New Asgard, way back when
"Oh wait! Sorry…that's what Sakaarian brides wear…hold on," Loki concentrated, searching his memory. And the plunging neckline disappeared, the material less flowy and less chiffon-y. But still gold dominated the look, and a sash made entirely of gemstones hung heavy around his waist, sagging to his hips.
"That's better," Loki said in satisfaction, surveying his work with a kind of pride.
Is it? Stephen crinkled his nose. "How did you know what Sakaarian wedding garbs look like anyway? I thought you were only stranded there for like, a couple of weeks."
"En Dwi had me outfitted once." Loki studied Stephen's reflection. He snapped his fingers, and the gaudy sash disappeared, replaced by a simple belt made out of what looked like intertwined gold silk threads.
"And something a bit more avant-garde…" Loki swished his hand again, and a buckle materialised in the form of a gold cast resin of Min, the Egyptian God of Fertility.
Complete with an erect penis and a flail.
No….
Stephen could not decide which train of thought to follow first, so he chose the lesser of two evils. "En Dwi?"
"I told you about him," Loki said distractedly, a slight frown on his face. "He's the Grandmaster."
"He outfitted you as a bride?" Wait a minute. "This Grandmaster guy asked you to marry him?"
"The Grandmaster doesn't ask, Strange. He takes."
Stephen was still staring at him, aghast.
Loki rolled his eyes. "It was just for role-play, Stephen."
Just?
"Dare I ask more?"
"Not if you value your testicles." Loki muttered dangerously.
Whenever Loki started to threaten the integrity and patency of precious things, Stephen found it wise to hold his tongue. But he committed it to memory and to the ever-growing list of 'Things-to-Talk-to-Loki-About-Later/In-More-Peaceful-Times'.
"So? What do you think?"
Stephen said the first thing that came to his mind. "I look like that Deluxe Supreme Leader guy." At Loki's confused look, "You know, Snoke? From Star Wars The Last Jedi?"
"I've never heard of such a War, or a warrior of such name. Must have been a different galaxy."
The distaste on Stephen's face must be obvious, for Loki then looked instantly crest-fallen. "You don't like it?"
"I…uhm." In moments requiring a modicum of sensitivity, Stephen always found himself painfully lacking. He looked at the grotesque buckle with its very long, very pointy, and very well-endowed phallus.
He tried appealing to Loki's sense of self-preservation. "Will this not poke you when we do that obligatory you-may-now-kiss-your-husband bit at the end?"
"You're right." Loki sighed. "Okay. Sakaarian-style wedding is out."
Thank God for small mercies.
"So, let's do…Asgardian next –"
Loki's hand did the swishy thing again, and soon the garish robes melted into a slim-silhouetted ceremonial armour much in the likes of Loki's formal dresswear, but instead of the usual black and green, Stephen was wearing his own colours; it was of a pale, almost iridescent sky blue that shimmered when turned any which way like moonstone, with the shine of mother-of-pearl. His cape was a deep, burgundy red, much like the Cloak, but trimmed with interlacing gold and silver motifs of the royal insignia.
"Beautiful," Loki murmured.
Stephen had to agree. "I look…okay." He sounded surprised.
"You look like a prince."
"I…kinda do."
"A prince after my own heart." Loki could not take his eyes away. And yet…
"What's the matter, Stephen? You don't like it?" His keen sense of observation did not miss the look of uncertainty in his betrothed's eyes. "We can make it less…fancy if you like."
"No, I just…" Stephen inhaled. "It's not exactly how I've always pictured my wedding…you know?"
"No, not really…" Loki studied the mildly helpless look on Stephen's face. Then he understood. He may not be born Asgardian, but he was raised as one. But Stephen…Stephen was of Midgard.
"We need to decide, Strange. I can't wear Asgardian and you something else, that would look horrible and incredibly unphotogenic."
"Why not have two receptions?" Stephen suggested lightly. "One here, and a smaller one in New York, with just our family and friends?"
Loki groaned. "Have pity on me, Strange. The stress alone will kill me."
