Loki's Little Mischief - Ch 46

Loki's Little Mischief - a Loki X OC Romance
~Chapter Forty Six~ Safeguarding

After that Loki came down to Mærsalr each night to bring Káta back to his Halls. By and large their nights became easier, for knowing that they were in one another’s presence, even in sleep, was a great aid to the peace of their slumber. It was not infallible, however, and there were still times when one or other of them awoke in the middle of the night, sweating with fear, most often to discover themselves in the arms of the other, comforting hands stroking their back, and reassuring eyes meeting their gaze.
          Káta was generally quite easy to wake, for her terrors had not been compounded over a lifetime, and bringing her out of them and back into his arms was a relatively simple task for Loki. The sight of her eyes flying into wakefulness still glazed with fear never grew easier for him to stomach however, and with every passing day his desire to hunt down the person or persons responsible for her terror grew. He would lie there with her clutching him as she drew half-sobbing breaths of relief from her place in his arms, anger distilling in his heart. The longer the matter went disregarded and without investigation, however, the harder it would be for him to find the culprits. But Káta needed him with her more than she needed him to find out about her attackers, and so he shelved his need for vengeance until such a time as it could be fulfilled.
          It did not take long before Káta discovered the truth of how Loki had spent his nights for most of his life. His nightmares took many forms, his reactions ranging from constriction, to thrashing, to childlike terror, and the only reason he ever fell asleep was due to the fact of her presence. Most of the time she could bring him out of them, but there were some few reoccurring nightmares that no amount of soothing on her part could wrench him out of, and on such nights she got little rest.
          If she could wake him, they would talk about what had passed if Loki felt able to, and if not, Káta was content to stay awake with Loki for as long as required, very often until dawn. He had protested against this, determined that she should go to sleep, but short of using seiðr on her, it was not something he could force her not to do, and they eventually fell into the habit of napping curled up together during the day after such vigils. With each new tale Káta’s heart wept a little more for Loki, however, for few of his fears were imagined or distorted by his mind. She had tried counting how many forms the nightmares took, but gave up as the numbers grew to terrifying heights, little reassured by Loki’s assurances that he used to have many more than that, and that since meeting her, he had actually had more undisturbed sleep than he had had for decades, even when he had been sleeping on her clothes chest.
          Well aware of how sensitive the subject was for him, Káta did not push Loki to talk about his fears, although she did her best to untangle and allay them when he was forthcoming. She could tell that he was endeavouring to tell her about them, fighting against years of ingrained conditioning, and his relief was obvious when he did manage to speak about them, but she could not help him with everything, and her methods were by no means a panacea.
          On the nights that he spoke during his terrors, she learnt some saddening truths about his relationship with his father. She could not always be sure whether the fears were memories, or fantasies of exacerbated truths at such times, but regardless Káta knew that beneath the hero-worship Loki had held for his father, there were vast immensities of fears pertaining to retribution, and his inability to match Odin’s exacting standards. These things she never spoke to Loki about, well aware that it could trigger a relapse, but on those nights the Loki she knew fled and was replaced with a damaged and crying individual, unaware of her arms around him as she rocked him, tears on her face for his suffering.
          During the day Káta strove to think of new ways to help lessen the impact of Loki’s nightmares. Talking as they faced each other in bed before sleep, sometimes already half asleep, other times laughing fit to break a rib, other times talking quietly and earnestly deep into the night, seemed to be the best way to stave off both of their fears, filling themselves up with the sight and sound of the other until they were fairly drunk on the mere idea of each other. On such nights Káta drifted into easy slumber, and remained there until well past dawn, and even Loki found that undisturbed sleep welcomed him with open arms. What was more, waking to see Káta curled up and asleep in his arms was a greater reward than any other. Achieving her peacefulness was all he wanted. It settled his heart, filling him to bursting point with waves of contentment that blocked out his demons more effectively than anything else.
          On nights when the terrors gripped Loki, however, Kata had discovered that singing either the song she had written for him, or a particular lullaby – Dreyma Fróðleikr Barn – tended to ease his nightmares when she couldn’t wake him. She assumed that his mother had sung it to him as an infant, for it was extraordinarily effective, soothing his constricted expression, and lulling him into happier dreams a lot faster than anything else she did.
          She wanted to ask Thor or even Frigg about Loki’s nightmares, curious to discover what they knew of them, desperate to improve her methods. But Káta had little belief that Thor would even be aware of his brother’s night time struggles, and it was merely a faint hope that she might ever be able to meet the Queen, let alone speak with her frankly about her younger son.
          As it was, Loki and Káta shut themselves in Hugrsannidr most of the day, occasionally venturing out to empty sparring fields, or little known and deserted gardens, but rarely leaving one another’s side. They both felt safest when in each other’s undivided company, and at present distractions were unwelcome from the task of tending to themselves and to one another. Though the thought never occurred to either of them the distinction between who was guarding whom had blurred, and there was only the combination of them both to think of.

