Chapter Text
Nothing had actually changed. And everything had.
It was hard to quantify just how: Loki could just feel it, as though after his wedding he was living in a slightly different world - everything nearly the same and not quite.
When he thought about it like that, it seemed sinister, but that wasn’t how it felt. No, it was more like he’d stepped out of a shadow and was suddenly standing, blinking, at the world revealed in light.
Absurd, he scoffed at himself. You are a fool. A sentimental fool. But it was a scold that had no real force. The foolish smiles kept creeping onto his face unbidden, and he could not truly wish to shed them. If ever there was anything to be a sentimental fool over…
There were so few things over which he had no regrets, no hesitations. Wedding Steve was one of them.
What he was doing now, significantly less so.
He and Barton had been very good at avoiding each other by mutual and silent agreement. Loki could count the exchanges they’d had when Barton was...himself, on one hand. Since Ultron - since Loki’s faltering apology that he had always assumed would be without value - there seemed to have been a cessation of hostilities on Barton’s part. And at the wedding…
Loki had been debating with himself over seeking him out for a conversation, the idea of which was about as appealing as walking through a nest of Asgard’s fire beetles, and decided (coward) that it would be better to leave it to Barton to make that decision. Apparently he had.
“Hey,” he said, fingers drumming against his thigh in a nervous gesture Barton had never shown when he was Loki’s. “You busy, or…?”
“No,” Loki said carefully. “Not in the least.” He had been marking up some of Dr. Foster’s notes (he had asked, first, this time). “What can I do for you?”
Barton grimaced. “It isn’t what you can do for me,” he said, then shifted and muttered, “Jesus fuck,” what was probably supposed to be under his breath. “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he said, “but I think we should...talk.”
Loki stared at him. “I cannot believe you are saying that either,” he said. Barton made a sound that was probably intended to be a laugh.
“Yeah, well,” he said. “I don’t promise to be real good at it.” There was that shift in his speech, Loki noticed. A sign of stress. He was trying to seem casual, but it was wearing on him. It would be easy enough to drive him off; it wouldn’t necessarily take cruelty.
Loki gestured at one of the chairs. “Sit,” he said, hoping he sounded friendly and open rather than tense and uneasy. “Was there something in particular you wished to discuss?”
“‘Discuss’,” Barton said. “That makes it sound so…” He made an obscure gesture, the meaning of which escaped Loki entirely. His expression must have shown it, because Barton dropped his hand and grimaced. “Yeah, I guess. Let’s discuss.”
Loki took a seat himself, because Barton hadn’t moved to sit and perhaps he would be more comfortable that way. A moment later Barton muttered something to himself, this time inaudible even to Loki, and walked over to sit down.
“You know,” he said after a moment of mutual silence, “I wish it were satisfying how nervous you look right now.”
Loki quickly focused on controlling his face and blanking his expression. His face felt warm and he dearly hoped that there was no flush showing. “It is not?” He said, and his voice, at least, sounded casual.
“Not really, no.” Barton rubbed his hands on his legs. “That’s. Kind of how it is, you know? I’m not actually that good at holding grudges.”
Loki frowned. “I am afraid I don’t follow.”
“Look,” Barton said, jerking to his feet and walking over to the window, though the second he was there he turned around rather than keeping his back to Loki. “At this point you’re - practically an Avenger and you’re Cap’s newly minted fucking husband, so I feel like maybe now’s a good time to...reassess. And stop acting like I don’t know you live in the same building.”
“Is that what you’ve been doing?” Loki asked.
“Basically, yeah.” He paused and added, “more or less since day one.”
“Has it been working?” Loki asked, genuinely curious.
“Depends on the day.” Barton rolled his shoulders back. “But like I said. You’re sort of one of the team now, so…”
“So you thought to clear the air,” Loki said.
“Sort of,” Barton said. “Maybe. I don’t actually know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t actually know what to do with you...in general.”
Loki was tempted to wince, but he kept himself still. “No?”
“Yeah,” Barton said. “I mean, you’re not exactly ‘kneel before me’ crazy anymore, are you? But all that shit...still happened. I can’t forget that.”
“I don’t expect you to,” Loki said, though a part of him wanted to wince. So it was going to be one of those conversations, he thought, a little wearily, and wanted to laugh at himself for expecting something else.
