Hello, everyone, I am back this week with a much more introspective chapter. Basically, everyone is doing soul searching after the events of last chapter. So the title fits that theme: "To conceal a matter is the glory of God; to search out a matter is the glory of kings." Proverbs 25:2.
And sometimes, the greatest matter to search out is inside your own mind and heart. Happy reading.
Chapter Five: The Glory of Kings
They called it New Asgard. It had been called something else before, but that no longer mattered. As Loki had pointed out, it wasn't the first time in Midgardian history that the gods had shown up and wreaked havoc.
And given that Midgard, like all the Nine Realms, was in chaos, no one was really standing around arguing the legal rights to some rolling hills and a small port city.
It was wood and stone, nothing like the gleaming palaces they had left behind. But it would have to do.
Valkyrie, ever the soul of practicality, settled in easily enough. She quickly became the liaison between the people and what remained of their royals. Frigga was out every day among the people, bringing relief where she could. And all knew Heimdall, from the days of terror that Hela had created.
It was Loki who made himself a mystery. As usual.
He had gone to bring back Thor, or at the very least, to avenge his death. He had avenged the death, which granted him a measure of respect. But now there was no Thor, and the people were scared.
Loki was scared.
Thor was Thor. Annoying though he could be, he was the protector of Asgard. And he had always been there, even if he wasn't present. Now, he was no more.
Ragnarok had come. And Loki was alone.
He was currently doing what he did best: hiding and skulking. He was trying to think of a plan, but for once, his head felt stuffed with angry bees.
Once, he would have been glad of Thor's massive shadow being darkened and removed. Now, it felt as though Mjolnir had been swung directly at his head.
Eventually, he knew Frigga or Heimdal would find him and drag him out. Force him to make decisions. But for now, he would stay here. In the tiny coat closet. No one would find him here.
Half an hour later, Valkyrie found him.
"Found you. Now you're It." the woman drawled, smirking.
Loki sighed. "You are, actually, just the worst. What do they want now?"
Valkyrie crossed her arms. "The people don't ask anything of their new king. But they wouldn't mind if he made an appearance. More than once every fortnight would help."
"What do they need me for? Surely they can go to you, or Mother, or Heimdall."
Valkyrie's brow knit. "You do realize that you are legitimately the king now, yes? This isn't a joke. Thor isn't going to pop around the corner and bash you on the head for impersonating Odin."
"He never actually bashed me on the head for that…" Loki muttered sourly.
"Your people need you."
"Do they?" Loki's eyes darted. "What use is a trickster in Ragnarok?"
"Everything." Valkyrie said firmly, dragging him out of the closet and onto a couch. Loki half-heartedly grumbled the whole way.
"Look." she continued, once they were seated. "Thanos...he took the golden ones. Can't you see? He took Thor. He took the Midgard Captain. He took Bruce…" she looked away and was silent for a moment.
"Banner was better than all of us." Loki agreed quietly. "And Steve is the reason they didn't kill me, when I was banished to Midgard seven years ago."
"And Thor was the golden prince. Set to be the golden king. But all the bright ones are gone. It is the tricksters and schemers who remain. New bright ones have to rise up."
"Oh, yes, because I am so bright." Loki snipped, gesturing to his favored black attire-a Midgardian suit.
"You will have to be. Like it or not, the people are looking to you. Thor may have been the fighter, but you also had a knack for getting people out of trouble. Midgard remembers you fondly."
Loki blushed, ever so slightly. "They did always like me better on Midgard."
"Then use that to help our people."
"How?"
Valkyrie sighed. "Speak to the people. Give them reason not to give up hope. You know...inspire them or something. Weren't you called Silvertongue? Use it to do something useful!"
"I don't need a gadfly." Loki said, frowning.
"Then what do you need, Odinson?"
Loki flinched. He glanced around. "...I don't really know. All I know is...I am not myself."
"...you are in grief." Valkyrie admitted. "That is allowed. But come among your people and let them know that they still have hope. Even if you don't feel the hope yourself. I don't. But I still go."
Loki sighed. "Well, we can't all be you. Which is rather a good thing. You are the best at being a...mildly drunk berserker woman."
Valkyrie waved a finger in his face. "Careful, Silvertongue. You might get burned."
