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Aerik's attempts to track down Thor and avail himself of his prince's will has, thus far, been for naught. And the clock is ticking. Two weeks is not a long time, and though he's been grateful to the Lady Sif for allowing him to stay in the Ward's quarters while its usual occupant is otherwise engaged, he can't help but feel the pinch of time. He came to Midgard to be of use, but so far he is anything but. A warrior without a war. The frost giants and fire demon incursions into this realm have come to an end, at least for the moment. And so while Aerik has made an effort to keep out of Sif's way since their last encounter, living as they are in the same house, he can only remain unobtrusive for so long, another encounter is inevitable. This morning he woke early, trained in the rear grounds for much of the morning, as he has done every day since taking up residence. In a rare show of consideration for the senses of others, today Aerik actually went to the trouble of grabbing a shower afterward, and now attempts to make his way from the bathroom back to his quarters to dress; a towel wrapped around his waist for modesty's sake, his path forces him to pass directly in front of Sif's own quarters, as he tries in vain to remain light on his feet and quiet in his movement.
*
The Enchantress did not live in what many had come to consider 'that Asgardian place', though she had a modicum of knowledge about its layout, after all, formally, she was supposed to serve the Lady Sif. Yet she had rarely, if ever spent any amount of time there after Thor had quite plainly, been cross with her after Fandral's mishap some months back.
Did she hold a grudge? Of course.
It was better for all involved though that Amora found her amusement else where. Most recently that had been .. Transylvania, among other places. But she avoided the public eye of the mortals by and large and thus far there had been no noises of her causing trouble.
Now, however, she entered in a brilliant glow of green light. Magic sizzled in her skin and she smelt of frozen snow and juniper berries rather than her usual warm strawberry scent. Her presence seemed to have expanded, much closer to who she had been in Asgard prior to her banishment in months.
Heels clicked sharply as she strode up the steps toward Sif's rooms and pounded on the door without pausing to glance at Aerik.
"Sif! I require explanation! Why has the Bifrost broken?! Where is the Thunderer?"
*
Quiet, was the Bellator. Most of the army that remained on Midgard after the BiFrost has been dispersed have went out to seek word with others across the globe of the Crowned Prince whereabouts. What they know is, that Thor had departed to Asgard and has yet to return, and that Heimdall is in grave condition located at the Bellator, in his sisters room. Thankfully the servants there were skilled with mending flesh, for they have been at his side, tending to his wounded eyes and oft random rantings about the Prince, and Betrayer.
Sif remained stalwart. She did not eat. She did not sleep. She did not bathe. She was not a lady becoming of her station even soon to be betrothed to the Crowned Prince. She remained a stalwart statue at her only family's side, only lifting, her eyes a light glow once a maid enters, faltering yet again as she sees it just a maid, and sadness. Sadness that was breeding something dark. A reserve that Sif often taps but now nearly dives into…
The loud pounding of Amora's fist upon the door has her gaze slowly lifting. A maid attempts to offer hand to Sif's arm to help her up. Her wounds still have not been attended to. But Sif pushes the woman back in a fit of anger, her fingers snapping towards the woman to tend to Heimdall further instead. For once Sif opens the door, Aerik and Amora would see a number of things.
Blood stained the Lady's Quarters. Some of it were Sif's, but the majority of it Heimdall's. It crusted and began to rot, all the while a few handmaidens there attempted to clean it with scrubbed cloths and quiet sobs as they regard their fallen watcher.
Then the Fallen Watcher himself. The brown-skinned Beauty who's eyes could often relay the cosmos within them. Red as they were, now gouged out and stained with wounded flesh, covered with a cloth of healing from the All-Mother Gaea and her many salves. Amora would know -that- particular scent. It was rare, when SHE made her appearance. Thankfully she was not there now.
The Fallen Watcher lays upon the bed, sleeping. Arms crossed upon his chest, dressed down and covered appropriately with blankets. His armor, his blade, his helm piled into the corner along with Sif's own.
And then there was the Lady of the house. War torn. Bruised and bloodied. Cut above her eye. Fingers blistered. And those eyes. Wrought with anger and sorrow lay upon the two as they darken her door.
