1963-11-08 - An Honorable Punishment
Summary: Frigga informs Amora exactly what is going to happen to her with her latest bout of trouble
Related: Alfablot
Theme Song: Elastic Heart
amora thor rogue 

Notes: Thor Spoofs as Frigga, Rogue as Karnilla

Asgard. The Golden City. Everything is the way it has always been for thousands upon thousands of years. Odin is in the Great Hall dispensing justice, or he's with his council determining movements of troops due to one battle or another incursion or even a whisper of a threat.

But this isn't of the All Father. Not today.

Today, this is a meeting of Frigga. Beloved. Queen of Asgard.

Behind closed doors in hushed discussion there was a much heated debate about Amora, the Enchantress. A Lady that much vexes the court, yet still holds some estimation, at least with Frigga. It is she, then, the Queen, that convinces the All-Father that she holds at least the beginning to an answer to Amora's rehabilitation. To that end?

A meeting. Not a grand one, grandiose in nature and sees her seated upon the High Throne beside her husband. No, it is more something that suits her. A walk through her gardens, a pass through already harvested orchards. A view of her lands as seen from her vantage.

When each arrives in their turn, Guards will be instructed to bring them to her balcony as the meeting place. From there, they will descend the steps in early conversation. There they may take food and drink if they will…


Amora offered up little fuss, when she awoke in the chambers she usually kept in the palace. It had been a decidedly long time since she'd been there alone, though there were decidedly guards outside. She never once tried to leave, never tried to talk to cause even so much of a hint of mischief. She didn't ask for an explaination nor for an audience with anyone to plead her case.

The blonde goddess merely remained as she was kept, though she had dropped her mortal guise and took the simple gift of rest. Even as days passed while the merits of keeping her as such were debated, she merely sat, reading quietly in her chambers. Never once causing a stirr, and perhaps causing more whispers for it all the more.

So it was when word came that she was to see the Queen, at her behest, not in the throne room but to be escorted to her private chambers; not even surprise cast a curious shadow over her features. She merely rose, tended to her clothes and appearance as was appropriate and mutely went along with the guards. There wasn't even an ounce of flirtation with said escort, not even a glance spared their way, as Amora entered.

Even the offer of food and drink was quietly refused, and she stood waiting in continued silence.


The Queen of Nornheim holds many names. Her reputation is such that her appearance can leave men and women shaking, whispering to one another of providence on the move. A murmur from her rattles Asgard and the realms, so many autumn leaves dancing on the breeze.

Or a cold wind, as she chooses.

The Norn Queen is a harsh and unpredictable creature, a wise and mindful counselor, an elemental force unto herself. But she is Aesir. The was raised to Asgardian standards in the Golden City for all she belongs to the Norns.

So she knows when to make a spectacle, and when not. A guard might totally pass her by, this young woman in flowing violet garb, dressed as though for a casual hunt or a bit of minstrelry. They might think nothing of her at all, even with her eyes concealed from showing the harrowing truth of her magic.

Eyes are windows to the soul, and Karnilla of Nornheim's see into the very tapestry.

"Oh, this is lovely," she pronounces quietly as one startled man sees her past. "For thine lady has done a matchless job, given her limitations of season."

He might be about to turn her away until she turns her face to him. "A gift for service. See not that thine younger son takes thine arrows, or it will be to thine wife's everlasting grief."


With Amora's entrance to her chambers, Frigga doesn't turn around immediately. She finishes the morsel she has before she does so, standing regally now before the grand table. She smiles at the Enchantress before she speaks, "Amora." Everything in a name. The smile turns wistful and she shakes her head, "What shall we do with you, my dear? I do wish you could rein in those passions of yours and use them to your benefit rather than your detriment."

While the Norn queen isn't yet arrived, there is news of it that does reach Frigga's attention, and her finger lifts in a 'one moment' gesture. "We wait, and then we will take our rest in the gardens. You'll walk with me, yes?" It's not so much a question nor is it really an invitation…


As the Queen rises, Amora drops in equal height, a sweeping curtsey that remains until otherwise acknowledged. It was perfectly executed with years of practice, and while she had normally not been kept in such a position for long—she dared not straighten immediately this day. Even without the titles of the throne room, Amora knew and still respected Frigga and her power. Perhaps that was why the blonde goddess did not drop the formalities despite the less than formal greeting. She remained silent as the Queen of the realm Eternal wistfully shakes her head and smiles, asking what to do with her. She did not respond. Did not move.

