Title: Cover Up the Sun
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None! A chapter of almost-pure fluff!
As the overloaded buses wheezed their way around the final hairpin turn and their destination was suddenly revealed before them, a cheer rose up from the passengers. Part of it was no doubt joy to be at their journey's end, so that the true adventure could begin, but most of it was probably just to be anywhere.
Although as 'anywheres' went, Loki thought, this one was not bad. They were turning into a broad valley nestled between high ridges of stone, frosted with thick sheets of white. The hills they had scaled were not anything like what Loki would call real mountains, not by the standards of Asgard, but they were high enough (and the season early enough) to still have a generous serving of snow softening their flanks. Dark evergreens dotted the slopes here and there, more as a framework to the broad blank canvases than a centerpiece; there was also a steady regular pattern of tall iron poles linked with cables that Loki could not quite fathom the purpose of, marching up the hillsides.
Down at the bottom of the valley, sheltered comfortably by rolling slopes and protective walls of rock from any potential avalanches, perched a large hall of dark wood. It was three stories high, with a sharply angled roof to shed snow giving it an illusion of greater height than it really had. The dark-stained wood was a sharp contrast to the bright snow around it, but a profusion of windows dotted the long sides of the building and cheerful smoke rose in a steady stream from its chimneys. It looked quite warm and inviting, a welcoming rest after a long cold journey.
A few other, smaller outbuildings surrounded the main block, and there was a broad flat asphalt courtyard between them. The buses pulled up in the courtyard and began disgorging children and teachers; most of them headed for the hall, although a few others made beelines for the outbuildings. They carried duffle bags and long canvas-wrapped skis and frighteningly intent expressions.
"That's the lodge," Hank indicated helpfully when Loki hesitated between one building and the next. "We'll be eating and sleeping there - might want to drop off your kit before anything else, and stake out a room if you want one of your own. There's no other guests here but us, but there's still never enough rooms to go around."
Loki nodded, hefting his own bag and following Hank into the lodge. It opened into a long, high-roofed hall that still managed to feel cozy due to the unfinished beams holding up the ceiling and the fires that crackled in grates at either end. Beyond the grand hall were smaller corridors lined by rooms, each of which looked out onto the slopes beyond, a magnificent view framed by heavy dark curtains sufficient to block out the blinding reflected light of the snow. Some were large enough to contain four beds, others only two; Loki occupied a small room down by the end of the stairwell, and his demeanor dared any other teacher or student to challenge him for sole occupancy of the room. No one did. Loki did like his friends and students, but he also greatly liked his privacy.
Coming back the other way he crossed paths with a mortal carrying stacks of towels; his frown sharpened upon her as he realized that she held no trace of mutant power. When he caught up with Hank in the main hall, he asked in an undertone, "Were you aware that the staff is only human?"
Hank nodded, looking unperturbed. "Of course," he said. "We have an arrangement with them; they're all quite friendly to mutants, or at least discreet enough to keep their feelings to themselves. We come out here every winter, as well as various other trips throughout the year. Professor X arranges for it - he wants the students to stay in contact with the outside world, and that includes interacting with non-mutants from time to time."
"Wouldn't it be more prudent to limit interaction with humans whenever possible?" Loki said. "If you don't venture out casually, no one can betray you."
Hank sighed. "That may be, but Professor X doesn't want us to isolate ourselves." His voice dropped in volume as he continued. "He believes it's important not to shut ourselves away, to only interact with humans during conflicts or emergencies; that the humans need to see us just being ordinary folks... and that the students need to have memories of humans that aren't all bad."
"Ah," Loki said. That was definitely Xavier all over. He wasn't sure he completely agreed with the sentiment - it seemed to him that the tangible risk outweighed the rather abstract reward - but he could understand the reasoning.
He was distracted from his contemplation of this by a sudden outburst of noise and scuffling from the other end of the hall. Two young female voices, apparently drawn into a squabble over a mislain piece of luggage. "Excuse me," Hank said, and hastened away to mediate.
