Chapter Text
“I saw that.”
Jari pauses, chubby hand in the air, tiny snowball clutched tightly in his blue-tinged fingers. Behind him, Audun is sucking fervently at his thumb, opalescent eyes wide. He’s got a hand twisted in the back of his brother’s tunic.
“Hand it here,” Loki says with a not-unamused sigh, kneeling down as the eldest of his twin sons toddles over, forlornly setting the icy sphere in Loki’s palm. With a twist of his hand, the magic disappears, and Loki takes one of Jari’s little hands in his.
“What did I say about throwing snowballs at your sister?” Loki asks, glancing over to where Thor is rapidly trying to brush the snow out of Noma’s hair before it melts. It’s not doing much good.
“Mama said not to,” Jari replies quietly, and Audun pops his thumb out of his mouth to clutch his brother’s hand in his. Since birth, the two have been inseparable. As babes, they had to sleep in the same crib, otherwise each would make a terrible racket until they were reunited once more. Even now, they can’t bear being separated for more than an hour or two before they start fussing. Audun is the worst about it, the longer he spends away from Jari, the more irritable he gets, before he ends up unleashing a storm of frustrated magic and Loki has to go on damage control.
Interestingly enough, the twin who most resembles Thor in looks is also the one who inherited Loki’s knack for magic. Audun is a bright little thing, skin golden and hair a mess of wild blond curls that fall down to his shoulders. His eyes, however, are an odd sort of rainbow-white, pearlescent in shine. Audun is without sight. They’d found this out soon after Thanos had been defeated, struck from existence by the very stones he was trying to master. Knocked unconscious by the immense amount of power that had found its conductor in his body, Loki had awoken hours later to the sound of Thor’s voice and the splitting pain of his contractions beginning. Jari was born first. Pale-skinned and dark-haired like his mother, he had almost immediately blinked his carmine-red eyes up at his parents, startling them both.
“Little Jötunar princeling,” Thor had murmured fondly, reaching down to thumb lightly at the tiny bumps upon his firstborn son’s forehead, surely to become horns as the babe grew. Jari’s wide eyes had watched Thor’s every movement, little mouth opened in awe. It was from that moment Loki knew that he’d never have a chance at making favorite parent with this one.
Audun arrived minutes later, never far behind his brother. He’d been so quiet when he entered the world, so still, that Loki had immediately felt his stomach drop. Jari had been born kicking and screaming, shifting so rapidly from Jötunn to Aesir form that Loki in all his post-birth stupor had to messily sling a protection spell at Svanhild’s hands. Audun, on the other hand, hadn’t made a single sound as Svanhild carefully tugged him the rest of the way from Loki’s body. The healer had taken Loki’s child from him, ignoring Loki’s cries of anguish as she turned Audun on his front, carefully but firmly rubbing and patting at his back.
After a few moments of this, Audun had coughed something fierce, before his shrill cry had joined Loki’s own. Relief washed through Loki’s veins, dizzying, and he had held his free arm out to accept the babe as Svanhild had carried him over, nestling him next to Jari on Loki’s chest.
Having already been through this once, Loki hadn’t bothered asking Svanhild to leave the room as he carefully tried to urge his sons to feed. Jari had latched almost immediately, suckling away with a voracious hunger that he had surely inherited from his father. Audun, though, was less enthusiastic. He had nosed about Loki’s breast for a while, before slumping down and letting out a distressed wail. It was almost as if he couldn’t find what he was supposed to be feeding on.
It was then that Loki noticed the eyes.
They were far-off, unfocused, lost. He had waved a hand about in front of Audun’s face, blood running cold when he realized his son would not react. Instead the babe stared blankly beyond him, at something that was unknown, unseen.
“Svanhild,” Loki had started unsteadily, and the healer was at his side in an instant, carefully lifting Audun from his arms once more. At the separation from his brother, Jari had ceased feeding and let out a tiny noise of displeasure, red eyes blinking at Loki like somehow this was all his fault.
