The palace of Asgard gleamed in the fading golden light of day. Its high towers reaching up toward the infinite sky above that no matter the time of day seemed to glow with the light of all the realms beyond. The city surrounding the palace was safe and quite, oblivious to the heat of battle taking place just beyond its gates. The Rainbow Bridge reached out into the infinite space meeting the lookout where the ever watchful eyes of Heimdall kept watch. The glassy bridge rumbled, shaking at the mighty force that slammed into its smooth glimmering surface.

Suddenly there was a shatter, an explosion of glass like fragments burst into the sky as the bridge disconnected completely from the lookout. Large pieces of the once majestic sight disappeared, lost and forgotten into the space beyond the realm of Asgard, yet two lone figures remained afterward. One held tightly to the golden staff as his body hung precariously from the bridge ready to fall into nothingness. The other figure remained safely on the bridge holding the staff that kept the second man anchored to what remained of the bridge.

Their faces were obscured. Their bodies were both tall and handsome yet so different from the other. One was muscular and fair and the other lean and dark. There was something strange. Even in that moment she could feel it- a strange connection that was pulling her in- telling her something that she couldn't quite hear.

What was it for? Who was it for?

Even as those questions flitted through her mind something new ripped through her, a dark foreboding that stole her breath and sent cold chills running along her spine. It was then that she saw it. Watching from her post she saw the black hole form, ripping itself into existence and pulling everything nearby to it with a force that was difficult to resist.

Fiore watched as the dark faceless man seemed to slip; his precarious grasp of the staff unable to resist the pull of the black hole. She felt her heart stop, her lungs burning for breath as she was unable to do anything but watch. Pain ripped through her, tearing at her heart. It was unfathomable, leaving her gasping, her legs weak and barely able to hold her slight weight. Yet, she did not fall or rather she could not move. She wanted to reach out- to help him- to save him- to hold him. Despite that driving need to go to him- she could not.

Without another option her discolored eyes looked back to the bridge watching anxiously as his body drifted quickly toward the oblivion that waited within the blackness drawing him in. Any chance of rescue was hopeless. He was there and yet he was already lost to them. Unwilling to take this Fiore called out, her arms reaching for him uselessly- her voice little more than a soundless echo across the endless distance of space.

Fiore woke with a start as the dream's hold on her mind snapped instantly as she came awake. Her breaths were labored as she pushed the heavy mass of red hair from her face. She forced herself to take deep calming breathes to sooth her racing heart back into a normal pace. From beyond her open window a light summer breeze ruffled her curtains providing a much needed dose of coolness against her burning skin.

What was it that had awoken her so suddenly?

A dream? A nightmare?

She couldn't seem to shake the feeling that it was infinitely important for her to remember. Or rather that there was someone important…Yet, try as she might her foggy mind could not picture the contents of the dream. Many nights she had awoken in the same way with the same feeling that there was something she was forgetting. And every night she knew there was someone who she was forgetting—a face, so precious and beyond important. But try as she might the image slipped through her fingers like grains of sand in a hourglass.

With sleep seeming so far out of her grasp Fiore pulled herself from the comfort of her bed and on bare feet she walked to the window. The cold of the polished stone beneath her feet didn't affect her in the least. Her strange affinity for the cold always seemed to concern her parents. Many times growing up they had told her to conceal her draw to the cold and snow, and all that it entailed.

She never listened. Even now the memory of her childhood of sneaking out of her bedroom window at night barefooted to play in the snow of the cold Asgardian winters still burned brightly in her memory. She loved it, the rush it could provide or even the calm. It invigorated her, made her feel strong. To her it was beautiful- the magic she could create in the pure white frozen crystals. She couldn't understand their fears of her power, not when magic was far from being considered strange in Asgard. Many times she had been told it was her inability to control a power she did not understand that was the cause for concern. As a child she had believed them, but as she grew into her teen years the control she managed to wield over her power only proved them all the more wrong.

Even so, to Fiore she felt there were powers much more spectacular than her own. She had heard great stories of the sorcery of the Prince Loki. Her own magic would seem nothing compared to the well-practiced powers of the Prince.

What made her powers so different?

When it came to the powers that her parents were aware of that is.

