1964-06-20 - Facing Denial
Summary: Amora informs Thor about the danger Loki and Kai are in. Thor forces Amora to see her denial over Donald's 'death'
Related: Asgardian Soap Operas
Theme Song: None
amora thor 

The return to Asgard has taken some adjustment for many. Asgard itself, celebrating the return of their dead prince— a formal celebration was being planned for a day or two out, but informally Thor was approached at every opportunity to have his hand shaked and residents profess their joy at having him back.

Even the freewheeling God of Thunder could only sustain so much admiration over the course of a day, so finally he'd snuck back to his rooms— using back ways and secret stairs known only to the waitstaff— to avoid the crush of the crowds. With a sigh of relief, he opens the door hidden behind his bookshelf and walks into his private quarters, stretching hugely and walking to regard the view of Asgard from his balcony.


Perhaps it was a mistake that he had not watched his tongue around Amora the day previously, an invitation, once given was taken to mean just that. He had said he would see her the following morning and as such, the wards took the literal meaning as well. So it was that the royal chambers had not blocked Amora's visitation, not when she'd been invited in the loosest of senses.

Sometime before she had entered, and found him absent. Yet had not sought him out beyond where the crowds she knew lurked and traced his every movement.

So when he entered the balcony, Amora was simply there, between the silken curtains that fluttered in Asgard's warm breeze and the sunlight that glittered down from above, there she was in all her glory. A beautiful woman dressed in the finest of silks. Green fluttered low around her shoulders and neckline, clasped tightly around her waist in a golden cincher ringed in runes and intricate knot work. Beads and flowers decorated her hair with braids and the scent of strawberries clung to her.

Midsummer approached and with it the full height of summer days and warm nights. All of these things echoed around her as she approached him and settled to perch on the balcony's marbled edge. "Apologies for entering without your permission, but you said I would see you this morn. The wards allowed me entry on such a premise.." She started. Her hands settled behind her.


Thor starts a little at Amora, blinking rapidly in surprise, but she speaks swiftly enough and doesn't lunge at him. He exhales through his nose, shaking his head, and makes a permissory gesture at her. "Welcome, Amora," he tells her, with all the politeness he can muster. "Forgive me, I'd forgotten of our plans. You are of course welcome. May I offer you a drink or the like?" he inquires, glancing into the room behind him. "Some food, perhaps?"

He rests his forearm against a pillar for support, looking at Amora. "Is this a social call, or is there something with which I can be of aid?" he offers the lovely blonde, giving her an appraising look.


A roll of bare shoulders follows, wind teasingly playing with loose strands of golden hair about her features as Amora locked her eyes upon the golden Prince. She did not smile, and there was no heat in that gaze as it had not been present before. Only a vast, yawning, empty need for something that was not present in his gaze.

"Mead would be fine." She murmured, then turned her gaze outward to the view of Asgard beyond.

"You remember nothing of the months spent on Midgard prior to your awakening in Nornheim, correct?"


"I recall only Loki flinging me from the Bifrost into the abyss, and then— Nornheim," Thor agrees, moving into the main room. He steps to a shelf and retrieves two beaten metal steins, and uncorks a keg before upending it into the containers. He steps back towards Amora, offering her one, and then swings the other towards her in a gentle offer of a toast.

"Why do you ask?" he inquires, sipping heavily of the sweet, carbonated mead and looking at Amora speculatively.


Amora took the offered tankard quietly, her gaze following him over each movement as she sipped at it with care. Her other hand settled on the bottom, idly rolling over the cool condensation that prickled at the outside.

"There are things in motion now that are tied to the events that occurred while you were on Midgard. Ones that I fear the man you are now will see no proper care for. There are allies and friends you made during those months. Ones which are now in grave danger." Her lips thinned and she shook her head.

"But you have no memory of them." No memory of us, nearly followed those words but she tucked them away and averted her gaze. Another long sip of her drink followed and she leaned back heavily against the marble railings of the balcony.


