Work Text:
Snow was falling gently, big, fluffy flakes covering the ground in a fuzzy layer of white. A single set of footprints broke the pristine cleanness of the snow on the road, bootprints leading away from the front door and down the hill, but not back. Snow was filling them in slowly and soon they’d be hidden. It looked quiet, perhaps a little lonely. Sometimes it was easy to feel like one was at the end of the world up here.
Loki breathed in deeply and shifted his head. His arms were folded on the window bay and his chin was starting to dig into his wrist, so he turned his head to rest it on his other arm. No one had believed it when the weather forecast had said snow. They’d been in the Great Hall (a misnomer if Loki had ever heard one, it was barely a hall, let alone great), planning the Yule feast, when everyone’s phones had started going off with the special weather alert.
“Yeah right,” Brunnhilde had said, rolling her eyes and tossing her phone on the table. Well, what was one more crack in the screen, the thing was beat well beyond repair. “We’ve been here nine years and it’s never snowed for Yule. I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“It’s the North Atlantic Current, you know?” Korg said. “Takes all that warm water from the equator and brings it north and there you go, warm weather year round.”
“I thought that had stopped?” Sif said. “Because the humans are cooking this entire planet?”
“Nah, nah,” Korg replied, waving a hand. “That’s the theory, maybe one day it’ll shut off and then the whole planet will turn into a giant snowball.”
Thor had looked confused. “What? Why? Wouldn’t it still be warm at the equator?”
“Nah man, it’s this whole theory, you know? The current doesn’t bring the warm water north so it gets colder? And then there’s more snow and ice, so it increases the albedo, you know? And then all the sunlight reflects back into space so it gets colder and colder? And then the whole planet’s just covered in ice?”
Loki, sitting at the edge of the group with his feet up on the table, scoffed and offered his first input to this discussion in fifteen minutes: “Well, we certainly chose the ideal planet to settle on, didn’t we?”
The Valkyrie had looked at him scathingly and replied, “Well, you’ll be right at home, Lackey.”
He’d sneered at her and gone back to picking dirt out from underneath his fingernails. Which was a losing battle, here in New Asgard. Everything was dirty all the time, everything that needed to get done involved filth in some way. It was impossible to ever get clean, because even if you spent forty-five minutes in the shower scrubbing down every inch of yourself several times over (and incurring the annoyance of your brother for using up all the hot water), there would still be dirt somewhere. In the crease at your elbow, under your fingernails, smudged somewhere that you could have sworn you’d washed.
Loki hated it.
So when it had started snowing, he’d been…happy? Happiness was such an alien emotion to him, it was difficult to tell when he was feeling it. But the snow made New Asgard look clean. It made it look pretty. There was nothing pretty about this place under normal circumstances, so that was saying something.
Anyway, it would be a nice way to remember New Asgard. Because this was going to be the last day he spent here as a permanent resident.
For a moment, he watched the snow fall, his thoughts quiet. Well, as quiet as they ever got. The flakes were falling faster now, and now and then a gust of wind sent them swirling in patterns, like seiðr twisting into the shape of the future.
Six months, he’d been here. Six months to the day. And he’d told Thor, when they’d arrived back on Earth after adventuring around the galaxy for three years, that he wasn’t going to spend any longer than that in New Asgard.
Actually, that wasn’t quite true. What had happened was that, as they landed their ship on the cliffs outside the village, Thor had offered to let Loki stay at his house. Loki had said, “I’ve been in your house and I barely made it out with my sense of smell intact.”
Thor had looked embarrassed and Loki had felt a little bad. It was a low blow. So in that spirit—obviously nothing else, it was just guilt for a poorly timed bit of snideness—he’d agreed. “Just for tonight, though,” he’d added quickly.
Giving him an exasperated look, Thor asked, “Where are you going to go?”
“I’ll figure something out.”
“Loki.”
He’d crossed his arms over his chest, then uncrossed them and rested his fingertips on the control panel of their ship, then picked at the corner of one of the buttons on said control panel. This ship had been home for the past three years—for him, at least. For Thor, it had always been temporary. Avoiding Thor’s eyes, Loki had said, “Maybe a few days, then.”
A few days had become a week, though, and then a month, and when Loki realized he was allowing himself to get comfortable, he reminded himself that he didn’t belong there, because he’d never belonged anywhere. And he’d decided he’d stay six months and no longer. He’d told Thor too, that he’d be gone by Midwinter, but Thor had pretended not to hear him.
So here it was, the first day of Yule. Cold. Silent. Snowing prettily while a fire crackled away in the fireplace behind him. Thor had gone out, acting very coy about where he was going, which had given Loki a few more minutes to start packing.