There were powers that she wielded that were unknown even to her parents. As a child they had not manifested. It was not until her late teens when they had first began to appear. In times of stress, fear or sorrow they had appeared in a strong uncontrolled burst- blocking out the light.

At the time she had feared the strange uncontrolled powers. The inability to control them had been her fear. The darkness that the ability brought was the opposite of the beauty and light she felt with her powers of ice. These powers were dark and foreboding, created from the darker thoughts and emotions that lingered deep within her. After that first experience, wallowing in darkness and the sadness of being left behind Fiore had refused to give into the same emotions again. Instead she had wandered away everyday for weeks on end until she had felt she had truly stamped those dark unnerving powers down.

They were all but forgotten now. Locked deep within where they were to never be accessed. There seemed to be no reason to inform her parents of such.

Sighing at the calming breeze of the cool night she closed her eyes and simply took in the sounds of the night. Crickets chirped and the breeze ruffled through the delicate leaves atop the high reaching trees. The moon and stars above made the velvet sky glow with silver light that left the world beyond the window in a sleepy calm. With the pounding of her heart at last subsiding Fiore opened her eyes gazing out into the night.

In the distance she could see the palace standing tall well above the trees that surrounded her home and the walls protecting the city. She had never truly stepped foot into the city nor had she ever even stepped foot beyond the forest's edge to gaze directly upon the gates guarding the city itself. Her parents had been adamant about her remaining at home while her nanny, governess and mother took charge in instilling within her all the knowledge required of being a lady.

Soon she would venture there, to that towering palace of gold that glowed brightly in the distance. Its golden towers seemed to shine with an otherworldly light when touched with the silver of moonlight. Soon she would take her place there; the very one that had been decided for her since her infancy. Her parents were well placed in Asgardian society, particularly within the palace court—her mother being a hand maiden to Queen Frigga and her father a Captain of the guard. Their presence within the palace had always made Fiore question her absence from the court. It all the stranger to her—even more so considering the fate that awaited her.

All her life it had seemed as if she had been born and bred to end up there. It had been decided in her infancy when she had been oblivious to the decisions being made for her. It did not matter if it was what she chose or wanted for herself even when she became old enough to realize what those decisions met for her personally. It was a business deal, a transaction to be made and completed.

Her parents loved her, of that Fiore had never had any doubt. Even so, when she had reached her teen years and began to question her life—her inability to venture beyond the forest, to visit the city, her future role in the palace or even the power that coursed through her without rhyme or reason they told her nothing. She had never understood anything and her parents seemed unable to give her the answers that she sought.

The only answers of life beyond the forest she had even received were the stories the boy had once told her. Fiore smiled at the memory of her strange mysterious friend. It had been several years since he had last appeared before her.

She was eleven years old on that particular day when she had once against snuck from the confines of her home to venture alone into the woods to explore. Without her parents or governess there to reprimand her Fiore freely exulted in her magic, marveling at the beauty of each frozen fractal she could create with frost and snow. Distracted by her own enjoyment of the beauty of her magic a smooth voice interrupted her solitude startling her. So startled by the unexpected voice a burst of snow shot from her fingers settling over him with his own startled 'oomph' with the unexpected weight of the snow on his shoulders. Her reaction had been well warranted. After all it wasn't a normal occurrence to find an unfamiliar face wandering so far from the city, let alone a child.

Although, taking a moment to examine the strange boy Fiore figured him to not be much older than herself but his tall lanky form made him seem far less a child. That same tall lanky but developing muscular form made it necessary for her to tilt her head back in order to meet his eye.

His emerald eyes watched her as keenly as she watched him, almost more intently. His searching gaze somehow made her all too aware of how odd she must look with her wild red hair and its natural white streaks covered in ice and snow or her mis-colored eyes of gold and green. Much to her profound embarrassment she felt a faint tint of burning red across her pale cheeks at his annoyingly composed perusal of her person. It did not help her embarrassment that she could not deny how impossibly handsome the older boy was.

Fiore marveled at the deep rich raven shade of his hair that contrasted so greatly against the natural paleness of his skin. But it was his eyes such a deep shade of green that when reflecting the light of the snow and seemed to turn a eerie shade of teal blue that she marveled at. The intensity of his gaze seeming so beyond his years left her weak kneed.

It wasn't until she realized she had been staring at the attractive boy that she forced her attention on to other things- like his presence there.