Thor frowns at Amora's suggestion. "Aye, I know them not— but a debt has been incurred, whether I know it or otherwise," he points out. "If their actions protected that other fellow, then they led to my resurrection by the Fates. So I owe them my life, and a debt to accompany it," he tells her.

"Speak their names and tell me what I might do to honor their service to Thor," he booms, standing a little straighter. "I'll not dishonor myself by refusing to honor their efforts."


Amora set the mead aside on the balcony beside her, reaching out a hand as she approached Thor. Her manicured fingers reached out to trace against his shoulder and then drag lower on his arm as she sighed and shook her head. "Nay. You would not dishonor yourself as you are now if you did not lend strength of arms to their venture. Tis a piteous state, aye, but not one that any in Asgard would see as such. T'would be merely earned for the past actions of one. As much as those whisper my name in disgust.. so is another more reviled than I." She smiled weakly, and her hand fell away.

"You would doubtlessly see little purpose in aiding them."


Thor's scowl deepens. "Amora, I care not for such a suggestion," he tells the blonde sorceress. "I am Thor, the God of Thunder. I am Prince of Asgard. If there is one to whom I owe my life, then they are one to whom I owe a mighty debt. Paltry an act as you might consider it, I won't let one who aided me languish in durance vile as if they are 'beneath' my aid."

"So speak, woman! Tell me who it is I'll raise my hammer in defense," he booms, throwing his shoulders back with all the Princely dignity he can muster.


Amora exhaled a breath, crossing her arms as she watched him for a long moment, unimpressed with his thunderous words or the scowl that marred his features. "Loki." She turned, moving back toward the mead and perching back on the balcony.

"Tis Loki." She repeatedly watching him as she took another long gulp of mead. "The Loki you fought died. And he was reborn without the memories of the last several centuries. He loves you, and sought your forgiveness. He provided aid to you and to me while we were on Midgard. And his beloved elf, who goes by the name of Kai. Is being used again him. As I said. A most piteous tale. But one which few here could possibly find condemnation upon you if you refused to aid him in return."


"Lo—LOKI?" Thor does a double-take, jaw hitting the floor. "Loki, who -flung- me into the piteous abyss beneath the Rainbow Bridge?" he demands, incredulously. He walks off several paces with a dismissive grunt and flick of his wrist, needing several moments to gain his composure. A heel drums against the balcony floor, and he shakes his head as logic and emotion war with one another.

He groans deep in his chest, muttering, and looks back at Amora.

"Fine. Tell me more about Loki's plight," he mutters, staring at the darkling city as twilight claims Asgard's golden spires.


Amora exhaled a breath, waiting and watching Thor pace and battle inwardly with the words she had stated. Only when he calmed and returned a look back to her did she cross her legs and continue to sip at her mead. "Aye. Loki. Well. He is limited, severely. Little magic, and little skill compared to what he once was. And he hath many an enemy made throughout the Nine Realms." She hooked an eyebrow upwards as she paused, as if waiting to hear some refusal from Thor.

"So thusly, you see why I said as I did. That none would see you refusing aid as wrong doing upon your part." Another sip of her mead and it was gone, she set the empty cup on the balcony, sliding off her perch once more.

"One of his enemies, I know naught besides the basics. Dark elves took his beloved Kai. An elf from Alfheim and a dearer pet he has never had. A sweet elfling I have never known. Took him. He came to me some time before, begging aid and arms for his rescue. I was bed ridden and unable to provide more than that. Nor was he willing to ask for more. A debt to me he would not have."


"Loki has a pet, who came to you for aid to save him from… do we know yet what foe kidnapped my brother?" Thor asks, unable to keep hostility from his voice at the mention of Loki's name. "Regardless whether or not I chafe at the notion of lending him aid, he is my brother— and that bond runs deep— and as you say, he has forfeitted many years of his memories. If this is true, then I punish a man unjustly for a crime he does not recall committing. So I will aid him, for honor and principle."

