2 | 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃 ▹ LOKI LAUFEYSON

xxxi. the guilty

L O K I

Where is she? Loki thought, restlessly pacing his cell.

Typically, Frigga would have visited by now with news from the battlefield. For several weeks, it was the same thing: she was fine and the battle was waging on. Sure, there was more information about the movements of the battalions and the number of fallen soldiers, but Loki did not care about that.

Loki stopped his pacing and huffed out a sigh, running a hand over his face. Something has happened.

Unable to pace any longer, he sat down on the sofa, running his fingers through his hair. The fear of the unknown was eating away at him. What could have possibly happened?

Then, someone cleared their throat. A sigh rushed out of Loki as he stood, rubbing his face again. "Finally. I..."

He looked up and stopped, only able to stare.

There she stood--Amora--weary but perfectly unharmed.

Without saying a word, Loki crossed over to her and wrapped his arms around her. He closed his eyes and pressed his face into her hair. She smelled like dirt, sweat, and iron. But she was here.

He felt her slowly wrap her arms around his torso and relax into him with a sigh. Her fingers curled around the material of his shirt.

Reluctantly, Loki pulled away, but he did not fully release her. But when he got another look at her face, he frowned.

The weariness of battle and work was to be expected, but her gaze was low and distant. The grime on her cheeks was marked with tearstains. She would not look him in the eye.

"Amora," he said carefully, "what's wrong?"

She closed her eyes and her jaw tensed for a moment before relaxing as she opened her mouth. "Theoric is dead," she said, her voice hollow, "I couldn't save him. I couldn't save the others."

"Oh." Loki could not say any more. He felt the corner of his lips quirk up, but he fought it back down. Theoric was dead; he was gone. But Amora was hurting. So Loki cleared his throat and said, "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not," she said. Her lip almost lifted in a knowing smile as she finally looked up at him.

"You're right," Loki said, "but I am sorry that you are in pain."

Amora huffed and drew away from his completely. "That's the thing, Loki," she said in unexpected exasperation, "When I first realized that...that Theoric was dead, I...I was relieved."

Tears glistened in her eyes as she opened her mouth, but no words came out. She could only shake her head.

"How could I feel such a thing after learning that my betrothed--a good man--was dead?" Her voice cracked with the strain.

"And-and I could hardly stand being out there," she went on, motioning a hand towards the other side of the gold barrier, "watching the other women fall apart or go motionless at the sight of their love's corpses, and have everyone treating me like I'm some porcelain doll about to break. Like I just lost the love of my life."

A deep ache panged from Loki's chest. He could understand; feeling guilty over the very emotions that you felt. And underneath her quiet exterior, Amora felt emotions fiercely. He opened his mouth to speak, but she went on with a new wave of despair.

"And our last words were unkind..." She buried her face in her hands. "I'm a horrible person."

"What?" Loki scoffed, absolutely dumbfounded. He took Amora's wrists and pried her hands away so that she could look at him. "You are not a horrible person," he said firmly, "You..."