#for the followers: i’ll draw them if they win. divorce sweep.

[cuthian]

Starting Over Chapter Six

Hi guys!

Sorry for the delay on this one :) This is another Asgard chapter, so check the end notes again if you prefer not to read about Becca and Thor.

Love, Annaelle

Chapter Six

PEPPER POTTS IS PREGNANT AND BREAKS TWITTER WITH ADORABLE PREGNANCY ANNOUNCEMENT

MANHATTAN, NEW YORK — Pepper Potts, C.E.O. of Stark Industries and longtime girlfriend of Tony Stark and Col. James Rhodes, is having a baby, and like everything else she has done since the news of her polyamorous relationship with Rhodes and Stark, she is doing so on her own terms.

[...]Potts, 42, is pregnant with her first child, and used the unconventional, but adorable video she dropped on her official Twitter account yesterday morning to confirm the rumors of a pregnancy that have been floating around for the past few days.

[WATCH HERE: PEPPER POTTS SURPRISES TONY STARK, JAMES RHODES AND STEVE ROGERS WITH ADORABLE PREGNANCY ANNOUNCEMENT.]

She followed her video announcement with a tweet stating, “I have seen many children born into homes with two parents, who end up arguing, fighting, and divorcing. The person this affects the most is the child. I don’t think our situation, our relationship, will be detrimental to our child because it will ensure that our child will be loved. [...] It takes a village, and we have a big, loving, crazy village. I cannot wait to begin this next part of our lives together.”

The announcement was retweeted by Col. Rhodes and Tony Stark within seconds—we cover the adorable and surprisingly eloquent reaction of the two fathers-to-be here in this podcast—as well as by Captain Rogers almost immediately after that, all with happy and congratulatory messages. Captain Rogers’ tweet hilariously promises he will be the best big brother to the Rhodes-Stark-Potts baby in the history of big brothers.

Potts replied to Rogers’ tweet: “Steve will definitely be the best big brother to our baby. He’s got plenty of practice as #BigBrotherOfAmerica.”

[...]Fans flooded the video with congratulatory messages, and the hashtag #IronBaby has been trending for forty-eight hours so far, and promises to hold for at least another few days.

—Clara Newitski, “Pepper Potts confirms pregnancy”, E!News Online, 30 November, 2015

————————

TRAINING FIELDS, IDAVOLL, ASGARD

NOVEMBER 30TH, 2015 – 8:57AM (EARTH UCT+1)

BECCA

She hit the ground with a dull thud, the fall knocking the wind clean from her lungs, leaving her gasping for breath for a long couple of minutes. She laughed breathlessly when Sif appeared in her field of vision, grinning fiercely as she offered Becca a hand to help her up. “You did well,” Sif told her approvingly. “Not bad for a human. You held out much longer than I expected.”

“I got good trainers,” Becca chuckled, allowing the other woman to help her up.

She and Natasha had been training together for years at this point, and Thor had made a point of it to ensure that all of the Avengers learned how to fight opponents physically stronger—had made it a point to make sure they knew how to win and survive a fight against an opponent physically much stronger than they were.

“You must’ve,” Sif remarked, patting Becca’s shoulder. “I see our prince’s influence in the way you dodge, sometimes.”

Becca smiled lightly. “He’s been diligent about teaching us to win against more powerful opponents.”

“I cannot have my favorite mortal friends perish before their time,” Thor boomed as he came up behind them, slinging an arm around her. “You least of all.” She leaned into him when he pressed a kiss to her temple, relaxing against him.

She’d not been alone with him since before the disastrous feast, had barely even been in the same room as him, and she’d missed it—she’d missed him.  

Sif only grinned in response before she curtsied—exceptionally sarcastically, somehow—and turned to beat up some hapless Aesir warriors. Becca smirked before she turned in Thor’s arms, slipping her arms around him and resting her head on his chest. She’d been up since dawn, had joined Sif in training not long after, and they’d been at it for hours.

She was well-trained, and in good condition, but she was only human.

She was tired, and Thor was comfortable and safe.

“Hello Krúttið mitt,” he rumbled, smoothing his hand down her back. “You’ve been busy.”