Except he was still sitting here at the window, watching the snow fall. Alright, fine, so he hadn’t packed. What it had actually given him was a few more minutes to decide how he was going to tell Thor that this was it, he’d said six months and he intended to keep his word. They would always be brothers and Loki wasn’t waltzing out of Thor’s life, but New Asgard, it just…it wasn’t for him. He didn’t belong. He didn’t want to belong. He’d go…somewhere. One of the other realms, perhaps, now that the Bifrost was open again. Or maybe Paris. Paris seemed like it might be nice. New York? After Thanos, they may have forgotten what he’d done there.
Through the blowing snow, a figure, bundled up in bulky coat and dragging something, became visible. Loki raised his head and squinted, then snorted in amused exasperation. He got up to open the door, letting in a gust of wind and snow along with his brother.
“You know, if you’d told me you were going to get that, I could have helped,” Loki said.
Thor heaved a spruce tree through the door, sending chunks of snow flying everywhere, then slammed the door shut behind him. “I’ve got it,” Thor said, waving away Loki’s attempt to pick the tree up. He hefted it onto his shoulder and eyed the room. Then his face brightened and he brought the tree over to a corner that wasn’t taken up by anything. Oh, except a bookshelf with all of Loki’s books on it, no need to keep that area clear. It wasn’t as though he pulled one out at least once a day.
As Thor stood the tree up, Loki arched an eyebrow and asked, “A Yule tree?”
“Well, it’s Yule,” Thor said.
“Yes, well done, brother.”
Smirking, Thor said, “Does that mean you want me to get rid of it?”
Loki crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. “I didn’t say that.” Anyway, he was leaving today, so far be it from him to dictate how Thor decorated their house for Yule. His house. Not theirs.
Snow plopped off the tree onto the floor, and Loki flicked a finger and magicked it away, then turned around and did the same to the rest of the snow that Thor had brought in. It hadn’t really felt like Midwinter before. But suddenly, with the fire and the tree and the snow outside, it did. When was the last time he’d celebrated Yule?
The house smelled like evergreen now, and Loki breathed in deeply. Thor glanced at him, smiling a little, and clapped him on the shoulder. “Just like the old days, right?”
A smile twitched at Loki’s mouth. “Not at all, actually.”
“Okay, fine, not at all, but…maybe that’s not a bad thing,” Thor said.
Loki ducked his head, his smile both widening and growing more rueful. “Maybe not,” he said. The tree wasn’t making this any easier. Not that it should have been difficult. This was the choice he’d made, and he was fine with it. Happy with it, actually. Completely happy with it.
He licked his lips and opened his mouth to announce his imminent departure, but then Thor said, “We should celebrate.”
“The feast is tomorrow,” Loki said. “Assuming the snow doesn’t keep everyone housebound.”
Giving him another clap on the shoulder, Thor said said, “No, I mean just us. It’s the first day of Yule, our first one in…how long has it been?”
“Sixteen years,” Loki replied, answering the question he’d asked himself a minute ago. “Though technically, we’ve spent the last three Yules together.”
“Yes, but we weren’t celebrating it,” Thor said. “We didn’t have a tree. Or a feast. Or a Yule goat.”
It seemed too obvious to point out that they didn’t have a goat now, either, tempting as it always was to point out the obvious to Thor.
Did his brother even remember that Loki had set this as the day that he planned on leaving? There was absolutely no indication that Thor was at all broken up about it. That was probably Loki’s fault; honestly, setting Midwinter as his departure date had been a bit idiotic. Thor was like a child, show him a Yule tree and everything else went out of his head.
“We probably should have,” Thor said. When Loki looked at him questioningly, he added, “Celebrated.”
Shrugging, Loki said, “The ship was a bit cramped.”
“I know, but—” Thor hesitated. “It would have been something to remind us who we were.”
Loki opened his mouth to say, One too many blows to the head, Thor, if you’re forgetting who you are, but stopped himself at the last moment. He was the last person who should be making jokes about losing oneself. Or maybe he had it backwards, and joking about it was the only way to deal with it, considering how close to home the idea hit. Instead, he smiled a little and said, “You can take Asgardians out of Asgard, but you can’t take Asgard out of Asgardians. I don’t think we were ever in any danger of forgetting ourselves.”
