The house was quiet. For a Midgardian dwelling, it was considered grand, but Loki found it chilly and rather too formal even for his own opulent taste. The family who lived above stairs behaved as usual for any group of aristocrats: fussy, prone to temper tantrums and stupid expenditures, and inclined to hold violently long grudges as they had no other occupation to speak of. It was all a bit too familiar. Only the youngest daughter, who had possessed a modicum of sense, had intrigued him, and she was now dead. Those below stairs, though, had a bit more life to them, and one in particular had already caught his eye a few years ago.
Thomas Barrow was almost unfairly handsome for a mortal. He was also given to causing mischief of one sort or another, and that had made him unpopular with most of the others. It didn't help that he was attracted to men in an era and place when that could get him thrown into imprison or worse. While Victoria was now mouldering in her grave, the prudish sensibilities that had been the hallmark of her reign still held sway over most of her subjects. Personally, Loki thought any time so obsessed with ridiculously strict morality was probably secretly more perverse than even he cared to dally with.
On entering the abbey, Loki had chosen to be invisible. The shade of Kemal Pamuk happened to pass him, making one of the maids shudder from an inexplicable chill as he took the opportunity to play with the riotous curls peeping from under her cap. Loki rolled his eyes but didn't bother to give him another thought. Since his last visit, rather a lot of ghosts had taken up residence, many of them soldiers from the recent war who had died during their convalescence in the house. One was a young fellow who never strayed far from a tiny kitchen maid who was struggling to lift a pot that contained a roast nearly her own size over again. Loki took in the scene, then twitched his fingers just enough to lighten the load by half. The ghost looked at him gratefully, but he waved it off.
Finally, Loki found his quarry. Thomas was in the yard outside, smoking, the vapors wafting around his face and almost seeming to caress him, or perhaps that was merely Loki anticipating what the evening might hold. The mortal looked pensive, but then that was one of the things Loki liked about him. He actually took time to think, though his decisions were often far from wise. Just now, he could be plotting an overthrow of the social order or deciding whether to hide frogs in Carson's pockets. Personally, Loki was up for either. He was bored.
It took only a moment to regain his form, then Loki quietly tiptoed up behind him, putting his hands over the other man's eyes. Thomas startled, but there was already the beginning of a smile on those lovely lips.
"Guess who?" Loki whispered just a hair too close to the other's ear, letting the warmth of his breath tickle him.
"Well, now, do I have the pleasure of addressing one Mr. Lewis Smith, Esquire?" Thomas asked, grinning as he turned.
"The same," Loki said, removing his hands.
Though he would have liked to give him a far warmer greeting, he decided to forebear. He'd made sure first that the yard was deserted, but servants were by nature far too nosy for his liking, and he wanted to change the venue if only to protect his partner's safety.
"In town again? You should have dropped me a letter," Thomas said.
"It was a spur of the moment thing," Loki said. "A bit of business here and there that took me fairly close by, and I thought I might pop in. Am I welcome?"
"You know you are," Thomas said very quietly, but he looked delighted.
"Might I ask what that perfectly twisted mind of yours was up to before I arrived? You looked quite deep in thought."
It was the wrong question to ask, apparently, as Thomas's light mood evaporated.
"Pining over someone not inclined to return the favor, I suppose," he said.
"Well, that's stupid of him," Loki said, though he knew he could accuse himself of the same thing. "Is it your afternoon off?"
"It is."
"Might you be willing to spend it with me?" Loki asked.
"I might be," he said, and a delicious flush crept up those pale cheeks.
Loki leaned a little closer and whispered only for his ears, letting the word curl around his tongue, "Illicitly?"
He watched the man shudder and look away, composing himself before saying, "I think that could be arranged. Where?"
"I'll call for you at one o'clock," he said, then added with a warm smile, "I have missed you, and I'm more than prepared to show you how much."
Thomas let one long breath escape his lips, then glanced up at him.
"You've no idea how much I needed a bit of a lift to the old ego, mate," he said.
Loki winked at him discreetly and left, making himself invisible again. The footman never asked how he was able to come and go so quickly, but then Loki could be quite distracting when he wished. Invisible again, he entered the kitchens and sat near the old stove, smelling the roast as it cooked and listening to the cook and the housekeeper pecking at one another while Carson grumbled like an old horse snorting at inferior oats. Loki was only a little startled when he noticed someone sitting next to him and looking at him.
