Hidden Troubles

Chapter 28

Cold.

Cold that permeated the body and numbed the mind.

Cold that froze even the soul, trapping it in its mortal coil and preventing it from whatever release – Valhalla or Hel – that awaited it. The vastness of the universe was filled with space that was devoid of any heat or comfort, overflowing with an abundance of life-killing cold.

And still it was not enough to drown out the pain that seared Loki's heart.

"No."

A single sound, representing all the centuries of rejection piled upon Loki, who could no longer deny its existence or relegate it to a matter of mere birth order. Odin's pronouncement echoed in the starless tracks through which Loki floated, dead and yet not dead, mocking him with its never-ending finality.

The cold did dull his senses, however, so when at last there was a change in his environment (whether after an eternity or a moment, he could not tell), Loki resisted the thaw by withdrawing deeper within the cold that had settled in his bones. To awaken was to feel – to feel was pain. Loki burrowed deeper, sinking into the cold, embracing it.

How long had he been falling?

Months?

Could it be? It was hard to question time when you had nothing to count the days on.

Days?

A foolish question! How could an eternity be limited to days?

Hours?

Do you jest?

Minutes?

If you counted every agony, every pain, every passing moment of silence, then it would count.

Seconds?

He felt every single one.

Why?

He knew not. Only that the silence swallowed him whole, and time was lost to him.

***

Phantom whispers and hidden silhouettes.

Why do you torment me so?

Why do I question phantoms?

Phantoms stir at your words, little prince, and they are restless.

***

"You've really got to stop ending up in here." Loki's eyes turned from the plain ceiling to the more colourful sight of the approaching red head, sporting a full-sleeved black top, loose pyjamas and a small smile. Loki allowed himself a similar smile at her attempt of lightening the mood.

"How you feeling?" Not at all disheartened, she settled the chess set she'd been carrying on the bedside table, and began arranging the pieces. Green eyes watched her intently.

"I feel—" and he really should not have made eye contact just then because the 'fine' is shrivelling on his tongue the way it used to when Eir would look at him with that same steady, sceptical gaze that said 'I know you are lying'.