"Oh, I certainly plan on it." Loki replied, smirking for the first time in a while.
Shuri, Princess (not Queen, not really, that was too painful) of Wakanda was eavesdropping.
She had learned to do it from an early age. Even if she hadn't understood everything her elders were talking about, it still was better than being perpetually out of the loop and feeling like a lost child.
Today, she would have happily become that lost child again, if it meant not understanding what the elders said to her mother.
"Shuri is a child!" cried the Chief of the River Tribe, his green lip-plate shaking with intensity. "She is not ready to rule."
There were three elders that remained, besides her mother. The Chiefs of the River and Mining Tribes remained,as well as W'Kabi from the Border Tribe. M'Baku was gone, and so was the Chief of the Merchant Tribe. Okoye stood by, as always.
"She is young, but she is hardly the youngest to come to the throne." Ramonda replied. "My son was only twenty-five."
"But...forgive me, Queen Mother, but the late king had training. Princess Shuri has long preferred her own experiments and studies. She shows disdain for the traditions of the elders and of Wakanda. She is too modern, too inexperienced, to lead our people in this fragile time!"
Hot tears sprang into Shuri's eyes. She could see T'Challa's coronation like it was yesterday.
"Does anyone else challenge the new King for the throne?""Yes, this corset is really uncomfortable, so can we all wrap it up and go home?"
Shuri swallowed.
It was a joke! Because I knew no one would challenge T'Challa again! Or at least, I didn't expect M'Baku. And that corset was uncomfortable!
Unable to control herself, Shuri fled from her eavesdropping position and ran.
She didn't know where she was running too. All she knew was she didn't want her lab. It was too full of memories.
Eventually, she ended up in the gardens, sobbing to the sound of decimated birdsong.
"Brother!" she cried. "They are right, brother! I'm not fit for this! I shouldn't be queen! It should be you, always you! You are the one they want, and now you're gone! First Baba, now you!"
If Shuri had stayed another moment, however, she would have heard her mother's voice, sharp as steel, cut through the Chief's words. And heard Okoye's bright spear shift.
"Chiefs. I am not here to debate with you my daughter's talent for understanding traditions. She is young, with a wise mind. She will learn. She has already learned much, for grief is a great teacher. I am here to ask for your support."
"And may I remind the Council," that was W'Kabi, "that we have already suffered one coup in the last two years? Last time, I supported a usurper, instead of our true King. I shall not make that mistake again."
Okoye's eyes shone with pride. "I agree with my husband. I shall stand with Queen Shuri. Who will stand against us?"
The two remaining Chiefs bowed their heads and shook them.
"We shall stand with the queen." The Mining Tribe Chief intoned.
The River Tribe Chief nodded.
"Then it is settled." Ramonda said firmly. "My daughter will have her coronation as soon as we can ready the resources. And our people will have a queen."
New York post-Snap wasn't quite a lawless wasteland, Sam decided. The city had already weathered some impressive storms, and New Yorkers were tough people. But the city was still dealing with looting and chaos and protests, like every other large city in America.
So Tally and Damian had a curfew for 8:30 p.m.
And he would start to be nervous if they were even five minutes late. Especially Damian.
He had met the Jacksons multiple times, although Steve had known them better. Tally and Christy were and always had been thick as thieves, before their respective adoptions, so it made sense that they would remain in close touch. Somehow, their bond had only deepened over the last seven years.
So when he had gotten a frantic FaceTime from Damian while he was in Wakanda, he had done what any sane person would do in a time of crisis: he stepped up to the plate.
(Bucky argued that this was not, in fact, what any sane person would do, and that his behavior in this area was too much like Steve for his own good.)
He was still living in New York, still in the same apartment building as Sharon and Christy-and soon to be Baby Rogers. So he'd arranged for the kids to crash with him, at least until they could contact their aunt, who was supposed to be their primary guardian.
It hadn't been until they'd killed Thanos that the woman had made her appearance. Damian had answered his phone one afternoon in a state of shock.
"Aunt Lily? Is it…okay, yeah, I can see the Caller ID. Where have you been? We've been with a friend. Yeah, a good friend. Where are you?"
Silence, for another few moments. Then: "Yeah, you can talk to him. His name's Sam Wilson. He's….he worked with the same people Dad did. Yeah, the crazy government agency. Here he is."