It had been. When Svanhild had reappeared with Audun a half-hour later, she carefully shook her head, settling him back in Loki’s arms.
“Your majesties,” She murmured. “The babe is blind.”
Loki and Thor’s gasps were simultaneous, and Thor had reached down, cupping his youngest’s cheek in his hand. Carefully thumbing over Audun’s eyelids, they watched as the babe’s face scrunched up for a moment before he opened his eyes once more.
They were the palest, lightest blue, a color Loki posited he had never seen before. From them shone all the colors of the rainbow and more; they shifted every time the babe moved his head, from every different angle. But Svanhild had been right, it was as Loki had seen before. Audun’s eyes held no focus, no recognition. Jari was constantly looking about, taking in all that surrounded him in the new world he had been birthed into. Audun’s eyes, however, remained still, passive.
“How could this have happened?” Loki choked out, cupping Audun’s head and pulling him tight to his breast, as if he could protect his son from what had already passed.
“It could have been a number of things,” Svanhild said slowly, looking up to catch Thor’s gaze when he cleared his throat. “It could have been an entirely natural process, but…” And she hesitated, obviously seeing something on Thor’s face that gave her pause. “It is more likely it had something to do with your asphyxiation, or your weathering of energies from the stones.”
“I did this,” Loki had stated numbly, and Thor had jumped into action, coming round to Loki’s side and cupping his face in his hands.
“Beloved—“
“Thor, I did this,” Loki said, voice gaining strength. “I did this; I took sight away from our child. He will suffer because of me,”
“Loki, you saved this universe—“
“At what cost?”
“Are our children not alive?” And Loki looked down to the two boys nestled into his chest, sleeping side-by-side. Jari’s little hand brushed against Audun’s arm. “Have they not been born into a world free of Thanos’ terror? Will they not be loved fully and unconditionally?”
Sighing, Loki had brushed his hands over his sons’ soft heads, watching them slumber peacefully. Though Thor was right, it’d likely be an eternity more before Loki could forgive himself for this transgression.
“Are you going to tell your sister that you’re sorry?” Loki asks, unable to stop himself from running a soothing hand over Jari’s neck when he sees the beginnings of tears in those bright red eyes. He reaches out and carefully smooths his jet-black hair away from his tiny horns.
When Jari toddles over to Noma, he tugs Audun with him, holding his twin brother’s hand tight as if drawing courage from his blond-headed counterpart.
“I’m sorry, Noma,” He sniffles, and his elder sister looks upon him with kind brown eyes.
“It’s okay, Jari. Just don’t do it again please.” And she dips down to press a kiss to each of her brothers’ heads, in between their horns. “I love you.”
“We love you too,” Jari and Audun say in sync.
Their daughter is seven years old now, close to her eighth birthday, and Loki is immensely proud of her. Thor and Loki remark daily about how they could not have asked for a kinder child, a smarter child, a child with more love and mercy in her heart. She will make an exceptional queen when the time comes, though that is still millennia away.
Noma’s markings have become stronger as she’s grown, more pronounced. Particularly stark against her pale skin stand the traditional markings of Jötunn royalty, the high whorls on her forehead that are an exact match to Loki’s own. As she’s gotten older, though, Noma has begun forming her own patterns: deep waves of intelligence and empathy dance down her arms, ending in concentric rings that signify power and magic on her palms. Her adult teeth have begun to grow in, and both of her upper canines are sharply pointed, though with how often she smiles they are less of a threat than a show of happiness. Her wild blonde curls have tamed with age and the weight of her now waist-length hair, and Loki often braids it back into two rows of warriors’ plaits.
