Thor walked into the antechamber of Rey's rooms and looked around. It had been three days since he'd brought Rey back to Asgard, and she had thrown herself into decorating the space with full fervor. From Rey's description of her days, Thor suspected that Rey wasn't used to having free time, and even less used to resting when she wasn't exhausted and drained.
Unfortunately for the restless teen, she was surrounded by adults who took the words of Asgard's doctors seriously, and who were well used to keeping an eye on recklessly energetic teenagers after Thor's own youth. Attempts to slip away to exercise or try out sparring were met with raised eyebrows immune to puppy eyes and pouting.
Barred from strenuous physical activity, Rey had spent her time making her new space hers. The space was a flood of cool colors, blues and purples. Mostly on the pale side, but with splashes of deeper and darker shades. One wall had a mess of squares where his daughter had been testing different colors, but she'd refused to paint over them, blushing as she mumbled about it looking pretty. The only warm color was a red flower in a pot on one table.
The floor was absolutely covered in thick, soft, shaggy rugs, not an inch of the actual hard flooring visible, and the chairs and couches that filled the space were all of the squishy, sink right into them variety.
It wasn't traditional Asgardian style at all, but as Thor thought back to Jakku, the harsh warm tones of the desert, the hard metal of the fallen war machine where his daughter had made her shelter, the economy of space she'd been forced into, it made sense. He certainly wouldn't begrudge her her choices. If Rey wanted five couches and three armchairs then that was what she'd get. The same for her abundance of rugs or the paint colors that made the place look like a Winter Queen's chamber.
A moment after the main door closed Rey was leaving her bedroom. Rey's clothing was less of a direct rejection of Jakku, largely following the same style she'd worn when Thor had found her. The colors were different-today a deep red was the main shade, with navy blue accents-but otherwise they were the same. She likewise hadn't altered her hair, sticking to the row of vertical buns. It was a little surprising, but with everything else that had changed for Rey he wasn't all that shocked she'd wanted some semblance of the familiar. Having heard Miramir's description of tailors in her stories, Thor also suspected that Rey might view tailors with the same apprehension she had viewed the doctor. Her current clothing was a result of her asking her grandmother to just make her some more of outfit she already had, using the same measurements.
"Yes Father?" Rey asked, looking up at him.
"Your grandmother wanted me to inform you that the ceremony to publically and officially recognize you as a princess of Asgard will be held in two days." He said gently. Rey went stiff. "She'd hoped to put it off a little longer, but word of you spread, and the nobility began to whisper." Thor tried to explain. "Courtly politics are less of an issue than they once were, or than they are elsewhere, but they're still a factor of life on Asgard. Fortunately, while the exact details of your life aren't public knowledge, all are aware you were raised outside of Asgard's sphere of influence, so we don't have to worry about specific etiquette right now. Just be polite and calm and we'll get by."
Rey nodded stiffly. The idea of courtly politics clearly stressed her out, which Thor could hardly blame her for. They stressed him out at times, and he hadn't grown up isolated on a planet where the only government was whatever junk dealer with food and thugs lived closest to you. "All you have to do is exist, Rey." He paused. "Well, exist and wear fancy clothes. Which is the first order of business." Rey grimaced and Thor nodded in sympathy. "Fear not, today all you'll have to do is stand and pick out clothing you'd like." Rey looked at him skeptically. "Your clothes from Jakku provided reasonably good measurements for suits and the like, and any discrepancies caused by the cut can be fixed relatively easily by magic. It's not ideal, but as this isn't a full fledged Ball or Feast it will do."
His daughter continued to radiate skepticism, but she nodded and followed him out of her rooms, and he pretended not to notice when she double and triple checked the magical lock that kept anyone from entering while she was gone. He wasn't going to begrudge her her anxieties, or what she felt was necessary for her own safety and security. All he could do was hope that she would get better with time. And that hopefully the maids had learned their lesson and he wouldn't have to mediate between a baffled and angry Rey and them when she caught them trying to clean up again. That had been…less than ideal, all things considered.
