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Note: Thor poses for Odin and Frigga
As the swirl of power that transported them from the realm of the Norns dissipated, golden Asgard laid spread out before the two ahead, glittering and perfect as it always had been. Tall spirals of intricate towers reached up into a twinkling night sky above. The sounds of a city bustling with nightlife echoed from beyond them. Even as Thor was greeted by the gatekeeper and the two were directed toward the city, Amora kept silent.
The Enchantress seemed lost to her thoughts, though she had no released her grip on Thor that entire time. Perhaps too fearful to let go and be mistaken for mistaking her duty or perhaps too scared that if she let go that she'd lose what tenuous grip she had on the world around her. Her expression was preoccupied, and a faint furrow of her brow remained.
Amora was troubled.
And unless Thor made a point of shaking her off, it didn't seem that she was going to change her position or break from her thoughts.
*
It makes Thor a little uncomfortable to have Amora's hands wrapped around his. But the Enchantress is different— soulful, and silent. The hollow ring around her eyes that accompanies only a deep and profound grief. He flexes his hand once or twice but she remains attached to him as if he's her only lifeline in the world, and Thor is if nothing else a gentleman.
So he exchanges handshakes with Heimdall and they elect to walk the length of the bifrost. Word of their arrival flies fast— flying vehicles swoop towards the Rainbow Bridge in surprise, people gawking at the return of their lost Prince. By the time they get to the last third of the bridge, members of the Royal Guard have already lined up to salute.
Crossing the Great Courtyard, throngs of Asgard's citizens join a chorus of effusive cheers and praise, applauding Thor's return.
Once inside the palace, approaching Buri's Throne, the courtiers, aristocracy, royal guard, and many friends are turned out in bewildering array. There's no order or rhyme to it, as people flock to see the return of their lost Prince and the onetime enemy of Asgard on his arm.
*
The entirety of the walk from the Bifrost toward the palace held the Enchantress in silence. A deepening sort that did not seem likely to lift. It seemed less as if she had been restored to physicality and more as if she had firmly slipped into the realm of shadows. Much more so that she had become the golden Prince's shadow, for all that she walked beside him and did not speak.
At least, not until they reached the royal halls of the palace. Until the guards approached and they drew closer toward the Throne room. Only then did Amora seem to awaken and stir from her inner turmoil. Her hand fell away from its chilled grip, her gaze lowered as she fell back against the greetings and cheers to trail silently behind the Prince instead.
Manners and the rites and rituals of the hall seemed to jar her back into action there. She made no attempts to slip away, for she knew there were too many eyes, that she was duty bound by the Queen's order still. Only because Thor walked the halls was it fit that she was present after all.
*
Someone had informed Frigga and Odin of Thor's return. The royal parents had barely had time to get to the Throne Room— Odin wearing robes and carrying the Odin Staff in his left hand, his one good, grizzled eye betraying none of his surprise. Who knows what the Lord of Asgard could see, after all?
Frigga, however, abandons royal modesty entirely and fairly flies towards Thor, wrapping her arms around her son and sobbing for joy. "Thor! Thor, you've returned!" she cries, touching his face and hair as if unsure if she's being pranked.
"Aye, mother, I am," Thor says, beaming and hugging Frigga hard enough to lift her from her feet. "And I owe my thanks to Amora."
As if noticing the Enchantress for the first time, Frigga turns wide, surprised eyes to the woman. "I… Amora?" She looks to Thor, who nods confirmation, and she extends a trembling hand to the blonde enchantress with only a moment's hesitation. "Then you have fulfilled my charge to you well and ably," she tells Amora, with profound gratitude.
Odin's spearbutt *booms* against the throne, and he descends the steps slowly with only the faintest of limps. Thor disengages from Frigga and Amora, moving to meet his father on the bottommost steps. The two men exchanged silent looks, and then abruptly Odin sweeps Thor up in a fierce hug, which Thor heartily reciprocates.
"My son! My son is returned!" Odin booms, and he breaks from Thor long enough to lift the blonde god's hand skywards.
