NOTE - I'm so sorry for the late chapter - again. All I can say is I received several writing prompts in the real world, and they've taken up far too much of my time. If all goes well, there should be one final chapter of this story after this one. Good thing Natasha's there to save the day and 'pick up after you boys', as usual.


28 Balancing the Norns


Amora strode straight to her rooms to wash off the moss and sap from the forest of Alfheim. With swift strokes she brushed her long, golden curls, twisted them into a braid over one shoulder, and tied a ribbon (an early gift from Sif) around her neck. She changed into a white shirt and black leggings made from the skins of bilgesnipe – the shield-maiden had always admired her in fighting attire.

Not bothering to glance in the mirror, Amora went to find the shieldmaiden. Lady Sif sat in the war council chamber, bent over a long scroll. Amora's heart twisted as she watched Sif bite her lip, pick up a quill, and scratch something out on the paper – a soldier's name, perhaps, or an addition to a list of cannons.

Amora crossed her arms and waited in the doorway. The motion made Sif glance up. Instantly she flung down the pen and thrust back the chair, which clattered onto the red marble tiles. "How long have you watched me?" she demanded.

"I could watch you for eons," Amora admitted, "but as it happens, this time it was only a moment."

Those firm lips parted before Sif seemed to recall herself. "We should not be together here," Sif said in a low tone. "Both of us know how it will end."

Amora darted forward, sank to her knees in front of Sif, and raised both hands. "Be my lady," she said. "I have been foolish, and flighty – altogether me, in short – but I will not leave here until you promise to be mine." When Sif opened her mouth to speak a wave of desire overcame Amora. She moaned and pulled Sif down on the floor into a hot, sweet kiss. The touch of Sif's tongue on hers made her gasp, and she whispered, "I want everyone to know we are lovers. The Allfather will have to change the laws regarding our marriage."

Sif broke apart from her. "Marriage!"

"You look so young," Amora murmured. "Mighty and wise, and so powerful, but your cheeks are those of a girl, rounded and so soft under my touch. Wed me, Sif, and be mine until our bones crumble together in Valhalla." A red haze seemed to descend over her vision when Sif licked into her mouth, tasted lips and palate. Amora wanted to remove Sif's armor there and then, to bend her over the very council table where treaties had been signed and glories won for Asgard and have every inch of Sif's creamy skin. She wanted breasts, hips, and slender legs wrapped around her waist, locking her against Sif's little mount. She wanted to lick it, to watch it spurt.

With a sob Sif pushed her away, and Amora landed on the marble tiles. "I love your freedom, your joy in everything. I can't – I can't capture you like a singing bird and watch you die in a cage. If only you knew how it kills me to say these words, like a knife sliding between my ribs."

Amora twisted to her feet, leaned against the table, and crossed one booted leg over the other. "I expected you'd say something silly and noble like this, since you're so filled with knighthood and the courtly arts. But make no mistake…" She bent and pushed her head so close to Sif's she could taste the mead on the maiden's breath. "You shall be mine. I will not rest until it is so."

One fluttering wink, and she left Sif staring after her. Pleased with what she had just accomplished, Amora danced back to her chambers.

She hadn't seen the table of Norn stones since Natasha went missing. Some of the servants had moved it beside Amora's cabinet of curiosities, where she kept objects that had caught her interest in different worlds – shells, feathers, the shrunken head of a king. What a bastard he was. Amora flicked his left eyehole with one careless fingernail. The bone made a dull clunk, and she laughed.

The clothes hanging on hooks in her wardrobe were dusty from disuse after her long sojourn on Alfheim. Amora considered changing into the gown Sif admired the most, but if everything went well there would be no need for clothes at all between their bodies. Her gaze fell on the Norn stones, still lying in complex patterns when she sought the pattern to bring everything into balance. The answer had eluded her that day, and she had lost her temper.

Since then much had happened: her love affair, an end to war, and the desperate parting with Sif. Of course she had traveled to Alfheim with Natasha, but the journey was a mere distraction...

Amora made a noise in her throat and approached the table. In Alfheim the dwellings had been round rooms in trees, all separated but ultimately connected by limbs and leaves. It was a novel way of living, one she had quite enjoyed when she wasn't longing for a prolonged tumble with Sif.

With a distinct click, everything fell into place. Amora saw the Norns could keep their separate entities but tie together. There was a complicated equation for their exact placement on the board, but she could discover it if she worked like a fiend.

Forgetting her closet, the king's skull, and even Sif herself, Amora flung herself down in front of the board. Eyes wide, she counted the stones, created a test pattern in her mind, and saw it would fan out perfectly in a widening fractal spiral resembling the growth patterns of leaves and rings inside a trunk of a mighty oak, thousands of years old.

Yes, at last she knew was what was missing – a tree. It would have to be enormous, but Amora knew physical size meant nothing. What really mattered was power. The branches of the tree would have to support Alfheim, Jotunheim, Helheim, even Asgard itself.

Her fingers flew over the board, adjusting weights and counter-weights. The magnetism and chemistry as well as corresponding magic had to work together… but she could do it. All she could see were the Norns and her expanding creation, branches and leaves to encompass everything.

She didn't know how much time had passed when she finished. Amora staggered back from the table, thirsty and exhausted.

A strong hand caught her arm, helped her to the bed. "Life," Sif whispered in her ear. The shieldmaiden waved at a tray on the sheets and poured a glass of wine for Amora. "You just made life happen. I crept into your room and watched it from the shadows – it was like staring into the face of Valhalla."

