Just a quickie chapter, I'm afraid, because I've been really busy. Hope to make amends with the next chapter.
Chapter 15
Loki re-entered the living area, able to give it more scrutiny now that he wasn't staggering through it weak and in pain. He stood a moment, folding his arms reflectively, his blue-green eyes sweeping back across its dark exposed beams, contrasting cream painted walls, large traditional fireplace and simple furniture.
Now that he had met its owner he felt that the room rather suited her. It possessed elegant touches while still remaining homely and warm. There was a comforting unassuming air.
It was...pleasant...he accepted grudgingly, as if it were demeaning to think so. Narrowing his eyes, he quickly reminded himself that this was the size of dwelling the servants of Asgard inhabited. Not a future king.
But he could tolerate it for the time being.
His gaze flicked back across to the framed photographs displayed upon the dresser and as if his legs had a will of their own, a heartbeat later he was standing in front of them, the wedding photograph held in his hand again.
As he took in the mortal's happy smile and bright vibrant eyes, he found himself feeling genuinely sorry. He wasn't particularly sorry that her husband was dead. Death was simply a consequence of being mortal. But he felt sorry for her. She really had become a shadow of her former self. The evidence was so very plain to see.
An image of her slicing a knife's blade across her wrist flashed into his mind and he didn't like it. And yet, he didn't like the fact that he didn't like it.
He dragged a hand through his bedraggled hair, his conflicted emotions leaving him feeling extremely vexed. If he were still on Asgard he would half suspect her of bewitching him with some magic of her own.
But he wasn't on Asgard and she had no powers. There was no trickery on her part.
Disgruntled, he returned the wedding frame with rather more venom than was necessary and turned his attentions to the other photographs, eyes falling upon one he had not noticed the first time.
Leaning in closer, he saw that the mortal was posing with a woman who was obviously her mother. The similarities were too striking. Same eyes, same smiles. Remnants of the same vivid red lacing through the older woman's grey hair.
They were embracing warmly and looked like they had been caught mid laugh. There was enough mischief in their eyes for Loki to deduce that they were sharing some wicked joke.
Their closeness brought a lump to his throat and he thought of his own mother. Though he would be eternally grateful for that final reunion, the loss was still raw. It still pained him that he would never see her again. That they would never laugh together like this.
Why her? he thought angrily. Why the only person who had ever truly cared? Who had never judged or ridiculed. Who could feel disappointed by his actions but never loved him any less. There was no one else who touched his heart in quite the same way. He didn't hate Thor with quite the same intensity as he did Odin, but of late, the witless oaf had tried his patience once too often. Too much brawn and not enough brain, though that could be said for the majority of Asgardians who only seemed to value brute strength and prowess in battle. They continued to remain oblivious to the fact that the magic they mocked so much had often saved their pathetic skins.
No...there was no one now. No one who understood him...his complicated nature that sometimes overwhelmed him to the point of bewilderment. He didn't quite know who he was any more. The monster inside both frightened and fascinated him; repelled and seduced him.
But he was alone with his demons now.
His eyes flicked back to the wedding photo and his brow furrowed restlessly as he was reminded once again, of the mortal's selfless attempts to try to sooth him and ease his pain.
Why did he keep dwelling upon the softness of her hand in his?
He quickly turned away from her smiling face. Healing touch she may have but he doubted she would be so kind if she knew of his dark heritage, or was to witness his true guise.
As he began to head towards the door that he assumed would take him into the kitchen, a small object snared his peripheral vision. When he glanced down and saw what it was, his breath snagged in his throat.
Seidr?!
The book had made the passing with him!
Elated, he hurried over to it, stooping to lift it carefully, almost reverently. Cradling it protectively in both hands, he stared down at the cover excitedly.
His luck was turning at last! Having this in his possession was invaluable, especially under the circumstances. There could well be an incantation within its ancient pages that could protect him from Thanos. Even...dare he hope...defeat him...should he come seeking retribution.
He frowned.
Surely the mortal had seen this? How dare she not tell him.
Then again, it was better that she had not touched it. It could have proven dangerous to someone ignorant of its immense power.
He noticed drops of blood on the rug where the book had lain. His blood. He instinctively reached up to his face, brushing his nose with the back of his hand. But every last trace of blood was gone. Cleaned away...
By that small tentative hand...
His gaze softened.
Maybe he wouldn't be too hard on the mortal. Perhaps she had not seen it. After all, he had not even noticed it lying beside him.
Forgetting all about food he moved across to the sofa. Finding it surprisingly comfortable, he settled back against the plump cushions, pulling up his legs and crossing them. He raised an eyebrow at the state of his foot. Pity the mortal did not get a chance to clean it. It would have been entertaining to watch. His hand hovered over it, the green incandescent light enveloping it, as his magic did its work. Within seconds the wound was healed and his foot cleaned of blood. When the mortal awoke he would ask her where he could bathe and wash his hair. He would also need a change of attire. He certainly needed some shoes. He could, of course, mask his unkempt state with illusion, but it would be exactly that, just a deception, he would still be feeling sweaty and dirty beneath. And magic, for all its worth, could not clean as thoroughly as a good bath.
Whatever, he dismissed. He was in no hurry. She would be sleeping for a while yet. He focussed back upon the book. In the meantime, he could read in peace without her being so irritatingly skittish around him.
Feeling eyes upon him, his gaze lifted. He glared across at the large grey cat watching him.
"Scat cat. Or I shall turn you into a mouse."
The cat continued to stare, its own eyes narrowing slightly.
Loki cocked his head in sudden understanding. Amused, he smirked. "Fear not, little beast. I have done nothing to your mistress. She simply sleeps." He gestured towards the door. "Go see, if you do not believe me."
But he hesitated, realising that the cat might wake her, which in turn would disrupt his plans for an undisturbed read.
With a flick of his hand he conjured half a dozen small green semi-translucent butterflies. They sneered the cat's attention immediately.
"Go play and leave me – and your mistress - in peace."
As the butterflies fluttered across the living room towards the kitchen, the cat shot after them with an excited mew.
With another smirk, Loki returned back to his book.
Hope you enjoyed!
Reviews always appreciated, thanks!