a different way to be, an avengers fanfic

This was written for Meilan_Firaga as part of the Rarepair Fic Exchange.

Happy rarepairficexchange! I was so excited when I got your request, especially because of your fabulous taste in loving Ragnarok and WandaVision! I was really inspired by your mention of wanting to explore emotional depth with Wanda considering the nature of WandaVision, and I felt like we never got to see Thor in the aftermath of Ragnarok (and Endgame). This is set in the aftermath of Infinity War and Endgame with a heavy emphasis of Ragnarok. I took a lot of my Thor characterisation (and characterisation of other Asgardians) from that film since he was an enjoyable big golden retriever.

I'm hope you enjoy it!

Title is from Cranberries' "Dreams".

a different way to be

Wanda wrings her hands together as she stands at the very end of what appears to be a driveway. She's unclear of what it is. It lacks the pebble stone or cement with stencil markings etched into it. It also lacks the white picket fence. What it does have is a house at the very top of the hill and a lopsided mailbox in the shape of a cat. Its mouth opens wide and its tongue hangs out comically.

When Thor had called her out of the blue, two days after what had transpired in Westview, he'd told her of golden towers and sparkling pillars and how the castle had sat in the centre of a great fluffy cloud. He'd told her of a rainbow bridge and an endless lake beneath it that acted as a moat.

As Wanda looks at New Asgard, all she sees is endless hills of yellow-green grass, dirt roads, Asgardians working boats on a dull blue and rather unexciting ocean, and lots and lots of donkeys and goats. Pressing the heel of her boot against the soft earth, she determines that this is, in fact, not a cloud by any nature.

She jumps when a big hand claps her too hard on the back. "Sorry, sorry," he says, his hand rubbing between her shoulder blades now. Thor stands behind her, hair as long and knotty as it had been at Stark's funeral. His hand is warm through the fabric of her coat.

"Didn't mean to scare you, Miss Maximoff."

"Wanda," she says with a smile, hands clasped awkwardly in front of her. "I… like your place."

He smiles, withdrawing his hand. He beams as he looks around New Asgard, taking in the rather dreary and cloudy sights. "It's beautiful, isn't it? Well! I should show you around. You'll be staying here for as long as you like, Wanda Maximoff. I thought that—us Avengers, really—we should be sticking together, don't you?"

At the crinkle of her brow, he plants his large hand at the small of her back. With the gentlest nudge, she begins to walk in step with him. His legs are so long but he makes himself appear small and at her height with the way he syncs his steps with hers. His left foot hits the ground as soon as hers does.

The ascension up the hill is one of the strangest experiences she's had thus far, but Wanda finds one important thing stands out: she's not thinking about anything at all but the warmth of Thor's hand on her back and the way his voice booms like thunder around her as he tells her stories about this hill.

Apparently a troll lives under it, although, she can't quite see where that troll happens to be.

"His name's Andrew," Thor says with a pearly white smile. "Rather ridiculous name for a troll, don't you think? Doesn't quite have me shivering in my timbers at all. I think his name should be Simon. Much more ferocious."

She spends a week following Thor around like a lost puppy. He seems to enjoy it, standing a lot taller, shoulders pulled back. His voice continues to boom around them like warm thunder. With a sweep of his hand, he tells her of the houses and buildings on her left.

"It used to be a fisherman's wharf," he says, glancing at her over his shoulder. "But since Valkyrie is spearheading"—he grins a little proudly at that—"the fishing, it's now called a fisherwoman's wharf."

Wanda nods, clasping her hands in front of her. "That's quite a change."

"That what I thought," he says with a smile. Coming to a stop in front of a table packed with buckets of dead fish, Thor scoops his hand inside and pulls out a large lobster. "She caught this one with her bare hands."

She furrows her brows, tilting her head to the side as she studies the fish. There are no telltale marks on it to indicate anyone had caught it with their bare hands. "How can you tell?"

"Because it's Valkyrie," he says with a shrug that's meant to explain it all. He looks the lobster over before giving it an approving nod and placing it back in its bucket. "She's capable of anything and everything. Come on, I'll introduce you to her. I think she's in a good mood today."

Wanda doesn't ask again how he can tell. She eyes the bucket of fish one last time and slowly follows Thor, letting his voice drift in and out as he explains to her how the buildings had been specific businesses but are now buildings welcome for anyone to wander into and make any supper or share what they've found from the ocean.