“Well, I had to keep myself busy with all kinds of official, diplomatic things,” she told him, seriously leaning back to raise an eyebrow at him. “My boyfriend seems to have other, more important matters on his mind than entertaining little old me.”

Thor frowned faux-seriously, shaking his head sadly. “Ah, your man must be a fool, to leave a woman beautiful and ferocious as you all by herself.” He grinned rakishly. “Anyone could pass by and just… snap you up.”

He punctuated the last word with a peck to her lips, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re an idiot,” she told him, but she didn’t resist when he cupped her face in his hands and leaned in to kiss her again.

“Perhaps, but you… You,” Thor muttered against her lips, her cheeks cupped in his large palms, “you are a dangerous woman.” He slipped one hand down, trailing down from the back of her neck to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him, ignoring the wolf-whistles that his friends sent their way. “And an irresistible one.”

Becca grinned against his lips and tugged on his hair a little. “And don’t you forget it.”

“I could never,” Thor chuckled.

“Odinson!” Fandral roared from somewhere on the training fields, effectively shattering their little peaceful bubble. “Stop canoodling with your mortal and come help me! I cannot lose to Sif again.”

Becca laughed when Sif cackled, and Thor shook his head in faux-dismay.

“Go,” she told him. “I think I’ll watch you, for a change. Go beat some unsuspecting morons for me.”

Thor chuckled and nodded. “Their blood shall be spilled in your honor then, Krúttið mitt,” he hummed. “And then I shall sweep you off your feet, and carry you to my chambers as my prize. My very own spoils of war. If you let me.” He hugged her close as she spoke, and she made note of the slightly possessive note to his words—it was so very rare that he admitted to wanting something different, or something potentially… more, she supposed, than what they already shared, that she cherished each time that he did.

“And after, I shall return you to your chambers,” Thor muttered, pressing a light kiss to her lips. “Once I have properly and thoroughly ravished you. I must confess I am most curious about your abode… I fear I’ll have to inspect whether it’s worthy of housing you, elskan min.”

“Oh?” Becca raised an eyebrow. “And should you find it lacking?”

“Well,” Thor rumbled, drawing her close one more time to press a smacking kiss to her lips. “I suppose I’ll have no choice but to house you in my chambers. Nothing less than the absolute best will do.”

She giggled against his lips, allowing herself one more moment before she pushed him back, keeping him at arm’s length when he pouted. “Go beat up your friends, hotshot,” she told him with a warm smile. “I’ll be right here when you’re done, okay?”

“As you wish,” Thor hummed, lifting the hand she’d pressed to his chest up to his lips to press a soft kiss to her palm, before he turned and joined his friends.

She remained where she was for a few moments, grinning at Thor’s back when he collided with his friends. She watched as he threw a casual arm around Fandral’s shoulder, as she’d seen him do dozens of times with Steve, watched the way they all laughed and teased each other, and felt something loosen in her chest.

Even on his best days on Earth, there was a kind of heaviness to him that did not dissipate.

It had now.

Seeing him here on Asgard was… it was almost unreal. He was lighter here, flourishing in a way she’d never seen him flourish before—in a way he probably couldn’t flourish on Earth—and she loved seeing him happy and carefree like this.

She tried not to think about what that meant for their future, though.

She made her way to the plump, surprisingly comfortable benches to the side of the training fields, sitting down with a sigh of relief. Her body ached a little—in the good way, the way it ached when she’d done an intense workout and stuck with it until the end—and it felt good to let her muscles relax for a short time. She’d get up to do some more stretches soon, she promised herself, but she’d take a five-minute breather first.

She watched, as she’d told Thor she would, allowing herself to study the way he fought, now that he didn’t have to hold back. He was ferocious, fighting with a kind of elegant brutality that was both breathtaking and frightening—she loved him, more than anyone else she’d ever been with, but she forgot… she forgot how different they were sometimes.

It wasn’t a bad thing, certainly, but… it was a little scary.

“Milady?”

Abruptly startled from her thoughts, Becca looked up to find two of the—frankly absurd amount of—maids Odin had assigned to her, Unnr and Þrúðr, standing before her, both looking profoundly uncomfortable.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, squinting up at the two women.