It was not that Loki didn't know what skiing was - or even that he didn't know how to ski, himself. It was a well-known art on Asgard (there was even a god, or rather a goddess, devoted to it - Loki had met her a few times) and Loki had used it on many an occasion when his adventures with Thor took him to snowier climates than ever-warm Asgard. But it was an uncomfortable, tiring way to travel, and Loki really had been at a loss to explain why they had traveled all this way to engage in it. The moreso because there didn't seem to be anywhere in particular that they planned to go, and were not equipped for long hikes or camping in sub-freezing weather.
When he went outside the lodge, to be greeted by the ecstatic shrieks of children whizzing down the steep, snow-covered slopes on their skis, it finally made sense. So did the strange arrangement of poles and cables tracking up to the top of the ridges. At first he had taken them for something like dwarven minecars; but as he saw pairs of skis go gliding through the air high over the heads of the skiers below, he understood. This peculiar arrangement allowed the children all the fun of zooming down the hills at high speeds, without having to endure the tiring slog up again. It was a remarkably lazy arrangement, but then Loki, who had occasionally been known to teleport from the dining room to his bedchambers and back again just to save himself the walk, was hardly in a position to throw stones.
It was all very fun and exciting. And as much as Loki would have liked to hate the icy-cold environment for its winter chill, the sun-touched slopes were too bright and shining under the blue winter sky, the silhouette of the mountains and trees too lovely for him to think of dark and jagged Jotunheim. Perhaps this 'adventure' was not going to be as tiresome as he feared, after all.
A skier shot by him, flailing and whooping, and Loki's head turned to follow as the figure launched into the air and did a somersault. It was Bobby, and the sun glittered off crystalline skin as whorls and bridges of ice followed in his wake. He did not limit himself to the dips and rises of even the advanced ski slopes, instead using his icy powers to create ramps and tracks for himself that allowed him to leap and cartwheel through the air.
A collection of students had gathered by the foot of the slopes to watch him in action, including Rogue, her hands to her mouth (and, Loki suspected, her heart in her eyes.) Bobby noticed her watching, and his antics grew even more elaborate in response. As he coasted down the slope, knees bent, he held his arms out in front of him, palms down. Frost poured from his fingertips even as he quickly gained momentum, and he tucked his body in and flew into the air off the sudden ramp of ice he had created, backflipping into a loop-the-loop that carried him neatly back to his starting position. The sun caught on the glittering shards of ice he'd summoned mid-leap: they snowed demurely down in formation in the exact center of his loop, forming a crystalline heart in midair. The students applauded. Somewhat shyly, Rogue held her hands in front of her torso, facing him, with the fingers clasped and thumbs angled to form a heart right back at him.
Loki had to admit, it was an impressive display of ice-crafting. He knew of course that the frost giants of Jotunheim had a similar command of their own element, but he had always regarded their bulky and jagged ice-weapons as crude and ungainly. It had never really occurred to him that icework could also be beautiful.
Thoughtfully, he wandered away from the crowd of skiers and ski-watchers and found himself a little private spot, a copse among the trees. Although the ground of the clearing was blanketed in fresh snow, the closeness of the trunks meant that no other skiers were likely to venture here. With a bit of privacy assured, Loki shifted to his Jotun skin and made a few attempts at calling ice to his hand.
It was not as easy as he had assumed. The ice did not respond to his thoughts as magic did; he could not merely will or mentally order ice to appear. It was more like flexing a muscle in his arm, except that he did not know which muscle he needed or how to trigger it. It was very frustrating. Finally, after many failed and increasingly agitated attempts, he managed to get a sort of rind of ice to form on his skin. But rather than forming into an edge or a point, as he had seen the other frost giants do, it merely thickened in a shell around his hand, crystallizing outwards with no shape to it.
Abandoning for the moment his attempt to make a Jotun-style weapon, he tried instead to copy the technique he had just seen of pouring frost from his fingertips. This he could not do at all. The most he could manage, after several attempts, was a sort of blast of cold air outwards from his hand. Which, aside from re-icing a beverage that had been allowed to warm to room temperature, Loki could not see any practical application for at all.
By the time a disgruntled Loki abandoned his practice and his little copse to rejoin the others, they were gearing up for what appeared to be a snow battle. He was immediately pounced upon by representatives of both sides.
"Loki, you will be on our team, yes?" Kurt asked him, making what could only be described as puppy-dog eyes.