She's beginning to slowly understand why Thor's here. He has nowhere else to go.

She doesn't meet Valkyrie the day that Thor tells her of the fisherwoman's wharf. Five days later, she meets her.

Walking along the bright beach with her shoes in her hands, she hadn't expected to find anyone beneath the long pier. Hidden away in the shadows was cooler and wetter sand, and a woman sitting on a bucket with her elbows braced against her thighs. Her hair's knotted into a tight plait and she wears thick streaks of white paint over her eyes and on her biceps.

"I've been avoiding you," Valkyrie says, not looking at Wanda. She keeps her fishing rod in the shallow depths of the water, the waves lapping at her bare feet. "Thor won't shut up about you."

"I'm sorry," Wanda says, eyeing Valkyrie's tense hands.

Valkyrie huffs. "Sure you are. You and the lot of them are always sorry." Glancing at Wanda, she takes in her furrowed brow with a sharper arch of her own. "We lost everything, you know."

"I do," Wanda says, curling her fingers tightly into her shoes. "I'm not here to take it away."

Valkyrie narrows her eyes at her. "Don't get into my head."

Holding up her hands in surrender, Wanda takes a step back.

"If you want to be useful, either pick up a rod or net and set sail or help them forget the horrors that they experienced. You can do that, can't you? Make them forget?"

Wanda looks down at her feet.

"Ah, yes, you can." Valkyrie turns on her bucket, her feet sloshing in the water still lapping at her feet. "Are you going to come here and take over this town, too?"

Wanda looks at her and shakes her head. "No," she says, tilting her chin up. She stares down at Valkyrie defiantly, noting how the thin line of her mouth begins to lift up subtly at the corners. "I'm here to…" Wanda shrugs. "I'm just here."

Valkyrie pushes up, standing tall and strong against the waves lapping at her feet. She peers at her with a curious stare, taking a moment to size Wanda up. "Don't know if I like you," she says. "We'll see."

With a cock of her head, she turns and picks up her bucket roughly. She walks Wanda back to the town before dropping her off with Korg.

Two weeks into her stay in Tønsberg and Wanda quickly develops a reputation for being a better gamer than Thor.

"Fully real," Korg says enthusiastically. He's in the middle of retelling the tale of Wanda threatening to shove a pencil up the nose of a kid from Australia without even leaving her seat. "He called Thor the worst Avenger, and before you know it, she's there, telling this nugget that he'll have a pencil up his nose in no time!"

Wanda shakes her head. "It didn't go like that, no," she says, feeling her cheeks flush. Valkyrie peers at her over her tankard of ale, brows lifted in expectation. The rest of Thor's friends crowd around her quietly, making the outdoor cafe feel like a small and intimate space. She can feel their excitement bubble around her hotly. It's intoxicating.

Wanda puffs out her chest and smiles proudly, "I told him that if he spoke another word, the pencil on his coffee table will be in his nose."

"Ferocious!" Korg claps his hands, laughing as loud as thunder. "That's exactly what I said when retelling it!"

"What's this?" Thor stands with his hands on his hips, easily towering over half of the Asgardians leaning on the table in wonder. "Did I hear that Wanda Maximoff has dethroned me as the most fearsome video gamer in Tønsberg?"

"You heard that right," Valkyrie muses with a smile. Pushing herself up against the table, she sits with her back slouching against her small wooden seat. She doesn't take her eyes off Wanda. "This little witch is a better threat than you, Thor."

"Oh," Thor says, lifting his shoulders up a little higher. Wanda can feel the insecurity ebb off of him. "Well…" He clears his throat. "Did Korg tell you about this time where I threatened to go clobber this young man from America? He was on the West Coast. Wouldn't specify his state, but I'm having the Spider-Boy track him as we speak."

Wanda smiles up at Thor. "No," she says. "Tell me."

Thor preens and smiles, nudging a blonde man to the side so that he can take his seat. Resting his hands against the table, he smiles brightly, looking at his rapt audience with eagerness. "Well, it started on a stormy Friday afternoon…"

Thor reclaims his title as the most ferocious video gamer in Tønsberg within three days. Wanda doesn't let him win, but she does allow her fingers slip from the controller a few times as she yells at a boy on the East Coast of the United States for claiming Thor is the shortest Avenger of them all.