Stephen winced in sympathy. Yeah, he would not want the added stress either.
"Is that what you want?" Loki asked softly. "A small, intimate ceremony?"
Loki tried to recall what Tony Stark had worn during his wedding. And the bridegrooms on Midgard would wear something like…
"Is this more to your liking?" Loki asked gently.
Stephen studied his new reflection in the mirror. His throat had suddenly gone dry.
A slow smile began to break across his face. He squared his jaw and turned to gaze at his fiancé, only to find that Loki had been staring at him all along.
"How do I look?" Stephen asked.
To his amusement, Loki visibly struggled to regain his composure. It could just be his imagination, but Loki's eyes had become misty all of a sudden.
"You alright there, sweetheart?" he teased.
Loki could not speak. He waved a hand and plucked an object out of thin air. He stepped in closer and pinned it to the lapel of Stephen's tuxedo jacket. His hands were shaking slightly.
Stephen frowned.
"Loki?"
"Perfect."
So tongue-tied was he, Loki could only Mindspeak.
It was small, only the size of his thumb, but the corsage was one of the most exquisite things he had ever seen.
Made entirely out of green emeralds that sparkled every time the light hit, it was in the form of a Valerian flower, its buds interweaved with floral bracts made of pure white and yellow gold.
Stephen's heart skipped a beat, not just from the influx of emotions, but from the magic.
He palmed his own chest over the bejewelled masterpiece and closed his eyes.
"Stephen?"
Images rushed through his head.
A beautiful blonde woman dressed in full Asgardian regalia stands next to what looks like a golden throne, upon which sits a familiar figure…Odin?
The same woman, now with a younger-looking Loki in a sunroom of some sort, watching the sky together where two suns shone bright side-by-side like twin supernovas
A young girl dressed in a long, white gown, her long blond tresses streaming behind her as she runs through a field of tansy flowers abutting a river, its waters calm and unexpectedly aquamarine like the ocean
The last image that stayed in his mind's eye was of Loki's palm holding the pin as the woman closed her own palm over it.
"This belonged to your mother." Stephen opened his eyes. "She gave it to you."
Loki's face instantly drained of colour.
"What a beautiful place," Stephen's voice trailed as he spoke, as if in a trance – "Is that Vanaheim?"
Loki had taken a step back. "How did you know?" he whispered.
"Thor told me. That's where she was from."
"You can read objects."
"Not all the time. Sometimes." Stephen held out a hand. "Psychometry is notoriously difficult if the object does not wish to be read."
Loki's hand was still shaking. Stephen covered it with his palm, much like Frigga had done in his vision.
"She's very beautiful."
"Yes, she was." A tear trailed silently down Loki's cheek.
"I guess I just wanted a part of her to be with us on the day." Loki laughed softly, and would have raised a hand to his cheek had Stephen not stopped him and kissed the tear away. "How silly of me."
"It's not silly, Loki." Stephen pulled him into a tight embrace. "Of course she has to be there."
Loki sniffed into his suit jacket for a few more seconds, before pushing him away gently. "I'm ruining your tuxedo."
He cleared his throat. "So, Doctor. What shall it be? An ascot tie?" He twirled Stephen around to face the full-length mirror of their bedroom once more.
"A silk cravat? I think tiffany blue would bring out your eyes…"
"Uh, we are in the 21st century, Loki…"
Loki rolled his eyes. They were still a little red but at least he was not crying anymore. "A bow-tie then. How bo –"
He waved a hand; Stephen prepared himself for the worst.
"- ring." Loki inhaled sharply. "Oh my."
Stephen lifted his eyebrows. Yep. Classic.
Aaalways the way to go.
"Oh, Doctor." Loki pursed his lips, his eyes shining as he raked them up and down Stephen's figure in the mirror. Loki stamped his seal of approval. "Breathtaking."
"So, Loki." Stephen coolly adjusted his slightly crooked bow-tie. "Still open to the Vegas idea?"
And suddenly Loki was all over him, kissing him and pawing the suit jacket off with such ferocity Stephen feared it ripped in his sudden mania of passion. "Loki…"
"Loki.."