Amora sighed, drank, and ate a sliced fig Sif held out for her on an alabaster plate. "It is wonderful," she agreed. "The best thing I've ever done. It will connect all the realms, and keep them in balance at the same time. There's just one final step…"

Her words stopped as Sif plucked the glass from her fingers and kissed her deeply. Their mouths slotted together as though they had never been apart. "I wage war and death," Sif whispered, "and here you are making your own little universe."

"It's not quite finished yet," Amora insisted. "I'll need to watch the tree over the next few moons, and I could use your sword."

"What will you call it?" Sif held up another fig and teased Amora's lips with the sweet flesh.

Amora bit the fruit and considered. "Maybe we should name it after Thor's father. It would please the Allfather to have his family immortalized."

"Odin?" Sif snorted and drank some wine out of Amora's cup. "Might as well name it after his horse, since the former king spent so much time in the saddle."

She couldn't wait any longer. Although she was exhausted, Amora cupped Sif's face. "I want to spill this wine between your breasts and thighs so I can lick it from this soft skin," she growled. "But there's no time to spare – we have one last step before everything I just created falls apart." Gently she turned Sif's chin so they both faced the table of Norn stones. "Do you see?"

Sif sucked in a breath. The heavy wood vibrated, and the Norn stones picked up the motion. They rose in the air and hung, waiting, for Amora's next move.

"If I can't find the answer, the entire universe will fall apart," Amora declared.

"You will find it," Sif said.

"In truth, I already know what it is." Amora sighed and let her hands fall from Sif's slender waist. "But it involves love, the trickiest move of them all."


When Svaðilfari called for her, a delicious smile curling his proud lips, Natasha didn't mention the dead bird. The thing was hidden in a small chest behind her bed, and the mere thought of it made her feel as though ants crawled beneath the surface of her skin.

Her lover raised her hands to his cheek, bright blue eyes hidden behind fluttering lids as though he had what he felt. "I spent all afternoon thinking about you," he admitted. "It was difficult to believe we truly lay together, after I have desired you for so long. The memory was enough to bring me to the edge."

Natasha drew him into her room, slid her arms around his neck, and tipped her head back. "It really happened. The ache between my legs is proof."

"Natasha!"

She laughed. Making him lose his icy calm was addictive, and she looked forward to doing so as often as possible. He had proved the depth of his passion again and again, and she wanted to find new layers. "Live a little, Svaðilfari," she taunted. "We only go round once, you know."

"Hm. I plan on three times at least, tonight."

She pushed him away, held him back with one arm. "Did you just make a joke?"

Svaðilfari pulled her back to his chest so swiftly Natasha nearly lost her breath. "I've prepared a place for us in the woods. The horses are ready."

"Okay, Mr. Romance. Lead on."

It was pleasant not to have to think for a while, after all the drama and heartache of the Loki affair. Natasha suspected Alfheim was a stolen interlude, but she had learned to seize pleasure where she found it.

Svaðilfari led her to the waiting chargers, a black and a chestnut, and winked. "Will we race?"

"Are you kidding me right now? I'm not taking on someone who is part horse himself."

"Only the good parts." Svaðilfari stood behind her and buried his face into her neck. She purred and leaned against him.

The elf froze, his entire body going as stiff as granite. One of the horses tore at the ground before rearing up and screaming. Svaðilfari let go of Natasha's hips, went to the horse, and caught the steed's bridle. He spoke a few words she couldn't understand in a low tone and, after a few more plunges, the horse quieted. Natasha saw the chestnut was still uneasy, showing white around its eyes.

"Maybe we should put off the ride," she began.

"Something has changed." Svaðilfari stepped back from the horse and raised his chin. "The realms are in a new alignment – it's a force I've never encountered before. The horses can sense it in the stones under their hooves."

Natasha frowned. She couldn't feel anything, but ever since she had left Loki alone in Asgard, her emotional paralysis had been a permanent condition. Only Svaðilfari's presence in her bed had made her experience something other than crushing black heat inside her skull. "Is it dangerous?"

"The new alignment is not, no. I think we can travel to the other realms more easily now. But there is more." Svaðilfari cupped her chin and looked into her eyes. "A hidden fear, something you keep from me."

She stared back at him. "The birds. They've been following me since I first escaped from Jotunheim."

He sucked in a quick breath. "They say the king of Jotunheim uses ravens as his spies."

Natasha turned away so he wouldn't see her anger. Spies – it was just like Loki to follow her even when he was busy with ruling a country. And other things. "One flew in my window when you left me." Her voice was flat. "It fluttered in my hands and died there."

Svaðilfari's hands were gentle on her neck. "This stabs me to the bone to say, Natasha, but I think you will have to go to Jotunheim. This new alliance along the spheres will help you travel…" His words died out and he spun her so they faced each other next to the stamping horses. "It would please me greatly if you would return to Alfheim."

The promises she meant to give were never spoken as Svaðilfari pulled her tighter and held her against his broad chest as though he never wanted to let her leave. Tucked under his chin, Natasha nodded. "Do we have time for one last fuck?" It couldn't hurt to ask.

"Come back to me very soon." He thrust her away from him and turned towards his horse, bending so his face was hidden in the long, black mane. It was like wrenching off a piece of herself to leave him, to go back to the tiny bubble where they had lain together for the first time.

Natasha gathered the small bundle of things she had stored there, including the body of the raven. She walked out of the room and refused to look back, as her feet found the accustomed path back to the botanical gardens in Brooklyn. It was easier not to confront Svaðilfari. To say goodbye and have to leave him alone with his horses, the man she had ridden like a stallion but never kissed, would make her ache even more inside.