Asgard erupts in cheers, with Thor, Odin, Amora, and Frigga at the heart of the cheers.
*
The gaggle of well wishers and greeters approached the throne along with the two only for so long, splitting off well before the royal couple, to leave Amora and Thor standing before the King. The Enchantress was a breath span away from falling into a kneel when the Queen came forward upon slippered feet, her shock at seeing Frigga acting so seemed to root her into position. Only when the Queen turned her attention to Amora did the golden haired goddess hurriedly drop into a curtsey.
Only rising as Frigga extended a hand in her direction. "Thank you, my Queen." Her head still bowed faintly. One could never say that Amora did not know how to act if she was of a mood.
Anything further was broken off at Odin's proclamation, and the loud cheers that deafened the royal hall. Yet for all the happiness that echoed through the rafters and down the sweeping wings of the throne room, the Enchantress did not manage so much as a smile. She merely stood there, otherwise silent until addressed, and looking distinctly.. uncomfortable. In what should have been her moment of triumph, Amora only managed to look politely interested in the whole affair.
*
After several minutes, Odin bangs his spear twice to silence the Hall. "We must withdraw, as I wish to speak with my son," he booms. It's as close an apology as anyone ever gets from a member of the royal family (as is proper), but the crowds don't abate as Odin, Frigga, Thor, and Amora leave the court, everyone pressing forward to get one last glimpse of the returned Prince— and murmuring surprise at Amora's presence.
Odin leads them to the royal rooms, shutting doors behind them until Amora and Thor are closed in a room with the King and Queen.
"So, Thor returns and the Enchantress with him," Odin remarks. "I have seen glimpses of my son on Midgard, but only in brief. I sense there is much a story to tell here," he remarks, including Thor and Amora with his gimlet eye.
*
The Enchantress only seems to relax as they leave the crowds behind, along with the deafening noise, the thunderous cheers and shouts to the quiet of the royal chambers behind the throne room. She remained silent, trailing along behind the required and expected amount, until the doors shut and she was addressed (albeit indirectly) knowing that everyone present, Thor included would wish to hear the tale.
Another bob of her head followed, "Your majesties," She murmured. "Tis a long tale indeed, and one best served when all are comfortable." Her gaze lifting briefly to glance around the door.
"Yet I shall tell it as his highness does not .. seem to remember it."
*
It takes most of a solid evening for the story to be told. Frigga interrupts often with questions, curiosity on her fine, proud features. She holds her son's hand frequently, as if worried if she releases him that he'll disappear again. Odin sits silent witness to the story, asking only a rare question to clarify a point and mostly observing much and missing little.
At the conclusion of the story, Frigga's eyes moisten a bit, and Odin gives Amora a look of new, almost grudging respect. "You sacrificed much to aid this Donald Blake fellow," he gravels at her. "What prompted you to help him? He was not Thor— you must have known on some level that Thor might not come back at all. Was it the hope of his return that prompted you to aid this mortal man?"
*
The Enchantress spoke with a calm patience that would have been otherwise unheard of for her. She fell silent for a long moment, shifting in her seat as she picked up the goblet of water that had been on offer to her throughout her tale. Only when Odin glanced her way and questioned her, did Amora seem to struggle with answering the question. Her green eyes lowering as she turned her attention down to her lap.
"I once swore to his highness that I would follow him though he were but mortal and not his princely self. I swore that centuries ago and I held my promise." She whispered, after a long, long time of thought. "That was the start.. perhaps what stayed me was my loneliness. To be so separated from the world at large, without news of Asgard. Without any hope.. He filled that void. And made me a better person for it."
*
Frigga looks to Odin speculatively. Odin returns her look, and the two rulers have an entire conversation that takes place in subtle and silent manners. It's lost on Thor, who having heard the story in its entirety, can only look at Amora. Wary confusion— and uncomfortable gratitude— marks his rugged features.