"Hey, no fair!" Bobby objected, from his side of the long line drawn in the snow. "If you and Professor Loki are on the same team, that'll be way too imbalanced. No adult X-Men on either team, that was the terms!"
"But Herr Loki is not an X-Men," Kurt argued triumphantly. It seemed that he and Bobby were team captains, each on opposite sides. "Therefore, he does not count!"
"I don't suppose either of you considered that I may not be interested in attending your pitiful mockery of a skirmish?" Loki said dryly.
"Er... no," Kurt admitted.
"Sorry, Professor," Bobby mumbled.
"I shall supervise," Loki announced grandly, and wandered over to the sidelines to observe, and also try to figure out what on Midgard the rules were supposed to be.
The students were to be divided into fairly matched teams (negotiation of what powers constituted 'fairly matched' to other powers was getting quite heated.) The team headed by Bobby was wearing blue jerseys, the team headed by Kurt wearing gold. The teams would have thirty minutes to build snow forts and stockpile ammunition, then the battle would begin. Powers could be used to paralyze, blind, or confuse enemy team members, as well as to manipulate the terrain, but the only allowable strikes were of snowballs (which had to be below an agreed-upon size.) Players were considered 'dead' after three strikes to the head, chest, or spine area, or else many more strikes to incidental areas such as the limbs or hands.
Simple enough rules, but allowing for a great variety of strategems. Although Loki was accustomed to a much more hard-edged (literally; Asgardian weapon practice did not traditionally make use of blunted weapons) style of training, he could see how this could hone their reflexes and grasp of tactics. While involving a great deal more fun and a great deal less blood than other forms of war games.
It seemed like in such a battlefield, the mutant known as 'Iceman' would be at an overpowering advantage - and indeed, his team managed to construct a much grander ice palace while the enemy team was still laboring to build basic walls and roll snowballs for ammunition. However, once the whistle blew and the battle began in earnest, Bobby quickly found himself the center of a very determined, multi-pronged assault by the other team, who were clearly bent on eliminating him from the game as soon as possible.
Loki left the snow battle raging like a hurricane about Bobby Drake, and wandered vaguely around the edges of the skirmish. Over by the trees lining the field, his eye caught on a familiar figure lingering about the edges of the battlefield, and he headed purposefully in that direction.
It was Kitty, and just like that first day in the defense classes, she was hovering about the edges of the skirmish watching the others with cautious eyes. She was not all there to his senses, indicating she had phased. Loki fetched up beside her and adopted a casual posture, crossing his arms and leaning against a tree. He cleared his throat, catching her attention, and she whirled around.
"Aren't you playing?" Loki asked, nodding towards the wintery mayhem taking place out on the field.
"Oh, yes, I am," Kitty said. The blue jersey that hung loosely on her skinny frame proclaimed her team's allegiance.
"You don't seem to be doing very much," Loki observed.
She shrugged, looking discouraged. "Well, I can't really do much in a fight like this, can I?" she asked. "So I figure I'll just wait for the strong ones to knock each other out, then join in when it's just the weaklings like me left."
Loki considered this. "And what if they knock out all the weaklings first, and then you have the strongest of the survivors hunting you down?" he asked. "It's much wiser to support your team while it is still strong, than to find yourself alone and without aid later." Ironic words, he knew, coming from him; but just because he had always gone his own way in battle and in life didn't mean he couldn't recognize the value of working as a team. It's just that such value was for others, not for him.
Kitty's shoulders slumped. "That's true... but what can I do? I mean, my powers are all purely defensive." She waved a hand through a snow-laden branch in illustration, her fingers passing right through. "If I'm phased I can't hold a snowball, and if I'm not phased, they'll nail me in a second!"
"You could serve as a decoy," Loki suggested pragmatically. He often used his own insubstantial clones to such effect. "Draw the enemy's fire, while remaining phased so that none of their missiles land a mark."
"...I guess I could," Kitty muttered. She did not sound very enthusiastic about the idea.