Sam made a face at Damian's poor description of his job, but took the phone. "Hello?"
"Mr. Wilson? I'm Lily Freeman. Tally and Damian...they're alright?"
"Yeah, they're fine." Sam smiled, a bit sadly. "They're in my living room watching Netflix. No worse off than anyone else these days."
"I was on vacation when everything happened, and I was planning to go off the grid a bit. Our side of the family owns a cabin...oh, I was such an idiot! I only just came out of the middle of nowhere a few days ago! I was trying to call Regina, but now...now I can see why that wouldn't work."
Sam sighed. "Yeah. Tally is friends with my...sort of niece. My friend's kid. It's complicated. But Damian called me, and I just...there was no way I was letting them go it alone. Not in this crazy time."
"I'm so grateful! I'm close to the city, I can drive in tomorrow and pick them up, if that's alright…"
Sam nodded, before belatedly remembering how phones worked. "Uh, sounds fine. And listen, I dunno the kind of life you lead, or did lead, but, uh...my niece lost her dad, and she an' Tally are close. I don' mind havin' them stay with me. They've been great."
"...thank you, Mr. Wilson. I just might take you up on that."
"Call me Sam. Should I have Damian text you my address?"
"Please do. And thank you, so much. I really appreciate it."
"No problem at all, ma'am. I'll have Damian sent you the address. You have a good afternoon, now."
"You as well...and thank you again."
Sam hung up the call and returned the phone to Damian.
"We gotta pack?" Tally asked, looking a bit sad.
"Do you not wanna go with your aunt?" Sam asked.
"No, I like her. I just hate moving. And I gotta leave Christy."
Sam gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "I know. But she'll still be here. Sharon's not leaving New York. And I meant what I told your aunt. I don't mind you two staying here. You've been good houseguests. No mold in the bathroom."
Damian made a face. "Mom woulda killed us if we didn't behave in someone else's house."
"I wish she was here, even just to yell." Tally said, picking at the arm of the couch.
Sam sat down, and motioned for Damian to do the same.
"And how are you two doin'? With everythin'?"
Damian sighed. "It still sucks. It just sucks slightly less because I'm used to it."
Sam nodded. "Fair. Tally?"
Tally gripped the couch harder. "I still am having bad dreams. I keep thinking of all the ways everything could have been fixed, but I know I couldn't have done anything anyway. The best people in the universe tried, and it still didn't work."
"...and believe me, the best people in the universe have the same problem." Sam assured. "We've got our own guilt."
"I just...I had a family. I had a family, and now it's gone. Gone. Everything is gone."
Damian looked slightly affronted, but Sam caught his eye and shook his head.
"Are you thinkin' about things from a long time ago, too?" he asked. "'Bout your old family?"
Tally nodded. "I couldn't cry then. I had to be the good one. I had to...to just deal with it."
"Or else maybe you'd never stop cryin', huh? And God forbid you cry."
Tally's eyes welled up with tears. Damian's own were wide. Tally never cried.
Sam took her hand gently. "Cryin' helps rinse everything out inside, everything you try to press down. It's like rain-it cleanses things. It's okay to cry. Let it out. I promise, life will still go on. But you gotta stop to feel things. If you don't, you'll never move on."
Tally broke down. Damian caught her. And over his sister's head, he whispered. "You still, uh...you still a therapist?"
Sam nodded.
"...can she come talk to you?"
"If your aunt says yes."
"She will." Damian's voice was ringing with big-brother confidence. "And, uh...maybe me too?"
"I'd be honored, kid."
"...thanks. I think we both need it."
Sam gave a bone-weary sigh. "Who doesn't, these days?"
But in his heart, he was glad. He couldn't fix every problem in the world these days, but this, he could handle just fine.
"Woah, woah, slow down, princess! I've got a really bad connection out here! Whaddya mean, can you run away to America?"
Shuri sniffed, her face clearly upset, even through the grainy Skype call. "I will be the worst queen in the history of Wakanda! They think I am a child."
"Well...you are. Look, don' glare at me! Sure, you're young. But so were plenty of kings and queens. Age don' matter, it's who's around ya."
