The conversation with Rona haunted him. Before he met her, the thought of mortals dying had little effect on him. It just happened, a fact of their lives as inferior beings. But when he imagined Rona, lifeless in his arms, those radiant eyes dimming and fading away, he felt cold panic creep across his chest. He had only just found her and he could not put words to what he felt for her, but he knew that watching her die, losing her...that would change him irrevocably.
That thought moved him to invite her to the club on an autumn afternoon, before the employees came in to work. When she arrived Loki was standing in the middle of the dance floor, in his shirtsleeves, and she stopped for a moment, looking at him with suspicion.
"What are we doing?"
"You need to learn how to protect yourself. You may not be able to avoid these Midgardian diseases, but you can defend yourself against other threats." He came toward her, sliding her coat off her shoulders, her hair cool as it brushed against his hands.
"And how am I going to do that?"
He smiled, laying her coat on a barstool before picking up the daggers he had earlier placed on the bar. He held them out to her, the gold insets on the handles glinting in the light. "I am going to teach you to fight."
She didn't move, her eyes clearly saying he might be a little mad. "Won't that be...dangerous?"
He flipped the knives around, holding them by the blades. "These are blunted. They can still cut you, but they won't wound you seriously." He handed her one, and started to circle around behind her as he continued speaking. "My brother believes that to win a fight, you must be stronger than your opponent." He stopped in front of her. "He is wrong." He held out a hand, gesturing slightly with his fingers. Rona hesitated and then stepped forward, her knife slashing through the air, his illusion dissolving as the blade sliced through it. "You must be smarter." Rona turned to find him still behind her, smiling. "Now. Shall we begin?"
She shrugged, her fingers playing lightly with the edge of the blade. "I've never imagined myself as the sort of person who participates in knife fights."
Loki stepped forward, his voice low, eyes locked on hers. "Think of your mother. If her disease had been tangible enough to battle against, don't you think she would have done it?"
Her eyes glittered, and she pressed her lips together until the edges were white. Then she came at him, her first moves clumsy and haphazard. He blocked them easily, sidestepping, his knife occasionally tapping her arm. But the speed with which she learned surprised him, her focus extraordinary as she watched him counter her blows and adjusted her strikes accordingly. He had expected her to be milder, to hold back; but as in everything else, she challenged him now, forcing him to press back harder. The harsh sounds of their breathing and the clang of metal against metal echoed in the silent room. Then there was a sharp gasp and Rona fell back, her eyes dropping to the shallow wound on her arm. Loki held his breath, waiting for her to call an end to their sparring. But then her gaze met his and she smiled.
Her next move came shockingly fast, a twisting, spinning blur that had him falling back, his dagger dropping to the floor. He came to an abrupt halt as he felt the cool steel of her blade against his neck. He chuckled.
"Very good." His eyes slid sideways, down her outstretched arm, catching the small smile that played across her mouth, waiting for the exact moment when she relaxed her guard. Then his fingers closed around her wrist, forcing her arm down and away from him. She tried to pull away, but he spun her, as if they were dancing, catching her other arm and pinning her against him. He smiled as he easily removed the knife from her hand. "Almost good enough."
He could feel her heart beating against his chest, fast and wild. His own pulse picked up as he held her, listened to her heavy breathing. He dipped his head to kiss her neck.
"Loki. Why are you doing this?"
He frowned. "What?"
"Why do you want to teach me to fight?" She turned her head toward him, her face so close he could see tiny flecks of gold in her eyes. "Why does it matter to you?"
The thought of her broken and bloody floated through his mind again. He shook his head, his hands tightening on her arms. "Does it not bother you? Your own mortality?"
She looked away, smiling softly. "There are so many things in this world that I want to see, to experience. The pyramids in Egypt, the Mayan ruins. The Northern Lights. And if I died without doing any of that, then yes, it would be disappointing." Her eyes met his again, holding his gaze with an unblinking intensity that made him catch his breath. "But if I died tomorrow, I would know that I have loved a lifetime's worth." She smiled. "And I would be satisfied with that."
His pulse accelerated even more, pounding in his throat and making it hard to breathe. "Rona, don't..."
"I've never met a man like you, anyone like you. And yet somehow I feel as if I've always known you." He pulled away, shaking his head, but she kept talking, her words coming out in a rush. "Have you ever heard Plato's story of soulmates?"
He glanced back at her. "No."
"The story said that humans were made with four arms, four legs, two faces. They were strong, strong enough that they could have conquered the gods. So Zeus split them in half, and they were forced to wander the world for the rest of their lives, searching for the other part of themselves." She stopped, waiting for him to say something, but he only frowned. "And if they find each other, then they're whole. They're stronger together than either one of them alone."
"And you think that's us?" He laughed, the sound echoing in the empty room like the crack of a whip. "Rona, that's impossible. We are not the same, we can't be two halves of anything!"
"I'm not saying I believe the story. But do I think that there is one person out there for everyone that is better for them than anyone else, that makes them better?" She took a deep breath. "Yes, I do." She shook her head, turning away and plucking her coat from the barstool. "But you believe what you want. You tell yourself that you're teaching me to fight because you have nothing better to do."
Loki sighed, watching her walk away from him. He knew without question that what she said, this notion of soulmates, was ridiculous. But he couldn't explain the way she seemed to read his mind, the feelings that flooded him when he was around her. And when he wasn't. He shook his head. They were both ridiculous.
"Rona." She turned, halfway to the door, and he only hesitated an instant before crossing the room toward her. "I don't know what I believe." He slid his hand through her hair, fingers cupping the back of her head. "And I only have one explanation for why I called you here. I want you safe." He leaned in, making sure that he had her full attention, that she understood his meaning completely. "As long as I'm alive, I want to keep you safe."