*Headbutts desk* Worst. Writer's block. Ever. Sucks. So hard.

Maeve stood in the centre of an ostentatious chamber covered with gold silk drapes and cushions, furniture of rainbow crystal, a bed spread with sheets of plush amber velvet and in the very centre of the room an ornate vanity table with a mirror six feet high made of the clearest silver crystal. At the far side there was a balcony with transparent silk curtains billowing in the night breeze. It was the perfect chamber for Amora, who paced around her now; beautiful to the point where it was vulgar, obscene even.

Amora paused, plucking one of the braids in Maeve's hair and tugging on it, wrinkling her perfect nose.

"Ratty things. Honestly, I cannot fathom what a man like Loki sees in a mouse like you," she said, stepping around to the front. "Take off your clothes."

Maeve's mouth fell open as she stared at Amora.

"What..?"

"Take off your clothes. Let us see what we have to work with, hm?"

Maeve's hands closed defensively round her skirt, shaking her head a fraction. The blonde woman turned to look at her, her emerald eyes sharp and cold.

"Do as you are told or I shall have to ask my friend to assist," she said, languidly raising one hand to point out at the balcony. Through the pale curtains the young girl could see the hulking shadow of a man, waiting patiently, statuesque as he balanced the shaft of an axe between two hands. She knew that silhouette, it was the same one that had stalked Freya's envoy when Amora hadn't been getting her way…

Shivering with fear and shame, Maeve began to undo the cord laces of her gown, pushing it off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. Standing naked before Amora, she felt those green eyes roaming over her body critically taking note of every detail, every perceptible flaw, no matter how tiny. She saw a cruel smile twitching at the corner of the enchantress' mouth as she looked at her, her perfect head tilted at such an angle it caught the light to beautifully illuminate her face.

"Skinny. I can almost count your ribs. And all that ink in your skin. You are more like a boy than a woman," she said, her tone mocking. "If you are to be my lady in waiting we shall have to make you presentable. I cannot have you looking like this, it would be shameful."

Maeve risked a glance up through her hair at the Enchantress, mouth tightening. She wanted to slap that smooth, spoilt face and scream that she would never be her servant, but she couldn't. Amora had to be indulged, at least for this moment.

"I think a good wash is in order first of all," the blond haired woman said, beginning to undo one of the girl's braids with rough, pulling fingers.

Brunnhilde stood with her arms folded over her breastplate, cloak of blue velvet and fur swaying at her heels. She looked at Freya with serious eyes, her expression stony, her fellow soldiers lurking behind her and whispering to one another.

"You cannot be serious, my Lady?" the Valkyrie said in a smoky voice, one fine eyebrow arched.

"Deadly," Freya replied. The Goddess was tending to her armour, moulded leather pieces laid out on a table before her. She was treating each piece with wax to harden them, not looking up from the task in her hand.

"But it is declaring war on the Throne, it is treason! At the very best we shall be cast out into the abyss as our punishment. And at the worst… Well, Hela reserves a special place…" Brunnhilde shook her head, clutching her helm in the crook of her arm tightly. "It is madness, Freya."

"No, madness is what is being allowed to occur in Odin's hall at this very moment," the Goddess said calmly. "If we do not take the fight to Thor and the witch then the Allfather will soon die and Asgard with him. Amora has restored the Bifrost now, too. Do you think she will stop at one realm?"

Brunnhilde exhaled slowly through her nose. She knew Freya was right. She had served her for thousands of years now, her judgement was impeccable. Crossing one fist over her chest, she inclined her head.

"We are at your service, my Lady."

Maeve stood before Thor filled with self disgust, Amora clucking over her proudly. Her skin burned where she had been scrubbed roughly by chambermaids until she was raw and pink, eyes still smarting from carelessly sloshed soap as they tore combs through her wet hair while she stood in a scalding tub of water, the enchantress overseeing all with a self-satisfied grin.