The first thing Loki had done once he’d awoken from his power-induced coma all those years ago was ask for his daughter. He was told that, apparently, after Thanos had been destroyed, the Vision’s stone had vacated his body, leaving him lifeless on the ground. They had been afraid the same might happen to Noma, so she had been taken to Stark’s labs, where Shuri and Starlord were working tirelessly to coax the stone from her body. Desperate to go to his daughter, but incapacitated by his labor pains, Loki could only hope he hadn’t used up all his favor with the universe when he asked for its help in defeating Thanos.
Noma had returned to them a few hours after her brothers’ births, a bit woozy and under the weather but entirely whole and healthy. She had perked right back up when she’d seen the babies, hopping on the cot next to Loki’s side and cooing over the little bundles. When she’d looked back up at Loki, her eyes were a familiar caramel-brown.
Overcome with joy, Thor had lifted his daughter in the air, spinning her about while she squealed in delight. Loki had hidden his tears of relief in the babies’ heads.
“How has this come to be?” He’d asked Shuri, Starlord, and a newly re-configured Vision after the tears had subsided.
“The stones took hosts because of Thanos’ threat,” Starlord had explained, carefully holding something out to Loki. He took it in his palm. “Once the threat was eliminated, they didn’t need their hosts anymore.” When Loki looked down, there was a tiny chain laying across his palm, attached to a cube-like pendant.
“This is…?” He had started, before the Vision had chimed in.
“The mind stone left my body, and we are unaware of its current location. The same goes for the reality and power stones, which have disappeared since Thanos’ defeat. The time stone remains with Strange, and the soul stone will not leave Mr. Stark’s side.” His voice had softened. “I believe the space stone wishes to remain with your daughter. It has found a perfect match in her, and wishes to lend its power to her in thanks for keeping it safe.”
The stone now resides in a pendant around Noma’s neck, though Loki had cast a glamour on it to change its form. It exists as a golden necklace, complete with a charm in the shape of a bolt of lightning which hides the stone. Noma is never without it. Thor and Loki had agreed that now that Thanos’ threat had been eliminated, there wasn’t too much harm in allowing Noma to continue to be the bearer of the stone. It certainly helps Noma with her casting, as Loki has finally begun to formally introduce Noma to her seiðr.
The twins have to separate again so that Thor can dress Jari, who stands surprisingly well-behaved as his father fits him with his ceremonial dressings. He’s likely trying to make up for the trouble he just got himself in to. In the meantime, Loki squats down on the ground, holding his arms out.
“Audun,” He calls softly, and the younger twin turns towards the sound of his mother’s voice, eyes blinking sightlessly. “Come here, sweet boy.”
As soon as he’d been able, Loki had begun pouring over every tome on seiðr and dark magic he could get his hands on, desperate for an answer to the injustice he’d afflicted on his son. Eira had helped him begin to test spells and enchantments, and it had taken them a full two years before they had found the right combination of spells. Two years ago, under a full moon, Loki had sat down with his son in his lap and searched deep inside Audun’s being, pulling and weaving at the threads of his aura until they were inextricably bound to the roots of Yggdrasil, turning the light of Audun’s soul from a soft red to a vibrant green. When he’d finished, Audun had tipped his head, cooed softly. Though his eyes were unseeing, he had lifted a hand to Loki’s when Loki had held his own palm in front of Audun’s face.
The little one toddles over to Loki, patting his mother’s cheeks with a bright smile. Though he still prefers to let Jari lead him about, Audun is able to sense the world through his magic. It’s a hefty drain on his still-fledgling seiðr, though, so Loki tries to keep him from using it too often.
It is Jól season again. The first Jól the Asgardians will experience in their new home, the village on the outskirts of Wakanda which had been completed in the last couple months. Loki and Thor, along with the Asgardians and a team of Avengers, had been working tirelessly the entire year in order to finish in time for the celebration. The village is yet small, made up mostly of one and two-story houses with a few storefronts and a modest town square. Even the home for the royal family isn’t too extravagant: it’s moderate in size, only equipped with extra bedrooms in case of visitors or…additions to the family.