"I love you."
They tumbled into bed, tuxedo jacket and pants discarded on the floor
"I love you more."
Bow tie and all
"No,I love you. I said it first –"
"No, I said it first actually - okay, Loki, you win."
A happy sigh, of content and victory alike
"I always do."
New Asgard, present time.
It was a bright, beautiful day. The sun was gentle as it bathed their bedroom in the early light of the morning; Stephen could feel its soothing warmth against his face, red against his closed eyelids.
Without opening his eyes, he turned sideways to grope for his husband, his arm finding its way around Loki's waist.
"Good morning, Loki," he murmured.
He opened his eyes slowly. The shy rays of the sun played off the sharp angles of Loki's jawline and cheekbone.
Stephen rolled onto his belly and pushed himself up on his elbows. He slid a finger to tug the neckline of Loki's tunic to the side, exposing his clavicle.
"Any more wasted and you're back to skin and bones…" he muttered under his breath.
Next, as per his routine for the past two weeks, he moved onto the feeding catheter protruding directly from above Loki's jutting collarbone, critically assessing it for patency – many a night Stephen himself had dislodged it in his sleep, when he was still under the delusion that if he held Loki tight enough, kept him warm enough…
Satisfied that the central venous catheter was still in place with no visible signs of infection, the dressing dry and intact, Stephen smiled and dropped a light kiss on Loki's slightly ajar lips. "I'll get you your breakfast now."
Stephen washed his hands thoroughly in the basin. He snapped on his sterile gloves. He removed the empty TPN bag that had fed Loki throughout the night and exchanged it for a new one, making note to find out if the hospitals in Norway could supply him with nutrition bags with higher calorie content; Loki's erratic, unpredictable metabolism was using up energy like a sponge, despite not doing much and lying around all day. He was losing weight he could not afford to lose in the first place.
Maybe Bruce could cook up something more protein-dense, with some added extras. "Would you prefer strawberry? Banana?"
Stephen stared at Loki's face, slack and still.
"I'm a vanilla guy myself," he finally said with a sigh. He ran his hands through Loki's hair, combing through any tangles that had developed in the night and spreading it out, the locks stark black against the pristine white of the pillow.
"I'm away for the day but I should be back later in the evening." Stephen patted the hand he only realised he was holding in his lap. Loki's fingernails were getting long and needing trimming. "Don't miss me too much, Loki."
Stephen closed his eyes to picture just the response. A snarky smile. A delicate sniff.
As if I would ever, Loki would probably say.
Yeah, he thought. Loki would definitely say that.
A soft mewl caught his attention.
"Hey you..." Her eyes and face scrunched up in the sunlight as Stephen lifted Aífe out of the shadowy darkness of the cot and into the brightness of the morning. "You up already, darling?"
"You want some breakfast too, my little firecracker?" Cradling her in one arm, Stephen caressed her sun-kissed red hair. Aífe gurgled away happily, her eyes still unfocused, yet no less adorable as they squinted up at him, blinking blearily.
Stephen smiled. "Yeah? Okay. Let's sort you out, hmm?"
His fellow Masters Minoru and Arslan had finally managed to neuter the threat in Hong Kong and were now requesting his presence to oversee the rituals to fortify the Hong Kong Sanctum and reinforce the wards in the eastern and northern hemispheres, as he had done a few months ago in London.
It would be the first time he would leave Asgard ever since Aífe's birth, save for the occasional visits to the New York Sanctum to check on how Wong was doing. He had half a mind to temporarily move Loki back to the Healing Hall for the duration he would be away, but decided against it.
Loki should remain here, close to their children where he belonged.
Thor had been surprisingly calm when Stephen first voiced his intention to move Loki out of the Healing Hall and back into their royal apartments.
"To him, Loki is just sleeping." Valkyrie had said, the look in her eyes as grave as her voice. "Like Odinsleep."
"Odinsleep?"
"The Allfather used to go in a deep sleep from time to time to replenish his Odinforce. Acts like a battery charger but on a cosmic scale if you know what I mean?" She crinkled her nose when she found the right words to describe it at last – "Magical hibernation, if you like."
