled with two fingers.

The two men who loomed by the tables came forward. As they approached you cowered. You were seized by both arms as you tried to retreat. You were dragged around the table as you called out to Garold.

"Good man," Thor called to your husband. "I would require a bed for the night as well. You would show me to my lodgings at once."

"I…" Garold wrung his hands and swayed. "I must remain and see to the rest of my guests, my-my-my cousin, Godwin, will show you to… to it."

You watched the skinny boy, Garold's own apprentice in the smithy. The slender adolescent made the king seem even bigger as he neared. Your husband gestured him away and still would not meet your gaze. 

"Garold!" You cried out as you were turned away. "Garold, please you must--"

"Go." Garold hissed. "Quietly, woman." He blinked as his nostrils flared and he stared at the tables of guests. "Now."

"Be calm, dear," The king bent to whisper to you as he slapped your ass lasciviously. "You will not be calling his name upon the morrow."

You squeaked and stumbled as his men wrenched you forward. Thor's hand rescinded as he chuckled. Godwin glanced over his shoulder every other step as he led the men past your father's barn.

You kicked as you got closer to the house Garold had built after his proposal. The furniture was crafted by the men in his family and all was ready for your domesticity. 

Thor shouldered past his men and Godwin barely cleared his path. The king opened the door and stopped to look back. He flicked away your husband's cousin with two fingers then snapped them to beckon his men forward. 

"Stake your watch here," Thor bid. "Fandral, send to Lord Montern that I shall return with the sun. I shall try to be…" He grabbed your arm and nearly took you off your feet. "Timely, but no promises." 

He shoved you ahead of him and snapped the door shut swiftly. You struggled to break free of his grasp and he easily spun you to face him. He clung to both your arms as he squeezed tightly.

"I watched you all night. It is so endearing how you gaze at your commoner husband." He sneered. "But I thought your touch better suited a king."

"Please, your majesty, I am a smith's wife. I vowed to serve him and no other."

"You are sworn first to your God and king. It is written that my will is that of God." He bent to look in the face. "So you are bound to me above all."

"Please," You quavered.

"Come on," He threw you back, "The bedchamber."

You staggered onward, your legs threatening to crumple with each step. You fell against the door and your hand slipped past the handle. You couldn't go on, you couldn't. 

The king's boots caused the floor to groan and he pressed himself to you. He reached to handle and lifted it. The door moved and you were only kept from tipping over as Thor's arm wrapped around you.

"You are… defiant. Especially for a peasant." He remarked as he urged you on, the door shut with a metal clink. "I've attended the marriages of dukes, earls, and even princes and not one bride had caught my eye as you have."

"I don't-- I don't understand--" You tore away and turned on your heel. 

"I will help you understand." He grinned. "You may begin by undressing."

He untied the neck of his cloak and swept it away. He draped it over the bench against the wall and sat. He lifted his foot onto his knee and began to unlace his boot.

"Let me tell you about myself, dear," He pulled loose the ties. "I do not often repeat myself and when I do, I am not so kind as the first time."

He dropped his boot onto the floor and switched legs. You bent and slipped your slippers off. They were hand-sewn by your mother.

You stood and swayed on your feet. You could not unlace your dress upon your own. You hesitated and reached helplessly over your shoulders.

"Come," He unbuckled his belt and placed it aside as he beckoned you near. "I will help." You sniffed and took your first shaky step. "There is much I shall help you with… that I must guide you in."

He turned you and tugged at the back of your dress until it slackened.

"Tell me, has your husband even kissed you yet?"

"Your majesty…" You breathed. "Just upon the cheek."

"I always heard peasants lived as animals," You dress drooped forward and you drew away. "What else would you do without gold?"

You were quiet, unsure how to answer. You let your bodice slump and you shimmied out of your skirts. You folded your dress over the chest along the other wall. You shed your petticoat and rolled your stockings down your leg. You wore only the short shift that ended just below your ass.

"That too," He said. "The longer you play at this, the longer I will play with you, dear."

You raised your chin and swallowed. You bunched the fabric of your shift and ripped it over your head. You tossed it aside and glared at him as your heart raced. To be bare in front of a man, in front of a king…

"I realise," He rose and pushed down his trousers. He piled them on his tunic and ran his hand over the crotch if his shorts. "You are unused to the presence of a king, the respects owed. I daresay you've rarely stood near a measly earl. Even so, I do trust you can listen. Why, dear, nobility does hunger for obedience over niceties."

"Your majesty," You gritted through your teeth. Perhaps if you bided him with bitten tongue, it might pass swifter.

"To think a woman should enter a marriage and not know what pleasures should be found in a marital bed," He shoved his shorts down and your eyes went to the ceiling. "You will thank me for I have no doubt that fool you call your husband will disappoint you for the rest of your life."

He neared and brushed by you. His hand grazed your hip as he did. You turned as he climbed up on the bed and fell onto his back. His thick cock bobbed and you couldn't help but stare. 

"On the bed," He wriggled as he settled onto the mattress. 

You went to the bed and got up on your knees. He looked at you and snickered.

"On your feet. Come, stand over me." He waited as you stood on the bed and he grasped your ankle. "Here." He patted beside his head.

