The Foundling

It was a strange thing, growing up knowing she was an outsider, but having no memory of the outside she’d come from. Kate had read all the Midgardian books Frigga and Loki brought her, and some that she found on her own in the abandoned sections of the huge royal library. New ones kept appearing, painting an ever-changing world.

“What have you been reading now, Rémi?” Loki asked from somewhere above her. She had been lying curled up on their bench, head in his lap, staring at the tiny stream that crossed the path. The sky was darkening above them. Soon night will fall, and he’d walk her back into the palace and go bedding someone. She wasn’t sure who. She didn’t really care to find out.

“Don’t call me that, Rei,” a word she’d learned a long time ago, one that she knew mattered to him, one that she knew he hoped would actually apply one day. She mocked him with it every single time he called her Rémi. A foundling boy. She’d been kitten before, she remembered. She liked that better, being kitten. But he’d switched to Rémi when they’d both read that Midgardian book. He thought it was funny. She didn’t. They hardly ever called each other by their real names now. Kate couldn’t quite put her finger on when it started, but it was around the same time she’d become aware of his frequent sexual encounters, and what those words actually meant.

“Can we go to Midgard?” she asked.

The air stilled around them; Kate held her breath.

“What could possibly make you want to go there?” Loki asked eventually.

“I want to see,” she said. “Can you take me?”

“Father would be furious.”

“Last I checked that was on the pros list for you,” she turned, lying on her back, looking up at him. He sat back, one arm somewhere behind her head, resting on the bench’s armrest. The other arm thrown over the back of the bench. His lips curved into a smile, green eyes glinting mischievously. Score.

But then the smile wavered, “Mother would be furious, too.”

“Frigga never stays mad at you.”

“Where do you want to go?” he asked.

“Where I came from.”

He nodded, as if that was what he’d expected.

***

He woke her with a touch to her shoulder and a finger to his lips, indicating silence. Kate rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sat up, throwing the covers off her. Barefoot, in her pale green nightgown, she followed Loki down side-corridors she’d never known existed, her hand clasped safely in his. He was properly dressed, of course, black trousers and a nondescript brown shirt. His sneaking out clothes.

When guards walked by, he pulled her close, whispering in her ear, “don’t move.” The guards walked right passed them, unseeing.

She stopped when they’ve reached the Bifrost, his hold on her hand halting him as well. He turned and raised an eyebrow.

“I thought we were sneaking out,” Kate said.

“We are. Just not from Heimdall. He needs to know where we are.”

“Why?”

“So I can save you when you inevitably get into more trouble than you can deal with,” Kate jumped at the voice as the man materialized behind her. She was used to that sort of thing from Loki, but not from others. Heimdall. “Come along, children.”

***

They were standing on a hill, in the center of a stone circle. One of the stones was on its side, a basin-like shape with a small puddle of icy-water inside.

“Here?” Kate asked, wrapping her arms around herself against the bite of the cold wind. A moment later she was wearing a heavy woolen dress and a thick fur-lined coat. “Thanks,” she said.

“Right here,” Loki pointed towards the stone. “You were nearly as blue as that puddle,” he spoke so quietly she barely heard the words.

“Why?” she asked.

“Why what?”

“Why did they leave me?” she was surprised at the way her voice broke when she asked the question. The puddle blurred.

“You were sick. They were stupid. Mortals are generally stupid. Surely you’ve learned that from the books?”

“Didn’t they have healers?”

“Not the kind that could help you.”

“So they’d just left me to die?”

“They left you for the fairies to find and switch back with their own child. The healthy child they thought the fairies had stolen.”

“What?” she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around this story.

“I told you. Stupid. Come on, let’s go somewhere else.”

He put an arm around her shoulders and turned her away from the rock, directed her out of the stone circle and down the hill.

“Why did you take me?” she asked.

There was a long silence as they made their way down the hill, “I don’t know.”

***

Lady Kate of Midgard stood in a circle of Thor’s friends, a goblet of wine in her hand, jewels glistening in her hair, on her neck, on her wrists. Her dress showing just enough cleavage to make Frigga raise an eyebrow and Sif raise her glass. She couldn’t remember what this party was for, and couldn’t quite care at this point. So far she’d been asked to dance by so many men she’d started forgetting all their names. One of them tried to convince her to go out on the balcony with him, and grew just a bit too insistent to her liking. She was an inch away of unsheathing one of the knives Loki had given her, but then Thor showed up and just punched the man. He grinned, “finally, the party is starting,” and pulled her in for a dance.

They were discussing some sort of misadventure Thor was planning for the morrow, and were quickly losing her attention. She scanned the people in the room, looking for a familiar face. She found him standing across the hall, his hand on the small of a woman’s back, his lips near her ear. They hadn’t spoken in a long time, not really. Not since the day he took her to Midgard. Something changed that day, something she didn’t really understand. There were no more evening walks, no more conversations about books. Loki had stepped away, and seemed to focus his attention on chaos and bedding. Tonight he was clearly working on the latter. She wondered what sort of chaos he’d already created, just for the pleasure of watching it unfold, that he was free to pursue whomever it was he was pursuing. She finished the wine from her glass and put it on the tray of a passing servant.

They didn’t notice her step away, but Loki sure did notice her walk up to him, raising an eyebrow in that way of his. He didn’t take a step back from the woman.

“Your Highness,” Kate said, nodding to him.

“Lady Kate,” in public she was always Lady Kate.

“Dance with me,” she said, not really a question.

“I’m otherwise engaged, I’m afraid,” there was no apology in his tone. Not that Kate had expected any. The woman turned, eyes widening slightly at the sight of Kate, which made the younger girl smile wider. She’d chosen her outfit with care, emphasizing breasts that were still growing, a figure that was already mostly there. She hadn’t quite planned on getting in Loki’s way, it was just a happy accident that she was allowing to happen.

