L O K I

What is she doing out here?

That frustrated thought fueled Loki with more adrenaline despite the long battle. The fight had drawn on endlessly as soldier after soldier poured into the village that he was defending. Weariness pulled at his movements and stole from his agility. But he could manage the constant combat alongside his friends, knowing that Amora remained hidden among the safety of the forest.

Many years had passed since Loki had come to terms with his feelings toward her, and he still remained extremely protective of the sorceress. It had comforted him that she was away from any intense combat and surrounded by countless elven archers.

But now she was here, about to be blown skyward by one of the stray Accursed soldier that he had gone to finish off. After conjuring the shield, Loki quickly struck down the gunman. Turning back to Amora, he demanded, "What happened to staying in the forest?"

"These people needed help!" she quickly responded before crouching to face a frightened woman. Loki almost rolled his eyes at Amora's reckless actions but stopped when he saw the she-elf's pregnant belly. That was what had inspired his friend's urgency.

A sharp pain abruptly seared his arm. Spotting his assailant, Loki was able to dodge the second dagger thrown his way before counteracting with a similar technique. As the first attacker fell, the prince quickly turned to face the handful that had followed. He needed to give Amora enough time to help the elves and the coming child.

As the other Accursed soldiers approached, he conjured several clones as a distraction. The first few were easy to kill, but weariness began to overwhelm the adrenaline that had spurred him on. Loki's movements began to slow, losing their power and severity. A heavy blow knocked him to his knees and he looked up to see the large elf prepare for the killing strike. But, fortunately, the only movement that the towering soldier made was a slight jerk. Loki quickly rolled out of the way as the stricken warrior fell to the ground; an axe protruded from his back.

"Do you require assistance, my prince?" Volstagg's overly ceremonious question filled Loki with relief as the Warriors Three quickly dispatched the remaining Accursed.

The prince opened his mouth to thank his friend but a new sound made him stop. A small cry emanated from behind, and his heart softened at the sight that met his eyes. Amora sat with her shoulders hunched, cradling a small bundle. The tenderness in her gaze and grip as she handed the innocent child to the mother erased the woes of the battle from Loki's mind. He quickly approached and lowered down next to her; she did not hesitate to lean all of her weight on him.

"Is it over?" she asked quietly as he wrapped Loki arms around her.

He scanned the scarred field around them. The last of the Accursed soldiers had fallen and the weary victors were beginning to help the remnants of the village return home.

Looking back at Amora, Loki saw that relief and pride had replaced the pain in her eyes.  The struggle was over.

* * *

A M O R A

The normally quiet healing room had a new energy in its atmosphere. However, while the healers' movements were quick as they treated the injured, they were not frantic. Normally, Amora would watch in awe at their synchronicity and skill, but now she sat in a daze. The day's events played through her mind over and over as a healer tended to her abrasions.

The elven realm.
The Accursed army.
The battle.

The innocents.
The blood.
The death.

The elven archers.
The Warriors Three.
The child.

The baby. Amora's thoughts always stopped there and, despite the great fatalities, that one child held her focus. She could barely suppress the smile of pride from bursting on her face. Grinning in a room full of injured would be undoubtably inappropriate.

But how could she not feel elated in some way? In a place filled with death, she was able to bring forth a new life.

Feeling something brush her arm, she turned to see Loki sit beside her. Without saying a word, he gently took her now bandaged arm to examine it. "You should have stayed in the forest," he said in a low voice.

Amora started to open her mouth with a quick retort but lacked the energy to start an argument. She simply rested her head on his shoulder. "I know," her soft voice was barely heard over the noise of the healing room, "but I could not just sit by and do nothing."

She could hear and feel Loki's heavy sigh as his shoulders rose and fell limply with it. Countless healers continued to bustle about the room, tending to the wounded. Amora could not help but compare such women to the soldiers that she fought alongside.

Soldiers go into battle in order to protect those they have sworn to protect. They fight to maintain peace. They kill to save lives.

Such a delicate balance lied between the two aspects of war. But where did she fall in it? Where did she want to be?

Realizing the gravity of her thoughts, Amora took a deep breath. "I wish to become a healer," she said abruptly, somewhat surprised by the firmness in her own voice.

Loki shifted to look at her and she mentally cursed herself for not thinking before she spoke. What if he is unhappy with her decision? They had spent years on the battlefield together. Would he consider her decision cowardly or traitorous to their friendship?

Amora straightened up to face him and the words rushed out as she explained insistently, "We fight and kill the enemy to protect our people," She then thought of Faradei's earlier insistence to remain in the forest, "but we must not ignore the wounded in order to fight. That defeats the purpose of the battle. I wish to save lives, Loki. What better way is there for me to do so other than this?" Having spilled out her thoughts, Amora felt the temporary fire inside of her die down. But as she stared at the prince, awaiting his rebuke, he gave no facial or verbal response.

His silence filled the weary sorceress with dread until it was broken by a soft and relieved chuckle. "I would much rather you be in the healing room than on the battlefield, Amora." Her shock from Loki's initial laugh immediately turned into indignation at his comment. Did he dare doubt her ability in combat?

Obviously seeing his mistake, the prince instantly attempted to fix his blunder. "I do not speak in terms of your ability but of your safety. You may witness death in these halls but you will not have to face it yourself. And that thought comforts me more than you could know."

The brunette smiled softly at his words. However, before she could respond, a new presence interrupted their conversation. "My prince, you are injured!" Hearing the familiar voice, Amora looked up and stiffened. It was Vanna--the woman from the festival. The blonde--the healer--gave a coy smile as her eyes travelled from the prince's face to the slash on his arm. Her fingers moved purposefully slow as she examined the minor wound, drawing closer to Loki

"I think it is only a minor abrasion," Amora said blurted out, "It should be easy to mend."

Vanna's blue eyes were like ice as she asked in mock innocence, "Oh, are you a healer?"

This made Amora's blood boil but the sorceress' sharp tongue had no response to give. The blonde only nodded with a satisfied smile at her silence, gaining the desired reaction, before sending a bright smile to Loki. "I will go fetch some bandages for you."

Amora watched as she walked away. Turning back to her friend, the sorceress was caught off guard when Loki abruptly grabbed her hand and green light filled her vision. The glow faded to reveal his quiet chambers. Breathing a sigh of relief, she carefully took her friend's arm to mend the cut.

Amora could feel Loki's eyes on her but kept her gaze focused on his arm. "Are you sure you still want to be a healer?" She frowned at his uncertainty in her resolve, but it disappeared at the smirk on his face.

Rolling her eyes at his pointed comment, Amora then met his gaze firmly and said, "Yes."

Vanna's words had been frustrating but also true. Amora was just a sorceress, not a healer.

Not yet.

* * *

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