Tyr x Reader

Thirty-One

His hands were covered in blood, the fabric of his shirt drenched and soggy, Tyr let go of his fathers unconscious body.

Like a sack of wet sand it fell into the dirt and remained motionless. He was still alive, his breath could be seen, how it made his narrow chest rise and fall gently.

A thin strand of saliva mixed in the corner of his mouth with the consequences of his own actions.

Tyr couldn't remember the last time he had fought someone, let alone with his bare hands. And he was very certain that he had never before fought the Allfather.

The blood that stuck to his knuckles made goosebumps chase all over his body. He had that feeling yet there was no regret.

How many times had he struck Odin?

Now that he thought about it, perhaps a few too many times more than necessary.

His breath hitched in his throat as he tried to regain his calm composure. But it was no use. The war that ran through his veins screamed for more. Adrenaline made his ears hear how his own blood rushed through his body.

He had done this for a reason. He had been challenged.

There was no shame in what he had done. But he did feel ashamed that it had taken him so long to come to terms with who he truly was.

For a long time he had tried to fight down his true nature. And for an even longer time he had tried to be something he was not.

A god of peace.

He was the god of honour, law and justice and so many more things than just war. Yes, this had not been an act of war. It had been justice. Justice for so many years of Odins games, justice for his ignorance and how he had treated his own flesh and blood.

Tyr was sick and tired of it. This was nothing but consequences.

Finally, he managed to catch his breath, took one so deep that it made his lungs burn with pressure. His eyes fell shut. He took a moment to listen to the silence of the world tree.

But it only lasted a moment, barely enough to put his mind back at ease.

Ravens crowed. Their black wings moved up, cut through the air, while their empty eyes were all on the god of war who just had struck down the Allfather.

"Free at last, free!", they called out, all at the same time, with the very same voice. "Free us from him! Free everyone!"

The begging turned into a chant, mixed with the sound of crowing and black feathers that filled the empty space of time like snowflakes blessed by death.

"Free!", they kept on chanting. "Free!"

Tyr's gaze returned to his father who lay to his bare feet, one hand on his chest, his eyes still tightly shut. How helpless he looked, so old and fragile.

And he was. In that very moment that man to Tyr's feet was no one but an old fella who already lived past the time he had been supposed to. He was too old for new days and new ages.

Yet he refused.

The ravens were right. It would have been a good moment to end this fuckery once and for all. It was time to finally end the life of Odin.

And it would have been easy. He was helpless now, couldn't defend himself.

How cruel that would have been. How wrong.

No, the god of war did not feel the desire to become a monster. One without honour to add to that. If he'd ever be the reason for his fathers death it would end in a proper battle.

A war, perhaps.

But not in this moment. Not in the in between world on the branches of the world tree Yggdrasil but rather on a proper battlefield.

And even that possibility made Tyr pull a face in disgust. He wasn't thrilled for that day to come.

"Not yet.", he breathed and turned his back on the tree filled with ravens.

The birds chanting faded to a mix of angered screams and desperate whimpers. Some of them seemed to want to follow him and pick at his golden eyes with their beaks but failed to use their wings to rise into the air. Their feet seemed to be glued to the branches.

Slaves, Tyr thought. Slaves of the Allfathers will. Just like him. He also had been a slave to his fathers demands for a very long time.

Even though he had managed to escape to other words and find excuses not to be around for too long he was still a slave.

He wasn't allowed to settle where he felt comfortable. He never had been at ease for longer than a few weeks, perhaps a single month on end. Not a day longer.

But now?

Oh, there was this excitement inside his chest that made his heart race for the unknown. There was a world that seemed to be beyond the Allfathers reach. Even better so, he wouldn't have to go alone.

Unless...

All of a sudden his mood dropped once more. The excitement on his bearded face darkened and for a split second the old Tyr, the man of anger and raging war, could be seen.

"(Y/N).", he breathed, his voice trembled with held back rage, yet he could not bring himself to call out for you with ill emotions weighting on his heart.

His eyes jumped over his shoulder to check if his father had recovered enough to give him an answer to the single question that burned under his nails.

But he was not lucky enough that day.

The god of war took a deep breath and forced his nerves to stop stinging at the back of his brain.

Ravens kept on trying to regain his attention but he was already out of their influence.

Magic rushed through his veins as he took a deep breath, gathered his thoughts and took a leap as he tore a passage between the realm of Yggdrasil and Asgard.

"I'm coming for you, my Helchild."