The sun shone upon New Asgard. A warmth embraced its people each new day, a sort of warmth that reminded a certain God of Mischief about longer days in the Golden Kingdom. He would never admit it– how much better he had been feeling since their arrival on Midgard. He mourned with the people, about the homes and lives they’d lost, but at the same time, it was like aeons of burdens were lifted from his shoulders. He could drape himself onto a wicker chair and watch time pass as the nation slowly rebuilt themselves on the embers of what they once were.
While of course, he still had his duties, but they reminded him more of when he’d play the role of assistant when his mother would arrange those extravagant events more than the responsibilities of a prince. That isn’t to say those memories weren’t fond.
He didn’t leave the community all that much, and it didn’t take him long to memorise most of everyone’s names. Thor had pointed it out once, teasing him for such a sentimental gesture. The only response he’d received was a pointed glare as Loki smiled to himself only the moment he turned away.
They would receive visitors from time to time. Loki thought it best to steer clear from their way, lest he scare them off. Meanwhile, when Thor would be in charge of the day tour, he would deliberately take a path he knew he’d find his brother in, as a way to assure other people that he had changed. Another thing Loki would not admit was that he appreciated it.
It was a day he declared to himself as his day off. He squinted at the sun’s intrusion as he stepped out of his little cabin, stretching out his limbs when he vaguely heard a camera’s shutter.
His eyes immediately snap to where you stood, fumbling with the device in your hands.
“Sorry, I’ve been trying to get a good angle on your flowers for quite a while without getting too close. Didn’t mean to disturb you.” You pressed buttons on the gadget with a humorous smile you hoped masked your embarrassment as you scrolled to the picture you had just taken. There was evident motion in the photo; it looked quite silly, seeing the man blurry mid-stretch. Well at least it was funny until you realised who it was.
Loki startled at the sound of surprise you made. “You… you’re— mister— prince?”
Despite his grogginess, Loki finds it in himself to grace you with a chuckle. “Just Loki.” His eyes still move slowly as he examines you, his eyelids weighed by slumber. It didn’t take much deduction for him to find out you were most probably a photographer.
“Not much going on here, I’m afraid. You’ll find Thor right next door; he could take you to sights much more worth your time.”
“I think I’m alright.”
He looks at you incredulously, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. You clear your throat.
“I mean most people have probably seen those already. I wanted to capture glimpses into the lives of the people here,” and in a flustered whisper, you add, “you know?”
Maybe it was because he was too tired to shoo you away, to argue or to call his brother down himself, but he resigns with a nod before turning on his heel back towards his door.
“Actually, could you…?” He halts abruptly, hearing the grass and the fallen leaves crunch against your soles as you tread carefully closer to the hedges surrounding his house. When he looks back at you, you demonstrate a pose, bending your knees to be closer to the ground, using one of the radiant yellow wildflowers as a prop.
He sighs, and rolls his eyes. Against his better judgment, the wooden floors creak under the weight of his footsteps as he walks out of the cabin grounds and sidles next to you; he mirrors the action. You smile at him gratefully and he can’t seem to ignore the warmth that envelops him at the sight of it. With wakefulness slowly crawling up his nerves, he realises he hasn’t seen you around before and the way you regard him is quite a new experience. Thor would usually be the one to introduce new visitors to him, but you took the initiative first.
The camera clicks.
He watches you with intrigue, his brows furrowed together as you examine the picture.
“You could do better than that,” you say flatly. He opens his mouth to voice his offence, but you silence him with a raised finger and a simple command:
“Pose.”
This time, he does not let his mind wander. He mirrors the same pose, but with a more natural element to it. After hearing several clicks from the camera, he groans, standing up to his full height.
“Are we done?”
But you’re too distracted by your handiwork. When he sees you smiling at the screen, curiosity pulls him over to your side. He peers over your shoulder and you lift the camera closer to his eyes.
Asgardians and Midgardians were typically warm, but he’d gone too long without a reminder of that; he remembers this when he tries to take a hold of the device to direct it where he can see better, and the action makes his fingertips brush against your skin. You were quite warm.
What he saw in the photograph was not quite how he remembered himself.
It seemed convincingly candid— an ordinary man admiring the flowers with his hair a good mix of neat and unkempt. The sunlight dappled the leaves and the flowers beautifully; it caressed his face, casting an ethereal glow befitting a god.
“You are quite the artist, madam…?”
You’re greeted with a fond smile when you give him your name, offering your hand for a shake. “It’s an honour, truly.”
He finds himself drawn into your warmth with your hand clasped around his. He walks next to you, carefully watching your much awed expression despite the bland, ordinary trees being the reason.
The two of you slipped into an easy conversation. You elaborated on your profession and why you had come to visit, your words quite tugged at his mind and compelled him to be the one to tour you around the place. While Thor knew of the summits, he knew of the slopes, the ins and outs of the village where children hide and play, where trees cast shadows even when the sun was high, where lovers shared their moments. He even showed you the only tree in the village that bore his favourite Midgardian fruit, which to his surprise, was your favourite too.