“I’m sure your ladyfriend won’t mind one dance, Your Highness,” she smiled sweetly. “Your attention isn’t that fleeting, after all.”

A second eyebrow joined the first, then he grinned. “I’ll be right back, darling,” he said to the woman, and took Kate’s hand, leading her to the dance floor.

A hand on the small of her back, hers resting on his shoulder. Their bodies pressed together as he led her around the room. Even in heels, her head barely cleared his shoulder. He’d stopped growing very recently, and it seemed she’d stopped as well. She wondered if she’d grow some more or forever be destined to look at his collarbone if she didn’t look up.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Rémi?” his voice was close to her ear.

The room swirled around them, but for a moment she caught a glimpse of the woman, watching them. She grinned, “quite.”

It didn’t last long, of course. The dance ended and he spun her around one last time, then steadied her for a moment before letting go. “Jealousy doesn’t become you, kitten, if you want me to bed you like the rest of them, all you need to do is ask.”

She rolled her eyes and snorted at his retreating back. Bed you like the rest of them. Absolutely not. It was another moment until she registered how he’d called her. Kitten. Well that was an interesting development.

Loki disappeared shortly after; the woman gone with him. Kate grabbed a goblet from a passing tray and drank deeply. Jealousy, he’d called it. She hated it when he was right.

“Lady Kate!” a man with a grin stepped into her line of vision, handsome, light haired, the complete opposite of the one that had disappeared. She couldn’t for the life of her remember his name, but she knew she’d seen him before. Danced with him earlier in the evening probably.

She let him pull her in for another dance, gulping down as much of the wine as she could before putting the goblet on yet another passing tray. He fetched her another drink after the dance, then they danced some more. He made her laugh, making little jokes, and his hand on her arm, leading her to the balcony, was warm and steady. She didn’t mind his kiss at all, it was just when a hand fondled her breast that she took a step back.

“Wai-“ she couldn’t finish the word, he was kissing her again. She tried to push him away but couldn’t, tried to speak but couldn’t.

For a moment, her mind was blank with panic, her body frozen.

Then she remembered the knife.

There are only two places you should aim at, if a man is forcing his attention on you. His voice was clear in her mind, although the instruction was given a long time ago. He’d drilled it into her, reducing her to tears once, to make sure that the act was instinctive. To make sure that she wouldn’t panic and freeze when the time came. She panicked and froze, but then she remembered. Only two places. The neck or the dick.

She went for the second option.

The man froze when he felt the sharp edge pressed against his lower region. She finally managed to take a proper step back, severing the contact of his body with hers.

“Get away from me,” her throat constricted around the words, making them hard to hear. She tried again; it came out much louder than expected the second time. Almost a scream. “GET AWAY FROM ME.”

Someone heard. She didn’t know who it was. A head poked around a corner, eyes widened, then the head disappeared. The man took one step back, hands up in a defensive posture, “c’mon sweetheart, don’t be like that,” he tried for a smile, his hands slowly moving towards her again. She pushed the knife in his direction again and he froze.

“Bitch,” he muttered, “don’t you point that thing at me,” and before she could blink the knife was out of her hand, cluttering on the floor tiles. She dived under his arm and ran towards the hall, running into Sif, Balder and Fandral. Sif caught her, looked her up and down briefly, then asked, “Did I just hear him call you bitch?”

Kate nodded.

Sif grinned, then yelled, “THOR!” a head bobbed up somewhere in the distance, a loyal puppy answering its master’s voice.

“Alright, Lady Kate?” Fandral asked, they were blocking the way, making sure the man had nowhere to go except through them. Kate nodded. “You don’t mind if I go ahead and…?” he nodded towards the man.

“N-no…?”

“Fantastic,” he grinned, bouncing. It wasn’t a proper party without a proper fight, after all.

“I believe Thor has right of first punch on this one,” Sif said, just as the large man appeared.

“Who do I need to punch?” he asked, already grinning. Then he caught the look on Kate’s face and his grin faltered. “Again?” he asked. She shrugged.

“This one called her bitch,” Sif offered, her smile widening at the expression on Thor’s face. Somewhere behind them, the man apparently tried to make a run for it, only to be punched squarely in the face by Fandral.

“Sorry, I got first punch after all,” he said.

Thor turned, eyes locking on his target. The man was just getting up, using one of the columns for balance. “I hear,” he said, “that you’ve been uncourteous to my little sister.” Little sister. He’d called her that since she was a child, even though everyone knew she wasn’t. Loki never called her that.

“No, Y-your Highness.”

Thor raised an eyebrow. Even from behind his back, Kate could tell he raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t a facial expression so much as a full body expression.

“So you’re calling my lady a liar?”

“No, Your Highness.”

“I’m bored of this,” Thor said, “Kate, I know Fandral already got the first punch, but do you want to contribute?”

Kate shook her head. She felt sick. She most certainly didn’t want to contribute.

“All mine then,” he grinned.

***

Several things happened after that night –

The man spent a month in the infirmary, getting put back together after Thor had almost singlehandedly tore him apart.

Thor got a new scar to show off, courtesy of the knife Kate had dropped.

Loki had re-instated their evening meetings, except they no longer happened in the garden. He met with her in the training room, and drilled knife exercises into her for an hour each evening. He no longer stopped the instruction when she got the knife pointed to soft bits of skin. Now they sparred in earnest. Now she had to learn to keep the knife in her hand. Use it when needed. Fight without it if it came to that. It was incredibly rare that she managed to win, which was an endless source of frustration.

They never spoke of why.

A day after the man was released from the infirmary, he disappeared. He reappeared three days later, floating in the river. It was another thing she never spoke of to Loki, but they both knew she knew it was him.