"Any louder. ANY louder. Heimdall will wake. And when he wakes there will be hell. -MOVE-." She sought to come into the hallway, to close the door behind her. If they shall have words, let it not be there.
*
The sudden arrival of Amora catches Aerik off guard, and her forceful pounding on the door of the one woman of the house he wished to leave in peace has him almost rushing to stop her, but he cannot. The man stands aside, arms crossed over his chest as Sif emerges in her sorrow-tempered wrath. Well, this is awkward. His eyes cast toward the interior of her quarters, out of reflex rather than any willful intrusion into her privacy; Sif's own state is the first thing he notices, but the blood, and Heimdall's own presence within are impossible to ignore. The sight of the Lady Sif as she appears, the brief glimpse of the Watcher in his broken state, and not knowing what events led to this cause his anger to well up within him, to say nothing of Amora's mention of the broken Bifrost, and for a moment he forgets himself. He at least waits for Sif to close the door. "What in Hel's name has happened?! You look as though you've fought the full armies of the Jotun yourself, and Heimdall? Who is responsible for this!?"
*
Aghast at the sight within the chamber proper, Amora backs away, the back of her hand pressed against the full bow of her ruby lips. Her skin pales at the sight of Heimdall, a man she'd toyed with and who had whole heartedly fallen for her.. Granted she had fled as soon as he'd proposed marriage, but still! The sight twisted her stomach and she did not halt till she was pressed back against the opposite wall.
Horror colored those green eyes of her's and she stared at Sif, noting the stains larged and small, her gaze narrowing as she squared her jaw. "What happened? Why is it that I found the Bifrost scattered and broken into shards?"
Between one blink and the next, in her hand she held a dulled piece of the very same bridge she spoke of.
"Has Asgard fallen? To whom? Where is the Thunderer? Where is Thor?"
*
Their outrage, for the past few days Sif has felt it. And for the past few days she had refused to leave her brothers side. Every hint of confusion, the absence of the Thunderer, the mad ramblings of Heimdall had allowed her to come to face with the truth that.. they were betrayed. Perhaps seeing the two now drove that point home, the fragment of the Bifrost that rest within Amora's hand was glanced at, brows furrowed at, teeth clenched in a quiet rage.
But the clenching was released, and as Lady Sif moved away from them and down the halls, right for the kitchen, she begins to regale the tale.
Asgard has fallen." She answers to the both of them, while she was not sure, but the absence of the Thunderer and his ceasing of contact has further made that clear to her. Speaking it. It brings it into existence.
The final battle on the shores of Midgard within this city, Heimdall came from upon high and spoke of treason. Of betrayal. Prince Loki, he took the bridge and stolen by brothers sight by force." She swallows hard, reaching the kitchen, the water soon turned on as a pitcher was filled with water hot enough to scald a mortal. It was soon dumped upon her head, washing away the dirt, the grime, the multicolored blood, lighting her own wounds anew. It was but with a hiss the water stops, yet to be filled again.
"My brother used all of his reserves to transport my love to Asgard.. and that is the last that I have seen of the Thunderer. The Undying." Gods be damned Thor.. please hold to the title in which she calls him. "The remaining sentries that are stranded here upon this plane are spread out to look for the Thunderer.. and in his absence -I- remain."
Her tone was grave. Near sinister. One would think she worked upon the side of Loki to thrust herself into exalted status. "And I declare myself Lady Protector of Midgard." As if that was important. It was not. It was just facts. "Though a title that shall be held for naught. I am going after the Thunderer. For if I come upon Prince Loki Odinson.. and find my life's love broken.. defeated.. felled and gone. Nothing in the Nine Realms will stop the destruction I shall lay at alls door."
*
Aerik listens in silence. Asgard fallen. Betrayed by Prince Loki. The Bifrost destroyed. Heimdall maimed. His visage grows darker with each word that passes from Sif's lips, anger roiling within; it's almost enough to make him forget that he's standing there in a towel. "And what of the All-Father, my Lady," he asks, his tone restrained. Fists clench, and there's a vein on his forehead becoming more and more prominent. "If you are to travel to Asgard to seek vengeance against the betrayer, count me among your number. If what you say is true," and he has no doubt of it, "Prince Loki must answer for it.." His eyes move from Sif for a moment to regard Amora. "But without the Bifrost, and Heimdall incapacitated, how do we return to Asgard with an army behind us?"