"Sybil," he said, bowing his head slightly to her in greeting.
"Loki," she said in return, and there was no judgment in it. It was difficult to keep his true identity a secret from ghosts, but Sybil in particular had been difficult to fool even in life. She'd always had her wits about her. "Are you here for Thomas?"
"Yes, actually," he said.
"Good," she said, but she looked concerned. "He nearly did himself in a few months ago. Horrible thing."
"What?" he said, stunned. "Why?"
"He tried fixing himself, as though he needed to be fixed at all, and when it failed to work, he went into a fit of despair," she said, frowning. "He seems a good deal better now, but I believe he's been told a few times too often in his life that there's something wrong him."
"There's nothing wrong with him at all," Loki snapped. "He's one of my favorites, truth be known, and to be a favorite of the god of chaos is no small thing."
"Yes, but does he know that," Sybil said, looking at him intently, "or does he think he's merely a convenient pastime for Mr. Lewis Smith?"
Loki regarded her carefully.
"You really were given a very apt name."
"I knew you were going to say that," she said teasingly, smiling slightly. "Anyway, I'm worried about him. He hasn't many friends, or any really, if the truth be known, and during the war I got to know him better when we worked together at the hospital. He's not really a bad sort. A bit prickly, prone to occasional nastiness. But then you know how that is."
She gave him a raised eyebrow and a look that made him clear his throat, uncomfortably.
"Be careful, mortal. You play with fire, so watch that you aren't burned," he said, but there was no real threat in the words since, as usual, he was rather impressed with her.
"I'm already dead, Loki," she said smugly. "I would be rather hard to discipline."
"You sound more like your grandmother with each day, and that is a compliment," he said, grinning.
Sybil returned his smile, but only for a moment as she saw Thomas through the window, snuffing out the last of his cigarette in the yard.
"He's been convinced he's some sort of aberration, so he plays the part, even when it's ultimately going to boomerang back and crack him across his own nose," Sybil said. "He keeps everyone at arm's length that way, but he's far too alone."
Loki watched as Thomas came in the servants' entrance and headed up the stairs to the men's quarters. He spoke to no one, and no one spoke to him. It was like he was another ghost.
"I think I hate this era," Loki said, scowling.
"I rather think the same thing sometimes."
"So why bother to stay?" he asked her seriously. "You're certainly not compelled to be here, unlike some I could mention."
He pointed at Kemal, who was now floating through the kitchen and blatantly eyeing Lady Mary as she handed the preferred dinner menu to the cook, and Loki looked at her as well, curiosity momentarily distracting him. Loki had always wondered what precisely had gone on the night of the man's death. He could attest to a rather long list of conquests himself, practically a library of them, but he'd never had anyone literally die from it, particularly not his very first time out the gate. He wasn't sure whether to be impressed by her or appalled. Still, it wouldn't do to bring it up to her sister, and he certainly wasn't going to lower himself by speaking to the letch, even if he was a handsome devil.
"No," Sybil said, responding to the question he'd nearly forgotten he'd asked. "I could move on if I like, but my child is here, so I have no intention of going anywhere. And there are my sisters. I'm not exaggerating when I say if I weren't here, they'd have enough of a lack of sense to burn the house down."
"I suppose," he said, noticing the same spirit from earlier giving a look of heartbreaking regret at the little red-headed kitchen maid. "Still, I don't see much happiness in staying."
"Oh, Lavinia and I get along well enough," Sybil said. "We play chess almost every day, and she's figured out how to turn on the wireless. I don't know which is more fun: listening to jazz or making Carson's head nearly explode by turning it on and off when no one else is around."
Loki laughed a bit, but he kept thinking of Thomas. He bid her farewell and excused himself, still wondering if her choice was a wise one.
He had an hour's wait for Thomas, and he amused himself by wandering the halls of the abbey. Two nuns were still haunting it, and it was great fun to see them take one look at him and run off, shrieking and exclaiming in Latin. He chuckled. Suddenly, coming around a corner, he nearly ran into the old dowager. He'd known her when she had been much younger… known her surprisingly well and quite thoroughly, as he recalled. Feeling playful, he tugged just the tiniest bit on one of her earbobs.
"Wh-what was that?" she said, flicking at her ear.
