The Invisible String Theory

Chapter 5 - A Flicker for You

I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and turned as a servant hurried past with a basket of ribbons nearly as tall as I was.

"Need a hand?" I called out.

The girl blinked at me, startled, then nodded quickly. "If you're willing. We're short so many today."

Without hesitation, I dropped to my knees beside her and helped her untangle the pile of satin coils. Others noticed quickly. A seamstress called me over to help fasten decorative cloth to the railings; a cook passed me a bowl to taste-test a strange spice preserve; a handful of guards requested my opinion on reinforcements along the outer wards. Somehow, I fit in effortlessly– easing into the rhythm of the city preparing to celebrate. My hands moved faster than I expected, even enhanced subtly by my magic. And everytime someone thanked me, it felt... warm. Real.

Loki was with Thor across the square, they seemed to have been bickering about something prior. I was too focused on assisting everyone, but then I caught a glimpse over the box I was currently holding. We locked eye contact. My heart skipped a beat. It felt like we were checking in on each other.

But I barely noticed the children– just a flurry of running feet and high pitched shrieks of joy echoing from the gardens nearby. But in that same moment, one of them collided into my leg, the crate falling beside me. The boy, on the ground now, was gripping his ankle and wincing. I was already turning over to my knees beside him. Loki, closing the distance we had before. He held a worried face.

"You alright there, little storm?" I asked, brushing a lock of hair from his eye.

"I– I tripped," he sniffled, biting his lip. "Didn't mean to cry."

"I know. Brave little warrior," I whispered.

A few others gathered around, eyes wide, watching as I pressed my hands gently over his ankle coaxing the soft, warm current of my magic into him. It pulsed low and steady, the injury soothing under my touch. But as the pain faded, his brow furrowed again, like he'd lost something. My heart tugged.

"Draw something for me," I said gently. "Something you love more than anything."

He blinked at me. "Why?"

"Because, I want to give it back to you."

He hesitated, then touched two fingers to the ground and began sketching in the dust– slow at first, then faster. His fingertip traced horns and wings and a smiling mouth. A battle cat. With a star crown.

I glanced over my shoulder and spotted Loki watching us from in front of the crowd.

"Loki!" I called.

He quirked an eyebrow, then approached with deliberate calm, stopping beside me.

"What trouble are you orchestrating now?"

"Lend me your hand," I said.

He looked between me and the boy before extending his hand, palm up. His fingers glowed faintly green.

The boy, wide-eyed, reached out his small hand and began to retrace the figure again–  this time over Loki's palm. As he did, lines of light followed his finger, bright green illusions sketching the form in midair.

I moved closer and gently placed my hand underneath Loki's. My enchantment merged with the shimmering outline above, and with a whispered breath, I channeled my power into the image.

The dream cat blinked. Then it stretched, yawned, and came to life. I met his gaze for a moment, feeling his palm hover close to mine, both of us still bound by the glow between.

"You're showing off," he muttered, too quietly for anyone else to hear.

"Maybe," I said "But it worked, didn't it?"

He didn't smile exactly, but his eyes softened in a way that made my breath hitch.

The children swarmed around the creature, squealing, tugging at my hands to join them. I gave them one more smile, then let myself be swept into their game. Enhanced slightly by magic, I danced and dodged and darted between them, laughing breathlessly. I felt lighter than I had in a long time.

From the sidelines, Thor watched Loki quietly.

"You're staring again," he said.

"I am watching," Loki hissed.

"Of course you are," Thor grinned, elbowing him. "Watching your doom unfold."

The sky had shifted to a rich lavender as the second sun dipped below Asgard's horizon. Gold light curled around the tall columns of the palace, and soft chatter from the lingering preparations drifted through the open archways.

I moved slower now, the laughter of the kids still ringing in my ears. My legs were sore from all the games, and my magic felt faint, curled up like a sleeping creature inside me, content but utterly spent. My cloak had come loose at some point, and my braid was a half-undone mess draped over my shoulder. Still, I couldn't bring myself to care.

A kind faced attendant appeared at my side, offering a gentle smile. "If you'll follow me, my lady. Your chamber has been prepared– just beside Prince Loki's, should you need anything.

I raised a brow, "Convenient."

The chamber was bigger than most rooms I'd ever stepped foot in. The walls shimmered with silver threads sewn into deeply navy tapestries, and the bed at the center looked like it had been carved from moonlight itself– high-backed, velvet-lined, and draped with translucent fabric that moved like a breath.  A basin near the hearth steamed slightly, and pillows were piled like clouds.

I let my cloak fall to the floor and stripped off my boots with a groan. Soreness hummed in my legs, in my arms, in the places magic had dug deepest when I healed the little boy. The moment I sank into the bed, it felt like I was dissolving. Warmth swallowed me whole. My muscles slackened. My thoughts grew softer.

Just for a moment, I told myself. Just to rest. The world tilted– and then vanished.

Loki lingered longer than he meant to in the corridor. After the attendant left, he paced in silence outside his chamber, the soul tether tugging faintly at him. It was quiet, too quiet.

He followed it.

The pull led him to her door, and he hesitated only a moment before knocking.

No response.

He opened the door quietly. The room was dim, the light of the twin moons spilling through sheer curtains. she lay on her side, tucked into the blankets as though she were being claimed by them. One arm curled beneath your cheek.  A tangle of hair draped across the pillow. Her breathing was slow– even– already far away from him in sleep.

Loki's brow furrowed. He had come to tell her dinner was ready. He had come to distract himself from the way her laughter felt in his chest. But now he stood there, staring at her.

A part of him wanted to stay. To memorize the peace on her face. To forget why they were truly here.

Instead, he quietly stepped back, letting the door close with a whisper behind him.

She would rest. He would think.
And the gods only knew what tomorrow would bring.