You paused and stared as you pushed your legs together. If you did as he said, he would see all of you; more than anyone ever had. 

"Shall I repeat myself?" He asked dangerously. 

You shuddered and stepped forward. You caught yourself against the wall as you lifted you foot over his head and faced the top of the bed. 

"Down. To your knees." He commanded.

You gulped and reached to brace yourself with the wall. You got down and felt his breath along your thigh. You winced and he caught your hips.

"I would taste you… I wonder if you taste as sweet as a duchess." He purred as his hand slid to your thighs and he pulled you lower. "Perhaps, sweeter."

He forced you down until his hot breath was on your cunt and you were startled by the coolness that dipped between your folds. He purred and sent a buzz through you. He dragged his tongue up and down your sex as his hands clung to your thighs. You pushed on the low frame of the bed but could not get away from him.

His fingers spread over your thigh as his other hand gripped your hips and he rocked you. The messy noise of his lapping encased you in heat and you closed your eyes in shame. It shouldn't have felt so good. Nothing had ever felt that good.

He hummed and your thighs shook as you felt an odd tickle in your stomach. You gripped the bed frame as your other hand went to his hair and your fingers entwined in his thick locks. You mewled pathetically as you failed to fight the winding spring inside of you.

You let out a raspy moan and pushed your head back. Your breath caught in your throat as you went silent and a tingling wave flowed down your spine and legs. The sudden release left you weak and panting as you hunch over the head board.

Thor nudged you back and wiggled his head out from between your legs. He looked up at you as he licked his lips and purred.

"Sweet indeed," He caressed your sides. "Move back, kitten. Down by my legs."

You blinked at him, stunned, and he urged you off of him. You got to your knees, unsteadily, and swung your leg back. You numbly moved down the mattress and nearly fell between his legs. He chuckled as you righted yourself, your eyes floating above him as you tried not to look.

"Put your hand on me, kitten," Hi hand crawled down his stomach and his fingertips danced along his pelvis. "I will tell you how to do it."

You batted your lashes and willed yourself to listen. Let it be over quickly then you could go back to Garold. Garold! How would you face him after this? Would he want you still? Yet, his resistance had been paltry… but what could you say to a king?

Your fingers brushed the smooth skin of the king's member and your eyes were drawn down without thought. You closed your hand around his thick girth and he sighed. His hand slapped the bed beside him.

"Very good, kitten," He goaded. "Now just move your hand up and down, hold me firmly so I do not slip."

You shivered and slid you hand down his length and back up. He spasmed with a grunt. You stopped and he peered down at you. 

"You may proceed until I say otherwise, sweet maiden." He commanded and you recoiled at the pet name. Maiden but not for long.

Your hand moved down again, then up, down, up, down. He twitched in your grasp and you felt the dampness between your legs thicken. Your core thrummed as you watched the motion of your hand.

"Faster. Hold me tighter," He bid in a snarl-like voice. "That's it, kitten. I will show you how to please your husband." He reached down to wrap his hands around yours and lead you. "Though I think you might please me best."

He urged you on and on and then abruptly stopped. He tore your hand from his member as his chest puffed and he pushed his head down in great strain. Slowly he exhaled.

"Very close, my sweet maiden," He intoned. "But I will not be finished with you so quick."

His hands brushed over his pelvis as he wiggled his hips. He raised his arms and bent them behind his head.

"Come over me again," He said. "Lower yourself until I am sheathed in you."

Your eyes rounded and you gaped at him. 

"Would you rather I have your mouth first?" He taunted.

You snapped your mouth shut and stood as unevenly as before. You moved your feet on either side of him and eased onto your knees. He tip prodded your cunt and sent a thrill through you.

"You will put me inside of you, kitten," He snickered. "Slowly if you dislike pain."

You lifted yourself and reached below you. You grasped his member and angled it up against your folds and slid it back to your entrance. You bent your legs as he poked against you painfully. 

You stretched around him and cried out as just his head felt too much. He jerked his hips below you, watching you with his cool blue eyes as your face contorted.

"More." He said plainly. "Until you have me completely."

You whimpered and sank down on him further. You exclaimed as you constricted around him, unable to go any deeper.

He pulled his hands out from beneath his head and gripped your hips. He forced you down until you hollered. You fell forward weakly but he held himself inside of you.

"Sit up," He ordered. "You can do it, kitten."

"It hurts…" You muttered as you trembled but did as he said. "Please…"

"It won't for long," His thumbs ran along your skin and he tilted your hips so he poked deeper. "Move like this."

You followed his motion and rocked atop him slowly. Your bud rubbed against his pelvis and nipped at the agony within. Your walls slickened around him and his hand drifted up your stomach.

"Just like that," He purred. "You might go faster as you see fit."

He cupped your tits and flicked your nipples with his thumbs. His eyes followed his hands and then lingered on the joining of your bodies. You grabbed his thick forearms as you sped up, chasing the cloud that had begun to dull the pain.

"Mmm, oh they did speak true when they said you peasants were little more than animals," He growled. "Look at you, kitten."

You groaned and but your lip as you tried to ignore him. You just wanted the release which dangled before you. Your grip tightened on his arms and you bucked atop him frantically. You were almost there.

