~Chapter Twenty Four~ Two Lives
After that when Loki was troubled by events in Valhalla, he would come just before night fell, and they would spend the night together talking on the roof, Káta trying to ease out the painful tangle that was knotted up inside the prince. Unused to such methods as he was, Loki initially found it tricky to unlock his tongue about certain matters that ran deepest, but with Káta's gentle patience and instinctive ability to ease the path for him, it was not long before he was able to speak with near freedom of whatever troubled him, although there were certain subjects that he continued to shy away from with an almost violent aversion.
Depending on the issue, Loki was either successfully coaxed through the matter, or would explode and disappear, although when he did he no longer beat his hands until they broke. On such occasions, the next day they would be tricking each other as usual, cheerful and light-hearted – the troubles of the night not forgotten, but the harsh words of anger disregarded. True to Káta's words, Loki felt lighter after their discussions, and the bottled up pain would flood out in an easing relief the more he spoke.
The initial gulf and pain caused by the deprivation of each other's company soothed, they began to settle into more normal routines, for both had duties to attend to – Loki in particular – and their absences had begun to be noticed. From seeing each other nearly all day every day, they gradually reduced the time they spent together to several days a week, Loki appearing whenever it was convenient, and trying to arrange times when both of them were free – Loki having decided that being considerate of Káta's schedule was a good idea, even if the demands on her time were not as important as those on his.
The godly duties that Loki had neglected were taken up once more, and he began to be a dependable presence at table in Valhalla once more. His presence was not resented by those he sat with either, for all were stunned by the manner that the prince now conveyed himself in. It could not be called jovial – Loki had never been jovial – but he was much more like he had been when he was younger; carefree and a good deal more prone to laughter, his trickery taking form in light hearted japes that all could laugh at.
Fastaðr in particular welcomed his return to training with great joy, having heard of the decline in his temperament following his replacement on the mission, and the two of them had celebrated by teaming up and beating every einherjar, Valkyrie, god or goddess that tried to attack them on the training field.
Káta, too, began to be seen a good deal more about Mærsalr, and Rúna, who had missed her friend's company a good deal, plied her with impertinent questions about Loki and what they had been doing, all of which were rebuffed or laughed at. They began to spend more time together, as they had before, and girlish giggling trips around the grounds and various marketplaces of Asgard became more common. Rúna had a particular delight for making eyes at those men who stared too openly at them, often embarrassing the watcher, and sending them pair of them into amused fits of giggles.
The tapestry design which had lain discarded for so long, was taken out once more, and the pattern seemed to practically be making itself as Káta sketched and drew until her hands turned black from the coal.
Fróði began to see more of them, although never together, when it had been a very long break without news from either party. He was not three hundred and seventy six for nothing, however, and had very quickly guessed that their absences from the library had been because they were spending time together. It gladdened him, knowing that Loki was spending time with Káta. Out and away from the frustrations of Valhalla, Fróði hoped that Loki would be able to figure out the problems that always seemed to plague him, and when the prince and Káta began to resume their visits to the library it was not without a certain degree of satisfaction that Fróði saw both of them slightly changed and influenced by the time spent in the other's presence.
Káta, for all her innate cheerfulness, had been stifled by living amongst the nymphs, he knew, and the star-like spark that had always seemed to dance in her eyes when she had first made his acquaintance, and which had dimmed over the years, was back, along with a new and distinctly impish smile and a permanent beaming glow that she seemed to radiate. The change was subtle, but plain to see for the old librarian when he knew her as he did.
The change to Loki however was pronounced enough that even those who barely knew the prince might have guessed that some transformation had overcome him. His conversation seemed sharper than ever, and he laughed more than Fróði had ever known him to, radiating a zest for life as though some internal fire had been stoked and fuelled such that it had risen from a tiny gleaming coal to a joyous great wildfire.
For all their progress, however, Loki was still reticent about those matters regarding his father, although Káta heard enough fitful invective against Thor to know that the matter was more complicated than it had first appeared. In the moments when she dared to push the prince, suggesting that the origin of his particular trouble of the night might lead back to Odin rather than his brother, outbursts were liable to occur, although he had become better at apologising for them.
After their harder discussions, when the matter was either soothed and explained but left for Loki to think over in bed, or left unresolved by the prince's angered disappearances, Káta would lie awake for a little while, stroking the bracelet about her wrist, if only to let the prince know that she still cared and thought of him. The sensations that her actions produced in Loki were soothing enough to lull him into sleep, even after the most trying of discussions, comforted by the knowledge that he did not have to face the black pit that lay inside him in isolation any more.
True to her word, Káta was bemusingly frank with Loki, speaking her mind and thoughts about what he told her, even as she encouraged him to speak without restrictions. Loki was used to saying what he wished in order to execute a trick, but his words were more often than not lies, and he was not used to speaking truths, let alone those that came from his deepest soul. Káta's honesty, however, gave him a platform to build the tentative beginnings of a firmly rooted trust with her, and opened Loki up the way nothing else had, albeit tentatively.
Life apart was not without enjoyment, for each had friends and activity enough to occupy their time and thoughts, but both found moments – idle or otherwise occupied – when they thought of the other and wondered what they were doing, impatient for their next meeting. Loki's reasons to come down and talk began to become steadily thinner and thinner, turning into excuses more than anything else, their transparency obvious enough for an infant to spot, but Káta did not care…and nor did he.