"How long would it last?"
"Oh, it varied. Days, weeks, months." She said in mild distaste. "Depends on how depleted the Allfather was at any given time."
"Anyway. I guess that's Thor's way of dealing with it." She shrugged coolly.
Valkyrie may have been the most vocal among the Asgardians in their plight to look for a cure initially, but the moment Stephen shared what he had learnt from Yrsa, of the price that they would have to pay to bring Loki back…
The light still had yet to return to her eyes. The ever-ready stance to her usually straight-backed shoulders was all but gone, a defeated slump taking its place.
Her gaze as she watched Stian play quietly with his building blocks in the middle of the living room was a despairing and despondent one; before long she had him on her lap, holding Stian to her bosom somewhat possessively.
"How long will you be gone?" Stian ignored her playing with his hair. He seemed oblivious to his father and the Valkyrie, concentrating instead on building something that looked like a dinosaur-mermaid hybrid…with wings.
"Shouldn't take more than a day." Stephen fiddled with his sling ring, watching his son intently. He was not a child psychologist, but Stian seemed unusually quiet and he could not help but worry.
"You sure you don't mind looking after them?" Stephen asked uncertainly. "I can easily get someone from the nursery.."
She shook her head. "With Loki here, the Little Prince wouldn't want to go anywhere anyway. Might as well stay in."
Stephen clenched his teeth at her words.
Loki's not here.
"Someone from the Healing Hall will come over sometime later in the afternoon to take Loki's daily bloods."
He's almost here.
"Please tell them to be careful with where they take the sample from, the left arm is usually less tricky." Many a times Stephen had come home to see bruises on Loki's right arm from multiple failed attempts at venesection.
Only almost here.
"Wouldn't want to hurt him anymore than is necessary."
Valkyrie nodded wordlessly, fingers still sifting through Stian's hair, looking a million miles away.
"I have some work to take care of today, so can I count on you to keep your Pappa company?"
Stian nodded, his longish hair falling into his eyes.
"Will you take good care of your sister for me?"
"Of course, Daddy."
"Attaboy."
When Stephen finally returned, it was late enough in the evening that all that remained of dusk was a single line of orange stretching across the horizon.
"Oh good. You're back." The Valkyrie looked somewhat spooked.
"What is it, Valkyrie?"
Anything that could unnerve the Captain of the Kingsguard was something Stephen should definitely be wary of – "Did something happen?" A surge of cautious hope, "Is it Loki?"
She shook her head. "Little Prince has been saying some weird stuff."
"What kind of stuff?"
Valkyrie shrugged helplessly. "Explaining gets things lost in translation. You should see for yourself."
"Aífe?"
"Popped into the nursery just now and she was sleeping. Last feed around two hours ago, she should be up pretty soon."
Stephen distractedly handed her the pack of artisan beer he had bought her from New York. "Thanks, Valkyrie."
"You should get my sister from the nursery, Daddy." Stian was hunched over his book. He had not looked up once since his father returned. "It's getting late."
"Aífe is still very small, Stian," Stephen said gently. He had a feeling Stian and Aífe were going to be inseparable one day. "Someone needs to help us look after her."
"Aífe likes sleeping next to Pappa."
"How can you tell?"
Stian stared at his father, hazel eyes wide with wonder. 'Can't you?' they seemed to ask silently.
"She does," he said simply, and went back to colouring his book. Or doodling, more like –
Stephen peered over his shoulder. "That's a nice-looking…dog?"
"It's a horse, Daddy."
"Oh. Right." There was a white-faced figure with scraggly black hair spoking out from his head. It reminded him of Medusa. "And who is that standing next to it? Is that Pappa?"
"That's my brother," Stian replied calmly.
Stephen's forehead furrowed.
Could Stian perhaps be talking about a brother…from the future? Or from an alternate reality? "Your…brother?"
"I wanted a big brother, just like Pappa has Uncle Thor."