"Tell me what you know of his kidnapping."


A shrug followed and Amora leaned back upon her heels. "Nay, the other way about. Loki's pet was taken. Aye a complicated tale. Loki came to us for aid, before, or rather me." She fluttered dark lashes as she spoke. "You even then, desired little to do with him and his tricks."

She shifted, walking lightly on her toes as she ambled about the balcony.

"So Loki sought Kai, and we were pushed onward by the Norns in a different direction." Her lips thinned and she shook her head.

"When you turned me away.. the other night.. I sought out Loki where I thought to find him. But I found him not. I found his beloved, elf, Kai. Who.. it seemed had been taken by the Wild Hunt. It would seem that Kai was sent back to the realms to seek Loki. A lure. If he halts his search.. then he will be brought back to their clutches. Yet if he finds Loki, then the trap is sprung. Worse yet, one of his allies was forced to slay him while trapped in the guise of a wolf. Thus, the Kai seen.. is a construct sent out. A trapped spirit denied to Hela's realms."


"A sinister trap," Thor scowls, considering Amora's words. "No better bait for my brother than one he loves dearly, and it seems as if Kai languishes between life and death to encourage him to run to his aid."

"Do we know where my brother /is/, then?" he inquires of the blonde woman. "Can he even be located, or has he fled to the shadows and caves of Yggdrasil once again to deter his attackers until boredom and old age claims them?" he says, scorn in his voice.


Amora shrugged wordlessly, her arms out stretched to smooth her delicate hands against the worn railings of the marble balcony. She closed her eyes, leaning into the breeze that swept over them from below. "I know not where he is. Something blocks me. I thought perhaps before, t'was my limited magics as I'd be bound. But now, I am restored.. and I still cannot find him." She pursed her lips, as if it rankled that she could not find the Trickster when she had always been able to.

"The arms and armaments are gone from the storehouse I held them in. He sought them to find his Kai. And he was most desperate when he asked for them. One can assume then, that he sought out his Kai. Yet for whatever reason.. he either did not make it to his destination or he was diverted. For why would the Hunt master send out Kai if he knew where Loki was? Perhaps Loki was waiting for the right time. Perhaps he knows.. I cannot say. I know it not." Her shoulders slumped and her head lowered to rest against the balcony railing. She looked deflated, defeated, and simply exhausted.


"Loki is a most tricky mind, with wily plans within plans," Thor reminds Amora. "One who would hunt him would be best served thinking in circles instead of lines— and perhaps they are attempting to anticipate a contingency you and I have yet to think of," he suggests to her. "I know that I am not one well suited to anticipate my brother. The field of battle, I will match wits against any general, but when it comes to his more devious machinations, even Loki leaves me outstripped. This is an area where perhaps your intuition serves us better than my tactical expertise."


Amora twisted around and leaned back against the marble of the balcony railing, her forearms settled back behind her on the edge as she watched him. She tilted her head, sending waves of gold shimmering over her bare shoulders as she eyed him. "I believe Loki is in danger. The only means to head it off, is to ensure that the Master of the Hunt has not the power over Kai. I can never anticipate what the Trickster plans. I have only ever had a happy accident here or there when our means aligned, however briefly that has been in the past."

Green eyes raked over Thor, and she dragged her lower lip between her teeth. Some of her usual heat returning to her gaze at his suggestions about her intuition. "Hence, we must seek out a way to unbind Kai. Remove the sword that dangles above. I have faith that without it, Loki might yet squirm his way out of the mess as he always has."


"So first we must rescue this 'Kai'," Thor says, transferring his blue gaze towards the city again. "You propose a most dangerous trip— to Helheim," he tells her. "If I read your intention properly. Hela is not one inclined to hospitality, and even I am vulnerable to her touch should she decide to take my life. I am unsure if Odin's will could protect me there. The Queen of the Dead has immense power in her lands and surely she will demand much of us to release Kai from whatever bonds shackle him."