"Whoa," He twisted his arms from your grasp and stilled your hips. "Naughty kitten."

He lifted you off of him until you were on your knees.

"Turn around," He directed.

You got once more to your feet. Your body seemed to move on its own whim as you turned and squatted over him again. He drew you back and guided his member back to your entrance. He impaled you entirely and let out a long groan. Your legs strained as you tried to keep your balance.

He lifted you then brought you back down. You moaned as he glided in and out of you. You reached down to lean on your hands as he led your body and bounced you a top him, your flesh slapping loudly. He groaned as his hands slipped to your ass and your muscles burned as you carried the motion, your climax rising even quicker than before.

You could barely keep going as you grasped the heavenly release within and your core bloomed. You let out a beastly snarl and sped up as you rode out the peak and slowed as you struggled to catch your breath. Thor kept one hand on your ass as his other went to your hip and he held you down, your walls clenching around him hungrily.

He pushed his hands in the crook of your bent legs and drew you back to lay against him. He turned you onto your side as he hooked his arm under your knee and his other arm wrapped around you from below. He thrust into you without relent, his sweaty torso flush to your back. 

His hand covered your tit and he squeezed as he sped up and a deep growl began in his chest. You clawed at his hand and arched your back as he pounded into you. You could feel it again, that magical sensation that swelled within you. You cried out as you were once more flooded with ecstasy.

His motion turned to deep, jutting thrusts and he held you tighter as he pushed your leg even higher. Your muscles tensed and he snarled against the crown of your head. He grunted as he quaked and you felt a new warmth within you, this one slicker. 

He spasmed and slowed until he was still. He went limp as he let your leg fall and he draped his arm over you as his hot breath fluttered over you. He hummed as he inhaled your scent, the air thick with sweat. He nuzzled your head and rolled his hips until you murmured.

The last time he’d been here, it had been Trebuchet. The old smith had looked at him with knowing eyes and told him. A prince of all people that he could sleep in the hay loft. And that if he came anywhere near his daughter he would personally remove his balls and have them bronzed. 

He snorted and headed slowly across the yard. 

For good or for ill, he was here. And now? It was time to face the music. 

Thor stopped, just inside the forge and watched the woman working the billows. Streaked with soot and sweat. Her hair was escaping from its bonds and curling from the heat. And her eyes reflected the flames. And for a moment, Thor couldn’t breathe. 

It had been two centuries and nothing had changed. 

She looked exactly as she had when he left. Except perhaps… more wise. Her eyes held a light that didn’t shimmer. But glowed softly. 

“Y/N?” Thor said softly. 

You hadn’t given an indication that you knew he was there, continuing to work the blade you were shaping. But at his voice, your head snapped up, eyes narrowed. 

“Odinson,” you say warningly, brandishing your hammer in your left hand. 

Thor holds his hands out placatingly, “I’m not here to fight,” he said.

“Too bad,” you growl starting forward, a still hot blade in one hand and your hammer in the other. 

“Y/N,” Thor siad backing up. He didn’t want to fight with you. He truely didn’t. Your entire life was weaponry. And he didn’t doubt that it would be difficult to disarm you without hurting you. Or getting hurt himself.

“How dare you come back here,” you hiss. “You were a monster. You were terrorizing our villagers. We broke your curse. And you repaid me by what? Taking my maidenhead and going home?”

Thor froze. He hadn’t realized. He had never even considered that he might have been your first lover. Or that you might be long married with a husband who wouldn’t  take kindly to his reapperance.  “I’m sorry,” he managed after a moment, through bloodless lips. Thor loved women. Women were magical creatures in their own right and the thought that his actions might have hurt one in someway… He was appalled. 

“Oh, you’re sorry,” you scoff, brandishing a still hot blade. 

“I am,” Thor said, kneeling, hands out, as he leaned stormbreaker against a wall. “I never meant to hurt you. When you came to me I thought- I thought that you had done this before.”

“You told me that you love me,” you spit at him. But through the fury, he can see the hurt, lurking . Squatting like a toad in your chest. 

“I did- I still do,” he said. “And I’ve missed you.”

“You’ve changed, Thor,” you murmur.

“I have,” he answered, smiling sadly. “And I just- This is the closest place I have to home. Now that Asgard is gone. And mother and father.”

You lower the blade and toss it onto the work table and Thor smiles a little. Even in your fury you could never kick a man while he was down. That hadn’t changed. “I hadn’t heard,” you tell him, “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, accepting a hand off the ground. It was the same he remembered. Strong and capable. Work roughened with callouses and old scars. 

Thor took your hand and brushed his lips across the back of your hand, “Still no needle point, my lady?”

“Father would haunt me,” you snort. 

“Haunt you?” Thor said softly. 

“He died, not long after you left us… Though not before-”

“Not before he found out that we’d been lovers,” Thor finished, cringing. 

“He was furious but… Thankful enough it didn’t result in a child.”

Thor exhaled slowly and kissed your hand again. “Did you never marry?”

You laugh and shake your head, “No one would have me after you were done with me.”

Thor cringed again and took a deep breath, “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, “There was a certain freedom in being unmarrigable,” you tell him. “It meant that I was free to care for the old man. And carry on his work.”