As you enthusiastically sank your teeth into the fruit you had plucked from the tree, he conjured a small basket in his hands and filled it with the best picks.
He followed you around as you continued taking photographs, the sound of the camera’s shutter slowly registering into his head as something soothing and familiar. Whenever he’d catch you eyeing a person or a group for too long, he would lean down to your level and give you a story or two that he’d known about them. As always, he was a theatrical storyteller; he made even the most mundane of tales sound out of this world.
For lunch, he had taken you to a local restaurant. It earned the two of you a few bewildered glances, especially from the wide-eyed God of Thunder who had been stuffing his face with the restaurant’s complimentary bread when you walked in next to Loki, just a smidgeon too close than Thor remembered his brother would like. He was even more surprised to see that Loki didn’t seem to be bothered, he seemed pleased, even.
When the bill was called, the sweet lady had said it was on the house. The pair of you insisted on paying, but she wouldn’t hear it; she simply waved you off as she scurried back to the counter.
“I’ve never seen that happen before,” mumbled Thor.
“Looks like he takes after his brother more than he’d like to admit,” said the lady, scribbling over a receipt that Thor deduced was yours.
Loki caught the tinge of embarrassment in your face. You flipped through your wallet to leave a tip, he stopped you with a raised hand, telling you he’d make sure they would be properly compensated.
“It seems only right, I mean you’ve gone the extra mile just showing me around the place,” you reason out.
In turn, he chuckles, “I am still very much a prince, remember?”
The sun was long gone from the horizon when you made your way back to the car. You had reassured Loki that you would be alright on your own, but he was persistemt on accompanying you. There was guilt somewhere in your nerves that you were possibly steering him away from his responsibilities, but the moment you voiced this he only asked you where you had parked. When you pointed in its direction, he simply walked ahead of you, making you take wider strides to match his pace.
“It’s a shame we missed the sunset. There are times when I realise I take it for granted,” he says softly.
“Well, all the more reason for me to come back,” you shrug.
There is a giddy feeling in his chest and he tries to bite back a smile. When he fails in doing so, he tilts his head towards the ground.
The lights of your car blink, the doors unlocking with the push of a button. He makes his way to the passenger seat, settling the basket of fruit he had gathered earlier onto the seat. He tells you it’s an offering of thanks from the people of New Asgard.
The engine hums to life, but you stay there for a moment to let it warm up. Loki knocks on your window before lowering himself to meet your gaze as you roll the glass down.
“Any way I’ll know when you plan to return?”
“I thought you liked surprises.” You lean closer to your window, giving him a smug grin.
“That I do,” he chuckles.
It does not take you long to return for a second time, then a third, then you stopped counting by the eighth. There was always somewhere new to visit even in such a small community, perhaps it was because you were lucky to have scored quite the resourceful guide.
Your itinerary would change every time, if you had any at all. Most times you would visit with nothing but the camera, sometimes with a little trinket from home to leave as a token. What remained constant was the basket of fruit Loki would always leave in your car before you parted ways for the time being. A reminder that there was always at least one person waiting there for you.
In the weeks you had not returned, visitors steadily came and went. Slowly, they grew in frequency and number, but you were still nowhere to be found. Thor began to question why Loki seemed to have his eyes incessantly on the crowd, at times even greeting them by the entrance before quickly making his leave when he didn’t find what he was looking for.
One afternoon, Thor used the back entrance to the restaurant you and Loki had eaten in. From the counter, he spotted his brother on the very same table, flipping through his book with several, identical cups sprawled before him, the cup he was sipping on was the same, too. The lady behind the counter noticed Thor’s confusion as she laughed sheepishly.
“He’s been doing that these past few weeks.”
“The drinking or the reading?” Thor crossed his arms, his gaze still tethered to his brother. The lady laughs in response.
“A bit of both; nothing to be concerned about. I think it’s the same drink that girl had ordered for both of them when she first visited.”
Thor hums, the scrutiny in his eyes leaving for the most part. “In that case, I fear if she doesn’t return anytime soon, my brother will end up reverting to his old ways.”
The hanging bells by the front entrance jingle as a family of four steps through the threshold. The daughter is the first to spot Loki, and Thor swallows a lump in his throat when she quickly invades Loki’s personal space. He gives her a look, close to a glare, but the tension in his face leaves when the girl lifts her phone to his face, speaking enthusiastically about something on the screen.
It was the picture you had taken of him all those weeks ago.
The young girl continued scrolling through the other pictures you had posted as she told him how excited she was to visit New Asgard because of the photographs you had captured.
“It’s as beautiful as she described it! I don’t think I’ll be able to leave!”
“Now, now. Careful what you wish for, you’ll leave your parents hanging.” Loki chuckles, patting the girl on the head. He points a finger at her family as they give him a bashful smile.
“I just can’t believe our tour is over. I want to come back soon, and hopefully she’ll be here too!” The girl says wistfully, crossing her arms. “And you must be the good friend she had made during her time here! Prince… Mister? Mister. Mister Loki?”
