1963-12-27 - Easily Tempted
Summary: Aerik comes looking for Thor and The Enchantress finds him instead.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
amora aerik 

Aerik is still not certain what he said to the Lady Sif, but somehow, he seems to have ended up on the wrong side of her. It was not his intention, but what's done is done, as they say. With license to abide at the Bellator, but on a rather tight timeframe, if the warrior of the Aesir wishes to remain on Midgard, more permanent lodgings are a priority. But more a priority is a meeting with Thor, per Sif's instructions. But the Thunderer is not as easy a man to track down as it might seem; surely his princely duties carry him far and wide, but Aerik has been informed that this, the Wildenstein Mansion, is a likely place to locate him when he is in this realm. Once entrance is gained, Aerik Halgrimson steps fully into the foyer, standing in its expanse for a moment to take in the grandeur of the house. Such surroundings are not unknown to him, his father having been a warrior of renown and status, but since arriving in Midgard Aerik's lodgings have been considerably more modest. "Hello?" He calls the single word out, perhaps only to hear the echo of his booming voice. He was not expected, and thus did not expect a welcoming committee, but perhaps someone would be available to receive him, perhaps even to direct him where he should seek his Prince.


Chance encounters were all of some of Amora's favored, she'd set some new wards around the manor after it had been cleaned up. She'd set a good many wards in Midgard since the youngest prince had vanished from existence. She still refused to say 'died'. So it was that when a visitor that she didn't know arrived and that no one immediately greeted?

The Enchantress took the time to amuse herself. A swirl of green magic twisted and bent into her figure and she appeared just beside him with a smirk painted on her features. She was the epitome of beauty and grace, blonde and curvaceous. It was impossible for anyone to mistake /who/ she was. If not for her looks then with her skill for magic, or for lovers.

Many a lover had been on her arm, the Princes had certainly been at one time or another. And here she stood, in muted glory of a mortal guise. A shapely, mini skirted green dress of knitted material and a golden belt hugging those shapely hips.

"My, my, who do we have here?" She purred.


The Enchantress is one Aerik will recognize, if by reputation alone. The swirl of magical energy catches him only momentarily off-guard, and he takes a step back to give her proper berth, should the incoming sorceress require it. When she appears in full, Aerik drops into a proper bow, lowering his eyes as his station requires him. While he may have afforded himself some familiarity with the Lady Sif, due to their history on the battlefield, the Enchantress and he had no such camaraderie, and so decorum was to be maintained. "Lady Amora," he says, lifting his eyes to her after a moment. "I am Aerik, son of Halgrim. A simple warrior of Asgard, come to offer service to, and seek the counsel of our Prince." He remains bowed, at least for the moment. His father's name is one that Amora would recognize, certainly, perhaps even may have known him personally; he was a well known figure at court, and anything is possible.


If Amora had had relations with his father, she certainly didn't remember the man, much less his name. The woman was known as the most beautiful creature in all the Nine Realms, and the most likely to steal you into her bed and take everything she could. More than a few of the strongest and most well known had fallen to her snares and left her all their riches and more.

His father? If he'd known Amora, it had been passing and without merit to her.

As he bowed a smirk painted on her lips and she waved her fingers most regally. "Please, enough with such formalities." She grinned, preening still clearly from said formalities.

"I'm nothing more than a servant to Lady Sif 'till she marries her betroth'd Prince, or 'till they wear the crown." She murmured sweetly.

"The Thunderer is out, I believe he had some more loose Jotun to track down on Asgard's borders. He might be back within a fortnight or not. Who can say? None have sought to inform me of their comings or goings. And I care not." She shrugged lightly.


"A temporary circumstance I am certain, my Lady," Aerik says, rising at last. "I would not think that one such as you could wear the role of a simple servant comfortably, or for long," he offers. It's intended as a compliment to the lady, but he has a history of saying the wrong thing, but with the best intention. Perhaps that is how he landed on the wrong side of the Lady Sif. "A fortnight, you say." He grumbles, his displeasure easily visible on his features, to say nothing of the very obvious sound of growing frustration. Aerik takes in a long breath, eyes closing to quell the first hints of anger within him, per his training. "If that is the case, I may have need to go to him, perhaps to assist him in his task. If I am required to wait for his return, perhaps it would be best I simply return to Asgard," he says, his expression still dour. "But then, perhaps my service is simply not required here in Midgard. Perhaps the Prince and his court have no need of warriors to defend this realm, any longer." The dark look of his features makes no threat to abate, and in fact with those words simply grows stronger. Called to fight, brought to this realm, and then.. nothing? A seemingly unwelcome presence, even in these trying times? Perhaps he reads too much into it all, but that is his way.


