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The Avengers Tower was quiet at night, the silence pressing in from every corner. Wanda Maximoff sat curled at the edge of a couch, arms wrapped tightly around herself. She kept her eyes on the floor, her breath shallow and uneven. The battle in Sokovia was over, but the weight of it still clung to her, heavier than any rubble they had pulled survivors from.
Her brother, Pietro, was gone. So was the home she had fought for, the only thing tethering her to a past she could no longer touch. Now, in a country she barely knew, surrounded by strangers, she felt like a ghost trapped in a world that wasn’t hers.
Footsteps echoed down the hall, heavy and deliberate. Wanda stiffened. Before she could will herself to slip away into the shadows, Thor appeared in the doorway. The dim lighting made his figure seem even more imposing, the faint gleam of his armor catching the low glow from a lamp.
“Ah, there you are, Lady Maximoff,” Thor’s voice rumbled, deep but oddly warm. He stepped further into the room, his brow furrowed. “I’ve been wondering when you’d show yourself. You’ve the look of someone who’s wrestled with shadows.”
Wanda’s gaze drifted to her hands, fingers gripping the sleeve of her jacket so tightly her knuckles whitened. “I didn’t fight bravely,” she whispered. “I just… tried to survive.”
Thor’s steps slowed as he came closer, his blue eyes thoughtful as they studied her. “Surviving a battle is no small feat,” he said gently, though his voice carried its usual weight. “It takes more strength than the poets sing of... more than most will ever know.”
Wanda shook her head, her voice barely audible. “It doesn’t feel like strength. It feels like... I shouldn’t be here.” Her throat tightened as she forced the words out. “Everything’s gone. Sokovia. Pietro... What am I supposed to do now?”
Thor crouched down beside the couch, lowering himself so she couldn’t avoid his gaze. His features, usually broad and full of laughter, were softened with understanding. “Grief is... a beast with many heads,” he murmured. “I’ve known it well, Wanda. It gnaws at you, like a storm that never ends.”
Wanda blinked rapidly, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to spill.
Thor tilted his head slightly, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “But if you think you shouldn’t be here, you’re in good company.” His voice was gentle but certain. “None of us truly belong anywhere, not until we choose to anchor ourselves.”
Her brow furrowed, doubt flickering across her face. “What if... what if I can’t control what’s inside me?” she whispered, fear coating her words. “What if I hurt someone again?”
Thor placed a large, calloused hand on her shoulder, the weight of it firm but comforting. “Then you stand,” he said, his voice low but unwavering. “And you fight again. And when the darkness returns, you won’t face it alone.” He grinned, the glint of mischief returning to his eyes. “After all, you’ve got me now. And I am very difficult to get rid of.”
Wanda let out a shaky laugh—small, fragile, but real. Thor’s grin widened at the sound.
“That’s better,” he said triumphantly, rising to his full height with an exaggerated stretch. “Now, you must eat. I’ve learned that mortals here hoard a curious delicacy called... Pop-Tarts.”
“Pop-Tarts?” Wanda echoed, a hint of disbelief slipping into her tired voice.
“Aye! Sweet and strange, yet oddly satisfying.” Thor gave her a playful nudge with his elbow. “Come now, a proper raid of the kitchen awaits us.”
Wanda shook her head, but a reluctant smile tugged at her lips. It was the first real one since Sokovia. For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight on her chest eased, just a little.
“Okay,” she whispered, standing slowly. “Lead the way.”
Thor clapped her lightly on the back, his voice brimming with approval. “That’s the spirit, little witch! Step by step, as I said. And tonight, we step boldly toward strawberry-flavored glory.”
Together, they made their way through the dim halls of the tower. Wanda walked a little closer to Thor, her steps still uncertain, but not quite as heavy. And though the grief lingered, sharp as ever, she no longer felt as if she were carrying it alone.