Loki supposed he did not really wish to encourage Kitty to develop tactics of that sort; deliberately drawing fire from enemies was harmless enough in a practice bout like this, but in a real battle there was no way of knowing what kinds of fire she would see from enemies. A sudden image of Baldur flashed through his mind, and the gruesome end that he had come to at the hands of his own friends. No, better not to teach bad habits.
"Well, then, why don't you keep most of you phased, but then unphase just the hand that holds and fires missiles?" he suggested instead.
Kitty blinked. "Um... I can't do that," she denied, then paused. "Um, can I do that?"
Loki raised an eyebrow. How could she know so little of her own self, her own body, to ask him that question? "Have you ever tried?" he asked.
"No... I..." She chewed her lip. "Won't my hand, like, fall off my body?" she said nervously.
"I don't see why it would." Loki made a negligent gesture. "If you are able to move any of your body at all when phased, then clearly there is more joining your will to your flesh than mere tendon and bone."
Kitty worried over this idea, hovering in indecision. "Try it," Loki prompted her. "And see."
For some time after that Kitty hung around the edges of the copse, her presence fading in and out of Loki's senses as she struggled to fine-tune her powers. Loki quickly grew bored, and considered going off to find some other task to occupy him, but she seemed to draw encouragement from his presence, so he stayed.
"Oh!" Kitty exclaimed, as her hand suddenly caught at a handful of snow, dragging finger-marks through the white slate for some time. She still seemed insubstantial to Loki, all except for the hand which held the snow, fizzing with presence. "Oh my god! I did it!"
"Well, are you just going to stand here?" Loki demanded of her. "Or are you going to go out there and teach all those overgrown louts to fear your presence?"
She grinned at him, then dashed off, holding a snowball in one hand while her legs and torso passed smokelike through obstacles in her path. Loki heard a shriek of joy as she joined the fray, and it left him still smiling as he teleported to a higher vantage point to watch the carnage.
At first, the battle seemed to be going to Bobby's team. However, a coordinated assault by Kurt's team combined to knock him out: Piotr shattered Bobby's icy barriers with a mighty crash while Kurt teleported in behind him to assault him with snowballs from behind. Reluctantly, but with good grace, the so-called Iceman dragged himself off the sidelines to watch.
Once their team captain had been removed from the fray, the rest of Bobby's team began quickly collapsing. Kurt especially was an absolute terror in battle - even mock battle; he was able to rapidly teleport from one spot to another, appearing behind his opponents to nail them with snowballs at point-blank range, and then be gone before any retaliation could reach him. Loki was somewhat disappointed to see Kitty be tagged out; she had un-phased in order to try to carry more ammunition, and taken a succession of snowballs to the chest. Still, while the girl seemed disappointed to have lost, at least she had overcome her initial wary fearfulness of the melee.
Rogue was tagged out. Piotr was tagged out, despite his loudly complaining that he was in his metal skin and hits shouldn't count. Allison was tagged out. Bobby's team was dwindling rapidly without him, driven back to hide in the remains of his ice fort as they were surrounded. The blue team was down to a paltry two players, with six remaining under Kurt's command.
Loki found himself growing increasingly restless. There was no fun to be had in watching such a one-sided battle, he told himself. Before he could fully think through what he was doing he was on his feet and striding towards the snow fight, casting a quick glamor of a blue vest over his clothes. "Pardon me," he said, tapping a startled Rogue on the shoulder, and then brushed past her to step onto the snowfield. "Tagging in here, if you don't mind."
Kurt spotted him and grinned, hoisting a snowball high. "I knew you couldn't resist, Herr Lehrer!" he called across the meadow. "Too bad, what a shame, you picked the losing team!"
"We'll see if they'll stay losing for long," Loki called back.
"You are outnumbered!"
"Oh, are we really?" Loki grinned, then spread his hands and split into half a dozen of his clones. And the battle was on.
The next thirty minutes were a hectic, scrambling battle across the snowfield, snowballs and splinters of ice winging every which way through the air. The gold team struck out at blue-jerseyed opponents only to see their missiles fly through thin air as the illusions flickered out, leaving them confused and pulled out of formation. One member of Kurt's team saw a perfect shot at one of the blue-jersey'd opponents and threw a snowball fast and true, only to have the illusion fall away and reveal one of his own teammates spluttering snow. As the unlucky snowball thrower tried to apologize, his former teammate walked up, picked up a handful of snow and shoved it down his jacket; as the two of them fell to rolling about in a snowdrift, the referees called them both out.
