The Invisible String Theory

Chapter 4 - Where the Magic Lingered

He didn't answer. Just looked at me with that quiet, unreadable expression that somehow made the whole world hush. The silence was comfortable until I stumbled over a raised stone in the path. Loki's hand shot out, steadying me. This time, it stayed.

"Alright," he said gently. "That's enough of the revelry. There's an inn just ahead."

"I'm not tired," I protested.

"You're slurring your thoughts."

"That's not how it works."

He huffed a breath through his nose– somewhere between amusement and exasperation. Still, he didn't let go.

The Inn was tucked at the end of a narrow alley, a warm, flickering light in its window. A carved sign hung above the door, swaying in the breeze. Loki guided me through without a word to the sleepy attendant, tossing a coin into the desk with practiced flair. Upstairs, the room was simple. A bed. A low-burning hearth. Curtains that fluttered in the window's night breeze. I kicked off my boots and flopped onto the edge of the bed, half-laughing, half-sighing.
Loki remained near the door, arms folded as if unsure whether to stay or flee. Something in the quiet must've caught him, because he glanced at me again– and this time, really looked.

"You didn't like that girl, " he said, not quite a question.

I blinked at him. "What girl?"

"The one who smiled at me earlier."

"Oh. Her." I made a face. "She was boring."

"You didn't even speak to her."

"Didn't need to."

He paused. "Were you... jealous?"

I snorted, flopping backwards onto the mattress, staring up at the ceiling beams. "Not jealous, I just– don't like when people look at you like you're a prize."

"And how do you look at me?"

My gaze dropped to him. He hadn't moved from the door. But there was something quieter in his voice now. "I look at you like you're dangerous." I said softly. "Like if I get too close I might burn."

He was quiet. Then, slowly, he stepped closer. Sat in the chair across from the bed. "What happened to your people?" he asked. The haze of the drink dulled the sharpest edge of the question. But not all of them.

"They faded," I said after a moment. "Supportants don't survive well without someone to hold. When our city fell, so did we."

"Elyndor," he murmured.

I nodded. "It was beautiful. Full of light and sound and movement. We were meant to amplify– to lift others. But when there's no one left to lift..." I trailed off.

The fire crackled softly in the fireplace. "Do you miss it?"

"Every day."

His gaze didn't leave mine. For once, there was no mockery, no mask. Just quiet understanding.

"What about you? Do you ever miss home?" Something shifted behind his eyes. He looked away.

"That's complicated," he said. "Asgard is... home. In the technical sense. But it's never made much room for who I am."

I propped my head on my arm. "Still. You belong to something. That's more than most."

He didn't answer.

"I think I'd like to see it," I murmured, closing my eyes. Loki didn't speak again. Not until my breathing slowed, and the hush of my sleep settled over the room.