"But… you swore such an oath to /me/," Thor tells Amora, confused. "I 'twas not myself for most of a year, it sounds. Not even myself— I was a different man entire, wearing this face. You were released from your oath when I fell from the Bifrost, dead to the world. What prevailed upon you to maintain that decision, even after you surely must have recognized I was dead?"
*
Amora missed the glances between King and Queen, her gaze was locked on Thor. "My oath still held not from your lady mother, but the one I made to you. I swore to you, that regardless of who you were mortal or otherwise I would follow you. And I did." She pursed her lips, and then glanced down at her goblet.
"I had hopes, that you would return. There were glimpses. So many times that I thought perhaps I saw you shine through. Though they always faded." She shrugged mutedly, shaking her head slowly. "I knew that the realms needed you. Asgard needed her prince. I thought perhaps I might be able to return you to your proper self." She sighed softly.
"But there were times when I lost hope, when he was too different. Too strange.." A weak smile pulled at her lips as she traced her fingers against the goblet. "And I shall admit that he was a good man. He was your base self. Your kindness, gentleness, your charity, your honor, your warmth and your bravery. He fought drakes to protect mortals with little else than a deadened hammer. He was willing to give me a chance when few were.."
"Perhaps that is why, your highness. I know not. There are no easy answers.. I apologize."
*
"No, 'tis no need for apology, Amora," Thor says, looking a little stunned by her revelation. "'tis no easy thing to witness a death, particularly of a … close friend," he says. Her newfound quiet maturity and genuine sorrow seem to touch a chord in the God of Thunder, and he looks to Frigga and Odin for help. This is an Amora he is woefully unprepared to deal with.
"You have fulfilled your oath to /me/," Frigga says, gently. "You served Thor even when all the worlds thought him dead. Protected and shepherded him back to us," she tells the blonde Enchantress. "You are released from obligation, Amora. And… you have my thanks."
Odin's eye glints, and he sucks in a breath through his teeth in thought. "Much as it pains me to admit it, Amora, you have shown a warrior's redemption," he agrees. "I broke your power and tucked it away for fear you'd turn it against Asgard once again. Without your power, you discovered the value of the greatest treasure of all— self-sacrifice. Do you seek the return of your magics as compensation for protecting the Prince?"
*
The Enchantress only continued to look upon Thor as if he were the only person in the world as he waved away her need for apology. She looked down at her lap, holding her tongue even as Frigga thanked her. It had been much the same as outside in the throne room, a polite, if not distant Enchantress. One that seemed horribly confused when she looked upon the Thunder God and found not the expression she'd seen for the past several months. It was as if, whenever she looked, that she expected recognition not found in those blue eyes.
That in and of itself, seemed to startle a furrow in her brow whenever their gazes met.
Only Odin's words stirred her back to turn her attention to the All-father. "I seek nothing, your majesty. I did what I did out of duty, and desire to see Thor restored. I shall accept most graciously whatever reward you deem fitting."
*
Odin looks to Frigga again. Millennia of marriage has given them license to conduct entire conversations without a word being spoken. That lone eye turns towards Amora once more, missing nothing about her mien or emotions.
"Then, I restore your Citizenship to Asgard," he tells her, with a tone of finality that resonates to the very bedrock of the lands around them. "You may have returned your residence in the Golden City and all the rights that were forfeited upon your banishment."
His fingers curl around nothing, and golden light coalesces around them. To a stranger, it might look as if he were summoning some strange power, but Amora would know it as well as the sight of her own hands— her magic, her essential power, taken from her by main force.
"And I will return to you your gifts, on one condition: that your power be used only in defense of Asgard and in service to her people, now until the end of your days," he says. "Only she who is worthy of this new Amora shall hold the Power of the Enchantress." The lights flash and coalesce into a single, glowing rune— Amora's name, rendered in the script of the dwarf-kind. His palm closes around the light, and when it re-opens, a single gemstone— cut fit for a tiara or necklace— glows in his palm.