It was a tricky thing, what gossip stated was Amora's most deadly charm. Her green eyed gaze that swirled with arcane power? Her shapely curves that drew the eye? Her lips, red as sin and tempting, far more tempting than absolutely anything else in Asgard? Oh. 'Twas those deadly lips that had stolen men's wills and carved herself the title 'Enchantress' well before the myths of her beauty were launched in Midgard.

Yet only the Princes, and Loki especially knew for certain the magic behind it.

Far be it for Amora to be offended by his words, rather she slid closer to him, trying to hook her arm through with his. "Oh darling, please stay. I have naught else to keep my company and the mortal winter grows long and boring. Tell me fresh tales of Asgard and how the defeat of the Jotun took? I much desire to hear court gossip too if you've an ear for it." She tilted her head to the side, spilling golden hair over her shoulder as she fluttered black eyelashes up at him.

"I say a fortnight, but it may yet be shorter. I know not the Thunderer's plans. I am ill-able to advise you on such a course.."


A more cunning man may be immune to the charms of the Enchantress. Such a man may be better equipped to resist her wiles, whether they be subtly played or obvious traps. Aerik, strong of will though he might be, has little practice in such matters. He allows the Enchantress to loop her arm with his, her words working their magic, either mystical or psychological in nature, upon him. She is charming, and beautiful, and gives the warrior no cause to distrust her; perhaps the rumours and tales of the woman are unfounded? Perhaps he's just a simple man, and an easy mark. Whatever the case, she has him even on the first touch of her skin against his own, completely innocent though it might be. "If you wish me to stay, my Lady, I shall, though I must admit some disbelief that you lack for companionship.. a woman such as you could have any man she desires, at any moment. I am a poor prize to settle for, my Lady."


Oh, the soothing sounds of compliments from a man on her arm. It was a balm to Amora's wounded pride, between the Prince's rejection of her for Sif and Doctor Strange's words? Oh, it had seemed as if the Enchantress was losing her touch.

Still, just the fact that some lowly warrior was once more there waiting upon her word had her preening once more. A new low for her confidence indeed.

A manicured hand fluffed golden curls as she smiled up at him, shorter than him in her mortal guise. "The Prince does not desire my company and believe it truly, when I say that there is even a mortal that has rejected me. So very cruelly. I've had a hard time of it here on Midgard, serving Lady Sif. 'Tis a hardship indeed and I oh, so, desire good company." She leaned closer toward him, as she spoke, her voice breathless sounding and sweet as cherries.

"Come, tell me tales of what has passed in Asgard since the Harvest."


"The Thunderer's love for the Lady Sif is well known. You should not take it as a slight that the Fates made their match. Sometimes, if a man's heart is fully possessed by a woman, it cannot be turned to another no matter who she may be," Aerik offers, another perhaps ill-considered statement intended not as an insult to the woman. "As to the mortal, I would say he is a fool. In all the realms, there are none who hold a candle to your beauty, my Lady. You should not concern yourself with such a fool. It is beneath you." Dismiss the man who dare reject you, Amora, he is not deserving of your attention.

Not that Aerik feels he is either, but he is no fool. Or rather, not in the same way. "I'm afraid that while I have been in Asgard these last years, my time has been spent largely away from court. My father's passing was ill-timed, and he left much unfinished. What contact I've had with those of court has been in the company of the hand-maidens and shield-bearers. If you wished, I could tell you much about the torrid affair between Ivar Torunson and his mistress Ingrid, despite his betrothal to another," he offers with a bit of a smirk. "Though I expect such petty gossip would bore you." A smile is given, and he motions further inward. "Perhaps a more comfortable parlour exists for us to talk? A lady should not have to stand in such a cold entryway."


Such 'advice' had been offered to Amora countless times over the centuries. It had hardly changed things in her perspective and as such, hardly warranted offense. His comments on the mortal made her grin and she leaned toward his shoulder, resting her chin against it briefly before she leaned away to tug him by the arm into the manor proper.

"Indeed, darling, come along." She murmured softly, leading him into a parlour with comfortable chairs and double doors and an extensive collection of drinks available on a cart nearby. It wasn't Loki's previous collection, but good Asgardian meads and a few wines that Amora had taken to.

"Please, help yourself.." She murmured, waving a hand as she untangled her arm from his in favor of slinging her frame into a fainting couch stuffed with velvet pillows.

"The mortal is also the Sorcerer Supreme of this realm. He arrived in the All-father's court some time ago briefly. 'Tis rude how he treats /me/ over a mortal tart." She fanned her hair out behind her, reclining as she eyed him and a glass of mead appeared in her manicured hands.

At the gossip she hmms, and rolls her shoulders back, exposing the expanse of creamy skin around her collarbone ever the more. "So you come to offer your blade to the Thunderer in service? That is all? Why come all the way to Midgard rather than merely take to the sword in Asgard?"


