The Sanctum
“Is he-?”
“Yes. Very much yes.” Wong’s brow was furrowed, a light sweat accumulating on his palms. “He needs to go. How am I supposed to organise the library when he’s there?!”
“Again?” The sorcerer supreme frowned gently, a quiet sigh escaping his lips.
Wong nodded. “Again.”
“..I’ll talk to him now then.” Strange began to descend the flight of stairs, central in the New York sanctum, being carried solely by his sentient cape. He didn’t seem particularly angry about having to deal with the issue, just concerned about the havoc it could potentially wreak on the timeline if left unattended to.
It was only once Strange had reached the bottom of the stairs, and was about to push open the grand mahogany door to the library, that Wong spoke:
“Not now. Later.” His voice was stern enough for Strange to know that was an order. He turned around to face Wong, presumably to make some snarky comment about how ‘he was the one in charge’, but his second in command had already disappeared through a portal, the remaining orange sparks slowly fizzing away from the atmosphere.
Strange rolled his eyes slightly, taking one more glance at the polished brass doorknob to the library, before leaving the sanctum, aware he only had a couple hours to prepare for a gala with his girlfriend, Christine, that night.
It was only whilst he was getting ready, changing into one of his smartest tuxedos, that he allowed his mind to wander, considering the full potential danger of the situation, which was slowly but surely beginning to dawn on him. Not only that, but Strange had a tendency to disobey Wong’s orders, and the nagging urge instructing him to open that library door was certainly there.
This urge was ultimately too strong. Strange knew it would be, and he was well aware of the consequences that could arise from leaving Christine to go to his gala alone, with no explanation or mention of his whereabouts. But curiosity got the better of him, as it always did, and he found himself stood right back in front of the library door, hand cupping the doorknob.
‘Don’t do that, Stephen Strange.’ Wong’s voice cautioned him in his head. He paused. But then again, when had he ever listened to Wong? He twisted the doorknob and pushed open the door softly, a loud creak ringing out as he did so. Shit. Well if not before, his presence was definitely known now.
It only took five or so minutes for Strange to locate the ‘problem’ Wong spoke of. The Asgardian king in question was sitting in the furthest corner of the library, leaning softly against one of the bookshelves, his elbows propped up on his knees, and head resting gently in his hands.
The sorcerer stopped in his tracks when he laid eyes on the god in front of him. The usually strong, robust being in front of him had been reduced to a quivering shadow, radiating a concerning amount of uncharacteristic vulnerability. He hardly seemed like such a ‘problem’.
Despite not knowing Thor all that well on a personal level, only aware of his impressive power, capabilities and strength, the sorcerer approached him. Sighing as he sat down next to the god, Strange for once found himself at a loss for words. He racked his brain for the cause of Thor’s distress, and ways in which to comfort him. He wasn’t quite sure how to comfort an Asgardian. Especially an Asgardian king, namely Thor Odinson, the God of Thunder. One wrong move or comment, and this could all go very badly wrong, very quickly. After a few minutes of silence, with neither man acknowledging the other, Strange’s mind settled on what he was certain the cause of the god’s troubles was.
Ah. Loki. It had been around a year since the Asgardian’s adopted brother had died, and understandably Thor hadn’t taken it well, especially when he realised that this time his brother wasn’t coming back. He had gotten through the initial stages of grief, regaining motivation for his life, getting back into his.. well, incredibly impressive, gorgeous physique that Strange couldn’t help but notice.. and just more or less getting his life back on track. But even Thor had his days, and the anniversary of his brother’s death was, of course, one of those days. When Loki had passed away, Thor had made an oath to Strange to always come to either Kamar Taj, or one of the many sanctums when he felt such a way, knowing that if he ever did lose control, a place where he was surrounded by multiple powerful sorcerers was the most likely to reduce the damage or impact of his overwhelming grief.
A few more minutes of silence passed, Strange still fairly unsure on what to say. He recalled one of the more ancient books he had read shortly after becoming Sorcerer Supreme. Asgardians traditionally held the belief that actions spoke louder than words.. right? Or was it words over actions? Shit.. shit. How about both? Strange shuffled a little closer to Thor, putting an arm around his back, rubbing up and down his shoulder.
“Are you alright..?” Strange immediately regretted his choice of words. The god next to him clearly wasn’t in any way alright. It was in times like this he wished the time stone had never been lost. It certainly would’ve made things much more simple if he could just go back and redo things..
Thor didn’t provide a response to said question, but sat up a little, enough that the dim light from the closest lampshade reflected off his face, highlighting the splotches of red surrounding his eyes and nose that he desperately tried to rub away before they were seen.
“I’m.. I’m sorry. I’ll go now..” Thor nudged Strange’s arm off his back, voice trailing off as he pushed himself up to his feet.
Strange stood up with him. “No, wait- it’s fine. You can stay. Just.. not in the library, Wong will kill me.” He chuckled lightly, “..Though do free to go to my room, if you wish. Make yourself at home there.”
The sorcerer wasn’t particularly sure himself why he had made such an offer to a being he had only met a couple times before, though he put it down to some long-winded point about protecting the timelines, and keeping everyone safe, despite the man beside him not being in such a state to hurt a fly, nevermind anyone or anything of any significance.
The Asgardian gave a slow nod, trying to force a small smile out of his blotched mess of a face and quickly walking towards the library door, hesitating once he reached it, rushing back to give the sorcerer a quick, grateful hug, before leaving the premises faster than ever.
This left Strange, stood in the library, alone to ponder and sort through his thoughts.
“Hm.”
He raised his eyebrows, nodding gently to himself in acknowledgement.
“..Not bad.”