Months Earlier
Loki knows what he has done. Like a deep cold pit in his stomach, he knows what Thor will think when he realizes Loki is not at the rendezvous on Svartalheim. Thor will think Loki has betrayed him. Again. And for the last time. Thor would never forgive him again. Thor wouldn't have anyone to confide this information to, the realm believed Loki to be dead, killed on Svartalheim by the Dark Elves. No one knew of their plan, not even the mortal, Jane Foster.
Loki moves through the midnight forest of Vanaheim with quiet prowess and a concealment charm camouflaging his body. Loki didn't have time to explain to Thor why he would not be meeting on the dead planet. Why Thor could not know where he was going or that the entire realm was in grave danger.
By now Thor would have begun hunting Loki down.
As Loki runs, the darkness of the forest begins to wane and the brisk chill of morning leaves a fog over the moss covered earth.
His legs ache, and his eyes sting with a longing for the release of sleep. He was only three miles or so from a passage between the realms. It was the remaining secret Loki had kept from Thor so he would not follow Loki when he found him missing. The only way for Asgard, for Thor, to survive would be if Loki vanished completely. He knew what the consequences would be if he failed: exectution or worse. If Amora believes him dead, Loki could defeat her with the only thing he had left against her: surprise. But Amora had to believe him dead, completely. With him dead, Amora would have to look elsewhere for an ally. Loki was her only adversary fit to challenge her, and with him dead, Loki knows she would inevitably become sloppy in her drunken power.
When the dawning light illuminates the forest, Loki crouches inside a rotund hollowed tree trunk. He drapes his cloak across his body and camouflages himself inside the tree. The early morning chatter of birds and hum of insects lulls him to sleep.
Loki wakes within his dreamscape to find himself reclined against a crimson sofa in his study back on Asgard. Stacks of musty, yellow paged books line spackle the ground and tower over his desk. A fire glows in the large fireplace at his side, crackling and hissing. The air is thick with glittering dust from the books and the scent of their parchment is warm in his nostrils. When Loki sits up, he notices a figure in an armchair across him, with long flowing blond hair and blood red lips.
"Hello darling. I apologize for the intrusion, but this was the only way to contact you," she whispers, leaning forward into the light of the fire place. Loki immediately recognizes her heart-shaped face. She wears a golden helm with gilded feathers on either side and equally golden armor of the Valkyries. Odin's most trusted guard.
"Amora," he hisses, a snarl growing on his lips. Amora giggles like a child.
"Like my disguise?" She giggles and shifts her form. Now, she wears a black sparkling dress that clings to the curve of her hips and breasts. "You forget, Loki dearest, just how clever I am. Always a step ahead of you, remember?"
"What are you doing here?" Loki growls, sitting up with his hands gripped in tight fists.
"I could ask you the same thing, love. Just where do you think you're going?" Amore asks, a soft smile playing on her mouth. Loki looks into the fire.
"How did you know?" he asks, watching the flames dance.
"If you were actually dead, don't you think I would know? Like I said: I'm far more clever than you think," she answers. Her bright green eyes twinkle charmingly in the glow of the fire, her lush hair falling around her shoulders. Loki grinds his teeth, a falling sensation taking over his body.
"What do you want from me, Amora?"
"What I've always wanted, dear," she sighs, standing and approaching Loki. As she nears, Loki grows stiff, his body becoming as statue. She kneels at his knees and rests her fingertips on his thigh, tapping them rhythmically. Loki's jaw grows tight and his raven hair falling into his eyes. "Since Frigga's death, Odin has been weakened. Greatly. It could be ours, Loki dear. All you need to do," she says, creeping her fingers up his thigh, "is to join me-"
Loki snatches her fingers before they reached anything interesting, his emerald eyes stone cold.
"My answer, as it has been before, is no, Amora," he says slowly. Amora smiles to herself and rises slowly.
She tips his chin up to look at her, her fingers then creeping through his dark hair.
"Loki, I won't play coy. You have something I need. The last gift Frigga gave to you…" Loki swipes her hands away and stands, becoming much taller than her.
"You know I can't control it," he hisses, moving past her and to the mouth of the fire place, his hands gripping the oak mantle. Amora moves behind him, running her fingernails against his back, making him spin around and grip her wrist. She raises an eyebrow, looking to Loki's grip on her thin milky white wrist. She hums pleasantly to herself.
"Reminds you of all those lovely 'meetings' we've had, doesn't it?" she asks. Loki doesn't move, his breath rising in his throat. She holds his stare for a moment, her brows narrowing. "You've seen it, haven't you?" she realizes, leaning close to his ear, her breasts pressing against his chest and making Loki's mouth go dry as a desert. "The future. You've seen it. Tell me what you saw," she whispers against his jaw, her lips pressing against his earlobe. Loki shivers.
"No," he snarls, pulling away from her, his face darkened. Amora scrutinizes him, her eyes fallen to slits. She was thinking, she was scheming.
"Have you forseen your death?" She asks. Loki doesn't answer. Amor smiles. "No, it couldn't be that simple, could it? It's much more complex…." she purrs, running her fingertips along the desk as she approaches him again. "It's the mortal, Foster." Loki stiffens again and Amora knows she's stuck a note.
"Loki, I am offering you one last chance to join me. Refuse me again?" she chuckles to herself, "I'll have special plans in place for her, that I promise you," Loki closes his eyes, his jaw taut.
"Give me time to decide," he answers quietly, knowing he's beat.
"Fine," Amora's tone has turned pouty, "And when I come to you, and I will, I hope you will have an answer I'll be pleased to hear," she says, touching her palm to his chest. "And if not," she purrs, Loki's fists clench tightly at his sides, "I won't just kill her. I'll slaughter everyone she holds dead, then come for her last. This I promise," Amora growls before turning away from him. Loki watches her leave with a pain in his chest he's never felt before. A burning, aching sensation.
"I'll be waiting, my love."