“What of your dreams?”

“This is all I ever wanted,” you tell him. “To protect the manor. And the people who call it home… And to perhaps be a beloved Auntie to my sisters’ children.”

Thor beamed, “Oh, I’m sure you’ve accomplished that.”

“Much to Maggie’s chagrin,” you answer over your shoulder as you go to stoke up the fire in the forge once more.

He didn’t question if you got lonely. Or if you missed having a man to warm your bed. You were passionate. Even in your inexperience. And he could imagine that you’d be more so now. Now that you had had the freedom to be on your own and to live by your own rules. Without the pressure of being a model of proper courtly behavior. He knew that you probably did. And that you had probably taken other lovers. But for the moment, all he wanted to do was watch you work. To admire the musculature of your arms and back. The focus. The artistry. 

“Not yet. I am King, the rest of the world may wait.” He sighed, “And right now I wish to be left alone with my wife.” Then he bit her shoulder playfully.

Y/N yelped, more from surprise than anything, and tried to shove him away from her.

Steve wasn’t allowing that.

Then there was giggling and shouting heading toward their door.

“It appears a certain Prince and Princess do not care for the King’s desires…” Y/N giggled into her husband’s chest.

Next thing they knew, two children were jumping onto their bed.

A panicked Wanda was standing at the door, breathing heavily. “Your Majestys,” she bowed. “I apologize. I tried to stop them–”

“Tis fine, Wanda,” Steve assured her.

“Father, the Agardians will be here soon. You promised we would practice on the training grounds before they arrived.” Joseph said while his mother had his gangly 8-year-old body in her arms.

Meanwhile, Isabella was playing with her father’s beard.

“I did promise that,” Steve admitted.

“Well, your father must have his hair cut and his beard trimmed before I allow him to do anything else,” Y/N warned. “He looks less like a King and more like a beggar.”

Steve played up a fearful face and looked to his son for saving. “We must not defy your mother or there will be hell to pay, Joseph.”

Y/N smirked. “I will ask Wanda to cut your father’s hair. Meanwhile, you and I will train. How about that, my prince?”

Joseph beamed, knowing that he wasn’t going to get the short end of the stick. He quickly jumped off the bed.

“Better deal for me anyway,” Joseph muttered to himself with a smile.

“I heard that!” Steve bellowed as he watched his son run out of their bedroom.

Y/N got out of bed with a laugh and started searching for her training gear.

Steve looked down at his daughter, who now laid atop his chest and still played with his beard. “And what of you, Isabella? Will you abandon your father?”

Her eyes were wide when she looked up at her father. “Will it hurt?” She whispered.

His brow furrowed. “Will what hurt?”

“When they cut it?” Her eyes looked back and forth between his hair and beard.

“No, my princess, tis nothing,” he tried to assure her.

“I will stay and keep you safe,” Isabella declared quietly.

Steve and Y/N shared a look. “I shall see you before the Asgardians arrive,” Y/N told her husband before leaning down and kissing him. Then she kissed the top of her daughter’s head.

“Bye, mama.”

——————————————

“There will always be another war to come,” Thor warned lowly.

The feast was large and loud. Asgardians were not known for their quietness. The fifty or so guests from the neighboring kingdom sounded three times larger than they were.

But the King and Queen preferred rambunctiousness over tense and polite silence.

Y/N frowned. “Not if Midgard can prevent it.”

“Your kingdom will run away from a fight, Your Majesty?” His eyes flickered to Steve, waiting for the King of Midgard to silence his wife like so many other men would.

But Steve looked rather relaxed.

“I do not wish to sentence the deaths of Midgard’s fathers, sons, brothers, and husbands,” Y/N retorted.

“Aye. Although from what I hear of your kingdom’s changes, that would include mothers, daughters, sisters, and wives, as well.”

“I wish to give the women of Midgard the opportunity to fight for their kingdom – the same opportunity that men are given. We are not forcing violence on any girl or woman. It is their choice and their choice alone.”

Steve was watching Thor carefully, daring him with his eyes to challenge his wife. 

Training girls and women in Midgard to fight was an initiation from the Queen herself. Steve merely supported her.

If Thor intended to insult the Queen in front of him, he would have hell to pay.

Thor stared at the King and Queen for a moment, soaking in the tension.

Then, to everyone’s surprise, he let out the jolliest of laughs.

“I am only jesting with you, Your Majesty. Did you not know of the Asgardian women who have been fighting in our kingdom’s army for decades?”

Y/N seemed taken aback. “I…” But she shut her mouth quickly, not wanting to offend Thor any more than she might have already.

Steve laughed as well. He knew Thor for quite some time. He considered the fellow king a friend and an ally.

“Thor, my Queen is used to men of ignorance, men who do not know the strength of women. Careful how you tease her, she is not one you wish to cross.”

Steve met Y/N’s gaze and gave her a small smile before giving a slow kiss to her cheek. It was his way of telling her everything was alright. 

It was not a public display of affection Steve would do if they were sharing a meal with someone who was not as close to them as Thor.

“I did not mean to offend, Your Majesty. I just enjoy watching you unleash that sharp tongue of yours,” Thor smiled.