Wakanda’s king had been more than generous, not only offering the land free for their use, but also putting his technology to work in order to ensure a quick building process. Loki’s people have the latest of Shuri’s prototypes helping them about their homes: cooking tablets that heat near instantly and communication devices that allow them to chat with their neighbors without ever leaving the house. Loki himself need only inquire about the location of his children within his house and a voice will relay which rooms they currently occupy. It’s quite useful, as Audun has begun fiddling with transportation magic to get himself around without Jari’s help.
Carefully tying the ribbon around Audun’s waist, Loki sits back. Both of his boys are dressed exactly the same: gold-and-silver tunics with a smart pair of black trousers. Thor is particularly fond of dressing them similarly, though Loki had given him a look.
“We won’t be able to do that forever, you know,” He’d said. “They’ll start resenting us for it eventually.”
“I think you underestimate how well our sons get along,” Thor had replied. “Let us see what they choose when they are old enough to dress themselves.”
Loki had snorted.
Noma is wearing ceremonial Valkyrie armor that she had chosen herself, quite fond of it after the enthralling tales her father had told her about the woman who had worn it last. Though she and Brunhilde had been the best of friends in her youth, Noma was far too young to remember anything besides a foggy recollection of what the woman looked like. Loki and Thor have been dedicated to making sure that their daughter remembers the woman who gave her life for Noma. The white Pegasus that Valkyrie had given Noma when she was just a babe now sits, well-worn and loved, on a shelf above Noma’s bed.
With a snap of his fingers, Loki traces white runes onto Noma’s cheeks, the same that Brunhilde had worn all those years ago. Noma looks up and him and giggles, letting Loki heft her into his arms and press a kiss to her forehead.
Today will be the first day that Noma will introduce herself to the court, made up of Heimdall and the Asgardians that had been elected by their peers whilst they were still floating on the Ark. Normally, they would wait until she was ten or eleven, but Noma is particularly articulate and had asked for this honor specifically. After talking about it at length, Loki and Thor had agreed that Noma was ready to do so. She’s terribly bright for her age, preferring now to converse with the adults rather than the children of her age (save Nathaniel, who is still her closest friend and confidant). Loki finds it particularly amusing when Noma breaks into conversation about quantum physics or ancient Asgardian history with one of the adults, leaving her conversational partner stunned.
There is a second announcement to be made, today, an announcement similar to the one that was made at their first Jól celebration on another new home. Thor comes up behind Loki, wraps his arms round his waist and presses a kiss to his temple. Smiling, Loki joins his hands with Thor’s, which are resting gently on the barely-there bump of his stomach.
He’s pregnant once again. After the birth of the twins, Loki had recast his conception spell, made Thor swear up and down that he wouldn’t ask for another for at least two years. And Thor had kept his word: he had waited three before sliding up behind Loki one day, wrapping his arms around his waist.
“The boys get along so well,” He’d murmured, pressing a kiss to Loki’s temple. Loki had hummed, watching as his sons sat together, building sand-piles between their outstretched legs. Noma was off by herself at the edge of the field, spelling flowers to grow. This would be the plot of land that their home would stand on not a year later.
“Don’t you think that Noma could use a companion?”
Loki had leaned into the kiss Thor had brushed against his neck, sighing softly. “Nathaniel is with Laura and Clint in New York,” He’d drowsed, before his brain had caught up with what Thor had said. Turning his head a bit, Loki had smirked.
“Unless you weren’t talking about Nathaniel.”
Thor had simply laughed and pulled Loki into a kiss.
He is two months along now, still far too early to know the gender, though Noma had looked at him when they’d told her about the pregnancy and said “sister” with a finality that had Loki convinced. They’d managed to keep it quiet from everyone except for Svanhild, as they had been hoping for an announcement that they finally had control over, for once.
