#blacksmith!reader

The last time he’d been here, it had been Trebuchet. The old smith had looked at him with knowing eyes and told him. A prince of all people that he could sleep in the hay loft. And that if he came anywhere near his daughter he would personally remove his balls and have them bronzed. 

He snorted and headed slowly across the yard. 

For good or for ill, he was here. And now? It was time to face the music. 

Thor stopped, just inside the forge and watched the woman working the billows. Streaked with soot and sweat. Her hair was escaping from its bonds and curling from the heat. And her eyes reflected the flames. And for a moment, Thor couldn’t breathe. 

It had been two centuries and nothing had changed. 

She looked exactly as she had when he left. Except perhaps… more wise. Her eyes held a light that didn’t shimmer. But glowed softly. 

“Y/N?” Thor said softly. 

You hadn’t given an indication that you knew he was there, continuing to work the blade you were shaping. But at his voice, your head snapped up, eyes narrowed. 

“Odinson,” you say warningly, brandishing your hammer in your left hand. 

Thor holds his hands out placatingly, “I’m not here to fight,” he said.

“Too bad,” you growl starting forward, a still hot blade in one hand and your hammer in the other. 

“Y/N,” Thor siad backing up. He didn’t want to fight with you. He truely didn’t. Your entire life was weaponry. And he didn’t doubt that it would be difficult to disarm you without hurting you. Or getting hurt himself.

“How dare you come back here,” you hiss. “You were a monster. You were terrorizing our villagers. We broke your curse. And you repaid me by what? Taking my maidenhead and going home?”

Thor froze. He hadn’t realized. He had never even considered that he might have been your first lover. Or that you might be long married with a husband who wouldn’t  take kindly to his reapperance.  “I’m sorry,” he managed after a moment, through bloodless lips. Thor loved women. Women were magical creatures in their own right and the thought that his actions might have hurt one in someway… He was appalled. 

“Oh, you’re sorry,” you scoff, brandishing a still hot blade. 

“I am,” Thor said, kneeling, hands out, as he leaned stormbreaker against a wall. “I never meant to hurt you. When you came to me I thought- I thought that you had done this before.”

“You told me that you love me,” you spit at him. But through the fury, he can see the hurt, lurking . Squatting like a toad in your chest. 

“I did- I still do,” he said. “And I’ve missed you.”

“You’ve changed, Thor,” you murmur.

“I have,” he answered, smiling sadly. “And I just- This is the closest place I have to home. Now that Asgard is gone. And mother and father.”

You lower the blade and toss it onto the work table and Thor smiles a little. Even in your fury you could never kick a man while he was down. That hadn’t changed. “I hadn’t heard,” you tell him, “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, accepting a hand off the ground. It was the same he remembered. Strong and capable. Work roughened with callouses and old scars. 

Thor took your hand and brushed his lips across the back of your hand, “Still no needle point, my lady?”

“Father would haunt me,” you snort. 

“Haunt you?” Thor said softly. 

“He died, not long after you left us… Though not before-”

“Not before he found out that we’d been lovers,” Thor finished, cringing. 

“He was furious but… Thankful enough it didn’t result in a child.”

Thor exhaled slowly and kissed your hand again. “Did you never marry?”

You laugh and shake your head, “No one would have me after you were done with me.”

Thor cringed again and took a deep breath, “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, “There was a certain freedom in being unmarrigable,” you tell him. “It meant that I was free to care for the old man. And carry on his work.”

“What of your dreams?”

“This is all I ever wanted,” you tell him. “To protect the manor. And the people who call it home… And to perhaps be a beloved Auntie to my sisters’ children.”

Thor beamed, “Oh, I’m sure you’ve accomplished that.”

“Much to Maggie’s chagrin,” you answer over your shoulder as you go to stoke up the fire in the forge once more.

He didn’t question if you got lonely. Or if you missed having a man to warm your bed. You were passionate. Even in your inexperience. And he could imagine that you’d be more so now. Now that you had had the freedom to be on your own and to live by your own rules. Without the pressure of being a model of proper courtly behavior. He knew that you probably did. And that you had probably taken other lovers. But for the moment, all he wanted to do was watch you work. To admire the musculature of your arms and back. The focus. The artistry. 

He reflected with a soft snort as you took a drink from your tankard, that it was probably the latter. Still. He picked up his bowl and took a seat. Next to you, instead of taking the seat across from you. 