Stian rolled his fingers through the scattered pile of colour pencils. "So I asked Pappa the day before the wolf came if he could give me one."
He chose green for the mane of his horse. For such a novel choice of colour, Stian was not very enthusiastic about it, his little face suddenly glum. "He said I've already got one."
Stephen was uncertain about how to feel with regard to the direction this bizarre conversation was going.
"Did Pappa ever tell you his name?" he asked quietly.
"Yes." Stian said simply.
Stephen waited with bated breath. Something was coming.
"He liked horses too, Pappa said." Stian's eyes disappeared behind his sunny smile. "When I get to see him for real one day, I'll ask him if we can ride together."
A tingling sensation accompanied the chills that had suddenly run down his spine. "You can see him?"
"No, silly Daddy!" Stian laughed cheerfully. "Connla is in heaven."
Stephen froze.
Connla.
He knew that name.
In legend and in truth.
It was the name of Loki's slain son from a previous life.
"Connla…" he echoed and instantly a shiver raised the hair on the back of his neck. He recognised what this sinking sensation in his stomach was – it was the sickening feeling that he was onto something, the sudden stroke of epiphany
The Connla of legend, slaughtered by his own father's hand.
Loki's hand.
He bolted out of the seat so fast, The Cloak swished over Stian's face, eliciting a yelp from his son at the sudden darkening of his world. "Stian, stay here –"
Without switching on the lights, Stephen lurched into the master bedroom where Loki lay sleeping. The only light came from the moon as it shone through the parted curtains.
Stephen rummaged through the dresser, he knew he had put it here, had put it back in Loki's trinket box. He slammed the drawers shut one after the other – he knew he was making too much noise, but Loki was still sleeping, he wouldn't mind, he had to find it, he must find it
And there it was.
Stephen sank to his knees right then and there on the carpet in the crook between the dresser and the bed.
With trembling hands he clasped both hands over the sling ring, palming it against his chest like a prayer.
Stephen concentrated, feeling his magic swirl furiously in his core and flow into his fingers.
He gasped as a sudden jolt of foreign magic course through his body, magic so ancient it had no name, having lost it to the ebbing flow of human history, recalling visions upon visions that he cried out and would have collapsed backward had the bed not been there.
He breathed in harshly as he sorted through the visions one by one as they fleeted through his mind's eyes at the speed of light.
There, it's coming, they are coming –
He was in a room, large but freezing cold, its walls made of great slabs of rock with tapestries hanging off them in disarray about a four-poster bed made of heavy oak, its rafters low, weighed down by yards upon yards of valance silk.
A large blaze roared in a hearth at the centre of the room. The icy gale that blew outside drowned out the sounds of the spitting, crackling fire.
Two figures lay unclothed on the bed, tangled in sheets; they must be lovers from the way they held each other. Stephen could not see their faces; they were mere blurs of pale and paler, white against the man's roguish black hair and the woman's long tresses of red, fiery hair.
The man slipped a gold ring onto the woman's finger, and she sighed in blissful happiness.
The vision changed, and the woman now stood on the roof of what appeared to be a stone castle overlooking the sea; she was heavy with child, the roundness of her belly obvious against the ocean wind blowing it against her dress. Her face had lost all serenity from before, it was now tight, as tight as the hand gripping one side of her belly, her gold ring glinting in the sun.
Her eyes searched the sea for something Stephen could not see. But he could sense her emotions – she had been slighted, and she was angry. Very angry.
A young man, tall and strapping, with hawk-like eyes and long, scraggly black hair, stood in front of a throne. He knelt before a different woman, dressed in the garbs befitting a Warrior Queen – Scáthach? – and at her side, her countenance morose and severely solemn, his mother. The red-haired woman from before.
Aífe now stood by the shore, icy water from the loch lapping at her gown as Connla made to sail solo, her eyes grave. Connla kissed the back of her hand and Aífe slipped her ring onto his thumb.
Go forth. Seek him. Kill him or be killed.
Yes, Good Mother.
The hilt of a sword slammed into his chest
Connla knocked down onto his back
Tell me your name, boy
The Warrior hovered over him, eyes as green as the ocean, face as pale as marble. The tip of the sword wavered.