“Yeah, see,” Barton said, “That’s kind of what throws me. All this time and you haven’t really once tried to convince me of anything, you know? It’s not like you’ve been putting a whole bunch of effort into making a big thing of how you’re, I don’t know, good now.”
“I am not,” Loki said, almost automatically. Barton gave him an almost scathing look.
“Yeah,” he said, deadpan. “You’re the worst. Anyway, my point is...I guess I appreciate that.”
Loki’s throat felt oddly tight. He swallowed hard and said, “Even if I had tried, you perhaps more than anyone would be disposed to mistrust me, so it would have been pointless.”
Barton made a ha! noise in the back of his throat. “Yeah,” he said. “I bet that’s why.” The crooked smile faded fast, however. “When Steve told us about Thanos,” he said, “I wasn’t even surprised.”
Loki felt his expression spasm. “What do…” You remember, he almost said, but he cut himself off. Barton raised his eyebrows, walking back to sit down again.
“What do I remember? A lot, actually. You’ve might’ve - you might’ve been in my head but doors don’t just go one way. And I remember you were fucked up.” He snorted. “Pissed me off, back then. Like you fucking...refusing to eat, or sleep.” His knee jumped up and down, betraying his agitation. “You didn’t mean for that to happen, did you?”
Loki stared at Barton, not entirely sure how to respond. Finally he said, “not exactly. I’d never used it before. Honestly, I wasn’t sure it would work.”
“Did, though,” Barton said, his voice flattening. “Like a charm.”
Yes. It had, and Loki’s chief reaction had been relief, because he wasn’t going to be on his own and maybe, maybe, he could make this work.
They stared at each other in suddenly uncomfortable silence. Loki looked away first.
“Like I said,” Barton said after a long pause, “I’m not going to forget shit. I can’t. But, like I also said, I’m shit at holding grudges over the long run. I don’t know about forgiveness. But I can...fuck, I don’t know. Let it go, or...whatever.”
“What I did to you,” Loki said, clarifying.
“Yeah,” Barton said. “Something like that. I’m working on it.”
Loki considered him for a long moment, biting his tongue. Barton fidgeted. “What?”
“I have no right to ask anything of you,” Loki said quietly. Barton grimaced.
“You’re not asking,” he said, “and it’s not about right.”
“Perhaps,” Loki said, and drew a breath that felt strained. “But I am grateful. That you are willing to put in the effort, on my behalf or not. You are…”
He would not take a good man. That, Loki knew, he didn’t believe of himself. So he smiled, crookedly, and said, “you have heart.”
Barton’s face froze. “Don’t fucking say that,” he said. “Seriously. Don’t.”
Loki jerked back a little, though he recovered himself quickly. “I will not,” he said.
Barton rubbed his mouth, looking self-conscious again. “I guess that’s...all I had to say.” He paused. “Wanda, Pietro, and I make dinner on Fridays,” he said in a rush, like he’d had to work his way up to saying it. “You and Steve should come.”
Loki blinked. “I would be delighted to accept,” he said carefully.
“You could just say ‘sure, sounds good,’” Barton said. “Shorter. Sounds more normal. Just a thought.”
“Simpler is not necessarily better,” Loki said.
“No, but you tend to sound less like a pretentious asshole.”
Loki wondered who they thought they were going to convince. Or perhaps they were trying to convince each other. “Duly noted,” he said. “I will take the suggestion under advisement.”
“I bet you will.” Barton smiled, barely. “What do you think, that enough conversation for the day?”
“I don’t think anyone is counting the minutes,” Loki said.
“Should take a selfie or something,” Barton said. “Wanda’ll be over the fucking moon.”
Loki should not have found that thought as gratifying as he did. Maybe it would even help her forgive him. He raised his eyebrows. “I cannot tell how serious you are.”
Barton just stared at him for a long moment. “Why the fuck not,” he said. “Let’s do it.”
It was not, Loki thought, a flattering picture. He didn’t think that was the point.
He first met Wakanda’s princess and heir because she was throwing things at his windows.
He wasn’t there at the time; was with Wanda, in fact, practicing, only to stop short when he felt something ping against his wards, like a nail flicking glass. Nothing dangerous, he could tell immediately, but not expected, either. Once might have been accidental. Twice, and three times…
Loki excused himself without raising the alarm. That might be a mistake, but if someone with any knowledge of wards were testing them, it wouldn’t feel like this; and anyone without knowledge would have no reason to think Loki would sense anything.