This was the time to remind his brother that he was leaving today. Now, before Loki got distracted by whatever Thor pulled out to drink, and they started talking, and the drunker Thor got the more sentimental and nostalgic he’d become, and Loki would drink more to try to drown the secondhand mortification and he’d end up in an embarrassingly similar state, and—and then, obviously, he wouldn’t be going anywhere. Then tomorrow was the feast, and what was he going to do, walk out on the day of the Yule feast? Then his departure would be two days from now, except maybe he’d be hungover, so three, then.
And what if, three days from now, his nerve failed him?
Which was a stupid thought. This was what he wanted. He couldn’t live in his brother’s house forever, taking up space. The Non-Prince of New Asgard.
Reaching out a hand to rub the needles of the spruce between his finger and thumb, he took a deep breath and said, “Thor, speaking of Asgard—”
“Do you remember Yule? When we were children?” There was a faraway look in Thor’s eyes, but then he looked at Loki and grinned. “You were always up to something at the feast.”
With a snort of laughter, Loki said, “Well yes. Obviously. It was the perfect opportunity for mischief. All those people, everyone drunk to some degree? I couldn’t pass it up.”
Damn. Now he was reminiscing. He had to get this conversation back on track. Not, to be honest, that it had ever really been on track. “Anyway, Thor—”
“Remember the time you dared me to climb the tree? The big one in the Great Hall?”
For a moment, Loki didn’t speak, torn between ignoring this memory and pressing on with what he had to say, or indulging in it. Finally, he smiled, the kind of effortless, genuine smile that still didn’t come easy to him, but was becoming more natural. “It would be difficult to forget. I had to endure sitting at the high table by myself that year because you were confined to your quarters.”
“Served you right.”
Loki’s smile got more crooked. “It was worth it. Seeing that whole thing come crashing down with you clinging to the top of it?” He put a hand over his heart. “A priceless memory. Truly one for the ages.”
Shaking his head, Thor said, “You’re the worst sometimes.” He was trying not to smile, though.
Oh, Thor had no idea, he really didn’t. Well, actually, that wasn’t true. No one had seen him lower than Thor had. No one had seen any part of him more than Thor, to be honest. The good, the bad, and the very, very ugly. He sucked in a deep breath. “Thor, I’m leaving today.”
Thor was looking at the tree, and he didn’t move after Loki blurted out these words. But his smile faded and he was silent for a minute as he stared into the branches. Loki realized he was fidgeting with his fingers. Stupid. He made himself stop, locking his elbows and laying his hands flat against the sides of his legs.
Finally, Thor looked at him. “I guess we’d better have a drink, then.”
“What?” Loki said, furrowing his brow. This…had not been the reaction he’d been expecting. “I…what for?”
“Well,” Thor said, “so we can make a toast to—what do you want to call this? It doesn’t sound exactly right to toast to you leaving.”
“Er,” Loki said. Thor disappeared down into the cellar, leaving Loki standing there stuttering nonsense. He closed his mouth, crossed his arms over his chest, and pursed his lips. This wasn’t a new tactic. This was exactly what Thor had done to him on Sakaar. So when Thor reappeared from the cellar holding an armful of bottles, Loki said—well, alright, the first thing he said was, “We can’t possibly drink all that.”
“Have a little faith in yourself, brother!” Thor said, grinning as he deposited the bottles on a chair, then plopped down on the sofa, already opening one up.
“It’s my liver I don’t have that much faith in,” Loki said, remaining on his feet. Thor pulled the cork out of the bottle, took a swig of it, and then offered it to Loki. With a sigh, he crossed the room and sank down next to Thor. “I know what you’re doing,” he said.
Thor took the bottle back. “Drinking? No offense, Loki, but it doesn’t take much to figure that out.”
Smirking at his brother, Loki said, “Yes. Drinking. Exactly what I was thinking.” The two of them sat in silence for a moment, passing the bottle of mead back and forth, before Loki said, “I mean it, you know. I can’t stay here.”
A gust of wind rattled the window panes. Loki looked outside. The snow was thicker now and the light was failing. Only six hours of daylight today, and that would be substantially shortened by the storm.
Thor was watching the snow too, and Loki mentally dared him to say that in this weather, no one would be going anywhere. Instead, he took a drink of mead, then asked, “Are you leaving New Asgard?”
“Yes,” Loki said quickly. Thor watched him, and Loki grabbed the bottle from him, downing a swig. Liquid courage. Courage which he shouldn’t need, considering this was something he wanted. “Probably. Maybe.” He licked his lips. “What else would I do?”
Thor shrugged. “I don’t know. What else would you do?” Loki wrapped his fingers around the neck of the bottle, swirling what little mead was left, and didn’t answer. When it became clear that Loki wasn’t going to relinquish it, Thor reached for another bottle and opened it, then held it up in a toast. “To your new start, then, I suppose.”
