The Victory

One

 ((A/N: This is the sequel to 'The Sacrifice' and "The Challenge", it's highly recommended to read those first before reading this or the story won't make sense.

TW for this story: adult language, graphic intimacy, possible verbal abuse, torture, branding, trauma survivor, healing journey, bdsm dynamic, graphic violence, gore, violence. Throughout most of it. So... consider this your warning for the whole story!!!

Also... PSYCH! Y'ALL DIDN'T REALLY THINK THAT WAS IT, DIDI YOU?! To make up for tricking you, here's the whole third part to the story, in one go – do feel free to love and comment on each chapter 😉))

In the midst of the joyous celebration of Thor and Namira's wedding in the Great Hall of Asgard, a sudden turmoil had risen. Artemis, a friend of Namira, revealed that Namira has gone missing and a mysterious scent of Asgardian blood filled the air. As Thor frantically searched for his bride, a storm of anger and panic erupting from him, Ares, along with a select group of gods from both the Greek and Norse pantheons, embarked on a mission to find Namira.

Loki's illusions attempt to hinder their progress, but Ares sees through the deceit. In the inner sanctum of Asgard, they confront the damaged Loki, revealing a shocking discovery as he laid there injured and barely alive, bleeding out, signalled towards a distant portal.

Ares, sensing Loki's desperation, questioned him softly. With a flicker of remorse in his gaze, Loki indicated the portal. The gods, realizing the severity of the situation, prepared to step through. Thor's eyes flashed with anger and terror as they entered the unknown realm to rescue Namira from the clutches of an unseen adversary. Namira's fate was literally in the balance.

In a distant part of the mortal realm that had left her chilled to the bone, Namira found herself bound by golden chains. These were no ordinary chains; they were forged in the divine fires of Olympus, a creation of Hephaestus himself, known for muting the powers of any god they ensnared. Ares had told them about them, but in a far less nefarious manner of use.

Namira's abilities were stifled and even her connections with the ones she'd been bound to were severed as she struggled against the unyielding chains.

The air crackled with a suppressed energy as Namira strained against the golden shackles. Her attempts to summon the power within her and reach out to her close-knitted Gods were met with frustration. The golden chains seemed to mock her, each link an unbreakable barrier between her and everyone else.

Namira's eyes glowed with determination as she summoned all her strength, trying to channel the er power through the chains. Yet the golden links held firm, refusing to yield to her desperate efforts. She could feel even her connection to Yggdrasil slipping away with each passing moment, leaving her isolated and vulnerable in the mortal realm.

As Namira continued her struggle, a haunting laughter echoed in the air. The sound cut through the silence like a blade, sending shivers down her spine. Namira's gaze darted around, searching for the source of the malicious amusement that taunted her in her plight.

From the shadows emerged Aphrodite, the Olympian goddess of love and beauty. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and a sinister smile played on her lips. Namira, weakened and chained, glared at the goddess with a mixture of confusion and defiance.

"What amusement do you find in my predicament, Aphrodite?" Namira demanded, her voice filled with a hint of anger.

Aphrodite chuckled, her laughter echoing like distant thunder. "Oh, dear Namira, it's not every day one gets to witness the mighty slut of Asgard brought so low. You thought you were the only one who could stir the pot of divine affairs, but I have my own allies, sweetling and from the looks of it, they outrank yours."

Namira's eyes widened with realization as the truth unravelled before her. The laughter was not solely Aphrodite's; it was the malicious delight of unseen forces. The Furies, relentless avengers of the Olympian pantheon, whispered dark suggestions into Aphrodite's ear, urging her to take action against Namira. Aphrodite leaned in, her voice dripping with venom. "The Furies seek vengeance, and I have decided to oblige. Your apples won't save you now, my dear. The bonds of Olympus will keep you at bay, far from your precious realm."

Namira's struggle intensified, fuelled not only by the desire for her own freedom but by the realization that unseen forces had orchestrated her downfall. As the laughter of Aphrodite and the whispers of the Furies lingered in the air, Namira's determination to break free grew stronger, pushed onward by a newfound resolve to face the challenges that lay ahead.

She wouldn't be bested by this blond goddess of love, not to some petty jealousy Namira didn't even understand.

Namira had offered Aphrodite apples to replenish, only two, but she'd known Ares had granted her one too, wanting her to be strong as a goddess of love in a world of chaos.

Namira laughed to herself, what an illusion. She could've kicked herself for not recognising the risk. She had read about Aphrodite's petty acts of jealousy and the words the Goddess had spoken to her strongly echoed this sentiment. She hated that she couldn't reach out to Thor, hated that this witch of a woman had ruined her wedding day.

Her breath quickened, a symphony of frustration echoing through her laboured exhales.

The metallic taste of anger lingered on her tongue as she gritted her teeth, the sound of grinding enamel a percussive accompaniment to her building rage.

The radiant glow of Namira's divine aura, once a symbol of her connection to the Tree of Life, flickered erratically. Veins of light pulsated beneath the surface of her skin, a manifestation of the divine storm raging within. Her voice, a melodic echo of power, transformed into a resonant growl.

Each word carried the weight of her frustration, reverberating through the boundless void that surrounded her. The very air seemed to tremble in response to the wrath that emanated from the captive goddess.

Namira's struggles became more primal, fuelled not just by physical exertion but by the relentless surge of emotions. The rhythmic clinking of the golden chains, a stark contrast to the thunderous beat of her heart, echoed through the desolate space. It was a symphony of defiance and determination, a symphony that grew louder with every passing moment.

Her once-regal posture now contorted with a ferocity that transcended the divine. The shackles that held her, crafted by Olympian artisanship, felt the brunt of her wrath. Namira's hands, encased in the golden restraints, clenched into fists that trembled with the might of her suppressed power.

The ambient light surrounding Namira shifted, taking on an ominous hue that mirrored the storm brewing within her. It was as if the very essence of her anger painted the surroundings with a palette of unrestrained fury. The air crackled with the energy of her building rage, a palpable force that sought release in the form of liberation.

She'd escape this new torment, she'd trap Aphrodite in one of her own and deny her any restoration while she did. Aphrodite would suffer. She'd even die, if Namira had her way.

TBC...