Unnr shook her head shakily. “No, milady. We just—” she and Þrúðr exchanged a fleeting glance, “—we were wondering if you are ready to return to your chambers?”

Becca blinked. “Oh,” she said, looking between the two maids. “I… I was actually planning on staying for a while? Until Thor’s done, at least.” She didn’t miss the way the two exchanged another glance, and huffed impatiently. She’d liked Asgard fine, so far, and no one had been openly hostile—barring the woman she’d had to shoot for threatening Thor—but things were different, here.

The change from Earth to Asgard had thrown off her sense of time too.

It almost felt like jet lag, but worse too.

It wasn’t bad enough to incapacitate her, or make her want to stay in bed for a few days until her body had fully adjusted to the new time zone, but it was, at moments, so damned uncomfortable.

The minor headache she’d managed to ignore all day came roaring back, and she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.

“Ladies,” she sighed. “Would one of you please tell me what’s wrong?”

Both girls blinked at her, before Þrúðr spoke. “The training grounds are typically… they’re typically off limits for maidens, milady. I believe exceptions were made because the Prince demanded it be so, but usually…” She shook her head. “It’s not proper for unwed women to be here.”

Becca swallowed thickly and blinked again, trying to digest… all of that.

“Sif’s here,” she pointed out dumbly, gesturing towards where her boyfriend was doing his best to electrocute his friends while cackling gleefully.

She shook her head.

She loved that weirdo.

“Yes,” Unnr conceded. “But Lady Sif is… well… concessions were made. She is of highborn Aesir nobility. Before Prince Thor was betrothed to Prince Loki, there were many talks of an alliance forged by marriage with her and the Prince. I believe the King allowed certain… liberties when he abruptly broke off such negotiations with her family.”

“That’s bullshit,” Becca blurted loudly, wincing a little when both maids startled.

Before either of them could speak, though, someone interrupted from behind them. “Our traditions are bullshit to you now, Lady Rebecca? I’m sure my son will appreciate hearing you express such blatant disrespect towards our customs.”

She stiffened, turning slowly to face her boyfriend’s father—his King—for the first time.

She had been introduced to him at the feast, of course, but that had been with Thor holding her hand, and about two hundred people surrounding them. She was vaguely aware that her two maids dropped into a deep curtsy the moment they realized who had spoken, and that they all likely expected her to do the same, but… she remained sitting, only moving to incline her head towards the man lightly.

She was not, after all, one of his subjects.

She was a guest of his son, and he allowed her in his home, so she owed him at least a modicum of respect, but she did not owe him allegiance or deference.

“Your majesty,” she offered. “I meant not to offend. I’m sure you understand that not allowing certain… parts of your citizenry to learn how to defend themselves seems… peculiar to someone looking in from the outside.”

Odin smiled tightly. “I suppose from your point of view, it certainly must seem so. As long as you remember that you are, of course, on the outside, glancing in.”

Becca blinked at that, taken aback by the barely veiled insult.

“Ladies,” Odin addressed Unnr and Þrúðr, “I’m sure you have duties to attend to.”

The two scampered off before the King had even finished speaking, and Becca remained were she was, stiff and decidedly uncomfortable, as her boyfriend’s father took a seat  on the stone bench beside her.

She was tempted to get up and rejoin Thor and his friends, to let this arrogant old man look the fool, but… She sighed and shook her head.

He was Thor’s father, after all.

Insufferable bastard or not, she’d promised herself and Thor she wouldn’t let him get the best of her.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” she offered again when he remained silent.

She wasn’t sure why the man was here, why he insisted on sitting with her when he clearly did not approve of her presence at all. She expected he would try to frighten her away from Thor, or that he would insist on tormenting her about all of Thor’s past lovers—Loki most of all.

“Worry not,” Odin finally said. “Human lives are but fleeting, I should not expect such underdeveloped minds to understand the delicate intricacies of our society.”

“Excuse me?” Becca spit, rearing back as though he’d slapped her. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I am Odin. King of Asgard.” He turned to look at her slowly, expression frustratingly inscrutable. “Protector of the Nine Realms.”