*
Amora followed, for once, silent as she listened to Sif's words. Her jaw squared, tightening and those emerald eyes of her her's flashed with emotion so thick that even the air tightened around her. For all that Karnilla and other had judged her to be fickle and without control, in that moment, it was proven she yet had more control than many had assumed. Nothing else occurred save the tightening of her lips.
Her gaze followed Sif with sharp, critical movements, noting how the woman winced and held herself, a sharp inhale had her picking up the scents of blood and decay upon the other woman and she frowned.
"I knew he was not dead. I told Thor as much myself." She moved to the table, pulling out the chair and settling in it. "I checked Hel and the golden halls of the Valkyries myself. He was not there. Just because his wards had failed?" She rolled those eyes of her's that had matched the Trickster's so perfectly.
"Hold your worries for the Thunderer, if he yet kept the hammer near, he is safe. I placed an emergency enchantment upon it some time ago. If he is injured, or in grave danger of death. It shall transport him to the nearest available place of safety. That is, of course, if he did not lose it." She added, her voice terse.
Then she fell silent, folding her perfectly manicured hands together and propping her chin up. Her gaze downturned toward the table in thought. She did not argue with Sif's proclaimation as Midgard's protector, nor gainsay her on how foolish it was in her given state, especially if Asgard had truly fallen. Aerik's words bring her gaze back up and she leans back in her chair.
"Without the Bifrost you cannot bring in an army. 'Tis as simple as that. I know the old paths, the ways to traverse the realms before the Bifrost had been created. I tell you this, Loki knows them too. He shall have them watched." She exhaled a sharp breath, looking off to the side. "Asgard's enemies will march against Midgard when they find it so little protected, doubtlessly what Loki desires.. More chaos."
"If he has betrayed Asgard, then we cannot know what has occurred to Thor, or the All-father and the Queen." A hesitation followed and she looked between the two.
*
The pitcher was filled yet again, Lady Sif was creating a mess that no doubt would have the handmaidens grumbling. But it was all done with a purpose. A purpose so that they would not worry about fallen Heimdall or the state of Lady Sif, Thor, even Amora and Aerik. There would be work that needed to be done and a task set forth. The pitcher filled once more, their words carrying around her as she continues to wash and clean herself as she does.
No shame in how she detaches her armor to allow it to fall to the floor in loud clinks. No shame of how she steps out of her boots and grabs the clean cloth near by to begin to scrub. She remains, her back to them, thoughts.. thoughts.. so many thoughts.
"I do not know of the All Father nor Frigga. The All-Mother Gaea has fled her home in due time and seeks refuge here within Midgard, in hiding. Though you may see her, she will tend to Heimdall once the current herbs that she's placed upon his person falter."
Amora's words though, they do gain a bit of interest, a look towards Aerik finally as she leans back upon the counter top, cloth worked in between her fingers haphazardly that has her skin burning dark red and teeth clenched before she speaks. "I go where I please." Is stated.
Which is true. Blood, birth and sword allows her to travel the nine realms unscathed, but Amora was right. "We do not need an army. You have me." Though, her eyes cut consideringly towards Amora, the mention of her enchanting his hammer.. while she would be irritated, she was grateful. But.. where else could the Thunderer have gone if he were near death if not the Bellator itself?
"Are you to suggest that I remain here, Enchantress?" Sif asks, not angered, but wondering. "That I should not seek out the safety of Frigga, of the All-Father, and -our- hearts desire?" Yes, she's well aware that Amora does love Thor.. "You of all people should encourage me to rush into the fire. Into danger." Vambraces were kicked aside, her gaze fallen flight. "But aye. You are still under my hand, no matter what the condition of Frigga, the All-Father.. and I shall see you at your strongest, even if it be detriment to thineself.." Now she was mumbling, practically striking herself along the kitchen half dressed, set to rambling through the pantry like a madwoman driven..