*
Amora stared at the All-father in open astonishment as he spoke and returned everything that had been removed from her for the better part of a year. She could feel the pressure in the air, feel the ways the arcane of Asgardian magic shifted around them and formed up the better part of her power. Her gaze falling heavily upon the tiny gemstone glowing in Odin's palmed hand.
Slowly, Amora slipped from her chair into a kneel and hung her head before the All-father and King of the realm Eternal. "I swear." She murmured softly.
*
Odin takes Amora's upturned palm and presses the gemstone into it, then closes her fingers over it. So much magic and potency, bound in such a tiny thing— Thor looks at Mjolnir, propped up on a table nearby, and the obvious parallels can't be overlooked. As much a part of him as Amora's magic is part of her.
"We have dallied enough in discussion for now," Odin says, rising to his feet. Thor and Frigga rise, too. "Welcome home, Son," he tells Thor, clasping the younger man's shoulder. "Asgard welcomes you— and Amora."
Thor bows to his father, hugs his mother, and then offers Amora his forearm before getting the door so they can both leave.
Once outside the royal chambers, he gives Amora a look of uncertain speculation. "So… your freedom and magic, restored," he tells her, lightheartedly. "What will you do now?"
*
The little gemstone melted away into Amora, unlike the hammer, it was part of her inside and out. The gemstone merely a physical representation of the power she'd gained over the centuries. Once restored, her presence, in fact everything about her seemed simply.. more. Another bow followed as the All-father and Queen departed to attend to other duties. Only straightening when the door shut behind them and Thor turned those blue eyes of his upon her.
Amora accepted the arm, trailing slowly beside him out of the royal chambers and into the hallway proper. She glanced at him, her brow creased in thought at his question. "I.. know not." She murmured. "I feel cast adrift."
Then slowly she shook her head, and forced one of her usual smiles, but there was nothing behind it. It was hollow. Empty. "Perhaps I shall find a few new lovers. As I only.. only.." She blinked and trailed off, and squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment.
"I have my halls to attend to I suppose." Her own castle is what others would call it, though it was hardly a castle by Asgardian standards.
*
Thor blinks at Amora, her quiet uncertainty rattling him. Amora was brash, confident, willful, seductive— never uncertain. Never so /quiet/. He watches her face fall, the sorrowful introspection in her voice as she mulls her future.
"You truly cared for that mortal," he says, finally, as if it's only just dawning on him. "Not for me. But for him, this… 'Donald'," he says. "For who he was, not who he might be."
*
A furrow of her brow followed and Amora blinked at the golden haired god before her. "What? No.. no.. don't be foolish." She whispered, a forced laugh followed as she shook her head. Her free hand lifting to comb through golden locks, her hand trembled faintly as she pushed her hair back.
"I loved what I saw of you in him. How could I feel anything for a mortal who wasn't even a true mortal? He did not exist without you. He was not even a true life.." She exhaled a shaky breath, her hand falling away as she averted her gaze.
"I wouldn't .. couldn't possibly be so foolish. Mortals live such short lives. Even if he was a true mortal. I could never.." She made a face, and shook her head again. "I've spent more time on Midgard than most, I could never.. 'tis impossible."
*
Loki would have made a sly remark. Volstagg might have offered some burly comfort, Fandral a tidbit of poetry. Hogun, some deep spiritual affirmation.
Hell, even Sif would have given Amora a hug.
Thor merely looks uncertain of himself, the rare instinctual leap he'd made to an emotional, analytical observation beyond his ability to argue.
He knew it to be true, but of course, there's no way he could articulate it.
"Er… yes, of course," he mutters, at Amora's objections. "Well. I … suppose you will wish time to yourself, Lady Amora, and I should see to catching up on things in my absence. I… thank you, Amora. Again. For… everything," he says, lamely.
He looks at Amora, and ducks his head to her in a bow. With a haunted, uncertain look, he strides off, his heavy boots thumping against the ground with each step.
