3 | 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐃 ▹ LOKI LAUFEYSON

x. the order

A M O R A

"So is this what it actually looks like?" Loki asked as he circled around the trunk of the giant tree within the Hall of Yggdrasil. His eyes trailed over the branches shining with starlight and holding the Nine Realms together.

Amora looked up from the scroll in her hands and regarded the replica.

"Not really," she spoke, "The real one doesn't...sparkle like this one. For the most part, it looks like an ordinary ash tree, just bigger."

She ran a hand down the trunk of the tree. This one was much too flashy to be the real Yggdrasil. The Norns would have balked at this gaudy imposter; the wealth and pride of Asgard bled through this tree. It may as well have been dipped in gold.

"There are runes all over it. Marking all of our fates. All of our debts." She beamed up at Loki. "I learned how to write them."

"And these runes set the future?" Loki leaned against the tree, his head cocked to the side.

Amora pursed her lips. "Not exactly. They help balance our fate, but loosely. We're not perfectly bound to it, but it will come into fruition one way or another."

She propped against the tree, her shoulder brushing Loki's. "The Norns always say that it's a chaotic universe, making it difficult to maintain order, but Skuld says that one day someone will help them bring order back. Set things right."

A slow smile spread across Loki's face. "And you think it'll be you."

Amora ducked her head, but she could not deny it. "I don't know. The Norns said that they've been waiting for me. I don't know what else that would mean." She shrugged. "We'll see."

She nodded to the scroll in Loki's hand. "Have you found anything?"

He held it out to her, an almost smug smile teasing on his lips. "The crown of Surtur. If that thing is joined with the Eternal Flame, it will unleash fire over the whole realm."

Amora frowned as she took the scroll. "Where is the Eternal Flame?"

"In the treasure room."

Amora's head snapped up. "You're telling me that we keep the key to our extinction in our basement?"

Loki wavered with a small shrug. "It's a very secure basement."

"We'll just have to keep it that way," Amora muttered.

"Well, as someone who has broken into it, I think I am perfectly qualified to secure it."

"Oh, I'm sure you are," Amora spoke.

She shifted to rest her head on his shoulder, soaking in his presence. The feeling of his head settling on hers grounded her like nothing else. It had been so long since they could properly relax together. Now was hardly a relaxing time, with Ragnarok looming over them, but this quiet moment felt like a reprieve from the past decade of troubles.

Loki ducked his head down lower, and Amora tilted her face up to meet him. She felt a shuddery breath leave Loki's lips and tickle her face. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and turned to pull her in his arms. Amora smiled as she nestled into the crook of his neck.

"I'm sorry that I lied to you."

When Loki lied, his words were always cool and confident, the only instances where Loki purposely raised his voice. And he disarmed his targets by maintaining steady and sharp eye contact.

But these words spoken now were soft, barely above a whisper, and when Amora drew back just enough to see his face, Loki looked away.

Amora opened her mouth—the words It's alright hanging on her lips—but she stopped. Because it wasn't. This lie was going to have layers of consequences. She could not say that it was alright. That it was going to be alright.