Tell me your name!
The boy answered. Unafraid and resolute.
By thy hand, I shall meet my death
A scream ripped out of Stephen's throat as a sudden, blinding pain stabbed his chest like a hot poker. He was about to collapse from the agony, but the excruciating pain lasted only a fraction of a second, as the vision changed again
A hand lay limp on the ground, bloodied and broken. It unfurled slowly, and the ring shone in the sunlight, despite the blood that drenched it.
My son.
Black spots danced across his eyes. Connla watched as his father sank to the ground. Blood trickled from his lips as Loki gathered him to his chest.
My son.
"Daddy?" He could dimly hear a voice calling him, whoever it was he sounded terrified –
Stian. His son.
"No closer, Stian." He was mumbling, caught deep in a trance. He breathed out shakily, "Not yet."
Stian must have heard him scream.
He gasped as another influx of visions assaulted him, from another time, a different time –
The Ancient One laughed gaily at something Loki had said. Stephen recognised her private study despite the relatively sparse walls, she must have only begun collecting her Thankas.
Loki presented her with the ring.
It looked much different now, more delicate and carved with runes and motif of two hands clasping a heart
Right hand, heart facing outward, means you're single and unattached, inward means your heart is–
Oh I know the meaning, Loki. I'm Celtic, remember?
She slipped it onto the ring finger of her left hand. It fit perfectly. She wiggled it. The heart was pointing inward.
Loki beamed.
Forever? He asked.
Always. She answered.
Stephen gasped as the visions left him as suddenly as they had come. Small hands were pawing the sides of his face desperately.
"Daddy!" Stian was sobbing hysterically. "Daddy, please, come back!"
"I'm here, son, I'm here." Cold sweat beaded his forehead. His heart was galloping like a mad horse.
Stian threw his arms around his father's neck and continued to sob uncontrollably. Stephen hugged him fiercely.
"I'm not leaving. I won't leave you." He kissed Stian's cheeks, one after the other. "I'll never leave you."
It took Stephen a good few minutes to calm his little boy down, but in the end, Stian's cries dwindled to occasional wet hiccups. "You alright now, buddy?"
"I'm –" Stian hiccupped. "I'm okay, now Daddy."
"I'm sorry I scared you."
"Are you going to sleep a lot like Pappa too?" Stian's hands fisted the front of his tunic.
"No, Stian." Stephen gave him a watery smile. "As long as Pappa's still sleeping, I'll never go to sleep. I'll never leave you alone."
"Y-you promise?" Stian's hazel eyes were welling again.
"I promise." Stephen offered his pinkie. Stian hooked his little one with his father's. "Now why don't we go and see if we can wake Pappa up?"
Stian's eyes lit up and he scrambled off Stephen's lap.
Stephen climbed to his feet. His head felt heavy, as heavy as his limbs. That was the most intense psychometric experience he had ever had, and the phantom pain in his chest throbbed in time with the throbbing in his temples.
But he would do it again in a heartbeat.
Stian sat on the bed by Loki's side and held his sleeping father's limp hand. As if he could predict what his father was going to do, he pointed at Loki's other hand, the one with the intravenous cannula. "Use that one, Daddy. So you don't have to hurt Pappa."
Stephen nodded. He sat cross-legged on Loki's other side. Once again, he clasped the sling ring between his palms, feeling the cold, hard edges biting into his skin.
He chanted the words to the Spell of Revelation and felt his magic warm his hands; held in a loose namaskar, they began to glow in a golden light, bright and white-hot against the balmy darkness of the bedroom.
When he opened his palms again, the Sling Ring had split into two cleanly in the middle, one ring in one palm, the other on the other.
Which one?
He stared at the rings in his hands.
The one that fits, Stephen, he could almost hear Loki say.
You will know. When it fits.
Stephen handed the one on the left to his son. "Can you hold this for me, Stian? Don't drop it."
"I won't, Daddy."
Stephen inhaled deeply. Here goes nothing.
