Chapter 6: Amora

After my triumphant battle in the arena, I found myself whisked away to the grand halls of celebration. The atmosphere was electric, with roaring fires casting flickering shadows against the walls and the scent of roasted meats filling the air. At the center of it all stood the imposing wooden throne of Odin, a silent sentinel presiding over the revelry.

Thor and his companions ushered me to the central table, where a servant promptly filled our horns with mead, the golden liquid shimmering in the firelight. As I raised the horn to my lips, I could feel the weight of tradition and expectation bearing down upon me. This drink symbolized not only my victory in battle but also my transition into manhood.

"Here's to you, brother," Thor exclaimed, his voice filled with camaraderie and pride. "Your first drink as a man."

With a mixture of excitement and apprehension, I took a hearty gulp of the mead, its potent flavor assaulting my senses. At first, it was like fire coursing down my throat, but as I continued to drink, its warmth enveloped me, filling me with a sense of exhilaration and euphoria.

Raising the horn high above my head, I drained it to the very last drop, a triumphant roar escaping my lips as I slammed the empty vessel to the ground.

"MORE!" I shouted, my voice echoing through the hall, a rallying cry that was met with cheers and applause from all around.

Amidst the revelry, Thor leaned in, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"You had me worried there for a moment, brother. I almost thought I'd have to send a bolt of lightning at that giant's face."

I chuckled, the adrenaline of battle still coursing through my veins.

"I'm glad you held back, Thor. Sometimes, it's not about fighting with brute force but finding out who you truly are."

Thor grinned, clapping me on the back with a hearty laugh.

"I'm glad you found out before you died. Here's to discovering our true selves, even in the midst of chaos and battle."

As I hungrily devoured the meat on my plate given to me by Hogun, the conversation around me continued to flow. However, Fandral's words pulled me back to reality, reminding me of the battle's toll upon my body.

"I should take a look at that wound later, my Prince,"

Fandral remarked, gesturing towards my hand. His concern was genuine, and I realized I had been too preoccupied to notice the injury. Glancing down, I observed a small burn, a testament to the raw power I had unleashed during the battle.

Fandral's reminder sparked a realization within me—I still lacked control over my burgeoning abilities, much like Thor before he had wielded Mjolnir. I needed a focus, a conduit for my powers to prevent such accidental harm in the future.

Lost in my thoughts, I was jolted back to reality as the gates of the hall swung open, revealing a black-haired teenager clad in armor adorned with golden horns. His arrival brought the revelry to a halt, all eyes turning towards him in curiosity.

"What does a man have to do to get some mead around here?" he quipped, his casual demeanor contrasting with the solemnity of the moment.

With a warm smile, I rose to greet my brother, embracing him in a tight hug. Despite our differences, Loki was still family, and in times of celebration, old grudges were set aside.

"Brother, I heard of your victory in the arena. Not bad,"

Loki remarked with a smirk, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"I really feel for not having seen it."

Taking a seat beside me, Loki joined in the festivities, his demeanor tinged with a hint of restlessness. Sensing his unease, I sought to lighten the mood, turning the conversation towards his recent training in Alfheim.

"So, Loki, tell me about your time in Alfheim. Are the elves as dull as they say?"

I inquired, hoping to draw him into conversation and ease whatever burden weighed upon his mind.

Loki replied with a knowing smile, his words laced with teasing anticipation. "The training was quite the bother, but as for your concerns, you'll find out soon enough when you're sent there yourself. Anyways, I know you're looking for someone to help with your new invention, brother."

It took me by surprise how he knew something that only three people know.

"How do you know that?"

I asked, puzzled by his cryptic knowledge.

Loki chuckled, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"Information is a precious thing, brother. Apart from our father and Heimdall, no one has more than I do in Asgard."

"Sometimes I forget that Loki is the God of lies and deception,"

I mused silently. During his first fight in the arena, he somehow caused the beast to fall into a trap and die. How'd he do that? Only Odin knows.

"How much do you know?"

I inquired, curious about the extent of Loki's knowledge.

"I know you created something with high potential, but you need help to take the first step,"

Loki replied cryptically.

"I need someone with high talent in magic who must be trusted,"

I explained, wary of entrusting my invention to just anyone. The consequences of its misuse could be dire.

Loki stopped to think, his expression thoughtful. Few people in Asgard fit these criteria.

"You're lucky, brother. I just remembered someone perfect,"

Loki announced, a spark of excitement in his eyes.

Eager to learn more, I leaned in closer.

"Who?"

"She just arrived in Asgard. She was the apprentice of the Queen of Norms until she was banished for some hidden reason. But one cannot deny her talent for magic. I hear she only loses to the queen of standards and Odin in talent."

