((TW for this story: adult language, graphic intimacy, possible verbal abuse, bdsm dynamic, possible mmf/mm scenes, graphic violence))
There aren't many places in this world that are truly dedicated to Thor. There are no temples as you'll find all over the world, even for Gods of Old. No, Namira had looked for a long time for any 'true' place that linked to Thor, but she'd been left wanting.
Still, Namira wanted to pursue the dream of seeing something from the time the Gods had lived and been a part of the world so long ago.
That's what had brought her here, to Stankvista in Sweden. Here, she would find the eleventh century runestone dedicated to Thor and Mjöllnir.
Namira wasn't used to travelling alone, she'd been a little hesitant and unsure but she'd pushed on to fulfil that dream. She stood before the large stone now, admiring the intricate carvings. Dating from a time where stories were spoken rather than written, it was proof to her that once people had truly believed.
Namira had been obsessed with Thor and the stories of his power and success in battle against monsters and giants, so no one had been surprised to see her embark on this trip.
The stone, now a part of a churchyard, stood tall, dwarfing Namira next to it. She pushed back a dark curl that had fallen before her face, biting her lip as she contemplated touching it. Instead, she backed up, pressed against the stone wall around the church. She leaned back on her hands for support, then hissed as she cut her hand on the corner of a sharp stone. She watched as droplets of blood trickled from the wound this had inflicted, clenching it to try and stop the bleeding, "Just my luck!"
She strode forward to the stone again, so enthralled she missed the hole in the ground that made her stumble. Namira barely caught herself against the rock with her hands to prevent crashing into it completely and as her bloodied hand touched the stone, a jolt of electricity went through her. She snatched her hand back, clutching it in the other again. Her cheeks flushed as she noted the stain of red on the stone.
Quickly she glanced around; had someone seen what she had done? She saw no one and released a quiet sigh of relief before she heard a low chuckle, "It's been ... so long ... since a human sacrifice was made for me."
Her eyes widened as a gorgeously tall, blond man stepped out from behind a stone. Assuming he was an actor, someone to win in tourist, she released a soft laugh, "No life was offered, dear sir."
The man flashed a grin, "Not all sacrifices require death, fegrð." Namra raised a brow, "Fegrð?"
The man nodded, "It means 'beauty' in your tongue."
Her cheeks flushed again, "I... I should go."
The man pushed closer to her, "Go? Ah no, fegrð, I cannot let this sacrifice go unused. It's rare for someone to pay homage to me and my powers have been dwindling. We need prayers, sacrifice to fuel us... and it's been so long.... Tell me, fegrð, you have been clear in not sacrificing your spirit to me, but what will you offer in its stead? What will you offer me?"
Namira blinked at the man, "Look, sir, I appreciate the hands-on experience you're trying to give here... but I don't care to be a part of it. Please leave me alone."
His head tilted as if truly considering her words, "Who do you believe I am?"
Namira offered a shrug, "Some entertainer cosplaying Thor to amuse the tourists." He laughed at her words, "No, fegrð. I am Thor Odinson. You made a sacrifice to me, offering your blood."
Her eyes widened, then she smiled, "You're committed to your job, I'll give you that."
She watched as his eyes narrowed slightly in silent contemplation, before he shrugged, "The humans have not called upon me like this in years, of course I had to answer this token of dedication." Namira began to back away slowly, watching as the man's piercing blue eyes followed her, "You do not run from me, fegrð, I warn you but once. I've offered to let you pick your own substitute for your sacrifice, if you run... I will set the price of your soul for you."
Namira swallowed hard. She didn't know how she got herself in this situation, but the man's playful attitude had shifted and she sensed the danger in this threat.
He told her not to run, but Namira had never been one to fight in the face of danger. No. Namira ran.
She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, but she ran blindly. Namira didn't know where she was going, she didn't know the way. There were no people she could ask for help, even as she went through the streets pounding on every door in a plea for safety against this psychopath threatening her. No one answered.
She ran and ran, then made the mistake of glancing behind just once. One moment of distraction was all it took for her to run straight into a wall, bouncing back and falling to the street.
Namira looked up, her eyes widening. Not a wall. The man.
TBC...
