Thor
Even though he has won—they have won, life has won—things aren’t quite the same.
The voices in his dreams tell him it’ll never be the same again.
He sees his brother, dying—his mother, dying—his father, dying. His kingdom reduced to atoms, his people to ashes.
I assure you, brother, the sun will shine on us again.
For the first time in a thousand years, he has no path. He does have a ride, though, and he is forever grateful when the rabbit (Rocket) pushes him up the steps into the Benatar, waving a farewell to New Asgard—to Earth. The Guardians have a memorial wall of sorts near the bridge, marked with the names of valued teammates and friends who are now lost (Groot. Yondu. Gamora). Quill and Drax join him as he inscribes the names of his Asgardian family. Rocket and Nebula join him to place the names of the fallen Avengers.
He tells Quill that they all know who the captain is, and Thor knows it is not him.
Thor also knows that for the past five years, Nebula and Rocket were in command of this ship—not Quill, but not himself, either. He has not commanded a ship since—.
He is (was) a king with few people and no home, or claim to any leadership now.
He listens as Drax tells stories of his wife and daughter, over bites of their favourite dish he made on his homeworld, before Ronan the Accuser (Thanos) took that from him.
Thor does not think about his home. He does not think about his mother’s favourite meal, or the stories his father told him as a child, of lands with vast riches and beauty, and how Asgard was at the centre of it all. He thinks instead of Stark, of the wife and daughter he left behind.
Mantis sits with him in his bunk, black eyes shining in awe as he regales her with tales of victories long past. She does not touch him to share his pain. She does not need to.
He and Rogers shared stories once. There were times, in the three or four weeks before Thor’s second failure, when the super-soldier asked him what happened to Loki, to Asgard. Eventually he stopped asking, seeming to understand that he had lost more than words could say.
Of course, he shows Groot the Stormbreaker and thanks the young Colossus properly for his help in making it. For his help in saving him as he lay dying under the light of Niðavellir.
He sometimes thinks he should have died in that forge, that it might have ended differently if he hadn’t been there to fail time and time again. Then he remembers Natasha, who died under the light of a sun that was not her own, and he is filled with remorse—.
—the sun will shine on us again.
He feels that he does not quite belong with the Guardians, but Nebula curtly informs him that none of them quite belong, and that’s what makes them a family.
Thor begins to clean himself up, starting with a shave and a haircut. He drinks less (though still heavier than he ever did before Thanos), and works out more often. Rocket grumbles about how he’s had to replace the equipment in the training room several times, but every time that Thor breaks another set of weights or damages the virtual target range, they are repaired and upgraded.
After a few months, he looks more like he did just before Thanos took everything from him. It is only right to try to start anew, he thinks, considering that he has been given a new lease on life with the Guardians of the Galaxy.
He sees Loki’s name on the memorial, and hears his brother’s words repeat in his head as he settles down at night.
I assure you, brother, the sun will shine on us again.
Even though he has won, it isn't quite the same.
The voices in his dreams tell him it’ll never the same.