Coronation
Thor awoke slowly. He was a little sore, but warm and comfortable. His head was pillowed on something soft, something that rose and fell rhythmically, and had a familiar scent.
He was in the large bed in the side room of the ship, his arms around Eden, his head resting on her stomach.
He moved and she shifted and sighed, touching his hair. “You awake?” she murmured.
“Mmhm.” He lifted his head to look at her and smiled. She smiled back, and glanced at his ruined eye just as his sleepy mind processed the fact that half his visual field was gone. Feeling his face heat, he covered his eye with one hand. “Sorry,” he mumbled in embarrassment, dropping his gaze. “It must look disgusting.”
Eden pulled his hand away from his face and kissed him.
He was frozen in surprise for only moment, then returned her kiss with ardor. “It doesn’t bother you?” he murmured roughly when at last they broke apart.
“Of course not,” she answered firmly. “It’s a sign of your love for your people. And—” She cupped his cheek. “I love you, Thor Odinsson.”
“I love you too,” he answered softly, and kissed her again. “My goddess.”
---
A couple of hours later, Eden had left him to get dressed and prepare to be officially presented to his people. Some Asgardian who was good with his hands had created an eyepatch for him and sent it in with his cleaned clothes. The sight of his ruined eye in the mirror had been startling and disturbing, and now Thor was looking at the eyepatch, having a drink, and trying to work up the courage to leave the room.
He hadn’t had much leisure to think about it yesterday, but now that he did, he was ashamed. Ashamed of his lost eye, ashamed of his shorn head. Long, thick hair was a sign of virility among the Asgardians. To have it cut at all was embarrassing—to have it forcefully cut by a captor was absolutely humiliating. What kind of King of Asgard would he be—a king who still bore the marks of enslavement, a King of Asgard when Asgard was gone forever?
The door behind him opened. “It suits you,” a familiar voice said. Thor looked up in the mirror to see Loki, smiling softly.
He turned, glad to see his brother. Glad--for the second time in two days! Might almost be a new record. “Loki.” He put down his drink and picked up the stopper for the bottle. “I might even hug you if you were here.” He tossed the stopper.
And Loki caught it. “Oh, I’m here.”
There was a short pause, a dozen emotions boiling in Thor’s heart. But one came up on top: He had believed his brother—his beloved little brother, his childhood playmate, the ally of his adulthood—had been dead. And he was back. And he had proven himself capable of good.
Loki dropped his gaze in the awkward silence. “Thor, I—”
Thor strode forward and pulled Loki into a hug, cradling the back of his head. “I love you, Loki,” he rasped out. “And I’m—I’m so proud of you, Brother.”
He thought for one moment that Loki would pull back, but his little brother dropped the stopper on the floor and returned his hug tightly with a sound that might have been a stifled sob. They held each other for a long minute.
At last Loki broke the hug, chuckling in a way that was clearly meant to cover up the sound of tears in his throat. “I’m glad to see you too, Brother. But I think the people have waited long enough, don’t you?”
Thor dashed away a tear and straightened up, clearing his throat. “How do I look?” he asked anxiously.
“Like a King,” Loki said quietly, and opened the door.
Thor took a deep breath and stepped out into the main room, almost afraid to look up and meet the eyes of his people. There was a ripple of excitement in the room, the sound of movement as many who were seated rose to their feet, and then an expectant hush.
“I present King Thor of the Asgardians,” Loki declared loudly. The people nearby moved back to create a path for him, bowing as he passed.
Thor gathered his courage and looked up—into shining faces, shining eyes. Among the crowd, he saw a number of people with shorn hair: captives of Hela’s who had escaped, men and women who had been humiliated, abused—just as he had.
His chest swelled with fellow-feeling, his shame melting away. His experiences hadn’t made him weak and despised—they had made him one of them. He clasped the forearm of a man nearby with hair as short as his own, reached out to a woman with her hair cut off who hesitated to give him her hand: it was missing two fingers. He lifted it to his lips and gave it a reverent kiss. Murmurs filled the hall, and he saw eyes that were as full of tears as his own were becoming.
It was an indication of his focus on his people that it was only then that he noticed the golden tree, glowing with a warm light of its own, that was growing from the floor of the spaceship. Underneath it stood Eden, beaming from ear to ear.
He smiled back and approached, looking up at the tree in wonder. “What’s this?”
“Loki gave me Idun’s apple seeds, and it turns out they’ll grow without dirt!”
“It’s incredible,” Bruce murmured, and it was only then that Thor noticed him, practically lying on the ground in order to look at the tree’s roots. “Go straight into the metal—and yet the thing’s growing!”
“The best part is, it’ll provide all the food we need until we get where we’re going.” Eden was excited. “Try an apple!”
Thor reached up to pluck one, but pull as he might, it wouldn’t budge.
Eden chuckled and picked it for him, easily. “Try it!”
He bit into it. It was full of flavor—juicy and firm, as an apple should be, but with a swirl of tastes, some of which were nothing like an apple. “It’s like—a whole meal!”
“Yeah, like that chewing gum in Willy Wonka,” Bruce agreed, standing up. “Just nobody turning into a blueberry at the end. Hopefully.”
Thor slapped him cheerfully on the back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Your Majesty,” someone said, and they all looked up. The Valkyrie stood beside a chair. She gave a half-smile. “Your throne.”
Thor climbed the steps to the observation platform and took the captain’s chair, Eden coming to stand beside him.
“How many do we have on board?” he asked.
“About five hundred,” Loki answered, following them up. “Men, women, and children.”
“We’ve found sleeping space for everyone,” Eden added, “and have been finding foster families for the orphans.”
Thor nodded. “Good. Are there many?”
“Not really. I’m afraid that the few children who survived mostly did so with the help of their families—they survived together, or died together.” Her tone was somber. Thor reached out and silently took her hand.
“Your Majesty,” Heimdall interrupted, “Where are we headed?”
For a moment, Thor had no idea how to answer. What planet would open their doors to the Asgardians? Where could this band of refugees go?
He glanced up at Loki and remembered his father’s final words: Remember this place. Home.
“Earth,” he answered, and Loki nodded. “Norway. With a little stop in Iowa,” he added, smiling up at Eden. She smiled back.
“Norway?” Heimdall seemed surprised.
“Yes. Norway.” He squeezed Eden’s hand. “Home.”