The Sacrifice: Fallen | Loki | Book 2

Epilogue

The child's eyes were glued to the screen. His gaze, out of this world, dived into another, let go of all that transpired around him. Simultaneously, they bore a knowing look. He knew, something was all too familiar, but he couldn't tell what. There was no way he could ever know with his short five years of living. The little boy, seated on the floor only inches away from the tv,  outstretched his soft palm to the flatscreen, pressing it to the sight of the dancer on the blades. 

"Don't let your mama catch you doing that." 

The boy didn't even flinch. He did hear his father, who was seated farther away on the couch. 

"Psst, Nate! You're gonna get in troub- "

"What shouldn't I catch him doing?" 

Tom sighed internally. Of course, she had heard him. Nothing went over her head, ever, in that house. "Tom?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." He sipped on a cup of tea, innocently as ever. Too innocently. Caroline glanced over to her son.

"Oh, Nathaniel." She bent down to the boy. "You know we're not supposed to touch the screen! You're leaving sticky handprints." 

Indeed, Tom had given him some caramel fudge brownie (one of Caroline's absolute sweet favorites, much to the dismay of her dentist), and children were children after all. He was only five, quite the mature five-year-old, but still. They get dirty practically 24/7... and definitely faster than you can get them clean.

She proceeded to wipe Nathaniel's hands clean, not paying any attention to the sports channel. Tom had a thing for sports, if not for him, the tv wouldn't be on at this time of day and Nathaniel would've been in bed already. They both loved watching the sports channel, which was broadcasting the Winter Olympics that day. 

"... Norway's absolute number one figure skater, coming off his third consecutive gold medal in the World Championship. Will this be his fourth?"

"Well, if he manages to do that he'll go down in figure skating history."

"The odds couldn't possibly be less in his favor; he's the oldest by far in the competition, and expectations set him under an immense amount of pressure."

"Let's not underestimate him, Richard. He's always been a golden boy." 

"Who is that, mama?" 

"Who?"

Nate pointed a sticky finger at the tv. "Him."

Caroline turned around. She actually took in the screen for the first time, she didn't particularly care for sports. Her eyes stuck to the angular face of Norway's figure skating prodigy. They widened slightly, captivated by something she couldn't exactly pinpoint, and she stopped wiping at Nate's hands for a moment. 

"I don't know, sweetie. Ask daddy." She breathed, still processing the singular impression.

Tom put his cup down, without so much as blinking. "Viktor Iliansson. They call him the Northern Serpent." 

"Do you think I can be like him when I grow up?" 

"A figure skater? I don't see why not." He walked to the now caramel-free boy and picked him up. "You can do anything you put your mind into, I'm sure. What does mama think?" 

"That sounds like a perfect idea! I can look for a class at the ice rink if you - " 

One moment. No more than two seconds, in which she was gone. Sometimes, the world became black for Caroline Irene Hiddleston. Ever since that night, that fateful night where a soul was traded for hers. It wasn't so much due to the magic involved, the explanation was rather physical. She had suffered hypoxic brain damage in the time it took to bring her back. It manifested in a quite special from of epilepsy, marked by so-called 'absences'. It only lasts for seconds, but it makes her stop doing whatever she was doing, makes her gaze go empty and her words run dry.