Y/N gave him a shy smile. “If you needed another reason for avoiding war – one which does not include empathy – then let it be the price, for you and I know that wars are not cheap.”

“Aye, you are right once again. And our people suffer for it more than anyone.”

“Mama! Papa!” Suddenly the door to the private dining room had been shoved open by little Isabella, no older than four. She rushed in, clearly having escaped her governess.

Many eyes turned to the little princess as she rushed to her father, climbing into his lap. Others didn’t even notice. 

“Your Little Highness, you are meant to be in bed…” Steve warned as he helped her up. But his voice was not at all stern, instead it was filled with love.

But Isabella ignored him, burrowing her little body into his chest, making it clear that her only intention was to cuddle with her father.

Y/N reached over and brushed Isabella’s hair away from her face.

“You never read to me,” Isabella whispered to her father.

“I am sorry, my Isabella. But we have guests,” Steve muttered in her ear and gestured to Thor, who sat on the other side of the table.

Thor was amused by the little princess, already seeing Y/N in her.

But Isabella seems scared of the giant king who sat before her. She shyly hid her face in her father’s chest, knowing he would protect her.

It caused the rest of the table to chuckle at the child’s shyness.

“I wish to stay with you,” the princess told her father so only he could hear.

The King just nodded and nestled her closer to his chest, keeping one arm around her while the other could still freely eat and drink wine.

The great General King did not look so threatening when such a small, adorable child had fallen asleep in his lap.

Steve did not fear that his softness would make others perceive him as weak. He had proven is strength and tenacity in war and battle long before he married and had children.

He had made the mistake of believing he needed to be tough, stern, and cold with Joseph. A mistake Y/N quickly warned him not to continue. Steve did not repeat his foolishness with Isabella. And he realized he must show his son the same softness.

“You should be the first man that Isabella recognizes kindness from. If she does not see it from you, she will not know how to demand it in a husband and lover,” Y/N had told her husband. “And for Joseph, you should teach him that kindness is not weakness.”

Steve knew his wife had a point. A point he would never have come to on his own.

Now Isabella was fast asleep against her father. Not even the noises of a small feast could stir her.

Thor’s eyes were watching the sleeping princess.

Y/N had caught how the King of Asgard would look at her every so often.

“My son, Magni, is only a few years older than Princess Isabella,” Thor stated as he watched the little princess sleep. “Why do we not finally join our kingdoms through marriage and through blood?”

Steve knew not to look at Y/N, that her face was as composed as ever. But he saw her shoulders tense from the corner of his eye. Even his fist tightened at what he knew Thor was getting at.

“How does Prince Magni fair? Is he well?” Steve asked casually.

“Aye. He will be strong. And wise, like his mother.” Thor smirked then. “I see you avoid my question.”

“You wish to join our kingdoms through marriage and blood,” Y/N repeated before Steve could.

Thor could tell that the subject was making the Queen uncomfortable, despite her ability to hide her true emotions.

“It is merely the beginning of an idea, Your Majesty. It is not why I have come to Midgard. We can discuss it further another time,” Thor seemed to only be talking to Y/N.

He leaned forward then and made sure his eyes were filled with nothing but sincerity and understanding. “Women are respected, treated as equals. She would be loved by our people. It would be lucky to have her as its next Queen. Your daughter would be safe in Asgard. I give you my word Queen Y/N of Midgard.”

Y/N smirked then, and even let a light laugh. “Dear Thor, one should not make diplomatic decisions with all the wine and mead we have consumed.”

Thor let out a bellowing laugh and slammed his glass down, requesting even more wine.

The night went on with no other mention of a royal marriage.

When the night became rowdier with drunkards and dancing, Steve handed his sleeping daughter to the governess to put properly in her bed.

Once Steve’s hands were finally free, he grabbed his wife from behind, dragging her from whatever conversation she was having and spinning her around to the music.

It wasn’t entirely proper. But this was his Kingdom. 

And he’d had too much to drink, so he’d do what he pleased.

Y/N laughed at the childish gesture.

“Behave, Your Majesty,” she warned.

Steve pulled her body close to his and pressed his forehead to hers. “I only wish to dance with my wife.”

So they danced. Steve barely let her take half a step away from him the rest of the night. No one else would dance with his Queen. But it didn’t matter, for she didn’t want to dance with anyone else anyway.

It was almost morning by the time they finally left the royal hall. The King and Queen parted from their guests, everyone left for either their guest rooms or their own homes.

The royal couple had slowly sobered up. 

Y/N had been so sweaty from all the dancing and drinking that she requested a bath before she got anywhere near her heavenly bed.

Throughout the night, Steve had noticed his wife’s forced smiles and that distant look in her eyes she’d have when she didn’t think anyone was watching.

Steve slowly made his way to the bathroom.

Steam arouse from the water as Y/N leaned back with her eyes closed.

There was no shyness between them any longer.

Her nudity was something familiar to him now. He still worshipped it, desired it, yearned for it. 

However, his gaze lingered and beheld it still. He noticed how her body grew strong and toned from her training and fighting, a rarity for the women of their time. It only made her even more beautiful to him. 