Aerik allows himself to be led with no hesitation, and when the Enchantress indicates the selection of beverages, his spirits lift further. Good mead is never unwelcome. While she moves to the couch, he moves to the cart, pouring a drink for himself, and a glass of wine for the lady; his knowledge of such things may be limited, but he means well. "Then this realm has a fool of a Sorcerer Supreme, to be blunt," Aerik says, offering Amora the glass with an outstretched hand before moving to sit next to her, his posture still somewhat stiff and formal, though he can't help but notice her own easy mannerisms, which goes a long way toward putting him at ease, and she of all people would notice that her display of flesh catches his lingering glances. Subtle and sly, this one is not. And to drive the point home.. "If this mortal troubles you so, surely you have means to remove her from consideration." Clearly, his regard for the mortals of the realm is less than kind.

"My sword and staff have been in the service of the Allfather since I took them up. The Prince need only direct my purpose. Had I remained in Asgard, I would seek him there.. but I am in this realm, and suspect this is where I shall remain for some time.. I shouldn't trouble the keeper of the Bifrost for my own needs alone." He lifts the tankard of mead to his lips, and takes a long drink from the vessel, eyes never once leaving Amora's face and figure.


Amora takes the offered drink, the one she'd magically summoned having disappeared as soon as he'd turned round with one to offer her instead. No need to hurt the warrior's feelings, was there?

Still, the Enchantress smirked, folding her bare legs as she bounced a heeled foot lightly.

"Oh darling, she is merely an annoyance and is hardly worthy of my time. But oh, the gall the Sorcerer Supreme of this realm has!" She would have rolled her eyes if it wasn't considered beneath her.

His gaze was noted, expected and Amora played to it with subtle movements as she reclined on the couch.

"Now why would you desire to follow the prince here now of all times, my dear? He has been here for some time after all. Is it due to the most recent.. happenings with the mortals and the Jotuns? Or did you simply think it due time?"


Aerik's eyes continue to observe the woman, lingering longer than is polite at her exposed flesh, despite his will to keep his instinctual behaviours under control. Some things cannot be helped. He shifts slightly, adopting a slightly more relaxed posture, letting his free hand rest on the surface of the sofa just a few short inches from the woman, but he dare not encroach further on her. Not yet, at least. Perhaps when the mead starts to take effect, he'll prove bolder. "I was called to Midgard to assist in the battle against the Jotunn and demons from Muspelheim. It was well-timed, I think.. too long away from battle. The mortals here have a saying that if you don't use it, you lose it, which I believe applies. I laid down my arms some time ago to tend to my father's affairs, and had I not been summoned to this realm when I was, I may have lingered too long in the comforts of home and lost what small skill I possess. While I wish to die an old man in my bed, a beautiful maiden by my side, I have many years to live before I retire to that eventuality. Many worthy opponents, and worthy maidens, to conquer before I lay down my arms for good," he says, the words spoken with the tone of a jest, but the reality of a warrior's life is not far from that truth. Fight, live, and die well.


Amora shifted, sipping at her wine with a disinterested air. Even as she knew he was eyeing her, all men did after a fashion after all. It was odder if they didn't.

Still his story quickly had The Enchantress losing her interest, too straight forward, too simple. Another warrior.

Then she slowly, achingly slowly, sat up and leaned toward him. "Well, darling. I certainly hope you shall take up arms here to guard the realm for far longer than that somple incursion. I cannot tell you how my heart has ached for good company of my own kin. Tis a hardship that I never wished to suffer. The Midgardians are simply.. fragile.." She breathed, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she dragged her lower lip between her teeth.

"If you've need of me, call for me. I shall hear.. I fear however, that I needs be off. Other matters press me from thy side.."


Aerik is a simple man, at the heart of it. Perhaps too simple for the tastes of the Enchantress. He knew it, and had said as much. A poor prize for her to settle upon. Nonetheless, there is a disappointment that she must excuse herself, but whether it was a lack on his part or not, it mattered very little. He drinks another sip from his mead, before setting down the tankard on a surface. "I shall be here for as long as I am asked to be, or for as long as I feel I have a purpose, my Lady. If you wish for my company again, merely summon me to your side and you shall have it," he says with a deep nod of his head toward her. "I am honoured that you would spend this time listening to my story, my Lady; I know it is not the most interesting tale. Perhaps I will have better tales to tell in the days to come." He offers the briefest of smile, and another bow of his head. "But I shall not keep you. Be well, Lady Amora."


The Enchantress smiled, bending down to sweep a manicured nail against his jaw bone and up toward his hair line. Perfume of strawberries and cream wafted from her person, the scent sweet and heady. Almost cloying.

Still she smiled toward him, green eyes glittering with amusement. "I should deeply love your company at my side, warrior. Perhaps in a more .. intimate setting." She smiled, ruby lips pulled wide.

"Until then, darling." She would try to press a teasing kiss to her jaw before leaning away and disappearing in a cloud of verdant smoke.


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