Chapter 3
Mobius stood at the front of the lecture hall, the projector casting a soft glow onto the ancient images behind him, artistic renditions of the Norse Gods at a grand dining hall in Asgard. He spoke with passion about the rich tapestry of Norse mythology, his voice echoing through the room. "And so, Thor, in a rather unconventional twist, donned Frigga's bridal dress," he explained, a hint of amusement in his tone, "all to retrieve his stolen hammer from the giant Thrym. The gods, you see, had a flair for the dramatic." His eyes sparkled with the thrill of his life's interest, but as he continued, the door at the back of the room creaked open. Alistair slipped in quietly, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
Mobius' train of thought faltered when he caught sight of Alistair. His heart skipped a beat, and he felt a warm flush creep up his neck. He stammered slightly, the seamless flow of his lecture momentarily disrupted. The students, engrossed in the story, seemed not to notice, but one particularly attentive student raised a hand. "Professor, why did Thor agree to such a plan?" the student asked, curiosity piqued.
Mobius forced himself to focus, giving Alistair a quick, shy smile before addressing the question. "Ah, well," he began, his voice steadying, "Thor's pride was wounded, and he knew the only way to retrieve Mjolnir was through cunning, even if it meant disguising himself as a bride. It speaks volumes about the lengths the gods would go to protect their power, as well as the different view of gender norms than we may understand today." He glanced back at Alistair, who was watching with an amused expression, and did his best to push aside the flustered feeling bubbling inside him.
Mobius took a breath, regaining his composure, but before he could continue, Alistair's voice cut through the room. "Professor," he called out, a hint of mischief in his tone, "could you elaborate on Loki's role in this particular myth? How did the trickster god influence Thor's decision?"
Those piercing green eyes flashed in Mobius' mind again, a memory so vivid it momentarily left him breathless. He gathered himself quickly, not wanting to appear flustered in front of his students. "Ah, yes," he replied, his voice steadying. "Loki, ever the cunning strategist, was the mastermind behind the plan. He convinced Thor that deception was their best weapon. Loki even dressed as Thor's handmaiden to complete the ruse, showcasing his adaptability and wit."
Alistair smirked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Interesting, Professor. I always knew Loki had a flair for the dramatic," he teased, causing a ripple of laughter among the students.
As the lecture came to an end, the students began to file out, chatting excitedly about the myths they had just discussed. Mobius busied himself with gathering his notes, trying to calm the fluttering in his chest. The room emptied, leaving only Alistair, who approached Mobius' desk with a confident stride. His presence was strong, almost overwhelming, and Mobius felt a mix of excitement and nervousness surge through him.
He could feel his heart racing, his thoughts a chaotic jumble.
Does he know how he makes me feel?
Can he see it in my eyes?
Mobius wondered, trying to keep his expression neutral. Alistair stood over him, his gaze steady and intense. "So, Mobius," he said, his voice low and inviting, "do you still want to join me to see the new exhibit I'm curating at the museum? It's quite the collection."
Mobius looked up, meeting those captivating green eyes. His pulse quickened, but he managed a smile. "Yes, I'd love to," he replied, his voice betraying just a hint of the excitement he felt. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."
The two walked side by side, their footsteps echoing softly in the evening air as they made their way to the museum just down the street from the anthropology lecture hall. Alistair talked animatedly about the new collection, describing the array of religious artifacts they had acquired. "We have some incredible pieces," he said, his eyes lighting up. "Ancient amulets, ceremonial masks, even a few relics believed to be used in ritualistic sacrifices. It's a remarkable collection."
Mobius listened intently, trying to keep his focus on the conversation and not on the warmth spreading across his face. When Alistair mentioned how much he had enjoyed the lecture, Mobius couldn't help but blush. "Your passion for the subject really shines through, Mobius. It was a great session today."
Flustered, Mobius attempted to deflect. "Well, I just hope I didn't bore everyone to sleep," he joked, chuckling nervously. Alistair laughed in response, a deep, genuine sound that sent a pleasant jolt through Mobius' chest, making his heart lurch once more.
When they arrived at the small museum, Alistair used his administrative keys to unlock the back doors, and they stepped inside. The small museum, tucked away on the edge of the campus, was a modest building with stone walls and large wooden doors. The interior was dimly lit, with spotlights illuminating various exhibits that lined the walls and filled glass cases. As Mobius stepped inside, he was immediately struck by the atmosphere. The air seemed to hum with history and mystery. Alistair began to speak, his voice a smooth and soothing counterpoint to the quiet reverence of the space.
