We are born and the tear is
no more than a scratch and
it never scars over and it burns and
it is a star giving off its own light,
the little wound never fades,
the sign of the blood is never erased
- Octavio Oaz, The Poems of Octavio
Chapter 38: Before the Tide
The following day, after a long morning of braiding hair and cleaning weaponry, playing with her magic, and with some name-recording the details of their warriors, Ellie left the hall in search of air.
There was a bustle in the corridors, and she took the opportunity to slip up the stairway to explore the upper floors, poking into chambers piled high with needing and winding staircases littered with tools and supplies. She mapped the castle in her mind in case she ever returned, but something told her there was no point.
Ellie would have passed by the corridor without stopping if she had seen a sudden flash of black and green. She stopped short and peered down. It was Loki, looking up at a tapestry. The great artistry had been hanging for a long time, it was faded in areas and moth-eaten in the corners. Loki stood close to the woven figure of a child with her hand up in the same way as he, holding a glowing orb of purple magic. Loki's own magic glowed blue and then it did the strangest thing. As his hand touched the tapestry, it rippled and turned green. Ellie was afraid the sound of her footsteps would have drawn his attention.
While she hesitated, Loki broke from his concentration and looked back. His eyes met hers, and his face twitched from alarm to recognition. He lowered his hand and the magic was gone. Ellie had much left to do, so she bowed her head and carried on through the castle. A private study. She had no doubt he was preoccupied with some deep thought, as usual. Their next meeting might as well be elsewhere, after last night, she thought it best to let him approach her.
Finding him at supper that evening with Volstagg, she sat down opposite them at the long table. Loki greeted her pleasantly enough, but with a watchful expression. Volstagg gave her a leg of some Alfheimian bird and urged her to douse it in sauce.
"How's the braiding coming along?" She asked, to interrupt the industrious chewing on his part.
"Quite well," answered Loki. She peered at him over her goblet.
"Your magic not troubling you, Loki?" She tilted her head.
"As always, I am in complete control," he answered, narrowing his eyes. "Blessing the beads and braids is tedious when there are thousands of heads."
"You're looking a little green, Loki." She tilted her head. And he felt the firm grasp of magic sounding around her ankle, the pressure was not painful but the threat was there.
"The lord and ladies here can be rather persuasive with the complexities of magic," she said innocently.
The grip of her ankle wound up her leg. It should have been frightening, but a rush of exhibition ran through her.
Volstagg said, "lord and … ladies? You're not fraternising with the Lady Hulda, are you? You keep your tongue silver, Loki." Ellie used her magic to shove Loki's off and he jolted in surprise.
"On the Gods, Loki," Volstagg scolded, having dropped his well-zested roast leg. "Here I am starving on the eve of battle. I expected better table manners..." Volstagg went on for several minutes, complaining about his appetite and how delightful the food here was and how little of it they would have once they carried on with their journey. Loki ate slowly, his cheeks flushed. Ellie kept her eyes on her own plate for the rest of the feast.
Refusing the invitation to sing, Loki left the hall abruptly, leaving Thor to heave a might ballad alone. Though, the righteous brother did not mind the spotlight alone one bit. Volstagg eyed Ellie, surveying her over his freshly filled goblet.
"There's something a boy about him," he said conversationally. "Something childlike and lost all the same. Silvertongue could do with something to hold it back."
"Like Lady Hulda?" Ellie said. Volstagg thought deeply about this.
"Silvertongue is not one to fraternise. He fancies and he teases, but she's not the not the one to cool the devilish tongue."
"I don't find him devilish at all."
Volstagg shrugged the offence off. "I've never meant it in that way. The prince is just a trickster. But as for the fancies of the court, Loki needs a God, not a girl." The pleasant smile on his mouth widened. "You may think our world is complex, but I've seen a prayer do more for Loki than a giggle." The bright eyes flashed as he glanced at Thor. "With war, time is always running out."
Ellie frowned. "Yes, I feel like it is." Before Volstagg could say anymore, she left the table and hurried to her chambers alone. The fire had been lit already, and the curtains were drawn. She poked her fingers through the fabric to watch the field and that fire; that burning pit of dead wargs toasting the edge of the trees.