"She sounds promising, but that brings up the question, why was she banished?"

"That nobody knows. Some would say it was because of the queen's envy of her talent. She doesn't seem to have anyone to rely on after she was banished," Loki explained.

"Where do I find her?" I inquired, eager to seek out this mysterious mage.

"I hear she spends most of her time in her lab. You can ask the guards for the location afterward,"

Loki suggested, his tone tinged with intrigue.

I nodded, absorbing Loki's words with cautious optimism. The prospect of meeting such a renowned mage with a mysterious past held a certain allure—a chance to forge an alliance that could shape the course of my endeavors.

But before I could dwell further on this newfound opportunity, Thor's booming voice shattered the quiet conversation.

"Hey you two, stop whispering like two old ladies! This is a party!"

he exclaimed, thrusting another horn of mead into our hands.

With a hearty laugh, I joined in the revelry, the weight of responsibility momentarily forgotten in the joyous atmosphere. As Thor urged us to drink in the name of the gods, I raised my horn high, the golden liquid glinting in the firelight.

"Our brother has finally earned the right to call himself a God,"

Thor continued, his jovial tone echoing through the hall.

"That calls for a celebration! Let's drink!"

Loki, ever the master of wit and charm, seemed to embrace the festive spirit,

 a playful gleam in his eyes as he raised his horn in agreement. And so, caught up in the infectious energy of the moment, I drank deeply, savoring the camaraderie and laughter that filled the air.

The next day, I woke up feeling groggy and disoriented, the events of the previous night a hazy blur in my mind. Surveying the scene around me, I noticed several figures sprawled on the floor, remnants of the wild revelry that had ensued.

Thor, Loki, and their companions were nearby, still sleeping off the effects of the festivities. But beside me lay a woman I didn't recognize, her features obscured by the shadows of the room.

As I rose to my feet, a soldier approached me, his voice cutting through the fog of my thoughts.

"Prince Baldur, the All-Father has summoned you to his chambers," he announced.

With a nod of acknowledgment, I made my way to Odin's chambers, a sense of anticipation coursing through me. Whatever the reason for my father's summons, I was ready to face it head-on.

Entering the chamber, I found Odin seated at his desk, his expression inscrutable. But as his gaze met mine, a rare smile graced his weathered features.

"Congratulations on your victory, my son,"

Odin greeted, his voice filled with pride.

"You have made our family proud."

"Thank you, father,"

I replied, returning his smile with a sense of gratitude.

"As you know, it is tradition to bestow a weapon upon a warrior after their first victory. However, due to the unique nature of your powers, we must take a different approach,"

Odin continued, his tone serious.

"We will commission a weapon personally forged by the king of the dwarves, one that can withstand the power of your abilities,"

Odin declared, his words carrying the weight of tradition and expectation.

My heart swelled with pride at the honor bestowed upon me. To have a weapon crafted specifically for my use was a testament to the faith my father had in my abilities.

"When will the weapon be ready, father?"

I inquired, eager to wield a weapon worthy of my newfound status.

"It will take a while, unfortunately the King of dwarves is busy forging another request of mine" replied Odin

"(another request , could it be the Destroyer? A forged armor of Uru imbued with magic, Odin once used it to safeguard his vault. In the comics, the Destroyer was created to combat and even slay cosmic beings like the Celestials. Its ability to store vast amounts of divine energy grants it immense potential. Perhaps I could seize control of it from Loki, who may wield it in an attempt to harm Thor. Having such a formidable armor under my command could prove advantageous in facing formidable adversaries.)"

"Father, how much longer until the king of the dwarves completes his work?"

"Years, my son."

Feeling a sense of urgency despite the prolonged wait, I express my dilemma to my father. "I have no prey; my research still demands completion. With your permission, father, I may leave."

"You can go son"

Determined, I rise and set out in search of the rumored witch who holds the key to my endeavors. The journey proves arduous; I traverse numerous locales, encountering few who possess knowledge of her existence, let alone her identity. After tireless inquiries, a helpful librarian directs me to a hidden research laboratory nestled within the depths of Asgard's esteemed School of Science and Witchcraft.

As I descend into the basement, a curious amalgamation of a mad scientist's laboratory and a morgue greets my eyes. Glass jars containing preserved body parts of various creatures line the shelves, while dusty appliances and beakers filled with colorful substances clutter the space. At the center of the room, a figure cloaked in a cape hunches over a table, engrossed in their work.

Approaching cautiously, I reach out and touch the figure's shoulder, causing them to startle and tumble to the ground, revealing a face of striking beauty. With golden hair cascading around her shoulders, piercing blue eyes, and delicate features, she is undeniably the most captivating woman I've ever encountered. I find myself transfixed by her presence until she attempts to rise.