"Bucky...help me! I don't know what to do! Mother wants to talk about my coronation tomorrow morning, and I think she should just be queen. Everyone listens to her already!"
"Shuri...Shuri, doll…" Bucky sighed, reconizing the sentiment in Shuri's voice. Truthfully, it was the same thing he had been struggling with, lately.
Why me? I'm not the one that's supposed to be in the spotlight. I'm not the golden one. Why am I who everyone is looking to?
Once, Bucky had been the golden boy. James Barnes, the sports ace, the smart guy, the popular, charming one. But almost eighty years later, he could see the falseness in that persona. He was tired, but he was also not the best as a leader. He was better at sniping from the shadows.
Steve really was Captain America. But now, Steve was gone, leaving a role that neither he nor Sam felt quite equipped to fill.
"Bucky...I am afraid." Shuri whispered. "What if I fail everyone?"
Bucky heaved another sigh. "It's the apocalypse, doll. All anyone is looking for is some hope. Maybe you don' think you're ready. But you've got your mom and Okoye, and other people that can help you get things done. It's not like T'Challa was born knowing how to rule."
"No, but he was better at talking to people. I always manage to offend someone." Shuri muttered.
"It would help if you didn't act like you know everything in the realm of science." Bucky snarked.
Shuri crossed her arms. "I did not call you to be insulted! I called for advice."
"I thought you called to ask how you could run away from your responsibilities."
Shuri looked away. "You will not let me do that."
"No. I won't." Bucky spoke more gently. "Princess? You want my real advice? Wake up tomorrow, go talk to your ma. See what she has to say. And then, go to council meetings. Listen to your advisors. Read everything you can about the past, decide what worked and what didn't. An' always count your words before you speak them."
Shuri's eyes were wide, but she nodded, as though recording his words in a mental notebook.
"Look, were you born knowing how to make things from Vibranium?"
"No...I had to practice." Shuri sighed. "I know, I know. So I must practice this, too. But I still don't want it. I don't see why it has to be me."
"Because people need something to believe in. Someone to believe in. They need things and people that represent something bigger than themselves. And you can be that. Even if you don't have all the answers."
"I suppose…"
"Look-I think I know someone you should talk to. He's got the same thing going on, and he lost a brother, too."
"Oh? Who is he?"
Bucky took a deep breath, wondering what on Earth was possessing him to jump-start this unholy soon-to-be friendship.
"...his name is Loki..."
"Sam...I'm worried about Christy."
Sam glanced around to make very, very sure that Christy was nowhere near him and Sharon. She had a horrible habit of eavesdropping on everyone that had only increased since the Snap.
"Has she been having more nightmares?"
"I...I think so. But I also think she's hiding them from me. She's more irritable lately, more on edge if things aren't just so. And that's not like her at all. She gets nervous if plans change."
Sam frowned. "She's had anxiety struggles in the past. Steve and I talked about it. But it's only natural that it would ramp up."
Sharon twisted her hands together. "I asked if she wanted to talk to you, but she said you were busy. That she's alright and doesn't need therapy."
Sam scoffed, hard.
"Let's see, dead mom, dead dad, foster care, adopted by a literal superhero, dealing with mentally fragile individuals on a weekly basis, dealing with threat of harm to loved ones on an hourly basis...need I go on?"
Sharon sighed. "I know she needs to at least talk about things. But she has to decide for herself that this is something she'll do. Could you at least talk to her?"
Sam nodded. "Always. Am I still invited to dinner tonight?"
Sharon smiled tiredly. "Always."
That night, he had a chance to observe Christy up close. He could see that Sharon was right. She still acted like the same blythe spirit she had always been, but something was missing this time. She was nervous, twitchy, jumping at small noises and glancing at him and Sharon constantly for reassurance.
Sam had seen the behavior more times than he could count.
They watched the Princess Bride, and Christy seemed to be taking more pleasure than ever in the death of Count Rugen.
And Sam knew he heard as sob as Inigo intoned, "I want my father back, you son of a bitch."
Sharon nodded slowly, over Christy's head. And Sam knew that there was a lot buried inside Christy Rogers, bubbling nearer and nearer to the surface.
"Revenge is a terrible gift." he whispered slowly, as the end credits rolled. "You still believe that?"