“This museum focuses on old Norse religion and artifacts, as you know” Alistair explained as they walked. “We’ve gathered items from various excavations around Scandinavia. Each piece tells a story of the past.”
Mobius was in awe. He stopped in front of a display of intricately carved ritual items—wooden bowls, ornate iron knives, and a beautifully preserved ceremonial mask. The craftsmanship was astounding, each item having survived oceans of time.
“These ritual items,” Alistair continued, “were used in various ceremonies. The bowls for offerings, the knives for sacrifices, and the masks for invoking deities during rituals.”
Mobius listened, but he was also lost in his own thoughts. The mystical atmosphere of the museum, combined with Alistair’s presence, created a sense of enchantment. He could feel a connection to the past, a bridge between the ancient and the present. Then, Alistair gently took Mobius’ hand, guiding him toward the back of the museum. Mobius felt a jolt of electricity at the touch, his heart racing. Alistair’s hand was warm and firm, and the simple act of holding it made Mobius’ thoughts scatter to the wind.
“Come, there’s something special I want to show you,” Alistair said, leading him to the centerpiece of the exhibit.
They stopped in front of a large, ornately decorated sacrificial altar. The stone was dark and ancient, covered in runic inscriptions and faint traces of old bloodstains. Alistair began to explain its significance, but Mobius found it hard to focus on the words.
His mind was a whirlwind of emotions. The low lighting of the museum cast shadows that played across Alistair’s face, highlighting his sharp features and the intense green of his eyes. Mobius’ breath caught in his throat as he realized how beautiful Alistair looked in this setting, like a figure from the very myths they both studied.
“Mobius,” Alistair’s voice broke through his reverie, “are you alright?”
“Y-yes,” Mobius stammered, feeling a blush creep up his neck. “I’m just… overwhelmed. This altar, it’s incredible.”
Alistair smiled, his eyes twinkling with understanding, as if he could read his mind. “It is, isn’t it? It's been a long time…I mean, to think of the ceremonies that took place here, the people who stood where we’re standing now. It’s like touching history.”
Mobius nodded, his thoughts still a jumble. The touch of Alistair’s hand, the closeness of his body, and the sheer beauty of the man were all too much. He couldn’t concentrate on the exhibit, couldn’t process the historical significance. All he could think about was how desperately he wanted to stay in this moment, to hold on to this feeling.
Alistair’s hand squeezed his gently, and Mobius’ heart raced even faster. “Thank you for showing me this,” he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. Mobius' heart raced as Alistair guided him through the dimly lit museum. When Alistair finally released his hand, Mobius felt a pang of loss, as if something vital had been taken from him. He turned to look at Alistair, and the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them. Alistair reached out and gently tilted Mobius’ chin, bringing their faces closer together. The intimacy of the gesture made Mobius' breath catch in his throat.
This couldn’t really be happening–
"I want to show you so much more, Mobius," Alistair whispered, his voice a soft caress. Their faces were so close now that Mobius could see the flecks of gold in Alistair’s green eyes, the same eyes that had haunted his dreams. The pounding of his heart drowned out all other sounds, and he could feel the heat radiating from Alistair’s body, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Mobius’ entire being was focused on those green eyes, so close, so mesmerizing. His thoughts were a blur of desire and confusion, and he could barely think of anything beyond the magnetic pull of Alistair’s gaze. He felt himself leaning in, compelled by a force he couldn’t name, his heart racing so fast he thought it might burst.
Just as their lips were about to meet, or so he’d hoped, a familiar voice cut through the charged silence.
"Professor Mobius?"
The spell was broken. Mobius and Alistair pulled back, their faces flushed, breaths uneven. Turning towards the interruption, Mobius saw Erik, his young research assistant, standing a few feet away, looking both curious and apologetic.
"Erik," Mobius said, struggling to regain his composure. "Is this a bad time?" Erik asked, glancing between Mobius and Alistair with a hint of uncertainty.
"No, not at all," Mobius replied, his voice a bit too high-pitched. He cleared his throat, trying to sound more collected. "What can I do for you?"
Erik hesitated, then stepped forward, holding a stack of loose-leaf pages. "I have more translations for you to check over. I thought you might want to see them as soon as possible. I’ve made some progress on the runestone translations. I think you’ll find these quite interesting."
Mobius took the pages, his hands trembling slightly. "Thank you, Erik. I appreciate your dedication."
