As blood clouded his vision and rage his mind, the god of war threw himself at his father while his hands were tightly wrapped around that old man's neck.
How fragile he felt underneath his fingers. How easy it would have been to snap it in two.
In this very moment Odin was no one but an old man who was at the mercy of a son who wasn't yet restrained by time itself.
Even though Tyr had wished to avoid this doing, to mess with the timeline and details of fate, he did feel how the wish to kill his father once and for all grew inside his chest.
It was like a parasite, nestling in his flesh and feeding at his blood to fuel that cruel monster that he had locked away inside of him for so many eons.
How had it been able to cause a crack in that perfect prison that he had created for himself?
What desire did it feast on to be more powerful than the man of the mind he had sworn to be?
Fear.
No, that would have been too simple. It wasn't just plain fear. It was the fear of loosing.
Never before had the god of war had something he had cared for. He had lost many things and had gained many more.
But things had changed. Now there was something of such value to him that he would have sacrificed all of the seven realms, the world tree and the never ending world that grew in between its branches altogether.
Yes, truly.
That was how much he feared loosing you.
And this fear was what ultimately made him strike a decision. He needed to kill his father.
The god of war needed to strike down the Allfather and go down in history as a traitor to his kind.
Tyr.
Guilt whispered into his ear, so sweet and soft. It was almost able to make him reconsider.
Almost.
His hands closed around his fathers neck who so desperately tried to scratch his way out. His short nails were already split while particles of skin fathered underneath the beds.
And Tyr's body wasn't left unmarked either. Both his arms were covered in scratches, some only visible as white marks on the surface of his skin while others were so deep that rosy flesh peaked out for the world to see.
It burned as air touched it. But he could not have cared less.
Tyr...
He had to clench his teeth to keep going. His hands trembled with doubt. Yet his mind was so determined like never before.
Desperately, the Allfather choked for air. Saliva dripped from the corners of his mouth. His eye was wide open, red with irritation and tears that made him blind.
Blood poured form the empty socket in his skull.
It wetted Tyr's hands, made them slippery and stick together.
Tyr.
There it was again.
This voice.
Was that guilt that kept him chained?
Or perhaps it was just the little boy inside of him, from many winters ago, who still refused to believe that his father had turned out the monster everybody else had warned him about.
No matter what it was, it was enough to make Tyr falter once more.
His eyes lowered while the grip on Odin's neck loosened. His hands opened enough for the old god to catch his breath.
Like a sack of wet sand he hung in his sons grim while exhaustion pained his old body.
How strange this was to the god of war. Only a few hundred years ago he would have killed without hesitation. Without feelings.
Without guilt.
And now he couldn't do it because of the sheer sound of his own name.
Tyr!
What was that?
Who called out for him?
Struck by surprise, Tyr let go of the Allfather and jumped back.
The sky of flesh and red twisted. It curved like a body of water that had been frightened with a thrown stone. The clouds trembled.
A sky of red tore apart. What was revealed was like a crack inside glass. Bright, paining light shone through to the other side and bathed everything a strange, unknown heat.
With his hand raised to shield his eyes, Tyr backed away and managed to fetch his spear from the ground. Never before had he seen such a thing.
Cautious, he raised his weapon upwards.
Odin was still bend and broken. He sat in the strangely cold grass and coughed with such force that a few drops of blood escaped his lungs.
He had no power to care anymore.
Tyr!
Again, something called out for him. At first he thought it was just his own mind playing tricks on him. But as his eyes, irritated by blood, managed to catch a glimpse directly at the light he realised his luck.
"A giant?", he gasped.
With a worried look on a face of blue and gold, a creature stared down on him from the sky. If he wouldn't have known better he would have sworn that this was a giant from a time before Jötunheim had fallen.
"Tyr.", surprise shone on his face as he recognised that voice.
How familiar it was.
But how unfamiliar it looked.
"(Y/N)..?", he asked with his eyebrows drawn together.
A smile appeared on your face, relieved that your lover still managed to recognise you.
"Tyr...", you said softly.
There was so much confusion visible inside his eyes. But there was no time to dwell in it.
Fuelled by his never ending, unsatisfiable hatred, Odin managed to get on his feet one last time while ravens of green fell from his fingertips like a holy plague.
Tyr did not even try to fight them. They were dozens, hundreds, perhaps even a few thousands of green birds that were commanded by the Allfather's unbreakable will.
"Tyr!", you called out and reached into the deep.
Surprised, the god of war noticed just how far you managed to get until you started to struggle.
"What is this?", he asked in confusion at the touch of your skin.
"No time.", you shouted. "Jump!"
YOU ARE READING
Tyr x Reader
FanfictionJötunheim has fallen. The giants are all gone, all, except for a few lucky ones who managed to slip away into different realms. At the verge of death you are rescued by a god with a cruel determination and a kind heart. But as time marches on, he ch...