She had become a toy for the Asgardian woman, something to dress up and down and flaunt to others. Amora had personally laced her into the several stiff and heavy layers of the gold lace and damask dress she was struggling to breathe in now, the sheer weight of it hurting her back and shoulders. Her hair, ferociously brushed free of braids and beads, was now artfully pinned half up and allowed to coil in one gleaming fat curl over her shoulder, resting on her uplift bosom. Adorned with glittering gems and chains, she felt utterly vulgar, and as Amora had proudly led her to the throne room, she could feel hot tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

Thor rose from his seat slowly, approaching Maeve and taking her hands, giving her a breathtaking smile. She shrank under his gaze, trying to twitch her fingers away from his. The smile was unwavering though and he nodded to Amora in approval as he stepped around Maeve, laying a hand on the small of the girl's back.

"She looks beautiful. Maeve, I am so glad that you returned to us," he said, pressing an almost paternal kiss on her temple that made her skin crawl. "The sooner Loki follows the sooner we can be a family, hm?"

"We?" Maeve whispered, glancing at Amora, who looked back at her levelly.

"Of course. He is my brother. You do not think I would harm him, do you?" Thor said, tugging her to sit beside him on the steps up to the throne.

"I don't know you," the girl said softly, "I don't know what you will do…" The thunder God shook his head, wrapping his arm around her back.

"You needn't be afraid of me," he said.

"Really?" Maeve asked, looking up at Amora. Thor followed her gaze and his warm smile faltered.

"Look at me, Maeve," he said. She turned back to him, feeling Amora's gaze still burning into her. "The last thing I wish is for any harm to you or Loki. You are my family now."

"You put your mother in a cell," Maeve whispered. "Forgive me if I don't hold much stock in your definition of family…"

Thor's eyes flickered for a moment and she felt the severity of Amora's gaze increase, her cheeks growing

warm.

"It is for her own good," he said, sounding as though he did not truly believe the words himself.

"How?" the girl hissed.

"Maeve!" Amora said sharply, stepping closer. Maeve closed her hand on Thor's forearm quickly, feeling the enchantress' impending anger bearing down on her.

"Thor, please, look at what is happening. Where is your father, where is he? Please."

"Maeve, enough!" The blond woman snapped, anger emanating from her in waves, striding towards her.

"This isn't you," Maeve said as she gazed up at him, squeezing his fingers tightly as he held her hands. She could see something in him faltering, some small spark, something real beneath all the swagger. "Please help me. Help yourself."

Then she was being dragged to her feet, Amora's grip on her arm surprisingly strong. She winced, glaring daggers at the enchantress as she hauled her up.

"Apparently your social graces still leave a great deal to be desired," she said softly, her low voice dangerous. "You shall have to learn…"

Thor was rising to his feet, his face a blur of confusion and conflicting emotions. Maeve wriggled in Amora's grip, twisting to look at him, her voice desperate;

"We all knew you as the most benevolent God on Midgard, always. Why is everyone afraid of you now? Think! Pl-"

She was cut off as a sharp hand caught her across the cheek, shock and pain burning her. She clutched a hand to her face as she looked up at the source, white pinpricks blurring her eyes as Amora's lip curled for the briefest moment. Then she looked up at Thor, melting into a smile, her voice smooth as caramel;

"My love, forgive me. I knew she was some wild thing. I brought her only to try and please you but apparently no amount of finery can make her behave like a lady."

Adrenaline making her quiver, Maeve glared up at Amora, feeling an unpleasant dizziness begin to creep over her as she spoke. Breathing through her nose, she hung her head, trying to collect herself.

"The humans were never really worthy of you, do you see?" the Asgardian woman continued, something wicked seated deep in her words. "This one is a prime example. We treated her with kindness and she responds with savagery. You have been too good to them, my King."

Maeve found herself being forced to her knees, made to kneel on the cold marble floor as Amora glided over to Thor's side, running her fingertips over his jaw, coaxing him to look at her, his brow furrowed as though he was struggling to find some thought. The einherjar girl watched as Amora brought her lips to his, bestowing butterfly kisses on him and another surge of vertigo washed over her, making her sway. As she forced her eyes to focus she watched Amora artfully lure the Thunder God back to the throne, a slow, inane smile creeping over his features, his eyes never leaving her as she whispered and cooed to him. Maeve shook her head, trying to clear it, the taste of something sulphuric filling her mouth and as she watched Amora lean over Thor, brushing her cheek over his, it suddenly all slotted into place.