Because even he hadn’t missed the chair. With a pipe on the side table, filled with tobacco and waiting to be lit. And the old boots still next to the hearth. The seat across from you, as it had always been, was Trebuchet’s. And that was a chair that even Thor was not tempted to take. For a long time, as Thor ate, he was silent. Appreciating the hot meal. And the Cider, not Ale has he had thought, that was in the tankard. He also remembered that meals were for eating. And thinking. And clearly, even though Trebuchet had gone, so far as you were concerned there was no reason to mess with something that worked. 

And that suited Thor. 

It gave him time to watch you. And to think himself. To wonder how his people would adjust. To wonder how he was going to house them. And care for them. And not for the first time, he was thankful for well-connected friends. 

He thought. At least until- Until footsteps. Specifically the footsteps of clawed feet, made him halfturn towards the door. 

“There you are,” You grouse, reaching out a hand towards the white she-wolf, “Were’ve you been, hey?”

The wolf condescended to let you stroke her ears and accepted a bowl of her own. One that Thor saw had what was probably mutton. And a few bits of bacon. But, she did not deign to do more than blink at you and yawn before she laid in front of the hearth. 

“New pet?”

At Thor’s question you lay your empty bowl aside and pick up your tankard, stretching out your bare feet towards the fire and cradling your tankard. “After a fashion,” you answer. “Matari comes and goes as she pleases.”

“Matari?” 

“That’s the name she gave me,” you say with a shrug. 

“It’s a good name,” he said smiling a little. You looked tired. And Thor wasn’t surprised. You could hold your own in battle. And you could work all day in a forge. But, even he was immune to the effects of a full stomach, a warm fire, and a tankard of something tasty to drink. 

You nod and stifle a yawn with effort. It had been a long day. A long… Well. To be honest, you weren’t sure how long. The days blended together after a while. Days into weeks, weeks into months, months into seasons, seasons into years. You weren’t really sure how much time had passed. Sometimes, you were in the forge for days before your stomach pulled you to the kitchens to eat. 

“Y/N,” Thor said softly, watching you. 

“Hmm?” you answer. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “About how I Left… I really. I meant to come back.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I- I was ashamed… And. Worried.”

You pull you feet up underneath you and turn towards him, “Worried?”

“About what- how my father would… behave if he realized that he had a smith like you at his disposal. An apprentice of Trebuchet. And I was afraid- Afraid that if I came back I’d put you in danger.”

You nod, seemingly digesting this. “One would think,” you said slowly, “That if I was old enough to fuck you, I should have been old enough to decide that for myself.”

Thor blinked and then felt his cheeks color. “I know-”

“No,” you tell him softly, “You don’t.” You take a deep breath and exhale slowly. “I came to you willingly. And you accepted. You whispered words of love in my ear… And then? You simply disappeared. What we did was tantamount to a betrothal. And still. After all that, when you did return to this realm, you had the gall to court someone else? Did you think I wouldn’t hear of it?”

The wolf in front of the fire growled warningly when Thor moved to reach for you and situated herself firmly in his way, eyeing him warily. And Thor hung his head. He half wished he would have let you strike him. He deserved it. More than deserved it. 

“Have you really never married?”

“If a would not have me, then I must be defective,” you snort, parroting the rumors you’d been hearing in ballrooms.

“Not even lovers?” Thor asked, his voice scarcely a whisper. The thought that you’d been denied any companionship because of his actions was enough to make him demand right then that you marry him. 

You snort. Somehow sounding more amused than bitter. “Scores of those… Everyone wanted to see how I’d managed to catch your attention at all.”

“Wanted to?”

“Now they know… Though they still come.”

Thor smiled a little. It was said, he supposed, in answer to his question. And not necessarily to make him jealous. Though it did. He wanted to hurt the lovers that would use your body and not- not show you the love you deserved. If he were being very honest with himself, he would say that he was angry with them for not cleaning up the mess he made. “Will they care I’m here?” he asked, instead of saying anything else. 

“It’s my house,” you say with a shrug. “If they don’t like it, they can crawl back when you’re gone.”

The familiarity of sweating his ass off on a stool in the corner while you stoked up fires and banged away. There was a certain sensuality to it. To watching your lean, lithe, tightly packed muscle ripple and sweat run. All the while your breath remained steady and even. 