He circled around outside and found the culprit squinting up at the windows. He took her in for a moment before speaking: young, Wakandan, casually dressed, unfamiliar.
“Looking for something?” He said. She jumped and turned around, face going from startled to delighted without even a brief pause for contrition between.
“Did you know something was happening?” She asked. “Is that why you’re here?”
“If you were trying to get my attention,” Loki said slowly, narrowing his eyes, “there are better ways to go about it. Knocking on the front door would be a start.”
She seemed undeterred. “I was going to,” she said. “But - did you know? Could you tell someone was tampering with the field?”
The field. She must mean his wards. “Who are you?” Loki asked pointedly, and she blinked and then crossed her arms over her chest.
“Shuri,” she said. “I’ve been meaning to come out here and ask you some questions, but things were busy and then you were in space, so…” Loki looked at her blankly, the name taking a moment to place.
“King T’Challa’s sister,” he said.
“Yes,” she said. “So…?”
Ah. Her question. “Yes,” he said. “I could tell.” After a moment he added, because her nonchalance was, frankly, worrying, “you’re fortunate I didn’t take it for an attempt at an ambush.”
She frowned. “How could you tell?”
“I feel it,” Loki said.
“What does that-”
“May I ask what your purpose is?” Loki interrupted her. She looked surprised, and then, finally, a little sheepish.
“Like I said,” she said, “I’ve been meaning to come here for a while, since I saw your notes on the security measures you’re using.” She tapped the beads on her wrist and what did indeed look like a projection of a copy of his notes appeared above her wrist.
“You can’t learn magic,” Loki said bluntly. She gave him a look that bordered on annoyed.
“I know,” she said. “That’s not the point. If I know how it works I might be able to replicate it, and even if I can’t now maybe someone down the line will be able to, and even if nobody can it’s still good to know. And your notes aren’t very clear.”
Loki stared at her, and she started to look perhaps a bit embarrassed.
It occurred to him abruptly that a decade ago he would have given anything to have someone show such avid interest in his work. Such open curiosity and determination. The way he’d been, once, chasing down obscure theories, hounding every mage he could find. The still half finished magical treatise sitting in his personal storage that no one would ever read.
He exhaled, and gestured at the windows. “Why were you throwing things at them?”
She brightened a bit. “I was wondering about the distinction between organic and inorganic that you’re using,” she said. “And how that accounts, or doesn’t account, for long-range attacks. But - you can tell when something just...hits the field?”
“The ward,” Loki corrected. “And yes, I can. It feels like someone flicking me.”
She looked a little sheepish again. “Oh,” she said. “Sorry.” A pause, and then, “so it’s...you’re always aware of it, then?”
“Not consciously,” Loki said. “Only when something triggers it.”
“And how sensitive is that trigger?” She asked. “How much force does it take? I’m guessing something like rain wouldn’t set it off.”
“You guess correctly,” Loki said, beginning to recover his footing. “What you were doing is probably...at the lower end of what I would notice. There is a lower threshold - higher sensitivity - for living things.”
Shuri straightened. “That’s what I was really wondering - how does that work? Mechanically, I mean, how does the - ward know what’s living or nonliving? What about animals?”
Loki frowned slightly. “It knows because I told it to,” he said. Shuri narrowed her eyes.
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It is the only answer I have for you. You don’t have the language for a more accurate one.”
Shuri’s chin shot up. “You don’t have to be condescending,” she said, aiming for indignant, Loki thought, but coming off more like hurt. Loki blinked, more surprised than he probably should be.
“I did not...mean to be,” he said carefully. “The fact is that you don’t.”
“If it’s a language then I can learn it,” Shuri said. Loki studied her.
“It isn’t just a language,” Loki said. “It is...a way of seeing. A perspective. What you are asking me to explain, it is like - I shape the magic, or the energy, if you like, into a form that will do what I need it to. At its most simplistic, all magic is is...bending the world around you to your will. But you cannot make the world do whatever you want. That bending can only occur along certain lines, and the more complicated the working, the more delicate the shaping required.” He stopped, and sighed. “I am not a teacher.”
“Wanda said you taught her.”
“I taught Wanda how to use her magic. That is different from-” He gestured. “Theory. In all likelihood it would be a waste of time for us both.”