Gradually, the rest of the teams whittled down until only Loki and Nightcrawler were still in. It soon became apparent that the real battle was between those two; they were simply too fast and agile for anyone to catch, even without Loki revealing himself once more to be a double or Kurt vanishing in mid-air right before a snowball struck him. Kurt teleported with a series of loud cracks all over the battlefield, chasing down false Lokis, only to have the real one step out from behind an illusion of a tree and pelt him with a snowball in the side. Kurt scowled and shook snow out of his curly hair, steam rising gently from his skin in the waning light.
"That's two hits! One more and you're out, Kurt!" Rogue called helpfully from the sideline.
Kurt ignored her, his sharp golden eyes roving all over the battlefield. He was gradually learning to tell the real Lokis from the false ones, and could ignore those as decoys. A flicker of movement caught his eye, and he saw Loki - the real Loki, he could tell by the way the skin shaded blue around the hands and ears and nose - slinking along the last remains of Bobby's ice fortress, a solitary snowball held in his hands.
"That may be, but Herr Loki has only one snowball left!" Kurt called out. "He'll have to be very lucky!"
Loki whipped around at the sound of his voice, eyes narrowing as they zeroed on Kurt. "Luck has nothing to do with it," he said, his voice seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere; the fact that it didn't appear to come from his position only made Kurt more sure that this was the real Loki. Then the god's hand shot out and the snowball was winging towards him, as swift and accurate as a thrown knife. Kurt laughed aloud; now Loki was unarmed! Before the snowball could reach his position, he bamfed out of sight.
As soon as Kurt vanished from sight, Loki let the illusory snowball disperse. He held very still, waiting; the instant he felt the warning tingle of magic behind him, he spun like a dancer and planted the last snowball squarely in Kurt's face.
"Aaaaand that's the game!" Rogue shouted.
Kurt staggered back a step, spitting snow and blinking, and then fell on his tail in a snowbank. He looked up at Loki with snow framing his eyelashes, astonished. "You beat me!" he said, surprised admiration in his tone.
Loki smiled, and offered his hand to pull Kurt out of the snowbank. Now that the battle was over, the rest of the students were beginning to creep back onto the field. "Do not feel bad," he said magnanimously. "I was surviving battles for centuries before you were even born. I would be most wroth with myself if I couldn't best you."
Kurt shook his head, chuckling ruefully, and Loki gave him a friendly slap on the back, dusting snow from his clothes.
"You are quite formidable in close combat," Loki told his friend. "Your trick of high-speed teleportation is invaluable."
"But you turned it against me," Kurt said, smiling. "You set a trap for me!"
Loki had heard these words - or some variation on them - more times than he could care to count while sparring with the other warriors of Asgard. But unlike those red-faced, scowling warriors, there was no hint of anger or accusation in Kurt's tone; he sounded genuinely impressed. Enough so that Loki was moved to part with a piece of advice - one that might keep him and his friends alive someday.
"Yes. I had some time at the beginning of the battle to observe your tactics, and adapt to them. Never turn down a chance to study your enemy." Loki glanced up, and realized that the rest of the mutant students had gathered around the two of them, listening closely. "And don't forget that the same goes for your opponents, too. It is all very well and good to develop your strengths, but if you only ever learn to do one thing, your enemy will eventually find a strategy to counter you. Be flexible - be unpredictable - and always have more than one trick up your sleeve."
The gathered crowd of mutants sent up an impressed murmur, and Loki couldn't help but preen a little. This - being looked up to, having his skills and accomplishments admired, having his words taken as wisdom - was all he could have ever asked for.
A halloo from downslope broke into the conversation, and Loki looked over to see Hank waving from the edge of the clearing where the snow battle had taken place. "All right, guys, you should probably come inside now," he called up to them.
He got a chorus of aww nooos in response, and Hank shook his head and tsked. "It's getting dark fast, and Storm is going to call up some clouds," he said, pointing one furry hand towards the sky. It was true, a bank of dark heavy clouds with suspiciously fleecy undersides were rapidly creeping up from the eastern horizon. "She plans to have it snow all night so that the slopes will be fresh for everyone tomorrow morning."