*
Perhaps it was the idea that after months, near to a year, that she had spent on Midgard, away from the court. Away from the rules, the regulations, away from custom due to the Prince of Asgard. Perhaps it was the overprotective possessiveness she'd taken on in the past few months to keep Thor's mortal form alive and safe, but as he stepped away, disentangling his arm from her own and bowed to leave…
Amora reached out, "Wait. Please." She stepped forward, her hand falling back to her side as she stood there awkwardly. This was not the sultry, heated gaze of the Enchantress, it was Amora. Scared, cast adrift and utterly alone. That loneliness began to creep back, threatening to swallow her whole and she pressed after Thor.
"Spend the night with me. Please." She swallowed further words down. "As much as you are willing to give me.. Please."
*
Thor blinks at Amora, then looks around with discomfort on her face at her plaintive request. This is something for which he is wholly unprepared. A sensual, sexual Amora? Someone using sex as a weapon? That is a foe faced many a times, and usually well resisted. Mostly.
This, however, is a woman who is scared and alone, and her motivations and fears remain opaque to his perceptions. He shifts uncomfortably, looking everywhere but at Amora for a long moment.
"I— Amora, I … do not know if … that is wise," he gets out, his cheeks ruddy with a boyish embarrassment at her direct proposition. "I am but recently returned to Asgard, and you have … lost someone dear to you. It has been a most upsetting day for us both."
*
Amora's heart ached all the more for the sight of his discomfiture. The awkwardness in his mein. "I do not wish to be alone, Thor. If I am then I know what I am apt to do. I am .. trying to remain the woman that I have become. But I fear that I shall slip back into my previous.. that I shall.. I shall do something foolish." She closed her eyes, exhaling a breath.
"Tis not as if people will not talk already. Tis not as if we have not been lovers before. I have no reputation, my prince, that needs protecting.."
*
"I am not concerned with your /reputation/, Amora," Thor says, frowning at the woman. "I am concerned with your spirit. I am no stranger to cavorting and… were the situation not what it is, I would accept your offer in but a moment."
"But this is not idle lust or desiring some company in the face of solitude. you have lost someone you loved, and — I am not a /replacement/ for that man, whomever he was," Thor says, trying to sound earnest. "'twould be but cheap exchange for your loss, and not fill the void in your heart."
"Is it so difficult, Amora? Accepting that someone is lost to you?" he asks, shaking his head at her with concern and befuddlement in his voice.
*
Amora's brows pinched as she stared at him, "Tis my way, a balm. If you shalt deny me comfort.. then I shall find another bed, my lord. I am certain there are plenty to keep me occupied." She pursed her lips, her arms crossing under her chest as she shifted her weight upon her heels, looking away from him.
"You could never be a replacement, Thor.." She added after a moment's pause.
Consideration and thoughts flitting over her expression clearly for the first time in centuries. Frustration, hurt and grief mingling with an increasing level of irritation. "And how is it normal in our world to accept loss, my prince? I had faith you would return, and so you have. Loki, for all his faults, still lives himself though he 'died'. Our healers bring people, warriors back from the brink of death and more than few spellbooks that I own details the ways in which the dead can be returned." her lips thinned into a fine line.
"How is abnormal for me to be unable to process his loss? When he wasn't.. when he never truly existed at all? Tis no body. For it was yours. I have naught.. no reason to mourn.."
*
"…Amora, I know I am… hardly your equal in matters of the heart. Or the bed," Thor admits, looking more and more uncomfortable. "And perhaps I speak foolishly out of turn."
"If you merely seek intimacy for its own sake, then there are many who could indulge you," he agrees. "And one could hardly fault you for craving an immortal's touch after months spent with mortals. They are… fragile," he concedes. "And unrefined."
"But my heart tells me that you seek not company, but to fill the void left in your heart. And this is something I know /well/, Amora," he says, reaching forward to rest a hand on her narrow shoulder. "I have lost many a fine ally to the blades and slings of war. And there is naught one can do to bring them back— nor any companion who can replace them or their sacrifice in our hearts."