"You bitch," she said hoarsely, "it's all you. All of it."

Amora's golden head whipped around and she strode down the steps, looking down at Maeve with a malicious smile.

"Odin is going to kill you," the girl said defiantly, the magic seeping off the other woman almost causing her to retch.

"You think so?" she replied in a malevolent tone. "Get up."

Moments later Maeve was being steered through the passageways of the palace, leaving Thor behind in a stupor in his seat, lost in his own world. Struggling to keep up with the sorceress' long strides she felt her heart thrumming in her chest, adrenaline buzzing through her as Amora dragged her higher and higher until they came to a great golden set of doors. The Asgardian waved a hand as they approached and they groaned open, a rumble vibrating through the floor as they came to rest against the walls. Inside was an enormous bed and Maeve was thrown down before it, one of her hands breaking the shell of golden light as she tried to catch herself.

"Here is your precious Odin," Amora hissed behind her. "Let's see him raise his spear to me then, hm?"

Slowly Maeve raised her head, letting out a small groan when she saw the hollow faced man lying before her, his frame sunken and grey, his eye patch long since removed to cruelly display the empty socket.

"What have you done to him?" she whispered, closing her small hand around his weathered hand, unable to believe this was the great king she grew up worshipping.

"He is old and feeble," Amora said coldly, pacing around the bed. "He let himself become this."

"No," Maeve breathed, brushing her thumb over the back or the man's hand. "No, this isn't how the stories go. You did this to him…"

"You think your outdated doctrines are true?" the enchantress said with a laugh, pausing at the head of the bed. "Your species pulled them out of the air to make yourselves feel better. This is the truth, what you see now."

Maeve could feel hot tears threatening to spill as she squeezed Odin's hand. This was all horribly familiar, history repeating itself viciously. First Grayson, now this. She bowed her head, sinking into the cradle of light, resting her forehead on his fingers, Amora pacing once more as she spoke;

"Soon I am going to kill Frigga. And Freya. And your dear Loki. I will wipe the scourge from this world until it is perfect, and then, then I shall be able to concentrate on the other realms. Midgard next, I think."

Maeve swallowed, a hard lump in her throat as she sat back on her heels to glare up at Amora.

"All of this to feed your ego?" she whispered.

"To save my people!" Amora spat back, leaning forwards with her hands on the bed to look Maeve in the eye, her face breaking the light. "The Asgardians were the greatest beings in the galaxy. Then creatures like you brought them to our knees. Made them weak, insipid. Soft. It will not do. I am restoring our kind to our true glory, our true purpose; to rule the stars. You and your ilk are a contagion. You must be removed."

"You are completely insane," Maeve breathed, clutching Odin's hand protectively as she held Amora's gaze.

"It does not matter what you think," Amora said calmly straightening up again. "This is the truth of things, how they really are. You can give me your fealty or you can watch me tear Loki's heart from his chest. I do not care which you choose. You are already serving your purpose simply by being here. He will follow you and bring Freya's army with him, neatly into my hands. You've done a fine job, Maeve."

Maeve growled an expletive at the enchantress and Amora laughed, lifting a hand. With a twitch of her outstretched fingers the girl was forced to her feet, some invisible hand clutching her throat, squeezing her windpipe. As she struggled for oxygen she stared at the Asgardian, her vision foggy, pain gripping her head in a vice.

"It's almost time," Amora said softly. "I can feel them stirring, smell the horses. I hold the very heartbeat of this world, it tells me all I want to know. They are coming for us, Maeve, and I will be waiting. You've done so well."

Just before she lost consciousness Maeve was sure she saw pale streams of light rising from the sleeping Odin into Amora, casting a fine golden aura around her that grew brighter as the rest of the world grew blacker.