“Try me,” she said, all defiance. So very, very, determined.
The youngest child in a line of kings. Curious, driven. Did she do this just because she wanted to, or because of the need to prove herself, to show her worth--
She isn’t you. Very far indeed from that.
Loki shook himself. “I’ll think about it,” he said, because he didn’t think a flat no would do anything but gain him a persistent shadow. By the pleased smile that bloomed on her face, he might have one anyway.
“Good!” She said. “Good. I’ll be back tomorrow. I already have a list of questions, but if we have to start with basics then that’s fine.”
“Oh,” Loki said dryly. “Is it?”
Her smile widened to a mischievous grin. “I can be patient,” she said, which Loki doubted. She paused. “Sorry about the...flicking. Oh, right - congratulations! T’Challa said that you and Steve Rogers got married.”
“Thank you,” Loki said after a moment, wondering how far that news had spread by now. He almost wondered if Stark knew. What he’d do if he did.
“You’re welcome,” she said. “You should come to Birnin Zana sometime. See some of the real Wakanda. I have a really nice lab.”
Loki pressed his lips together. “I am not terribly fond of labs.” She blinked at him, and he made a dismissive gesture. “Perhaps. It hasn’t seemed very wise, all things considered.”
“I guess now that diplomats are actually paying attention…” Shuri sighed. “Well. I should probably go, there’s some kind of meeting I’m supposed to go to...tomorrow, right?”
Loki’s lips twitched slightly. “Tomorrow, then,” he said. After she left, he stood there for several moments, feeling a little as though a strong wind had just blown through. He shook his head, and himself, and turned to go back indoors and out of the heat.
Perhaps he would pull out that treatise after all. It had been over a decade since he’d so much as looked at the thing. He would have to see how much of what he’d written was remotely salvageable.
Norns. He was going to have to hammer out some sort of curriculum, wasn’t he? He doubted that Princess Shuri would take no for an answer.
Well, at the very least he probably wouldn’t be bored.
“So,” James said, sprawled across most of the couch. “You’re married now.”
“Indeed,” Loki said. “You were there, if I recall.”
James scowled at him. “Nobody likes a smartass,” he said. Loki raised his eyebrows.
“People seem to like you just fine,” he said. James’s scowl deepened, and Loki spread his hands. “You set me up so well. It was almost too easy for me to take the opportunity.”
“But you did anyway.” James shook his head a little, but the corner of his lips twitched. “It was...nice. Quite a crowd. Even before the unexpected guest.” That flicker of a smile faded, and Loki cocked his head to the side.
“Romanov, you mean.”
“The Black Widow. Yeah.”
It was a subtle correction, but, Loki thought, a correction just the same. “You do not like her.”
“I don’t trust her.” James swung his legs off the couch and sat up. “She doesn’t trust me, either, which makes us even as far as I’m concerned.”
“Why not?” Loki asked. “Steve does.”
James’s expression darkened. “Which is why I haven’t said anything.” He drummed his fingers on his leg. “I know a thing or two about the people who trained her. Vicious and ruthless, and they bred their assassins the same. Ran up against a few back when…” He trailed off, leaving that sentence unfinished, and jerked to his feet, pacing like a trapped wolf. “Old habits die hard. That’s all I’m saying.”
Loki sat back. “It seems to me someone could say the same of me. Or you.”
“Yeah,” James said. “And they have.” The fingers of his metal arm curled and uncurled. “Maybe it’s unfair,” he said after a beat, voice quieter. “But she makes me nervous.”
Loki considered, his head cocked to the side. “I wouldn’t say I trust her,” he said, “but I don’t think she’ll bring you any harm.” His lips quirked. “When she caught me with my knife at your throat, she seemed more concerned about your safety than anything else.”
“Me,” James said. “You think she might target you?”
“No,” Loki said after a brief pause. “Not anymore. Not really. I imagine that she has considered how she would deal with me, if it were necessary, but at this point...whatever her personal feelings, she cares too much about Steve.”
“She was willing to side with Stark.”
“And turned on him in the end, I understand, to let you and Steve get away.” Loki shrugged. “I am not trying to dissuade you. Norns know I am not one to decry others for a lack of trust.”
“I appreciate it.” James stopped pacing and turned toward him. “Norns know. You’ve been here for - how long? And you still say shit like that.”