*
Aerik is silent. No Bifrost, no army. Sif would go alone? He wouldn't have it. Whatever Aerik's transgression against the woman may have been, he still considers her not only a friend, but his commander in battle, and he would follow her into whatever hell awaited. "When you have made your preparations for the journey, my Lady, I will accompany you. You will not be alone in this." His resolve is admirable, no doubt, but at the end of the day, as she has said, Sif goes where Sif wants; neither Gods or Goddesses, nor the All-Father himself could stop her, and Aerik knows it. Even so, it's a show of solidarity. If nothing else, the Berserker could prove a distraction if, as Amora says, the passages between the realms are guarded.
*
Amora watched Sif strip of armor, noting the dents, the dirt and burnished marks of battled with a critical eye. She held her silence for a long time, almost to the point that it seemed as if she would not speak.
"T'would be folly to go into a land when you know not the lay of it. Loki shall expect a forward volley, if it /is/ him. Do not be so quick to judge him at fault, there are always other options out there that we know not." She murmured, tapping her fingers on the table. The Runes had told her it was betrayal. They had screamed it at her. Yet perhaps, some part of Amora was unwilling to believe such a bold move for one so subtle..
"We need to know where Thor is, for Sif, if you yet march in there without that knowledge..? What do you hope to accomplish? If Asgard has truly fallen to her enemies, whomever they are.. then you will face down such a might as has dug itself in.. without a way of supplanting it."
Then she paused, and sat back in her chair, side eyeing Sif. "Unless that is, you are convinced that you are with child and therefore the next true heir to the throne. In which case, truly, you need not Thor to supplant whatever has taken over the golden throne." She smirked.
"And the Queen's decree was /very/ particular. I am in your service till you are married to Thor, or become Queen." A wave of her fingers at that. "If she is still Queen then her word remains law.."
*
An insufferable glance was spared for Aerik. Though there was no warming to her features. Surely she knew that marching right into Asgard was a foolhardy mission, but she intended to do it either way. The tacticians brain was at work, but would she tell them? Nay.
"Very well."
Though now the weight of her gaze falls upon Amora, her hand lifts in a loud snap that cracks twice within the air. "Bring me my robe!" She calls out, then lowers her hand yet again. "To suggest that I do not know the lay of Asgard is presumptuous. And if I am routed into a place that I deem unfamiliar, I will tear down it's environs to make it so." As she finishes speaking, the handmaiden quickly rushes through the splash of water, slipping and sliding, garment held upright to keep it clean. She does note Sif, and her face wrinkles, she did -not- do a good job of cleaning herself. But even still, the cloth itself was handed over, the robe soon donned upon her arms, flipped upon her shoulders and cinched tight at the band.
"And if Asgard has fallen, by Loki's hand or another, I shall see her returned anew. By my hand alone.." Sif was a berserker herself, and she had many tools within her belt. A key to that being Amora herself. "Do you know how we can find him?" Finally, she takes a seat, shifting just a touch, every muscle within her screamed of pain, the look of discomfort evident. And yet, her further words have her balking, her hand immediately dropping to her stomach to rub the flesh there beneath the cloth. Her eyes grow vacant, and she says not a word, but her shoulders do straighten. And she was left to silence..
*
A shrug of her delicately carved shoulders and Amora eyed Sif, folding her arms. "I can find Thor, aye, possibly.. if he is not actively being cloaked by someone of stronger magic than I." She smirked, her gaze following Sif's movements, her expression, everything.
"Tis not all I can do. I speak not of the physical land, Sif. I speak of the power structures, the internal workings of Asgard. Aye you know the land, but do you know who is loyal? Who is not? Who might have fallen and who might be used against you? No. You do not know these things for you cannot know these things. As things stand we know not whether a trap is awaiting your angry charge or if it might be an army. You know nothing." She whispered, frowning faintly.
"I could find out without tipping your hand.."
*
"Find him.." She says quietly. It wasn't an order, but a request. "I do not know if he is alive, but my heart tells me that he is. That he is strong. And that he was not bested by whatever he had faced.."
