The Heat of the Snow // A Loki Fanfiction

Chapter 15

Furious with himself and with you, Loki paces the cabin floor—the minutes quickly ticking away until an hour has passed. He didn't understand how it all changed so quickly. Sure, he'd messed up—he'd wanted to hurt you with his words, and that silver tongue of his knew very well how to do that—but for you to not stop and listen when he wanted to apologise? Was that really fair? He's new at this after all. Caring about people. Even your reaction to him telling you he was falling in love with you hadn't gone to plan.

For the hundredth time, Loki squeezes his eyes shut and rakes his hands through his hair. What should he do now? He's torn between stubbornly waiting for you to come back to him or following you back to your house. No doubt that's where you are right now. But he gets the feeling that with the former, he'll be waiting a long time. He's never met someone that rivals his stubbornness as much as you do. The women he's been with in the past have been more than agreeable—probably because of his status and what that could mean for them.

But Y/N doesn't know who I am...not the true me...

Loki grits his teeth, knowing that's part of the problem that led him here. It's what you'd flung in his face, anyway. Would she even believe me if I told her the truth anyway? Sense tells him you wouldn't. Not until he would call on Heimdall to open the Bifrost, pulling you both into Asgard. Even then she might think she's lost her mind.

It's all such a risk. Plus the fact she doesn't want to leave this place.

Would someone like you enjoy a life in Asgard? Loki contemplates it for a moment, conjuring images of the future he desires. You, walking through the vaulted palace halls, wrapped in the finest Asgardian fabrics, adorned with gold and emerald gems—a crown fitting for the wife of Loki Laufeyson atop your head.

Although he can see it—can see your smiling face—how genuine would it be? Would she truly be happy? He's not entirely sure.

Walking into the igloo, Loki stares up into the night sky, wishing to know how this all ends. The Aurora is back, weaving green ribbons through the darkness—taunting him. It was only hours ago that he'd been staring up at it with you—had made love to you beneath it. If he could only roll back time and tell himself to keep his mouth shut, maybe you'd still be here.

Angry with the treacherous minutes that have already passed, Loki decides enough is enough and grabs for some fresh clothes from his bag. The future is exactly what we make it...it's mouldable...only if we try. I have to try for her.

When he leaves the cabin, the snow has started to fall again, but it doesn't deter him. Your cabin isn't that far from here—if he remembers the directions. The only issue is the time-consuming part of doing it on foot. Magic itches in his hands, desperate to be used, but he decides to resist—wanting to use the time to practice what he's going to say to you. He has to be more tactful this time. And start with sincere apologies.

Really, the words he'd spat at you had been a reflection about how he'd felt about himself—before all this. Before he'd found you. It'd been him that was the miserable child, back in Asgard. Him that didn't want to leave the prison of his own comfort zone. He sees himself in you—how he was. And he knows how that ends. It ends with unhappiness.

I want more for her...

Fifteen minutes into the journey, Loki realises he doesn't recognise any of the glades, and there are no tracks anymore from where you'd cut the sleigh through the snow. The slopes in front of him look new, towering into the trees and leaving only some of their branches visible. He turns in 360, his breath puffing out in front of him as he tries to work out where he'd gone wrong. He's sure it's this way. But how can it be? You wouldn't have been able to bring the sleigh over these peaks.

Trusting his tenuous sense of direction, he decides to climb—his boots sinking into the soft virgin snow as he ascends. It's a lot harder than it looks—even for him—and after climbing for a good twenty minutes, he realises the hills are a lot higher than he first thought.

By the time he reaches the top, the muscles in his calves are burning and his breath now comes in sharp bursts and plumes of mist. But the sensation is negligible. Standing tall, he peers into the distance. Far into the horizon are the lights of the nearby town. Loki follows the line of white, coming downwards to rest on a small collection of buildings. It must be a mile or two away but he recognises the cabin immediately—the spiral of grey smoke rising up from the chimney.

With a new burst of adrenaline, Loki makes his descent down the other side of the steep hill, through the newly formed snow peak, and towards your home. Words churn like curdled milk in his stomach as he tries to select the right ones to say. Which ones will help make this better? Which ones will help convince you to stay with him? To join him in Asgard...?

Fuck, Loki thinks to himself as he approaches the cabin. He still hasn't thought of what could make this right. And if he hadn't been so far inside his mind as he neared the front door, he'd have noticed what's wrong with this picture.

"Y/N!" he shouts, rapping the wood hard with his knuckles. There's movement inside, a shuffling sort of noise. Loki knocks on the door again, grabbing for the handle just as it swings inwards.

"Loki!"

Loki pauses, blinking. "Stefan?"

"How are you, boy? Weren't too badly affected by the storm, I hope?"

"Err..." He doesn't really know how to answer that, still reeling from the shock of seeing Stefan standing there rather than you. "The storm was...fine."

"Oh, good. I've only just made it back. The roads and usual routes were completely blocked. Thankfully I know people in town and stayed with a friend until I could get back." Stefan smiles before giving Loki the once-over. "Aren't you cold boy? Where's your hat?"

"Can I speak to Y/N?" he asks, diverting the attention away.

"Sure can...when she gets back from wherever she is!"

Loki frowns. "From wherever she—?"

"Taking firewood to the other guests, I expect," Stefan shrugs, gesturing for him to come inside. "She's taken the dogsled. You're welcome to wait here."

"She didn't come back..." Loki mutters to himself, his stomach suddenly as tight as a clenched fist. Where could you be? There was a lot of snow. Maybe you'd taken a different route. But surely it wouldn't have taken you this long to get back.

"She'll be back in no time, I'm certain of it." Stefan smiles again as Loki walks inside. "Would you like a drink? I've broken open the Scotch."

Loki releases a sigh, forcing himself not to pace across the clean wooden floorboards. Instead, he takes the armchair closest to the door. "Please."