“Yeah,” Becca snorted. “Right. Nine Realms. Including Earth. We noticed the protection. Thanks, by the way, for keeping our planet from slowly heating up and destroying itself. Or for stepping in during any of the wars, famines, epidemics, or disasters over the past thousand years.” She shook her head again. “Thor tells me you haven’t even looked at Midgard in centuries. Don’t you dare call yourself our protector when we’ve clearly been doing fine on our own.”

Odin merely chuckled, and shook his head lightly. “You humans… threatened by suffering in threefold; by your own body, doomed to decay; and the world you so cherish, that rages against you with overwhelming and merciless destruction… and then from your relations with one another. I’ve lived thousands of years, child, but I’ve never met another race quite so talented at self-destruction.” He looked down at her and added, “Your kind’s never taken well to our interference. While I have several agents established on Midgard, keeping me apprised of… relevant information, we generally let you be.”

Becca snorted. “For a man who so readily proclaims our brains underdeveloped, you sure seem to like some of our people’s works.” When he raised an eyebrow, she shook her head, “I know Freud when I hear it, your Majesty, however much you try to dress it up with fancier words.”

Odin smirked. “Ah, you are clever, at least. I suppose my son has some taste after all.”

He shook his head again, as though he’d grown weary of the conversation, and said, “Surely you understand, though, that my son will not be able to keep you. Certain classes of beings cannot mix—certainly not for any significant length of time.”

“With all due respect,” she replied coldly. “I hardly think we’re a different class of being. Having access to seiðr readily doesn’t make you more evolved—even certain humans can harness its power, even if they are far rarer than they are to your people. Honestly though, I can’t say that I care overly much for what you think. I care what Thor thinks, and he’s made the way he feels about me very clear.”

Odin eyed her critically. “My son has had many lovers before. What makes you think you’re different than those he dallied with to distract himself from Loki’s disinterest?”

“I trust him when he tells me I am,” Becca told him coolly, crossing her arms over her chest, and though she was fuming, she carefully kept her expression blank, because she refused to let him see that he was getting to her—that his words rattled her even the littlest bit.

Odin laughed humorlessly. “I’m sure he told the others such things as well. Like he did Loki. Undying devotion did not last quite so long, did it?”

She knew what he was trying to do, and she was sure if he had done so earlier on in their relationship, she might actually have believed him. She might have let this old, sad, heartbroken man get under her skin and ruin what she and Thor had managed to build, but she refused to let him now.

They’d worked too hard to get where they were today.

“You know, I’m a little sad for you,” she said, slowly. “I’m sad you’re so twisted up inside that it makes you want to make Thor just as miserable as you are.” She looked him right in the eye and shook her head. “I love your son. I really, really love him, and I don’t care that I’m mortal and he’s not. I don’t care that you don’t like me. I care that I make him happy. I know I’m not Loki, and I don’t need him to love me like he loved Loki.”

She shrugged and offered a soft smile. “I just need him to love me like he loves me.”

Odin chuckled derisively. “Such sentimentality. I should expect no less from a human.”

“Father,” Thor cut in, and Becca barely resisted the urge to jump at his sudden appearance. Thor settled himself on the bench beside her, pressing closer than was, perhaps, strictly appropriate in front of his father, but she didn’t protest, allowing the press of his torso against her side to soothe her.

“My son,” Odin said calmly. “I sought only to properly meet your frù.”

“Do not talk of her as such,” Thor hissed viciously, drawing Becca against him firmly, surprising her with the venom in his tone. “She is more than that.”

“Is she?” Odin chuckled. “Is that what your inn mátki munr signified? Will you insist on making her your kvàn, my son? Call her your brúðr? Your kona?”

“If I do,” Thor spat, “It will be because she chooses to be.”

“And she’s right here,” Becca said, elbowing Thor in the gut when he squeezed her too tightly.

Thor looked at her, eyes wide and somewhat crazed, and Becca made the executive decision that remaining anywhere near Thor’s father wasn’t going to end well for either of them. “Thank you for coming all this way to meet me, your Majesty,” she offered, making sure to paste the most insincere smile she could manage on her face, “I think we both rather learned a lot today.”

