There was a Midgardian writer who once said this is the way the world ends: not with a bang but a whimper.
He was, unsurprisingly, wrong.
Lyn spoke. "I wish the monsters were gone," she said, and with every word, with every exhaled sound, there came from her mouth a tendril of sparkling, golden light. "I wish the school was okay." Her hands curled around the metal of his armor, and her eyes were fixed on his.
The whole of the universe existed in her golden irises; in them, stars burst into brilliant existence and exploded into fabulous plumes of gas and dust. In her eyes, he saw Yggdrasil, its leaves trembling and shaking, and the flow of time and the nature of all things. He saw the fire, too, saw it course along the thin veins in the whites of her eyes, saw the burn of a power her tiny body was never meant to house. This was the power that Odin commanded: fierce and violent, terrible and full of pain. And he hated it.
He let all his glamours fall away, and he touched cool hands to her cheeks. The shaking of his hands was beyond his control. While he knew the little girl in his lap was Lyn, that she would never hurt him, she scared him. The power she commanded made his breath catch in his chest and made him feel tiny, like an ant.
She patted his cheek. "I wish this power would go away somewhere safe."
The world did not end with a bang. The world did not end with a whimper.
The world ended with song, with music. It came in the rush of wind through the branches of the nearby pine trees. It came in the quiet, gasped breaths from Anna and Mike and Thor. It came in the pounding of their hearts.
But it was a real and literal music, too, as though the stars themselves suddenly had lips and tongues and were pouring out all their brilliance into melody and harmony instead of light. There was light, too, but sight seemed so much less when even the rocks and trees sang.
All around them, the world melted away. Thor lurched to the side, his hands closing roughly first on Loki's arm and then on Mike's, but there was no need. They were safe. Lyn had the power of the universe burning beneath her skin; the people she wanted safe would be safe.
A rolling drum beat pounded through their bodies, reverberated through their bones, and all the creatures of the Nine Realms froze. The deep strain of a string bass and cellos held them firmly in place before bright trumpet blasts carried them away. They vanished, leaving behind sparkling motes of golden light. Every shimmer brought with it the peal of a hand bell, filling the air with chiming melodies.
A concerto of magic undid the world, and a symphony rebuilt it to glory.
There came the trill of violins, backed by baritone brass instruments, and the rubble that surrounded them picked itself up. The walls were rebuilt by cheerful clarinets and oboes, and sweet piccolos set windows and lights in their right places. Xylophones paved the floors, and saxophones made firm the foundations.
A symphony filled the air, and with it came brilliant explosions of color, every note of every instrument a different shade of bright light.
Lyn tipped back her head and released a quiet breath. With that breath, all the power of the sapling flowed from her body. It poured from her mouth and her skin, a thick cloud of gold in the sky, and for a moment, he thought it would vanish beyond their reach. But it didn't. It twisted and writhed in the air, as though something grasped at it and held it firm and it was desperate to escape.
Yggdrasil's branches are long and wide. There is nothing that can flee from it.
Midgardian lawyers are known for exacting speech, for writing laws so detailed that all manner of loopholes can be avoided and exceptions forbidden. The universe, on a whole, is much simpler than that. Less words are better. And so Yggdrasil took in the power Lyn gave over to it, making the sapling's golden magic a part of itself.
The apple, on the ground at Lyn's side, shattered into a fine mist, and the wind that swept it away was the universe's silent applause.
Lyn's head dropped against his shoulder, and Loki's arms wrapped around her, cradling her against his body. "I'm a good wisher," she mumbled against his armor, apparently unconcerned with all the hard edges that pressed against her. She yawned and a moment later, she was asleep.
Thor moved first. Of all of them, he was most accustomed to the aftermath of battle. He went to Mike and Anna first. Anna laughed, the sound breathless but very heavy and real, full of the weight of life and the knowledge it was still hers. Mike, pale and shaking, looked like he was about to throw up. He managed not to, and with Thor's help, both he and Anna rose.