*
A snap of green eyes follows as he speaks and settled a comforting hand upon her shoulder, "I do not wish to be alone. How is that wrong? How is it not fit for me to seek comfort when I am bruised? When I am .. when I am .." She curled her manicured hands together, frustration with herself and at the surge of feelings that closed at her throat and her chest.
"I seek not a replacement. I seek.. I seek the comfort of .." She trailed off, a friend? A love? Someone that understood what she was suddenly feeling and struggling with? The words would not come.
"I am restored.. as you have been.. but naught is.. is .. I do not feel such. I do not wish to feel this!" She admitted, her voice catching with emotion as she pressed a hand against her temple.
*
Thor looks like he's getting a headache. Emotional intellect is not his strong suite, and it shows in his long it takes him to piece together a response. "I am… was… I was dead, Amora, and gone. It but happened that somehow, a fragment persisted through which I could return. A seedling, maybe, but hardly the flowering plant. And that metaphor is clearly straining things," he warns her.
"But you were never dead. Your power has been restored, but you are still /you/. That did not change. The strong, impetuous sorceress you have always been, even without your magics. There was not a part of you that was gone until… well, until the part of you left with this Donald left with him."
"You do not seek company, Amora. I think… I think you are looking for the missing part of you that Donald took with him. And that is a search that will consume all your days, if you allow it."
*
Anger flashed in her eyes, and a gaping, consuming need came to life there. What had been put to rest with Donald's care and constant presence was born again in those green eyes, this time even more broken and jagged than before. Her throat tightened, her hands dropped to her sides and remained in tight fists. "So you shall not .. you desire my presence not…" Her lips trembled with a barely restrained snarl and there was a furrow in her brow.
Clearly, as Thor did not understand the emotional entanglements of Amora, of what she was struggling with, Amora herself decided to shove them aside. Rather than work through her misery, her loneliness, she was falling back into her old habits. Her old ways, and it was clearly there as she drew herself inwards with an inhale and a slow exhale. She was refusing to look at the source of her grief, and instead choose the comfort of an old hurt that held no edge with which to sting.
Thor had rejected her.
Again.
*
Thor's brow furrows at Amora, a scowl tugging at his mouth. "Why must you make it such an accusation?" he demands, crossly. "Do you think I respect or admire you less? That I dismiss you out of hand?" he scolds her.
"Amora, you need to /grieve/," he tells her, making one last attempt at trying to help her from that pit of self recrimination. "Donald sounds as if he were a most decent and noble man," he tells her. "And whatever he believed, whatever afterlife he professed, then his spirit must have achieved that goal. I am sure he cared for you as much as you cared for him, given the sacrifice he made."
*
Amora crossed her arms, squaring her jaw as she glared at the floor between them, as if it were to blame. "I do not desire your .. your.. " She struggled with getting her words out, her throat constricting. The Enchantress had never truly allowed herself to be happy to be in a relationship where she did not subjugate the other person. She had long since known the dangers of falling truly in love. That her heart, much like that of all of her people, when engaged did so truly and wholly..
Donald had been an exception. In a few short months she had given into those feelings, if only because she had convinced herself that he was Thor and Thor was he. Never in her wildest dreams did she consider that she would lose that when Thor returned to himself.
"I do not grieve!" She shot back hotly, "How can I grieve over a man that never truly existed!? Was never born? He was.." She trailed off, green eyes moistening as she struggled to hold onto the anger and hurt at old scars rather than the fresh.
"He believed in you.." She whispered, blinking hard, as her brows furrowed. "He believed in Asgard.. The Aesir.."
*
"Then, he dwells where he most desired to be," Thor tells Amora, trying to comfort her. "So you must either believe he never existed, and therefore there is no loss to grieve over; or accept that he has moved on, and take pleasure in the fact that his immortal soul rests where he wished it most."
He takes Amora's introspection as a chance to break away, resuming his path towards the upper levels of the royal palace. "Goodnight, Lady Amora. I'll… call on you on the morrow," he assures her, before striding away with a heavy tread and swish of his cloak.