Steve kneeled and sat on the ground, leaning on the edge of her tub.

“Y/N,” he whispered as he reached out and stroked her cheek.

She sighed, but did not open her eyes.

“Will you not tell me what has made you upset?”

She slowly opened her eyes, but stared up at the ceiling. “What has made you believe I am upset?”

“Surely you do not truly believe I am that daft,” Steve tried to tease.

Y/N smiled and finally turned to look at her husband.

Steve’s face then went serious. “It was the talk of union, was it not? Of Isabella and Magni?”

Y/N looked away. “She is barely even a child.” She shook her head. “How can I sit and speak of her marriage when she has barely lived any life at all?”

“You and I both know the King of Asgard is enthusiastic. He speaks his mind openly without considering the consequences. It was not a threat. We have not insulted him.”

“But then I wondered…perhaps it is for the best,” Y/N quickly added.

Steve showed his surprise, there was no need to keep composure when the two of them talk in private.

“Perhaps if I had known my whole life who I was promised to…” She didn’t finish the thought.

Both of them knew what direction it would take them.

Maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe they would’ve been exactly the same.

“Childhood to friendship to marriage,” Steve mumbled.

Then he watched his wife. Her mind racing faster and further than he would ever be able to track. 

His sharp and formidable Queen.

“She is not leaving us anytime soon, Y/N.”

“It will be sooner than you realize,” she countered.

“Tonight we will dwell on it no longer,” Steve advocated.

Then he started taking off his own clothes.

Y/N looked at him with amusement. “And what do you think you are doing?”

“Getting in the bath with my wife,” he told her with a smug look.

“You are not!” She quickly sat up straighter. “The bath will overflow!”

“As if I care,” Steve growled before lowering himself in.

The Queen shrieked as the water did exactly as she had warned.  

Y/N pretended to act annoyed. But she was giggling seconds later as Steve pulled her onto his lap. She was forced to straddle him, even though the bathtub was plenty big enough for the both of them.

Steve gripped her hips tightly.

Y/N lowered her head.

Her lips crashed onto his, moving in the exact way that she knew excited him.

She pulled back ever so slightly. “Perhaps we should just have another, hide them from the rest of the world so can keep them forever.”

Steve chuckled and kissed her again.

But Y/N could tell he thought she was teasing him.

She pulled back and looked into his eyes. “I mean it, Steve.”

Steve quickly pulled away from her. “Absolutely not.” It was his Kingly voice, one he almost never used on Y/N. 

The King of Midgard would give his Queen anything. Anything, except this. 

Though Joseph’s birth held almost no complications, Isabella’s was the opposite. Isabella did not sit normally inside her mother. Steve did not like to reflect on the details, but he almost lost both his daughter and his wife that night. It still brings him nightmares every so often. 

“You will not give me this?” Y/N challenged as she moved to the opposite side of the tub and crossed her arms.

In this particular moment, Steve hated that he always got so wound up by her defiance and persistence.

He glared at her. “I will make love to you, Y/N...But please do not ask that of me. I would have a hundred children with you if I knew your life would not be at risk. But after what happened with Isabella… I cannot bear it again. I will not even consider it.”

His blue eyes sunk with a sadness and fear.

Y/N couldn’t stay upset with him when he just spoke so truly of what his heart and mind felt on the matter.

She slowly made her way back to him.

Y/N kissed from his chest, to his shoulder, then up his neck.

“No more children,” she agreed in a breathy whisper.

-----------------------------

Please, please, please let me know what you think. I’ll keep writing these as long as people appear to be reading and enjoying them. 

King Thor and Queen Peter

Peter had never been the kind of person that cared too much about fashion and the like, but he couldn't deny that the traditional gown he was wearing, was beautiful.

Light, but of unmistakable high quality. A soft blue and white, with shimmering golden sequences and elaborate embroidery. The material was softer than anything that could be found on earth, and Peter stroked his fingers over it reverently.

The thankfully moderate amount of jewelry he wore, caught his eyes as he admired himself in the full lengths mirror.

Two earrings with precious, glittering blue gems in them. Silver bracelets that were littered with priceless stones. A long golden necklace, it's pendant a royal blue sapphire, that had been formed and polished into the shape of Mjölnir.

He pushed a stray brown curl of hair back, and thought about the crown that he would soon bear. Peter took a deep breath. All those years, and he was still as prone to nervousness and anxiety as ever.