The royal tailors greeted Rey with welcome. The chief, a cheerful person named Eivor, gestured at a raised dais in front of a curved arc of five mirrors. "If you'd be so kind as to step up here Princess?" They asked. Rey nodded and did as she was bid, Thor settling into the background. There was a murmur as Eivor consulted their assistants for a moment, then the chief tailor flicked their hand and Rey startled as a loose silvery tunic appeared on her, along with trousers and a cloak of the same red as the clothes she'd been wearing when Thor retrieved her. "These aren't the real thing, I'm afraid." Eivor explained. "Merely a projection. But it lets us get a good idea of what colors and styles suit you best, and gives you more say in what you want, without having to bother putting on and taking off clothes at this stage."
Rey poked a hand into the tunic, blinking in surprise as her hand passed through it, then nodded in understanding. Thor supposed it made sense. Her galaxy had hologram projections, but they came from projectors, and all but the most high-end were purely blue. Detailed and of high quality, but blue. And if Rey had ever had any access to them, it would likely have been older models scavenged from capital ships that she had to first repair. Detailed projections like this, without a mechanical source, would have been very new to her.
She bit her lip. "This is fine." She said, nodding. "I like it." Eivor hummed, then waved their hand. The cloak got shorter, it and the trousers turning to an emerald green while the tunic became jet black, the cuffs of her trousers flaring out and the tunic tightening a bit. Rey blinked and glared at the tailor, who smiled at her guilelessly.
"If I might Princess, clothing is social armor." Eivor said calmly. "I don't pretend to know you or your life. But from what little I do know, I'm guessing that you haven't been to an event like the upcoming ceremony before." Rey bit her lip briefly and shook her head, eyes slightly narrowed. "You will be on display for the whole kingdom. The nobility and the gentry will be here in the Grand Hall, and those who could not be there will watch it from afar. The 'addition' of a Princess to the royal family is an important event. More so given that your father is the Crown Princes. Which means that one day, barring anything tragic, you will be the Crown Princess and then the Queen of Asgard." Rey went stiff, her eyes finding her father's in the mirror's reflections. Thor fought back the urge to wince and simply nodded instead. He had hoped to ease her into that idea. His father was healthy still, as was his mother. He himself was even more so. It would be a century or more before Rey had to fill the role of Crown Princess, and, the Heavens willing, at least a millennia before Rey had to be Queen. There was no urgency to prepare her for what being his daughter actually meant.
"And that means," Eivor continued, their voice gentle, "that this is going to be something new and difficult for you. And it's something you can't fight, or run from. I can't make it enjoyable for you, but I can make it more comfortable. And the best thing for that is if you're in clothes that you don't just tolerate. Does that make sense?" Rey pursed her lips briefly, then gave a short nod. Eivor gave a comforting smile. "They will judge you. Some unconsciously, others…less so. But the right outfit will protect you from that. Perhaps not perfectly, but perfect armor doesn't exist yet. Now, what do you think of this ensemble?" Rey took a deep breath, centering herself, and stared at her reflection for a long moment before shaking her head. "Not a problem, how about this?" The chief tailor waved their hand again.
OoOoO
Rey had a fairly good interior clock. It had been an essential tool of surviving being a scavenger, to know how long she had been in a ship, how much daylight she had left. So she knew that she'd been standing on the dais too long, that an hour had been spent just looking at and rejecting various ensembles. Eivor, their assistants, and her father all seemed fine, there were no obvious signs of discomfort or annoyance, but Rey knew it was only a matter of time, that they were probably just being polite.
Everyone in Asgard was deeply kind and patient in a way that Rey…couldn't entirely wrap her head around. It was probably the result of her heritage, she knew that much. She was a princess. People were nice to princesses. Even the maids had reacted with grace and kindness when she'd apologized after her father had explained to both sides what was going on. It had been…scary, walking out of her bedroom to find strange women moving through her space, picking things up, running instruments she didn't recognize over her new rugs and couches. She felt terrible about it now, but at the time…well.
Eivor said something and Rey dragged herself into the present. She stared at her reflection for a long moment, at the tunic and the trousers. It was practical, carefully designed for ease of movement, for dancing but probably for fighting as well. She knew that all too well. Her clothing on Jakku had been designed for similar purposes. You couldn't show weakness on Jakku. And impractical clothing was weakness. You had to be strong, had to be ready for anything. Clothing like this was also easy to put on. She didn't have to waste any time dressing herself, could be awake, dressed, and moving in a short amount of time. Clothing like what she'd worn on Jakku, what she was wearing now, what she was getting to look at…they were strong and practical.
