Dear readers and followers, thank you for having read and finished reading Lightbringer. I have written this epilogue long before I had finished the main story, and now I am finally uploading it and hitting the COMPLETE button, after having started to write it in 2014.

What a great journey my couple has gone through, I am almost a little baffled when I look at it. They started out as so different - light and shadow, two extremes on opposite ends of a spectrum, their lives bound together by this strange whim of fate, their life-bond created by an accident. Somehow, still, Ljosira knew never to give up on him, always believing there is good in him, hidden beneath the shadows. And Loki knew, maybe by mere instinct, to entrust parts of him to a creature whose nature he understood to be very unlike his own. I like to think that they learned much from each other over the development of their relationship. The Lightbringer dragon who knew no desires, comprehended no passions, became more mortal - impulsive at times, mischievous at others, and even vindictive once or twice. While the God of Mischief grew gentler, more settled, at ease with telling the truth when it mattered, learning not to hide from the connections he made throughout his life - but instead protecting them, in his own way. Every good relationship has its own balance. I'm both sad and happy to see this story - Loki and Ljosira's story - come to an end.

One of the reasons I wrote this epilogue is to show you all their Happily Ever After. I even thought of continuing the story throughout the happenings of Ragnarok and Infinity Wars. Maybe I will someday. In any case, this takes place after the Infinity War, which in my mind went down differently than the movie (of course). So watch for SPOILERS to Infinity War, if you haven't seen it! Now have fun reading, and maybe remembering the name of the young man in the very first scene of the first chapter, who asked his girl if she knew the story about the trickster and the dragon princess.

Translation:

Gildran - Cherished, Of Great Value

XXXVI. Epilogue: Infinity

Thor set the empty pitcher onto the meticulously polished wooden surface. A little foam slid lazily down the glass, pooling at its bottom. He gazed into it for a long moment and reminisced, his mood turning melancholic. At this time of the day, the Bifröst was not well frequented. Quite empty actually. Only a few people sat around the heavy oak tables. Framed pictures lined the ornamented, gilded walls. A marvellous golden city, rolling hillsides, snow-crested mountains. A mighty ash tree. Little pieces of a home which would never return. Runes wound across the supporting beams, glowing very faintly.

"The answer is never at the bottom of a glass.", a deep voice remarked to him sagely. "I have been trying to tell you that for years." The man behind the bar might have been dressed like a Midgardian, with his impeccable vest above a perfect white shirt, a crisp contrast against his dark skin. But everything else about him proclaimed Asgardian – the defined features of his face, the proud stance. Cleaning a glass offhandedly, he surveyed Thor with his peculiar golden eyes. Dragon eyes. The king looked up above the manifold colourful bottles, where a gleaming sword hung on display, reflecting the muted light.

"It may be yet. Tell me, Heimdall – you went from being the Gatekeeper of the Bifröst to being the barkeeper of a bar named Bifröst. Couldn't you at least pick some wittier name? I mean, where is your imagination?", Thor asked, handing him the pitcher for a refill. Heimdall took it, shaking his head.

"Tiger cannot change his stripes, my king." Thor let out a breath and rolled his shoulders, feeling Stormbreaker shift on his back. It was heavy today, not so much a companion but rather a weight to carry in addition to the ones resting on his shoulders. He had never been a man prone to maudlin fancies. But when he thought of those who had helped him forge this weapon of kings, his heart, so wretchedly mired in isolation, reached for them with a keenness that felt like pain. It likely was.

"King of one village. Barely a village.", he reminded Heimdall. The gate – or barkeeper – set down the glass before him, full to the brim with golden liquid.

"We survived Ragnarok, and then another war that shook the universe in its foundations. Your father did not build Asgard in a day, Odinson. You will rebuild it in time."

But rebuilding it seemed like an impossibly tremendous feat. So little remained. His parents had joined eternity. His friends, the Warriors Three, had died by Hela's hand. The Avengers had their own world to put right after all the destruction. Sif had gone into exile, leaving him, never to return. And his brother, his only remaining family… had vanished from the face of the earth, taking Ljosira with him. He felt like the loneliest man alive. No resolve left. Bled dry. A hardened veteran who had seen one battle too many.

Their absence was a solid thing pressing down on him, a burden he knew not how to shed, a second skin clinging to his own. Life-bonds, Ljosira had once explained, were not exclusive to dragons. Every sentient being capable of emotions such as love and comfort harboured an inherent wish to be connected to others of its kind. Otherwise, we would just be lost, solitary creatures drifting through the vast universe without a single kindred spirit to turn to. Imagine such a horrible emptiness. For dragons, as with everything else they do, these connections were made through magic. For mortals, it was much more elusive. Many spent their whole lives puzzling over the connections they had made, struggling to understand their purpose.

"I just wish…", Thor trailed away, then lifted the tankard to take a long swig. "You know, I always had support and now I feel… drained, less. I don't know who to turn to…. Besides you. I wish I had listened to my father's teachings more. Spent more time with my brother." But Heimdall didn't seem to listen, his gaze unfocused. Thor grumbled irritably.