With that promise of more fun to come, the students were willing enough to troop back towards the lodge, leaving the site of the snow-battle - now mostly swept bare of snow, and with deep gouges driven into the ground beneath - to the swiftly falling darkness.
It was already flurrying again by the time Loki got to the lodge, and the sun had dipped behind the ridge of the mountains to leave a serene twilight of dancing snowflakes. Inside the lodge was cheery and bright, packed with raucous students and harried teachers. Despite encouragement to shake off their boots and scarves and coats outside, the floor was covered in puddles as snow melted in the heat of the lodge.
Over by one end of the hall, a few teachers were involved in the unpacking and distributing of some type of food; the sharp-sweet smell of it drifting through the heated air to assail Loki's nose. Hank was running a station with a stack of cups and a huge red plastic keg on a table, dispensing draughts of a hot, spicy drink. He spotted Loki coming through the door and leaped nimbly over his table, dodging easily through the crowd to present a steaming mug of cider to Loki. With a smile and a wink, he darted quickly back to his station.
Loki retired over to the far end of the hall by the less-crowded fireplace, breathing deeply of the fragrant steam while the warm ceramic mug heated his fingers. It smelled fruity and sweet, and a cautious sip of it turned out to be hot apple cider - not fermented, he supposed that was only to be expected in a crowd of such mixed ages, but tangy and delicious all the same.
The party atmosphere of the room increased, the voices growing louder and more rowdy as food and cider were passed around. One student over in a far corner even dug out an ipod and a flimsy pair of speakers, and tinny music began to blare throughout the hall. Loki felt a sudden wave of nostalgia sweep over him, taking him back to countless such festival nights in Asgard. Such nights had been full of fire and fragrant smoke, good wine and good food, music and dancing which Loki had often escorted his mother a turn around the fire.
And never would again.
Hard on the heels of nostalgia crashed a choking wave of depression, so sudden and severe that it almost seemed to darken the light and dim the sound around him. He stared down into the dark-red depths of his mug, feeling the grief and resentment and loss pour over him like a waterfall, and hating himself as much for feeling it as he hated the hurt for existing. Why now, when everything was going right? Why on such a wonderful day, so full of fun and adventure and friends, did this black spectre insist on coming to haunt him?
Sometimes it seemed like he would never be rid of it, never be truly well again. No matter how far he fled, it would always dog its heels, dragging the shadow in to infect the whole company. And wasn't it just to be expected? He was Loki and he destroyed everything he touched - even happiness.
Loki stood up abruptly from the armchair and flung the contents of the mug into the fire, eliciting a wet hissing sound and a wave of fragrant smoke. He turned on his heel and marched towards the door, and every student who got a look at his face fell daunted out of his path.
Outside full dark had fallen, the wind blowing drifts of soft white flakes around with a soft soughing noise. Loki walked away from the noise and light of the lodge, his boots leaving deep prints in the snow that already began to fill in as he watched.
He climbed the hill behind the lodge, slipping a little in the new snow, until he reached the ridge overlooking the back of the building. There he stood for a long time, staring down at the snow-decked lodge with its brightly shining lights. It looked like something unreal, something from another world, picture-perfect in the falling snow. His breath did not mist in the cold.
After some time, he heard the soft crunch of footsteps over the snow, and a dark shape appeared in the swirling snowfall beside him. Loki glanced over and caught a flash of yellow eyes out of the silhouette; it was Kurt.
The young mutant came to a stop beside him and crouched down in the snow, apparently perfectly comfortable just to sit here as long as Loki did. "You left the hall so suddenly," he said, in explanation for his appearance. "I thought I would come to see that you are all right.
"I'm fine," Loki said, brushing off the younger man's concern. "What about you? You should not stay out too long in the cold."
Kurt shrugged. "I am fine for now. I have a good coat, sturdy boots and warm gloves. I will need to go in eventually, if I am not moving around and keeping myself warm, but not yet."
Loki nodded without speaking. Technically he ought to force the mortal to head back to shelter now - but he was loath to give up the company, the silent comfort of his presence.