Amora approached Thor then, her hands reaching out to twine around his arm and press herself against him, attempting to settle her cheek against his shoulder unless otherwise spurned. "You cannot go to her realm. She desires you and the Trickster above all others. At the moment, Kai is but an elf. Of little importance. He is a soul that belongs rightfully to her and is being currently denied the right to rest. He was killed. And he is not there. She shall be most enraged by that. None can deny the Queen of Hel for long, her magics are potent.." She pursed her lips together.

"You would make him important. Your presence would raise the stakes there… of course all of this remains moot if she knows of Kai's importance to Loki. Something I did not think possible to be spread among the Realms for so few know Loki yet lives." She pursed her lips together.

"Perhaps we might yet bargain with her. To send the Master of the Wild Hunt her way, might yet be worthy of the elf's soul. A promise for an exchange. After all, he breaks the natural order of things. A dead soul should be her's not used as a lure…"


"Very well, then we will seek out the Master of the Hunt," Thor agrees with a grunt. He stands with his arms folded, and while he doesn't welcome Amora into his embrace, he doesn't push her away, either.

"There are rites to summon the Master of the Hunt. Old words and spells. He is not beyond Odin's reach, but the laws of the land are writ around him. He is part of Asgard as much as the Norns, in his own way. We must respect those rites and formalities if we wish to ensnare him, else he'll break the shackles by virtue of his /own/ natural law."


"My thoughts are to send mine apprentice, Scarlett, with a group of Midgard's warriors that are trusted by Kai. They go with protections, to ask for the exchange with Hela. Someone needs must do so, otherwise to end the Master of the Hunt will prove of little worth to our endeavor to free Kai." She murmured, her gaze lifted from the view outside the balcony toward Thor. She kept her position, her arms entwined around his and her cheek pressed against his shoulder. It was a close enough position that any looking would think it a sweet picture indeed. Even if the Thunderer remained cold to her nearness.

"While we seek the Master of the Wild Hunt possibly.." She pursed her lips together, "T'would be unfit to summon him here to Asgard. His hunt should have been ended come the feast of Ostara. It was the last day of their ride. Yet he still took one from Midgard. I cannot fathom how he broke his routes.." She shook her head slowly, her brows furrowed.


"Perhaps we are not the only ones who conspire against the natural order," Thor offers. "Or perhaps he is merely a pawn in greater machinations yet." He frowns heavily, thinking, and stares skywards at the cosmology of Yggdrasil in a way only the Prince of Asgard can appreciate.

"A hunter seeks his quarry where last it drank or fed. The Master sought his prey on Midgard, so to Midgard we should return and start our hunt for him," he tells Amora. His arm loosens and snakes around Amora's waist, finally, hugging her against his side. "'twill be the most profitable place to seek him for now, I think."


"Aye, I fear he might yet be twined to another who plays his strings. I would say that other be Loki, normally, yet this is not as it should be. Loki has been the target.. And he would not target himself so plainly in.." She trailed off, falling silent as Thor did as well, lost to his own musings to the stars and heavens above.

It was only as he loosened his arm to wrap around her waist did Amora move. Her expression before of deep thought and intent at the problems at hand, faltered. Surprise followed, and then, a heart aching joy and contentment. She relaxed fully, and a smile pulled at her full lips as she settled more comfortably against him. One of her manicured hands settled against his chest and her head nestled into the crook of his shoulder.

Finally, she seemed to regain enough of her voice to speak. "Aye, that is sound advice. Do you think your father will let you return to Midgard though? So soon?" Her eyebrows lurched upwards in question as she gazed up at him.


"I know of no reason he'd forbid me, but even if he does, 'tis a matter of honor and a debt," Thor assures Amora, glancing down at her. He shifts a little uncomfortably under the worship of her gaze, looking back out over the cityscape as she regards him with those luminous green eyes.