Until the direct question, "Of course, if your majesty desires." Her voice was still that perfectly bland tone of nothingness, lacking in all inflection.


The escort delivers Karnilla to the balcony, just another woman in soft leather boots and long flowing garments, someone easily forgettable. Her mantle belongs to herself, and she holds that within the confines of her body rather than allowing the magic to leech forth and pollute the air. No doubt the formidable Asgardian defenses, keyed by Odin and Loki, would love to know what manner of enchantments lie upon the sorceress. She denies them that possibility.

Instead, there is the delivery of that queen in all her diminished splendour and calm to Frigga's realms. She will there be left, allowing the queen a nod appropriate to rank, and a regard of Amora, her apprentice, once and still.


Frigga won't allow Amora to remain in her obeissance long, of course not. The request for her presence is enough to allow the Enchantress to rise from her deep, pitch perfect curtsey as far as the Queen is concerned.

Karnilla's arrival gains a resurgence of a smile, though this is more civil, less personally kind and wistful than the one given to the maid whom she has known since the boys were mere children. "Your Majesty," is given as acknowledgment, and she inclines her head in the greeting of kind. "Thank you for your attendance. If you wish, there is food and drink, and I hope to retire to the gardens so that we may speak uninterrupted."


Amora rises when expected, her flat green eyed gaze shifting toward the Norn Queen and her master once more, Karnilla. She said nothing, merely standing there, unmoving and in utter silence. Much like a doll left out on a shelf. She had little interest in offering greetings to her master, beyond a polite dip that was expected.

So Amora stood, hands at her sides, watching Karnilla and noting the muted tones of the leathers she wore, the way that she drew her magic inwards, along with her presence. The Enchantress herself was likewise muted, though most of that was from her magically bound state, her clothes were nothing different than the expectedgreen and loose, flowing and showing snatches of skin in a tempting fashionshe had hardly had the ability to find anything /else/ to suit her less than flirtatious demeanor as of late.


Undulating skirts throw their shadows upon a deep wine bruise, garments clinging almost possessively to their mistress. Karnilla meets smile for smile, correct down the dregs. No one will fault her for inferiority in manners here. "Mine appetite lies in fresh air more than victuals," she declines the hospitality without truly declining. With an inclination of her head, she awaits the direction to the garden. Just three maids out to enjoy the flowers.

Three with the potential to tear the stars from the sky and rewrite the fate of entire realms, nameless and not, but who's counting?


Frigga is a force to be reckoned with in her own right; add to that the Golden Throne that she shares with Odin? It helps that her own magic is subdued; it simply is as natural to her as breathing, and with each breath, her own essence is light but ever present. Warm.

Extending her hand towards the back, Frigga begins the walk, leading, though walking slowly, her hands clasped before her demurely. Once they break free of the chambers proper, her words rise softly but there is no mistaking the undercurrent of them. She means to speak of current affairs and she shall not be denied. Such was also the opening tones with her discourse with Odin, the All-Father. "My sons have expressed their concern with this current state, and I would like to ask you your perception of it, dear Majesty. For I have devised another path should you be amenable. It would bring the Enchantress back under the direct control of the Throne," that is, her.. "And serve as both boon and punishment."


The crunch of slippered feet as the three ladies leave the balcony and amble down to the gardens in all their glory of fall, could be heard. The gravel soft and flattened by age seems to hold Amora's attention as she trails behind the Queen. Whatever thoughts tumble through her were hidden, with no sign of their passing showing on her features, which continued to be the same blank nothingness as before. Even as Frigga speaks openly of her in front of her.

There was nothing in her gaze as she lifted it up to watch the expression on the Norn Queen's features in response to the golden Queen's words. Amora remained silent, a shadow or ghost might hold more to see than she offered up in that very moment.


"One hath sought the Prince thine son," Karnilla defaults to a certain eloquence in an older shade of language, as preferred on Nornheim and courtly endeavours. She will shrug it off after a few moments. Her pace is matched to the others, hands folded within the slightly loose sleeves of her underdress. Crossed lashings scale above and below her elbows, a meander of gold. "I forfeit no option. Share these thoughts in fine company."