The Avengers should be arriving soon. They had, of course, been invited to the festivities. After all, a fair few of them had been instrumental in building the Asgardians’ new home. Stark himself had even shown up a few times, though he was never far from the Captain’s side. The man had been steadily recovering from his final face-off with Thanos, which had left him with a broken back and years of recovery ahead of him. It is just now, four years later, that Rogers has begun to be able to walk on his own. Stark had developed a pair of bionic leg bracers, similar to the ones Rhodey wears, for the Captain, but Steve had turned them down.
“I want to be able to rely on myself,” he’d said, giving Tony’s hand a reassuring squeeze. Speaking of those two, something must have happened between them during the battle with Thanos, because they are now both inseparable and insufferable. There are not many moments when they are together where they are not holding hands or leaning upon each other and murmuring soft affections. Loki might be a bit of a hypocrite in saying this, though.
The first to bound off the quinjet and into Loki’s arms is young Peter Parker, dressed in a collegiate hoodie and a pair of jeans and looking quite enthusiastic. He hasn’t seen the new Asgard yet, having been away at a prestigious college (arranged by Stark, of course), to pursue a double degree in photography and mechanical engineering. Loki hasn’t seen him in three years, and he grins as he accepts the leaping hug that Peter bestows upon him.
“Mr. Loki!” He crows, burying his face in Loki’s neck and squeezing him so tight that Loki fears he may have to break news of the pregnancy early in order to save the babe. Peter releases him at the last moment, though, beaming up at him with his wide, brown eyes alight.
“Spider-child,” Loki greets, ruffling Peter’s hair. He’s grown a few inches since Loki has seen him last. “You look well. Full of knowledge.”
“I just finished my finals for this semester,” Peter responds, rubbing a hand over his forehead as if wiping off sweat. It draws Loki’s attention to the now-faint scar that runs parallel to his brow: where Proxima Midnight had almost delivered a fatal blow all those years ago.
Loki, delirious with post-birth and running on empty, had limped his way to where Peter and Natasha were being held. He’d collapsed on the ground next to their make-shift cots, barely having enough energy to bat Mantis and Wanda away from where they were fussing over the figures bleeding red against the stark-white sheets.
“Didn’t you just give birth?” Bucky had exclaimed from where he was rooting around in a medical kit.
“Why yes, I did. The babies are fine, thanks for asking,” Loki had snapped, short on both consciousness and patience. He’d passed his hands over Peter’s body, moving to make room for Svanhild and her group of healers as they appeared in the doorway.
“Internal hemorrhaging,” He’d announced succinctly, already using what little seiðr he had left to carefully curb the blood flowing in Peter’s cranium, rerouting it until it began to run in the right direction once more. At that, the boy had shifted and given a soft groan, and Loki had carefully pressed a thumb to his temple, feeding him soft and gentle dreams until he quieted. Across from him, Svanhild and Astrid had already begun work on Natasha.
“Several cracked ribs,” The head healer murmured, carefully moving around the Widow’s body to search for more injuries. “Broken leg, lots of internal bruising…but she should make a full recovery.”
Speaking of the Widow, she is next off of the quinjet, holding Nathaniel on her hip as Lila and Cooper run about at her feet. Clint and Laura follow closely, laughing at their children’s shenanigans.
“They’re beautiful,” Laura murmurs as she looks over Jari and Audun, who are now frolicking about with their sister and Nathaniel. This is the first time she’s met the twins.
“Thank you,” Loki replies, offering a hug. When Laura returns it, though, she pulls back a bit to look him in the eyes. The smirk upon her face is knowing.
Loki lowers his voice. “We’re announcing it this evening. Keep it quiet until then?”
“Of course, of course,” Laura responds, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Congratulations.”
They spend the better end of an hour greeting their other guests: Sam and Rhodey, who approach and then subsequently leave together, walking so close that their shoulders are bumping. Loki casts an interested glance after them as they leave, catching Thor’s eye and giving him a smirk.