It reminded him of before. In the dark. The muscles rippling under his hand. The smell of star metal that clung to your skiing. The soot on your cheek that he’d wiped away with a chuckle. And in the present, Thor swallowed hard and shifted on the stool. He had always carried fond memories of his time with you. But he also knew better than to try and pull you from your forge. For conversation or anything else. At least not until you were ready to leave it. 

Eventually, you stepped away from the fire and went to take a drink of water, leaning on the work table. It was clear, at least to Thor, that you’d been thinking as you hammered away. 

“What brought you back, really?” you ask, taking a long drink of water. 

And Thor took a deep breath. It was true, he’d missed you. It was true he wanted guidance. But the longer he sat, watching the goings on just out the door the more it seemed that the manor, and it’s surrounding farms and shore line was… somewhere he could put his people. Maybe. 

“I well-” Thor paused, considering carefully what he was going to say. He knew better than to lie, but he also knew he should probably tread lightly. He’d hurt you when he left. And he knew he couldn’t just… ask you. “I- it’s true I missed you,” he said. “But I- Asgard is gone… It’s just gone. Destroyed.”

You tilt your head slightly, “And-”

“And I want- At least for a while… can I bring my people here? To protect them.”

You pause, water skin halfway to your mouth. “Is anyone cursed?”

“Not that I know of,” Thor answered. 

“Possessed?”

“No.”

“Psychotic?”

“Only Loki- Sometimes,” Thor answered, hoping you’d realize it was a joke.”

You nod. Lapsing back into silence as you look out the window of your shop. And Thor squirmed. He wasn’t sure when you had perfected the ability to do that. To keep him questioning what you were thinking. But. He remembered Trebuchet doing it to him many times. 

“They may take residence along the coast,” you say finally. “Most of my people are… Uncomfortable being that close to humanity. But. Having Asgardians so close to them may be a good deterrent.”

Thor nodded, his face relaxing into a smile. “You won’t regret this, Y/N,” he said, leaning forward and kissing your cheek, “I promise.”

“I hope,” you answer, “That for your sake, I do not.”

You stretch and turn to shut down the forge for the day, banking fires and locking away tools. Thor hefts himself off of the stool he’d been occupying and went to help. Careful not to make you change your decision. 

“Are you hungry?” you ask.

“Yes,” Thor said nodding. The food here was always delicious. Simple, but. Always delicious. 

“Come on then,” You tell him, walking out of the shop. He wasn’t sure if it was all of your kind, or simply your father’s influence, but he appreciated the lack of ceremony. People who came for help were helped. Fed and clothed. He followed you. And now that he was out of the forge, he could smell something cooking. It smelled of bacon and onion and garlic. And Thor’s mouth watered. “Green beans?” he asked. 

And you nod, making Thor grin. Somethings hadn’t changed. He knew that that was a particular favorite of yours. What he didn’t know is if you had specifically requested it. Or if Cook still made fresh bread daily. 

You let yourself in through the kitchen door and murmur a quiet word to a maid, who whisks Thor up to a comfortable chamber, complete with a place to bathe. And Thor feels a moment of disappointment when he realized this was not your chamber. It was true, he’d never made love to you in the house. But. He’d hoped for some sort of… resurgence of feelings. Something to mirror how he felt. 

But then. 200 years was a long time. And he had left you. That had probably emboldened you to take other lovers. To demand pleasure. And… Thor couldn’t consider that maybe you had loved them. Or still loved them. Perhaps more than you had loved him. 

Still. He took the hint and made use of the facilities, grateful that you hadn’t just murdered him. Or made him sleep in the barn as Trebuchet had once done. 

Thinking of the day he’d first arrive here, he felt a sting of shame. You had found him, naked, streaked in blood and dirt where he lay in the ditch. A destroyed sheep carcass not 50ft from him and blood slathered on his jaw. He did not remember how he had come to this sorry state, who had cursed him or why. But he remembered you. Back lit by the sun as it rose. That cast you in a glow like seraphim’s fire. At first, he had thought you a Morrigan. Come to carry him away. But then… You hadn’t. He supposed, in the strictest sense, you had, but it was not Valhalla he found himself in when he next woke.  It was a narrow cot. With rough blankets. And an earthenware pitcher of water and a cup. A small fire heated the room. And he was clean. His wounds had been dressed. And rough, simple clothes lay folded carefully on a three legged stool. 