It's on a sunny mid-morning that he finds her tangled up in netting. She'd been trying to fix a gaping hole in the threads, but had ended up being spun into a cocoon of her own. With a fist through the gaping hole and netting catching onto her hair, Wanda begins to glow red.

"I see you've caught a fish," Thor smiles brightly with his hands on his hips. "A fish called Wanda. I saw that movie. I liked it very much, though the fish looks nothing like you."

She can't help but smile at him. Tugging her hand that's caught in the webbing, she exhales roughly through her nose. Her frustration begins to ebb away from her. It's like Thor's superpower is making those around him calm and hopeful. "I don't think that fish would get caught up in this netting."

"No," Thor says, beaming smile still in place, "she would not have." He steps closer to her before taking a seat on the wet wood of the pier. He crosses his legs and sits beside her, shoulders and back slouched. He picks up the end of the netting and begins to run it through his fingers—far away from where she's caught.

"You can leave any time you want, you know," he says, keeping his gaze down and focused on the netting. He's gentle with the way he brushes his fingers over each coarse thread. "You don't need to stay."

Wanda watches him, feeling something strange come off of him. He doesn't want her to go, but he also doesn't want her to feel obligated to stay. It's a strange mix of emotions that catch her in its web a lot more tightly and efficiently than the one her hand and hair is currently caught by.

Thor looks up at her, beaming. While his eyepatch is perfectly black, it still feels warm. It does nothing to hide the way his face lights up—or how he forces himself to like a lightning strike. "I don't want you to feel obligated—"

"I'm not," she says quickly, shaking her head. "I'm not feeling obligated. I like it here."

He smiles, looking down at the netting. She feels it tug on her hair as his fingers begin to climb along the rungs of thread. "You know, this is actually my brother's net. He had made it so that if anyone used it, they'd be trapped. He often used it on me."

Wanda's smile is small as she watches Thor. Even though she can only see his profile, she can see the sadness and the happiness mix together to pull at his mouth. She doesn't know if he wants to smile or frown.

"So, I'm not terrible at fishing," she says.

"Oh, you're terrible," he says with a toothy smile, lifting his gaze to hers. He looks so sincere when he says it. "Bloody terrible. I had thought you'd be a great fisherwoman."

Wanda smiles, laughing softly. "I'm not very good at catching things in nets. Minds, though…" She sighs, letting her shoulders sag. "Maybe you should leave me in this."

He shakes his head, twisting his body so that he can begin to slowly work her hair out of the net. His fingers are gentle and warm. "It's my duty as an Avenger and an Asgardian to never let anyone suffer in Loki's netting," he says, puffing out his broad chest. "Especially someone as pretty and powerful as Wanda Maximoff."

She feels her cheeks heat as she watches him from the corner of her eye. For a long quiet moment, she simply watches him. His fingers are gentle and rough all at once, and he apologises when he tugs on her hair a bit too roughly.

Exhaling softly, she feels rubble settle itself in her throat. "Why aren't you scared of me?"

Gently pulling the netting away from her hair, Thor shuffles so that he's sitting in front of her. He begins to work on freeing her wrist. "My sister took my eye. Did you know that?" At the shake of her head, he nods, biting on his bottom lip for just a moment. "I watched Thanos as he strangled Loki to death. I watched Thanos kill Heimdall, who was one of my good friends. I watched as the world halved itself and became imbalanced and frighteningly empty."

He looks up at her, brows furrowed tightly together. He shakes his head. "I'm not afraid of you, Wanda," he says. "You cannot hurt me. And even if you could, you wouldn't. You've had many times to strike me like a snake and yet you're tangled up in my brother's netting and you play video games."

His hands are gentle against her wrist. The netting easily falls away as he tosses it to the side. Thor smiles at her shyly. "And I say that as the strongest Avenger and your friend. I'm not afraid of you, Wanda. I never have been."

It's late on a drunken night that she thinks she spies Simon the troll.

The town is lit brilliantly by thick lampposts lining the walkways and streets. Each house has at least several posted in front of them and behind them. Thor says it's to ensure everyone finds their way home. His fear of someone being lost is so palpable—palpable to drive them all to drink under the guise of a festival no one remembers the name of.

With his hand in hers, she grips him tightly and tugs him off the cobblestones and onto the dewy and damp grass. It's like pushing a boulder—or pulling one, in this case—as Thor laughs and insists on spinning around each lamppost.