At length, Kurt stirred. "When I was growing up - with the circus - we moved often," he said. "Many times we would be on the road even during winter, during terrible cold and storms. It was a hard life for a child, walking along beside the wagons - we could not ride, you see, because we had to spare the animals.
"But as we walked my mother would keep out a sharp eye for the plants and weeds by the roadside, or travel miles extra going to forage in the meadows off the track. So that when the time came for us to stop and make camp at night, she would be able to make my favorite tea. Sitting at her side, close to the fire around the camp, and drinking sips of that hot tea..." Kurt trailed off, staring into the darkness as though looking back across the years.
He sighed longingly. "No matter how hard things were in those years, I will never forget how safe and happy I felt in that moment. How loved. The fire inside made me think of that, for a time." He turned to face Loki, his eyes glowing in the darkness. "What did it make you think of?"
Loki could have brushed him off, given him some excuse... but he knew what Kurt was really asking for: memory for memory, a hard truth for a painful truth. He had never known privation like Kurt's in his childhood, never known hunger or cold or thirst - but in this, they both shared a loss. He took a few moments, searching in his mind for pieces and fragments, and after a few moments he began to speak.
"My mother... my mother was Queen of Asgard, the patron of hospitality," he began. He wasn't sure he could explain just what that meant to Kurt, just how much it had defined her identity and her duties as queen. "On Jul and festal days it was up to her to coordinate the grand feasts, balls and dances that fills the halls of Gladsheim.
"She had to do a million things: make sure the decorations were in place, that the great floors were spotless and shining, that all the food was properly cooked and brought out in a timely manner - have you ever seen how much a hall full of Aesir warriors can eat? It's like watching a natural disaster." Loki gave an exaggerated shudder, remembering the carnage.
Kurt laughed, and Loki smiled along with him, but the smile faded as he continued. "Guests greeted and made welcome, never made to feel slighted, musicians, diplomats, politics and drama... And yet in all that circus, she never failed to make time for us. Two little princes, hip-high and always underfoot, with no place in the grand parties and important councils between the races of the realms.
"No matter how busy she was she never, ever failed to find time to spend with us, to give us plates of our favorite foods, with candies from Alfheim and Vanaheim that we never got the rest of the year... and bring us glasses of wine - liberally watered down with fruit juice, of course - to join in the toasts as though we were numbered among the warriors."
He stared into the swirling darkness, feeling the memory throb inside him, the loss and longing more of a dull ache than a sharp pain now. His vision blurred, and he blinked to clear it, leaving a thin tracing of frost across his cheeks. "And when the hour grew late and the logs burned low, even as the parties grew more raucous than ever, she would appear to carry us to bed, to tuck us in and murmur spells to muffle the terrible noise in our ears so that we could sleep soundly. For all that she was a queen and politician and hostess, she never forgot to be our mother."
Kurt said nothing for a long time, only sitting there and offering his warm presence. Loki stared straight ahead, occasionally brushing his fingers over his eyes to dislodge snowflakes and frozen beads of tears.
"There is one thing that I envy you for," Kurt said at last, his voice soft and melancholy.
Loki turned to look at him. "And what's that?"
Kurt glanced up at him. "It is said that a person is never truly gone, so long as they are remembered by someone who loved them," he said. "You are immortal; I am not. You will have many more years to remember your mother than I have to remember mine."
Loki bit his lip, feeling the gap of years between them like a sudden shock. It was hard to remember that Kurt was so young, that he had lived for barely a handful of years before Loki had met him, and would likely die after only a handful more. "Doesn't more years just mean more time for pain?" Loki said, his voice choked slightly.
"Maybe," Kurt conceded. "But, I believe that the pain fades before the love does."
Loki made a soft sound that could be agreement, or at least hope.
The two of them shared a comfortable silence, caught on the snowy hillside between the rising smoke and the falling snowflakes. Below them, the lodge sat in quiet slumber, the many darkened windows peering out like shuttered eyes into the darkness.
"Kurt," Loki said thoughtfully, staring down at the smooth, virgin stretch of undisturbed snow leading up to the lodge. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"I think so, Loki," Kurt replied brightly, "but where would we get a snowdozer and twenty feet of scaffolding at this time of night?"
