Thor x Reader

Nineteen

Tensely you moved between the flowers that grew behind the house.

The boy had a room connected to the garden by a window. If you waited a bit longer, it would be dark enough in the intermediate world to make its inhabitants think it was time to sleep.

You only had to catch an opportune moment to exchange a few words with the boy. You had already worked out a few reasons, but Tyr had taught you that many negotiations also had to do with luck. If your opponent was hostile, words alone would not be enough to convince him. You would be an enemy and all that would come out of your mouth would be lies.

It would be good to combine the negotiation with a gesture of goodwill.

But what would appease a boy with a hot temper?

All he could think of at his age was to impress his father and become a legend himself.

Somehow he reminded you of young Thor. He too had had a father he would never be equal to. Not because he didn't have the potential, but because Odin had oppressed him. Oppressed gods could not lead a revolution.

A door was torn open. Then it slammed shut again with a bang.

Surprised, you jumped away from the window, into the safe shadows.

"He is so stubborn!", the young man's voice growled. "Never listens to me!"

The way he sounded revealed that he was not only frustrated but also desperate.

The fact that his father rejected him made him uneasy. His worries were ignored.

From what you had overheard, however, you had to admit that both his father and the boy himself were not communicating clearly. While the boy wanted his father to follow and trust him without a good reason, the father rejected him as if he were still a small child.

Of course he still was, inexperienced, having to make his own mistakes to grow from them. But he was nowhere near as childish as one would expect from others his age.

Cautiously, you lifted your head to take a look through the tighter into the small but cosy room.

Curled up, the boy lay on the bed, his lips pressed into a thin line and frowning.

This moment was certainly not perfect, but it seemed like an open ear would do him good.

With a soft expression in your eyes, you dared to step out of the shadows and rest your arms on the window sill.

"It is not easy to grow up.", you said and had to chuckle slightly.

As if struck by lightning, the boy sat up in bed, his hand pressed to his chest. He carried a knife on the strap of his quiver.

"Who are you?", he asked, his eyes wide.

Without moving you gave him a smile.

"I mean you no harm.", you said, tilting your head in greeting.

"I asked who you are."

The expression in his eyes suggested that he was not hostile to you. Not yet. But he was careful.

His father had probably taught him how to be optimistically vigilant. A good lesson. Tyr had also taught you to always hope for the best but expect the worst.

"My name is (Y/N).", you said, pointing to the knife on his chest. "This is a good weapon. Small and unobtrusive but efficient. Guard it well. One day it will save your life."

Frowning uncertainly, his grip opened around the knife.

His pale skin was decorated with blue ink.

You recognised some of the runes, one for a composed mind, another for a good shot. The quiver on his back suggested he was an archer. Apart from the knife, he carried no other weapon, so he couldn't have been very good at close combat.

A wise decision to use a weapon from a distance, after all his body was not yet fully grown and the distance gave him time to use his mind.

His fingers moved. It seemed elegant, gentle.

You were familiar with this way of moving, too.

He could cast spells.

A light breath left your slightly parted lips.

"You remind me a lot of my old master...", you whispered, letting your eyes wander over his face.

His eyebrows drew together.

"Your master?", he asked, leaning forward to finally look at you too.

There it was, the curiosity in his eyes, so visible and inexperienced.

You had won his interest. Now you had to catch his attention.

Carefully you let your hand wander to the pouch on your belt, stopped to show him that you were not a threat and pulled out a knife that looked very much like his.

The tension on his face relaxed. He stretched his neck to get a better look.

"I know that rune.", his eyes jumped up to look at you in disbelief. "This is Tyr's knife."

With a satisfied smile you nodded and placed the weapon on the window ledge, right in the middle between the two of you.

"My old master.", you confirmed, lowering your eyes as the memories returned. "Tyr. God of war."

His eyebrows rose in surprise. Enthusiasm flared in his gaze.

But he hesitated.

Again he looked at the knife, closer, as if he could find proof of the truth of your words through it.

"If Tyr had an apprentice...", he muttered to himself. "Then that means you know where he is!"

It pained you to look at him and to have to destroy his hope. But at the same time it clouded your mind. Closing your eyes, you sighed and shook your head.

"I fear no one knows where Tyr is.", your gaze darkened. "No one but Odin."

Taken aback, he looked up at you.

"But you came to me.", he said and reached for the knife to move it in the light from all sides. "That means you know something."

A smirk appeared on your lips.

He was really clever for his age.

"Maybe we could help each other.", you said, leaning against the wall of the house with your arms folded. "I know that you have visited the shrines my master left behind."

Surprise showed on his face.

"How do you know that?"

You shrugged.

"My master was the god of wisdom as well.", you sighed. "He taught me a few things. To never underestimate someone's dedication to the unknown, for example. Curiosity can be a force more powerful than any fuel."