AN: This is my first story on here but I hope you guys enjoy it. I don't own any of the Marvel people (though if I did, you would know).
Once upon a time, there was a small village, in the sleepy realm of Midgard that labored diligently for the land, their worries covering them like rats upon grain. "What shall happen if the crop fails?" "What if the dam does not hold the floods in this year?" In the end, the worries consumed their lives, making them hard, mistrusting. But Odin, god and Allfather of the realm, took pity upon these villagers and decided to lend them his most prized possession, a dreamsmith he had acquired in a war long ago. This little dreamsmith could use words to weave the most beautiful picture in your mind, be it present or future, he could persuade you to see anything. And so, Odin carried the dreamsmith on the last of the Autumnal winds into this little town, with his promise that he will return upon giving the villagers the spark of hope they needed.
While he was beloved by the allfather, this small godling did not know it. He had been packaged and sealed into storage for millenia, passing from one owner to the next until the Allfather bestowed him this glorious purpose. And so, little Loki, weaver of dreams and wielder of magic was released onto Midgard.
The dreamsmith walked into the bustling village and took the bags off his back to set up a little stall on the edge of the bustling marketplace. At the first the villagers had merely scampered past, paying the little demigod no mind. But a brave man stepped forward, a lock of keys hanging from his belt approached him and spoke. "Hello, stranger. What is it that you do?" "Do?" The godling cocked his head to one side, obviously confused. The man jingled the large ring of keys that were in his possession. "Well, I make keys. They open doors for people. What do you do?" The human-looking godling paused. "I...am a weaver of dreams." He decided carefully. "Weaving dreams? How do you do that?" The other man's eyes had widened in interest.
Loki muttered a couple of indecipherable words and pressed his fingers to the man's temple. For a moment, the Midgardian's face was completely blank before his eyes resumed the glittering excitement from before with a vengeance. "Whoa! That was me!" He had quipped loudly, drawing the attention of many of the passersby. "I saw my future!" "It's not-" Loki tried to protest, but a swarm of villagers began to bombard him, beseeching him to work his magic on them too. The small lie was quickly forgotten as the villagers each directed their smiling faces in his direction. For him, this was the first feeling of acceptance and happiness he'd ever received.
The moon had already risen when the last of the villagers left and Loki realized he was shaking from the brisk cold. "Hey, dreamweaver, you got anywhere to stay?" The keysmith stood there, a butchered hen hanging from one hand, and a jug of what he assumed was alcohol in the other. Loki shook his head and shivered. "Well come on then, this way." As they headed down a path, the man spoke. "You're causing quite a stir today. What's your name?" Emerald eyes bore into the key merchant's back, searching for any treacherous intent. Finding none, Loki replied. "Loki Laufeyson, and what is yours, keysmith?" "Anthony Stark. 3rd generation keysmith. Call me Tony." He had said with a slight disdain in his voice. The silence was broken by a loud rumble from Loki as Tony laughed, the tension dissipating from his shoulders. "I guess it's dinnertime."
The inside of Tony's home was littered with metal faces and wires. There was a metal forge in one corner, a bucket of keys nearby. There were gadgets that immediately started a fire and lit the candles. Loki's face erupted in wonder. "You are a user of magic too!" "These are metalpieces, not magic." Tony laughed, guiding the taller man to the machine where the gears spun and traced them from the fireplace, to the rafters to the door. "You see? I opened the door and that motion set everything else into action." Loki nodded, still astounded by the complex mechanisms. "I may be a magic user, but you are doing miracles, making objects move without any ingrained energy!" Tony sighed as he sat down at the table with a steaming pot, some bread, cheese and two mugs. "I am just a keymaker, Loki. By the way, my contraption's name is Jarvis." Loki smiled and waved at the metal mannequin by the fireplace. "Hello, Jarvis." He sat down at the table as Tony handed him his share, which he promptly dug into. "So, why are you here?" Loki searched the man's face, a little wary that he was being led into an ambush. When he found nothing but sincerity in the question, he babbled excitedly. "I have been sent on a mission by Odin Allfather, from the realm of Asgard to bestow the gift of hope on your people. You have all suffered your fill and a brighter future will come." He had stated matter-of-factly. Tony stared at him over the top of his mug. "You're a god, then?" Loki nodded slowly, waiting for the shock and finger pointing that was sure to ensue. Instead, Tony grinned. "Cool! It's not everyday one is allowed to entertain a god."