“Good friend?”
“She said something about how nice the people here were, but she seemed to favour... someone. You were the only one with a solo shot on any of her posts.” As she spoke, she went through the photo reel, making sure Loki could see properly.
“She says she wants to come back as soon as she figured things out.”
“Going through a rough patch then, I suppose?”
She shrugs, “Probably, she doesn’t really talk about her life outside the pictures.”
By the middle range of the reel, he caught a glimpse of his photo. It was truly distinguishable compared to the group photos, view,s and other candids you had taken. Then the last photo was one of the basket he had left on your seat, this time it sat on what looked like a dining table.
“Julia,” called the mother, gesturing to the girl to come over as they readied their takeaway bags. She waves at Loki, skipping towards her family with childlike glee.
He watches as they leave, worrying his lip. He swirls the drink in his hands, basking in its aroma that he had very quickly learned to associate with you. He remembered the questioning look he’d given you when your drink was served. After taking a sip, you had pushed the cup over to him until he relented and gave it a try.
From an ample distance, Thor shifts his weight and makes an accidental sound. It’s only then that Loki realises he is being watched.
He places the cup on the table as he stands in slow movements. And to Thor’s surprise, he smiles at him.
It was early into the evening, and nights had been growing colder. It did not stop the children from chasing each other down the roads, or the pleasant old man from reading through his novel as he sat on the lone bench under the streetlight.
It certainly didn’t stop Loki from thinking about you; in fact, it had made him forget everything else, even for just a while. His mind, usually brimming with ideas, running at several thousand miles by the second, would know a few moments of peace when he would remember you; the warmth he could almost feel through his memories. He digs his hands into his pockets, watching as his breath leaves its trails in the cold air. He remembered the girl’s words; in that moment he wanted nothing more than to find you and offer a helping hand.
The walk home was silent, save for the sound of leaves being crushed in his wake. He nears his cabin as the hedges come into view. He glides his fingertips against its leaves, remembering your fascination for them.
The memories enveloped him into a bittersweet embrace, drowning out his senses, so he doesn’t immediately pick up on the sound of a camera’s shutter.
He spins around, defensively positioning himself towards the source.
“Sorry,” you mumble sheepishly, flinging your camera’s strap over the shoulder and shoving your hands into your coat pockets. “Got caught in traffic, was I disturbing you… again?” As you spoke, Loki walked towards you slowly, as though you’d scatter into the wind if he were too rash.
“No, no, never,” he whispered earnestly.
“Well, it’s been a while,” you beam
He looks down at the hand you offered him, clasping his own firmly around yours. But something in him breaks and he tugs on your arm, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he pulls you into an embrace. “It has,” he says. “Tell me everything.”
His arms tighten around you when you return the gesture. “I will. Maybe after finding a place to stay for the night.”
He chuckles heartily. You pull away from his arms, but keep your hands on his sides. “Go get your things, I’ll arrange the spare mattress,” he says before quirking an eyebrow. “Unless you were having other plans?”
You swat at his shoulder playfully before following him to the front door. You’re about to tell him you could probably find yourself a small inn to stay out of his hair, but he anticipated that already, telling you not to worry about it before you could even open your mouth to speak.
When the lights are opened, he is graced with the familiar look of awe on your face. If you had donned that reaction to his chambers back on Asgard, perhaps he would have understood; but his place here was like any other mortal home. It was wood, warm lights dimly illuminating his bookshelves and the few paintings hanging on the walls, a cozy carpet with a couch on each side, a small coffee table in the middle; not without a remarkably tall stack of books on it.
Curiously, you take a hold of the topmost book, idly flipping through its pages when something catches your eye.
“What’s this?” You carefully peel it from the page, it’s rough and evidently worn down by time. It’s also a memorable shade of yellow; though now it seemed to have dulled by time.
“Oh.”
You lift the dried flower towards the light to admire it, at the same time Loki returns with two cups of warm drinks. When he sees what you are holding, he quickly settles the cups onto the coffee table. You could almost see his mind going to work, trying to find an excuse for keeping such a feeble thing; he eventually decides against it.
“It makes a really good bookmark,” he mumbles.
“I can tell.”
You return it to its page and place the book back on its stack, taking your seat on the couch. Loki waits for you to hold your cup before he takes his and you blow some air into the drink.
The first thing you see when you lift your gaze is the look of enthrallment from the only other person in the room. For a second, the cup in his hands seems to be too hot; but he quickly recovers, narrowly avoiding dropping it to the ground.
Perhaps now he understood how you seemed so fascinated by the most mundane things, how the most common occurrences ignite that spark within your eyes. It took weeks of your absence to realise how much of his time alive he had taken for granted. Like his time on Asgard, he never realised how important some things were until they were taken away.
Thankfully you were not one of those things. You always came back as you said you would, but your time apart from him would give him ample time to ponder on this.
Now that you were there before him, in his home, Loki knew he would learn to hold on to what he loved, no matter how fleeting time would be for them.