"My dear, sweet Violet delight," he murmured quietly, using his old name for her and letting her catch a glimpse of him in the mirror along the corridor. Her eyes grew enormous and a faint blush painted her cheek before he faded away, smiling wickedly.
Not a minute later, the bell in the servants' hall rang forcefully, and Carson was dispatched forthwith to bring her tea to calm her nerves.
At one o'clock exactly, Loki met Thomas just outside of the stables. Five minutes later, they had walked into a patch of woods on the far end of Downton's property, and another five minutes later they had reached a conveniently vacant cottage that Thomas couldn't remember ever having laid eyes on before. After that, several hours passed very pleasantly indeed until the shadows lengthened across the floor.
"Tell me," Loki said, running his fingers through Thomas's hair as his head lay against his chest. "If you could go anywhere, where would you choose?"
"I don't rightly know," Thomas said slowly. "I've thought of leaving a time or two. America, Canada, Australia even, but I don't think there's a spot this side of the moon where the likes of me is going to ever really be welcome."
Loki hummed thoughtfully, gazing up at the ceiling. He'd made certain not only to give the man as much pleasure as a mortal would be able to handle, but also to boost his ego, telling him how beautiful he was, how desirable, how clever. The words had been savored every bit as much as his touch, perhaps even more. But now, Loki felt the unaccustomed sensation of concern.
"And what if you could go beyond the moon?" Loki asked.
Thomas laughed, but there was bitterness in the sound.
"Planning on flying away with me, Lewis?" he asked.
"Not precisely," he said, "but would you be averse to going elsewhere?"
"Not really," Thomas admitted. "There's nothing to keep me here now."
Loki tipped his head, pondering. Asgard was forbidden to mortals by his father, and the man's lifespan would be paltry in comparison to that of the Aesir. Alfheim was a possibility, but there was still the issue of the brief life of a Midgardian. The same held true for Vanaheim. There were other worlds, but nothing quite seemed to fit.
"I'm going to need some time to think, sweet one," Loki said, gently kissing the top of his head before giving his backside a fond pat. "I'll come up with something."
They dressed once more, and Lewis walked with him to the edge of the woods, but no further. Too many people might see them and come to correct but devastating conclusions.
Thomas was not the first mortal male lover Loki had taken on Midgard in the last few decades. He had once spent a particularly wonderful summer with Oscar Wilde. Loki thought he might have been rather in love with the dashing writer. Sadly, he had learned of his passing too late to do anything to stop it, the man's health having been weakened beyond recovery from his time in jail. Loki had taken the time to visit his grave and leave a green carnation resting on his stone. He supposed no one else would ever know why Oscar had chosen green as his emblem now, but Loki remembered him with great fondness. Anyone who made Loki laugh that much deserved at the very least to be preserved in an immortal's memory like a flower pressed between the pages of a masterpiece.
He did not want Thomas to suffer a similar fate, and even if he did escape prison, there were other potential horrors. Truthfully, Loki liked the man, but he wasn't entirely in love with him, and he had no desire to wrangle with his father over a golden apple. He strongly expected it would not be given even if he asked, and the idea of seeing young, handsome Thomas age in little more than a blink into an old man, rather how Violet had faded, was too much for him. It was why he had originally left Oscar, though he regretted that now. He simply didn't wish to tie himself permanently to a mortal. He had other hopes, though he knew they were unlikely to bear any fruit through his own stupid fault. Still, his dalliance with this particular mortal was more than passingly tender. He wanted to see Thomas happy.
Loki turned and walked deeper into the woods, thinking. There had to be a way to protect his pet mortal. His path led to a clearing where there was a large oak, and he sat beneath it, thinking, as the full moon shone brightly overhead. His steepled fingers rested against his chin as he remained lost in thought, conjuring and rejecting one idea after another.
However, he soon realized that he wasn't alone.
As he watched, hidden in shadows, the first of the Fae began to creep out from the trees. He had apparently stumbled upon one of their dancing grounds, and as their music began to play, he watched as more and more of them poured forward to form a ring, their movements entrancing, the notes of the instruments making even his jaded pulse beat faster. It was both a festival and a trap. Anyone who broke into the circle would be enchanted to dance with them. When at last they left, they would realize that it was not a single night that had passed, but a full century.
