The Invisible String Theory

Chapter 4 - Where the Magic Lingered

He sat there still as stone. Listening. And then– there it was. A tremor. Faint, almost imperceptible– but he felt it through the tether. Like the Hollow shifted under her skin. Like some part of her was unraveling again, even in rest.

He exhaled through his nose, sharp and silent. His hands curled around the armrest of the chair. The Vale had no magic. No one here for her to support, no current to catch her before she fell. And yet she danced. And laughed. And looked at him like he might be the last flicker of her people's purpose. It was too much, Too much to risk. He rose, slowly, and stepped to the window, where the stars looked colder than they had earlier that night.

She'd asked about Asgard. And maybe... maybe that was the answer.

Not for the bond. Not yet. But for her.

Loki's eyes drifted to her sleeping form, curled beneath the blanket, the tether between them glowing faintly beneath the surface of his awareness. "If there's anything left to help," he whispered, "it'll be there." He didn't know if he meant the words for her or for himself.

He slowly fell to the floor, back against the wall and closed his eyes. Loki drifted into sleep, and that was when the dream occurred.

There she was– her– different versions of her– stood before him like fading ghosts, dissolving into threads of starlight one by one. Each tether snapping. Each expression, a final goodbye. One reached for him. Eyes glassy with sorrow.

"You weren't fast enough," she whispered. He jolted awake with a sharp inhale.

The room was quiet again.

Safe, it seemed.

Loki's jaw clenched as he looked up, her face softened by the comfort of oblivion. But he couldn't ignore it anymore. He hovered over her for a moment, torn. The urge to rouse her fought against the weight of her peaceful expression.

Her lips slightly parted, her chest rising and falling in rhythm. But then he heard her whisper something in her sleep. A sound that cracked his heart open.

"...Loki..."

He didn't touch her. Instead, he rose to his feet and stared at the empty hearth for a long moment.

_____________________________________

I shuffled beneath the blanket, brow furrowed faintly as the first light of the morning streamed through the curtains. There was a lingering haze in my head– equal parts exhaustion and memory.

Then I felt it– that quiet, unspoken pull.

My gaze drifted, and there he was. Loki sat at the foot of the bed, legs stretched out, his back against the frame. Awake. Magic curling around his fingers, he was creating a small rift again. Pulsing between open and close. I caught a glimpse of something extravagant on the other side.

"You're still here?" I asked, voice husky with sleep.

His eyes flicked to her. "Where else could I be?"

I blinked at him, pushing myself up with a faint wince. "Is that Asgard? Last night you were set on staying away. Did I... miss something?"

He hesitated– just for a heartbeat. Then he rose to his feet and turned toward me with careful control. "I changed my mind."

"That doesn't seem like something you'd do."

"I make exceptions," he said dryly. "This is one of them."

I studied him for a moment. Something was off in his tone, in the way he held his shoulders– tense, guarded. But if he sensed her lingering, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he stepped back and lifted a hand. A shimmer of emerald began curling outward from his fingers, swelling into a portal that glowed softly in the morning dim.

I sat up straighter. "Just like that?" No dramatic announcement? No biting commentary about Asgardian arrogance?"

"I'm sparing you– for now," he said with a faint smirk. But it lacked its usual sharpness, replaced by something heavier. He turned slightly, holding a hand out to me. "Ready?"

I hesitated, then rose from the bed, still watching him. "You're being... strange."

Loki arched his brow. "Strange is relative."

"I mean it," I said softly. "What changed?"

His jaw tightened. "We don't have time for riddles."

I could tell there was more– something beneath his carefully crafted calm– but whatever it was, he wasn't going to share.

Not yet.

So I took his hand. Together, stepping into the portal, swallowed by green light as the realm of Asgard awaited– unaware of what was returning.