After a second, Loki held up his bottle and clinked the bottom of it against Thor’s, then drained the rest of it. Why did he feel so miserable? More mead, that was the answer to that. He reached for another bottle, flicking his fingers to open it, and took another drink. “You’re acting like you’re fine with me leaving so that I’ll realize I don’t really want to leave,” he said in an accusing tone. “I know this trick.”
Thor was slowly turning his bottle around in his hand, staring at the rim, and at this, he glanced up and met Loki’s eyes. “It’s not a trick,” he said. His voice sounded sad, but he tried to smile. “Do you want me to say I don’t want you to leave? You know I don’t want you to leave.”
The bottle almost slipped out of Loki’s fingers. He’d drunk too much too fast, and now his head felt a little fuzzy. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “I don’t know that.”
There was a sigh next to him, and then a clunk as Thor set his bottle down on the floor. The wind howled outside and the fire guttered in a downdraft. The house smelled like evergreen and woodsmoke, and with his eyes closed, he could almost be back in his quarters on Asgard. At Yuletide, their mother had brought boughs and wreaths of pine to decorate his and Thor’s rooms, and the fires had been kept burning to keep the chill out of the air. Loki, of course, hadn’t usually gotten cold, but he liked the fire in the winter, anyway.
He felt the sofa cushions shift as Thor leaned back. “Do you want to go?” Thor asked.
Loki didn’t open his eyes, instead scrunching them shut further. Did he even know the answer to that question? Suddenly, he didn’t think he did. He’d been so sure earlier. Right?
No, that was a lie. Fittingly. Was there anyone he lied to more than himself? “I should go,” he said.
“Why?”
Finally, Loki opened his eyes and looked over at Thor. “Because,” he replied. This was, by his standards, quite feeble. Honestly, it was feeble by just about anyone’s standards, even his brother’s. “Because,” he began again, “I still don’t know what I’m doing here.” Waving a hand, he said, “Just look at that planning council the other day. What use was I? Brunnhilde and Sif have this place well in hand, and if they need help, they’ve got you.” He paused, then added, “And if that fails, Korg, conversational tangents and all.”
Thor regarded Loki. “You’re there because everyone values your opinion.”
Loki narrowed his eyes and snorted. “Brother. Please. Leave the lying to me.” He looked at his hands. Two months into his stay here in New Asgard, he’d stopped wearing demi-gaunts. He’d stopped wearing all his armor, actually. No one else wore it, and it felt like clinging to a past that was never coming back. They lived on Earth now.
“Just because you can’t see it, that doesn’t make it a lie,” Thor said steadily. Hesitantly, he touched Loki’s shoulder. “You should stay, Loki. But I’m not going to bully you into it. If you don’t want to, then I won’t try to convince you. Just know that I want you here.”
With a hard swallow, Loki folded his hands together in his lap, then looked up at the rough-hewn wood ceiling. This place wasn’t just a step down from the way he’d been raised. It was several flights down. The house was small, it was drafty, the chimney needed to be cleaned. There were two bedrooms and both of them, combined, still weren’t the same size as Loki’s bedroom on Asgard had been. The kitchen was cramped, the bathroom was tiny, and Loki still occasionally found chicken wing bones under the sofa.
He pressed his lips together, then wordlessly got to his feet. At least he didn’t stumble from the mead. That would have been embarrassing. Thor made a confused noise but Loki ignored him as he went to his room, where he pulled open his dresser drawer and stuck a hand inside. His fingers closed around a small box and he pulled it out, then slowly walked back out into the living room and sat down beside Thor again.
“I got you something,” he said, apropos of nothing. Because he didn’t know what else to say, and he didn’t know what to do, and as usual, he didn’t feel deserving of his brother’s affection. Proffering the box, he added, “Since I was going to—since I am going to leave. It’s not much.” He shook it, and finally Thor reached out and took it. “Just something I found in Tønsberg the other week.”
Holding the box in his hands, Thor said suspiciously, “This isn’t some kind of trick, is it? Nothing’s going to jump out of this box and stab me?”
Loki raised an eyebrow. “You really think you’re talking to an illusion of me right now, and I’ve actually transformed into a miniature version of myself and am waiting in that box to stab you?”
Thor tried to hand the box back to Loki.
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Loki said crossly. “No, it’s not a trick. It was my attempt to do something nice for you, but if you want to turn your nose up at it—”
“Alright, alright,” Thor said, studying the box. This actually would have been the perfect time for a trick. Hesitantly, Thor took the lid off the box and dug through the tissue paper inside. With a surprised grunt, he pulled out a small goat made of straw, with red ribbon wrapped around it. For a moment, he studied it, then he gave Loki a baffled look.