"I saw him!" She tugs on his hand harder, wondering if she's going to pop his arm out. After his fingers leave the cool surface of the post, he propels himself forward and to her side. The slope that they reach is lit brilliantly by lampposts lining the walkway she'd taken on her first day here.

"Shh." Wanda presses her finger to her lips and shushes him loudly and for a long minute. Thor mimics her, finger to his mouth as he quietly shushes her in turn. Getting lost in a shushing war, they quieten as she grips his hand and slowly makes her way along the damp grass.

Despite her attempts to find the troll in the broad daylight (and while sober), Wanda hasn't found a door hidden away in the grass or in a tree trunk. The hill has always appeared immaculately built by nature itself. The troll had always been hidden away, either cloaked in magic or tucked inside the imaginations of the Asgardians.

A shadow moves. She grips his hand tightly and pulls him to stand behind the thin trunk of a windy tree. "Sh," she says quietly, peering around the side of the tree. "He's here."

"Is he?" Thor's voice booms before he clears his throat and whispers, "Is he?"

Despite her vigorous nodding and pointing, the shadow doesn't sweep across the hill again. It's quiet and humid, the sounds of the festivities—the shouting and dancing and singing—fading into the background.

Thor leans closer to her. "I don't think anyone is there," he says quietly. "Maybe Andrew-Simon is at the festivities."

Wanda shakes her head. Keeping her gaze on the dark hill, she waits and waits… and with a wiggle of her nose, summons him. A round figure cloaked in pure darkness emerges from a red door from the side of the hill. He closes it quietly behind him and slips his round feet into rounder shoes. The troll has no distinct facial features, but two horns sit out at the top of his head and his thick fingers look spiky at the end. He glows a brilliant red as he ventures out into the night, humming quietly to himself.

Thor's face brightens as he watches Simon walk towards the cobblestone, heading towards the town. Mouth agape, he turns back to Wanda, then cocks his head to the side. "We should follow him," he says, words slurring. "As the strongest Avengers who can hold any liquor—"

"And defeat any trolls," Wanda says with a nod. With Thor's hand still in hers, they follow the glowing red figure as he wades into town. Simon doesn't last long. When Thor sweeps Wanda up into his arms to sit on his shoulders so they can join in with the dancing, Simon is long gone.

It takes him two months to take her to a secluded, quiet cliffside. The waves are louder here, smashing against the rocks and cliff's sides. Wanda wraps her arms around her chest, her hair whipping into her face.

Thor ignores his long hair brushing into his face as he gently holds her hand and takes her to a bright green field. The headstones are unmistakable. Lined in equal rows, small flowers of all types shoot out from around them.

"This is where our people are," Thor says solemnly. "The fallen." He doesn't look at her as he stands at the edge of them. When she looks down, Wanda notices that the gravesite is lined with small stones and pebbles.

He inhales deeply and seems to hold it, squaring his shoulders as he looks out at the stones representing his people. Wanda wants to look away from them all, but she keeps her gaze on all the gravesites, hating the fact she's counted more than a handful of stones.

"I was wondering… And you can completely disregard this if it's not my place… But Valkyrie and I, well…" Thor clears his throat before he turns to face her. Wanda keeps her gaze on the graves. "We were wondering if you'd like to remember anyone."

Eyes blurring, Wanda swallows hard. Her throat feels tight. His hand in hers is warm; his thumb brushes over the back of her hand. She looks at the graves, at the flowers that are slowly blooming on thin stalks.

She turns to face him, ignoring her tears. "I'd like that."

Thor smiles, his own eyes brimming. "Any time," he says, glancing at the gravesite. "There's a nice spot near the cliff if you'd like Pietro to be here. I figured he would like it there as it's a good vantage point to watch over his sister."

Wanda lifts her hand to wipe at the back of it beneath her wet eyes. She laughs wetly, "Pietro would like that too much."

Thor chuckles and scans the graves, giving her multiple options to remember Vision. At the corner near the cliffs, if he doesn't get seasick… or by the very centre, so that he can watch over everyone. Wanda lets Thor babble on, informing her that Loki's remembered by a small ditch in the grass as he recalls fondly when Loki had once tripped him at an identical spot in Asgard.

She squeezes his hand and doesn't let go.

When she picks her spots for Pietro and Vision, she also selects stones and spots for Natasha and Steve. Pietro takes the place that Thor had suggested, a beautiful spot right near the cliffside that overlooks the town.