Immersed as they were in each other neither Loki nor Káta were aware that the bodies had been discovered in the forest where Loki had left them.
          The sight of a dark pillar of crows and other carrion birds above the forest had eventually resulted in the discovery of the massacre, and word soon made its way back to Asgard. Little was to be deduced from the remains, other than that they had been dedicatedly butchered by a person or persons with mercifully sharp weapons.
          Their deaths caused little stir beyond being good fodder for gossip, however, and within a week the actual news had been all but forgotten, and instead stories to pleasantly raise the hairs on the back of one’s neck over a tankard of mead by a roaring fire were circulating. The most popular version of events was that some of the naír had made their way out of Hel and were haunting the forests of the mountain slopes, now joined by the uneasy souls of those men.
          Children listened with attentive ears to the conversations of adults in an attempt to discover more of the gory details, but were quickly swatted away when discovered by their mothers, only to hear the tales later as a means to get them stay in bed. Then they were accompanied with warnings that the naír might have come into the city without being noticed, taking shelter beneath their beds for the night, and that they ought to stay beneath the covers if they wanted to wake up still in possession of all their toes. Their mothers embroidered the tales so much so that more than one child woke up the next morning in desperate need of the privy, not having dared to slip out of bed in the night to relieve themselves for fear of what the souls of the dishonourable dead supposedly lurking in the shadows of their rooms might do to an unlucky toilet goer.
          As none of the men were of great consequence to anyone in particular however, except perhaps to the occasional barman with an unpaid bill, not much fuss was made over the discovery, the cause generally put down to the fact that bands of such individuals often argued and fought, and that in this instance, they had fought until they killed each other.
          The news was of even less significance to the higher ranking Asgardians, and almost negligible to the Æsir, but had it reached Spana’s ears she might have considered it of greater importance than any who had heard it before her. She was happily occupied with attending to Thor, however, who, having discovered the nymphs of Mærsalr to be to his liking, had begun to frequent the place with satisfying regularity.
          His presence, and Káta’s absences for the majority of the day, were enough to drive all thoughts of her plot from Spana’s mind, and satisfied with having snared the elder brother, much of her ire towards Káta had been drained. If the girl was satisfied with the runt of the princely litter, so be it; she was more than happy not to have to deal with Loki’s continued presence when she had Thor’s attentions to handle and provoke. She had even discovered a means of covering her scars with a low hanging shawl draped between her arms, and Thor seemed indifferent to the welts in any case.
          With Thor now a regular visitor to Mærsalr, however, it was inevitable that he and Loki crossed paths at times. Such moments served to be exceedingly awkward for both parties, but Thor sometimes joined Loki and Káta on walks around the gardens, whichever nymph or nymphs he was accompanied by dismissed immediately, and not without miffed irritation on their part.
          Thor had noticed the change in his brother’s behaviour towards Káta. When before he had been attentive and protective, now he was entirely absorbed in her; impatient when he looked away from her, and agitated if he moved further than three paces from her side. Káta too seemed shaken, for she was not as merry as she had been whenever they had met previously, but withdrawn and almost as anxious as Loki when they were parted.
          Káta did her best to put on a good pretence of being fine for Thor and Rúna’s sakes, but Loki had neither the patience nor the time to bother with such scruples. The rest of the Nine Worlds and all their opinions could be damned as far as he was concerned. Káta, however, was sensible of preventing concerned queries from arising, but even she was not actress enough to deceive those closest to her and Loki.