The darkness of her hair pulled back into a braid is deceptively simple, though the idle strands she curls her fingers around. Her gait is easy and smooth, betraying not the least crunch, fading out sound on the distribution of her sole.


Frigga isn't dressed in her 'courtly' clothing, but rather in a flowing ivory dress, blond hair gathered upon her head such that only wisps fall down upon her back, lending to the length of her tresses. It is more her manner, her simple existance that screams royalty. Her step does make noise as she treads; no need for stealth. It is reminiscent of those days of movement for battle; and while this is not a time to gird for fighting, yet there is something of a commonality of purpose.

She smile and inclines her head at Karnilla's words and continues, "There is nothing to be gained by the departure of the creature's heart, and as my son and others may rightly refer, her soul. That which guides her hands. Emotions are a difficult and dangerous thing, but yet they may be countered with more than base logic. But without it, there is danger. And when she seeks not to have her passions returned and she desires to remain in such a state?" Frigga shakes her head and looks to the path, "That we cannot abide." Particularly when ambitions are acknowledged.

"So," Frigga returns and she looks first to Karnilla and then to Amora, and back front, "We have come up with a possible solution."


Amora's steps finally still and stop as Frigga speaks of her heartless state, of its effects and how it concerned the Princes. But the news that it would not continue, especially at her own insistence had her halting her steps. Green eyes lift to flicker a glance between the two opposingly colored Queens. One dark and one light as like the sun and the moon in turn.

A step backwards, Amora's slippered feet crunching against the path in the otherwise pause in the conversation. Her arms moving to wrap around her body firmly, as if to ward off any attempts to return the vile and much despised organ to her chest where only cold stone sat.

Yet she still kept her silence, frigidly cold green eyes meeting the Queen of Asgard's quick glance. Yet she offered nothing else in defense. She knew Frigga had already decided, and nothing she said (or did) in that very moment would halt it. Not even Karnilla.


"Mine apprentice has possessed the means to restore her state from the beginning. Lest it be thought, also, I am heartless." Karnilla shrugs a shoulder, stating her thoughts in a matter-of-fact fashion that permits her to circulate through the gardens in all their splendid glory. Her gaze transfers to Amora, measuring the blonde's attitude in equal stead. "You have choice, as always have."

The matter alights upon that, nothing more and nothing less, her silence indicative of tolerance for the query coming forth.


"Then it is plain that she wishes it not." Frigga's tones are soft. "And such a thing will not be tolerated in Asgard. In order to perform her penance, she must have the capacity to feel. To not only show honor but to feel it. To not only show loyalty, but to feel it. Such will be her education." Her words are underscored by that bit of steel, ever present. Her own pace isn't stilled by Amora's pausing; either the Enchantress will catch up and continue to be privy to the conversation, even if not an active participant, or she will not. There is nowhere for the lady to go otherwise.

"In this, the return of the heart is a necessity."


Amora did not remain behind for long, perhaps it was her nature, emotions or not. The desire to know what her fate would be, what the Queen hand in store for her. Or the cold hard logic that in order to avoid a worse fate, she needed to be aware of her current one.

There was nothing gained by trying to speak her piece either. So she remained the silent shadow as before. No temper snared her to act out, no sharp pang of fear at what was to come urged her to act in haste.

So silence reigned, and Amora the Enchantress did not act out or interrupt or do… anything really. So contrary was this behavior to her normal state, that if Frigga required further proof about the change wrought within the Enchantress, she'd need look no further.


No fireworks, no spectacular displays of art follow. No incantations grave and lengthy ignite the air with a terrible weight under eldritch flames and moaning winds. Karnilla adjusts her braid, the metal clasps and baubles chattering in the light. She pulls it over her shoulder and teases the long ends around her fingers, considering.

For Amora, the state is turning a light on. It's the inhalation of oxygen into the lungs, the pulsation of the heart's four chambers, the digestion of food in the slow breakdown and extraction of nutrients. As essential and fundamental state of being is. Experiencing life is. No explanation required, no capacity present, as the chain round her neck turns into a thread and vanishes, its suspended pendant gone. Emotion is there. There surely can be no memory of not having them, for all creatures with capacity to experience are terrible at recalling the negative state.


There is no question that the stories borne to her in whispers of the ravens, of the concerns raised by her sons that Amora with neither heart nor soul were true. The passage of Amora upon the path, with no light shining is the finality of the matter. And in this, she would be heard.