He couldn't help but think back to that day. The mission that changed his life forever.

~~~

Peter had been the youngest Avengers, but he was also one of the smartest of the group.

Smart enough to be able to decode the dirty bomb, New York's latest crazy villain had set up in an underground laboratory, beneath the heart of the city.

Smart enough to understand that trying to destroy the bomb through brute force, would only trigger it's explosion.

Smart enough to know that the level of radiation the bomb was giving off, would kill any of the other Avengers in seconds, were they to get too close.

A strong EMP field all around the underground lair, had rendered the protection of Tony's suit useless.

The high radiation would trigger Bruce's change into the Hulk, and Hulk would not be capable of the delicate touch the mechanism required to be turned off.

Thor would likely be able to withstand it, but he wasn't familiar enough with earth's technology to be able to do it.

The mutation that had made it possible for him to become Spiderman had made him slightly resistant to irradiation. But not immune, and the web-slinger was smart.

Smart enough to know that while he would be able to deactivate the bomb, it would ultimately kill him.

Peter had done his best to ignore the screams and pleas and protests of his teammates, when he had sealed himself inside with the bomb. The banging and vibrations as they had tried to get in, get him out, sacrifice themselves in his stead.

Peter had known that radiation poisoning wouldn't be a pleasant way to go, and he had been deeply afraid of what was to come. But he hadn't let it deter him.

He had saved everyone that day. He had no regrets.

But against all odds, Peter survived.

He had fallen into a coma that had lasted for roughly two month, during which his friends and family (and the rest of New York) feared loosing him every day.

After Peter's miraculous recovery (as well as a frankly astounding number of hugs, and fighting off clingy and overprotective people *cough* Tony *cough* who tried to enforce bed rest for eternity), Bruce, Dr. Cho and the brunette himself had taken a closer look at the changes the prolonged exposure to the radiation had had on the Spiderling.

Thankfully there hadn't been many.

His already high metabolism had gone up another notch, he had lost all his body hair (which sucked, as he had been really proud of the hair that was FINALLY sprouting on his chest. Thank god though the same hadn't happened to the hair on his head, eyebrows and eyelashes.)

And the decay rate of the cells in his body had slowed down so much, that his natural lifespan had multiplied by a hundred.

That last one had been a bit of a shock.

Bruce and Helen had juggled some numbers, ran some tests, and had finally estimated that Peter would likely live for several thousand years.

Peter … had not been okay.

But, as it always did, life went on.

With the knowledge that he would live for centuries and age very slowly, there was no way to keep Peter's identity as Spiderman a secret any longer. Unless the brunette wanted to go through the long life he now had before him, faking his death and creating a new identity for himself again and again, the world had to know.

Over the following years, Peter Parker grew into a scientific pioneer and great humanitarian, and possibly the world's most influential Superhero of all time.

And as the decades past, the still young man stood and wept at the graves of many of his loved ones.

The first one they lost had been Tony. Maybe it shouldn't have come as a surprise, seeing that the man had been in his late sixties then, and still as reckless as ever. But that hadn't softened the blow one bit.

Then it had been Sam. A mission like so many before, but the Falcon had made a wrong move. Had zigged when he should have zagged. At least it had been a quick death.

The others followed over time, as was nature's course.

Aunt May's passing had been especially hard. The woman had lived to see the ripe age of 95, before slipping peacefully away in her sleep. Call him naive, but Peter had just never envisioned a time in his life where his aunt would not be there.

Through every death, and at every funeral, however, Thor had firmly placed himself on his younger friend’s side. The Asgardian faced a similarly long life expectancy as Peter did now, and had already been over a thousand years old when they had first met, so he knew better than anyone, what Peter was going through. (It was one of the things that his fellow Asgardians never understood about their prince. Why mingle with members of a species, whose time in this universe was but a blip on their own radars?)

The blond god shared in his grieve over their comrades, and lent a shoulder to support and cry on for every other loss.

The years went by, bringing with them new generations, Peter making new friends, Spiderman becoming a mentor to new heroes.

Standing at new graves.

And every time, like a tower of strength, Thor was there beside him. Years turned into decades, and decades turned into centuries. And Peter and Thor grew closer than the human had thought possible two people could ever be.

Falling in love was easy.

Peter had had a crush on the Asgardian prince, since the first time he had seen him in a news report.

Thor had respected and liked the younger man the minute they had been introduced to each other, and always thought him to be incredibly attractive.

When an overwhelming army of Frost Giants had threatened Thor's people, Peter had been beside him on the front lines.

When no one else had wanted to accompany the prince to free his wayward brother from imprisonment on another planet, Peter had stepped forward.

When Peter had befriended Loki, and helped mend the rift between the brothers, Thor had known with absolute certainty, that there could never be another for him.

Roughly four hundred years since they had first met, and about 165 years into their romance with each other, Spiderman had gained the status of a living legend on earth, and Peter had buried more loved ones than most gained in a lifetime.

They had stood before yet another grave, Thor's strong arm wrapped around Peter's waist, the brunette buried into his lovers side.

“I can't do this anymore.”

The blond had needed no clarification on the words. He had grown to resent the human fragility over the decades, watching his love suffer over and over again, with ever life lost.

“Come to Asgard with me.”

Peter did.

-

Their departure from earth was met with much heartbreak.

Thor had come to earth's aid (and to spend time with his beloved) many times, and had gained quite a number of admirers.

But Peter, Spiderman, he was adored.

He had been around for hundreds of years and had possibly saved every life on this planet at least once. He was the one that would help new heroes find their footing, helped them learn the ropes.

And Peter Parker had held up the legacy Stark had entrusted him with, centuries ago. Stark-Parker Industries had broken new grounds in almost every field of science.

Developing cures for diseases, engineering prosthetics for missing limbs that worked and looked just like the real thing, and so much more. He had used his influence to push for better, more affordable health care; and had perfected the clean energy and water program to be implemented all over the world. Millions of dollars were donated every year to good causes.

Peter called it his responsibility. Thor called it a labor of selfless love. Loki called it a waste of Peter's time and talent, for the undeserving masses, but he did so with a teasing smile and a ruffle to the younger man's hair.

Peter gave a moving speech to the public, that left few with dry eyes, and promised to return whenever his help should be needed.

The farewell the both of them gave to the other heroes (most of which Peter had trained himself from their very beginning) and Shield (which had risen as the regulating force of the government, as the overseeing agency for all special agents and enhanced individuals who chose to use their powers for good), as well as the employees of Stark-Parker Industries, was much more private and heartfelt.

Peter had taken care to leave his company in the good hands of the descendants of  both Virginia 'Pepper' Potts (38 year old Samuel Potts, who had been in the company since he finished college, and just like his many times great aunt, had been the perfect personal assistant) and Edward 'Ned' Leeds (34 year old Natalia Wilson nee Leeds, who was the head of the scientific division and just as loyal and caring as her many times great grandfather.)

-

Peter had been on Asgard before, but coming to live there had still been strange. Not bad strange, just... different.

Thankfully, unlike Thor's previous lover, Jane Foster, Peter was easily accepted by the Asgardians. Peter had become a respected warrior in the realm, due to the help he had lent their prince in fighting off the Frost Giants, and other adventures he had embarked on with Thor, Loki, and the Warriors Three. The fact that he would likely live as long as their own kind, also contributed to his acceptance into their folds.

Just as Thor had always known he would, Peter had endeared himself to his people quickly. Always eager to lend a helping hand to anyone, ever polite and friendly, and never hesitating when it came to getting down and dirty.

Peter took special delight when it came to teaching and playing with the children. Thor wasn't surprised. Back on his home planet, Peter had been exceptional at handling little children and teenagers alike. It had always carried a bitter sweet edge for the Spiderling, knowing he would have to watch them grow old and die. This was no concern when it came to Asgardian children though, and Peter glowed with a new cheer and enthusiasm every time they came running to greet him.

Living together in his home, Thor had begun to woo his love anew. Peter found it charming. Loki thought it ridiculous.

After about fifty years spent together on Asgard (with the occasional trip to earth when they called for help), Thor adopted the earth's custom of bending down on one knee, to ask Peter for his hand in marriage. Needless to say, Peter accepted.