          Rúna had already asked her more than once whether she was quite all right, for she had noticed Káta’s absences from all meals, and when they did see one another her face was often drawn, and dark smudges blacked her eyes. Had Káta been as animated as usual, Rúna would have thought nothing of her absences; would have assumed that she was spending more time than before with the young Prince, and gently teased her accordingly with hopes of enticing salacious details out of her friend. But she could tell that Káta was out of sorts, and could not help but feel deeply concerned for her. She and Loki were not getting up to the sorts of mischief that most gods and nymphs did when they absented themselves from Mærsalr, and they weren’t getting up to the sorts of mischief that were to be expected of the Trickster God. Something had happened to them, and Rúna feared what it would have had to have been in order to disturb Káta so.
          She was well used to Káta’s intense privacy about certain matters – she had always been the sort to keep her secrets close, and rarely divulged more information than was absolutely necessary – but Rúna knew that Káta was keeping something secret that she ought to share for her own good, and wondered over the matter. When she did see Káta, she was always in the company of Loki, most often arm in arm as they walked the gardens, and she seemed to lean on him as an invalid with a wounded leg leant on their walking stick. Their heads were always bowed in towards each other, and attentive murmurs passed between them, quiet and earnest, and somehow solemn – an astonishing transformation from the light-hearted impudence that had gone before.
          Each time Rúna addressed the matter with her friend, however, Káta brushed her off with assurances that she was perfectly fine, just a little ill and experiencing disturbed nights as a result, but that she was sure it would pass soon enough. For all her friend’s efforts, however, Rúna refused to be so easily dissuaded.
          “Are you sure you’re fine?” Rúna caught Káta’s arm as they passed each other in the corridor beyond Káta’s room. Káta had attempted to slip past her friend with a quick smile, but Rúna was canny, and had surprisingly fast reflexes.
          Káta sighed, and summoned a wan smile for her friend. “Yes. Perfectly. Please, believe me, Rúna.”
          Rúna frowned. “The thing is; I don’t. I want to, believe me I do, but look at you.” Rúna swept her friend up and down, taking in her limp hair, the pallor of her skin, and the shadows beneath her dull eyes. Even the very way she held herself was different – cowed and defensive rather than upright and confident.
          Káta shook her head, taking Rúna’s hands in hers and squeezing them reassuringly. “I know I don’t look my best at the moment, I know I’m not myself, but this is something I need to deal with alone. I appreciate your concern, truly I do, but the best you can do for me at the moment is just to understand that I need time to sort this out.”
          “Not entirely alone, though,” Rúna smiled faintly.
          Káta’s brows shot up, but returned Rúna’s smile with a tiny one of her own. “That’s true.”
          “You’re lucky you know.”
          Káta raised a questioning eyebrow.
          “To have him.” Rúna added. “He’s not what people say he is – although I think maybe you were the only person to see that. But I can see that he cares for you, and for that I am glad.”
          Káta chuckled lightly. “Yes…I am lucky. He does care…deeply. Probably more than he should.”
          Rúna smiled. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. No one should take that kind of solicitude lightly.” Káta blushed, and Rúna laughed. “I suppose he’ll be getting impatient that I’m distracting you, wherever he is. Not far, I don’t doubt.”
          Káta laughed a genuine full laugh at that. “Yes, he most certainly will be. Patience isn’t always his strong suit.” She grinned.
          Rúna chuckled. “Well, I’d better not keep you then.” She pulled Káta into a tight hug, seized by a sudden trepidation and unwilling to let go. “Do get better soon, whatever it is.”
          Káta sighed, drawn between melancholia and brightness. “I’ll try.”