Her fingers curl into a fist, clenching. Her jaw working back and forth as she lets out a sigh. All of the points that Amora speaks, they were true. The fact that she does not care if dangerous. The fact that she was still willing to go to face down the forces to tear Asgard apart, even moreso. Even Heimdall would side with Amora with this. Sif, she has to be smarter.
"Do so." She states quietly. "Do anything you need to get Asgard and the Thunderer back to us. I care not what it is. I care not who you have to use, betray, or hurt. She comes first, our land."
*
A glance down at her fingernails follows and Amora smoothly rises from the seat at the table, moving to lean against the wooden frame and watch Sif with a deepening silence as the woman there speaks. "If 'tis Loki that you strive against, be you look you arm yourself, Sif. Properly from his magicks. And note that he will count upon chaos as a veil and as a protection against his foes. If 'tis him, truly him, and not some false image, nor mind control that presses his will.." She inhaled softly.
"Then you needs must prepare for a coup against an heir-apparent. If Thor has fallen, if he is missing, then you will have no one to replace the one in control. To take back Asgard shall not merely a battle for arms and swords, for spears and shields.. 'Twill be a thing of diplomacy. Asgard has her allies and enemies; my suggestion is /thus/ court them. Make them swear oaths to you and pray that you have a child within your womb." She points at Sif's figure.
"Elsewise your ideas of vengeance shall be for naught. The Runes made clear what might have occurred, your words have only assured me of it. Betrayal.. Odin's rune in reverse.." She breathed.
"And know that if I aid you thusly, I seek my own gains. If 'tis truly Odinson against Odinson.. then I needs must break the All-father's command and gain more magic than I am allotted.."
*
Aerik has remained in silence, towel-clad and still seething with anger over the revelations that have come before him. He listens to the exchange between Amora and Sif, adding nothing further himself; he was a simple warrior, and battle plans and schemes were something best left to cooler and wiser heads. With the orders given to Amora, for Aerik cannot imagine them to be anything but, he merely regards the Enchantress for a moment, perhaps measuring her reaction to such a wide berth having been afforded her, but his eyes soon fall back to the now-dressed Lady Sif, silent still as they continue to speak.
*
"I am aware.." She murmurs quietly. One had thought to touch the Sorcerer Supreme for such, but there was one right there in front of her. If she were willing, and able? Amora's standing figure draws Sif's own to stand, a grim look towards Aerik and a faint nod of her head given. Even still, as Amora points towards Sif's figure, her hand draws up and down again, a hesitant look upon her face that soon falters into resolve. "Should it come to such."
Dark, wet hair soon flips upon her shoulder as she begins to wade through the water left upon the floor. The handmaiden awaits the vacation of Sif so that she could begin her cleaning, even while her charges were present.
"I am well aware that if you aid me that you seek your own gains, yes. Whatever you seek, shall not tamper with the light, the thought, the life of the Thunderer, the Undying. Your magic shall not touch him in ways that would change him thusly, only magic that seeks to aid him in his own goals. And know that you aid me, Lady Protector of Midgard, that as of now, and until we find further.."
She pauses in her step as she looks over her shoulder, at least before disappearing to tend to Heimdall. "..my words are -your- bond. For if Frigga and the All-Father have fallen, my decrees in your regard shall be the -only- one that stands." Her jaw clenches. "Therefore.. I say this to you. Find the Thunderer. Drink from thy wells of magic for I shall see you -whole-." She walks again, her final decision made. "I will return in a moment, I must see my brother."
*
One mortal of no specific provenance lives here, at least part of the time. To be fair, it's been a good long month with her absences in the past weeks noticeable. Yet Bellator is one place she holds a stake in, though her room is nigh to barren and she spends much of her time floating mid-air in contemplative silence when not hacking dummies to pieces. Days spent afar and sundry since the armies of Asgard assembled to turn over the prince she swore loyalty to vanished into the arms of death go without notice. But then, Scarlett is back.
Not long after Amora, by whatever purpose. Perhaps her delayed approach is a caution in case she finds herself speared to death by enraged soldiers eager to turn upon an apparently easy target. Wrong, that, but she might not give them the pleasure of a fair fight, or a fight at all.