Alistair watched the exchange with an amused smile, his eyes still lingering on Mobius. "It seems you have quite the diligent assistant, Professor."
"Yes, Erik is very thorough," Mobius said, glancing at the pages but finding it hard to focus on the words. His mind was still reeling from the near-kiss and the intensity of Alistair’s gaze. He could feel the heat of Alistair’s body still close to his own, and his too alluring green eyes boring into him as he tried to focus on the pages in his hands, a phantom warmth that made it difficult to think clearly.
Erik, seemingly unaware of the charged atmosphere, continued, "I thought we could go over these together, if you have time now?"
Mobius nodded, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. "Of course. Let’s find a quiet place to sit and review them."
Alistair stepped aside gracefully, gesturing towards a nearby table. "Please, use the museum’s resources as you need. I’ll be around if you have any questions."
Mobius gave him a grateful, if somewhat flustered, smile. "Thank you, Alistair. I appreciate it."
As Mobius and Erik moved to the table, Mobius couldn’t help but steal glances at Alistair. The man’s presence was like a beacon, drawing his attention no matter how much he tried to focus on the task at hand. His heart was still racing, and his mind was a whirl of emotions he couldn’t quite name.
"Are you alright, Professor?" Erik asked, noticing Mobius’ distraction.
"Yes, I’m fine," Mobius replied, shaking his head slightly as if to clear it. "Just a bit… overwhelmed by everything today."
Erik nodded, oblivious to the deeper currents of Mobius’ thoughts. "I understand. This discovery is quite significant."
Mobius forced a smile, looking down at the translations. "Yes, it is. Let’s get to work."
But even as he tried to concentrate on the runes before him, Mobius couldn’t shake the feeling of Alistair’s eyes on him, the warmth of his hand, and the electric connection that seemed to pulse between them. Despite his racing thoughts, Mobius and Erik sat at the small table, poring over the new translations. The room was filled with the soft hum of the museum’s lighting and the distant echo of footsteps. Mobius’ mind was still partially with Alistair, but he forced himself to focus on the task at hand.
“Professor, this section here,” Erik pointed to a particularly dense cluster of runes, “it’s talking about Baldr’s death and Loki’s punishment, but I can’t make sense of it. The structure is all wrong.”
Mobius leaned in, examining the runes closely. “You’re right, Erik. It’s almost like a fragment of an ancient legend, but the phrasing is unusual. Here, it mentions Baldr’s death…” He trailed off, translating aloud as he went. “Condemnation… eternal punishment… but it’s not clear.”
Erik frowned, his brows knitting together in concentration. “I tried cross-referencing it with other known inscriptions, but nothing fits. It’s like this runestone is telling a part of the story that’s been lost or altered.”
Mobius nodded, feeling a familiar spark of curiosity. “This could be significant. If we can decipher this, it might shed new light on the myths surrounding Loki and Baldr.”
As they struggled with the translation, Mobius couldn’t help but notice Alistair lingering nearby, seemingly engrossed in an exhibit. He looked up and caught Alistair’s eye. Alistair gave him a small, encouraging smile and then walked over, his presence immediately commanding attention.
“Having trouble?” Alistair asked, his tone polite but with an underlying confidence.
“Yes, actually,” Mobius admitted. “This part about Loki’s punishment is particularly confusing. It’s not following the usual patterns.”
Alistair leaned over the table, his proximity causing Mobius’ heart to race again. “May I?” he asked, and Mobius nodded, handing over the pages.
Alistair scanned the text quickly, his eyes narrowing in concentration. “Ah, I see the issue,” he said, his voice soft yet authoritative. “This runestone is describing an ancient legend, but it’s also using a form of poetic structure that’s rare in other inscriptions.”
Mobius watched in awe as Alistair effortlessly deciphered the runes, his mind working at a speed that even Mobius, with all his expertise, found impressive.
“This section here,” Alistair continued, pointing to a line of runes, “it’s detailing the judgment passed down onto Loki by the gods for killing Baldr. Loki fled, disguising himself as the giantess Thok and later turning into a salmon to hide in a waterfall.”
Erik and Mobius listened intently as Alistair explained. “The Aesir, knowing where he was, tried to catch him in a net, but Loki jumped over it. Thor caught him as a salmon, and Loki was then bound in a cave with a venomous snake dripping poison on his face. Sigyn, his wife, stayed with him, catching the poison in a basin, but whenever she had to empty it, the poison dripped onto Loki, causing him to writhe in pain and create earthquakes.”