Downstairs Káta was swiftly joined by Loki, who had been hovering around the gardens, distracted and anxious.
          “What took you so long?” he asked the moment she was within earshot, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders as he peered into her eyes concernedly.
          Káta shook her head with a tired smile, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “It’s nothing. I just met Rúna, that’s all.”
          Loki gave her a penetrating look. “She asked you again, didn’t she?”
          Káta sighed heavily. “Yes. But she means well.”
          Loki frowned, carefully interlacing his fingers with hers. “Even well-meaning intentions can do more damage than good,” he replied crossly as they began to walk off into the grounds.
          “Loki,” Káta reproached, “she’s my friend – it’s normal for her to be concerned. It’s touching.” She drew a deep breath, repressing a shudder as a flash of the experience crossed her closed eyelids.
          Loki tightened his grip on her hand. “It reminds you – it’s not helpful.”
          Káta squeezed his hand back. “It’s nothing – besides, we talked, and she understands that I just need space for the moment.”
          “Hm.”
          Káta shook her head and smiled to herself at Loki’s cantankerous attentiveness.
          “Loki! Káta!”
          The pair’s heads shot up at the shout, and found Thor striding across the green towards them, his arms open.
          “Thor,” Káta smiled with genuine warmth at the Thunder God. There was something catching about his geniality.
          He descended upon them, sweeping the pair of them up into his arms, as had become his habit ever since Loki had refused to release Káta’s hand the first time they had met each other after the incident. Loki was not particularly partial to the ritual, but it never failed to make Káta laugh.
          “Brother,” Loki replied severely once they were standing once more.
          “Do not frown so, bróðir,” Thor reproved, “it makes you look even more tired than you already appear!”
          Loki and Káta exchanged a glance, and deep inside both found a little more of their weariness compound. Thor’s concerned enquiries could be a little harder to shake than Rúna’s at times, and at that moment Káta did not really feel quite up to repelling any excessive insistence on his part.
          “You know you two really are looking quite ill,” Thor commented, gazing into the faces of the two, his heavy brows creased with a concerned frown of his own.
          “All the subtlety of a war hammer, as usual, brother,” Loki muttered dryly.
          Thor laughed. “Don’t expect such things of me, and you won’t be disappointed, brother.”
          “Indeed? I shall do my best to remember that.” Loki grinned slightly, and Káta smiled.
          Thor was not to be dissuaded by banter, however. “You ought to eat better, you’re both looking peaky. You especially, Káta. Loki’s always been a bit pale, but you’ve lost some of your glow. I hope you are taking good care of her, brother?” Thor turned a reproving gaze upon Loki, whose brow rumpled at the irony.
          Their eyes had darted to meet at Thor’s unusually accurate observation, anxiety sparking between them for a moment. They had both noticed that some of Káta’s usual glow had faded somewhat, although they had never discussed the matter, and it remained a concern for them both.
          “Well, you know how it is,” Káta replied lightly. “Sometimes you just go off your food.”
          Thor gazed at her blankly.
          Loki leant closer to Káta. “The day Thor goes off his food something would have to be seriously wrong,” he chuckled.
          Thor guffawed. “Indeed it would! The very idea of it!” he shook his head as though merely thinking about going off his food had given him a cold shiver.
          Káta laughed. “Well in that respect I suppose we are a little different.”
          Thor patted Káta reassuringly on her shoulder. “Don’t you worry, Káta – you get a few good square meals in you, maybe the odd dram of mead, and you’ll be as fine as the most hale and hearty of Asgard’s warriors.”
          Káta smiled weakly. “I’m sure I will.” She gave Loki a faintly entreating glance, and he smiled slightly, understanding her silent request.
          “Thor, we have engagements to keep.”
          “Oh, of course; of course. I’ll not detain you further, and remember – eat those meals, Káta. Brother, see that she does.”
          Káta nodded, smiling a little as Loki shepherded her away from Thor, then took his hand. “Take me somewhere we can be alone,” she murmured. “Please.”
          Loki squeezed her hand reassuringly. “I know just the place.”

