Thor x Reader

One

Lost in thought, you were bent over a scroll of your old master Tyr. Your eyes wandered over every single line, glued to every little word as if your life depended on it.

Before his disappearance, he had left you some transcripts and reports of his visions, warning you to keep them secret from Odin's eyes at all times.

It had taken you decades to decipher everything, to make sense of the images and to understand what your master was trying to say.

This was the last scroll.

And all at once, all your work was undone.

"No...", you muttered with your eyebrows drawn together, one hand pressed to your forehead. "None of this makes sense..."

But as confused as you were, as much as you wanted to doubt it, it was written on the oldest of paper in golden ink. How strange it was to read about your own destiny and not be told it by the Norns. It felt forbidden.

Like something that wasn't supposed to exist.

And yet.

Why had Tyr made such an effort with all of the dozens of scrolls and prophecies before he had crated this final one?

After all, everything that was written on it completely debunked all the riddles you had pieces together before.

Was this just a cruel joke?

"No!", you murmured and wiped your face with both hands.

The thought that everything that was written would come true made everything inside you twist. You hated it.

But if this was fate then there was no point in fighting it. In the end it would come true anyway.

All at once, the hairs in the back of your neck stood up. Cold sweat ran down your back.

Immediately you grabbed all the papers, scrolls and other things left by your master and threw them into the cavity under the floorboards of your floor.

And your intuition was right.

It didn't take long until steps started to sound.

With bated breath you fixed everything that could have looked suspicious and returned to your seat at the desk.

Somebody approached.

Usually, people passed your room. Ever since Tyr's betrayal to Odin most even avoided being anywhere near your chambers.

Whoever it was, they would pass by.

But you didn't want to take risks. Not with this. If anybody would happen to catch a hint of what you were on about, or even worse, if Odin would find out, your head would be presented on a spike at the top of the wall.

Probably this thought would amuse some gods, the remaining sons of Odin likely the most. The children of the king of the gods were all fierce creatures, with biting mouths and an attitude as if they were the rulers of everything.

But most of all, Thor would probably be happy about a violent death of you. Or you about one for him.

A cold shiver crawled down your spine at the memory of his name. Nausea tied your throat.

The footsteps came closer.

Whoever dared to walk down the corridor past your chambers must have arrived almost at the level of your door.

Your eyes wandered out the window.

After his betrayal, you had been given Tyr's room. As his first and only disciple, this had been the obvious solution for Odin, who did not want to do without at least half a war god in his ranks. The allfather was desperate. He was content with an immortal being who was not of his own blood.

The rest of the inhabitants of the great lodge were all either his children, grandchildren or gods, who belonged to his clan through the bond of marriage. Your master, too, had once been of his blood.

Only you were the odd one out.

But this also had something good.

Tyr had chosen you specifically because he himself had been convinced that the blood of Odin was rotten at the core. He had searched outside the hall for a disciple. And now you had the privilege of sleeping in his former bed.

From his bed alone, one could tell that it was half ancestral to the giants. You yourself were not of tiny stature, but you would have fit almost twice into the bed.

And as you knew it from old times of his gentle nature, he had also chosen a room that lay far from all other gods. The window was directed directly to the cliff of Asgard, on the edge of which the great lodge was built.

Like a waterfall, the mist fell over the precipice into the depths, mixed with the clouds and rose back into the sky at night as if they were pillows of absorbent cotton.

Exhausted, you let out a sigh and let your head sink onto the window sill.

Sleepiness and frustration of the past weeks spread through your body.

For too long you had spent your time deciphering the secret messages your master had left you. Every day it had felt like you were walking on eggshells. Not a single word had you been allowed to say. There was no one you could confide in.

Especially when Heimdall had been near you, you had felt like fate was holding a blade to your throat. The bastard knew everything. He could read minds.

You frowned.

Tyr had taught you how to trick the God of Foresight's gift by having a thousand thoughts at once or by blocking his access to your head with an earwig. It seemed to have worked, because Heimdall had been chasing you for a while like bees chasing honey.

If he had found something, you would have been dead a long time ago. And yet you could not shake off the tension.

You frowned.

Your gaze wandered briefly over your shoulder to the door.

The footsteps had fallen silent.

With your lips pressed together, you listened to see if anything else would happen.

A thought chased through your head.

What if this was the first step of your master's prophecy?

The thought made the hairs in the back of your neck stand up.

No, it could not be. You weren't prepared enough yet.

Holding your breath, you stared at the crack under the door.

A shadow crept across the floor. Someone seemed to be hesitating.

It was so quiet, one could have heard a feather fall.

Your heart was beating up to your throat.

Then suddenly the shadow turned away and the footsteps vanished.