Loki's stay in Tony's abode had extended, from days to weeks to months, with neither eager to part with the other, as Loki continued to spread hope to every grandmother and infant. Despite their dire circumstances, the villagers were grateful and happier, often sending Loki home with vegetables or fresh baked meat pies for his efforts. This had been a first for him as well. He had never been treated more kindly than by the unfortunate inhabitants of this minute town. Prior to being in the Allfather's possession, wages had been waged over him and people had died for a chance to glimpse his powers. He had been handed from one collector to the next for centuries to the point that he didn't remember his own parents. Despite this, Tony had smoothed his hair and embraced him like a person when he had brought it up. "That's nothing." The man had griped, pulling up his shirt without a second thought. In the middle of his chest was a circular lock where Loki could hear the small clink of gears within. "I was a sickly child so my father turned me into a machine. This little thing is keeping me alive." The man fingered lightly around the rim where metalpiece met the ridged skin and frowned deeply. "You could never be more messed up than me, Loki, don't even try." Tony placed a soothing hand on Loki's shoulder despite the dreamweaver's skeptical face. The keysmith's presence brought Loki irreplaceable warmth and Loki grew attached to the point of wishing for the mission to never end. He should have known better. Selfish desires should not have been waywardly wished.
It was a couple months into the dreamweaver's stay and Tony and he were just sitting down to supper when a sharp knock assaulted the door. Tony rose to answer it and a villager, a farmer by the looks of him, stormed into their abode. "Where is the dreamweaver?" Loki rose to greet him but was sprawled across the floor in the next moment, a sharp stinging in his cheek. "You showed me my future, dreamweaver, and I was relieved to see that my children would survive this wretched famine to grow old. My two children. They died today, before I returned from the fields. If I had known they would not recover." He dropped to his knees sobbing. "I would have stayed by their bedside." His eyes were wild when he lunged and grabbed Loki by the collar, Tony unable to stop him. "Dreamsmith, return them to me. Use your magic." Loki pried the fingers away. "I cannot." He said, throat thick with grief. "I never had the power to foretell the future. I all but weave images that please you, fulfilling your hearts' desires. That is all."
The lumbering man roared in anger. 'You are a monster. A demon. I shall expose you as the wretch that you are. You are no dreamsmith, but a liesmith, with a tongue of silver! I curse your cunning mouth!" He turned and ran out of the hut, slamming the door on his way out. Silence fell over them and Tony pulled the dreamweaver off the floor into his embrace, hands smoothing over his back. "Don't listen to him, Loki. I knew what I saw was fake, I'm sure the others know it as well." Loki whimpered. " I had been led astray by my desire for acceptance, and I let that small lie, on that very first day, turn into this raging beast. My lies have robbed a man of his final moments with his children."
Tony sighed and turned to rustle through a drawer, drawing out a key on sturdy black string. "You are no worse than any other human being, Loki. You seek love just like everyone else. And if you'll accept it, I would give you mine, simply to prove you are not to blame for a lie that I started in the first place." Tony placed the key into Loki's soft hand and waited. There was no question what lock this key opened as Loki turned the key over in his hands a couple times, awed by the deep meaning behind such a simple gesture. "I..accept." His voice was barely a whisper but Tony whooped in joy before dragging Loki back to the dining table for a cold supper.
But morning came, and word had spread to every corner of the village, that Loki was no fortune teller nor a seer. He was merely a toy that played on mortal wishes with hallucinations. The cold stares returned along with a cloud of hopelessness that hung low over every inhabitant's head. The weather mimicked the mood, clouds grey and the distant sound of rolling thunder foretold rain.
Loki was hiding from the villager's harsh words and thrown rotting vegetables in Tony's house. He still refused to call the quaint abode his, having never had a single possession in all his long millenia of life. Suddenly, a flash of lightning illuminated the whole house and Tony who had been by the forge pulled Loki back from the window. A booming voice from outside sent an ice-like feeling seeping into the dreamweaver's stomach.
"Loki! Loki Laufeyson. I am under the orders of the Allfather to bring you back to the land of the Gods. Your work is done here." Loki looked helplessly at Tony, resignation slowly winning out on his face. "Anthony Stark, it has been a pleasure" He paused. "the greatest pleasure of my life to have shared in your home, your life..." He swallowed thickly as his voice broke. "...these last few months. I am forever-" He was cut off as Tony pressed his lips gently to his. Loki's chest bloomed with emotion as he felt the wave completely overwhelm him. Before he knew what he was doing, he was gripping Tony's shirt front like his life line, tears running down his cheeks. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I don't want to go." Tony released a shuddering breath against his cheek. "I...love you. It doesn't matter if you're a dreamsmith, a liesmith or the devil's incarnate." Loki allowed himself a brief smile, breathing into the crook of Tony's neck. "Anthony, you are the most amazing human being and if I am alive, I will find a way back to you." He promised and left Tony's side.