A moment later they were atop the ruins in the grounds. The sun was out and had drenched the stones for most of the morning so that they were deliciously warm to sit on. The butterflies seemed to be enjoying the warmth as much as they were, for they fluttered in velveteen spirals of vivid colour, apparently without any particular destination in mind.
          Káta sighed, leaning against Loki’s shoulder. She appreciated Thor and Rúna’s solicitousness, but at present it was a painful reminder of evils that she would rather not have brought up. Of course they could not know what it was that they were doing to her and Loki, and their concern was a cause for gratitude that they had such attentive and caring friends, but at present it was unbearable and a burden.
          Loki nodded. “I know.” He drew Káta into a hug. He had felt the oppression of his brother’s kindness as well, and even Fróði and Berghildr had been unable to retrain themselves from asking after them when they had visited the library earlier in the week.
          Káta smiled wanly, closing her eyes, and listening to his heart beat.

As Káta slept in his arms that night Loki lay awake a little while longer, ruminating over their situation. Remaining in Asgard was their safest option, especially if they confined themselves to Valhalla, but it was not the best. He could feel himself stretching, on edge, each time they left his Halls, not merely out of concern for potential dangers, but from the worry of being accosted by well-meaning friends or family with enquiries about their health. He could feel the tenseness in Káta as well, her back rigid whenever he laid a hand on it, her muscles hard in her arms, and he knew in his heart of hearts that neither of them could continue for long in such a manner. It was not conducive for either of them.
          Striking a balance between Káta’s safety and her happiness was difficult however, and there were few places that they could go which would achieve both, and fewer people whom he might trust enough to bring Káta to. A vague notion of returning to Iðunn’s orchards flitted across Loki’s mind, but he discarded it almost instantaneously. The forest and dryads guarded Iðunn’s apples well, but Loki was not yet ready to place his faith in the strength of the trees to protect Káta from the corporeal threat of killers, for he had not forgotten the limitations of the forest’s reach. Concerns that a second lot of mercenaries might come for her had stalked his mind by day and night, so that each person who passed them, each sudden movement, or flicker in the shadows set him on edge anew, ready to whisk Káta away.
          There were few persons whom he could call friends, despite the fact that almost the entirety of the Æsir population owed him favours of some denomination or other, but he would not entrust Káta to a single member of the Æsir. Asgard was a city of alliances, and at times intrigue, and involving Káta any further than was absolutely necessary in the mores of interwoven pacts, agreements, and lies that tied together the Æsir was something he would go to great lengths to prevent. Quarrels and feuds between the Æsir were common, at times spanning decades, and alliances and changing allies were not always easy to predict.
          Flight from the city and into one of the other worlds seemed their only sensible option, but with nowhere safe to go it was as foolhardy as walking unarmoured into a fighting pit. Loki cursed internally, wracking his brains for a solution, until one struck him like a cuff around the ears. Vanaheimr. But not to her mother’s orchards.
          Carefully extracting himself from around Káta, who let out a sleepy groan of dissent, he slipped out of bed and crossed to his desk, pulling out a clean sheet of paper and beginning to fill it with feverish speed.
          The Æsir he couldn’t trust, and Iðunn’s orchards were not safe enough, despite the evident prowess of the forest and the dryads, but perhaps there were two Vanir in which they both held confidence whose hospitality they could rely on.

Loki waited for a reply with great impatience over the coming days. He knew he could rely on Brosa to reply swiftly, for it was not in the nature of the Vanir to keep their correspondents waiting, but even so time dragged at him with fingers made of cold syrup.
          He had no desire to broach the topic with Káta until he knew for certain whether they would be welcome or not, as he had did not wish to raise her hopes or cause a disagreement before he was in possession of the full facts. Even so, the letter was more of a courtesy than anything else, as the very notion of any member of the Vanir turning away a guest from the hospitality of their home and hearth was unthinkable. They would sooner welcome their enemy to share in their table and rest beneath the shelter of their roof, than turn them away on the doorstep. Cordiality and respect were their lifeblood, and an inhospitable host was a person that no one would sully themselves with the acquaintance of.

A reply arrived barely three days after Loki had dispatched his letter, the contents all he had hoped for.
          Loki took his proposition to Káta with some small nervousness, unsure whether she would take to it or not, and so merely proffered her the letter.
          Bemused, Káta gazed into his eyes in question before she unfolded the paper, and scanned the contents.
          Brosa was as genial by hand as he was in person.

          My dear Finnr,

          Do not hesitate to bring your good self and dear friend Káta to visit Eðla and I. We would be honoured to receive you as our guests for as long a time as it suits you. Our grounds are extensive, and our home spacious and comfortable, and I am sure that we shall be able to find you plenty of amusements to fill your time with, should you so wish. Our household happens to be home to some of the finest seiðmadr and seiðkona in Vanaheimr at present, and I know Finnr that you would not wish to pass up on an opportunity to meet and talk with them.
          Eðla and I only wish that your stay with us will be able to help relieve whatever troubles that you are experiencing, and you may rely on us, our household, and guests not to question you on the matter. We understand that there are times when things cannot be shared due to the pain they inflict, and discretion is our watchword. The nature of such matters is hard, but if we can provide you with any succour or relief from it, we shall be happy to do so.
          Come when it best conveniences you, we look forward to your arrival.

          May the Norns bless and speed your journey to us,
                    Brosa and Eðla

Káta set the page down, and stared at Loki.
          “Would you…would you like to go?” Loki asked tentatively.
          Káta’s pensive face broke into a smile, and she nodded. Then she fell into Loki’s arms. “Yes, I would very much like to go. Very much indeed.”
          Loki smiled in relief, sighing and holding her close. “I’ll make the arrangements today.”
          Káta laughed as looked up at him. “There are times when I think I might need to teach you greater patience…but in this matter I wholeheartedly support your haste.”
          Loki’s smile widened. “I rather thought you would, so I’d arranged all that I already could.”
          Káta smirked. “Know me that well, do you?”
          Loki laughed. “I rather think I might, yes. Just a bit.”