"If my father forbids it, I'll demand Heimdall escort me from the city. If Heimdall will not— well, there are other ways from Asgard. We'll steal a skyskipper and take a hyperspace lane to Midgard, if we must, though I relish not a week aboard a creaking spaceship," he mutters.


Amora shifted against him as he moved uncomfortably beneath her gaze. She lowered her gaze when he glanced away, black eyelashes fluttering. "You have been thought of as dead by the Realm. I'd imagine that your absence again so soon would be greeted rather… tersely." She murmured, tracing her fingers against the fine collar of his tunic.

"I merely speak as having seen the crowds that greet you, that a good many would seek your attention. That matters being what they are in Asgard would require her prince.. You have only just returned after all." She shrugged weakly, a small lift and fall of bare shoulders against him.

"Much less over the Trickster if word got out." She added, and then lifted her gaze back to him, running over his jawline as he glanced out to the cityscape beyond. "But I shall wholly follow you, no matter what the outcome. As I have always done."


"Then Asgard is well accustomed to operating in my absence, and shall not suffer unduly when I leave again," Thor tells Amora, reassuringly as he can. "They will miss me and hail my return again, but none will contend that I must serve a matter of honor. 'tis not merely my honor— 'tis the royal house of Odin, and therefore, the honor of Asgard is at stake."

He looks down at Amora, meeting her eyes, and squeezes her gently. "I know I am not the man you loved and lost, Amora, but— despite our conflicts and arguments over the centuries— you have always been a most /loyal/ ally," he tells her. Something mirthful dances in his gaze. "Albeit a bit perilous to accompany. But your steadfast nature is something I appreciate greatly." He looks away.

"I feel you should know that."


As Thor shifts the conversation about the plans to leave toward her, she shifted to fully face him, without giving an inch of space between them. Her hands traced upwards, making to attempt to twine around the back of his neck for balance just as much as to put herself more firmly against him. "I have loved you for centuries. As I always have." She breathed, searching his gaze and fluttering those dark eyelashes of her's.

So few would ever dare call Amora the Enchantress loyal of all things. It was a rare word used in pair with her name. Not as she flitted from lover to lover like a bee from flower to flower. Yet she always, perhaps perplexingly returned to pine after the Thunderer.

"Once you told me that you sought a love to make your heart beat faster. A lady whom to love and keep. You spoke those words, while seeking the hand of that mortal Princess here." She whispered. "And then you broke that soon after.." Her brows furrowed as she searched her gaze over him.

"Engagement after engagement.. I dare not ask if you have found the woman that has made your heart beat so. For I know the answer to such." She pursed her lips, shifting back to give him a breath of space between them.

"But I would ask.. that you consider the woman that has remained at your side throughout all of such things.."


Thor shakes his head at Amora, looking away, and reaches up to gently disentangle her hands from his neck, pushing them against her sternum and holding them there. "Amora, you have not /loved/ me," he tells her, firmly. "You have loved the idea of me. A Prince, a future King— a road to being Queen or Empress," he remarks. "Always you have craved the two things I have which you cannot possess— my throne and my free will. Do not argue this," he says, his voice quite calm, and shaking his head. "I am the one man for whom your kisses are but kisses, and the one man who has that which you cannot obtain by guile or force of arms. For centuries we've played these games, and our dalliances have waxed and waned with mood and whim alike."

"But I will say that in all the centuries we've known one another, I have never once seen you weep for a lost lover as you did for this Donald Blake. Is it so terrible a thing to accept a loss?"


An argument sprung to her lips hotly and fiercely, ready to defend against the accusations that first dripped from his lips as he captured her hands and firmly held them against her. Then, slowly, that heat dissipated. It left her in a rush like cold water that left her speechless as he continued. Thor was not once interrupted after that first sharp, cutting accusation.