Bruce and Bucky wander over after a while, having been taking a tour of the village led by Heimdall. Notably absent are Tony and Steve, who, if Loki remembers correctly, had also asked to be taken on the tour.
“I can’t be around them for more than a half hour now,” Bruce responds when Loki asks about the couple’s whereabouts.
“Tell me about it. It’s always some cheesy one-liner, then ‘shut up, Steve,’ then ‘why don’t you make me’,” Bucky grouches, though there is a hint of amusement to his voice. A few months ago, over a generous mug of mead, Bucky had confided to Loki that he was relieved that Steve had found someone, even if Bucky himself wasn’t Tony’s biggest fan. He had been afraid that Steve would be pining over what had passed forever. (“You sound like you have some experience with ‘what has passed’ yourself,” Loki had intoned over his mug, scanning the soldier’s face closely. “Yeah, I have,” Bucky had muttered. Loki had thought it best not to pursue the topic any further.)
The couple of the hour does reappear a few minutes later, linked at the hip as always and laughing over some private joke. Loki crosses his arms and affixes Tony with his best icy glare.
“Whose house?” He asks, and Tony shifts from foot to foot, glances up at Steve.
“I don’t know what you’re—“
“Whose house?” Loki asks again, and Steve shrugs helplessly, looks back down at Tony with a barely-restrained grin.
“It wasn’t yours, okay?” Tony defends, hand subconsciously rubbing at a suspiciously-red spot on the side of his neck. “At least, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t.”
“Remind me to make an announcement to everyone to wash their sheets,” Loki mutters to Thor, whose face splits into a wide grin.
“Congratulations on the sex!” He crows, patting Steve heartily on the shoulder. Tony looks between them, cheeks going pink in indignation.
“I had a part in it too, you know.”
“Did you?” Thor asks, just a hint of teasing to his voice, and Stark’s mouth drops open.
“Yeah, Tony, did you?” Steve parrots, and Loki doesn’t think he’s seen Stark’s face this red before.
“Well I certainly won’t have any part in it next time,” He snaps, arms crossed tight over his chest. “You’ll just have to talk to your left hand about that.” And he marches off, back ram-rod straight.
“Come on, Tony, don’t be that way!” Steve laughs, jogging after him, but Stark won’t turn around.
“Talk to the hand, Rogers.”
Other than T’Challa and Shuri, who will be meeting them later on in the evening, this will be the extent of their guests for the night. Wanda and the Vision have chosen to go on hiatus from their Avengers membership to spend more time together. Last time Loki heard from Wanda, she was in Prague. The Guardians have also chosen to go their separate way, having left soon after Thanos was defeated (“We’re the Guardians of the Galaxy,” Starlord had pointed out. “Can’t go picking favorite planets.”)
The feast is to be held in Asgard’s newly-minted Heorot, made of study Wakandan wood and lined down the entire floor with long feasting-tables. The cooks have been working day and night over the past week to prepare the most epic meal in Asgard’s history. Loki had tried to lend a hand, but he’d quickly learned that his culinary capabilities hit a hard stop after potions making (there may or may not have been a fire. A small, easily containable fire).
Noma enters first, by herself. Thor and Loki stand at the doors with a son each tucked to their chests, watching their daughter stand before her people. She approaches the head table, where Heimdall and the council sit, assessing their princess with warm gazes.
“Asgardians,” Noma announces, and Loki’s heart gives a tug. Her small voice sounds so noble, so full of love for her people. “Chosen of the court. I present myself to you humbly. My given name is Noma Lokidóttir, daughter of thunder and winter incarnate, Spaceborn.” And they’d rehearsed this speech with Noma thousands of times, choosing to add her secondary title, both reflecting her birth upon the ark and her mastery of the space stone. “I stand before you your humble attendant, and offer to you my undying fidelity should you choose to accept me, when the time comes, as your servant ruler.”
