In Which a New Holiday

The spirit of winter does not mind the state of disrepair in Loki’s tower.

When first they ascend, Jack spins in circles like a child taking in the sky during the grandest of sunsets. The walls, the ceiling, the pallet upon the floor: he has praise for them all.

Loki’s intuition is that the boy makes mock of him, of this place that is all he can call his own. The stab of betrayal is small but sharp, until Jack admits that, before this day, he has not been invited inside. It is new for him, the whole of it; it is marvelous to him, for he has known nothing else.

Wariness loosens its hold upon Loki’s heart, and there is something softer to take its place. In the wake of the revelation, Jack’s enthusiasm is suddenly, wretchedly, understandable.