She looked to Thor and squeezed her fingers around his. “We’re leaving. You promised me you’d show me more of Asgard.”

“So I did,” Thor nodded, keeping his blue eyes intent on hers. “There is much to see still.”

He stood smoothly, offering Becca a hand as soon as he was standing, and pulled her to her feet as well. “We will take our leave, Father,” he said. “It was a pleasure, as always.”

With that, Thor began moving, pulling her along with him.

She didn’t look back.

————————

[PEPPER POTTS PREGNANCY ANNOUNCEMENT VIDEO!]

There is a short moment before the image settles that shows a cozy, comfortable living room, before the image stills and zooms in on two men sitting at the kitchen island, heads bent together over a laptop.

“I don’t see the big deal, Capsicle. It’s not like this is news, even to you,” Tony Stark, looking almost like had only just rolled out of bed, shrugs, leaning back in his chair and sipping from the large mug in the shape of the Hulk’s fist.

“This isn’t a joking matter, Tony,” Steve Rogers, dressed in a tight white t-shirt and light sweatpants insists, gesturing towards the screen with a frown. “They moved to L.A. of all places. It’s a fucking outrage.”

“But it’s just baseball,” Stark mumbles, looking entirely nonplussed, before he offers, “Would it help if I bought them?”

Rogers blinks in astonishment before he groans and puts his head in his hands. “God, don’t tempt me, Tony. I don’t even need you to buy them for me—I could do it.”

Stark laughs and pats his hand on Rogers’ head while he shakes his head, using his free hand to draw the laptop closer to himself. “Shhh,” he tells Rogers, “let me live out my sugar daddy fantasies through you, Steven.”

Rogers looks appropriately scandalized while Stark cackles and types madly on the laptop.

Rhodes walks in, stops short, takes in the scene and shakes his head. “Whatever it is, Tony, no.”

Stark cackles louder. “Tony, yes!” Both Rogers and Rhodes sigh and share a commiserating eye roll before embarking on a journey to the refrigerator together.

The camera shakes a little when the person behind it moves, moving closer to the men in the kitchen. “Tony,” Pepper Potts says from behind the camera. “What have you done now?”

Stark looks up and smirks gleefully. “I’ve just bought our baby a baseball team.”

Rogers and Rhodes emerge from the depths of the fridge with identical, bewildered expressions, and Potts is quiet for a moment before she chokes, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know Steve was our baby now?”

Rogers, who has once again rounded the kitchen island to peer at the laptop, exclaims gleefully, “Neither did I, but you’re not getting rid of me now. You bought me the Dodgers?”

The camera shakes when Potts laughs. When it settles again, the three men are now crowded around the laptop, talking over one another excitedly.

“Well,” Potts interrupts, moving closer to the men. “I suppose we can keep you. As long as you learn to share with your future baby sibling.”

The camera swings up to catch a clear look of the three men’s astonished expressions before the image cuts out.

—Clara Newitski, “Pepper Potts confirms pregnancy” CONTINUED, E!News Online, 30 November, 2015

————————

FENSALIR, VALASKIALF, ASGARD

NOVEMBER 30TH, 2015 – 12:09 PM (EARTH UCT+1)

THOR

He was still fuming at the sheer nerve of his father, even hours later.

He had taken Rebecca to see the city and had shown her his favorite little corners. He had taken her to the tavern he had taken Steven to as well, had taken her to visit Aase and the market, and had watched her become struck with awe when he had taken her to the libraries that held the collected works of the Nine.

It had soothed his ire some, to see Asgard anew through her eyes.

Becca’s wonder at seeing his home was contagious, and Thor had relaxed some. He had known, of course, that his father would attempt to sow discord in his relationship, that he would seek out Rebecca and try to pinpoint her insecurities, that he would use those insecurities against her to destroy them, but he had not expected his father to be quite so open about his disapproval.

He’d certainly not expected him to corner Rebecca on the training fields.  

“Hey.”

Rebecca’s voice and her insistent tug on his hand drew him from his thoughts.