The room is silent for a moment, and Loki’s breath sticks in his throat. It’s ridiculous, as he knows these people adore Noma, would never deny her her birthright. But he feels for his daughter, sees the little shake to her hands as Heimdall slowly rises from his seat. Loki himself had never had to introduce himself to the court, as Thor had always been the unchallenged heir. He can’t imagine it’s a particularly easy feat, though.
“Noma Lokidóttir,” Heimdall addresses in his droning timbre. “Daughter of thunder and winter incarnate, born to and of space,” and he drops to his knee in front of Noma. Loki and his daughter let out a held-in breath simultaneously. “Your people welcome you to your court.”
The room bursts into deafening applause, Asgardian and Avenger alike standing and cheering for the shaking little seven-year-old who stands before them. Loki aches to race to his daughter, to lift her up into his arms and tell her how proud he is, but he must wait until he is invited.
When Noma raises a hand, the room goes silent. Her smile is as bright as the sun and just as wide. “My thanks to you, high advisor of the court, and to my people.” Then, she turns to her family behind her, and Loki can barely hold back the tears in his eyes. “May I present to you my mother and father, and my brothers, the royal family of Asgard.”
Loki can hold himself back no longer. He sets Jari carefully on the ground before he runs to his daughter, scooping her up into his arms. The crowd breaks into applause once again as Loki hugs Noma tight, planting enthusiastic kisses all over her cheeks.
“You were brilliant, Noma,” He praises. “Utterly brilliant. Your people love you dearly, and will be lucky to have you as their queen.”
Noma is giggling, tears streaking down her cheeks. The adrenaline has obviously peaked. “Thank you, mother,” She says, wrapping her arms tight around Loki’s neck and burying her face in his tunic. He holds her close, savoring the moment. It is not often that he can hold his daughter this way. She is growing stronger and wiser and older each minute, and sometimes Loki fears she’ll be grown the next time he blinks his eyes.
“Noma,” He murmurs into her hair, heart as full as it’s ever been. “I am so, so, immensely proud of you.”
When Noma’s brown eyes meet Loki’s, they simultaneously burst into tears. Loki presses their foreheads together and laughs wetly, letting Noma nuzzle their noses against each other.
Thor arrives at their side not long after, toting both twins on his shoulders. The boys are clamoring at their sister while Thor smiles at his husband and daughter warmly, cupping their cheeks in his hands and wiping at the tears.
“Now, now, you two,” He chides jokingly, leaning down to press a kiss to both of their foreheads. “I think it’s my turn with the future queen of Asgard, is it not?”
Loki takes one more moment to hug Noma close before carefully setting her down, accepting the twins from Thor’s arms as he takes Noma’s hand in his. Now that she’s formally introduced herself to court, Thor is to take her off to speak to her of the secrets that only first-born rulers can know. Of course, he’d told Loki about them long ago. They’d wanted to make sure Thor was passing down knowledge that would benefit Noma and Asgard as they grew together, rather than stale old traditions that would only hurt their development.
“How did such a mature little lady come out of you and his majesty?” Svanhild jokes as Loki settles down at his spot at the head table, sending Jari and Audun off to play with the other children about the fire. Loki snorts and gives her a soft elbow to the ribs, starting in on his plate.
“A miracle, that,” He jokes back, tearing into his first mutton leg of the night. When he goes to take a sip of his goblet, he notes that Svanhild has already exchanged his mead out for water. She winks at him.
The feasting starts in earnest when Thor reappears, Noma riding on his shoulders and squealing happily as Thor thrusts his mug in the air, jovial as Loki’s ever seen him.
“To Noma!” He proclaims, and the people raise their drinks.
“To Noma!” They repeat, and Loki’s daughter grins all over again.
“To Asgard!” She declares, and her people cheer.
“To Asgard!”
It doesn’t take long for most of the crowd to get tipsy. The humans go first, despite Loki’s multiple suggestions that they might want to bring some of their own alcohol.
