Thor - Wergeld 1
So wantstobelieve on Tumblr posted this gorgeous AU Troy/Thor mashup fanart, and it inspired fic far and wide.
Jumpin' on the bandwagon.
He caught the motion in the side of his eye as he strode down the hall. The shadows in a recess changed.
Someone had gutted the torches along this way. Thor continued past, pretending not to see, and waited for the shout of warning and the attack with his palm on his hilt.
But none came.
When he exited the hall with no interference, either challenging or craven, he doubled back to discover who had been missed in the sacking.
They were patient. He lost track of time as he waited; he only knew that the fighting outside had drifted away. He wanted to rejoin it--but he also wanted to see who had managed to elude the best of his men.
The sounds of fighting were almost inaudible, and his patience nearly broken, when the shadows shifted again. A figure leaned slightly out of the recess, glancing along the hall.
Not a woman, Thor realized. Or else a poorly endowed one.
The man started forward, taking care not to step on the remains of the broken statue at his feet. He moved quietly--had he held still enough as Thor passed, he might have escaped this day.
Skillful, he acknowledged, and stepped into the hall.
When he called out the challenge to fight, the man spun around sharply, eyes wide. Then he jerked a short sword up and out before him.
Thor eyed the sword, and the man, in the light available from the outer room.
He was not a warrior. That was visible in his garb, his sandals--but more so in his stance. His arm was out straight, too taut. He had no room to thrust, and would have to pull back to swing. And though his hand was steady, it was gripped over-tight around the handle.
Not as skillful as he'd first thought. He kept a hand on the hilt regardless, and continued forward. The man began to back up, and Thor shifted to the side, slowly herding him toward the wall.
~
Loki took another step back as the invader continued toward him, trying to keep a smooth pace and striving to calculate how close the doorway to the inner sanctum was. The invader had blocked the path out; but the corridor around the innermost room was twisted and curved--if he broke into a run, had enough of a start, he could lose the man long enough to hide again. Just a few more steps, and that should be close enough to--
He tripped over a chunk of shattered statue and realized too late he'd been cornered.
Loki caught himself against the wall, but not swiftly enough; trying to resettle his feet only caused him to trip over more shards--they'd destroyed everything--and the wall scraped his palm as he sank to a knee.
He kept the sword out in front of him. The invader had stopped out of reach, but Loki was caught between him and the wall and a pedestal that once held a god's image, and there was no way of escaping until the other man was lying in his own blood.
The only advantage now was to make the man come to him. Loki readjusted his grip on the sword, hating that his palm was sweating--a weakness, one he couldn't cease, one that placed him at a disadvantage--and waited for the invader to move.
Yet he didn't.
The invader stared down at him, expression obscured in the dimness. Loki had doused the lights to aid his concealment; but now the action was turned against him.
After several breaths passed and the man still hadn't moved against him, he decided to act. Loki shifted, slowly rolling onto the balls of his feet, keeping one hand braced against the wall to add momentum to his spring. If the invader was trying to outwait him, there was little Loki could do but make the first move--the invader had more of his kind outside the temple, while his own kith were captured or lay dead within and without.
But his movements, cautious as they were, spurred the other man to his own. He loosed the hammer slung in his belt--Loki spared a glance at it, judged the weight of the head and the ease with which the invader held it with an internal curse--and took another step forward.
He could afford to wait no more. Loki shoved away from the wall and propelled himself forward, striking for the man's exposed chest above his armor though he knew the bone beneath would stop a killing blow; even to slow him down might be enough.
The invader struck his arm aside with his free hand. Loki landed no more than a glancing blow--if it drew blood, it didn't stand out from that already smeared on the man--before the blade jarred against the pedestal. Loki managed to keep his grip on the hilt and swung the sword back again, aiming for the nearest exposed flesh.
The invader blocked the strike with his hammer, then gripped his wrist tightly and twisted. Loki scrabbled to keep his hold on the sword, jerking back against the grip and lashing out at the invader's knee with a leg.
The kick twisted his body; Loki felt a wrenching in his shoulder, gasped as it lit into pain, and dropped the blade. When the other man jerked him up by his wrist, Loki cried out as the spasm sharpened.
The invader loosened his grasp. Loki disregarded the growing numbness along his arm and threw himself recklessly at the man; it made the invader stumble back, but not enough, not for an escape--and then the grip around his wrist tightened once more, twisting his arm up.
Loki cried out again, and then snarled and sank his teeth into the invader's shoulder, all thought of dignity or pride gone and only the desire for escape and the cessation of pain left in the wake.
The man grunted. He pulled Loki's arm around and up behind his back, forcing him to turn--and then shoved him forward, slamming his head against the wall. Loki's mind fogged for a moment as his vision went black along the edge of his vision. When it cleared, he braced a leg against the wall and shoved himself backwards, trying to strike the invader with the back of his head or to at least push him away enough to gain room to maneuver.
The man slammed his head against the wall again; and this time when darkness covered his vision, it didn't recede.
~
When the man slumped against the wall, Thor relaxed his grip without releasing it.
But he soon recognized the limp weight. Deciding it wasn't a trick, he let go, and the man sank to the floor.
Thor looked down at him for a brief while, considering.
He ran a thumb over the bite mark in his shoulder, and then reached past it and pulled the edge of his wrap free.
As he knelt down beside the other man, he noticed the awkward way his shoulder was hanging. Thor examined it, then set his weapon on the floor and tugged the man onto his back.