She was so sick of being strong and practical.
"Can I look at dresses?" She asked quietly. Eivor and Thor both blinked at that, her father shifting in surprise for a second before schooling himself, but the tailor smiled and waved their hand.
"Of course Princess. Whatever you like." Rey felt a weight she didn't know she'd been feeling lift as the projection shifted to a long, flowing gown of deepest blue, and gave a small smile. This…she could do this.
OoOoO
Rey took a deep, steadying breath, glad for the warm, anchoring presence of her father behind her as she stared at the grand, intricately carved wooden doors that led to the throne room of Asgard. In the last two days she'd discovered that she liked dresses and skirts more than pants, that if she put effort into it doing things with her hair could be fun (though very time consuming and not necessarily worth bothering with all the time), that makeup existed (ditto). She'd also had the very basics of Asgardian courtly etiquette drilled into her head. Honestly it was largely common sense and common courtesy. A few tweaks and quirks, but frankly Rey was moderately certain she could have navigated this without any lessons. Best not to risk it though.
The doors swung open and for a brief moment the sound of murmurs and whispers reached Rey's ears, but as she walked through the doors they ceased. She knew it was almost certainly just etiquette and courtesy, but she found it felt better to pretend that some amount of it came from her appearance.
She'd ultimately decided on a crimson gown that flowed long, with skirts just flared enough for her not to have to worry about stepping on them while still adequately covering the fact that she was wearing boots. There simply hadn't been time for Rey to learn to adequately walk in heels, and she'd felt more confident in these. Fortunately, Asgardians were a practical people. Nobody was going to look down on a woman for wearing heels if she wished to, but by the same token nobody was going to judge Rey for choosing to not. Still, the hem helped hide the clashing aesthetics, which was good for her.
Her hair had been cut, stopping a bit above her shoulders now, and the ends curled up in gentle slopes all around. It had been an adventure in and of itself, letting someone else cut her hair, but she recognized the practical necessity of it. She'd never have thought to…style her hair before, never considered her hair anything but something that protected her scalp and otherwise got in the way. Realizing that it could be pretty, and that it felt good to look pretty, had been a revelation.
Rey forced her mind back into the present and made her way down the red carpet that had been rolled down from the raised dais of the throne to the door she'd just come through, staring straight ahead, ignoring the watching crowds. That was rather easy, at least. A frustratingly large number of people on Jakku viewed eye contact as a challenge, and worked to bait as many as they could into the mistake of accidentally initiating that challenge. Avoiding their gaze and focusing on her task or her path was an art Rey had mastered long ago.
Her grandmother waited for her, clad in a somewhat more elaborate dress of light olive and gold, her crown on her head and an elegant golden scepter in her hands. When she reached the base of the dais Rey gripped the sides of her dress, pulling them out as she sank to her knees. Frigga smiled at her for a brief moment, then schooled her features into a formal mask. "I, Frigga WitchRaised, Queen of Asgard, recognize you. I recognize you, Rey Thorsdottir, as the Daughter of my Son, Thor Odinson. And I recognize you, Princess Rey, as the child and heir of Crown Prince Thor." Rey swallowed weakly as she heard the words and felt the scepter move through the air above her. It was a lot to process, hearing it said like this, at a formal celebration, on her knees in front of crowds of people.
"Rise." Frigga said calmly, and Rey blinked before quickly taking her grandmother's offered hand and rising to her feet. A servant approached, carrying a pillow and…a crown. Rey's breath caught as the item, a simple silver circlet studded with nine blue stones, was brought into view, and her grandmother took it and placed it gently on Rey's head. "And let all Asgard welcome you granddaughter." Cheers and applause broke out, shattering the formal serenity of the ceremony, and Rey quickly blinked back tears at the wave of welcoming and acceptance. Tears that were startled free as Frigga pulled her into a hug, and then flowed more readily when her father stepped up and hugged her the moment her grandmother released her.
"You're home now." Thor murmured gently into her hair. "And you will always have a home here." Rey swallowed and nodded weakly against him. She was starting to believe that might be possible. And it felt wonderful.