"The only thing that's permanent in life is impermanence."
Thor Odinson arrives back to New Asgard after decapitating Thanos in the privacy of his own home. He finds himself spiraling down a landslide of depression due to his younger brother's grues...
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TWENTY ONE: READY
It was happening.
After forty considerably short, but well overdue weeks, Sòl had finally woken up one night with sharp pains in her lower abdomen and a puddle amniotic sac fluid soaking the sheets of her and Thor's bed.
After that, much of her day was a blur. Sòl spent the entire morning and afternoon preparing for the arrival of their baby, making sure she was breathing enough for the both of them and trying not to stumble due to the unborn's impatience to leave the womb. The baby was in her stomach having a fit, kicking every which way and pressing further on her organs, especially her uterus.
Thor, who was arguably doing better than he previously was, tried soothing the both of them the best he could. He had ran a bath, prepared food to eat, distracted her, and rubbed her stomach upon request while she was dilating.
And it was easy, because the baby finally decided to stop tormenting Sòl and let her relax before she had to push. She appreciated that, lying back on the sofa as the healers worked over her. Dozens of Asgardians and townspeople walked by their house extra slow to get a glimpse of the soon-to-be prince or princess of New Asgard, but Korg, Miek, and other guards were not having it, guarding the house to give those who were inside some privacy.
Brunnhilde, Thor, Mardoll, Eira, and Synth, the healer who also served as the best midwife in town, were all in the house, patiently waiting for full dialatation, while Sòl kept her eyes closed and buried her face in Thor's chest. She was hurting, and the feeling of having to use the bathroom overcame her, and it really made her uneasy.
"Alright?" Thor whispered, rubbing her back as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
"Yeah," she grunted, taking a deep breath and resting her hand on her bulging tummy, "come on, baby. Mama's tired—" she squeezed her eyes shut and groaned loudly when another contraction hit, and they all watched her carefully, because the baby could be ready any minute.
"The contractions are getting a lot closer," Synth told them, standing to her feet, "I would say another twenty to thirty minutes. We should get to the tub, milady."
"Alright," Thor helped Sòl to her feet, following her down the hall and to the bathroom. Sòl got undressed, leaving her bra on and letting Synth help her get into the tub. The water was on the warmer side, soothing Sòl's aches and pains, and causing her to relax.
"Is the temperature alright?" Synth asked, grabbing a few towels that were already laid out by Eira.
"Yes," Sòl leaned her head back and sighed, looking up at the ceiling, "after all this, I better be having a girl."
"Here you go again," Thor rolled his eyes, using a large cup to dip into the low-rise bath and pour over her stomach, "it's a boy."
"It's a girl," she retorted, her hand in his, "and her name will be Magnolia."