Loki spread his hands and smiled without all that much humor. “Old habits die hard.”
James grimaced. After a moment he walked back over to the couch and sat down. “Sorry,” he said. “For bringing down the mood.”
Loki cracked a thin smile. “Usually it is me.”
“We’re just a regular pair of downers, aren’t we,” James said dryly, leaning back into the couch, and cast a sidelong glance at Loki. “Not you, though. Not lately.”
“Beg pardon?” Loki said, startled. James half smiled.
“Yeah,” he said. “Since the wedding. You’ve been...in general, I don’t know. Lighter. Happier. You and Steve both. I guess it figures - something goes right for once, yeah? But it’s...oh, fuck it. It’s good to see.” James ran his fingers through his hair, ears a little pink. “So maybe I’m a sap.”
“It isn’t necessarily the worst thing to be,” Loki said, half teasing. Strangely warmed. And added, quieter: “I am. The future...the future terrifies me, when I think of it. And I think of it too much. But when I am here and now…” He shook his head.
“You deserve it,” James said fiercely. Loki had to keep himself from flinching.
“I don’t know about deserve.”
“Fuck that,” James said. “Sure, you’re no saint. But that’s not what it’s about.”
Loki frowned. “So what is it about?”
James shook his head, lips set in a stubborn line. “I dunno exactly. Something else. Maybe deserve is the wrong word. I’m not the poet here. Whatever the word is, it’s...good.”
There was a sudden lump in Loki’s throat. “Thank you,” he said, not quite able to think of anything else. James waved a hand.
“Don’t mention it,” he said. “No, seriously, don’t. Sam would never stop giving me shit if he found out.”
“You and Sam,” Loki said. “You’ve become quite good friends, haven’t you?”
Bucky made a face. “He’s all right.”
Loki wanted to laugh. “Indeed,” he said. “‘All right.’” Bucky narrowed his eyes, and Loki just smiled. After a moment, his face relaxed.
“You know,” he said, “if Ross ever got the news about you and Steve getting hitched I’m pretty sure his head would explode.”
Loki’s smile felt dangerously sharp. “Maybe we should tell him, then.”
Bucky grinned toothily back. “Maybe we should. Did we get any pictures of you two sealing it with a kiss? Cause damn, that was almost indecent.”
Loki felt his face warm, but he raised his eyebrows coolly. “You haven’t seen indecent, James Barnes.”
He held up his hands. “Jesus. That wasn’t a challenge. Some things a guy doesn’t need to see.”
The smile came easy, and felt comfortable. There might be doom on the horizon, but in the here and now…
Look at what you’ve made, a soft voice whispered, very quiet. Look what you have grown.
Everything had changed.
And nothing had.
It was one of those days when Wakanda’s air was heavy and damp with the promise of rain, but oppressively hot - Loki had locked himself indoors and spent most of the day lounging unmoving on the couch, imitating Vali lounging unmoving on the cool tile of the bathroom floor. Steve had hovered worriedly, pressing water on Loki and asking worriedly if he needed a cold shower.
Sam had come and dragged him out, leaving Loki alone. He didn’t actually mind it.
His thumb traced the ring on his finger. He was used to having one there by now, but he still couldn’t leave it alone. If he shifted his eyesight he could see the magic threaded into the metal, linking it with its twin on Steve’s finger. Binding them together.
His heart ached. Too big for his chest.
You should not be here, some part of him still whispered in the dark corners of his mind, but there was another voice there too, now: when have you ever been one for ‘should’?
The door opened and Loki rolled his head so he could see Steve upside down, standing in the doorway. His eyebrows furrowed. “Loki?”
“I am all right,” he said. “Not in danger. Just not very fond of the weather.”
“You look like you’re trying to melt into the couch.” Steve plucked the empty glass off the table and walked over to the kitchen to refill it. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I am sure.”
“The sun’s starting to set,” Steve said. “It’ll start to get cooler, at least.”
“That would be nice.”
Steve stood there looking down at him. The worry faded slowly, replaced with an unbearable fondness.
“Hey,” he said. “I love you.”
Three words to make him feel like he was, indeed, melting into the couch. “And I you,” Loki said. “What brought that on?”
