Amora wasn't lost, and she wasn't a helpless damsel, and she didn't need anyone to rely on, but no one could see that with their tunnel vision and overwhelming blind spots.
All except Loki.
He could tell right away that she was just fine on her own, and she knew that he knew it, and the whole dynamic of Loki revolved around knowledge. He thrived on it, and grew eager in the presence of mysteries, and yearned to learn and grow and simply better himself. Amora had no axis she turned on, but slowly, she revolved around Loki. He was her sun and moon and stars, her bright moment in the darkness, her friend.
His knowledge became her knowledge, his secrets endowed to her, and she grew along with him, learning just as he learned and loving just as he loved. She loved the night because he watched the moon with this close kept desire, and she admired the snowflakes upon the ground because he scooped them up within his palms and stared down at them with a youthful, mystified smile. She loved the color green because he was permanently swathed in it, fine cloths and armor of emerald as bright as the depths of his ivy eyes. She loved to run her hands over things, relished in the sensation of it, because he'd absently carded his fingers through her golden hair, smiling as he watched something off in the distance, as if comforting her was instinctual to him. She buried herself in the bed sheets because she had so long slept beside him in his chambers, curled up at his side as they both dreamed of far off adventures and unreachable places.
So, when Loki glanced expectantly down at her, magical tendrils snaking from his fingertips, she willed her hands to do the same, and learned a new technique each day, forever Loki's obedient pupil, his eternal best friend.
And when she reached up to push his unruly hair from his eyes, he caught her hand and gazed at her for the longest time, the saddest loneliness written deep within his eyes, and she felt the instant urge to snuff it out somewhere far in her heart and far in the back of her mind, and she leaned forward slowly, languidly pressing closer and closer until the space between them was nonexistent, her lips captured within his own as she wrapped her fingers around his hand, the candlelight dancing in waves of shadow cast upon his pale face as his heart pounded in tandem with hers.
Amora had never been lost, and she had never been lonely, and she had always done just fine, but Loki became her other half, and a moment spent without him was a moment that she was futilely grappling for purchase in an ocean of darkness.
Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;)