~Chapter Twenty~ Unwitting Discoveries
The day that Thor and the warriors returned was the day that Loki finished the puzzle. A handmaid came from his brother with an invitation to a great feast that night in celebration of the success of the mission, and the fact that the dökkálfar were not preparing for war.
Loki did not look at her, his eyes fixed intently on the completed cube as he set it down with great deliberation on his desk.
The girl hesitantly left when it became clear that he was not going to give an answer, and Loki remained in silence, his eyes now closed, resting his forehead against his clasped hands as he leant on his desk.
Without the puzzle to distract him, his mind returned to dwelling on his brother, and by nightfall his throat was thick with anger. The voice had been quelled, however. He sat in his chambers, palled in darkness, seething. It was not until his silence was interrupted by the slowly swelling tide of raucous voices and uproarious laughter that babbled through the night's stillness like a brook through a forest, carried up from a nearby feasting hall that Loki at last stood. He walked out onto his balcony, frowning as the volume of the chatter increased, and leant out over the balustrade. Light spilled out from the rooms far below, and a faint skirling of pipes and fiddles began to mix with the sound of talking. Loki rolled his eyes, frowning.
All he asked for now was peace. A place away from reminders of Thor and his triumph. A place unmarked by his brother and father. A faint smile rose to his face, softening the hard lines of his disappointment and aggravation and he disappeared.
He had been meaning to visit Káta for weeks; ever since he had managed to regain control over himself, in fact. He had missed her company. But then the matter of the mission had arisen, and he had allowed himself to be detained by it, reassured by the fact that she now wore the bracelet, her safety guaranteed. Like a fool he had leapt for a chance at grasping what he had sought for so long without pausing to notice the inevitable pitfall below.
Loki pushed the thoughts away, the rankle of them leaving a metallic taste in his mouth, focusing instead of his warm memories of Káta as he reappeared in her room. He paused, casting about in the darkness which was lit only by the cold silvery light of the moon.
She wasn't there.
His blood beginning to freeze, Loki crossed the distance to Káta's desk on hurried footsteps, scanning it for a piece of paper that might bear a message from her. All he found were half-hearted sketches at various stages of completion, a slew of discarded books, and her usual various oddments.
In his rising panic, he cast about as memories and old fears rose to his mind regarding Spana and her sisters, his guilt rising with the recollection of the promises he had made to himself to keep Káta safe. How could he have done this again? Calming himself with great difficulty, he concentrated his thoughts on Káta, feeling for that part of himself that was in the bracelet. It was difficult, pushing through the barriers erected by his troubles, but eventually, he could feel her presence. The roof. He made to move, but was stilled.
A single tear fell unbidden from his eyes.
With her presence, he felt her sorrow. An overwhelming longing that was not his own filled his heart. A deep yearning ache for old times.
Concerned, Loki disappeared, rematerializing invisible atop the roof. Káta was not to be seen, but he followed the pull of the bracelet, walking lightly across the slopes and gullies of the roofs in a south-westerly direction, his face turned towards the tor of Valhalla.
Eventually, he clambered up the last slope, and across a gulf between two ridges, he saw Káta sitting atop a carving between the western and southernmost points of the halls, gazing out across the city in the direction of the Álfheimr Gate.
Her nightgown was only gathered folds of thin linen, and it streamed behind her in a slight breeze like the wings of a swan. She sat, perfectly still, a pale beautiful statue tinged blue by the moonlight, not seeming to feel the chill of the night's air. The tightness that had been gathering in Loki's chest loosened a little, but at the same time twisted him with a painful wrench.
Káta had not slept that night.
She had lain awake, her thoughts on home and her mother's orchards, until a longing to return had filled her. Even the sound of the breeze stirring her wind chime could not help allay the feeling of homesickness, and she had clambered out onto the roof, walking across the wooden tiles of the roofs of Mærsalr until she had reached the place that brought her closest to home. There she had sat, gazing out across the glimmering city and beyond into the darkness that by daylight was that part of the Plain of Ida that was home to the portal through which she had travelled from Álfheimr when she first came to Asgard. Beyond the portal lay the lush lands of the ljósálfar realm, and in them the Enchanted Forest where her mother's orchards lay.
Though she was by nature cheerful, Káta could not find it in her heart to rally her spirits just yet. She had known even before she had departed the orchards that she would miss her home as much as a mother would miss her babe, and although she had determined not to wallow in the feeling, she would not deny its existence. So it had become her habit to go out to where she was nearest to her home at night, when the hall was still, and most of Asgard slept, and sit in silent longing.