They stood in the rebuilt field house, in the center of a wooden floor that shone in the harsh artificial light, and then Loki laughed, too. He saw a flash of blue from the corner of his eyes as he extended one arm to his siblings, beckoning them close, but he did not care. On the color of his skin, he had one thought: the blue hue clashed rather horribly with the green of his armor.
But that was the extent of it, and he was far more interested in Mike's arm around his shoulders and Anna's arms around his waist, both of them carefully arranged about him so they wouldn't jostle Lyn.
That Thor hung back made his heart ache, but he said nothing. There was too much between them, a lack of knowledge and understanding and two years of separation that, for Loki, had been mere months. There was a better time for the conversation they needed to have.
So they left the field house, Anna leaning heavily on Mike, if not for physical support than for the emotional kind, and Thor, at Loki's side, was oddly silent.
"Loki." Ah, but that couldn't last, could it? Loki sighed and turned his face to his brother.
"Yes, Thor?"
"I am relieved that you are alive."
That was all he said until they met the Avengers. They were in a sorry state, their uniforms as torn and dirty as Mike and Anna's clothes, but they were otherwise unharmed. If they had sustained injury, Lyn's wishes had healed them.
Captain America stepped toward them, hesitant and wary, his gaze sliding from the mortal children, who leaned heavily on each other, to Loki. He must have decided that Lyn in Loki's arms rendered Loki harmless because he moved closer. It was a foolish assumption, but Loki was willing to forgive it. "Are we done?" he asked, directing the question to Thor, but asking Loki.
"We're done," Loki said.
Thor's hand settled on Loki's shoulder. "Brother, this is Captain America."
"Yes, I know—"
"Steve Rogers, this is my brother, Loki."
Loki gave Thor an irritated glare before shifting his attention to Rogers. "You'll forgive me if I don't shake your hand."
"Absolutely." Rogers gave him an indulgent smile as Thor quickly introduced the rest of the Avengers, which seemed like the silliest thing to do. But it was also the most normal, and perhaps they all needed a bit of normal.
"Observation," Stark said, pointing at Loki but looking at Thor. "He's blue."
Before Thor could even begin to think of a reply, Mike lifted his chin and said, "So? Hulk's green?" Everyone's eyes turned toward Banner immediately, and Banner ducked his head, clearly discomfited. "You have something against the color blue?"
Stark shook his head, the tiniest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Nope. I like blue. Dig blue. Might make a suit that's blue. Also, the students and teachers who managed to escape before everything went to hell are across the street," Stark said, his mask retracted so his face could be seen.
"Oh, good," Mike said cheerfully, earning a wary look from Stark. "Our mom's probably there."
"We should find her," Anna agreed. "So she knows we're not dead." She laughed at that statement, presumably at the absurdity of it, and sagged against Mike's shoulder.
"We'll take you," Rogers said, stepping forward immediately. He likely thought he was being subtle, but Rogers had all the subtly of a charging bull. He wanted to leave.
That was quite fine with Loki, who wanted a moment alone with Thor.
He gave the sleeping Lyn to Banner, who looked like he was holding a ticking bomb instead of a child, and the six departed, leaving Loki and Thor in the cafeteria. It was cleaner than it had been before its destruction, pristine and new like everything else the magic rebuilt.
They stood opposite each other, several paces between them. Thor faced him, his expression and body language open, but Loki stood at an angle, guarded and unsure.
"We thought you were dead," Thor said softly.
"So you said," Loki replied, incapable of making this easy. There was so much between them. One conversation would do nothing to alleviate all of it.
Thor swallowed hard. "I had hoped… I had hoped you survived. I am glad to see you well."
"Thank you for your well wishes."
"Damn it, Loki, must you be so intractable?" Thor demanded.
Loki burst out laughing. He couldn't help it. Part of it was that Thor knew a word like intractable. Part of it was everything else: the stress of the day, of nearly losing his new family, of his brother.
He didn't know which of them moved first, but a moment later, they were holding each other tightly, clinging desperately.
"I missed you, too," Loki said, surprised to hear himself saying the words but knowing they were true. "I didn't think you cared to find me."