“Stop it,” she told him sternly when he looked at her. “Don’t let him win. I didn’t believe a word he said about us, Thor.” She turned towards him fully, and Thor relaxed a little when she tiptoed to slip her arms around him. “I love you. I trust you. You know that. I didn’t let him get under my skin.” She smiled and pecked his lips. “Don’t let him get under yours.”

“You’re right,” Thor sighed, leaning his forehead against hers. “You’re right. I’ll not let him spoil our time together any longer.”

“Good,” Becca grinned, leaning in to press another kiss to his lips. “Now show me these famed gardens of yours. Steve’s told me they’re absolutely gorgeous.” She stepped back a little and held out her hand to him, raising an expectant eyebrow.

Thor smiled and took her hand in his, leading Rebecca back towards the palace. He looked forward to showing her the Gardens; they’d proven a refuge for him and Loki many times when they’d been children, and he knew it’d brought Steven comfort too, when he had been here.

He hoped that Rebecca, too, would find some solace there.

He recognized he had not been able to be the host he wanted to be due to the absurd itinerary his father had foisted upon them when they arrived. Rebecca had spent far more time with his friends and the handmaidens—whom she had thankfully taken a liking to, even the maids she had initially bemoaned—than she had with him, due to his father’s insistence on adhering to tradition.

Tradition that he had never once been forced to adhere to before.

He’d originally planned for their first few days here to be far less strenuous and far more intimate.

Heimdall had warned him, when he began planning this trip, that journeying through the Bifrost would likely be exceptionally taxing for a human; even Steven, with an enhanced physiology that brought him closer to Aesir than to human, had felt the effects of it for a few hours.

He had not kept as close an eye on Becca as he had planned to, and he hoped she wasn’t feeling any ill effects of the travel any longer.

“Are you doing alright?” he asked concernedly, pulling her to a slow stop by lightly tugging on her hand. “I’ve not thought to ask how the Bifrost affected you, I apologize.” He imagined an inter-dimensional jet-lag on top of his father being… well, himself must’ve been exhausting.

“I’m fine,” Becca told him with a wry quirk of her lips. “Although, Asgardian cuisine doesn’t seem to agree with me yet.” She smiled a little. “I guess I just have to get used to it, but I’m not very hungry. I’m so bloated it’s not even funny anymore, but I’m not feeling sick or anything bad. Little tired, maybe, but... ” She squeezed her fingers around his. “Jet-lag hasn’t been so bad yet.”

“If you’re sure,” Thor said doubtfully, running his fingers across her cheek.

“Of course I am,” she shook her head. “Come on, show me the Gardens.”

He nodded silently and resumed their trek back to the palace; they would not have to enter the palace, thankfully, and risk running into his father or any of the servants. Loki had once shown him a secret path into their mother’s gardens, where they could slip past the guards unnoticed and hide in the lush, green garden for hours without being found.

He fully intended on doing so with Rebecca as well.

Spending their afternoon basking in sunlight, snacking on the morsels Thor had had asked the maids to prepare, and relaxing together, as they hadn’t been allowed since their arrival on Asgard, sounded like the best idea he’d had in months.

“So, your father had these gardens created for your mother?” Becca asked, slowing down a little so they walked side by side again, swinging their arms between them.

“Yes,” Thor nodded. “She missed the woods of her homeland and her father’s gardens, and my father sought to ensure her happiness by recreating them as precisely as he could.” He wondered where the man his mother had fallen in love with, once, had gone.

He wondered if love lost turned all hearts bitter, or if his father was an exception. Then again, his father had been a bitter man for longer than his mother had been gone.

He wondered, briefly, if he would lose himself to bitterness and anger too, should he lose Rebecca as well.

Losing Loki and his mother had very well had the potential to turn his heart to stone, and he believed it may have, had he not had his mortal friends to lean on in his time of need. The Warriors Three and Lady Sif were worthy friends indeed, but they had not understood the depth of his despair following Loki’s death. It might have been more forgivable if they had not so clearly mourned the loss of his mother while barely paying lip service to Loki’s memory, and only then on Thor’s behalf.

