Stolen Relic ~ A Loki Fanfic

Chapter Seven

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Loki swallowed. He had intended to wait to solve the mystery of the slave girl until the issue with Harokin was resolved. But now, staring into her pain filled face he couldn't shake the belief that they were somehow connected. He looked from her to the maps. 

"Kenna," he began, uncertain how to broach the subject without scaring her further. "What do you remember of how you came to be in Asgard?" 

Kenna shook her head, her eyes were still wide and fearful. "Nothing," she replied automatically. "...and yet...." she looked back down at the maps. 

"What of the tea?" Loki pressed. "And the healing herbs? Your herb lore in general...where did you learn that? You grew up in Alfheim, remember-" 

Kenna opened her mouth to respond but then she fell forward, bending at the waist and clutching at her temples with her fists. Instead of speaking as she had intended her mouth opened in a silent scream. 

Loki reached forward and caught her by the shoulders. His fingers brushed against the collar and a zing of pain radiated through his entire body sending him stumbling away from her.

Kenna's eyes were wide with terror as she stared at him. "Prince Loki I'm so sorry! I don't know-" 

Loki pushed himself up off the desk and walked towards her slowly. "Kenna," he said her name in a low gentle voice holding his hands out in front of him so she could see he meant her no harm. "Let me help you," he implored. 

"What will you do?" she asked, drawing back from him. 

"If you grant me permission, I think...I might be able to help you get our memories back." 

"My memories?" she asked in confusion and Loki could see with every moment that went by even the memory of the pain that had robbed her of when she had tried to remember was fleeting. Whoever had crafted this spell was incredibly powerful. 

"Trust me," he commanded, though he had a moment to doubt whether he would be powerful enough to disrupt such a spell. 

Kenna nodded slowly. She reached up and touched her cheeks, uncertain why there were tears there. How many times had she woken, uncertain why she was crying. 

Loki stepped up in front of her. Her wide black eyes were staring at the ground at his feet. The magic he was already expending to shield them would make this difficult. He had practice dividing his focus but not when he was this exhausted. He could drop the shield, but then Hiemdall would be free to look upon them. Whoever chose to lay this magic upon the small slave must have had good reason and was someone of immense power. 

He stepped up even closer to her. He drew in a deep breath, preparing himself. He grabbed the collar in both hands. Power surged up his arms and it felt like he was holding onto a bolt of lightning. Sweat beaded on his brow as he fought against the magic. His hands shook with the desire to let go of the burning metal. He poured every last piece of his magic down his hands and opened it. The collar clicked and suddenly it was just a piece of bronze in his hands. 

He stared down at it in surprise. He turned it over in his palms. But there was no magic left. It was simply a slave collar. He swiped a hand across his face and exhaled heavily. Whoever crafted that was powerful indeed. He could only think of a handful of magic users who might manage. As he shook off the remaining tingle of magic he narrowed it down even further. Perhaps two or three but there had been no clear signature to the magic.