It left her standing there shocked, stunned into utter silence as she stared up at him. Her defensive words failed her, and left her staring blankly up at the Prince of Asgard for several long moments.

Finally, she seemed to gain some measure of herself again, her brows furrowing as she watched him. "I thought him as you, double cherries alike in two minds but of one body. One stem. One heart. Grown from the same tapestry and woven into the same fate." She whispered.

"One without memories, without power, without duty or position. The other with all such burdens and gifts as encompasses such.." She shook her head slowly, her eyelashes fluttering repeatedly, and it wasn't quite in the same way as before. More of a defensive motion to prevent the welling of tears.

"For he was born of you and you came of him. How can you not be so entwined? So fated? I .. I cannot therefore comprehend how.. how any of this came to be for me.." And as she said this, it was clear she meant the swell of emotions now tightening her chest and throat.


Thor chucks Amora's chin, turning it up to look down at her face.

"I am not a wise man, Amora, but even I can see the lies you tell yourself for what they are," he says, with immense compassion in his voice. "If you truly believed this Donald was myself, then you'd not shed a single tear for his death," he says, gently. "Long you've /craved/ me but never loved me. And it's writ in bold letters on your face that you loved him."

"I know not where you struck out when all this began, but you arrived on the foreign shores of devotion and love, Amora," he tells the blonde woman. "And you mourn him in your heart if not your head; he is gone and you remain, and no matter how you try to spin it, I am /not/ him. And you war with yourself, divided, because you /know/ he is gone."


Green eyes that had held so little depth before stare up at him with all the staunch attempts at denial in the world as he tilted her chin up to see her delicate features. She swallowed heavily at his words, and she reached out with both hands to frame his features. Once more, Amora could not keep her hands to herself. "I shed tears for you spurn me." Her voice caught even as she struggle to choke down the emotions that gripped her.

"There were months spent together, and love was oft spoken. How can I not mourn those times for they are lost to me now? Now when you speak so cruel and coldly. When I look for the love therein your gaze and find none? I see a face I know and find no recognition there. I find no warmth or smile for my sake. No hunger in your eyes for my touch. How am I not to mourn? How am I not to grieve to find myself thusly outcasted?"

Golden eyebrows furrowed as she gazed up at him, searching her face. "I cannot have imagined those glimpses of you in those months. For they were there. The Doctor Strange could not speak to your identity, as you were you and he was bound by his vows. I saw your powers called upon.. I heard in your voice the tones of Asgard. Not mortal speech.."


Thor grabs Amora's wrists and forces her hands away, shaking her once. "You shed tears for a loss you will not accept!" he booms at her, almost shouting. "Those words were uttered but not by me! Whatever guise this Donald wore, whatever potential he /may/ have had, he was not me! You have lost one who loves you, and so intransigent are you in your grieving that you will not even pay him the honor of his loss by shedding a tear, before flinging yourself at me as if I were merely a substitute you could swap— a replacement for a lost love."

He growls and steps away from Amora, shaking his head and retreating into his rooms. "Is it such a terrible thing to grieve, Amora? To have loved, and lost?"


If Amora had looked shocked before, now she looked terrified at Thor's shaking and thunderous voice. Green eyes went wide and she staggered backwards as he stepped away from her and retreated. She stood there, pale and aghast at him. Frozen, she stared, trembling. Slowly her hands clapped over her lips and she found little to hold her upright, falling to her knees as she struggled to fight back the tears that rushed to her eyes and closed up her throat.

A shuddering inhale followed, golden hair falling into her features as she knelt there and did not cry. No tears spilled from her eyes as she physically struggled with the need to do so.

Her shoulders quivered, and it seemed a losing struggle for the Enchantress. Yet she could no more summon the power to flee as she could admit the tears that came to her eyes and finally trickled down her cheeks were for Donald Blake and not for Thor. Her lips trembled and a pained sound of utter heartbreak and agony ripped from her which was quickly stifled behind her hands as much as she could possibly manage.

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