The Foundling

They were all getting too old for party games, but the actual parties were getting more and more dull as they grew older, and something had to be done for proper entertainment. It was her suggestion, and Kate was surprised when the group picked it up. Even Loki joined them, which was a rarity. Once they were banned from Midgard, he’d once again disappeared from her general vicinity. But he had to appear at the ball, and when he heard of the game he actually stopped what was obviously shaping up to be his own private evening entertainment, and joined them.

They were sitting in the farthest corner of the banquet hall, strewn on pillows on the floor – Thor, The Warriors Three, Sif, Loki, Baldr and herself. Between them, an empty bottle of wine was spinning, choosing its next victim.

Kate had introduced them to Truth or Dare, and they’ve quickly adapted it to something more to their liking. A bottle of truth-potion laced mead stood nearby, and a regular bottle was making its way between them, following Sif’s “if you don’t drink you can’t play,” declaration.

The bottle stopped spinning, pointing at Thor, “Truth or Challenge, brother,” Loki grinned, surely already planning his next move.

“Challenge!” Thor downed a long gulp of the regular mead. Everyone laughed, his choice hasn’t changed throughout the whole game, bringing about a mountain of hilarity.

“Bring me the crown,” Loki said.

Kate rolled her eyes. Thor stood up, stretching, and disappeared into the mass of people in search of their father. She wished him luck.

“What are you going to do with the crown, Your Highness?” Kate asked. She almost called him Rei, a dangerous mistake to do in public.

“See how well it fits,” he shrugged.

“Lady Kate,” Fandral said, leaning towards her, “should I get you something else to drink? You don’t seem to like the mead.” She’d been taking only small, token sips to make sure she stays in the game. Fandral has been trying to get her drunk the entire evening. He smiled, and she was tempted to let him. She’d let him dance with her most of the night.

“No need,” she smiled, “I’m quite happy as I am.”

Thor returned faster than expected, tossing the crown as he walked, and presented it to Loki with a bow, “Your Highness,” he couldn’t quite keep the mocking from his voice, the satisfied smile from his lips. Loki took the offered crown, settled it on his head, created a mirror to look into and smiled. Kate had to admit, it suited him. He caught her eyes and smiled, the mirror disappearing.

“My turn,” Sif said, spinning the bottle, taking a sip from the regular mead. The neck stopped, pointing at Loki. He didn’t even wait for the question – he picked up the truth-potion mead bottle and raised an eyebrow, waiting. Sif grinned, “is there anyone here you haven’t lied to?” she asked.

“Define here,” Loki asked. “This realm, this city, this palace, this room…?”

“This group,” she rolled her eyes.

Loki took a swig; they all waited a moment for the spell to set. “Yes.”

“Huh,” Sif said, and Kate wasn’t sure whether the other woman was surprised or not. “Who?”

He raised a finger, indicating she only got one question, then spun the bottle.

***

Loki sprawled on some pillows, a goblet with wine caught carelessly between two fingers of one hand, the crown held in the other, fingers caressing it slowly. Kate’s eyes kept being drawn to him like a magnet, despite the fact she was in conversation with Fandral. The man’s words registered somewhere in the back of her mind, his fingers dancing lightly on her collarbone now an irritating distraction rather than a pleasant one.

Loki placed the wine glass on the floor and got up suddenly, turned to her and caught her staring, motioned with his head.

“Pardon me,” Kate said to Fandral, and couldn’t even find it within herself to feel guilt or shame.

“Walk with me, kitten,” Loki said, twining her hand in the crook of his elbow. He flicked his wrist as they passed by Odin and the crown disappeared from his hand, appeared back on the Allfather’s head. The old man watched them leave, one eye enough to make her shiver. He always made her uncomfortable.

Loki took her to the gardens, to their little corner, walking silently.

“I can never find this place on my own,” Kate said when they settled on the bench.

“You’re looking with your eyes,” he told her.

“I don’t have magic powers to look with,” she shrugged, reaching for his hand hovering above her as he rested an elbow on the back of the bench, pulling it down to trace his long fingers. She sometimes wondered what it would be like, to have the world at the tips of your fingers like he had. Think of something and it would appear. A dress. A book. A flower.

A flower appeared between his fingers, black stem, green flecks dotting the otherwise brilliant gold petals. It wasn’t like any flower she’d seen in any garden before, but it seemed oddly familiar. She caressed the petals, soft and silky. “I didn’t know you read minds.”