Come morning, she would put her yearning aside, and could be herself once more.
Káta sighed deeply as Loki moved carefully over the wooden slates of the roof until he was on a level with her. Her face was limned with silver and shadows by the moonlight, and filled with an expression of profound unhappiness. Silent tears slipped down her cheeks, though she took no notice of them, their trails gleaming like silver, the drops liquid diamonds that clung to her skin. The very glow of her seemed dimmer than usual.
Loki blinked. It was the first time he had seen Káta look truly sad. He had seen her upset and fearful after the incident with the Nipt Þrír, but any sorrow in her expression then had been a mere shadow of the grief she now displayed. This went deep.
He wanted to comfort her, to stop seeing such a heartfelt expression of sadness and loneliness on her face, but he didn't know how, and even if he had, he didn't even know the reason for her desolation.
A half-formed instinct made him lift his hand to brush the tears from her cheeks, but he faltered and fell back, unsure. He dithered for a moment, his mind drawing a blank on what to do. He wanted to let her know that she wasn't alone, that she didn't need to be, but he wasn't sure whether she would welcome his intrusion on what was clearly a deeply private moment, especially when he had been absent for so long. He cast about, thinking desperately.
Káta's solitude was broken by the burring of wings, and a faint questioning chirrup. She blinked, breaking her gaze towards home, and looked down by her side to where the little bird stood on the roof beside her.
The tiny creature gazed up at her, its head on one side, seeming to ask whether she was all right. A wan smile found its way to Káta's face, and she leant down, brushing the tears from her cheeks, putting out a hand for the bird to hop onto, and bringing it up before her.
"Hello, smár fugl," she said, her voice dry from her tears. "What are you doing here? You should be asleep."
The bird flirted its tail, letting out a brief peep, its intelligent little eyes somehow concerned.
"You don't need to worry about me," she replied with a faint smile, "although it's very sweet of you to." The bird continued to gaze at her fixedly. "I'm fine, truly," Káta said. "I'm just…" she took in a deep breath, "feeling homesick." She looked up and gazed out towards the Álfheimr portal once more. "Sometimes I just need to miss home," she said softly, her eyes still looking out into the darkness.
The bird cocked its head to one side as though it was trying very hard to understand. Then it peeped softly again, and fluttered over onto her shoulder, crawling under the fall of her hair, and burrowing its soft head against her neck for a moment.
Káta smiled. "I don't suppose there's anything you miss, smár fugl?" She asked softly.
The bird remained silent for a long moment, then chirred softly in an assenting sort of way. Then a long quiet stream of twittering was released, almost as though it was explaining a great burden.
Káta nodded, although she had not understood any of it. "We all have things we miss. Often we don't know that we miss them until they're gone, and then it's too late to get them back… I don't think I've lost my mother's orchards. I'll return there one day, once whatever reason that I'm here for is done."
The bird let out a high stream of anxious peeping at that, hopping out along her shoulder, and when Káta turned to gaze at it, all its feathers were laid flat along its body which was stretched out and tense, its gaze anxious.
"Calm down," she murmured soothingly, "I won't leave you behind if you don't want me to. You can come with me." The bird still seemed on edge, however, it's feathered breast rising and falling rapidly. "I don't even know what I'm here for," she explained. "I could be here for decades yet; don't worry about what hasn't happened."
The little bird seemed to calm a little at that, and fluffed up its feathers a little, giving itself a shake. It still seemed somewhat ruffled however, and Káta lifted a hand giving it a gentle rub over its head. The bird's eyelids fluttered with drowsy enjoyment at that, and when she stopped it returned to its prior position by her neck.
"You are a funny little thing," Káta murmured as she turned to face forwards once more.
The bird let out a faintly belligerent sound, burrowing his soft head against her neck once more as it settled down. Káta laughed a little.
"It's just you and me in all of Asgard," she whispered.
The bird cooed sleepily.
They stayed like that for the rest of the night, Káta gazing out to her mother's orchards, the bird asleep on her shoulder.
It's only a short little chapter, I'm afraid, but it's got Little Bird Loki, so that's some consolation :)
I don't think I've got too much more to say about this chapter, although I will warn you that from now on updates will start to be further apart as my inspiration seems to have fled. Still, about six or seven chapters in rapid succession is nothing to be sniffed at.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapterMerry Christmas x
Please do review :)
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