The sound of battle had faded completely by the time he had the shoulder pushed back into place. Thor hooked his hammer to his belt, hefted the man up, and went to see what remained.
Jumpin' on the bandwagon.
He caught the motion in the side of his eye as he strode down the hall. The shadows in a recess changed.
Someone had gutted the torches along this way. Thor continued past, pretending not to see, and waited for the shout of warning and the attack with his palm on his hilt.
But none came.
When he exited the hall with no interference, either challenging or craven, he doubled back to discover who had been missed in the sacking.
They were patient. He lost track of time as he waited; he only knew that the fighting outside had drifted away. He wanted to rejoin it--but he also wanted to see who had managed to elude the best of his men.
The sounds of fighting were almost inaudible, and his patience nearly broken, when the shadows shifted again. A figure leaned slightly out of the recess, glancing along the hall.
Not a woman, Thor realized. Or else a poorly endowed one.
The man started forward, taking care not to step on the remains of the broken statue at his feet. He moved quietly--had he held still enough as Thor passed, he might have escaped this day.
Skillful, he acknowledged, and stepped into the hall.
When he called out the challenge to fight, the man spun around sharply, eyes wide. Then he jerked a short sword up and out before him.
Thor eyed the sword, and the man, in the light available from the outer room.
He was not a warrior. That was visible in his garb, his sandals--but more so in his stance. His arm was out straight, too taut. He had no room to thrust, and would have to pull back to swing. And though his hand was steady, it was gripped over-tight around the handle.
Not as skillful as he'd first thought. He kept a hand on the hilt regardless, and continued forward. The man began to back up, and Thor shifted to the side, slowly herding him toward the wall.
~
Loki took another step back as the invader continued toward him, trying to keep a smooth pace and striving to calculate how close the doorway to the inner sanctum was. The invader had blocked the path out; but the corridor around the innermost room was twisted and curved--if he broke into a run, had enough of a start, he could lose the man long enough to hide again. Just a few more steps, and that should be close enough to--
He tripped over a chunk of shattered statue and realized too late he'd been cornered.
Loki caught himself against the wall, but not swiftly enough; trying to resettle his feet only caused him to trip over more shards--they'd destroyed everything--and the wall scraped his palm as he sank to a knee.
He kept the sword out in front of him. The invader had stopped out of reach, but Loki was caught between him and the wall and a pedestal that once held a god's image, and there was no way of escaping until the other man was lying in his own blood.
The only advantage now was to make the man come to him. Loki readjusted his grip on the sword, hating that his palm was sweating--a weakness, one he couldn't cease, one that placed him at a disadvantage--and waited for the invader to move.
Yet he didn't.
The invader stared down at him, expression obscured in the dimness. Loki had doused the lights to aid his concealment; but now the action was turned against him.
After several breaths passed and the man still hadn't moved against him, he decided to act. Loki shifted, slowly rolling onto the balls of his feet, keeping one hand braced against the wall to add momentum to his spring. If the invader was trying to outwait him, there was little Loki could do but make the first move--the invader had more of his kind outside the temple, while his own kith were captured or lay dead within and without.
But his movements, cautious as they were, spurred the other man to his own. He loosed the hammer slung in his belt--Loki spared a glance at it, judged the weight of the head and the ease with which the invader held it with an internal curse--and took another step forward.
He could afford to wait no more. Loki shoved away from the wall and propelled himself forward, striking for the man's exposed chest above his armor though he knew the bone beneath would stop a killing blow; even to slow him down might be enough.
The invader struck his arm aside with his free hand. Loki landed no more than a glancing blow--if it drew blood, it didn't stand out from that already smeared on the man--before the blade jarred against the pedestal. Loki managed to keep his grip on the hilt and swung the sword back again, aiming for the nearest exposed flesh.
The invader blocked the strike with his hammer, then gripped his wrist tightly and twisted. Loki scrabbled to keep his hold on the sword, jerking back against the grip and lashing out at the invader's knee with a leg.
The kick twisted his body; Loki felt a wrenching in his shoulder, gasped as it lit into pain, and dropped the blade. When the other man jerked him up by his wrist, Loki cried out as the spasm sharpened.
The invader loosened his grasp. Loki disregarded the growing numbness along his arm and threw himself recklessly at the man; it made the invader stumble back, but not enough, not for an escape--and then the grip around his wrist tightened once more, twisting his arm up.
Loki cried out again, and then snarled and sank his teeth into the invader's shoulder, all thought of dignity or pride gone and only the desire for escape and the cessation of pain left in the wake.
The man grunted. He pulled Loki's arm around and up behind his back, forcing him to turn--and then shoved him forward, slamming his head against the wall. Loki's mind fogged for a moment as his vision went black along the edge of his vision. When it cleared, he braced a leg against the wall and shoved himself backwards, trying to strike the invader with the back of his head or to at least push him away enough to gain room to maneuver.
The man slammed his head against the wall again; and this time when darkness covered his vision, it didn't recede.
~
When the man slumped against the wall, Thor relaxed his grip without releasing it.
But he soon recognized the limp weight. Deciding it wasn't a trick, he let go, and the man sank to the floor.
Thor looked down at him for a brief while, considering.
He ran a thumb over the bite mark in his shoulder, and then reached past it and pulled the edge of his wrap free.
As he knelt down beside the other man, he noticed the awkward way his shoulder was hanging. Thor examined it, then set his weapon on the floor and tugged the man onto his back.
The sound of battle had faded completely by the time he had the shoulder pushed back into place. Thor hooked his hammer to his belt, hefted the man up, and went to see what remained.