He lifted Loki's hand and began to remove the adhesive film protecting the IV cannula. He gently pulled the entire thing out and blood began to drip from the puncture wound, trailing down the web spaces in between Loki's fingers and onto the bed.
Stephen let the blood drip drop by drop onto his right palm, watching as Loki's blood mixed with the brackish dried blood staining the ring, as fresh as if only shed yesterday, despite being centuries upon centuries old.
An eye for an eye, a son for a son.
Unbeknownst to Loki, by slaying his son, he had paid for a future sin long before he would commit it.
Stephen doubted even Aífe the Warrior Princess herself knew the role she had played, sacrificing the life of their son, only to save Loki's life centuries later.
But Stephen would not be surprised if Aífe The Ancient One did. And being the insufferable know-it-all that she was, she strung them along like puppets on a string, ever guiding them without revealing, ever helping them without disclosing…
Perhaps the cycle was never going to come to a close. She was going to keep saving Loki over and over again, even after she was long dead and gone.
Receive this offering and release him from your jaws
Stephen gasped as his palm began to burn.
Release him
The ring began to sizzle. Stephen gritted his teeth against the pain. Sweat was breaking out on his forehead once more.
He groped blindly for Stian and he felt Stian's little fingers grip around his hand. "Daddy!"
"Gah!" The magic, dark and ancient, scorched his hand and he could smell the nauseating odor of burnt flesh. He had to hold on for just a little bit longer, he must!
And then it was over.
Stephen panted as the pain grew and grew, but Stian's other hand found its way to his father's aching hand and instantly the pain disappeared.
Stephen stared at his son in wondrous marvel. "You're magic, you know that."
"Yes, Pappa tells me that all the time." Stian grinned mischievously.
Gingerly, Stephen opened his palm, anticipating pain, but it never came.
The two bands in Stephen's right hand now looked nothing like they were. They were identical, except one was made of pure gold, the other white. Each had delicate triquetra knots carved around the entire outer rim, ending in a delicate Claddagh, subtle yet exquisite. They thrummed with magic in his hand.
You will know. When it fits.
Once again, Loki's words uttered long ago echoed in his head.
"Which one's mine, which one's Pappa's, Stian?" he asked. "You wanna take a guess?"
"Daddy, you've got fat fingers. The white one's yours, obviously." Stian climbed over Loki's sleeping form to settle in Stephen's lap. "Duh."
Stephen chuckled. "Okay. We'll see."
He slipped the gold ring onto Loki's left ring finger with the heart pointing inward. They were married after all.
"With this ring, I thee wed," he murmured. "Again."
He kissed Loki's fingers softly, just like he had done on the night they first made love. The night they had made Stian.
"Always and forever."
"Stephen?" he heard someone murmur, but he dared not hope, it must have only been his imagination, he had let it run wild before. He was hearing things.
"Pappa!" Stian squealed. "Pappa, Pappa!"
Stephen's eyes flew open. He whispered, "Loki?"
Loki smiled tiredly. "You're a sight for sore eyes."
"Loki." Stephen's vision blurred with a sudden wetness, and he blinked furiously. Loki came into focus again, and he sighed in relief. Loki was still looking at him, he had not gone back to sleep –
Loki held out a bony hand. It trembled slightly from weakness and disuse.
Stephen placed the other ring on his palm. Stian had to help Loki lift his elbow as he reached for Stephen's left hand.
The white gold wedding band slipped easily onto his left ring finger, and true to form, the heart was pointing inward too.
"With this ring, I thee wed," Loki softly repeated Stephen's words from earlier.
Stephen watched their interlaced fingers with awe.
"Loki Odinson-Strange." The bands caught in the moonlight and shone. "My heart is yours."
"And mine is yours." Stephen heard the beautiful words, but nothing could be more beautiful than the sight of Loki's green eyes beneath his tear-dewed lashes. "My sweet, gentle husband."
A/N:
That was the MOST FUN I've had writing a chapter for this installment.
Hope this does the wait justice, guys.. (I wish I could write and post everyday. T.T I love Strangefrost so damn much)