Before they leave, she holds his hand and makes the small growing flowers bloom until the gravesite can be spotted miles and miles away. From the base of the town, she can easily spy the colourful beacon of remembrance. It's overgrown and lush, and most importantly, so very present.

"I forgot to bring scissors!"

Thor sits on a boulder Wanda had conjured up for him, his hands in his lap and his back perfectly straight. She stands behind him, her fingers brushing through his hair. It's about time he got a haircut. For some strange reason, he hasn't allowed anyone to cut his hair. It's certainly not because he thinks he looks good—she's caught Thor eyeing the top of his head and the magazines she's conjured featuring handsome models with short-cropped hair—but he seems afraid.

Wanda knows what it's like to be afraid. When she had felt it, he had taken her small hand in his bigger and rougher one and had reminded her with a gentle squeeze that she wasn't alone at all.

"It's okay," she says, producing a pair of scissors that glow a brilliant red. He smiles down at them as she snaps them playfully. "I always have one on hand."

Thor eyes the scissors for a moment before he nods. She's slow and gentle as she cuts his hair. Thor relaxes his shoulders as he looks over at the cliffside. A little walk to their left is the gravesite.

"I used to cut my brother's hair," Wanda says quietly. "Sometimes I would cut it lopsidedly."

"Will you do that to me?" Thor remains still, his fingers drumming against his thighs. He's nervous, but it's not out of any fear she'll give him a bad haircut. She knows he's afraid of something. Perhaps he's afraid of himself. The Thor who had allegedly doomed the world had short-cropped hair. He clears this throat and continues, "I don't know if I'd look good with lopsided hair."

"I think you would," Wanda says as she cuts some of his hair. "You would look good bald, too."

Thor chuckles. She feels warmth and affection radiate off of him; it makes her blush.

"I wanted to plant silver roses by Loki," he says quietly. The wind begins to pick up, clasping some of Thor's cut hair and taking it away with its hands. "Valkyrie tells me there are no silver roses."

Wanda peers at the back of his head curiously. "Are you sure?" With a gentle nudge of her fingers against the back of his head, he turns to look to his left.

He gasps, laughing brightly. "Those weren't there before!"

By Loki's gravesite is a large, overgrown bush. It sparkles a brilliant red as silver flowers bloom from the leaves, large and bigger than either of their heads.

During another drunken night of festivities—this time, Valkyrie hosts a party to celebrate Thor's haircut—she takes him to the gravesite to enjoy the celebrations from a bird's eye view. The silver roses of Loki's bush glitter brilliantly against the night backdrop.

While she has every intention of bringing Simon back to life and to come visit them at the graveyard, she sits with Thor against a tree she'd grown within five seconds for a few moments. He's buzzed, a tankard of ale sloshing in his hand as he sighs heavily and looks happily over at the glittering sea and the thick and full moon.

He leans his head against the tree, his face relaxed. The curve of his lips is no longer burdened and heavy.

"I like your haircut," she says, feeling brave. She's only had a few sips of alcohol since Valkyrie had pulled her down to the heart of the town to kick off the celebrations. Her heart hammers in her chest like butterflies being released from their cage. "You are very handsome."

Thor's cheeks flush a bright pink. "You are very handsome, too," he says, then looks at her and shakes his head. "Beautiful. You know… I like your accent."

Wanda smiles. He takes another long drag of his ale. He jumps when a loud bang vibrates throughout the ground and sparks of colour light the sky. "We're missing the fireworks!" Quick to stand on his feet, he holds his hand out for her to take.

Letting him help her up, Wanda keeps her feet firmly planted on the ground to keep herself from fluttering away. Another firework booms within the sky, a brilliant colour of gold and silver. He doesn't tug her hand to descend the slope of the hill to blindly find the stone steps leading down to the town. His hand squeezes hers gently as he stares up at the brilliant colours.

"Wait for it," he murmurs quietly. When the next lot of fireworks explode, their colours expand and crackle into bright silvers and lovely reds and blues. "Vision and Pietro," he says quietly. "I wanted them to light up the night sky."

Wanda watches as the sparks begin to fade and the night sky settles with streaks of smoke. What she does next, she sees in blurred vision.

She tugs on his hand to have him turn around. He easily does, smiling down at her. Another set of fireworks—various reds—light up the sky. He's smiling so proudly down at her, his handsome face brighter than the moon.

She leans up on the tips of her toes and kisses him by the silver roses.

notes.

You can find me as "finnicks" on tumblr.