Loki was aware that he might have begun to make a slight fool of himself, but with Káta he rather enjoyed making a fool of himself. Being a fool with her was fun. It made him feel free to do so, and he knew that no matter how much she might ever laugh at him, her laughter was never cruel. Because he laughed with her, and more often than not she would be making just a big a fool of herself alongside him.
Days came where all they would do was be as ridiculous and juvenile as they wished: chasing each other through the grounds of Mærsalr until they became so breathless it hurt to laugh, and could do no more than flop down on the grass, clutching their sides and trying to stem the laughter that continued to bubble up; hiding in bushes and leaping out at unsuspecting passers-by, or dropping the most disgusting things they could find on the nymphs and their companions, nearly falling out of the tree they were hiding in from laughter.
Eventually, the day came when Káta no longer asked why it was that Loki was there, or what matter was troubling him, and Loki no longer felt the need to explain away his presence. He would simply be there, and if he needed to talk, they would talk. It was as simple and natural as water running down a river.
One day, when Káta was executing a truly mess-making search for one particular book that she needed to return to the library, she found the outer tunic that Loki had draped about her shoulders that first night he had come to her on the roof. She paused in her hunt, sitting back on her bed for a moment as she tucked back the curls that had come loose from her hair, the folded tunic in her hands. It was made from well-worn black leather, and lined with a soft finely woven wool dyed Loki's shade of forest green.
In all that had happened over the past few weeks she had quite forgotten that it was still in her possession, but she remembered the moment clearly. It had been one of Loki's sweet gestures that came out of nowhere with no expectation of reciprocation or thanks. They never failed to make a flare of warmth erupt inside her.
That first night after wearing it she had folded up and tucked it away, well hidden in case any of the nymphs decided to snoop through her room (a rather irritating habit they had indulged in early on, but which thankfully had become much less common now), with the intention of returning it to the prince.
She ran one hand over the leather, which was supple and soft with use, blushing at the memory of waking up to be enveloped in Loki's scent, and just how pleasant it had been.
"What have you done to your room?" Loki's bemused query startled Káta enough to make her jump, a squeak of fright escaping her lips as she turned to see him surveying the messy clutter of discarded objects that now scattered her room from his usual place on the windowsill.
"I was – uh – looking for a book that I need to return," she replied distractedly, getting up and carefully navigating her way over to him. "I found this." She held out the tunic for him to take.
Loki gazed down, regarding the tunic in Káta's hands, and then her. "Keep it," he replied, an odd but not unwelcome emotion in his serious expression. Káta frowned in confusion. "You never know when I might need something to change into," he said by way of an explanation, his mouth now widening into a grin, "what with all the water and ink you keep dousing me with."
Káta's expression of confusion transformed into amused exasperation, and she threw the tunic at Loki's chest, winding him slightly, even as they both laughed. "I might just wet you for that," she said, still laughing as Loki tossed the tunic onto her bed.
Loki glanced at Káta with a mock wounded expression. "What? After what I'm about to do for you? That's gratitude for you." He tutted, smirking.
Káta rolled her eyes. "And what exactly are you going to do for me?"
Loki smiled lazily. "What's the name of this book you were looking for?"
"The seventh volume of compiled harp music," Káta replied with faint curiosity, interested to see what Loki was about to do. The god nodded, and with a snap of his fingers the book Káta had named zoomed out from under a bundle of winter furs that had fallen on top of it, and stopped in his outstretched waiting hand.
"To be returned?" He clarified, his eyes alight as they gazed into Káta's surprised but thankful ones. She nodded. Loki's palm below the book jumped, and the volume leapt from his hand, disappearing. "Returned."
"You want to go somewhere, don't you?" Káta asked shrewdly, turning away and beginning to tidy up her scattered possessions.
Loki tilted his head slightly.
"Well I'm not coming until all this is tidied up," Káta replied, seeming to hear the prince's motion rather than see it. Loki sighed.
"I rather thought as much. Stand back." He put his hands out before him, palms down, and then briskly scooped them up, every displaced item leaping up with the gesture. Káta watched astonished as Loki clapped his hands, sending every object flying about her room to its assigned place. She laughed softly.
"Who'd have thought the great Trickster God could use his seiðr for domestic chores," she said, a twinkle in her eye as she glanced at Loki's smug expression. She paced about, her eyes running over everything. "You really do seem to know the layout of my room," she commented, moving to stand before Loki who gazed down at her, still standing on the windowsill.
"Better than you might think," he replied, a mischievous grin crinkling the corners of his eyes. Káta smiled.
"Is this the truth coming from the God of Lies?" She asked with mock astonishment, still smiling. Loki's grin widened as he leant down towards her.
"It is something I have been known to speak, but shh; I can't have everyone knowing." He winked.
Káta chuckled, amused. Loki had been becoming increasingly more playful of late, as though the easing of his troubles was letting him open up younger more carefree parts of himself that would otherwise be locked away. "So," she said, getting up onto the windowsill beside him, "where are we going?" Loki pouted.
"Don't I get thanks for my assistance?"
Káta's smile widened and she looked down, taking Loki's hand in her own before looking up into his suddenly surprised eyes. "Thank you, Loki."
So it's been a while in coming, but here we are! :D The point of this chapter is just to show that despite the fact that they've been spending so much time together, and are coming closer, Loki and Káta do still have lives apart from each other that aren't entirely boring and heart breaking. It's just that life together is better :3
Initially I didn't have this end scenario, which I thought made the chapter boring and too short, so the extra wait has been because I was trying to figure something out, and here it is :D
Anyway, hope you enjoyed it ^^
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