Thunderous Fate (Thor x reader) || Record of Ragnarok

I took a deep breath as I faced Hercules, my heart pounding in my chest. 

Sparring with him without my staff felt like stepping into the unknown. Ever since Odin had mentioned how many of my ancestors had perished because they couldn't defend themselves without their staffs, I'd been secretly pushing myself to train in hand-to-hand combat whenever Thor went to battle. 

But no matter how hard I practiced, the truth remained: my skills weren't as sharp without my staff. 

Still, there was no turning back now. Hercules stood tall, his massive frame relaxed yet alert. His eyes softened when they met mine, but there was a challenge in them, a silent expectation. 

He waited for me to make the first move. I lunged at him, throwing a quick punch. Hercules blocked it effortlessly, guiding my arm away with a practiced ease before returning a counterstrike. 

I dodged just in time, barely missing the blow, and immediately retaliated with a kick aimed at his side. But again, he evaded it as though he'd predicted my every move. 

We exchanged blows, my movements growing faster, sharper with each passing second. Every strike, every dodge, felt like a part of me was coming alive, responding without thinking. My body moved instinctively, my senses heightened with each hit. 

Hercules must have noticed the change. His attacks grew gentler, more controlled. He was holding back. 

Frustration simmered inside me, pushing against the tight walls of my composure. I gritted my teeth, feeling the familiar pulse of energy building within me. The heat spread through my body, ignited by anger and doubt. 

I didn't need anyone going easy on me—least of all Hercules. 

"Don't go easy on me." I demanded, my voice tight with the tension I couldn't mask. 

Hercules didn't answer. Instead, he continued to dodge my strikes, his movements graceful despite his size. 

I swung again, but he blocked my punch with his forearm, spinning behind me in one fluid motion. Before I could react, he grabbed my arm, pulling me into a firm but gentle restraint. 

"I lied." Hercules said quietly, his voice calm and unhurried. 

I twisted my head to look at him, confusion bubbling inside me. "What?" 

"You're still conflicted inside," he continued, his tone unyielding. "I can see it in your eyes, in the way you move. Whatever's weighing on your heart... you haven't resolved it." 

The words hit harder than I expected. My blood boiled, anger flaring as I tried to deny it. 

I'm not conflicted. I am fine—whatever Loki had said... it didn't matter. It wouldn't affect how I acted. I am fine.

But deep down, a part of me knew he was right. The doubts, the questions... they were there, gnawing at me, but I refused to let them show.

The Valkyries, Hercules—they can't see me as struggling. They can't see doubt creeping into my mind. As Thor's wife, I carried more than just my own burdens. I bore the weight of his name, of the Allfather's family. Every action, every expression, reflected upon them. A moment of hesitation could be twisted into weakness, and weakness in Asgard was an invitation for doubt, for whispers of unworthiness.

And beyond that, I carried the legacy of my own bloodline—the Yggdrasil Healers. A lineage so revered, so deeply respected by the gods of all pantheons, yet one I still knew so little about. I was expected to embody their strength, their wisdom, even as I struggled to understand my own place within it. To falter, even for a moment, would be to dishonor them.