Loki slowly started to smile as he realized one way he could aid Thomas.
In a flash, he disappeared from the forest and stood in Thomas's room, which thankfully was otherwise unoccupied. Thomas had been taking off his stockings and nearly fell over from shock as his recent lover suddenly appeared in his room.
"Lewis?" he said, his voice startled. "What are you…?"
"Did you mean it?" Loki asked quickly. "Would you really want to leave?"
"I… yes," Thomas said, and hope kindled in his eyes. "Yes, I do."
"Would you leave now, right away?"
"Now?"
"This can only work if we do it immediately," Loki said. "Is there anything you can't bear to leave behind?"
"Not much," he said. "Some money, of course."
"Don't worry about money, it won't be of any use when you get where you're going," Loki said.
Thomas gave him a strange look and said, "How did you get up here? Where are you taking me?"
"I don't think you'd believe me if I told you," he said, grinning. "Now, hurry. What can't you live without?"
Thomas bit his lip, then impulsively threw a few things in a bag: photographs, a book, a military pin from a uniform, two or three other things. It was a surprisingly small bundle.
"Ready," he said.
"Good."
Loki grabbed his hand and whisked the mortal away with him and back to the forest. He let his own guise fall away, and instead of the proper Edwardian Englishman who had stood beside him moments ago, Thomas saw Loki's true Asgardian form. If that wasn't shock enough, he was only a stone's throw away from a Fae dancing ring whirling at full tilt.
"Who are you?" he asked when he finally got his breath.
"One who would remove you from here and put you somewhere at least somewhat less detestable for you," he said, then bowed. "You may call me Loki."
"My gran read me stories about… you're not…"
"The same."
"And that's… is that really a fairy ring?"
"By morning it will be naught but a circle of mushrooms to show where they danced," Loki said. "But until then…"
"If I step in, I come out a hundred years from now?" he asked.
"That particular bit of folklore is entirely true," Loki said. "Do you feel like abandoning the 1920s for the twenty-first century? I have to believe it will be better than this one."
Thomas looked overwhelmed.
"It's rather a lot to take in, mate."
"It is, but I don't know how long they'll keep dancing. You need to decide quickly."
"Are you coming with me?"
Loki paused, then shook his head.
"No. But I will see you when you emerge in the future," he promised.
Thomas's eyes followed the weaving of the dancers as the music became more frantic every moment, the lights of fireflies streaking across the open field flickering in sympathy.
"Alright," he said, and a smile broke over his face. "I may be a fool. I may be drunk somewhere and having a fantastic dream while I'm passed out cold. But I'll take the chance."
Loki pressed a kiss to his forehead and grinned.
"I will see you soon, my sweet one. Go. Join the dance."
Thomas grinned, then ran towards the ring, his feet already twisting and turning by instinct along with the Fae, who opened the circle to allow him in, beckoning him to join.
The next moment, they were all gone.
Loki stood alone in the deserted clearing, his features tired.
"I hope I'm right that things will be better by then," he said. "I will see you in a hundred years."
When they met again, Loki intended to bring the brave young mortal money, clothing, news of what had changed in the world, and a thorough welcome into the bargain.
But that was not to be.
Instead, when Thomas stopped dancing what felt like a single night later, he was in the same clearing, but he was alone. He looked around, calling Loki's name, but there was no answer. However, something did catch his eye: an envelope with his name on it tied by a green cord to one of the trees. He undid the cord and opened it. Inside he found several pound notes and a brief letter.
My brother Loki once mentioned his intention to meet with you here one hundred years after your night with the Fae, and I have no doubt he would have kept his word, but he could not. Even for an immortal, death may come, as it did for him. I leave you this with his wishes for you to start a new and better life. I apologize for not being here in person to welcome you, but I do not know the exact date on which you will reappear. Should you have need of help, visit New Asgard in Norway and tell the king who you are. She has been apprised of the situation and will give you aid. Good luck to you. - Thor
Thomas looked at the wad of money, but his heart cracked. He took deep, settling breaths, trying to calm himself but realizing he was now truly alone.
"Fine," he said, steeling himself. "New Asgard it is, wherever that may be."
He left the clearing, hoping he had made the right choice, the envelope clutched in his hand. The ring of mushrooms glowed in the early sunlight on the dewy grass, and perhaps somewhere, Loki laughed.