Archive of Our Own ^beta

Early 11th Century A.D.  

The blazing blue eyes were slow to focus as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. Just like the past five mornings, Thor left the dream world disoriented. His bed chamber looked the same as it had always done. The sun shone brightly outside. He could hear Huggin’s and Muggin’s voices ring out from their perches down the hall as they crowed to rouse Father. All was as it should be. But when he realized he was still at home on Asgard, there was a slight sense of disappointment. He wasn’t sure why. 

It had started with the full moon. Night after night she would come to him in his sleep. A woman. Tall, for a human. No evidence was required to indicate she was a Midgardian. He simply knew. She was lean with flowing dark hair the color of tree bark highlighted with the colors of the falling leaves after harvest. Her eyes were a warm soft brown like the rich earth. Skin that had recently been bronzed but fading as did the strength of the sun above her had been doing as months passed. She called to him but he knew not why. 

These were the times when Mother’s counsel was well appreciated. 

Being the Protector of the Nine Realms was not as simple as he thought it would be, especially for an empathetic Aesir. For as long as the prince could remember, Odin had seen to it that his son was instructed in politics and the art of warfare. Thor would be sovereign one day. Personal feelings did not have a seat on the throne. Like his father and his father’s father before him, the heir apparent needed to be more than strong. He needed to be invincible. 

So, that is what he became.  

Yet on the birthday which celebrated his coming of age, the naivety of youth not entirely behind him, his mother took him aside. There was more to ruling, she explained. As he would soon learn in his new role, the people would seek his aid in their prosperity. 

“Then they shall prosper,” he declared. 

“It is not so easy,” she explained. “There must be balance in all things. You will have choices to make.” 

“How will I know what is right?” 

“There is no easy answer. What may be right for one could be wrong for another. Many times, it is merely a matter of give and take. Our burden is to live with the consequences of these choices.” 

Thor made a decision that morning while rising from the bed and making his ablutions. He dressed then re-braided a few of his long locks. Then he walked to the guardhouse where Heimdall was asked to open the Bifrost. 

The mysterious woman’s prayer led him to Midgard, to a land that was cold but fertile. When the rainbow bridge disappeared, Thor found himself in a small clearing standing before a great, wide ash tree. The largest he had ever seen with his own eyes. A living embodiment of Yggdrasil. Had it not been for the turned floating leaves falling around his feet, he imagined they would blot out the sky. 

At the base of its trunk knelt someone wearing a hooded woolen cape. Their back was to him. A few yards away in either direction around the edge of the copse were lightly armed men he assumed were sentries of a sort. As soon as they saw him, they also bent and bowed their heads. 

Sensing their movements, the kneeling person stood and slowly turned, sliding off the hood. Even before she began to lift her face to meet his, Thor knew her. The woman from his dreams. 

She said, “You came at last, my lord. I thank you.” 

Her voice reminded him of the running streams on Asgard where he and Loki used to play. He held his hand out to the woman to help her stand. 

“What is your name?” he asked softly. 

“Arthea,” answered the woman, bowing her head yet again. 

The god used his index finger to gently goad her chin upwards. Her eyes, big and round like that of a doe, met his. 

“And why do you ask me here?” 

He watched her lips plush and pink as the sweetest of berries part so that her answer could leave them. “My people. We are new to this place. I had a vision. To ensure our crops a bond must be forged between you, our god, and this land.” 

“This can certainly be done but you will need to give something in order to receive. It is the way of the Norns.” 

“I understand this,” she answered with a nod. “My people do not have much and so I offer myself.” She hesitated for a moment then humbly added, “If it would please you.” 

Thor couldn’t help but smile at the request. A feigned attempt at seduction despite her innocence. No. That was not the right word. Inexperience. She was old enough and seemed wise enough to the ways of men.  

“Are you a seer?” he asked. 

“I am.” 

“Then you will know my answer.” 

“You know better than I that fates are ever changing. They are very fickle,” she explained. Arthea spoke of her people's struggles and their hope for a better future, but there was an undercurrent of something else, a mystery that lingered in the depths of her eyes. 

He briefly recalled his mother’s warning that the universe required balance, but he was determined that Midgard only reap the benefits. The people would thrive. They would sing his praises and tell the story. Even as a god among these people, Thor would have to earn their trust. 

“My answer is yes,” he said. 

Arthea offered her hand which he held like a delicate flower. Followed by her guards, she led him further into the forest. As they walked, Thor couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter was more than just a pact for prosperity. The air seemed to hum with an ancient energy. There were other forces at play, weaving with intricate threads of destiny.  