"What are you doing in my woods?!" she had childishly demanded her ire only rising when the boy merely laughed at her.

"Your woods?"

"Yes," she stubbornly insisted crossing her arms over her flat chest in a childish gesture of stubbornness.

"These woods are of Asgard are they not?" he questioned, a smirk curling mockingly at the corner of his pale lips.

"Yes," Fiore replied suddenly uneasy of where he was leading their conversation but even so refused to back down.

"And Asgard belongs to a king does it not?" he went on questioning her and beginning to circle her as his eyes continued to watch her each and every reaction.

"Yes," she replied again more steadily now in her pure drive to appear strong and undeterred by his questioning. "But I live here," Fiore shot back as if that answered everything. "And I know for a fact you do not," she added for good measure.

The boy laughed coming to stand still directly in front of her as he once more forced her to tilt her head back in order to meet his gaze.

"Do you now?" he asked clearly enjoying getting a rise out of her.

"Who are you?" Fiore demanded refusing to continue buying into his ribbing only to merely receive sober laugh in return.

"No one of importance," the boy sobered ever so slightly as he answered.

Even at a young age Fiore was no fool and could recognize evasion when she saw it. To many they may not have noticed his slight pause before he had given his answer. Even in wearing civilian clothes she could see that his outfit was still of great quality, telling her that he was at least of some importance- somewhere- where ever he had magically appeared from.

"Your magic is quite beautiful," he suddenly spoke clearly attempting to avoid the direction she had begun leading the conversation.

Normally, Fiore would refuse to let her questions go unanswered but the sweet sincerity she heard in those few short words left her speechless.

"Watch this," he smiled taking advantage of her speechlessness.

And with those words the boy had sent her snow dancing in a small blizzard before forming into a burst of colorful butterfly wings that fluttered around them like a whirlwind. Any attempts at appearing sober disintegrated. Fiore laughed in delight as the delicate silken wings tickled her cheeks as the tiny creatures flew past while a single one landing atop her head.

"Beautiful!" she squealed in delight as she attempted to catch one of the winged insects in her hands before they disappeared into the sky.

"Not many would think so," was the sober straight answer she received.

All the delight vanished from Fiore's face instantly as she turned back to the boy, all the beauty of the butterflies suddenly forgotten. The handsome pale yet dark features were no longer smiling or joking but instead set in a look of dark foreboding, a darkness that seemed impossible for someone as young as he was. Their gazes met, understanding instantly so much more about each other than they had perhaps ever shared with another.

Looking at him in that single instant, Fiore felt an undeniable connection to this nameless boy.

That had been the first day she knew she was not alone.

Fiore fell out of the long ago memories smiling ever so slightly at the pleasant emotions they stirred within her. The boy had been her first real friend- the first person to seem to openly accept and encourage her magic. Their first meeting was not their last as they met several times after that, playing and practicing their magic, unseen within the sanctuary of the forest. For years they met in secret yet not once had he shared his true name with her. At first Fiore had been able to ignore the not knowing yet as she grew there became no denying she had the ever increasing desire to know him more.

She knew of his power. She knew he was incredibly smart and gifted in academics. She knew he was trained for battle but lacked the pure drive of a warrior. She knew his favorite book and color. She knew he had a brother and was often seen as an outcast amongst his family. She also knew he enjoyed tricks and was a fairly gifted liar- a skill which much to his annoyance seemed oddly ineffective on her when he had attempted to pass off his name as Fenrir and she had boldly stated he was lying.

It was his eyes that gave him away. His whole body could lie and his lips and mind but his eyes held a kindness that could not be belied by tricks and falsehoods. He had spoken many times of his family and she could hear the bitterness dripping within the words of a boy who only wanted to be seen by those surrounding him. Yet even as he would speak the words Fiore could see the clear love and longing that was there in his eyes just as clearly as she saw the pain that lingered there when he would claim to feel indifferent to the very indifference he was shown.

Even without knowing his true name Fiore accepted that if only to continue spending time with this strange yet fascinating boy.

As a child she had harbored a rather intense crush on the mysterious boy and as she grew she had begun to attempt to gain his attention- for him to see her as something more than the child she no longer was.

She could still vividly remember one such attempt that had ended so horribly her dignity simply wished her to forget. She had tried in vain to wear the rogue and colored shadow on her eyes as her mother and other ladies of the city did.

