The air over Harrenhal was alive with storm. Thunder rolled across the sky, and the broken ruins groaned as if the castle itself feared what had risen within its walls. Thor stood with Mjolnir in his hand, lightning still crackling faintly along the runes carved into its head. He looked like a vision out of legend—tall, armored, cloak whipping in the gale, his eyes burning with fury.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then a captain of the Lannisters found his voice and screamed, "Kill him! Bring him down!"
Some were even surprised that the captain was capable of uttering those words after witnessing what had just happened.
A handful of soldiers charged, spears leveled. But it was clear that if they had a choice, they might not have. Those who remained back hadn't yet come out of their daze, and those who charged did so out of instinct—or perhaps to solve the problem before it came to them. Or maybe they were just too drunk to realize the gravity of the situation.
Thor did not even flinch. He swung Mjolnir in a wide arc, the hammer smashing into the first man. The soldier flew through the air like a broken doll, crashing into two more men behind him. Bones cracked, steel bent. Another lunged at Thor's back, but with a twist of his wrist, Thor hurled Mjolnir straight into the man's chest. The impact lifted him off his feet, throwing him against a crumbling wall.
Two hits, two down. Any sober man could tell that they were dead—or if not dead, broken beyond repair. The sound of bones breaking, skulls cracking—seven knew what could follow.
And then the hammer flew back, slapping into Thor's hand as if it had never left.
"By the Seven..."
"What is he?"
"Is he the smith?"
"No, he has to be the warrior himself."
Gasps and cries rang out among the soldiers. Some dropped their weapons, fear written plainly on their faces. Others, bound by orders or pride, kept coming, though their steps faltered.
Above, in one of the towers, Sansa and Arya pressed against the window bars. Their eyes were wide, reflecting every flash of lightning.
"By the gods…" Sansa whispered, hands trembling. "Th-that's Thor..."
Arya's lips curled into a grin, awe mixing with excitement. "I told you he wasn't like other men. Look at him! He's tearing them apart!"
Child as she was, Arya didn't care about the impossible and supernatural taking place before her eyes; what mattered was that they were winning. Sometimes simple minds and innocent ignorance were indeed a blessing.
Sansa's thoughts were different. Raised by her mother as a proper lady, worshipping the Seven since she was capable of speech, she saw things differently.
In the Faith of the Seven, anything magical was no good. Not dragons, not priests who could wield magic, not folklore about monsters and demons, not bastards for some reason, and definitely not a man who could summon the storm itself.
And yet, for the first time, Sansa did not shrink from such a figure. If anything, she was entranced.
That much power, that much conviction—raised on tales of knights and kings, what could attract a teenage girl more? She remained there, observing everything.
Thor swung the hammer again, hurling it toward a cluster of archers on the battlements. The stone itself shattered when Mjolnir struck, throwing men screaming off the walls. Dust and smoke filled the courtyard. Thor called the hammer back, spinning it in his grip before smashing it into the ground. The very earth shook, knocking soldiers off their feet.
The peasants, huddled in fear, now lifted their heads. Hope flickered in their eyes for the first time in years. To them, it was as if a god had descended to free them from their chains. Some wept openly, hands clasped in prayer.
However, taking down only a few wasn't enough—there were many soldiers. Thor wished to summon the thunder, to burn everyone and everything in his path. Odin knew he was angry enough to bring down his wrath on whatever was in front of him right now.
However, he just couldn't. Even when the hammer listened to him, the lightning was another matter entirely. He found generating power easier when fueled by anger and adrenaline, but controlling it—directing it—was far harder.
It was a strange dilemma: when he could generate immense power, he lost control; when he could control it, he didn't have enough power.
Sighing, he began to spin Mjolnir faster and faster, the wind shrieking around it. With a roar, he hurled himself forward, hammer leading the charge. The shield wall shattered on impact, men flying in every direction, shields splintering like kindling. One knight tried to rise, only for Thor's boot to slam down, pinning him to the ground. A flick of the hammer, and the man lay still.
Above, Arya gripped the stone so tightly her knuckles went white. "Did you see that?"
Sansa swallowed hard, unable to tear her gaze away. Fear warred with awe inside her. She had never seen such raw power—not from a king, not from a knight, not from anyone.
The courtyard was chaos now. Some Lannister soldiers screamed to retreat. Others ran for the gates, abandoning their posts. Only the most stubborn fought on—and they paid the price. Thor moved like the storm itself—unstoppable, merciless, every strike of Mjolnir leaving broken men in its wake.
Not a single man who came in contact with Thor's fury survived; all it took was a single hit. By the time the tenth man fell, it was obvious that participating in this fight meant certain death.
But then something happened.
The ground shook again as thunder echoed through the ruins of Harrenhal. The walls groaned, cracks racing along the stone like veins of doom. Dust rained down from above, and in the tower room, Arya and Sansa clung to the wall as the floor beneath them split apart.
"Move!" Arya shouted, grabbing Sansa's arm. A massive chunk of stone tore free, crashing down and taking half the floor with it. The sisters stumbled back just in time, their screams echoing as the room tilted dangerously.
"We'll fall!" Sansa cried, terrified, her hands gripping whatever stone remained.
The old ruin wasn't sturdy enough to withstand the aftershock of Mjolnir's collisions. The shockwaves, combined with thunder strikes, had completely destabilized the structure—and now it was coming apart.
Down in the courtyard, Thor was still striking down the last of the soldiers when he heard their cries. He turned sharply, eyes locking on the crumbling tower where the girls were trapped.
His eyes widened, seeing half the place they were in already collapsed and the other half ready to follow suit.
'Shit...'
There was no time to think. No time to climb. No path to run—that would be too slow. The structure wouldn't hold.
Thor gritted his teeth, raised Mjolnir, and whispered, "It's on you, then, partner."
He swung the hammer once, twice, then faster and faster until the winds swirled around him. Then, with a burst of force, his feet lifted from the ground.
Like gravity itself had forgotten him, he soared into the air, cloak whipping wildly, the storm carrying him for the first time in his life.
The girls' eyes widened as a figure with a red cloak and the handsome face of Thor came flying straight toward them.
Arya gasped, "He's flying!"
Sansa's mouth fell open, speechless.
Thor broke through the dust and rubble, swooping into the collapsing room just as another wall gave way. He wrapped an arm around each girl, pulling them close.
"Hold on tight," he shouted, Mjolnir already in motion. Dragging him forward, he flew out of the tower.
"AHHHHHH!" Both Arya and Sansa screamed, their lungs straining as the ground fell away beneath them.
Behind them, the room collapsed entirely, swallowed in stone and fire.
"I wanna go home." Thor wasn't sure which Stark girl had said it, but for once, he agreed with the plan.
...
A/N : Writing a fight between multiple opponents was harder than I expected it to be.
xxx
Please Consider Donating Power Stones if you like the Chapter.
"Thank you Very Much for All Your Support"
If you want to read up to 20+ Chapters in advance, check my Patreon on
Patreon.com/Kamidemond