Christy glanced over, wiping her eyes. "W-what? Yeah, of course."
"You were partying pretty hard over there when Inigo was cutting up Count Rugen."
Christy looked down and pinched her blanket between her thumb and pointer finger. "He's cocky like Thanos. He thinks he knows best and everyone else is worthless."
"Yeah, he is."
"I'm mad that Thanos died still thinking he was right."
"...Christy, sometimes bad people die still thinking they're good people. And I hate it, too."
"I want to do something. That's why I'm training so much...I just...I wanna make him pay. I know I can't just sit around and be angry. I gotta fight. I gotta...do something!" Christ sprung up, agitated.
"But there's nothing to do." Sam filled in, gentle and non-judgemental.
Christy spun on her heel, looking like a caged, tased lion. "There has to be!"
"Christy...easy."
"I want Dad back!"
The words tore out of Christy's throat like a sad war cry, full of anger and grief.
Sam nodded, eyes full of sorrow. "I want him back, too, kid."
Christy was breathing hard and looking wildly around the room. Sharon stood, almost frozen. But then, something made her unfreeze.
"Christy, come sit with me." she said, lowering to the couch and opening a blanket.
Christy shook her head wildly at first, glancing around. "I-I'm not crazy! I'm not! I can do this, I can do it…"
"Of course you can." Sharon said. "You'll be alright, it just won't be today. Come be a mess for a little bit. It's all right."
"No...no, I can't!"
Sam steeled himself, and then grabbed Christy up against his chest.
He was expecting kicks or punches. Instead, the girl went limp.
"Easy…" he whispered. "I've still got you. So does Sharon, so does Bucky, so does Wanda an' Pietro an' Clint an' lotsa people. An' we aren't lettin' go."
"I have to be strong…" Christy whispered. "Like Dad."
Sam sighed, long and deep. "Christy. If you never listen to a single thing I tell you again, listen now."
Eyes bloodshot, Christy looked up into his face.
"Your dad was one of the best men I've ever known. But he had a blind spot about his own feelings. He didn't like to show them. He didn't even really like to feel them, especially the hard ones. He wanted to just be stoic and positive. But that's not how feelings work. You can't just not feel things, not if you want to be healthy. You have to push through them. Grief is good."
"No it's not! Grief is annoying!" Christy tried to shove her way loose, but Sam held her fast.
"Grief says that whatever you miss mattered. Your dad mattered to you. That's why you miss him. It's okay not to keep yourself together every second. You're allowed to bust apart, I promise."
"...but what if I never stop?"
Sam gently moved her hair out of her face. "It will slow. It will stop. The darkness always fades. Thinking that crying will last forever is like thinking night will last forever. Joy comes with the morning. But you can't skip the night. Then you won't heal."
"...I want to heal." Christy sighed. "I think I'm more broken than I thought."
"Wanna talk about it?"
Christy sighed. "Was this an evil plan to get me to have therapy?"
"No. This was an evil plan to get you to realize that you need therapy." Sharon replied. "I had to have it, after being in SHIELD. Sam has had it. You need a space to heal."
"...okay. I'll do it."
Sam nodded. "I can do a bit with you, but you should also talk with someone else. Our relationship is too close. You need the freedom to say what you want. I can find some other people who would be willing to have sessions with you."
"B-but...but…"
"These will be good people. People I trust. Can you trust me?"
Christy swallowed. "...alright. I-I do."
"Good girl."
Sam hugged her tightly, feeling her pounding heard through both their shirts. He eased her into the waiting blanket on Sharon's lap, and the girl snuggled in close.
"I'm sorry…"
"For what?" Sharon asked, smoothing her hair.
"...for trying to do everything myself. I don't wanna be a hypocrite."
"We all are, a little." Sam admitted. "But the best thing is, we can always stop."
"The tears steamed down, and I let them flow freely as they would, making of them a pillow for my heart. On them it rested."-Confessions, St Augustine.
Grief is annoying, but it is also good. Remember that, if you need it for today. And if you don't need it today, keep it in your heart. You will need it eventually.
Tune in next week for: a long-anticipated birth, family Lakehouse bonding, Morgan thinks Rocket is a puppy, and Anish plays paper football.
Reviews are being wrapped in a blanket by Sam.