She floats an inch off the ground as her reminder, the sworn consequence she is not wholly human. Blood-bright locks — not for nothing does Hrimhari call her Lady Bloodcrown — sway around her shoulders. This is a place where she stands between truths, and her presence warned ahead comes eventually to a physical one. "I am sorry." No less words are required.
*
A huff of breath, and Amora eyes Sif, a golden brow lurching upwards in faint amusement. The smirk that painted over her lips was wide and confident with a faint narrowing of her illuminous green eyed gaze.
"If they have fallen, then your words hold no weight. For we are equals in the eyes of the court till your wedding day, /Lady/ Sif." She murmured after the woman had turned her back and started her retreat.
"Betrothed to the Thunderer while he yet lives you may be, we know not beyond.. "She whispered, and settled onto a seat once more at Scarlett's appearance.
"Greetings apprentice mine, you remain mine? For it would seem the assumptions of death and the Trickster were false.."
*
"I must dress myself," comes Aerik's only words, looking down at his towel-clad, but admittedly impressive physique. The somewhat terse exchange between Amora and Sif is not for him to comment on, at least not for the moment, and so he doesn't. In his eyes, as a warrior, Sif ranks highly, and always will, regardless of her marriage or official title. But then, he does not rank high on the food chain himself; a lowly warrior, at the end of the day. He gives Amora a curt nod, and turns on a heel to retreat to his quarters, where his clothing awaits. He reaches the door, removes the towel, and steps inside.
*
Strangers in a large ranch hardly constitute anything unexpected. An unarmed Midgardner in green, she might well count among them. The only difference between Scarlett and her ilk in the greater county and New York, she speaks the ancient language of Asgard with some degree of competency and apparently possesses the manners to incline her head and show proper deference where called upon. It's a far cry from the entourage which brought her to the Golden City to pay honour to the All-father and release one son from bondage and another from the captivity of a title's honour.
"My lady Amora," she replies, inclining her head. The elaborate braids are back, albeit in the twists and turns of a fate yet unwritten, the story of the Nornsdottir an incomplete saga in the making. "My lady Sif. My part is sworn to thee. As I stood behind you in the vanguard, Lady Sif, I offer to amend whatever evils have been done unjustly and wrongly upon your home. Not for gain or glory, but for what is right. And because you have been kind to me, and your brother did save the Wolf-Prince in time of need, I will grieve and fight with you."
A line in the sand. The other?
"Has the Trickster shown any faith in us, Enchantress?" A simple question, there. Yet it answers everything, in its fashion, and her palms open in a supplicant's gesture towards Amora. "What I harbour and know, for defense of this place called home, be offered."
*
A wicked grin lit up Amora's features as Scarlett spoke, her attention shifting briefly to the half dressed Asgardian. "I find your manner of dress quite fetching, darling. You need clad yourself no further if you desire not to.." She teased, a raking of her gaze over his departing figure.
Then her focus returned to Scarlett and she beckoned the red haired woman closer.
"You and I have a goodly amount of work to do. Aid Illyana where you can in setting wards down. We needs know the second a creature from another realm touches upon Midgard. It will be all the warning we shall have."
*
"Of course you would look," Scarlett murmurs, though she does not hold an ounce of judgment in the statement to Amora. Rather, a deeper recognition for what she is, and how Aerik fits into the worldview of the Enchantress. Somewhere must be an amused smirk, if she were not so subdued in the darkened overtones of war and violence. Someone has to take these things seriously.
The instruction given to her is met with a nod, and she floats nearer the sorceress of Asgard. "I shall. Are there any sites or landmarks you wish we pay especial attention to, or is it too early to be strategic?"
*
A roll of her shoulders followed, "Take Illyana with you, she has become mine apprentice as well. See to Lindisfarne, Scotland, and York firstly. York first, for the magics that remained there from our stories will linger and give you a boost." She murmured.
"Then check Scotland, the castle after our return from Muspel. See if you cannot find leylines there.." She murmured.
"You may leave New York. Strange has plenty of wardings here.."