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Loki never thought that he would have been so happy to return to Asgard. Not long ago, he wouldn’t have thought it possible for him to be happy to return at all.
But much had changed in the last few years, both in Asgard and with Loki. He was no longer considered a criminal, and his status as a Prince of the Realm had been restored. In the last few years all of his deeds on Midgard had been made known to the people who had once been, at best, wary of him. They had come to think of their estranged Prince in a kinder, more accepting light. Even Odin, by far the hardest nut to crack in getting to change his opinion, had at least allowed Loki to return for the visit.
But however much the situation on Asgard might have changed, Loki himself had changed far more. Perhaps there was no greater indication of that than the fact that he didn’t care if his reputation had improved in his once-home. He didn’t care that he was more accepted than he had been before, that he could resume his role as a Prince of the Realm…
He didn’t need his position and status restored, when he’d found a new life and happiness on Midgard.
But when the opportunity arose to return and to show off the happiness he had found? How could he resist?
Bringing Anthony with him in answer to the invitation to a Royal Banquet on Asgard was a symbol to everyone, even the densest of those who remained in the Court. Prince Loki had returned, and done so with a Midgardian mortal on his arm to a formal gathering, where they would be appearing before the King and Queen, together.
There could be no clearer gesture of Loki’s changed priorities, of his shifted loyalties. He had cast his lot fully with Midgard and with the man whom he was clearly courting, and there would be no winning him back again, no matter how much he might now be ‘accepted’ by his old home.
And there had been satisfaction to be had in the various faces around them changing and contorting as that realization slowly came over each of them, a little joy in seeing how still Odin became as the same understanding came to him… But just like with how his old life no longer held sway in his new one, Loki found that what others thought of his relationship was nothing at all compared to watching as Anthony's face lit up at everything he saw.
What was the consternation of those he no longer held in esteem, when compared to the delight of the man he loved?
And when they danced together through the Hall, it was as though the rest of the world fell away completely, leaving nothing but the two of them. It was so easy to become lost in Anthony’s eyes, especially when he smiled and they became so bright that Loki could swear they possessed a light all their own. It was easy to forget everything around them, no matter how ostentatious or how much the Halls of Asgard demanded the notice of everyone in attendance. None of it could hope to compare with his Anthony.
In a way it didn’t matter at all that he had come back to Asgard. In another he hadn’t returned at all… he’d just brought his new home with him.
As the evening drew on, and the mead continued to flow and the celebrations showed no sign of slowing, he took Anthony’s hand and tugged him away from the crowd. Anthony raised his brows, but he didn’t question the change in plans. He simply fell into step with Loki, keeping quiet so as not to catch anyone’s attention.
Trust. What a wonderful thing.
Loki led them into the gardens, and again he watched as Anthony’s face changed, taking in everything around him, his eyes lifting to the stars and strange constellations they made over his head. Looking on his lover as he took it all in, Loki felt his entire being warm up from within.
What better sign that Anthony was a marvel, than the fact that he could warm the heart of a frost giant?
Eventually Anthony did turn his eyes from the stars and back to Loki, and his heart skipped a beat when he realized that Anthony’s expression didn’t lose a single bit of its wonder, despite the change in scenery.
“Did you get tired of the pomp and circumstance, or were you just trying to get me all to yourself?”
Loki smiled, reaching out to trail a hand down the man’s arm. “Both. Though there was something else I had in mind in coming here.”
Anthony’s eyebrows quirked up in a familiar, suggestive expression. “Is that right? Well, far be it from me to deny you, especially if you’ve simply become overwhelmed with my charms.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Never once serious, are you?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say never…” He flashed Loki a grin. “But no, not really. But neither are you, Mr. Mischief. Part of why I love you.”
Which was true, and it never ceased to startle him. That anyone could find his penchant for mischief and troublemaking anything but a negative, let alone find it a reason to love him…
And he did. Anthony loved him, as Loki loved Anthony. It was such a strange, delirious thing to not just consider, but to know. Anthony loved him – not for who he could be, but for who he was, mischief, past and all. It was more than he had considered even plausible.
And yet he was about to ask for even more.
He took hold of Anthony’s arm gently, catching his attention at the same time. His mortal looked up at him, the teasing glint still lurking in his eyes, tugging at the corner of his smile.
“Actually, Anthony…” He paused for a moment, and then plunged on before he could talk himself out of it. “I wanted to make you an offer.”
Anthony tilted his head at him. “An offer?”
His expression didn’t clear much when, after giving a brief nod, Loki pulled out an apple from the folds of his clothing. Watching him, Loki saw the moment that Anthony registered that the apple Loki held in his hand wasn’t just an apple, but a golden apple, gleaming in the light of stars and torches.
“What’s that?”
Loki told him, explaining in the dark and the quiet of the garden how the apple, consumed by a mortal, would extend their lifespan to be comparable to that of an Æsir. Ancient magic, nearly forgotten – or at least thought of as myth, even by the Æsir.
And he had found one, just for Anthony.
“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to, Anthony,” he finished, watching his face carefully. “But… when one has found the kind of happiness that I have found with you, then it is worth holding on to with all of one’s strength.”
Anthony smirked, eyes still fixed on the apple. “And that would include extending my life?”
“Selfish, I know,” Loki grinned at him. “To demand that you live longer, just so I might have you for those extra centuries.”
He saw the word ‘centuries’ sink in, and Anthony… didn’t shy away from it. A moment passed, and he raised his eyes to fix Loki was a sober look. “And you don’t think that you’d get fed up with me in all that time? I think I’d get tired of me after a few decades at best.”
“Yes, but I have vastly more patience than you do.”
Anthony snorted… but didn’t deny it.
He took the apple, and after turning it over in his hand, studying the golden skin, he bit into it with a crisp, loud crunch.
Save for in battle, Loki didn’t think his heart had ever raced as fast as it did in that moment. And when Anthony looked at him with a grin, and kissed him with lips tasting of sweet apple and long futures, he couldn’t remember ever feeling so at home.
It was something worth holding on to.