Offering my assistance, I help her to her feet, though she regards me with a mixture of apprehension and uncertainty.

"Are you here to send me away?" she inquires, her voice tinged with a hint of fear.

Perplexed by her reaction, I reassure her.

"Why would I do such a thing?"

Her gaze drops, betraying a sadness that resonates deeply within me.

"I don't know," she murmurs. "I'm accustomed to people casting me aside."

Moved by her vulnerability, I introduce myself.

"I am Baldur Odinson, and I sought you out."

Upon hearing my name, she recoils in fear, taking several steps back.

"Forgive me, prince," she stammers.

"I did not realize it was you. Please, do not punish me."

Realization dawns upon me as I recognize the woman before me.

"You misunderstand, ma'am. I come seeking your aid. But first, may I know your name?"

With a resigned sigh, she responds,

"I am Amora."

A surge of disbelief courses through me. Could this truly be her? Amora, the Enchantress? One of Thor's most formidable adversaries, She had an unrequited love for Thor which took her to the dark side. Not that she was a good person before that. She is one of the greatest users of magic in the nine kingdoms known for ensnaring the hearts of mortals with her beguiling beauty. The unexpected turn of events leaves me pondering the implications of seeking assistance from one who has long been regarded as an enemy of Asgard.

( This Enchantress is not yet that crazy lover of Thor, maybe I can change the future a little )

"I heard that someone with great talent for magic was here, so I came to ask for a favor, but I didn't expect to find someone as beautiful as you," I remarked, my words genuine as I admired her presence.

Amora appeared taken aback by my compliment, her cheeks flushing slightly as she lowered her gaze in humility. "I am not pretty," she murmured softly, her tone filled with self-doubt.

"I beg to differ," I countered gently, offering her a reassuring smile. "Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder, and in my eyes, you possess a rare and captivating beauty."

(I should tread carefully, lest my words be misunderstood or misconstrued.)

"I wanted to ask for your help, but before that, may I ask you a question?" I continued, steering the conversation back to its purpose.

Amora shook her head, still unable to meet my gaze, her demeanor fraught with a mixture of shame and sorrow.

"I wanted to research a different type of magic," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper, "but the queen did not accept this and banished me from her kingdom."

I could sense the weight of her words, the pain of rejection and exile evident in her voice. Despite her reluctance to divulge further, I pressed gently, seeking to understand the nature of her forbidden studies.

"What kind of magic?" I inquired, my tone soft and understanding.

She hesitated, her voice barely audible as she uttered the words that betrayed her deepest secret. "Seduction Magic."

"Why did you want this type of magic?" I asked, my curiosity piqued by her revelation.

Amora's response was tinged with vulnerability as she confessed, "The queen once said that beauty and charm are the only things that can hold a person. I didn't want to be alone. Only that."

The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, offering a glimpse into the loneliness and desperation that had driven her to seek such forbidden knowledge. It was a reminder of the complexities of desire and the lengths one might go to in pursuit of acceptance and companionship.

"I don't mind you researching a different kind of magic," I assured her, understanding the pain of rejection all too well. "In fact, I'm doing the same, so I want your help."

Amora's reaction was unexpected as she visibly brightened, her previous apprehension giving way to a genuine smile. "How can I help you, my prince?"

I proceeded to outline my plans, detailing the need for precision and accuracy in engraving the rune onto my body without compromising its magical properties. As I spoke, Amora seemed to enter a state of deep contemplation, her mind already racing with possibilities.

"This is really smart, it can work out," she concluded after a moment, her eyes alight with excitement. "But we need to create a machine to engrave the rune on your body without losing the magical properties in a hundred percent accurate way. A single millisecond of the wrong centimeter can create an unexpected reaction."

"Then, will you help me?" I inquired, my tone hopeful.

"Of course," Amora replied without hesitation, her eagerness evident. "I've always loved working on magical research. The chance to recreate a new kind of magic is something amazing. Should we start now?"

I considered her proposal but suggested an alternative that would offer more resources and comfort. "Why don't we go to the palace? I'll set up a room for you beside mine, with all the magical and scientific gadgets you want. What do you think?"

Amora's expression shifted, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty crossing her features. "Are you sure everything is fine? I mean, me in the palace?"

"I am a prince, am I not?" I replied with a smile, extending my hand to her.

With a smile that held the promise of newfound possibilities, Amora shook my hand. "Then, Amora, pleasure to meet you."

"No Prince Baldur. Pleasure is mine," she responded warmly, her eyes sparkling with anticipation for the journey ahead.

If you're able to, I'd greatly appreciate your support on my Patreon page, located at patreon.com/Lonely_Translator. As a token of my gratitude, patrons gain access to up to 15 chapters of exclusive content