~~~

He startled slightly when two thickly muscled arms snaked their way around his waist, and he was pulled back into a broad chest.

His soon to be husband bend down to rest his head on Peter's shoulder, and softly kissed the nape of his neck.

“What has got you thinking so deeply, my love? Don't tell me you are getting frosty feet.”

Peter laughed lightly and leaned back into the embrace.

“It's 'cold feet'. And no. I'm a little nervous about having a few thousand eyes on me, though I should really be used to that by now. And, I may be a bit intimidated about the responsibility of my duties as your queen. But I can't wait to marry you.”

Thor smiled, happiness radiating from his eyes, as he pressed another kiss into his beloved's neck.

“Then why the frown.”

Peter sighed, casting his eyes to the side, where a photograph (preserved with magic, courtesy of Loki) of the first Avengers, Peter, Aunt May, Pepper, Happy, and the Barton family stood. (Steve had called it 'team training', but really, it was just an excuse to get everyone and their family together to have a picnic)

“I just wish they could be here with us.”

Thor followed the brown eyed gaze and held Peter tighter.

“They are, love. They are always with you. And they would want you to be happy on your wedding day.”

Peter leaned back a bit, to look into the sky blue eyes he loved so much.

“I'm always happy when I'm with you.”

The admission earned him a sweet kiss on his lips.

“Then you shall always be happy, for I will never leave your side.”

Now it was his turn to reward Thor for his words.

A deliberately loud and drawn out sigh interrupted the lovers, and they quickly looked to the door.

Loki gave them a pointed stare.

“Can't you two keep your hands from each other for any length of time? Thor, you aren't even dressed yet. The wedding and coronation starts in thirty minutes, but if you wish to make a buffoon out of yourself by getting wed and becoming king in your undergarments, by all means, go right ahead.”

Peter grinned and couldn't help but snark back at his friend and soon to be brother in law.

“Why so crabby, Lokes? Stephen beat you at chess again?”

The relationship between the Wizard and Loki was a curious one. As Sorcerer Supreme, Stephen couldn't die unless he was killed, and he had become a dear friend and frequent visitor. Some days, he and Loki looked two seconds away from murdering each other. Other days, they looked two seconds away from tearing each others clothes off and fuck right where they stood.

Thor said it was their way of flirting. Peter believed him.

Loki sneered.

“It is an inferior game. The Wizard is just lucky I don't care enough to really try to beat him in it. Now get dressed, Thor, you can maul poor Peter later!”

With that the dark haired man left the room. Thor burst out laughing.

“It really is adorable, seeing Loki so smitten with Stephen. I will need to have a brotherly talk with Strange, soon. But Loki is right, I really must get ready.”

He quickly turned Peter around a bit, hands gently holding the slighter hips between them, and bent down for one more kiss.

“I love you, my Queen.”

Peter smiled up at him.

“I love you, my King. Now get dressed so we can tell the rest of the world.”