"You really don't understand how this whole thing works. You are supposed to be the world-weary barkeeper who listens to a tired man's life-story and then gives some really useful advice."

"I believe you have a visitor.", Heimdall suddenly said, cutting him short. Thor followed the direction of his piercing eyes, whirling around on the stool.

Wearing an elegant, dark suit, his hands lazily tucked into his pockets, there stood Loki at the entrance. His expression was on some middle-ground between rueful and glad.

"It's been some time, brother.", he said with a faint smile. Thor just stared at him. Then he stood and walked over, pulling his brother into a tight hug, no argument. For a mere instant, Loki tensed, but then he seemed to relax, returning the gesture in his own subtle way. He patted Thor's back once, vaguely.

But the sigh which left him spoke of a relief going deep, down to his bones. An inexplicable feeling of completeness overcame and held him. He had missed his brother dearly. Whole again. Bring him home., his wife's soft, whispered thought brimmed with acknowledgement. Then she retreated, leaving him to enjoy this reunion.

"Loki, where have you been, you idiot? I could have used your help these past years. Damn you.", Thor grunted in a gruff tone, releasing him.

"I know. There were… difficult circumstances. I will explain. Come with me.", Loki straightened and beckoned him towards the exit.

"Give the lady of the house my warm greetings.", Heimdall called before they left.

Loki led Thor down the main path through the village where the Asgardians had settled down after the devastating events of Ragnarok and Thanos' crusade. But after a while, they diverged into the open fields, the vast highland chosen to be the new sanctuary of the few who had survived such great hardships. They walked in silence for a while. Thor could not quite fathom where Loki was headed to. The planes stretched on for miles, nothing but heaving blades of grass.

"I missed you.", Thor blurted out without thinking. His brother threw him an astonished, awkward glance. "You know, in a 'Where is that mischievous brother of mine, he hasn't tried to kill me in a while, what a bummer' way."

"The deception was necessary, although I regret it. You will see soon. Right about… now.", Loki said. He took a step, and from one moment to the next, he simply vanished. Thor stopped abruptly, staring at the spot. The field stretched out before him, ending in a steep cliff. A lone, smooth stone rose from the grass at the far end. He remembered this place. They had met Odin here for the last time and bid farewell to their father.

"Loki?", Thor asked into the emptiness. He jumped when a disembodied hand appeared before him mid-air. Without preamble, it grabbed him and pulled.

He emerged into an entirely different scenery, stunned by the sight. A beautiful manor stood on the cliff-side, its walls painted in the light colour of an eggshell. Its dark red roof rose like a sentinel against the cloud-patched sky, streaks of sunlight illuminating the solid wooden supports. The lone stone was overgrown by the roots of a great tree whose branches spread out to grant shade and shelter for neat little rosebushes and a docile gazebo. Glowing veins threaded their way through the tree-bark, runes twined across the pale walls.

Little clusters of stars lined the narrow pathway to the entrance. Above the door, Thor could make out a faintly luminous inscription: Vit ru skyldrae. He sensed the unmistakable, unique magic of a dragon interwoven with every brick. A home, built with loving detail, hidden away from the rest of the world by his brother's uncanny illusions. Light and shadow, balanced. Equilibrium. Loki waited on the cobbled path. From the periphery of his vision, Thor caught sight of a glossy ribbon as it danced in the wind. It disappeared behind the tree. They were not alone.

"Before we set out to defeat Thanos… I brought my wife here. There was a very real possibility of losing this battle, and I wanted her to be safe on the off-chance that… I would not return.", Loki explained as they strode up to the manor. It looked so peaceful. A quiet watchman overlooking the sea.

"You could have sent her back to her father, she would have been safe on Yggdrasil.", Thor mused, frowning. Loki cleared his throat.

"That was not an option at that time. Her situation proved to be somewhat… delicate.", he said enigmatically, shifting his weight. Thor intended to question him further on this issue, but he never got that far. A tiny figure flew across the field, running with full speed right at them. His unruly raven locks fluttered in the wake of his race, little face alight with surprise and curiosity.

"Papa, you're back already!", the child called out in a high, clear voice, flinging himself into Loki's arms. His father caught him easily and he wiggled his short legs as he was lifted from the ground.

Thor just gawped, speechless. The boy, no older than four, was a perfect copy of his brother at that age. Almost perfect. There were some softer accents to his features, and most of all his bright grey eyes, viewing the bulky man at his father's side with unveiled interest. Intelligence glittered in his inquisitive gaze, far surpassing his age.

"Mama said you might be gone for days. 'I might finally have time to fix the tree!', she said.", the boy imitated Ljosira's inflection with uncanny skill.

"Brother… meet my son, Gildran. Who is too cheeky for his own good. Where are your manners?", Loki rebuked him. Gildran tilted his head, looking deceptively innocent. Thor was dumbstruck.

"By Odin's pale b-"

"Language!", Loki interjected harshly, making the boy snicker and squirm in his arms. "Greet your uncle, Gildran.", he added with a squeeze. The little one took a deep breath.