Loki Laufeyson greeted Thor Odinson with the practiced bow. He was transported in another burst of lighting to the Allfather's court. "Loki Laufeyson, my beloved pet, you have failed your mission. You have taken what hope they had left and destroyed it. Is this a direct rebellion?" Loki was forced to his knees by guards. "No, your highness. There was a misunderstanding-" "Silence! Do you know the consequences to your actions? People will suffer!" Loki's mind immediately flew to Anthony and winced.
"Loki Laufeyson, dreamsmith, you are to return to your resting place until there is need of you again." Forcefully, the guards escorted Loki back into his packaging box of sorts. He had no idea the amount of time that passed, as every second away from Anthony felt like a year. In a moment of weakness, he weaved his own dreams of a safe home with Tony in hopes of soothing the overwhelming ache that had taken residence in his chest. However, it only left him in tears and a deeper despair. He never used his gift for himself ever again.
The mobilizing of soldiers outside Loki's dusty resting place spoke of a plague in the Midgardian realm and he could feel panic envelope him like a chill that he could not escape from. Banging on his confines, for hours or days he did not know, demanding to see the Allfather until his body collapsed under him in exhaustion. He came to consciousness to the pitying glance of Thor Odinson. "Dear pet, why are you creating such a ruckus? You have never opposed your entrapment before." Loki wasn't one to beat around the bush. He crawled on his knees towards the prince. "I need to see the Allfather. Please." Thor looked at him a moment and nodded his consent. "Come with me." And that's how he found himself kneeling in the Allfather's prsence once more. "What is it, Loki, my pet? I do not have time for your mischief, there is a plague about." Loki winced. He couldn't imagine Tony's bright face smiling and trusting dulled by the darkness of death. Even the thought brought a sharp pain to his chest. Immediately, he pressed his forehead to the ground. "Your majesty. Please, I have a favor to ask. I will do anything." The allfather masked his surprise. "What is it, pet?" "Spare him. Spare Anthony Stark, please." "Spare a mortal? He is but human, puppet." Loki pleaded again, looking up into the Allfather's eyes, showing all his desperation until the Allfather gave in with a sigh. "What will you give me, Loki?" "Anything."
"You love this mortal, don't you?" The godling paused and hesitantly nodded. The Allfather took a couple calming breaths. "and you are certain that it is a love that neither Thor nor myself can provide you?" He seemed to be holding his breath in hope. Loki sighed, understanding the implication and the Allfather's wish to keep him as a trophy from the Jotun war. "I'm most insistent. It can be no one else." The allfather nodded. "One last question: Will you finally be happy? I have possessed you for centuries and I had not seen your true smile until you had met this mortal." Loki, liesmith he may be, blushed at his feelings splayed out on the table for all to see. "Yes, your highness. I'm happy." "Very well. Thor, bear witness. For your inadequacy in preventing this plague and failing your mission, Loki Laufeyson, I will strip you of all your magic and banish you to Midgard, where you will live out the rest of your days in exile." Loki's breath hitched. "and Anthony?" "He has survived the plague by a hair...or shall I say a lock?" "thank you."
The moment Loki's feet touched upon Midgard, Loki was running, paying his atrophied muscles no mind. He rushed through the roads, with villagers all looking at him with mild recognition. He neither paid them mind nor care. He had stumbled through the front door of the humble hut and reeled back from the smell of death that was still pungent in the air. Did the Allfather not promise him to spare Anthony's life? He could feel tendrils of panic but they quickly dissipated when a cough came from the lump on the bed. Jumping quickly towards it, Loki dug his hands under the blanket, desperate to reaffirm that the mortal was alive. "Whoa! Whoa there, where do you think you're touching?" The raspy voice grumbled, bleary eyes seeing out the perpetrator.
When he caught sight of Loki, his lips trembled. "Its been a year, dreamsmith." Loki scoffed bitterly. "It's Loki Laufeyson, lifesmith and god of mischief, now." Tony sat up from his bed and cupped Loki's cheek. "No, you're still a dreamsmith, because you've fulfilled my dreams, simply by being here." The god turned mortal melted into a metaphorical puddle at his words. "I'm mortal now. I'm of no use to you." Tony gave hima scrutinizing look. "shut up. Your'e plenty use, even as a doorstop." He quelled any protest with a tender kiss. "Besides, you have something that of mine." He fingered the oblong shaped lump inside Loki's green tunic and kissed him again. "This is my thank you, for saving my life. I assume it was your doing." "That which has the capability to kill you, has saved your life instead." He tapped the lock beneath his hand and winked mysteriously, leaving the keysmith to wonder if Loki meant the lock, or himself. And so, Loki Laufeyson, previously sought-after war trophy and his only piece of possession lived happily ever after.
The End.