The camp was modest, with makeshift homes made from natural materials. A large communal fire in the middle of the tiny village provided a central meeting place where the villagers gathered. Thor observed as Arthea addressed her people, explaining the alliance struck with the God of Thunder. He would protect the human realm both on land and sea. The excitement and gratitude in the Midgardians’ eyes were evident, and Thor couldn't deny the satisfaction that surged within him.  

His divine presence was revered. The villagers worked quickly to gather all they could to celebrate with a feast worthy of a god. Of course, even the most bountiful fare on Earth couldn’t compare to those of the Aesir, but Thor showed his hosts nothing but gratitude for their offering. 

And at night, when every morsel had been consumed and the communal fire had been put out, Arthea led Thor by the hand once again. She took him to her tent, inviting him to share a bed of furs. Thor insisted that giving of herself in that way would not be a condition of their bargain, to which the seer replied she understood. Yet still, she wanted him as a woman wants a man and he could not deny her.  

Days turned into weeks, and Thor immersed himself in the life of the village. Away from the rigors of politics and wars, he found joy teaching them the ways of agriculture, sharing tales of Asgard, and even demonstrating new methods of forging weapons to ensure their protection. The bond between the god and the humans grew stronger, and prosperity blossomed as promised. Crops flourished, and the people thrived in the harsh wilderness. 

Still, as the seasons changed, so did the atmosphere within the camp. Whispers of discontent murmured through the air with a tension that lingered beneath the surface. Thor found himself relying on Arthea for answers to the unspoken concerns that plagued the minds of her people. 

"My lord, the people feel that the balance has shifted. They believe that your presence has upset the delicate equilibrium of our world." 

Thor furrowed his brow in confusion. "What do you mean? I have kept my end of the bargain. Your people have flourished under my guidance." 

Arthea lowered her gaze, hesitating before speaking. "The Norns are not easily appeased, my lord. We have gained more than has been given. They now demand sacrifice to maintain harmony." 

Thor's heart sank as he realized the gravity of the situation. The prosperity he had brought came at a cost, a cost that now weighed heavily on the shoulders of Arthea and her people. The dreamy vision of a utopian existence shattered, replaced by the harsh reality of cosmic demands. 

"I believe I know what must be done," Thor answered, his voice heavy with responsibility.  

Thor felt a weight on his chest, the burden of being not just a god of physical strength but good and honorable. Every decision exacts a price and the consequences of his actions reverberated beyond the mortal realm. 

As the full moon rose, Thor stood with Arthea beneath the old ash tree where they had first met. The time had come to make a choice, a choice that would test not only his strength but the depth of his understanding of the intricate dance of fate that bound them all. 

He set down his hammer and took the seer’s hands in his own. “I must leave you now, my dove. The Norns shall have the sacrifice of my own happiness to ensure the prosperity of your people.” 

They stood on a latticework of shadows cast by the branches in the moonlight. Arthea’s eyes filled with sorrow. Thor’s heart clenched. He had grown fond of this mortal woman, her spirit and resilience captivating him. 

“As Midgard’s sworn protector, I have to be the one to pay the price demanded.” 

Arthea’s hand trembled as she reached for his. She whispered, “But what of you and I?” 

He leaned down, pressing his lips to her forehead. “Our time here has been a gift,” he said, his gaze lingering on her face. “It was foolish of me to think that I could live simply among the mortals. My fate is laden with tradition and duty. I ask your forgiveness for my naivete.” 

Despite the tears streaming down her face, Arthea nodded. For, she too had been ignoring what her heart had been saying. The lives of mortals were far too fleeting and fragile. “I have no regrets and would do it over again given the chance. I will remember our time together for the rest of my days,” she replied. 

With a heavy heart, Thor kissed her one last time before stepping away, his boots crunching on fallen leaves. He watched Arthea carefully, memorizing the curve of her cheek, the kindness in her eyes. Then he lifted Mjolnir to call the shimmering portal that would take him home.  

As he stepped through the Himinbjorg and across the Bifrost bridge, Thor walked as though in a dream. The familiar halls of Asgard began to materialize around him—the golden spires, the grand throne room. But it all felt different now. Hollow and cold. The sacrifice he had made weighed heavily on his soul. 

Thor was greeted by his friends and family, the weight of responsibility further settling on his shoulders. And yet, he couldn’t shake the memory of Arthea’s smile, the warmth of her touch. Perhaps the Norns were right—the universe sought balance in all things. 

But it also demanded love. 

Thor vowed to find a way to honor both. In the comforting solitude of his bedchamber, he gazed out at the stars and whispered a silent farewell to Arthea, praying she would find happiness in the mortal world. Already missing her and wishing he could return, Thor knew that the most loving way to honor Arthea was to let her go. 

For the sake of the realms, he would endure the ache of their goodbye, knowing that sometimes sacrifice was the truest form of heroism.