Mobius felt a thrill as Alistair continued. “And, of course, some sources say Loki was also bound to a rock using the entrails of his sons. This punishment lasts until Ragnarok, where he is prophesied to be killed in a battle with Heimdall.”
Mobius nodded, absorbing the familiar story but also captivated by how eloquently Alistair recounted it. “Yes, that’s the accepted version. But this runestone… it seems to alter the narrative.”
“Precisely,” Alistair said, his green eyes gleaming with excitement. “According to this runestone, the incantations inscribed here were placed by a god, Skadi, to release Loki from his eternal punishment—but only if a Midgardian were to speak them and pray to him.”
Erik’s eyes widened. “That changes everything we know about this legend.”
Mobius was struck dumb, staring at Alistair in awe. He had spent his life studying these myths, becoming one of the world’s foremost experts on Loki, yet Alistair had effortlessly deciphered a text that had stumped even him. And the implications of this new interpretation were staggering.
Alistair met Mobius’ gaze, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “It seems, Professor, that this runestone might hold the key to a hidden chapter in our understanding of Norse mythology.”
Mobius felt his pulse quicken, a mix of excitement and confusion swirling within him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Alistair, the man’s beauty and brilliance shining in the low light of the museum. It was as if Alistair himself were a part of the myths they studied, an enigmatic figure woven from the very fabric of ancient legends. And as Alistair’s words hung in the air, Mobius couldn’t help but feel that this discovery was just the beginning of something far greater than he could have ever imagined.
But the incantations still ran through his mind…
A sudden realization washed over Mobius then, unnerving and exciting in equal measure. What if he had actually freed the god Loki that night after reciting the incantations? The thought defied logic, but it gnawed at him, refusing to be dismissed. He turned to Alistair and Erik, his mind racing.
“I, uh,” Mobius began, his voice trembling slightly. “I spoke those incantations aloud last night. The ones we’ve been studying.”
Erik’s eyes widened in amazement, while Alistair’s expression remained carefully neutral, though Mobius thought he saw the faintest flicker of something in those green eyes.
“And?” Erik prompted, leaning forward eagerly. He didn't look like he was mocking him, no, the kid seemed genuinely curious.
Mobius laughed, the sound slightly forced. “And nothing happened, of course. It’s silly to believe in such things, isn’t it? I mean, if I had really freed the god Loki, where would he be now?”
Alistair’s frown was almost imperceptible, but Mobius caught it, or at least he thought so. Perhaps it was just a trick of the light. Alistair chuckled softly. “Stranger things have happened, Mobius. Who knows what ancient powers might still linger in the world?”
Erik was too excited to notice the tension, still grinning. His career was about to take off with this find after all. “This is incredible, Professor! We’re on the brink of something huge!”
Mobius nodded, trying to push away his doubts. “Yes, Erik, it certainly seems that way. This discovery could change our understanding of Norse mythology entirely.”
As Erik continued to talk excitedly about the implications of their find, Mobius found his thoughts drifting back to Alistair. The man had deciphered the runes with such ease, understanding their nuances in a way that even Mobius, one of the world’s foremost experts, struggled with. It was almost as if Alistair had once spoken and read the language himself.
“Alistair,” Mobius said, interrupting Erik’s enthusiastic monologue. “Would you consider joining Erik and me in publishing this discovery? Your insights and translation skills have been incredibly helpful.”
Alistair smiled, a hint of mystery in his eyes. “I’d be honored, Mobius. It’s been a pleasure working with you both.”
Mobius couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Alistair than met the eye. As Erik gathered the pages and continued to chatter excitedly about their plans, Mobius found himself studying Alistair. The man was an enigma, an attractive and alluring one at that. The way he spoke about the myths, the way he seemed to know them intimately, it was almost as if he were a part of them…it was intriguing in a way Mobius had never encountered before.
And then there were the green eyes that had haunted Mobius’ dreams. He couldn’t help but wonder if there was some deeper connection, something he was missing. It felt like the answers were right in front of him, and yet far out of reach.
“Thank you, Alistair,” Mobius said as they walked toward the exit. “For everything.”
Alistair smiled, a knowing look in his eyes. “The pleasure is mine, Mobius. I look forward to what we’ll discover together.”
As Mobius stepped out into the crisp evening air, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was standing at the threshold of something extraordinary. He glanced back at Alistair, who lingered at the museum’s entrance, watching him with an inscrutable expression.
An enigma, indeed, Mobius thought. But one he was irresistibly drawn to unravel.