"Well met, Uncle Thor Odinson. It is an honour.", Gildran said in the tone of some haughty nobleman, bowing until he nearly tumbled from Loki's grasp. By mere impulse, Thor reached for the child. He looked like a man stunned out of his wits.

"Uncle… I have a nephew." His voice brimmed with marvel. "Can I hold him?" Loki looked uncertain for an instant, his expression that of a protective father. Thor had never thought he would see the day of this happening.

"It's totally fine, Papa. He's all bright, like Mama! Only not as soft. More like lightning.", the boy babbled.

"Just… Don't drop him, alright?", Loki conceded, handing his son to Thor, who kept a firm hold in the boy. He swung the child up high once, twice, spawning a series of delighted whoops.

"As if. I'm the embodiment of careful.", Thor snorted.

"Not to mention delusional.", Loki griped scathingly. Gildran stretched towards Stormbreaker, his mouth forming a big circle.

"Whoa, that's great! It's all thunder inside. Mama made that.", he explained wisely, as though educating the other two about this crucial fact.

"Hey, she helped to make it by adding her fire to the forge. But I did the heavy lifting. So it was mostly me.", Thor argued, stung.

"Now you sound like Papa. He says that same thing about Dragonbane.", Gildran nodded decisively, earning himself a sharp look from his father. Out of nowhere, a pleading undertone entered his voice. "When do I get my awesome weapon?"

"Not until you reach your father in height." Thor whirled around. Ljosira strode towards them over the grass, smiling widely. Her silver hair spun into a sloppy braid, the silk robe flowing gracefully around her, eyes flashing with delight. She let Thor pull her into a hearty, one-armed embrace.

"You are radiant as ever, my friend. My heart is much lighter for seeing you well.", the king said with deep sincerity. "Should we call you ancient mother now?", he added jokingly. She threw him a completely ineffective punch to the side.

"No, you big brute. For you, it's always just Ljosira. I missed you, dear brother-in-law." Thor set Gildran onto his feet again. "Go practice your reading, Gil. I'll quiz you later, so no cheating.", his mother sent the boy off. He made a face but obeyed, skipping over the cobble-stones.

"I have to apologize to you about this deception, Thor.", Ljosira said regretfully as they entered the house. The entire interior told stories about the magical talents of its inhabitants. It lingered on every bookshelf, danced over the tastefully arranged settees, dwelled in the very air. Ljosira led the way to the wide living room, offering Thor to sit on one of the plush sofas. Then she turned to Loki, giving him an affectionate nuzzle.

"Welcome home, my love.", she whispered. Loki brushed a fleeting kiss to her silver crown of her head, before taking his seat in an elaborate armchair.

"This place is…", Thor began, searching for words. "Incredible." Loki smiled at him.

"I know. It helps when your father-in-law is the Dragon King. When I learned that… our family would have another addition, my first concern was to get Ljosira to safety. She could not shift while she carried Gildran, it would have put him in danger. She was vulnerable, brother. And those were desperate times. I could not tell anyone."

"I understand.", Thor said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. He truly did understand. Ljosira returned with an assortment of bite-sized treats and a large mug of beer for Thor.

"Gildran is the first of his kind. He is… we call it Dragonborn.", she explained as she handed him the drink. "Mortal, but with great magical potential. We were afraid… that someone might want to use him. All this conflict and devastation makes people desperate. And there was so much darkness in the world… If we had told anyone…", she trailed away, a look of sadness on her youthful face.

"We had to protect our son. I am sorry.", Loki went on for her. Thor shifted his gaze from one to the other, shaking his head.

"You two… You need to stop apologizing.", he then said, lifting his glass. "I have just learned the greatest news in years. I'm an uncle. An uncle! This is a day to celebrate!" He emptied the whole glass in one long gulp, then let out a triumphant warrior's shout. Both Ljosira and Loki flinched, before they broke into laughter about his obvious enjoyment. All the commotion drew their son's attention and he came running what the fuss was about.

Hours later, they still sat gathered around the table, eating and drinking, telling stories of times both old and new, tirelessly celebrating a reunion of three people who had walked through the fires of hell together.

At some point, Loki leaned back in the comfortable chair, his hand settling on his son's small shoulder. Fast asleep, too exhausted to keep up with the adults' lively conversation. His gaze sought Ljosira, her face luminous and flawless. Breath-taking even after years, even when he knew everything there is to know about it.

Every once in a while, Loki would still wake from a nightmare of his cell in Asgard, or an image of his brother's face as he fell away into the void, plunging towards nothingness. And she would be there beside him, his light. Soothing and dear, ready to break his fall as she had back then, to carry him on her great wings. Onward, to the endless sky.

He smiled at the great irony, almost poetic. After he had saved her from falling so many years ago, she had come to return the gesture. And as Loki felt his son, his little miracle, draw breath in his sleep, he thought… What a beautiful job his wife had done. Because to be honest, it had been mostly her. And he would love her for it, every day. Always.