He sighed and rolled over, looking out across the field he could see out his window, Fireflies danced below the moon and wildflowers bent in the breeze. And in his mind’s eye, Thor saw a night before this one.

He was younger then. A lot younger than he is now… In a lot of ways. Life and love were a game. He didn’t know pain. Or all the ways a careless lover could cause it. And neither did you. And he hated that he was the one to show you. Even if he hadn’t meant to. Even if he had meant to return.

Vows. He’d made promises tantamount to vows. And still, you were going to allow him. And his people to stay. He felt like swine. And his heart lurched. And then lurched once more when he realized that the hammering had stopped. Quietly he slipped his feet over the side of the bed and pulled his shirt over his head. He didn’t bother with shoes. Or with picking up Stormbreaker.

He didn’t think he was going to be attacked. Actually, under hospitality law, he knew he wouldn’t be. You adhered to it too strictly. And then, of course, your people were going to follow it because you did. It was your word and, in Trebuchet’s stead, your word was law. And that was that. Even before. The last time Thor had been here, your word was followed as your father’s had been.

You may not have been the oldest son Trebuchet had wanted, but. You were the heir he had been given. And Trebuchet had embraced it. He had wanted you to succeed. He had wanted you to marry well… To carry on his line… The thought, like it always did, wriggled unpleasantly like a worm at the back of his mind and Thor cringed. He cringed harder when he hit the creaky board in the floor. Once he had known where each board was. But now he felt like an oaf, blundering into the boards meant to keep suitors in their own rooms.

By the time he made it out of the house, Thor was sure that he had awoken the entire house. He was sure he had. Because all around him, beds creaked and a few times, lights had come on, startled awake by the noise.

“Gods,” Thor hissed, rolling his eyes. And for just a moment, he just breathed. Jasmine and the smell of smoke clung heave in the air. The humidity felt like stepping into a bath chamber. But. It did help him center his mind and get away from the frustration of blundering through the halls. That done, he started across the grass, headed towards the forge where he was sure that he would find you. Perhaps sharpening a blade. Or maybe even organizing tools.

He meant to offer assistance.

What he didn’t intend to see was you sitting on a work counter with a man standing between your legs, His hair was white. And his skin was the strange bluish color of skim milk. He was beautiful. And terrifying. And he was evidently eagerly sucking a mark into your neck.

And Thor felt his face heat. It was true, you weren’t naked. But. You were going to be. And this man. Whoever he was. Was going to be the one to put you there. He wondered if you let them stay the night. Or if they had to be gone by morning. Thor had always had to be gone by morning. He couldn’t really even be in your room… But that was in the time of Trebuchet. Before you were a fallen woman.

Thor considered clearing his throat. Startling you apart. Getting that man out of your forge and putting yourself in his place. But then. Thor knew. Knew very well. That until there was an actual treaty and some legal grounding, his having a place for his people to go was tenuous at best. But that didn’t stop the sudden irrational surge of jealousy as he forced himself to turn away. To head back to his bedroom to lick his wounds.

“Gods,” he said again. He was making a hash of this. Acting like some callow youth. Acting like he hadn’t forfeited his rights to you when he’d broken his promises. His promises.

Thinking of those. The whispered words of love, had made him want to travel back in time and punch himself in the face. There was no excuse. He should have known better. Or he should have gently turned you away when you came to him. In your frothy white night gown. Creeping into his room by the light of a single candle. Your hands trembling with the thrill of doing something scandalous. The thrill of doing something out of a song.

Thor shivered at the memory.

It had been sweet. Your inexperience had made him feel… protective. He hadn’t wanted to hurt you. He hadn’t wanted… He hadn’t wanted any of this. He’d really meant to marry you. To father children with you. To greet you every evening when you came in from your forge with kisses.

The Valkyrie made a soft sound that Thor took to mean she was reserving judgment and he snorted. 

“You know,” he said, “If you ask, she’d probably happily make you a new sword.”

She snorted, “Why do you care if I like her?”

“I mean to win her back,” Thor said with a conspiratorial whisper.

“Back?”

“I shamed her once,” Thor admitted, “And now I aim to make it right.”

Brunhilde blinked at him for a second, “Who’s to say she wants you back?”

“I’m a king,” he protested. 