“It’s a Yule goat,” Loki said, clasping his hands in his lap. As Thor turned it over in his hands, Loki added, “You can put it in the tree if you want. Though I suppose that would make it more of a Christmas tree than a Yule tree, but maybe it’s only a matter of time until you’re celebrating Christmas, anyway.” He was rambling. Did Thor think this was stupid? Perhaps it was. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d given his brother a gift. Oh, wait, it had been for his coronation, hadn’t it? The coronation that had never happened. Even though it hadn’t been that long ago, Loki could no longer remember what he’d given Thor. Whatever it was, it was gone now, blown to atoms along with the rest of Asgard.
Finally, Thor looked up at him. There was a shine to his eyes and Loki instinctively leaned back. No, no no no, he didn’t want this, he didn’t need Thor crying, he’d hardly drunk anything at all—Loki had drunk more, and that almost never happened; this was embarrassing, and he didn’t deserve anyone’s tears.
“Thank you,” Thor said softly.
“It’s nothing,” Loki said, waving a casual hand. “I just—” He just what? It sounded idiotic to say I wanted you to have something to remind you of me after I leave. The worst part was that were he to say that, it would be a lie. Surprise? Obviously not. He was a liar, after all. But he couldn’t say the words that had actually popped into his head when he’d seen the stupid thing, and which were still twisting themselves into knots now: I wanted to have a tradition. I want to stay in this terrible place and have something that we can get out and look at and say, remember our first Yule here together? Remember when the Odinsons returned to New Asgard?
I don’t actually think this place is terrible at all.
Loki looked at his second bottle of mead, mostly empty, and contemplated finishing it so he could start on a third. Instead, he swallowed and looked at Thor, who was still holding the Yule goat in his palm, looking teary-eyed. “Brother,” he said softly. “Is there a place for me here?”
Shaking his head, sniffling a little, and smiling, Thor said, “You’re supposed to be the smart one between the two of us.” Loki gave him a flat look, but his brother rather took the wind out of his sails as he leaned forward and grabbed Loki into a tight hug.
After a moment, Loki relented and wrapped his arms around Thor, resting his chin on his shoulder and leaning the side of his head against his brother’s. He closed his eyes and let out a breath, telling himself that the sting and watering in his eyes was just because of the backed up chimney.
“There will always be a place for you at my side, Loki,” Thor said, his voice gentle. “And I’ll tell you that as many times as I need to before you believe it.”
The wind rattled the window panes again and the fire spit, and Loki squeezed his eyes shut tighter before opening them. It was dark outside now, and the thick snow obscured the lights of the rest of New Asgard, making this house feel like it was the last one at the end of the Earth. For the darkest day of the year, though, it felt suddenly bright.
Maybe it was just Loki’s stupid, unruly heart.
Thor drew back and put a hand to Loki’s neck, watching him silently. Waiting, not pushing, willing to accept what Loki decided.
One slow exhale, then another, and Loki cast his eyes down at his lap, where he hooked his fingers together. “Since I’m staying,” he said, then had to try to control the grin that was breaking across his face at Thor’s noise of happiness, “I suppose I’ll have to find something to do around h—”
But his breath was knocked out of him as Thor pulled him into another hug, thumping him on the back several times before releasing him. Once Loki had coughed a few times and gotten his breath back, Thor said, “The gut buckets always need hosing down, brother.”
“I’m regretting this decision already,” Loki muttered. Not that it had been much of a decision. The decision had been made, really, all those years ago on Sakaar when Korg had turned off the obedience disc that his infuriating brother had put on him, and Loki had chosen not to stay on Sakaar, but to go home and accept who he was. Even if that acceptance was still an ongoing struggle, most days. Project. He’d call it a project. It sounded nicer than struggle.
Thor grinned at him, then got up and placed the Yule goat on the mantle over the fireplace. He put his hands on his hips and turned around to look at Loki, beaming. With a small smile that was fighting to become a much bigger smile, Loki said, “Dare I say, the perfect spot.” His chest felt light with—happiness? No. More than happiness. It was joy.
And maybe Midwinter was the right day for this, after all. The darkness closed in but they held up a light and waited for the sun to return. Loki had been searching for that light for most of his life. Was there any doubt that it rested with his family?
He stood up too and went to join Thor. After a moment, he put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Happy Yule, Thor.”
Thor looked at him and smiled, putting an arm around Loki’s shoulders. “Happy Yule, Loki.”