“This used to be your favorite trick when you were little,” he spoke softly, eyes glued to the flower. “Make me a flower, Loki,” he pitched his voice high, imitating a toddler Kate. Then back to his own voice - “What kind? I would ask. And you always said the same thing,” the high-pitched voice spoke again, “A gold flower! No, not like that. It needs to have green freckles! And a black dress!”

“Green freckles and a black dress?” Kate laughed. She had no memory of that. It all happened so long ago. Loki held the flower by the stem, right below the bud, and twirled it around. The black leaves at the stem rose in an entirely unnatural arrangement, swelling like the skirt of a dress. She took the flower, turning it this way and that, twirling the stem like he had. A gold flower with green freckles and a black dress, conjured out of thin air at the whims of a small child. And now again, as if the man could read her mind. She caressed the petals for another moment, then twined the flower into the hair right above her ear.

Loki watched her, eyes following the movement of her hands, stilling on the flower in her hair. When he spoke again, he was still looking at it, “you know there’s a wager on who will be the first you’ll take to your bed, right?”

Kate’s laughed a short, surprised laugh, “surely the only one who doesn’t know is Thor?”

“And we’re all better for it,” Loki said, eyes finally leaving the flower in her hair.

“Is Fandral in the lead?” he nodded. “Did someone place a wager on you?” Kate asked. He nodded again. She smiled, “was it you, you smug little-“

“It wasn’t me,” he cut her off. “It was Sif.”

A pause as she considered it, “you’re lying.”

“I don’t lie to you,” he said.

“Never?” she asked.

“Did I not say, under the influence of a truth-potion, that I’ve never lied to you?”

“What? Before? That was me?”

“Who else would it be? You’ve seen me lie to each and every one of them. What did you think?”

“That you were lying,” Kate’s shoulders shook with laugher, and Loki joined her.

“To what end?”

“Confuse everyone. You like that,” she reached a hand up to move a strand of black hair that fell on his forehead, tucked it behind his ear.

“Sometimes the truth works just as well for that. Sometimes it works even better.”

“So, the truth – should I go to bed with Fandral?”

“No,” his answer was quick and short.

“What? You’re not even going to ask me if I want to?”

“No,” a smile danced at the corners of his lips but didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Should I go to bed with you then?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” she asked, she’d been playing with his hand again, turning it this way and that, pressing the tips of their fingers together, scratching her nails down his palm. His other hand had sneaked into her hair, fingers teasing lightly just behind her ear.

“Why?” he repeated the question, brow furrowing, as if he didn’t understand.

“Why should I, Catriona of Midgard, go to bed with you, Loki Odinson, the biggest whore on Asgard?”

“I’m not a whore,” he said. “People don’t pay me.”

“Information is currency,” Kate grinned. She knew well enough his various ways to get information. He had to concede the point.

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes.

“So why?” she asked again, sitting up. He didn’t let her move far, pulling her to sit on his lap, one hand still in her hair, resting on the back of her neck. This was new. It was also oddly comfortable.

“Because you want to,” he said, grinning. Smug.

He was right, of course. He was usually right, especially about her. She traced a sharp cheekbone with the tips of her fingers, tucking the once-again-escaped strand of his hair behind his ear.

He bent his head, his fingers on the back of her head pulling her close, and kissed her. Long and deep, leaving her breathless when he finally let her go. “I told you a long time ago, all you need to do is ask, kitten.”

Kate froze, that particular night, that particular ball, that particular sentence flashing through her memory. If you want me to bed you like the rest of them, all you need to do is ask. It made the blood boil in her veins again, just as it had then.

“You ask,” she said, pulling back as he leaned down for another kiss.

“Hmm?”

“If you want to bed me like the rest of them, Loki,” she said, and was surprised at the way his name seemed strange on her tongue, “then you ask me.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, sensing a trap but not seeing it. Cocked his head a little as he considered her words, then shrugged.

“Can I take you to bed, Kate?” it was strange hearing her name from his lips, no Lady, no kitten, no Rémi, no Catriona. Just Kate. Stranger even than his own name sounded when she said it out loud without the Odinson. They’ve fallen so much into the habit of nicknames, using them for decades, centuries at a time, that their names now seemed odd. Intimate. Too intimate, perhaps.

“Alright.”

He smiled, eyes darting all over her face before focusing on her lips, “wonderful,” he mumbled, then kissed her again.