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Summary
“Thor Odinson,” Amora greeted with a catlike grin, waving a hand in the air to shut off the alarms. “It has been a while.”
“Enchantress,” Thor glowered, reaching out for his hammer before realising his mistake and clenching his fists.
“So,” she continued, looking over her nails, “I heard talk that Asgard has fallen. I must admit I’m quite upset I couldn’t be there to see it.”
Thor squared his shoulders, unconsciously moving to stand protectively between Loki and Amora.
“You well know that bringing down the golden realm was, let’s say, an ambition of mine; especially after Odin’s cruel and unjust banishment. Ah well. I suppose taking out what remains of the Aesir will serve me well enough.”