“Yes. A powerful king who’s squatting in her back yard. In a realm where she way not be queen but she does have power over her own life,” Valkyrie said with as much patience as she could muster.

Thor frowned, “I don’t mean to run her life.”

“No?” Valkyrie challenged.

“No,” Thor said gruffly, turning and walking away. 

It was true, he hadn’t considered that you wouldn’t have him. Not seriously. You’d allowed him to stay here. And that couldn’t just be a convenience. You had to have some feeling. Any feeling. And Thor knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he couldn’t watch you marry anyone else. He just couldn’t. You were his, you had to be his. 

Thor was thankful for the chaos of moving. For the cacophony of noise that helped to drown out all of his thoughts for now. It helped. A lot. 

_______

You could hear the shuggling of masculine feet in the doorway of your forge and you sigh internally. You really, really didn’t want to interact with anyone. 

When you turn, forcing your face to look semi pleasant instead of grimacing in annoyance, you find Loki eyeing you critically. “Can I help you?” you ask.

“I meant to examine the origin of the banging,” Loki said apologetically, ducking slightly to enter the doorway. 

You nod and gesture to the work bench behind you, “My people depend on my income to keep the estate functional. Taxes are all well and good but not sustainable.”

Loki nodded and eyed your frock coat where it lay on the three legged stool. “I saw the treaty you designed with Thor; it’s an excellent piece of work. Remarkably even handed.”

“My people benefit,” you explain, “by having a buffer between them and humanity.”

Loki folded his arms, “Afraid of them are you?”

You snort, “No. But. My people have existed peacefully and most importantly unnoticed by the mortals. For almost 1,000 years. And I don’t think the broader population of humans is ready to know that we exist.”

“Some mortals know,” Loki poined out. 

“Fringe groups,” you snort. “Can you imagine what would happen if people knew magic was real? Every one would be flocking to the waters of Avalon looking for a magical solution to their problems.”

Loki grimaced a little in sympathy. He could understand a desire to keep your people safe. And your irritation at potentially becoming a zoo. “Your sister,” he ventured carefully, groping for the right words.

“Maggie is less than thrilled that Thor is here. Let alone a small bevvy of Asgardians,” you say, sounding tired. It all interferes with her plans.”

‘And your father?” Loki asked, trying to get a feel for potential danger. 

“Has gone to Summerland and is probably spinning in his grave, figuratively, of course.” 

Loki laughed then, “And so here you are saying ‘Damn them both’, and charting a new course.”

“Essentially,” you chuckle. “We are a border estate. The oldest border estate. And we have never had the luxury of hiding under a hill while the humans pollute and bomb and war themselves out of existence. For decades now they’ve been edging ever closer. The old stories of hauntings and curse and charmed arrows not enough to keep them at bay. The stories of a beast in the woods are nothing compared to the monsters that the humans can make of themselves. We must endure. We must keep the balance.”

“A beast in the woods?” Loki asked, suddenly curious. 

“Fairy tales have to come from somewhere,” you answer grinning. “Though my father was never a prince. And our cook was never a talking tea pot, my mother did break the curse that held him.”

“What does your Mother say?” Loki asked, deciding that he liked you. And the lack of pretense.

“I’m sure, had she lived to see my growth to womanhood she would tell me ladies do not wear frock coats and that I have an appalling taste in men,” you say, your smile fading. You aren’t sure how, at this age, you can still miss someone so terribly when you never knew them. But you do. And for a moment, you’re 12 years old again. Staring at her portrait in the long gallery. Wondering when you’ll grow to be the lady she was. And swearing that her eyes were looking down at you disapprovingly as she took in your sooty face and grubby hands. 

“I’m sorry,” Loki said softly. And he isn’t even sure why he said it. But he can’t seem to stop the words. “Our mother passed not long ago.”

You nod, “Thor said as much. I’m sorry. He always spoke fondly of her.”

“She would have liked you,” Loki said. And he isn’t sure why he said it, but he knew, in his heart that it was true. 

______________

Thor stopped in the yard. Watching Loki stand, hands clasped behind his back, watching your nimble, practiced hands shaping a lump of raw metal into another fine, sharp blade. 

He could see Loki’s lips moving. It was clear that he was saying something to you. Something that made you smile. And like it had the first time he saw it, it made his heart skip a beat. But he couldn’t make himself move forward. It was like he had grown roots.

And then he went cold.