1 | 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 ▹ LOKI LAUFEYSON

xxvii. the exchange

L O K I

Loki heard it before he saw it. His friend was never one to scream like a damsel, but he recognized her loud cry immediately. It cut through him like a knife.

Whirling around, he saw Thor striking down the last troll and a healer rushing to Amora's fallen figure.

"Amora!" he shouted, racing to her side.

Norns, don't let her die.

The sight of her nearly overwhelmed him with panic. A chain was wrapped tightly around her calf, cutting harshly into the skin. She writhed in pain, letting out sporadic cries. Scooping her up in his arms, Loki could see that the other healer was saying something but her words were mere noises to him. All that mattered was Amora.

Norns, please don't let her die.

Rushing into the halls, he gently laid her on the nearest bed. The healer--Emilía, he thought- nudged him aside as she carefully began to remove the chain. At first giving it the barest glance, Loki looked back at the weapon. It was coated in Amora's blood, but underneath it emitted a soft and eery glow.

Now, her cries had died down to moans and whimpers. However, while they had lost there volume, they still held their agony. Loki leaned down to stroke her hair and whisper in her ear.
She shifted to face him but her writhing continued; her breathing became more frantic as more tears streamed down her face.

"It's alright, Amora," Loki said shakily, "I'm right here."

The whimpering continued but her eyes were no longer squeezed shut. Her eyelids trembled, struggling to part, but managed to allow a small slit to open up. But Loki was not met with her warm brown pupils; instead there was only blackness, as though a dark cloak had covered her eyes from the inside.

"Eir, help!" His panicked voice cracked.

The head healer appeared almost immediately. "Step away, my prince," she said, carefully pushing him away.

"But--"

"You have done all that you can, son," Eir interrupted sharply, but there was a sympathy in her eyes, "now let us do what we can."

Loki stood back helplessly as the healers began tending to Amora's leg. They used countless rolls of bandages to wrap the wound and attempted every kind of test to see what was wrong with her. She continued to moan and writhe but gave no reaction to outside stimulus. Whatever was happening to her was coming from the inside.

Once the healers had finished tending to her physical needs, the prince took his post at her side. But he could only bury his head in his hands. It tore at his heart to see her in such pain. And even without the threat of blood loss, there was still the possibility of dead.

Norns, please don't take her away.

Suddenly, Amora stilled, drawing Loki away from his despondent prayer. He jerked his head but the sight did not gift him with relief. It only filled him with a suffocating dread.

She was perfectly still; all tension was dismissed from her body. But her eyes remained black and emotionless, giving the serene expression on her face an ominous look. Reaching down a trembling hand to touch hers, Loki was shocked by the coldness that he felt. Normally, he was the cold one.