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

The weight of the scroll in my hands felt heavier than it should, as though it carried a burden beyond its size. 

My pulse quickened as I ran my fingers over the delicate parchment, feeling the ancient script, though unable to comprehend it. The Yggdrasil Healers language was lost to me, leaving the scroll's secrets a mystery. 

My breath hitched as I thought of the sacrifices etched into this very parchment—of my ancestors. Tears blurred my vision, but I clenched my jaw, forcing them back. 

This wasn't the time for weakness. 

"Grandpa Frode..." I whispered softly, the echo of his voice haunting me. 

He and my ancestors had guided me here, to this moment, to this truth I couldn't yet fully understand. With a shaky hand, I rolled the scroll up and tucked it into the deep pocket of my cloak. 

My fingers instinctively grasped the necklace around my neck, feeling its warmth pulse against my skin, as if it, too, recognized the turmoil stirring within me. A sharp exhale escaped my lips as the familiar surge of energy hummed through my veins. 

I closed my eyes, focusing on the image of Fjellheim—the snowy peaks cloaked in the current season's frost, the wooden cabins tucked quietly into the valley, and the crisp scent of pine in the air. The room around me began to blur, and a sudden gust of wind swept through, pulling me away from the cold stone walls of Asgard.

But back in Asgard, in the dim stillness of the secret library vault, someone had been watching.

From the shadows, Loki stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the space where you had stood only moments ago. His lips curled into a slow, sinister grin. There was a gleam in his eyes—something amused, something knowing. He took in the scene with quiet satisfaction.

The guards you subdued lay sprawled across the floor, unmoving and dazed from the spell you casted. Loki's grin deepened as he surveyed their limp forms, a flicker of mockery dancing across his expression.

"Well, well... this is going to be interesting." he murmured to himself, voice low and laced with dark delight.

He stepped lightly between the fallen bodies, his movement unhurried, almost playful. The stillness of the vault seemed to amuse him, the silence echoing with her absence.

With a flick of his wrist, his thoughts began to sharpen. Plans unfurled behind his eyes like the pages of a long-forgotten book. He would inform Odin—of your escape, of what you took, of what you might know.

Loki paused, glancing once more at the empty space where the scroll had been opened. He lingered for just a moment longer, savoring the quiet like a final breath before chaos.

Then, with a ripple of shadow, he vanished—leaving nothing behind but the echo of his laugh. 

*** 

I pulled my hood tighter and moved quickly through the narrow streets, heart pounding as I made my way to the one place I could still feel connected to my past: Homura's cabin. It stood at the edge of the village, half-hidden by the forest, its modest frame blending into the natural world around it—the only safe haven left.

I knocked softly on the door before pushing it open. The crackle of a dying fire greeted me, the warm scent of herbs lingering in the air.

Homura sat in her old chair, her face peaceful in sleep. But the moment I entered, her eyes fluttered open. Her expression shifted from peace to alarm, then softened with unmistakable relief as soon as she saw me.

"Grandma," I whispered, kneeling beside her. I placed my hand gently on her arm. "Grandpa Frode said I should bring this to you."

Her eyes widened, the weight of my words sinking in. She reached out, her hands steady despite her age, and took the scroll I held out to her.