“Does anything have to?” Steve smiled. “Just sometimes...looking at you, I feel it. And I think you should know. I don’t want to...miss a chance.” His smile flickered a little, and he glanced aside.
“I like hearing it,” Loki said.
“I know,” Steve said. “You get a...look, on your face. Honestly, that’s another reason to say it.” He paused, then said, “you know I remember the first time I saw you smile? Actually smile, the genuine article.”
Loki blinked. He didn’t. “Oh?”
“It was when you took me to that - place,” Steve said. “The fancy restaurant. You were trying to impress me.”
Embarrassment flickered in Loki’s chest. It felt childish, now, particularly knowing what he did about Steve. How extravagant it must have seemed. How...wasteful. “I did, didn’t I?” He said lightly.
“You did,” Steve said. “And when I said...you smiled, and it lit up your whole face, and I thought oh, so that’s what he looks like when he’s actually happy.”
For some reason Loki’s face warmed. “I was,” he said. “I wanted to...well, in point of fact I was trying to seduce you.”
Steve turned a little pink. “Yeah,” he said, “I remember that, too. Though at the time I thought I might be imagining it.”
“I ended up having to be rather more direct.”
Steve turned even pinker. “I might’ve been even madder at Tony for walking in when he did than I am now,” he said. The laugh bubbled up unbidden and Loki let it, savoring the way Steve smiled, still blushing. Beautiful. His.
Nothing. And everything.
Loki rolled over and pushed himself up. “Let’s go,” he said. Steve startled.
“Go where?”
“North,” Loki said. “It’s the wrong season for the Northern Lights, but - sharp, clean, mountain air sounds like a gift, just now. We can watch the sunset, see the stars come out. Be back before anyone knows we’re gone.”
“All right,” Steve said, after only the briefest of hesitations. “Let’s go.”
Loki brought them to a cliff above a ravine, a river flowing out across a volcanic plain to the sea. The sun was falling slowly over the horizon.
Steve whistled. “Wow,” he said. Loki smiled.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“You’ve come here before?” Steve asked. Loki inclined his chin.
“When I was...wandering,” he said, “between meetings with you, when I had time...places like this were where I came to breathe. I could close my eyes and almost imagine feeling at peace.”
Steve glanced at him sidelong. “‘Almost imagine?’”
“I am not...I have never been very good at feeling that,” Loki said. “But with you...I can. I used to think it sounded dull. Boring. But it isn’t, is it? It is quiet, and stillness, and a deep breath of clean mountain air.”
Steve’s hand found his, and squeezed, wordless.
So much pain. So much suffering. And it had led him here, to a joy so fierce it ached, like he wasn’t built to hold it.
Loki twisted to kiss Steve fiercely, desperately, like it was the first time and he couldn’t get enough. Like he was there again, in the kitchen in Stark’s tower, pressing Steve against the counter and thrumming with the need he’d been denying for months.
Years later, and wedded, and he could still recall that feeling: the desperation, the realization that somehow Steve Rogers had crept inside him and would not let him go. It had terrified him then. Now…
A binding was not just a tether. Mortar bound two stones together and built something new, and more.
He pulled back. Steve’s eyes were a little wide, his lips pink. “Loki?” He said, a little breathless.
“I never want to take this for granted,” Loki said.
“You could,” Steve said. “Just a little. Just in the way of knowing that - that I’ll be there, with you, tomorrow and the day after that, that I’m…” He flushed, and said more quietly, “that I’m yours.”
“Mine,” Loki said softly. He took a breath, and reached out with both hands. “Let me show you something.”
Steve took his hands without hesitation, and Loki half closed his eyes. He felt Steve start a little when Loki’s magic brushed his mind, but it was only a moment: a slight shift in perception. Steve’s breath caught.
“It’s beautiful,” he said.
“The rings,” Loki said, knowing what Steve was seeing. Steve’s eyes lowered to their joined hands, and widened. His grip tightened.
“That’s what it looks like,” Loki said softly. “Threads interwoven. They strengthen with time, the patterns stronger, more complex. Power - energy - flows back and forth like a tide. No beginning and no end. If you are mine...then I am as much yours.”
“Yes,” Steve said. The shadows were growing long, but Loki could still see the shine in his eyes. He smiled, small and soft.
Loki took a deep breath and held it. The sun had sunk nearly fully below the horizon, blurring all the hard edges. No almost, he thought. This was peace.