Thor x Reader

Forty-One

Taking a deep breath, you raised the tip of the knife.

But instead of inflicting another wound or cutting deeper into your flesh, you drew runes in the dusty air with the tip.

You kept your eyes tightly shut.

Tyr had never told you why, but spells designed to destroy were far more demanding than those designed to rebuild.

Of course, there were spells that needed much more even though they did not kill.

For example, when a life was to be called back from the world of the dead. Such magic required a great deal of power and usually demanded a sacrifice greater than the result. And yet, when grieving hearts desired something, no price was too high.

A house, on the other hand, with nothing but lifeless walls and furniture, built of non-living material, needed nothing more than some dried blood.

When you had finished writing, the runes glowed for a moment before the purple sparkling stardust settled on the rubble and began to restore the dwarves' home to its former state.

"Oh!", murmured Sindri with eyebrows raised in surprise. "I didn't think it would be that easy."

You had to smile.

"A lot is easier than one would think.", your half-opened gaze wandered to Freya. "But sometimes we are blinded by what we feel."

She wrinkled her nose almost mockingly.

"My feelings haven't failed me yet.", she said, casting a quick glance over her shoulder. "And they won't either."

"Prejudice, Freya. A cruel flaw that even gods can't quite avoid.", you looked around the house. "We should have a talk with everyone."

She mumbled in agreement.

"If we can find our two important pawns.", together with the dwarves amount them the house. "Kratos? Atreus. We have guests."

Not tense but with caution you dared to follow her.

Together you stopped in front of a table that stood in front of a fireplace. A cosy fire flickered in this fireplace. It felt homely. Like a place to return to and rest in the worst of storms.

"I can see.", a voice so icy that the flames trembled suddenly sounded.

Swallowing hard, you slowly turned around.

A man had approached from behind. You were surprised that you had not been able to hear him. He was not much shorter than Thor, taller than Baldur had been and as muscular as no man.

Behind him stood the boy. He still held his bow in his hand.

When your eyes crossed, you nodded at him. Then you held out the knife. It was meant to be a gesture of peace.

But his father did not seem convinced by your views. When Loki wanted to step forward and accept the offer, he put a hand between you and the boy to stop him.

Your lips twitched. You wanted to say something.

Loki was quicker.

"Father.", he looked up at him. "Do you trust me? Just this once."

For a moment the man looked at his son.

You had seen many things and learned even more thanks to Tyr. Your knowledge of people was almost infallible.

This man was not from this world. Not even from one of the nine realms. He had travelled far. His body was marked by exertion and suffering. There was a certain hardness in his golden eyes, mixed with hatred and a rage that would have made even Odin fear him. But all this was tamed by a cool mind and the decision not to be a monster.

Not any more.

"Just this once.", he said, calmly but also making it clear that this was not up for debate, and withdrew his hand.

Loki stepped forward to grasp the knife at its tip with two fingers.

Neither you nor he let go.

"I am glad we can negotiate, Loki.", you said with a smile.

"His name is Atreus.", the man replied, almost offended.

Surprised, you looked first at him and then at the boy before you.

How little resemblance they bore to each other. It was almost absurd to think that they were father and son. And yet they were so alike. Like two sides of a coin, completely disappearing and yet the same.

"Is that true?", you asked, tilting your head.

Embarrassed, he rubbed the back of his neck.

"My father gave me the name Atreus.", he admitted. "But the giants call me Loki."

Again your eyes wandered to his father.

"What do you call him?", you asked.

"Atreus.", he answered.

It felt threatening to be near him. He was calm, almost too calm. Like an animal lying in wait.

"Greek.", you murmured. "No. Spartan."

Now it was the man who seemed surprised.

"You know my homeland?"

"No... not quite. Tyr had ways to travel. Further than one could imagine. He knew empires greater than Odin could have dreamed. Temples built on sand. The Greeks treasured those who were able to build so high they almost scratched the sky."

"Pyramids.", he hummed. "I've seen them."

A soft huff escaped you.

"I envy you. Tyr never took me so far.", your eyes fell back into the back. "Perhaps because he knew I wouldn't return to these realms if he would have shown me."

Your grip on the knife loosened.

With a nod, the boy, Atreus or Loki, whatever he wanted to be called, took the weapon.

"It is time you tell us the truth.", he demanded, suddenly so tall, so grown up.

With a gesture Sindri led you to the table.

"Please sit down.", he said and tapped on one of the chairs. "We have had enough for one day. We should remain moderate."

You nodded in agreement.

"Shall we?", you asked and looked around.

Freya was the first to take a seat, even before Atreus considered it. He sat down second.

Now only you and his father were left. For a long moment you both stared at each other.

His face was blank as stone but his eyes revealed that he doubted. He must have known many gods in his world. Probably they were no better than the ones from your world.

But you could see that it had not ended well.

His skin was the colour of ashes. You could feel life that had long since died out. The tattoo on his bearded face was red like blood. Like a wound that would never heal.

"Kratos.", Freya said with gentle emphasis.

Without saying a word he hung towards you. Your heart was beating in your throat but you didn't give in.

He sat down.