In this case, the Queen does pause in her step. Frigga can feel the magic, can attest to its warmth, the lightness that is and will always be. It is light, life, hope, sorrow, joy… the totality of being. Eyes of blue watch the transformation, subtle and otherwise in the lady that had seemed a child only yesterday in her reckoning.


The magic's return may have been subtle a thing to all outside eyes that were unaware of what occurred, but to the intended recipient, it was anything but. Amora dropped to her knees, hands splayed outwards to catch herself. Like a swimmer returning for air after being held under water too long, she gasped and inhaled. Sputtering hard as she struggled to suck in air as if she'd been choked.

Warmth flooded her, unlike the raging torrent of emotions that Fandral had thrown her way, these were /her's/. Tears welled in her gaze, her muscles trembling as if from shock.

The presence, the very force of her personality was all at once restored and it was obvious she was struggling with the weight that had been absent for months.


The wordless act is done. The silence exists. A drawn circle on the ground gives a brief window into another world, a glimmering of bent space and sorcerous lines along runic staves. Finely distinguished forks coalesce into a triple ring in the blink of an eye, and the amorphous distance visible slanted through the meniscus of the spell lens resolves to something. A dusting of a forest, perhaps the arch of stone blotting out the sky.

Karnilla is, one moment. The next, the empty space in the garden marks where the Norn Queen was.


There's the thing. The actual magic, the essence, is so very light. It's bright. It's infused with life, with being, with everything that carries hopes, dreams… and only once one dons its mantle does it possibly get heavier, more encumbering and difficult.

Frigga watches as Amora bends with the weight of it, as the Enchantress falls to her knees. Her hands are lightly clasped before her and in the next moment, she takes a step forward where the Nornheim Queen had been. "Amora," her voice is not unkind, but it is the voice of her Queen, "This is my decree and in this, the All-Father is in accord. You are to serve the Lady Sif until such time as either she marries or ascends the throne. She had, at one point, offered her sword to you in loyalty. Now the time is to be reversed and that you shall serve as her Maiden in all things. She sought you to ease your burden, and now you shall do the same. Such will you learn and earn loyalty, in such shall you earn and learn trust.


Amora's gaze swings upwards, damp with tears as she released shaky breath after breath. Her hands curled into the gravel to hold herself up as Frigga speaks and her mouth falls open agape. An argument on the tip of her tongue, that lacked the breath to properly articulate for several long moments. Then she bent her gaze away back to the ground as she sat backwards at the feet of the Queen. Her hands pressing against her damp features as she continued to inhale and exhale in breaths far too shallow.

"Please, my Queen.. please do not send me thusly. Please. I beg you."


"I will send you back to your chambers. There, I will speak with you at greater length as to what I expect. You may set up an argument that would rival any that Loki has given over the years, but in this, I am content. You will serve, but you will serve in Asgard and at the table," figuratively, "of Lady Sif. You may learn well from her how she holds her tongue, allows herself to seem swayed but is not, and of her dedication."

Frigga has seen those times when Sif was less than stalwart, less than brave, and at the latest, at her very end… but through it? "This is our wish and our declaration."


Amora rose on trembling legs as it was clear that the Queen was done with her, for now, at least. Return to her chambers. Serve Lady Sif until she became Princess /or/ Queen. In one fell stroke the Queen had both given her a great honor, to server the royal household so closely—and a slap in the face that was so cutting it near bordered on vicious. To serve the woman that had won the heart of the Thunderer himself while feeling that lonely ache of her own rejection that much more keenly.

It was something only Frigga could have concocted.

Amora swallowed hard, the Queen was even allowing her an argument against—though she knew that /that/ would not work to change the Queen's designs in this in the least.

The Enchantress bowed lowly, wiping her tear stained cheeks as she did so. "Am I to believe that my magic is to remain bound as well?" She whispered, the voice choked.


"In such will you learn loyalty and earn it, and in such shall you learn trust and earn it," Frigga repeats herself, but the tones are kind. "I will speak with Lady Sif later. You will not be required to remain on Asgard, but may go where she does as part of your duty." That smile reappears; the gentle and sadly fond. "You may depart, Lady Amora." She'll be there later. "I think to continue my walk."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License