The week between Christmas and New Year's Eve is relatively quiet. Loki works long hours at the bookstore to allow Ralph to travel. He sends his beloved black gown to Erie for alterations and keeps his fingers crossed that it will be ready for the New Year's Eve party at Stark's tower. Thor is excited about the party and has texted him three times by mid week to remind him when it is. When he is at home, Loki reads and starts sketching his garden for the next year. There are herbs he finds referenced in 'The Witchcraft and Folk Magic of Sokovia' that he has never heard of and he has no idea if will grow in the climate of New York City. But Magda has also started to translate her herbal for him, as well as the book on Sokovian Grandmothers that he gave Wanda. Both of these books, he realizes, will come in useful if he is to try to see if this form of magic is real. And Magda dearly loves translating the books for him, reading passages aloud, talking through the tricky idioms and describing things for which there are no direct translations.
Thor brings by his gift to Loki the day before New Year's Eve- it is something heavy, soft, and wrapped in a bundle of cloth that seems somewhat familiar to Loki, but he cannot quite place how. He hands Thor an old book, for all his gifts this year are books, and Thor opens it, reading the inscription.
"Loki, I know you think that our lives will lead us far apart, but I will not forget you. I will, as you ask, always hold this gift close, as well as its giver."
"You will try. But at the end of my life, will you be able to sit with me and to watch me fade? An old man while you are yet so young?"
"Will you want me to?"
"As jealous as I likely will be, yes."
"Then yes, I will. I have never denied your earnest requests."
"I know. Even when I wished you would."
"Thank you, for this. With your love of books, this means a great deal."
"I thought perhaps you would enjoy it. It is a play by one of their greats. William Shakespeare. The play is about a Danish prince and his folly in seeking revenge and how it destroys everything he knows."
"A tale you relate to?"
"Yes."
"Then I will pay close attention when I read it. And I will take notes so I can ask Jane about things I do not understand."
"You always have needed notes."
"Between us, you are by far the superior scholar. I fear, dear Brother, I have never had that particular gift."
"Despite my perpetual chiding, you are not stupid. I possibly should apologise for my many years of cruelty during our studies. I was never kind when you were behind me in our studies."
"No, you were not, but I still managed to stay the course."
"That does not make it right. So I am sorry, Thor, for this." Thor is surprised. He never expected Loki to apologize. Nor did he expect to hear the conviction in Loki's voice. In the few dreams of any sort of apology he has had, Loki has been far weaker, often beaten into submission, but more than not, on the verge of death. In this moment, he is neither. He is firm, honest, and Thor believes him.
"Thank you, Loki. I am honoured to accept your apology." Loki nods and there is a moment of awkward silence, "Would you like to open your gift?"
"Yes, thank you. It would save me from having to try to figure out what to say next." He unties the ribbon around the parcel and lays open the large piece of fabric on his dining table. Seeing it stretched out, though up-side down, triggers a memory. In it, he is quite small sitting at a dining table in his mother's chambers. There are pastries on the table, juice he has just spilled across the table and his cheeks burn with humiliation and anger. He waits for her reaction. But what he expects, what happened hours after he spilled his glass at his very first formal dinner with the court only a few days before, does not come. There is no yelling. Her hands, unlike his father's, do not gesture roughly towards what he did, or who he offended, and are never tossed in exasperation. She simply retrieves a towel and blots the spill. When she is done, she hugs him.
"Your father always acts as though the court and appearances are so important. Some day he will realise that you boys should always hold a far closer place in his heart."
He touches the tablecloth draped over his own table with reverence and then lifts the bundle of fur it had wrapped, "What is this?" Then he recognises it as well. A sleeved cloak that drapes elegantly to the floor, smooth fur black and warm lined in fine silk so soft that it seems to float against skin. He has worn it only once before when he sneaked into his mother's chambers to peer at her gorgeous gowns without her present, his first moment of curiosity as to what it would feel like to wear one.
He has never seen another garment quite like it. It does not seem like anything he has seen in Asgard, nor is it like his mother's other cloaks. She told him once that it was a peace offering.
"You are the only person in the family it would fit and I know you admired it the few times she wore it."
"This is the cloak from Jotunheim."
"There is more to that story than you know."
"Oh?"
"I did not know until recently just how she came to have it. Father gave me a note when I asked about bringing it here. He told me that if I were to give it to you, I must also give you the letter, or read it to you, however it is that I made certain you knew the story."
Loki sits, "Somehow I think I would be best here, rather than standing."
"Likely." Thor sits across from him, "But you recognise the cloth."
"Of course."
"Good."
"You are stalling."
"That I am." Thor takes the letter from his jacket pocket, "Would you like me to read it?"
"Yes. Otherwise I may never open it."
"You would. Your curiosity would not allow otherwise. But I will read."
He clears his throat, "To the All-Mother, Queen Frigga, Wife of Odin, Lady of Asgard. It was not long ago that our people were at war. I left a child in the most sacred space our people have and that child has been missing since the final days of our war. While his father believes that your warriors stole him for horrible purposes, I do not. To take something so precious from a temple to our gods only to destroy it in private would make little sense. So instead, I can only hope that the child I have held to my own breast for all of his short life is now resting against yours. Dear Lady, while our king, his father, would send an army after him, we no longer have one to send, and our land is desolate. There is nothing for him here, nor for us, and he would likely die in this place in the same way many of our infants have died. I have convinced him that we should leave him to you. May this cloak, an offering of peace between our people, allow you to stay warm as you bring him to this place one last time. I only wish to see him so that I might know he is safe and loved in your arms. Take care of him. And please, if you tell him the stories your people tell of us, do not tell him he is of our blood. They would only hurt him deeply." Thor looks up from the parchment and hands it to Loki, "And it is signed by your birth mother."
Loki's hands shake as he takes the note, "Did she?"
"Yes. One journey, wearing this cloak. I remember them leaving. They told me it was to bring security to the Nine after the war and that Mother had to take you since you were such a new baby."
"They let Odin keep me."
"Father says it was a great sacrifice for your mother, but yes, she did. She understood that a realm in ruins was no place to raise a child. And she was, herself, grievously wounded."
"Does she yet live?"
"No."
"But they loved me." Loki is deeply moved by this idea. He reads the letter over again as Thor responds, his fingers tracing the signature.
"Yes. As greatly or more than we do. And it only seems right that this cloak should come to you."
"I am surprised Odin allowed you to bring it."
"He has not washed his hands of you."
"He cast me out of Asgard. I do not think his interest in my fate runs very deep."
"Believe what you must, Loki. But he encouraged me to do what I thought would serve you best. I hope I was not mistake in my judgement."
Loki stands and drapes the cloak over his shoulders, looping the woven chords over the thick braided buttons on the other side to close it, "No, you did not. It is beautiful and it will keep me warm. Thank you."
"You look spectacular. You should wear it to the party at Anthony's tower."
"I think that I will. It will be stunning with my black gown."
Thor grins, "Oh my, that it will. Alexi will not be able to keep his hands off you."
Loki winks, "Dear Thor, that is precisely the point!"