It had been all to impress him.

Instead upon his arrival for their usual meeting she had looked more like a palace jester than a elegant Lady. His laughter had brought tears to her eyes her as stiff shoulders shook in the effort not to cry. As if realizing her upset he had quickly sobered and kneeled down in front of her.

"I much prefer natural beauty," he spoke kindly removing the misplaced make up with a simple wave of his hand.

With those words Fiore felt her heart flutter wildly- or perhaps it had stopped all together- she was unsure as her entire world focused on 'him' in that moment. That day he had brought with him the most beautiful shawl she had ever seen. The shawl was made from the softest cotton she had ever felt its deep purple hue rivaling the purple shades of sunset.

"A gift for the birthday girl," he smiled holding out the delicate fabric to her as her fingers reached out to trace the nearly invisible yet intricate design emblazoned around its edge. In the light of day Fiore could see the small shimmer of purple thread that created the pattern of individual snowflakes. The thoughtfulness of the gift nearly left Fiore breathless. Added the thrill was that he had even remembered the date after her off handed remark several weeks ago.

It truly was beautiful.

"I am not a girl," Fiore reprimanded even as she took the shawl from him and wrapped the delicate fabric around her shoulders like a cloak.

"Excuse me," he chuckled indulging her with a whispered, "My lady."

Fiore saw it again that day- something new gleaming within his emerald eyes. Like a spark of hope lighting within the dimness. Yet, just as quickly as it had appeared it once again blinked away.

That had been their last meeting. She'd been sixteen, nearly the woman that she had demanded to be called. Fiore could still remember her excitement wearing the new dress her mother had made for her- a deep shade of blue with purple trim at her request after 'he' had off handedly made mention of how well those colors looked on her. She had taken special care to wrangle her wild hair into a lady like coiffeur and draped the shawl he had gifted her around her shoulders keeping it in place with a jeweled ice crystal pin at her right shoulder. However, the excitement had quickly vanished as the day wore into night and there remained no sign of him.

The next day she returned to wandering the forest hoping he would show and every day following for the next week until finally she accepted that for whatever reason he would no longer appear. If she had not known him to be real his disappearance from her life as suddenly without their seeming to be a reason would have left her questioning the reality of him. Yet, she knew him with her entire soul. She had listened to him as he had listened to her. He had been her nameless friend and she had been his. Fiore knew him to be real.

That was also the night that she did not speak of to her parents. It was the night when in anger and sadness at being left behind by the only friend she had ever known her emotions carried away her powers, unleashing them with an uncontrolled fury on the surrounding vegetation of the forest. The night became pitch- even the stars and moon and disappeared from existence. The shadows of the forest melded together into one, creating a blanket that wrapped around her like a cage, suffocating her.

Darkness surrounded her- filled her- suffocated her. It frightened her.

Once her tears had been shed and she forced herself to control her shaking body the darkness seeped away, becoming night once more- shimmering stars and all. Whatever that power had been it had not been the only uncontrolled happening of that night. With the darkness under control Fiore had diligently ensured that every ice crystal had melted away as to not leave any sign of her outburst behind for her parents to possibly find. There was no need to give them yet another reason to keep her locked inside.

That had been the one and only time her normally well controlled power had gotten out of hand.

As she continued to watch the world outside her window the shadows created by the moonlight danced across the grass Fiore began to feel a sense of certainty that soon she would find her answers. Her finger reached out lightly skimming the glass of the window. The instant her skin touched the glossy surface frost blossomed across the glass, the pure white frozen fractals gleaming brightly in the silver glow of the moonlight. Anyone who looked closely at the frosted pattern would see the image of the rainbow bridge and the faceless men who still haunted her hazy memory.

Whatever the dream was telling her—the message that even now seemed to keep itself from her—it was drawing closer. Of that, at least, she was certain. And she was even more certain that she would find it there- in Asgard.

With one last deep sigh Fiore turned away from the window and returned to her waiting bed. Even as she pulled the soft cotton sheets around her body her mind continued to whirl with the questions that had never been answered, anxiously awaiting the answers that she felt drawing ever closer. Before finally drifting back to sleep Amora saw the unseen face once more the dark yet pale features seeming oddly familiar to her sleep laden mind.