“What are you calling us, pansies?” Clint had asked, and Tony had approached to link arms with him.
“Yeah, we survived the end of the world. I think we can handle a little Asgardian booze.”
“How’s that going for you?” Loki asks as he rubs Tony’s back while the man is leant over a flower pot.
“Shut up, I hate you,” is Stark’s intelligent response.
Rogers actually holds his mead fairly well, an attribute for which Loki credits the serum. He manages to keep up with Thor for the first few pints, only tapping out when they hit their sixth.
“Is this what being drunk feels like?” He asks Natasha, who bursts into laughter and smacks him on the back.
“Come with me. There’s no way I’m letting this opportunity slip by without taking a few pictures.”
Multiple times during the night, Loki catches Thor trying to slip Peter a mug of ale. And multiple times, Loki has to take it from him and waggle his finger at Thor.
“Peter is not of drinking age,” He says patiently, while the Spider-child sulks behind him.
“I’m nineteen!” Peter protests, and Loki spins on his heel to affix the teenager with an unamused look.
“Which means you have another two years before you may legally consume alcohol.”
“The drinking age is eighteen in Wakanda!” Shuri calls from her table across from them, already having downed a pint and a half. She’s holding it surprisingly well.
“Why does Shuri get to drink but not me? We’re practically the same age.” And Peter’s brown eyes go wide and shining, the same look Noma takes on when she’s trying to convince Loki to let her eat her dessert before dinner. Loki looks to him, and to Thor, and back again, before he sighs.
“One,” He says, holding up a finger for emphasis, and Peter’s face splits into a grin.
“Thank you, Mr. Loki!” He crows, taking the mug from Loki’s hands. As he walks away, Loki twists his fingers, mutters under his breath. The mead in Peter’s mug turns to human beer, instead.
“I saw that,” Thor jokes, stepping closer to wrap an arm around Loki’s waist.
“He’s still a child,” Loki defends, leaning against him.
Loki decides it’s time for the announcement halfway through the night, when most of the room is suitably inebriated but not yet entirely gone (that is, except for the Captain, who is fast asleep against one of the tables. He’d obviously gotten a little over-enthusiastic).
Thor’s hand in one of his, Noma’s hand in the other, Loki beckons his sons as he approaches the front of the room. He can’t help but think back to this time, eight years ago, when a similar announcement had been made about Noma’s forthcoming. Of course, it had been under quite different circumstances: for one, Valkyrie had made the announcement. Loki glances at his daughter, hair back in warriors’ braids and dressed in shining silver armor, and marvels at how far they’ve come. There was a time when he’d sworn to the Norns that the warrior would never come near his daughter. Now, he hopes, her memory will live on within his daughter’s heart.
Similarly, now, as Loki takes his place in front of his people, he does so as their queen. He has grown with these people, loved with these people, lost with these people. Seen them welcome new babes into the world, and helped them send the old off into the halls of Valhalla. He’s dug in the dirt with these people, grasped their new home by the roots and watched it grow and flourish under the Midgardian sun. These are the people who have seen him, watched him grow, watch him suffer and destroy. These are the people who have forgiven him regardless, given him a place to rest and to belong. These are his people.
Loki’s road has been long and winding, full of mistakes and successes alike. It seems like an eternity ago that Loki stared up at Thor from the edge of the Bifrost, soon to let go and end the idyllic frolicking of their youth. An eternity ago that Loki would wake, bruised and bloodied, staring up at the being who would soon bring more pain upon Loki’s person than he had ever known. It even seems so long ago that Loki asked for help from the universe to save what he loved most, and it gave, and it gave, until it could give no more.
The universe has given him much, Loki muses. Far, far more than he could ever repay. As he raises his hand to call for silence in the room, he thanks the Norns one last time for all he’s been afforded. And then, with a deep inhale, Loki addresses his people.
All is well.