"You are my brother. How could I not?" Thor drew back, but he held Loki's shoulders, refusing to release him. "After your—After you fell, Father told me everything. At first, I hated you. But I think I hated myself more. I hoped you had not died. I thought perhaps you had survived, that you landed on some other world. And I am glad to see you here."
Loki gave Thor a wan smile. "I won't apologize for my actions."
"I would not expect you to."
That took Loki entirely by surprise, and he looked at Thor once more, critically this time. He held himself differently. He held himself with the air of a man weighted by a great and heavy burden. His eyes were old and weary, and there were lines on his face that age hadn't placed there. Thor had changed. What Loki had sought in haste the world had affected in its own course.
Thor was a king, now.
And what of Loki? Loki was Loki, and for the first time in his long life, he was content with that. He was content that he would not be king, because the throne had never mattered to him. What had mattered was a good king. Two years ago, Thor would not have been a good king. But now Loki could see the change in his brother's eyes.
He reached out, placing the tips of his fingers on Mjölnir's head. Mjölnir's lightning, which usually bit at him, remained dormant. "You will make a good king for Asgard," he said.
Thor scoffed, turning his face away. "You flatter me brother."
"I am not over fond of platitudes."
Thor laughed softly. "This is true. Come, I would meet this family that has cared for you these two years."
It was Loki's turn to laugh. His was touched with nervousness. "Ah, yes. About that."
They did not return to the Fredericksons' home. Instead, the six Fredericksons on site, the five children (the high school campus was adjacent to Jack's middle school, which was attached to Joe's elementary school) and Mary, were invited aboard the Avenger's Quinjet. In this, they traveled to Chicago and to the building closest to Willis Tower with a helicopter landing.
Their escort brought them in a back way so the Avengers wouldn't be mobbed by people in the atrium, and as soon as they stepped off the elevator, Bob was there. They threw their arms around each other, and when Loki attempted to shift away, Mary grabbed him by his cape and hauled him into the tangle of arms and affection.
Jack was the one who invited Thor into the hug, with the claim that if Loki was their brother, then so was Thor. Thor, in his usual way, made everything both worse and better by somehow managing to get his arms around the whole group and squeezing them together.
They were debriefed by an Agent Coulson who, although having believed Loki to be dead until he walked in the door, took everything in stride. A small-scale invasion was just another day at the office for him.
For the most part, the debriefing was conducted by way of Jack's book, which could also, Loki was surprised (and a bit annoyed) to discover, shrink until it fit quite neatly in a pocket. Jack had pulled it out as soon as he sat, opened it to the halfway point, and told Coulson that the entire story was written there and they could read it if he liked. At various points, Mike or Anna or Loki would interrupt Jack's steady reading to add a detail, but they were, for the most part, silent. The book was frighteningly thorough.
The Fredericksons spent that night in the city, at the Ritz Carlton, in a very nice suite provided by S.H.I.E.L.D. Thor asked Mary, quite politely, if he could stay with them as well once Loki made clear he had no intention of staying with Thor at S.H.I.E.L.D.
Mary made a show of coming to a decision, but she finally agreed, and the kids, Loki, and Thor spent the vast majority of the night in the suite's family room. Thor regaled them with stories of battle, and Loki told them anecdotes featuring Thor making a fool of himself. Like the time they had both dressed as women to get Mjölnir back from the jotun Thrym. While the children were all asleep by two, Loki and Thor were up long after, standing on a balcony and looking over Lake Michigan.
"I was authorized to offer you a position with S.H.I.E.L.D.," Thor said abruptly, taking a sip of a new bottle of beer and grimacing. "I don't know why I keep drinking this."
Loki used Thor's second statement to avoid discussing the first. "Because there is nothing better in Midgard. I have looked."
Thor snorted, setting the bottle down. "I meant that, Loki. Coulson asked me to relay the offer."
Loki pressed his lips together. "I am not a hero," he said at last.
"You are not a villain either."
Loki's gaze swung to his brother's face, but Thor remained still. Leaning on the rail, he studied the frozen surface of the lake that stretched before them. "Then what am I?" Loki asked softly.
Turning slightly, Thor offered Loki a small smile. "You are Loki."
Loki took the job.