Having Becca and Steven and the other Avengers to turn to had saved him, in a way.

“That’s sweet, I guess,” Becca nodded, drawing him from his thoughts.

He looked to her and smiled lightly, squeezing his fingers around hers. “I suppose it was, at the time,” he shrugged. They’d reached the palace walls by now, and Thor slowed their pace down to a casual stroll, gently nudging Becca’s attention towards the walls that surrounded the palace.

“Do you see the etchings that cover the walls?” he asked, slowing to a stop so Becca could reach out to touch her fingertips to the faint lines.

“What are they?” she asked, looking back at him quizzically.

“Loki insisted they are the remnants of the history of our people that our forefathers would rather have seen forgotten. If you look closely, you can almost see the figures that tell our tales.”

Becca was silent, and Thor allowed himself to remember the awe that had filled him the first time he had seen the lines on the walls form a recognizable pattern. “It’s beautiful,” Becca said quietly, pulling her hand away from the wall and turning back to him.

“It’s also our way into the gardens,” Thor confided in her, pressing close to her and taking her hand in his. He guided her hand up, palm up, to the wall, letting it hover above the stones for a long moment.

“Say the words with me,” he whispered. “Opnað grindrinn.”

“Opnað grindrinn,” Becca repeated dutifully, and Thor relished in how easily her lips formed around the still largely unfamiliar words—she had insisted on beginning to learn his native tongue as soon as their relationship became more serious—and smiled when she gasped delightedly when the solid wall that stood before them shimmered and then disappeared, revealing a veritable oasis of greenery and flowers.

“Oh wow,” Becca breathed, and Thor couldn’t help but smile. It was an awe-inspiring sight, even for him. “Is it a gate?” she asked as she walked further into the gardens, “or is it an illusion?”

Thor hummed and considered his words before he spoke, watching as Becca moved deeper into the gardens, fingers idly trailing past flowers and deep green leaves. “It is somewhat of both,” he finally said, allowing his gaze to stray to the bright red flower that bloomed only through his mother’s lingering seiðr. “Loki wove the spell centuries ago, weaving it so only those we chose to share it with would be able to enter, and only accompanied by one of us. It was an ideal hideout.”

He expected Becca to laugh at that, to tease him about hiding out in the secluded gardens with Loki so they could make out like the careless, lovestruck boys they had been at the time, but she remained quiet.

He looked up to find her standing only a few feet away, rather a lot paler than she had been minutes ago.

“Becca?” he asked. “Are you alright?”

“I–” She shook her head and swayed where she stood. Thor moved before he had even consciously thought of doing so, crossing the distance between them in a few strides, grasping her forearms tightly. “I’m so hot.”

Now that he stood so much closer, he could see sweat beading on her forehead, and see just how alarmingly pale she’d suddenly become. “Becca, what’s going on?” he demanded urgently, concern flooding his entire being when she didn’t respond to his query immediately, eyes going a little unfocused before she muttered,

“I need to sit, I’m—l’m going to be sick.”

“Of course,” Thor floundered, trying to figure out how to help her sit without having her keel over, when her eyes rolled back in her head and she went limp in his grasp.

“Becca!” he shouted in shock, barely moving fast enough to catch her as she crumpled, knees buckling as he sank down to the ground, her limp form cradled in his arms. She didn’t respond, nor did she wake when he patted her cheek, despite him using more strength than he usually did with her.

No reaction, but at the very least she was still breathing, and her pulse sounded strong and steady to his enhanced ears.

He looked up desperately, shaking himself forcefully. “Alright,” he nodded to himself, lifting her up in his arms and making for the palace.

Eir would know what to do.  

————————

Start from the beginning:

In Hell We Stand By You:

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Never Feel Alone:

(1) (2)

Decisions: (1)

Dancing with a Limp:

(1) (2)

Chances:

(1)

Starting Over:

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Or read it HERE on AO3 :D Find the next chapter HERE on Tumblr :)

#IHWSBY sequel #starting over #stucky #Stucky fanfic #Steve Rogers #thor #Rebecca barnes #Avengers family #my writing #Lisa writes