Loki turned to look at his companion, a grin stretching his lips until he thought his face would split. A rare sensation of warm wickedness was bubbling up inside him, a delight that he had not found in mischief in tricks in far too many years. "I think," he purred, his mind already racing ahead to the possibilities before them, "we can improvise."
Allison woke up slowly, groggily. She was still tired from the long trip and snow battle of the day before, but the unfamiliar surroundings of the lodge and the stuff, slightly scratchy bedding discouraged her from drifting back to sleep. The light coming in through the window was dim, so it couldn't be too late in the morning yet...
She glanced at her watch on the bedside table, letting off a soft cascade of sparks to illuminate the face. It was almost nine AM.
Allison struggled out of her cocoon of bedding and got to her feet, staggering over to the drawn curtains on the window. No, the light was too dim - the tint and shadows were all wrong for a cloudy day. She yanked the curtains apart, opening the window wide, and then shrieked as she came face to face with an eyeball the size of a piano.
Down in the cozy comfort of the hall, Loki smiled to himself as the lodge began to come awake and a variety of noises paid tribute to last night's efforts. Another female scream, a hoarse male yell of surprise, and then further away, a burst of hysterical female laughter.
Looming over the ski lodge, visible from every window, was the huge, distorted face of an eldritch horror - made entirely of snow. It was also only the face, and the snowbank sloped off rather sharply on the other side from the lodge, but it was enough to sustain the illusion at first glance. Loki had had the idea, but Kurt had supplied many helpful contributions and inspirations, and together they'd managed to design it so that each and every bedroom window would look out upon a bulging eyeball, a snowy tentacle, or an icy stalactite-filled maw of teeth.
It had taken them nearly until dawn to complete it. Loki had wanted to add a few final flourishes with magic - adding color and texture to the blank white slate, perhaps, or maybe make it move a little - but Kurt had discouraged the idea. They only wanted to surprise their classmates, he insisted, not genuinely traumatize them. Given the potential for disaster inherent in presenting too realistic an enemy to a building full of variously-destructive mutants, a disappointed Loki had acquiesced.
The slam of a door near the end of the hallway heralded Ororo's descent into the common room, her white hair flattened askew and a murderous expression in her pale eyes. She spotted Kurt, perched on a bench and munching complacently on an apple, and zeroed on him with terrifying fury. "Kurt Wagner!" she shouted, her piercing voice rising over the hubbub of reactions from upstairs. "Was this your doing?"
"Me?" Kurt's golden eyes widened with almost comical innocence, and his voice held just the right note of incredulous disbelief. "Why would you think this has anything to do with me?"
"Because whenever there's some kind of stupid, thoughtless practical joke at the school it has your name on it somewhere!" Ororo snapped, as students began to trickle down into the common room, some still in their pyjamas.
Kurt looked deeply wounded by the accusation. "I had absolutely nothing to do with it whatsoever," he lied blatantly. "How would I have moved so much snow in such a short time? Besides, if you are looking for a culprit who plays tricks with snow and ice, don't you think you should start with the one who has an elementary mastery of it?"
"It's true," Loki joined in, keeping his voice and expression bland, "I didn't see much of Mister Drake after a certain point yesterday evening. Where was he all night, anyway? Does anybody know?"
Bobby flushed bright red with mortification and began sputtering denials; Rogue, Loki noticed, flushed just as bright a red. There was someone who knew where Bobby had been most of the night, but he doubted either of them would be in a hurry to say just what they had been doing instead.
Ororo, whose righteous anger was apparently as easily led as Thor's had ever been, turned her wrath on this new target. Loki met Kurt's eyes across the room, and the dark mutant flashed him a discreet thumbs-up sign.
Eventually, no doubt, they would own up to their part in last night's activities - the snow golem was simply too artistic to deny credit forever. But in the meantime, Loki settled back with his book on the sofa before the fire, and enjoyed the unfolding chaos.
~tbc...
Author's Notes: Just a warning, I'm actually going to be leaving the fic at this stopping point for a little while - I have some other projects I want to work with and begin to publish. When we get back, though, we'll be gearing up for a two-point epic finale!